Quarantine day 29: baby quilt

Here we continue quietly at home, as Jane Bennet wrote to Elizabeth--in the miniseries, if not the book. 

You know what quarantine is good for?  Finishing a quilt.  Here, I have it laid out before Christmas, knowing that dear Jo was due in the spring. 

Today is Day 29 of quarantine for us, and as usual, Saturday is the upsetting day of the week.  Most of the time I can cozy up at home, with a hot drink under a fuzzy blanket in front of a picture window as often as not, and laugh at the week's funniest tweets or get lost in a novel, almost forgetting that the world is amiss. 


But Saturdays. 

Saturday is grocery day, which used to mean a sometimes-slightly-inconvenient-but-usually-peaceful solitary wander through the aisles, contentedly stocking up for my planned menu that week. 

Now it means a restless night of dread the night before, dressing up like a bank robber, and pumping adrenaline all morning.  Not to mention the research and planning that begins early in the week, searching to procure necessities from some establishment that takes my safety seriously and isn't hopelessly overwhelmed.  Two weeks ago I snagged a curbside pickup time from Martin's, but last week they were booked solid, so I managed to find a time from Walmart--which was booked solid this week, so I found a locally-owned grocery with a low-tech but very friendly curbside service.

I told the children who were soooo boooored: "I don't know, write a song about quarantine or something."  They actually did it.  The lyrics were essentially about wishing they had more donuts.  Truly we are all under trial in these dark days.

This week the farmer's market also reopened--for online order and curbside pickup only.  Farmers are in the business of growing vegetables, not necessarily building websites, but they managed to put together an impressive system in double-quick time, thanks, I believe, to some philanthropic out-of-class college students. 

The quilt a couple weeks ago, nearly finished except for the unknown name.

This farmer's market has previously been voted "Best Place to Spend a Saturday" by the locals.  It features a bustling pavilion with people from all walks; popcorn; coffee; live music; crafts; and piles and piles of colorful fresh crops for sale by wholesome, smiling farm families.

Caleb, delighted about a few books I ordered him on his reading level (this one about a bunny).

Hooray for the announcement of baby Jackson's safe arrival!

Today all that neighborhood goodness was replaced by a few tables lined with labelled paper grocery bags and a crew of masked, gloved workers loading up the trunks of cars that filed past in a strict line. 


Humanity has been clubbed by this stupid virus.

After another quick stop at the local grocery to receive my bags from another covered face, I headed home with my trunk of mystery items (It's not so much "placing an order" as "making a request," as you never know what items will be in stock or whether alternatives will be available.  We've repeated "we will be thankful for whatever we get" many times around our house.  And I'm so thankful for my skills honed in the last few years of cooking creatively with what I have on hand.  Menu planning?  You wish.) with the heavy heart that's becoming regular whenever I'm faced with the tangible ways the world has changed.