2020 Year in Review
January
I started off by reviewing the last decade.
Recreational marijuana becomes legal in Illinois, much to my chagrin.
The painted rock reappears…then re-disappears. (It's currently on the ground next to the porch, though one of the glued-on jewels has come off.)
Shaq does the Random Instrument Challenge with Jimmy Fallon. Not only is there a double contrabass flute in it, but Shaq palms a tuba. Just incredible. I love being reminded of it. (There's also a mention of Stephen Colbert's Pottillo's sketch as well.)
Dad learns how to block numbers on the landline.
I returned to band for the new year and got a new high school player as a stand partner, plus acted like the hyperlocal Amazon driver.
Aunt D hosts her grandson's 3rd birthday party, so we don't have to drive to Kankakee in potentially bad weather--the Weather Channel had a live shot set up in St. Charles. (This would be our only family party of the year.)
I met up with Dr. K for "coffee" for the first time in over a year.
I then get to band early and check out the massive crane nearby.
One of the towing guys from my work complex ends up in my driveway accidentally.
Grandma finally has her procedure--part of her colon is removed due to cancer. Her nurse at one point ends up being the son of a family friend. I learn more about the procedure--including how grandma had about 6" of colon removed--and that my parents had decided to get a new microwave. By day 3, she is complaining about "room service" at the hospital (don't deny my grandma pudding), and her release is delayed while her body adjusts to how to eliminate waste (though the issue is with liquids, not solids). And once grandma finally eliminates liquids, the hospital basically kicks her out and the family has to scramble to make arrangements to pick her up. By the end of the month, grandma spends the night prior to a follow-up appointment. Except mom gets sick and my father has to take grandma to the appointment. Also, we had a fun breakfast conversation about what had come out of her body and what it looked like.
Mom's work schedule changes for the first time in 10 years. She moved to four 10-hour days with Fridays off.
At my job, we catch four mice with four traps in short order--though I have to cajole my coworkers to remove the bodies.
Raising Cane's opens and we can now get chicken on Sundays.
Thanks to Apartment Therapy's January Cure, I tackle the silverware drawer in the kitchen. (It was the only Cure item I did. Better than nothing!)
It was on January 25th that I first mentioned coronavirus, specifically that the 2nd known US case was up in Hoffman Estates. One of her doctors is the husband and father of people I knew from camp. (In doing this year-end roundup, I am back-tagging posts with "pandemic" to make them easier to find.) Little did we know what havoc this illness would wreak on everything. (Mind you, I have started this write-up and completed the month of January on the very day I went for coronavirus testing.) One line from the article I quoted says, "It remains unclear how lethal the virus is, or even whether it is as dangerous as the ordinary flu, which kills tens of thousands of people every year in the U.S. alone." We'd learn. Oh, we'd learn. I noted that, thanks to grandma's procedure, we had a supply of face masks in the house.
I drop from Diamond to Obsidian in Duolingo leagues and think about learning Latin.
Kobe Bryant dies in a helicopter crash with his daughter and others related to her basketball team.
February
For the last January band rehearsal, I got to play both piccolo and mentor to our high school oboe player.
A stroll down Ancestry lane shows me that my mom went to high school with her 3rd cousin, and that cousin's daughter went to high school with a college friend.
Groundhog Day is also Palindrome Day, and I finally mention Chance the Snapper and Alligator Robb from the previous summer.
Instead of completing a project, my coworker got me a cinnamon roll.
I discuss the Super Bowl, learning Latin on Duolingo, and how the Chicago area has the first person-to-person transmission of the virus in the US.
Mom does a surprise visit to check on grandma and also makes treats for an Oscar party.
A house in the neighborhood gets crashed into.
Shenanigans at the NCC basketball game include one of the band members dressing like a banana.
This year's Valentine's Day post is brought to you by Vivian Maier.
The first solo contest of the year is now run by Mrs. S, having taken the reins from an ailing Mr. C. I also visit Laura, and find out mom's Oscar party got canceled, and there's a brief mention of the local coronavirus patients having been released from the hospital.
For BBC's birthday, the window in the work van has an issue.
Former governor Roddy Rod got released from prison.
Dr. K gets mentioned during a band rehearsal, having worked with AD2's district bands that day.
My boss' son pranks his classmates for Valentine's Day, and I get weird phone calls because of it.
I find my way back up to Duolingo's Diamond League.
On the cross street by my house, one home gets gutted for resale, while the house that got hit starts returning to normal.
At the last band rehearsal before our concert, Two-Chairs-Down arrives with purple and pink hair. It's also the director's birthday.
The month ends with a Leap Day and a solo contest, where I find myself texting Dr. K in the middle of it. I also pick up a discbound notebook to hold all my solo contest paperwork.
March (AKA, Sugar, we're going down)
The previous Friday at work meant a day listening to the oldies rock radio station, to my delight.
Local mainstay Pheasant Run closes its doors. I'm guessing it wouldn't have made it through the year otherwise.
I get a visual of Stinky Kitty's existence, and possibly ducks.
WHY DO I KEEP HAVING TO DEAL WITH PEE AT WORK???
I give the most recent update on what is now known as COVID-19. This was posted March 6, when things were starting to get disrupted. It's interesting to read what I wrote now that it's nine months down the line…and the day I am doing the March read-through, I received my positive test result.
We tackle the items in the bottom of the china cabinet. We also attempted to go to our closing Art Van, but cannot get in.
My one and only concert was on March 1st. Our soloist's piece has a snafu but the rest is fine.
By March 11, things have escalated with the virus. Activities have started getting canceled and the media has started instructing everyone on how to wash their hands. The St. Patrick's Day parades were stopped and my boss discovered Costco was out of anything that said "disinfectant" on it.
By March 12, my plans for Saturday the 14th were canceled. The radio station we listen to for work also announces that NCC has suspended in-person learning for the rest of the semester. (Yep, first year on semesters was a total disaster.) I wonder what will happen at work, and think if we all isolated for a few weeks, perhaps that would help. If only…
A break from the impending doom: We watch Parasite and mom tells me how her cousin Steve burns his peanut butter sandwich.
By March 14, pandemic panic has set in and it's pandemonium at Woodman's. This is likely the first mention of social distancing I make as well. I note that as of the coming Tuesday, all K-12 schools in Illinois will be shut down, governor's orders.
After our one and only rehearsal for March, I wonder when we'll have band again.
By March 16, I have a new normal at work: Disinfect, disinfect, disinfect. We also reach out to the room renters to figure out what they're comfortable doing; most stay away.
My dad has an adventure trying to get corned beef sandwiches for St. Patrick's Day (note: don't go to Taco Bell for them).
By March 18, most of the room renters have stopped coming to my job. My boss also teases me about how particular I've been about cleaning things. I wonder how much longer we'll be open and say I'd be okay with getting quarantined at home. (Note that I had already started feeling off by this time.)
And by March 19, I am feeling crappy enough that I can't even bring myself to go online via desktop computer--for the first time ever, I am posting from my phone. I note that since I had no known encounters with an infected person, I likely cannot get tested.
Friday, March 20, I post the symptoms I'd been having, and that Illinois' governor was shutting down non-essential businesses starting Saturday at 5 PM through April 7. We start sheltering at home. My grandma, thanks to my uncle, starts getting her groceries delivered. My boss calls with the plan for work, which does not include me for the time being. My parents and I, owing to the novelty of it, stream the new movie The Invisible Man because we can.
I help mom with her real estate webinar; she makes me wear a mask. My illness has progressed to where the coughing has started. Also, Laura gets in a good Lent crack.
By Sunday, March 22, my symptoms were such that the CDC symptom checker strongly suggested seeing a doctor within 24 hours. (I didn't, but that was the worst night I had.) I also describe what my dad experienced while shopping at our Jewel.
Monday, March 23: My boss decides to stay open; I tell him I am sick and not returning to work until at least April. My mom gets temporarily laid off from her job. (My boss also asked at this time that if I ended up getting tested, and it came back positive, to let him know. I did immediately reach out to him when that happened in December--again, the day I'm writing up March.)
The next day, I detail my attempt to help work from home, as my mother brings home nearly 34 years' worth of stuff from her job, in case she never went back. (And she didn't.) I do start to tackle some projects, and I talk about wanting an iPad.
Part of my Lenten lineup falls by the wayside, and I detail more of my symptoms, including my awful cough. I also come across an article about previously unknown virus symptoms, including gastrointestinal upset like I had. My time off work at least affords me a chance to catch up on projects. I even catch up on some pretty old stories I'd had notes for.
The band directors find a way to keep in touch via email. The following week, we find out all performances for the next few months are canceled, and the flute section leader reaches out about making section shirts.
We start the process of dismantling the family room for painting purposes, and the Wii moves into my room.
(Note: It appears that March 10th was the last time I did not make a post.)
April
The house project starts: We move the furniture out of the family room and into the living and dining rooms. Next task: Taking down the kitchen wallpaper. That task lasts a couple days. We also have to remove the old caulk in the kitchen and tape everything off. Dad accidentally breaks a SAD lamp he was using as a work lamp. By April 8, dad has started painting, including himself. I clear out the pantry and clean its shelves, and I see a chipmunk with a white-tipped tail. My father admits, before we finish the first coat, that we'll need a second coat of paint.
Corona capers: The old vehicle emissions site by my old house becomes a drive-thru testing location. (Note that one of the articles quoted here mentions that Illinois surpassed 4500 total cases at the time. We had more than double that in one day as I write this up.) I come across a symptom list on Yahoo and detail what I did and didn't experience, as well as an article on how some people present with digestive issues in addition to or in lieu of respiratory issues.
I catch up on old work notes, including that we'd finally gotten new monitors at my and YC's workstations.
On April 6, I leave the house for the first time in weeks, including using the bank drive-thru for the first time. I also see what going grocery shopping in the post-pandemic world is like, including what's missing and what's restricted. I also talk about cleaning and temporarily setting aside certain groceries.
I finally get around to posting pictures from 2019.
For Easter, our neighbor dresses like a bunny, I talk with Mr. M, and we're still working on the downstairs. The second coat gets finished by the 14th. I put the pantry back together and do my taxes. Once the painting is mostly done, dad starts adjusting the old entertainment center and we talk about getting new furniture for the family room. We have Stanley Steemer come to clean the carpet. In looking up sectionals, we realize we might have to reconfigure the family room. I clean out some kitchen cabinets, and we realize a sectional may not work in the family room.
After doing well for several weeks, I have a setback on the 16th. I also talk about a possible breathing technique and explain what proning is, without using the term. (Guess it wasn't entirely a thing quite yet.)
I describe some of the premonitions I'd had earlier in the year.
I detail what happened during Lent this year. I also mention my poor old phone and how it's running out of space…with another iPad mention. There's also a post where I detail how life has changed in the past month. A second post on how life has changed also mentions birthday parades.
Band update: The Memorial Day parade officially is off, but no word yet about the summer.
I bake bread and break the can opener.
We return the family room to somewhat normal, and dad and I go grocery shopping together for the first time in weeks. (You can sense my anxiety a bit as I describe the cleaning of all the things.) Mom decides to keep the china cabinet in the living room, and I describe how my heart now beats faster when I exert myself.
I find patterns for masks, and a new testing site opens in Aurora. I start on my first mask, using fabric from an old pair of work pants. (Note that while I did finish this mask, it looked pretty bad and I've never actually worn it. It has to do with the fabric--it was a poor choice for a mask. Oh well.)
NCC football hero Broc Rutter signs with the 49ers.
I find out I'll be returning to work in May. I warn my boss about my stamina issues.
Mom finds a sweet and sour chicken recipe to make, and buys rice. I make nut butter cups. Dad buys a power washer.
May
Illinois now has a mask mandate, and my parents order some online while I discuss making my own. I discuss more of how things are different in the pandemic era, including my shower and bathroom habits, exercising, and window blinds. I make my first fitted mask and decry the fact that I'd recently done away with nearly all the straight pins. Dumbass.
Grandma leaves the house for the first time in weeks, thanks to her stimulus check needing to go to the bank, and she has to do her own hair.
Picture post of what happened up through April, including pictures from the infamous grocery trip on 3-14.
On May 5, I return to work part time. I discover the new paint job my boss' brother-in-law has done, and YC got me a get well card and had everyone sign it.
Mom and I take a walk around the neighborhood.
We realize, with the governor's new five-phase plan for reopening the state, that we likely won't have band for months.
I talk about some of the differences that have occurred in driving to work since the pandemic started. This includes talking about the Fabyan Bridge and Fabyan/Kirk construction projects, plus noticing that my favorite willow tree had been taken down.
I dust and clean my room. It takes a couple days. I also consider making grandma masks for her birthday. I order fabric and dad picks up masks from the store, which now has smaller bottles of hand sanitizer. I also make my third mask and use an elastic headband for my ties. I'm also asked to do a survey for the Census Bureau.
I mention some of the cognitive issues I've been having.
We're watching movies and making food in the house.
SJ has to miss her senior choir concert and graduation; I would've gone to at least one of them.
The Cross Man, Greg Zanis, passes away.
Bria of Geneva enters the news as a nursing home that had a COVID-19 outbreak.
I have a health setback at work but come through the week okay.
We have a snafu with our groceries and a package of masks dad picks out doesn't come home with us. Also, I leave the eggs in the garage for three days.
I pick up my fabric from Joann and get to work on masks for the family ladies. Meanwhile, Laura makes a mask for my grandma. I end up making a mask assembly line.
Dad finally starts gardening, and I get through my backlog of old papers. (Now I've started a new backlog.)
For the third year in a row, it's the wettest May on record. Flooding and subsequent power outages at Willis Tower even knocks several TV and radio stations off the air.
The Fabyan Bridge is open for business. There's also construction at Kirk and Fabyan, plus fire training at Batavia and Butterfield in Warrenville.
Mom discovers her dump cake recipe book and the TV show sMothered, and I discover the house on the show.
A paint can explodes in the yard, and we start to make birthday plans with grandma.
I wonder what camp would be like in a pandemic.
The Memorial Day parade and service are canceled. The band also mentions doing weekly Zoom meetings over the summer to keep in touch.
I dream a tiny house dream.
Grandma gives mom an inadvertent birthday wake-up call. We then do a drive-by birthday visit after stopping at Rich's for groceries.
The end of the month finds me broken by too many bad things happening, including the death of George Floyd. I end the month discussing being a highly sensitive person.
June
It's been 25 years since I graduated from high school.
The aftermath of George Floyd's death brings protests and looting to Chicago and the suburbs. We are all very anxious.
In lieu of summer concerts, the band's local cable channel starts replaying old recordings. I start practicing again.
I have a busy week at work, where we get a new work neighbor, we get a new coworker, I work a bit extra due to the uncertainty with the rioting, and it looks like my life of leisure will soon end.
Grandma needs a new hairstylist as my aunt is retiring.
My neighbor trims his trees and we are amused at animal antics.
Like Luke on Gilmore Girls, I have a dark day.
We get our new weather station just in time for remnants of Tropical Storm Christobal to come through.
George Floyd and Black Lives Matter affect my college.
Mom and I take one last walk before I go back to work 5 days a week.
My current issues keep me thinking while I make masks.
I go back to 5 days and encounter a couple of construction zones.
My hair detoxes itself and isn't as oily as before, and I decide not to cut my hair until we move into Phase 5.
Dad buys a sun shade for the deck while a determined robin tries to build a nest on the pergola.
I survive my first 5-day week since March, though I'm so tired I go to bed at 8 PM Wednesday.
I turn my glow-in-the-dark beads into a fresh set of bracelets.
Grandma gets out for the first time in three months to get her hair and nails done.
My parents finally order a new couch.
More road construction fun, including new blinking yellow turn arrows on Fabyan, the Keystone Kops are running the construction zone by work, and I get to see a cement truck run over a spray can of green paint.
For my second full week back at work, I'm tired on Wednesday; I'm making more masks; and my dad's online mask order from the beginning of spring finally shows up.
By the end of June, Illinois has moved to Phase 4 of 5.
Grandma starts going to a different beauty shop and asks her neighbors for help with her phone and opening jars.
My cousins perform "Island in the Sun."
Thirty-five years earlier, we brought home Gizmo.
I end the month by going a bit into my issues earlier in the month. This is the point in time where I stopped believing in God. Also, the robins persisted in building a nest, and we have babies. I take comfort in watching them persevere through adversity.
July
My journal is now old enough to drive. It's also been 30 years since Kirby came into our lives, and I recall the crazy July of 2015. I also recall the heat wave of July 1995.
After my issues in June, the universe appears to reach out. (And, truthfully, the universe has even reached out since then. Interesting how that works.)
To get outside, I weed for a bit.
I realize there are three robin babies in the nest in the pergola. By the 8th, I get a visual confirmation. The babies eat constantly. By the 14th, they are getting fuzzy and I guesstimate it's about a week until they can fly. My guess is off, as they fly away while I'm at work on Saturday the 18th.
Mom finally gets a haircut, but keeps her hair on the longer side.
Just as our already-hot weather heats up, the stapler at work attacks my foot.
Mom discovers the exhaust fan in her bathroom keeps her room cool, and my parents visit grandma to fix her sliding door in the 90F+ heat.
By July 9th, the rest of band's summer season officially is canceled. We get asked how we feel about rehearsing and performing during Phase 4. By the 16th, we find out our ailing clarinet player is going into hospice care. The next time I posted about band, she had passed away. It's five years to the day of us going to San Antonio.
At work, I mentally prepare myself for the week when YC and I are left in charge. My boss' car gets plowed into. (He recently replaced it entirely, as the car developed a leak, and the bluetooth had stopped working properly--a problem when he makes a lot of calls from his car.) Also, sorry YC, but I am not marrying you. The manager preps me for the Week o'Doom. It mostly goes okay, aside from the random COD package.
Among multiple topics, I share the link for the census survey in which I participated.
My parents go to Galena for their anniversary.
I set about going through the music and programs from my school years.
Wahlburgers opens, but it's too busy for mom to eat there. I mention government cheese in the post--Wahlburgers serves burgers with it--and that came up recently when mom and I were returning from visiting grandma on Black Friday. I guess my great-grandmother would get government cheese. Who knew.
There will be no Homecoming at NCC this year; schools are debating how to open in the fall; and an acquaintance has no use for science. (This person is a year older than me and known to make poor life choices, so it wasn't a surprise, but I feel badly for her daughter, who was about to start high school.)
August
I discover camp has undergone improvements since we were last there--but can't show them off thanks to the pandemic.
I finish the Latin tree on Duolingo.
Band is looking to start rehearsing again, outside. I manage to record myself playing Stars & Stripes Forever from one of the replays.
I have a socially-distanced meeting with Avery, outside, naturally on the coldest day of the summer.
We briefly have a pet centipede that lives in the kitchen sink.
I remember my childhood trip to South Dakota, 35 years ago.
The morning of the 10th had looting in Chicago; the afternoon had a derecho and possible tornado in Rogers Park, our power went out for a couple hours, and…I had a proposition. We'd end up having 15 tornadoes in the Chicago area the day I was asked if I wanted to be considered for band vice president. I would say yes.
I respect Neil DeGrasse Tyson, but not BBC.
My aunt and uncle visit with grandma and have her Zoom with the great-grandkids.
I work on my Ancestry groupings, specifically figuring out how unknown the unknowns are.
Drama Mama returns to work…to pick up the stuff she'd left behind, not to return to her job.
The plug literally gets pulled on the WGN Morning News.
We finally get our new sectional sofa, and have to dispose of the old sofa and loveseat first. Within a week, we shift things around a bit to make everything work better.
Mom's interesting week includes her first visit to the library since March, straddling the chaise on the new sofa, not getting corn boil for dinner, and attending a psychic seminar via Zoom.
We find out one of my second cousins is now a father, and a second is expecting.
I work on organizing the linen closet. I ended up with six bags for fabric donation.
I explain my big work project.
In Kenosha, Jacob Blake is shot by police; in Wakanda, we find out Chadwick Boseman unfortunately isn't forever.
September
My coworker and I gift each other cookies for a job well done related to my recent big project. The boys in the other building go on an archaeological dig to unearth an old desk for Helper 2 to use and discover…unusual things. (Perhaps my grandfather worked there at one point.) And we are finally upgrading our software, but it doesn't go through. Once it's up and running, it doesn't go smoothly.
I pick up more bins to finish organizing the linen closet, but get thwarted in trying to donate old fabric.
I find out, to my relief, that I will not be the next band vice president. Also, yes, I am sure I don't want to be on the band board. We hold our yearly meeting virtually.
I get to have a rare 3-day weekend for Labor Day. Part of it is spent making sauce and a tomato tart. I finish reorganizing the linen closet and work on uploading pictures.
After our hot and dry summer, it's suddenly cooler and wet. We have days of rain, but our sky is a hazy, milky white thanks to Western wildfires.
I meet Kelly, the friendliest dog, and BBC's dog has a health scare. (He's fine now.) Kelly continues to meet the neighbors and be a friendly rascal.
We have a surprise busy season, where I start to make up some of my missing hours.
Soap becomes an issue in the house thanks to mom stealing the container from the kitchen. I talk about how I've stopped wiping down the groceries and that we started using the fruit bowl on the counter again.
A house near work goes up for sale, among other things. I have a dream about the Deerfield Pie House. I then have the Baby Cassadee dream. Soon after, I have a dream where I actually refer to the Baby Cassadee dream inside of it.
My parents take a second overnight trip, this time to Lake Geneva. (Soon after they'd gone, the virus numbers spiked in both Lake Geneva and Galena. We think dad is Patient Zero.)
I discuss my aversion to cough drops, even though my mouth dries out behind a mask all day.
Ruth Bader Ginsburg passes away. My mother also is officially terminated from her job.
Six months after I got sick, I go over some of what has changed in the meantime. Athletes get whiny about not being allowed to participate in their sports, as if they're the only ones affected by the situation.
Dad breaks the computer chair.
I finally get to see my solo performance on Stars & Stripes Forever. (I was not impressed, heh.)
My dad finally loses it when it comes to the neighbors' obnoxious, barking dog.
At work, the surprise busy season ends, my boss' aunt passes away, and I finally come up with a nickname for my one coworker.
Mom finally gets to try Wahlburgers and brings home some leftovers.
From Dr. Murphy on WGN, I learn about an antibody study through Northwestern Medicine.
I get a sweet greeting upon arriving at work one morning.
I sort of go to band one evening, if only to return my music.
October
I get turned down for the SCAN study, athletes are still whiny, and the Sox get eliminated from postseason play.
The president gets the virus. The prior weekend was given over to his nomination to replace RBG; it ended up being a superspreader event. (Joe Biden has a classy response. Also, the stair thing I wished did come true on TV when he returned home.) Just a reminder, masks work, people, but you have to wear them. Several days later, he's released from the hospital, climbs up some stairs at the White House, and is basically gasping for breath on live TV.
On a busy Sunday, dad helps me replace the monitor for the older computer.
We learn that Aunt D has cancer. Several days after that post, she is back in the hospital. Because I had trouble getting a text from dad, I adjust my phone settings, though I know my phone's memory is low.
I may have met the baby of the neighbors across the street.
Someone in my section reaches out about flute choir, and I mention an arrangement I've been working on. I continue working on my arrangement, though flute choir sounds a little sketchy. With Tex taking the reins, I'm not entirely sure I want to go through with flute choir, but the first rehearsal goes well and we play through my arrangement. A day after I post about rehearsal, we are banned from entering the building. I find this out as I attempt to go to the second rehearsal. (I end up going to Walmart instead as I need stuff for my car. Also, my boss' mom gives me a gift.)
The little white house on the way to work has sold.
An optometrist comments on my glasses. (I would later find out he's my boss' cousin's eye doctor.)
The Fabyan/Kirk construction moves toward completion.
Mom gives me lotion that dyes your skin; I have thoughts.
Going down the internet rabbit hole leads me to discover a movie based on the camp nurse's family tragedy.
At work, the newly-christened DW goes MIA for a couple weeks, and I long for a set schedule. My boss also institutes a dress code, in order to get YC to dress better. He also talks about getting work logo shirts.
As things have gotten worse with the virus, Kane and DuPage counties move backward in terms of restrictions.
My phone starts giving me warnings that memory is low.
I work a Saturday, and it ends up being the day that Fabyan is completely open for the first time in months.
A month out, we already know we will not celebrate Thanksgiving with grandma, though we may stop by with leftovers and a replacement TV.
There's a mystery with the dock area at work; the newest neighbors bring in bunches of chairs plus a keg.
A local celebrity visits my job; film at 11. Also TV-related, Foltos appears in a Lauren Underwood commercial.
Halloween is a little different this year, and we run out of candy for the first time in recent memory.
November
By the end of October, Aunt D had gone into hospice. Two hours before Joe Biden is declared the winner of the presidential election (on a Saturday), Aunt D passes away. We get information about the services right as Illinois may tighten restrictions due to the pandemic, and mom's friend Carole discovers she has a brain tumor. My dad does not plan ahead for cleaning his suit; minor chaos ensues. As we prep to go to the wake, the weather does not want to cooperate with us possibly having to be outside for part of the day. We all go to the wake, despite the new restrictions. I note how my father has coffee and Kevin's in-laws are terrible about mask usage. Mom stays home for the funeral, though dad leaves immediately after everything is over.
I mention the cranes that have been appearing in North Aurora in recent weeks.
Our neighbors' dog, Gabbie, doesn't appear to be doing well. (Note that she's still with us at year's end.)
The Kirk/Fabyan construction is winding down, and I'm disappointed to see that there's no left turn lane for Kingsland, after all that work. By mid-month, the intersection is completely open.
I daydream about the sort of van I'd want for band days, somewhere I could take a shower if necessary and have a place to hang out.
The day after Aunt D dies, we lose Alex Trebek.
The stress of November strikes me in the gut and I feel uncomfortable. A dose of Milk of Magnesia helps me feel better. I also start making a flute-playing mask.
Our streak of seven consecutive days of 70s comes to an end.
My boss gets me business cards.
Flute choir attempts to start up again, but it doesn't appear it will happen. A bunch of people can't make the rehearsal, with my reason being Aunt D's services. By the end of the month, the decision is made for us--the band building is closed entirely until January.
The towing place by work moves out.
Duolingo changes things up again and creates more French exercises, as well as changes over from lingots to gems. My app also includes the heart system for mistakes.
I break from my water-only diet care of one of our room renters, and YC gives me gifts for my birthday.
Kelly gets herself into more misadventures, this time in our front bushes.
My birthday plans changed. I spend my birthday going shopping, heading to Illumination with mom only, and then on a three-hour phone call with my Nevada cousin. I also change my phone settings to save only the last 500 texts in a chain. Meanwhile, my father is sick. Dad starts feeling slightly better just before Thanksgiving. He refuses to get tested for the virus, though mom makes herself an appointment. We start the holiday with good news--mom's test came back negative. I then do the vast majority of cooking and cleanup since dad still isn't well. Yes, I helped cook a turkey. I have to remind dad that since he hasn't eaten in a week, perhaps he shouldn't have a gigantic plate of food. I also buy myself a 23 and Me test kit as a belated birthday present to myself. The next day, we do a drive-by visit to drop off leftovers with grandma; we take a walk with her, then pop by my childhood park so I can donate old linens. After we get home, I have The Cake Incident. Note to self: Don't inhale cake, especially after your father's been sick with an unknown ailment following a family funeral during a pandemic. I then cough all weekend. (I do note that I am coughing the way I was in April…) By the Sunday after Thanksgiving, I am feeling weird, but I wonder if it's walking pneumonia. By the end of the month, my father finally goes to get tested for the virus and is number 1 in line. I am also not feeling well and pick up some ibuprofen and Dayquil when I stop at Walgreens on an errand.
December
The month starts with me not feeling well and having a fever, so I get tested for COVID-19. This also means I'm home when Laura's birthday gift arrives. By the end of the week, we have our results: Both dad and I are positive. I am concerned for grandma and my coworkers, particularly YC, whom I'd hugged the prior week. That Saturday, I finally experience the corona headache. I'm not eating as much because I'm not hungry, though I broke down and started using my old Emergen-C packets. I find out that I decimate my job temporarily, and mom goes for her second test. I also hear from Dr. K and wish Laura a happy birthday. The following Tuesday, following a shower, I have a robust cough that brings on dizziness and nausea and wipes me out for the rest of the morning. Mom's second test comes back as negative. She describes to grandma and me the study she also participated in. That same day, the first official COVID-19 vaccine in the world is given in Great Britain. I am hopeful that next year's holidays will be different than the current ones. A week after a call for dad, a contact tracer *finally* calls again…and it's for mom.
While starting my end-of-year post, I'm reminded of my favorite Honda commercial featuring Cheer Bear and Grumpy Bear (hooray!).
Our thank-you notes from Kevin arrive, and I find out Aunt D got my card before she passed. Grandma also finds an old note I'd written about her and sent along to the Trib.
The Thanksgiving football game gets played on the following Wednesday.
Grandma deals with an odd sharp pain in her left hip that comes and goes. Rather than seeing her regular doctor, she decides to go to a chiropractor…except hers retired and she has to find a new one. Grandma is "progressing" after her chiro visit.
At least I've gotten to console myself with Tiny House Nation.
Dad makes Christmas card labels for mom, misspells them, then makes it so that my computer can no longer print.
By the 11th, I'm restless. I go for my second test. Dad gets his second set of results and is negative. I have done nothing for Christmas and I'm not really bothered by that. We finally put up Papa's little tree on the 12th, plus some simple decorations.
The weekend of the 13th, a vaccine is approved for use and will start getting distributed within days.
I finally take my car in for an oil change, and then some, for the first time in over a year. Later that same day, I get my second set of results; I am still positive. However, I'm finally contacted by a tracer, who lets me know I can get a release from IDPH to return to work later in the week. I get my return-to-work waiver on the 16th. Dad and I celebrate by going grocery shopping, and we encounter cranes. I discover, with my continuing congestion, that I have a hard time wearing a mask continuously for several hours. Due to a miscommunication, I get an extra day at home, so I run errands. I returned to work on the 18th; my coworkers rejoiced. By the end of the week, not only has the Pfizer vaccine started rolling out, but the Moderna one gets approved.
We get visited by the holiday possum.
Christmas shopping is stressful this year, but only because of the other humans. I actually get it done pretty quickly, all things considered.
I returned to work just in time for another big project to come up.
Our basic Christmas turns out okay, at least until I'm too tired to participate. Part two includes gifts and other holiday info. Part three discusses a couple late gifts.
I realize I am done with 2020 when milk makes me cry. Also, I discover there was a fire at my dad's parents' house right after I was born. Since we have extra milk, mom makes homemade hot chocolate.
Both of grandma's TVs stop working; she has AT&T come to check on them. We hope to see her (and bring a working TV) soon.
We end the year with our first real snowfall of the season and mom gets to use her Snow Joe equipment.
I remember Gizmo, 20 years after his passing.
The Mom Files
Mom learns what daffodils are (hint: they're not dandelions)
Mom denies saying something she'd said five seconds earlier.
Spiders are octopi?
In time for their anniversary, romance isn't dead of a heart attack in the alley.
After their trip to Galena, mom insists that Dubuque, Iowa is part of Jo Daviess County. She then insists Algonquin is a county.
There is only one squirrel in the entire neighborhood, and his name is Steve.
Sue's in versus Susan
Her attempt at baking a cake in a new silicone pan ends up ruining the pan
More cooking, less ruining of equipment
There are reasons we don't let mom cook turkeys.
My mom's cousin's son dies. No, wait, it's her ex-husband.
Previous years (Note: Not all are in this same format):
2019 2018 2017 2016 2015 2014 2013 2012 2011 2008