Orchestrate: 1. To compose or arrange (music) for performance by an orchestra; 2. To arrange or manipulate, especially by means of clever or thorough planning or maneuvering: to orchestrate a profitable trade agreement.
I can’t really say that I’ve orchestrated much of anything during the last few weeks. Every day is simply a new attempt to stave off insanity, and I’m not sure I’m really succeeding in that. I’ve gotten a fair amount accomplished since I’ve been home, but I think I’m still well on my way toward Crazy Town. But in the meantime, and in no particular order, I’ve:
- Made French onion soup.
- Made strawberry rhubarb pie bars.
- Built, or assisted in the building of, two floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall bookcases (we have nine-foot ceilings and the walls are twenty feet and seventeen feet long, respectively).
- Organized and shelved my books on their pretty new shelves.
- Written an essay.
- Written six new poems.
- Made lasagna and garlic toast.
- Thrown up lasagna and garlic toast (thanks a lot, stomach flu).
- Submitted nine poems to literary magazines.
- Orchestrated a letter-writing campaign wherein my younger boys wrote letters to relatives and friends they’re currently unable to visit due to social distancing and/or said letter recipients living out of state.
- Had the boys write answers to the responses they received to their original letters.
- Video chatted with cousins and my goddaughter.
- Played cards.
- Played Break the Safe.
- Started scanning all the photos in my many, many photo albums.
- Written nine blog posts.
- Had the boys work on quarantine time capsules.
- Had the boys work on a drawing/writing challenge (which crashed and burned about as quickly as my video diary plan).
- Watched three and a half seasons of Star Trek Voyager.
- Rearranged my office.
- Organized, assembled, proofed, and ordered the 2019 family photo book.
- Spent too much time on Facebook.
- Met with my poetry group via Zoom.
I’ve done lots of other things, too, but it all just seems inconsequential. It feels like I’m not really doing anything but spinning my wheels. I’d climb the walls, but they have things on them and besides, open floor plans don’t really lend themselves to wall-climbing because there aren’t any doorways in which to climb. And while scanning all of my photos is somewhat fulfilling, most of the people in most of the pictures are dead and it just makes me miss them that much more.
I should be keeping a quarantine journal, but I really haven’t done that yet. I suppose this will have to do.
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