Close to Nowhere

Times are hard and I'm afraid they'll get harder before it gets better. It may be a different normal, but I have faith that things will eventually be normal again. I think more than anything right now I'd like to be able to walk into a restaurant, be given water and a menu and a big basket of rolls. I didn't eat out much at all, but I sure am looking forward to being able to do it again.

And I'd like to be able to walk into a grocery store and buy as much bread as I want. Son Kris and I eat a lot of sandwiches. We like them cold or hot. Bread, especially for us, is hard to come by right now. I have to get daughter Dana or granddaughter and her husband, Remy and Mitch, to go to the store for me, bring it to the house and leave just inside the door. They wave at me and leave. I'm anxious to be able to hug them again.

Granddaughter of my heart Grace is in town. She's staying next door with Dana and comes and knocks on my sewing room window and we text back and forth. She brought me a knee brace that Dana sent over (I've popped something really painful in my knee), and I sat inside the kitchen and she stood on the steps outside the door and we talked a minute. I probably won't get to hug her before she heads on to Colorado.

The whole world is in this same boat ­ some are in worse situations or even drowning. But I have faith in the human race and faith that God, who has apparently gotten ticked off at us and sent us to our rooms for a bit, will prevail.

I hope soon because I need to buy bread. I have discovered that I can't make it. I dragged my old bread machine out, cleaned it up, plugged it in and it came on. I was surprised.

Following the directions, but not really reading the book, I made up a small loaf. It turned out to be really small ­ about two inches high.

I tried one more time and that loaf was better. It rose about halfway up the pan and tasted vaguely similar to bread.

I have decided that I'm going to try one more time, by hand this time. That bread machine hadn't been used in at least 10-plus years. I'll let you know how it turns out.

On Facebook, I'm trying very hard not to read any of the negative posts. There are a bunch of them. I'm enjoying most of the jokes, even if many of them are crude.

Jerry Moore and Steve Henderson, who used to live in Potts Camp, put up most of the funniest ones. Those two are my favorites (I'm not counting my online quilt group). The funniest joke (to me) so far has been... "After years of wanting to thoroughly clean the house, but not having the time, I've discovered recently that that wasn't the reason..."