Dispatch from Plaguelandia

Melinda Palacio

When I started blogging about the pandemic in March, no one could have imagined we would be back in lockdown with no where safe from Covid-19 in December. As it is, we are talking about, at least, two more seasons, maybe three, of the the Corona Virus Song and Dance, relax regulations a little and then shut down an entire city, state for weeks. I am grateful I’ve been able to survive this pandemic both physically and creatively. However, it has been a challenge. Isolation gets to me even though having all this time to write should be a blessing. I admire people who have managed to finish books, publish their work, and create art instead of grumbling about the world ending. 

With so many months to end this roller coaster year, I sometimes feel I should have published two or three books, at least finished the one I’ve been working on forever. The year in lockdown should have served as my own personal writing retreat, but the part of me that enjoys worrying decided to let all the worry and anxiety take over. However, I am ready to move on and embrace the upcoming new year. Next month, the world will be a different place. Given all that I know about quarantine life, I don’t think I would do anything different.

One of the best quarantine decisions I’ve made is adopting a puppy. The days may blur, causing me to surprise myself each time a new week rolls by, but my puppy forces me to keep a schedule. She doesn’t care what day of the week it is, doesn’t let me skip meals or walks. What I didn’t expect was how much joy she brings to strangers. Everyone loves a puppy. Strangers who wouldn’t go out of their way for me, cross the street just to engage with my dog. They sometimes have long conversations with her. They take her approval, licks, and wagging tail as consent for their intrusion. 

On the one hand, my paranoid self shudders at the thought of random people petting my puppy. What if they are infected with Covid-19 and pass the virus to me by touching my dog? I’ll admit, I have asked people to sanitize their hands before petting my puppy. But sometimes people rush her like she’s some famous movie star. I’m often surprised by a stranger’s sheer excitement at touching my dog. I also understand that the quarantine and lockdowns have had a strong effect on people, giving them a hunger for interaction with a friendly being. The dog doesn’t wear a mask or hold out hand sanitizer like a weapon of defense. The puppy accepts all affection with no judgment and wags her propeller tail so feverishly it looks as if she could fly away. 

Without fail, people always want to know the same three questions about my dog: ‘Is she a puppy?, How old?, and What’s her name?’. Pandora, the pandemic puppy, is six months old and while she looks like a mountain lion or small horse, she is definitely a puppy.

My next post falls on Christmas. If we’ve learned anything, let the cancelled pandemic world stay cancelled. Wear your mask, wash your hands, stay healthy and avoid surper-spreading holiday gatherings. Let’s have a merry Christmas by stopping the rising death tolls and curbing Covid. 

If you are looking to participate in a random act of kindness, text FAMILIA to 44321 to Donate to Al Otro Lado and help reunite families. 

Driving to a Pandemic, Wish it Were a Pachanga, a Picnic Would Do, July 2020

Melinda Palacio

Road trips during Covid 19 

The Grey Goose

Lockdown is pretty much the same wherever you go. After four months of being on lockdown in California, Steve and I decided it was time to travel back to New Orleans. Living in two locations means maintenance must be done on both houses. A huge tree fell in the backyard of the New Orleans house. Steve and I decided to rough it in the car and not stay at hotels on the way. Imagine car camping, only you're not going to Yosemite or a woodsy destination. Sleeping involved spending the night in the car because we didn't want to rely on hotels to keep the rooms sanitized. It was adventure enough to try watching t.v. during a non pandemic and touch the hotel's remote control, which lately has an even dirtier sign next to remote saying that the hand held device has been cleaned. The van holds a queen-sized air mattress, an ice chest, food box, and the luggage on top (not pictured). As end-of-the-world travel goes, I must admit it was pretty comfortable, until the engine turned off and the windows offered little relief from the night's desert heat. On the return trip, I will certainly have a portable, battery charged fan.

The trickiest part was the bathroom issue. Luckily, I had read the article in the NYT on how to use a public toilet during a pandemic. Basically, don't touch anything. If someone didn't flush, try using a different bathroom or flush and step out, avoid the toilet plume. Who would've that toilet plume would be something to avoid? Also, a large truck stop service station with several stalls is much safer and cleaner than a place with one or two stalls. I go in and I don't touch anything with my bare hands, especially after I've washed them. The bigger service stations that are part of chains also have the correct memo on NO Mask, No service, whereas smaller service stations let people get away with walking into the convenience store to buy snacks, lotto tickets, pay for gas, and/or use the toilet, all without wearing a mask. Guess they didn't get the pandemic Covid-19 memo the rest of the world knows about.

The oddest thing I traveled with during this last migration East was my sourdough starter. Having joined the pandemic sourdough brigade, I couldn't abandon my starter. Starter is the essential ingredient for making delicious bread. I never thought I would be that middle-aged lady who travels with her sourdough starter. At least, ICE waved me through the Sierra Blanca checkpoint and didn't ask to inspect all my bags like they usually do after they ask to verify my citizenship. This is usually the most stressful part of the trip, getting harassed by INS for having brown skin, crossing the border of one Texas town into another Texas town.

For now, I can wave to my friends in New Orleans from two miles away, instead of two thousand miles, take care of some business, and continue to outrun the Rona. Stay safe everyone. Wash your hands, mask up, distance yourself--get in a car and drive two thousand miles if you have to, but don't change your pandemic routine. I travel with sanitizer, wipes, and extra masks in my purse.

Carvana: A Pandemic Purchase

Melinda Palacio

What's it like to purchase a car from a vehicle size vending machine? Stay tuned to La Bloga. My pandemic purchase took some side trips and my post will be delayed by two weeks. By then, you'll get to find out if I keep the car or return it. Until then, stay safe, practice social distancing, wash your hands and love life, as crazy as it may seem during the Rona.

Covid-19, the Proverbial Sh*T Hits the Fan

Melinda Palacio




This is my second post on Covid 19. Two weeks ago, I was in New Orleans, people were still going about their business and keeping up with their social lives. I went to a concert at an art museum with dozens of people. I was careful not to hug or shake hands, but the Corona virus didn't seem like a big threat as hundreds of my writer and education friends chose to go to a large conference in San Antonio, even though  the mayor had declared a state of emergency due to the outbreak. Today, with all events, schools, and most workplaces closed, the world is a different place as the global pandemic has showed everyone the seriousness of a dormant virus in which a person carrying the virus can infect several people without knowing they are infected. With people dying, quarantines in place, not enough medical equipment in our country, and the economy tanking, it seems like the end of the world. However, I can only hope that people will start to show their better sides and stop hoarding things like toilet paper and butter. Stores have gotten the memo about how a few rotten people can make life difficult for others. I made a second trip to Whole Foods yesterday and the management has put a limit on the amount of eggs, butter, and other high demand items people can buy. My sister who is a nurse in Downey, California, tells me there is a shortage of masks and protective gear for staff and patients. I tried to find a little solace by going for a walk in nature. Here are some photos from Lake Los Carneros (a pond really) in Goleta. I am grateful that walking in nature is still an option during this time of isolation and social distancing. Take care everyone.

Enjoying the fresh air

a nice path

Wildflowers

Swans fish

Goleta the Good Land

Clouds

Corona Virus: Not for the faint-hearted or Germaphobes

Melinda Palacio

Carefree in the Big Easy

This year, I decided to sit out the big writers love fest that is AWP (Association of Writers & Writing Programs), a conference for writers and academic types. At its the best, the conference is a great place to meet up with other writers, promote your book, learn about new books, learn new tricks of the trade and craft, and exhaust yourself trying to make the events of everyone you know. One of the highlights of AWP is the Book fair, where presses small and large hold signings and readings. If you have a manuscript that is looking for a home, the book fair can help make that personal contact. For various reasons, I have't been to the conference since it was held in Los Angeles four years ago and I was still working on my poetry manuscript for Bird Forgiveness. I missed the conference in Portland the year my book was published. At this year's conference in San Antonio, I was supposed to have a reading and be on a panel titled, Writing the Difficult with Fabulist Elements in Women's Poetry, along with other contributors to the Anthology Fiolet & Wing: An Anthology of Domestic Fabulist Poetry. I bowed out of all that opportunity, but so did a whole lot of other AWP registered people who chose not to attend due to the Mayor of San Antonio declaring a public health emergency over the Corona or Covid-19 Virus. AWP decided to go ahead with the conference, but urged attendees not to shake hands or hug. Is this the end of hugs and hand shakes? I look forward to seeing videos of the creative ways in which writers will greet each other. AWP will honor refunds and credits towards next year's conference in Kansas City.

Footsie for starters instead of a hug?

The virus seems to be heralding the End Times with whole cities around the world shutting down schools, not to mention the stock markets plunging everyday. I was slightly on the germaphobe spectrum before this panic and pandemic. Now, I don't want to leave the house and I am somewhat envious of friends who have their groceries delivered to them. I'm trying not to buy into the fear and panic. There's basic hygiene and there's those of us who take extra precautions. I know I've seen plenty of people in public bathrooms at gas stations and restaurants emerge from a toilet stall and put their hand on the door knob and leave facility without washing their hands. Some look around to see if they are being watched and no amount of pointing to the sink that keep them from slinking away. Others simply dart out quickly and I wonder why they feel they don't have to wash their hands. So I have become that person that uses the towel I've dried my hands with to touch the doorknob before exiting the ladies' room.

jazz hands for greeting new people

What I find frightening about Covid-19 is the dormant quality to the virus. This is a deadly virus that some people might not know they have for over a week. In Italy, not only are school children being kept home, but sporting events are being played with no audience, no fans, no cheering section, only the players.

The trusty fist bump

Living in two port cities means big cruise ships stop and let hundreds of people in town. Santa Barbara is all in a panic as the cruise ship Amadea, carrying 600 passengers and 280 crew, anchored. California reported its first death associated with a cruise ship on Wednesday. Cruise ships always seem like a hot bed for disaster, disease, and tons of waste and pollution. I may have made a decision not to attend a conference that might endanger my health by spreading disease, but how do I control things when a potential disease harborer, such as a cruise ship comes to me? I suppose I have to trust that the precautions being made will be met with professionalism and genuine care that will not be met with shortcuts. In the meantime, I choose to lean more on love and less on fear. I may not go to a large conference or amusement park, but I still plan on attending local events. If you are in Santa Barbara, Sunday, March 8 at 2:30, Juan Felipe Herrera visits the Museum of Art and will discuss Writing Love in the Face of Disaster.

Try the elbow greet instead of shaking hands

Over in New Orleans, another port city with even bigger cruise ships on the Mississippi than the Amadea in Santa Barbara, panic over Covid-19 has yet to reach the Big Easy. The city just ended the biggest party and although Mardi Gras seemed cursed with two deaths and injuries to float riders, the city continues to host big festivals. And there hasn't been a suggested ban on public handshakes or hugs yet. Will see how the big spring festivals fare, especially Jazz Fest in April, which draws large international crowds over two weeks. Yesterday, I was writing this blog post at the Starbucks on Magazine in New Orleans and I saw two friends hug and three men end a meeting with handshakes all around. However, the barista at Starbucks would not take my favorite cup, citing it is no longer refilling reusable cups due to the virus; thus more waste and (we hope) recyclables.

To show that I'm not holed up, waiting for End Times, I went out to see Walter Wolfman Washington.

I can only hope that the world is able to get a handle on this virus and allow us to get back to life. In the meantime, the New York Times featured a woman, Lynx Vilden, who is teaching people how to return to the time of Stone Age. Let’s hope we are not going that far backwards. Wash your hands. Live long and prosper (a popular handsfree Vulcan greeting), but don't shake my hand, hug me, or dare kiss me.

Anthony demonstrates the handsfree Vulcan greeting.