California Christmas 2023: Day Lucky Thirteen?

Today we were to drive to Los Angeles with Brannon's family to meet John's parents and brother, and Renata's brother's family to visit Oma - Irmgard Charlotte Emmi Klebba. Oma is John's 99 year-old grandmother. 

Then Sheila and I headed downstairs to take our test, just to be sure. We KNEW we were not positive for Covid. Congested, yes, a little headachy made, but nothing like our previous bouts with Covid. But just to be sure...

...then:

The T is Terrell, the S is Sheila and, yes, both of us are positive, once again, for the coronavirus. 

That of course nixed the trip to LA for us and Brannon & John. I just hate it!

I masked up and drove a box of Covid tests over to Anza Avenue. John had already tested negative and now Brannon did. Yay! But they have been exposed. 

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We quarantined the rest of the day in Carlsbad where we are house-sitting for Margaret and Andrew Carson. I dread having to tell them that their home is now a bed of infection.  I spent the day listening and watching the ASST fourth annual New Years Eve storytelling Blowout. I heard stories by a few friends and several folks I hadn't heard before. I especially enjoyed the hour that was dedicated to a group of folks who celebrate the poetry of Paul Laurence Dunbar, the wonderful black poet of the late 1800s who only lived into his thirties. Perhaps my favorite was a tandem recitation in dialect (as written) by an Irish man and an American woman. He recited the majority (in black) and she sang the refrains (in blue). Here is that poem:

Lover's Lane

by Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872 – 1906)

Summah night an’ sighin’ breeze,
   ’Long de lovah’s lane;
Frien’ly, shadder-mekin’ trees,
   ’Long de lovah’s lane.
White folks’ wo’k all done up gran’—
Me an’ ’Mandy han’-in-han’
Struttin’ lak we owned de lan’,
   ’Long de lovah’s lane.

Owl a-settin’ ’side de road,
   ’Long de lovah’s lane,
Lookin’ at us lak he knowed
   Dis uz lovah’s lane.
Go on, hoot yo’ Mou’nful tune,
You ain’ nevah loved in June,
An’ come hidin’ f’om de moon
   Down in lovah’s lane.

Bush it ben’ an’ nod an’ sway,
   Down in lovah’s lane,
Try’n’ to hyeah me whut I say
   ’Long de lovah’s lane.
But I whispahs low lak dis,
An’ my ’Mandy smile huh bliss—
Mistah Bush he shek his fis’,
   Down in lovah’s lane.

Whut I keer ef day is long,
   Down in lovah’s lane.
I kin allus sing a song
   ’Long de lovah’s lane.
An’ de wo’ds I hyeah an’ say
Meks up fu’ de weary day
Wen I’s strollin’ by de way,
   Down in lovah’s lane.

An’ dis t’ought will allus rise
   Down in lovah’s lane;
Wondah whethah in de skies
   Dey’s a lovah’s lane.
Ef dey ain’t, I tell you true,
’Ligion do look mighty blue,
’Cause I do’ know whut I’d do
   ’Dout a lovah’s lane.

From The Book of American Negro Poetry (Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1922) edited by James Weldon Johnson. This poem is in the public domain.

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Meanwhile, back home: My great niece Briane Davis was rehearsing with her fiancé and her family and friends their wedding that will take place tomorrow. I enjoyed seeing a few pictures by my sister, Joan, Briane's grandmother. I will share them here eventually, I'll wait for them to be shared elsewhere first.

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And this last day of the year is an important birthday to us. We remember:

Sheila's wonderful grandmother Annie Belle Brannon Snell whose birthday for the first ten years of our marriage was also the annual Snell Family reunion. Our eldest daughter is named for her.

Our niece Larisa Carron Johnston Featherstone was a tax deduction for my sister Carol and her husband Ron in 1974. I refuse to acknowledge how old that sweet baby will be a year from today.

And our dear friend of over half a century, Mike Bock, was also born on this date and today catches up to my age as he does each New Years Eve. Are is Mike's picture today from Facebook:

Happy birthday Larisa and Mike!

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I was interested to see the three large containers each home has in Carlsbad. They have a very complete system of dealing with recycling, composting, and waste. Here are the labels from the three cans at this house:

Like our home town the Recycle bin is for clean paper, hard plastics, and cans. But they also recycle glass bottles. At home we have to take our bottles to a special private recycling trailer.

This is the big difference: we only put grass clippings, leaves, weeds,  sticks and such in the  our larger "yard waste bin". That material is taken to the Vaughn Road grinders to be made into mulch. But here they also allow food scraps. Wow! All that is added to the vegetative matter from the yard and composted together. I'd like to know more about how it is processed.

And Carlsbad seems to be serious about limiting landfill  material to  the stuff that really cannot be reasonably recycled or composted.