It was a McMeal of Scooby Snacks, Sliders, and Tater Tots last night while we watched the final episode of “The Handsmaid’s Tale.” In Oregon we have both McDonald’s and McMenamins to satisfy our McCravings. However, salt and caramel ice cream is what we were really after, but Salt & Straw can’t keep it in stock, so we didn’t get dessert. “To-Go” is the main incentive to get us out of the apartment these days. “To-Stay” means little to do but watch TV, play video games, read, write, nap, or assemble a puzzle. We ended the lazy night with the first episode of “Little Fires Everywhere.”

It’s another rainy Portland day, so Tally the schnauzer will join us on a “Nothing-Doing”  Saturday.  She hates getting wet, so her much anticipated walks will be disappointingly short, leaving us all more time to do nothing. There was a time when a down-day like this would have been more than welcome, but instead it’s become dreadfully routine. We could have been doing nothing in the Bali sunshine right now, if circumstances hadn’t changed. At the very least, I should be grateful that we’re healthy, along with 99% of people we know. There is that very small percentage of distance acquaintances that have contracted COVID-19, but fortunately none have been fatal cases or even close to home. 

As we walked to pick up our food last night, my wife did an informal survey of those wearing masks on the street. Ours just arrived in the mail, so I was sporting mine for the first time, while she elected to enjoy the fresh air. Of about 75 people we passed, only about 20 had their nose and mouth covered. I found mine to be uncomfortable because my glasses were steaming up. I’ll have to dig in my ski equipment to find some anti-fog. Speaking of snow, the local ski areas just re-opened today. It’s about an hour drive if I were ambitious. It serves as a reminder that there are things to do if I make the effort. However, I haven’t skied in over a year, even when life was normal and never as late as mid-May. Before we exit Oregon for a Florida home, I’ll need to hit the slopes one last time while I’m still in my sixties. It’s a long way from Tampa to snow for a Septuagenarian, another name for a dinosaur. I guess I better think twice about “Doing Nothing” when a few more years might mean “Nothing Doing!”