Breathing Fire

So I saw a meme on Facebook that posed the interesting philosophical problem: "Name one thing in life that could be improved with dragons."

That seemed rather limiting, because the modern world contains many situations where a dragon could be helpful. Particularly if it was one of the telepathic, teleporting, telekinetic dragons in Anne McCaffrey's Pern novels, so that I could direct it to do things without anyone else knowing what was going on. 

Dragon groupie (and collector of miniature animals). 

If you were a dragon groupie, you'd know that there is a big 

debate about whether to organize your books in order of 

publication or in chronological order of the complex, 

multi-generational history of the imaginary planet 

of Pern. I resolved this debate by shelving randomly.

Workplace uses of the dragon would be pretty limited these days for your average office job. The morning commute is not a problem at the moment. Ending meetings early by causing fire drills is not as effective on Zoom/Teams/Skype. Even expediting document approvals is much harder in a digital world. ("So you need another week to look at that document, do you? How about now? Sigh.  <waits no longer than it takes to cough three times for dragon to teleport> Now?") 

Of course, it's hard to give your dragon precise coordinates to teleport when you only ever see people's living rooms/fake living room backgrounds. So we might have to wait on the professional applications of dragons until after the pandemic. 

Everyone on Teams sees my bedroom, because Bob 

only lets me work there. If I try to sit at a desk LIKE 

A NORMAL PERSON, he breaks things and bites.

 If I kick him out, he claws at the door. If I work from

 bed, he curls up beside (and, occasionally, on top of)

 me and sleeps.

Travel is an obvious win. No TSA screening, no worries about recycled air, crying babies, or passengers who refuse to mask up. And the carbon footprint is so low you'll get a personal congratulatory (digital) postcard from Greta Thunberg. Luggage space is somewhat limited, but you're arriving on a dragon. With the money you save, you can just buy a new wardrobe when you arrive. Bonus points if your dragon burns through the roof of Chanel.

A dragon can definitely help you maintain social distancing. One curl of smoke and even the largest and most unruly of crowds will give you 6 feet of separation, give or take a hundred yards.

Also, I'm not sure there have been studies, but dragon fire is probably a pretty potent disinfectant. It may burn down whatever you're trying to disinfect, but there won't be any viruses left when she's through. Just rebuild with sanitary (and fireproof) materials.

Cooking-wise, your dragon can help with smores night, campouts, and fondue. He can thaw and BBQ simultaneously, although you'll want to wrap those ribs in a lot of foil to prevent charring. Cleanup is also a breeze; just keep a water hose handy. 

If you're an extrovert, your dragon is an excellent conversation starter. If you're an introvert, you're dragon is an excellent conversation ender. Everyone wins!

And of course, we haven't even touched on the telekinesis. Tree removal alone could be a profitable side hustle in my neighborhood. And the trash cans would always be put out and pulled back on time.

So many possibilities. Unfortunately, Bob and Daisy aren't nearly as useful as pets. They make messes, refuse to social distance, and sit on my suitcase to keep me from going anywhere. They disappear when it's time to cook or clean (but will absolutely try to eat my food). 

Lucky for them, they're cute.

And pettable. 

Time, It Moves So Weird

 

It's been a long decade. Or year. Whatever. 

Bob, however, is excellent at time. 

Specifically, breakfast time 

and dinner time.

Part of what makes 2020 so long is, of course, COVID-time, where each day lasts approximately 2 minutes or 3.5 weeks, depending on the phase of the moon and/or whatever game mode the hypersentient beings who are playing this video game called Earth are using (currently: combat mode).

Part of it is that due to the Nature of My Job, I have actually worked an entire extra month (in overtime) since March. We'll call it Julaugbrilay. I'm now working on another one, which will be Septovberary. (If I'm still earning overtime after Septovberary, we'll just call the next overtime month "Despair.")

Part of it is that I inherently suck at time anyway. Despite the fact that all I have to do to attend meetings is click on a button, I still manage to be late to them sometimes because my brain is absolutely convinced that I need to arrive EXACTLY ON TIME, which means that at 9:59, I have an entire minute to do things, like respond to email, go to the bathroom, and get a glass of water. Shockingly, this never works out. 

Since I have been doing a lot of writing professionally, I have not been writing creatively. This is actually the first non-work-related bit of writing I've done since February. Mostly, by the time I'm done working, all I want to do is silly tablet games, with a side of social media. 

Things I have NOT done (or not done much) this year:

1. Read things not related to work.
2. Write things not related to work.
3. Finish the meditation class I started in February.
4. Tarot, except for one special request.
5. Knit.
6. Finish editing my book of short stories.
7. Complete most of the 4,932 items on my mother's to-do list.
8. Master the alto recorder, or as Eleanor refers to it, the toodle-oo. 
9. Baked bread. I think I'm down to every other month or so.
   

So what I have I done with my pandemic, besides work and silliness?

Oddly soothing it is. And

the tiny postcard size 

is great because adult 

coloring book pages 

outlast my attention span.

1. Mastered the art of cooking roast. For years, I was hampered by the ridiculous necessity of leaving the house to go to work. I had to stick a roast in a crock pot and leave it to convert into shoe leather 10 hours later. But now, I can take a 10 minute break to sear the roast at exactly 2:30 and leave it to simmer the rest of the afternoon. We've been eating a lot of roast.
2. Finally made my own postcards. As I mention every year, I participate in the August Poetry Postcard Festival. I bought some postcard blanks on Amazon last year, in case I felt brave enough to attempt art. It finally occurred to me that, while I am fairly hopeless at drawing things, I have always been a first-class doodler. It helps me focus in meetings, while simultaneously feeding my colored pen addiction. 
   
   
3. Discovered the local farmer's market. It's one outing we can make while socially distancing and picking up pretty produce. We've become addicted to Chef Flaco's salsas and quesos (motto: put some Flaco on your taco, which does make you question the ingredient list), and Murphy's Mallows makes the best homemade smores. This is also where I get my roasts. The girls love to go with me, because of the fresh squeezed strawberry lemonade. (Betty's job is to stop me from buying too much produce. Sometimes she succeeds.)
4. Watched a popular TV show. That's right. I haven't watched an entire TV show in eight years. I haven't been to the movies in five. But I sat down with Eleanor and watched "The Tiger King" in its entirety, which I believe the rest of the world calls "binge-watching." It

   

   Sort of the thread equivalent of doodling,

   actually. No plan, no vision...just, "Hey, look!

   a blank space! Let's put something there!"

   was a dumpster fire on a train wrecking into a shark tank. Highly recommended. And mercifully brief, because I just don't have it in me to sustain TV watching beyond about 8 consecutive episodes. 
5. Did some embroidery. Betty wanted to learn, so I showed her a few stitches. Really, she only wanted to learn backstitching so she could sew encouraging words for her friends, but I got carried away and now I have a thing that I absolutely have no idea what to do with. I guess it could be a very small pillow? A large coaster? IDK. But it was fun.
6. Engaged in slow, methodical destruction of an electronic device. Of the many jobs of a modern parent (Cook, Chauffeur, Personal Secretary, Entertainer, Supervisor, Referee), my least favorite has always been Household IT. But when my tablet, which had long outlived its design parameters, abruptly died for no good reason, I first tried to be responsible by going through an entire Google of troubleshooting. So what do you do when nothing works, but your device died before you could wipe your personal info from it? You spend an entire evening attacking it methodically during the ads between anagram games with a small screwdriver, that's what. I now have teeny tiny tablet pieces in the trash and a small collection of magnets. 

Not bad for six months, I guess. But COVID is here to stay, at least for a little while, and that means before we know it, we'll be almost through with Septovberary and heading into Despair, and I only have one more dead electronic device to dismember and Betty won't let me buy more than two shopping bags full of produce. Maybe it's time to revisit the whole writing for fun thing. Or at least bake a loaf of bread.