
This is the Long Prairie River. It’s less than a mile from my house in Minnesota. As we went for a walk last week, I snapped a photo. The browns and tans of the cattails and trees will soon give way to lush green grass and leaves. This river is popular to tube down in the summer. It’s as beautiful and relaxing as you can imagine. The water is clear and you can see fish swimming beneath you as you float down the river. It’s not wide, it’s not flashy and it’s not easily accessible. There are only a few spots to get in and out of the river (which feels more like a stream). There is something about it that I love. Actually, lots of things… usually, it’s filled with family and friends, cool drinks and sometimes music. It’s peaceful and calm, a perfect way to decompress. We’ve floated down with different groups of people. Sometimes we’ve been floating with full sun, sometimes it’s on the verge of thunderstorms and sometimes the wind picks up and makes the floating a challenge.
I long for the days when we can float down again. It’s not an option right now for a couple of reasons… 1) You’d freeze your back end off because the ice came off the lake not too long ago 2) There is the issue of social distance and not wanting to wear a mask while river floating. Last Tuesday we had snow, but last weekend it was in the mid 60’s and we planted our garden. Mother Nature isn’t sure what season it is yet, but we are hoping for a great summer. We are hoping to see our friends and family again in person. I’ve struggled off and on, as I’m sure most people have. There is a big mental health piece of this pandemic that is skimmed over, but not widely talked about. I’m not a mental health expert or professional. I’m just a mom, wife & employee trying to keep kids on track with school, figure out what to feed everyone and work from home with limited internet.
“Pandemic Mavis” doesn’t get ready every day, she’s hit or miss with make up, she is overwhelmed with planning meals and she’s a little tired of being around only males (ha ha). “Pandemic Mavis” also has sewn many masks for friends and family, planted her garden, gone for walks and sewn up her injured chicken. This last 6 weeks has been a roller coaster. I feel guilty for being overwhelmed because I am thankful I have a job. I feel like the worst mom in the world when my kids don’t turn in their school work, and elated when they get back on track. I feel worried about being high risk, but isolated being at home. I feel bad for gaining weight, but I don’t want to make big changes in the middle of all of this.
Things that have made me feel better:
- Talking with sisters
- Video chat with friends
- Calling parents
- Going for walks
- Spending time outside
- My pets (cat and chickens)
- Helping others
I hope you are coping well. I hope you have the support network you need. I hope you will take a moment to take a deep breath and find something to be thankful for. Give some grace to yourself and those around you. I hope you are able to stay safe and healthy. Peace be with you on your journey of enough. May your dreams of summer keep you sustained and positive, but not COVID19 positive!








Last week, I wore a T-shirt that says #writer. It’s chilly in MN (it was -1 that day), so I wore my buffalo plaid shirt over the top of it. I realized I was self conscious and almost changed shirts. “What if someone says something?” I kind of felt like Clark Kent. Writing, for me, is a bit of a Superman type secret. Not everyone in my normal life knows that I write a blog each week. I’m not sure all of my relatives know either… or maybe they just chose not to read it. Some days I think it would be great to have a large following and other days I struggle to feel worthy enough to be an inspiration.
This is my cat in his “cat cave.” I’m jealous… I wish they made them for humans. Ever feel like you’re at the tipping point? Just on the edge of ok and not ok? Yeah. Me too. Some things seem silly and still drive me nuts. There is a road sign by a beach area – it’s a yellow sign suggesting to slow down. It’s winter in Minnesota. Nobody is at the beach. It’s not even plowed out as an ice fishing access. Every day I drive by it twice, and most days someone slows down for the beach area. I let it bother me. I know it shouldn’t but it does, so that frustrates me. When I know how to respond or how to act, but I don’t do it, I get frustrated with myself. I feel like a pouting kid needing a “time out.”
