Wrong way to rock n roll

4:14 p.m. today: The quarry that's around 2 miles north of where I live enlivened the afternoon.

It felt like an earthquake, first, but with a tail of bump bump bump.

Big cloud of reddish dust spewed in the air was the clue we needed: Granite Construction just blew the crap out of a hillside. First time in 9 months or so. The last couple of times it sounded like a bomb.

So, that was new.

The cat napping on my bed sat up, eyes wide, and looked at me like I should do something.

I did. I looked at the dust cloud. Assured Charley it was fine. Maybe he believed me.

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All righty then

Thank you, Safeway! I scored 2 rolls of Pillsbury cinnamon rolls. OK, Sunday morning: Bring it!

But I still must earn them: vacuum 2 bedrooms, living room, dining room.

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Oh, good grief!

First Grammie muttered: "This has gone quite far enough!"

Then she lowered the boom on my cousins and me. Every family holiday gathering. Entertain yourselves, our parents said. Can do. Did.

"Far enough" rose up today when for the second straight week, there were no Pillsbury cinnemon rolls at Safeway.

I need an emoji but there aren't any angry enough to illustrate my outrage. Sunday morning without hot cinnemon rolls.

"Sunday Morning Coming Down," as Kristofferson wrote for Cash. For himself. For Willie. For the world.

On the other hand, I scored 3 boxes of Kleenex. I'm tired of blowing my nose on TP, of which I scored a 30-pack at Costco a couple weeks ago.

Out of the house for the second day in a row. My 14-day waiting period resets. Again.

Yesterday was the first visit to my new PCP, Abby, PA. Her office is practicing safety that's not over the top extreme. I was greeted by a young woman in mask, gown, gloves just inside the office's front door. ID, appointment data, temperature, blood pressure, stethoscope.

I was directed to drive to the rear of the building, and wait at the third door on the left.

After 5 minutes, the fourth door opened. Abby appeared, a touch-screen tablet in gloved hands. Mask, gown, cap. Detailed conversation about why I was there, and other familiar items. A formal title seems a bit much for somebody gowned in yellow, blue, and white.

I now have a PCP! Thanks, Northern Nevada Medical Group.

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Slow shallow breaths

Thanks to the young couple next door, we now have cloth masks, made by the gentleman's family business, which in good times makes curtains. Big curtains, for casino showrooms, and bigger.

I wore mine to the grocery store/pharmacy today. It makes reading through my bifocals neck-twistingly funky, but I didn't pass out from lack of air.

Between the blue plaid mask and electric-blue rubber gloves, I was quite fashionable. Which I have never been before.

They sewed 150 or so masks for a local medical center, but kept a couple for us.

Sweet.

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