Hello Everyone!
For me and my husband, staying at home all day and writing is what we do anyway. Since we both have big book deadlines, the hours kind of fly by--him at one end of the table, me at the other, or on the sofa, or even from bed. We are safe, hunkered down with Annabelle and the two cats, eating well and reading lots of very good books (no end of world books for me, thank you!). The three of us watch lots of movies together and play lots of games, but when Annabelle is talking with a friend we turn on Last Tango in Halifax for British escapist TV.
All of this sounds lovely, despite the crisis outside our door. And it is lovely. Except that there is a crisis outside our door. The National Guard. Everything shuttered, except thankfully our nearby grocery store. Sam leaving NYC as it becomes the epicenter for the virus with a peak predicted in a few weeks. Annabelle moving to online learning. My own teaching moving online--a learning curve for me. These are not normal times, and despite the loveliness, they are also not really lovely. they're scary.
Yesterday, we drove to the beach. It was a cold day, and windy, and the salt air was just what I needed. We walked up and down the beach, and then came home and made a dinner of Michael's homemade pasta and bolognese from Persimmon, one of our favorite local restaurants who, like all restaurants, has had to shut down. Then I had a good cry--worried about my kid getting home safely and being healthy, worried about keeping my little family healthy, worried about how all my speaking engagements for the next three months have cancelled, worried about maintaining my beautiful little home, worried that I am suddenly in a high risk group for this thing (wasn't I thirty-five just yesterday?), worried that I'm making good decisions about how to handle this thing. I cried and then I took a deep breath and a big swallow of wine, and moved on with the sweater I'm knitting, the book I'm reading, with moving forward despite this thing.
I've heard a lot of people setting goals--high ones, impossible ones--as if sheltering in place requires super hero achievements. But I would like to offer this: it requires different kinds of achievements. The ability to stay still, to think, to be creative--or not. To feed our families. To read books. To knit sweaters or dish rags or anything. To talk to the people you love. To take care of yourself.
Today I did something I've wanted to do for a long time. I started a sour dough starter with unfiltered pineapple juice and flour. In a week, I should have dough to make two pizzas. I have the time to nurture this starter, to feed it and tend it. It will take patience. And then there will be pizza.
For me and my husband, staying at home all day and writing is what we do anyway. Since we both have big book deadlines, the hours kind of fly by--him at one end of the table, me at the other, or on the sofa, or even from bed. We are safe, hunkered down with Annabelle and the two cats, eating well and reading lots of very good books (no end of world books for me, thank you!). The three of us watch lots of movies together and play lots of games, but when Annabelle is talking with a friend we turn on Last Tango in Halifax for British escapist TV.
All of this sounds lovely, despite the crisis outside our door. And it is lovely. Except that there is a crisis outside our door. The National Guard. Everything shuttered, except thankfully our nearby grocery store. Sam leaving NYC as it becomes the epicenter for the virus with a peak predicted in a few weeks. Annabelle moving to online learning. My own teaching moving online--a learning curve for me. These are not normal times, and despite the loveliness, they are also not really lovely. they're scary.
Yesterday, we drove to the beach. It was a cold day, and windy, and the salt air was just what I needed. We walked up and down the beach, and then came home and made a dinner of Michael's homemade pasta and bolognese from Persimmon, one of our favorite local restaurants who, like all restaurants, has had to shut down. Then I had a good cry--worried about my kid getting home safely and being healthy, worried about keeping my little family healthy, worried about how all my speaking engagements for the next three months have cancelled, worried about maintaining my beautiful little home, worried that I am suddenly in a high risk group for this thing (wasn't I thirty-five just yesterday?), worried that I'm making good decisions about how to handle this thing. I cried and then I took a deep breath and a big swallow of wine, and moved on with the sweater I'm knitting, the book I'm reading, with moving forward despite this thing.
I've heard a lot of people setting goals--high ones, impossible ones--as if sheltering in place requires super hero achievements. But I would like to offer this: it requires different kinds of achievements. The ability to stay still, to think, to be creative--or not. To feed our families. To read books. To knit sweaters or dish rags or anything. To talk to the people you love. To take care of yourself.
Today I did something I've wanted to do for a long time. I started a sour dough starter with unfiltered pineapple juice and flour. In a week, I should have dough to make two pizzas. I have the time to nurture this starter, to feed it and tend it. It will take patience. And then there will be pizza.
