At some point in March when this virus deemed that it had spread so far that it could be called a pandemic, I told the girls they should do video journals to remember the days of living in a pandemic. Here now in the middle of April, I realize that I need to write for myself and the girls can just have lots of regret when they're older because they didn't do what I said. When the whole world started moving to stay-at-home orders, I felt such a strong sense of solidarity. I looked at all of us (literally all of us - okay, most of us) in our different areas of the world facing this beast together. Jimmy Fallon's wife filmed him hosting from home. John Krasinski started SGN in his home office. Everyone was joking about toilet paper, sweatpants, and cutting your own bangs. Italians were singing from their balconies. Wuhan folk were singing from their high-rises. Hospitals in NYC were being surrounded by patrol cars each evening with lights flashing and sirens going to s
Somewhere in space are all these posts that people write. I've had this blog for years now and I hardly ever use it but it's still always here. Who is that person that finally says, "Okay, enough is enough. Your blog is gone."? I'm tired. It's Saturday afternoon at 4pm. I'd like to nap longer or watch a movie. I don't want to play chu chu train and I don't want to take a slow toddler paced walk outside. I don't want to start making pizza but I should, which means I need to go buy tomato paste, make the sauce and make the crust. I'm feeling lazy and a hard thing with being a parent is that when you're lazy, others in your life have the potential to starve. We're looking at buying a house. It's not an easy thing to do when the house is on one side of the globe while you're on the other. When I want to get something done, I want it done now. So, that's making this process hard. We're at the mercy of east