Being Thankful in 2020

This year has been so strange and raw. It's been stressful, as somehow too little and too much is happening.

There is good and bad in all things. This year it's just been easier to see the bad.

But when I started this post yesterday on Thanksgiving (where we didn't have any guests, and I had to make my mom's stuffing without my mom) I thought I would do a quick accounting of the good things while the turkey rested and the potatoes boiled. I thought the list of what has made me smile in 2020 would not take too long.

I was wrong. When I gave myself permission to set aside the worry and the grief and focus on the positive without guilt, the list was huge. It surprised me.

Starting even with just the normal baseline for thankfulness--that we are healthy, that we are safe, that we are together--means something larger this year.

So here are some of the things specific to 2020 that I am thankful for, regardless of whatever low-lights there have been at this peculiar moment in history.

Our Neighborhood:

Bay View is a special place with some really kind and creative people in it. Our neighborhood association went above and beyond making sure the farmers market by the lake could still be enjoyed safely all summer, and they put out lists of local businesses that were still operating and how. I've already written about how they created a neighborhood-wide Pumpkin Pavilion event where our business won a "golden pumpkin" for our Halloween window display.

But beyond the official outlets organizing to make the world a little better at a complicated time, neighbors were simply good to neighbors. When everything shut down in the spring, many people came up with ways for people to enjoy their frequent walks outside while maintaining social distance. There were groups that arranged for people to put things in their windows as a fun game for kids, so they could spot teddy bears one week, flowers the next, etc. We put up information in our store windows for people to read since they could no longer come into the shop to ask questions. (I even put up a page about how the plague in the 17th century impacted the life of Stradivari.)

A neighbor named Kellie Krawczyk did a series called "Through the Windows" where she photographed people all over Bay View in their businesses and homes. She wanted people to still feel connected at a time of isolation, and it helped to see her pictures of people together and smiling through their windows. Here's the one she did of me in my shop:

 

My favorite activity back in the spring was a crayon-themed scavenger hunt put on by Rush-Mor records.

They asked me if I wouldn't mind having my violin store as a clue on the route, and I was so pleased! It was fun watching people discover our store, and stop to scribble down the name written on our crayon before moving on to the next clue.

Ian and I had a great time solving all the riddles and walking and biking all over Bay View to find everything over the course of a few weeks. We got all the clues right, and even found most of the extra dummy crayons (for a total of more than 70).

The only one we missed I felt ridiculous for not getting, because it was right by my daughter's high school on my drive home from work every day.

We even looked there once as a possible place for a clue about an old library, and still didn't see it. I don't quite get how that happens. We went past a bright green crayon alone in a field at least twice before we finally saw it, so we're apparently bad at things hidden in plain sight.

Ian and I learned stuff about our neighborhood we didn't know before (Milwaukee has a submarine dock!), and found several restaurants we're looking forward to going inside one day when the plague is over.

Here are all the crayons mounted outside the record store after the hunt was over. (The one we had in our window was a lavender one at the bottom.)

There was a Saturday afternoon in spring when Ian and I were able to leave the store for lunch. In normal times that doesn't happen because Saturday is our busiest day, but when you're by "appointment only" there is newfound freedom. We got takeout sandwiches from a place on the scavenger hunt route we knew would have a crayon. It was chilly out, but sunny, and we walked for miles collecting crayons and enjoying each other's company. The clues and crayons were a wonderful distraction, and it was the first real stretch of time after the lock down began that I simply had fun. It felt good to smile. We started to think ahead that maybe when things get back to normal that we should not be too busy to make time for a walk on a Saturday again.

Things I made this year:

Creative energy is a strange thing. Big projects that take real continuity of thought were hard for me to handle in the spring and summer. But I still had bursts of inspiration here and there, and small projects that you can pick up and put down are always fun for me.

 

 

This year I made a display case for my books, a clock out of a bass top for a friend, a cribbage board for my son, and a Cell-O-Lantern for our window (among other things).

I love making things. I wish there were enough space in the world for all the things I want to make, but I have to limit what I do to what storage will allow.

In terms of those bigger projects that take more focus, I'm thankful that both writing and violin making are activities that aren't hindered by lock downs. (Only by my state of mind.)

On the writing front, back in January and February before things shut down, I was really proud of myself for taking a real stab at proper book marketing for my latest novel, "Just Friends, Just War." Writing is such a fun challenge, but I find promotion and marketing rather painful. I learned how to make a press release, lined up a review in a local paper, and scheduled a book reading/signing at my favorite bookstore. All of that fell through, and my book got kind of lost in the peculiar scramble and shutdown that was the spring, but I am still pleased I tried. Next time I need to promote a novel, I will know better what to do. 

Check me out on the wall of upcoming events back in March! One day, I'll actually get to DO such an event.

Speaking of new novels, my most recent one is called "1001 Weddings" and the manuscript is currently in an agent's hands for consideration. That's exciting, even if nothing comes of it and I have to publish it myself. Keep your fingers crossed for me! It would be an interesting adventure to be published traditionally.

And I finished my repair diagnostics guide! "My Violin Needs Help!" has been a project I've been meaning to do for years, and I finally did it. The timing is good, too, because now more than ever, players and teachers need help troubleshooting violin (and viola and cello) problems from home. At least once a week now, I get phone calls from parents of players who have issues with tuning or something buzzing, and I just read to them straight from my book until they figure it out, and usually fix it safely themselves. I hope that book helps a lot of people.

Related to my repair guide, I was invited to write an article version of it for Strad Magazine. It's a beautiful publication out of London devoted to violins, and I contacted them to possibly review my new book, and they offered to commission an article instead. It's all written and submitted, and uses my photographs. Having an article in the Strad was not even on my bucket list, because I was intimidated by that particular bucket. But wow, what a cool thing to have happen this year.

I also got to do a Zoom book club meeting for a group in Ohio that read "Just Friends, Just War" and that was really gratifying. I don't know if that would have been a possibility in the past, but online everything is a way of life in 2020, and I had a blast talking with that book club.

Violin making took a bit of a hit early in the year, because it was hard to get my head into that focused, creative space. But in recent months I've jumped back on that lutherie horse and I have two violins and a viola underway. I'm not as far along as I'd like to be, but I keep reminding myself that any progress is good, and I am making progress. (Except when the dog gets into my shop. He does NOT like me working in there. He likes to herd us all together into one space, so when I'm trying to work on instruments he sits at my knee and stares at me imploringly to leave already.)

I even got to carve scrolls up at the cottage in October. That whole trip with all the leaves changing and where I got time to be alone and read was wonderful. I got to visit with my mom and spend time with Aden. I got a weekend with my friends that was more fun than I can properly describe. I loved every minute of it.

Plus, this fall was stunningly beautiful.

Aden was supposed to start college in the fall, and I'm sad she didn't get to because of Covid, but I'm not going to lie--I love still having her here. We've been watching Deep Space Nine together, and she makes dinner a couple of nights a week before I get home from work. This has been a less than ideal kind of a gap year, but I'm not looking forward to not having Aden as a part of our household.

And even though some of her big milestones got derailed a bit, my first baby still graduated high school this year. Amazing. And she not only voted for the first time in 2020, but she was able to convince a few of her friends to vote for the first time as well. It's odd that she'll look back on the graduation ceremony that never was, and voting in her first presidential election at our dining room table (where I signed as her witness, and she signed as mine, and then we went to a drop box), but still. I don't take for granted for a minute that I got to watch my child grow to adulthood. (I am so damn proud of her.)

 

Anonymous gifts of 2020:

As part of Aden's graduation, she received a gift card from "Grandma Book." We have no idea who that is, but apparently "Grandma Book" left graduation cards and gifts at every home in Bay View with a "graduating senior" sign out front. How's that for making us feel better about people in general?

We also got our unexplained coconut light in the mail earlier this year, and a few weeks ago I received a beautiful book about the famous Studley Tool Box (that every woodworker I know is mesmerized by). Who sent them? Don't know. But if you did and you read my blog, "Thank you!"

And not that this was anonymous, but my kids made me breakfast in bed for Mother's Day this year where they got up at five in the morning to make cinnamon rolls from scratch! I was really impressed and touched.

I'm thankful for our health this year:

Health-wise, things are good. My granulomatous mastitis issue seems to be done, and I had surgery recently for a uterine problem that should make my nightmarish periods go back to normal again. Only my back is giving me trouble, but eh. I just make Quinn pick things up off the floor for me when possible. 

Quinn broke his wrist in March on a school ski trip (back when schools and trips were a thing) but has healed just fine. I am always thankful we have health insurance.

As much as virtual school has its drawbacks, I think in terms of Mona's pain issue, it's been better for her to do school from home. The hours are shorter, she's not under as much stress, and she can manage things like headaches more easily. That's a win.

Not having to deal with the physical schools in general has been nice, actually. My kids are all old enough to take care of themselves, so from my end it's easy. They get themselves up, get on their computers, and go. We haven't had to worry much about clothes or showers or anyone outgrowing shoes.

The other sort of health related thing was that after my pool was shut down in March and I couldn't swim anymore, I decided to dust off my old stretching notes from my dojo days and revive doing that and some blocks and strikes. We taught all of it to the kids, and got into a nice daily routine. We got a hold of some donated yoga mats, and cleared space in the living room to stretch. We take turns choosing the music, but most often we listen to records. (I think my kids were most confused by Prince, saying, "Well, that's a lot of sounds.") The dog goes back and forth between ignoring what we're doing, and bringing us toys to throw while we're all on the floor.

We got away from our stretching routine during the last half of summer, but it's back. I really like family stretching time. I can't imagine it ever would have come about in a normal sort of year.

I miss swimming, but I've been doing more walks by the lake. It takes me about an hour to walk the loop from my violin store through the neighborhood and down along the lake path and back. It's always beautiful. And often I use that time to call someone and chat as I walk, and that's nice, too.

A good year for our Mold-A-Rama machine:

We got the Mold-A-Rama machine up and running! We've had it in our garage since 2014, and it sort of worked, but not reliably enough to put it out for the public to use. This year, mostly thanks to the extra time that comes with wiping all activities off the calendar, we were able to really look it over, call in the proper experts, and get it working. Ian and I put better wheels on it, so it's easier for us to roll it down next to the store. We had it out for public use for a couple of days in October, and it was so much fun! Little kids in particular were so excited to make their own dinosaurs.

I have hope again that one day we will get a custom mold made so the machine can crank out little violins, but in the meantime a corythosaurus is plenty good. We even got written up in the local news! They plan to run another piece in the spring when the machine is out again once the weather is nice.

The bird and game time:

A couple of years ago, Mona got a cockatiel. I have never been keen on the idea of birds as pets, because it seems to me any pet that would leave if you left the door open, probably shouldn't be a pet. Plus birds are meant to fly, and it seemed cruel to prevent one from doing so. But Keiko LOVES Mona, and has grown out their clipped wings and flies just fine. We leave their cage open when we're around, and sometimes the bird hangs out with us and flies a bit, but for the most part they really like their cage, and they sit on top of it.

Anyway, the bird seems to love having people in the house all day, and is just the funniest thing. Recently Keiko discovered ponytail holders, and those frequently wind up around their neck and then the bird protests loudly when we promptly remove them.

And the bird likes to hang out with me and Quinn when we play games.

I like evening games with Quinn. We have a card table set up in the living room where games are stacked to choose from. Regular favorites are Boggle, cribbage, rummy 500, and backgammon. The bird often joins us as we play, and last week got so fussy with us about moving cards around, that we gave them their own hand of Jokers and the rules to Texas Holdem which seems to keep them content. Keiko sits on their cards and occasionally scolds Quinn for reasons unknown.

For Quinn's birthday this year, I made him a scavenger hunt of plastic frogs hidden around the house, and a Boggle cake. (We played the Boggle cake board before we ate it.)

Quinn and I have also gotten out a couple of times to do archery in the park. That's a nice socially distanced activity that I wish we could do more of. (It's also near our favorite frozen custard stand, that when it's not too crowded we indulge in.)

Random bits of thankfulness this year:

Ian retired from the army in April, and we don't miss drill weekends. I'm not sure what those would have looked like this year anyway, but we didn't have to find out. I like having my husband home. I like not being in a panic every time something in the world goes awry that might necessitate calling up his reserve unit again.

I learned poker recently. It's fun. I'm sure it's very different with actual people and real money involved, but at the moment I find my online games with fake money and virtual opponents really enjoyable.

Work is good. I am beyond thankful to have a job I love that is apparently rather recession-proof. (We learned that back when we opened our own business in 2008, and it remains true.) The teaching studio has been closed since March, and I miss the sounds of lessons in the back, but we've retooled the space to be Covid-safe to teach in if anyone wants to. And I miss having people inside my shop, but having quiet time to work is great. I am thankful to have a space to go to that I can control and that is like an extension of my home. I like having somewhere else to be so I don't have to be in my house all the time. Aden even used the teaching studio over the summer to do art and practice guitar when she needed a break from her siblings. Work has been sanity saving in this time of isolation.

I like that Aden has been learning guitar since she now has the time.

I like to eat popcorn and binge watch things with the kids. We all loved The Good Place. Currently we're watching Community, and just finished Season One of the Amazing Race. When we're feeling really fried and need something simple, we watch House Hunters International, and marvel how many times the woman in the couple has given up a job she loves to follow her man someplace where she knows nobody, and she wants to be in the city center because she has nothing to do which clashes with his need to be near his job or screws with their budget. We watch all such shows now with an eye for how good a place would be to quarantine in.

I'm thankful for grocery pick up, which we may continue to do even after you no longer need a mask to go inside a store.

I'm thankful my husband is good at computer stuff, and found a way I like for storing my photos that frees up memory on my laptop. (My MacBook Air now kind of looks like a Borg, but it makes me happy.)

I'm thankful for how generous people are when given the opportunity. Yesterday on Thanksgiving morning I went online to see if anyone had foil tape, which we needed to finish the vent installation part of putting in our new microwave. Within minutes not only did people offer up foil tape, they all offered to deliver it. How nice is that? We are also members of a "buy nothing" group on Facebook where you can ask for things or show what you want to give away. Recently a woman escaping a domestic violence situation with her kids needed anything people could spare for her new home. We put a rug we don't need anymore on our porch for her to pick up, along with a bag of toys my kids assembled that they've outgrown. It feels good to help someone. It feels lovely to be helped.

So not my favorite year by far, but many good things to look back on. More than I can even put in an already too-long post.

This Thanksgiving was even nice, if a bit low key. We worked together to install our new microwave, we made food, we ate food, we walked the dog as a family which made him very happy, and then we played a few rounds of Jack Box games with my brother Barrett and his family online (and over the phone). Our favorite games are Quiplash and Earwax. (We highly recommend them if you get a chance to play--they are party games that require devices, not "video games.")

We even enjoyed our annual plate of orange goo at our Thanksgiving feast. I have no idea what we are doing wrong with that jello recipe. We even added extra gelatin, and let the whole thing sit in the fridge for an extra couple of days. We have gotten that orange jello to set exactly two times since I inherited my grandmother's coveted mold and glass serving platter. I have no clue what we're not doing now that we did then. But orange goo still tastes good, so we served it in little ramekins instead of adding it to our plates.

 

I hope however your orange goo came out, you had a nice Thanksgiving. I hope there are moments in 2020 you'll look back on with fondness as well.

Update from Our Corner of the Pandemic

The short version, if you have no time to read, is we're doing fine. We're healthy, and we're adapting.

The longer version, as with everything in these strange times, is a bit more complicated.

I keep thinking back to my birthday. My birthday was March 14th, same as Einstein and Telemann and Billy Crystal. It was a matter of weeks ago, but feels like ages. It was a Saturday. I was at work for most of it. Saturdays are usually my busiest day at the violin store, and this particular one last month was probably typical, but now in my memory it feels almost frantic.

There were people in my store--actual other people who do not live in my house. I kept them spaced apart using appointment times, and I washed my hands before and after each visit, and I required everyone wash their hands the minute they arrived. One family was in masks. I broke social distancing rules for them so I could fit the kids for rental instruments, but I did it as quickly and efficiently as I was able. It was nerve-wracking. I was honestly relieved when the official lock down order came the following week, and I didn't feel as if I needed to let people inside my store anymore.

I spent a quiet couple of weeks in lock down doing shop tasks. I sharpened my tools. I got to work on the non-pressing, time-intensive projects that most violin shops have lurking in their corners. I passed along a couple of those projects to my assistant down in Chicago so she could still clock in hours from home if she wants to.

Then the calls started to come. I knew they would, because music is definitely something many people stuck at home want to do, and with all music lessons being taught at a distance, there were bound to be broken strings as people with no experience started trying to tune violins. Then there was a rash of fingerboards coming off instruments for some reason. And violins getting dropped. So I had to develop new protocols for doing work out of my shop.

Currently the way we operate is this: We are by appointment only. No one is allowed inside the store. Simple things like changing a string, I can do out on the front steps while wearing a mask as people wait more than six feet away, and I wash my hands thoroughly before and after. More involved repairs sit in a quarantine line. There is no way for me to disinfect a violin or bow currently, other than with time. (And I've already heard of parents who have taken a Clorox wipe to their kid's instrument and were shocked the varnish came right off. My post-pandemic work load will not be pretty.) Violins sit in a row on the floor, tagged with dates, until they are safe for me to handle. (I recommend people also let the instruments sit at their end when they get them back, but I can't control what other people ultimately do.) Any work I can't figure out how to do safely (such as soundpost adjustments where I need the player in the same space and we have to pass the instrument back and forth between us several times) I have to turn away.

Business is certainly way down compared to normal, but I am far from bored. I'm maintaining a similar work schedule. I actually kind of like the built-in "stop switch" that comes with the quarantine lineup. Normally I am compelled to keep working until everything is off my bench, which means I often put in late nights. Now? Well, there is work to do, but I can't touch all of it. I have to stop and go home at some point. Which is good. I like the extra time with my family.

Which brings me to the first and most important way in which I am lucky during this pandemic so far, beyond not being sick: I really like the people I'm in lock down with. I like our home, I love my husband and kids.... And we're a whole group of introverts who get along fine. Especially on cold, rainy weekends, we're doing exactly what we'd normally be doing. We're each doing our own projects kind of near each other, and then gathering together periodically to watch a movie or play a game or eat a meal.

Our house is just big enough there is space for any of us to retreat from the group if we want to be alone. We have a treadmill that we moved into the room with the TV. I set up a card table in the living room with a jigsaw puzzle people can work on when they feel like it. I've been reading aloud to the kids in the evenings sometimes. (We finished The Hobbit recently, and just started Sophie's World.) We have movies, books, recipes to try....

My head is still not in a good space for creative work yet. I need the house to be less cluttered for that to happen, and two adults and three teenagers inside all the time is making that difficult. But I'm not stressing about it. I am making it a goal to get into my workshop in the next couple of weeks, and I may just dive into an early edit of my next novel, even though the one I released this year didn't even get a real launch.

The issues with contemporary fiction writing are funny right now. I was originally concerned that my next novel got locked into 2019, and that that would feel out of date by the time it was released in 2021. Now it's fine, because I don't have to include the pandemic in the story line. I recently heard an interview with Stephen King, where he said his current story had a plot point where a couple of characters go on a cruise in 2020. He had to bump it back to 2019 for it not to ring false for readers. A lot of writers are debating if we integrate these weird circumstances into our fiction or not. Most seem to agree that unless it's integral to the plot, we should ignore the pandemic. It will certainly date the stories the same way the Blitz would.

Which brings me to my kids, because I've been thinking a lot about how this will be a defining period for them that they will be asked to describe for children in the future. The same way 9/11 is something my children only know from history books, but it's a vivid memory for me. I hope regardless of what is happening in the world at large I am helping guide them through this time in a way that is healthy in all senses of that word.

The first few weeks of lock down and social distancing were unsettling. We all had adjustments to make, and things to give up. There were moments of stress that caused everyone to break down in tears at different times. Things have turned around, and at this stage we're all faring better.

I was most concerned for my oldest, because she's the most social of all of my kids, and to have her senior year come to an unceremonious halt was rough. But she's found ways to do Dungeons and Dragons online with friends. She meets someone down the street for a socially distanced Pokemon battle about once a week. She's learning guitar. And when I reminded her that we have the violin store building to safely retreat to for a change of scenery, and that there was an empty Airbnb just sitting there, she devised a schedule for coming out with me to work three days a week. She has the little apartment above the store set up as an art studio. She's been improving her painting skills, getting better at drawing hands, and enjoying a break from her siblings. Real time alone to both relax and be productive has greatly helped her mood.

It's also helped that she finally came to a conclusion about college. That was a lot of stress even without a pandemic looming all around us. Aden was accepted everywhere she applied, and was offered some impressive scholarships, but nothing felt quite right. So a week before all the deadlines were coming due to commit to a school, we did a Google search, and found a new one that checked all the boxes. We got the acceptance letter from UW-Stout a couple of days ago, and Aden is actually excited now about the prospect of college. We still don't know if she'll be able to attend physically in the fall, or what kinds of changes the school will have to make to accommodate college life in the midst of a pandemic, but it's fun to see my daughter looking forward to the next step of her education. We all feel good about it, even if certain elements remain unclear. However it pans out, Aden's not alone. The class of 2020 will be forever bonded through these strange rites of passage.

My middle child is simply enjoying being at home. She misses her friends and her teachers, but the chronic pain she suffers (still undiagnosed, but there's an appointment lined up with a neurologist in a month) makes life in the noisy school hard. It's helping that she can sleep when she needs to, or take medication without a hassle if her headaches get too bad. She's been diligently doing some online classwork every day, even though the district already declared everyone Pass/Fail for the term. If they ever convert that into real grades, the work she's doing now can be used toward improving them. Early on in the lock down, Mona was doing a bit of sewing and made me this adorable fish:

She'd like to sew more, but is awaiting inspiration. She's doing well with this overall, and I'm glad.

My youngest simply takes things in stride. He seldom understands why anyone makes a fuss about anything in general. He's been doing mandatory online school for about a week. It took the district some time to make sure every student who needed a laptop had one, and now that there is a modicum of equity, classes have begun again. We set him up in a little room off the kitchen that we call "the nook" and he gets himself up in the morning and sequesters himself in there with his computer and his lap-desk until noon.

Quinn's cast is off, so I don't need to be his other hand in piano anymore. Which is too bad, actually. I liked having time with him at the keyboard, laughing as we tried to coordinate our efforts into a coherent piece of music. The trip to the clinic to remove the cast was an adventure. I figured the last place I'd want to take my kid right now was to the hospital, but Children's made it about as safe as you could ask. They sent us to a satellite clinic for non-covid-19 patients only. We were pre-screened on the phone, screened again at the door by a man in full PPE, I was given a mask since I have a cough from an unrelated issue. We never saw another patient once inside the building. The people at reception were in masks and behind plastic sheeting. We never shared a room with more than one medical person at a time, and they did as much as they could at a distance as possible. It was far less nerve-wracking than the grocery store.

In any case, being 13 meant my son spent a lot of time in his room with the door closed anyway. I don't know how much quarantine has changed things, other than his friends from down the street can't join him on the trampoline now. He's made using the treadmill part of his daily routine, and he's always willing to accompany me on a walk with the dog if I invite him. He has Minecraft, and a dry erase board to doodle on. If he's suffering in any way, we can't see it. He's about as nice a person to be cooped up with as one could ask for.

My husband remains the person who keeps things working and I'm grateful for that every day. The biggest recent project was when the dryer stopped working. That's the kind of thing if I were on my own with the kids (like during the deployments) would have put me over the edge. But Ian simply consulted YouTube, took the dryer apart, and fixed it. He's amazing.

Ian's also been sweet about indulging my scavenger hunt obsession. Our little corner of the south side of Milwaukee is called Bay View, and I really appreciate the kind of caring, creative place this neighborhood is. A local record store put together a scavenger hunt all over Bay View to provide people with something to do when out for socially distanced walks. It's based on a box of 64 crayons, and those crayons are in shop windows and on display outside of historic locations. It's great, because it directs people toward local businesses that could use support. (Last week I picked up pie from one of the locations when we went to collect the information we needed off their crayon. Without the scavenger hunt, I wouldn't have realized they were even still open and offering curbside service right now.) Anyway, I've learned a lot about my community in the past few weeks of solving clues and hunting down crayons. And every time I have a hunch, Ian's happy to go with me there, by foot or bike or car.

In fact, last Saturday was the first day in all of this that I felt unabashedly great. Since we're by appointment only at the store, and no one was scheduled after noon, we closed up just to explore some scavenger hunt options. We ordered a sandwich ahead, and walked in the sunshine together, and went through our list of clues. We walked by the lake, found some crayons, split our sandwich, and enjoyed each other's company. The loop we made was about three miles, and then we got some more work done at the store. I loved it. On a normal Saturday I'd never be able to take a break like that. Ironically, because of the lock down, I was not trapped in the store.

I'm starting to become aware of all the ways during normal life that I box myself in, and how too full a schedule can look like a form of quarantine. There are normally days where every hour was spoken for: The alarm would go off at six, I'd prepare breakfast and make sure everyone got off to school, swim my mile, get to the violin store with hair that was still wet and get to work, try to get home in time to see the kids for a few minutes before heading off to a rehearsal, and crawling back in bed where I started sometime after ten. It was all stuff I had chosen and that I enjoyed, but with that kind of schedule I was quarantining myself off from time to create, time to read, time with people I care about. I'm wondering how to restructure my life when the pandemic no longer dictates my options so that I have more true freedom.

I feel right now that we have reached a good place. I know I have. I'm past the grieving and the ennui. I'm excited to get up in the morning and tackle things, which was hard about a month ago. (Not everything, but enough. I'll get there.) Limiting the amount of news I listen to has helped. I acknowledge I am in a privileged position where other than the general isolation, we're not in distress. But I don't think anyone should feel guilt about being happy right now if they can be. I lived through enough of that during the deployments. When Ian was in Iraq, and one of the kids did something adorable, it was bittersweet, because I was always acutely aware that their dad was missing it. And there was an underlying sense of it being inappropriate to have fun while he had to be at war several time zones away.

My heart breaks for people who are enduring great loss at this time. I have concerns and fears about the future. But that's true every day, not just during a pandemic. I can be sad for others while still being proud of my daughter for getting into the school of her choice. I can honor people's sacrifices while still being glad to get to snuggle with my son on the couch during a movie. I don't have to feel guilty when our chattering bird makes me smile. Hardship comes to everyone at some point. No one escapes pain in life. So if you've managed to escape some now, during these peculiar and difficult times, appreciate it. Don't try to mitigate it to balance things out in the world. Take joy when you can get it. Especially now.

Riddle Me This

Let's just start off by agreeing that I am, and always have been, an excellent big sister.  I have a good memory, so no point in challenging me on this.  (Anything you hear to the contrary is Lies All Lies.)

Many years ago, back when our house in Pleasant Ridge, Michigan was green, Marathon Bars were plentiful at the local pool in the summer, and bicentennial quarters were new and shiny, my brother owned a Riddler doll.  It looked a lot like this:

(They don't make villains like that anymore.  Probably for good reason.)

Anywho, to make a long story (the way my brother tells it, anyway) short, I pitched the Riddler out the second story bathroom window.