Various tubes, bottles and jars of makeup—once applied with precision before I would venture out of the house—now sit untouched in an organizer. After all, there’s little reason to put on mascara, foundation, etc., if I am stuck at home due to COVID-19 directives. Heretofore, I was reluctant to even be seen in public without makeup, but the pandemic has prompted me to adopt a lackadaisical, no-fuss attitude toward beauty. It's so freeing!! Likewise, my hair is now a fashionable pandemic gray. Prior to the arrival of the coronavirus, I would visit a stylist every three months for color/highlighting and no doubt outlaid enough money over the decades to finance a child's college education. Now, however, I’m off the bottle and embracing, rather than concealing, my silver roots. Gray locks are almost a badge of honor—symbols of courage and strength that boldly emerge from an environment of pain, sorrow and anxiety.
February 4, 2021
This is a picture of the whiteboard on our fridge this week. We started the whiteboard when trying to problem solve a conflict after couples therapy a few years ago. I need things to be out where I can see them so I don't forget, and my wife wants everything put away. So we compromised with putting things to remember on the whiteboard instead of having piles or pieces of paper lying around. Over the years it's morphed into a place we put notes for each other and appointments so we know what's going on in each others lives. This week seemed so quintessentially of this time with COVID tests, vaccines, and Zoom meetings. We're both vaccinated now and for once in a long time, we both had more than 5 days off in a row, so we decided to get tested and do a small trip to Hawaii. It's really starting to feel like the end now. I know we still have a long way to go but now almost everyone I know has been able to get the first dose and we're all counting down to "hug day" - the two week day after the second vaccine where we can actually hug each other again. It's a hopeful time. I still see the numbers each day in the NYTimes and can't believe how many people are still dying. It's such a surreal feeling when the end seems so close. Hoping this summer the numbers will be double digits and the white board will look a little different. Looking forward to seeing everyone again, but hoping we can preserve some of the good things from this year - slowing down, appreciating things, and checking in and caring about other people.
March 27, 2021