Sheltering

I like to go through my phone and clean out photos. You know how you take 10 pictures to get the good one where both kids are looking at the camera? I like the delete the ones I won’t ever need. I keep some of the outtakes, but generally I like to try to save space by cleaning things up. I also have two kids who like to take my phone and take a bunch of photos of their feet. I delete those also.

It occurred to me I haven’t done a purge in a while, so I went back to see how long it had been. Answer: Feb 7 is the last time it looks like I’ve cleaned up my photos folder. That means I had to go through all the photos from our Tahoe trip in February, when things were basically totally normal, as far as we knew.

As we go forward in time, you start to see things creep in. Like this photo from the bathroom at work, when we were totally still doing The Rocky Horror Show in April/May, but everyone should wash their hands to stay healthy. This is from early March. Things were getting a little scary, but not super real yet.

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That first weekend of March, B had a birthday party on Saturday, and H had a playdate at a park on Sunday. The birthday party was the first drop-off party B has ever gone to. It’s a friend of his from school, we’ve met his parents, they live nearby us, and it seemed pretty low-risk. I dropped him off, came home for like, an hour, and then went back for the end of the party. It was Mario themed and all the kids were dressed up, and it was super cute. B and I took a picture with two of the other moms and their kids, who we’ve cultivated relationships with, and I was so excited that we were moving into this part of life, where B is making friends at school and we have this local network of people.

On Sunday, this was H’s first one-on-one playdate with a friend of hers from school. We met up at a park, the girls played together, they were adorable. The other mom and I talked about how stores were being mobbed for toilet paper, and how the lines to get into the Costco parking lot were crazy. We all went to Starbucks and the girls drank hot chocolate and sat in one big armchair together and touched everything. We bought drinks for our husbands, all hugged goodbye, and promised to do it again soon. Later that day I went to the grocery store, and afterward I texted the mom and joked that I had bought toilet paper, even though we didn’t really need it at the time, and she wrote back and said she’d done the same thing.

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The next week was our last week at work and school before shelter in place landed. One morning that week I took a picture of myself on an empty BART train during rush hour. So weird. I’ve always been really diligent about not touching anything anyway, so I just doubled down on that, but it was eerie seeing how empty everything was. The train, the streets in San Francisco, the stores. There were still some people out – but not many. People were starting to wear masks. It was reminiscent of the wildfires in 2018.

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^^Look at me, wearing makeup and jewelry and real clothes! Amazing!

That week, I was thinking things were going to shut down soon. We opened a show on Wednesday, and that day the mayor made a decree that gatherings of 1000 or more were banned. We thought we’d get through the weekend with the show and then decide what would happen. But it was the next day that she said gatherings of 250 or more were banned, and that opening performance ended up also being the closing performance.

My boss talked about how we might be working remotely for a week or two. I started packing up stuff from my desk. (Although if I knew then what I know now, I would have brought more stuff home. Just because.)

One of those last days, on a lunch break, I went to Macy’s and bought some makeup remover—hilarious because I haven’t opened it yet, since I haven’t been wearing makeup. I bought a lip color on a whim, which has been in my purse, also unopened. I stopped and got iced coffee on the way back to the office. I took a picture to send my friend Michelle, with a very “treat yourself!” kind of message.

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(Please continue to wash your hands.)

On Friday of that week, we heard from both kids’ schools that they were going to close for a bit. My boss asked us to tell her if we were planning on working from home the following week, and I was like, “Yup.” I think there was still the idea it would just be a couple weeks until we figured things out. I said to people, “Those kids are not going back to school this year.” People scoffed at me. I went home.

That first weekend was just a weekend, but it was also the start of social distancing for us. We went on walks, took pictures of the kids in puddles, and captioned them #socialdistancing. It all felt weird, and still panicky. In those couple weeks when things ramped up so quickly here, I spent hundreds and hundreds of dollars on groceries, not knowing what was going to happen with stores. I took out a bunch of cash from the ATM and hid it in an envelope. I made an amazon fresh order that couldn’t be delivered for two weeks, and I put random weird things in my cart, because a lot of stuff was already sold out, and also I just wasn’t sure what I would want in two weeks’ time—cans of beans? or bags of chips? I bought both.

It’s been almost 11 weeks, and I think I kind of have a handle on what this new world looks like, temporarily? This is the last week of distance learning for B, although I think we’ll probably keep him doing some light schoolwork stuff through the summer, since what else are we going to do? H is not going back to her preschool…right? So she just…doesn’t get closure on that? I’m not sure what that means for the future.

We had just started going to the movies as a family. We saw Cats and Frozen II in the theater in the few months before shelter in place started, and it was great. Both kids liked it. It was pricey but it was fun. And now I don’t know when that will happen again. In the meantime we’re watching movies at home. It’s not the same.

Toilet paper is coming back into the stores. Nature is healing.

H is learning to read. B is learning multiplication. They both look and seem older to me, although I don’t know whether that’s just parenting, or if it’s related to this situation. They’re getting used to workdays being workdays for us, and that we have phone and zoom meetings, and that they’re on their own sometimes.

My alcohol (and Oreo) consumption has gone up. I’ve been cooking as therapy, and trying to make new and interesting things, using new and interesting ingredients. We’ve nailed how to hard boil the perfect egg, how to make perfect rice, and I’ve learned how to use ginger and lemongrass. Our meat consumption has gone down—not to zero, but less than before. Our bean and rice consumption has gone up.

I did eight weeks of online playwriting classes. I’m proud to have gotten through it, and feel good about the work I did, and I hope I can carry that forward.

We got into the track at the local high school this weekend, and B ran a full lap without stopping. I think he was craving it. Drew and I are thinking we should all go over there more often and run laps. You can tell when the kids haven’t been outside for a while. The energy around them is palpable.

I continue to be grateful that we’re both still employed full-time, and we have tons of entertainment options in home. I’m grateful that we live in a place where we can go on walks in nature. I’m grateful that we’re all healthy. I’m grateful that we’ve been able to stock up on the medication we need, so we don’t run out. I’m grateful that we have options for groceries, and plenty of food saved up. I’m grateful (in a weird way) that everyone is kind of settling into this new routine, and we seem to be getting through it together.

I’m grateful for all that, but I’m still mourning the things we’ve lost, and that we’ll continue to lose over the next year or more.  It goes back and forth every day as to which side is louder.

It feels like it’s been much longer and much shorter than eleven weeks. I wonder how long this will go on, and how much it will change before it’s finally over. I will continue to remind myself to count my blessings and stay positive. I will draw on the support system I have and try to be a good support system for other people. (I will break out of this overly dramatic voice I’ve drifted into here…) I will model good behavior and attitude for my children. I will give myself grace. I will bake cookies this afternoon. I will text my friends and check in. I will keep making myself write. I will drink some water. I will take us out for a walk this afternoon. I will stay home and stay safe.

I will clean up the rest of the photos on my phone! That should distract me for awhile.

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TEETH, TEETH, TEETH!

The week we went into shelter in place, I was supposed to have a root canal, which was, obviously, canceled. At the time the tooth didn’t hurt, although it was annoying because it was very much broken, but I figured I would see what happened in this brave new world.

At the same time I kind of feared we would slide quickly into a dystopian wasteland and I would end up with a rotting tooth, in crazy pain, but with no hope of fixing it. So I bought some Orajel and was just like, Welp. Here we go.

I’ve been chewing on the other side for awhile, and avoiding certain crunchy/chewy foods. Last week I started having more sensitivity to cold, until it got to the point that I was drinking and brushing my teeth with lukewarm water and I couldn’t drink anything fun (iced coffee, pineapple bubly, white wine) because it was all too cold. Then I also started having some pain, so I finally called the dentist emergency line yesterday to see if I could get an appointment.

He was super responsive and so this morning I went and had a root canal that took four hours?? but ended with me having a giant temporary tooth, no cold sensitivity, and a much better outlook on this faux-pocalypse. And I got to make a very icy peach margarita tonight which makes me very happy.

Season 4 Nbc GIF by The Good Place

 

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Act Without Exit

For tonight’s playwriting class, we read Samuel Beckett’s Act Without Words I, which is a short (3-minute) drama with no dialogue, where a man onstage is tantalized by various objects. We wrote out all of the “rules” that Beckett had imposed on himself writing this world, and then we each chose three and wrote our own piece conforming to those rules.

So I give you my quickwrite piece from this week, following these three rules:

  1. All objects come in from above
  2. Every object must be addressed by the character
  3. Character can’t leave the stage/can’t escape

 

ACT WITHOUT EXIT

A kitchen set, linoleum, backsplash. Clean, tidy, functional. No furniture or appliances. Morning light through the curtains in the windows. ELENA stands center, on the phone.

ELENA
Yup, 10am. I’ll be there by 9:45 just to be sure. I’m just about to leave.

The fridge flies in, and ELENA goes to it. While she is there, a table flies in behind her and lands in the center of the room.

ELENA
I remember how to get there—it’s off the second exit, near the bank. Right by that new car wash.

ELENA takes out eggs, milk, chives from the fridge, goes to table; chops, breaks, combines, whisks.
The stove flies in behind her. ELENA reaches for it, turns on a burner.

ELENA
Of course I know. This is your first apartment, you think I would miss this?

ELENA goes to the stove, looks around.
A pan flies in from above.
ELENA takes the pan, sets it on the burner. Takes the bowl, gives it one last stir, and then pours the mixture into the pan.

ELENA
I wouldn’t say that. I’m sure he’d be happy to do it, but I really do think he was busy this weekend.

A dishwasher flies in from above.

ELENA
Oh honey, you’re being dramatic. He loves you. He’s just working.

She looks at dishwasher. Is it clean or dirty? Opens and checks. Dirty.
Behind her, the sink flies into place. She looks. It’s half full of dirty dishes. She considers. Does she have time to fill the dishwasher before she leaves?

ELENA
Yes, leaving soon.

A clock flies in above the sink. ELENA checks it. It’s 9:30.

ELENA
Oops…Very soon.

A towel flies in and lands near the sink. The eggs are cooked. ELENA turns off the burner, looks for a plate. A cupboard flies in.

ELENA
Just eating quick breakfast. Real quick.

She opens the cupboard and takes out a plate, dumps eggs onto plate. Grabs a fork from the sink, wipes it on the towel, starts to eat.

ELENA
Almost done. I’ll leave right after this. I’ll see you soon.

ELENA finishes the eggs, dumps the plate and fork in the sink. It’s time to go. She grabs her purse, starts to exit.

A broom and dustpan fly in from above and land near the fridge. ELENA looks at them and sighs. Puts her purse down. Grabs the broom and starts to sweep.

The clock ticks.

Scene.

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Alfie

About a month ago, before I realized how just stressful it was going to be all the time to be sheltering in place and living in this uncertain world (and I 100% know that I do not have it that bad), I had the option to sign up for free for a once-a-week, online playwriting class. And I thought, this is my chance to do something creative, and it’s only eight weeks, and why not? Let’s go for it!

Our first assignment was to quickwrite a burst of dialogue we had overheard in public, and then to quickwrite a description of a landscape, and then our teacher swapped them all around, and we each received one of each from other people, and then we had to create a short play using them.

It was weirdly intimidating to me. Like, I didn’t do the project until the very last minute (2 hours before the class started) because each time I thought about it I just felt a combination of panicked about having to be creative under deadline, and exhaustion. So I just whined about it until the last minute, then went into my bedroom, and put it together.

I actually kind of like it, and after we read everyone’s out loud in class, I felt pretty good about mine. So I thought I’d share it here.

ALFIE

Setting: A ridge on a hiking trail, a scenic view spot about halfway up Mount Tamalpais. Golden hour, about half an hour before the sun sets. There’s a bench, and some rocks and bushes. JUNE and SAM, both older, are sitting on the bench when the lights come up. They sit near each other on the bench, although not close enough to touch, and take in the view.

LYNN and CARA arrive together at the ridge, and stand off to the side, six-plus feet away.

SAM
Alfie? (No response) Alfie? (No response) Where’s Alfie? (No response) Has anyone seen Alfie?

JUNE
(mildly) I don’t know. I could have sworn he was just here.

SAM
Alfie? Alfie! Did he go somewhere?

JUNE
I’m sure he’s fine.

SAM
He’s not supposed to just go outside.

JUNE
(“there is no Alfie”) He’ll be just fine.

LYNN
(catching her breath) Did you hear what Trump said?

CARA
(panting)

SAM
Alfie’s blanket—

JUNE
Yes?

CARA
(panting)

SAM
It’s not on his bed—

JUNE
Everything’s fine.

CARA
(holding up a finger signaling “one sec”)

SAM
Did you put it in the laundry room?

JUNE
The blanket?

SAM nods, working his fingers along the bench beside him.

JUNE
You know, I think I did. Yes, I remember I think I did.

CARA
(finally catching her breath) Oh no, what did he say this time?

LYNN
Trump said— (sneezes) Sorry. Allergies.

SAM
(Has found a leaf growing up underneath the bench, and pulls it off triumphantly.)
I found it! I found it!

LYNN
Trump said that— (sneezes again)

SAM
(Pointing offstage away from LYNN and CARA) And there he is! There’s Alfie!

CARA
(doing stretches against a nearby rock while prompting LYNN) Trump said…?

LYNN
Trump said this whole thing would be over by June.

SAM
(happily) Alfie! Hi Alfie! Hi you little butterball! (waves)
(to JUNE) Has he been fed yet?

JUNE
I was going to feed him, but is it too early?

CARA
I heard that everyone has to be wearing a mask now. Like we should always be wearing masks.

LYNN
We should order more masks online.

SAM
Maybe I should feed him now.

JUNE
I think we should wait.

SAM
Yeah, maybe we should wait.

CARA
We should. We should order some masks online. How many do we have?

LYNN
I have the mask your mom made me but it’s— (gestures at her face)

SAM
Or maybe he’s hungry now.

JUNE
Let’s wait and see.

SAM
Okay.

CARA
You can’t wear that one all the time, though.

JUNE and SAM sit back against the bench. He lets the leaf fall and it flutters to the ground. After a moment, he scoots close enough to her that they’re touching. Then he puts an arm around her. She sighs and leans into him.

CARA
That mask is just for going into grocery stores.

CARA realizes LYNN is watching JUNE and SAM, and she starts watching them too. LYNN looks at CARA, smiles, and takes her hand. They stand silently. All four looking out at the view.

After a moment, a dog runs onstage and puts its head into SAM’s lap. He strokes its ears.

SAM
Good boy, Alfie.

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Snow coincidence

Back in February, we took a somewhat spontaneous family trip to Tahoe for a quick weekend with some framily (the friends that turn into family). It was H’s first time in the snow, and the first time B has been there since he was 2 1/2, so basically his first time too. The entire point was just to go stay in a hotel, play in the snow, and spend some family time together.

I won’t go into the myriad ways it felt like our kids were ignoring and backtalking to us, and how frustrating that was. =) Nor will I go into all the details about how H woke us up multiple times in the middle of the night to make us switch hotel beds because she decided she didn’t like whoever she was currently sleeping next to. Honestly, by 6am, Drew and I were both sitting there going…Do we just put them in the car now and go home? =/

BUT. We decided to stick it out through the second day and see if we could recover. We walked around Tahoe City a bit, went to the playground we’ve visited before, but it was FREEZING. There were icicles on the dock and on the plants at the edge of the water.

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Look how sad and cold she is!

So we went and got hot chocolate, then packed up the cars and went to Donner Memorial State Park, back up on I-80, on our way home. It had warmed up a bit, and there was less wind off the water, which was helpful. We actually had a pretty good time! The snow was piled in drifts over bushes, which means that while all the kids were running around like lightfooted rabbits, the adults would occasionally break through the snow and wind up calf (or knee…or one memorable time, thigh) deep in a drift.

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Finally it felt like it was time to move on and go grab some lunch on our way home. We gathered up all our sleds and saucers and dragged everything back through the snow and over bridges and back to the main parking lot at the Donner visitor center. We passed underneath the memorial that’s visible from the highway.

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And I found myself thinking, The Donner party is pretty interesting. I mean it’s a little macabre…you only really learn the grisly details in school. 

Fast forward a few days, and I’m googling “books about the Donner party” to see if there are any good nonfiction or historical fiction books about the winter of 1846-47. I found one that looked promising and also familiar: The Indifferent Stars Above: The Harrowing Saga of a Donner Party Bride, by Daniel James Brown. When I searched it on Amazon, I realized…it looked familiar because I had already purchased the ebook a year ago and it was currently in my kindle.

I had purchased it because (I remembered now) I had been thinking about the Donner party and I was wondering if there were any good books about it.

So on the one hand, I’m glad I’m consistent! On the other hand, I now wonder what other books in my kindle I’ve been ignoring that I would probably enjoy. (Spoiler alert: there are a lot of ebooks I don’t remember purchasing.)

I’m not sure these are the best days for reading books about families being forced to resort to desperate measures to survive. So I’ll put this one off for a summer read once things (hopefully) settle down. (That said, it would be weird not to at least mention COVID-19 here and the very strange times we’re living in, but I’m journaling all that separately and I highly recommend you do too, as frequently as possible.)

Stay safe and sane out there, friends. And read something fun and fluffy.

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To Market

Walking down Market Street at 6:30pm, just after dark, was like walking through a fever dream. I saw a man selling light up Mickey Mouse balloons, four different very fragrant hot dog carts, a man balancing on a unicycle while playing an electric violin, and a huge group of bikers on illuminated, old fashioned bicycles. What a world.

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Moonlight

At some point in the last year the blinds in our bedroom have broken so that one corner is perpetually stuck up at a wonky angle from the windowsill. But we’ve lived there for eight years and have resigned ourselves to stuff like that. A broken blind pull; nail polish smeared on the wall (courtesy of a 2-year-old H); the light on the stove that tells you when a burner is hot that doesn’t go off once everything has cooled down, until you bang on it. It’s fine. Whatever. #RenterLife, am I right?

But sometimes things surprise you, and as we move toward spring, and the earth shifts its rotation, and the moon moves through its faces, there have been nights lately where I’ve woken up, and the moon is coming right through that hitch in the blind, and shining on the bed.

The first time it happened, I assumed it was a streetlight (?) and I didn’t realize what it was until I laid down and put my face in it and saw the full moon through the trees. I stayed there until it had sunk behind the branches.

Some things feel preciously beautiful.

The last time it happened, I woke up Drew to show him, even though I know he has a hard time falling back to sleep. And now the moon is waning and it won’t happen again for another three weeks. But I hope I catch it again when it comes back.

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