We’ve been Connecticut residents for 5.5 months now.
Parker and I have created a routine of visiting the library every Wednesday. It’s a lift for both of us.
Some days I can’t read the newspaper, it’s so depressing.
I’m thrilled Jenna Wortham and Wesley Morris are back with my favorite podcast, Still Processing.
I’ve seen five different friends in the past couple of weeks, maskless. It’s been wonderful, but sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, certain that it was careless and too fast and that one of us has Covid.
The more I crave a good baked good, the more I fantasize about opening a bakery.
It’s amazing watching our yard come to life. Brown bushes, branch by branch, returning to green.
I get an inordinate amount of pleasure from recycling.
I’ve been so busy with work the past 2-3 months that when things slow down for a couple hours, I don’t know what to do with myself.
Figuring out car titles, registration and EZ pass rules after not owning a car for twentysomething years is not as easy as I would have thought.
I’m still surprised at how racist our country is.
I’m reading “Occasional Magic,” a compilation of stories told through The Moth, and they are, indeed, MAGICAL.
I’m enjoying getting to know our house like a person. Little by little, cool details are becoming known and intimacy is being built.
I have several book ideas knocking around my head and think I have a block. I’m not letting myself explore them.
My daughter brings me so much joy every day. I marvel at her constant growth and the person she is.
How do you make peace with getting older? What’s the trick of embracing the greys, the wrinkles and sags, the loss of energy and vitality and knowledge that you’re on the backside?
We have bocce! It’s so much fun!
I have to say, cleaning and cooking are generally pleasurable to me.
Nomadland is amazing.
This is how I process and share information these days. Fits and spurts. Fragments. Moments of awe and sadness.