Everyone’s computer has hung up at one time or another. That little circle just whirls and whirls and whirls. It’s easy to make the comparison to this pandemic stupor.
Our days whirl and merge. We wait and wait and wait for normal to return, for our lives to reboot.
There’s relief, when the circle on the computer screen stops whirling, and the computer starts up again … but there’s also worry. Will it happen again and need to be unplugged and rebooted? We can’t predict.
The pandemic quarantine is loosening in some places. That reboot causes worry. Could we end up back in total quarantine again? We don’t know.
Is a return to a pre-COVID19 is even possible? We don’t know that either.
We hope and pray for the best. While stuck in our new world, in our pandemic stasis, we get up each day, put one foot in front of the other, and do the next thing.
We take care of whatever task is next, whether it’s mindbogglingly mundane or breathtakingly scary. And then, after that, we do the next thing, and the next.
My next thing was releasing a new book, my first romantic suspense.
She’s a forty-seven year old widow who views life with rose-colored glasses while raising her grandson after her only child and his wife die in a suspicious car accident.
He’s thirty-four, a divorced, overly cautious ex-cop, who manages her shipping company. A cartel’s bomb killed his twin sons. He trusts no one.
Mysterious threats about Evie’s grandson begin to fill her email inbox at the same time drugs show up in a company shipment. When the nanny she hired against his advice disappears with the toddler, they uncover a web of lies, murder, and drug smuggling in her company.
Searching for the toddler tests their trust, even as it binds their hearts.
Pre-order Seeing Clearlyhere for Kindle and here for Nook.
What’s your next thing? Mine is be writing the next book.
I found this Pixabay photo on Pexels. It was a perfect match for the Christopher Reeve quote I love.
About the quote
Christopher Reeve was the star of the 1978 version of the Superman and subsequent sequels. But he wanted to do more substantive work, which he did as well as direct and write. In 1995 he suffered a spinal injury in an equestrian competition and he and his wife became major advocates for spinal cord injury victims.
The Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation, now run by their children, is dedicated to curing spinal cord injury by funding innovative research, and improving the quality of life for people living with paralysis through grants, information, and advocacy.
Read more about this amazing real life Superman here. Once you know more about him, you’ll see he never gave up choosing instead to hope.
Hope leads to possibilities. We should always choose hope.
Our local county judge issued an order requiring residents ages 10 and over to wear some sort of protective face covering when in public places. It goes into effect today.
Face coverings may be a homemade mask, scarf, bandana, or handkerchief, as long as it covers the nose and mouth. And there are exceptions for eating or drinking, exercising, or doing physical activities outdoors, and if wearing a face covering posed a mental, physical, safety or security risk.
Still the order raised all kinds of social media chatter and protest. Within the day, a legal challenge was issued. Did she have the authority to do so?
Consensus seems to be a resounding NO. But, so far, there’s been no rescinding.
Which led to this to-be-or-not-to-be Shakespeare question blog and my favorite thing – research.
The answer lies in the reason behind wearing a mask. Is a mask worn to protect the wearer from getting infected or is a mask worn to protect others from being infected by the wearer?
Imagine the coronavirus pandemic like a wildfire. People breathing out invisible embers when they speak, cough, or sneeze. Studies show sneezing spreads embers farthest, coughing second, and speaking least.
That’s a scary image and wearing a mask begins to make sense.
Wearing a cotton mask dramatically reduces the number of virus particles emitted from our mouths by as much as 99 percent. Fewer virus particles floating around means a better chance of avoiding infection. And if infected, a better chance of only a mild illness.
Mask wearing is like the emission filter on car exhausts and chimneys. My mask protects you; your mask protects me.
It’s called public good — something we all do to that eventually helps everyone. But how much public good depends on the level of participation.
In a perfect world there be lots of good mask wearing. Unfortunately, emission filters had to be mandated to cut air pollution. I suspect that’s why our county judge put out her order mandating mask wearing.
The background is a photo by NEOSiAM 2020 I found on Pexels, a great website for free graphics.
The dark rolling clouds depict what I feel most days while sheltering-in-place during this dark COVID19 pandemic.
About the quote
Desmund Tutu is a South African Anglican cleric and theologian. In 1986 he received the Nobel Prize for Peace for his role in opposition to apartheid. In 2009 he was awarded the U.S. Presidential Medal of Freedom. His life has been about peace and hope and truth.
This quote seemed a perfect fit for the photo. The white light represents the hope and peace Tutu taught.
Personally I need to look on that circle of light (hope) and pray it grows wider. How about you?
When I remember my mother’s father, it’s always in his workshop. At the old house, it was a small dark area shared with my grandmother’s gardening paraphernalia at the back of the garage.
They built a newer house next to the old one after World War II, his shop was a casita with windows and French doors attached to the back of the garage.
He was always working out there. I’d stand in the doorway for hours watching. He’d never let me inside when the jigsaw was going.
He built stick horses with one dimensional heads. I rode those horses for many an hour practicing for barrel racing.
He made rocking horses. The kind you could sit in like a rocking chair.
And he designed a doll bed that flipped from rocking to steady. My dolls and my daughters’ dolls slept many a night in those beds.
My favorite thing he built was birdhouses with tin roofs. He created assorted sizes in different shapes and hung them along the heaves of his little casita’s porch. In the Spring, birds made nests in all the houses. We’d sit on the porch with coffee and cookies to dunk and listen to the baby birds. After Opa was gone, I received the birdhouses.
Today, they hang around my porch.
I think about Opa and what a legacy he left with his birdhouses. He didn’t have social media, no television. Just him in his workshop with his saw and the radio.
One of his birdhouses has a nest this year. I’m excited. This horrid pandemic may have forced me to stay home, but I’m kinda happy to leave the rush and noise to sit on my porch and listen for the baby birds like I did with Opa and Oma.