So here we are at the end of week six of this, at least at my latitude and longitude. How are you guys holding up? I’m alright some of time. And some of the time I look at the dirty dishes on the counter and wonder what kind of noise they’d make if I just hurled them up against the wall, one after the other.
So here we are waking up on a Wednesday morning to a new normal.
My kid’s school is shut down for four weeks. My church is podcasting services. My dojang is holding classes on zoom.
I’m working from home now too. That’s better, I think. The forced distance of 6 feet was awkward — walking into a friend’s work space to chat over a project and then realizing where you’re standing and taking two steps back — it’s disorientingly weird.
I walked into a ballet studio today for the first time in I think about two years. I thought I was done with that one. I really did. I was at a place where I really didn’t even miss it that much anymore.
But after work tonight I went digging through the back of my closet, dug out my old ballet slippers, blew the dust off, and put them back on my feet.
And it’s like riding a bike. Except you know how much you’re screwing everything up and how bad your posture has gotten. So, picking up this thing exactly where we left off then.
Here I am sitting in another airport right before Christmas again, with a work laptop at my feet and my knitting sitting idly in my lap. I feel like I’ve written this blog before, and perhaps more than once.
It’s been awhile since I’ve posted. I have little excuse for myself, except that I swear it was New Year’s Eve yesterday. You too?
Traveling home from a Hawaiian vacation and heading back into reality. Somewhat reluctantly, truth be told.
This week I guested on a podcast, gave a presentation at my python group, volunteered at my kid’s school, worked 40+ hours, and hosted a slumber party full of twelve-year olds at my house.
I’m a little tired now.
And somehow I feel like I didn’t get enough done, which both obvious and insane at the very same time.
The last few days at the rink were surreal, as the building slowly came down around us. I’d come in for a game and find myself staring at a blank wall trying to identify why it looked wrong. Ah, that’s where all the championship banners used to be. the next game, benches were missing, just the flat ends of bolts left in the cement. By the finals, we were watching the walls of the batting cages come down one at a time.