Me Will Eat A Cookie

“Today, me will live in the moment, unless it’s unpleasant, in which case, me will eat a cookie. ”
–Cookie Monster


This is me during this TOC (Time of Covid):

Standing in the pantry, eating handful after handful of Cape Cod potato chips.

This is also me:

Working in the yard, shaping the dirt to make raised beds, flower beds, herb garden beds.

And this:

Scrolling through the Twitter getting more enraged by the second over the CRIMINAL INCOMPETENCE of this federal government: WHAT? Oh My God. I cannot. Fuck that. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? No. That is so sick.  

And this:

Sewing re-usable masks every morning to donate to various vulnerable people in my area at the jail, the retirement community, the VA, the nursing home, the hospital, the grocery store.

And this:

Staying up too late streaming somethingorother on the Netflix–literally falling asleep with my laptop balancing akimbo on the pillow BUT STILL TRYING TO WATCH.

And this:

Up early to walk the dogs with my neighbor, continuously forgetting to stay 6 (now 12) feet away even though I’m trying.

And this:

Puttering in the kitchen, slapping together whatever is on hand to make a nice dinner for the boys so at least I get 7 1/2 minutes with first-year college student son who is stuck at home and operating, apparently, on vampire time.

And this:

Panicking at the slightest physical thing—Wait. I don’t feel right. Am I warm? Can I still smell things? Am I breathing?

And this:


And this:


And this:

Trying to remember the last time I bathed…

I guess what I’m saying is: This TOC is crazy. I mean it, it is really CRAZY.

It’s the hardest, scariest, most uncertain time any of us have ever lived through.

It’s weird. Right?

I just don’t think ANYONE is talking about that enough—how very WEIRD it is.

It’s very weird.

On the one hand, we’re all shell-shocked. On the other hand, we’ve fairly quickly made the necessary adjustments.

Oh. So, everything is canceled? I don’t go anywhere anymore?  I stay home? I see no one? If I DO go out, I wear a mask and don’t touch anything or anyone? I wash my hands a gazillion times a day? I scrub every can and jar and box and blueberry in soapy water? And I do this for whoever knows how long because of the zero testing and second and third peaks and no treatment or vaccine and and and…? Oh. Okay.

Meanwhile, people, this is trauma territory. Even if you and your loved ones are okay. This is collective active daily trauma that we are all living through.

It’s intense.

So I guess my message today, Dear << Test First Name >>, is to simply remember that and to do your best to be kind to yourself, one little moment at a time.

Try not to let each snapshot of your day mean too much about you, about your future, your worth, your ability to handle a global pandemic.

We will eat too many carbs. We will create badass efficiency. We will experience lovely and surprising flexibility and innovation. We will fall into utter lack of self-care. There will be moments of grace and silliness and humor and surrender and those of fear, worry, and despair.

The sun will come out and disappear behind a cloud.

The daffodils will come up in happy hugging clusters and herald a new season.

We’ll get through this.

We will.

Sending so much love.

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