Strega Nona and her magic pot of pasta.
Monday, March 30
I was out of it this morning. Tired, so tired. Headachy. More than Monday blahs, it was definitely my body telling me to slow down. So I did. I showered during lunch, hoping to alleviate the headache, and then I emailed all of my colleagues to let them know I’d be unavailable for the rest of the day. I shut off email and got in bed. I took two Advil. I watched TV for a bit. I meditated. I fell asleep for a few minutes.
I had a call this evening for the small, arts nonprofit I’m on the board of. And even though it was a difficult call, focused on how we are essentially paused for business for the foreseeable future, it ended on an upbeat note as we brainstormed ways to keep the community engaged. I believe in art, in all forms. And I’m so grateful to be a part of this community.
Dinner was a collaboration. Nothing fancy. J made the pasta. I made the salad. Our youngest made garlic bread. We ate, not watching TV, in the living room. I glanced down at my phone and noticed that Tomie de Paola had died. His book “Strega Nona” and it’s miraculous pot of spaghetti that feeds the whole village was such a favorite in our house. i just went to look at the bookshelf at the top of the stairs that houses all of the favorite picture books, but I couldn’t find it. J reminded me that it fell apart. We read it so many times that it fell apart.
The kids are currently playing Monopoly in the other room. Overheard: “Why do I have no money? Where did all my money go?!” Despite the second day of rain and very little outside time again, everyone seems to be in better spirits tonight as compared to last night. I have to remember this, especially on the very difficult days, that there will be another day. Things will feel better and worse and hard and OK. There is room for all of it.
I went to the grocery store today, and now I feel like I need to start the 14-day countdown again, and it makes me feel so helpless. I was so careful at the store. And when I got home I disinfected everything I could. I put my gloves in the laundry along with the clothes I wore. I showered. And I don’t really think I am going to get infected by buying groceries for my family. But the small possibility and all of the stories I’m reading about how ill people are and watching the infection and death rates rise by the day … is enough to make me need that meditation on a very regular basis.
There were many more people in the store wearing gloves and masks today than there were the last time I was there 10 days ago. There was blue tape on the floor in each checkout lane, to keep distance between shoppers in line. Only every other checkout was open. And there were large, square plexiglass shields at every checkout and at the pharmacy and the customer service counter. There was toilet paper today. But still no tofu! And no veggie dogs. I did buy flour — it was being restocked as I was there — and the cheese supply was replenished. But eggs were very low, and I bought white ones in packages of a dozen (three total), instead of the brown eggs in 18-pack cartons that I usually buy. My kids were happy with the Bear Creek Caramel ice cream and the pistachios that I brought them. And one of the three packages of cookies I bought is already gone.
I’m definitely spending more on groceries, in great part because I am not going to Costco but sticking close to home. But I’m grateful to be able to feed my family, to have plenty of snacks. To have meals planned out for two weeks. I organized my spice cabinet and all pantry items yesterday (even though I don’t have a pantry, per se), and I know exactly what I have on hand. Plus, the bottle of 10-year-old molasses and solidified apple cider vinegar are no longer taking up space in my kitchen.
I haven’t looked too much at the news today, but my phone just lit up with an alert from CNN that says: “‘A medical war zone.’ Inside this New York hospital overwhelmed by coronavirus patients and victims, beds line the hallways and the morgue is overflowing.” This is exactly the news I was reading about Italy the week that we all were told to start working from home. That was three weeks ago. And now here we are, and we aren’t even experiencing the peak infections yet. Some of the current numbers are:
Total cases worldwide: More than 780,000
Total deaths worldwide: Nearly 38,000
U.S. cases: More than 160,000
New York cases: More than 67,000
State with the next most cases: New Jersey, with 16,000
Massachusetts cases: 5,700 cases
I started a new book last night. “Writers & Lovers” by Lily King. It drew me in right away, and once the rowdy game of Monopoly is over I’m going to settle in with it and try really hard not to stay up too late tonight.
Stay safe, everyone.