News Trend Finishing Strong: The Presidents' Pocket Biographies|Actual

"Starting strong is good. Finishing strong is epic." -Robin Sharma

* * * * *

I'm a huge believer in finishing strong. In my book, enthusiastic starts are easy. There's plenty of motivation to be found in the early stages of any commitment, but sooner or later, every enterprise hits a seemingly solid wall of frustration and failure.

And many times, that's where the project dies. But it's no cliche to say that when the going gets tough, the tough get going. The satisfaction to be found in not only finishing what I've started - or even better, finishing stronger than when I started - is to me the sweetest success of all.

* * * * *

Back in the day, I used to make a lot of journals. For decades, I've logged my then-babies' milestones, logged our family road trip adventures, and collected a hodge podge of old-school recipe clippings. As my daughters grew older, they started making journals too. Some were undertaken just for pure artistic fun, others served as custom collections of essays, reports, and projects done for our classes.

About ten years ago, two significant events changed up my journaling mojo.

1. My youngest daughter wrapped up her homeschooling career as well as mine, and there went my best excuse for journaling as a priority in life.

2. I began to present my journalistic endeavors in blog format. Editing photos and typing text trended over glue sticks and cardstock, and the old days gave way to the new.

This double whammy of a  transition probably happened over the course of several years but looking back now, it feels to me like a dramatically abrupt shift. Apparently, I ran out of journaling juju in a snap.

Because this weekend, I ran across my ancient pile of half-done journals.

Yep. Some were barely started, others almost done, but each one had come to its own special place of hitting a wall, and in my frustration, I'd laid it aside and never come back to it.

Until now.

But as I sifted through the pile and looked over my abandoned works in progress, my finisher's instincts kicked in and I made a promise to myself.

I'm finishing up each one of these suckers, no matter what.

So let's consider this Part One of a series, and take a look at my first completed project.

The Presidents' Pocket Biographies.

That aforementioned fourth born once made me a cute blank book for Christmas. The inside pages were simple squares of printer paper but the covers collaged together iimages of some of my favorite U.S. Presidents (yes, I have favorites and yes, my fourth-born knows who they are) and photos of our dearly beloved pets at the time, Ranger, a big red dog, and Padfoot, a sweet black cat.

Back in the day, I'd decided to write a few notes about each of our nation's presidents - we'd just studied them all in a year-long group, so I had opinions.

To make the journal a bit more visually interesting - and to strategize around spelling errors or ugly mistakes - I wrote on bits of assorted graph papers designed to fit on a half laman. I went the extra mile of occasionally attaching an extra slip of paper by means of a small metal grommet, creating a flip feature.

^ Pretty sure I stopped working on this journal because time had passed and I could no longer effortlessly recall presidential tidbits. And apparently I was too lazy to look them up.

Sadly, I had petered out at President #26, Teddy Roosevelt. Which is a particular shame because he's one of my favorites.

Did you know his wife and his mother died on the same day? He made a big X on the date in his journal and wrote, "The light has gone out of my life." Then this sickly city boy decided to go west and become a cowboy - he needed to mend his broken heart and ended up falling in love with our nation's wilderness and greatly expanding our system of national parks. Bless him.

These facts did not pop fully formed out of my memory. I grabbed the book we had used in class and spent a lovely afternoon re-reading the entries about Teddy as well as  Presidents #27 through 44, and finished this journal with a stimulated mind and a full heart.

^ Poor Ranger (bottom right corner of the book cover) got horribly sick when he was two years old. In one of those wretched diseases where the immune system attacks itself, the skin around his eyes and nose turned horribly pink and swollen. Until we found a veterinary dermatologist who knew what to do, his doctors told us we might lose him. Thankfully, Ranger lived a long and happy life, and this terrible season of illness became a distant memory.

As it turned out, there's one page left at the back of my presidents journal. One, I supposed, must be used to record our current commander-in-chief. I may just write a big X, too.

One more empty section remains to record my favorite tidbits about #47 and I look forward to seeing who will take the honor of completing my book.

So while I suppose one could technically argue that my book won't be truly finished until the final halaman is full, I'm calling it good.

That's one journal finished and a whole bunch more to go.

* * * * *

Want to see the other journals I've finished? Check them out here:

The Presidents' Pocket Biographies

My Princess Book

My Stash

Chicago

News Trend Feel Better |Actual

"If you are depressed, you are living in the past.

If you are anxious, you are living in the future.

If you are at peace, you are living in the present."

-Lao Tzu

Like pretty much every other human being on the planet, I have had my moments of depression and  anxiety. Those emotions, those challenging and ugly feelings, are part of the human condition.

I am fortunate that they play only a fleeting role in my life, and I rarely struggle with them.

But I know others - people close to me - who live with depression or anxiety as their close and constant companions.

I understand that it is not my job to talk them out of those feelings.

To those who suffer from depression and anxiety, those emotions cast a heavy and very real shadow over their lives.

They can't just

cheer up,

look on the bright side,

think of happier thoughts,

talk about something else besides their pain,

snap out of it.

That's not how mental illness works.

A beautiful song, interlaced with spoken poetry, of brokenness and healing.

Mental illness.

Some might push back against that phrase. It sounds all Shutter Island andOne Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest with psychiatric hospitals and stern nurses carrying cups of mysterious pills that must be swallowed and Hurley sitting around the day room with a guy in his bathrobe named Leonard who mutters 4 8 15 16 23 42 under his breath all day long.

Mental illness sounds like a condition of brokenness that is heavy and horrible and hopeless.

But that's not true.

Mental illnesses are health conditions involving changes in our emotions, thoughts or behaviors.

Post modern life, in and of itself, is enough to trigger these changes.

And the Covid-19 pandemic has kicked us into a whole new level of change.

So this, I think, is a particularly good time to talk about depression and anxiety, and to show compassion to those who are struggling.

Besides listening without judgment, I've found that one of the most helpful things I can do for depressed and anxious friends is to normalize their pain.

The way I do that is by telling them, straight up and simple, "You are not alone."

And then I spam my hurting friends with a bunch of memes.

I know. That's rather cruel of me, isn't it.

But memes demonstrate quickly and often cleverly that there are other people out there experiencing the same things: suffering the same pain, wondering what is wrong with them, feeling alone.

And what I've noticed is that for people in pain, realizing that they are not the only ones who feel that way, recognizing their connection to other humans, can often be enough to manage the hurt for one more day.

So I offer to you my collection of memes, posts, and a lovely, tender song of healing.

To be sure, these snippets (and the hundreds of other memes much like them) will not heal mental illness, cure depression, or cast away anxiety. But these kind words of compassion and understanding may just make someone you know feel just a little bit more known, understood, cared for.

And maybe, just maybe, they will feel a little bit better.

* * * * *

Read more stories about life with Covid-19 here in suburban Seattle:

Sitting Pretty

Scenes Of An Ordinary Easter

Our First Church

Silver Linings

Hopes And Dreams In The Silverware Drawer

Life Of A (Socially Distant) Math Teacher: Midterms

Keep Life Simple What I'm Doing Lately

Do Dinner

Covid Cleaning

Gracie's And My Daily (Socially Distant) Walks

Life Of A (Socially Distant) Math Teacher

Miracle Of Light

Social Distancing In My Dining Room

Social Distancing In My Kitchen

We're On The Road To Shambala

Sunshine And Disco Balls

Feel Better

Covid-19 Is For Real

A COVID-19 Update

Checking In From Coronavirus Central

News Trend Covid-19 Is For Real|Actual

Spring is for real too. It?S showing up a bit early this year

and I do believe that all of Seattle rejoices.

Thirty-six hours ago, I felt darn confident. Sure, the threat of Covid-19 was circling ever closer to my Seattle suburban life. But my hand-washing skills are on par and I'm in good health, so I considered my chances of getting the coronavirus to be low and my odds of survival quite high. My plan was to keep on living my life without interruption.

Tonight, I see things a bit differently.

Yesterday morning, I went to a medical clinic for a routine laser procedure on my eye. (Yes. My eye was literally blasted with lasers and it was wild.) It wasn't till I was standing in line to check in for my appointment that I realized I was in Kirkland, epicenter of our Covid-19 nursing home outbreak, and that the hospital where many of those elderly victims died was right next door.

As I sat in a tiny waiting area - not much more than a half-dozen chairs squeezed into a hallway - I took note of our close quarters. Now granted, no one appeared to be sick. No one coughed during the half hour I sat there. But as my fellow waiters came and went, and countless more people walked up and down the hallway in front of us, I couldn't help but notice that the recommended six-foot personal bubble we're been advised to maintain was an impossibility. And I realized that any one of these people could be carrying the virus - symptom free - and simply by breathing in my air space, could be infecting me.

For that matter, I could be the one who's already infected and passing the disease on to them.

This is a sobering thought.

* * * * *

Today, I talked to several of my math moms, and we all agreed that our community seems to be at a tipping point. A confirmed case of coronavirus has popped up at the church where most of my math families attend, and that strikes very close to home. The advantages of meeting with my students in person simply no longer outweigh the realities of the disease, and I decided that until the epidemic has blown through, I'm moving all of my classes to Youtube, effective immediately.

Two days ago, I would have thought that to be an extremely difficult decision to make.

A week ago, I would have laughed at the very notion.

But today, it felt absolutely right.

* * * * *

Tonight, the circle closed even tighter. I teach several of my math classes to a co-op. What that means, in homeschooling parlance, is that a number of like-minded families meet up so students can work, learn, and play together. Meeting in one family's home, the moms teach most subjects but also hire out some of the more advanced instruction. I handle the load for upper level mathematics and a gentleman named Mr. B teaches high school literature and history.

There've been a few nasty non-Covid viruses running through the class, so I haven't met with these students in person for the last two weeks. And thankfully, neither did Mr. B. Because, although he is as yet unconfirmed, on Saturday he came down with a sore throat and a fever and suspects he has coronavirus.

Was I exposed? Were the students exposed? What about all the grandparents, babies, immune-challenged siblings with whom we've since interacted? What about the secara acak strangers who've wandered into our six-foot bubbles and breathed in the tiny virus particles that we breathed out?

Or was Mr. B exposed to the disease after his last meeting with this group of students, so that he didn't teach them or even come into the house during the days that he was incubating the disease?

We don't know. We'll never know. All we can do is wait and see what happens.

* * * * *

Today, Washington Governor Jay Inslee announced a statewide ban on gatherings and events of 250 people or more, effective now through at least the end of March and indefinitely as needed.  There's been a huge amount of chatter - both live and digital - about social distancing. What epidemiologists tell us is that the best way to break the exponential growth of an epidemic is to stay home as much as possible, to limit the opportunities the virus has to jump silently from one set of lungs to another, to lay quietly in one unsuspecting victim as she accidentally infects another one, two, three or more.

Now let me be clear. I'm not anxious. I'm not fearful. There's been a lot of conversation about how the media is whipping this little disease up into a hellstorm, and besides a handful of sick people in Asia, there really isn't all that much to be concerned about, and if you're worried, you're over-reacting.

Well, I'm here to tell you that Covid-19 is for real, and when it hits, it hits hard.

If your area is not yet in the cross hairs of coronavirus, stop right now and give thanks.

Then stay up to date on our experts' best understanding of how the disease works, and how you can do your part to keep your community as healthy as possible. Because the odds are very good that Covid-19 is coming your way. And you had best be prepared.

As for me, I'll be laying low for a while. Social distancing is my new jam.

* * * * *

Read more stories about life with Covid-19 here in suburban Seattle:

Sitting Pretty

Scenes Of An Ordinary Easter

Our First Church

Silver Linings

Hopes And Dreams In The Silverware Drawer

Life Of A (Socially Distant) Math Teacher: Midterms

Keep Life Simple What I'm Doing Lately

Do Dinner

Covid Cleaning

Gracie's And My Daily (Socially Distant) Walks

Life Of A (Socially Distant) Math Teacher

Miracle Of Light

Social Distancing In My Dining Room

Social Distancing In My Kitchen

We're On The Road To Shambala

Sunshine And Disco Balls

Feel Better

Covid-19 Is For Real

A COVID-19 Update

Checking In From Coronavirus Central

News Trend We're On The Road To Shambala|Actual

Gracie and I walk through this lawn every day. To tell you the truth, in real life, it's lately been a muddy meadow of sodden soil and spring weeds. But this week, I noticed that precious daisies have begun to bloom. Apparently, Gracie noticed too.

Hugo Reyes believes he's been cursed.

Sure, he won the lottery and became a millionaire overnight, but since then, seems like nothing but bad things have come his way.

He bought a house for his mom, and it burned to the ground.

His fried chicken franchise got hit by a flaming meteor.

And his flight back from Australia crashed on an increasingly weird tropical island.

Yeah. That Hugo. Also known as Hurley. The big guy from LOST.

In the episode I watched tonight, Hugo wrestles with this idea of a curse. As he broods, he also finds a decades-old abandoned VW van in the underbrush, hauls out the dead body of one of those Dharma folks, and reckons to take it for a joy ride.

And here is what happens.

* * * * *

In my enthusiasm for their beauty and miraculous rebirth, I whipped out my phone to take a photo of the flowers. But immediately I discovered that looking down at the flowers through my viewfinder lent me a mostly drab and uninspired vision of the surrounding mud and weeds. Not so cute.

This scene stands on its own two feet as one of the sweetest bits of film I've ever known.

But the power of the unintended and wildly timely metaphor is not lost on me.

Here we are, in the grips of this crazy COVID-19 epidemic, and our sense of normal is careening down a steep slope at least as fast as that Dharma beer buggy.

Our world feels out of control, and unstoppably dangerous.

We'd have to be crazy not to feel at least a little bit afraid.

But there is going to come a moment when we manage to pop our global clutch, start the engine of physical healing and economic recovery, and steer ourselves out of this tailspin.

Hopefully, we will not come quite as close to crashing as Hugo and Charlie do.

And then, when the wild ride ends, the jams are gonna kick in and we are going to find ourselves spinning in happy circles around a grassy meadow, just like Hugo and the guys.

* * * * *

In that pivotal moment when the rusty, decrepit van sputters into life, the music that suddenly erupts from the 8-track player. Is a song called Shambala by Three Dog Night. Not surprisingly, the lyrics are also prophetic and healing.

Wash away my troubles, wash away my pain

On the road to Shambala

Wash away my sorrow, wash away my shame

On the road to Shambala

In Buddhist tradition, Shambala is a mythical kingdom, as much a visionary and spiritual destination as it is a physical or geographic place. It's a place of deep purity and power.

Everyone is helpful, everyone is kind

On the road to Shambala

Everyone is lucky, everyone is so kind

On the road to Shambala

How does your light shine

In the halls of Shambala?

Tell me, how does your light shine

In the halls of Shambala?

* * * * *

The trick, I learned, is to bend down low and tilt my camera at an angle, so that the photo captures only the sweet blossoms and fresh green growth. Beauty is not so much what we see as how we choose to look at it.

You may not feel it yet, but I know that all of this is true. We may feel like we are riding the runaway van of a pandemic and our lives are dangerously out of control. But the lovely truth is that we are on the road to Shambala and I truly believe that when we get there, we will know it was worth the trip.

* * * * *

Read more stories about life with Covid-19 here in suburban Seattle:

Sitting Pretty

Scenes Of An Ordinary Easter

Our First Church

Silver Linings

Hopes And Dreams In The Silverware Drawer

Life Of A (Socially Distant) Math Teacher: Midterms

Keep Life Simple What I'm Doing Lately

Do Dinner

Covid Cleaning

Gracie's And My Daily (Socially Distant) Walks

Life Of A (Socially Distant) Math Teacher

Miracle Of Light

Social Distancing In My Dining Room

Social Distancing In My Kitchen

We're On The Road To Shambala

Sunshine And Disco Balls

Feel Better

Covid-19 Is For Real

A COVID-19 Update

Checking In From Coronavirus Central

News Trend Life Of A (Socially Distant) Math Teacher|Actual

A couple weeks ago, when Covid-19 had just begun to breathe down our backs, I decided to start teaching my classes remotely.

I teach upper level mathematics - algebra, geometry, trig, pre calc - to homeschooled high school students. That looks like me sitting at a dining room table - sometimes mine, usually my students' - and working with one, or two, or maybe even three kids at a time. I often teach the same student for three or four years, and multiple students in the same family. It's a dream job and I love every minute.

Now obviously, I'm not the first teacher to take math instruction online, so I'm not exactly inventing the wheel over here.

But I aim to do more than just deliver up some standard lectures on rickety technology and expect my students to adapt. Over the years, I've come up with quite a few bells and whistles that take my classes from good to great, and coronavirus devils notwithstanding, I am not willing to compromise. My goal is to take each element of my tried-and-true learning process and somehow morph it into a germ-free, socially distant version of what we do in person.

In real life, the first step of my process is the lecture.

Well. Allow me to clarify.

The first step is me explaining some new math concepts, one lesson at a time, using strange metaphors and rambling stories, substituting more colorful descriptions for dry math slogan

The quadratic formula is the man-eating dragon.

Radical signs are known as pig houses in which the little fellows hide from the big bad wolves.

The art of adding or subtracting to solve a basic algebraic equation is termed, "swimming fish."

All the while, I'm writing out the problems and key ideas (highlighted as "puffy clouds of knowledgedanquot;) on a whiteboard. In normal times, that is.

While many impromptu digital instructors are turning to a Skype, FaceTime or Zoom type platform, that doesn't work for me. Those systems work well when the main means of communication is voice, but I need voice and visual to be transmitted with equal precision.

'

My solution to this conundrum has manifested itself as a chair on my dining room table. Using my phone with the camera facing down onto the table creates an environment where I have considerable control over the variables of the shot; my hands are free to write with abandon and my mind is free to roam all over the math landscape.

And so I've been video recording my lesson. I teach two lessons per week to five different groups of students, which makes for a lot of time in my "studio."

Gracie finds my performances mesmerizing. She curls up at my feet and snoozes for hours on end while I work. Lord only knows what mathematical knowledge has accumulated in her brain over the past few weeks.

Once recorded, the lessons are uploaded to my Youtube channel. Yup. I'm pretty much an influencer.

The second major component of my classes is homework. Lots and lots of homework.

I hope you won't be shocked to know that the average teenager needs some accountability on that front. Normally I provide pep talks and procrastination advisories at the start of each class. Nowadays I follow up the assignments with individual phone calls with each student to a) hear the sounds of their adorable voices and b) interrogate them about their work status.

I've been checking in once a week by phone, but also manning my texts and emails for random questions that come up as my students are actively working problems. At any time of day or night, I might open a text that says, "Hey, I'm stuck on Problem 17 Lesson 85." Usually, the resolution involves me quickly getting up to speed by working out the answer for myself, asking the student some questions delicately loaded with helpful hints, and possibly sending a photo of my solution.

My students have already been using a checklist I designed for keep tracking of assignments and due dates, which works fine for in-person classes and distance learning alike.

And the third component of my coursework is the dreaded test.

I give my students a weekly one-problem quiz that I euphemistically describe as a "review problem."  And I administer two midterms - one before Christmas break, the other before spring break - and of course, a big, bad final at the end of the year. Normally, we set aside time in class to cover these events.

Trusting my students as I do, in the age of coronavirus, I've no problem with letting them test at home. I'm sure I could whip up some sort of pdf and shoot it off via email. But I prefer to send their tests through the good ol' US Postal Service because everyone likes to get mail, even if it is a math test.

And I enclose a stamped, self-addressed envelope for the return trip so that a) I present the test takers with no obstacles (besides licking the envelope) to popping their completed test back in the mail to me and b) they will be among the rare members of their generation who understand the acronym SASE.

No matter whether I'n teaching in person or at a distance, my method of testing is what many might considerlaissez-faire. And while that may seem to fly in the face of my otherwise high-expectation and high achievement course design, there's a very simple method to my apparent madness.

With classes as small as mine, I know each student's math brain inside out. I can pinpoint the look on their face when they are confused or tired or just over it for the day, and I recognize and celebrate those magical "aha!" moments when their dear little light bulbs come on and the new ideas snap perfectly into place.

Honestly, I don't need a test to tell me how a student is learning. I know by the look on their face.

* * * * *

And this brings me to the absolute worst part about being a socially distant math teacher. I cannot see my students' shining, expressive, revealing faces. And to be honest, that takes most of the fun out of teaching.

As much as I'm grateful that my students and I can carry on as Covid-19 rages around us, I can't wait till we are back at the dining room table together.

* * * * *

Read more stories about my life as a math teacher:

Socially Distant

Playing With A Full Deck

The (Math) Joke's On Me

Sharing Life

Little Brothers

Sweet Inspiration

My Hero

What I Do

Number 15

Christmas Edition

3.1415926

Buy It And Burn It

In Honor Of James K. Polk

House Tours

My Deep Gladness

Isolating The Radical

By The Numbers

Teaching My Own: High School Art And Algebra

* * * * *

Read more stories about life with Covid-19 here in suburban Seattle:

Sitting Pretty

Scenes Of An Ordinary Easter

Our First Church

Silver Linings

Hopes And Dreams In The Silverware Drawer

Life Of A (Socially Distant) Math Teacher: Midterms

Keep Life Simple What I'm Doing Lately

Do Dinner

Covid Cleaning

Gracie's And My Daily (Socially Distant) Walks

Life Of A (Socially Distant) Math Teacher

Miracle Of Light

Social Distancing In My Dining Room

Social Distancing In My Kitchen

We're On The Road To Shambala

Sunshine And Disco Balls

Feel Better

Covid-19 Is For Real

A COVID-19 Update

Checking In From Coronavirus Central

News Trend Sunshine And Disco Balls.|Actual

When the sunlight hits my disco balls, amazing things happen in my living room.

I have just two of them, tiny little things that hardly bear a resemblance to the Studio 54-style  icons we all know and love.

But when the pale March sun dares to shine into the room and strike them, usually around mid-afternoon, a wonderful thing happens.

Little round circles of light bounce all over the room

High and low, on the ceiling and the floor, across the furniture and art and everywhere I look.

And what I like to do, when the sunshine hits my disco balls, is to simply stand in the middle of it all and marvel at this miracle of light.

* * * * *

Read more stories about life with Covid-19 here in suburban Seattle:

Sitting Pretty

Scenes Of An Ordinary Easter

Our First Church

Silver Linings

Hopes And Dreams In The Silverware Drawer

Life Of A (Socially Distant) Math Teacher: Midterms

Keep Life Simple What I'm Doing Lately

Do Dinner

Covid Cleaning

Gracie's And My Daily (Socially Distant) Walks

Life Of A (Socially Distant) Math Teacher

Miracle Of Light

Social Distancing In My Dining Room

Social Distancing In My Kitchen

We're On The Road To Shambala

Sunshine And Disco Balls

Feel Better

Covid-19 Is For Real

A COVID-19 Update

Checking In From Coronavirus Central

News Trend Social Distancing In My Kitchen|Actual

"Home isn't a place, it's a feeling." -Cecelia Ahern

In the past week or so - somehow it feels much longer - social distancing has become the new normal in our lives.

Stay home.

Stay away from other people

In light of our global epidemic, this mandate makes perfect sense to me.

What also makes sense to me is that since we're going to be spending extra time in our homes, we'd be wise to ensure that home is a place that makes us feel good.

Since all this social distancing business kicked in, my home has become a busy place.

I mean, any house with four full-time occupants is relatively busy. But I'm not talking about the quantity of humans. Let me explain.

My husband, Mr. Finance Director, is now working from home which means that he allows himself to sleep in till 5:30 a.M. And begins his multi-monitor work day around six. With some nice long breaks for additional cups of coffee and a luxurious lunch, not to mention a few interruptions from yours truly, he clocks out around five o'clock p.M.

Second shift begins with me. I rouse myself around eleven, which is my normal wake-up time (delayed sleep phase, remember?). I eat at 11:30 and settle into my math routines by noon. By five-ish, I'm moving into Gracie's walk, then dinner and post-dinner clean up, so my work day truly winds down around 8 p.M.

My fourth-born reads and writes in her room till four-ish - no clue what time she actually wakes up - and comes down around five to eat something, take her own walk, and then help me with dinner. She takes her third meal of the day around midnight.

And my third-born is teaching English to kids in China through an online school called VIPKid. Her first group begins at 1 a.M., and she usually wraps up at 6 a.M. After a warm breakfast, she tucks into bed around 7 or 8 a.M.

At which point, my husband had been up for hours.

So yeah, it's no exaggeration to say my kitchen is busy around the clock. While the others do their best to pick up after themselves, it's quite a challenge for them to live up to my exacting standards. I'm finding it a full-time job to keep up the kitchen looking as I want it to look.

Now I haven't had time to do a deep spring kitchen clean, or make any big design changes. I'm not about to go out shopping to create a fresh new look.

But in order to keep my sanity, I've been doing my best to upgrade the kitchen mood.

Over the past few days, I've:

dusted shelves

cleaned the counters

straightened the stacks of bowls,

edited the items in the black tray on the counter, and

took a damp microfiber cloth to the windows.

The inside of the windows, that is.

I saved the much larger job of cleaning the outside of the windows for another day.

Once I'd cleared away the winter dust and established a clean foundation, I added a few splashes of color:

red tulips

branches of yellow forsythia

and the blue pottery bowl.

Now when I come into this room a dozen times a day, as I do, I hardly even notice the constant accumulation of dirty dishes in the sink, or heap of clean dishes drying themselves lazily in the sunshine on the counter. And I try not to even imagine what might be going on in the dishwasher.

I just look at this happy corner of my busy kitchen and remind myself that, even in these days of social distancing, as long as we're eating, all is well. And that is a very good feeling.

* * * * *

Read more stories about life with Covid-19 here in suburban Seattle:

Sitting Pretty

Scenes Of An Ordinary Easter

Our First Church

Silver Linings

Hopes And Dreams In The Silverware Drawer

Life Of A (Socially Distant) Math Teacher: Midterms

Keep Life Simple What I'm Doing Lately

Do Dinner

Covid Cleaning

Gracie's And My Daily (Socially Distant) Walks

Life Of A (Socially Distant) Math Teacher

Miracle Of Light

Social Distancing In My Dining Room

Social Distancing In My Kitchen

We're On The Road To Shambala

Sunshine And Disco Balls

Feel Better

Covid-19 Is For Real

A COVID-19 Update

Checking In From Coronavirus Central