Day 139

Earlier this morning, the word "fandemic" popped into my brain. A minute later, Google showed me it's the name of Comic Con's 2021 extravaganza in Hotlanta. Good to see them thinking ahead. Good to see their creativity.

I wish I could find more moments of inspiration in today's world, but they're hard to come by. The temptation to make light of Trump's plague pulls me up short. I can't see much humor in 150,000 dead people (probably more) and the unending economic chaos Republicans have created. What's to laugh about?

Mostly I feel like I'm on hold. The pandemic hasn't much altered daily life for me, but something has definitely down-shifted. Seeing others going through the days on edge is painful. It makes me wonder, more than usual, what we're all doing here. We seem to be doing time.

My daughter and I were talking yesterday about what to with these strange days. She's 30, unemployed, and can't even find safe volunteer opportunities. The challenge of being productive is constant, especially since she's on the autism spectrum. We were reminded of our family motto, a theme from my first and only novel: Do good, be nice, and have fun.

Lately, I've wanted to add four words to the motto: And then you die. (Not trying to be morose, just summing up what I know about life.)



Daily life at my house involves a lot of sitting and watching our few farm animals. The duck is always waddling after the chickens, looking to mate them. The chickens are constantly scooting out of his way and always looking for something to peck at. Bugs, seeds, each other.

And Zeke, our sweet little dachshund, is the master of all he surveys.



It was an unfortunate choice

in choosing a name for the convention. I mean, I'm not outraged by it, but I am rolling my eyes a little bit.

That being said, injecting humor in times of tragedy can take some of the sting out of it. I've...overstepped my bounds several times since this began, and have been lectured about "inappropriate" commentary. I just can't (and won't) suppress my sense of humor completely, or it will build up in my brain and explode...

You’re my role model, but I

You’re my role model, but I don’t come nearly as close to your good humor as I would like. Thanks for all you do.