Still getting out of the house rarely. Masks mandated for the entire county, so rebels like us are sorta squashed. I'm, pretty much, a person who prefers to fly under the radar, so will comply, though it still makes me itch. Not itch-itch, but aggravated itch. I'm the person you see in the store who wears it under their nose. Breathing is never over-rated.
One son has tested positive, though not sick. Two weeks after first test, he's being tested again today. Off work. Hard. His wife and little Hazel are okay too, last I heard. Keeping our distance.
Other dramatics going on with a couple of kids. Won't go into it. Keeps my prayer life on its toes, though. My children. Not shrinking violets, but in the thick of life, which, I guess, is as it should be.
Summer is flying. Vegetable garden producing wonderful tomatoes, squash is taking its time, eggplant flowering, but cautious. (Japanese beetles sometimes snacking.) Pumpkins flowering as well. Edamame sweet, but we underplanted. Potatoes a mystery till time to dig. Sweet peppers think they can. All in all, a success.
My new normal is daily attempts at quieting the noise. Puttering at home. Rearranging, and creating safe spaces. Getting out, even briefly makes me anxious. Still, it's not fear, but change. Life is so different.
My husband will say at night, "You're safe now. We're locked in and all is well." No monsters in our house. Plenty out in the world. Journalists who fear monger. No thank you. I'll get out only when necessary, or when madness knocks.
They say this too will pass. You think?
It will. We'll dig our way out. The world is damaged, but not destroyed. So exhausting, however.
Enough sleep, really good food, some sunshine, all will be well in time.