I should start by asking how you are—a question that, all of a sudden, comes with its own subtext. As in, how are you faring with all of this? Are you healthy? Safe? Stressed beyond reason? As in, we’re all in this together. As in, I’m happy to talk to you because I haven’t seen or heard from another living being apart from my family in about 72 hours and there’s a chance I’m going mad, slowly. (Just kidding!) (Or not! Talk to me in a couple of weeks!)
So how are you, reader? I’m writing to you from my kitchen counter, where I’m currently stress-eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. What is it about global pandemics that makes one want to return to the food of their childhood? We should all be eating well right now, looking after our immune systems and all of that. But hunger feels more urgent these days, less nuanced. It’s a blinding kind of hunger, the kind that drives one to cook breakfast for dinner or eat half a batch of cookies without paying too much attention.
There’s a paralysis that comes along with uncertainty, and I found myself being unwillingly pulled into it this weekend. The question of what to eat seemed unexciting, arbitrary. We consumed a million versions of eggs on toast. And cookies. But then there were some beautiful lemons and Swiss chard and a few other odds and ends from our CSA on their last few days, begging to be used. So I boiled a pot of water, opened a can of white beans, and got to work on what turned out to be a very respectable pasta (one I will share soon, with a few tweaks).
Somehow, it can be easy to forget the rewards of nourishing yourself and those around you—especially these days, when we’re all prone to dwelling in a darker place, when simple acts of care get crushed under the mental load that fear sometimes demands. But they’re a salve for all this prickly chaos, an investment in our well being, an expression of hope that it will be okay. I’m reminded of this when I cook. But I intend to take on other small projects also, to make the most of this very odd moment. In case it’s helpful for you, reader, here’s what I had in mind:
- Make photo albums—I’m planning to conjure up some gratitude and nostalgia by organizing the approximately 284,000 new photos (not an exaggeration, probably) we’ve taken since Olivia’s birth. Embarrassingly, I have an almost fully-designed album of 2019 in my Artifact Uprising account and a baby book I bought for Olivia’s first year just sitting on the shelf, waiting to be filled with words and pictures. It’s time!
- Shop my own bookshelf—I buy books hungrily and optimistically, which means there are more than a couple forgotten-about titles on my shelves. Instead of running to the bookstore like I usually do, I buckled down and went through all of my books, pulling the ones I haven’t laid eyes on yet. I’m actually excited about most of them! (I mean, I did buy them. But still! It’s been awhile.)
- Bake—It turns out that Saturday morning scones have become something of a habit. It also turns out that the craving for them remains, even when our favorite bakery temporarily closes. So! I’m going to finally unveil the mystique of the perfect scone… or get as close as I possibly can. Distraction and comfort food rolled into one. What could be better at a moment like this?
- Work out (virtually)—No dwelling should have to be designed with a quarantine in mind, but New York apartments are especially unfit for them. To avoid stir-craziness, and for mindset and circulation, and all those good things, I’m going to be looking into virtual Pilates, barre, and yoga workouts I can do from a yoga mat in my kitchen… and preferably with a baby strapped to my chest, but we’ll see what’s out there!
- Meditate—Reflect may be a better word, a word with fewer expectations. What I mean is, I’m going to try and give myself some mental downtime. I have optimistically downloaded the Calm app. But I may end up as I usually do, emptying my brain into my journal, never lifting pen off paper until my head feels clear.
So there you have it! An ambitious list, for someone with a five-month old, but I will be thrilled if I get to even one or two of these items. And it’s calming just to have something to fall back on. How are you planning to make the most of this moment? I’d love to hear more ideas!
