Making Do
This is my birthday balloon, which I received on Monday, March 9, in anticipation of my birthday on Wednesday, March 11. It has been dutifully floating and only very half-assedly deflating over my dining table cum desk ever since. It has served as many others' birthday balloon, too, in this time. I drag it onto Zoom calls and shove it in front of the camera and frankly consider it a birthday present to anyone who gets it shoved in their digital face. It has become a bellwether of sorts, or at least a barometer. I think when it dies the pandemic will be over. But it still seems to have a lot of life and/or helium left to go.
I got this new mop on a whim during my second pandemic grocery shopping trip. I hesitated because it was $14.99 which felt like a splurge, but I’m really happy with the purchase. The satisfaction of dumping a bucket of dirty water down the drain is highly underrated.
Turns out the cat gets bored when the streets are mostly empty. The meowing and persistent pawing — in the face of fresh marinated morsels presented on whisker-friendly porcelain — leave me with few other explanations. This high profile shwag fills his void. We’re grateful.
When I was 9, my mom patiently and resourcefully helped me make this doll out of a dishrag. The project was inspired by Laura Ingalls Wilder, evoking the less racist elements of frontier life (baking, growing food, homemaking...). In March, Dishrag Baby emerged from a decades-long hibernation to remind me of the skills my parents taught me that bring me peace in quarantine. Dishrag Baby compliments my baking, watches my seedlings grow, and cheers me on as I turn dishrags into face masks.