• in mid-March 2020: The first clue of lock-down came with Disneyland’s closure and loss of the nightly fireworks display I cherished.
  • In mid-April 2020: I inadvertently stumbled into the crazed days of Costco shoppers obliterating the store’s supplies of masks, bottled water, and toilet paper… A sense of crisis felt throughout the country as people panicked.
  • In mid-May 2020: A momentary quarantine reprieve collapsed when throngs of locals and tourists packed the coastal beaches of southern California over the Memorial Day holiday’s long weekend and we returned to lock-down.
  • In mid-June 2020: Blue skies cleared of fog due to the shutdown of industries and no one driving on the freeways were ours to enjoy, along with birdsong and goats hired by our city to clear the hillsides of the dried grasses destined to become fire fodder when the hot days of late summer began.
  • In mid-July 2020: Personal face masks were entrenched as public armor to guard everyone’s health. For me, masks were also fashion statements because I had an armada handmade by friends.
  • In mid-August 2020: Because I’d had endless amounts of time, I’d polished the fourth book in my Faith, Family, Frenzy! series and launched it at an indie bookstore. Houseguests from Colorado flew in to celebrate with me!
  • In mid-September 2020: My husband and I hugged each other – but no one else in the Brave New World – and thrived via social encounters via Zoom.
  • By mid-October 2020, after six months of lock-down, I endured via blog while my husband cherished outdoor chores and lengthy neighborhood walks. A high point was a visit to Utah to visit with longtime friends and visit Zion National Park, a favorite place.
  • In mid-November 2020: We basked in election elation though angst continued because the ex- refused to concede, unwilling to leave the White House and the benefits of unbridled power.
  • In mid-December 2020: We felt compelled to write holiday cards as memoir. We’d missed three family weddings back East and felt as if lock-down might be never-ending. We hadn’t received the Christmas gift we wanted most of all.
  • In mid-January 2021: I felt compelled to write my first-ever New Year’s resolutions, especially after the ex-Prez’s minions staged Insurrection that rocked the soul of our democratic country.
  • By mid-February 2021 I’d experienced the joys of my birthday and Valentine’s Day celebrations, though I craved a precious vaccination.
  • In mid-March 2021: We celebrated our double-vaxxed existence and the bravura of NASA’s successful landing on Mars.
  • In mid-April 2021: We partied as we counted-down the days until we could escape lock-down and stepped onto the bathroom scales to discover ten pandemic pounds
  • in mid-May 2021: It was formally announced that those of us who were fully-vaxxed could go about without masks, but my husband and I discovered that we weren’t ready for Prime Time. A coup – we were able to celebrate his __ birthday in his favorite restaurant with friends!
  • By mid-June 2021 my husband was thrilled to return to his gym, sans mask. I remained true to my Zoom home exercise program, especially when gas prices were rising and traffic clogged our streets and highways again.
  • In mid-July 2021: the nightly Disneyland fireworks displays resumed in our clear skies and we traveled to see the glory of a manmade light display spread over barren hills in Paso Robles, again seeing long-time friends. Our Ode to Joy continued.
  • In mid-August 2021: more long-time friends, from Utah and then Ohio, ventured a visit with us, followed by our trip to Monterey-Carmel. Glorious, though there was a sad reason to the trip when we joined the family of to celebrate the life of Larry’s mentor/boss/surrogate dad.

  • But anti-vaxxers allowed the Delta variant of Covid to engulf the nation in disease again, taxing the medical workers again… we seemed doomed to mask-up again, punished for others’ lapses. Grrr.
  • By mid-September 2021, my husband and I must choose: get the annual flu shot or the booster shot to forestall Covid’s downdraft.