Thinking Adoringly

While listening to the radio on my drive to work one morning, the morning show hosts shared advice from psychologists about ways to take better care of yourself during this prolonged time of isolation and increased worry and anxiety. And as people who have been pushing for social justice (especially we white people who aren’t used to the prolonged and sustained fight) begin to slow down, to need a rest, I remembered these few minutes listening to the radio.

Their advice included getting outside for prolonged periods (at least 30 minutes) every day, and spending extra time on whatever self-care you engage in to help yourself feel nurtured. Then they shared a piece of advice and basically called it ridiculous. The advice was to spend time after your shower rubbing lotion into your skin and thinking adoringly about your body. 

They mocked the advice, pantomiming “oh I adore you, body” and laughing. They never pulled it back together to consider what this advice could be getting at that they were missing. And that’s been bothering me, because touch starvation is a very real mental health concern. The disabled communities have talked about touch starvation, meaning a lack of meaningful touch in their lives, for years. When the only touch you experience is utilitarian, or when you are not touched by another human at all, you may feel depressed, anxious, stressed, and have difficulty sleeping.

It’s so strange to me that until last Thursday, I hadn’t touched anyone other than my husband since the first weekend of March. But I have touched another person meaningfully and often enough to stimulate the parts of my brain that need meaningful touch. My husband is touch-oriented in how he shows love, just as I am.

Before we got married, I lived with a roommate, but we rarely touched. Many of my single friends live alone, and they have expressed symptoms of touch starvation in the past few weeks. Most have pets, which help, but isn’t the same as a human touch. Weighted blankets also simulate touch in the way your brain needs, and I’ve followed the advise of several disabled advocates by recommending them. 

The advice I heard on the radio may have angles I’m not familiar with, but it’s obvious to me that it can help combat touch starvation. By touching your skin and thinking positively about your body, you’re helping to stimulate those parts of the brain which needs meaningful touch. Thinking positively may not sound adoring, but as our dietary habits break and reform almost weekly, certain medications become rare, and we are often alone and wearing sweatpants, and as COVID numbers continue to climb but our community is reopening, it won’t hurt to add a little extra oomph to those positive thoughts about our bodies. 

Aren’t you so grateful for your heart, which works so hard constantly to keep you going? I mean, constantly. Just like your lungs, but don’t think about those too hard or you’ll only be able to think about your breathing, and I want you to think now about your hand. Isn’t your hand amazing? Look at it! Really, look at it. You can do incredible, intricate things with your hands. Catch a salt shaker before it falls off the counter. Knead dough. Perform surgery. Wave goodbye. Throw a kiss. Hold a fist. Isn’t that wonderful?

You have a foot. And an arch made of strong bones. Think about how graceful that arch looks.  And your skin! Keeping you all together, complaining a little when too hot or too cold, though it does its best to handle things on its own. Look at all those tiny, fascinating hairs. They lay down in patterns. Have you noticed? My brother has three crop circles of fine hair on his arms. And your skin is made up of the most gorgeous, intricate hues. 

You are extraordinary. You are made in the image of God, and no one is more or less alike to God’s image than you. A little adoration wouldn’t be amiss.

Do your best to take good care of yourself. 

Why I Quit Watching Police Procedurals

It’s propaganda.

Wait, let me back up. 

So, think of your favorite police shows. “CSI.” “Law & Order.” “Chicago PD.” “Castle.” “Rizzoli & Isles.” “Blue Bloods.” “Rookie Blue.” “SWAT.” “The Wire.” Maybe you love some “Dragnet” and “Hawaii 90210” and “Brooklyn-99.” Consider the crime genre more broadly and you’ve got “Bones,” “NCIS” (all 3 of them), “White Collar,” “Blacklist,” and many more.

In the crime genre, you as the audience follow officers and detectives and FBI agents and their favorite zany scientist and researcher side kicks to solve crimes and see dangerous criminals put in jail. The characters are full of nuance. They’re generous, well-explored, and interesting. You watch them fall in love and deal with normal adult problems and concerns. You applaud when they use offbeat tactics to get the job done, protect others, fight to make their hometowns and cities safer. 

But what are we really seeing?

We’re seeing a lot of white people. We’re seeing stereotypes about crimes, criminals, and people of color. We’re seeing a lot of guns, a lot of violence. We’re seeing high-speed chases. We’re shown fully realized, predominantly white characters as the heroes, the good ones. Even when they make mistakes or get into trouble, we see them as whole people and so are sympathetic, and so easy to excuse. If an officer steps out of line, a peer always pulls them back in. All the criminals are bad or condescendingly misguided. Basically everyone arrested in convicted, and those who are arrested for crimes they didn’t commit might be upset, but they don’t suffer anything. And the hero detectives always keep digging to get them exonerated and for the real criminals to be found. The community is also safer after every episode. Cops are depicted as a stabilizing influence. And then you have the tough ex-cop, the lone wolf sheriff, the marshal with true grit who ignores the conventions and rules. For these well-loved characters, violence is forgiven because of the justice in their hearts.

So what aren’t we seeing?

We aren’t seeing nuanced representations of people who commit crimes. We aren’t seeing the history of economic depression, forced poverty, and racist institutions that are informing these neighborhoods or the lives of the people in them. We aren’t seeing police officers held accountable by one another. We aren’t seeing what happens to the families of the person arrested. We aren’t seeing their legal fees, their job loss, the hole in their community even if the person arrested is later revealed to be innocent. We aren’t seeing that police are trained to build a case, not to discover the truth. We aren’t seeing innocent bystanders who try to share information but are accused instead.

We aren’t seeing the predatory and entirely subjective bail bond system, which disproportionately affects communities of color. We aren’t seeing the number of innocent people who plead guilty, just to get out of prison and back to their families or jobs. We aren’t seeing their children taken into state care because their parents were arrested. We don’t see racist profiling. We don’t see harassment. We don’t see roads to rehabilitation. We don’t see false reports by vindictive, racist white people. We don’t see abuses of power. How many women and children are abused by their police officer relatives? We don’t see that the rogue cop’s violence bred this violence that’s befallen the town. We don’t see innocent EMTs gunned down in their own homes. We don’t see men pinned to the ground and murdered over $20. 

We don’t see George Floyds. Or Breonna Taylors. The Sandra Blands. The Philando Castiles. We don’t see the Amy Coopers either.

We do see a lot of Chauvins. And their ubiquity makes is easy to ignore or wave away the threat and shock of actual police violence, even when real violence and harassment are caught on camera. 

And what does this do to us? 

It teaches us to be sympathetic and trusting of police. It teaches us to criminalize the presence of people of color, especially black people, in spaces we white people consider white. It desensitizes us to violence committed by white people in uniform.

It lets the same people say “You can’t make me wear a mask to protect other people” and a week later say “If they didn’t want to be arrested they should have been home before curfew.” I’ve yet to see a single NRA member go to protest military presence deployed against civilians, which I thought was why they needed those AR-15s. And the one white person in a flack vest (wrongly sized) who did show up with an assault rifle, and was caught on camera, was politely guided away by police.

The scripted crime genre tells overly simplistic stories that lie about our world and our neighbors, who has power and why. It tells us that certain crimes are always wrong, that there’s always another, legal option that the criminals didn’t take. It teaches us that law and order is preferable to justice and fairness. It teaches us that property and conveniences are more important than human lives. It teaches us the lie of bootstrap moralism and ignores the history of violent protest in this country. It teaches us that bad things only ever happen to other people, weak people, people over there who look like them.

The rise of cop shows and movies coincided with an increase in petty crimes in the ’70s through ’90s. And, like the rest of TV, the stories were sensationalized over time. TV isn’t a representation of reality, but those stories still effect how we see the world and the people in it. 

We are not wiser for having watched the crime drama for 50 years. We are not better prepared to protect ourselves against violent crimes. We are not wiser about the types of situations which require police mediation. We haven’t been prepared for the many more situations which can be resolved in ways that neither bother the police nor endanger the lives of our neighbors. 

They do not teach us to be better neighbors or people. They do not teach us to question the almost unilateral authority of the person with the badge and the gun. They do not teach us to speak up when we see a coworker mistreating evidence, harassing a witness, or kneeling on an unresisting man’s neck. They do not teach us to hold those with this tremendous power over life and death to a higher standard or behavior than ordinary people. They do not teach us the empathize with a dying, begging man. They do not consider if rubber bullets and tear gas are overly aggressive responses to people throwing water bottles and rocks.

The ends do not justify the means. 

The only answer to a dirty cop, or a bad cop, is not another cop. Neither is the answer a zany squad of funny detectives. 

Yes, police officers, FBI agents, sheriff’s deputies are all humans. We know that. The TV shows and movies and books make that very clear. But the people they target are also human, and that’s what cop-positive media neglects, if not actively works against. And you only have to look at how armed white people who showed up at the Minnesota state house two weeks ago to protest closed barbershops were met by law enforcement, versus how unarmed and peaceful Black Lives Matter protestors were met by law enforcement to see that the policing system is unfair.

When I say the crime drama is propaganda, I mean it meets that definition. According to Merriam-Webster, propaganda is “ideas, facts, or allegations spread deliberately to further one’s cause of to damage an opposing cause.” 

Here’s an article about how “Dragnet” was propaganda for the LAPD, inventing the idea that police are a stabilizing force in communities, despite evidence to the contrary.

This article documents the shift in public opinion about police departments from “Dragnet” on. 

Here’s an immense article about the normalization of injustice because of “television’s scripted crime genre.” 

This article in the Washington Post details how police censorship shaped Hollywood, with anecdotes from “The Wire.”

Here’s an article analyzing how police are always the sympathetic main characters.

If police are helpers and protectors, who are they helping? Who are they protecting? With the videos I’ve been seeing lately, it’s pretty obvious to me that white people are the only ones consistently being helped and protected. Not that police officers haven’t also been filmed in these past few days macing white children and firing at white people watching the police pass by from their porch. On the LAPD police scanner yesterday, an officer encouraged a colleague to “shoot the motherf*ckers,” referring to protestors, and was immediately admonished, not for encouraging fellow police to shoot at protestors but for saying it on the scanner.

The white driver of the semi that deliberately drove into crowds of peaceful protestors sitting on a bridge was let go without charges because he had gotten “frustrated.” Police officers are on camera shoving women, including white women, with unconscionable vehemence. We also see white people using their bodies as shields, because they are so much less likely to be treated violently than black people are.

Law enforcement has been filmed deliberately firing bullets coated in rubber, pepper bullets, tear gas, and pellets at people’s heads, which has caused an outcry in other countries. This morning, South Africa urged American law enforcement to practice restraint, reminding them of what we hope they already know: rubber bullets and pepper bullets can still be lethal. Last night, my husband and I stayed up later than we intended watching the remnants of a protest in Washington DC. While we watched, a black officer hiding behind a line of fellow officers with riot shields, intentionally maced the cameraman.

What have the police departments, by and large, done when faced with people, largely black people, protesting police brutality? They have behaved brutally. 

Many of the departments photographed “taking a knee” with protestors maced the crowd 45 minutes later. They wanted a photo op to make themselves look good. Which is why I don’t trust these “good cop sightings” either.

Excessive force killed George Floyd and prompted these protests, this rebellion against authorized violence against black people, and it has largely been met with scenes of excessive force. Again and again, police escalate into violence, police meet peaceful crowds with tear gas and mace. And again and again we see that the people setting fires and destroying windows are white people, even known white supremacists trying to undermine the movement’s efforts.

I’m no longer putting those stories and stereotypes about the police into my head. They are lies. They are propaganda. They hurt people. And they hurt us all.

Justice.

Black Lives Matter.

Girl Gone Viral

Life and work are both busy, but I wanted to share a book I devoured recently. As you can tell from the title, Girl Gone Viral by Alisha Rai is about a woman who goes viral in the worst way. The heroine is the victim of a viral story that upends her life, unlike the woman who has gone viral in the past two days. You may have seen the video yourself.

A white woman playing with her dog in Central Park is asked by a black man to obey the leash law. This woman shouts at him, gets in the man’s face, and calls 911, claiming a black man was threatening her. You can watch her anger and vehemence at the bird watcher turn into hysterical sobbing when on the phone with the NYPD. She wasn’t the least bit afraid. She was lying and acting in order to have him punished for speaking to her. For speaking to her.

Remember, 65 years ago Emmett Till was tortured and brutally murdered because a white woman lied. This white woman was lying too, and this black man out on a walk might have died because of her lies. He also might have been arrested, held at a bond too high for his friends and family to post, for days or weeks or even years, losing his job, his freedom, and his family. Her behavior was racist. Her excuses are racist. Therefore she is racist.

Back to the book.

Girl Gone Viral (GGV from here on) centers around a moment when a stranger in a crowded cafe asks Katrina to share her table. They make polite conversation, the man asks her out, and she declines. They both leave the cafe. But according to the people at the next table, this is a romance meet-cute in the making. They tweet their fictionalized version of the interactions between Katrina and the stranger, along with a photo. When the story goes viral, the posters are offered TV interviews and book deals, the stranger comes forward and also seeks to profit monetarily, pretending the story is true and that he and “Kat” as she called herself in that moment are really together. However, Katrina has to leave her home and friends to maintain her safety and privacy. The only person who comes with her is her long-time bodyguard Jas, with whom she falls in love at his family’s farm.

GGV takes place in the same world as The Right Swipe (TRS), but can be read on its own. I enjoyed TRS, but I didn’t particularly enjoy some aspects of how the two main characters came together or communicated. I wasn’t certain if I’d read the second book in the series, but Katrina is my favorite secondary character from TRS, and the book is both a forced proximity romance (yay!) and a bodyguard romance, which I’m a sucker for (I blame the movie “First Daughter”). 

Alisha Rai deals with heavy topics meaningfully and respectfully, and I personally related to GGV more than TRS. It was familiar yet soothing to read about these characters who, because of other people’s selfishness, needed to retreat from the world. Their withdrawal and isolation is more difficult and more necessary because of their past traumas, anxiety, and fears. Every stranger is viewed with suspicion, as is everyone who gets to close to me at the grocery store. The main characters have a strong community of friends (for Katrina) and family (for Jas), but they can’t be fully present with their communities during this crisis. They want to feed people and care for others’ needs, and struggle with feelings of guilt when they can’t do what their community wants of them.

I think I read the book in two sittings, and was calmed and healed and entertained in the same way Evvie Drake calmed and healed and entertained me. Katrina and Jas fall in love, find ways to reassert themselves in their own lives, are brave enough to say the most difficult truths aloud, and hold out hope for people to behave better while working together to better protect themselves in the future. That feels ever-relevant.

If you’re looking for a story that gives you hope without making you deal with a situation too similar to what you’re already dealing with, give Girl Gone Viral a try. And, more broadly, we learn empathy for people who don’t look or live like us by reading books and watching TV shows starring such people. Today’s a great day to buy a book by a black author.

My Favorite Masks

My favorite masks are, of course, the ones that fit me best. That are most snug on my face without squishing my nose. They are soft and comfortable. And they also need to be thick. 

Tyler and I have two surgical masks and about a dozen homemade masks, but as I don’t own a sewing machine they were not made by me. Our mothers each made one. My mother sent a couple that were given to my dad and ordered a few for us, and I ordered six for us from Etsy. Of all these, the one that fits me the best and seems to be the best quality is this the woman/teenager size from ZhenLinen on Etsy.

I wear masks at work whenever I’m not in my office, when in drive-thrus, and when I have to go to the grocery store. Basically, any time I’ll be anywhere near another person, I wear a mask to protect myself and others. Below is a simplified, but effective info graphic about how masks protect you and others: 

I’d planned to talk more about masks, but yesterday, a good friend and her husband, who is a front line healthcare provider, were accosted while grocery shopping for wearing masks. I’m still an incandescent pillar of fire over the disrespect of this horrid woman, who butted herself into their lives and their day and their physical space because she didn’t like that they were wearing masks. My friends are both white. Imagine how much worse this entitled, selfish white woman would have been if they hadn’t been white also.

They weren’t hurting her or affecting her at all by wearing masks, but this woman felt like she had the authority to lecture them about wearing their masks in public. She proclaimed both the CDC and the WHO to be spreading misinformation (which I’ve also seen on my Facebook timeline and judged you sharers harshly for). This woman declared that they didn’t need to wear the masks, as if she is more trustworthy than those organizations and more knowledgeable than my friend, who has personally cared for COVID-19 patients. And when this healthcare worker patiently explained his job and expressed that the masks were primarily for her protection, she declared he should just stay home, as if he doesn’t need to run errands and buy food, just like she does. As if he isn’t human

You can’t share videos of crying nurses, order takeout because that restaurant donated meals to hospitals, and get a warm feeling at every commercial applauding healthcare workers then accost people in the grocery store, demanding they remove their protective masks. Even if my friend hadn’t been a healthcare worker, those masks don’t hurt other people. They are a personal choice, like a rain jacket during a hurricane. Even if it isn’t raining right where you are personally standing at that moment doesn’t mean you know more about the weather than the person in the jacket. And their rain jacket isn’t bothering anyone else anyway.

While we’re on the subject, the global pandemic isn’t over just because you’re bored. And it isn’t over simply because you’re ready for it to be. 

And if all of that isn’t good enough for you, just mind your own damn business.

If you think masks trample on your person liberties (I can only assume you don’t wear a seatbelt either), don’t trample the liberties of the people who choose to wear them. Those people are human, like you. They might be providing an essential service, like scanning your groceries or delivering your meals. They might be the very ones who intubate you when you have bilateral pneumonia from COVID-19. They might even be the last human beings you see if you die in the hospital from this disease. 

Stay home. Wear masks when you must to go out. And, at the very least, mind your own business.

Books Recs for the Bored-At-Home

Over the past two months, several bored-at-home friends have asked me for book recommendations. I’ve had such fun hearing what books they’ve liked recently and getting to suggest others. 

So, as we move toward summer and it’s still best for everyone to only go out if absolutely necessary (and only while wearing a mask and staying at least 6 feet from each other), here are some books I’ve recommended to others that you might like too.

Sci-Fi

Fantasy

Romance

Mystery

And here’s what’s next on my TBR:

*These books are currently being adapted, along with their entire series, by Netflix, and I couldn’t be more excited. I mean, Julie Andrews is in “Bridgerton“. And the worldbuilding for “Shadow and Bone” was always leaping off the page. Season 1 of both has finished filming, thank goodness, so we may well get them both before the year is out.

A Good Few Weeks

I had to return to working in the office full-time on Friday, the day after Georgia’s shelter-in-place order expired. 

For Tyler and I, those weeks where we both worked from home were dear and kind. Talking with my grandmother on the phone one night, she warned me that this kind of experience, especially being stuck in the house together for such an extended period, would be a trial on our marriage. But for us, it hasn’t been. Or for me it hasn’t been. I’ve had bad days. So has did he. But mostly we’ve had closeness, and cat gifs, and cat cuddles, and conversation. Sharing. 

We got used to watching Good Eats and Friends together during lunch, laughing and not wanting to turn it off and go back to our desks. We were spoiled by our ability to get up, brush our teeth, and walk to “work” in a few seconds. We’ve cuddled in the mornings more. We’ve fallen asleep together on the couch in the evenings more. We encourage each others’ hobbies with a presence and attention we usually don’t offer. He’d open the blinds in the morning in every room of the house and I’d shut them at the end of the day. Around 11:30, one of us would ask the other what we want for lunch, and we’d fix it together and work on the dishes afterward.

A good, good few weeks. 

And all of this against the background of anxiety, stress, and the horrors of a society and healthcare system increasingly strained, friends increasingly isolated, friends and friends of friends learning they’d tested positive. People are losing their jobs, their hope. People are losing their family members and not even being able to hug their loved ones for comfort.

Tyler and I are well aware that we’re in an ideal situation. We’ve recently moved into our first home, one in good shape, and we have a cat but no children yet. We could still have a work-life balance because life didn’t need to cross over into work and our work didn’t meaningfully disrupt our lives. I don’t know how people are coping without pets. I can’t imagine being without ours, for comfort and cuddles and warmth and liveliness and cuteness and the sparks of laughter throughout the day.

I had sunlight and sweatpants and didn’t wear a bra or shoes for a week or more at a time. I miss all of that dearly now. Now, I’m in a windowless box. My own office, decorated with a few paintings and some Funko Pop figures. Arranged for ease of flow. But there is no window. The florescent lights overhead are grating and flicker when I turn them on, so I’m making do with lamps instead. 

My first day back in the office, I left with a massive headache I couldn’t shake until Saturday evening. I was utterly miserable, and felt like my work life had stolen something from my home life. I had bad headaches a few times while quarantined, but could take naps during the day and work later so that I didn’t have to take sick time and slow production during one of our busiest times of the year. This is no longer an option.

For all the brightness and warmth I had while working from home—when my job was very busy but my satisfaction was so high—I feel the void now. And, because Bibb County is expecting a surge, and because so many of my coworkers are at high risk or live with someone who is, I wear a mask when I leave my office. And when I’m in my office, I close the door so I can take the mask off while maintaining control of this space, its air, who enters. 

Now Tyler and I are isolated from each other as well as other people during the day, so we’re trying to connect in the same ways we we are with those outside our home, with gifs and texts and emails. And I’m still only available to my coworkers by email or phone, just as I was when working from home.

When I get home after work, I wash my hands thoroughly, clean my phone with Lysol wipes, and set aside my mask to dry out for three days or, if it’s cloth, throw it in the wash to start on hot water, then wash my hands again. 

Forty more minutes of my day spent driving, Fifteen minutes more preparing my appearance. Fifteen minutes more preparing my food and drink for the day. Countless minutes considering where and how to move so that I don’t infect a coworker, don’t infect myself. Every day is so full of anxieties I didn’t have to worry about when I worked from home. I often focus on those inconveniences, small but needless, or the litany of injustices evident in this entire pandemic so I can pretend I’m not terrified I’ll kill my husband by a thoughtless touch of my hand to my nose during the day or an insufficiently cleaned surface upon returning home. 

I’m the one leaving the safety of our isolation every single workday. If one of us gets sick, it’s almost certainly going to be through me. I try to avoid saying “because of me,” since I know I wouldn’t be in this building if there was any alternative that let me keep my job.

I’ve mostly managed to stop planning our hospital go-bags, trying to decide what the last straw would be before taking Tyler to the ER, how I’d need to sell the house after losing him, what it would be like to have to endure the rest of the pandemic alone without him or a single hug. These thoughts spark an anxiety spiral. I mostly manage to avoid it.

I mostly manage. I’m mostly managing. 

Which is all any of us are doing.

We’re managing as well as we can. 

Crocheted Ear Savers

Over the past few weeks, I’ve crocheted about 25 ear savers for friends and friends of friends in the medical field. I don’t have a sewing machine so I can’t make masks, and I’ve been so grateful to have found this way to help.

Ear savers wrap around the back of your head or neck so the elastic straps on protective masks can loop over the attached buttons instead of your sore ears. 

I’ve seen buttons sewn onto headbands, several designs for 3D printed ear savers, even a leather ear saver to try to combat the same problem. These crocheted ones are light, soft, and can be thrown into the washing machine alongside cloth masks and mask protectors.

The first few I made used a 5” ear saver pattern by Vicki Leverre Duncan that my friend Nicole found on Facebook. As I’ve made more and gotten feedback from the people using them, I’ve adapted the original pattern and scaled it up. I’m including my adapted 5” pattern below, as well as my 7” pattern. The 7” ear savers can sit above a high ponytail, helping to ensure the ear saver and mask don’t slide down throughout the day. (A bobby pin or two can also help prevent sliding.)

A 5″ ear saver takes about 15 minutes to crochet, the 7″ takes about 20 minutes, and the buttons take 5-10 minutes to sew on good and tight.

I’ve been using Red Heart yarn because it’s light-weight, inexpensive, and durable. And I have plenty of it, including tons of “scrap yarn” from old projects. I’ve even made ear savers to match the colorful masks they’ll be paired with, which is fun. 

Hook: size H (5.00mm)
Yarn: Worsted weight
Buttons: size 3/4”–1” (20–25mm)
HDC=half double crochet stitch
SC=single crochet stitch

Pattern for 5”

  • Chain 18
  • 1 HDC in 3rd chain from the end (chain 16)
  • 1 HDC in every chain until the 2nd to last 
  • 4 HDC in last chain
  • Turn
  • 1 HDC in between stitches until reach end 
  • 1 SC stitch in same hole as last stitch
  • Finish off
  • Work in loose ends 
  • Sew a button onto each end

 Pattern for 7”

  • Chain 26
  • 1 HDC in 3rd chain from the end (chain 24)
  • 1 HDC in every chain until the 2nd to last
  • 4 HDC in last chain
  • Turn
  • 1 HDC in between stitches until reach end 
  • 4 SC stitch in same hole as last stitch, working around the end 
  • Turn
  • SC in each hole until reach end
  • Finish off
  • Work in loose ends 
  • Sew a button onto each end

I usually make the 7” ear savers with the third row, as specified above, so they don’t flop as much under the weight of the buttons. It isn’t necessary though, if you’re in a hurry. Also, if you have masks with different length elastic, you can sew 2 sets of buttons onto one 7” ear saver so it will work for either type of mask. If you do so, put larger buttons near the center of the ear saver and smaller buttons on the ends.

Buttons of the needed size have been a bit hard to find. After raiding my spare button stash and cutting all the extra buttons off the inside tags of my coats, I ordered two of these sets from Amazon. They took a couple of weeks to arrive, and they’re random assortments, so I picked out and paired the largest buttons for use on the ear savers, then put aside the rest for a future project. Now that there isn’t so much of a run, I’ve been able to order a pack of these. (Remember, if you’re ordering buttons online, be sure to check the reviews and comments to make sure the buttons don’t break easily.) 

If you make any ear savers, I’d love to see pictures! And if you don’t crochet but have really sore ears from your masks, let me know! I’m happy to keep making more.

Quarantine Cravings

Tyler and I have now been working from home for 3 weeks and physically isolating ourselves for 5. The last restaurant I sat down and ate at was the Taco Shed in Warner Robbins, which I experienced for the first time with two friends on Saturday, March 7. I dearly miss both my friends and the tacos and chips and salsa I devoured that day. And I dearly miss the pleasure of going out to eat, of trying something I would never have combined in those ways, and paying other people for that pleasure. I’ll be tipping far more than 20% for the rest of my life.

As I was writing last week’s posts, I noticed a Wendy’s commercial that made me so irrationally angry I wanted to punch something. In crisp 4K, slow-motion, the commercial displayed a chocolate Frosty being released into its cup, the gorgeous brown crystals aligning to, in a very tight shot, curl just so at the top. And I yearned for a Frosty to the point of fury. Which, I immediately decided, deserved its own blog post.

When I lived in England for 4 months, my longest uninterrupted stint abroad, I craved two things: waffles and chocolate Frosty’s. When I landed in Newark, my gate was literally directly across from a Wendy’s. I almost started crying. I thanked God with my whole heart for this immense blessing. 

I walked directly to end of the line, waited my turn, then told the cashier I wanted a number 1 and the largest Frosty she could legally give me. To her confused face, I said I wanted a Frosty in the biggest possible cup, pantomimed a container approximately the size of a large popcorn bucket. After a beat, she punched in my order, and I moved down to the end of the counter to wait. Also waiting was a wonderful ten-year old girl and her mother, who I’d chatted with on the plane. When they learned I had a 7-hour layover, they invited me to join them for lunch—or whatever this meal was. We sat on the floor together, and I dredged my fries through my Frosty, a novelty activity to them. I inhaled my ketchup-drenched burger and relished every single bite of that Frosty. 

You may be asking why I don’t hit up the Wendy’s drive-thru today. “It’s only shelter-in-place, and the police aren’t stopping people. Drive-thru is still allowed. It’s food so it’s an essential service.” Except that I have plenty of food here in my home, the ability to make more, and plenty of ice cream even. So my going to Wendy’s would be nonessential.

However, on Saturday, I ran some ear savers I’d crocheted to a friend who’s a health care provider. After talking in her driveway for a while and ensuring the new ear savers were a good size, I headed back home. It was after 2pm and I hadn’t eaten lunch yet. After conferring with Tyler, I stopped in the Wendy’s drive-thru. I felt giddiness as well as dread as I ordered what my husband had texted me, then asked for a number 1 and a large Frosty.

The fries weren’t as fresh as I’m used to. The burger was just above lukewarm. I suspected both had been sitting out for at least a few minutes. But the Frosty. The Frosty was divine.

I’d love to hear about the quarantine cravings that have been hitting you!

Commercials in the Time of COVID-19

Over the past week I’ve noticed a shift on TV. It started when Tyler and I were watched an On Demand episode of “Good Eats”, because I much prefer it to Sports Center without live sports and the “My Cat from Hell” marathon had ended. A commercial featured a black woman in golden choir robes muttering under her breath for the soloist to hurry up. A blue-polo’d Best Buy employee pops in beside her, whispering conspiratorially that they offer next-day delivery “on all kinds of gifts.”

The soloist was singing the final phrase of the “12 Days of Christmas” and the snowflake graphics around the Best Buy logo made it clear this was a holiday commercial. So why was it on at the end of March? 

Because this was On Demand, I saw the commercial again a few minutes later, and this time I paid more attention to it than I had to the show.

I’ve been complaining privately for a few weeks that the ads on TV seem to belong to a different universe, certainly a different era. In the ads, people gather for dinner, sharing fries with their family members. They high five strangers in a sports bar. They meet up with a friend for a brisk walk in the pollen-overrun park. Rooms-to-Go, Home Depot, and Kohl’s urge us to come out for their big sales. Most commercials call for an immediate action, like a trip to go shopping or to go out to eat, and neither are part of this world anymore. I’m not treating myself to Applebee’s after work and I’m not shopping for furniture. I’m not introducing any friends to a Big Mac. I don’t live in that world, or era, anymore. And neither does most of the country.

Last week, however, the commercials that companies seem to have rushed through production began to enter the rotation. Rather than shoot something new, Best Buy pulled out their holiday ad to let us know they’ll deliver online orders tomorrow. The timeliness of the message, for the first time I can remember, was valued so highly that the dated decor and set up was ignored.

The voiceover in one commercial assured me that eventually we will all gather for dinner and safely clink glasses again. A recent Domino’s commercial featuring a pants-less, sock-sliding dancer was reedited so the emphasis was on no contact delivery instead of trackable delivery.

Certain channels are using infographics on 5-second spots to remind us to distance ourselves and wash our hands. Channels are running marathons of their most popular shows and movies (where people hug and shake hands like it’s nothing!!!!! *starts hyperventilating*). Most don’t mention the coronavirus or COVID-19 by name. They merely refer to “the current crisis” and say our social bonds are so important, “especially now.” 

I’m glad that the ads have begun to reflect our different, still-changing reality. It feels less dystopian, less disconnected, less depressing. I want those ads to acknowledge our collective reality, since I know they’re speaking directly to me. Yet I find this somewhat ironic, as I also want to escape the pandemic in what I’m watching and reading. I’ll abide absolutely no stories or movies about hospitals, police, missing people, war, or death. I’m not interested in Marvel movies or Fast & Furious. I would rather eat nothing by PB&J for a week than to watch Avengers: Endgame. I want to be comforted. I want to laugh. Movies and shows and commercials that used to do so don’t anymore.

Live sports would be great to let my mind sink into, but of course we don’t have that outlet, so it’s zany baking shows and books I’ve already read and Sarah Bareilles music videos and animal shows centered on zoos and aquariums. It’s Mythbusters and Moana. It’s Animal Crossing for a lot of people. Nothing competitive, no high stakes. It’s more timing sitting on the couch, doing nothing, and more time looking out the window at whatever’s out there. It’s far more time researching bread baking and liking people’s social media posts about bread baking. It’s dancing Tic Tocs and threads of favorite songs. It’s a lot of quarantine memes.

It’s so strange to know that so much of our usual lives has just… stopped. 

And, of course, so much changes so quickly, yet at different rates in different places. While drafting this post, NYC residents got push notifications asking that everyone with healthcare experience volunteer for hospital shifts ASAP. Reality in NYC is different than mine in Macon, GA. It’s different than in my hometown of Beaufort, SC, which is just beginning to shut down, but I’ve been working from home for two weeks. My cousin in Oklahoma is moving to Georgia this week, and it really is like traveling into a different, more frightening world the farther east she goes.

To a degree, this has always been true. Flint still doesn’t have clean drinking water. The Navajo reservation never has. Three of my friends have had and are recovering from COVID-19. Thousands of people have lost loved ones to it already. The main thing that unites us now is how not normal things are, and how uncertain and frightening that is. And if we can’t even acknowledge that much, that things are not normal, I won’t even consider buying what you’re selling.

Have you seen a commercial that was clearly released or reedited in response to the pandemic? What was it advertising?

Joy in Self-Isolation

Here is a list of things bringing me joy in these isolated days:

  • Cuddling with my husband as we wait for our alarm to go off
  • Waking up every morning to my cat nuzzling my hand so I’ll pet her ears 
  • Playing Stardew Valley for 3 hours every week with 3 of my best friends
  • A 5-second commute to work
  • Open blinds throughout the day
  • Every single pair of sweatpants I own
  • Finding new, delicious ways to cook
  • Learning new, interesting things about my Instagram friends
  • Grapes
  • Apples
  • Orange Juice
  • Long phone calls with my mom
  • Daily cat videos with my husband
  • My cat walking into my office and flopping onto her back so I’ll get up and pet her
  • Sitting on my front steps after work
  • Sara Bareilles’s “Gonna Get Over You”