Want to get Trump out of office, but not sure what you can do besides vote?
Here’s something tangible you can do with the time you usually spend panic-scrolling social media, weighing the probabilities of various civil war scenarios (hey, I do it too).
Yes, talk to your friends and family. But right now, I’m talking about writing letters to strangers.
I don’t know about you, but the Electoral College makes my presidential vote pretty worthless. …
Lately, I’m saying, “I love you,” a lot. To my husband, yes, and my daughter of course. But also to friends, including people I’ve never said it to before.
Technically, I’m saying “I love you” to my germ-covered laptop screen, hoping the connection is clear enough for my words to reach you. And I’m pounding it out with my thumbs, wondering why it’s 2020, and my phone’s autocorrect still won’t change “I love tou” to “I love you.”
We are social beings, desperately desiring to love and to be loved. Through social distancing and stay-at-home orders, so many of the ways we once communicated our love are gone. I can’t hug you. I can’t look you in the eye, dear friend, to assure you you’re incredible. I can’t laugh while playfully batting your arm, to share that feeling like we both understand each other completely, without needing to say a word. …
My husband won’t talk to me anymore about the coronavirus.
“The news isn’t good for my mental health,” he says. And while that statement reminds me of the media fasts people attempted after Trump got elected — and the privilege involved in that willful ignorance — in this case, he’s not hurting anybody.
We’re under a Stay-at-Home order in Washington State, for another month at least. We’re already fully on board with #StayHome, so why do we need to keep up with case counts and mask efficacy statistics?
“Why stress ourselves out more?” he asks, as I wonder aloud if this crisis will persuade anti-vaxx folks to reconsider vaccines. “There are just too many factors here. No matter how much we learn, we can’t predict the future. …