More frequent coronavirus diary posts mean one thing: CHANGE.
When we were shutting down, there was so much to sort through and process that I posted almost weekly. And now it’s that way again, but in reverse.
Last Friday night, my parents hosted an outdoor concert at their place.
My dad built a stage. My mom made a million cookies and borrowed coffee makers and mugs. They put up signs for parking and seating. There was a bonfire and twinkle lights.
And then the people came.
Lots and lots of people.
It was the biggest crowd of mostly maskless people — they requested unvaccinated people wear masks — I’d been in since the pandemic started sixteen months ago.
And it was lovely.
And then the next day my younger daughter and I went to Costco where we were met at the doorway by this sign.
We promptly ripped off our masks and, grinning maniacally, waltzed into the store. My daughter took off to get her own stuff and then, minutes later, came racing back: There’s samples, Mom!!!
AND THERE WERE.
The sample carts had plexiglass walls affixed to their tops, with a little hole at the bottom through which they’d slip individual paper bags of samples.
There was a sign telling people to wait until they were out of the store to eat the samples, so I dutifully carried around my little bag for a bit and then I was like, Wait, I’m not wearing a mask so whether or not I put food in my mouth is irrevelant — that sign is for the masked unvaccinated. And then I chowed down.
After his second vaccine, my younger son had just a slightly sore arm. In other words, he was the only one in our family to have zero side effects. LUCKY.