There are plenty of things that are hard right now. It is hard not to see each other. It is hard not to be able to nip to the store and pick up ingredients. It is hard to learn via computer and not be able to get a doctor’s appointment and deal with job instability.

But conversations… those don’t have to be hard. We’re making them hard.

I am totally happy to answer people the first time. No, we’re not getting together with people. No, not even six feet away. Yes, totally thrilled to talk via phone or video call. We’re all figuring out each other’s comfort zones and then interacting accordingly.

It’s the reanswering that is so draining. No, we’re not getting together with people. No, we’re still not getting together with people. No, even this week, we’re not getting together with people. How about I let you know when things change for me? Because, no, we’re not getting together with people.

When the twins were little, we had a code word that meant “you already know the answer to that.” (It also meant “stop” and “you are about two seconds away from me completely losing it.” It was one of those fantastic multi-purpose code words.) So when I said the one word, they knew to pause and think deeply about whether they knew the answer and just didn’t like the answer and were hoping for a different answer, or whether they truly didn’t know the answer.

Because I get it. No one likes hearing my answer, and I don’t like giving my answer. Go back to that first paragraph. I cry at least once a week because it is so hard not to see one another. Because I want to nip down the store and have the social-emotional learning part of school and get a physical and have everyone have a job. I want there to be a different answer, too. But I want to be safe—I want me to be safe, and I want the people around me to be safe.

I’m waiting for different information so I can give a different answer.

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

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In July 1983—37 years ago—two artists decided to live 24/7 8 feet apart, connected by a piece of rope at their waist. The only other rule of the project was that they couldn’t touch. 8 feet apart, never alone, and no touching the other person, though it’s clear from images that they touched other people during that time.

It’s interesting to read about the performance art piece now because while we’re not joined at the waist, I have spent over four months with the same three people. While we have the ability to leave one another, we tend to gravitate to the same rooms, sometimes all at the same time. So we’ll all end up on our bed, talking. Or sitting in the kitchen. Or playing with Linus in the living room.

I go through waves when I need alone time, and waves where I am completely fine with the fact that our world has become so small.

How are you doing?

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Are you also doing #MicroblogMondays? Add your link below. The list will be open until Tuesday morning. Link to the post itself, not your blog URL. (Don’t know what that means? Please read the three rules on this post to understand the difference between a permalink to a post and a blog’s main URL.) Only personal blogs can be added to the list. I will remove any posts that are connected to businesses or are sponsored post.

Every evening, Dan Zanes and his wife, Claudia, release a video on Facebook. Last night was #128. They sing songs like “Brown Girl in the Ring,” “Loch Lomond,” “We Shall Overcome,” “Deep Blue Sea,” and “Welcome Table.” They usually put the song in context, and then launch into their rendition. The songs are so familiar, and they sing so beautifully… They’re this tiny bright spot at the end of the day.

Sometimes, I’m just trying to get through the day to see which song they choose.

Sometimes, they’re a happy pause from worrying.

Sometimes, they’re a celebratory dance after a productive day.

They are always two welcome faces on my screen. I’m so grateful for the people using their talents to keep us all together during hard times.

I’ve entered the phase of sheltering at home where you try to recreate all of your favourite restaurant recipes. (Though we followed Da Mario’s recipes months ago when he posted them on YouTube.)

This week, we re-created Bueno y Sano in my kitchen. I even made the charred red peppers they used to have on the menu back in the late 1990s. And thinned the sour cream and put it in a squeeze bottle so it could be drizzled across the burrito. It would have been a more authentic experience if I had pretended that I didn’t notice all the people in the room and read People magazine while I ate. (That was my Thursday night routine in grad school. Bueno for dinner. People magazine on the table. Pretend I didn’t notice students trying to catch my eye so they could ask me a quick question.) But apparently that is anti-social, so I spoke to everyone as we ate.

I also re-created our favourite rice paper summer rolls from the Vietnamese restaurant at the beach. They were so close to accurate that the ChickieNob whole face changed as she chewed, and she looked like she wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. We’ve been making them every day for lunch.

It’s the stuff that we can’t reheat that I miss the most. The only takeaway we’ve gotten has been stuff that can be popped back into the oven and returned to high temperatures. That’s not recommendable with sour-cream-filled burritos. And it’s really not possible with the summer rolls or sushi.

I miss restaurants. This is a good second-best option until we can get back to restaurants again.

Have you recreated any restaurant recipes?

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Stop procrastinating. Go make your backups. Don’t have regrets.

Seriously. Stop what you’re doing for a moment. It will take you fifteen minutes, tops. But you will have peace of mind for days and days. It’s the gift to yourself that keeps on giving.

As always, add any new thoughts to the Friday Backup post and peruse new comments in order to find out about methods, plug-ins, and devices that help you quickly back up your data and accounts.

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And now the blogs…

But first, second helpings of the posts that appeared in the open comment thread last week. In order to read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• “Independence Day, Freedom, and Koshari” (A Half Baked Life)

Okay, now my choices this week.

No Kidding in NZ has a powerful post about the “it won’t happen to me” mentality, and how having it “happen to you” changes the way you approach the world. She writes: “Since infertility and loss, I’ve felt my mortality much more keenly, and feel very far from invincible. I’ve lost my default setting.” And maybe losing that default setting is a good thing if it reminds you that things won’t be okay so we need to do X, Y, and Z. Pass this one along to anyone who still believes they’re invulnerable.

By the Brooke is back with a life update. She managed to make me laugh many times, even while talking about the weight of the world. Like this nugget: “Zuzu also let Coco cut her hair recently. Longtime readers may recall that Coco has a long history of making poor choices when it comes to scissors and hair.” Fair warning: You’ll have the Hamilton soundtrack stuck in your head by the end of the post.

Kmina’s Blog has a heartbreaking post about her neighbour who died from COVID-19. She writes: “My kids remember how he would stop and tell them stories about butterflies. Until they won’t, it’ll be just a thing we retell but don’t remember exactly.” And finishes with this thought: “It is a very weird year to grow old. I’ve already aged 2 to 3 years by now, and it’s only July.” A very moving post.

Lastly, Infertile Phoenix has a post about her current two week wait to move. The amount of time is not lost on her, but noticing it brings out a fantastic reaction: “I loved it. It made me smile. A concept/time period that used to always be on my mind has totally slipped from familiarity for me. It made me happy to realize that my thinking has naturally changed over time. I no longer feel controlled by a two week wait. I no longer even think about it.” Cheers to better.

The roundup to the Roundup: My kitchen restaurant. Your weekly backup nudge. And lots of great posts to read. So what did you find this week? Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between July 10 – July 17) and not the blog’s main url. Not understanding why I’m asking you what you found this week? Read the original open thread post here.

As I say every month, I’m shamelessly stealing this idea from Jessica Lahey. She has a recurring monthly date where she reviews all the books she read that month. Book reviews are important for authors, and I want to get better about doing this.

So. I’m going to review them here and also online, but I’m going to do it a little differently. I’m only going to review the stuff I really liked. I don’t see a reason to spend my time writing about something I didn’t love; it’s just using up more of my energy. So only positive reviews.

These are the books I liked (or mostly liked) from June.

Also skipping the The Return of Sherlock Holmes because, yes, I love Sherlock Holmes, but no, you don’t need a review of each short story collection. But since I technically liked it (vs. felt meh about it), I’m mentioning it.

The Silent Patient (Alex Michaelides): This was a very quick read, and I mostly loved it. I figured out the ending early on, so reading became more an act of “am I correct?” vs. “where is this going?” I prefer the latter to the former, so it falls into the solid read zone instead of the exceptional read category. It was the Diet Coke of mysteries: Easy going down and thirst-quenching, but… you know… it’s not a handcrafted, small batch soda.

A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder (Holly Jackson): So much fun. I almost didn’t read this book because people said that the writing mentally took you out of Connecticut. (The writer is in the UK.) I didn’t find that at all. I thought the writer did an admirable American writing accent. If you liked the first season of Serial, you’ll like this book, too.

Catherine House (Elisabeth Thomas): This book is a hard one. I filled two pages in a notebook listing plot holes in this book, BUT I enjoyed the experience of reading it more than I’ve enjoyed some books that I’ve given four stars. So I read it quickly and was always engaged, but I can’t say that I thought it was a good book. But maybe people will feel otherwise.

Ghosts of Harvard (Francesca Serritella): The paragraph for Catherine House perfectly describes this book, too. I enjoyed reading it, and I’ll give it four stars for keeping me engaged. Life stuff distracted me while reading this, so it took longer than it should have. I’m keeping it on the list, even though I also entertained not finishing it at certain points. But in the end, I’m glad I did.

A Deadly Inside Scoop (Abby Collette): It would be hard to love a book more. This is a case of right book at the right time. It’s light—a cozy mystery—set in an ice cream shop. It’s adorable, I liked spending time with the characters, and it was a joy to pick it up at the end of the day. The next book in the series doesn’t come out until March, which is a bummer because fun book + ice cream recipes = excellent summer fun.

What did you read last month?