Settling In.

We are, like everybody we know, settling into a new normal, which we're still figuring out. And trying to take in stride and with humor.

Some parts of it are endlessly frustrating, like the fact that I'm still getting dragged into work almost daily to deal with the DoD's cumbersome "one step forward two steps back" response to the crisis. Some are devastating, like helplessly watching our loved ones in the tourism and hospitality industries see everything they've worked for crumbling before their eyes; and our friends in healthcare consistently test positive for the virus only to be taken out of the vital workforce and left to grapple without the help they've selflessly given others. And some are perplexing, like what to do about our many friends who are deployed, having left families with young children at home for a year+ in some cases, and who are being extended indefinitely without mission or timeline as we figure out what to do about global stop-moves. 

Lots of it, for lots of people, is simply uncertain. We're not exempt. Are we still going to move this summer? Can we find a place to live if so? Do we have a place to live once our lease is up if we don't move? Do we have childcare? Should we use childcare? Should we pay for childcare we're not using? How is the house of cards that is the military PCS season affected? What about appointments and military readiness? What about Seth's transition to VA healthcare and prescriptions that were between systems? There are so many questions. We're trying to be patient like everyone else. We know we're lucky. 

We will also never not be silver linings people. We live in a state which is making gargantuan efforts to keep state parks and public spaces open, and which "shelter in place" order specifically excluded outdoor activities. (Also liquor stores, FYI.) 

We love hanging out with our kids and never feel like there's enough time for it. We're reveling in it now. I, for one, have been consistently stressed out about the stacks of "educational crafts and games" books my Mom gave me, all of which I remember and none of which I can ever find the time to tackle. (Also, and for good reason, I am generally not convinced to put on "whiteface" in the form of cucumber masks, but Finley got me this weekend.)

So it's 1130 at night and my work email is up and Seth is probably bingeing "Tiger King" which really is that big a train wreck, and I am knife-scraping g-d crayons (which is way more work than my Mom ever let on) because tomorrow we are actually going to have time to make the g-d stained glass wax paper creations of my childhood. 

We will likely set the house on fire.

We have also found time to make bread (sorry, Mom, but this one beats the Betty Crocker recipe, it is superrr easy and never fails) and (real) cupcakes for (virtual) cousin birthdays;

explore state parks in gorgeous weather, sometimes with friends and dogs, keeping a- generally- safe distance;

fish with Dad;

and celebrate occasions both by (insert techonological advancement here)

and (occasionally, in cases of friends who are family)

in person.

We've also spent a fair amount of time in our backyard

enjoying stunning NC spring weather and attempting (wildly unsuccessfully) to teach the world's biggest chickens how to ride bikes;

and- because I married Seth Nieman- making giant wooden targets for axe throwing.

More axe throwing photos to follow (I have yet to get a good one, but it really is incredible to watch) but this one makes me laugh. Ford thinks his preferred getup makes him look more bandit/ less Golden Girls double. We disagree (silently.)

Happy, happy birthday to our sweet niece Lehua, who we toasted tonight with way too much cream cheese frosting on our carrot cake, and who had to celebrate her birthday in quarantine on the roof in Cusco. We're thinking about the Bustamantes and their life's work during this turbulent time and hoping L's next birthday is nothing short of fabulous.

To all our loved ones, stay healthy and sane. We are with you in spirit (and via zoom, if you care for a virtual happy hour!)

State Park Surfing, and What Really is So Hard...

We're going on week two of what Ford calls "corona vacation," and we feel like complete jerks. To say nothing of the heartbreak that is people who can't afford to stay home or drop a paycheck, and kids for whom home is not a safe place to be or who depend on schools for adequate nutrition, and travelers who are stranded far from home... we also sympathize with our similarly-situated friends who were just not prepared to juggle telework and no-notice homeschooling. It is no joke.

We have been absolutely and accidentally blessed by Seth's earlier-than-expected retirement date and Finley's November birthday, which together mean we have schedule flexibility and no standardized tests to worry about. So F+F have basically become feral. I had to work for most of the week, and Seth and kids decamped to the river most days (in their pajamas?) to fish and swim and apparently avoid all the snakes I can practically see coming out of those photos.

We did insist the hooligans pitch in around the house,

although this is how they outfitted themselves to chop onions (thanks to Grandma and her "onion goggles.")

Friday I finally got some time off and Seth was due for solo fishing time, so the kids and I set about to hit up all the state parks within my mandated 50-mile driving radius. Which, if you measure from the outer bounds of a gigantic installation, is pretty generous. I love eastern North Carolina and remembered the mysterious Carolina Bays, so we settled on Jones Lake first.

It was utter perfection on an 85 degree day, and social distancing was in full effect as we saw only a handful of other people and spent the whole day (minus snack time) in the water. I know reasonable minds can (and do) differ about whether and how far one should go during this uncertain time, but we're careful of distance (the kids yell "six feet! six feet!" and jump off the trail when they see someone coming) and believe deeply in the myriad benefits of fresh air and exercise.

We did cheat a little bit and invite friends to hit the lake with us Saturday, but it was friends we see  so often they're like family, and any cross-contamination that was likely to occur between the Nieman-Ryan-Stewart crowd had likely already done so. So we went all in on the healing powers of fresh air, and held a kid biathlon at the deserted beach

before working on outdoor forts and fires.

 

Sunday we vowed to stick closer to home, minus Seth who was on a quest to catch these,

 

so F+F and I hit up Raven Rock, a local state park which was way more crowded than usual (and which subsequently closed because "people failed to maintain social distancing," which Finley herself had noted.) "Mom, what is so hard about six feet?" she asked. Amen, kid.

 

We fled and headed home to appreciate the fact that, if we had to be tethered to our own backyard, at least it was this backyard.

And also that someone in my family at some point gave us a badminton set, which has become a real hit.

Today I went in early so I could leave early (and Seth could continue on FishQuest 2020), and we checked in with our favorite, on-the-way-to-work state park, Carver's Creek. The never-crowded spot had nearly, according to the Ranger on duty, doubled its normal visitor numbers, and something in me was thrilled about the fact that people were getting outside. But also annoyed that our nature school-slash-Davy Crockett-reenacting was interrupted by having to jump into the woods every few minutes for large groups of people who couldn't manage six feet of distance on an eight foot trail.

Still, these guys had a blast and may never be able to go to regular school. We are grateful for every second with them

even if Finley's version of yoga is more kinetic than yours (thank you, Jesus, for Cosmic Kids)

and Ford can't. even. with all the energy it takes to get through a "home day."

 Hope everybody is hanging in there.

Coronavirus-induced "distancing."

We do not in any way to wish to make light of COVID-19. We are aware of the likely protracted infection rates to come, worried about the susceptible members of our population, hopeful for a timely vaccine, and supportive of social containment measures.

We are also enjoying every bit of social distancing we can get.

Our last two social events this week, as the community grappled with what to do to combat the spread of the virus, were a cool USASOC VTC with the International Space Station (at which the kids and their friends, predictably, acted terrible)

and Case's 10th birthday (at which four women attempted to take seven kids to a restaurant and immediately regretted it).

Other than that, our week consisted of work, fishing,

and pizza dates. (The new La Dolce Vita is worth the drive.)

Despite the mayhem, we had complicated plans to meet the Ryans in the mountains and hang out with the kids while Natalie picked up their new dog, and we decided that Black Mountain- one of my favorite mountain towns- was probably safe. After much debate we wound up keeping our plans, and the long weekend found us boating (there were casualties),

fishing,

holding weenie roasts,

and embarking on death-defying hikes.

 

 It turns out that social distancing is good for the soul.

The kids were handsomely rewarded for their hiking prowess (I made them save their treats to eat while I enjoyed mine, at the vaunted Pisgah Brewing),

and the new dog was procured. And he was enormous.

Seth convinced me to stay an extra day, knowing that coronavirus panic would take over immediately upon my return, and we spent it checking out the stunning Folk Art Center on the Blue Ridge Parkway

and hiking to the very cool Rattlesnake Lodge Ruins.

We celebrated our last night before returning to the real world with White Duck Tacos (outside with 6 feet of distance at all times and lots of hand sanitizer required),

 

(empty) playgrounds,

and campfire s'mores.

It was tough to come back to work, although while I'm working through the crisis I'm delighted to get photos like these: Dad of the Year taking the hooligans (who are out of school) fishing and to generally act terrible with impunity.

 

At least I still have dibs on dinner time.

Lots of faves from an idyllic (and maybe a last-of-its-kind) weekend, but I adore this silly one of rhododendron bunny ears on our Sunday hike.

Cheers to weathering COVID-19 with lots of outdoor time, and our thoughts are with everyone with less flexibility than we have to enjoy the silver linings.