Emails, conversations and texts with my friends have begun to center around food.
Several friends have sent me pictures of their loaves of homemade bread. I love pictures of bread.
I have also received photos of masks. And they have been impressive. Everyone is making them and each day online there are more patterns, more innovations, more solutions to the shortage of elastic and cording. I saw a great tutorial this morning and I’m going to find that football-themed fabric I tucked away and make masks for my four Texans.
I am going to cut up one of Banjo Man’s t-shirts to make ties, because the world is out of elastic and soft laundry cording.
On Saturday I started my own mask project by cutting up a new cloth diaper. I overcast the raw edges, but that was as far as I got.
My enthusiasm for mask-making is very, very low despite the encouragement of the friends who are producing them at a rapid pace.
I look at these rectangles of organic bamboo cotton and I feel nothing but despair.
We aren’t going anywhere to get groceries or prescriptions, but we do need to drop some things off at the Post Office today. Good thing we still have some paper masks. Banjo Man will wear his goggles. He won’t go inside unless the parking lot is fairly empty (it’s a very small Post Office).
I’ve put off going to the bank for necessary financial transactions for my mother, but it has to be done. So one of those diaper masks will be crucial, according to the experts.
In Rhode Island we are being bombarded with “models” and “predictions”, almost minute-by-minute. Are 324 of us going to die in April? Or do you believe the newest model that predicts close to 3000? Will the virus peak on April 15 or April 29 or mid-May?
Mid May? I cannot. I just can’t.
Where are the car keys? I’m heading West.