Author: Lisa Gurry

<This blog was originally written on September 19th. At the time, I was writing for comfort – it didn’t feel like my story to tell. And so much was unknown. But I share this now, because it was my most important part of the terrible year that was 2020. Importantly, my dad is on the road to recovery with a positive prognosis. I didn’t write for some time because he was the only important thing on my mind. It took a solid month to learn his treatment plan and after around 8 weeks, his treatment is complete, with hopefully great news when he returns to Houston for a check-up in a month. Like every chapter of my life, my dad continues to teach me so much. He is strength, grace, and good humor personified. Sadly, due to COVID, the best way to love and support him was from afar. I love and miss him very much.>

Perspective is a funny thing. It can hit you out of the blue – like a punch in the gut or blow to the head. Usually, the most effective delivery of perspective is bold and brutal – not subtle.

Such is my week.

I thought I had a tough week. Another week of the pandemic. Another week of juggling childcare challenges, school logging-in and ineffective education with my youngest (virtual school is an epic fail for those with significant disabilities), and as the cherry on top – extensive forest fires on the west coast left our air quality the worst in the world. We literally could not go outside. Which was really ironic – unsafe to go inside (beyond our home) due to COVID, unsafe to go outside due to bad air quality.

I really realized how much going outdoors had helped my mental health over the last six months. Running, walking, socializing with neighbors – all went on hiatus this week. I missed it. I was grumpy.

But I knew it was short term. The smoke would clear. We were fortunate to not be in any direct fire danger. And, our new nanny was starting on Monday. Holy hallelujah. After seven months of unstable childcare (rotating through four short-term nannies), we would settle into a rhythm. A COVID rhythm, but a rhythm, nevertheless.

And then – perspective. Hit me like a freight train.

First, I was reminded of the basics in life. Like fresh air. And blue sky. Can’t forget to be grateful for these.

Then, our new nanny, who I am so excited to meet, texted me Thursday afternoon. Her roommate tested positive for COVID, which is sad on many levels. Including for our poor nanny who had literally been back in town for all of three days and now is exposed. Right now she is healthy, but will need to quarantine for likely 28 days to ensure she doesn’t test positive. I hate it for her. I hate it for us. I hate COVID. And I am reminded of the risk we take every time we let someone in our home.

Then yesterday, Ruth Bader Ginsburg died. She has been a hero of mine and such a source of inspiration. And, like many, I am terrified about what her death will mean for the presidential election and our world.

I was sad and worn out from these developments. But, this morning! The air was clear! I went for my first outdoor run in over a week and with my favorite girlfriend to boot. Positive mindset returned!

And then. The biggest sucker punch of perspective of all. I had literally just gotten out of the shower when my mom called. I answered all cheery from my run and the smoke clearing.

And then. I could tell instantly. It was one of those calls where there is bad news. News you really don’t want to hear at all, but you are so terrified about how bad it can be that you need to know. Now.

And it was bad. My dad, who I love so very much, was diagnosed with bladder cancer. He has always been my real hero. My real strength. The one who has taught me so much – about life, about family, and about how to be a good human.

I like to think that I am rock solid. You want me in your corner when the shit hits the fan. I have been through tough things in my life and I can be a pillar of strength. But I am not proud to share that, in that moment, I crumbled. I couldn’t hold it together to ask any smart questions, or say anything encouraging, or be the strength my parents needed in that moment.

And it is because of love. I love my dad. I so desperately do not want him to be sick. I so desperately hate that he is sick right now. When it is so lonely to be sick – for those who are sick and those who desperately want to be there in support.

We still don’t know much. He is flying to the very best of care next week to learn more. I am grateful he is strong. I am grateful he and my mom are both healthy – cancer aside. I am grateful he is smart and capable and will make great decisions. And I am confident he knows his daughters love him so very much. And as soon as we know the best way to safely support him, we will.

Because this is the thing about perspective. Sometimes you forget how good you have it until you get hit with something really meaningful. Smoke, childcare challenges, professional juggling – turns out they are all meaningless.

It is the people we love the most in the world that bring our lives the most meaning. And the person at the near top of my list needs the most love, the most prayers, the most universal well wishes for the very best news this week.

Happy New Year!

With certainty, I have never been more ready for a new year.

While our world is still in the middle of a pandemic, with perhaps our worst months ahead, there is light on the horizon.

I have not written for so many reasons over the last months. It was a hard fall in many ways. Yet, there was also joy and new beginnings. Also, my account got locked for some reason and I didn’t spend the few minutes it took to get it unlocked.

But here we are. A new year.

Usually I love a new year. In the past I use these new chapters as an opportunity to set resolutions, intentions, goals, etc. for the coming year. It never feels like pressure to me – they are are always aspirational and I know I won’t hit them all. But it helps guide me to live life with intention.

When I look back at last year’s resolutions – ha! No one could have ever predicted what a wild year 2020 would become. I think of it as the year of the great pause. Where life as we knew it – at least for some of us – literally paused.

While I meant to document the year more thoughtfully, sometimes, you just have to focus on taking life a day at a time, without reflection.

But now I’m ready to reflect. It would be such a shame to not learn – a lot – from this bizarre chapter in history. And at the same time, look so forward to brighter days.

I have much more measured expectations for 2021. The year didn’t start with a bang. The picture above is my New Year’s Eve – which reflects a lot of 2020 – sweatpants, a good book, a glass of wine, and making the most of my surroundings.

With science and luck, 2021 will slowly but surely accelerate. In the meantime, I will carry forward my best gifts from 2020.

It’s good to be back on this blog. While I am cautious about resolutions this year – I do have some. One – yet again – is to write more. I have a new mindset and set of tools – we’ll see if they work:)

Happy new year, friends.

About a month ago I had a moment of reflection and wondered, “Am I doing enough with my life during this crazy time? What will I remember when I look back on 2020?”

I have mentioned before that I believe each year of our lives (even those in quarantine) are meaningful and we each have an opportunity to write the narrative that will dictate how we remember each chapter of our life. I want this chapter, unexpected as it is, to be one of optimism, special family memories and growth.

Believe me, a lot of days don’t really reflect any of those goals. But I do believe in intentionality – particularly in challenging times, we have to make an effort to create the life we want to live.

So I did my self-reflection. Considered a few things to adjust. One of those things is writing more – hi!! Another ongoing goal is pushing myself to learn new things.

So I signed up for golf lessons.

Now, this may not be what you had in mind for a blog with an existential intro. But here we are. Quarantine times may not lead to a Pulitzer, but surely I can learn a new skill.

So golf it is.

I have wanted to learn how to play for years. My husband is a big golfer. I have lots of friends who golf. We are fortunate to have two homes on golf courses. Golf is a good, social game that I should be able to play for years.

I didn’t learn when I was younger because I was a very one-dimensional and focused runner from childhood through college. I wasn’t that interested in accumulating other skills – what a shame. And I probably would have been worried about straining my back or some other nonsense injury-prevention.

After I first moved to Seattle and was in the throes of the honeymoon stage, I did take a series of group lessons at the local university. This was over 20 years ago. I can’t remember anything.

Then we had kids. One, two, three. And golf was not how I wanted to spend my precious little free time. And with my husband really enjoying golf, someone had to watch the kids.

But now we are in quarantine time. I’m home. There is a club house with instructors a half mile away. I have time.

So I went to my first lesson with instructor Grace. She was lovely and calm and very good at instructing (socially distanced while wearing a mask). She also was really complementary about my first lesson. Seriously. She said I was her best student ever! Couldn’t believe I hadn’t played before! Promised she wasn’t just saying that.

To give you insight into my optimistic and competitive brain, I actually thought, “I probably have missed the LPGA, but maybe I could be a competitive club player.” I am not kidding. Keep in mind, I hadn’t been off the driving range or the putting green. But I was wondering if I had missed my calling as a golf prodigy.

Then I went to practice by myself one day. Hmmm. I was shanking balls to the far right. Hitting others like a grounder in a baseball game. I did not look like a prodigy.

I went for a second lesson with Grace. She helped correct some of my form mistakes. She was still patient and kind. And I am humbled by this intricate new sport.

I am enjoying this new challenge. I no longer think I am on the cusp of winning club championships. But I am on the path to being able to play a round of golf for fun. That is good enough for me at this stage.

Quarantine goals don’t have to be significant. But they can still add joy to your life.

Today is a great day for writing! I am sitting on my deck, trusty Zoe staring at me as usual. It is a bit overcast with a lovely breeze. Jack Johnson is playing and I am proud of myself for embracing relaxation.

I am thinking about last week-end. My youngest and I went to our mountain house for a day of girl time before my husband and a few good friends joined us (post COVID tests after flying in from LA).

So my youngest and I were cruising along on the 80 minute drive, enjoying the views. Like me, she loves a good road trip. We turn up the tunes, I sing (poorly and loudly) along. The scenery is gorgeous as we travel outside of cities and into mountains with evergreen trees and beautiful views.

About 20 miles from our destination, I saw a sign for Lake Kachess. I had never been – even though so close to Seattle and Suncadia. We had no real timeline and nothing but time on this particular day. So I detoured and we went to visit Lake Kachess. Which was spectacularly beautiful.

A few more miles down the road we detoured again to see Lake Easton and something called Crystal Falls (which looked to be more of a river than waterfalls, but still pretty).

Such beautiful views that I had never seen – even though I had driven by within a few miles many, many times. I am inspired to go back and visit when we are prepared and there are fewer people (i.e. the beaches were more crowded than I would have liked).

But I am so grateful that I took those detours. Perhaps added an hour to our travel time. In our normal hectic life, I’m certain I would not have prioritized an hour of aimless driving. But what a reward!

I am reminded of an article I read awhile ago. It was an interview with my girl crush Michelle Obama. She was describing her career path – which was not linear. Instead, she advised to “embrace the swerve.” Have the courage to pursue the unexpected path that speaks to you. The path may not make sense to others, but the swerves in life add experiences that help us grow and often deliver unexpected joy. Regardless, these experiences add to the richness of life.

Embracing the swerve is something I can get behind. Whether on an unplanned road trip. Or in bigger decisions in life. The swerve can be interesting, empowering, and unexpectedly beautiful.

Yesterday was a good day. I got to the end of the day with a sense of genuine contentment.

What is this feeling??

During the pandemic, so many days are full of juggling, moments of joy – yes, but a cloud of anxiety and concern. Is everyone I love healthy? Are we collectively happy? Or at least, happy enough, given the circumstances? The last few weeks have been more stressful for me than most – juggling a lot professionally and personally. And, on a desperate hunt for childcare for my youngest.

But yesterday – I nailed it. I love that feeling. I haven’t had enough of those moments in the last six months of quarantine.

One challenge with working from home is that my mind doesn’t get the chance to check in/check out. I have realized going to an office is so healthy for me. When I’m at home, I focus on being a mom and a wife. When I go to the office, I am very focused on work. There has always been some overlap – scheduling appointments at work and leaving early for various kid commitments; and catching up on work email at home. But, I could largely focus on the key priority at hand.

Now, my attention is constantly split between work calls and endless meetings. And the ever-growing pile of email. At the same time, I am only a hall way from my sweet children – and their needs. In some ways, it creates a really special dynamic. I can watch my son’s basketball practice on the sport court out my window during a work call. I can wake my oldest daughter up in the morning and have our best chats of the day while I lay in her bed during a break in meetings. I can check in on my youngest and smile as I listen to her giggle through-out the day.

But for focus? Phew. Tough.

So anyway. Yesterday! I made great progress on my nanny hunt. I did a final interview with a candidate, spoke to references, ran a background check, updated a contract and sent her an offer. Put forth my best selling skills – choose our family! We are awesome! I pray to anything holy that she accepts.

And I did some good work professionally. The kind of work that makes me proud. As I’ve gotten more mature, I don’t even need anyone to tell me “good job.” Or “thank you.” Although, of course, it is nice to hear at times. I have built enough confidence and expertise to know when I have delivered good work. And I did yesterday.

So, as my big kids were enjoying the end of summer with their close group of friends, my youngest was deep asleep, and my husband and I finished yet another episode of “Queen of the South”, I felt that awesome sense of contentment.

We had made the most of a really bizarre summer. It was unexpectedly hard in ways. Unexpectedly joyful and special in others. I am proud of how I have shown up for my family. I hope I have modeled resilience, positivity, and the willingness to take risks even when the world is uncertain.

I love the feeling of nailing it. For one day at least:)

Sometimes in life you get stuck in a rut. That may be a southern saying. I grew up in a small town with dirt roads full of ruts. You know, bumpy holes in the road. As a lifelong runner, I spent many, many hours running on dirt roads – often with teammates, often solo – so I’m familiar with dirt road terrain.

But anyway. “Stuck in a rut” actually means “having a wheel stuck in a groove in the road.” I just searched it. It is an actual thing. A feeling of being stuck – sounds about right for what is increasingly feeling like an endless quarantine.

The last few weeks have been a bit rough – some personal stuff I’m not at liberty to share, a general weariness over this irritating quarantine, a sadness for our world as more racial injustice occurs and a presidential election I am already exhausted from. Toss in stress over the (virtual) school season upon us, a desperate search for a new nanny (so hard during quarantine), and some professional juggling and – phew.

To break out of a rut, sometimes you have to be intentional. So this week was back to basics after a blah Monday and Tuesday. For me, this means a few things.

1. Exercise. It really is my key to sanity. So Wednesday I went for a good run. Yesterday I did my favorite Core Power Yoga class with Melvin, my quarantine virtual crush. Both good for the soul. Today will be another run.
2. Attack problems. One of my professional strengths is that I am solution-oriented. So, attack I did. I think (really, really hope) I have found a new nanny for our family. After short-term solutions have dried up (our last childcare solution was a teacher aide who is now going back to virtual school), I made an offer to a new nanny late this week. Without childcare for my youngest, the rest of our world gets really out of balance. So this is a big one. In the meantime, I did find a short-term solution with a family friend who is graciously helping us out. And I created a learning pod for my oldest daughter and a few friends to help make their senior year of high school sort of fun and brainstormed some ideas for my son and his friends. Kids in check, mostly.
3. Keep moving. Moping is really counterproductive. Checking things off the to-do list often makes me happy so I focused on feeling good about accomplishing a few things. My son and I both had yearly physical doctor appointments. Made a long overdue car appointment which I will check off the list today. Caught up on my email inbox. Not really sexy items, but less clutter in my brain.
4. Find joy. This week joy looked like watching a TV show marathon with my oldest daughter. Listening (in a non-creepy way) while my son and a few friends had an epic pickle ball match in our backyard topped off with a pizza fest on our deck. It felt kind of like a normal summer. Yesterday, amidst driving my son to his cross country practice (they run in very small pods) I chose to sit at a pretty park instead of driving back and forth. Soaking up a beautiful morning.
5. Distraction. I got sucked into a really good book. Talked with some good friends. Nearing the end of our next Netflix series (Queen of the South – highly recommend if you like cartel series. Great storytelling, although a bit intense). Largely, more focused fun – less phone scrolling. And I hate to admit – less news. Sometimes, you just have to ignore the parts of the world that are driving you crazy.

These are all things I can control. Nothing fancy, but I think I am out of my rut now. Ready for the week-end. We have a fun week-end on the horizon and I am here for it!

This week – or at least a portion of it – was the 2020 of weeks. I saw that description on a friend’s social media feed and it so resonated.

For the rest of our lives, “2020” will probably be synonymous with disappointment, missed moments, frustration and sadness. Hopefully we will balance with a few other feelings like perspective, patience, gratitude and perseverance. Hopefully.

But this week was a real doozy. So late this week, I was ready to call uncle. Ready to retreat to my sanctuary for some relaxation and recharging. This, is my bathtub.

She has largely been ignored this summer. I’m more of a dead-of-winter/rainy night bather. Then, I find it very peaceful to light some candles, turn on Norah Jones, and disappear into a good book while floating in my tub.

But in the summer, it’s hot. I would rather recharge outside in the sun as the sun baby I have always been.

But this week. Bath time was in order. So I disappeared from my family. Turned on the bath. Got my favorite things ready for bath time.

And then, hmmm….why is the bath tub taking so long to fill up? So annoying. And then. Whoa! Where is all of this water coming from? All over the floor. In large puddles.

And then I see…the fancy part of the tub faucet filler (which has never been used – the hand shower part – why do they even make these??) is facing the wrong direction. Not into the tub, as a faucet should. But pointing the exact other direction – pouring water on the floor. This is clearly the wrong way.

Our cleaning ladies had set it backwards the last time they were here and I neglected to notice. Oops.

I soaked six large bath towels soaking up water at about the same time I hear my husband shout my name. The water wasn’t just on the floor – it was flowing into my daughter’s closet directly below our master bathroom. Oops.

But I was committed. This girl was recharging. So after the clean-up, I took my bath. Unfortunately it just wasn’t the same. Oh well.

So onto the rest of the night. And I could not have written this next part if I were writing a sitcom comedy for work. Within the next ten minutes, I found a messy pile requiring cleanup on one of my favorite rugs. Grr. I had literally just cleaned it up and was putting away cleaning supplies when I hear my dog gag. I started to hustle to pull her off the only carpet on our main floor (in my daughter’s room) and she barfed a huge pile of dog food – right on the carpet.

REALLY UNIVERSE?

At this point, I just had to laugh. Literally cracked up. After a simply horrible day, I managed to flood our bathroom, clean up one rug and then a pile of dog barf – within 30 minutes.

In such moments, there is nothing to do but know tomorrow has to be better. Time to do something super safe like collapse on the couch with all the Netflix. And a big glass of wine.

Because even during a day that overflows with challenges, you can usually find a reason to smile. Even if it is the absolute absurdness of the day.

Today is National Relaxation Day. This is a real, actual thing.

I have no idea who created it, but like most “day’s”, I started seeing images and posts on social media celebrating it.

It caught my eye because I had been thinking about writing a blog about – relaxing.

I have realized a huge adjustment for me during this quarantine has been embracing relaxation. I have found that I have a very active brain, which can be hard to settle. I also have a real drive for productivity and often feel like I should be “doing” something productive. These aren’t necessarily good things. Finally, I think the real challenge has been I am simply out of practice.

You see, I have been a mom for nearly 18 years. So counting pregnancy, the last 19 years of my life have focused on my precious children first. Combined with a demanding and fulfilling career, there hasn’t been a whole lot of time for relaxing. For the first many years of my kid’s lives (now there are three), I carried such working mom guilt. I felt tremendous pressure to make every moment count with them when I was home. We had tea parties, endless hours of Lego’s and Playmobil games, dress-up galore, hide-and-seek marathons, outside fun, healthy meals, cute clothes, learning opportunities and so much more. By the time they were asleep, I was exhausted and knew one of them would be up by 5:30 or 6am (early birds! All three! back then anyway…).

Then, as they got older, playing make-believe was replaced with carpooling and cheering. My older two kids did the typical grade school/middle school sports year-round. My son fell in love with basketball and has been part of an intense select team for the last four years – with year-round practice and week-end long tournaments. My oldest daugther played select volleyball and other activities requiring driving, driving, driving. And there was the tutoring. And other classes. And my youngest has typically been along for the ride. Between work and being a Type-A mom, there was definitely very little time for relaxing.

When the world is normal, I am really proud of myself if I prioritize 4-5 hours of exercise each week. If I read a book that I enjoy. If I make time to write. All told, I typically have about 30-60 minutes each day to just “relax.” And usually this is at the very end of the day when I am exhausted. So “relaxing” ends up looking like scrolling through my phone or trying to focus on a book while my eyelids droop. Even last night, “relaxing” looked like listening to a favorite podcast while I folded a mountain of laundry. Does that count??

But since quarantine, I have found myself – for the first time in literal decades – with….time. Our week-ends are quiet. There aren’t any practices, games or big social gatherings. There is no commute. Or evening practices or activities during the week. My kids – now almost 18, 16 and 13 – don’t really want to hang out with mom all that much. Although we have had some really special time together.

With my extra time, I have realized I need to re-learn how to relax. To simply just be. To set aside To-Do lists and expectations. To not feel pressured to go, go, go to the next thing.

Perhaps this will be my greatest gift of COVID-19. A reminder to slow down. The peacefulness of reading a good book on my porch swing – in the middle of the day! – for as long as I feel like it. For luxuriating in a long bubble bath. For long, slow talks with family and girlfriends from afar or on our deck. For zoning out to favorite TV shows.

There is something beautiful about….relaxing. We all deserve a pause in the day. Time to chill without accomplishment. Now that I’ve found my way back, I hope to never lose it again.

I haven’t written in a bit, again, since my birthday reflection.

The real reason is that I am so fed up with COVID-19. And not just the virus itself. But with the completely inept response that has landed the US at the top of the undesired leader board for deaths and total cases.

It is so tragic to me that we have already lost so many lives. It is heartbreaking to me that our medical professionals and frontline workers must continue to solider on in this war to save lives. Risking their own lives to take care of some who were simply unlucky and some who were completely irresponsible. I am so sad that I still can’t see my family safely – just a short plane ride away. I am angry that my kids will spend their fall remote learning from home when they should be learning in school – with the social interaction, extra-curricular activities and better education that in-person learning will present. And I am so baffled that our country is not ENRAGED by this complete and utter mess we have found ourselves in.

I know many are sick of talking about COVID-19. Believe me, I am so, so sick of it. But the great irony is that until we educate ourselves – and actually collectively take steps to stop, or at least curtail this virus – we will continue to see deaths and illnesses skyrocket. Our lives – at least in some states – will continue to be curtailed. We will endlessly quarantine – some of us more successfully than others. And even when there is a vaccine (it can’t come soon enough), shouldn’t we all be learning lessons that we will carry forward?

We are collectively responsible for the spread and we will collectively feel the pain of its impact. I can’t fathom why this country does not have collective empathy or concern for the collective good. Are we really that collectively selfish? By all data-based accounts, we collectively are.

A few facts to consider.

As of today, the US has over 5M confirmed cases of COVID-19. This is one in 65 Americans. This is over ¼ of total cases in the entire world. That’s right. The ENTIRE WORLD (with 19.6M total confirmed cases). Our country has lost 164, 245 lives to COVID-19 – that have been officially reported. The number is likely far, far greater. I did not round that number for friendlier reading because each and every one of those lives matter.

If that doesn’t resonate with you, how about if you consider that our current COVID-19 death rate (as of today) is greater than all lives lost in World War I and exponentially more than the Vietnam War and the Revolutionary War. COVID-19 has already killed more people – in the last few months – than the Vietnam War, Korean War, and H1N1 flu pandemic – combined. The CDC reports there will be an additional 50K deaths by August 22. 50 Thousand Deaths. Why are we all not outraged??

And this is so not like the flu. In April, COVID-19 became the deadliest disease in the United States, killing more people per day than cancer or heart disease. If you look at the months between February and May, COVID-19 killed more people than influenza, diabetes, or Alzheimer’s – combined.

And even when “cured”, many are facing what may be lifelong challenges such as significant organ damage. My dear college roommate Michele Munz, recently wrote this heartbreaking and eye-opening account in the St. Louis Post Dispatch.

How on earth can smart people make fun or ridicule basic hygiene practices like wearing masks and social distancing, endorsed by every expert health organization as proven methods to curb the disease? Would we make fun of veterans who died in wars? Would we ridicule those dying of heart disease or cancer? This virus has taken more lives than all of the most modern wars and illnesses. We should be collectively at war to stop it. Where is the basic goodness that should define us all as people?

I am terrified by the explosive growth of the virus in places where people I love reside. As I write this, I got my daily alert update from the Seattle Times that 670 new COVID-19 cases were diagnosed yesterday. In Washington. Currently 1688 people have died in my state.

In Seattle we have sadly been at the forefront of this disease as the first city in the US to have a case diagnosed. We know now that the virus was likely widespread in the US before it was diagnosed. This is simply tragic.

But what is so baffling to me is that people aren’t paying more attention to the spread. California has the most confirmed cases currently (545, 787) with Florida hot on its heels (532, 806). New York, also hit early, has the most deaths at 32, 768. It blows my mind that there isn’t more fear in the southern states where the virus is spreading like wildfire. Some of the people I love most in the world are right in the heat of the battle in states like Texas, Arkansas and Missouri – if you look at per capita infection rates. In many states, there is either a complete lack of awareness or concern for the potential for COVID-19 to impact people or their loved ones. The state-based approach is failing us all miserably.

There are lots of good scientific trackers on the Web. This data comes from the NYT tracker pulling from CDC data. Before you travel – anywhere – it is wise to be aware of the risks. There is a reason most of the free world is not welcoming American travelers right now. We are collectively dangerous.

If you take a scientific or data-based view to health, this isn’t rocket science. We are actually one of the very few industrialized nations to have such an epicly failed response to COVID-19. This isn’t hopeless. Or “what will be will be.” Or heaven forbid, survival of the fittest or our generation’s greatest gamble. The answers are simple. We can learn from other countries. Consider COVID-19 deaths in the last seven days:

• Australia: 70
• Canada: 37
• France: 51
• Germany: 49
• Italy: 55
• Japan: 27
• Spain: 57
• Sweden: 27
• UK: 414
• US: 7,189

Even in the US, New York has proven it is possible to contain the virus. Kids in New York will be going back to school this fall. In the initially hardest hit state.

For the rest of us, I hope we can set aside partisan lines and do the right, human thing for each other. Social distance. WEAR YOUR MASKS! Wash your hands. Do not touch your face. The CDC is giving us sound advice that has worked incredibly well in other countries.

I really can’t understand how this turned into a freedom issue (actually I do know…but won’t opine on that here), but in the same way we have laws for basic safety like wearing seatbelts and helmets, it is a basic safety guideline to take care of ourselves and each other as best we can. This is not a discussion of individualism. Collectively, we will over-run our hospitals. Collectively, we will create shortages of PPE and other critical supplies. Collectively, we will over-burden an already fledgling testing system. Individually, we will certainly fail these systems and each others.

Eventually, I hope we can all find our way back to sort of normal. With the people we love, healthy and safe, to enjoy the future with. And I hope we don’t lose hundreds of thousands of more lives – not to a war. Or a disease that could not be prevented. But due to selfishness and our lack of ability to protect ourselves and each other.

Happy birthday to me! I’m officially 46 and I honestly can’t believe it.

Typically I love birthdays. I believe they should be celebrated wholeheartedly. I’ve always gone over-the-top for my kid’s birthdays and will never turn down a good birthday celebration. As I’ve gotten older, I have more appreciation for grown-up birthdays. Everyone should celebrate their birthday with as much glee as their younger self. Each year, truly, is a gift.

But this one, #46, has kind of rocked my world. Even when I turned 30, and then 40, I felt “young.” I’ve always looked young (thank you genetics and small stature) and I am certainly young at heart. But 46. Hmmm. Awfully close to 50. And that definitely has to count as middle-age.

The notion of middle-age is one I don’t love. Historically this has meant the downhill slope of life. I’m not ready for the downhill. I’m not ready to coast. I don’t want to cut my hair into a sensible haircut, wear one-piece swimsuits, or unironic mom jeans. I’m not ready!

And then I read about the 70 year-old woman who runs a 3:00 marathon. I look at Jennifer Aniston. Or my friend Shannon. I see friends making bold career choices. Or getting back in the game as their kids are moving out of the home.

And I know I have my own bold goals. And big dreams. And I am reminded that age ain’t nothing but a number. Rather than dread 46, I’m ready to embrace it. With boldness. With strength. With joy. With gratitude.

I want this to be year that shakes up the other years. If we learn nothing from a pandemic, this year should stand out in a notable way. And not just because a pandemic is awful. But because we have the opportunity to break the mold, to carefully consider what matters, to be reminded that years aren’t guaranteed, and we only get this one, beautiful life.

So what to do with 46? I want to push myself outside my comfort zone. I read something this morning that said “comfort is the opposite of growth.” It’s a cool notion. Whether pursuing a professional challenge, learning to play golf, mastering a few new dishes to serve at dinner parties (someday!), or finding socially distant adventures, I want to prioritize growth. There really is so much more to learn in the world.

And I want to embrace those I love the most. Making memories. Cherishing time. This is my daughter’s last year at home before heading off to college. I want it to be magical for us both. Somehow. My son will get his driver’s license this year and with this milestone comes all new independence. I want to go along for the ride – at least sometimes. And my youngest continues to warm my heart with her sweet giggles and own sense of adventure. So adventures we will find.

So far 46 is fantastic. I woke up early to texts from friends. Drank a few cups of coffee in the quiet house while reading a great book. Took Zoe on a leisurely stroll on trails this beautiful morning. Ran four miles. Now I sit in my bikini and await my families’ arrival. The sun is out. The pool is ready for us.

And I’m ready to make the very most of this very first day of 46.