Getting away from it all, 2020-style

It may not have been the summer holidays in Europe that we'd planned, but we pulled off about as much of a summer holiday as is possible for a pair of American residents in 2020. I cannot express how overdue the vacation truly was. This year has undoubtedly taught me that reducing life to a constant rhythm of work, commute, and self-isolation is more than enough to test one's nerves. With a full week out of the office, we managed to link up with cousins to make our way down to Sequoia National Park, up to Muir Woods, and even briefly through Santa Cruz and Monterey. We got closer to some bears (a mama and her cub) than we'd ever planned (or hoped!), saw some big-ass trees, and got some mask-free time to breathe, alone in nature, in good company.

Sequoia and King's Canyon National Parks with the West Coast cousins: Ryan, Jake, and Sarah

A day in Muir Woods and San Francisco - Land's End, where we accidentally bumped into a dear old friend's wedding elopement photo shoot! - and Fisherman's Wharf, where we introduced Ryan to Buena Vista's Irish coffees, introduced Nicolas to the American delicacy that is frozen chocolate bananas (he approved!), and said hello to the sea lions at Pier 41.

We visited Oakland's newest murals while touring Ryan around our newest adopted home town.

It was a change of pace, a change of scenery, and a week during which I did zero work. That's about as much as you can ask from 2020.

A (masked) breath of fresh air

Despite what the president has to say, things aren't getting back to normal any time soon. So it's been a breath of fresh air to have one bit of my normal return: pole. Though I've mostly focused on aerial silks and lyra since moving to California, I've been doing these at a pole studio since Oakland became my home a year ago. Gyms are still closed for the foreseeable future, but by a stroke of luck my studio happens to have a backyard space and managed to fill it with outdoor poles. It's been a fun new challenge, learning to pole on equipment not secured at both ends, and doing so under full midday summer sun. There are also a few new accessories to adjust to: face masks and shoes (the latter to protect us from the "hot lava" sun soaked black bases supporting each of the outdoor poles). But more than anything, it's been a (masked) breath of fresh air, a small moment in my week when the non-work parts of my world feel like they've returned to nearly normal. I can't express just how much I've needed a little taste of normal.

Oakland, transformed

The airwaves are overflowing with the voices of people who haven't been heard for too long. There's not much that I should be saying right now. And what could I say? I'm sorry I haven't done more. I'm sorry I didn't know how bad it was. I'm sorry my grandparents benefitted from government programs that enabled them to enjoy the growing middle class, while our sisters and brothers of color were left on the sidelines. It wasn't fair and it still isn't. We need to make so many changes. I've been trying to do my part this past month, pushing diversity initiatives in the workplace (from recruiting more under-represented minorities in STEM to smaller things like our company's first annual Juneteenth picnic) and educating myself about systemic problems through films and books, all the while trying to avoid performative allyship. My community here in Oakland has been so impressive: brave, strong, resilient. I feel fortunate to be surrounded by people fighting to better our world. Activist-artists have turned the city into their canvas, and I absolutely have to share the beauty that's been born from the people's suffering. It's extraordinary to see the city transformed into a living art exhibit. Maybe, just maybe, there's reason to be hopeful that the changes we need are coming.

Interesting times

May you live in interesting times. Though said to be an ancient Chinese curse, its origins in the English language date back to just the twentieth century. 2020 has certainly reached "interesting" status, though to be fair, interesting has generally been par for the course since Nicolas and I first met. We're both on our fourth job and our sixth apartment in as many years. We were finally poised for things to start getting boring, what with us each finally in a good place professionally, in a city and apartment we like reasonably well, when the pandemic hit. May we live in interesting times.

After two and a half months of working from home, I'd file a return to the office under interesting. That this return happened suddenly when a fire was lit under our asses, informed that we had 48 hours to save everything, more interesting still. It was the first time I packed an overnight bag to go to work. I really didn't need to cap the week off by getting trapped in the office while highways were closed and sketchy reports indicated my adopted home town might be up in flames. While those reports may have been somewhat exaggerated, the sounds of sirens, gunshots, and police helicopters that lulled us to sleep these past two nights were all quite real.

The death of George Floyd at the hands (knees) of police this week has set off a nation-wide fire storm that feels long overdue. The photos of the expressionless demeanor of the cop kneeling on Floyd's neck, calming snuffing out a human life, only shock more over time. Look how routinely he treats the murder of a man not even accused of a violent crime. Look at the long list onto which we tack Floyd's name. Look at what it means to be black in America, in case life wasn't hard enough without the color of your skin calling all your moves into question.

Reposting powerful images on social media feels like a flimsy way to signal support.

I've struggled with how to tell this story. On one hand, it isn't mine to tell. Coming from a place of privilege, I've got to take the back seat and just support my brothers and sisters of color.

Black Lives Matter

On the other hand, the protests become, in some form, everyone's story when cities across the country impose curfews. It gets even more personal when the protests get highjacked by looters like the ones who destroyed Nicolas's store last night. That store has been a godsend, giving him an opportunity to stay connected to his home country and valued for his fluency in French and French culture, since the international company is headquartered in France. This was a store that had only opened last year, that had yet to turn a profit. A store whose future became much less certain with the arrival of the pandemic. A store whose future looms large after last night's events.

As the great philosopher Yogi Bera once said, "It's tough to make predictions, especially about the future." Nicolas's professional future seems especially tough to predict from where we stand today, picking up the pieces.

I don't want to ask for pity: things can be replaced, lives can't. I know. Now isn't about me or Nicolas or anyone else who's been able to live life without fear stemming from the color of our skin. But for two people who've bounced from job to job and city to city, two people who seemed like their lives and their finances were finally getting on track, this just sucks. And I know it sucks worse for others. But watching your livelihood get ransacked, watching cops get overwhelmed and just give up as the crowds take over your workplace, that hurts. There is just so much hurting, and I don't know what will make things better. But I'd like to help. Maybe that's all we allies can say today.

I can't help but think back to one of the more thought-provoking questions from the okcupid questionnaire that brought me to Nicolas: Would you prefer good things happened, or interesting things? I always chose interesting. I'm not sure I knew what I was choosing.

Something blue, take 2

I may not be meeting any new people these days, but I did just say hello to one fabulous new friend. Rewinding a few years back, some months after we'd gotten married, my engagement ring 1.0 retired itself, as I'd shared back in 2017. The incident turned out for the best as I've since completely fallen for the cerulean shimmer of topaz. Alas, engagement ring 2.0 and I were also not meant to be. A chip in the main stone early this year announced the time to say goodbye. After exhausting myself scouring the internet during every work break these past couple weeks, I declared victory with a design that looks sturdy enough to last me more than just a couple of years. I can barely stand to take off my favorite new accessory at the end of the day. In the highest terms of praise I know how to lavish: it's just so sparkly. *Swoon*

Admiring how my new favorite accessory catches the light while out on my daily quarantine walks

(I know, sometimes I am such a girl.)

Silver linings

It's easy to see all the heartbreak that has come from the pandemic. Instead, I decided it was time to start finding my silver linings.

1. I now have a proper workspace! Necessity is the mother of invention, as they say. While I hadn't needed to move from the couch during the first month, degradation in hygiene conditions around the apartment that were beyond my control required a retreat to the bedroom starting in week 5 of the lock-down. And so, lock-down be damned, I managed to acquire a new console to convert my antique school desk into an L-shaped work surface that enabled me to migrate to a less fragrant corner of the apartment, with better posture to boot!

My gorgeous new workspace, complete with the world's most helpful colleague

2. Our cats have learned a new game. New routines have been introduced under quarantine, including a chase/fetch the treat game, through which the cats have been learning all sorts of new rules of physics and spatial awareness such as, when a treat disappears under a door, you can run around the door to find it. And they've also become much more attuned to how to swat treats mid-trajectory to beat their arch-rival. Mars is getting to be unusually dextrous with his food. (I'm wondering if I won't regret those new skills I've been training in him.) Chat has also learned to hesitantly trust my calling her and tapping my foot on the ground, even if she can't see the treat that I'm flagging.

3. Desserts! Now that Nicolas and I are finally eating meals together for the first time since, oh, 2017 (because under normal times, my job feeds me all my meals 5 days a week), well, I can't pretend that I am of any use in the kitchen, BUT I have gotten us into the habit of finishing each meal with a scoop of ice cream topped with freshly sliced strawberries, sliced by yours truly! (Seriously I'm so useless in the kitchen, anything is an accomplishment.) This is one trend I'm hoping we'll take with us out of lock-down.

4. Chat is finally dealing with her over-grooming, despite her best wishes. Now that I'm around to supervise, I have been able to safely dress her and guard her tummy against that enthusiastic, scratchy tongue.

And I really should note that I don't deserve to be "looking for silver linings": Our families are so far all safe and healthy. Nicolas and I are both fortunate enough to still have jobs and salaries, which is making our government stimulus check one sweet bonus, a bonus that we've been preemptively spending to support a handful of our favorite local bars and restaurants. It's frustrating to be spending sums that feel completely exorbitant only to realize what a drop in the bucket they are for our local businesses. The sensation of powerlessness, well, that's certainly not a silver lining. But I'd hate to try to turn the tables on this and list my ability to stock up on fancy booze thanks to the stimulus check as a silver lining-- it leaves me with the icky feeling that I'm somehow complicit with the sleazy politicians and the 1% who are getting rich off of all this economic hardship.

I was supposed to...

I was supposed to blog in March.

Accurate.

I was supposed to tell you how our months of efforts all paid off and California Berned. And did it!

I was supposed to tell you how California Berned, from LA to the Bay ✊🔥💙

I was also supposed to tell you how my chest tightened as the evening's results rolled in on my phone while I did the final Get Out The Vote laps around my Bay Area precinct. I was supposed to tell you how heartbroken I was to see so much of the country go another way. I couldn't believe it was just a week and a half since Bernie's third sequential popular vote victory (a historic first to kick off any party's primaries), a resounding win with nearly 50% of the vote, and in the first diverse state to vote. I could have told you it's Ne-VAH-duh, by the way, as the locals prepped me before the day I'd spent in late February canvassing across Reno. I'd have waxed about how the Oakland campaign headquarters, which hosted its closing party on my birthday, had become a second home and family. But by the time I was ready to write, the world had other ideas about what was relevant. Though reality was screaming for a progressive agenda, it no longer seemed like something I was supposed to write about.

This is how my 2020 looked up until mid-March. Smiles and hope and fighting for someone we didn't know.

And now, welcome to late March 2020 aka The End Times

Instead, I can tell you how it's now a day shy of four weeks since I went to the office. I'm quite fortunate that the office is still waiting for me when all this is over. Even Nicolas's managed to hold on to his job while his store let go the vast majority of its workforce. We're looking for ways to stretch our limited Bay Area incomes to support those more in need—Kiva loans to American businesses, a mail order of tea from a small Seattle-based tea shop, web orders from our two favorite local bars that could only be called exorbitant under other circumstances. But it all feels like a drop in the bucket, and I just wish there were better ways to help.

Who'd have thought our civic duty would involve stocking up on looseleaf and microbrews?

Like everyone these days, we've been reconnecting to friend networks while social distancing. If you can't leave your home, how very different is it whether the friend on the other end of the Google hangout is two Bart stops or nine time zones away? And since conversations can only go so far when we've all been up to pretty much the same thing for nearly a month, I've even made a Steam (online gaming) account, a step into digital nerding that Nicolas never expected from me.

Chat is experiencing her own version of social distancing, from her abdomen.

One upside of this whole crisis is that I've finally had the chance to take care of my cat and her psychogenic alopecia. After trying various creams and diet changes to stop her excessive licking, the vet left us with one last option: dressing our cat. On top of the uncontrolled feline rage, we were concerned that her attempts at escape might have led to her strangling herself while we were off at work. Now that the cat is no longer unsupervised, it seemed as good a time as any to break out the kitty wardrobe. For the past two weeks, poor Chat has been socially distancing from her own tummy, and is miserable as the rest of us. (But after nearly 3 years, her tummy fur is starting to return!)

The couch and my butt have been getting friendly.

Parking my butt on the couch with my laptop for days on end of coding can only go so far. After really seriously committing to this stay-the-fuck-at-home patriotism for a week or two, my legs needed to find a healthier balance. For the past week or so I've been getting some sun and fresh air on daily walks around Lake Merritt, where I've been trying to remind myself that, unlike everything else, spring was not canceled.

Somehow spring still hasn't been canceled.

I hope you too have moments that remind you that spring has not been canceled.