I keep seeing that "historians say to keep a quarantine journal" and really...I am not sure how edifying my thoughts will prove one or five or fifty years from now. But, okay, sure: Today is day eight of semi-isolation. The last time I went anywhere of note was last Wednesday when I met my parents for lunch to celebrate my dad's 79th birthday. The night before, they'd attended a production of Jesus Christ Superstar in a crowded theater, which is always how you want to start your pandemic experience. I've also been to the grocery store, the pet store, and the dog daycare.
I have either mostly or exclusively worked from home since 2014, so that’s all fine. My job is good. My house has enough space that my husband and I can both work from home without being in each other’s faces. My dogs are annoying a lot of the time (one of them is a puppy so that’s just where she is in life right now) but our dog daycare is still open so we take them a couple of days a week.
So far I’ve made two loaves of bread and have started the dough for two more. I’ve made two pizzas from scratch, one batch of pad Thai, a loaf of double chocolate banana bread, roasted chicken breasts, a corned beef, colcannon, a pot of soup, and a Guinness chocolate layer cake with Irish whiskey frosting and chocolate ganache. I cook a lot under normal circumstances but literally what else is there to do? Eating cake for breakfast yesterday was not my finest hour (or…was it?) but also, fuck it. I mean whatever! I didn’t fill the pantry in this dojo for nothing.
Anyway this newsletter is going to serve as my quarantine diary. I’m just going to be upfront with you, there will not be a lot of #hustle #girlboss nonsense here so if you’re looking for that kind of thing, go hit up a Mormon momstagrammer or some ingenue who is still looking at the world through thick-rimmed Warby Parker lenses. There is space for all types of ladies on the internet, I’m just one of them. I’m cooking, I’m quarantining, I’m complaining. Welcome!