My son's girlfriend Maria, a pediatric emergency nurse, received her vaccine last week, as did my brother-in-law, a gastroenterologist. They both reported sore arms. They both said the discomfort was less than for a flu shot.
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Tuesday brought SW Iowa our first real snow. This delivered a lovely blanket of hygge: fuzzy socks, scented candles, wonderland views through the snow-crystal windows.
This COVID year should have dampened my enthusiasm for holing up on a snow day. But it hasn't. I loved the extremes of cozy and energized today. I alternated snuggling in to read of a couple of really good books* with heart-pounding shoveling to clear the walks for my favorite person (the UPS man).
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I also graded Journalism final projects (not done yet...) and turned my eye to second semester.
I do love a new start.
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It's New Year's Eve now. This afternoon Ken, an active member of our church community, died of the COVID he'd battled for the past two weeks.
I have not attended an in-person church service since March. Dan has gone twice this fall, and both times Ken was there, ushering, greeting the scaled-down, masked congregation.
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I pulled out the church photo directories tonight in an effort to place when Ken and his wife had moved back to Atlantic.
As we flipped through the photos, we slipped back in time.
Here we are 30.5 years ago.
Please excuse (or clap for) my hair.
I was half the age I am today. We had only three of our (eventual) six children.
In my best-case scenario, this shot captures me at 1/3 of my life.
The scary thing is that it only took an eye blink to move from that photo to now.
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I called my dad this evening to play Bridge. He politely declined, explaining that he and my mom were reading a book together and wanted to finish it tonight. (Is there a deadline?) Always the night owl, he said he planned to stay up to midnight and greet 2021.
Me?
Dan and I are watching the Pete Souza documentary. He's in the recliner. I'm on the couch. I'm eating popcorn. We hope to stay awake until 10.
Happy New Year.
Enough.
Be well.
Write.
Allison
* The Mothers and Anxious People
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