Just took another Covid test: for the third time, negative. So - a cold. I'm getting better, energy slowly returning. My son however is very sick with fever, chills, coughing. At Anna's household, she and the boys, luckily, are showing no symptoms. This thing is incredibly powerful. Soon we will all have had it and maybe, at last, herd immunity will kick in.
In the Star yesterday, there was an article on the new film Don't Look Up, a satire about how humanity is ignoring the urgency of the climate crisis and our need to drastically change our behaviour. Beside the article was a photograph of the blocks-long lineup of shoppers outside the Eaton Centre early on Boxing Day.
We are doomed.
It's gloomy out and has been for days. Chilly but not cold, which is of course not normal, with a sparse sprinkling of snow, unlike western Canada, which is frozen solid. On a walk before Xmas I saw buds on a magnolia tree.
I finished Patchett's Truth and Beauty, which I loved, and am now reading Autobiography of a Face by Lucy Grealy, the subject of Ann's book. Last night, watched a doc on Angela Merkel's extraordinary career and life. There is simply something solid, honest, and trustworthy in her face. What other politician can we say that about? Jacinda Ardern, and that's about it. They made the point that Merkel has maintained an amazing level of privacy in this very public world. She has never allowed the press into her home. Her husband is invisible, has never given an interview. Imagine that in America.
The cardinal on my deck! So beautiful, so very very scarlet. And a bully bluejay at the feeder. Time to fill it again.
I need to go out, need to move this wheezing body and get some air, and yet I don't want to. I want to sit in my kitchen chair with a blanket on my knees forever. As Lynn once said, "You're going to die in that chair." But not yet, surely. Not yet.
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