After Bruno passed on Feb 23, the pain was enough to drive us from the house, to visit Manhattan, Montclair, and Philly on successive weekends. It was at a surprisingly crowded indoor brunch spot at Faubourg Restaurant in Montclair on a late winter Sunday that we think COVID finally caught us. By March 18, Andi had a sore throat, cold-like symptoms, and although our tests that day were negative, I came down with chills and aches suddenly on March 23. The negative tests made me think it was the flu, and stupidly, I went into work that Thursday. On a FaceTime call with Natalie that Saturday, she suggested I get tested and sure enough. The horror of my being the subject of conversation at an all-employee meeting was less than the stress that I might have sickened someone and I didn’t sleep well until everyone I contacted tested negative. And these days with so many open positions on my team, I couldn’t take any time off. I conducted a virtual 2-day audit in the full throes of the disease, lungs burning with each deep inhale, coughing frequently, and a brain that felt like it was covered under 20 feet of motor oil. By the following weekend, the symptoms had subsided somewhat, but some others had arrived: a headache, fatigue and feelings of dizziness or lightheadedness. The fatigue and dizziness have persisted. When we finally got Finnigan on April 8, a short walk in Mercer County park the next weekend produced such a strange lightheadedness that I could barely stand, seeing spots in a shrinking field of vision. Same when walking last Saturday and mowing the lawn yesterday. Tomorrow marks 4 weeks since the onset of symptoms and I fear I’m not getting over this anytime soon. But there’s hope in the mRNA vaccine and I’m getting my shot tomorrow. If things keep going this way, I’m not sure I’m going to be myself again.

And yesterday, New Year’s Day, it was Hair by Little Mix (feat. Sean Paul).

Yesterday I slept in till about 10:30 (yikes!), did a short workout and a run, then tried to do some work before making homemade Ramen, getting on a Zoom call with Andi’s parents and watching an episode of the Soprano’s.

I am so grateful for every January as a time to recompose without feeling the need to drink. With Andi, I’ve come to see that most of the people I look up to most are those who have given up the drink (or who never even started). Last year I tried to practice equanimity, but it turns out that’s hard when you’re dealing with fatigue, anxiety or self-criticism (sometimes all at once) as a consequence of drinking. So fuck that. Bring on possibility.

Hi Ron and Deb!  

We’re home from our first east coast adventure, a trip to the Pocono “mountains“ and it was great!  

Andi found a very quiet AirBnB, the part time home of a female author (who once lived in Michigan), so there were all sorts of good books and a fully stocked kitchen. We passed a roadside farm stand on the way up Friday night and got some sweet corn which we grilled alongside “fratwurst.” There were at least 5 deer in the wooded lot next to us as we ate, and Bruno just stared, knowing from experience he’d never catch them anyhow.  

Andi made a big breakfast the next morning and we made plans to meet at a trail head about 30 miles away.  I took off on my bike and made a few wrong turns, so it ended up being more like 40 miles.  And while the Poconos aren’t really mountains (think the bigger hills just south of Traverse City), the ride was a challenge, but beautiful.  There were small dams holding back small lakes, low, old stone bridges, and wooden buildings so close to the road they must have been put there before cars arrived.  Many of them had been boarded up though, once-bustling places like the Sterling Inn that closed before COVID, though I’m sure the pandemic will shutter many more places before it’s over. 

We met at a hiking trail and did about a 4 mile loop that took us by a waterfall. It’s been a dry summer out here, so there wasn’t much water, but it was super relaxing and cool just the same. We got an outdoor drink on the way home at a near-empty place called The Indian Lake Inn, where the locals in the bar had given up on masks and a round of wine and beer cost $7.50.

Our dinner last night was pasta with a pesto Andi made with basil from our own garden and a wine we learned about on our trip to the Loire River Valley in France. We talked about life and our place in it, and in the quiet of crickets and cicadas, gave thanks for everything we get to enjoy. We think the puppy enjoyed it too; he refused to get in the jeep when we were leaving this morning.

It kind of sucked we couldn’t be together on our anniversary this year, but this trip made up for it.  And as with every anniversary, we thanked you both for hosting what remains to this day the best party we’ve ever attended.  

The first full, not exclusively unpacking weekend on the pond. Friday night a spectacular black pepper bucatini, Saturday our first dinner out at the Meeting House, and tonight the best veggie fajitas. Breakfast yesterday was a very authentic Spanish tomato purée on toast with olive oil and salt and I still found it necessary this morning to show Andi how to pour water from a larger plastic jug into a smaller one. The whole time it was oppressively hot and sticky humid. Biking to get Westy after finding a ChargePoint beyond the county park and this morning on the Trolly line with Bruno were both sweat-pourers. As we worked with the Best Buy in-home consultant to get our AV situation squared away, I lost track of the fact that I had a COVID-positive employee in California who couldn’t leave his hotel room there.

Woke in a hotel in Macedonia, OH Friday, the day after finally leaving home. On Wednesday, the movers were supposed to have arrived between 10 and 1. By 1, the new heating and AC were installed, But no movers. This post was started last Saturday, and it’s been a whirlwind ever since. Now I’m a little boy in Spain playing pianos filled with flames.

Out on a walk with Bruno, maybe the last one here for a long time. The past few days have been a blur of packing, and contractors and sweating details, like: which day will the movers be coming? Last night, I washed the screens and drink beer while the fireflies came out and finished while there was still light in the sky at 9:30. Then even more packing, the closets upstairs while Andi and I listened to American Utopia. Framily came over on Sunday, along with the neighbors and like so many of the days lately, it was gorgeous. It was so good to see everybody there relaxing, just like always, the easy reconnection even if we hadn’t seen each other together since the before times, maybe even since New Year’s Eve? Except there was no Mia then, the smiliest and most chill of all Covid babies. John and Al with the surprise visit, all the way from Chicago, stories about being in a new place and the disappointment of living in a neighborhood where everything was still mostly closed. James and Ryan Sanderson sharing stories of Saginaw women, Dan and Laura the same thankfully and Charlie and Lucy, kids playing with neighbor kids, spying on the adults, taking turns using the hammock as a swing.

The nice thing about the movers flaking today was the trip I got to take with Natalie to get carry out Mani for dinner tonight, tunes playing through open Westy windows. When I was cleaning up the yard for party Sunday, I thought, ‘this is it, times up, that’s all what I’ve been able to get done these many years,’ and it’s the same with Natalie. Fully on her own, nothing more needs saying. Though that didn’t stop me from trying again tonight to tell her how much I love her.

Fuck. Woke this morning early to do more work, after missing out on a last-night-at-home dinner with Natalie and Andi because of work. Natalie finally placed my Mancino’s on the floor outside the study before taking off to spend the night with Ebba. Just fuck.

All week moving through the space of this home, watching sunlight strike sideways at summer angles on unexpected surfaces. Looking into Natalie’s quiet and empty room. Getting rid of objects that hold memory when memories are already hard enough for me to retain. But the ones I do have of this place are beautiful and I will miss it dearly.

There’s no part of this experience that has me looking forward to this move. I’m just tired and really sad.

The last week, the sadbusy days, another night of short sleep after landscaping, lawn mowing, table tear-down, Andi just exhausted by the goodbyes, especially with her parents. Tax preparations again and still, 1-800 Got Junk pickup of kitty litter paint cans, rework of home insurance, work work, a call with Brian Aschenbrenner. Natalie is around here somewhere.

Today was the 10th Sunday in June that happened to be a Father’s Day in this house. When we first moved in, Natalie had just turned 8, and David was 11.

To ring in this Father’s Day, Andi gave me a gift of the Bonnie Light Horseman record on vinyl, gorgeous most soundtrack of quarantine and a card from Bruno thanking me for the pond I bought for him. The K’s came over in the morning and the rest of the day was farewell-for-now rounds with the Gorga’s. Each goodbye was sad if you let it, and we mostly chose to avoid, though I’ll not forget saying goodbye to Ron and Deb, tearful and from a distance. I hope our future selves will be so frequently acquainted that today’s goodbyes look like unnecessary drama.

The longest day of the year began at six am after being up till 1:00 sorting through stuff for the garage sale. We didn’t get too many people to show up but the ones who did were interesting. The sale was a fix for one hoarder, who took all the records and gave $5 for my leather coat and Marine Corps dress green uniform. Another lady had a couple of things picked out but put them down and gave an eye-roll thumbs up when she learned the money from the sale was going to the NAACP. Natalie hung out with us the better part of the afternoon and we picked up lunch together at Jersey Mikes. And Josh and Laura got married today, overcoming COVID to make the marriage happen on an island between their two countries.