It is probably quite telling that when the news broke about Biden’s victory, I was talking about compost.

Yesterday morning I was out walking and talking to a friend who lives in Denver. Suddenly cars started honking everywhere.

Try to praise the mutilated world.

If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.

-Mother Teresa

I have never thought it was a good idea to put up a political sign in our front yard.

Clearly, someone is laughing at our 21st century arrogance.

Bill Bryson’s memoir, A Walk in the Woods, is about hiking the Appalachian Trail with his childhood friend Katz.

A million years and at least ten lifetimes ago, when the world went into shutdown and schools went online, teachers trying to negotiate this strange new reality were told “the most important thing is to connect with your students.”

“Every piano lesson starts with hand sanitizer and ‘What’s new?’” a young precocious student once told her mother in an innocent world Before Coronavirus.

It was the last day in the last week and month of what had become a long, exhausting semester of online piano lessons.

Life under quarantine is like one long migraine.

Yesterday should have been our spring studio recital.

I stopped looking at my calendar weeks ago.

It was the week before the studio recital last November.

This week we reached the point where we now have been sheltering at home as long as we spent traveling through Europe in January.

While there are so many things about online piano lessons that are a challenge, or simply impossible…

Two weeks ago, I had never heard of Zoom.

In the summer of 2003, we moved from Boston to Albuquerque, both a cross-country and a cross-cultural shift.

Our collective nervous system is shot, fried, spent.

Sometimes it seems like all I do, all day, every day, is count things.