2020.
We toasted a new decade. Our nephew turned 1. The Chiefs won the Super Bowl. Then things started to get weird…
I remember the last “normal” thing I did before everything changed. I met up with my friend Jess to get coffee at Rochester Brewing off Southwest Trafficway. I had a chocolate donut and we sat on a green couch next to the front window. The board games that usually sat out for patrons to play weren’t there anymore and the collection of kids toys in the back corner weren’t out either. Instead, there were pieces of computer paper taped in their places that said due to COVID they would no longer be available.
By that time, the fear and uncertainty of the impending lockdown was in full effect. The mayor was already making plans for the city to shut down the following weekend and COVID was basically dominating all conversation. What would things would look like in the coming months? Were we going to get sick? Was there seriously going to be a bar-less St. Patrick’s Day? Would churches have Easter with no services? How long was this all going to last?
I think it’s safe to say that COVID surpassed all assumptions.
If you ask Doug to sum up 2020, he would tell you that it was basically just washing and putting away dishes. I’d probably agree. I remember making a New Year’s resolution the year prior to “make more dinners at home.” It lasted about two months before we were over it and eating out became a regular thing again. But, once lockdown started in KC at the end of March, we made every single breakfast, lunch and dinner at home for a solid five months. We made Indian food from scratch, beefing up our pantry with all manner of spices we had never owned before. We baked every single iteration of bread we could think of - tortillas, pretzels, pizza dough, cinnamon rolls, biscuits, et al. We smoked ribs and briskets and roasts. At one point, Doug came home with a sous vide and by that point, we were cranking out stuff we would never have entertained before eating out was no longer an option. We prepped, we cooked, we ate, we cleaned up, and we did it all again the next day.
With only ourselves for entertainment and company, we went through a brief puzzle phase - until puzzles and games started getting sold out everywhere. We moved the coffee table into the hallway and did living room workouts - until our concrete floors made our lower backs and kneecaps protest. At one point I threw a toddler tantrum after losing Scythe (a maddening and addictive board game) for the millionth time. I broke out the sewing machine once the mask mandate became a thing and most evenings were spent on our back deck drinking beers that the liquor store delivered. We’d grill s’mores and talk about how crazy the summer was going to be once things opened back up and we could flock to breweries and bars and our favorite restaurants again. Little did we know we would spend our summer much like our spring and the coming fall and winter.
Doug’s company went fully remote, so he was working at home full time and since I’d been benched at the station with about 3/4 of the staff, I basically became a full time dog walker. I’d take them out for separate walks in the mornings and afternoons and call random friends and family members to chat and check in because most of us were either jobless or working creative schedules from home.
In Kansas City, we lived on a major traffic way. Cars would come and go at all hours of the day and night. Sirens and crotch rockets were prevalent features added in to the symphony of road noise that was basically the soundtrack of our lives, but once lockdown kicked in - all traffic basically became nonexistent. I remember one night we were watching TV and we heard this laughing and shouting coming from the front yard. A group of kids were running drills across the divided highway and laying down in the middle of the lanes because there were zero cars on the road. It was the strangest thing. It lasted for quite a while, too so I decided to capitalize on the absence of constant ambient road noise. Since I couldn’t work on any projects at the studio I was renting, I cleared out the upstairs closet and converted it into a recording booth. My equipment sat on a stack of cardboard boxes, the doors didn’t hang flush, and - once all the “sound treating” was completed, AKA: once pillows and packing blankets lined the interior - the entire space had about a shoulder width depth. Hardly ideal, it was basically a padded hot-box with no ventilation but it got the job done and I got to stay busy narrating audiobook projects until the traffic picked back up towards the fall.
We did spend some time with my family in South Dakota over the summer and with Doug’s family in KC for a belated Father’s Day sausage making class at the Local Pig. We also went camping with our COVID bubble friends Jordan and Rebekah at Indian Cave State Park in NE, but most of our time was spent at home or meeting friends in driveways, on porches and swinging in hammocks at Loose Park (I found an excellent grove of socially distant shaded trees that were perfect for catching up on hot, sunny days). We did attempt a summer garden. Doug built a set of raised beds (complete with an irrigation system) after he tilled up the ditch out back behind the garage. We planted strawberries, green beans, cucumbers, lettuce, peppers, potatoes and pumpkins. It was fun to go out every morning and see how much each plant had grown and see new sprouts come up! The romance soon faded after birds and neighborhood squirrels began to ransack the fruits of our labors. By the time August rolled around, the only thing that hadn’t been swiped or dug up was one lone jalepeño. I had pureed a bunch of strawberries on National Margarita Day so we could have strawberry jalepeño margaritas later that evening. I remember pulling into the garage that afternoon, visually confirming that the pepper was still there and carrying the groceries into the house. After I put the groceries away, I went out back to pick the jalepeño and it had been plucked from the plant, BITTEN INTO, and discarded in the mulch a few feet from the garden box. A squirrel had - in the time it took me to put away a few bags of groceries - ran along the fence, swiped the last remaining produce from our failed garden, bit into it, decided it didn’t taste good, and threw it to the ground. I may or may not have went on a mini rampage after that…
Aside from a few minor annoyances and inconveniences, we made it through the year mostly unaffected with our health intact while retaining the bulk of our employment. We also packed up and moved out west to the foothills, but I think I’ll save that story for another post. We are grateful that last year wasn’t overly detrimental and feel very fortunate that we evaded the heartache and hardships that many others experienced. It’s been a historic year to say the least and we are remaining cautiously optimistic that this year won’t be as isolating and socially distanced as the months go by. But, until we can get together and catch up in person we’ll keep the Monthly Malarky updates coming! Next time I’ll share the story of our move and share some pictures of the fun we’ve been up to out here in CO.
Hope you’re staying well! We’ll chat soon.
