Each day I wake up, the rug is pulled out from under me again. Each day I wake up, I grow angrier and angrier at the incompetence of our president. His lies, his petty name-calling, his obvious narcissism are one thing. But he has brought unnecessary economic harm to our nation and his direct actions will have cost us hundreds of thousands of lives. It’s difficult enough being a democracy full of people who inherently don’t like being told what to do. It’s quite another for the chief “La La I can’t hear you” - our President - to be egging it all on.

(That’s a tip of the hat to the grim Japanese WWII film, “Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence” starring two legendary musicians, David Bowie and Ryuichi Sakamoto)

Just days after suggesting we could all go to church together on Easter Sunday - a cruel temptation that even Christ might have considered - the President extended his direction to stay indoors, from two weeks to six. Those of us who don’t normally listen to his babbling were not surprised; we’ve been looking at the facts instead, and at the charts provided by the New York Times and sourced by Johns Hopkins. There is no way to forecast when we will be out of this mess but it’s easy to see that the two coasts will probably be in it until Summer. I’m guessing the middle parts of America - the so-called “Red States” - should be a few months behind. Not to poiticise things, but that could have an effect on the elections.

I never used to be a germaphobe. One of my mentors, Yvon Chouinard, the founder of Patagonia and a man with whom I spent two years, famously takes a drink out of the local creek or river wherever he travels. The man is a walking vaccination. “I don’t recommend anyone start doing that now,” he cautions with a shake of his head. I too have felt the same way, on the belief that the more germs I’m exposed to, the stronger my antibodies become.

Our ‘walk to the water’ has been a near-daily constitutional. Actually we’ve been doing this ever since we moved to West Seattle and see no reason to stop now, though we are much more cautious when we encounter humans. However, dogs are another matter.

So … there’s been this nicely dressed young woman bundled up in a coat, mittens and muffler pacing our street corner non-stop for the past 48 hours. I mean, she has not left. Mostly, she stands poised to cross California Avenue, like she’s heading over to the 7-11. But she never steps onto the cross walk. She is quiet with dark hair and white sunglasses pushed up on top of her head. She rocks and walks and stares up into space. Her nose is red. Her forehead is red. The tips of her fingers are red. She has a paper ID band around one wrist suggesting a visit to Urgent Care or the hospital. We have called the police (non-emergency line) a number of times hoping that they will convince her to go someplace warm and safe. She has declined.

I’ve been looking at charts. This one from the New York Times makes me furious. How is it that virtuall ALL of the highly developed, first-world democracies in Asia (Japan, Korea, Taiwan, Singapore) were able to gain control over the pandemic so fast and so efficiently? Why are we not following their lead? Why are kids partying on the beaches of Florida and filling their bars? And why are the beaches and bars even open? All I know is those Asian countries have national health systems and their cultures are used to doing things for the greater good.

Ok now I’ve got the cold. Decided it might be a good idea to go out and get a thermometer, and some Nyquil. Went to five stores, including two groceries and three pharmacies. Nothing. Oh wait, I found Nyquil at the Rite Aid. Thanks!

Beautiful weather. Took the ferry over to Harper for the day. It was about 80% empty. We stayed in our car. Over at Harper, things seemed very normal, which means people were in their yards pruning bushes, kids playing in the driveways, etc. But very quiet. Took a walk on our normal route.

Another 7 mile run. Still feeling good. Fran is coming down with a cold. Lots of people out enjoying the sun. Some playing volleyball on the beach. That struck me as a bit strange.

I went for a long run. Then for a long walk. I checked in with Monica to see if she would be hosting her usual Monday “RBNR” (red beans & rice) dinner, a tradition for anyone who is from New Orleans. We had been away for three weeks and wanted to see the kids. Katherine said she ‘might be’ there. After some reflection, we decided it might actually be better not to go over. So the last time I saw my kids in a live situation was over a month ago.

Governor Inslee announced that all restaurants would be shut down but may remain open for take-outs. So it seems that the last restaurant we went to was in Phoenix airport.

We went for our usual walk from our home/office down to Alki beach and back up California Ave. All of the restaurants were open, including one of our favorites, Mia Posto. It seemed to be full of people. We thought this was a bit strange, given the recent talk of social distancing.

We drove back to Phoenix, dropped off our rental car, and flew back to Seattle. At the rental car agency, a ‘no touch’ operation was in effect. The agent just told us to leave our cars and they would charge us later.

The airport was not busy. Inside, we went to our favorite restuarant. It was half full. We noticed that the server sat us at a table that was not immediately next to anyone else’s. There was a definite, if informal, spacing going on. Our flight was half empty.

In the past seven days, the number of cases in the U.S. increased 4-fold, doubling about every three days. We’re starting to get nervous. Fran and I are a bit concerned about our flight tomorrow. Should we wear masks? (No, they will not stop anything from getting into your lungs). Should we wipe down our airplane seats? (Yes, definitely).

I got up and climbed the baddest ass butte around, Capital Butte, otherwise known as Thunder Mountain. I don’t know why. I just wanted to get up, up and away. Looking back, I have a better understanding of why. It was a stupid risk, with a high reward. Lots of stupid risks to come.