I think the pandemic is putting a new spin on the Golden Rule: I protect you, you protect me. The way we do that is by wearing homemade facemasks.
It’s okay to cry. I’ve been feeling weepy for the past week as this moment in history punctures my psyche and warps my everyday life.
My age group is the bull’s eye of the corona virus and so many people are mired in fear. I am, too. That’s why Hunker Down is my new dance.
Sun exposure, age and genes predispose me to skin cancer, and I’m likely to have a reoccurrence of actinic keratosis. Fortunately, I’m rich and powerful, so I don’t have to worry about healthcare access and affordability.
Now we know Ben Franklin was wrong, the time is money formula fails to factor in both the benefit of happiness and the cost of unhappiness.
Enjoy them as a snack, grind them into flour for cookies, or surprise your guests by sprinkling them over the green beans.
In a few naked minutes I learned that self-diagnosis is worth exactly what you pay for it.