Carnes: What do we do now?
Don’t ask me, I ain’t a doctor.
But if you’re asking me how to survive in Happy Valley on a day-to-day basis, I’m happy to share what my bride and I are doing, as long as you don’t ask me to get too personal (she’s watching over my shoulder at the moment).
Provided you have plenty of food, a working internet connection and are not freaking out (yet) about paying April’s rent or mortgage, then here’s what we’ve been doing to make it through each day so far.
We’ve only lived in upper Wildridge for a few years now, but have never seen the throngs walking the “Wildridge Loop” that we’re witnessing daily.
A 2.7-mile loop with “challenging” vertical in a few spots, we’ve only missed one day, and see new people every time. Everyone acknowledges each other, but few stop to talk, and of course, none greet too closely.
Speaking of “social distancing,” you can rearrange the letters to spell “Dancing Socialist.”
Makes me wonder if anyone, probably south of here, is calling it “Capital Distancing” so they don’t have use the “S-word.”
For that matter, I look forward to those sticking to their guns by refusing to deposit the upcoming checks from the “damn gov’mit” or show any signs of empathy by perhaps using the money to support local businesses.
We’ve had restaurants do a few deliveries for dinner, which is something we’ve rarely done in the past.
Looks like quarantine shaming is becoming a thing. That sucks. I hope it doesn’t happen around here as people are on edge enough as it is.
Anyway, let’s see … we’re not eating crap, aka comfort food, because we do not wish to gain weight over these next few weeks, but she is forcing new recipes on me daily, which have actually been great, so far.
Did I mention she’s watching me craft this column
Her brother flew into LAX from Chile last Saturday morning, and breezed straight through immigration and customs without so much as a screening of any type, not even a question of, “Where ya’ been?”
Jimmy Fallon on “The Tonight Show” has been a pleasure to watch each night, as he’s doing it from his home and using his wife to run the camera and kids to run around in the background being ridiculously cute.
Although we certainly can’t participate due to mutual “plumbing issues,” it’ll be interesting to see birth rates around the country this December.
Divorce rates will probably skyrocket way before then.
It is bizarre seeing absolutely no lights anywhere on Beaver Creek mountain at night, but it still looks pretty in the daytime.
Did you know “self-isolation” can be rearranged to spell “looniest fails?”
It can also spell “toenail fossil,” so use your own judgment.
RIP to Rod Powell. I’ll never forget Stephen Stills walking up on his stage at Pepi’s about an hour after a Crosby, Stills & Nash concert at the amphitheater the summer of either ’89 or ‘90, and the smile on Rod’s face as they played a few tunes.
I last saw Rod at the end of the 2019 season in Beaver Creek, where he joined the stage with Shannon Tanner, Steve Wickum and Brad Quayle.
It was wonderful, and Rod will certainly be missed.
We talk to our kids daily, with one in Denver, one in Utah and another in Washington.
They’re doing fine, like we hope the rest of you are.
And so are we.
Richard Carnes, of Avon, writes weekly. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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