The Kenney Family’s social distancing began 45 days ago, meaning we’re entering our seventh week of the whole family being home. We’re still not doing enough of the schooling of our children and boy oh boy is the idea of “limiting” screentime hilarious, but on another level it’s kinda nice.
Seeing these boys interact and be their own people and play and learn and grow together is something else. There will never be another moment when we get this kinda time with them, even if a lot of it is in the background while we’re trying to get work done.
Risked leaving the kids alone in the home office while I was on a conference call. Came back to find my mouse missing and three keys popped off my keyboard. Coulda been worse?
My first experience with Post Malone was a meme that said he looked like the 0.01% of germs hand sanitizer didn’t kill. I enjoyed his song off the Into The Spider-Verse soundtrack and noted a comment I heard from him on a podcast about how he could make his voice do this “Stevie Nix goat kinda sound.” Otherwise I haven’t given him much attention. That changed this weekend when he did a very respectable 15 song set of Nirvana covers with Blink-182’s Travis Barker to help raise money for WHO COVID-19 response.
I’m a little put off by his colorful language between songs, but more because that limits my ability to listen to this because of the kids being around. I tell myself. GET OFF MY LAWN.
An unintended consequence of this quarantine is a small growth of the vinyl collection. Spoon’s “Gimme Fiction” is coming up on a 15th anniversary this June, and grabbing that had me feeling like giving “Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga” a listen and remembering what a fantastic album that was. And while I was picking up other records I figured I’d get Beck’s best album “Sea Change” (followed closely by “Mutations”) which I’d been meaning to do for a while.
President Clinton would approve:
The 2 year old wanted me to draw his stuffed cat. So I did.
Then he wanted me to give him a sword. It kinda went downhill from there. Or uphill?
I’d started keeping a journal back when all of this began. And after a couple weeks fell out of it. Part because it read like the same thing every day: “Work. Boys were good. Everyone’s stir crazy.” Repeat. But then some heavy things happened that awkwardly made it difficult for me to feel motivated to write (usually it’s the opposite). I sometimes pick it up in the morning and put the date on the page with the intention of filling in the blank space below, but, lately, inevitably, the blank space gets filled with the date of the next day I pick it up.