Remember from a day or two ago that one in every thousand Americans has died of covid-19? Here's another one for you: one out of 17 Americans has tested positive for covid-19. I know I do know 17 Americans, and since my mom tested positive, that's my one. Coming up with another 17 might be dicey. There's a reason I haven't really minded hermitting: I am more than a bit introverted.
Continuing with news of the novel coronavirus, new figures released by the Chinese Center for Disease Control reveal that the infection rate in Wuhan could have been 10 times higher than the official figure. Not to be outdone, Russia has admitted that their covid-19 death toll is more than triple the official number. Are they trying to keep up with or outdo us (the US) when it comes to covid numbers? They have a ways to go.
Finally, almost 1.3 million people passed through airports on Sunday, suggesting that Dr. Fauci's prediction of a surge upon a surge may indeed come to pass. Perhaps I should be thankful that neither I nor The Professor come from a family so tightly knit that holidays cannot be passed in nuclear family pods.
Moving on from the pandemic, someone in the business organization named for The Lame Duck has conceded that he will not, in fact, be inaugurated for a second term. The Washington, DC International Hotel bearing the surname of The Lame Duck has released the rooms it was holding for January 16-20, presumably for Duck supporters to attend the inauguration.
The week between Christmas and New Year's Day is always a slow one, but it seems especially slow this year. In several years, this has been the week in which The Professor and I journeyed to the north--Iceland or Norway--in search of the Northern Lights. Last year's visit to Newport News, Virginia, in search of its downtown was an aberration, but one planned because we would be traveling to three of the 'Stans in May. This year, neither Iceland nor Norway would be particularly welcoming, and even Canada is out of the question. (One year we do plan to search for the aurora in Yellowknife in Canada's Northwest Territories.)
I have been thinking about those pesky New Year's resolutions I always make. I never seem to get very far with many of them, though I am still doing the first one I consciously set some decades ago, which is to put the laundry away every night. Interesting how that keeps piles of folded clothes from multiplying in one's bedroom space. For many years, I set goals for working out a certain number of days each year. I think I succeeded at all of those, but when I think of such resolutions now, my aging joints remind me of just how old they are. I am, fingers crossed, about to make it through 2020 without major joint surgery. My major joints and even-numbered years share a history. In 2014, I had my torn right rotator cuff and labrum fixed. In 2016, it was the same on my left side. In 2018, I had my right knee replaced. I vowed then that the left knee was not to be done in 2020. Treating my right knee the way they advised me to after the replacement has taken strain off the left knee. It hurts less now than it did before the replacement.
I did start on a new creative venture last night, though I have no idea what it will end up being. Several years ago, The Professor gave me a set of kimono pockets obtained from Kyoto Kimono. A friend who went to her brother's wedding in Japan send me some silk pieces she bought there. The pockets were in most cases pieces sewn together with an opening, probably why they were called "pockets." I'm ripping the seams and making them all flat pieces, some of one fabric but most of two. I have a general idea what I might do with them, but I want to get them all flattened before I decide for sure. I expect I'll be back on this topic before the pandemic ends, so enlightenment may await.
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