My time on Maui a month ago seems almost like a dream now. So much has happened since then. Meg and Ari treated me to lots of special things.

A very-early morning birthday snorkeling adventure was magical. We left the house in the dark and drove to Makenna and waded out to board our catamaran.

Hot coffee, fruit, and pastries got us going as we sailed out toward Molokini. We immediately saw breaching whales.

Meg and I had visited the new whale show at the aquarium at Maalaea the day before where we felt like we were beneath the surface, swimming with the whales.

We pulled on our gear and dived in. There is something magical when the water is warmer than the air. The fish were waiting for us.

We reboarded to a full, hot breakfast waiting for us as we headed to Turtle Town. On the way, we were entertained by whales and dolphins playing along side our boat.

Maybe it all seems like a dream because it was.

However, these days it more a matter of behavior and not so much about feelings.

Got these pointers — in bold — in an IM from Kate this morning. My thoughts, not bolded.

1. Keep track of something. Maybe snap pictures of the birds who bless you by coming to your feeder. If you don’t have a feeder, order one.

2. Keep a routine. Brush your teeth. Make your bed. Feed the dogs. Fill your bird feeders. Do your work.

3. Celebrate the stuff that matters, rather than the stuff you’re supposed to celebrate. None of the furries threw up during the night. I got early-morning communications from some folks.

4. Embrace the grumpiness. Just own it but put a time limit on it.

5. Use movies as a mood adjuster. Think “Princess Bride” and anything Bollywood. Not “Ozark.” or “Little Fires Everywhere.” Reese Witherspoon’s character is too annoying.

This morning, a few old Episcopalian women from my neighborhood are going to march around St. Paul’s waving branches (no palm trees at this latitude!) and ringing bells, probably in the rain while observing social distancing.  Then I’ll  drive over to Freddy’s loading dock to have my weekly order loaded into the back of the Subaru.  ( I own it that I am missing some of my besties who work at Freddy’s.)

Then what I need NOT to do this afternoon is bake oatmeal cookies and eat the entire batch!

I can be pretty sanguine about this plague. I don’t need to get to work. My little Social Security check hits the bank on the same day every month. No one depends on me for anything. It’s easy for me to do my assignment and just stay home.

And then something hits home.

See this map? See that big red patch way out in West Texas? That’s the Permian Basin, our country’s biggest oil-production patch. It’s mostly “staffed” by itinerant field workers who live in “man camps” during their work week and travel home to their families on their days off. 

Last time I flew from Denver to MAF, everyone on the plane but me was an oilfield worker getting back to work. Looks like they’re still doing that. This is how that killer is spreading. This is how it got to my isolated little home town where my mother lives all alone in a nursing home because visitors are forbidden now and where my retired sister delivers bag lunches to school children whose school is shut down.