Full Disclosure

Full Disclosure: Turf War

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So, that was Halloween. Meh. I was expecting a bit more excitement for top-billing on a Saturday night, a Blue Moon and a bonus hour to sleep off my sugar hangover. Clearly, I was not fully prepared for this year’s low-key Halloween. 

If I had to assign blame for over-hyping last weekend’s festivities, I would point my finger squarely at the insane number of squirrels that have been celebrating Halloween on my front doorstep for weeks. Exploding out of quarantine in record numbers and with an unrelenting appetite for destruction, my furry frenemies have been rubbing their Halloween fun in my face for a month now. 

In early October, I purchased six overpriced, but locally sourced, pumpkins that perfectly expressed my positive, and hopeful, fall holiday vibes.

Full Disclosure

Full Disclosure: Red Light, Green Light

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When virus pandemania hit in March, I naively assumed a medical breakthrough would strike like lightning and set everything back to normal before too long. While not the quick restart that I hoped for, we are slowly babystepping towards a new benchmark for “normal.” 

And as with first steps, they are unsteady, awkward and often unsuccessful. With a few stumbles here and there, the kickoff to fall sports was a big leap in the right direction. I happily signed waiver-after-waiver to allow my son to play 7th grade football. My knowledge of legalese is limited, so I may have also unwittingly agreed to making my kid a living organ donor, but I’ll do whatever it takes to get him back into action with his buddies and follow necessary COVID prevention protocols.

News

Full Disclosure: The Coronacoaster

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Last month, Mother Nature confirmed that she has one sick sense of humor and doubled down on making 2020 almost unbearable. 

Sending an extreme weather event in the midst of our endless pandammit, I mean pandemic, was plain cruel. Tropical Storm Isaias was the ultimate pile-on. The five-day power and communication outage was kind of like driving home after an awful day and having an 18-wheeler swerve into your lane out of nowhere, cutting you off with its “How’s My Driving?” sign in your face. 

Not great. Your driving’s not great, 2020. I imagine the recent storm was especially unnerving for the droves of New York City transplants who have sought safe refuge in our quaint town.

COVID-19 New Canaan

Full Disclosure: Let’s Face It 

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As Connecticut slowly eases restrictions, I am happy to test the waters and get back to some semblance of living—even if it means that in order to leave my home I must cover my face like a botched plastic surgery victim. 

To break free from house arrest and re-enter society responsibly, I am armed with every sort of face covering that has to come to market. And since I am not one to shy away from accessorizing, my cache of enviable facewear is ready for serious action, and some mild interaction. 

Over the past few months, I have put my masks through rounds of stress tests and unusual scenarios to strike the perfect balance between safety and comfort. Gauging the perfect fit and feel is no easy feat, especially when you are not a fan of getting a steam facial with your own breath. Try cleaning the entire house with a mask on (to avoid a serious dust allergy), or attempt jogging through Waveny huffing your own exhaust. Been there, done that.

Full Disclosure

Full Disclosure: The Still Life

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Is it me or does it seem like someone pressed “pause” on life, then walked away with the remote control? 

To get a better handle on this, I decided to conduct informal, unsanctioned and entirely unscientific research. As the New Canaanite’s self-appointed resident scientista, I have concluded that time is passing, yet it is also oddly standing still. In order to mark said passage of time and measure this phenomenon, I find that looking in a mirror at my follicular “roots” is a good gauge. According to my hair-based metric system, it’s been two-inches-of-roots-ago since things have been normal around here. 

Though I follow the rules of social distancing, the concept is unnerving, and as unnatural as my former dye-job. The practice of doing little, planning nothing and going nowhere, all at the same time, is lonely (but important) work.