Herd Immunity. Even non-science types have a vague idea of what it means. Most of us realize it refers to the protection from viral infections when a large percentage of the population obtains immunity to it. A large immune population helps prevent the spread of the virus. But how is that immunity achieved?
According to the World Health Organization (WHO), the methods to obtain herd immunity used to be found on this web page. The page, titled Coronavirus Disease (Covid-19): Serology and dated 9 June, 2020, can be found on the Web Archive (Wayback Machine): https://web.archive.org/web/20201101161006/https://www.who.int/news-room/q-a-detail/coronavirus-disease-covid-19-serology
Who is your audience? The writing authorities advise us to pen our prose and poetry for others, or for that single make-believe companion sitting across the room, expectantly waiting to imbibe our enlightening words of wisdom. (Sometimes, I write to my plants. That counts, right?) Write about topics that our audience can resonate with. Adjust our voice so that it harmonizes with their expectations.
If you’re a blogger or earning a paycheck for your writing, there’s a pretty good chance you know who your audience is. …
I’ve been hearing statements like this lately:
“I know my problems are nothing compared to what you’re going through.”
“My loss isn’t as painful as yours.”
I say this with the greatest abundance of love: Stop it.
You see, I lost a child a couple of years ago. It is the most painful experience I believe anyone can go through and I struggle to put my grief into words. (But I try.)
When Nick first died, I accepted and required sympathy, condolences, and support from friends and family. Sharing it with others was important because, at the time, I could not do it on my own. …
I don’t care what it is. Sew. Cook. Paint. Throw pottery. Make a chalk drawing on your sidewalk.
Make a new friend.
It’s my New Day’s Resolution to make something today.
I don’t keep New Year’s Resolutions, so that’s something I don’t make. But I can generally keep New Day’s Resolutions. And if I can’t, well, there’s tomorrow.
I make dinner almost every day. I don’t consider bringing home a Papa Murphy’s Take ‘n Bake pizza making dinner, but my husband does. Your mileage may vary.
I make coffee every morning. I also make tea every night.
The feel of the soft yarn as it slides through my fingers. The rhythmic clicking of the metal needles against each other. The almost magical formation of an article fit for wearing from a piece of string.
I paused and examined the hat I was knitting, satisfied with the way it was turning out. I placed my project in my bag for the next time.
But the next time never materialized.
I’ve been knitting on and off for about 10 years. …
Hello, fellow introvert.
So, you want to write and share it with the world, right? You’ve set up your blog or your account at Medium. Now what?
I mean, after all, sharing your writing with an unfamiliar audience is kinda like stepping up on that stage while trying not to trip over the hem of your dress and giving the all-important speech while your confidence slowly ebbs away. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all…
No worries. I’ve been there. Heck, I am there. Every time I write something and hover that little arrow over the publish button, my introversion rears it’s feathery, azure-eyed head, and I tremble into a wobbly ball of anxiety. …
Snowpocalypse. Snowmageddon. The Great Bread Shortage of 2019. Whatever you want to to call it, Seattle is in the midst of if.
Speaking of bread, why is that the first section of the grocery store to become completely decimated whenever a zombie-apocalypse-type event is imminent? I mean, what’s wrong with apples? Or canned beans? Or potato chips? (Please, PLEASE don’t let all the potato chips be gone the next time I’m at the grocery store!)
And check out the baking isle. Shelves upon shelves of flour and yeast. Hmm…I wonder what those could be used for?
Mother Nature, I love you, I really do. But I’m getting a little tired of your crap. You’re beautiful and all with your soft, white dress and cowls of fluff around the limbs of trees. But it’s time to cut us some slack. …
The woods surrounding my home are teeming with wildlife: deer, birds, squirrels and the occasional bear or coyote. They’ve become part of the landscape, blending into the snow-covered trees in the winter and the bubbling streams in the summer.
I didn’t know any of them. Until the other day.
The day was wintry with a broad blanket of snow covering the ground. It was quiet and warm inside the house, my family engrossed in their own personal, solo activities.
But then a loud thud interrupted the peace. A wild bird had crashed into the window in the sunroom. As we watched him through the window, lying on his back in the snow — we thought he was dead — he suddenly flipped himself right-side-up. His tiny feathery face was covered in snow and a pile of grayish, downy feathers were scattered around him. …
The other day, I came across this tweet from one of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott:
If you’ve ever read any of Anne’s works, you’ll know that words seem to come to her as easily as I can burn a pancake.
But they certainly don’t come easily to me. Perhaps they don’t for you either.
But that doesn’t matter today. Today is about what Anne expresses in her tweet. Don’t think about it. Sit down. Open your laptop (or pull out your notebook and favorite lime green pen). Type (or write) words. One after another. They don’t need to be good. …
Well, the first month of the year is already gone. How are you doing on your New Year’s resolutions? Not so great? Me neither. In fact, I didn’t even make any. But I never make New Year’s resolutions.
I prefer New Day’s resolutions.
New Day’s resolutions consist of tasks, actions, activities and goals that I expect to achieve just for today. If I can make it through this new day succeeding at the goals that I have planned for myself, I consider it a win.
Then I’ll do it again tomorrow.
Some of my New Day’s resolutions are the same every day: Drinking a glass of water before having my coffee. Taking a walk. Reading for at least an hour. Feeding the sourdough starter. …