Behind the mask, I'm crying

Genius is such an overused word. Yet sometimes it is appropriate, perhaps even demanded. That day is today, after I followed a set of easy instructions in a YouTube video.

To be fair, before even departing on my journey to brilliance I had to drag Hannah's Granny's old mechanical sewing machine out of the garage and get it working. Employing a hammer, a lot of WD-40, and much swearing, the 1939 Singer was soon purring again. There's some debate in the family as to whether this is actually Granny's machine, as a second antique Singer exists, but I'm confident we have the genuine one; as I turned it I could hear Granny whispering "Do you really want to do it like that? I'm sure I know a better way." Or that might have been Hannah - it's a family trait that spans generations.

Then it was onto my real mission, and my reason for now feeling gifted and talented: I sewed a face mask.

As you're aware, these masks are a source of much debate. Can they really help halt the 'Rona? Evidence suggests they stop you spreading but not catching it. When Christine heard we were worried about visiting Florida in March she sent us some as a joke. Who's laughing now? But the main development is that our County Judge has deemed it mandatory, from Monday, for all of us to wear masks when out and about. I needed more than those supplied by the wonderful Christine, and I also wanted to look like someone from a computer game that me and Gaz used to play on his Sega in the early 90s:

But where to find a suitable pattern? I cleverly decided to try the Internet. Would you believe it, there are lots of face mask patterns out there! I picked one that looked not too challenging and jumped in. I then jumped out again to Google "how to use a sewing machine", but soon I was back, avoiding sticking a needle through my finger as I joined two pieces of flat cloth with wonky stitches.

The sun went down, the stars twinkled, and only a matter of hours later I was holding something that loosely resembled what the lady in the video had made. As dawn broke I presented my handmade couture. "Could I have one with Pikachu on it?" asked Pete. Of course! Then I made another that he sent to his friend Elena. A cottage industry/sweatshop has begun.

But what next? Well, Houston is trying to sew a million of these things to hand out, so I'll be attempting to provide at least 0.000001% of those. Then I told Hannah I'll make her a tailored suit! "I won't hold my breath," she said. She's right: you only have to do that if you wear one of my masks.

 Old but completely dependable after a little lubrication, just like...

Come at me now, virus!

Only custom masks are good enough for my boy.

Elena, can you breathe in there? Elena?!

Kindra modeling one of my later attempts, when I discovered that using matching-coloured thread can be helpful.

This user survived, at least.

From a distance

Having always been emotionally distant, it's quite nice to add social distancing to it. It's like completing a set in Monopoly! And so our lockdown continues. Talking of Monopoly, Pete spent some of his hard-earned money on a "Cheater's Edition", which involves stealing money from the bank, skipping out on rent, and surreptitiously moving other players' hotels onto your spaces. So all the things that happen in a normal game.

We managed a very biblical Easter, meeting behind closed doors like the disciples except now with more Zoom. Hannah arranged activities for Pete and Levi and Lexi, and although the egg hunt was virtual the chocolate was very real. Pete benefited from having no siblings to contend with when hunting for his candy, but did lose out when "parent tax" was levied. What? It's too dangerous for my usual post-Easter trip to the supermarket for cut-price peanut butter cups.

So things inside the house continue serenely, where my position as Principal/Janitor of homeschool remains relatively secure. The world outside continues to go a little mad, with plunging oil prices and talks of prematurely opening everything up again (although we Texans have been taking things seriously, so are looking quite good compared to projections). Of course, Trump has now announced that all immigration is banned but - like most of what he says - no one's sure what he means. Are we currently immigrating, so will be affected? Have we immigrated, so won't be? Grammar is important! Grandma is important as well, but that's a different story.

Socially distanced Easter activities. Perhaps I could use the back fence as a makeshift confessional! Neigbourhood gossip has indeed suffered in these times.

Even Pete admitted "maybe I ate too much sugar".

Parks were shut for Easter but roads were open and very empty. We had to swing by Chevron to make sure it was still there.

A virtual cub scout talent show!

Pete showed off his drumming.

Lots of things are hot and cross these days.

"You're a cheat!" accuses Pete. What's new?

Some visitors still insist on calling during lockdown.

Prison cut

I've been feeling smug about fitting a dentist appointment in days before our "Stay Home, Work Safe" order, as well as picking up a ton of toilet paper in an online deal before viruses were even a topic of polite conversation. Unfortunately there was one vital area that I'd managed to overlook: a haircut.

I'm at an age when a man's strengths are the same as his weaknesses. So while I can be proud that I still have a full head of hair in my advanced years, all this means is that I have hair everywhere. The hair growing down from my neck will meet the hair creeping up from my back which - weaving together with the wiry bunches pushing out of my nostrils and ears - will soon allow me to attend Halloween parties as a grizzly bear with no call for a costume whatsoever. The long and the short of it was I needed a barber.

But where? Hair dressers, along with nail salons and massage parlours, are about the only businesses deemed "non-essential" in Houston. There's also been a run on hair and beauty products in every reputable (open) store around here. Thankfully the Internet is full of disreputable stores, so I managed to source some secondhand clippers off ebay.

Pete, who has inherited all my worst genetic traits, went first, and I like to think I did a reasonable job. He complained that I wasn't nearly as good as the lady at Sports Clips but beggars can't be choosers. When it came to me my options were more limited. Hannah was working away upstairs, and doing it myself in a mirror seemed ill-advised. "You cut my hair so I should get to cut yours!" pointed out Pete with razor logic. So he did.

The results were...well, I'll let you judge. I didn't think it would turn out quite that short, but with several months to regrow before we're allowed out in public again I'm sure the silken tresses on my head - along with everywhere else - will have plenty of time to recover.

Without one of those nice hairdressing smocks I had to improvise.

The classic North East England cut.

Couldn't find any Yelp reviews for this place. How bad could it be?

Just a little off the top please.

"I'm done, Daddy!"

Plenty of this.

Conscripted soldier? Monk? Someone who just let his seven-yr-old cut his hair?

Ah! Long ago, when I was young and beautiful.

Drugs not hugs

On balance, this whole self-quarantine social distancing thing has been going quite well. I always fancied the ascetic lifestyle, and although my monastery was supposed to be high up in Swiss Alps, where we brewed beer and nobody spoke, with a fantastic sauna and hot tub with stunning views of the surrounding snowy peaks, and an on-site masseuse, our house in Houston is an adequate substitute to hide away from the current crazy world.

And then the coffee machine broke.

I don't bring much to my marriage, but I have been getting up at 6.30am every morning for the last 23 years and handing Hannah a coffee before she leaves for work. Without this small act I would have quickly found myself homeless, and many companies would not have received a tenth of the focus and energy Hannah brings, so I suppose I have been contributing to the economy somewhat. Now I had a crisis inside a crisis, a disaster that was very literally existential. This was not going to be good.

Luckily we limped on with the 17 other ways to make coffee we have in this house, but clearly none were going to administer a satisfactory caffeinated shot at daybreak. So it was with considerable panic that I scoured the Internet until I found an "open box" machine that could meet both my budgetary and technical requirements. It was still far too much money. Think of a reasonable amount to spend on a coffee machine. That's not what I paid. But while it seems crazy to buy things in a time of corona, if this isn't the moment to carpe the diem then I'm not sure when is.

Several agonising, low-intensity days later, the machine arrived. And it certainly arrived. The thing weighs around 90lbs, and took both of us to lift it onto the counter. It's curved. It's shiny. It hums quietly. And it MAKES COFFEE. Lots of coffee when Hannah's working from home. I purchased several pounds of beans from the legendary Blue Bottle in California and got grinding.

Luckily I'd just read an article about how at least four cups of coffee a day is the healthiest amount to drink. With all this virus around I've been taking no chances and drinking double that to be sure. It's amazing! My energy reserves are almost inexhaustible, Pete's homeschool is operating at 230% efficiency, and all the calcium from the milk in my lattes means my bones are unbreakable. Also, everything is vibrating and I'm hallucinating significantly.

But Hannah's satisfied again, which is all that matters. I completed my new setup with a smart plug, which I've linked to our Google Home speaker.

"I can just shout 'Turn the coffee machine on!' and it happens!" I excitedly explained to Hannah. She looked confused. "That's what I do anyway," she pointed out. "Where's the skinny double shot cappuccino extra foam I ordered? I've already waited two minutes." Thankfully, with the pure java juice flowing through my veins, I can now keep my wife happy faster than ever.

Shiny thing make it all better.

Special delivery.

The good stuff.

How to keep a marriage alive.

Quick homeschool break (Pete prefers a straight espresso).