After a week of chaos, the quiet of this weekend is unsettling. I don’t know if it’s getting back to Minneapolis from Denver, or that the weekend slows down the tap of news and market data, but things seem suspiciously subdued. It’s quiet. Like a normal Sunday. But this is a forced imposed quiet. Maybe that’s what I need. It doesn’t feel natural. I don’t know if I like it. And what you like isn’t always what you need. I will say it’s nice to see everyone washing their hands when they leave the bathroom for a change. …
By It Starts
Ozo coffee shop on Pearl St. in Boulder is the quietest I’ve ever seen it. All the tables are normally overflowing, and the cacophony of conversation covers up any of the ambiance. But today, half the tables are empty and I can clearly hear Dr. Dog playing over the speakers. So this is how it starts. Whether warranted or not, the fear has become very real, even in this landlocked city. And when the fear is real, the effects are real. I’m supposed to go to Germany next week for my daughters eighth birthday. I can feel that opportunity slipping away from me. Missing another birthday. That’s real. Someone in …