You bet it’s been a while. There’s something I have to tell you which, given your own circumstances, you may not know so you’ll have to trust me on this. It’s not all that easy writing a shallow blog in the middle of a pandemic. Don’t get me wrong. Even in the midst of this disaster, there remain ports in the storm. Places where you can escape reality. Suspend your disbelief for a little while. Glimmers of a time that may seem a lifetime ago. Like Hallmark which, in the midst of all the current chaos, has held up their end of the bargain by releasing one love fest movie after another. I mean who doesn’t want to escape reality for a couple of hours watching a handsome young Prince fall in love with a beautiful, albeit common woman, against the better judgement of his most ardent protectors. Sure there’s a little turbulence along the way but it’s all hunky dory in the end. Like that would ever happen in real life. Or a young photographer who is chasing mythical waterfalls but literally falls head over heels in love with a very grounded and handsome, in a rugged sort of way, trail guide. Sure these remarkably familiar flicks can get a tad tiresome but fortunately Hallmark has now come out with their own vintage wine which, I am pretty sure, means they acknowledge we will need a little “somethin’ somethin’’” to help us get through their Spring season, not to mention this seemingly everlasting pandemic of ours. Hallmark aside, what I am saying is, while our world has not become entirely bereft of these refuges, they are about as difficult to find as hen’s teeth. And I only put it that way because apparently it is possible to find a hen with teeth.
Now I’ve said this before but, in “Shallow Be My Name” fashion, I’ll say it again. Shallow people have feelings too. We can be happy or sad, empathetic, sympathetic, sorry, confused even surprised at times. Pretty much the whole gamut of emotions just like everyone else. Because like everyone else, I am heartbroken each time I turn on the TV, or read the paper, or wake up to the news on the radio to learn that more people than we had ever imagined have become sick and died from this virus. Who would have thought that one year later we would learn that the worst case scenario would not be the worst case. But here we are. Many of us isolating in our homes having not seen friends or family for what seems to be an eternity. Spending our precious time figuring out who can see/hear us and who can’t as we fiddle with technologies that we are led to believe are “user friendly”. We just haven’t figured out who those users are yet. It’s been a long haul for us all but, as they say, the light at the end of the tunnel is getting brighter. It’s true. Someone said that on the news just last night. So we hope. And are hopeful. In the meantime, it never hurts to try to put a smile on one’s face.
Which brings me to what I want to talk about today. Masks. We’re all wearing them. At least I hope we are. Here’s what I would like you to do. Think back to when this whole thing started. You remember. When you were lined up for toilet paper and finding Lysol wipes was like finding a needle in a haystack. Which, I understand, is slightly more difficult than finding a hen with teeth. But I digress. Think about masks back in the day, as some like to say. The first thing that’s likely to come to mind is not actually being able to find any. Hard to imagine these days but there was a time when you couldn’t snag one of those blue puppies for love or money. Not even quite a lot of money. They were simply nowhere to be found. If you did manage to find any, you guarded them with your life, because it was your life they were guarding. Admittedly they weren’t pretty but they worked and we could get our hands on them if we really tried. And then this happened.
I first noticed things changing while watching Ms. Pelosi in those United States of America. Can’t say when for sure but I do recall one day remarking that no matter what she wore she had a mask to match. A little blue in her jacket, a little blue in her mask. Florals complimenting florals, plaids enhancing other plaids. I should have known something was afoot right then and there. Next thing I know my fav clothiers were adding masks to their repertoires. It now appeared that I could order a mask/sweater combo. I was beginning to realize there was an apparent need for me to acquire a more diverse mask wardrobe. From that moment on the whole “masks as a fashion accessory” just exploded. No longer were we satisfied with the two pieces of a bikini. Now we were offered the trikini designed to cover our most and least private of parts. It wasn’t long before I noticed there were walls of masks available at my local dispensary, everything from solids to florals, understated to overstated, lbm (little black masks) to full out, rhinestone adorned, velvet evening masks. Seemingly there was no longer any excuse for a fashion faux pas when it came to masks.
Perhaps however, the most telling experience I had was standing in line at the grocers. A young woman at the next till called out to me from under her mask. At first I wasn’t quite sure what she was saying, what with the mask and all affecting my hearing. Had I accidentally cut in front of her? Was my milk leaking onto the floor? Did I somehow mistakenly pick up the non-organic zucchini? Did she like my new hat as much as I do? Nope. It was none of those things. My new friend was complimenting me on my mask. She loved the design on my mask and she just wanted to let me know. Hmmmm. Masks as a fashion statement. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s not all that difficult to find those refuges in this storm of ours.
As a shallow person you might expect that I would be inclined to wholeheartedly embrace the latest and greatest trends and crazes that have popped up sporadically over the past few decades. Seems to me that makes some sense. I mean following the crowd simply to avoid the “Fear of Missing Out” should rightfully be an integral part of a shallow person’s disposition. Embedded in the DNA. But not this shallow gal. To be frank I have lived a life that, while not exactly dancing to my own drum, does try to avoid falling prey to the flavour of the day. Just ask my sister-in-law. She’ll tell you I wore my high-waisted “Mom” jeans long past their due date. And now that they appear to back in style there are none to be found in 
Please don’t get me wrong. I’m not insinuating that any of you are shallow just because you read this blog. I know that many of you (and by all accounts there are “many” now) just want to know how the other percentage (small as it may be) lives. You’re curious and that’s ok. I mean, from the very beginning it’s what this blog has been about. At least I’ve always thought of it as a little window into the life of a shallow person. Sometimes you can see your reflection in a window, sometimes not. I suppose it all depends on how the light falls. Having said that, something has recently happened to me that I would bet my bottom dollar has also happened to you. Because, like me, I’m guessing that each and every one of you attended elementary school. And this comes as a result of that. 
As the writer of possibly one of the few blogs on the internet that openly celebrates the rather maligned state of “being shallow” I have always felt it important to share with those who are interested, how to traverse this one little life of ours on the shallow side of the road. No doubt, those of you who have been with me from the beginning, can recall the helpful life lessons presented in posts like 
Shallow Be My Name 