Dear future hubster

Dear future hubster, I hope you're well. I really do. I never put this line in emails because honestly, why would the other person not be well, but right now, all I want to know first thing of everybody is whether they are ok.  I hope you have enough food even if it's getting boring, and toilet paper, or replacement. I hope you're safe, don't need medical attention, but would have access to it if you did. And I hope you have people to talk to, since we weren't smart enough to exchange numbers before this happened. I know there's this poem out there about the people staying home and reading and listening and exercising and healing. I know we're all trying to make sense of this all, put some meaning where there isn't any, because otherwise we might go crazy much faster. I know we're looking on the bright side and trying to make the best of a difficult situation. I just hope you know, hope we all know and don't forget to acknowledge that th...

Dear future hubster, since half of the world has already gone into lockdown and it's only a matter of time till the other half follows suit, we've heard truckload of advice on what to do and what not to do. Take care of the elderly. But preferably from a distance. Don't wear a mask, unless. Don't go outside, but stay healthy. Preferably active. Wash your hands and clean your phone and if you have a spouse and 4 or more children then sorry but somebody will have to leave. Get used to it but also don't give in. Find healthy coping mechanisms - which I'm afraid my neighbour thinks includes constant singing, and unfortunately they are not a good singer and our bathrooms are spookily connected so I can hear them through the pipes. What is healthy for one might be mildly unpleasant for the other. However. When you do all of those things and cook your increasingly boring meals and drink your coping mechanism liquor and watch all the documentaries available and...

Dear future hubster, as we finally, finally bid farewell to a January that was the longest in recent history, it feels as good a time as any to talk about resilience. What it is and what it isn't (note: this might be part of my upcoming TED Talk).  The APA will tell you that resilience is the process of adapting well in the face of adversity, trauma, tragedy, threats or significant sources of stress. Bouncing back, if you like. Note that it says: adapting well . Not easily, or with a smile, not even voluntarily. Maybe crawling back instead of skippy bouncing really.  If you read on, the APA also tells you that being resilient does not mean that a person doesn't experience difficulty or distress. Au contraire, they might be in major pain. Because - newsflash - if one has to be resilient, it's because they're dealing with something unpleasant at best. Realistically probably something difficult, hard, painful.  So if you thought that a resilient person is one wh...

Dear future hubster, when there is no church tower with a clock or a bell to strike twelve times to mark midnight, and the neighbours start their celebration half a minute before we do, and the fireworks go on ten seconds too early, you might hear your future wife shout something like "It doesn't matter! Time is a social construct!" while casually holding a glass of Veuve Clicquot in one hand, and waving to the jumpy neighbours with the other.  Now there are a few things you can do at this point. You can, for instance, be amused and proud, because who doesn't like a nerdy future wife (who also makes a killer lava cake and sports cat ears like nobody's business). Or, you can be slightly irritated and want her to stop talking. In which case you should proceed to kiss her to shut her up. It's midnight after all. 

Dear future hubster, during the yearly routine of watching Love Actually (after having convinced/outvoted Little P that this is better than the Grinch) I realized that there is a part that might very possibly be applicable to us. And it's not where you, returning politician tell me that I weigh a lot. And while I might find your British accent very cute (provided you have one), it's not where my four super sexy sisters and I invite you to stay in our tiny house where we wear no pyjamas either, sorry. But since the topic of accents came up: when we decide to make it official, and if you choose to discuss this matter with my family, you are probably in for some linguistic hurdles in the style of Jaime and Aurelia. While they will certainly appreciate your (supposedly) broken Hungarian, and will do their best to understand what you're trying to say, they will also be mildly unsuccesful at trying to hide their excitement that finally somebody is brave enough to put a ring...