Thursday, July 02, 2020

Day 110

Day 110, self quarantine:

Happy Thursday/Friday/July 4th weekend!

I really can’t wrap my brain around this.  The last time I was a “free” woman outdoors I was wearing a down parka and knee high boots and now it’s July 4 and I’m wearing light cotton pajamas and life as I knew it is completely changed.

Gary and I have lived near the Art Museum  since 1978 and this is the first year there won’t be fireworks or any celebration in the ‘hood.

I gotta say, I’m really not in the mood to celebrate America this year anyway so no real loss.

Also, the dog and I hate fireworks.  Gary was always the good parent who walked down to the museum with the kids.

“Mom, you don’t want to go?”

I’d rather be dipped in hot oil.

“Aw, no, I have to stay home with the dog.  The noise really upsets him.  Have fun, guys!”

I was like that when it came to any Monster Truck event, movies with names like Drop Dead Fred, or anything even remotely resembling an amusement ride.

Gary the super dad, the guy with the spatula who hid dead hamsters, always stepped up.

Though to my credit, I got Julie hooked on five star French meals at Le Bec Fin at age 12 and I wangled a private tour for 13 year old super fan Eric at Mad Magazine where he met all the artists and they were so taken with him they invited the two of us to their 50th anniversary cocktail party later that night at the WB store in NY and we went and we were so giddy, we couldn’t believe any of it happened.

Haha and now Eric is a star himself.  And so is Julie...and we all know about Julie’s cooking.  

Gary and I did alright.

Gah, I miss my kids.

Is 5:30 a.m. too early to eat the leftover blueberry cornbread sitting on the dining room table, calling my name?

I can’t believe Gary just threw that together while I was getting a haircut.  Who does that?

Naturally I had to ask.

“I was watching one of your goofy cooking shows and they were making it and I had a box of blueberries in the house we needed to use and...”

“Wait.  Excuse me? You were watching one of my shows? Which one?”  

Hey, I was pissed.  I tape my food shows and watch them alone at 5:00 a.m. because he hates them and makes fun of me and now he tells me he watches them when I’m not around?

Well that doesn’t seem quite fair.

“Which show were you watching?” I demanded again.

“I don’t remember,” he lied.

I grabbed our fancy Comcast remote which Gary refuses to learn how to use because he thinks it spies on him.  Ha! Just as he always feared, it told me exactly what I wanted to know.

“Martha Stewart?  You watched Martha Stewart? Omg.  Dude.  You have lost the right to ever make fun of my taste in shows,” I said.

“No, I didn’t,”

“Yes, you did!  Don’t lie.  You watched Martha Stewart.  I bet if I go online I’ll find the recipe!”

Gary glared at the remote like, “I’ll get you later, bitch.”

And clearly the two of us are spending too much time together 😜

So one more thing before I go - Epix is running a documentary Laurel Canyon, not to be confused with the Jakob Dylan fashion show vanity puff piece Echo in the Canyon.  Gary and I watched episode one last night. AMAZING.  And we both heard stories for the first time that freaked us out because we’re both groupies and music nerds who think we know everything.

Like, Peter Tork and Stephen Stills were roommates and Stephen was the one who went for the first Monkees audition which he flunked because he had a snaggletooth.  So he sent Peter.

Or that Mama Cass invited Eric Clapton to her house for a barbecue where he was completely freaked out by Joni Mitchell who played a chord he’d never heard.

Hmm I thought I’d know that story but maybe I did and forgot.

Or that David Crosby had shoeboxes full of the world’s best pot...

Okay, we knew about David. 😎

We KNOW about David.

So an absolute must watch for fellow nerds.  Spectacular footage and music.

We’re watching episode two tonight.

And on that note, I’m gonna go upstairs and crush it so I can give myself early dismissal at the Casa Slick home office.

I must be slipping.  I haven’t made any holiday food plans yet.

Sigh...I won’t say it.

We’ll make the best of things.

Peace and love.

Tuesday, June 30, 2020

Day 109

Day 109, self quarantine 

Hey hey Wednesday, I like you today because you’re really Thursday as I have Friday off for July 4thweekend.  Yay Wednesday!

I’m just happy my weekends are real weekends again.  My boss and I are now like a well oiled machine working remotely during the week, and have even fallen into a regular daily schedule.  So Friday feels like Friday again, etc.

The last time I saw my boss in person was March 12.

That’s just crazy.

In other news, hallelujah I saw Sean, my hair stylist yesterday and we both agreed I should keep my long quarantine hair.  So I just got a trim and left his salon feeling like a new woman.

Before I got my haircut, Sean met me at the doorway and took my temperature.

I was startled.

“Omg, what if I have a fever,” I babbled nervously.

“97.5,” he said, looking relieved, although who can really tell when wearing masks.

“97.5?  I’m dead?” 

Sean laughed and assured me I wasn’t.

This was literally the first time I was less than a foot apart from anyone other than Gary since March.

I was Sean’s first appointment since he closed his salon in March.

Hey, I was all kinds of honored I was his first. 😜

Other than not being able to hear each other due to masks and jackhammers digging up the street outside (oh, yes, lucky me, I’m still vibrating), it was a chill experience.

Welp, I thought I was chill, but by the time I walked home and had to pass a crowd of mostly unmasked millennials drinking at a sidewalk cafe and not socially distancing, I was so nerved out I walked into the house shaking.

Gary was out back.

I tried to act normal.  Yeah, good luck with that.

“Ooh, Gar, can you take a picture of my hair?”

I handed him my phone.


I sunk down in our snazzy new beach chair.

“Just take a pic.  I’m having an anxiety attack.”

Gary took a pic and handed me back my phone.

“Why are you having an anxiety attack?  Your hair looks good.”

I stood up and brushed off some leaves from my jeans.

“Not my hair.  Omg.  I have anxiety from being outside around people not wearing masks! just took a pic of me wearing a mask?”  I looked down at my phone incredulously.

“Rob, you just told me to take your picture.  I tried to tell you but I thought that’s what you wanted.  Am I supposed to dress you, too?”

“Oy, I’m so stressed I didn’t even realize I still had it on.  I’m losing my fucking mind.”

“Want me to take another pic?”

“Nah.  I really just wanted to see what my hair looked like.”

“And a mirror isn’t good because...?”

Grrr.  It makes me nuts he doesn’t have an iPhone.  He’ll never really understand.

Anyway, that was my excitement for yesterday.

Well, other than blueberry cornbread, which Gary decided to bake while I was out getting my hair done.

It. Was. Delightful.  Pictures coming.

Without masks, even.

So all in all, Day 108 was a good one.


Day 108

Day 108, self quarantine:

Happy Tuesday.

Behold Gary’s pasta with artichokes.  I was texting with my coworker upstairs and I actually texted her, “Omg it smells like an Italian restaurant in here.  What is he making...?”

We’re on a rotini kick this summer.   It really holds lighter sauces nicely.

Damn it was good.

In other news...

I can’t.  

How is he not in jail this morning?  

If I say what I’m thinking, I’m the one who will end up in prison.

But the day is young.

One of us might.

So not that I predict the future, but yep, certain states, like our sister state, NJ, are now delaying full reopening. There’s a press conference scheduled later today in Philadelphia.  Trust me, we’re not going full green Friday after all.

The pandemic is raging.

If you read about New Zealand, with their strong leadership, led by a woman, they totally flattened the curve by taking immediate action and quarantining the entire country.

They have zero cases there now.

Our government knew about this pandemic over six months ago and did nothing.

Unless you call making a fatal virus political “nothing.”

Then it becomes murder, right?  Right???

My point is, due to Trump’s negligence, over a hundred thousand Americans are dead.

He’s a soulless murderer and anyone who supports him is, too.

It’s black and white, people. There’s no gray area anymore.

I’m banking on the good people in our government to step up and be patriots.  Now is the time.  

Because there isn’t any time left.


Oh, wait, I want to circle back to New Zealand again.  Not only did they wipe out the virus, look what they did as soon as life began to return to normal:

Yeah, that’s right.  A $175 million dollar music and arts recovery package.

Julie and Katie?  Eric and Natalie?  Say the word and this house is up for safe and we’re outta here.

While the mob boss in the White House can only focus on name calling and arresting protesters who want to remove statues of racists.

All he wants to do is divide us further.

I weep for America.

I weep for all of us.

But you know what?  I think a phoenix really will rise from our ashes and our rebirth will be beautiful.

I’m counting on it.

Peace out, fellow warriors.

Sunday, June 28, 2020

Day 107

Day 107, self quarantine:

Monday, week 16.

So yeah, I had a rough time early yesterday.  

I try to live one day at a time and not worry about a future I’m not even guaranteed but the breaking news about the virus was so devastating I broke down in tears over the kids - from missing them and their live music and then just from worrying about them and their music and then from just plain worrying about everything.

I mean, Eric talked about coming to Philadelphia soon and Julie texted just a few weeks ago that she was cautiously looking at flights in July for a two week trip but after seeing the news yesterday, I don’t see how that’s possible.  We reopened too soon and things are getting worse, not better.

I don’t want them to come for a visit, it’s not safe

So I felt completely washed in despair and that’s when I lost it.

Look, I know I’m privileged. I’m drawing a paycheck in beautiful surroundings with an awesome husband feeding me gourmet vegetarian meals. 

I know there’s people facing financial ruin because of the vIrus. 

I have close friends who lost parents to the virus.  

I lost a coworker to the virus in a very small family oriented office, ffs.  I haven’t been back to work so I don’t even know what that will be like.

It’s going to be weird.

It doesn’t matter that I’m privileged.  The virus is the equalizer.  I’m trapped in the house, scared to death, missing my kids and it sucks.

And other than Gary, I’m not out and about talking to people.  I don’t know how anyone is really dealing.  Not everyone is able to express themselves with words...not everyone wants to.  

On social media, most of us are doing “fine.”

But the reality is, quarantine is a whole new level of isolation and even a person like me very comfortable being alone is struggling.

No live music is beyond horrible.

No professional sports is just wrong.

The world is off kilter and it’s not a happy place.

And on top of the complete shocking and willfully ignorant mismanagement of the pandemic, there’s some serious crime going on and that someone so hateful and vomitatious has a platform and is getting away with it is blowing my mind and making me physically ill.

The sheer pig ignorance of these allegedly “conservative” American people  brainwashed by Fox *sic* news, putting science disdainfully up against evangelical Christianity complete with a rapture — with this unspeakably gross, hateful  perverted Christianity actually having a voice in a government which clearly separates church and state —ugh, there are no words.

Everything finally got to me yesterday.

So I cried like a baby and talked to Gary about it and of course he feels the same way and after that, we both ended up feeling much better.  

We did a quick in and out at Trader Joes, came home and listened to music, then I sat outside grooving to fresh air in the Slick Apocalypse Garden while Gary grilled some Jersey tomatoes and veggie burgers,  and my dark mood lifted and all is well once again.

I mean, what’s the point of being miserable.

We’re all in this together. 

We’re just going to have to get used to the new normal.

But omg, can you imagine when there’s a vaccine?

Kiddies, I was around when the pill first came on the scene.

Our mantra was, Make Love, Not War.

We had an outrageously good time.  I can’t even tell you how awesome it was, my kids read this.

But I predict once there’s a vaccine, the good time we had in the 60s/70s is going to look like an uninspired appetizer in comparison to the main course we’ll have in 202...whenever.  

We’re gonna party like it’s 1999.  Plus eleven.  Or twelve.

So there’s that to look forward to.

I can’t fucking wait.

Goals, people.

Goals are not the same as anxiously worrying about the future.

For example, my goal today is to prepare a Petition for Substitute Service.  

You don’t even want to know what it is, only that it’s boring as fuck so I’m getting it out of the way early so I can enjoy my lunch out in the garden and NOT worry about it.

Haha.  Lunch out in the garden.  Now those are words I never thought I’d say.  

See?  Life is good.

May your Monday be the best you can make it.  

That’s my plan and I’m sticking to it.

Peace and love.

Day 106

Day 106, self quarantine:

Happy Sunday.

I dunno if it is.

I’m sorry, I’m really depressed today.

There’s two ways of dealing with this virus.  You can bury your head in the sand and not watch the news, and good luck with that, or you can educate yourself.

I choose to educate myself and unfortunately, that can be scary.

I just read this article and I’m kind of paralyzed.

All this man did was make one trip to Home Depot during quarantine.  He’s a scientist who did everything right regarding precautions.

I’m sitting here shaking because we’re headed to Trader Joe in an hour and now I don’t want either of us to go.

Ugh, most of the time I’ve been okay dealing with this thing.  But there are times, like now, that it’s too fucking much.

I’ve made peace with the fact that my kids live far away.  But to not see them at all for six months?  And to watch the news and learn this thing is so out of control it could be another six months...if even that?

This is cruel.  

I just can’t.

The ramifications of this virus raging indefinitely has me sitting here crying at 6:30 a.m.

I fucking hate you and your hideous family,  Donald Trump.  May your supporters rot in hell.


I need to get my shit together.


Saturday, June 27, 2020

Day 105

Day 105, self quarantine:

Woo, day 105.  Every morning I’ve been typing those triple digits, it’s been kind of surreal.

So even though it’s not finished, isn’t the Slick apocalypse garden adorable?  
Stick with me.  As a boomer who never grew up, I can turn any space into a college dorm ready for a kegger  circa 1973.

The first pic I took through the new screen door, sitting on the sofa.  Check out our buddha.  She’s got a solar light.  

We sat outside for a couple hours yesterday.  I texted both kids excitedly.

“Dad and I feel like we’re in our own secret clubhouse back here.”

Yeah, yeah, I know we’re not normal.

But I kinda like being perpetually immature.  

In other news, I don’t have my perfect song list ready yet.  I need to pare it down.  And then I started wondering if I should make two and make them more genre specific.

Don’t mind me, I’m just a wee bit music obsessed.  

So I’m sure you don’t need me to yap about the virus this morning but the news continues to be horrific. Philadelphia’s numbers are back up and now there’s talk of slowing down our reopening.

Will Bunker Boi stop squawking LAW AND ORDER long enough to deal with it?


But by all means, Donald, cower in your bunker and focus on statues of dead people, even though you know squat about art, you despicable nitwit.  Because like, look how successful your campaign against kneeling was. 😂😂😂

P.S.  I really really hope the Philadelphia Eagles  sign Colin Kaepernick.

Sigh.  What I want to know is, where are the REAL patriots?

I’m so fucking exhausted.

Look, if his Evangelical Christian supporters want the rapture, fine, they can all die, I’ll help pay for their funerals.

Like today.


Today’s plans include procuring soft pretzels.  Gary and I realized last night we haven’t had one since quarantine.  Hey, we live in Philadelphia!  Soft pretzels are a food group!

Like with all other food, Gary and I are soft pretzel snobs.  We get ours here:

I’m wondering if any of you reading have ever had their Mediterranean wraps?  I’ve never seen that on the menu before, and they look like they’re filled with spinach and feta.

Please tell me this is true.

Omg, did someone who makes incredible soft pretzels find a way to make portable spinach pie?

I will fucking die of ecstasy.

Other than pretzels, since we have a stormy day ahead of us, I will be watching Season 1, Top Chef and painting rocks today.

Hope your day rocks as well.



Friday, June 26, 2020

Day 104

Day 104, self quarantine:

Happy Friday!  Week 15 of shelter in place is a wrap.

Too funny, Gary caught me listening to my secret pleasure music yesterday.

I’m never gonna live it down.

I thought he walked down to our weekly farmers market and I was just wrapping up some easy work odds and ends in a great mood with an eye towards the weekend, so I decided to blast my happy Robin music.

Okay, here it is.  When I’m alone, I listen to Adele and Miley Cyrus.

Yep, I said it.

Miley’s version of Jolene is so hot, even I want to sleep with her 😎

And I’m sorry, but Adele’s Running in the Deep is pretty much a perfect song.

You know what?  I just got inspired to make a perfect song playlist.

That’s gonna be tomorrow’s post if nothing else major happens.

Anyway, Gary walked into Julie’s room to tell me he was heading to the market I thought he was already at.

“What the hell are you listening to?”


“It’s YouTube shuffle,” I explained red faced.  “They pick songs for me based on my past selections.  For whatever reason, they think I like Miley Cyrus.”

Gary laughed.

“See?  This proves computers know nothing.  How could they be more wrong?”

Okay boomer, whatever you say, I only wanna run away with her every time I watch this video 😂😂😂

“Yeah, really,” I said instead. “I don’t know where they ever got that idea.”

Oh jeez,  thank god he didn’t walk in a minute sooner, my fat pajama bottomed ass was dancing all over Julie’s bedroom.

As Miley wrapped up singing and Gary remained standing in the threshold, I prayed my next shuffle song would be Tull or Crimson.

Nope, it was Adele.  I quickly hit pause.

Hey, I wanted to hear it as soon as he left.

Too late.

“Adele?  Is that Adele?  Jesus, could they be any more way off with your taste, Rob?”


Gary returned from the farmers market with all kinds of goodies.  He was inspired to make his world famous coconut rice with roasted broccoli.  We had outrageous just picked organic strawberries with coconut milk ice cream for dessert.

I really need to learn how to take better pictures.

That meal rocked my world.

In less cheerful news, this morning’s virus statistics in America are horrific.  The numbers are at an all time high.  The rest of the world is staring at us with their jaws on the floor and are getting ready to ban Americans from their countries.

So what does Bunker Pig tweet just six hours ago?

“Coronavirus deaths are way down. Mortality rate is one of the lowest in the World. Our Economy is roaring back and will NOT be shut down. “Embers” or flare ups will be put out, as necessary!”

This is deliberate, people.  He wants us too sick to vote.  Or protest.

As I said yesterday, I wonder when he ultimately catches the virus, and he will if there is such a thing as karma, if he will gasp, “I can’t breathe!  I can’t breathe!”

One can only hope.

Sorry for the downer, but this is the apocalypse journal.

And on that cheery note, I am headed upstairs to do whatever I can work wise to get this weekend underway sooner rather than later.

Peace out.

Thursday, June 25, 2020

Day 103

Day 103, self quarantine:

I love Thursdays. Especially in the summer.  Psychologically, the worst of the week is behind me and the shiny happy weekend is on the horizon.

I’m kind of freaked out next Friday is July 4 weekend.  How the hell did that happen?

I dunno but I will be soaking up the sun in my own backyard.

So as I’m sure you heard, yesterday was the worst day for coronavirus, with 42,000 cases recorded in one day and frightening surges in major U.S. cities.

The spikes are coming in cities where they didn’t wear masks or self quarantine.

I want Trump to be infected in the worst way.  You know what?  I think it’s going to happen.

I hope he screams I CAN’T BREATHE.

Yes, I really do.

I am now 100% comfortable with my decision to remain quarantined indefinitely.

Like, until there’s a vaccine.

I’m not even joking a little bit.

I will  venture outside for a very occasional  meal at an outdoor cafe but I will not go anywhere there is recirculated air.

I have zero problem staying home through 2021.  

And really, Quarantine Gary is my favorite person in the universe.  

Last night after dinner, I grabbed the remote to put on the Daily Show - we tape it every night because what old person can stay up until midnight - and Gary shouted, “Wait, what are you doing?”


“It’s Trevor Noah time,” I said.

“It’s 7:00.  We’re not going to watch Jeopardy?”

I mean, I couldn’t even answer.  I just stared at him.

My life is now every sitcom where the lead character accidentally gets whacked in the head, passes out, and wakes up a completely new person.

I liked the old Gary but this one is off the charts.

He didn’t forget how to cook, though.

Last night, I couldn’t decide what to have for dinner.  We had some leftover great bread and gorgeous tomatoes and I was thinking of something pasta again.

Gary may be the chef but I’m usually the one with the ideas.

“I’m gonna make panzanella tonight,” Gary said.


He sure did.

The photo doesn’t do it justice.  

The chew of great bread, tomatoes that burst with sugar, fresh herbs from Gary’s garden, and really good olive oil.


I could eat different variations of this salad every night this summer.  I think we should throw in some fresh corn next time for crunch.  Traditionally, they aren’t made with cheese but we always add it so it’s kinda like a merge of caprese and panzanella, and I see the New York Times is also on board with our recipe.  We don’t use onions.  We do use cucumbers - not sure if the NYT does but I think they’re integral.

You can thank me later 😎

So that’s it for today.  My boss is on vacation next week so this is crunch time.  I’ve been busting my ass all week so he can relax stress free.

Though I admit to an ulterior motive. 

“When’s your getaway day?” I asked him yesterday.

Say Friday.  Say Friday.

“Sunday,” he said.


Instead, I laughed.

“I’m gonna try and have you ready to leave Thursday night,” I said pointedly.

Yeah, that’s right.  Quarantine Robin is a brave motherfucker.

Besides, it’s going to be sunny and 89 degrees Friday.  I wanna catch some rays in the Slick Apocalypse Garden.

“Okay,” said my very kind boss.

Let’s see if I can pull it off.  I have a shit ton to do.

Starting now.

Later, gators.