Day 102

Day 102, self quarantine:

Wow, it’s Wednesday already.

Time fries.

So we are now at the point in the apocalypse where I want to sit out in my garden and paint rocks all day.

I’m loving this space so much, I can hardly stand it.  And it’s still only 85% finished.

But good enough that I can sit out there with my coffee all zen. Since I can’t take a normal vacation this year, I’m going to start taking days off to enjoy the sunshine and flowers and all our hard work.  

Why not?  I even have my own personal spa chef.

I mean, seriously.  Look at last night’s dinner.  Who just throws together ravioli with lemon butter basil tomato sauce?

Okay, I cannot tell a lie, those are Trader Joe fresh  ravioli, the summer selection is lemon ricotta which are great and what we had last night, but even better are the basil sweet corn burrata, and both are under $4 a bag and are way more than enough for two people.  

They are but a wonderful canvas for Gary’s insane sauces.  Last night he was inspired by his farmers market purchases.

So yeah, Trader Joe fresh ravioli.  That’s my public service announcement for the day.

How about that Jonestown scene in Arizona last night? Coronavirus, if you’re listening, I have a favor to ask...

No comment on that Aryan teen mourning the loss of Aunt Jemima other than you can really see the effects of forty years of defunding public education.

I really hope that this country can rebuild itself in 2021, and we have a renaissance of sorts.  

Every historian says the same.  It doesn’t matter how wealthy a country is.  Wealth doesn’t enhance society.  You know what does?  Education.  And in America, the best education is now only available to the wealthy.

Enjoy your Civil War.  It’s coming.  I thought I’d be dead when it happened, but now I’m not so sure.

It’s going to be the Haves vs the Have Nots.

I’m not a conspiracy theorist.  If America can’t get its act together and vote that motherfucker out of office, that’s what awaits us.

I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t watch the news at 5:00 a.m.  It’s beyond depressing.

Evangelical Christians are a pox on our society.  The stupid is just breathtaking.

I am going to go pour another cup of coffee and sit out back and meditate and listen to the birds.

Peace and love.

Day 101

Day 101, self quarantine:

I got nothing today.

I’m seriously so busy at work this week that I haven’t had time to think about much else for the last 24 hours.

But I’m watching the news now about the virus and still can’t fucking believe there isn’t a federal mandate to wear masks because we have a morbidly obese hideous imbecile in orange makeup and a yak wig who’s afraid he won’t look handsome.

Instead he canceled visas.

I just can’t.

I just want him and his supporters to burn in whatever hell they believe in for eternity.

It’s going to happen.

So as you know, except for a heart in my mouth trip to Lowe’s, I haven’t been out and about since March 13.

Gary asked me over the weekend, “Do you think it’s safe to go to Target?”

God, no.

“Why?”

“I need shorts, lighters, summer pajama pants, blah blah blah.”

“Can’t I order you stuff online?”

Of course I knew the answer to that but I asked anyway.

So he went to the Target in Northern Liberties which is huge for downtown and usually pretty empty early in the morning.

He came back white as a ghost with a four pack of Bic lighters.

“You should have seen it, Rob.  It was like a scene out of Mad Max.”

“What do you mean?”

“The store was empty.  Other than food, there was nothing on the shelves.  I tried to buy sweat pants, they had two sizes, xxlarge and small.  Same thing in shorts.  Then I walked over to see if they had a couple of flower pots for the yard and that whole section was empty.  I thought you said that Target wasn’t looted!”

It wasn’t.

I looked at Target Northern Liberty’s website.  It showed a fully stocked store, with men’s pajamas in every size.  Just for the hell of it, I clicked on them.  It said they’d be ready to pick up in four hours.

I tried the same thing with flower pots.

Yep.

Gary was having none of that.

“I was just there.  The store is empty.”

Suddenly I had the light bulb moment.

“Do you think that because of the virus, stores like Target aren’t putting out their stock on purpose because they want you to order on line?”

Gary stared at me.  This is his worst nightmare.

“Why?”

“Well, maybe they’re short staffed.  Or maybe for health reasons they don’t want virus infected customers trying on clothes and touching everything.”

Because that was my big worry, too.  

And yeah, that’s exactly what it turned out to be.

I don’t know if things will change when we move to the green stage next week or if this is just a downtown Philadelphia thing but Gary was shaken all day.

“What’s going to happen at Christmas?” he asked me, still wide eyed.

“People will order online.”

It cracks me up that he has no concept of this.  I’ve been ordering his gifts online for the past twenty years.

“We’re moving to Canada.”

“Canadians shop online, too, Gary.”

Poor Gary.  When his fifteen year old flip phone finally dies, his whole world is going to be rocked.

Anyhoo...

That’s enough out of me today.  I’m heading upstairs early to finish some projects.

Behave yourselves today.

Or not. 😎

Day 100

Day 100, self quarantine:

Welcome to Monday, week 15, day 100 of the apocalypse.

Day 100, huh.

I feel like balloons and confetti should be released from the skies.

We made it.

This day feels important.  Like a turning point.

So did Saturday night in Oklahoma.

Thank freaking god.

I hear Bunker Boi is furious.  

That can’t be good for his morbidly obese,  sweaty, 74 year old health.

😂😂😂😂😂😂

Meanwhile, did you see video from Saturday?  If there are any physically or emotionally uglier people than his supporters, I haven’t seen it in my lifetime thank God.

Well, unless we’re talking about Donald himself, who looked fat, ugly and ridiculous following his failed Nazi kegger.

Anyhoo...

To those of you returning to work outside your homes today, my best wishes for a safe, healthy experience.

The Wall Street Journal has an interesting article today about that.  You already know my thoughts.

https://www.wsj.com/articles/new-yorkers-now-can-return-to-the-office-most-are-staying-away-11592731800

In other news, we had an amazing Father’s Day.  I can count myself in on that statement  because I reaped the benefits. Both Julie and Eric FaceTimed Gary, and, they recorded a cover of the Kinks‘ Strangers for him which made us both cry.  I have it saved to my dropbox and if I can figure out how, maybe I’ll share it.

Though the last time I tried sharing something from my dropbox was at work when I used it to send defense counsel Answers to discovery and medical records and somehow included my personal collection of Christmas cookie recipes.

He actually called and thanked me.

I used to joke that those cookies were Gary’s retirement plan.  

Welp, that’s no longer funny.

Oh, just kidding.  Gary is happily retired and he loves baking his cookies for pleasure, not money.

Wow.  I can’t believe we’ve been quarantined since March and I haven’t asked him for any.

Nah, they’re a holiday thing.

Speaking of food, and when don’t I, Gary made the vegan potato cauliflower burgers last night, which he put on the barbecue, and they were pretty much life affirming.

https://www.onegreenplanet.org/vegan-recipe/recipe-spicy-cauliflower-potato-burger/

Gary’s baked beans are damn good, too.

He was going to make street corn but time got away from him and we ended up having a bowl of plain corn with just salt and pepper and it was crazy good for early season.

So yeah, happy Father’s Day to me.

 Naturally my gift to Gary didn’t arrive because I am a dork.  I bought him the remastered Running With the King vinyl and didn’t notice it was a pre- order which won’t be released until tomorrow.  

I showed him the gift receipt and blamed the virus.

So assuming it doesn’t rain today, if you’re looking for me at 1:00 today, I will be having lunch in my garden.

Yeah, I can’t believe it, either. Gary and Robin actually finished a project.  I’m holding back on taking a pic because a few final touches are on the way here, and, fingers crossed, Eric and Natalie are hoping to drive up early next week for a night if Marvin’s surgery goes well and I kinda want it to be a surprise since the last time they saw our yard it was a junk heap.

Julie told us last night she’s watching the virus closely and assuming it’s safe and the numbers continue to go down, she’s coming for a July visit.

It’s such a horrible place to be right now.  We want to see her in the worst way, but we just can’t encourage her to fly here from Seattle until we are 100% confident it’s safe.  So as excited as we are to see her, July may be too soon.

We’ll see.

I’m one of the people who thinks this virus is far from over.  I’m erring on the side of caution.

Many east coast companies are telling their employees to stay inside and work remotely until the end of the year.

Works for me.

I have a pretty busy week ahead so I’m going to wrap this up and start to get my head in gear.

Onward!

Day 99

Day 99, self quarantine:

Happy Sunday, Happy Father’s Day, Happy Day 99 of the apocalypse.

I know a lot of people are returning to work and life as they allegedly knew it tomorrow, including some in my office, but as I’ve said all along, not me.

I’ve read too much about coronavirus and respect our country’s doctors and scientists rather than listen to a deranged, snake oil salesman and Fox news.

I’m staying home.

And this journal will continue.

So we don’t have any plans today, the weather is a little iffy.  I bought Gary some vinyl which hopefully Amazon will deliver later.  I asked him if he wanted me to cook dinner tonight for his special day and he laughed.

“No thanks, I’m making those cauliflower potato vegan burgers you’ve been yapping about,” he said.

Well, gee, if you put it that way...

So it will be a low key Father’s Day and that’s fine.  We really aren’t Hallmark holiday people and omg, autocorrect just wrote “penis” instead of people.

Probably because I call Trump Penis Breath a lot on Twitter.

Anyway, we’re not Hallmark holiday penises, either.

I’m sitting here laughing like a ten year old.

I actually started laughing last night when I read nobody showed up for Bunker Boi’s Nazi rally.

Omg he called the people who did show up “warriors.”

Jesus, I thought they were suicidal psychopaths.

Oh right, they are.

I’ll be smiling about last night’s debacle all day and hopefully through Joe Biden’s inauguration.

Twitter was brutal last night, making fun of him.

Maybe like those cheap pans that can kill you, teflon Don’s poisonous appeal is chipping off in decayed, rotting pieces.

And I am so here for that.

So today’s plan is to  begin watching Top Chef season 1 this morning and begin my rock painting project.

Speaking of Top Chef, this was the best season ever.

It was all about cooking.  The chefs were great and likable and in the end, I would have been happy with any of them.

But...SPOILER COMING...my person won.

I’m such a sap, I sat here crying.

My choice never wins.

And now I’m such a dork, I’m following her on Instagram.

She’s advertising for a cute girl to join her on a motorcycle ride through Italy.

I’m wishing I was eligible.

Wait, I have to interject right now  because I have the news on in the background and two items caught my attention:

Someone just paid $6M for Kurt Cobain’s guitar.

A plastic surgeon in Cherry Hill is doing booming business performing multiple procedures on people who are dismayed how they look on Zoom.

Cool, cool, apparently Idiocracy was a documentary.

Yeah, yeah, I already knew that.

Oy vey.

In happier news, at least to me, I’m leaving you with some of my favorite Papa Slick pics.

This is one of those times I wish Gary were on Facebook but I’ll show him when he wakes up.

Anyhoo...

Time to get my day started.

I guess I can’t call you fellow apocalypse dudes anymore since many of you are rejoining society, so be safe and have fun.

TTYL.

Day 98

Day 98, self quarantine:

Saturday, June 20.  A year ago on this Saturday, we were in Virginia Beach for Eric and Natalie’s wedding.

What a year, huh.

I’m not gonna rehash it, it’s all I’ve talked about for the last 98 days.

I think I’ll just look at some of my favorite pics of the Slick family from that event and not say another word.

Yeah, right.

Actually, I just found that pic of Julie and me.  I don’t remember that one.  Thank God Julie isn’t too beautiful or anything. By our outfits it was taken at the rehearsal dinner the night before and we may or may not be very wasted in that photo. 😎

Also, Gary the Dog Whisperer is holding Best Man Marvin Prass-Slick, who was just the appreciative beneficiary of a successful GoFundMe campaign and will have life saving surgery at the end of June.

Gosh I miss my kids.

Eric and Natalie were supposed to visit this Wednesday-Thursday but changed their plans because Marvin.  They’re shooting for July 4 weekend.  I’m afraid to get my hopes up but fingers crossed.

I’m not gonna say another word about Oklahoma again, either, except to note Bunker Boi really can commit murder in broad daylight and get away with it.

Good job, America.

I’m also not going to say anything about the ridiculous criminal firing of Geoffrey Berman last night but I am heartened by this morning’s news.  

“I have not resigned, and have no intention of resigning, my position, to which I was appointed by the Judges of the United States District Court for the Southern District of New York,” Mr. Berman said in a statement released by the office .

He’s investigating Trump and his hideous family.

And that other revolting criminal, Rudy Giuiliani.

This should be interesting.

It’s gonna be a showdown between Berman and our corrupt attorney general, Walrus Bill Barr.

Yeah yeah, nothing ever happens.  

I will crawl over broken glass, swim through primordial ooze, and hold my breath through a toxic cloud of  coronavirus germs to vote for Joe Biden and get that motherfucker out of office.

Is it November 3 yet?

Sigh...

Oh well.  have to watch the last episode of Top Chef now.  I always hate when the season is over, it’s a letdown like the day after my birthday, but now I have Hulu so next Saturday morning I will be starting with Season 1, 2002, which filmed when I was a very young girl so I don’t remember it 😂😂😂

Other than that, I don’t know what’s next except sushi.  I haven’t had it since March.

Picking out what I want from the menu and listening to music is the most I’m doing on this stormy Saturday.

I’m taking another mental health day before I’m arrested for storming the White House.

Enjoy your Saturday.

Day 97

Day 97, self quarantine:

Hello, Friday!

Welp, week fourteen of the apocalypse is a wrap.

Our pizza schedule is messed up, we had it last night, which means tonight must be tomato sandwiches and hand cut French fries.

Is it 5:00 yet?

Gary really stepped up his pizza game.  That white spinach pie was next level.

Don’t hate me but I’ve actually lost weight staying home. Chef Gary is in da kitchen and he makes me eat three (mostly) healthy, portion controlled meals a day so I stopped snacking at night which is the exact opposite of the way I eat when I work at my real office.  I may break 130 next week and actually see the 120s.

Too bad I am never going anywhere again to show it off.

Well, maybe in 2021.

I’m not even joking.

I’m really not liking the news on surging numbers where states have reopened.  My mind is made up.  I’m not venturing anywhere near people again anytime soon.

I’m going to make Julie’s bedroom more office like and by that I mean a desktop computer and good color printer.  Even if my paralegal life ends soon, I discovered something magical and I’m so excited I can hardly bear it.

I can write in this place.

I can write and write and write from dawn until it’s bedtime. There’s a muse in the room, she clearly kissed Julie and now she’s sprinkling her fairy dust on me.

This house is small.  There’s no finished basement or family room.  I never had my own place to write.

I wrote four novels in my living room with Eric practicing the drums two feet behind me and Gary and Julie yelling back and forth a few yards away in the kitchen.

So how weird has it been that since it’s been just Gary and me in the house, it took me almost a hundred years to finish a new one?

I think maybe the two of us enjoy hanging out together a little too much.

But now I come up here early while he’s asleep and write while drinking coffee and listening to music. Honestly, I could write all morning except work but I write all day there, too, so all good.

The acoustics in here are great.

I know a lot of writers can’t write unless it’s silent, I’m just the opposite.

Probably because I grew up writing with Eric drumming behind me.

Gary’s getting his music man cave, why shouldn’t I have a writing cave?

Hahaha you might think the kids just moved out the way I’m talking.  It’s been ten years since they vacated their bedrooms but Gary was sure they were coming back and preferred to leave them as shrines ❤️

Now he can finally admit it’s a good thing they grew up though it’s still hard for him.  Eric recently called him with a plumbing problem in his new house and Gary hung up the phone all distraught.

“Maybe I should drive over and give him a hand.”

“In Nashville?”  I thought maybe I didn’t hear him right.

“It’s only a twelve hour trip.”

“Yeah but there’s a virus...wait, are you serious?”

“He’s my son.”

Aw, Gary.

So anyway, the new book.  To be honest, after having pretty much terrible luck with agents throughout my illustrious career and dreading the process I said fuck it, I’m just putting it out myself, and I gave myself a publication date of April 1 which I thought was perversely fitting.

And then the apocalypse happened and putting out a new book when I was pretty sure I’d be dead in two weeks seemed kinda pointless.

Anyway, last night I revisited it.  And now I’m not sure what to do.

Holy hell, even though I know better, maybe I am going to let the muse in this bedroom do her thing.  I’m gonna swallow my pride, hold my nose, and submit a query to a few agents.

The book is called “What the Hell Happened?”

It’s all about being mentally nineteen and trapped in a bewildered old person’s body.

So yeah, maybe other old people will wanna read it.

And if not...

What’s a little more rejection?

I’m alive, aren’t I?

Wish me luck.

Enjoy Friday, apocalypse dudes.

Day 96

Day 96, self quarantine:

Omg, I overslept!  No time for any wise words from my apocalypse to yours other than to quickly say Hi and tell you Gary made a pasta dish last night that was INSANE and so easy I thought I’d share the recipe.

1. • 4 ripe tomatoes, cut into 1/2 inch cubes
   • 1 pound Brie cheese, rind removed, torn into irregular pieces
   • 1 cup cleaned fresh basil leaves, cut into strips
   • 3 garlic cloves, peeled and finely minced
   • 1 cup best quality olive oil
   • salt to taste
   • 1/2 tsp freshly ground pepper
   • 1 1/2 pounds linguine
   • freshly grated imported Parmesan cheese (optional)

1. 1. Combine tomatoes, brie, basil, garlic, 1 cup olive oil, salt and pepper in a large serving bowl. Prepare at least 2 hours before serving and set aside, covered, at room temperature 
2. (We did this overnight.  We also used roasted garlic because I don’t like raw garlic)
3. 
   
1. 2. Bring 6 quarts of water to a boil in a large pot. Add the linguine and boil until al dente, about 10 minutes. 
2. 3. Drain pasta and immediately toss with the tomato sauce. Serve immediately. 
3. *****************
4. Okay, that’s my public service announcement for today - I have a complicated project at work which I have to finish this morning.

Oh.  How about that Bolton book and Bunker Boi’s reaction.  There’s no convincing me that he’s not headed to Oklahoma Saturday so that the pandemic rages sufficiently for him to cancel the election or scare people into not voting.

But can you wrap your mind around the narcissism, stupidity and pure evil behind the decision to hold a vanity Nazi rally in the middle of a pandemic where the numbers are skyrocketing and the Tulsa Health Department is PLEADING with the psychopath to postpone it but he won’t.

How is what he’s planning not called MURDER?

Or to quote my bewildered husband, “HOW IS HE NOT IN PRISON?”

How is anyone planning on attending not in a mental institution?

Oh, right, we don’t have them anymore because Republicans.

Fuck it.  I’m moving to Canada.

Peace and love, apocalypse dudes.

Day 95

Happy Wednesday morning!

I always sneak in what day it is so I can remind myself since every day is the same during quarantine and all I know at this point is it’s 2020.

Oy, what a year.  I remember thinking January would never end when we were reeling in shock over Kobe Bryant.

Anyway, behold my house with a screen door and light pouring in!

Seriously, am I right about French doors in this room or what? Wouldn’t they be amazing?

As would hardwood floors.

They’re next 😎

So the yard still contains some trash bags and some assorted remaining junk in the other pic, which I also took yesterday at 11:00 a.m.  when I came downstairs for coffee.  The sun streaming in made me so happy I couldn’t help snapping some photos.


The fun pic will be of our garden this weekend when there’s flowers everywhere and lights and beach chairs and maybe even some painted rocks.

I’m in a good head this week, probably because I’m getting a lot done at the home office and here at Casa Slick.  The mental health boost my boss gave me last Thursday carried over to this week.   A couple kind words, man, that’s all it took.  And it’s really true, the busier I am, the less my mind wanders to depressing places.  I blast my music and bury myself in what I’m doing and forget that there’s an apocalypse happening.

Too bad I couldn’t successfully keep that up every day since November 9, 2016, huh.

I’m working on it but I’m seeing light at the end of the tunnel.  Mother Nature seems to be taking care of what the Democrats couldn’t.  Grandpa Crazypants clearly isn’t well. He either had a stroke or he’s got onset dementia because he’s even more grotesque than usual and even though I’ve been screaming about it for months, mainstream media is finally noticing.

So that’s cool.

You guys realize that Mercury goes into retrograde at 10:21 a.m. today, right?  We can’t make major purchases or sign contracts until July 12.

CB2, if you’re listening, do not have your patio furniture sale until July 13.  Ahem.  Make that July 14.  As in 714.

Remember 714s?

Thank god they disappeared but WHY?  Was there a better drug ever created?

That’s why they took them from us, they made us too damn happy.

But yeah, it’s probably better for my health and Gary’s they’re not around anymore. It would be unseemly for two senior citizens to be...

Never mind.

😂😂😂

Ah, memories.

(If you ever took them, you know what I’m saying)

(At this point in our program, both of my kids are shouting Mother of the Year! Mother of the Year!)

Hey, kiddies, you’re awesome because of your dad and me. You may be celebrity rock stars but you’ll  never be as cool as we are.😜

(Now both kids are jumping up and down, laughing hysterically, and shouting OKAY, BOOMER in unison.)

In other news, last night Gary made me watch Frontline on PBS.  It was all about how Trump botched the coronavirus response and it’s totally his fault 115,000 Americans are dead.

Of course I’ve known this since March, but it was all fresh news to Gary, who kept turning around and looking at me in shock.

“WHY ISN’T HE IN JAIL?” Gary kept asking me.

Hell if I know.

Oh, before Frontline, we watched a documentary on Mae West.  

Mae and I were both born on August 17.

I’m not even lying.

Life is grand.

Enjoy Wednesday, apocalypse dudes.