Robin Slick: In Her Own Write: Days 254-261

Days 254-261, self quarantine:

Monday, November 30, 2020

Welp, if you’re reading this, you made it through Thanksgiving, 2020.

Us, too.

But sorry, I’m not really relaxing until January 20, 2021.

In the afternoon.

After Joe is sworn in and Donald and his cootie infested family have vacated the premises and said premises have been fumigated.

No worries, I’m going to keep all my fears and neurosis to myself about what I’m worried might happen between now and January 20 like war, firing squads, mass virus and associated death and martial law, let’s all read Heather Cox Richardson daily for a comprehensive account of the day’s events, and also, to learn American history.

That’s what really gets me about Trump supporters. They‘re so fucking stupid and strong wrong they refuse to educate themselves.

They insist that somehow NPR, PBS, BBC, MSNBC, CNN, NBC, ABC, and CBS, Washington Post, New York Times, Vanity Fair, and EVERYONE but Fox are “fake” news.

Fox. Where they gave us the caravans of criminals transporting duct taped Mexican sex slaves and then, woo hoo, Hunter’s laptop conspiracies.

Until they didn’t because even they knew it was all a lie.

Omg, it’s insane.

Anyway, I am also really terrified virus wise and wish I could talk Gary into grocery delivery but he refuses. At least we only go to early seniors shopping bimonthly but it’s really scary because people are still being assholes, either getting too close or wearing masks below their noses.

Though Gary is a news watcher now and I’m noticing he’s paying attention.

Last week, I know I read somewhere on Facebook a woman we went to high school with died of Covid before she even had her test results but I can’t find the post anywhere including my alumni page so now I’m thinking it didn’t happen and oh joy, now I’m having vivid, stress ridden Covid nightmares.

Though man, I could really swear I read it, complete with instructions to private message the author.

Whoever that was.

Oh, wait, I know.

It was my late mother, she visits a few times a year, always in the middle of the night, always with the full head of hair she never regained after chemo.

It’s always the same.

First I try to kick Gary awake because he never believes she visits but of course he never wakes up though once I swear he yelled in his sleep for me to cut my toenails.

Then I greet my mother.

“Mom! You have hair!”

And then we chat but I can never remember what she said and then I wake up, totally freaked out and positive that this time, Gary witnessed at least some of it.

Nah.

I once wrote a short fiction piece published in one of my favorite ‘zines that riffed on her visits.

http://www.juked.com/2006/03/starman.asp

Yeah, I gotta start writing and submitting shorts again, I know. 😎

So we actually had a nice Thanksgiving and then celebrated Gary’s birthday two days later with a feast of Indian food delivered by GrubHub.

We’re just trying to get through the holidays unscathed and I must admit, it’s a hell of a lot easier knowing the vaccine and President Joe are on the way.

It’s just that there’s 52 days left and Donald is such a crazy little bitch...

Ah, well.

I enjoyed my week off from this journal and figure I will stick with it until the vaccine makes it safe to go out but maybe not every day. We’ll see.

In the meantime, here’s some pics from the holiday weekend. Pics of FaceTime with both kids for Gary’s birthday, Thanksgiving dinner, which Gary knocked out of the park, he also made bananas foster french toast for brunch yesterday, and the birthday card Julie made Gary, emailed me and I printed out and gave to him with his gifts - guitar stands from all of us, bird books from Eric, and a portrait camera lens and remastered Imagine vinyl from me.