Day 83

Day 83, self quarantine 

Yay, it’s Friday!

I love Fridays.  They’re so full of chill and hope.

And pizza.  

Though I think I am blowing off our usual pizza night tonight because I really may finally make it down to the beach on Sunday.  I haven’t told Gary yet but I’m the Slick social director since Julie moved out so he’ll go along with the plan.

Plus I’ve had him working in the yard every weekend since April.  He could use a peaceful morning lounging by the ocean.

I could use a breakfast of cinnamon sugar cake donuts and a lunch and dinner of Manco and Manco’s pizza.

Jake could use a run on the beach.

I could use that, too.

Okay, we’re going!

I wish the kids were here but it’ll happen.

So this is a week I am happy to put behind me.  I struggled at work, I struggled with the news, and I guess I am never going to stop struggling to understand why people support Donald.  A bigger pussy/imbecile does not exist.

People, he’s a morbidly obese buffoon in a ridiculous wig and makeup and an international laughingstock.

HE IS A MURDERER AND IF YOU SUPPORT HIM THAT MEANS YOU SUPPORT DEATH AND DESTRUCTION.

Jfc, if you’re that stupid, just go away.

Sigh...

Oh, one good thing, I told my boss again where I stand on coming back and he reassured me I can continue working remotely.

I actually started celebrating the weekend last night because yes, Gary made hand cut french fries, I scored my first heirloom tomato of the season and some sesame seed brioche buns, and that dinner was just what I needed.

Well, that and a hug.

I know how to live.

So this weekend I also hope to work in the yard and maybe start the great rock painting experiment.  We’ll see how that goes.  I may want to completely finish the yard before I do the fun stuff like rock painting  because I never finish projects and neither does Gary and this time I’m determined and so is he but we both stray easily so I’m afraid to do anything else.

Oh great, now I’m talking myself out of the beach.

Nah.

Meanwhile, I can’t believe it’s June and we haven’t made any vacation plans.  Since Gary has no plans this summer at all, I’ve been idly playing around with the idea of RV rental.

I know, I can’t believe it, either.

No worries, we’ll never do it.

But geez, Gary’s retired, I have three weeks vacation, and we’re not going to go anywhere, really?

Haha, sounds like us.  We better make that backyard ultra cool, it’s going to have to double as Tuscany.

(I’ll go to Tuscany later after there’s a vaccination)

So I guess that’s it for today but after the week I had, I’ll take “slightly boring.”

Later, apocalypse dudes.

Idiot in Chief 9

Hahaha!  Is this supposed to make Bunker Boy look strong and fearless?
😂😂😂😂😂🤞

President Pussy.

Day 82

Day 82, self quarantine 

A derecho?  We had a derecho yesterday?  Wtf is a derecho?  How is it that I’ve lived over half a century and never heard that term in my life?

“A derecho is a line of intense, widespread, fast moving windstorms and sometimes thunderstorms that move across a great distance with severely damaging winds.”

Oh.

I mean, it’s the apocalypse.  

What else would we have on a Wednesday in June in Philadelphia?

Because helicopters and sirens all day weren’t enough.

Needless to say, I had another bad day in the home office.

And getting that Facebook slap on the wrist yesterday didn’t help.

Thank you for all your comments.  I didn’t have the stomach to hit “like” or even revisit that post.

I’ve kept a blog since 2004 and I cross post all of these posts there.  One day when Facebook finally pisses me off for good, you can find me here:

https://inherownwrite.blogspot.com/?m=1

I’m staying on Facebook for now because of all of you and will try to keep all of my angry political posts on my blog.

But let me just say that I go to bed every night and wake up every morning hoping he’s dead and you don’t wanna know what I wish for his supporters. 😂😂😂

How beautiful are these peaceful, multiracial protests?  

I remain hopeful.

I feel like everything has changed and continues to change.

Have I mentioned I hate change?

Oh well, too bad.  There’s nothing I can do to stop it.

And this time, change is gonna be awesome.

And that’s another apocalypse revelation, people.

Chin up, it’s Thursday.  

I’m thinking of asking Gary to make hand cut french fries tonight, it’s been that kind of week.

Self care is everything.

And on that note, I believe there is a leftover biscuit calling my name.

Peace out 😎

1. 
   

   
   

Day 81

Day 81, self quarantine:

Okay, I don’t like Wednesdays but I’ve got to get my act together today.

Woo, I had a bad work day yesterday.  I had a 100% error filled day, and when that happens, I either work harder to redeem myself or I completely shut down.

Guess what happened.

Maybe it was the culmination of the last few days, maybe it was the non stop helicopters overhead and the construction workers across the street screaming so loud I thought they were in Julie’s bedroom, or maybe it was just post-traumatic stress from the last three months.

Anyway, it wasn’t a good day to screw up.  I have deadlines and I’m so busy I can’t breathe.

I may have barely slid by yesterday but I won’t today so I have to put my head down and work.

Trouble is, I don’t feel like it.

I hardly slept last night.  I heard a couple really loud explosions.

The news just told me that three ATM machines were blown up blocks from my house.

Actually, I just heard another explosion now at 5:30 a.m.and so did the fellow currently reporting the news four blocks from my house.

Good times.

And naturally we also have a freak weather forecast today with severe multiple thunderstorms and damaging wind gusts throughout the day and a high of almost 90 degrees.

Maybe the power will go out.

Am I actually hoping for that?  Why, yes.  Yes I am.  

As long as it goes back on when work ends at 4:30.

Gah, my day actually started out great.  Aileen came by to get the bicycles, I actually had my first face to face conversation with someone for the first time since March 13, she brought us bags and bags of fresh lettuce and herbs from her garden...I could have hung out with her all morning.

Maybe that was it.

Oy, I can see I have decisions to make sooner rather than later.

Anyway, Gary suggested I salvage the day by going to Lemon Hill with him and Jake at the end of the day to see this “really cool rainbow thing” that popped up in the park so how could I say no?

I’m so glad I did.

I needed a new pic in my head to replace the defiled piano in the street following the riot in Philadelphia this weekend though okay, that photo is never leaving my head, ever.

That piano is a metaphor to me for  broken America, the culmination of three years of a monster in the White House who has zero passion for the arts.

I just wish he was gone.  I don’t really care how.  

Pick your worst.

Oh well, sue me, all my posts can’t be inspirational, funny, or include cheesecake recipes.  Life has warts.

I’m going to go inhale a pot of coffee and listen to some music to get out of my bad head.

Later, apocalypse dudes.

Photos from the apocalypse

A photo of the apocalypse trio this morning as captured by their first visitor since quarantine.

My husband has an apocalypse  beard which he isn’t trimming until this is over.

Idiot in chief 8

Welp, we know who the eighth deadly sin is, huh, President Pussy in a Bunker!

The worst person in American history

And if you support him, so are you.

Day 70

Day 80, self quarantine:

Holy hell, we’re only 20 away from 100 days shelter in place.

That’s insane.

But as I keep saying, I’m down with 100 more.  At least.

I’m not going to comment on President Pussy’s ridiculous fascist speech and phony Bible photo op last night, no worries 😜

Not in this post, anyway.

But I needed comfort and sustenance yesterday so Gary gave me a lot of hugs and oh my God he made black pepper cheddar buttermilk biscuits with spicy honey butter.

Can you marry a biscuit?

Because if there is anything on earth better than that biscuit, I haven’t met it.

Oh, okay, the guy who baked it is cool.

But oh my lord, that combination of flavors.  And the grated cheese in the dough makes it flaky and a
little chewy at the same time.

The honey butter also had smoked paprika.

I’m having leftovers for lunch.

Is it lunch yet?

Tonight is the final trash night. Tonight the last barbecue, the 87 barbecue accessories, 5 broken hoses, the 27 trash can lids, the rusted empty propane tank, the four hideous 20 year old green resin chairs that I finally talked Gary into parting with...all in the trash.

Along with another 16 bags of leaves and I don’t know what.

We have conquered the hellhole that was our yard.

Now the fun stuff starts and I am so here for that.

Right now, just the idea of standing in a totally empty trash free yard is so exciting I can hardly wait for 7:00 tonight.  

This day is gonna take forever!

But there will be biscuits In between to break it up.

Always have goals, people.

Idiot in chief 7

You’re not American, TRAITOR.  Americans don’t teargas peaceful protestors so they can walk to a church and put tneir BLASPHEMOUS tiny hands on a Bible for a hideous photo op 🤮🤮🤮

Day 79

Day 79, self quarantine

Welcome to week twelve of the apocalypse.

So what’s next?  Swarms of locusts?  A thousand ton meteor hurtling out of control toward earth?  Leprosy?

Right now I’m wondering if the building where Gary worked for twenty-five years until the pandemic hit is still standing.  Last time we checked, the neighborhood was under siege.

If it’s not, what a metaphor that would be, huh.

I dunno.  For once I have no words.  For once I have no fucking clue what happens next.  No idea.  It’s terrifying.

Once again, I am rethinking everything.

I don’t know how to fix things.  I’m a mom.  Fixing things is what I do.  

I don’t understand how you can hate someone based on their race or religion.  My mind doesn’t work that way.

I hate people for other reasons 😎.

I do know this.  105,000 Americans are dead.  Forty million Americans are out of work.  We’re hurting and we’re exhausted and we’re scared.  Instead of addressing the nation yesterday and appealing for calm and unity, that ridiculous, vile human garbage five time draft dodger in the White House cowered in his basement bunker, sending out inflammatory, insane Tweets.  Tweets meant to INCITE more violence.

“FAKE NEWS!”

(You wish, Tubby)

“OBAMAGATE!”

(Wtf?)

“LAMESTREAM MEDIA!”  

(Ooh clever.  For a ten year old)

PUSSY!

(That’s you, Donald)

You’re a PUSSY, Donald.  An international laughingstock.

As are your supporters.

I hope every sane American calls for your resignation today.

I’ll start first.

RESIGN, DONALD JOHN TRUMP.

The National Guard is in Philadelphia and I woke up to my city on fire.

Three months into the apocalypse, everything in my life has totally changed.  I’m not even going to address the last three and a half years, that’s a given.

I think about everything differently now. 

Everything.

I’ll tell you one thing, though. This is not a good time to have an overactive imagination unless you can channel it to make art.

On a lighter note...

I was watching a rerun of Saturday Night Live and everyone was hugging at the end like they’ve done for 45 years and I shuddered, both from realizing that this sweet tradition would never happen again and from the thought of deadly coronavirus germs spreading.

Within five minutes I wrote an obituary for everyone on that stage.

So great, now when I see anyone touching or too close to each other I cringe and think of death.

Like I needed any help with thoughts of death.

Okay, enough of that.  Life has to go on, and now, more than ever, we have to make the best of it.  We’ve had plenty of time to reflect here at Casa Slick, and we’re focusing on trying to make this world a better place.  We’re old.  We have that luxury.

We spent hours last night discussing ways we can help.

But for now, because there’s still a PANDEMIC going on, we’re concentrating on the garden.

I’ve never seen Gary happier.

He outworked me this weekend.

Our yard may be tiny but it’s a really pretty space.  It’s full of both sunlight and crazy shadows.  I took some pictures of the yard in progress and noticed a flash of red.

“I think there’s a family of cardinals living in our tree,” I told Gary excitedly.

“What?  Where?”

Gary talks to birds.  It’s really extraordinary.  They answer him back.

I showed him the pic.

“You knucklehead, that’s our rosebush!”

The rose bush we planted twenty years ago and totally forgot about?  Whoa, it’s now blooming in the highest branches of our tree.

Excuse me for not knowing roses did that.

But too cool that they’ve been out there blooming all these years independently without any help from us.

I kind of like the idea of a freak aerial rosebush in our apocalypse garden.

Of course I also googled pruning rosebushes just in case we want normal ones, too.

I went back outside and took a better picture.  It still doesn’t do it justice.

But I will say this.  That bizarro climbing rosebush made me smile for the first time all weekend.  It is so “us.”  

Talk about a metaphor...

Be crazy, be different, and be beautiful.

And always reach for the stars.

Unfortunately for me this morning, that means climbing the stairs to Julie’s former bedroom now my office.

For now.

Later, apocalypse dudes.