Day 116

Day 116, self quarantine:

Happy Wednesday, July 8, a/k/a Eric Slick’s new single release day!

Here’s the link!  There’s a video, too, but it’s private this morning so I’m guessing Eric wants to release it himself.  I’ll come back and edit to add it later.

https://youtu.be/Vr77mYRJv7k

Anyway, I know I’m prejudiced but I think this is mahvelous.

I love the lyric, “Maybe I’m not perfect, I’m a simple person...”

The entire record is power pop.  What I love about Eric is, he not only plays 87 instruments, he seamlessly hops from genre to genre, not afraid to try new things with each new project.

Speaking of that reminds me of the Beatles.  I heard an interview with McCartney where he was talking about how back in the early sixties, they first heard Diana Ross and the Supremes and Paul and John were like, this is awesome, it’s the best thing we ever heard, and then they heard the Supremes’ follow up record and the Beatles were like, Hey ho, the Supremes’ second record sounds just like their first record.

The Beatles were mystified. Why would any musician want to do that?

They wanted every record to be different, to bring something new to the table.

Damn I miss that.

Gah!  And now I’m one of those cranky old people yapping Back in My Day 🤮

But you know what I’m talking about.

I love creative people who are always coming up with new ways to express themselves.

Which brings me full circle back to Eric.

I’m gonna tell some Eric stories now.

In fact, I’m gonna give you part of the speech I wrote for his wedding last year, kinda, most of which I didn’t get to read due to nerves and overhearing someone at the table next to ours moan, “Enough with the speeches, I’m hungry!”

Hey, I’m a Jewish mother.  I can’t let anybody go without food.

So...taps mic...here goes.

The minute Eric could stand in his crib, if we would play music for him before bed time, he would bang out the melody on the slats of the crib.  It was crazy.  No matter what we put on, the Beatles, the Who with Keith Moon on drums or Cream with Ginger Baker — Eric kept a perfect beat.  Gary and I would look at each other incredulously, not believing what we heard.

But in the meantime, we were also worried.  Eric was over a year and a half old and didn't speak.  He would just look at us with those big green eyes, like he wanted to say something, but couldn't.

And then one night, just as we were really starting to panic, Eric walked over to us, wearing his favorite outfit of nothing but a Pampers, opened his mouth and said, "You've got the tummy ache blues, from eating all the candy you did!"

Gary and I gasped, "What did you just say, Eric?"

He repeated it.  And all of a sudden, we realized Eric was actually singing Tummy Ache Blues from his favorite 1939 VHS cartoon.

So Eric's first words were a whole freaking song.

During the next couple of years, Eric's obvious skill at drumming was increasing, so by the time he turned four, he had a real drum kit.  And also, by the time he was four, he wanted to be in charge of his own birthday party.

"Okay, Eric," I said.  "Sure we’ll get you the chocolate peanut butter birthday cake you want, but what about invitations?  You want to go with me to pick them out?"

"Oh, no, Mom, we don't need invitations.  I already invited everyone."

This was news to me.  But okay...

"You already invited everyone?   How many kids did you invite?"

"Just three.  My three favorite friends in the world."

Three favorite friends in the world?

"Okay...and who would that be?"  I thought he was so adorable - I tried to picture which little boys were coming over.  Who were his top three?

"I invited Dennis, Frannie, and Frannie's best friend, Michelle."

Wait a second.   Hang on, hang on.

Dennis, Frannie and Michelle?  

Dennis was a friend of mine and Gary's - he was also our pot dealer.  

Frannie was Eric's very large breasted beautiful 21 year old babysitter.

Michelle was Frannie's equally beautiful large breasted best friend.

Hahaha.

"Is that why Dennis asked me if it was okay to buy you a GunsNRoses CD for your birthday?"

"Of course, Mom.  It has a parental warning sticker on it and everything!"

Oh god.

"Yeah, I know.  Dennis told me.  I said it was okay, but please don’t sing the lyrics at school."

"I would never!"

Holy hell, I just remembered the little brat who slept over for Eric’s 11th birthday and told his mom we had a Playboy Magazine in our bathroom.  That bitch actually called and yelled at me.  "We don't allow our son to read pornography, Mrs. Slick!"

Mrs. Slick?  Who dat? Wasn’t that Gary’s mother’s name?

I loved being a mom but man did I hate the other parents.

And sleepovers.  They were the absolute worst.

So that was the opening of my speech for Eric’s wedding.

(Not the last part about Playboy magazine and hating other parents - I just added that now.  I was inspired.)

Hahaha you know what? It’s a good thing I didn’t read my whole speech at the wedding.  That was just page one of ten.

That dude at the next table would have starved.

Okay, I’ll stop.

That was fun, though.

Congratulations on record release day, Eric!

Oh god, I have to work now?

I have to listen to the radio! WXPN is premiering Eric’s song throughout the day.

https://xpn.org/listen-live-m

Okay, that’s enough out of me.

Rock on!

Day 115

Day 115, self quarantine:

Happy 80th birthday, Ringo.

Jesus, John would have been 80 this year, too.  It’s surreal he’s gone almost 40 years.

If you’re a boomer and that doesn’t freak you out, woo, you’re a stronger person than I.

Ringo has some really groovy things planned for tonight, including a side by side performance with 78 year old Paul.

Here’s the link to watch live beginning at 8:00 p.m. eastern.

https://youtu.be/7YjPfyflyvQ

Here’s a picture of Gary’s Beatles Fan Club card he still carries in his wallet😂😂😂

Yep.

Aw, I think it’s endearing.

Gary’s mom took him to see the Beatles in 1966.  

Life changed forever after that.

You had to be there.

Gary’s a walking Beatles encyclopedia.  We both get insane when anyone tries to discredit them.

We’re really looking forward to tonight.

In other news, I am completely freaked out by this article in the New York Times because it totally confirms what I’ve been reading and thinking about since quarantine - the absolute worst place you can be right now with the virus raging is an office building with recirculated air and an elevator.

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/04/health/239-experts-with-one-big-claim-the-coronavirus-is-airborne.html

My office is particularly vulnerable.  It’s a low-rise building so old it has windows you can open and guess what building is just a few feet away?

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1976_Philadelphia_Legionnaires%27_disease_outbreak

I remember this story unfolding.  It was one of the saddest and scariest events in Philadelphia history.

This pandemic is Legionnaires disease on steroids.

Anyway, the bottom line is, my office building is never going to be safe without a major multimillion dollar renovation.

Oh, did I mention the building is  also home to several doctor offices with patients who visit sick and take the elevators?

Soo naturally this article was the first thing I brought up when I spoke with my boss yesterday.

He read it, too.

And is on the same page.

So that’s good.

I guess I’m not gonna see my boss until next year, because that’s when it will probably be safe enough maybe.  I have two local friends who are paralegals and both were just told they’re working remotely until at least January 2021.

There’s just no need to be there in person.  All the old rules are now out the window so let’s focus on any positives this pandemic created, I guess.

While talking to my boss, I also confirmed that I’m taking the next several Fridays off.  Like I said yesterday, there’s no point holding on to my three weeks vacation, it’s already July, ffs and it’s pretty clear we’re not leaving Casa Slick this year.

So yay, today is my Wednesday and I’ve got a spring in my step.

I’m in a great mood but with reservations because my grandson Marvin is in a Minnesota Veterinarian Hospital having surgery today. Keep Eric and Natalie and Marvin in your thoughts.

I can’t wait to post Eric’s new song and video tomorrow.

So that’s it for today.  Have fun and stay safe ❤️

 

Day 114

Day 114, self quarantine:

Welp, I’d say Happy Monday but I’m pretty sure that’s an oxymoron.

So what’s this, week seventeen?  Time flies when you’re having fun, huh.

I started today logging on Facebook and seeing that a long time friend of mine, my exact age though I’m four days older, gave notice on Friday.

She retiring, as people our age do.

As my husband did.

She looks so fucking happy in her updated profile pic this morning I’m questioning my entire existence.

Yeah, well, she also has a house at the beach so she’s got somewhere to go.

I felt a vicious stab of jealousy but let’s be realistic.

What am I going to do if I retire during the apocalypse, sit around and watch 53 year old Passwords on television and yell at dead people?

Yeah, we’re back to that.  It’s Groundhog Day at Casa Slick.

There’s Gary shouting clues at Scoey Mitchell last week.  I stopped working and came downstairs when I heard him yelling.

I thought he was fighting with a robocaller, his other new hobby since retiring.

But no, he was in an argument with Scoey Mitchell for not giving a good clue.

“Omg, Gary, he can’t hear you, he’s dead!”

“Scoey Mitchell is dead? Aw, no.”  Gary was not pleased.

“He’s gotta be.  He was like 50 in 1967,” I said, punching his name on my phone.

“I like him,” Gary said.

“Jfc, he’s still alive.  Oh hey, he’s 90, maybe you can visit him at the nursing home.  Oh wait, never mind, the coronavirus, you can’t go.”

“Scoeyyyyy,” Gary said.

I stared at my husband with my mouth open.  I mean, come on.  He was acting like a senior in assisted living.

I should invite him to Arts and Crafts hour.

We’re painting rocks.  

😂😂😂😂😂😂

Maybe we can invite his new pal, Lou, our 80 year old retired neighbor.

Oy, Julie’s bedroom is on the second floor at the front of the house so when Gary stands outside and talks, I can hear every word.

When he talks to Lou, I feel like I’m listening to an episode of the Andy Griffith show.

“Well, howdy there, Lou! This here is my award winning tomato plant.  I’m a-gonna submit it for consideration at the County Fair.  What’s that? Yep, I’m retired.  The wife...the little woman...is working from home.”

The wife?  The little woman? Okay, I’m exaggerating but still.  I raised the window shade and glared down at Gary but he didn’t look up.  He was too busy giving Lou a plant by plant description of our ghetto garden.

Oh god, they’re discussing fertilizer.

I blasted music so I didn’t have to hear.  I was afraid Gary was going to sign us up for post pandemic shuffleboard and gin rummy with Lou and his wife.

I can tell Lou’s wife thinks I’m a hussy.  She’s caught me outside without a bra and never actually says hello, it’s more of a grunt. 

I gotta be honest, I’m not a fan of old people even though I’m one of them. 

Especially because I’m one of them. 😂😂😂😂😂😂

I wish I could just hang out with my kids.  When we’re all together, the six of us laugh like idiots.  There’s always unlimited great stories and never ending plates of amazing food.

Old is the absolute last thing we feel.

Oh hell, now I’ve done it.

Okay, deep breaths.  

See? This is why I can’t retire yet.  I can’t sit here crying, I have a buttload of work to do.

But fuck it, I am taking Friday off.  I need to be good to myself and have something to look forward to.

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

Ahhh... I feel better already.

You should be good to yourselves, too.

Peace out, comrades.

Day 113

Day 113, self quarantine:

Hi, Sunday.

Good morning!  I’m determined to be cheerful today.

Despite Kanye West announcing his run for President.

Omg, can this country be any more ridiculous?

Yeah, probably, when Trump dumps Pence for Ivanka 😂😂😂.

So I got my favorite Facebook memory today and I can’t believe it.  It’s fifteen years since I went to LA and Seattle to see Julie and Eric for the opening night  premier of Rock School in both cities.

Haha, my two stars.  That movie is now a cult classic.

The photo is really something, isn’t it?

I wrote about that week extensively and there’s more cool celebrity pictures you music nerds might like 😎

http://inherownwrite.blogspot.com/2005/05/final-word-on-eddie-vedderseattle-and.html

That’s just one post but you can easily locate the others once you’re there.

Good times.

I mean, 15 years later, those good times are still happening, just on hold for 2020.

Gosh I want my life back.

Don’t we all.

Last year between August and December, I saw Natalie do a show in New Jersey, I saw Julie play with Adrian, and, a month later, with Start Making Sense, I saw King Crimson in VIP seats practically touching the stage and then a week later saw Eric play at the same venue with Dr. Dog, and then ended the year with an amazing Chris Harford Thanksgiving night show featuring my entire family.

Speaking of Chris Harford, he’s on my perfect song list.  I’m still getting that together because, well, I want it to be perfect.

Anyway, how the hell did we go from last year to the hell that is now?

The news on the virus continues to be terrible.  It’s basically raging out of control and we’re basically being told, “Oh well, just deal with it.”

We may be looking at Hanukkah and Christmas with our families via Zoom.

If we’re lucky.

Okay, enough of that.  I said I’d be cheerful.

I hope today goes slow.  I’m not in the mood to return to work mode tomorrow.  

Gah!  Trying hard to be positive.

I’m honestly not in a bad mood.  I think I need a week off from paralegal world.

I don’t know why I’m holding on to my three weeks’ vacation.  It’s not like I can go anywhere.

 I wish I had the discipline to put my phone down and unplug, too, but just like my need to stay awake on airplanes even during ten hour flights so I keep the pilot awake and make sure we don’t crash and everyone on board stays alive, I clutch my phone 24/7 to keep Trump from the nuclear codes.

Hey, so far it’s working.  You can thank me later, when he’s gone for good.

My daily reminder that if you support him, you are going to burn in hell for eternity.

You’re also a fucking nitwit.

Seriously, though.  With Eric and Natalie in Nashville and Julie and Katie in Seattle, and a raging pandemic, how the heck can I ever put my phone down?

In other news...

Eric and Natalie are leaving today to drive to Minnesota. Their dog Marvin is having life saving brain surgery on Tuesday and will be hospitalized for a week.

“I guess we get to vacation in Minnesota this year,” Eric joked weakly.

My fingers are crossed for them.  There’s few worse things than a sick pet.  Marvin has been having seizures and Eric and Natalie have gotten little sleep.  

We watched Eric do a few songs livestream Friday night for a charity and he looked so exhausted our hearts hurt for him.

In much better Eric news, the first single from his new record, “When it Comes Down to It” will be released Wednesday!  And there’s a video!

I have the link already but it won’t be public until Wednesday so watch this space first thing Wednesday morning.  It will also get radio play on WXPN.

It’s fucking awesome.  I can’t stop singing it.

And the video is so Eric my face hurt from smiling.

Ms. Natalie joins him on single #2 which will be released July 22 and if that song doesn’t take your breath away, nothing will.

And now I really am in a great mood.

See?  Instead of dwelling on stuff that makes you angry or sad, try to focus on what makes you happy.  

Trust me, it works.  

Enjoy your day, everyone!

Day 112

Day 112, self quarantine:

Happy Independence Day.

Oh that it really were.

But do keep up those sweaty, slurred Nazi speeches while wearing bright orange clown makeup, Donald.  I’m positive that’s your path to reelection 😂😂😂.

So I’ve been up since 3:00 a.m. and wrote an entirely different post, which in the light of day, I’ve decided not to share.

But since this is a quarantine journal, I want to document that it was all about fear.

I don’t know what the hell happened, what started out as a mild pity party for Gary and me because I got triggered by years of July 4 Facebook memories of our kids at the beach, turned into a full fledged panic attack for everyone I love when I went downstairs.

Every time I think about the ramifications of this virus, it brings me to my knees.

I wish I had the money to fund every artist out of work.  My heart is broken in a million pieces.  I need to do more to help.

I will.

The important thing is, I turned my dark mood around by recognizing how self destructive self pity is and the way out of that funk is by focusing on the positives.

I have so many amazing memories of my family at the beach.

I have so many amazing memories, period.  It’s been a pretty remarkable life.

But why is everything always so much scarier in the middle of the night?

I’m honestly fine this morning, looking forward to a low key day of hanging with Gary, paining rocks, listening to music and eating hand cut french fries.

It’s not a bad deal at all.

And how crazy is this.  I went searching through my stuff to find a pic of the kids at the beach and found a novel I started writing in 2012 and abandoned called Suicide Blonde.

I just read it.  I honestly don’t remember writing it.  In fact, I was in such a bad place when I wrote it I am positive my finding it now was more than a spooky coincidence.

Our dog had just died, Julie was moving to Los Angeles, Eric wasn’t in a good relationship, and I had one of the worst jobs of my life working for a screaming cokehead lunatic.

Anyway, fuck me, I think I can salvage that novel and make it funny.

It’s so poor, poor me I sound like a cross between Woody Allen and Donald Trump.

How did my family stand me? Yikes.

But the good stuff in there I can work with.

Did you know that I lived at the beach for two summers when I was 15-16 as a mother’s helper for three boys age 3,5 and 6?

It’s when I decided I was NEVER having kids 😂😂😂

There’s a couple of chapters about that.

I was paid $15 a week, cooked three meals a day, and even ironed sheets.  I thought I was the luckiest person in the world.

I had the weekends off and had a secret life.

I basically ate my way through Atlantic City all by myself.

And this is back before foodies and when 15 year olds were basically just a few years graduated from playing with Barbies.

I started with candy stores and I am proud to say I discovered a real chocolatier on my own before anyone knew what that was but by the end of summer I was dining on lobster at Captain Starn’s Seafood.

I just had to google my old haunts.

Oh my fucking god, the candy store I rode my bike to almost every day when I was 15 is still there.

https://www.jagielkyscandy.com/

HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS?

It’s literally twenty minutes away from Ocean City, where we’ve spent every summer since 1989.

Well, this changes everything.

We are so going there.

I’m waking Gary.

He’s going to be thrilled.

Not, but I know how to make him happy.

https://whitehousesubshop.net/

Omg, my other haunt at age 15.  I can’t even believe it.  It’s like time has stood still.

I’ll have the cheesesteak submarine, please.

Without the steak.

Hey, a gooey cheese and tomato sauce sandwich on a crusty Italian roll is amazing.

To each their own.

Okay, I am going upstairs with a cup of coffee for my better half.  

He’s never going to agree to this but I am still smiling at the possibility and now I’m thinking I will take a day off next week and go when it’s less crowded and risky.

Wow.  For a brief moment, I got so caught up in my 15 year old Robin memories and chocolate...especially chocolate... I totally forgot about the virus.

Okay.  Deep breaths.  I’m still smiling and that’s all that matters.

And Gary is making hand cut french fries tonight.

Oh, and Donald Trump, Jr.’s girlfriend tested positive for the virus.

Hey, thanks,  God!  Maybe you’re there after all!

Now please smite Trump and every single one of his supporters.

Whatever.

Enjoy the day, fellow apocalypse dudes.

Day 111

Day 111, self quarantine:

Happy three day weekend.

I’m not saying Happy Independence Day weekend because we’re not really free until November 4.

Or until karma and/or a lifetime of eating greasy fast food get him.  Whichever comes first.

I’m cool with option 2.

I am just gobsmacked that as late as yesterday, both he and his creepy evangelical Christian VP looked straight into the camera and lied about the virus.  What virus, they basically said, as 50,000 new cases are appearing daily.

Actually, here’s what Trump said yesterday on resurgence of virus as cases are spiking in several states: 

“We are putting out that life because it’s a bad life that we’re talking about.”

No mental illness or dementia there, eh Donald?

Completely unfit despicable human garbage.

Gah!

Do you guys know that he’s planning on setting off fireworks at Mount Rushmore tomorrow?

Fireworks have been banned at Mount Rushmore for the last ten years for serious ecological reasons due to chance of wildfires.

https://www.cnn.com/2020/07/02/weather/mount-rushmore-fireworks-wildfire-risk-trnd/index.html

So let’s recap.  He’s visiting Mount Rushmore in direct opposition to the native Americans who live there, he’s encouraging no masks or social distancing for this bogus party in the middle of a pandemic, and he’s insisting on a celebration that may set off a series of devastating wildfires.

Got it.

AND HE’S NOT IN PRISON WHY?????

Okay, I feel temporarily better now.

So what’s everyone doing this weekend?

Welp, we’re staying home, big surprise.  But I did plan out the menu for the weekend.

Tonight there will be pizza.  White pies - one pesto and one spinach ricotta.

Tomorrow there will be veggie banh mi sandwiches and hand cut french fries.

Sunday we’re barbecuing and I am trying out a new veggie burger recipe which uses black beans, roasted almonds and portobello mushrooms. 

The wrench I may throw into these plans may be tomorrow night because I just got an email from our local Ethiopian restaurant with a rather spectacular vegetarian takeout platter offer which feeds four, i.e., Gary and me, and it may be too good to pass up.

https://haklilu.github.io/Era-Bar-and-Restaurant/foodmenu.html

In which case I will shift the hand-cut fries to Sunday to have with the veggie burgers.

Hey, you didn’t think I was giving up my french fries on a holiday weekend, did you?

So I’m sure you’re all dying to know the reason for the picture.  See the Frida Kahlo pillows on my sofa?  

I’ve been up since 4:00 a.m.painting those images on rocks for my garden because I am insane.

Pics coming after I am finished sealing them.  I’m too nervous I will wreck my hard work and am going to let Gary do that for me outside after they’re fully dry.

Man, is this fun.

I have all kinds of my own ideas but I wanted to see if I could work that small and use paint pens easily.

Omg, paint pens are everything.

If we’re in quarantine much longer, I will probably take those pens to some walls in this house.

In fact, if it’s not moving or breathing, I’m gonna paint on it.

(As Gary frantically gathers his guitar collection with a look of abject terror in his eyes 😂)

So I think that’s it for me today.  I’m going back to my rocks.

Rock on, people 😎

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.”

https://www.marthastewart.com/337782/blueberry-corn-muffins

Anyway, the cornbread was delicious.

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.