Day 118

Day 118, self quarantine:

Happy Friday and happy day off to me!  I actually slept in today - Jake and I didn’t get out of bed until 6:00 a.m.

I’ve always been jealous of people who can sleep past 8:00 a.m.

Okay, I’m lying.  People who sleep late waste the day!

Omg, it took me years to get over that Gary is “one of them.”  I used to get so frustrated at 10:00 a.m. on the weekends - the sun shining in, me awake for six hours already, and I could literally hear Gary still snoring from downstairs.

I turned that time into valuable “me” space and now I get annoyed if he wakes up before 10.

Go figure.

So yesterday I was all set to begin my three day weekend when my phone rang.  It was our accountant.  He was concerned because he hadn’t received our tax stuff for our no contact phone appointment later that day.

Jfc, I completely forgot all about that.  We had our annual appointment for our taxes a couple weeks before the usual April 15 deadline and just as we were first quarantined.  They extended the deadline to July 15 and my accountant rescheduled us for a telephone appointment yesterday.

Gah!  How the hell did I forget that and now our returns are due next Wednesday.

So we had no choice but to scurry around the house and grab all our paperwork and fly down to South Philadelphia at the end of the day to drop everything off in the mail-slot of his office so he can call me Saturday at 5:00 for our no contact appointment.

You can imagine how enthusiastic I was about that whole nightmare.

I had been up since 4:00 a.m. busting my ass at work since it was my getaway day for a three day vacation and now I had to make sure I had all our tax stuff, get out of my pajamas and drive to South Philadelphia.

I was pissed and didn’t want to go.  

So.  Because I’m a big baby, whenever I have to do something I don’t want to do, I make sure there’s a reward system in place.

We get gifted at Casa Slick every time something great OR awful happens.

The reward/gift is almost always food because, well, food.

Last night we had to go to South Philadelphia.

That just screamed PIZZA.

Gary was instantly on board.

“Marra’s?” he asked hopefully.

http://marrasone.com/

Marra’s is the best.  Except you can’t get Marra’s to go.  I have never seen a pizza go from sublime to terrible so quickly.  The minute you put a brick oven Marra’s pizza in a box, it takes on the taste and texture of cardboard.

So no, no Marra’s.

I had my eye on Mack’s Boardwalk Pizza.

https://www.mackspizzamenu.com/

I mean, the name alone.

It was only blocks away from the accountant.

We had tried that pizza years ago and liked it but at the time, his store was more of a garage and Gary wasn’t thrilled with the set up so we never went back.  Then I read they moved to a real storefront in the Italian Market and I made a mental note to try it again.

And forgot.

“I’m gonna call and order when we get to Washington Avenue,” I said to Gary excitedly in the car.

“Why?”  Gary never understands any kind of planning.

“What if they tell us there’s an hour wait?”

Gary rolled his eyes.

In retrospect, it’s good one of us is a planner because when I called...

“The number you have dialed is not in service.”

Oh, no!

“Maybe it’s disconnected because of the pandemic,” Gary said.  “We’ll drive by after we drop our tax stuff off.”

“Yeah, that must be it.  Google and Yelp are listing them as open,” I agreed.

Because I had my heart set on that pizza and I had no plan B.

We drove up 9th Streetslowly.

“There it is,” Gary said.  “Closed.”

“But...why?” I asked, as if Gary would know.

Actually he did know.

“Uhhh...because there’s a pandemic?”

Wow.  

You know, I noticed during our drive that Philadelphia is far from back to normal.  Half the stores in downtown Philadelphia are still boarded up.  Restaurants are shuttered and dark.  At 5:00 p.m. on a Thursday night, there was no traffic, either vehicular or pedestrian.

It still looks like a scene out of Mad Max.

“So what are we doing?” Gary asked.  “Now that you have Jake and me primed for pizza.”

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking.  Gah, too much pressure.  Wait!  What about Lorenzo’s?”

Lorenzo’s Pizza is an Italian Market mainstay.  I think it’s been around since I was a kid.

http://lorenzospizza.net/

“Okay,” Gary said.  “It’s right up the street.  “Are you sure they’re open?”

“Yeah, they even have Covid-19 parameters on their website.”

We drove to Lorenzo’s and I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Closed.

“But why?” I asked Gary again like a little kid.

“There’s a pandemic, Rob.”

I had one more idea, one I was sure wouldn’t work.

A few weeks ago, Julie sent me a video about a guy eating a pizza from a place in South Philadelphia called Angelo’s.

You really need to watch this.

https://youtu.be/ioaN3xjq1EY

It was one of those small batch millennial “places.”  They only take cash, the only way you can order is via phone but half the time it’s busy, and if you go to their website it says “sold out.”

I told Gary none of this.

He’d never go to a place like that in a million years.

But I was desperate for good pizza though to be honest, I thought they’d be closed, too.

We drove up and not only were they open, there was a parking space right outside where the heavily tattooed young owner was leaning against the wall, having a smoke.

Gary jumped out of the car with his long hair and sunglasses and it was almost hilarious how the owner fawned over him.

“What can I get for you, my dude!”

His reaction was even weirder as we watched about 25 people walk up asking for pizza while we sat in the car waiting for ours and he turned them all away.

“You gotta call and order the dough in advance!” he yelled.

“But your phone is busy.”

“Try harder!”

Gary and I looked at each other.  This guy was the Pizza Nazi but for whatever reason he took a liking to Gary and Gary ended up getting out of the car and talking with him and of course by the end of the conversation he knew we had a drummer son, bass playing daughter and singer songwriter daughter-in-law.

“I knew you were somebody,” he said.  “Enjoy the pizza, Gary! Come back any time!”

So that was cool.

I texted Julie from the car on the way home.

She was suitably jealous.

Look at this pizza.

It’s a thing of beauty, isn’t it?

“Omg omg omg,” I moaned while eating.

And I just realized I wrote an entire post in homage to pizza.

And that’s how it should be.

Enjoy Friday, everyone.

Day 117

Day 117, self quarantine:

Happy Thursday-Friday, since I’m off tomorrow.  Why I haven’t thought about taking a series of Fridays off until now, I have no idea.  It feels wonderful!

Well, except first I have to get through today.  Work wise, ew, today is going to be brutal.

So today is day 117 of quarantine, which means in another two weeks, we will have sheltered in place for 1/3 of a year.  We started isolating in the winter, stayed indoors all through spring, and now we’re somehow in the second month of summer.

So that’s pretty crazy.

I’m trying not to be Debbie Downer here but the news on the virus is getting worse by the day.

Is the motherfucker masquerading as a President deliberately trying to kill us?

The Supreme Court better rule in favor of the people today.  We need to see why he’s so afraid of Congress seeing his financial records.

I’m not hopeful.

Gary is.  Gary also thinks the people are going to take to the streets en masse this fall.

I think the pandemic is going to prevent that, along with our ability to vote.

We’ll see.  I will never be happier to be wrong.

I want to move to Portugal.

In much better news, Eric is getting great feedback for his record and I’m thrilled for him.

Here’s the video:

https://thekey.xpn.org/2020/07/08/eric-slick-wiseacre-when-it-comes-down-to-it/

 My grandson Marvin sailed through brain surgery and when I talked to Eric yesterday, he was cooking him chicken for dinner.

The Slicks know how to treat their dogs.  We know dogs > people.

Never trust a person who doesn’t like dogs.

Hahaha my criteria for liking people in the past was always what they had on their bookshelves and what they had in their record collection.

Now it’s if they like Trump and don’t like dogs, emotionally I pee on their face and walk away forever.

I’m not sure if that means I’m a grownup or not.

Who cares?

Okay, you can tell I am preoccupied and don’t have much to say today.

Some days are like that.

Fingers crossed for a good day today for everyone except Donald Trump 

Peace out.

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.