Day 129

Day 129, self quarantine:

Tuesday, July 21, 2020

Gary and I watched the Phillies play the Yankees last night live on television for the first time in eight months. There were no fans in the stands and the players, coaches and umpires all wore masks and it was beyond weird.

Somebody please wake me up from this dystopian nightmare.  I promise I’ll never complain about anything ever again.

I swear.

I was still pretty fucking happy to watch that game, though.

I think Gary is feeling sad, too. I was really busy yesterday and didn’t even get the chance to have coffee with him but I did go downstairs for snacks I mean to check on him a few times, expecting to see him stretched out on the sofa watching Password.

The first time I walked downstairs, he was running the vacuum.

I immediately turned around and went back upstairs.  I didn’t want him to stop.  He does a much better job than I do.  I am an admitted half hearted vacuumer.

I did go back downstairs a half hour later to tell him how nice the living room looked.  I’m not stupid.

He was playing guitar and singing softly.

I snuck back upstairs.

But not before snapping a pic.

When I went downstairs  a third time, he was in the kitchen making coconut rice with roasted vegetables. There was a big bowl of warm lentil salad with mustard vinaigrette on the table.  

Fuck yeah.

This time I hung around.

So much for the smoothie/salad plan this week but I’ll do portion control.

I don’t know why I care, we’re all gonna die from coronavirus and/or Donald.

Oh, I’m kidding!  Jeez.

So yeah, Gary is the opposite of me when he’s feeling blue. He smartly gets active right away.  

That’s how I know when something’s up with him.

Conversely, when he’s on the sofa watching mindless television, he’s happy.

Or relaxed from something 😎

The reason I am active and clean the house on Saturday mornings is because I’m chill and in a good mood because Saturday.

Gary doesn’t understand that logic anymore than he understands someone sitting in bed with the covers up over “her” head in a tent when life gets too tough for her.

What, you don’t make tents to sit in when you’re depressed? Really?  

Man, if I could only figure out a pulley system to bring me snacks in there.

Anyway, whatever was bothering Gary passed. Television as usual commenced after coconut rice.

I think the longer this apocalypse continues, we’re going to have those moments of sheer misery where all we want is our lives back and we’re temporarily brought to our knees by everything that‘s happened. 

We’re just going to have to let that dream of our old lives die for now and try to build something new.

I’ll let you know when I figure out how and what but humor is key.

Seriously , we are going to be one fucked up nation of people with post traumatic stress disorder, huh.

Not sure what the answer will be for that, either.  For once I’m glad I’m old.

In other news, tomorrow I will have a tasty new song from Eric’s new record - it’s a duet with Natalie called “Closer to Heaven” and there’s also a video which I have not seen.

A reason to live another day.

So that’s good.

And with that, I’m off to draft some Interrogatories.

Don’t even ask.

Oh well, every day can’t be cookies.

Rock on regardless.

Day 128

Day 128, self quarantine 

Monday, July 20, 2020

I’ve lost track of what week this is.  18?  19?  At this point, who cares, we’re counting months and we’re well into month four.

Welp, I had my thumbprint cookies.  Maybe it’s just me but they taste better with kids and Christmas.

But they were still good.

Okay, they were freaking amazing.

And now this week I’m just doing smoothies and salads in penance.

I think I better get out of my pajamas, too, and put on some tight jeans.

So for Christmas in July yesterday, I bought Casa Slick a new kitchen mat, some brightly colored kitchen towels, and eight really cool green glass vintage Coca Cola juice glasses.

Yeah, Coke juice glasses, that’s how they’re advertised. They’re six ounce glasses which I love because I’m weird.

Ho ho ho.  I know how to live.

But now today is like December 26, I’m bloated and miserable from too many cookies and too much chocolate - oh yes, there was also chocolate because once Gary learned I was celebrating Christmas, he got all nervous he needed a present so he ran out and came back with two bags of Lindor Truffles.

Ugh, it’s actually good I did that yesterday.  I got it out of my system.  I could eat a salad for breakfast right now.

Yep, I definitely have that post holiday depression thing going on.  I’m not feeling work but I have so much I’m heading upstairs the minute I finish writing this.

My hope is I’ll be so busy I will forget to be blue.

And then I’ll spend the rest of the week living in the moment being kind to myself.

As I told Eric yesterday, everything is so awful and bizarre, we have no idea what’s coming, it’s out of our control.  What we can control is how we react to it.

Sure, easy for me to say.  

We all know I’ll be the one hiding under the bed if one more thing happens.

Oh, I’m kidding.  Most of us are a lot stronger than we think, me included.

But yeah, how we react to things out of our control is key.

If there’s one thing I have learned in my old age, everything passes.

So I’ll take my own advice today.  Is everyone I love healthy and in happy relationships?

Yep!

Okay, then.

Everything else is bullshit and will pass.

And with that, I’m off to start my week.

Stay strong, fellow apocalypse dudes.

Day 127

Day 127, self quarantine:

Sunday, July 19, 2020

So the rumor is true - downtown Philadelphia has completely lost its mind and it’s Christmas in July and I am so here for that it’s ridiculous.

Look at 12th Street.  It’s glorious.

“Can you make cookies?” I asked Gary after I showed him the pic.

“What took you so long?”  Gary asked.  “I’ve been waiting for that question since March 13.”

“I honestly don’t know. Probably calories.  But I weighed 135 this morning so that means you can make thumbprints and almond cookies.”

He broke out laughing.

“I love your logic.  You don’t want peanut butter cup cookies why? Because you don’t weigh 125?”

“Exactly.  Conversely, if I weighed 140, I’d ask for oatmeal raisin.”

Gary rolled his eyes.

“And if you weighed 150?”

“I wouldn’t ask you to bake cookies in a million years.”

“Really?  Never?”  

“Never.  I’d buy them and hide them all over the house and eat them in the bathroom while you walked Jake.”

“What? You do that?”  He honestly looked shocked. 

Huh?  Has he not lived with me for a hundred years?

Hmmm.  I must be a very successful sneak eater.  Yay me!

I blushed and twisted a lock of hair nervously around my finger.

“Nah, I’m kidding.”

“No, you’re not.  Jesus Christ. You hide food?  Do you need to go to rehab?  Why do you eat in the bathroom if I’m out walking Jake?”

“In case you forgot a bag and had to come right back in.”

Gary, who was sitting on the sofa hugging and kissing the dog, replied, “You’re insane. Jake, Mommy is insane.  Tell her, Jake.”

Jake looked over, yawned, and gave me his paw.

I reached over and shook it.  “I love you, Jake.”

“Jake, tell Mommy she’s a lunatic”

“Jake, tell Daddy he’s making out with a dog and asking him to berate his own mother.”

Jake jumped off the sofa to get the hell away from both of us.

Oy, this apocalypse and too much time together is brutal.

Nah, I truly love it.

Well, most of the time, the hanging out with Gary and Jake part.

And the working from home in my pajamas part.

And clearly the eating part, including the Christmas cookies in July part.

That’s it, though.

Everything else is crap but I gotta look at the bright side or I really will go nuts.

So today will be all about July Christmas cookies and maybe even presents.

Why the hell not.

Happy Holidays!

Day 126

Day 126, self quarantine:

Saturday, July 18, 2020

Ah, Saturday.  Gary has some of his sports back - I’m pretty sure today involves both soccer and auto racing - but I don’t care, I’m going to chill regardless.

So as you can see, I moved Flo and Eddie out in the garden and of course they look awesome.  (Flo is the flamingo and Eddie is the peacock, duh)

They make me smile every time I look out there.

I’m not smiling about what’s going on in Portland.

Secret police really?

That may be the scariest thing in that monster’s presidency yet and that’s really saying something.

I’m exhausted already looking at the news this morning.

It must be nice to be a person who doesn’t watch or read the news and can bury their heads in the sand and act like nothing terrible is happening.

I’ll fill you in.  Deaths from coronavirus in America are spiraling out of control.  Trump has ordered hospitals to send the data to him, not the Center for Disease Control.

Do you know what that means in the simplest of terms?

He either lies and tells us the virus has been contained, or lies and says it’s so bad, he has to institute marshal law.

A few hours ago, he confirmed he’s not going to issue a national mask mandate.

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-53453468

But by all means, protect statues, Donald.

Also in the news today, civil rights activist Rep. John Lewis has died.

“Be hopeful, be optimistic. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble. We will find a way to make a way out of no way.”

-John Lewis

Oh that our government was made up of similar humans.

I’m already bracing for Trump’s insincere tweet.

If he even mentions it.

Oh my god, how did the most awful person in the world become our President?

It’s a rhetorical question.  I know how.  Cheating and racism that is the ugly underbelly of America.

The sun’s shining pretty brightly on that ugly underbelly now, huh.

It’s even more hideous in broad daylight.

Oy, sorry, I am just so sad and furious.

Have I mentioned I miss my kids?

But I just read something terrible from Bob Lefsetz.  A friend of his, who I’m going to assume is close to my age, is in hospice.  He quarantined and did everything right, until recently.

His granddaughter came for a visit after visiting friends in a distant state, and she brought him back the virus and now he’s dying.

https://lefsetz.com/wordpress/2020/07/16/covid-19/

Can you imagine the horror his granddaughter will live with for the rest of her life?

I’m sitting here crying all over again.

No way am I doing that to my kids.  Guys, I miss you so much my heart hurts but even if it means the holidays via Zoom, we’re staying quarantined until this is over.

Oh god.

I’m trying to think of something funny to change the tone of this post but I got nothing.

Except please stay safe and hug your loved ones if you’re lucky enough to be quarantined together.

Peace out.

Day 125

Day 125, self quarantine:

Friday, July 17, 2020

Morning!  I will try not to gloat that I’m off from work today.

So last night Gary said to me, “You’re gonna love dinner tonight.”

“What do you mean?” 

Nooooo, I was really looking forward to what I thought we were having, leftover angel hair pasta with Gary’s famous fresh roasted tomato sauce.

In fact, I was looking forward to it all day.  He promised a side of spinach and some old school garlic bread.

“We only had a half a box of angel hair the other night and we ate it all.  We had a bag of shells from DiBruno’s, fresh ricotta and some leftover grilled portobellos which I mixed with the spinach.  I made you some stuffed shells with roasted tomato sauce and I topped it with fresh mozzarella.”

Oh.  I guess I could eat that.

Ooh ooh.  And he did make garlic bread.

He took it out of the oven.

“Oh my lord, it looks amazing,” I groaned.  “Wait, where’d we get that casserole dish?”

“We’ve had it for years,” he said.  “I took it from my mom’s house after she died.  You never noticed?”

“Gary.”

“What?  What’s wrong?”

Omg, I had just read about this.

I pulled it up on my screen and wordlessly handed him my phone.

“$2,000?!  What?!”

“Yep.  People go nuts collecting this stuff.  It was on Antiques Roadshow.”

Haha, you should have seen how carefully he ladled out dinner.

And we’ve got the glass lid, too, and it’s also in perfect condition.

Julie and Eric, this is why you do want our things after all and shouldn’t just throw stuff out when we’re gone though I’m gonna haunt you both and won’t let you.

There’s a lot of crazy stuff like that in Casa Slick.

Oy, I just realized I’ll never get Gary to do Swedish Death Cleaning now.

Kids, I tried.  I’m apologizing in advance.

So the headline at CNN this morning is Trump’s Refusal to Lead is Making the Pandemic Worse.

https://www.cnn.com/2020/07/17/politics/donald-trump-leadership-coronavirus/index.html

Ya think?

He’d rather talk about dishwashers.

As if he ever loaded and ran one in his life.

It’s almost as funny as when he tries to talk about religion and says “God bless.”

Actually that’s not funny, it’s grotesque.

Oy, enough of that.  Thinking of him at 6:00 a.m. makes me instantly nauseous.  That’s his one superpower - the ability to make me projectile vomit at the sight or sound of him.

His supporters have that superpower, too.

So what’s everyone doing this weekend as if we can do anything safely.  Our weekend is food centric as always, Gary bought such gorgeous vegetables at the farmer’s market, the first words out of his mouth when he walked in the door with his overflowing shopping bag were, “I’m making vegetable fried rice tomorrow.”

Naturally at 10:00 p.m. last night I got a text from Julie.

“Making fried rice tonight!”

Because of course.

Gary doesn’t like admitting it because he’s head chef around here, but the Slick family fried rice recipe comes from Julie and there isn’t a restaurant in the world that makes it better.

So that’s my weekend plan though I’ve been lamenting missing National French Fry Day this week and I suspect I will find a way to remedy that, probably tomorrow.

Ew! Ew!  Those Trump commercials airing at dawn in Philadelphia are grossing me out.  I just saw one where the radical liberals (me, I guess) are going to burn down our cities all across the U. S.

Yes, we’re going to attack other Americans with our sushi making kits and yoga mats.

Jesus fucking Christ.

And on that note, I’m shutting off the television and putting on the radio in hopes of hearing Eric’s song.

Eric is getting amazing reviews, by the way.

https://youhearthat.com/2020/07/16/eric-slick-2/

Finally, this is the weekend Zappa fans from all over the world to attend a live music festival celebrating Frank in Bad Doberan, Germany.  Of course this year it’s virtual.

They’re broadcasting greatest hits from prior festivals all weekend and it’s an interactive website that looks really cool.

They’re showing Ms. Julie and Crimson Projeckt this afternoon.  I’ll come back later with a separate post but for now, here’s the link.  Since it’s already late morning in Germany, the site is active.

https://30-5.zappanale.de/

Okay, so we do have something cool to do today.

Rock on.

Day 124

Day 124, self quarantine:

Thursday, July 16, 2020

Good morning!  I’m obviously happy today, having tomorrow off and everything.

As you PA folks have probably heard, our extremely competent and cautious governor is holding back on reopening our state, and issued new guidelines yesterday.  

The governor specifically addressed office workers:

“All businesses must have employees working remotely where the work doesn’t need to be done in an office,” Governor Wolf said.  “We’re at a tipping point and we need to act.”

https://www.pa.gov/guides/responding-to-covid-19/

That’s me!  That’s me!

Actually, people grumbled about our governor and his initial restrictions but we’re one of the few states who were on track to conquer the virus.

If everyone had done what our governor did, we’d be going to concerts and ballgames this summer.

President Clownstick Von Fuckface has one final chance to save his re-election bid and us if he’d shut the whole damn country today through Labor Day and issue a federal mask mandate.

Instead, yesterday his idiot cult member governor in Georgia... the criminal who stole the election...overrode all local mask laws in his state, where, by the way, the virus is raging.

https://thehill.com/homenews/state-watch/507600-georgia-governor-overrides-all-local-mask-orders-in-the-state

I will say it again.  They want us too sick to protest or vote.

My son, who knew at age four when he sat behind his first drum kit what he wanted to be when he grew up, told me he has a Plan B in case live music doesn’t come back because he obviously wants to start a family.  Oh, and eat.

At first when he told me, my heart broke in a million pieces. He’s been living the dream since 2005, when he was 18 years old and a freshman at University of Arts and Andre invited him to join Project Object.

Anyway, after the initial shock that Eric would be anything other than a touring musician, Gary and I are all in on his Plan B because he can still do the music thing if and when live music comes back, and more importantly, he can earn a living anywhere in the world.

Because we don’t think America is going to make it.

We hope we’re wrong but...

So that’s where we’re at in this family.

Julie is formulating a Plan B as well.  Please join me in urging her to do a vegetarian cooking show incorporating her music on YouTube!  Tell me that wouldn’t be amazing - Julie instructionally cooking dishes she’s had all over the world and talking about the experience both musically and culturally.

Haha, I don’t know if it would be financially lucrative but as her mom, I’d sure like to see that regardless.

Oy, I still can’t believe any of this is happening.

Most of the time, the days all roll into one and I feel like I am floating through this pandemic wrapped in gauze.

And other times when I think about the reality of the aftermath, it brings me to my knees.

Speaking of being brought to my knees, I am sitting here reeling in shock right now.

A couple of days ago, and I have no idea why, I thought about the doctor who delivered Julie and Eric.

I couldn’t remember his name.

It drove me crazy.  I wish I knew how to show you my Google history for Monday.  I tried different variations of what I thought was his name and then I even tried googling his former office address, which I did remember.

So I thought, wow, the kids were born in the eighties before everyone had the internet and my doctor was probably in his late fifties or early sixties, he’s probably long retired and that’s that.

You know what old people do every morning?  We read the obituaries.

I just read today’s death notices in Philadelphia.

Oh my fucking god.

https://www.legacy.com/obituaries/inquirer/obituary.aspx?n=howard-e-first&pid=196500888

That’s the doctor who delivered my kids.  I just read his obituary.

I started searching for him simultaneously.

So what, now I predict death?

This isn’t the first time this has happened.  Or the second.  Or even the third.  Ask Gary.  

I actually asked Gary on Monday if he remembered the doctor’s name.  Wait’ll I show him this.

Anyway, now that I am completely freaked out, I am going to have another cup of coffee.

Probably not the smartest move.

Peace out, everyone.

And I guess pray I never randomly think of your name and google you.

Day 123

Day 123, self quarantine:

Wednesday, July 15, 2020

Yep, I’m posting the date now because I really can’t believe we’re four months into this thing and I have no idea what day it is otherwise.

Though not to rub it in, today is really my Thursday since I’m off Friday.

So yesterday I woke up with a serious craving for a soft pretzel.

“You want what?” Gary asked.

“Soft pretzels with mustard.  Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m a lunatic.”

“I don’t think you’re a lunatic,” he said.  “It’s 8:00 a.m.  I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

Oh.

So I took an early lunch and we hopped in the car to procure some hot out of the oven pretzels.  I realized we hadn’t had them since quarantine which is a sacrilege if you live in Philadelphia.

They were really good.

But then, as I was upstairs working, basking in my after pretzel glow, Gary appeared in the doorway of Julie’s former bedroom/my office, white as a ghost.

“What’s the matter?” I asked him, alarmed.

“I just got stung by a bee.”

Oh god, it was so hard not to laugh.  The expression on his face was everything.

He looked like The Scream.

It was like he was shocked a bee would actually do that.

I’ve known him since we’re kids so I wasn’t worried he was allergic.

It really was no big deal.

But he had to tell me the whole story, anyway.

“You know that busybody down the street?  With the short gray hair?”

“No.”

Gary looked at me frustrated.

“Sure you do.  She has a picture of Gritty in her window.  She’s a real yenta, she’s always asking about the kids.”

“Who?”

“At the end of the block.  She’s always outside on her step wearing a mumu.  You know who I mean.”

No, I really don’t.  You’re the one who talks to all the neighbors, Gar.

“Anyway, she walked over to me while I was messing with the flower boxes and she wasn’t wearing a mask and I wasn’t wearing a mask and I tried to get away from her and I wasn’t paying attention and all of a sudden it felt like sharp teeth tearing into my finger...”

I know I am a terrible person but my eyes started watering from trying not to laugh and then I tried fake coughing to cover it up.

“I got the stinger out and sprayed my finger with Benadryl and I also took a Benadryl,” he added.

Oh god.  I coughed and laughed at the same time and then buried my face into Jake, who was snoring on Julie’s bed behind me, so Gary wouldn’t see.

No worries.  He didn’t notice, he launched into the story of how it happened again.

By the time he was finished, I was able to manage some sympathetic  clucking.

He told me the story fifty more times before bed, though each time adding new details.

There were a swarm of bees in the final version.

Maybe a hive.

And of course he kept showing me his finger.

“It doesn’t look swollen at all,” I told him.

“I know!  It’s because I treated it with Benadryl right away! Spray and pill!”

Oy.

So this is retired life?  A bee sting is an exciting event we talk about for hours?

It was hilarious, I’ll give you that.

And who am I to talk, I just excitedly wrote about it.

And eating a soft pretzel.

Also, I have been sitting here laughing like an idiot for the past half hour over the “boobee” joke.

😂😂😂

Ah, getting older is grand.

Yeah, yeah, I know.  It beats the alternative.

Okay, I’m gonna end it here. There’s a lot of darker virus stuff on my mind this morning but I’ll keep it light.

Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do today.

Day 122

Day 122, self quarantine:

Tuesday, July 14, 2020.  

So I blew the 35th anniversary of Live Aid yesterday.

https://www.phillymag.com/news/2020/07/10/live-aid-history/

Naturally, Gary and I were there at JFK Stadium to see it live in Philadelphia.  I was three months pregnant with Julie and had the morning sickness from hell - actually, I  wish it was morning sickness, it lasted all freaking day for all nine months and I couldn’t go anywhere without a bag to throw up in.

So of course I had to go to Live Aid, how could I miss standing in a three mile long

line for the ladies room every five minutes in 95 degree heat?

I was pregnant, I also had to pee every five minutes.

Damn straight I played the pregnancy card, screaming like Throw Momma from the Train from the back of the line, “Coming through, coming through, I’m with child!  Coming through, I’m gonna be sick!”

And the wall of wasted females magically parted.

I tried to time my bathroom trips while bands I didn’t love were on stage.  Haha, my first trip was right away as soon as we got there that morning during Joan Baez.

If I remember correctly, I planned lengthy bathroom

trips during Run DMC and REO Speedwagon, too, but nature also interfered and I still weep over missing Tom Petty when I threw up my water ice.

Ugh, it was red, white and blue water ice.  I’ll never forget it.  Gary bought it for me in a panic when I told him I was passing out from the heat.

I know, right?  But I had to be there.  And I’m so glad I stayed for the entire concert.

It was spectacular.

Is it a coincidence Julie, born six months later, is a musician?  I think not.

So last night we passed on the fancy dinner we planned yesterday.  Jake was “off” and Gary and I stressed and overreacted all day.

He’s fine.

But man, I wish someone would invent a translator for dogs so they could tell you what’s wrong.  It’s just brutal when they’re sick or when you’re neurotic and think they’re sick.

Anyway...

I think that’s it.  I’m actually too freaked out about what’s going on with the virus to talk about it today.  But fear not, I’m reading enough about it for all of us and if I think it’s time to eat whatever the hell you want whenever you want, I’ll let you know.

As if I’m not there already.

As if I’m not always there.

😂😂😂

Oh well.  I should get to work early today,

Okay.

Peace out.