Thursday, July 23, 2020

Day 131

Day 131, self quarantine:

Thursday, July 23, 2020

Man, everything is so damn awful in this country today I, not Gary, am going to bake a plum tart.

Because we have plums, and it’s meant to be.

I’ll tell you why.

Julie texted me a beautiful pic from Seattle on Tuesday. She was at Katie’s mom’s house on a lake and picking plums.

I remarked that years ago, when I was head chef and baker at Casa Slick, I used to make a plum torte that was insanely delicious.  

Yeah, that’s right, I’m the one who got everyone food obsessed and cooking around here.  Then they all got better than me.

I didn’t mind stepping aside at all.

Anyway, I immediately told Julie about it when I saw her plums and texted her the below pic and recipe:


One cup sugar
1/2 cup butter
One cup sifted flour
l tsp baking powder
2 eggs
24 halves plums, pitted
Sugar, lemon juice and cinnamon for topping 

  1. Heat oven to 350 degrees. 
  2. Cream the sugar and butter in a bowl. Add the flour, baking powder, salt and eggs and beat well.
  3. Spoon the batter into a springform pan of 8, 9 or 10 inches. Place the plum halves skin side up on top of the batter. Sprinkle lightly with sugar and lemon juice. Sprinkle with about 1 teaspoon of cinnamon.
  4. Bake 1 hour. Remove and cool. Serve with whipped cream. 
Julie didn’t respond, she was out walking when she texted me the plum pic.

Gary in the meantime was at the store buying stuff for dinner.  I heard his key in the door.

“I’m home!  I have a treat!”

Ooh ooh.  I like a good treat.

“What?”

“Plums!  Wait til you see these.”

So I know that in July, it’s really not a bizarre coincidence that two people miles apart have plums.

But...

About ten minutes later I get a text from Julie, who had just returned from her walk.

“Oh my god.”

It seems Katie’s mom bakes all the time and while the girls were out walking, she baked a berry torte.

She sent me the pic also posted below.


Spooky, right?

I am not about to ignore a sign.

So I’m baking that torte today.

I’m sitting here smacking my lips.

So what else.

Hmmmm.

Person woman man camera tv...

Oh, sorry, just letting you know I’m a dementia free genius.


😂😂😂😂😂😂

I gotta laugh, what else can I do?

Actually, I’m not getting my hopes up, but his winning streak may be over.  

No city wants his unauthorized secret police.

And I’m sure everyone out of work about to abruptly lose their emergency weekly federal $600 unemployment check on Saturday gives two fucks whether he can remember five easy words, they have other things on their minds.

Like feeding their families.

Right now, he’s an international laughingstock, which in my mind means this is the most dangerous he’s going to be yet.

No worries, enjoy your day, I will be watching the news 24/7 and keeping you all safe.

Remember, this is the law.  I stay awake on airplanes and we don’t crash.

I’m focused on Trump with the opposite in mind.

It’s gonna happen.

You saw what happened to my obgyn last week after I spent some time thinking about him...

Let the three day weekend commence!



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Wednesday, July 22, 2020

Closer to Heaven


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Day 130


Day 130, self quarantine:

Wednesday, July 22, 2020

So here’s Eric’s new song, Closer to Heaven, which also features his lovely wife, Natalie ❤️

https://youtu.be/02AxgExePWk

Ahhh... I needed that today.

I’m told the video will be out this afternoon.  I’ll post it as soon as it’s up.

Hey, it’ll be nice to “see” Eric again.

Sob.

Also, we learned yesterday that the last single from his record, When it Comes Down to It, just made NPR’s World Cafe’s Best New Music List!


It’s been getting a lot of radio play and Gary is now a local celebrity at Klein’s grocery store where they broadcast WXPN all day.

Haha tell me he doesn’t love walking into the store and hearing, “Yo, Gary, we heard your son on the radio!  Great tune!”

I’m a little nervous today because Gary is going out for some “extracurricular shopping.”  I was right he’s feeling blue and yesterday, when he was poking through his guitars and lamenting some need a little work and tender loving care, I suggested he visit Danny’s Guitars in Narberth today. Oy, I hope it’s safe but it’s a small neighborhood shop and it’s gotta be as safe as the supermarket and he’s been going there since quarantine.


Anyway, his whole face lit up at my suggestion and it’s all he talked about last night so I didn’t express any fears I have about the trip, especially since it was my idea.

Oy, what a way to live.

In other news, I don’t want to scare anyone but Desperate Donald seems to be starting a war with China to take the focus off his gross mismanagement of the pandemic.


So cool, cool, we really are all gonna die.  

I may as well also send Gary out for cinnamon sugar donuts when he goes guitar shopping.  I mean, why bother to deprive myself of anything more?

Maybe when they come for me I’ll be too fat to fit out the front door.

Hmmm.  Sounds like a plan.

I think I’m a little sad, too. Since I can’t go shopping today and I have a rather unfortunate work load, I’m going to try to stay away from the news and just concentrate on getting stuff done.

See you on the flip side.






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Tuesday, July 21, 2020

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.
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Monday, July 20, 2020

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.




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Sunday, July 19, 2020

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!


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Saturday, July 18, 2020

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.


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.


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.
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Friday, July 17, 2020

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.


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.


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.


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

Rock on.












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Thursday, July 16, 2020

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.”


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.


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.


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.








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