Day 164

Day 164, self quarantine:

Tuesday, August 25, 2020

So in quarantine land, it’s the little things.

Like something unexpected that arrives in the mail.

Like a signed, personally inscribed advance copy of your good friend’s new book!

Happy pub day Ellen Meister!  Ellen’s latest novel, Love Sold Separately, is available today here, there and everywhere:

https://ellenmeister.com/

Can I just say that this book arrived in a bright turquoise padded envelope that matched the book cover?

Again, it’s the little things.

Ellen is my fabulous friend of almost twenty years and a brilliant writer.

We met in NYC in 2002 when a bunch of us belonged to an online writing group, part of Francis Ford Coppola’s Zoetrope Studios, and those of us on the east coast decided to take our friendship to the real world.

Ha, back in 2002 that seemed so edgy and brave.

I mean, we couldn’t even really exchange pics online yet.  We had to use scanners, and most people didn’t own one.

So yeah, a bunch of us finally met in person for dinner after yapping online for a couple of years...was the first time at Bubby’s in NY?...and we’ve been friends ever since.

Some of us are famous now.

For a lot in our group, just getting a short story published was exciting enough, but a few of us were sitting on novels.  

All we needed were agents and a little luck.

Ellen had a novel, I had one, too, but as soon as she told me the premise of hers that night at dinner, I knew, 100%, that Ellen’s book would not only be published, it would be a hit.

The premise and title were, George Clooney was coming to the Applewood PTA.

It took a little more time than I thought, and her publisher’s legal department made her change the title because George, but yep, the book was a smash and the start of a very successful career.

And if you’re a Dorothy Parker fan, Ellen is your gal.

Love Sold Separately is a departure for Ellen because it’s a whodunnit and I gotta tell you, she totally fooled me, I did not guess correctly “who did it.”

But man, what a fun break from reality the book was.  I took it to the beach with me on my birthday last week and between the sun and the surf and this book, it was just about perfect.

I had Gary take a pic of me reading, but first he took a pic of my thighs with the book in between and then I held the book up and he cut off Ellen’s name. 

Oy.  Maybe I’ll post one in comments for laughs.  

Anyway, in this apocalyptic era of Donald and a deadly virus, Love Sold Separately is the perfect anecdote.

It’s smart, funny, and entertaining.

Here’s the official synopsis:

“Dana Barry has nothing against rules. She just thinks they’re meant to be bent, squashed, and thumped into amusing shapes. So it’s no wonder when the struggling twenty-something actress is fired from her day job in retail. And now her life is a mess … that is, until she hears the Shopping Channel is auditioning. Relying on her nuclear eye for detail, knack for knowing what makes people tick, and sheer bravado, she lands the host job. Before you can say office politics, Dana is caught in the biggest drama of her life. The star host—a diva who terrorized the entire staff—is found dead. But Dana knows the prime suspect is innocent. The heat is on, and Dana thinks she’s ready for it … until she tangles with the tall, dark and smoldering detective in charge. It’s more fuel than she needs right now, as she’s trying to launch her Shopping Channel career. But Dana’s never been afraid to take chances … even when a single spark could ignite everything.”

So here’s something Ellen doesn’t know - one of my friends who sometimes comments on these posts is in fact a shopping channel host. I’m not going to out her unless she wants to out herself, but I will make sure she gets a copy of this book. I think she’s going to adore it.

Anyway, as a writer, I can tell you from first hand experience, nothing is more exciting than publication day. It’s kind of like having a baby. You create this thing and nurture it for months and months and then it’s born and you’re so damn excited and happy and at the same time you want to throw up because what if it’s not perfect and what if everyone hates it, and oh my god, why would anyone voluntarily go through this agony?

I know why.

Real writers do it because they have to.  They have something to say, and hopefully there are people who want to read it.

I stopped submitting to agents for the most part because I can’t follow rules but I never stopped writing.

It’s my voice, it’s how I speak.

You know who has a fabulous voice?

Ellen.

You’re gonna love this book.

And all of her others!

I’m not encouraging this and you can go other routes via Ellen’s website linked above, but if Amazon is your jam, here’s the link:

https://www.amazon.com/Love-Sold-Separately-Ellen-Meister/dp/0778309312

Okay!  I’m off to start day 2 of oycation staycation getaway week which means I get to call clients.

Yay.

All things considered, I’d rather be on the beach reading Love Sold Separately.

Rock on!

Day 163

Day 163, self quarantine:

Monday, August 24, 2020

Yay, getaway week for staycation!

After I get through this week, I don’t have to be in Julie’s bedroom for ten whole days.

Honestly, when this is all over, I’m going to have to remove every reminder of my remote law office life from there or I’m going to be stressed every time I walk upstairs.  I may have to redecorate Julie’s room altogether.

Haha, as if Gary will let me touch the shrine.

He won’t even let me throw out/sell/ give away the kids’ toys.

Oh yes, every single ninja turtle, every obtainable Power Ranger, every freaking superhero, their cars, laboratories and weapons, every Super soaker, every nerf gun...are still here at Casa Slick.

I say “obtainable” power rangers because at the height of their popularity, Gary had to enter a lottery at the Toys R Us and then show up there at midnight the night after Thanksgiving to fetch them so that Julie and Eric would have a perfect Christmas.

I feel like I talked about this before...

Oh well, after 163 days, there’s bound to be some reruns.

Anyway, yeah, I could probably make several thousand dollars on eBay with the Slick toy collection but Gary is convinced Julie and Eric are going to want them some day.

They’re in their thirties.  When will this be?

No clue.

Again, our kids are gonna hate us when we die if I can’t get Gary to Marie Kondo sooner rather than later.

Sigh... I really am gonna try again next week on staycation.

I’m getting rid of all my stuff except for jeans, black leggings and a few favorite tees/sweaters.

What’s the point?  I never have to get dressed up again. 

I’ve been wearing black t-shirts with jeans since I’m 16. It’s the outfit I am comfortable in, though in recent years black leggings are everything.

So yeah, goodbye about ten tons of clothing, boots and shoes.

Hey, no joke, I have at least ten all leather Coach handbags.  Maybe more. Where should I sell them with the least hassle and highest return?  

All the rest I am donating.

Yep, I’m doing it next week.  I already started bagging stuff yesterday. So hopefully Gary will follow suit.

He will.

Just not as quickly or efficiently as me, but I can help make things disappear when he’s not looking.

I mean, how many tie dye Bradford White Hot Water

Heater t-shirts does a man need?

Speaking of Gary, he has a new hobby.  He’s obsessed and I think it’s awesome.

The birds, Jake, flowers and yours truly are his subjects and I gotta tell you, the dude is really enjoying retirement more and more with each passing day.

Imagine how happy he’s going to be when we can actually leave the house for real.

Whenever that will be.

Eric is working on me to move to Nashville.

I texted back, “Hey, you’re preaching to the choir.  I’d move next door to you tomorrow.  Call your father.”

Eric replied, “I will!”

I probably also mentioned this before, but ever since Gary saw Easy Rider in a movie theater when he was sixteen, he’s been traumatized by the south and told me he could never live there.

I’m not even lying, he gets nuts even talking about it.

But, Gary has a long history of telling me NO, ABSOLUTELY NOT, and then turning around and telling the opposite thing to the kids.

I say we wait until November 3, 2020 before making any decisions regarding residence because, you know, we all may wanna leave the country.

If we can.

Oy.

So I think that’s it for today, I’m feeling a little scatterbrained because I have a big work project and I need to focus and so far I’m not feeling it.

Meh, I will go make some more coffee and give it my best.

If worst comes to worst, I will have a couple cookies for energy.

Oh, I got the Trader JoeJoes.

They’re NoNos but I will eat them anyway.

I mean, they’re not terrible, but I don’t recommend them, especially if you’re an Oreo fan.

They’re kinda soggy and the “cream” filling has a weird mouth feel.  I had to double check the label to make sure there was no gelatin.

Ugh, no gelatin but there was palm oil.

Why why why.

I think when I retire, I’m gonna start a food blog.  I have ideas.

I can’t wait.

Okay, that’s enough out of me.

Go forth and conquer.

Day 162

Day 162, self quarantine:

Sunday, August 23, 2020

Morning!

So not only did Gary already know about the raccoon in the yard, he already had an inappropriate name for it and then...and then...

And then.

He proceeded to tell me about every critter he’s seen in our yard, house, and neighborhood.

And now I want to move.

😂😂😂😂😂😂

Though I do want to meet the possum.

😂😂😂😂😂😂

Good times at Casa Slick.

So I confessed my urgent need for comfort food and Gary delivered.

We scored some fresh ears of corn and Gary probably made the best corn chowder I ever ate (ducking as Julie throws something at me from Seattle because everyone knows she’s the Soup Nazi) and it’s completely vegan though you’d never believe it’s not made with butter or cream.

All he did was sauté shallots and garlic, added four small chopped red potatoes, two cups of vegetable broth and two cans of coconut milk.  He seasoned with Aleppo pepper and smoked paprika. Then he added six raw ears of corn, still on the cob, threw a lid on the pot, and simmered the whole thing for around ninety minutes.  He removed the corn, puréed the soup with the immersion blender, took the corn off the cob, put half back in the soup, blended again, then added remaining corn, left that chunky, and omg, it was INSANE.

I could seriously eat soup every night for dinner.

With bread, of course.

Oh, and salad. 😜

I’m vacillating between a salad and pasta cacciatore for dinner tonight.  Gary is pushing for the pasta, I will see how hungry I feel later.

But oh, his pasta cacciatore.

I’m gonna try and ignore Donald today but I will tell you this - more and more people are calling out his lies and laughing at him.

And notable people in his own party are starting to defect.

I’m down with that.

I won’t be completely happy until he’s in prison or a nursing home.

So I’m hoping today is chill because I have a rough week of work coming up tomorrow as one does when they are taking the next ten days off.

I seriously need to kill it this week.

And then spend vacation making some big decisions.

Haha I should call it what it is.

Staycation.

Or, as I should really call it, the week I get Gary to start parting with some of his things upstairs.

Or as Gary would call it, devascation.

Ooh, I’m gonna copyright that.

Anyway, I have to go upstairs and continue the Gary wake up process I started an hour ago when I brought him his coffee because it’s our bimonthly seniors shopping hour at Trader Joe.

This time I won’t eat the pancake bread but I have a huge interest in these, which I’ve never had.

https://www.traderjoes.com/digin/post/neapolitan-joejoes

Neopolitan JoeJoes really?

I know, why would I want these when I live with Gary, master cookie baker?

Sigh...it all goes back to my tortured youth and the reward system.

I have to do something I don’t want to? (In this case, food shopping)

There must be a reward!

The reward must contain sugar!

And there you have it, the reason I will never be really thin.

I have no more fucks to give.

Peace out, people.  I’m off to get my JoeJoes.

Day 161

Day 161, self quarantine:

Saturday, August 22, 2022

Oh my god.

It’s 4:00 a.m., I couldn’t sleep, so I came downstairs.

I heard the birds chirping like crazy so I thought I would pull the drapes back and swing the doors open early and maybe catch them in the birdbath.

I just opened the back door and came face to face with a raccoon.  

I’m in shock.

I never saw one in person before but I am pretty sure it was Rocky, though downtown Philadelphia is hardly the black mining hills of Dakota.

Though it could be argued Casa Slick is a room in a local saloon.

Oy, look at me sitting here writing and cracking jokes while I’m really sitting here completely freaking out.

I want to run upstairs screaming and wake Gary, but over forty years of living with someone tells me that’s a terrible idea.

Gary is not a morning person. He literally needs two hours and two cups of coffee before he can say Hello.

Also, unless I have a pic, he’s going to say it didn’t happen.

Yes, I’m blind, but I had my overnight contacts in and I know what I saw.

It was literally inches away from the door and stared right at me.

Oh my god Oh my god Oh my god.

This cannot be good.

So instead of like, having a nervous breakdown, I put on Chopped Sweets and I’m googling pics of raccoons for this post and reading humane ways to get rid of them.

While trying not to read how much they don’t like humans.

In the background, the contestants on Chopped Sweets are making blood orange ice cream.

On the sofa, I’m letting out silent blood (orange) curdling screams.

I wonder if they’ve been here all along?

Oy vey, I’m a city girl, I don’t know how to deal.

It’s funny raccoons have masks like robbers.  I kind of have that same “my personal space has been invaded” vibe.

I was going to write about something completely different this morning but now I can’t remember what I had to say.

It either had to do with Trump or food, probably both.

I’m so disgusted I can’t even watch the news right now.  I’m going through the five stages of grief over this country and it’s not pleasant.

Therefore, I need to think of something spectacular for dinner tonight, assuming today isn’t spent on pest control.

I’m not kidding, I really can’t deal with this.

Uh, happy Saturday?

Day 160

Day 160, self quarantine:

Friday, August 21, 2020

And just like that, summer is almost over.

Cool, cool, we’ve been in quarantine during winter, spring and summer and for us, next month will complete the circle with autumn.

So if this were a normal year, last week Gary and Julie would have been at Three of a Perfect Pair Music Camp and Gary is still moping about that so you can imagine how thrilled he was when yesterday I got gifted with this video of him doing some serious Beatles’ jamming from last summer.

https://youtu.be/tL3iXFRSkKU

I just love it so much I’m kvelling all over the place.

No wonder Gary’s so sad about missing camp this year.

I’m sort of getting resigned to the fact that the rest of 2020 and 2021 are going to be washouts/lost years.

Anyway, I decided Gary and I clearly need another project. We need gratification similar to what we experienced in the backyard.

Time to remodel upstairs.

I’m gonna break the news to him later today.  I want to get started this weekend so we get a jump on it for the last week of August when I’m off.

We both need a new place for our brains to go.  We’re edgy and a little freaked by what’s going on with Donald and it just seems like there’s an endless stream of terrible news.

What I want to know is, how can time be going so slow and fast at the same time?

The days during quarantine seem to last forever yet I can’t freaking believe that aside from our trip to the beach Monday, a lunch out last month, and 2-3 scary trips to Lowes/Target, we’ve been housebound since March 13 and somehow 3/4 of a year has slipped by.

We’re just a few weeks from Christmas commercials.  

Though I just saw one for an artificial tree.

Oy.

It’s probably best we stay busy and upstairs needs everything from a fresh coat of paint to...uh...everything.

It should keep us occupied until the end of the year.

I gotta admit, this is how I always pictured our retirement, minus the no family, no travel, no live music parts.

Though I sure didn’t have birdwatching on our bingo card 😂

I’m feeling skittish about relaxing our isolation rules. Our visit with Eric was awesome and our trip to Ocean City incredible  but we’ve decided we’re going back to strict quarantine.  

We’re not risking it.

I don’t like what I’m reading and I have bad vibes.  My third eye is on all kinds of high alert and I’ve learned to listen to the warnings.

I’ll let you know when I think it’s safe.

Until then, take care of yourselves.

Hmmm...this doesn’t feel like a normal Friday, maybe because I have a ton of work or maybe it’s because we’re not having pizza since we had it Monday, but I’m sure I will feel more celebratory as the day progresses.

I think we could all use a reason to celebrate.

"POTUS takes no responsibility, refuses to lead, blames others, cozies up to dictators, and fans the flames of hate and division. He will wake up every day, believing the job is all about him, never about you. Is that the America you want for you, your family, your children? 

While I’ll be a Democratic candidate, I’ll be an American President,” Joe Biden says as he accepts his party’s nomination.

Yesssss.

I’m so exhausted by the verbally abusive, mentally ill narcissist with the persecution complex currently in the White House. 

To be honest, he reminds me of my late father and I’m triggered every time he speaks.

Good fucking riddance.

And on that note...

Happy Friday!

Day 159

Day 159, self quarantine:

Thursday, August 20, 2020

Okay, I’m cool, everything is fine.

Not really.

But if I don’t take a page out of Gary’s book and live one day at a time and accept things I can’t change or control, I’m gonna lose it.

I just wasn’t aware there were so many ignorant racist xenophobic homophobic people in this country.

How else do I explain Donald Trump not being dragged from the White House in handcuffs or a straight jacket this week?

Forgive me if I didn’t know, I live in Philadelphia, my friends are all musicians and writers, I’m a sheltered east coast liberal.

My heart is broken and I’m trying not to feel defeated, but things are really bad in America and I know I’m preaching to the choir here so I’ll stop.

It’s just that I’ve so had enough of that horrible, horrible man and the horrible, horrible people who support him and I really am terrified he has no intention of leaving, even if he loses in a landslide.

I’ll say it again, I’m scared.

And exhausted.

However, Obama’s speech last night was brilliant and uplifting and it was all kinds of awesome to see Donald completely lose his shit all over Twitter because Barack tore him a new asshole on international television.

Kamala was also triumphant and brilliant, filled with grace and beautiful...everything Donald and CottonTop are not.

I hope it’s not too late to save us.

In other news, something happened at work a couple of days ago that I normally would have been all over, hysterically texting my boss the minute it happened.

Instead, I shrugged.

My boss, however, noticed my absence of reaction and brought it up yesterday, three days after the fact.

I shrugged it off again and quickly changed the subject.

Now I feel guilty because he knows me and I’m sure he’s wondering what’s up.

I can’t help it, quarantine  has changed everything. I can’t sweat the small stuff anymore and I have zero tolerance for anyone who does.  I no longer obsess over going back to the office during this pandemic or even think about it because I’m not doing it.

My former self has left the building forever.

There’s those passages again.

So what else.  Focus, Robin, think of something funny.

Okay, Gary’s pants fell down in Ocean City.

Truth.  He’s been eating mostly vegetarian with me since the pandemic and because I see him every day, I didn’t realize he’s lost about ten pounds.  He wasn’t heavy to begin with.

Anyway, he got out of the car and stood up and stretched and his shorts fell down to his ankles and I pretty much lost it, laughing.

So there’s that.

Oh, this is pretty cool.  My cousin Sherrie sent me a picture of my grandmother Rose.  I’ve only seen one other photo, she died when my mother was 16.

I’m named after her.

Rose is the one with the darker hair in a topknot and holy moly is it just me or do Eric and I look just like her?

Standing next to Rose is her sister, Rebecca.

I know Facebook is evil but this is the content and people I’m here for.

That, and music.

Oh, and pictures of food.

I should just stay on Facebook food pages until November 3, huh.

As if.

Anyway, happy Thursday.

Day 158

Day 158, self quarantine:

Wednesday, August 19, 2020

Joseph Biden.

“It is the honor of my life to accept the Democratic Party's nomination for President of the United States of America.”

 Ady Barkan: "[W]e do not guarantee this most basic human right. Everyone living in America should get the health care they need ... Even during this terrible crisis, Donald Trump and Republican politicians are trying to take away millions of people's health insurance."

https://youtu.be/XV7xSzXyaT8

If you could watch this speech  without crying, you’re a better person than I.

John Kerry: "On June 6, 1944, young Americans gave their lives on the beaches of Normandy to liberate the world from tyranny. Out of the ashes of that war, we made peace and rebuilt the world. That was and remains exceptional. It is the opposite of everything Trump stands for."

“When this president goes overseas, it isn’t a goodwill mission. It’s a blooper reel. He breaks up with our allies and writes love letters to dictators. America deserves a president who is looked up to, not laughed at.” — John Kerry at DNC.

Dan Rather: “Joe Biden now has Colin Powell and Cindy McCain speaking for him at the Democratic Convention. But Donald Trump has the gun totin' couple from St. Louis. So... I call that even.”

Jill Biden: "Joe's purpose has always driven him forward. His strength of will is unstoppable. And his faith is unshakable — because it's not in politicians or political parties — or even himself. It's in the providence of God. His faith is in you. In us."

So those were some highlights from the Democratic Convention last night.

I’m not gonna lie, I’m depressed and scared shitless.

This has to happen.  Trump is poison and he has to go.

The virus is accelerating.

Thanks to Trump insisting colleges and schools reopen without any plans to slow the pandemic, the virus is raging.

Federal unemployment benefits were abruptly cut off July 31.  People aren’t going to be able to pay their rent.

People aren’t going to be able to eat.

I’m not an alarmist but I am ALARMED. 

We’re headed for Armageddon in just a couple of weeks if someone doesn’t take positive action.

I’ve lost hope of that.

“SAVE THE POST OFFICE!”

Yes, that freak PotusVirus Donald Trump tweeted that yesterday.

How mentally ill does someone have to be to do that?

Especially since he’s the one directly responsible for destroying it.

By that tweet, he’s a classic abuser.

Got it?  Trump is the abusive husband and America is his battered wife.

He slaps the shit out of her then throws a box of candy at her and gets enraged when she doesn’t thank him.

And by the way, the post office is still being sabotaged. Trump already did his part - he planted the seeds of doubt among idiot Americans. 

Unless he loses in a crushing landslide, we’re fucked.

So that’s my mood today. 

Paralyzed with fear and rage.

Have a nice day.

Day 157

Day 157, self quarantine:

Tuesday, August 18, 2020

Welp, if you have to have a birthday during a pandemic with your family scattered across the country, I sure had a monumentally awesome one regardless.

It was kind of off the charts.

Right before we left for the beach, we heard Eric’s song on the radio and then I got a birthday shout out on the air from the djs, who also added I’m a “cool mom.”

So that shocked the hell out of me but it was all kinds of groovy.

Then Gary gifted me with the one thing I don’t already own: a George Harrison garden gnome for the backyard.

I’m freaked.

Between George and the sign Eric made me, I love my garden so much I never want to be anywhere else.

Except maybe the beach.

Omg, yesterday was glorious. The weather was unreal —cool, low humidity, and sunny.

Before we hit the sand, I needed to hit the ladies’ room first, and really, the one I deemed safest and easiest to social distance was the one across from Brown’s Donuts.

I actually had no intention of getting donuts.  It was already 10:00 a.m. and unless you’re willing to stand in line for an hour, you’re not getting donuts and even if you do, they won’t be hot and fresh.

When Julie was younger, she would wake me at 5:00a.m.on vacation so the two of us could be among the first in line for their 7:00 a.m. opening.

And we still had to wait.

Anyway, I leapt out of the car for the boardwalk and raced for the bathroom and couldn’t believe my eyes.

First, there was hardly anyone on the boardwalk.

This pandemic is real.

Second, there was no line at Brown’s.

I blinked.  Something had to be wrong.  Were they closed?

No.  I saw a lone woman walk up to the takeout window and buy a donut.

In thirty years of summers in Ocean City, I have never seen Brown’s Donuts without at least a block long line.

I returned to the car and reported back to Gary.

“Omg, Gary.  There are no lines at Brown’s.”

“What?  You’re kidding!  How can that be?  Are they closed?”

“No!  I’m serious.  Go see!”

“Hell yeah, I’m going.  What kind do you want?”

“Cinnamon sugar!”

I still didn’t believe it would actually happen but literally five minutes later, Gary appeared with a box of donuts right out of the fryer hot.

They were sooooo good.

We each ate three and we have zero regrets.

Dog beach was amazing.  It wasn’t empty but it was easy to social distance.

Jake was in his glory which meant so were Gary and I.

We stayed for a couple of hours until we felt Jake had enough sun.

I was actually too full for pizza but it’s all I’ve been yapping about all summer so I figured I would eat a slice in the car and then reheat it later for dinner.

Getting pizza was also way easier in a pandemic than usual. There’s always noisy, unruly summer crowds waiting in long lines at Manco’s.

Not anymore.

You phone your order in and drive your car up 9th Street to the boardwalk and your pizzas are delivered to you by a “valet.”

Damn, if there wasn’t a deadly virus happening, there’s a lot to love about the new normal.

Speaking of the deadly virus...

My only bad moment was during my final departure trip to the ladies’ room.  This time, the nearest one was down the boardwalk from Manco’s but we couldn’t get close with the car, I had to walk a block on the boardwalk, where it was easy to tell the Democrats from the idiot Trump base.

Guess who weren’t wearing masks and flaunting it?

Yeah, the same guys who go home and polish their big guns and jerk off their tiny dicks.

It was almost comical except it’s not even a little funny.

I hightailed it off the boardwalk, and I won’t be going back any time soon.

And that’s okay.  I could care less.  Boardwalks are for kids... or adults with questionable taste in entertainment.

We got home around 3:00, just in time to watch Julie and Eric do a live meatless Monday segment with Andre Cholmondelay.

Here’s the link: https://m.facebook.com/story/graphql_permalink/?graphql_id=UzpfSTczNzY1MTMwNDpWSzoxMDE1NzY4MzIyNDAyNjMwNQ%3D%3D

It was incredible and what a way to wrap up a perfect birthday.

Even if you’re not a vegan, Andre is an insanely brilliant host who can cover topics like music and politics like no one else.  He broadcasts via Facebook Live every Monday at 3:00 eastern and he has some fascinating guests lined up.

At the end of the day, after we had leftover pizza for dinner, Gary gave me the world’s best birthday card.

It’s not only hilarious, it’s going to happen.

Finally, omg, thanks for all the birthday wishes.  I never got over 1,000 Facebook messages before!  I thought I was hacked 😂.  

Anyway, I haven’t had a chance to read them all yet but I will.

And now it’s back to the real world today.  Boo!

Oh well.  Every day can’t be a birthday but it’s not a bad idea to find something to celebrate daily regardless.

Happy Tuesday.