Day 186

Day 186, self quarantine:

Wednesday, September 16, 2020

Woo, hopefully I’m 100% today.

Wait, 100% what?  

Okay, I will settle for just getting the paralegal stuff sorted out this morning and hope everything else falls into place.

Panic attacks are not fun.  I probably said that already but I had a miserable start to the week.

It’s been years since I had panic attacks regularly and I am armed with tons of tools to ward them off.

But once you get that feeling where someone is sitting on your chest and you can’t breathe, it’s too late.

And one of my tools is gone.  I can’t say, “This can’t be a heart attack, I’m too young,” anymore.

Also gone is my ability to have a shot of Jack Daniels or a tranquilizer.  

Though I gotta tell you, that doesn’t work for me, anyway.  My panic can cut through eighty milligrams of Valium.

I wish I were exaggerating.

Monday morning I was like Oh crap I’m having a panic attack wait a minute what if this is really a heart attack.  How do I know the difference?  Was I even anxious? I don’t remember feeling anxious. Oh god. What if this is a massive coronary? What if I die before I see my kids again...before I get to say goodbye and I love you so, so much.

And now I’m crying typing this.

Fuck.

Sigh... I really am okay.  I’m just wiped out beyond belief. I think I’ve finally read too much about Trump and the virus and there’s so much horrific news I can’t process it anymore. I just want the election to be over and I want it to be a landslide Biden win so there can be no doubt.  I want a safe vaccine.  I want my kids to work again.

I just can’t imagine another year like this one.

Or worse, as some grimly suggest is coming.

Anyway, I need a break from the news and Twitter. At least for a couple days. I’m gonna paint rocks or something in my spare time.

Nothing I say or do is going to change any outcomes in this election or events before/after.  

I know this.  It’s me staying awake on a ten hour plane ride to Germany all over again, silently willing the pilot to fly all 200 of us on board to safety. 

I can’t help it, it’s who I am.  I guess it’s why I have panic attacks, I care too damn much.

My mom always used to say Ignorance is bliss.  I don’t think I ever understand what she meant until now.

In the era of Donald Trump, empathy and intelligence are a curse.  

The unwashed, uneducated are reveling.

Let’s hope that era ends on November 3.

It has to.

In other news, thanks for all of your kind  comments yesterday.  I’m a little too emotional to respond individually  but I read them all and really appreciate it.

I know we’re all going through some things, believe me.

So that’s a wrap for today.  I promise to return to our regular programming tomorrow.

Happy Wednesday.

Day 185

Day 185, self quarantine:

Tuesday, September 15, 2020

So as I was writing my post at dawn yesterday, I realized I didn’t feel that great.  As soon as I hit “publish” I sat back on the sofa, took a deep breath and...

And realized I couldn’t.

And when I tried again, I had chest pains.

I can’t even begin to describe the panic I felt so of course what happened next was I slid into a full fledged anxiety attack.

It wasn’t even 6:00 a.m. and Gary was upstairs sleeping.  I stared at his useless flip phone on the dining room table.

I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t move.  I was terrified.

I was *this close* to typing HELP on Facebook.

Because I guess dialing 911 would have made too much sense.

I sat there frozen for several minutes until I could at least breathe a little and get to the stairs a few feet away.

I just wanted to get upstairs to Gary.  I so didn’t want him waking up to my cold dead body downstairs.

I don’t know how I made it but I did.  I stumbled into our bedroom and gasped “Gary” and luckily he was in and out of sleep and heard me.

Jake, who was sound asleep next to him, knew something was wrong right away.  I fell on the bed and Jake immediately crawled on his belly over to me.

Poor Gary.  That made twice in a couple days I scared the hell out of him.

“Rob!  What’s wrong?”

So I told him about the chest pains and shortness of breath and he leapt out of bed and started getting dressed.

“Where are you going?” I asked confused because now I had sweat pouring off me and I was entering the chills and goosebump stage of my panic attack.

If you ever had panic attacks, you know what I’m talking about.  You get shit in waves.

“We’re going to the hospital,” he said.

Gary is the worst at waking up normally so having to wake up with me all sweaty and gasping and dying was not a perfect scenario.

I rolled into my spot on the bed and tried to take a breath. It was jagged but I didn’t have pain.  I hugged Jake and tried to sound normal.

“I’m not going to a hospital during a pandemic.  I’m okay. Panic attack. I just can’t catch my breath. I don’t have chest pains any more.”

Of course he argued and tried to get me to go, but as soon as I was in bed talking I knew for sure I wasn’t having a heart attack and so did Gary.

But it was the mother of all panic attacks.

Gary has witnessed them and he’s been my treating physician for the

past fifty years so he stopped trying to get me to the hospital and instead made me tea.

I still have the residuals this morning.  It’s worse than a tequila hangover but similar.  

I made a video appointment with my doctor just in case.

I just took my temperature, half expecting to have a fever because I am really feeling out of it but I don’t so I’m taking deep breaths, which I can easily do now but I still feel awful.  Like I just want to go back to bed and sleep for around twelve hours.

Working is going to be challenging today.  I don’t know if I can do it.

Ugh, god damn you, Trump.

I’ve been so damn worried about everything.  I thought I was handling it all fine but apparently not.

Anyway,  after the smoke cleared yesterday, I finally made some decisions.

Stay tuned.

Oh, and Happy Tuesday.

Day 184

Day 184, self quarantine:

Monday, September 14, 2020

Welcome to the start of month seven, with no end in sight.

This Friday night is Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and Gary plans on making a full holiday dinner as if things were absolutely normal.  He thinks it’s important and I know he’s right, and hey hey, it’s an excuse to eat the food of my people made by my gentile husband who makes a better matzo ball than my late Jewish mother.

He bought these tiny organic sweet potatoes that he’s going to roast and mash.

I guess it’s the first quarantine feast of the holiday season.

Sigh...the first of many, huh.

Guys, I gotta be honest, I’m struggling with content here.

As we approach the most important election of our country’s history, it feels trivial to write about the daily silly quarantine trials and tribulations of Robin and Gary.

Lines for free food in this country stretch for miles and I’m here talking about organic sweet potatoes.

200,000 Americans are dead and we haven’t even begun to face the worst of what’s coming and I’m sulking at yet another holiday meal without my kids.

But, all that being said, it’s not my job to be a political reporter and I really shouldn’t do it here.  I’ve hopefully culled my social media friend list so that everyone reading knows what’s going on and is both appalled by Donald and sympathetic to what I’m feeling.

It’s just that so much depends on this election.

Our whole way of life is on the line.

But we also have to take deep breaths.  It’s important to stay sane and healthy.

So, that being said, I’ve decided to keep on keeping on.  If I have funny stories to tell, I’m going to tell them.

This journal has been therapy for me on a lot of levels.

It doesn’t mean that I’m not acknowledging 200,000 dead Americans or thirty million Americans out of work.

It just means I am still alive and trying to keep it together the best I can.

I’m trying for any normalcy I can find.

Holy hell, the next 50 days are going to be INSANE.

Let’s just hope we all get through them unscathed and we are soon on a path to healing.

I don’t want to think about the alternative.

I’m exhausted.  

I really want to be able to retire and see my kids.

Really really really.

Is that too much to ask?

Wow, the things we all took for granted.  

Everything from walking down the street breathing the air mask free to hugging our friends and families.

Yikes.  It’s really too much to wrap my head around today.

Okay, enough.

I’m gonna try and be cheerful.

And try to summon up the Angel of Death for you know who.

In the meantime, enjoy this pic Gary took yesterday of Li’l Julie, the baby cardinal who now lives in our yard and never stops yapping ❤️.

Happy Monday!

Day 183

Day 183, self quarantine 

Sunday, September 13, 2020

Today’s post is a history lesson.

We’re currently living in 1938 Germany, and if you don’t believe it’s an even worse situation now, get your uneducated head out of the sand.

All our lives we’ve been asked this question:

HOW COULD HITLER POSSIBLY HAVE HAPPENED.

IF YOU HAD BEEN ABLE TO STOP HIM, WOULD YOU?

Up until now, the answer to that question was OF COURSE.

Now?

Not so much, huh.

Read Donald’s Twitter feed.

Read what Roger Stone, who should be in jail for life but was pardoned by Trump said yesterday.  Never mind, I’ll tell you.

“Roger Stone, whose 40-month prison sentence for lying to Congress and witness tampering in the Russia investigation was commuted by Donald Trump, has said Trump should seize total power and jail prominent figures including Bill and Hillary Clinton if he loses to Joe Biden in November.”

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2020/sep/13/roger-stone-to-donald-trump-bring-in-martial-law-if-you-lose-election

I’m scared, people.

So without further ado, here is an article that appeared in the Jerusalem Post in May of 2015.

The war that could have been prevented

“While it might seem that everything has already been said about World War II and the Holocaust, there is an important point that does not receive nearly enough attention: this war, which killed 60 million people, was preventable. Humanity could have been spared the terrible suffering and trauma of the war.

From the beginning it was clear that Hitler’s goal was to conquer the world. After the Allies defeated Germany in WWI 20 years earlier, they dictated the conditions of Germany’s surrender and restricted its rearming in the Versailles Treaty of 1919. If the Allies had not hesitated and delayed when Hitler’s intentions became clear, and instead had been willing to shoulder the burden of a new war against Germany,  Hitler could have been stopped at a far lower price in lives and resources than was ultimately paid.

From the moment Hitler came to power, his intentions were clear, and they became clearer and clearer as time progressed. No sophisticated military intelligence was necessary to predict his goals, or to understand that the events associated with his rule weren’t sporadic or localized.

Already in 1933 Germany withdrew from the Conference for the Reduction and Limitation of Armaments and cunningly defied the Versailles Treaty regarding military training and arms production. In 1935 Hitler publicly announced the nullification of the Versailles Treaty and the enlargement of Germany’s army and arms production. In 1936 Hitler sent German troops to invade the demilitarized Rhineland, thus breaching the Locarno Treaty of 1925, and entered into a military alliance with Mussolini. The Allies choose to ignore Hitler’s violations, as well as his 1938 annexation of Austria, the “Anschluss.”

At the end of that year, in the Munich Agreement Hitler demanded to annex “only” the Sudetenland, and promised not to attack Czechoslovakia. The allies betrayed Czechoslovakia and gave in to his demand, and British prime minister Neville Chamberlain waved the agreement in the air and announced the achievement of “peace for our time.” Half a year later Hitler conquered all of Czechoslovakia, took control over Slovakia and forced the Lithuanians to give up the port city of Klaipeda.

The Allies foresaw that Hitler would conquer Poland, but didn’t declare a preventive deterred by the trauma of 16 million dead in WWI, and pacifist ideologies across Europe were calling to avoid war at any cost. Leaders stuck to a “policy of appeasement” which was in actuality a policy of betrayal of the helpless nations being crushed under Hitler’s tanks. At the same time, US president Franklin D. Roosevelt specifically chose to emphasize the right of every nation to self-determination.

Only with Hitler’s September 1939 invasion of Poland did Britain and France declare war. Nevertheless, Germany quickly conquered Poland, and afterwards Denmark and Norway, invaded France via Holland, Belgium and Luxemburg.

By 1941 it had conquered Greece and Yugoslavia. The same year Hitler attacked Russia in Operation Barbarossa and conquered a large part of it. Until then, the US ignored the war in Europe and concentrated on the war against Japan. Only at the end of that year did the US decide to enter the war in Europe.

From the moment Hitler came to power, he made no attempt to conceal his metaphysical hatred for the Jews and his intention to wipe them out. Very few in the Jewish community took his threats seriously, even while it was still possible to escape.

Even when news leaked out about the methodical annihilation in the death camps, there were those who chose to deny it, or to hope that “it won’t happen to me.” Appeals to the Allies to help stop the machine of destruction fell on deaf ears or were met with denial.

 What caused the Allies to hesitate in declaring war on Hitler in the early stages, when it was obvious what his next steps would be? Wasn’t it clear to them that if he achieved his goals then eventually they would have to fight him? So why didn’t they take action? We can call this the “denial syndrome” which is a psychological phenomenon and part of human nature. When there is a far-off danger which is getting closer, and to deal with it requires great resources and sacrifice, people choose to use all their mental powers to ignore it or to find an alternative, “softer” and less threatening interpretation.

Unintentionally, the future is jeopardized by this unwillingness to act responsibly in the present.

This absurd trait contradicts the basic human survival instinct which drives us to prepare for danger in order to stay alive. Yet this phenomenon repeats itself throughout history. When “the writing on the wall” says that danger is at our doorstep, the human race refuses to read it, and instead enlists its intelligence to create an “alternative story” which won’t require it to take drastic steps.

In the end, the price for this self-delusion is very high, and then mankind tries to justify itself and soothe its conscience by saying that events were impossible to predict, and that all we have now is the advantage of hindsight. In the case of World War II, the price for this denial was indeed terrible.

An ancient tradition tells us that when Alexander the Great conquered the world, his teacher Aristotle said to him: “Now you have won ‘the small war,’ however you won’t be considered valiant until you win ‘the great war’ against the evil inclination!” So we see that long ago it was clear that it is easier to win a great, difficult and painful war than to successfully deal with human nature, that is, to control and utilize it rather than being enslaved by it. Seventy years after the victory over Hitler, can we finally learn this critical lesson.”

https://www.jpost.com/opinion/the-war-that-could-have-been-prevented-402317

Got that, everyone?

So now you know why I’m freaking out.

I’ll return to our regular programming tomorrow.

Have a peaceful Sunday.

Day 182

Day 182, self quarantine:

Saturday, September 12, 2020

I wasn’t sure what to do this morning.  

There’s a lot of heartbreaking news that’s been building up...from deadly fires to bizarre validation of insane Qanon conspiracies from criminal Republicans cheating to win to a breathtakingly incompetent government to...

I just can’t.

I feel everything, I worry about everything, and I’m crying all the time these days.

Watching freaking YouTube videos of bands I love this morning is even making me weep.

Ew, I feel like it’s back to the monthly period years and I can’t even take an Advil or a tranquilizer because I have ulcers and a past history of Valium abuse.

Anyway, I’m giving myself a day off from doom and gloom today.

Instead I’m going to talk about this.

Last night, Gary and I finished dinner, I was back on the sofa cursing the President on Twitter and Gary was in the kitchen cleaning up (yeah, I know, I don’t believe it either). I saw something move out of the corner of my eye.

What the fuckity fuck.

And then I saw him.

“Omg!  Gary!  It’s him!  Ack! gah! Omg! Help! Help!”

Welp, it kinda went like that except with me also shrieking and pointing and jumping up and down and our brave dog Jake Slick running upstairs.

I scared the hell out of Gary, who dropped the large pot he was washing, sending terrified Jake from the stairs to Julie’s bedroom.

Gary ran into the living room with the big scissors he uses to cut lettuce as a weapon.

“WHAT IS IT?” 

“It’s the raccoon!  It’s eating out of the bird feeder!  Don’t stab him!!!  Put the scissors down!”

“Jesus christ, you gave me a fucking heart attack over a raccoon?  I believed you!  I told you I’ve seen him!  You just scared the crap out of me!”

“Don’t kill him!”

“I’m not going to kill a cute little raccoon! What the hell is wrong with you? The way you just screamed, I thought someone was in our yard!”

“And you were going to attack him with scissors?”

Omg, he was in the kitchen. We have big scary knives!

Wait.  What the hell am I talking about.  

Oy.

Anyway, after he stopped yelling at me for scaring him to death, we took pics.

I’m too lazy to download the photos from Gary’s fancy camera, here’s the one I took on my phone.

That little bastard sat there for an hour staring at us because Gary thought it was cool to turn the lights on in the yard so we could watch him all evening.

Who knew what really goes on in downtown Philadelphia at night?  

Raccoons partying.

2020, man.

Expect the unexpected.

So I don’t know what today’s plan is, we may be taking a drive to Princeton if Gary wakes up before lunch but I kinda want alone time after the brutal day at work I had yesterday so I’m gonna let him sleep and whatever happens, happens.

As long as I have french fries and mushroom pizza “steaks” for dinner.

New vegan favorite- put raw mushrooms in an egg slicer so they’re sliced way thin and uniform, place on baking tray, drizzle with olive oil and I actually bought vegan “bacon” spice but you can use smoked paprika, and you just roast the crap out of them on a high heat.

I munch on them, throw them in salad, but my new favorite is to put them on a roll with Gary’s roasted tomato sauce and there you have it, a pizza “steak.”

With french fries on the side.

Sooo good.

Is it dinner time yet?

Okay, I just realized it’s almost 7:30 a.m.  I gots to do my Saturday morning chores and watch Season 4 of Top Chef.

Behave yourselves.

Never mind, don’t.  Have some amazing fun!

Happy Saturday!

Day 181

Day 181, self quarantine:

Friday, September 11, 2020

September 11.  I can’t type that date without dread.

Who will ever forget.

I’ve written about September 11 before, even in the early days of this apocalypse journal, so I won’t rehash my experience.

But I will never forget the relief of seeing my kids unharmed after racing to their school when the plane went down in Pennsylvania, just 200 miles away.

As a child who was terrorized daily during the Cold War and was forced to do duck and cover drills under her elementary school desk, I was pretty sure it was World War III.

I thought I rescued Julie and Eric so we could all perish together hours later at Casa Slick.

Weirdly, it’s also the official six month anniversary of quarantine for a lot of us.

It feels like more, maybe because we had the longest January ever and now it’s September and the stores are decorated for Halloween.

Except Halloween is canceled this year.

(Though it is well documented that every day is Halloween at Casa Slick where I am never, ever without chocolate)

I just wish it were November 4 and Biden won in a landslide and I could relax.

My anxiety is building. 

Vacation is over and it’s 53 days until the election.  

Oy, I can’t even.

I’m pretty grateful Gary forces me to live in the present.  Woo, I’ve been struggling with the past and the future lately.

Quarantine has me alone with my thoughts too much.

I know I’m not supposed to live in the past, but what about beautiful memories?

Though my problem lately is, I’ll think of something the kids did when they were little and what starts out as a beautiful memory suddenly morphs into this incredible sadness and longing for something I don’t have anymore.

Or maybe I just miss my kids.

I do.  It sucks.

Most of all, I miss our meals together.  The great food, fascinating conversation, and laughter.

There were years when friends of the kids showed up every single evening for dinner.

I would just set the table for 5-6 every night.

Sigh.

This is the first time I really do feel old.  I’m not sure if it’s fallout from being quarantined all these months, or, actually finally being old as in official retirement age.

I never paid attention to numbers before and never acted my age but this feels different, like something is ending.

Oh well.  Maybe that means something new is beginning.

As long as it’s not a Trump family dictatorship.

Omg, can you imagine?

Ew!  I’m gonna be sick.

Haha.  Sounds like six months in confinement has me more than a little nuts, huh.

A short weekend road trip is in order.

And french fries.  Definitely french fries.

And some new art and some new music.

Also, Julie is on the inside cover, full page, of Bass Player Magazine this month so I’m sending Gary out in his mask to try and snag a copy or seven today.

I can’t believe that during the first week of quarantine I worried he’d never wear one.

Ever since he got stung by a bee while trying to avoid an unmasked neighbor while watering his plants unmasked, Gary won’t even take the trash out without one.

Oh and woe the person on the street without a mask who encounters my husband now.

Masks.  I’ll never get used to wearing one.

Though I guess if I went out more than once every two weeks I would, huh.

Okay, clearly I am all gloomy and need to shake this off.

It’s Friday!

We’re having pancakes for dinner!

We’re going on a road trip!

I really want to pick up that new Kingfish Ingram record, too.  “Rock and Roll” is everything.

If you haven’t heard it...

https://youtu.be/L6aJUAfwQc4

Kingfish wrote it about his late mother, who died last year.  She was a single mom who sacrificed everything so he could play music.

The video is made up of lyrics and photographs of the two of them.

I dare you to watch/listen without crying.

And oh man can he play guitar.

Let me know what you think.

Okay, let’s wrap up month six.

Everybody chill.

Happy Friday!