Day 35

Day 35, self quarantine 

I’m tempted to just type “And Sunday she rested” and then ending this post until tomorrow when I hopefully have my shit together.

I just woke up from a recurring  nightmare I used to have regularly for around five years. I haven’t had one of those for such a long time I thought maybe I was cured.  Haha, don’t even ask, it’s a dream that touches on every level of my fears and complexes and it literally takes me hours to shake it off.

It was just a dream, Rob.

Yeah, I know, so why the hell am I trembling?

It’s nice to know the quarantine hasn’t changed me.  I’m still insane 😎

Actually, that’s not true.  I’m noticing some major changes that have occurred.  And much to my shock, they’re positive.

For one thing, this is the longest time I have ever gone without spending money.  I don’t mean household bills, I’m talking about me stretched out on the sofa with my phone, surfing the web, and ordering whatever strikes my eye.

With every business floundering, you can imagine the tasty sale ads I’m being barraged with via social media and email.

I haven’t clicked on any of them.

You have no idea how unlike me that is.  I’m trying to figure out why.  It’s obvious why I’m not clicking on anything clothes or jewelry wise, I’m not going anywhere to wear them.  But I also love to buy stuff for the house, and you would think being housebound, I would be going crazy with those type of purchases right now.

Nope.  

I wondered if I was depressed but I don’t think that’s it, either.

I think at least subconsciously, part of it is maybe I’m afraid to spend any money, but the other part is, I feel like the future is so uncertain, possessions mean nothing, anyway, and the only thing worse than being sick is being sick and destitute.

And there’s that looming Should we retire question.

Again, you have no freaking idea how out of character that is for me.  We really do live one day at a time around here.  And I’ve worked hard my entire life.  I like nice things and being frugal isn’t my personality.

So this is weird.  

But good.  

Actually, I’m lying.  I spent $15 ordering hair removal cream from Amazon.  Omg, my upper lip.  But so far it’s still sitting on the table because I’m afraid to use it.  I read the directions and now I’m afraid it’s going to be like applying acid to my face.

Oh, well.  Hopefully Gary is into the transgender look.

Getting back to quarantine, I noticed another big personality change.  Gary and I have been in isolation together for six weeks and haven’t had one argument.  Now of course going by the same scientific methods by which I diet and keep planes from crashing, I’ve probably just jinxed that and Gary and I will have an epic fight later today....

Nah.

I’ll tell you why.  Me.  I started to argue a couple of times over the past several weeks but I stopped and counted to ten under my breath.  I’m not even lying.  I’m in quarantine with this dude, I am not about to make either one of us miserable while we’re in captivity.

I didn’t even say a word after I walked into the kitchen after dinner last night and saw every pot and pan in the house piled up in the sink and every spice bottle out on the counter top blah blah blah. Hey, the guy made cacio e pepe with honey roasted cauliflower and spinach arugula salad for dinner.  It was so delicious I moaned the whole time I ate.  I’m gonna storm out of the kitchen, cursing?

I might have six weeks ago.

Last night I simply rolled up my sleeves and started cleaning up.

I don’t think I am ever going back to the former pissy me.  This way of life is so much easier.

So that’s just two things different in Casa Slick though I am sure there’s more.  All I know is, I’m going to continue to be positive and attempt positive change throughout this apocalypse and beyond.

Sounds like a plan, huh.

Okay, then.  Happy Sunday!

Day 34

Day 34, self quarantine 

Yay, it’s Saturday!

It’s funny how the dynamic has shifted in Casa Slick now that Gary is also working from home.  While all the days roll into one in Quarantine Land, we definitely have our delineated weekends back.

Yesterday at 3:00, Gary shut down his laptop with a lusty “Thank Fucking God!” I heard all the way upstairs.  

I giggled and was dying to join him but I was still tethered to my own computer until 4:30.

Typically on the weekend, we are both in great, laid back moods and eat pizza on Friday nights and either do leftovers or takeout on Saturday nights.  We both agreed years ago we have no clue why people jam crowded restaurants on the weekend - we always preferred eating out on Tuesdays when it’s much more low key and we don’t have to listen to the people at the table next to us talking in graphic detail about their recent medical procedure.

Are we the only ones this happens to?  Gary and I swear we’re freak magnets for these people.  Just had a boil lanced?  A nasty, painful stomach blockage?  Say hi to Gary and me, who rarely go out to dinner anymore but okay sure, we want to hear all about your oozing pus!  In fact, we got all dressed up for it!

So yeah, now that I think about it, Gary and I have been in training for quarantine most of our adult lives.

In keeping with the Friday theme, last night Gary made nachos, which is basically pizza from a different culture, and we sat on the sofa happily  munching watching a hockey game from 2008 like it was brand new.  For a few brief hours, it was business as usual here and it was glorious.

I’m debating about tonight’s dinner, because what else would I typically do at 6:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning?  The reason I say that, though, is I woke up to an email from my favorite Indian restaurant that they’re offering contactless curbside delivery.

Oh my God, I’ve been waiting twenty years for this.

And Indian food is the one cuisine Gary doesn’t do, preferring to keep it “restaurant special.”

So is takeout food coronavirus safe?  How fitting would it be for my favorite meal to be the cause of my death...sigh.

Nah, I know it’s okay but I’m gonna wait for the snoring big lug upstairs’ opinion later.  I’m guessing he’s going to shout an enthusiastic YES.

I’m going to let him sleep in all morning in furtherance of our Let’s still celebrate the weekend theme.  It works for me, too.  While he sleeps, I watch all the food tv I tape during week while straightening up the living room.  Omg did he do a number down here this week.  There’s four pair of sneakers out - holy hell, he’s not even going anywhere!  Oy, I have to stop looking around or I will make myself nuts.  It’s like living with a teenager.

Thank god 😎

So today’s plan:  Watch Thursday night’s Top Chef, which I specifically save for Saturday morning since it’s my favorite of all food porn competitions, clean up this hell hole, and then, there’s a cool live stream on this afternoon to support local musicians starting at 2:00that I believe takes us to the big Stones I mean Lady Gaga extravaganza tonight.  Here’s the link for the Philadelphia event at 2:00: https://m.facebook.com/events/217181859368750

Anyway, woo, it’s already late, it’s already 6:45 a.m.and Top Chef and a fresh pot of coffee are calling my name.  

Happy fucking Saturday.

Day 33

Day 33, self quarantine 

Happy Friday.  Time is so strange during the apocalypse.  On the one hand, each day seems to last forever.  On the other hand, on Monday we’ll be starting week six.  It’s surreal.

So I’m feeling kinda terrible and embarrassed  about yesterday’s post and I want to apologize.  When I write journal type entries, they’re streams of consciousness and I’m saying what I’m feeling at that moment.  For the last couple of days, I’ve absolutely adored working from home after a month long struggle.  So I may have been a little too enthusiastic about seemingly enjoying our pandemic and outrageously insensitive to anyone suffering.

Do I want the quarantine to last forever?  Of course not.  I want everyone to get their lives back.  I know people are emotionally and/or financially devastated.  I get it.  I know how lucky I am.

I want my life back, too.  I want to hug my kids.  I want to walk on the beach.  I want to see live music.  

For the love of god, I want to get my hair done.

I just got all caught up in enjoying hanging with Gary and Jake and earning a paycheck while wearing pajamas.  

And to be honest, I’m also worried about rejoining society.  I’m really, really scared of getting sick. Because as I write each day, it’s that fear which is propelling me.  I don’t want to leave the house until it’s at least somewhat safe.  I’m not ready yet and I doubt I will be ready anytime soon.

At least Donald didn’t “order” us back on May 1. As usual, his loudly touted presser last night was nothing more than his usual unhinged sociopathic speech without a real plan or strategy.  And please tell me how no one in mainstream media isn’t asking IS THE PRESIDENT HIGH?

People, I’ve done my share of drugs.  That dude arrives at the podium every night wasted out of his mind.

Unless, as some professionals insist, it’s frontotemporal dementia.

Either way, this whole thing is nuts and terrifying as hell.

I am definitely not putting my life in his tiny orange hands.

So I’m  not sure what my future holds.  I’m not joking when I say I have real claustrophobia and panic attack issues wearing a mask and I honestly don’t know how I will get to and from work when that day arrives.  I’m just hoping I have some more time at home to figure it out.

Like Gary said a few days or weeks ago, who knows, a pandemic isn’t the best time to make a life decision.

Anyway, yay it’s Friday.  Not that it matters in quarantine world, but it’s still the weekend and now that we’re out of Passover food jail, I’m thinking nachos tonight.

Omg, Gary’s nachos.  You have no idea.  He makes everything from scratch and it’s as close to nirvana as I get 😎

When I eat Gary’s nachos, everything is alright in the world.  For the moment, anyway, and that’s good enough for me.

Have an awesome weekend.

Day 32

Day 32, self quarantine 

Right now it’s 4:00 a.m.  I’ve given up ever trying to sleep in, it’s not in my DNA.  This is my zen time, when I sit in the darkened living room meditating, before coffee and watching taped episodes of Chopped Sweets.

I made the mistake of flicking on the news.  This is not a political post, just one sentence, to say I’m appalled at Trump for irresponsibly and illegitimately  planning on taking a coronavirus victory lap today and reopening the country too soon.

I haven’t stayed inside for thirty-two days in the Spring just so I can get deathly ill in the summer.

Also, the President is both an idiot and a criminal.

Okay, that’s two sentences.  I’m done.

But there’s another (selfish) reason for my anger.

Yesterday, as I was happily curled up on the sofa while Gary hurled four letter words at his laptop, I had a major epiphany.  Something in me shifted this week.

I freaking love quarantine and I love working from home.

The only adjustment I want is for my kids to be here and the beaches at the Jersey shore to reopen.  I am craving a walk by the ocean with my family, and, a Manco & Manco pizza.

Oh, and I don’t want to work from home five days a week. This three day schedule suits me fine 😎

Yeah, yeah, in my dreams.

My change of heart actually started happening Tuesday.  Typically on getaway days before a couple of days off, my boss is usually all about no heavy lifting - i.e., instead of complicated Motions etc.  we’ll do stuff like phone calls and filing.  So when I headed upstairs that morning, I was feeling light hearted and stress free.

The text from my boss came seconds later.

“What are you working on?”

Uh-oh.  He’s asking me this at 8:00 a.m.?  

I somehow guessed he didn’t want the truth, which was, “I’m eating a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios!”

“Why?  What’s up?” I texted instead.

“Stop whatever you were doing.  I didn’t settle XXX.  You need to throw a Complaint together and get it to the client today.”

Omg.  You have no idea.  I’ve prepared Complaints my entire career.  Typically, they take a couple hours, tops.

In my current position, we have a paralegal who prepares most of the Complaints in our office, but sometimes the Complaints are thirty pages, ridiculously complicated, and are associated with files I worked on exclusively so I am the one who prepares it.   The Complaint I had on Tuesday was one of those.

Worse, I had to read federal statutes regarding tractor-trailers before I could even start.

Also typically, these Complaints take me a week.  I need two days just to get the first draft to my boss, then it goes through days of edits.  And that’s with a desktop computer, not the clunky,  ancient office laptop I’m using.

I stared at the screen, feeling like a trapped rat.

“I can’t do this.  Omg.  I can’t.  What am I going to tell my boss?”

Okay.  Deep breaths.  Unless I wanted to be officially retired that very minute, I had to give it a shot.

I’m not gonna lie, I’m a drama queen.  I sat there with tears running down my face while I typed.

A few times I let out anguished cries and some choice cursing, once even causing Gary to yell from downstairs, “Is everything okay up there?”

No worries, it’s just your wife, having a complete mental breakdown.

“Everything’s peachy!” I responded instead.

I plugged away, and I dunno, somehow...and I have no freaking clue how... I had a viable first draft by noon.  I fired it off via email to my boss, feeling like I was Queen of the world.

“Who’s your mama?” I preened to Jake, stretched out on Julie’s bed behind me.

Jake was not impressed.

The email from my boss arrived shortly thereafter with the first set of edits.

For like the fiftieth time that day, I sat with my head in my hands and wept.

Anyway, to wrap this up, by the end of the day, in a new world record, the Complaint was finished and sent to the client for signature.

Tuesday night, as I was basking in relief and anticipation of the two day holiday, I went over everything our three person team has accomplished over the past month from our respective home offices - one with a 22 month old baby, one with a 3 and 6 year old, and me with Gary 😂😂😂 - and it’s kind of mind blowing.  We’re pulling it off!

And that’s when I realized I love quarantine.  Staying home with Gary and Jake is glorious.  I’m a loner in the real world.  This down time is one of the best things that ever happened to me.

I don’t want it to end.

For me, anyway.

Day 31

Day 31, self quarantine 

If I really stop and think about it, it’s kind of unbelievable Gary and I have now been quarantined 31 days and we haven’t killed each other.

Yet.

Today should be interesting.  I have off from work today and tomorrow for Passover but Gary does not.  Typically on holidays like this, Gary would be at his office and I would spend the day on the sofa, stuffing my face and watching the Food Network.

I know, I know.  I have no idea why I watch that either. Especially as a vegetarian and food snob.  For the love of god,  they inject processed pork products and tubs of Cool Whip into every meal, as demonstrated, because I really can’t say cooked, by obnoxious  loud mouths like Guy Fieri, or worse, celebrity hosts like Katie Lee and the Pioneer Woman who never even  attended culinary school.

Gary is astounded I watch this garbage and yeah, yeah, I’m embarrassed, but then again, over this quarantine I’ve witnessed him watching reruns of curling from the 2010 winter Olympics, so...

Anyway, he really hates the Food Network.  He’ll overhear something like, “Take those anchovies, let them swim in a vat of mayonnaise, drop those babies in the fryer and there it is, the best thing you ever ate” and that’ll be when he exits the room — but not before shooting me the Are you out of your fucking mind look.

Probably.

I guess our respective television taste is our mutual escape from reality, and I suppose it’s all good, but for some reason I’m feeling guilty this morning  that I don’t always use my down time in the  most creative and interesting ways.

I mean, during this apocalypse, I’m seeing people paint masterpieces, bake amazing bread and cakes for the first time, and make incredible music.

As for me, well, I’ve watched every episode of Top Chef since 2006.

And admittedly loved every minute of it.

Anyway, because Gary is working a few feet from the television today, I won’t be watching food tv.

I should do something creative, huh.

Sigh...oh, the pressure.  But since the alternative is housework, I’m going for it.  What to do, what to do.

Hey, I did write a new book called What the Hell Happened which is a series of connected essays about a senior citizen who thinks she’s sixteen.  Absolutely nothing autobiographical there, huh, but anyway, it was supposed to be published in March and then, coronavirus, and then, I got an email and even though I swore I would never put myself through this again, I think I am going to attempt the traditional publishing route.

God help me.  Wish me luck.

So what the hell should I do today?  Haha, it occurs to me I could write a week’s worth of these Facebook posts. As it turns out, writing is even more cathartic than the Food Network.

Maybe that’s the lesson I’m going to learn from Apocalypse 2020 and I am so here for that.

Okay, then.  Off I go.

Have an awesome day!

Day 30

Day 30, self quarantine 

Yesterday was kind of cool. The sky turned black and we had a storm so fierce it sent the dog under the table, howling.

“I’ve never seen Jake like this, Gary.  Do you think he’s trying to warn us to take cover?”

“From what?  Aren’t we indoors?”

“We’re under a tornado watch,” I said nervously.

Gary sighed.  

“C’mon,Rob.  When is the last time we had a tornado in downtown Philadelphia?”

I considered that for one hot second.

“When is the last time you had to quarantine for a month while a swarm of locusts headed for Kenya?”

“Huh? What? Locusts?”

He looked at me like I was speaking another language.

What can I say?  I read a lot, watch international news, and hang out on Twitter.  Gary does none of the above.  He doesn’t even go online.

Guess which one of us sleeps blissfully through the night and which one of us chokes down a nightly melatonin, praying for four straight hours?

Anyway, the storm was all kinds of groovy, which is easy to say when you’re wearing pajamas and drinking a steaming mug of coffee with your sweetie.

Now that Gary is working from home, too, it’s much easier.  It feels like sleepover camp, not that I ever knew what that was like.  My parents gave me a quarter and locked me outside until dinner in the summer,  that was my camp and I fucking loved it.  

In Camp Casa Slick, Gary gets up early and we sit around having coffee together, then at 8:00 a.m., I head upstairs to my home office with Jake Slick, paralegal dog. Too funny, Gary is jealous Jake goes with me, especially since Jake has always made it clear Gary is his favorite.

What Gary doesn’t know is that I have a bag of doggie treats hidden up there which I judiciously dole out every time Jake looks like he is leaving to join Gary downstairs 😜

I know how to beat all systems.

So I have a question: why is everyone really posting their high school graduation pictures?  Is looking at pictures of baby boomers in their youth actually supposed to make high school seniors feel better about missing their prom and graduation because of COVID-19?  Hahaha, seriously?  In which world is that?

Even though we all know what a crock it is, I’m posting mine for no other reason than to tell you my mother saturated my hair with olive oil and I had to bend over her ironing board for an hour so that I could have poker straight hair for my graduation pic.  I’m so old I predate blowdryers and keratin.

My mom died not too long after that picture was taken.  I still miss her every single day.

Ah, memories.  I have to be careful with that.

Going hand in hand with Gary’s One Day at a Time lifestyle is advice given to me years ago.  If you live in the now, you will be happy. If you live in the past, you will always be depressed.  There’s nothing you can do about the past, it’s over.  If you live in the future, you’ll always be anxious.  It’s a waste of time, no one has a fucking clue what the future holds.  Be present!

Makes sense, right?  But if we never visit the past, what do we do with our memories? And if we don’t allow ourselves to contemplate the future, what about our dreams?

It’s tricky, huh.

Hey, even though I’m old, I still have dreams.  Like, one day I hope to have every room in this house perfect and looking like a spread in Architectural Digest.

Hahaha.  Right now, after five weeks of being quarantined with Gary, my house looks like a college dorm after an unsupervised kegger.

Oh well.  I’ll straighten up and hire an interior decorator once it becomes apparent I’m going to live through this thing.

Happy Tuesday!

Day 29

Day 29, self quarantine 

Welcome to week five of the quarantine.

My bra and shoes are probably thinking I died.

One of them may never see me again 😜

So yeah, today marks one month since I last worked in my actual office.  I’m annoyed because this year my office wall calendar is twelve months of different David Bowie centerfolds and damn, I not only missed half of March, now I’m missing all of April.  I don’t even want to think about May.

Yeah, yeah,  beyond first world problems.

The news today is wild. There’s a swarm of locusts headed for Kenya, where the people are too sick with coronavirus to defend themselves.  The Krakatoa volcano is erupting.  There’s earthquakes happening internationally.

We’re getting insane weather here today, too, which includes the threat of thunder, lightning, ridiculous high winds and tornadoes.  

Sounds like the end of the world.

I’m beginning to think Mother Nature might be a little angry with us.

Conversely,  yesterday  was such a beautiful Easter Sunday I put on my spiffy new mask and we went for a drive. Pretty much everyone I saw had their face covered. I don’t know that I’m ever going to get used to this. I feel like an unwilling actor in Donald Trump’s cheesy science fiction reality show.  

Masks are difficult to breathe in and therefore not cool for a claustrophobic person with a history of panic attacks.  

So let me get this straight. Assuming I still have a job if and when it’s ever okay to go back to work, the only safe way for me to do it will be walking two miles wearing a mask?

Okayyyyy... 

This is where Gary’s whole One Day at a Time thing is very helpful.  I’m grateful he’s around to remind me of that hourly. 😎

Oh well.  I’m not feeling the work from home experience today but it looks like I’m not getting my wish for a power outage due to high winds until later this afternoon so I better drink some more coffee and get my sorry ass in gear.

Onward!

Day 28

Day 28, self quarantine:

Happy Easter.  Yeah I’m Jewish, but every holiday in my life is about food, not religion, so you better believe I celebrate all of them, especially when it’s all about baskets of chocolate.  (See also: Valentines Day)

For whatever reason, I’m thinking of Easter/Passovers past, starting with mine.  I got my philosophy about food from my mother, which is basically Food is Love.  We didn’t go to synagogue on Passover or have a sedar, but we had rich, cheesy kugels (I know, I know) brisket cooked in ginger ale (I can already see I’m going to have to do a separate post about food in the sixties) and on Easter, my mother would bake a ridiculous multilayer coconut cake with marshmallow icing.  

I just had another crazy memory.  Back in the dark ages, when I was in elementary school, on the last week of school leading up to Easter and spring break, we made Easter bonnets.  Our teachers would send home a supply list:  Paper plates, ribbons, jelly beans, Peeps...and we’d turn them into rather spectacular millinery, which we’d proudly wear in an Easter “parade” in the schoolyard.

As a budding foodie, I freaking loved making those bonnets.

I could just see Julie and Eric wearing paper plates on their heads and marching around outside.

Oh wait, what am I saying, yes I can 😎

I’m not gonna go into it, but for the most part, my childhood memories of holidays are not good.  My mom thought they meant family, my father thought they meant Oh awesome, I can lock myself in my bedroom and get wasted.  There was always a lot of yelling.  From the time I was a kid, I vowed if I ever had a family of my own, It would be the exact opposite for my children.

Which brings me to my next memory, and it’s a good one. Young’s Candies.

https://www.phillymag.com/news/2007/07/02/taste-forever-youngs/

For the kids’ entire childhood, we were lucky enough to have an old school candy store in the neighborhood where they made amazing chocolate on site.  Every year, Gary and I would make up spectacular custom baskets.  Eric loved anything peanut butter.  Julie loved solid chocolate eggs. Easter mornings were like Hanukkah/Christmas around here, but then again, so was every holiday.

I guess I am especially feeling the loneliness of quarantine today, but okay, I’m also realistic.  Eric lives in Nashville and Julie lives in Seattle.  I doubt we’d be sitting here, ripping apart our respective baskets and sharing a breakfast of candy this morning, anyway.

I’m here to tell you that over ten years in, empty nest syndrome never gets any easier.  

But yeah, yeah, there are certain perks.

I told Gary not to buy me any Easter chocolate this year. He’s still asleep upstairs. 

 I really hope he didn’t listen to me.  

Ugh, what am I saying. There’s still macaroons in the house.

Mmmm...macaroons.  I just realized we covered both holidays with that one.

Omg, they are amazing with a hot cup of coffee.  And with that, I’m off to have eight more.

Happy Easter!

Day 27

Day 27, self quarantine:  

I’m back.

Yesterday started out tough.  I was waiting for news on my “co-worker” hospitalized at John Hopkins (John Hopkins!) with COVID-19.  It was kind of like how I imagine it is sitting around waiting for a meteor to hit.

I decided to binge watch  Top Chef all day while snacking on Gary treats throughout.

“Can you make cookies?” I asked him.

Gary looked up from his computer, (hahahaha) shocked.

“Cookies?  What kind of cookies?”   

“Christmas cookies?”

“What?  Christmas cookies?” 

Hey.  At least he didn’t immediately say no, even if he was looking at me like I was out of my mind.

I nodded. 

“Which ones?” he asked.  Shortbread?  Thumbprints?  Oh, no....you want the ones that take me three hours - the ones with peanut butter cups?’

“No...”

“Which ones, then?”

I looked at him hopefully.  “All of them?”

“Rob!  Seriously?!”

“Okay, okay, just thumbprints.”

He sighed.

“Isn’t it Passover?”

Oh, yeah.  Crap.

I considered this for a moment and brightened.

“Do we have any coconut?”

“Coconut?  I don’t know.  Maybe.  What now?”

“Macaroons.”

He started to laugh but stopped when he saw my face.

“Oh my God.  Really?”

“Yeah.”

“If I make them, do you promise you’re not going to complain all day tomorrow you’re fat?”

“Well...”.   

He had a point.

As I was trying to decide,  using my usual scientific methods, i.e., if I diet and get thin during quarantine I will probably get the virus and die, conversely, if I eat my way through the next several weeks and gain a couple hundred pounds, I’ll likely live a long, miserable life, I got a text from Aileen.


Aileen is one of the many extraordinary people I’ve met through my kids.  As a young girl, she took a Robert Fripp Guitar Craft course on the recommendation of a boyfriend and it would change her life, leading her to a career in  music and music therapy, and inclusion into a group of international King Crimson family and friends.

Over the past fourteen years, I’ve seen the love and power of that group.  In fact, it was through the extended Crimson family in Seattle that Julie finally found love and happiness and her new home.

I remember in the early days of the Adrian Belew Power Trio, when I tagged along as merch person, we were stopped at the Canadian border for the usual questioning.

“You’re musicians?” the border patrol guy asked, peering into the car and taking in the guy in the sombrero with two giggling teenagers.   “What kind of music do you play?”

Adrian’s response was immediate.

“We play intelligent music.”

Isn’t that the truth?

Anyway, getting back to Aileen, she texted me that she was going to be in our neighborhood and was going to be dropping off a very special package (carefully wiped down) on our stoop.

And with that, Gary got a reprieve from cookie making.

Because you know, when someone tells me they have a gift for me, my mind goes right to food.

And I follow Aileen on Facebook.  She’s superwoman.  She makes bread.  She grows all kinds of vegetables in her garden.  She freaking roasts her own coffee.

Guess what she also tried her hand at during quarantine?  

Soap making.

In addition to leaving us a bag of her incredible fresh roasted coffee, Aileen put together a self care package of beautiful, fragrant soaps.  The picture I took doesn’t begin to do justice - I wish there were smellivision.

My mood did a 180.  

I remembered I chose the path of gratitude.

The rest of the day was wonderful.  I learned my coworker is improving.  Gary made vegetarian matzo ball soup.  And Julie did an amazing live stream show which I finally figured out how to broadcast on the television as opposed to my phone.

Speaking of live-streams, Eric is doing one at 7:00 tonight with luminaries like Roseanne Cash and  John Oates to raise money for musicians brought to their knees by the events of 2020.  I will post a direct link later.

So that’s it for today. There’s only one remaining question: Do I want those macaroons or not?