The 15th day for the Stay at Home crowd.
March 31, 2020
Someone asked me: “What the heck do you do all day at home?”
Obviously this person works.
What do any of us retirees do all day?
Whatever the hell we feel like doing. Don’t ask me what I did yesterday or last week. Whatever I did, I know it was enjoyable, fun and entertaining. I love hanging out with myself. I am a hoot.
This morning, it was hang over time. Yikes. I forgot how lousy it feels to be bushy eyed and foggy tailed. Or is it foggy eyed and bushy tailed? I can only imagine how Clover felt this morning. She is my new drinking buddy.
I had a black and white coat when I was in high school. It reminded me of a cow. Clover comes close to that look, especially after a few beers. She is a dog sent from heaven. And they say “In heaven, there is no beer.” True story. Clover drank it all.
I have to go out today… to the car, in the driveway. I need my backup supply of croissants, Tito, and Tylenol PMs. Do I need to get dressed? Or will I brave the elements and sneak down in my pjs? If the Governor of PA spots me out of the house, and I get arrested, my picture will be in the paper, with this caption: “Freakish, toxic woman caught in driveway, half dressed, with a bottle of vodka. Stay indoors or you could be next.”
Tomorrow is April Fools day. Isn’t that special?
Wolf
Hail, hail the gang’s all here….
14 days confined to the funny farm.
Guess what? I managed to get loose today.
The risk? Whatever…. It was worth it to have a fabulous afternoon with those who have brought me so much fun, laughter and friendship in the past 10 years.
Yes, T-M, drank most of my beers, as we listened to Jimmy Page, Bonham and what’s his name, you know the member of Led Zep who did not age well…… OH yeah, Robert Frost…. wait. Robert Plant. Oh who cares?
I did manage to get lost again, in the twilight zone of Deliverance. Hey! Pork Chop! So sorry you don’t have a paved driveway.
Little Jen, Mr and Mrs Chris, Bry and TM. So good to see you! And then, Mark showed up just in time to hug Little Jen and the dogs: the boozer, the senior citizen and the youngster.
Have I mentioned lately? I love dogs. I would rather have a dog than a husband. On second thought, I don’t want a husband nor a dog. I am a free spirit, who wakes up every morning, dreaming of coffee and rum chata. Do not attempt to interrupt my daily ritual. I will blow you off in a NY minute. Space, baby, space.
So, I made it home, in spite of those who insisted they follow me, for whatever reasons they might have. Let’s face it. This is not my first rodeo, just my last. It was the banana bread that guided me on my path to sanity.
A wonderfully fabulous day!
We shall overcome!
Wolf
d
Is your banana green?
If you are reading this, you have survived 13 days into the escalating invasion of the covid-19. March 29, 2020.
It’s getting a little bit easier to stay home, hanging out in my nightie and robe. If I went out, I would definitely frighten anyone who happened to come within 6 feet of me. That includes small children, animals and adults. I wonder if I will survive until the day I finally get dressed again.
Guilt is overtaking me. I want to go out, just for the hell of it, but that means I might be part of the problem, tentatively spreading or catching the @$#@@#$%#@% germ. So, I have become immobilized. (another word for just downright lazy)
As I ponder my choices, I think I will eat a banana. Now, isn’t that special? I really don’t like bananas, unless they are green. Mine are not green, reminding me of one of my favorite sayings: “If I show you my banana, will you show me yours?” To date, no one has taken me up on that offer.
Citizen Kane is on TCM tonight. I never did get the rosebud connection. I guess it is too deep for me. However, as a kid, I did have a sled that looked like rosebud, but I don’t sit around and blame my life on that sled. Instead, I moved the hell away from the northland, so I wouldn’t have to worry about that sled becoming a symbol of my twisted vision of living.
Last night, I decided to watch a meaningful program or two, so I turned to the food network: Drive ins, diners and dives. Talk about a waste of time, watching Guy hanging around the kitchens, waiting to taste the food. Same dialogue, every show, when the food is ready: “Moist, one of the best ever, great job, burp, outstanding.” My critique of the show: Oink oink. I don’t want him, you can have him, he’s too fat for me.”
Time to grab one of the hundreds of books I intend to read in my lifetime. At the rate of this lingering virus, I just might have time to finish all of them.
Just had a call from one of my many admirers. It’s really tough, being so wildly popular, but who said life is fair? Some of us have the “It” factor, and some don’t. Reminds me of Super Tramp: “Some they do and some they don’t and some you just can’t tell… And some they will and some they won’t, and some, it’s just as well.”
Until next time, I am waiting to see your banana.
Wolf
Day 12 at the Cuckoo’s nest
March 28, 2020: The 12th of Never…. and that’s a long, long time.
Remember that song by Johnny Mathis?
An active morning! Many friends calling, to check on me. Have I mentioned lately? I love being old.
After a leisurely cup of java with rum, I made a gourmet grilled cheese. I love being talented.
Not knowing when the quarantine will end, I signed up for an absentee ballot, for the upcoming election. I love being organized.
Do I really believe that we will be set free on April 6th? No. I love being a hermit.
I have learned over the years, that patience is a virtue. That comes from being married and working over half a century. Good things come to those who wait…. and to those who imbibe. I love being a martyr.
I have decided to be a good citizen again today and to stay the heck home. Besides it is gloomy, rainy and chilly. I resolve not to get dressed again today. I love being a slob.
It is time for me to play Nurse Ratched and take my meds. Hey Chief!! Over here, buddy! Raise your hand! I love being a pyscho in my own little cuckoo’s nest.
A shout out to all who are hunkered down, at home. Enjoy your families, stay safe, and do not go out. I love being bossy.
xoxoxoxoxoooxo
Wolf
It’s all the @#%@#%#% rum’s fault
Starting to lose count now, @$!@$%% rum chata!
I believe it is day 11 of the infection; I picture the virus smirking at civilization, basking in delight over the terror it has brought to this planet.
Now, on a brighter note, being older, but not necessarily wiser, I am not going out again today. One less old person lurking around the grocery store, spreading joy, laughter and possibly other things.
A few years ago, I received a lovely flannel nighty for Christmas from a beautiful friend. It makes me feel warm and loved; Althought it could be the tremendous amount of booze I am consuming. Either way, life is rosy and cozy over in the boonies of Pennsylvania.
Some say this life is an illusion, deceptively distorting our sense of reality. Right now, I am not sure what is real. I think I am still alive, but I could be dislusional, dead and in purgatory. Don’t ask me how purgatory came to my mind. I haven’t heard that term since my aunts were praying for me to enter the convent. I should have known my aunties would have the last word.
Some say this “stay home” edict makes life boring. I have a little secret I need to share with you. I am never bored. Not ever. Not even when I get lost or am in a traffic jam. Not even when I run out of booze. Ooops. Scratch that last statement.
To all my friends who may miss me, and to those who don’t, remember the famous band America’s song “Don’t give up until you drink from the silver cup and ride that highway in the sky.”
Wolf
My mental state, 10 days into the corvid.
March 26, 2020: The 10th day of the diseased globe.
The Governor has spoken: You are confined to your home. No going out. Stay put. And that includes all bar flies and outrageous social butterflies.
I am so glad I don’t fall into one of those categories.
Checked to see just what the heck “stay at home” means. I must be a slow learner. It means stay at home. Do not go to work, unless you are necessary.
I don’t work. Therefore, I am not necessary. Logic.
Do not hang out with friends.
Do not go to crowded places.
Wait! What place is crowded, if everyone is staying home?
The virus will mutate again, and resurface. It could go on for months.
Cheery, eh?
So I am confined, along with my cats, dog and husband’s ashes.
And you wonder why I drink?
The beverage of choice this morning: Hot chocolate with rum chata.
I think my next beverage will be rum chata, minus the hot chocolate.
I am very parched.
Later……
Wolf
Has it only been 9 days? Really?
The 9th day of the @%#@%#%# virus.
March 25, 2020
In spite of how I was feeling this morning, on trash pickup day, down the driveway I went, like a horse when the gates open. “Down the stretch she goes.” Yes, bathrobe and pjs and slippers. But I did manage to wear a hoodie over everything and pretended I was the unibomber.
I just happened to be on the road to Dunkin. wink wink. Bagel and coffee!
Yes!!
I sat in the car, shielded from the masses, and noticed that the grocery store parking lot was not crowded. Should I or shouldn’t I?
I went.
The first thing I did was grab one of those antibacterial wipes, and wouldn’t you know it? About 20 of the damn things popped up. A guy, very cute, by the way, and I laughed about it. I like him. He is as silly as I am.
Shopping, however, was no laughing matter. I was still wearing my unibomber disguise and smiled at everyone I met, but no one was happy.
I saw a lady who reminded me of Miss Habersham, a character in one of Charles Dicken’s novel, Great Expectations. She was looking at the empty shelves and commented that we are living in a 3rd world country. Of course, I had to add, “Yeah, the whole world has gone to hell.” I would have said “pot” but I didn’t want anyone to know what my fav weed is.
As I checked out, with lemons and oranges and thin oreos, I was proud of myself for staying away from strangers, for the most part, and acting semi normal.
Day 9, eh?
Geez. This ain’t no party. This ain’t no disco. This ain’t no fooling around.
Keep safe!!
Wolf
8 days a week
Tuesday, March 24: 8 days and counting….
I laughed when my 75 year old widowed Mother told me: “I don’t think I will date anymore.”
My folks had been married for over 60 years. What did she mean she wasn’t going to date anymore?
Now I am widowed after 30 years of a tumultous marriage, nearing my Mom’s age when she made that famous statement, and I too have decided not to date anymore.
Who in their right mind would want to date a worn old, crazed old lady? Besides, I don’t care for old people and midgets, especially old men. I prefer the younger crowd.
Since my lunatic husband died, I have had a crush on 3 guys. A 64 year old, a 40 year old and a 50 something hunk. Wouldn’t you know it, my first choice, the 64 year old died. I still see the 40 year old and the 50 + guys, occasionally, but I have found that they are flawed. Mr 40 is not a warm, fuzzy guy. He is the coldest fish in the ocean. And Mr 50 is a train wreck emotionally. I call him damaged goods.
Hypothetically, let’s say Mr 40 and I hit it off. I would gaze into his baby blues and hope to God he wouldn’t say a word. He is gorgeous, but quite boring, and shy. Mr 50? Too controlling. As you may have heard, my favorite lesson in life is quite simple: To gain control, you must give up control. No freaking control freak for this cowgirl.
Now we are engaged in a great virus war. (Not the similarity to Abe Lincoln). I used to date him before he ran off with Mary. My freedom has been severly challenged, although I think I already had the corona virus in February. Ask me about it, if you want to be bored out of your mind for a few hours.
I decided to stay home for the duration of this week and write my memoirs. But that may have been a bad idea, since my beer supply is nearing the replenishment level.
Stay home, they say. Don’t go out. What ? Have these folks never run out of booze? I am entering the essential mode.
With that, my memoirs will continue until my fever gets as high as I am.
As Steve Winwood once sang, “We’re back in the high life again.”
Wolf
Positivity on day 7
And in the blink of an eye, it is day 7, March 23, 2020.
Are you getting accustomed to this life style?
I have to admit: I felt guilty yesterday. Why haven’t I been calling my friends who live out of town to see how they are doing?
I am going to stay put this week…. going nowhere…. to catch up and to check up with my buds around the globe.
Yesterday, I made the first call. I had such a great conversation with the Banana. We laughed and carried on, as if we had talked every day. It is amazing how good friends are as comforting as brownies and milk, or old fuzzy slippers.
I needed some fresh air, and took a ride to see if my fav coffee joint was open. It was! Drive through only. So what? I am thrilled that I can take a short break, if needed, to go to a familiar place. Considering that beer is usually my “go to” drink, it is surprising how coffee is becoming my drug of choice these days.
For someone who is usually on the “go”, I am adapting quite nicely to this lifestyle. I just may become a hermit, and finally write that novel that I have been putting off. Since many authors have also been drunks, I do have a stash of booze and beer, in case I get writer’s block.
In the meantime, I am completing the census, on line, and contemplating what I should make for breakfast. I cannot believe that I am actually cooking. My, how this virus has transformed me into a domestic Goddess.
I am not feeling sick. I am alive. I am thankful for a new day, and have hope for the future of mankind. Can I ask for anything more?
xooxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxxo
Wolf
Ants in my pants
Moving right along: Day 6 of Corona : Sunday, March 22, 2020
If you are like me, and have ants in your pants, are you staying home? I tried to do that for about 4 hours, but that is my maximum sheltering in place limit.
Off to the post office, the gas station and the pharmacy before heading to Sissy’s for a beer or two. Oh yeah? Well, Sissy turned the afternoon into a dinner party, with 10 guests, 2 dogs and 3 cats.
Chicken Parm and pasta.
I think I drank all their beer. Bad Girl. When dinner rolled around, the wine flowed. Great dinner. So much fun to see the gang.
In my typical fashion, I sneaked out to go home before another bottle of wine was opened. No one noticed. I believe everyone was a little tipsy, except for the dogs and cats.
Wine has a way of putting me to sleep, regardless of the time of day. It was lights out as I tried to stay awake long enough to see the conclusion of dateline. That didn’t happen.
This morning, time for raisin toast!
Thanks to all who checked on my welfare yesterday. Yes, I am the old, needy, sick woman on the hill. Just call me Mrs. Bates.
Have I mentioned lately? I love being needy and old.
Wolf
Bananawolf's Blog 