There’s No Place Like Home

Since the coronavirus descended upon us and put us in to quarantine mode, I’ve done six 1000 piece puzzles...that’s 6,000 cardboard shapes that kept my mind from prematurely turning to mush.  I painted several things that needed painting and even more that didn’t. I also repainted the things that I did a lousy job painting the first time. I’ve washed my hands to the point that the skin on my fingers look like the before pictures on a crepe-y skin infomercial.  I’ve wiped down things that I was sure had the virus hanging on for dear life including the Lysol wipes container and the inside of the cap from the anti-bacterial spray. I’ve considered buying stock in Keurig as I have used more coffee pods in the past two months than most people use in a year. I’ve listened to doctors and politicians and newscasters all of whom are confusing at best or lying at worst. I’ve binge watched shows about murderous tiger kings, make-up mavens and money launderers. And with regards to laundry, I have to say, those Tide pods were really looking good after my snack supply was depleted.  I thought about wiping every other bathroom visit to save on toilet paper usage noting that men don’t wipe, they shake. I learned rather quickly that shaking doesn’t work for the female anatomy not to mention the gross factor. I’ve listened to my husband’s antiquated jokes, which in terms of boredom only competed with his insistence to watch television shows that bombed even when they were new… in 1947. I started watching game shows. I am proficient now at matching pictures, something I was good at when I was seven and guessing what 100 random people think the answers are to hypothetical questions…and I’ve even gleaned some important information, like that the original Pez dispenser was designed to look like a lighter as a quit smoking device. I’ve shopped. Oh how I have shopped. A grateful Amazon sent me a mother’s day card. Ok they didn’t really, but they should have. Every day I watch from my window as the UPS or mail truck come down my block and joy bubbles up when I see them pull up and stop in front of my house. With anticipation of whether it’s the dog’s treats, a best seller book or a spool of elastic ironically imported from China I come ready with my mask and Lysol wipes to accept my delivery. I bought press on nails since my usually manicured nails began looking like someone who tried to claw their way out of a well. I spend a good portion of the day looking for the nails that go rogue after the glue dries.  I’ve cut my husband’s hair…easy peasy, not much to cut these days. And then I cut mine. No comment. I’ve crocheted baby blankets for my great-grandkids who aren’t even close to being born yet and teddy bears in nurse’s uniforms for my grandkids that are born. I now have the neatest junk drawers and my socks are color coordinated with my underwear and bras.  I’ve taught myself a foreign language through a downloaded app but as of now all I can say is ‘do you have hand sanitizer?’ and ‘back up buddy, you’re too close’ in beginner Italian.  I’ve been potting everything I can cut up and root. Somehow seeing a rotting vegetable sprout has its rewards these days. So yes, I’m ready to venture out of these four walls and do nothing that involves anything creative or organized. I’m ready to face the virus head on… with a mask and gloves and sanitizer and……

MASTER OF NONE

.......MASTER OF NONE 

I have always prided myself on being smart.  Not Einstein black hole smart, but everyday smart.  More than common sense smart but less than PhD smart.  More than street smart but definitely less than Steven Hawkings smart.  So I realized I was a Jack of all Trades but, well you know how it goes, Master of None.  I do however want to share my limited mastery on a few subjects.

 

Medical 

I know which thermometer goes in which end..... although with today's new thermometers you just stick it in the ear clearly cheapening my wisdom. 

If you are screaming for help because you are choking, you are not, in fact, choking.  No air, no scream.  Calm down, you're gonna live.  

There is no difference between Tylenol or the store brand other than maybe $3.00.  Of course if Bob's Acetametaphine is produced or packaged in Taiwan, spend the extra $3 bucks. 

Anything they remove from your body has to be biopsied.  From a wart to a polyp to a cyst.  So if your doctor says he is biopsying something he has removed, don't panic, don't pull out the life insurance policies...it's a procedure. 

Do not put anything other than cool water on burn.  Butter...eh, not so much unless you want to really cook your skin, Vaseline...ditto.  Antiseptic burn cream is fine so long as it hasn't been hiding in the back of the cabinet behind the cotton balls you bought for a school project for your 12 year old when she was in kindergarten.  

Starve a cold, feed a fever.  Why is that?  No one has proven to me that eating the last of the chocolate lava cake in the fridge while congested is a bad thing.  Grab the box of tissues, and the cake and make your way to the couch.  If however you have a fever with your cold, feel free to add a scoop of ice cream. 

 

Sleep

 

Everyone dreams although most do not remember what they have dreamed which is probably good since most dreams translate into sexual situations no matter what dream analysis book you read.  If you dream you are being chased and cannot run fast enough it will probably translate into something regarding a deviant past encounter or the desire to have one. 

You will sleep better in a cool room.  Cool as in less degrees, not posters and lava lamps. 

Snoring can mean you have sleep apnea which loosely translated means, you stop breathing in your sleep.  I call that dead, but again what do I know.  If your partner snores wake him constantly through the night, in the morning you both will be exhausted but neither of you will be dead.  That is unless your spouse kills you for waking him up all night. 

There is no difference between 400 count and 800 count sheets other than the 30 plus dollars Macy's will charge you.  Do you seriously think there is some Egyptian out there counting the threads? Besides, do you really think that the snoring lump beside you can tell the difference? 

If you are an insomniac that means you are up til all hours of the night.  If, however, you fell asleep at 8:30 and woke up at 1am not being able to go back to sleep that is just a long ass nap screwing with your REM cycle. Stay up and start again tomorrow.

 

Cleaning

 

Vinegar cleans everything.  From windows to countertops and toilets to jewelry, vinegar will make things sparkle.  You will, however, have an unnatural craving for romaine. 

If you have a pet and have unwanted hair on the furniture, use a damn sponge to 'wipe' up the pet hair.  And unless you are into hairy teacups throw out the sponge immediately to avoid inadvertently reusing. 

There is a floor behind the toilet.   

If u are strategic with your dishwasher loading skills, you can potentially get away without ‘un’loading  for at least a week.  Think Tetris. 

Clorox bleach spray is an amazing product that cleans virtually everything.  It also has a wide over-spray which nicely tie-dyes everything in it’s path.  

Cleaning out a closet means throwing some things out.  It does not mean moving stuff in closet A into closet B.  It does however count as cleaning if closet B is in someone else’s house.

I AM GRANDMA!

I am a night person.  I am an all-night person.  I don't sleep well, never have and guessing never will.  Recent studies show that not sleeping well is bad for your health, however the revelation that it could be sleep deprivation and not the Twinkies that makes me fat...makes me happy. That's my excuse and I am sticking to it!  It was because of that sleepless agenda that I haven't seen a sunrise in probably 15 years.  This morning, my first day babysitting in Long Island for grandchild #5, I saw the sun rise.  Actually I saw darkness...and then the sunrise.  Quite frankly from sleep encrusted eyeballs behind a steering wheel it wasn't much of a hurrah.

I allowed myself more than enough time because the belt parkway is always backed up although at this ungodly hour I didn't anticipate much traffic. Wrong.  Unlike me, many, many people navigate this God forsaken parkway and watch the sun rise on a daily basis.  As traffic started flowing at a decent rate, apparently everyone was late for work.  Between the  s l o o o w e r   t h a n   t h i s  school buses and the Kamikazee cars switching lanes at 90 ignoring the fact that I already inhabit that lane, I made my way to the Southern State.  Referring back to my driving handbook days I clearly remember that the right lane was for the slower drivers and the left lane was for passing or speeding.  I opted for the middle lane since I was not speeding, passing or going slow.  The rules may have changed in the last 40 years.  The 12 mile an hour school buses spewing diesel fumes were in the middle as were the kamizazee cars as they made their way around me and the buses.

Two exits onto the Southern State an overhead sign proclaimed a Grey Alert with the plate number and description of a car with apparently a wayward elder person.  I felt sad but wondered, if I had gone missing would it have been a Clairol #37 Alert? As I drove I scanned the plates in hopes of locating said missing elder, however by the fourth exit I had forgotten what the plate number was and was left simply wishing him or her well in their endeavor to escape.   I got to my exit in record time and even had time to stop at Starbucks....which of course wasn't open yet.  I drank my now cold coffee I had brought with me from home before realizing it was in the other cupholder.  I had drank coffee from......well, I would rather not do the math. 

Mary Poppins has nothing on me.....I may have arrived in a Jeep and not floated in via umbrella, her canvas satchel replaced by a torn plastic grocery bag but I am GRANDMA!

breathe in breathe out

My daughter in law and her twin sister do yoga.  My daughter and law and her twin sister combined have a smaller waistline than my upper left thigh.  My daughter in law and her twin sister unknowingly have inspired me to try my hand (and foot and core) at yoga.

Before I ventured into yoga I decided to try my hand at meditation.  I envisioned myself learning to relax and ultimately finding my third eye.  Having no yoga mat I grabbed my dog’s bed and positioned myself in a cross legged seated position which when I was a kid was called the Indian position.   I couldn’t do it then, I can’t do it now.  I sat with my legs as close as my inner thighs would allow.  My back protested and promised to punish me tomorrow, but I was determined to get this right.  My hands in a prayer like stance, I practiced the breathing technique, in out…ok nothing new here, I can do this!  Oh wait, it was in through the nose and out of the mouth.  As I tried to slip into that relaxed meditated state I was so desperate to obtain,  I kept nervously thinking I wasn’t breathing right.  I was focusing on opening my mouth at the right time, inhaling and exhaling with some kind of rhythm but eventually I just ended up holding my breath.  That euphoric feeling wasn’t my third eye surfacing, it was oxygen depravation and passing out.   Before I keeled over,  my dog realized I had his bed and came bounding over and sat on my kinda-crossed legs causing my left ankle to impale my right calf.  OK go ahead, I’ll wait….got the visual…hey I said they were kinda crossed!

I repositioned myself on the rug, got into a more comfortable position and began breathing again, this time getting the in and out right. I was clearing my mind, quieting the voices in my head and then I thought….what am I making for dinner? I shook it off and as instructed concentrated on the sounds of my breath and then I thought….is Mob Wives on tonight? Once again I re-grouped and then I thought….I really have to pee. So much for meditation…I will just move along to yoga. My daughter in law and her twin sister will never know I quit before my third eye or chakra showed up.

I was going to buy ‘how to’ yoga videos but that made no sense since I am sure this yoga thing would pass like every other physical activity I have endeavored to master in recent years. I found some fascinating videos on you tube and planted myself on the rug once again, this time equipped with a lap top of instructions. First… lay on your back….ok can’t see lap top anymore but I can still hear the instructions. Feel your abdomen…FEEL? Even laying down I can SEE my abdomen! Pull your right knee up towards your chin pressing your thigh into your abdomen. Ummmm…ok This stretches your lower back or in my case crushes the lungs and inhibits the ability to breathe. Did I mention the size of my thighs? Beginner yoga, as I soon learned, is nothing more than stretching parts of your body that normally don’t get stretched unless you inadvertently fall down a flight of stairs, which is how I felt after I completed my first video. I am pretty sure I haven’t moved my body parts even an iota of the amount the thin, tan, toned girl in the video has. Lesson two has the rabbit pose, the camel pose and the cobra pose none of which sounds like something a human body should be aspiring to achieve. I have learned there is advanced yoga, weight loss yoga, yoga for men and even chair yoga. There is yoga for runners, for couples and even for pregnant women…there doesn’t seem to one for an overweight indolent who has a daughter in law with a twin sister.

Lily the Christmas Eve

I stopped blogging over a year ago.   I would like to say it was because I was busy writing the next great American novel....promoting it on Leno before he decided to abandon late night TV,  cashing huge advances, fighting off paparazzi, potentially scuffling with one,  like Alec Baldwin.  I would like to say it was because I was relaxing at my villa on Lake Como in Northern Italy with my tanned hard body that took that whole year to achieve.  I would really like to say it was because I was the front runner in some political campaign that didn't involve hookers, texting, corruption or bridge closures.  Sadly the reason I have been gone so long is simple....Lily the Christmas Elf.  Well, let's not blame Lily, she is actually the product of my back burner mentality.  I excitedly start something and as soon as it is not as entertaining as it originally began I put it on hold, stick it in a bag, banish it to my hoarder room.

Lily is a crochet project I began some two years ago for my then 3 year old granddaughter.  She has a head,  her pointy little ears pinned on to where they will be sewn at a later date (Lily, not my granddaughter), she has a stuffed body although still naked and a striped leg with one green boot.  Lily has been bagged and banished through two holidays seasons.  I found her while looking for white wool to complete a Valentine project which is coming dangerously close to being dismissed as boring and repetitive.  Lily will probably ready for my granddaughter's Sweet 16....I hope her color scheme is red and green.

Crochet and knitting projects aren't the only things I do this with.  I have half-written novels, countless un-submitted and un-published short stories, a book of 10 poems only 7 of which I like, and two possibly three journals that started out as cathartic, liberating scripts only to end at the bottom of an end table awaiting a new entry.  I have sewing projects that are cut, pinned and ready to sew.  I have matched the thread color with irrationally eccentric accuracy, wound a bobbin with matching thread and then....nothing!

I am a frame freak.  I have collages that say FAMILY is fancy scroll letters, I have bohemian woodgrain 5x7's in every color that wood doesn't naturally come in, and dozens of modern-glass-no-border-break-every-time-they-fall-off-the-wall 8x10's.  Each frame has an array of smiling happy people in various situations enjoying life and each other....too bad they are not my family.  I have yet to get around to printing any of the thousands of pictures I have imprisoned on my cell phone.  There is even a picture of a completed Lily on there just in case I forget what the finished product should look like.

I am working on my inability to finish things.  I started a diet in November which I abandoned before the holidays.  I gained 3 pounds.  I restarted the diet and subsequently suspended it until after Super Bowl...same results.  The key to this dieting thing may just lie with Lily.  If I could complete what I start out so tenaciously robust for I could probably fill those frames by Spring, complete a novel by summer and have poor Lily's dismembered body resurrected.   And maybe then I could....I'll finish this later.