Coronavirus Day 26 — Pi$$ and Vinegar
Over the July fourth holiday, we all headed to Flatrock. It’s a family tradition to bring all the cousins together for several days of roughin’ in the Pennsylvanian wilderness. Flatrock makes us all especially hungry for all the food.
As we shopped at Weiss market for lunch supplies, I was looking forward to the pickle aisle. I mean this is Pennsylvania, home to the infamous “Pickle on a Stick” that James ordered at a movie theatre so long ago. I was hoping for some kind of specialty Amish fare but this is Weiss… practitioners of triple plastic bagging. People leave the joint with fistfuls of climate change, and a few plastic bags pinned under their armpits for good measure.
Fortunately, I found a big jar of bread and butter pickles chips to add to the stockpile.
Back at camp, I come across Grandma lamenting why we would need such a giant jar of pickles “You like these?” Of course there’s no actual transcript of the conversation but I’m sure she said that. She was positive they wouldn’t get eaten. Technically we were only there for three nights and I kid you not, I had to buy a second huge jar during our stay. Every last tangy morsel was gone as we headed out the dirt road on our way to NYC.
Meanwhile this month in lockdown, the main staple the boys added to the grocery list was pickles. “Mom, don’t forget we need pickles!”
It’s a topic of many dinnertime conversations. We seem to find pickles make an excellent little side dish to just about every evening meal. And they’re a must for Nate’s lunchtime “stackers” or as I call them, cheese tacos. He’s decided he doesn’t like bread and so his latest lunches involve a piece of cheese filled with prosciutto and pickles. Fold it like a taco and voilà (said with more of a Spanish accent then French, of course).
For some reason, we regularly have conversations at the dinner table that go something like this:
“Can you pickle bread?”
“No.”
“How ’bout pasta?”
“No. It has to be harder. Like a vegetable.”
“Can you pickle carrots?”
“Yes.”
“Marshmallows?”
“No!”
It goes on and on.
Friday night someone asks, “So where does vinegar come from?”
And Nate chimes in, “I think from cows?”
And Jake says, “No, horses! It comes from horses.”
Coronavirus Day 25 — Thursday
Apparently it was Thursday.
Coronavirus Day 24 — Catching-up
The best thing that happened to me today was catching-up with Jennifer Anne on my walk to the beach. And Raven on my walk back.
Coronavirus Day 23 — Yard
Jacob and I are in a strongly committed reading relationship. Every morning and every night we read stories and it is so very special. According to my iPad library, we’ve read 51 books since we moved to SLO in June of 2016.
We’re currently reading the latest in the Rick Riordan series on greek and roman gods and their shenanigans here on earth. This is our 23rd book so… hope you’re enjoying that newly remodeled Texas mansion, Mr. Riordan. You’re welcome.
In the latest book, Apollo has been sent back to earth as a dorky teenager named Lester Papadopoulos. As the former god of archery, he has this weird arrow called the Arrow of Dodona that speaks to him in ye olde Shakespearean English. I must admit I enjoy a good old-timey opportunity to speak as a British squire. And so I present thee with the update of thy day:
Next up on ‘Ye Ode to Never Ending Projects’ doth be thy gopher pit… also known as thy front yard. It doth appear I’ve been persuading thy labor to produceth a quote that is not of unsound mind as of four score and twelve months ago.
As thy luck would have it, thee labor’s calendar hath opened up upon the descendancy of thy plague of the Mexican ale. Without thy lawn, thou small squires may loseth thy minds. And so shall their parentage.
Thy economic meltdown and peril be damned. Let them eat grass!
Coronavirus Day 22 — Bonkers
Last night was a Nate night. He’s got a low tolerance for cabin fever. Generally the first one to start acting loopy. He dances around. He can’t seem to focus. The potty talk’s up. The listening is down. His mood swings are steeper than a bad Coronavirus curve.
Too soon?
So last night he’s hiding in the dark and jumps out at his brother, causing Jacob to stumble backwards and hurt his foot. Some terse words and Nate escapes to his favorite hideout of shame– his closet. I read books and as I’m tucking Jake in, I’m pretty sure Nate has snuck under his bed in the dark.
We check. Jake reports that he’s fast asleep with his Man City blanket. He tucks his pillow under his head and it’s lights out.
This morning I heard him wake-up with a bit of a bonk.
We’re all going a little bonkers. Especially Natesy.
Coronavirus Day 21 — Craf-tay
All of this time at home has brought back crafty James– the one who teaches himself latte art, screen prints original designs, makes his own wine and kombucha, and once sewed a pair of kid-sized jeans.
James continues building out his e-commerce offerings. After selling multiple felt banners, and possibly inspired by a blackout during Week 1, he decided to make candles. I volunteered to name his candles and write the descriptions.
Here’s what I’ve got so far…
Tiger King: This soothing scent is one part lavender, one part leather. Erase the unease brought on by polygamous cub petting, pink camo, piercings, and padlocks. Melt away the anxiety of flower crowns and fringe. My purrsonal favorite.
Ozark: Does pandemic prison have you longing to throw on your trunks and head to the lake? This candle conjures the ease of a day on the water with middle notes of teakwood. As the evening turns to twilight, enjoy the warm scents of amber, vanilla, and beach bonfire. Base notes of poppy and clean cash.
Narcos: Take your staycation up a notch. This candle evokes the luxury of a certain lifestyle, minus the shootouts. The perfect ambient addition to a Netflix binge or Zoom date. Exotic notes of candied grapefruit may just have you popping the top on that White Claw a little early.
Coronavirus Day 20 — Ninja
It’s finally Saturday. Nate and I went to Pacheco and played soccer while James and Jake went to Home Depot. We enjoyed a sunny day of yard work including the installation of some new house numbers, ripping out non-native ice plant, and propagating wildflowers.
Before we returned home, Nate stayed in the car while I waited in line outside the grocery store. While others had various masks, medical gloves, and face coverings, not to worry: I had the black ninja face bra for protection.
Probably more effective from an intimidation standpoint. Breath on me and “hiiigh-yah!”
Coronavirus Day 19 — Two Days
One video.
Two days.
Three emails.
Hundreds changed.
Leadership.
Back-to-back.
Unknown colleagues in shock.
FAQs. Packets. Docusign. Pay4us.
Broken hearts, broken teams.
Could I still come back someday?
Emotionally spent.
Bob Jones paved in tears.
Coronavirus Day 18 — Black Thursday
On Thursday I woke-up in the 5am hour, anticipating a work email that would set into motion just about the hardest week of my career. I made some coffee and looked across our front yard in the early morning light. Not only do I see a cat I’ve never seen before, ever. But it’s also black. Just moseying its way directly across the path I take from the house to the barn every, single, day.
Seriously.
Coronavirus Day 17 — Insecure
This week on one of my calls, my work buddy, Thomas, brought some much needed humor to my day.
2020 is clearly trying too hard.
I mean really, she already had brand recognition going for her.
And the Olympics.
And a long awaited presidential election.
She was already special as a leap year.
Off to a fantastic start.
We were set to have our biggest year yet at work.
Plans for product development and our long awaited partner store.
But she wasn’t satisfied. No, not 2020.
She just had to go for global pandemic.
Oh 2020.
So insecure.