If spending more time with you has shown me anything, it’s that you are incredibly resourceful — when you really want something. Specifically something you are not supposed to have.
Your regular schoolwork dipshittery earned you a week without Wi-Fi for your various apparatus.
Though you pretend to be a Luddite, you certainly MacGyvered your way into connectivity. (I didn’t even know you knew what an Ethernet cable was or that we had one.)
But then you called for backup to find the lunch meat.
Lunch meat, Dominic.
Remember this conversation?
You (banging around in the refrigerator): There’s no meat! Me: Yes, there is. You (getting loud): No, there’s not! Me (shockingly calm in the face of teenage attitude): Look in the drawer on the bottom left. You (louder): I’m looking! All I see is a cabbage. Me (sighing): Move the cabbage. You: Oh.
“Move the cabbage.” It’s like the Coronacation version of “Who Moved My Cheese.”
I really hope this is just typical teenager behavior, and you’ll grow out of it. I am not a helicopter parent. I don’t plan to have you live with me forever.
But the reality is that none of us knows how long this will last. And the leadership in this country is woefully inept.
For example, Gov. Kemp opened the Georgia beaches, superseding more restrictive local orders. He also said he didn’t know sometimes people were asymptomatic. 🙄
Sigh.
It’s hard. It’s harder for some than for me, but let me have my moment.
I haven’t made banana bread in years, but I made some this week.
Why?
I don’t know. I guess I just had time.
Here’s a list of things I’ve made while in captivity:
1. The aforementioned banana bread. Sadly, without nuts. One of my cage mates ate all the walnuts and pecans we had and didn’t put them on the grocery list.
2. Black chickpea hummus with black garlic and preserved lemon. We are VERY FANCY in isolation.
Yes, it looks like poo. Trust me: It’s delicious.
3. Pasteles y arroz con gandules. Just like Abuela used to make.
4. Pernil. That takes four hours in the oven. Luckily, I have PLENTY of time.
5. Pork tamales. Labor intensive? Yes? Worth it? Also yes.
6. Red chili sauce for the above. You don’t like spicy things, you say? Good thing I didn’t invite you over.
7. Charro beans. Never made them, but I could have eaten the whole pot of them on my own.
8. Tapioca pudding. My mom used to make this all the time. I’ve never made it. I noticed a box of tapioca in the pantry. How did it get there? I don’t know. But Dominic is a huge fan, so I ended up making two batches.
9. Chicken Parmigiana. Again, something I’ve never made. It’s a wee bit of a pain. Would I make it again? Hell yes.
It’s Day 16 of captivity. I’m finding ways to amuse myself.
For example, I created a pandemic playlist. Y’all know I love a good playlist, and there’s something for everyone here.
I watched Tiger King, along with most of America, it seems.
Yes, it’s really the batshit crazy train wreck everyone says it is.
Someone posted a genius Bingo card for it.
This is what my card looked like after 30 minutes into JUST ONE EPISODE.
I had a virtual happy hour with Goat Yoga Lisa. And 36-hour Tina has planned one for Wednesday. During our chat, Lisa mentioned that her photos from St. Patrick’s Day 2019 showed up in her Facebook feed.
Lisa: There I was, in crowds! Standing close to people! Drinking other peoples drinks! Me: Those halcyon days.
The family has laughed plenty playing board games.
I wish I could remember what the answer was for this Sensosketch.
I’ve done my spring (and summer and fall) cleaning plus all the laundry. I’ve been cooking nonstop. I even made egg salad — something I don’t often make because I hate peeling eggs.
The pollen has given me a headache and sore throat, but I’m still obsessively taking my temperature just to be sure.
Trapped on the couch watching way too much Reality TV. Clearly.
I even managed to get through some of my “Ridiculousness” backlog.
I still have a ways to go.
It’s only been a week of intense social distancing, but it has taken a toll on this extrovert who loves nothing better than to be out of the house.
I remember my mother and father always being aggravated with me:
Mom: Why can’t you sit still? Me: I just can’t.
Dad: You are going out AGAIN? Me: YES!
My boss told me I could work from home.
I said I had two teenage boys at home. No WAY I want to be there.
So I’ve been splitting my time.
Answer emails. Walk to work. Answer more emails. Advise students via Zoom. Talk to whoever might be around at a safe distance. Walk home. Answer more emails. Read industry reports.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
On Friday, I spoke to two people. It was a big day.
I’ve been doing plenty of cooking and cleaning. Talking to people ON THE PHONE (!). And drinking. So much for the good done via Dry January.
I just read a horrifying article that indicates this could go on for 10-12 WEEKS.
If that is what it takes to keep more people from getting you, COVID-19, then I understand, and will try not to complain.
But I really wish you would take the hint and LEAVE.
What a time to be alive! It is unprecedented weirdness. I don’t know about you, but some aspects of life are totally normal (my boys fighting) and some are totally bizarre (no toilet paper or cleaning products in stores).
I received the email below. Ordinarily, that would send me into a tailspin. You know how I love my Biddy Boot Camp.
But you also know that I am an optimistic person. So here I am looking on the bright side:
1. Atlanta traffic has been reduced to early-1990s levels.
This is lunchtime on I-85 where it joins I-75. It’s usually a jam.
2. No line at The Varsity (no eating inside either, for better or worse).
3. No one is sneezing, coughing or sniffling in public. (I’m thrilled. I hate this. Pandemic and non-pandemic advice: If you are sick, STAY HOME.)
4. Family time (again, for better or worse). I’m not ready to kill the children. Yet.
5. Home cooking. Last night, I made Pommes Anna from a recipe by Chef Anne Burrell. (I watched “Worst Cooks in America” during my isolation this weekend.) It’s basically scalloped potatoes with a twist.
Yum!
6. The potential to watch shows on my (long) list of suggestions. Although I find myself rewatching “Schitt’s Creek” in preparation for Season 6.
7. No cancellation fees on the annual cruise we had to reschedule before Coronavirus came calling.
8. Faculty at my university are forced to try online learning. I’ve been singing this delivery method’s praises for years, but some of my colleagues have been reluctant. It’s not perfect, but it works. And it compels people to learn new things and be creative to improve the experience for themselves and for students.
9. The chance to do things that have been put off for way too long. We moved to a different place in the same neighborhood the weekend before everything started changing substantially. With the forced down time, we have unpacked everything, put up shelves, cleaned the place, etc. I also rewired our speaker system — something I needed to do since we moved back to Atlanta.
10. The constant reminder to WASH YOUR DAMN HANDS. I’m continually appalled by the number of people who do not wash their hands after going to the restroom. Gross!
Join me in optimism: Tell me about your silver lining.
Love and air kisses from at least six feet away,
Beth
Thanks for hanging out with me at the AEW event Wednesday night. I know it won’t be long before the last thing you want to do is hang out with your mom.
To be honest, though, not many of the moms we know would want to watch professional wrestling. Er, RASSLIN’ (as it is known in the South).
(You know, if I knocked out some of my teeth, this and the taxidermy would give me the redneck trifecta. You would never know I had a doctoral degree. Yes, I know I’m stereotyping.)
But you and I have watched AEW since it started last year. We HAD to see it live.
Luckily, we like the same characters.
Jungle Boy (i.e., Luke Perry’s kid), Luchasaurus and Marko Stunt (Jurassic Express)? Yes.
Sammy Guevara, who always has his tongue out? Hell no.
Our seats were decent, and we got to sit in a group of folks who were ALL IN for Moxley and Hangman Page, whose beer-grabbing is killing us (in a good way).
When they chanted, “This is AWESOME,” we did too.
When they chanted “Asshole” as Wardlow appeared for the cage match against Cody Rhodes (oh the cage match), we didn’t. You’re 13.
When one dude behind us shouted to Rhodes getting his butt whooped in the cage match,” Do less of that!,” we laughed.
We both marveled at Rhodes’ epic finish.
It was a great night watching men in panties fight each other.
I’m so glad we spent it together.
I’ll meet you on the couch for AEW Wednesday night, unless you have baseball practice.
Love,
Mama
At the Marta station, we spotted the lucky fan who scored the shirt Cody Rhodes ripped off his body.
Warning: This post contains graphic images of a dead animal.
Dear Eddie, Dominic and Gideon,
Thank you so much for giving me the best Christmas gift ever: a taxidermy class at Rainy Day Revival down the street. It is the gift that keeps on giving, as I learned two things:
I really like practicing the art of taxidermy and not just admiring it.
It appears I’m good at it.
You know I’ve been trying to take a taxidermy class for years — since before we moved to Atlanta. The ones at Graveface kept getting cancelled as they didn’t fill up.
Not so with the RDR one: It sold out quickly.
Revell, the man in charge of my hair, and I have similar interests. His boyfriend bought him a seat in the class for Christmas too!
We practically rushed into the room as soon as it opened. Revell chose a fluffy black bunny, so I picked the one across for convenience.
The instructor, Nina, had us start with painting or staining our plaques. Then we had to massage our still-partially frozen yet “ethically sourced” rabbit. (No, I don’t know what that means. Various websites say various things. I didn’t ask. Ignorance is bliss.)
Here’s my rabbit, Roger (of course), lying in state — massaged and thawed.
Next we had to turn our rabbits inside out to remove the skull.
You would think this would be gross, but all the Borax we put on them helped dry things out. Plus, you know I watch plenty of medical and forensic reality shows.
Nina came by to check on progress and gave me props for not popping the eyes and keeping my lids intact.
See! I’m a natural!
Nina then announced this, which is something I never thought I’d hear:
Once you take your face off, stop: We’re going to take a break.
So we took a break.
Revell and I had fun with our gross puppets.
After the break, we made a new skull out of the kind of foam stuff that goes in the bottom of funeral arrangements. Apropos, no?
Roger starts to look more like himself again.
But see how his nose is a little mushed in? I got the bright idea to plump it up with some clay. Nina’s mom, who helps with the classes, was skeptical. Then she saw the end result.
Oh! You were totally right! That looks much better.
I’m an artist, I tell you.
Once we were done, we lingered in the shop waiting for Nina to mount them on our plaques. (Power tools + expertise = much quicker to get through all 30)
I had plenty of time to admire the wares — and dream of bigger projects.
Finally, Roger and I were reunited.
It will be two weeks until he “cures” completely and his bandages come off.
And you three will be forced to look at enjoy him in a place of pride at home.
So thank you for this gift. I had a great time, and I’m proud of myself.
But you also know that I am an optimistic person. So here I am looking on the bright side:
Observe and report 