Day 21

Really? Day 21

Three weeks homebound.

OK. For sanity’s sake, better to think of it as Monday, just another Monday, the start of the workweek.

OK. (Much better.) Down to business. Tidy up the house. Get to the desk. Work on this week’s Muddling through Middle Age blog.

Then, for a delightful break, I clicked on a video my friend Laura S sent and watched actor John Krasinski’s SGN (Some Good News). Don’t know what it is? I didn’t either. I don’t want to spoil the fun, but PLEASE check it out especially about 9 minutes in. It is a definite day (or evening) brightener. I laughed so hard, Handsome Hubby ran into the room to see what was going on.

And so, Day 21 passes — work, a little laughter, a walk plus one memorable read which I highly recommend by a music critic in The New York Times describing the impact that constant wail that ambulance sirens are having on her. It’s an astonishingly lyrical article about this terrible sound — and time — in our lives.

In sum, we at Maison Galatz-Wellinghoff are getting by, day-by-day. We hope you are well. Hang in there. Keep washing your hands. Wear your masks. Pretend you are bandits getting the jump on that evil virus robbing us of all we hold dear.

Day 20

Sheltering Sundays

Sheltering Sundays – bananas pancakes, the newspapers, & no place to go.

It could be a normal Sunday. It should be a normal Sunday. Sleeping late. Getting up to Handsome Hubby’s pancakes and (vegan) bacon. The table covered in two newspapers.

But, unfortunately, it’s the “new” pandemic normal where you (or, at least, I) want to avoid the news and just keep my head under the covers, more ostrich, than informed citizen.

Yes, this is the third Sunday sheltering in place. The third Sunday with no place to go. No theater. No movies. No friends to visit or have over.

For me, and I suspect many of you, cabin fever is setting in.

So, HH and I went for a car ride. And we weren’t alone. A fair number of cars were on the road, doing the same thing, ogling the sights.

It was pretty fun actually, playing “tourist” in our neighborhood, reminiscing about the “good old days” — just three short weeks ago — when we strolled along Solano Avenue, went to the Oakland Museum, and ate at our favorite Greek restaurant.

Of course, as we drove, I was mostly eyeing all the fast-food restaurants, jones-ing for a burger and let me make this 100 percent clear — a hamburger. I mean, yes, I love Handsome Hubby, but sheltering-in-place with a vegan is no walk-in-the-deli, no-walk-in-Morton’s Steak House. It is, well, you get my point, meatless HELL. Yes, I could broil myself a steak, but the smell of meat makes HH blanch or turn green, neither of which are attractive color choices for my plant-based man. So, I suffer in semi-silence.

And while you might think I took a wrong turn off onto a food tangent instead of talking about our brief drive about town, food was the main attraction for both of us — noticing all the restaurants “open” for take-out and delivery. People may be worrying and living indoors. They may be wearing masks when they’re out, but for the ladies (and gentlemen) who lunch and munch and dine, life goes on “gourmet-ing” as usual, at least sort of.

And I’m not criticizing it. Because as Virginia Woolf said in a Room of One’s Own, “One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.”

In addition, all these restaurants and fast-food spots keep a part of the economy going and some number of people employed. So, that’s something.

And so goes Day 20. Unbelievable. Day 20. Stay healthy. Eat healthily.

Day 19

Definitely Groundhog Day

Rain. Boredom. Gloomy Statistics. Yet, also, gratitude that those I love are not part of those statistics. Tidying up the house. Overeating — yikes, gotta watch that! Then, rallying and a grab-oneself-by-seat-of-the-pants moment and onward to a better day!

Yes, thanks to that turnaround moment (and attitude shift) came:

  1. Productivity — working on next Wednesday’s Muddling through Middle Age blog. (I think it’s going to be a good one! Fingers crossed.)
  2. Connection — talked to my beloved doctor-niece in NYC for the update on life and work. She shared a picture of medical tents in Central Park, a sight not seen since the Civil War — a sight most uncivil, a sight most sad.
  3. Entertainment — a now rare treat! I went (virtually) to a Saturday matinee at the theatre. Yes, thanks to the resourcefulness of Berkeley Repertory Theatre, ticketholders like myself are able to enjoy a streamed performance of School Girls: Or the African Mean Girls Play via the streaming service BroadwayHD.

And then, supper time. Time for another lovely supper with friends at Zoom Café.

So goes Day 19. May you find reasons for joy each day.

Day 18


I’m gonna confess. I was feeling pretty blue this morning. We’re all still heading into the storm and it feels terrible.

Handsome Hubby and I went for an early morning walk usually cause for celebration, but this morning despite the bright skies and the blooming flowers, it wasn’t fun.

For a minute, things seemed normal. Then we walked past the sweet little children’s park three blocks from our home. No children. No dogs. No activity. Just yellow “caution” tape. Yellow “caution” tape everywhere … on the picnic tables … on the jungle gym set (is that what it’s still called?) … and all around the little blue bouncing hobbyhorse. It looked like a crime scene.

An empty city bus rolled by. Without even thinking about it, I waved to the driver. She waved back. Such forlorn gestures.

Strange times.

Back home, I decided to engage in some retail therapy. I’ve resisted so far, but there’s only so much online hunting for toilet paper and Purell a woman can do. I needed a little fun.

I was amazed at how quickly and cunningly clever retailers have adapted to our new online work and play-at-home reality.

One ad for a blouse promoted “Style for the camera,” adding “For a video call or a virtual happy hour, you’ll be ready for your close-up.” The blouse didn’t strike my fancy, but I loved the pitch!

Another ad for a pale lime green pajama-y two-piece number hailed “the new business casual” with its “laid-back looks for the commute-free life.” All I can say to that is whoever thought I’d long for the days of toe-pinching heels and waist-constricting Spanx?

And guys, be of good cheers, there’s stylish sheltering-in-place fashion fun for you, too! I found a section of chic exercise clothes. It came with the promise “No membership required” — “exercising from the comfort of home is easy when you’ve got the right gear.”

Yes, it’s a strange world.

And so goes Day 18. Stay healthy and chic or, at the very least, cozy and comfortable!

Day 17

Getting Old

You know you’re getting old when …
You’re in the “at-risk” age group.

You know you’re getting old when …
Your neighbor grocery shop for you instead of you offering to do the same for others.

And today I added another way to tell “you know you’re getting old” to the list:

You know you’re getting old when …
Because your wonderful cleaning ladies can’t come over, you’re on your own, giving your house a top-to-bottom deep clean and at the end of it, you’re utterly EXHAUSTED. I mean the can’t move, can barely lift a finger, can barely write this journal entry kind of exhausted. I mean the pathetic kind of exhausted. I mean I am pathetic!

And it’s not that I consider myself a pampered princess. I clean all the time. In fact, I’m one of those people who prep and pre-clean the house before the cleaning ladies arrive. (I don’t want them to think we’re slobs!)

I used to think cleaning was relaxing and enjoyed the sense of bringing order out of chaos. But today’s full-on cleaning assault, well, that’s a different story! Moving the couch, vacuuming the stairs, doing all the laundry, ironing, all in one marathon session. This was a challenge. And it demonstrated that I’m really out of shape and I’m really old.

Well, one thing’s for sure, as we continue sheltering in place, I’ll certainly have plenty of time to get my cleaning muscles back in shape AND also to get even older! My birthday’s not that far away!

And so goes Day 17. Good wishes from the spanking clean Maison Galatz-Wellinghoff.

Day 16

Freedom Firsts

Each dinner we have at Café Zoom, I ask friends, “What’s the first thing you’re going to do when we get the ‘all clear’ signal and can go out unfettered and free?”

Most of my women friends — including me — say “manicures and pedicures” or “for a haircut and color.”

Yesterday my back was killing me. Of course, it was my own fault. I decided to re-arrange some gigantic flowerpots on our deck. Ouch and double ouch! Happily, today my back is OK. So, I can cross going-to-the-chiropractor off my growing “Once I get out of the house” to-do list.

Pool Shark Handsome Hubby is heading to the pool hall first chance he gets. For Valentine’s Day — which seems oh, so long ago — my own version of Paul Newman in The Hustler bought us slick pool cues and we haven’t had a chance to break them in yet.

But the best answer? That came from our sweet friend Howard, one of the kindest men I know. Howard is going to his mother’s house to give her a hug and a kiss.

Today the sun is shining here in Berkeley, CA. So, I’m reconsidering the mani/pedi/beauty shop answer. Those chores are definitely needed, but they hardly qualify as celebratory footloose and fancy-free “get out of jail” picks after all this time sequestered at home, after all this time worried and frightened.

So, I’ve got a new answer: For my first post-quarantine joy ride, I’m hotdogging it straight to Baskin Robbins for an ice cream cone — one with rocky road AND chocolate chip. Care to join me?

And so goes Day 16, daydreaming of better days.

Day 15

Hunting and Hoarding

The baseball season may be on hold, but America has a new pastime — hunting for and hoarding toilet paper!

Maybe also, select cleaning supplies plus flour and yeast. Yes, we’ve become a nation of clean freaks (count me among them) and bakers!

All this reminds me of another hoarding episode in my life. Let me take you back to that time and place:
The Time: 2012
The Place: Washington, D.C.

In the days leading up to monster Hurricane Sandy, people frantically rushed to stores, preparing for flooding, downed power lines, and the resultant days without electricity.

Along with candles, batteries, ice, and the other basics of living without power was one surprisingly popular item — Pop-Tarts. Yes, Pop-Tarts went flying off the shelves.

Now, why people suddenly craved a treat that required heating in a toaster when we faced days without electricity, I cannot explain but crave it they did in a big way.

After a few days, nary a Tart could be found in our nation’s Capitol. I believe the shortage/absence even made the 6:00 News. I for one won’t have been surprised if Congressional hearings hadn’t been held to investigate the source of this sugary shortage.

Now, Circa 2020, having written of the 2012 Pop-Tarts saga, I want one. I don’t even like them and I haven’t wanted one … well, you know … since Hurricane Sandy when everybody was talking non-stop about them and I couldn’t get one!

Oh, my. I really need to get out of the house more. Oh, dear. That’s the whole point of this Sheltering-in-Place Journal. We can’t get out. Oh, well.

And so goes Day 15. The start of the third week housebound. Treat yourself to some comfort food. Be well. Stay sweet.

Day 14

O.K. I admit it. I’m a little bored.

Believe me. I am grateful, 100% grateful, to be healthy, sheltered, and safe.

But all the same …

I have plenty of work to do, but I’m bored of this unchanging loop of getting up to the same daily routine of reading (but not too deeply) the latest statistics about the pandemic’s spread and death toll. Weary of staying in and watching the city bus go by with nobody on it.

Weary of “keeping busy.” Really, do I truly need to “swiffer” my floors every day? Twice a day?

I’m also tired of washing my hands … and my kitchen counters … and … of having the biggest thrill of my day be the arrival of deliveries from Amazon. Really a 100-oz jug of Woolite is now the highlight of my day? Don’t laugh.

Tomorrow I’m expecting refills for my Swiffer dry mop. I can hardly wait! And I don’t mean to brag, but it’s a 52-count box. I’m just saying there’s going to be a whole lot of “swiffering” gonna happen!

Most of all, I am weary of worrying about the health of my family, friends, mere acquaintances, and total strangers. It is a frightening time for us all.

Yet, I have nothing to complain about. Right now, countless thousands of medical professionals are working non-stop, putting their lives at risk to help those suffering from COVID-19.

To them, I wish safety and the hope they can look forward to days of relaxation and “boredom.” I know it won’t be soon, but I wish it for them just the same. Also, a massive ticker-tape parade, honoring their heroism and dedication.

And on the subject of cleaning: Here’s a household tip as the prospect of prolonged sheltering in place becomes a reality (The San Francisco Bay area sheltering order has been extended to at least May 1.): dust the shoulder tops of clothes in your closet. Dust is collecting there as sure as it does on surfaces everywhere. Besides, running a feather duster or rag over them is about as much action as your wardrobe is going to see for a while anyway. So, what the heck? What else have you got to do? Make your mother proud and clean, clean, clean!

And so goes Day 14. Hang in there.

Day 13

Come Together

I’m a family-oriented person. In a crisis, I was taught, you come together. You talk. You reminisce. You argue. You blame whoever isn’t in the room. You eat. You re-hash things ten times over. If the occasion warrants, you mourn. You forgive. The crisis passes.

The most important element of all this: the coming together.

Now, however, we are in a crisis where we cannot come together. We must practice social distancing and keep apart — six feet if you please! We practically jump to the other side of the road when walking. Sure we nod and smile, but there’s an underlying sense of unease, even fear as we pass people.

We can’t visit our children, our parents, our friends. My daughter lives 15 miles away. It could be 1,500 miles or 15 million or the planet Mars. I guess we could visit and keep our distance, but that just seems weird. Air kisses, anyone?

So, how do people stay “together” at this time? We’re all texting and Skyping and dining together at Café Zoom. We’re emailing and calling. And that’s all good.

But we need more.

Making donations is one way to stay connected to our communities. True, we’re all taking hits financially right now, but many people are in absolutely dire straits. So, if you can make a donation, why not do it today?

Need more connection? Here’s one in reverse: don’t stockpile supplies. Toilet paper, flour, yeast, whatever. Buy what you need. Don’t be a butt about tp!

Meanwhile, here at Maison G-W: We had pancakes for Sunday brunch, banana pancakes if you please! And now, do you know what that means? Yes, we have no bananas! We have no (more) bananas today! And I finished the last Oreos last night. These are desperate times indeed! Oh, Amazon deliveries do not fail me!

And so goes Day 13. Time for my Sunday walk with Handsome Hubby. Stay healthy.

Day 12

It’s Saturday. Time to slow down and relax. But how do you celebrate the weekend in these troubled days?

“Normally” the weekend means there’s no need to rush out the door. No need to get dressed up. Just hang out in your sweats or jammies.

Great, but we’re all doing that already. Here in Northern California, we’ve NOT been rushing around for 12 days – except to find toilet paper! We’ve NOT been getting dressed up. And we’ve NOT worn anything BUT our sweats and jammies.

Still, it’s Saturday and I’m going to do my best to enjoy the weekend. I’ve got a simple plan. All it requires is Handsome Hubby (and a little popcorn). In a few minutes, I’m going to hunker down on the couch with HH for a little extra cuddle (and popcorn) time.

Who knows? I’m so grateful for our good health, I may even agree to watch The Terminator for the 57th time!

And so goes Day 12. But even though it’s the weekend, please remember not to get lax about washing your hands.

If your paws aren’t chapped by now, you’re obviously not washing them enough! Mine look like I’ve wintered at the Arctic Circle sans gloves.