Iām gonna confess. I was feeling pretty blue this morning. Weāre 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 wasnāt fun.
For a minute, things seemed normal. Then we walked past the sweet little childrenās park three blocks from our home. No children. No dogs. No activity. Just yellow ācautionā tape. Yellow ācautionā tape everywhere ā¦ on the picnic tables ā¦ on the jungle gym set (is that what itās still called?) ā¦ 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. Iāve resisted so far, but thereās 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 āStyle for the camera,ā adding āFor a video call or a virtual happy hour, youāll be ready for your close-up.ā The blouse didnāt strike my fancy, but I loved the pitch!
Another ad for a pale lime green pajama-y two-piece number hailed āthe new business casualā with its ālaid-back looks for the commute-free life.ā All I can say to that is whoever thought Iād long for the days of toe-pinching heels and waist-constricting Spanx?
And guys, be of good cheers, thereās stylish sheltering-in-place fashion fun for you, too! I found a section of chic exercise clothes. It came with the promise āNo membership requiredā ā āexercising from the comfort of home is easy when youāve got the right gear.ā
Yes, itās a strange world.
And so goes Day 18. Stay healthy and chic or, at the very least, cozy and comfortable!
You know youāre getting old when ā¦
Youāre in the āat-riskā age group.
You know youāre getting old when ā¦
Your neighbor grocery shop for you instead of you offering to do the same for others.
And today I added another way to tell āyou know youāre getting oldā to the list:
You know youāre getting old when ā¦
Because your wonderful cleaning ladies canāt come over, youāre on your own, giving your house a top-to-bottom deep clean and at the end of it, youāre utterly EXHAUSTED. I mean the canāt 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 itās not that I consider myself a pampered princess. I clean all the time. In fact, Iām one of those people who prep and pre-clean the house before the cleaning ladies arrive. (I donāt want them to think weāre slobs!)
I used to think cleaning was relaxing and enjoyed the sense of bringing order out of chaos. But todayās full-on cleaning assault, well, thatās 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 Iām really out of shape and Iām really old.
Well, one thingās for sure, as we continue sheltering in place, Iāll certainly have plenty of time to get my cleaning muscles back in shape AND also to get even older! My birthdayās not that far away!
And so goes Day 17. Good wishes from the spanking clean Maison Galatz-Wellinghoff.
Most of my women friends ā including me ā say āmanicures and pedicuresā or āfor a haircut and color.ā
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 Valentineās Day ā which seems oh, so long ago ā my own version of Paul Newman in The Hustler bought us slick pool cues and we havenāt 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 motherās house to give her a hug and a kiss.
Today the sun is shining here in Berkeley, CA. So, Iām reconsidering the mani/pedi/beauty shop answer. Those chores are definitely needed, but they hardly qualify as celebratory footloose and fancy-free āget out of jailā picks after all this time sequestered at home, after all this time worried and frightened.
So, Iāve got a new answer: For my first post-quarantine joy ride, Iām hotdogging it straight to Baskin Robbins for an ice cream cone ā one with rocky road AND chocolate chip. Care to join me?
The baseball season may be on hold, but America has a new pastime ā hunting for and hoarding toilet paper!
Maybe also, select cleaning supplies plus flour and yeast. Yes, weāve 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 ā 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 nationās Capitol. I believe the shortage/absence even made the 6:00 News. I for one wonāt have been surprised if Congressional hearings hadnāt 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 donāt even like them and I havenāt wanted one ā¦ well, you know ā¦ since Hurricane Sandy when everybody was talking non-stop about them and I couldnāt get one!
Oh, my. I really need to get out of the house more. Oh, dear. Thatās the whole point of this Sheltering-in-Place Journal. We canāt 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.
Believe me. I am grateful, 100% grateful, to be healthy, sheltered, and safe.
But all the same ā¦
I have plenty of work to do, but Iām bored of this unchanging loop of getting up to the same daily routine of reading (but not too deeply) the latest statistics about the pandemicās spread and death toll. Weary of staying in and watching the city bus go by with nobody on it.
Weary of ākeeping busy.ā Really, do I truly need to āswifferā my floors every day? Twice a day?
Iām also tired of washing my hands ā¦ and my kitchen counters ā¦ and ā¦ 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? Donāt laugh.
Tomorrow Iām expecting refills for my Swiffer dry mop. I can hardly wait! And I donāt mean to brag, but itās a 52-count box. Iām just saying thereās going to be a whole lot of āswifferingā 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 āboredom.ā I know it wonāt 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: Hereās 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!
Iām a family-oriented person. In a crisis, I was taught, you come together. You talk. You reminisce. You argue. You blame whoever isnāt 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 ā six feet if you please! We practically jump to the other side of the road when walking. Sure we nod and smile, but thereās an underlying sense of unease, even fear as we pass people.
We canāt 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?
Making donations is one way to stay connected to our communities. True, weāre 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? Hereās one in reverse: donāt stockpile supplies. Toilet paper, flour, yeast, whatever. Buy what you need. Donāt 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.
Itās 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 weāre all doing that already. Here in Northern California, weāve NOT been rushing around for 12 days – except to find toilet paper! Weāve NOT been getting dressed up. And weāve NOT worn anything BUT our sweats and jammies.
Still, itās Saturday and Iām going to do my best to enjoy the weekend. Iāve got a simple plan. All it requires is Handsome Hubby (and a little popcorn). In a few minutes, Iām going to hunker down on the couch with HH for a little extra cuddle (and popcorn) time.
Who knows? Iām 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 itās the weekend, please remember not to get lax about washing your hands.
If your paws arenāt chapped by now, youāre obviously not washing them enough! Mine look like Iāve wintered at the Arctic Circle sans gloves.
Today, safely nestled in my home overlooking the San Francisco Bay, Iām pondering the question of āethicalā shopping.
Iām not talking about hoarding. At issue: how much can I ask kind Kimberly ā actually, sainted Kimberly ā our neighbor, to buy when she grocery shops for us.
Kimberly is already marketing for her own family of four and now sheās unselfishly schlepping for us as well.
My first rule of asking is: if I know I can get it on Amazon, I do so. But some things I need quicker and so, I ask Kimberly to pick them up. Some items Handsome Hubby ādisapprovesā of. Hush! You know, the non-vegan options. So, Kimberly is, first and foremost, my bootleggerās link to the carnivore/dairy world. Iām talkinā exotic delights such as salami, eggs, cottage cheese, and non-fat milk. Yes, Kimberly is the Al Capone of my world. Does that make HH the Elliot Ness in this sheltering-in-place crime/culinary scenario?
Anyway, I try limiting my āKimberly Listā to āmust-havesā ā items Iām not sure I can reliably get from Amazon. But now that the delivery service is overburdened and delivery times hard to come by, Iām turning more and more to my neighbor.
So, hereās the ethical dilemma: are M&M’s essential? Are cut flowers? What about Oreos? They feel essential. And man, oh, man. What about the salami? That feels life-affirming essential! I mean Iāve got enough tofu to stock a vegetarian restaurant! But I am a card-carrying carnivore. Give me meat. Hear me roar. Donāt give me meat. Hear me weep!
Iāve had deeper thoughts today. We all have. But Iām keeping this journal entry light ā even if my dream grocery list is heavy on the calories!
Day 18
Confession
Iām gonna confess. I was feeling pretty blue this morning. Weāre 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 wasnāt fun.
For a minute, things seemed normal. Then we walked past the sweet little childrenās park three blocks from our home. No children. No dogs. No activity. Just yellow ācautionā tape. Yellow ācautionā tape everywhere ā¦ on the picnic tables ā¦ on the jungle gym set (is that what itās still called?) ā¦ 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. Iāve resisted so far, but thereās 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 āStyle for the camera,ā adding āFor a video call or a virtual happy hour, youāll be ready for your close-up.ā The blouse didnāt strike my fancy, but I loved the pitch!
Another ad for a pale lime green pajama-y two-piece number hailed āthe new business casualā with its ālaid-back looks for the commute-free life.ā All I can say to that is whoever thought Iād long for the days of toe-pinching heels and waist-constricting Spanx?
And guys, be of good cheers, thereās stylish sheltering-in-place fashion fun for you, too! I found a section of chic exercise clothes. It came with the promise āNo membership requiredā ā āexercising from the comfort of home is easy when youāve got the right gear.ā
Yes, itās 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 youāre getting old when ā¦
Youāre in the āat-riskā age group.
You know youāre getting old when ā¦
Your neighbor grocery shop for you instead of you offering to do the same for others.
And today I added another way to tell āyou know youāre getting oldā to the list:
You know youāre getting old when ā¦
Because your wonderful cleaning ladies canāt come over, youāre on your own, giving your house a top-to-bottom deep clean and at the end of it, youāre utterly EXHAUSTED. I mean the canāt 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 itās not that I consider myself a pampered princess. I clean all the time. In fact, Iām one of those people who prep and pre-clean the house before the cleaning ladies arrive. (I donāt want them to think weāre slobs!)
I used to think cleaning was relaxing and enjoyed the sense of bringing order out of chaos. But todayās full-on cleaning assault, well, thatās 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 Iām really out of shape and Iām really old.
Well, one thingās for sure, as we continue sheltering in place, Iāll certainly have plenty of time to get my cleaning muscles back in shape AND also to get even older! My birthdayās 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 CafĆ© Zoom, I ask friends, āWhatās the first thing youāre going to do when we get the āall clearā signal and can go out unfettered and free?ā
Most of my women friends ā including me ā say āmanicures and pedicuresā or āfor a haircut and color.ā
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 Valentineās Day ā which seems oh, so long ago ā my own version of Paul Newman in The Hustler bought us slick pool cues and we havenāt 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 motherās house to give her a hug and a kiss.
Today the sun is shining here in Berkeley, CA. So, Iām reconsidering the mani/pedi/beauty shop answer. Those chores are definitely needed, but they hardly qualify as celebratory footloose and fancy-free āget out of jailā picks after all this time sequestered at home, after all this time worried and frightened.
So, Iāve got a new answer: For my first post-quarantine joy ride, Iām hotdogging it straight to Baskin Robbins for an ice cream cone ā 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 ā hunting for and hoarding toilet paper!
Maybe also, select cleaning supplies plus flour and yeast. Yes, weāve 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 ā 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 nationās Capitol. I believe the shortage/absence even made the 6:00 News. I for one wonāt have been surprised if Congressional hearings hadnāt 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 donāt even like them and I havenāt wanted one ā¦ well, you know ā¦ since Hurricane Sandy when everybody was talking non-stop about them and I couldnāt get one!
Oh, my. I really need to get out of the house more. Oh, dear. Thatās the whole point of this Sheltering-in-Place Journal. We canāt 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. Iām a little bored.
Believe me. I am grateful, 100% grateful, to be healthy, sheltered, and safe.
But all the same ā¦
I have plenty of work to do, but Iām bored of this unchanging loop of getting up to the same daily routine of reading (but not too deeply) the latest statistics about the pandemicās spread and death toll. Weary of staying in and watching the city bus go by with nobody on it.
Weary of ākeeping busy.ā Really, do I truly need to āswifferā my floors every day? Twice a day?
Iām also tired of washing my hands ā¦ and my kitchen counters ā¦ and ā¦ 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? Donāt laugh.
Tomorrow Iām expecting refills for my Swiffer dry mop. I can hardly wait! And I donāt mean to brag, but itās a 52-count box. Iām just saying thereās going to be a whole lot of āswifferingā 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 āboredom.ā I know it wonāt 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: Hereās 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
Iām a family-oriented person. In a crisis, I was taught, you come together. You talk. You reminisce. You argue. You blame whoever isnāt 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 ā six feet if you please! We practically jump to the other side of the road when walking. Sure we nod and smile, but thereās an underlying sense of unease, even fear as we pass people.
We canāt 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 ātogetherā at this time? Weāre all texting and Skyping and dining together at CafĆ© Zoom. Weāre emailing and calling. And thatās all good.
But we need more.
Making donations is one way to stay connected to our communities. True, weāre 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? Hereās one in reverse: donāt stockpile supplies. Toilet paper, flour, yeast, whatever. Buy what you need. Donāt 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
Itās 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 weāre all doing that already. Here in Northern California, weāve NOT been rushing around for 12 days – except to find toilet paper! Weāve NOT been getting dressed up. And weāve NOT worn anything BUT our sweats and jammies.
Still, itās Saturday and Iām going to do my best to enjoy the weekend. Iāve got a simple plan. All it requires is Handsome Hubby (and a little popcorn). In a few minutes, Iām going to hunker down on the couch with HH for a little extra cuddle (and popcorn) time.
Who knows? Iām 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 itās the weekend, please remember not to get lax about washing your hands.
If your paws arenāt chapped by now, youāre obviously not washing them enough! Mine look like Iāve wintered at the Arctic Circle sans gloves.
Day 11
Today, safely nestled in my home overlooking the San Francisco Bay, Iām pondering the question of āethicalā shopping.
Iām not talking about hoarding. At issue: how much can I ask kind Kimberly ā actually, sainted Kimberly ā our neighbor, to buy when she grocery shops for us.
Kimberly is already marketing for her own family of four and now sheās unselfishly schlepping for us as well.
My first rule of asking is: if I know I can get it on Amazon, I do so. But some things I need quicker and so, I ask Kimberly to pick them up. Some items Handsome Hubby ādisapprovesā of. Hush! You know, the non-vegan options. So, Kimberly is, first and foremost, my bootleggerās link to the carnivore/dairy world. Iām talkinā exotic delights such as salami, eggs, cottage cheese, and non-fat milk. Yes, Kimberly is the Al Capone of my world. Does that make HH the Elliot Ness in this sheltering-in-place crime/culinary scenario?
Anyway, I try limiting my āKimberly Listā to āmust-havesā ā items Iām not sure I can reliably get from Amazon. But now that the delivery service is overburdened and delivery times hard to come by, Iām turning more and more to my neighbor.
So, hereās the ethical dilemma: are M&M’s essential? Are cut flowers? What about Oreos? They feel essential. And man, oh, man. What about the salami? That feels life-affirming essential! I mean Iāve got enough tofu to stock a vegetarian restaurant! But I am a card-carrying carnivore. Give me meat. Hear me roar. Donāt give me meat. Hear me weep!
Iāve had deeper thoughts today. We all have. But Iām keeping this journal entry light ā even if my dream grocery list is heavy on the calories!
And so goes Day 11. Wishing you all good health.