Today I used up the last square on a roll of toilet paper in the powder room on the main floor and it hit me: we should number the rolls remaining in the house and keep a tally on the dry erase board in the kitchen, like our own little Louie Lodge Doomsday Clock. And then gather solemnly to play taps when another one spins, freely, its original mission in life complete.
After tossing the empty roll in the trash, I sang the first verse from Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” while washing my hands, followed by a re-creation of the dancing in the jail scene of The Replacements. Alternatively, I’ve heard we should try a verse of “Old MacDonald”, “Happy Birthday”, or “The Stars and Stripes Forever” (we are a music family, after all), or even better, the Lord’s Prayer (now that’s a good one). This reminds me, I really do need to listen to Rita Wilson’s quarantine playlist on Spotify.
After I wrapped up work for the day, my husband Ryun, the extrovert, asked me if I was itching to be out among people. Me, the introvert? Dude, I’ve been practicing for this moment my whole life. True, I’ll be itching for a road trip when this is all over, but honestly, I feel a tiny bit more renewed each day I spend it in my Louie Lodge cocoon.
NOW would have been the time to binge watch The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. And uh, no thanks, Netflix. Are you seriously streaming Outbreak? Groan.
It’s really kinda hard to think this isn’t the end of times when you learn there was a 5.7 earthquake in Salt Lake City earlier today. That happens to be home for my mother-in-law. (She’s ok, the house is ok…) I mean, really. The governor talked of counties releasing people from jails. What’s next? The Cascadia fault line collapsing? Massive power outages? [God, if you’re listening….? That’s not a dare or anything, I promise.]
I do continue to catch Governor DeWine’s daily press conference. Major shout out to the sign language interpreters. The woman with glasses is fun to watch: she is a human emoji. Even better, my PC froze right when she was making this move that looked like she was casting a Harry Potter spell. The look on her face was priceless. She deserves an Emmy.
Can I tell you how nice it is that a soft, warm, snuggly, 1-year-old, puppy-sized Maltipoo named Zoe hangs out on my lap for part of the day while I work? And Zoe is Greek for “life” which is a lovely reminder these days?
My spirits remain high. Same with the kids. We’re all still healthy. Ryun is busy teaching his lessons. A few more parents and students took him up on online lessons. He doesn’t want to advertise more broadly than his existing student base, in solidarity with other musicians who might be hurting right now where gigs and schools are cancelled, and online lessons might be the only form of income they have.
Can I tell you I looooove how thoughtful he is about that sort of thing? He never ever wants to poach business from a fellow musician under normal circumstances and certainly not now.
On the topic of food…
Our fridge is packed to the gills but I’m trying to figure out whether a leprechaun bestowed it with vending machine capabilities because it magically produced a fresh, new gallon of milk I swear wasn’t there yesterday.
Ryun hid the brownies in the house because we’re tearing through them like they’re speed pills. He thinks I don’t know where they are. Now I’ve hid them in my tummy.
I miss Kind bars. They were all out of them at the stores. Thank God for the Girl Scout cookie supply chain. I may or may not stress-eat Samoas and Do-Si-Dos.
Heads will roll in this home, so help me God, if the lunchmeat in the fridge goes bad before we make a dent in it. Seriously. Hubby does the grocery shopping, but he also buys entirely too much food that can spoil simultaneously.
Speaking of grocery shopping, pro tip: see if your favorite store has an app or an option to “scan as you go”. Our store, Giant Eagle does. It’s GENIUS. Ryun scanned each item as he shopped, paid/checked out on his phone, had a store employee check his bag at the exit, and bypassed several incredibly long lines of people at each register on his way out the door. No wait. It will be neat to see the wealth of ingenuity that comes of these times.
This whole pandemic is no laughing matter but you gotta give props to the people who can joke at a time like this.
Mel Brooks and his son Max made a video about the importance of social distancing and it was perfect.
I swear I don’t have a fixation on Keith Richards, but I have to share this one:
And then there’s Betty White. I don’t know if she legit took that hit in the Snickers commercial a few years ago but she has GOT to survive this or I will cry.
Saw another great meme yesterday: we’ll see if the anti-vaxxers put up or shut up now!
One of my teacher friends shared a Facebook post that her children are engaging in the following enrichment activities: AP laundry and spring cleaning, honors dishwashing and yardwork.
And now for the macabre….don’t judge me. Don’t say I didn’t warn you either.
Ryun and I chatted again before bed last night and yeah, thoughts turned to what would happen if either of us died. He expressed his distaste for an open-casket service for himself. He’d rather be cremated but I had to explain, now that he’s converted to Orthodox Christianity, that they don’t permit cremation.
And the whole open casket viewing thing? I don’t even know….is that just an Ohio/western PA thing? Or a Catholic/Orthodox thing? The more exposure I get to other Christian faiths and wakes over the last few decades, it seems like nobody does that but us. Are open caskets passé? Are we that old school?
It’s important to remind you that he’s a musician and operates a percussion studio. He’s just as well known for being a classical timpanist as he is a jazz drum set player. We’ve got a lot of equipment: timpani, marimba, drum kits, xylophone, etc., mostly so he could practice his chops these many years.
As I laid beside him and thought about his wishes, the conversation got weird, totally my doing. Thank God he loves me.
“You know hon, I could always take the head off one of the timpani drums and bury you in there. For that matter, if you don’t behave, I’ll just stick you inside a bongo. Oh, I know! I’ll put you inside of a set of maracas. Maybe we’ll preserve your teeth and add them in for a little extra percussion,” as I wiggled in bed and pretended to shake an imaginary pair. We are a musical family, after all.
It was twisted. I’ll grant you that. I howled like a hyena while he shook his head at me and buried it in the pillow, “Aw, that’s just great.”
He approved this message.
Hang in there, folks!