a huge mistake

So I'm slumped in a chair scrolling through Instagram.

I still barely know how to use it correctly, but with four toddlers in the family and another almost here, I love seeing all the kids' photos.

I come across some special effects thing and for fun, I start playing around with it. It 's called mouth face, whatever that means.

I snap a picture of myself and barely recognize that it's me. Not so much because of the special effect, but because it's so frightening.

My hair is all pulled back so I look bald, except for a few stray white hairs.

And, I'm showing more chins than Mitch McConnell.

I am horrified at what I see. 

I click cancel, and move on to see more adorable, sexy, fun, and always-beautiful photos of friends and family. 

This morning I get a text from Lisa, Alexander's aunt, and my friend. 

OMG. I should have tapped delete, not cancel.

Showing the actual photo would obviously make a much much better post. But I am far too vain for that. 

Trust me, it was that horrible. So horrible that Lisa knew I would never ever have intentionally posted it. And that horrible that she wrote to warn me.

Thank you Lisa. I am profoundly grateful.

If you did happen to come across that photo, please erase it from your mind. 

I am not that person. Really. Someone else was using my phone.

spike in new language

So with COVID came a new vernacular. 

Or maybe not new, but words or expressions that have become commonplace.

Shelter in place.

Self-quarantine.

Flatten the curve.

Social distancing.

Face coverings, masks.

Pandemic.

The congenial have-a-good-day now largely replaced by stay-safe.

And many more, I'm sure.

I'm talking to M. She was on a Zoom call recently.

"People are starting to look coviddy," she says.

"Coviddy?" I ask (though I think I can guess).

"You know, a lot of people look like they've put on the COVID-15." She's referring to the 15-pound weight gain that used to be called the freshman-15.

"And then there are the beards. The greying hair. The unkempt look. I think COVIDs become an excuse for people to just let themselves go."

And while I haven't seen people in months, I don't think that's been true of my friends... more true of me, than them.

All of them seem to be exercising, maybe even more than before. They all seem to be participating in Zoom exercise, yoga, and meditation classes.

I've been walking some lately, but I hate the heat and usually return home before 10,000 steps.

No one I know (except me) has let their hair go. They've used at home coloring, or have gotten their hair professionally colored in states that have opened salons.

And I might be the only one I know who has gained any weight. But the 6 pounds I'm still up (not 15, thankfully) is more a result of leaving Saks than COVID.

But I definitely have the most coviddy hair of my friends. For now, anyway.

end of a long nap

NYC finally ends it's 93-day siesta.

Retail stores can open. Outdoor dining is allowed. And hair salons are back in business. 

And then the notices from those small businesses (some not so small) that didn't make it.

A cozy coffee hangout called Cafe Jax; my go-to place for meet-ups.

Orens. Another local coffee place near my house.

Even the nearby Barnes and Noble, which I haven't visited in years closed. I 'm happy, though, with its replacement: Target.

The only thing that changed for me today is getting to make a hair cut appointment. First available for my guy Kadir (at Mure Salon) is July 8.

I walk around in my new like-slippers Allbirds Loungers.  No breaking-in time needed.

\

The shoes feel great but the oppressive heat does not. I am back home quickly.

It's both exciting and scary to see the city re-open. I just hope people don't become complacent, which looks like it's already starting to happen.

I attempt a friendly smile when I remind my doormen to put their masks on. Or if they have them on,  to cover their noses. 

And my can't-live-without-young-ish handyman tells me that within the next few weeks, he has permission from his union to not wear a mask at all. He told the union that a mask makes it difficult for him to breathe. Doesn't it for all of us?

New Yorkers have done a great job getting us to this point. Let's hope that effort continues to keep us there.

father's day

When I learned I was pregnant, I knew that I would likely be raising my child alone. I remember my sister, who was then a mother of three saying to me, "You have no idea."

And I didn't. How could I?

And so I learned, on the job.

I learned how to change diapers, make formula, and juggle child care with my work schedule.

I learned how to navigate the NYC school system.

I learned the mechanical things of being a parent.

And I learned some other things too.

How to be the tough one. The loving one. The strict one. The understanding one.

Because I was the only one.

There was no dad at home to balance me.

There was no father for my son to model himself after.

There was no male at home to teach my son some of the things I didn't know how to do.

But my son had his uncles. 

His male cousins. 

His grandfathers.

And me.



Somehow we managed.

And my son adjusted. 

And has grown into a kind, strong, and responsible man.

So to all my single-mother friends.

Jill
Zelia
Susan
Terri
Robin
Robyn
Cynthia
Linda
Carol

While it certainly would have been better to have had a two-parent home for our children, we all still did a pretty good job of being both mom and dad.

Happy Father's Day.

failed effort

I think I'm becoming a better cook.

Seared scallops.

Marinated berkshire pork chops.

Lemon and scallion salmon.

Duck breast.

Tuna with lime, soy and ginger.

Steamed clams in white wine.

And tonight?

Inedible brussel sprouts (that look a bit like the dead water bugs I have found in my apartment).

Addendum (added June 23)

Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately) the raspberry-blueberry muffins I make three days later are perfect.

worst to first

I'm proud of a couple of things.

First, as sappy as it sounds, I am proud to be an American. 

Our country is going through a difficult time. It is fractured. Racism still lives, despite decades and decades of reform. And our leader is beyond horrible. But still, I believe I live in a great country. I feel fortunate to have been born here.

Second, I am proud to be a New Yorker. 

Moving here was a decision I consciously made. I wanted to live in NYC, so I found a job and moved here. That was in 1984;  I have lived most of my life here.

Today was Governor Cuomo's last press briefing — 109 consecutive days beginning March 2. And despite some early missteps, he has been a strong and passionate leader through this difficult and unprecedented time.

NYC  once was the epicenter of the coronavirus — more cases per capita than anywhere else in the world. 

NYC alone experienced a staggering 17,389 deaths. 

But today, the infection rate is less than 1%. 

"We went from worst to first," Governor Cuomo said today. 

"Over the past three months we have done the impossible...We are controlling the virus better than any state in the country, any nation in the globe."

The government can issue directives, but if the people don't follow them, they are of no value. And New Yorkers did. 

I did what most New Yorkers did.  Nothing more.

I wore a mask. I socially distanced. I disinfected and wiped down groceries. And I cheered at 7pm for the many who were saving lives and making ours easier.

It's true what Cuomo says. New Yorkers are tough. And smart. 

Phase 2 begins on Monday.























One can only hope that people don't become complacent. That they stay observant. That they still wear masks. And that they remember, the virus still exists.

Oh, and one more thing I'm grateful for: that I'm not from Oklahoma.

not that Karen

Okay, I get it.  I am not young and hip.

But I am pretty good with computer stuff, if not all social media options (I'm still a neophyte on Twitter and Instagram and can't imagine having anything to add to TikTok). 

I thought I understood most commonly used vernacular, until a friend (much cooler than I, no doubt) told me recently she was called a Karen.

I had no idea what she meant. None.  She had to explain.

And then I googled it.

Karen is a mocking slang term for an entitled, irritable middle-aged white woman.

But this post is not about that Karen. It's about another one —whose only shared characteristic with that Karen is middle-aged white woman.

The city where I grew up had four junior high schools: West (where I went), East, North and South.

All the junior highs merged into one high school (about 1,000 students per class). My cousin Karen (East Jr. High) and I both attended.

I pretty much stayed with my friends from junior high and I assumed that Karen did the same. We both were members of the Honor Society. And if I recall correctly, Karen's long hair was genuine, while mine was not (I was wearing what-was-then called a fall).

Other than that,  if I thought about it all, I assumed that the last name we shared was our only other similarity.  


My paternal grandfather and Karen's father were brothers. I don't remember any family get-togethers, though I do remember visiting her home a few times. But that was mostly for my dad to see his uncle and his two aunts who lived upstairs with a cat who could open totally-shut doors.

High school graduation marked the end of what little relationship we had.

In March 2017 I got a nice email from Karen wishing me a happy birthday. That may have been our first communication since high school.

Now we regularly communicate. And I've learned a lot about her.

She's been married for a long time to a guy who sounds great. They have two grown-up kids. She is highly accomplished (a HS counselor dealing with behavioral issues, and later a college professor). 

But more than what she does, or has done, I love her sense of humor. She is also sincere, smart and self-effacing. She is open to letting me into her life, but also incredibly thoughtful. For example, it wasn't until I expressed my views on Trump did she even bring up her feelings on the subject, which are totally in sync with mine. 

Karen remembers things about my life (backpacking through Europe, a broken leg from skiing, and hitchhiking on the Cape) I didn't even know she knew. 

I think of all the experiences we could have shared but didn't. 

And have no doubt that one day we will meet. I also have no doubt that the friendship we started a bit late will endure. 

I am so grateful to have this Karen in my life.

three months in

It's been about three months since I have had a friend over. 

And similarly, it's been that long since I've been in a friend's house (excluding Shari's sister's terrace).

Things in NYC are starting to open, but still, it's all very strange.

There are things I miss; like —

• Not being able to see Alexander; I haven't seen him since Christmas — that's too long.

• Not being able to see friends, hug them, and just hang out.

• Going outside without a mask.

• Having a social life of any kind.

• Bringing in packages or groceries and simply unpacking them and putting them away.

• Not being able to go to screenings, theater, and maybe even museums.

• Not being able to get around the city (or anywhere else). Can't even begin to picture myself on the subway, despite how clean the mayor and governor promise it is.

• Not being able to go to restaurants, though I don't miss that as much as some of my friends do.

• Not being able to plan.

• Not being able to get my out-of-control hair cut.

But there are still a few things I like:

• Having a quieter world. Even the gorgeous park and its blooming trees and flowers are thriving in our slower-moving city.

• Not feeling compelled to go out when I would rather stay in.

• Not wearing make-up.

• No robocalls, or any other random calls from people living in foreign countries trying to sell me something.

• Keeping my nails very short (barely any white showing) and unpolished. They look clean and healthy.

• Spending much less money. 

• Getting to know some members of my canasta group so much better than I did before.

• Not really thinking much about how my hair looks; who cares? I never see anyone.

• Cooking more.

• Not feeling the need to buy clothes.

• Finding most friends available when I call (but never my son. Am pretty sure he still screens my calls. Either that, or he really is the busiest person on the planet).

not worth it

I decide to take a long walk but need a destination.  

I choose Costco.  It's a little over 2 miles from my apartment.

I plan to buy the 28-bag box of 100-calorie Skinny Pop.

I haven't been to Costco since early March, so I'm surprised to see the long line to get in.

But the line moves much faster than expected, and everyone is masked and respectful of the six-feet apart markings.

I get in the store, find the Skinny Pop, and get in the long line to pay.

The floor is well-marked so I know exactly where to stand. I look behind me and there are two women. They are together.

One is wearing a mask correctly. The other is wearing her mask as a fashion accessory to decorate her chin.

"Can you please put your mask on?" I ask.

"It is on," she replies, with attitude.

"Well, it's not covering your nose and your mouth," I respond.

The masked woman jumps into the conversation.

"What's it to you, anyway?  Just mind your own business."

"I am minding my own business and that's why you should put your mask on."

"Don't tell me what to do, you fu*kng bitch," she says. And she's loud.

I then see Hector, a Costco employee, and call him over.

I explain what's going on. Hector observes the situation and comes to a conclusion.

"She is wearing a mask." 

"Hector, you do know, don't you, that wearing a mask around your neck is not quite the same thing as wearing one to cover your nose and mouth?"

He says something to the two women that I cannot hear. 

Hector then walks away. 

They all smile at each other. Best friends now. Probably in agreement that I am a fu*king bitch.

The woman still has her mask around her neck by the time I pay and leave the store.

And oh, by the way, here's Costco's policy on masks:

Dear Costco Member,

To help protect our employees and members, effective May 4, 2020, all Costco members and guests must wear a face covering that covers the mouth and nose, at all times while at Costco.

delivery

So my rug was supposed to be delivered between 9 and 11. I ask ABC Carpet if they can come on the early side.

They come at 9.

I was asked how many men do I think will be needed to move the wall unit. I say three. I am told, "Two will come but they will figure it out."

Instead, three men arrive and all are needed.

They wear masks and gloves and shoe booties. I don't have to ask. 

The men move all my furniture. 

The wall unit is incredibly difficult. I feel bad watching these strong men sweat on such a humid, muggy day.

They measure where needed.

They re-lay when asked.

And in the end, I am thrilled with both their professionalism and the rug. it looks muddy in the picture but not in person.

One of my favorite quotes, attributed to Abraham Lincoln, is, "Whatever you are, be a good one."

And these three men are all great ones.

They even call me young lady which of course makes me love them even more.

an unexpected walk into the past

The area rug I bought in early March will be delivered tomorrow. 

ABC Carpet, where I bought the rug, was cutting it to the specific size I needed, and then, well....

So anyway, tomorrow I will get my rug. Laying it won't be easy as I have a very heavy, 10-foot wall unit that the rug needs to go under. So I get a reasonable request. "Can you empty the unit to make it easier for the guys to lift it?"

"Sure," I say.

And that simple request turns into an all-day project.

I begin with the books. I remove the read books that I will never read again.

I also remove the unread books that I will never read even once.

Then there are the outdated books that need to go (Excel for Dummies, Top Colleges, 2011 Edition, etc).

A big old camcorder.

Alexander's college notebooks that he wants to keep. I don't know why. Is he ever really going to say, "Where are my notes on that Finance 2250 course I took in college with Professor Clayton?" 

Then I find big notebooks filled with carefully arranged Pokemon cards. "Keep those. Some of the cards might be valuable," Alexander texts when I ask him if these are a keep or toss.

And lots of never-used school supplies (binders, reams of lined paper, dividers, etc). Doubt these are even used in today's world.

And what should I do with the 100's of CDs I still have (and haven't listened to in years). I don't even have a CD player anymore. Most are probably worthless. And am I going to research all of them to find one that might be worth $50? Probably not. 

I also have 100's of studio screeners. These I can't just toss. I put them in a big bag and will have to cut each one. A project for another day.

I have instruction manuals for media that I no longer have. 

And then I pull open a cabinet drawer that ends up taking me hours to empty, as they hold many treasures.

I find old "art books" from when Alexander was in first grade. Here's a self-portrait he did at age 7.

Rescue workers were a big theme throughout most of Alexander's very young years. 

These are "toilet-fixing people."

I get lost in my son's creative work at ages 6 and 7. He was better at art then, than I am now.

And then I come across a small box. Inside are old licenses going back to the 70's.

ID's from some of the companies I've worked for.  Love the hair "wings" in the Gillette photo from 1981.




And even a couple of student ID's when I was still officially Linda.



In the end, it takes me hours to clean out my wall unit, as I pause to remember so much of my past.

Putting everything back should be a lot faster.

day 100

It's been 100 days since the first COVID-19 case was diagnosed in New York.

And today NYC is partially opening.  

Today's numbers — numbers we've grown accustomed to looking at daily — are excellent. 


























A random sampling of tested people in NYC shows less than a 2% infection rate (it's actually 1.2%). Compare that to 59% when the virus was at its peak, 9 weeks ago. 

I've even become more lax in wiping down packages. I still do it, but not quite as compulsively. Looking forward to the day when it's not even a thought.

I celebrate the beautiful weather by going to a nearby park.

It's nothing like the grandeur or beauty of Central Park.

There is no ground greenery. Just concrete and benches.

 

Its appeal is in its location — a block from my home.

I take my Kindle (am reading and enjoying Kate White's new book, Have You Seen Me?)

Stretch out on a bench; no one is even remotely near me.

Remove my mask and bask in the warm sunlight.

Like all New Yorkers, I am hoping that today marks the beginning of the long road back.

first step

Today, in NY, the curfew has ended.

The protests continue.

And phase one of re-opening NYC begins tomorrow.

I hear a man on TV say, "This is no longer a protest. It's the beginning of a movement." 

I have two hopes.  

One, that he is right. 
And two, that people are careful and that the protests don't spark an increase in COVID-19.

I am watching episode 5 of Defending Jacob, when I hear shouting outside. I look out my window and see a peaceful group of people, walking down 79th street.

I text some friends, and they too, see protesters in their neighborhoods. Some have even joined in.

People are talking.
Proposals are being made.
Police departments are being scrutinized.
Deep structural reforms are being considered.
There will be more transparency.
Better oversight.
More equity, one can hope.

And all this is good. 

But perhaps the most effective thing that can happen is that people remember all of what is going on today. And then vote in November.

It is a critical time in our nation's history.

We should not tolerate another four years of what we've had to live with since January 2017. All the issues we are experiencing today have not been caused by Mr. Trump. But still.

Under his administration we've lost 112,000 Americans to a virus. We've seen our economy in shambles.  And we've watched the country erupt in protest.

Our country deserves good and principled leadership.

Voting in November has never been more important.

I apologize for the political rant, but sometimes looking out one's window can help put the world in perspective.