Vacation for Shut-Ins

If I were a glass-half-full kind of gal, I would say taking the only full week of vacation of the year in January was perfect timing. No need to get up early every morning and schlep 33 miles through snow to get to work.

And, yes, that was the good part. It was actually fortunate that I had planned to not drive anywhere on Monday, for example, because the 15 inches of snow we got over the weekend remained on our street until 2pm that afternoon.

Also, it was nice sleeping in until the post-dawn time of 7:15, when Maggie began her alarm clock routine. (Kitties of the world ain't nothin' but trouble.)

So, while my itinerary was not exactly exciting, I decided to inflict it upon you anyway. So, here we go. Hold onto your eyelids!

Sunday
We were snowed in, only venturing out in the afternoon to Dunkin' Donuts to assess the carnage. One neighbor very kindly snow blew our driveway for us, another came by and cleaned out our apron. I baked cookies and shared.

Monday
Got up and watched Sleepless in Seattle. Not going anywhere, except back up to Dunkin' Donuts after the snow plow came down the street, to make sure it was passable.

Tuesday
"What do you want to do today, it's your vacation," inquired Mr. Ginley. "I don't know. The roads are still messy. What do you want to do?"
"Let's see if Joe can do lunch," suggests my better half. So we take our son to Deagan's for eats.

Also, and this might seem like a yawn to all of you, but I was excited about it: we took my vintage turntable (1977, purchased from Tokyo Shapiro -- not to be confused with Harry Shapiro) to Play it Again Sam. In less than 15 minutes, I had a new belt and was back in action. So happy to have my old friend back.

Wednesday
"What do you want to do today, it's your vacation," inquired Mr. Ginley. "I don't know. It's pouring rain and yucky. What do you want to do?"
I chose our local 1940s throwback diner, Gene's. Then we went to one of the four libraries for which we possess library cards. And stopped in at Half Price Books, where we picked up the next Perry Mason season for our collection.

Thursday
"What do you want to do today, it's your vacation," inquired Mr. Ginley. "I don't know. We got more snow last night, and the roads are iffy. What do you want to do?" 

We needed stuff from Target. So, we meandered up and down the aisles in search of treasures and toilet paper and underwear (Target really does have it all). We dined at Frankie's, where Mr. got his fill of lasagna. Then to the pet store and the second hand clothing store, where I bought a coat I didn't really need, but it was 50% off, so it was only $4.50, so how could I say no?

Friday
"What do you want to do today, it's your vacation," inquired Mr. Ginley. "I don't know. It's stinkin' cold, and I'm doing a conference call for work at 1:00. Maybe we can go out after that." 

Alas, neither one of us felt like braving the cold at 2:00, so I pulled out a jigsaw puzzle and started in on that, and we ate at home.

Okay, so I'm no Jim Doney, and this is ain't no Adventure Road.

But, on the glass-full side, I was away from work for a week and had an opportunity to recharge my batteries.

And there's still today and tomorrow left. I can just hear Mr. Ginley now: "What do you want to do today, it's the last two days of your vacation."

Bet you can't wait until next week to hear what shenanigans those darn Ginleys got up to!

Waiting for Harper

"Do we have enough food? Maybe we should go to the grocery store one more time."

"We're fine," I tell Mr. Ginley.

I run through the checklist of foodstuffs that stand between us and starvation, all of them stocked in our pantry or refrigerator.

"But what about chips and pop? Do we have snacks?"

I reassure him that we have something from each of the basic junk food groups, as well as fresh fruit and ingredients for several meals.

Also, I remind him that Dunkin' Donuts is right down the street. And that the advantage of living in the city is that a drug store and several restaurants are within walking distance.

"We'll be fine," I reassure him.

"This snowfall is of epic proportions," he asserts. "You know they always plow our street last, we could be snowed in for days."

"We'll be fine," I say.

"We're all going to die," he says, defeated.

And so it goes.

This is the problem with the age of technology. As I recall, we had little warning of the Armageddon that was the blizzard of 1977-78. That was the worst snowfall in my memory. It took three hours for us to drive home from work, Judy at the wheel. Cars were abandoned along I-77, so we slalomed our way home, getting stuck and unstuck all the way. I kissed the ground when I arrived home. The next morning, Judy said she was going to work, but I deferred. Even though she was going anyhow, and we lived across the street from one another, I did not want to sit in the car, white knuckled, for hours on end. And really, it's not like we had jobs that were critical to the survival of mankind.

These days, we have storm trackers. Early in the week, there were dire predictions of huge snowfall amounts, arctic temperatures and a "polar vortex." Thus, the most talked about-topic at the water fountain has been the weather. How much, how long, how cold.

And the news media and weather service, who have taken forecasting to the next level, have decided to name our snow events. This one is called "Harper." Such a benign sounding name for something that's predicted to wreak havoc. "Beelzebub" would be a much better moniker. That might get folks to stay home and off the roads.

As for me, I have books, jigsaw puzzles and some binge-watching lined up for this weekend. I'm looking forward to hunkering down and taking advantage of the better-off-at-home nature of this storm.

Here's wishing all of you a safe, peaceful, uneventful weekend.

And, if you must journey out, safe travels.

On the Dark Side

If you're a regular visitor to this space, you probably already know I have a dark sense of humor.

aka "Gallows Humor"

I'm pretty sure I got this from my dad. Lots of German ancestors.

In any case, I wanted to preface today's email with this call-out because not all of you may be in the mood for such shenanigans, so if that's the case, you can stop right here.

The dark humor thing seems to get stronger as I age. Maybe it's the all-pervasive realization that less of my life is before me than behind me. Perhaps it's the stunningly ridiculous world we live in. (I expect our nation's leader at any moment to pronounce that Gatorade is essential for growing crops.*) Or maybe I'm just in need of more therapy than my insurance allows.

Fortunately (for me), Mr. Ginley shares my gallows humor. And, alas, we have handed this down to our son. Who, a couple of Christmases ago, upon being provoked by his father, said he was going to gift him an urn that said, "Coming Soon."

I bring all this up because Mr. and I have been having an ongoing conversation about getting older and more infirm and what our end-of-life wishes are. Necessary but difficult discussions, to be sure. To make these conversations more palatable, we use humor.

For example, he says if his mental faculties go, he doesn't want to stick around, and suggests various ways to "make it look like an accident."

"You could put a pillow over my face when I'm sleeping," he says.

"But wouldn't an autopsy reveal that?" I ask.

"I'm not sure," he replies. "Not every cop is Columbo, maybe they wouldn't bother with an autopsy."

"But if they do, I'm heading for a life sentence. A little bologna is okay, but I don't want to make a diet of it. That's what they serve in prison, you know. And peanut butter and jelly. And I don't want a roommate who's going to be my life partner, if you know what I mean."

"Well," he says, ruminating. "Think of it this way. You'll never have to worry about where to sleep. You won't have to wander West 25th Street with a shopping cart full of blue bags. You get three squares a day. And, how much worse can it be than a nursing home?"

And so it goes.

Hopefully, we will win the lottery and our worries for the future will all go away. Or we will expire before our "best by" date.

In the meantime, we will count our blessings, hang on tight and laugh a lot.

It's just how we roll in the W.P.**

*If you haven't seen the move Idiocracy, you must.

**West Park, our part of town.

Excuses, Excuses

For all my faithful readers out there (all two of you), I hereby submit a humble apology for the delay in the publication of this week's pile of drivel.

Excuse #2

I would like to say that I have a good excuse. Alas, I do not.

Instead, I present the following lame excuses for my tardiness.

1. I overslept
Actually, Maggie woke me up by kneading her claws in my pillow. I got up and fed her, retrieved the newspaper and thought about writing my blog. But the warm cocoon of my bed won out, and I headed back to the rack to saw off a few more logs.

2. I had breakfast with my kid
Normally, we break bread on Sunday morning, but this week, Saturday was more convenient for my offspring. So we met at our usual place. I had the oatmeal. He, breaking with tradition, had an omelet. None of this had anything to do with cranking out a blog, it was just a pleasant distraction.

3. There was a long line at the post office
You'd think a post-holiday visit to the local P.O. would be quick. Who mails stuff after Christmas? I found at least six folks who did. They were all in line in front of me. Including one gentlemen who wanted to purchase 200 stamps. I didn't know the cost of a stamp is about to go up. Which is why the postal clerk was out of rolls. And why the purchaser of said 200 stamps had to review a dozen different designs of stamps on sheets and do the math to figure out how many of each design he was going to purchase. "Don't you have any with flowers?" Then the lady who needed money orders. The woman with two bored spawns sitting on the floor who had to be dragged off to make way for the next patron. Three inquiries. Then my turn to post my sister, Diane's, package and a bunch of other mail. (Diane, if you're reading this, the package is due to arrive Monday.)

4. Lunch at KFC
A girl's gotta eat. As does her partner in crime. Was it a healthy lunch? No. Don't judge. The Colonel wouldn't like it.

5. Returning library books
No one wants to get a threatening email from an indignant librarian who wants her stuff back.

6. The lost hat
Now found, thanks to a return trip to the library parking lot.

Excuse #7

7. A needy cat
"Pet me, Mom! Pet me, Mom! Pet me, Mom!" Could you resist? I don't think so.

8. Nap time
Sleep is good. Do you sense a recurring theme here? See excuse #1.

9. Dinner
Another recurring theme. See #4.

10. T&T
My plan was to use this as my last excuse. I was all set to mix up a Tanqueray and Tonic (and since it isn't prudent to drink and blog, I wouldn't have to write anything for the rest of the night). Mr. Ginley squelched this plan when he insisted I haul my ass in the office and get cracking.

I have to admit, this incentive to write before I could partake worked just fine, and I found myself flying through this at record time.

Slàinte!