Sad, Angry, Scared, Petulant

Above, a happier moment, Punch and Sugar Maureen on Friday morning.

I wish I could feel peaceful. I did for a lot of the day, including when we took a walk by the beautiful Hobbit Houses, as we call them, and saw hundreds of daffodils along the way.

But now, at 8:12 pm, I just want to run away. To a land of upscale coffee shops, flower stalls and grocery stores. To high tea at the Plaza. To a glittery NYC skyline, a fashion boutique or the fifth floor of Bergdorf Goodman. To Central Park. To downtown Montclair, when we were not in a pandemic, and all of the shops were open. To Nantucket, or Martha's Vineyard. To lunch or dinner out. To the beach, or the mountains.

I am hungry, not just for normal life, but also for food. I've been patient and good with my family but now my wick is burned down, charred. Flame and its warmth exhausted.

I am mad at Figgy, who insisted she would grocery shop, then waited until after 6 pm to go. She went to the big supermarket in Clifton instead of the pricier store in our town, which would have been better stocked. She came back, short black skirt, pretty purple hair, with a report of the many things they were out of:

• Eggs.
• Uncrustables [Punch request].
• Frozen ravioli.
• Butter. [What? She got a tub of spreadable butter with canola oil.]
• Paper towels.
• Popcorn kernels. [Dan makes old-time popcorn in a pan. And besides, our Bosch microwave stopped working months ago, so speedy version is not an option.]

Last night, some neighbors had a weekly social-distance cocktail hour on their lawn; families/couples sit at least 6 feet apart. People were ordering deliveries from Popeyes and, well, we are waiting for big paychecks this week. The smell of crispy chicken and Cajun fries wafted through the air.  Punch wanted some. She made due with a big baked potato with butter back home--and cottage cheese, which she didn't like. I drank the end of my airplane bottle of Grand Marnier with the neighbors; I had it in the house to make pots de creme. When I walked with Dan, Sug and Punch today, I smelled a pizza delivery.

When a check arrives this week, I am going to the store. I can't make what I want to make. We have no chicken, or good imported canned tomatoes for sauce. No beef. Or crackers.

We have learned to love tunafish sandwiches, egg salad, bananas with peanut butter, frozen soft pretzels served with Grey Poupon mustard, canned soup, coffee, coffee, coffee.

I am a baby, spoiled like Scarlett or Suellen in Gone with the Wind. 

What next? Making masks from our pretty floral curtains?

Dan did make delicious, heart-shaped Cake Bible waffles with local buttermilk and Bob's Red Mill egg replacer powder yesterday. And Punch begged for sushi delivery the other night, gave Figgy $14 of her birthday money, and they ordered a meal to share.

We have so many dishes to wash, glasses, cups, pots and pans. Today alone, Punch prepared:

• A strawberry/banana/PB protein powder smoothie [we had no milk].
• "Cloud Eggs," some internet baked egg thing, just now. She texted our neighbors to borrow two eggs, which I would not have done. People need their stuff. The neighbors are kind.
• Freshly squeezed clementine and crushed ice drink in my parents' fragile brandy snifter.

I am so tired of all of this mess. My family has done the dishes all weekend; I was getting buried under them.

Oh, and maybe at the top of the heap, but expressing itself via this outward stress, my BFF's husband has the virus. He is a dedicated doctor and seems ok so far at home, thank God. She seems safe so far, too.

My BFF's beloved uncle tested positive, too.

A friend in town is worried because her Dad is in a senior-care facility with a lot of Covid-19 cases.

My brother and Kelly; our friends Celia and Greg; Kim and Farhan; my friend, Edie, a hospital worker; Nicole, VA hospital doctor; and many other friends and colleagues live in NYC.

Our girls were sewing masks at the dining room table.

The home-school week begins again tomorrow.

I'm not eating chocolate, and boy, do I miss it.

Good night and thank you for listening. I hope to read Nancy Drew in bed now. and travel back to a simpler time. I could not join my family for another movie in the living room.

#holdfast #hangtough