This morning I woke up and immediately rolled over to check my cell phone. This wasn't about Facebook or news- this was about my Peapod Delivery, and I was praying that we were going to be able to get our orange juice (I'm having legitimate withdrawal at this point). Thank goodness, it said it would be here today. Every time a car slows down, I get excited and run to the window. I am beginning to understand the way dogs' minds work.
We got a delivery from Grateful Produce today, which was a mystery box of fresh fruits and vegetables. To say I was excited is an understatement. There were heads of lettuce (YES!), eggplants I can use for E.'s birthday dinner tomorrow, and even a couple of kiwis. I love this company. No oranges, but we did get a couple of lemons and grapes that my kids immediately needed to sample (after a thorough washing, of course).
I've been watching videos on how to handle produce and groceries. The experts seem to agree most of this stuff is low risk, but still, I submerged the grapes and scrubbed each one (without soap- the soap thing seems to be a myth, and one of the doctors online mentioned how it could cause issues because soap is NOT intended to be eaten). I also disinfected some packaging, and several items are on my screened in porch that don't need refrigeration so that if there's anything on them, it doesn't come into my house.
We did a video chat with Grammy and Granddad, and E. got quiet at one point and asked me to go sit on the other couch with her. She started crying and said she was feeling very sad about her birthday and not being able to spend it with her grandparents, and friends. It's one thing when it's your own birthday, but this is my daughter. And with that said- I'm just grateful she CAN cry about this. That she's healthy, and safe, and with me, so I can hug her and make her feel better.
The Peapod truck had pulled up at the same time as my friend Erin, who is currently my hero. Her
daughter's birthday was last week, and she had a birthday banner and a bunch of balloons, plus a small helium tank left over. She graciously offered to give them to me, and while the Peapod delivery superhero was unpacking her truck, Erin jumped out into the steadily falling rain, and ran the birthday supplies to my screened in back porch.
We got into Buddy Vs. Duff 2 last night, and watched the second episode today. The girls were enamored with the giant dinosaurs, and are hard-core rooting for Team Duff (this is due largely to Duff being a judge on their favorite cooking show, Kids' Baking Championship). That, and he smiles more than Buddy and makes the girls laugh.
One of them is a single parent who lives nearby, and working from home while taking care of a three-year-old is brutal. The other was trying to feed her one and a half year old soup while her spouse ran across the street to buy groceries on the west coast. I count myself lucky that I can have food delivery, that my kids are nine and (about to be) eight, and so I am having an easier time working from home.
But as all discussions on the phone with old friends do, ours ended up dissolving into giggles. It was around the time one of them mentioned her hippo from childhood, Barnabas, who she then pointed her phone at while her son played with him. Then, the other one's three-year-old couldn't sleep because his foot hurt (we're all pretty sure he was scamming for some time with mommy), and then my almost-birthday-girl entered the room because "Mommy, you are being too loud on the phone and I can't sleep!" Of course, her sister then needed to come in because "everyone else is on the call, why not me?!" So we all gave in and it became a mommy-child chat, complete with FB messenger special effects, including cat ears, whiskers, and one for multicolored, mostly-pink hair that caused us to sing the theme song from Jem and the Holograms (the cartoon, 1980's version). Because what we need in a pandemic is reminders of feel-good '80's Saturday morning cartoons.
All in all, it was a solid, lazy Saturday- delivery food, television, and the rain drip dropping off the house. I was grateful for my gas fireplace, all orange and yellow and warm. While the girls played upstairs, Jeff and I watched a bunch of cooking shows, snuggled up under a blanket and it felt almost normal. We've been cuddling under blankets since high school, and through every difficult time I can remember, he was there to get me through it. If I had to choose someone to be stuck in quarantine with, it would be him.In fact, I knew I was going to marry him back when we were 23 and went on a cross-country trip together (actually, full disclosure, I was pretty sure I was going to marry him when I was 17, but then college happened, and life, and there were a few years where it was in limbo- still probable, but in limbo). But at 23, we took a trip where it was him and me in my Cabriolet Convertible (nicknamed Buffy by my soccer team, and still my favorite car I have ever owned) for 26 days. That's 26 days, 29 states, numerous national parks, over 3000 miles covered, and over 600 hours alone together. We had one fight. It was somewhere outside of Seattle, I have no idea what about, but he got out of the car, and walked away. I sat, fuming and blasting Ani DiFranco on my CD player, and he returned after about 15 minutes. By then, we had both calmed down, and we set out towards Vancouver for the afternoon. If you can go that long, in that much isolation, and only have one fight, I figured we were a pretty good fit. With 15 days in isolation down, I'm also happy to report we still are.
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