I can hardly wait to belly up to the bar with my husband or girlfriends and order from my favorite female bartenders some wine and fries and Rita Hayworths or beet yuzu martinis while nibbling fish tacos or Asian slaw with peanut sauce.
I can hardly wait to stroll in the woods with Smellie while she's off leash chasing squirrels. I can hardly wait to jog along the college trails without swerving wide to the left and right to avoid others' breath which might be drifting on the wind, (and to feel rested enough to do so.)
Someday soon I hope I'll be setting the table for four or six or eight, lighting candles, putting out the weathered red napkins on top of the handmade placemats we got from friends we don't see anymore. Hopefully, in the not-too-distant future I'll be making a big batch of my famous salad with mixed greens and little orange tomatoes and crumbled blue cheese with chopped red onion and avocado plus our favorite cheesy garlic croutons drizzled with Michael's delicious mustardy salad dressing. As soon as it's safe, I'll be delighted to greet our go-to guests arriving with just-mixed cocktails, bottles of wine, impossible cakes, home-foraged mushrooms, and wicked-smart, funny, deep, frivolous, intellectual and bawdy conversation.
I'm still holding my breath for Calvin to stop having seizures, or at least too many of them (which is more than one), and for the federal government to legalize cannabis so that dispensaries can do business with banks and some day maybe medical insurance will cover it.
Goddammit.
I'm so ready to dance to funky music in our kitchen, elbow-to-elbow with all of my peeps laughing and munching and swerving and sipping and shouting and writhing and delighting in each other's company.
I can hardly wait to have friends commune with us in the garden, to gather around a fire at twilight, to see the smoke settle in the field behind our house, the same field where not that long ago I waved at the college students passing by. I'm ready to host potlucks and barbecues and cocktail parties and to have a fabulous mess to clean up while drinking my coffee the next morning.
Like you, I can hardly wait for all of this coronavirus craziness to be over. I hope it will be soon. Until then, we just have to be smart and cautious—more so than The Unhinged One and his Unmasked Veep—and wait a bit longer to see our besties right up close.
In the meantime, call us. We're pretty much always home.
I can hardly wait to stroll in the woods with Smellie while she's off leash chasing squirrels. I can hardly wait to jog along the college trails without swerving wide to the left and right to avoid others' breath which might be drifting on the wind, (and to feel rested enough to do so.)
Someday soon I hope I'll be setting the table for four or six or eight, lighting candles, putting out the weathered red napkins on top of the handmade placemats we got from friends we don't see anymore. Hopefully, in the not-too-distant future I'll be making a big batch of my famous salad with mixed greens and little orange tomatoes and crumbled blue cheese with chopped red onion and avocado plus our favorite cheesy garlic croutons drizzled with Michael's delicious mustardy salad dressing. As soon as it's safe, I'll be delighted to greet our go-to guests arriving with just-mixed cocktails, bottles of wine, impossible cakes, home-foraged mushrooms, and wicked-smart, funny, deep, frivolous, intellectual and bawdy conversation.
I'm still holding my breath for Calvin to stop having seizures, or at least too many of them (which is more than one), and for the federal government to legalize cannabis so that dispensaries can do business with banks and some day maybe medical insurance will cover it.
Goddammit.
I'm so ready to dance to funky music in our kitchen, elbow-to-elbow with all of my peeps laughing and munching and swerving and sipping and shouting and writhing and delighting in each other's company.
I can hardly wait to have friends commune with us in the garden, to gather around a fire at twilight, to see the smoke settle in the field behind our house, the same field where not that long ago I waved at the college students passing by. I'm ready to host potlucks and barbecues and cocktail parties and to have a fabulous mess to clean up while drinking my coffee the next morning.
Like you, I can hardly wait for all of this coronavirus craziness to be over. I hope it will be soon. Until then, we just have to be smart and cautious—more so than The Unhinged One and his Unmasked Veep—and wait a bit longer to see our besties right up close.
In the meantime, call us. We're pretty much always home.
 |
| Homies, Luke, Jacob and Sarah. |
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