* Clean sweatpants, t-shirts and tie-dye socks
* A Zoom Costume for my upper half, complete with dangly earrings
* Songs from the '60s on Amazon music, with digressions for Pavarotti, Paul Simon, Carol King, Vadim Gluzman, Bob Dylan, Enya, Iz and assorted Broadway cast albums
* Russet potatoes, dark chocolate, eggs, canned tuna, mayo, rye bread and naan, yogurt, honey crisp apples and Cara Cara oranges, La Terra Fina dip, nacho fixings, occasional salads, Trader Joe's Everything Crackers, fizzy water and, now and then, really good Italian sausage
* A charged phone to stay in touch with family and friends, my Kindle and Netflix
* Enjoyable freelance writing and editing assignments
* Exotic alcoholic beverages for my weekly cocktail – I celebrate on Tuesdays
Hugs Are a No-No
Remember when we first stopped shaking hands?
The discussion about the dangers of that form of contact started late in February and by the first week in March, elbow-bumping, accompanied by laughter, was in vogue in some circles. (We also were laughing about people who were afraid to drink Corona beer. That turned out not to be true.)
On March 4, as I was leaving the neighborhood nail salon, the manicurist hugged me. We quickly shrieked and pulled apart, realizing we had just violated a new taboo. We bumped elbows and I left for my book club meeting. That wasn’t my last hug.
The next day, I got to snuggle with my grandson while we watched a nature show on TV, and I gave him a really big hug when his parents picked him up at my place later in the evening. A few days later, I had to make peace with the idea that hanging out with the boy might be a bad idea because he could be exposed to the coronavirus at school. On March 16, the public schools in San Francisco closed.
That also was the day that Mayor London Breed and the mayors of five other counties ordered Bay Area residents to shelter in place. Three days later, California Governor Gavin Newsom announced that policy would extend to include the entire state. Heck, I’d been staying in before that, because a week earlier Newsom had recommended that people 60 and older just stay home. So I did.
Full Disclosure: I’ve gone out twice; once to drop gifts off on a family member’s front steps and once to make sure the Pacific Ocean was still there. Somebody must have ratted on me about that trip, because the next day, Newsom closed all the parking lots at the beach. In retrospect, I’m so glad I swung by on that outing to say hi to the bison in Golden Gate Park. We’re friends.
The upside of sheltering in place: When you call someone, they likely will answer. If not, maybe they’ve gone to the grocery, which requires standing six feet apart in lines that sometimes stretch for blocks and may put your health at risk. Or maybe they ducked out for curbside pick-up at one of the few restaurants still open. They could have opted to take a walk in the neighborhood. Only 17 of the 79 bus lines are still operating here, and driving can be risky.
The Booze Diary
Just ask the seven people who drove from Fremont to Santa Cruz to buy booze. On April 11, each was fined $1,000 for violating the shelter-in-place order. (www.cnn.com/2020/04/12/us/santa-cruz-fine-drinks-stay-home-order-trnd/index.html) Drink up, guys.
Speaking of alcohol, check out my Booze Diary:
Tuesday March 3: Savor a Pisco Punch at the Old Ship Saloon. (www.theoldshipsf.com/)
Thurs. March 5: Vow to enjoy Pisco again at Old Ship Saloon at my earliest opportunity.
Tues. March 24: I’m reading Isabel Allende's new book “A Long Petal of the Sea,” and I get to the part where the main character sits down to enjoy a glass of Pisco. I'm envious. I want some!
Weds. March 25: BevMo rejects my Zip Code for delivery and Wine Traders on Taraval does not deliver. I order a bottle of Pisco from another local wine company.
Thurs March 26: Receive order confirmation; am quite smug.
Tues. March 31: Freak out about spending $50 on alcohol at a time when my freelance work could dry up. Email the wine shop requesting cancellation.
Weds. April 1: Receive a form email saying the shop is SWAMPED with orders (www.sfchronicle.com/wine/article/The-Bay-Area-is-drinking-42-more-alcohol-than-15167591.php) and my delivery will be delayed, I call the shop and leave a message requesting cancellation.
Thurs. April 2: Send another email; receive a second form email.
Fri. April 3: Send a third email, begging the shop to cancel my order and promising to buy a bottle of Pisco when the End Times end. If.
Sat. April 4, Morning: Receive an email saying my order has been cancelled -- happy dance!
Sat. April 4, Afternoon: Receive an email saying my Pisco will be delivered on Wednesday, and I see my credit card has been charged. I reply to the email, writing “No No No!” in the subject line.
Sat. April 4, Evening: On a Zoom call, I tell three friends my sad story. Julia says, "A bartender friend gave me a bottle of Pisco a few years ago. I never opened it, and you can have it." Wonderful!
Mon. April 6: The wine shop issues a refund on my credit card.
Tues. April 14: Tonight is Pisco Night!
Carry on, people. We must.
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