The stories we tell ourselves
When Global Pandemics Strike: Hoard Toilet Paper
Well, so much for making jokes about Coronavirus last week. Maybe my teenager really did have it? Who would have thought we'd be where we are today, in the midst of a global pandemic?
As of this writing, my 17yo has been out of school most of the week as a fellow student tested (presumptive) positive for COVID-19 and everything got shut down, much to his delight. Pandemics, it seems, were made for teenagers -- especially ones with drivers licenses. As such, I've barely seen him since Tuesday.
He's reportedly ingested a number of Shamrock Shakes and met up with fellow lax brahs to toss a ball around and shave each others' hair into stupid mullets. He attended an evening gathering wearing jorts he fashioned from a pair of his dad's old jeans and I believe beer was involved. Allegedly, the high school is starting virtual learning, but I've yet to see my child look at anything online other than whatever it is he's always staring at on his phone (Instagram? YouTube? TikTok? IDK). Last I heard, he was staying up late last night to be one of the first to listen to Lil Uzzi's album that was dropping at midnight.
In many ways, this situation is bringing back memories of Superstorm Sandy, which shut down schools here for two weeks and left many of us without power, heat and hot water and sitting on long lines at the gas station like it was 1979. At the time, I was working full time managing a local news site, so was busy covering the storm's devastation of this coastal New Jersey region and monitoring efforts to restore power. The National Guard came in for a few days to effectively shut down our town and deter looting and everything was closed -- like grocery stores and 7Eleven. I quickly learned that in the event of a true, zombie apocalypse, I would be toast. Just trying to survive without hot water for a week almost brought me down.
My son was about 8 when the storm hit and spent his days playing outside with his best friends next door and roaming the neighborhood like urchins from a Dickens novel, minus the Cockney accents. A few days in, he came inside where I was working and sat on the couch and I got a good look at him, a 4th grade boy who'd been playing hard outside and unshowered for a few days, wearing shorts and a knit cap and the kind of gloves with the fingers cut off. It was very Lord of the Flies.
This is the thing I love about my youngest. He can always make the best of a potentially crappy situation, whether it's his parents' divorce, devastating hurricane or global pandemic.
The rest of us, on the other hand, not so much. If you follow me on Instagram, you would have seen my story late yesterday afternoon of a photo of the empty toilet paper shelves at my local Wegman's. Like, completely wiped out. Of all the things I'm worried about as the world is about to end, wiping my hiney is not one of them (although I really am about to run out).
I'm more concerned about my older two NYC-living children coming to NJ to work from home indefinitely, as the Coronavirus plays itself out. This is what brought me to Wegman's yesterday, my maternal instinct to stock the larders for the children's visit. I'm concerned though that with no end-date in site, we might start to get on each other's nerves. I don't know how many dirty plates and spoons I can see sitting in the sink before I snap. As such, I bought 6 bottles of wine and a giant, like, family-sized bag of Cadbury eggs.
In an effort to avoid jail time, I'll try to channel my teenager and make lemonade out of the lemons life is handing us. I mean, I really love my kids and spending time with them, but I've retired from cleaning up after them and making them chicken nuggets for dinner every night. The healthy thing would be to sit down and address my concerns with them face to face. The unhealthy and passive aggressive move would be to simply write about it in a newsletter.
As for good ol' Coronavirus, I am certainly not panicking and if anything, this will all give me more things to write about in the future. You're welcome, my children. In the meantime, I totally WILL be accepting any spare rolls of toilet paper any of you weird hoarders may have to spare, because with all the hineys here, we're gonna need more soon.
Happy Friday everyone!
xoAmy
This Friday's Faves
Things to do during a Global Pandemic:
Pick up a copy of The Vacationers by Emma Straub. I grabbed it on an impulse a few weeks ago and gobbled up the fun tale of an Upper West Side family who rent a house in Mallorca for two weeks one summer and strife ensues. She's a food writer so there's lots of eating and drinking and the sights and sounds of the sunlit Spanish island. Her best gay friend and husband join the trip where all the secrets and issues that had been brewing come to a head over the course of 14 days. Just what the doctor ordered after the slog of A Little Life.
Honestly, it's all I can do to finish writing this and not get back to reading Long Bright River. I cannot put it down and even though I'm not finished and can't attest to whether the writer sticks the proverbial landing at the end, I'm going out on a limb to gush about it. The story of two sisters set in Philadelphia flips between the present and the past and includes the mystery of young women turning up dead to be solved. Really enjoying it.
Because I feel like there's a lot of buzz about the new season that's out today, I'm going to go back and watch Season 2 of Westworld. I was obsessed with the first season, had a zillion conversations about the meaning of life and had me wondering a few times if I might be a robot. I mean, I'm open to it.
I'm also thinking I need to get on the Love is Blind crazy train. I can't stand not knowing what everyone is talking about, like the nutty mom on the Bachelor. I see tweets about it and references but have never been a Bachelor person so am out of that loop. Which I hate.
I will be making this yummy soup, which I've made a zillion times. Even though it says it's an Instapot recipe, and I have one, I make it on the stovetop like a regular soup.
I'm also hot to make an Alison Roman recipe, but not sure which one. I pretty much read the entirety of her newest cookbook, Nothing Fancy, sitting in my daughter's apartment not long ago, and got particularly excited about this chicken dish and this chocolate cake. Stay tuned.
Finally, do you have a pal who you think would enjoy talk of adult children and hineys, I would like to suggest that you share this newsletter and encourage them to right in their inbox.
xoAmy
