Vintage chicks lol

Public Radio? I’ll Drink to That

Only a few people know I’m bilingual. I speak two languages: English and NPR.

If you don’t know what the acronym NPR stands for, turn back now and resume watching Dr. Pimple Popper, as this blog is written in geek speak and there may be a language barrier. Pimple popping, on the other hand, is universally understood.

This sheltering in place really has me bummed because I can’t get together with others who speak NPR, like my friend Jayne, and my cousin Chad, who are both proficient in native NPR.

Used without Jayne’s permission.

At a gathering, the three of us will find each other and huddle together in a corner, comparing viewpoints and regurgitating excerpts from “Fresh Air,” “All Things Considered” and “Hidden Brain.” Although I yearn to get together with Jayne and Chad during this pandemic, NPR’s “Coronavirus Daily” tells me that’s not a good idea.

Chad is an OTR driver for Walmart and spends countless days and nights delivering toilet tissue and hand sanitizer to hoarders all over the U.S. He has a lot of time to check for stray nose hairs in his rearview mirror and to listen to NPR. Jayne and I are just freaks. In short: We all “get” one another. (pantomime ad nauseam: “You complete me.”)

It seems once, while we were discussing NPR’s broadcasts of world events and “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me,” everyone else was playing a drinking game with us as the oblivious hosts. Every time they heard Chad or Jayne or me say “NPR” they took a drink. Apparently, we said it quite often. I know this because we were sober, yet informed, and they were uninformed, yet way more fun than us.

There’s probably a lesson in all of this, but I’ll figure it out later. Right now, I’ve got to catch the 7 p.m. “Moth Story Slam” on NPR.

Take a drink.

Used without Chad’s and Jeannie’s permission.
Coronavirus, Vintage chicks lol

Killing Time Between Birth and Coronavirus

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Day 14 of Extreme Social Distancing

3:10 a.m. — Finally fell asleep after binge-watching episodes 1-7 of the new season of “Ozark.”

7 a.m.— Woke up after dreaming I was driving to the levee — which was in the Ozarks — but the levee was dry, and now I can’t get “American Pie” out of my mind. Glanced at time, muttered, “Nah,” rolled over and went back to sleep.

9 a.m. — Woke up to Maya Angelou (Cat 1) sitting on my head and trying to pry my eyes open. “You have food,” I mutter to Maya and Harper Lee (Cat 2), who jumped on the bed in defense of her BFF. “Besides, all you two are doing is eating, laying around, binge-watching Netflix and getting fat. No more food.” Maya coughed up a hairball on my pillow and Harper looked at me slyly and slowly began kneading my belly fat.

Now, for ten years we’ve been on our own, And moss grows fat on a rolling stone, But, that’s not how it used to be …

9:10 a.m.— Debated on whether to put on real pants instead of pajama bottoms. Maybe even a bra? Nah.

9:30 a.m. Passed neurotic, anxious hubby, who was in the recliner watching 24/7 news and devouring a dozen brownies, harikari-style, with vodka chasers. Checked the pantry: Eight rolls of toilet paper left, but who’s counting?

It is Sunday. Maybe I should change into clean pajama pants?

And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye, Singin’ this’ll be the day that I die
This’ll be the day that I die

10:05 a.m. —Sun came out for seven minutes, then it started raining. Fed both cats, made coffee, did back exercises, dashed outside in pajama pants and got the paper.

With every paper I’d deliver, Bad news on the doorstep, I couldn’t take one more step …

11 a.m. — Still raining. Wind kicked in, as well. Sent a group text and videos to the grandkids of me dancing in the kitchen to American Pie, blowing kisses, giving air hugs and playing Uno by myself to show how much I missed them. Sigh.

And I knew if I had my chance, That I could make those people dance, And maybe they’d be happy for awhile …

12 noon — Should be working. Deadlines looming. Maybe later. I’ve got all day. OK, just one more episode of Ozark and then I’ll get to work.

Did you write the book of love, And do you have faith in God above, If the Bible tells you so?

3:30 p.m.— Accidentally set out frozen cheesecake instead of frozen chicken to thaw. Watched the last three episodes of Ozark and started watching Tiger King. OMG. Can’t. Stop. Watching. This. Train. Wreck. Had entire cheesecake for dinner and ate a jar of Nutella with my fingers for dessert.

I can’t remember if I cried, When I read about his widowed bride, Something touched me deep inside, The day the music died …

2:30 a.m.— Geesh. Ten hours of my life. Gone. Did finish watching Netflix, though. I’ll start on Prime tomorrow — after I finish my work. Sent a group text to my kids and my siblings. Within 10 minutes had 38 notifications. No one is sleeping. Who am I kidding? Neither am I. Got up and tiptoed to pantry: Seven rolls of toilet paper left, but who’s counting?

Do you believe in rock and roll, Can music save your mortal soul, And can you teach me how to dance real slow …