Of course I was wearing a mask, glasses, gloves, galoshes and leggings.

Obviously I didn’t go to Whole Foods because Debby is banned from that store and I had to bring her with me for 2 reasons.

One it was her walk time and two she had to pick out the olives she likes.

You wouldn’t want to be at the end of that tongue lashing if you bring home those ones with the blue cheese in them.

Being a woman alone I’m constantly trying to think of ways to increase the coffer.

I’ve always been very good at knowing what the next big thing was.

I was wearing my hair in a flip long before someone suggested that it would be a good idea to turn  that page boy upside down.

Maybe that’s why I joined the Debby Boone fan club while Pat was still taking bows for “April Love”.

Anyway here’s what I think.

We’ll be wearing these masks for a long time so you probably think the next big thing will be eyebrows and ears.

Well you’d be wrong.

The next big thing?   BELTS!

Don’t blame yourself for not seeing it. Not everyone can think outside the box.

And not just ordinary belts. No.

Belts with your home town and your weight on them.

Because after staying home for months, being fat will be the new “thing”.

Like I said. I’ve always been ahead of the curve.

Now Zen

And getting too little credit?

For most of you I might as well be speaking Romulan but for me it’s a very real problem.

I may have to go back awhile.

You all know Barbara Gips. She wrote the iconic line “In Space No One Can Hear You Scream”.

Barbara Gips has been a household name for ages. She’ll surely be in some kind of history book and she’s probably raked in billions of dollars from it.

Well let me let you in on a little secret.

Barbara is my FIRST cousin.  Not second or third.

The night before she wrote that line we were on the horn just chatting.

So Barbara sez to me.

“I’ve been screaming Phil’s name, that’s her husband, for 15 minutes and he doesn’t answer.”

And I sez “Well he must be in space cause…..” You guessed it.

Not even a thank you.

And I was married to a musician for almost 40 years.

Do you think he wrote all that shit himself?

I can’t count on all my fingers and toes the times he’d come into the bedroom (I was always a big TV watcher) and ask ” Should this be a Ta da or a Doodle de Do?”

But is my name on those score sheets? No.

And if  you think that you would have ever heard of Buddy Rich, Allan Schwartzberg or Steve Gadd if I hadn’t told each of them individually to ease off on the cymbals you’re crazy.

Dr. Gadd my ass. It should have been Dr Mattie.

The list goes on and on.

But anyway Zen

Stay safe.

Now you’ll probably stay safe and not even give me credit for telling you to stay safe.

Plus being a Democrat in a Democratic State isn’t putting myself in the best position at the present time to get more.

I’m not sure that those words are capitalized but if they aren’t and you’re thinking I’m dumb you can go fuck yourself.

(See? I’m getting low on pills already)

Back to the Democrat thing.

I’m thinking of becoming a republican, at least until it’s time to vote.

I’m going to have to dig deep but maybe not THAT deep.

For example bigotry.

If you’re really honest everyone hates someone.

For example I’ve never really likes Swedes.

A lot of them say yust instead of just.

Bigotry-check

Dumb- I got that capitalization thing above. check.

And as far as pushing for a wall around the USA. I’m all for it.

It seems that people can just put a ladder against it and climb over so it’s no skin off my back.

Wall- check

I’d prefer not to wear one of those red hats because I do still live in NYC and I don’t want to get punched in my mask when I walk my dog.

Before I go all in I’d better check if you HAVE to inject Clorox.

First of all who has Clorox ?

I’d better get some mere crazy pills soon.

This Zen is for me more than you.

I put my slacks on one leg at a time. Even in these difficult times

I’m dealing with every day being the same just as you are.

I wake up

Scream into the toilet for 2 or three minutes

Wash

Change from my night nightgown to my day nightgown

Teach my dog to trot

Have my coffee

Repeat.

Just like all you regular Joes.  Well the ones with dogs anyway.

But this is starting to get old. Like I said every day is the same.

I don’t think this is going to go back to normal anytime soon so I’ve got to put on my thinking cap and figure a way to add some variance to my days.

Got it.

I’ve decided to make each room taboo for one day of the week.*

For example, on Tuesday the living room will be  persona non grata.

Then the kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, Gift wrapping room, Shoe suite and finally the room where I keep my stuffed swans.

Is that 7? Yes that’s 7.

The bathroom is a tough one but if you notice I put the kitchen day just before it so if I also don’t drink anything I’m golden.

That will make each room that much more delightful when I can re enter it.

*for those of you in one or two bedroom apartments you can, I don’t know, part your hair on different sides or something.

Sometimes I can’t believe how my mind comes up with something just when I think I’ve hit the bottom of the barrel.

Now back to the drawing board.

But first, Zen

Stay safe.

When the truth is that I have never been more hinged.

I’m finding  qualities in myself in quarantine that I never knew I had.

Maybe they were always there and lying in a ball and singing that great hit of my youth “Kookie Kookie lend me your comb” in a mouse voice over and over again just brought it out in me.

To be totally honest I’ve never been that much of a housekeeper but now I’m an absolute clean freak.

For example I looked at my dining room table and said to myself.

“This just won’t do. I’ve got to bring some order to this”

Well I put on my apron and voila!

Out went the bottle of Advil.

In an attempt at modesty I know I should say I wasn’t much in the cooking department before but that just wouldn’t be true.

Even in these stressful times I’ve been able to give Debby and myself nutritious and appealing meals.

Why just last night I prepared my famous Chicken A La Dreck, a favorite of my ex husband.

A little ketchup and this dish is to die for.

*Recipe on request

And now….you guessed it ..Zen

Did I say “painted”?

I meant “went in”.

It was only to get to the kitchen but it counts.

I already had a tragedy today.

I was in the kitchen , and the living room, to make my morning coffee.

I will admit the pot felt a little light but , well…. but.

While it was brewing I went back into the living room on my way to the bedroom (I gotta get a fit bit)

At the appropriate time I returned to the kitchen, by now you know the way, and smelled what seemed like burnt something.

Naturally I assumed I was having a stroke.

I had heard you smelled something burning when you were having a stroke. I thought it was toast but who am I, Louis Pasteur?

Well I’ll cut to the chase. My sister just told me she’s bored to tears with people telling her how they’re dealing with this flu so I’ll cut it short.

I forgot to put water in the pot.

AND THE BEST POT IN THE UNIVERSE WAS FOREVER BROKEN.

Luckily I had this new fangled thing that I bought for company and I made coffee with that.

Boring? Yes.

But more important I’m going to forward this post to Governor Cuomo so he can include it in his next briefing to comfort the State and the Nation that they can ease off on being careful of the “Greatest Generation” because it isn’t the virus that’ll get them. It’s being in the house alone with no one there to ask “Did you put water in that pot?”.

Oh and also they can be easily hoodwinked.

Now. Zen

Well so much for doing a water ballet in the bathtub.

I hit my head twice.

I’ve been trying and trying to cheer up the world while giving a bit of happiness to myself.

I gotta say I’m failing on both fronts.

Once I saw that that applause wasn’t for me I just lost the will to entertain.

Now I know how Jimmy Kimmel feels with no audience.

I mean he’s got a wife and kids. All I have is this fuckin’ dog who demands a hot meal every night.

I’m eating a cheese sandwich and she’s chomping down on chicken a la fond.

And let me say that that guy yelling “Shut your pie hole fat ass” really stung.

You just try singing and dancing without a bass player.

Well let me tell you. This can’t last forever. Sooner or later we’re gonna be let out of our houses.

I’ve pretty much honed in on which apartment this guy lives in and he’s in for a big surprise when I get out of here.

Let me say he’s not going to be happy when there is a paper bag on fire outside his door and he’s forced to stamp it out.

Let’s just say Debby will be leaving him a little present.

Now when I say I’ve “pretty much” honed on his apartment. I know the floor but it could one of two buildings.

So if I”m wrong excusez-moi to whoever lives there. My bad.

Maybe this will help you all in your shuttered in state…Zen

Stay safe.

Okay now this has gone far enough.

I’m getting too depressed to dance.

I know many of you feel the same way. But to be honest very few of you were anywhere near the dancer I was.

I wake up in the middle of the night thinking thinking thinking.

I remember things I’ve done or said through my life that still give me the willies.

I’ll give you one example. Get ready for a humble brag.

I was in the studio with he who shall not be named when Grover Washington Jr. came in.

He said he had just been on the phone with Donny Osmond. I acted surprised.

He had an interesting response. He said Donny was a terrific musician and a great guy.

It seemed like Grover and I were really hitting it off.

Without looking into the studio he recognized the drummer and named him.

I asked Grovie, that’s what I was calling him then since we were getting tight,

“How can you tell a drummer just by hearing him play?”

(I want to take this moment to apologize to every drummer I know but you all know what an asshole I am)

Now if I had stopped there our friendship would have blossomed into maybe sleepovers and phoney phonecalls.

BUT that is not my way.

If I may quote my ex husband, he spent our whole marriage rebuilding all the bridges I’ve burnt.

So in my need to bond with Grovie , shortly to be “Mr. Jr” to me, and show him that I wasn’t just a pretty face, I said

“Gee I wouldn’t be able to recognize any musician just by hearing them play

(now here it comes)

” Well maybe Dave Sanborn”

I saw him blink and a little light went out of his eyes.

Now in my defense I had no idea that he and Dave Sanborn played the same instrument.

For all I knew they were both tuba players

Who am I Lawrence Welk ?

But even I knew that those days of pillow fights and pajama parties for me and Mr. Jr. were over.

My life is so filled with stories like that.

In fact one of the things that kept me awake last night was my last post giving my address and asking for gifts.

You know that was  joke right?

Well maybe not the real jewelry.

And come to think of it I do look fabulous in yellow.

Well anyway……Zen

I’ve been so busy caring for everyone else and trying to lift their spirits that I didn’t realize that I too am suffering.

I sit here alone at 200 east 58th Street Apt 18A, New York, N.Y. 10022 (just in case anyone feels the need to show a little gratitude) with just my dog and my TV.

I look excellent in any  shade of yellow and I’m a sucker for good jewelry and plants. (Thank you Mary)

I have to admit that it’s getting harder and harder to keep my chin up. But I am trying.

I’ve decided to use this time, this ME time, to set aside a part of the day when I’m not lifting the spirits of the world around me (that, if you read my last post, the world is not as grateful as I thought it was ) to improve myself.

I’ve decided to teach myself Greek.

Of course I don’t know any Greek but neither does anyone else so if I just teach myself words that sound greek like “efideckanal” that should do.

I’ve also decided that 13 meals a day leave me little or no time to improve myself and be there for others so no in between meal snacks.

I also got to thinking that when I was in Camp Highmount or Camp Ma-Ho-Ge, I’m not sure which since my parents couldn’t get rid of me fast enough, I was part of a water ballet to “Old Cape Cod”

I remember most of it.

“If you’re fond of sand dunes and salty air” and jump. “Quaint little villages here and there” backstroke. and so forth.

Well I don’t have a pool but I do have a bathtub.

Just sayin’ I’ve done more with less.

And lest I forget….Zen or working on her tan.

And I admit it.

It seems that the applause I heard from my neighbors every night was not for me.

I can’t say I wasn’t dismayed to find that out especially since my already remarkable talent had reached almost a leading lady status (I use the word “almost” in all modesty)

To make it doubly painful, this news was very cruelly relayed to me by my niece Julie Rose Klam. Usually a fan.

But you can see why I would think otherwise.

I’ve been working tirelessly to provide entertainment to cheer up those shut ins within sight or sound of my terrace.

Even injuring myself at times. You all remember that turned ankle.

And if that Cup O’ Noodles hadn’t been cooled off on it’s flight down one story I was risking severe burns on several occasions.

However I soldiered on.

But as was told to me (very rudely, I might add ) that nurses, doctors and delivery people who care for those infected or trying not to be deserve applause too. (I added the “too”. It seems Julie wouldn’t even give me that)

Like Bob Hope did NOTHING for those soldiers during the war.

Anyway after I sulked for a few days my almost saintly self picked herself up and joined in.

Yes people I ended my performance a bit earlier so that I could partake in the gratitude that was shown (in part) for those tireless workers on the front lines.

People were applauding, as was I, and banging pans, as wasn’t I, in thanks.

Plus it had a side benefit.

I could barely hear the guy from 20C who took it upon himself to scream “Shut your pie hole fat ass” every fuckin’ night..

Now Zen

Stay safe.