Isn't It Romantic?

No. No it is not. Not anymore.

Here's what Coronavirus Quarantine has made me realize about myself. I romanticize.
That's not a bad thing. It's just a thing. That I do. That I never really realized I do. Until now.
And I'm lucky enough, up until about right fucking now, to have not realized I do it because my romanticized version of things is pretty damn close to what actually ends up occurring.

For example.

In my head, here's how I envision what it's like when the kids are here.

                                                









And here's what ends up happening.

Honest to god, in an ironic twist, reality always kicks ass over romanticizonality (I really, really tried to make a noun out of "romanticized" so I could have the parallel speech structure with the word "reality" and it just didn't work out, so please accept my apologies).

To recap, life is, in fact, better than I imagine.

And then came The Quarantine. With much deference and respect to the fact that the quarantine arose from something extremely serious, I am a glass-half-full kind of girl. I was going to try my hardest to find the upside of a deadly pathogen forcing us into isolation. I know that I annoy people with this proclivity towards optimism. I can't help it. The sunshine still makes me happy when skies are gray. (you are going to really hate me when you start singing in a minute or two)

So. My rosy vision of quarantine started to form. Ideas and images raced through my mind.

There we would be, me and Dave, lovingly seasoning the veggies together, in matching aprons! (we do not even own matching aprons so I'm not sure where that came from but again, this was all in my head)

We would watch the Giants home opener on tv, trying to figure out the pitching rotation for this season. For unknown reasons but not because he had coronavirus, Jon Miller would be off "on assignment" for the ENTIRE season, and we would while away the hours listening to the dulcet tones of Kruk and Kuip, with Javi Lopez occasionally subbing in.

But my romantic notions were just not working out like they usually do. This time, reality was losing.  Big time.

Being forced to stay in your house, as opposed to choosing to be there, is a very different circumstance. There's just nothing romantic about it. For some inexplicable reason, even though we have everything we need (including toilet paper), even though we have everything (mostly) we usually have, life inside the house feels claustrophobic and unsettled.

Seasoning the vegetables together in matching aprons would be fantastic if we had vegetables (or matching aprons which, and I cannot stress this enough, we do not). We are trying, for safety reasons, not to go to the market often, so our veggie drawer is on the sparse side because we eat what we buy fairly quickly since they are best consumed fresh. And the vegetables that lasts for freakin' ever, carrots and potatoes-- the supermarket has NONE! There's been a run on carrots and potatoes! I did not see that happening.

Baseball season (and every other sport) has been cancelled. Instead we are watching "Classic Giants Games" on the CSNBayArea channel. The thing is, if CSN has dubbed it a "classic game", you know it's going to be a really good game, but you also know the Giants are going to win. So great baseball. But no suspense. Takes a little bit of the fun out of it. Since you know they're going to win, however, you can simply turn off games called by Jon Miller. Silver lining.

I had imagined us on the couch with a big bowl of popcorn, snuggled together watching something great on Netflix. Popcorn--check. Snuggled together--we are here together nonstop, 24/7, so let's just gracefully let go of the whole snuggle thing for now.  Netflix--check... oh wait a minute... it's buffering... oh ok now it's starti... no bufferin... wait starting... You get the idea. Everyone is home and bored and kids have no homework, and apparently our infrastructure is not quite ready for 350 million people Netflix and chilling.

So it's not turning out to be romantic. We can, however, still aspire to make it memorable, to make the best of it. (I DO know that my optimism is annoying--I already copped to that! I'm going to start trying harder to have a shitty attitude about all of this but it's going to take me some time to ramp up so be patient).
We still have each other!
Through the magic of wi-fi (or whatever makes it work), we can Zoom a cocktail hour. We can see each other. We can tell stories and interrupt each other and laugh together. We can celebrate milestones, albeit virtually. We can find ways to connect in this time of separation.

And it truly is so much more amazing than I could ever have imagined!

Please Don't Judge

I feel like quite a few of my posts contain the words "please don't judge" or some variation on that theme. I'm starting to wonder. Do I have very judgey friends and family, or do I just know that I do a lot of things that are so not-the-norm that people will, in fact, be (probably justifiably) judging me?

I think it's the latter.

But I'm going to write this post anyway. At the risk of being (again, probably justifiably) judged.

Dexter. The Shield. Justified. Deadwood. Broadchurch. Luther. Ozark. Bodyguard (BBC, not Whitney Houston). The Sopranos. Southland. The Fall. Marcella. Killing Eve. The Great British Bake Off.

These are a few of my favorite things. (you sang that, didn't you?)

In case you don't see the obvious trend in that list, it's violence (except for The Great British Bake Off, obviously).

These are all shows that have violence. A lot of violence. And not just any violence. Kind of horrific violence. A lot of horrific violence.
But, but, but (as the Washington Post 202 likes to say), and hear me out please, the violence is in service to the plot, in every single one of these shows. And the plots are complex and smart and phenomenal! These are not shows filled with mindless, gratuitous violence (I'm looking at you, Blacklist).

Which leaves me at this weird intersection of television viewing: I appreciate good acting, great writing and intriguing, well-crafted plot arcs, and the only shows I seem to find that have all of these qualities also have an insane amount of brutal death. So I guess it's not that I love homicidal tendencies, per se, it's more that I don't mind when they are deftly woven into exceedingly clever diegeses.

Wow. I think I just saved myself a ton of time and money. I was seriously starting to wonder if I need therapy to figure out why I have a deep-seated affinity for barbarity. But I don't! It turns out I don't love gory mayhem. I just love great TV.

And since we're (sort of) on the topic of content, I'd like to continue on a slightly tangential note and address the absolute dearth of extraordinary television writing on the major (US) networks. (Olivia, can you get on that please?) If you peruse my list of favorite shows above, you'll find that they are largely British. I watch a whole lotta BBC. Because writing.

The Brits are not afraid. Of anything. They're not afraid (and are allowed) to write realistic dialog. They are not afraid to kill off main characters with no warning--shit happens in British shows! They move their plots forward with gratifying speed. They are not afraid to hire actors who bring nothing to the show other than actual, amazing acting ability. They are not afraid to make you squirm in your seat, halfway closing your eyes in reaction to the horrors on the screen but not fully closing your eyes because the details of what's happening are absolutely going to be important and you know it.

I appreciate that.

I am currently enamored of a show called "The End of the F***ing World". That's the actual title, asterisks and all. It checks all my boxes. It's British. Intriguing plot (from the VERY FIRST scene), unknown but remarkable actors, darkly funny writing, interesting and pivotal events occurring in every episode. And yes. There might be a skosh of bloodshed. But bloodshed with purpose.

Which is just fine. I'm fine. Pretty sure my therapist would say I have great taste in TV.

My Laminated List

Who's on your Laminated List?
Don't pretend you don't have one. You do. You know you do.
Your list of "who you'd want to sleep with AND have permission to sleep with IF you actually had the opportunity..." That's one GIANT "if", which is the fun of the Laminated List. The "if" has pretty much zero chance of happening, so it's just ridiculously fun contemplation of who everyone thinks is sexy. It's an interesting reveal of everyone's WILDLY varying definitions of sexy.

The Laminated List game has been going on for decades. Literally. My list has at various times contained names like Sting, the Edge, Colin Firth, Denzel Washington, Daniel Craig. Mind you, those names span over thirty years of evolving lists. They weren't on all at the same time, but you get the idea. Good looking men, all of them (imo). Perhaps Sting and The Edge aren't quite on the same level, looks-wise, as the others, but they still make it onto the list because... musicians. You get it. You know you do.

I never really thought of the Laminated List as anything more than a fun topic of (usually drunken) conversation between me and my girlfriends. Everyone's lists always contained similar subjects, ranging from Brad Pitt to Tom Cruise to Timothy Olyphant (I realize that's not really a range so much as a homogenous group). Nothing shocking. No one out of the ordinary or unexpected--generally widely agreed-upon Hollywood A-list specimens of genetics.

But then. I noticed. My list changed. I mean, like, morphed into something completely different. Or maybe I morphed into someone completely different.

Because in my 20's (and 30's and 40's), the people who currently occupy my list would NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS have made made it through my screening criteria. In my 20's (and 30's and 40's) my list was a reflection of what society put forth as appealing. Sexy was defined by People Magazine, and I based my selections on its parameters.

I guess I got old. In fact based on who's currently on my list, I got shockingly old.

So without further ado, I give you full permission to analyze my psyche (and taste in men) based on current occupants of my Laminated List:

Jeff Daniels (I will say this one has more to do with Sorkin's writing, probably)
Jon Stewart (a bitingly sarcastic, intellectual wit compensates for lack of height)
Barack Obama (I know, very Fleabag of me)
Andrew Scott (yes, yes I do know he's gay)
Richard Engel (so many languages... so much danger)

What has happened to me?
Not a rock star in the bunch.
Yes, I did get old(er). But also wiser. Who I find appealing in my 50's has much more to do with who a person is, what they represent, as opposed to what they look like.

Sense of humor. Wit. Intelligence. Honor. Bravery. Talent. Ability to express ideas. Selflessness. Truth to power. Service. Humility. That's all sexy.

I've completely over-analyzed the evolution of my definition of sexy at this point and have taken all the fun out of the Laminated List, which is really just supposed to be a light-hearted party game, not a Socratic exercise in existentialism.

We save that serious stuff for Marry, #$*@, Kill.

TP or not TP (it only gets worse)

These are strange times.

I'm not saying my brain functions normally during the best of times, but right now my poor cortex (I have no idea which one, so I'm just going with cortex in general) does not quite know what to do or how to make decisions or even how to figure out what's important. As an actual example of my somewhat paralyzed state:

Do I iron my wrinkled shirt before I put it on, or just wear it as is?

I give this as an example of my brain not knowing what to do. At all. In these trying times of pandemicness and quarantinification, do I really care if my shirt is wrinkled? Should I care if my shirt is wrinkled? Does anyone else even notice if my shirt is wrinkled? I do not know the answers to these pressing (ha!) questions.

And there's more. So much more.

How important is toilet paper? Should I be hoarding it? I mean, if you went through your house and had to rank, by number, most important to least important things you need during a global emergency, where on the list would tp land? Based on the fact that people are buying it by the buttloads (you had to see that coming), it seems like it's in the top 5. Or at least it is for a lot of people. Which got me to thinking. What would be my top 5 necessities in case of a crisis (which, is, like, now I guess)?

Don't judge. Here they are--and these are particular to this crisis, by the way. In the case of zombies my list would of course be completely different.

1. food
2. coffee (it does not count as a food, it turns out)
3. soap (yes, yes, I ranked coffee above soap; I'm a horrible person)
4. gas in the car
5. paper napkins or paper towels (can be used for a variety of purposes, if you get my drift)

This list presupposes that there is electricity, water and internet. If there's not electricity, water and internet all bets are off. That would change everything.

At that point, I would definitely not wonder if my shirt needed ironing.

Goat Soap

"Is the goat soap antibacterial?"

What does that even mean? What is goat soap? Is it to wash a goat? Is it made of goat parts (yuck)? If you're washing a goat, do you really need anything to be antibacterial, because I kind of feel like that ship has sailed for you if you are, in fact, washing a goat. Or using soap made of goat parts.

I was at the supermarket an hour ago and the checkout clerk yelled that query to another clerk, trying (I assume) to get clarification for a customer regarding the efficacy of the goat soap.

I feel like I should just leave this right here, just stop now, because I'm not sure I can adequately expound upon how that opening question reflects our coronavirus-driven lives at present. But you know me (probably). I'm going to try anyway.

Let's just start with the 800 pound gorilla and get that out of the way so we can move on to more pressing issues. Goat soap. What? Why? Who? How?

Ok. On to coronavirus, and how it has turned people into... I don't want to say idiots because that sounds super judgy, but also it might be kind of accurate, because in my supermarket this morning someone was trying to buy antibacterial goat soap.

Also, I walked down the cleaning aisle to look for Clorox disinfectant wipes, and there were only five containers of them left. There was zero Purell, or any other brand of hand sanitizer. Paper towels were running low. I actually think this is all good--it means people are paying attention and trying to do what they can to limit their exposure. But it also made me wonder, why isn't there ALWAYS a run on Clorox wipes and hand sanitizer? Because this situation right now makes me seriously think that nobody is wiping down their surfaces or cleaning their hands unless there's a life-threatening virus on the prowl. No bueno.

And I also want to know what ELSE (besides hands/surfaces) we are all doing in our everyday lives to combat this? I guess even more paramount in my mind is what are we all going to CONTINUE to do, even after this virus has subsided and we have a vaccine, which should be next week, I believe, according to our president, so also let's not get all worked up about this because this virus is "contained" already, even without people being tested and without us knowing who has it, and the testing kits are "beautiful", so that's helpful and should end the pandemic right there. Words to live by.

Sorry. Frustration, disguised as sarcasm, poking its head through there. Back to what is really on my mind: moving forward and living in a mindful way that minimizes the chances of getting sick. I'm sure we can't avoid pandemics. But I'm also sure we CAN lessen their impact.

Ever the problem solver, here are some thoughts from me, Kim Traversi, absolutely not a medical doctor of any kind, with zero training in epidemiology or even any actual knowledge gained by reading good source material on any of this kind of stuff. This is the ONLY thing I have in common with our president--we both have an absolute lack of expertise on any of this, and yet we are still going to advise you how to proceed. I present for your consideration:

1. Stop shaking hands when you meet people. Ever. Just don't. This is a habit that we need to replace with a nice hand-to-the-heart and a slight bow of respect.
2. Cough into your sleeve. Even when there's no coronavirus--cough into your sleeve. Anywhere else is just gross.
3. Don't share chapsticks. Ever.
4. Catholic church: no more shared chalice of wine that you let everyone drink from because you think it's ok because you wipe the chalice in between sips. No. No. No.
5. Wash your hands when you come into your house. Wash your hands before you eat. Wash your hands after you eat. Wash your hands before you come into a situation where people are gathering. Wash your hands when you leave. You get the idea.
6. Please, for the love of god, turn away from people when you sneeze. I mean come on. It shouldn't take coronavirus for that to happen.
7. Hold your breath on elevators. Kidding.
8. Can we all agree that communal dishes of party foods should not exist? I mean they should not exist at all, forevermore. No more bowls of popcorn or nuts waiting for you at the bar, because eeeew, you have no idea whose hand was in that before you arrived. No more bowls of M&M's at parties. I'm not sure what to do about the potato chip situation. I feel like I could be an industry-killer with this one. Can we establish a blue-ribbon committee on proper chip display/consumption methods?

I guess what I'm seeing right now is panic-driven behaviors (such as use of hand sanitizer and hand washing) that are spurred by very real concerns about getting sick, when these behaviors should be present realistically in our daily lives regardless of whether there's a current panic/pandemic.

I have a sinking feeling that when this all starts to fade, the only thing we will have learned is that excessive use of Purell makes your hands really dry. And that there is goat soap, which may or may not be antibacterial.