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Laziness
Saying Nothing, The Thirty-Ninth Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal

“If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” That was a common idiom of our mother’s lexicon. She lived true to that statement. Even when she attempted to comment on something she disapproved of, she did her best to soften it. As a teen, I often was asked the question, “Janet, do you think that’s the most complementary outfit?“ Or it could have been make-up, pants, hair style or any other appearance-related observation. As a sensitive teen I was crushed no matter how much she tried to say it diplomatically.
Behind the Facade, The Thirty-Third Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

Growing up my mother and her mother were sticklers for good manners. I made a point of saying please and thank you. I was afraid they would view me as rude, and I didn’t want that moniker. My grandmother would point out other children who might have been louder than us, or publicly whiny, and she’d use those children as cautionary tails of behavior we were to stringently avoid.
Summer Relief, The Thirty-Second Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal

Although this cannot be said of much of the country or world, we in New York City have enjoyed a reprieve from the intense heat of July. It has been delightful. Today I relished a breezy morning riding my low-to-the-ground bicycle up and down Park Avenue for the annual Summer Streets event. The Department of Transportation closes streets on Saturdays in all five boroughs throughout late July and August for pedestrians, joggers, and cyclists as a way of promoting greener transportation.
Mundane Day, The Thirty-First Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal
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What am I doing this weekend? Nothing special and everything essential. In an Instagram world of glamourous posts, my weekend is the antithesis of awesome. I started early to ensure I could easily access the washing machines needed for the weekly laundry. Luckily for me, it was a ghost town before 7 am, and I peacefully and quietly secured my machines and loaded them from the full hampers.
Rest & Activity, The Twenty-Fifth Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal

Fathers Day, The Twenty-Fourth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

Happy Father’s Day. When I say that it conjures up so much for me and for so many others, I expect you included. Many of us have had varied relationships with our fathers nothing like Father Knows Best, The Courtship of Eddie’s Father, Blackish, or even Home Improvement. If only we could tune in for 30 minutes a week and enjoy the comical moments that focus on the highlights of the best parts of them, with a little silly thrown in.
Split, The Twenty-Third Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

It was a mere coincidence that we happen to be in Split, Croatia the same day the New York Times travel section featured 36 hours in Split. It’s about the same amount of time we’ll be in Split, which is a beautiful port city on the coast of the Adriatic Sea.
Our Relationship With the Weather, The Seventeenth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

Growing up we wore rubbers or rubber boots, gently stretching them until they covered our shoes. It was a hassle taking them on and off. But to keep our leather saddle shoes somewhat dry, we sported rubbers over our two-toned oxfords. These days my low rubber boots are the only shoes I need when it’s wet outside. They keep the water from soaking my socks and allow me to walk about in the rain.
Tattle Tales, The Fourteenth Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal

I grew up with three siblings. If you grew up with siblings, as I did, you are familiar with the age-old enterprise of tattling. My younger sister, Susan, now Chova Sara, was the tattletale. She was the one that thought it important to report to my parents, usually our mom, whatever misadventures we were enacting. When I was six to her four, she ran to our mom to say I wasn’t letting her play with my Barbies. This was true, but only because she cut their hair and drew on them with crayons. Nonetheless, I had to release more dolls to her based on “fairness.” This made no sense to me, but she got what she wanted, and it spurred her on for years.
Sunrise Reflections, The Ninth Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal

Unlike many recommendations for sleep hygiene, I do not go to sleep the same time each night. Some nights I work late, some nights I enjoy the theater or other live entertainment. Some nights I’m reading, while others I’m catching up on a television show. I do my best to listen to signs of being tired if I’m at home, and I put myself to sleep accordingly. Inevitably, this leaves me in a perpetual state of never quite catching up with the shows I enjoy.
Be Gone the Bygone, The Eighth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

Years ago I had a phone book. It looked like a fabric-covered hardback, divided by letters of the alphabet neatly cut into tabs descending on the paper’s edge. Often the pages were outlined in gold ink. I’d get an updated one every few years and I’d transfer the names, addresses, and phone numbers into my new, usually colorful, phone book. These were also the days in which long distance phone calls were a big deal and we were reminded to speak quickly since we were being charged by the minute. Phones had cords and were strategically placed in one or more locations in our homes. A bygone era. Yes, I have become a senior stereotype.
I Quit! The Sixth Week of the Second Year of the New Abnormal

I was walking downtown listening to a light novel, a quasi-romcom. It had started off well and then it took a nose-dive from there. About halfway to my destination I turned it off. I simply wasn’t enjoying it anymore. I had wanted a break from heavier subjects or professional readings. This was not the break I needed.
Swimming on Vacation, The Fourth Week of the Second Year of the New Abnormal

I swam for an hour, my head submerged in the warm pool with tiny, wavy prisms, iridescent in the sun-drenched water. The luxury of having a pool to myself is priceless. Being able to move seamlessly underwater, thanks to my swimmers’ mask, allows me to stay beneath the surface, enjoying what I’d describe as a meditation in motion.
Doing & Being, The Third Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

I have salt lamps in my home and work offices. They are supposed to have a calming effect with the soft pink glow. I also have a host of self-help books with recommendations on ways to be happier, less stressed, or healthier in every way. There are not enough hours in the day to prepare and slowly enjoy nourishing meals, move our bodies, meditate, document our thoughts, our habits, our gratitude, mindfully practice yoga, recycle, enjoy nature, be nice to everyone, call our friends, practice aroma therapy, see our health professionals, read or listen to the news, laugh, bring some art into our lives, be creative, be informed, be conscious, relax, be generous, and be happy. I am overwhelmed living my best life.
What's For Dinner? The Second Week of the Second Year of the New Abnormal

I was preparing dinner as I do many nights. Last night was pesto glazed salmon and garlic-marinaded skirt steak with sauteed spinach, garlic bread, and a spicy salad. Thanks to Marion Zinn, my mother-in-law, I have the best marinade for the steak. She was a wonderful hostess and served many delicious dishes. Conversely, my mother would get anxious when hosting guests. Nonetheless she deserves a shout out as an excellent baker. All three of my siblings and I have fond memories of annual birthday cakes baked from scratch, stored on a glass cake plate with an aluminum cake dome. I used to cook and bake regularly, but as life’s responsibilities expanded, my domestic duties dwindled.
Emotions During the Holidays, Week Fifty in the New Abnormal

I was in an emotional tailspin earlier this week. I could tell I wasn’t in the right headspace as I kept thinking of past mistakes I’ve made, times I’ve previously hurt friends, and ways in which I had poor judgement. I was not coming out a champ. More like a chump. The negative barrage is not unfamiliar, but it happens less often than in former years. By Tuesday, I knew that I needed to clear my head so there’d be space for self-care and kindness. Luckily, I had my weekly therapy session.
A Pile of New Yorkers, Week Forty-Nine in the New Abnormal

I made it to page 50 of the New Yorker with the promise of a poem on the next page. Of course, this is the November 14th Issue, which may seem to indicate I’m a month behind. Not so, since I arbitrarily picked it up from a pile that goes back to issues from last year, I now am down to eleven unread issues. This is my ongoing plight with New Yorkers. My pile expands or contracts based on what’s happening any given week.
Dashed Plans, Week Twenty-Five in the New Abnormal

On Repeat, Week Sixteen in the New Abnormal

Omicron in the Time of Coronavirus, Week Five in the New Abnormal

Whenever I find myself feeling righteous for some reason life humbles me, reminding me that in so many ways we’re all in this together. I had staved off Coronavirus since February 2020. I felt proud of my record. When Omicron came on the scene I started wearing masks indoors and out. I felt mostly protected from the virus and the cold. All was well. That ended a couple of weeks ago when I contracted the virus and was put out for days.