A good thing from Monday, March 16th:

Talking with friends about lonely trees, bird friends, and blooming exhibitionism.

*This will be a virus thread*

Tuesday, I took a walk and shared a cheese bread wishbone style. My "not touching" energy has put my other senses on high alert.

Wed was weird, as the reality of this hits in waves. But my therapist of almost 15 years got to meet Pignoli because we did teletherapy. He's very good at getting between me and the webcam.

Day 4 was hard. Feeling inside out. But I shared queso with Pignoli and drank a very strong margarita too quickly, grateful that I didn't do anything too stupid.

I kept trying to be "productive" on Friday, but I have no idea what that means anymore. But, I did take a few dance breaks and watch my friend Moira get a little drunk and loose on Zoom.

Saturday was sweet and weird. I've talked to more friends than I usually do in an average month. It's a joy, we are our most vulnerable and human, but as soon as it's quiet, the dread settles in. So, the best part was the actual voices and the worst part was the voice in my head.

Sunday, I ate a big, comforting bowl of pasta, chatted with my two oldest and most steadfast friends, and ate rum cake at 1am.

Most of my highlights are going to be food and Pignoli. Thank goodness for both.

Monday was very dark, and very long, and yet there was an 80s Spotify playlist shared by @NewOldKaren that was full of light. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1MJvGgtu8ctSpW0JOeCz0Z?si=jtPf22fFQkyl3om117JcQQ

I was angry on Tuesday, and I have a rage hangover today, but I did have a shot of delicious cranberry vodka before my shower last night.

It was Wednesday yesterday? I think. Maybe. Best part was everyone's animals joining the video chat!

Thursday's good thing was that it was Gudetama time for @Rollergirl31. We're waiting for you, Rollerbaby!

Friday was fine, it was okay, it was horrible, I cried a lot, but I had a good walk with Pignoli at 9pm through quiet streets. Also, I ate two soso bagels.

Lost track of days, but yesterday we got to meet the beautiful Veronica. Welcome, little one, to this terrible beautiful world!

Sunday, Mar 29th was a self-care day. Did things to quietly care for my spirit. No drinking or other self-medicating. Grateful for my friends, who let me babble, for pasta, that centers me on Sundays, and for Mom, who zoomed with my college friends.

Monday was long. Days are so long. I'm doing okay. Ordered 10 cabs of mom's coffee from Walmart, and tried to game Fresh Direct. Had to get dinner from a new pizzeria, since the 2 down the block from me are closed for now. Pignoli was good. He walks with a little leprechaun leap.

Tuesday was a wild ride emotionally. They all are now, but the lows are lower. I had a good cathartic cry, a long shower, and my final drink from a bottle of bourbon that I opened on the first night of isolation. So far, I'm lucky.

On the first of April, I ate an egg and cheese on a bagel in the sunshine on my stoop, and for a few minutes, it was normal, it was safe, it was perfect.

On Thursday, I let the despair come up. Not so much for me, I'll pick myself up, I'll figure it out. But for how much worse things will get for everyone. There's no going back. The good thing was a call from a friend who's got a way with words.

Friday featured a call from a dear college friend (30+ years!) and a Netflix party viewing of Charmed, original (the men were trash.) Finished off a bottle of rosé. Let myself feel things.

I opened mail on Saturday and found this delightful, perfect drawing of Pignoli by @talluchan. We're both delighted!

This was Sunday's highlight. Small things matter. https://twitter.com/MTRomano/status/1246819785649815552?s=19

I was at a very low point when I started this thread. Happiness is infectious though. I found hope by the end. https://twitter.com/MTRomano/status/1247319126605004800?s=19

Tuesday was a long walk, a more hopeful heart, a phone call that lifted my spirits, and a super moon.

Wednesday, I wanted pancakes so I made two good ones and ate them with strawberry jam.

Thursday, I realized I had a bathtub at my disposal, in a very pink room.

Honestly, Friday's highlights were sandwiches and going to bed bra free.

Saturday, I had a drink with three friends I met the first week of college, thirty something years ago. They're my family now.

On Easter Sunday, I lit a christmas-tree candle and ate rum cake with my mom.

Monday, I finally finished a book that I've been reading for a year. Maybe I'm ready to concentrate on something that's not on a screen.

On Tuesday, I finally watched The Fantastic Mr Fox, and it was perfect, including the living underground bit. I'm glad I waited so long. And Wes Anderson movies still spark joy.

Nothing horrible happened, although bad news continues to accrue, it was just a full day, with a few tiny lights, a walk in the dark, texts with friends, a southwestern farro casserole made with expired enchilada sauce.

There was a point on Thursday night when I was staring at 10 beautiful faces that I only know because of Twitter and my heart was full.

Friday, April 17th started well, with hope and motivation, but ended worse. Bad news, fear, loneliness. I did yoga in bed for 10 minutes; I limited my wine to a glass; I read part of an historical romance called The Raven Prince. I'm here today.

Saturday was terrible. The times, plus PMS, plus bumpy reaction to self-medicating. The boozy ice cream wasn't great, I made a huge mess and dinner was still terrible, I cried. A lot. Friends got me through it. Fiona got me through it. And this:

I forgot about making biscuits that I ate warm with salted butter and raspberry jam.

Very bumpy weekend, but I pulled something out of me that helped. I need to write more. Plus I hugged a few skinny trees. https://twitter.com/MTRomano/status/1251955052497055745?s=19

Monday was fine. I sometimes get embarrassed when the best part of my day is food. This body. This world. But I'm glorious. So, the best part of my day was definitely this sandwich. Mortadella, mozzarella, peppers, lettuce, tomato, oil, vinegar.

The last few days were brutal. Grief kept surfacing and wrapping me in a drowning embrace. But I tread water well. The good part is friends, who are suffering too, but who I'm leaning on right now. I struggle with needing to "earn" help, but I'll take it now. I'll take your love.

Wednesday found me a little drunk and tangled in my bra (I wore a real bra for cocktails.) It was a better day. Loved seeing and talking to my pals. Had a richly spiced salmon dinner. Finished the baci chocolate I've been saving. Opened myself up to something new.

Caught myself saying on Thursday, "I'm not quite thriving, but I'm magnificent." Surprised that it was true, so grateful for the brain chemicals that righted themselves this week. Also, for ladies that make happy hour happy.

Friday was free of big highs and lows, so the best part was this little face:

On Saturday, I went to the Larchmont Farmers Market, like I used to, and it was like a haunting, but it was a gorgeous day, and it wasn't so terrible not to be in a crowd, to pick up orders of delicious foods, and to have quick, friendly conversations. Oh, I miss those.

Sunday was uneventful. I did some chores, watched some Star Trek, ate a full bowl of pasta, took a few rainy walks with Pignoli. I will miss the quiet streets.

I've been okay, less despairing, less lonely, trying not to rock the boat. Yesterday, I had a long zoom with friends where we mourned, ranted, and giggled, like it was a regular day, sort of.

Tuesday? Was it Tuesday? I took a walk in the sunshine, with my friend Jack. Our fathers were best friends; it's a rich history. It was a good day.

On Wed, I went to Arthur Avenue for the 1st time since this thing started. One in 3 stores open. Stock limited. No place or desire to linger. I had an argument with a stranger. The butcher my family used is gone. But, still, the place lives in my heart. And I got mozzarella.

I'm keeping myself busier, but productivity hustles aside, I'm feeling terrible about my accomplishments. In my head, I planned to emerge a butterfly, but the caterpillar in me is strong. Or maybe I was already a butterfly? The good thing was Star Trek: Discovery. And my friends.

So much of my energy is going into hating myself right now, I am in a bit of a fog. My good thing was the ramen noodle/leftover mess I made for lunch. Slurping noodles is very soothing.

The wild ride of emotion continued, but I took 2 long walks, one with Pignoli, one without. But the best part was the perfect stroll around at block at 9pm, with empty streets and a slight breeze.

Took my comforts on Sunday from a small dog, a Zoom brunch, and a window visit from a friend who calls my mom The Hobbit. That's a lot of comfort, not enough to hold back the tide. It was a rough night.

Oh, and I made a good cake! Cranberry almond.

I'm not sure I did anything on Monday. Nothing I remember anyway. I washed dishes. I ate a little cake. I got out to walk. I marveled at Pignoli's cuteness. Just a Monday.

I went back to my suburban office on Tuesday. I was alone, maybe a handful of people in the building. The MetroNorth parking lot was practically empty. Driving up, for a moment, things felt normal. I sang along with Call Me Maybe. Felt joy, and then cried, bc what a disaster

Wednesday was anchored by therapy. We set goals for the next week. May is a month of memory landmines, but with everything else going on, I'm less afraid. Good thing was the Brady Bunch grid of a Zoom. And the spring air in Larchmont.

Thursday was mostly terrible. Death by small cuts. Things I'm losing or could lose. Confronted by my failures. Feeling like I'm fading out of existence. But there was good lasagna defrosted by accident. And a delivery of paper towels and flavored seltzer. And you.

I refuse to let Friday's highlight be a petty dislike that was validated. That's not me. So, how about this beautiful shot from a tender scene The Half of It, written and directed by Alice Wu:

When does this thread end? When I can kiss someone again? When I can wander the aisles at Trader Joe's? See a movie? I don't know, but on Saturday, I made a cake with mom and watched Western Stars with Meg. The weather was dramatically weird. I hate it.

Sunday was very domestic. I baked star bread and made gnocchi. Dad was the gnocchi man. I missed having his advice. But I did okay. The star bread was soft, with a caramelized top, and I dreamt about it last night.

Monday was fine. Office, home. The lack of traffic is both exhilarating and sad. A 35-minute commute home is 15 minutes. I have more time. I use it less. But Pignoli was good.

The best part of Tuesday, May 12th was that it ended. I'm sorry. That's really it.

On Wed, I saw my therapist (remotely) and she asked me the hard question I needed to hear. Enough for me to create little checks and balances. And I cooked some tasty shrimp.

The best moment of Thursday was when I slid open the Garde Mange box and found this:

On Friday, I let myself be a glorious dumpster fire. Warm your hands, my friends, just try not to breathe through your noses.

Saturday, we met a chihuahua in a baby carriage and although Pignoli was not friendly, I enjoyed watching the round and cuddly little dude peering down at my disagreeable Tiny Gentleman.

Sunday was domestic. Baked, cooked, tried to clean. Highlight was this joyful ride of Karen's that she shared with us. https://twitter.com/NewOldKaren/status/1262068561490608128?s=19

On Monday, we celebrated the graduation of a wonderful young man, the son of one of my oldest and dearest friends. What a world he's entering, but I have faith in him and his friends.

The dumplings were back on Tuesday! I ordered a mess of them from my local Chinese delivery and had a dumpling party.

Wed was all good bc I'm here on Thurs, and so are you. Therapy, work, Trader Joe's, an excellent meal, Pignoli time, group chats, it's not enough, but it's good. Here's to just a day.

On Thurs, I worked, watched a writing seminar, signed up for a burlesque class, read about the Supreme Court of the 80s, and watched dirty long haired Danes fight dirty long haired Saxons. I started a Twitter break. I miss you, but I need the quiet.

On Friday, I haunted a terrible ex. I never got to confront him, but he remembers me. And he knows I won't soon forget. My powers include a lifelong and patient hate. Not karma, but opportunity driven petty revenge.

Saturday was lovely. Baked a scone loaf, zoomed with friends, had grapefruit sparklers and coq au vine with my oldest friend. A good day. A hopeful day.

Sunday's highlight was a long walk with The Tiny Gentleman where we met a cat friend. And there was pasta.

As far as Memorial Day weekends went, it wasn't the worst. Not by a long shot. I only used the car once. I ate well. I moved my body. I read a book. Watched some good things. I cleaned. Avoided a thorny mess. Had good conversations. Best part of yesterday was the clean floor.

On Tuesday, I made a two week meal. (Lunches are an issue. I like a toddler lunch, but that means thinking and packing the night before.) Then I blew off the plan and had a Trader Joe's rice bowl for dinner bc no one tells me what to do.

First morning that I almost forgot to do this! Yesterday, I decided to do #1000wordsofsummer. And I put my feet up without feeling guilty for the first time since March.

On Thurs, I took 2 sweaty walks in Larchmont, NY. It's a green, lush, wealthy suburb, but the downtown is hurting. Very quiet, meditative strolls that should've been full of life and overheard conversations.

It was a hard day, listening to friends who are in pain, watching people put their lives on the line to protest, knowing we're heading somewhere worse. But a dear friend surprised me with LA Burdick chocolate and I wrote 1000 garbage words.

I might have broken this thread by deleting an ill-considered thought, which, if so, well-deserved. Good thing about the Saturday, May 30th, was the good and angry protestors. Solidarity and strength.

May ended, thankfully. What an ugly and painful month. I don't know where we're headed, but as always, #BlackLivesMatter

Mon, June 1st was a severed ear on the verdant ground. It ended with rage, despair, and alot of Jameson. But I heard from a long lost friend. And I had a conversation about madness and Nietzsche. And group text rules.

Tuesday, I got a little work done. I hate the empty office. But it's a lesson in focusing. Best part was a love bomb.

Wednesday, I took a sunny 7pm walk with Pignoli. And we broke curfew (sh) at 10pm to pee (him, not me.) My dog, in case you didn't know, is the best part of my day 90% of the time.

On Thurs, most of my energy went to worry about Pignoli. He's 70% of my coping skills. So, the best part was getting him back from the vet. He had a rough night. Maybe meds, pain, or something else. And I prayed for his recovery. For all of ours. (Whatever prayer means.)

Pignoli was still woozy, but better on Friday. So grateful for the emergency vet who he fell in love with. But the best part was that my brain weasels all got quiet at once, and I felt confident and at ease for the first time in months.

During high school, I ate 2 lunches (this was the 80s, before nutrition was invented.) A buttered toasted bagel or corn muffin from the deli around the corner. I had a sudden, nostalgic craving for those flat-topped deli muffins. So I made them Saturday and they were good.

Sunday was fine. I took a few walks, one with Pignoli, one on my own. I started the terrace project. I chatted with the hot Croatian dudes. I got through one pile of correspondence, my aunt's, my mom's, my own. There's more to do, but at least I'm doing something.

I'm find this good things thread such a joyless slog. Maybe it's time to stop, but I refuse to end it in the muddy, ugly middle. So onwards. Best part of Monday was coming home to the Tiny Gentleman, who cranes his neck up for kisses when he sees me.

Tues, June 9th, was a hard day. My attention span is shot, I'm missing deadlines, there are personal projects I'm not doing, crisis looming, it's just piling on. But good things were birthday shopping for a friend, reaching out for help and getting it, and a check waiting for me.

Wed started with therapy and finished with a very upset stomach from a traitorous pizza. I was asleep by 930pm. I think I need to rebalance my humours.

I've been feeling fresh grief and yesterday's news about the terrace my dad built having to be torn down just broke me. The good things were a candle in the mail, a peach tart that I ate for dinner, and a comfortable bed at the end of it.

Friday was the 9-year anniversary of Yolanda's death. It felt heavy, heavier still bc I couldn't escape. I closed my eyes and tried to dream her dream into me, but all I got were my own anxiety nightmares. I took naps, I looked at pictures, I made a cake for tonight. Onwards.

Sat, June 13th was a good day. Crisp, sunny day. A board meeting. And I made dinner for a friend. It was so grounding to care for another person. My heart was full, and my stomach too. (Lemin curd almond cake is A+.)

I'm trying to think about why I live in this world, what my purpose is, why I matter, as if there's an answer. I'm here. I'm HERE. Suffering is part of the whole thing. Joy is too. I don't always choose the pole I point to. On Sunday, I ate breakfast cake with the windows open.

I was able to focus on a work project on Monday, probably the first time I was dialed in since March. There's sometimes pleasure in being productive. Still hate it though. (Working.)

Tuesday was fine. Came home to delicious cheese sent by a lovely friend. Read a little. Made a few plans. I'm putting off many decisions. But that's okay too. Being ever so gentle with myself. But I probably need a firmer hand.

I think this thread will end with June. I can always come back to it. I'm staying mostly isolated, except for outdoor activities. Watchful, lonely, on a bit of an emotional ride. Preparing myself for a quiet summer. Good thing about yesterday was clarity. It's a relief to know.