Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

My latest head and chest cold problem started a week ago. Last Friday, one of the buddhists breathed right on my face. We were over at the Rubin for happy hour when all of a sudden I felt this robust puff of air hit my nostrils. I think that was the start of it. I've been using my time in quarantine to bone up on cold and cough pharmaceuticals. Here's my collection: Impressive, amiright?!! I'm going to take this opportunity to spell out some important take-aways. You are going to want to study this post very carefully so you don't make the same critical errors I made and wind up coughing yourself into a sleep deprived wraith of the night.  I asked Tom if I kept him up and he just shrugged, but then I found all these ear plugs rolling around on our damp fever sweaty sheets. He's a trooper, that one. #1: Do not buy any combination remedy. That's my first tip. None of this Robitussin Cold and Flu or any of the other pharmaceutical grab bags. Y

I have laryngitis. The upshot is that Tom gets to chat with himself during dinner. Tom: "I hated peas growing up. But they were canned peas. Very weird texture. Also not a good color." Tom: "And the name. PEAS. What kid is going to eat PEAS?" Tom: "They'd have more luck if they called peas something else. Something like ... Green Balls. I'd call them Green Balls." Me: (WTF look) Tom: "Ok maybe Green Balls is not the best name. How about Green Goblins? or Sargent Squishies. It would be better if they were crunchy because Crunchy is great in a name. Except Captain Crunch is already taken." Tom: "I'm going to single-handedly rebrand peas. I'd like to see them in the cereal aisle. Although if peas were in the cereal aisle, they'll probably wind up coated in high fructose corn syrup." Tom: "What are peas, by the way? A legume? A bean? I need to look this up." photocredit: https://summerharvest

image credit: https://www.kqed.org/bayareabites/89705/ matcha-silky-and-smooth-its-not-just-for-tea-ceremonies-anymore I had just been handed my chai matcha latte at the matcha latte shop on the corner. The problem with matcha lattes is the green foam. I mean really green foam. When the foam spurts out the top of your to-go cup, it looks as if a leprechaun projectile vomited on your sleeve.  And so it happened. Ick. I needed to sponge off my sleeve before the damp green blobs became permanent. I headed toward the door of the matcha latte shop intent on getting back to my apartment fast. Only one block — my chances of success seemed good. I encountered an obstacle. A short young woman putting on her gigantic Canadian Goose puffy jacket blocked the doorway. I mean fully blocked the doorway. Her hood was up, so I figured she had the no-peripheral-vision hood problem and muffled hearing and did not notice my aggressive approach. “Excuse me,” I said. No response.

We visited some old friends the other day and their daughter, maybe she's 12, started talking about the time she and her brother came over to our house. My niece and nephew and a few other kids were there too. We took all the pillows off the couch and the beds and the chairs. We made a huge pile of pillows. It was epic. And then Tom and I ran around and captured all the kids one by one and tossed them into the pile. This went down I'm going to say 8 or 9 years ago. Meaning 80% of our friends' daughter's life ago. At the time, I regretted the whole thing fairly instantly. It was a big ruckus and although no one was permanently injured, we caused certain children to go airborne for longer than they had clearly ever been airborne before. It occurred to me that not all children are used to being flung into a huge pile of pillows. Our sense of normal had been warped by my niece and nephew, who we had actively been tossing about since they were just bundles in diapers