Pandemic-cation

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I spent July in Northern California where I VERY carefully saw family and friends. I took two Covid tests. I have to say that “mouth swab” felt pretty unreliable. While the painful “nose plunge” hurt so much that I trust the results, which came 16 days later. I wore a mask in the house in front of them and tried my best to avoid hugs, which came anyway.

Still, when my family wanted to go out to a new outdoor venue called “Five Tacos and Beers,” which, not surprisingly serves tacos and beers, I did not fight them. I felt nervous. But my seventy-something relatives were so happy to be out of the house. Pretty sure, if they had gotten Covid, they would say it was worth it. The virus is lethal to seniors, but still, tacos…

I support a another full lockdown in California for however long it takes to get this thing under wraps. California opened our economy too early and soon after Gavin Newsom’s gumption went into lockdown.

But we also can not underestimate the sadness of this year. We are only human. We need connection. We need tacos.

I got back to LA and decided it was time to do one thing I had put off for many months. Shrooms. I have never done drugs in my life (outside of Peet’s coffee) but had bought these gummy bear shrooms from a friend in February with the dream of going out to Joshua Tree and having some middle aged woman epiphany. It’s really hard to time your middle-aged crisis with a friends’ middle aged crisis because middle age spans about 20 years. So I could not find a female friend, but a man-friend offered to take them with me.

So we met at the beach with the set intention of finding the meaning of life, our soul’s purpose and the pandemic through the conduit of gummy shrooms. We took our shrooms and listened to music and I waited to watch the clouds turn into a messenger angel to take us into the ether. And then….nothing. Nothing happened. The clouds remained clouds. We didn’t take enough. Or maybe the pandemic is immune to drugs.

Can’t expect anything out of 2020.