Humpty Trumpty sat on a wall – 

Humpty Trumpty had a windfall

 Alexander Hamilton was constitutionally correct

A thud like Donald he’d never expect 

Through tweeting and twitching he drove his point across

The United States of America, well yeah, we want a divorce

From this wild man of loose tongue

We will run and we’ll hide

Putting aside every ounce of our pride

We scream can this be happening at noon Jan.20

This is alarmingly serious in the absence of funny.

We confess we accept, this fate to be had -Our four years ahead portend to be bad- We’ll listen very closely and circumspect when need be. By the dawns early light, O say can you see!

And then one day I just stayed in bed, under the covers, eating mozzarella cheese. A mental health day? Perhaps. A day of feeling sorry for our mess of a country moment, indeed. With so many things on my “to do”list the pathetic state of affairs has immobilized me. I got tagged and today I’m It. Devastatingly in a crowd of millions. We are barely living through the Kavanaugh Countdown. With no obvious panacea, but time, I long to watch reruns of Dobie Gillis, I Married Joan and Topper. I derive comfort in exhuming memories of eating a can of Buitoni ravioli after school before I left to go to my algebra tutor. Gornisht Heflin, I barely passed the class anyway. Did anyway need to know what a parallelogram or a quadrilateral was ever?
Ah, simple joy of listening to AM radio on the drive over. The days when one of our greatest pleasures was hearing the Temptations, as we were “not to proud to beg” while we waited to be built up by buttercups, knowing at this point it was the “worst that could happen.” Run on counters I know. I’d drive under the tressel , make my way through third ward park and look to see if my latest boyfriends car was parked there. How easily serotonin and endorphin rushes happened in the long ago and far away days, we so long for now. If only we were living the days when busy signals offered the worst of frustrations. When setting our hair with pink plastic rollers and enduring the fumes of Aqua Net hairspray was one of our toughest endurances. Only if, our not so guilty pleasures were peanut cheddar crackers, Ring Dings or Funny Bones and a can of Tab, the acronym for the first (Totally Artificial Beverage). With lots of quarters, nickels and dimes I’d stop to get my algebra snack at the candy store next to Jan, Jill and Jon on Main Avenue. Shout out to Rhoda and Seymour Zucker ( antique aficionados) for 50 years . What a run. Side bar, your Honor. Those were the times before rats were tested for lethal saccharine levels. Loved the rush from Tab.
So we wait under the covers with bated breath as we watch as our future decisions will be weighed in by one more unstable narcissist who has perfected the art of lying through his teeth. We pray for the times we imagined that when Cosmo Topper, married Joan the only thing that was artificial was the beverage he toasted with. Hashtag Sad.

I am officially the corona moan-a!
Getting ready for a “go to humor” virtual committee meeting sometime I think today or tomorrow or in the next 100 years that we are in quarantini. I like my apartment but every freakin corner is now too clean. Not only do I need a manicure, like desperate in nature, I think I need a pinky transplant. I hear beeps- yeah like beeps and I don’t know where they are coming from- did you ever? I am rounding out the bottom of the hand lotions and I am hunting for those airplane give aways with the mini bottles. Just for today to maintain that one increment of Sanity (capital S like in wishful thinking), I vow not to touch any baggies, tin foil, saran wrap, dishwasher powder or a sponge. I am so over sponges- I can’t. I kiss the mezzuha’s, rub the Buddha Bellies, and say Shemas at the major shrine a.k.a. the refrigerator every single day and Gornisht Helfn. Ok, so the lights are on, the dishwasher unloaded, dinner is defrosting on the hermetically clean counter- (no cross contamination here)- and now that we are tapped out on Netflix-I’m searching on prime and hulu for what we can binge for the next 8 hrs. Signing off from the go to humor committee member. Flip it and have a good day!

Before 6:00- I am up- WTF- sleep deprivation, no fresh air. The President says you could wear a scarf, like a mask. So am I pulling out of my closet- the gucci scarf I bought at The Sawgrass Mall this winter, (pre Corona )or an old Echo scarf I probably have since the 80’s that I bought at Aldo’s on 86th street when they only sold Keds sneakers? I don’t know about you but I got a whole new set of worries. Will I run out of alcohol wipes, let alone Alcohol? Should I order another half and half, those expiration dates could take you into the next century. Never understood those far off dates. People, what’s in my half and half or better yet cottage cheese Fricken formaldehyde? Could someone tell Bed, Bath and Beyond that I have enough 2 in a pack pillows and in fact the stores are closed. Another expiration date I don’t need to worry about- save those e-mail coupons. Btw your return policy used to be better take it to your virtual board- ( bored) meeting. And this Zoom- now I got major Zoom FOMO. One more thing to add to my list for when I can go to my shrink- shout out to Dr. Spitz. My old issues, nothing, you hear me I got over them all while in isolation. Wait till he hears my new set of complaints- G-d willing we make it out alive. Another expiration date to worry about on old med bottles- cipro, valtrex, donnatol, valium. All kidding aside, my hands now need scar cream, my hair forget, like Bubby Chicken for those in the know, my nails chipped? under the radar statement. My routines are as varied and exciting as open lights, shut the lights, empty and load the dishwasher, haven’t used a sponge this much since the 60’s. Finally is anyone else putting deodorant on these days? I don’t know about you but it’s not like I’m sprinting from the living room to the kitchen. And this is not an April Fools joke. Baruch Hashem- thank G-d for Dr. Fauci.

מי יחיה ומי ימות

We can’t help but wonder is this how the world ends? In the book of job G-d is said to “direct his lightening to the ends of the earth.” It’s a poetic way of saying G-d is in charge everywhere. With a prodigious proportion of people falling deathly ill right in our backyard, the better safe than sorry adage was slipped, like a memo, under our front door. The two things you never want to hear from a doctor is” I have never heard of this before- and there is nothing we can do about it.” At the helm of our fate is a demonic behemoth holding the reigns to our destiny with no instinct on how to safely steer us to shore. With a pesty, independent, out of control trajectory we find ourselves dodging the fallout from this venomous alien. In a tag you’re it fashion, we can’t run, we can’t hide-fast enough. From moment to moment we are trying to navigate our not “new normal.”In the Book of Exodus, Moses leads the Hebrews out of Egypt to escape from the tyrannical pharaoh and find the Promised land. They follow him at first but it soon becomes clear that the journey will be far from straightforward. I pray there is a limit to our days of isolation. We will welcome the simple acts of an embrace hello, a click of a glass cheering to health first, or a stroll in the park less than 6 ft. apart. Mouth watering events we will never take for granted. James Lipton of the actors studio passed away several weeks ago. So James, now that you are behind the pearly gates can you get the one word G-d would hear us say when we get there to him beforehand. “SAFE”.

The sounds of Little girls and medium sized boys- bella and “frankie the jacket” my cherries on top! Park East Chicken cooking in my oven. My own bed with hints of the knowing smell of years of yesterday’s. I will double down. That’s all she needed to fine tune the picture.

You know there are 6 more weeks in Boca. So whad ya do this week-end? This musing is inspired by Brad Zimmerman. And just who is this Brad guy? Here goes. A sixty something, in great shape guy whose claim to fame is that he opened for Joan Rivers in Atlantic City, before the days of progressive wheel of fortune slots. Love those! (Shout out to Robo.) He’s a New Jersey guy, way of New York, schmoozing his way on Florida stages. Joan Rivers one- liner to him was and I quote ” you are the funniest comic I ever worked with in your price range.” We laughed and then we cried through the evening. He is still waiting for his career to amount to more than bupkes. Also, if his girlfriend Amy from high school gets divorced perhaps he’ll marry her. A Zuchen Vey. Brad’s stereotypical Jewish mother is still giving him “what for’s.” How lucky to still have her nudging him and reminding him he’s not a shmendrik. Her question to him now, ” so when are you going to get off the stage and give me a grandchild? We left after 90 minutes, no intermission, yes we used the facilities beforehand. I kept thinking on our way to get some key lime pie and a nite cap, if only he went into his father’s furniture business he might not being standing alone on a small stage in Palm Beach Gardens. His spiel was audible when the forced A/C wasn’t noisy. Vayismir. Getting to the theater a bit of a gantseh magilla- but not to worry, we don’t shivtz the small stuff. 

It was a humor filled, delightful evening. His shtick had a cute gimmick. The evening was so provactive of our days of growing up with similar hand me downs. I can’t type fast enough, I could plotz.

Earlier in the day we spaetzered around The West Palm Beach Antique Fair. 

You shouldn’t know from the thrill-big, huge. With every piece of schmutz on every amber glass bowl our endorphins rose to sea level. We sifted through the tchatchkes, the thigamabobs and the doodads. If you haven’t left me yet it’s over soon enough. Trust me, oy. We bought a few things, you’ll see below. 

And then we knew we arrived –over the free, fluffy marble cake samples placed in front of us at Flakowitz. Uh, the look on my husband’s face priceless. His favorite and free. Does it get better? Ok, listen up. We had a Flagel and a schmear and we were off. We were on our way to play pickle ball with that new couple we met on line at Costco. I don’t, know, maybe, could be the early bird’s shadow portends to more then 6 weeks in La-la land. I’ll get back to you later. 

Hello Muddah,

hello Fadduh, Here I am at Camp Flor-ah-da

It’s not so entertaining

and they say I’ll have some fun if I stop complaining.

I went walking, with Jenny Eliasis

She developed a bad case of psoriasis

You remember Shirley Skinner

We are meeting for the early bird dinner.

All the sales people -over at the Walmarts – snuck in for me an extra dozen urine charts
Now I don’t want this

should scare ya

But my roommate has a bad case of diar-rhe-a

You remember Joanie Hardy

They’re about to organize a searching party.

Take me home, oh muddah , fadduh take me home, I hate Camp Flor-ah-da

Don’t leave me, at the casino -someone next to me forgot their beano

Take me home please and I promise -I will not make noise or mess the house with dappers (bingo)

oh please, don’t make me stay, I’ve been here one whole day.

Wait a minute, it stopped raining

I seem to like the music in the pool that they’re playing

Playing mah Jong and Canasta- who knows with bridge I could become a masta

So dear muddah and dear fadduh hold your horses cause I seem to like it better – I even started knitting you a navy sweater

Went to see Bye Bye Birdie and guess what I ran into Aunt Gertie

So for right now, hold it a minute -Cause I think I might get right in it.

I will write you some time later – if I don’t run into an alli-gator!

In this week’s Torah portion we read one of our favorite verses:”And Miriam the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand; and all the women went out after her with timbrels and with dances. And Miriam sang unto them: Sing ye to the LORD, for He is highly exalted…”

No explanation is required: women took part because women ARE a part Of life, society and religion. Ailments are lonely and isolating. It is you and your problem sitting together all day long. The healing process is disturbingly confusing. A little passive, a little aggressive. You protect the queen at any cost as she holds direct access to the king who is the panacea to your troubles. I believe in artifacts, i.e. feathers, dimes, angelic signals that become ever-present and serve as comfort during the most difficult of times. An Angel, whispering a head’s up to look this way and listen up. This time the queen is sitting in the center square and the king is nowhere in sight. You flirt with the queen in an attempt to divert her attention as you try to gain entrance through the front door. You know all the while in a wizard of ozesque fashion you need to open the curtain at any cost. So just for today I trust a feather will float in my path and tell me where the opening in the curtain is. My reservoir of strength kicks into fast forward as I hit the ground running away from just another day – not at the park.

Mama -look what’s going on in our world -remember the advice you gave me that had the story about good luck/bad luck – I understand now.