How Was 2020 For You?

New Year's resolutions are for suckers.

Seriously.

Let's examine the evidence, shall we? 

How far into this wasteland of 2020 did you get before you abandoned your resolution to live a cleaner, fitter, anxiety-free, and healthier life? When did the stress eating start and your couch potato lifestyle grow exponentially?

January? February? Marchtember?

Nope, I will not engage in empty promises that will most certainly go unrealized. Instead, I will offer up a few of the things I never thought I'd get to experience but actually did occur during this past year that was the living embodiment of the seventh circle of hell. Ready?

I played with a seal pup when he decided that my shoes were way better than the toys in the ocean. Honestly, this was the best thing about 2020. Before the world shut down, we travelled to the Galápagos Islands in January. It seems like a lifetime ago but it is without a doubt the most exciting place I have ever visited. This little guy was only part of the magic. 

I personally sanitized a hotel room in South Carolina. When we decided to race north from the Southern Home in March because there was a very real possibility that the borders were going to close, we had no idea what this virus was or how it was transmitted. We decided that we would pack food for the trip so that we could minimize our contacts but we knew that we were going to have to spend at least one night in a hotel. Doomsday prepper that I am, I packed spray bottles filled with diluted bleach, rubber gloves, hand sanitizer, and sanitizer wipes so that I could de-Covid the room. I wouldn't let The Husband touch anything until I was done-not the tv remotes, light switches, or toilet handle. Nothing. You really need to think back to those early days of Covid when we were all wiping down our groceries or unpacking them in the garage, to understand how it must have felt to be me travelling north. The irony? All things microbiologically considered, it was probably the cleanest hotel room we have ever stayed in.

I learned how not to kill a sourdough starter and to bake some of the most delicious bread that has ever come out of an oven. Ok, this is a bit of hyperbole but it was certainly some of the most delicious bread to come out of my oven. I have to give credit to my Sister/Cousin's only XX for this one. (We kind of share her.) She is a master bread baker and during the early days of Covid, she sent me some dried starter. She nurtured me and massaged my battered ego from afar when things weren't going so well, and she was quick with praise even when the results were less than optimum. As the prophet Joel wrote, "The old shall dream dreams and the youth shall see visions." I couldn't have asked for a better teacher. The crazy thing is, that before the lockdown, I would never have had the time nor the patience necessary to dedicate to the many days necessary for sourdough bread making. Now, I can't imagine not doing it. It really is a zen experience. "Patience is not the ability to wait, but the ability to keep a good attitude while waiting.”~Unknown.

Sourdough English Muffins

Sourdough Babka

Sourdough boule

Sourdough focaccia

I made Ina Garten's brownies. I promised myself that I would never do anything this foolish but The Husband's birthday was coming up and we were finally going to spend some quality time outdoors with our kids. Brownies seemed like the perfect decadent treat. Have you ever looked at this freaking ridiculous recipe? It calls for a full pound of butter, over two pounds of chocolate, and six eggs. The concoction made enough brownies for three birthday celebrations and even after divvying them up amongst the offspring, there were over a dozen in the freezer for weeks. The chocolate alone was enough to induce a diabetic coma. Delicious? Absolutely. Dangerous? Hell, yes.

Which leads me to exercise. After all the carbs and sugar of the bread and brownies, keeping up with my workouts became a moral imperative. Walking is good but I need more. We are fortunate that we have a treadmill and weights in our home, so we were unaffected when the gyms shut down. Even the gym in our building is still on lockdown after almost nine months. In August, my treadmill, which is close to fourteen years old, needed repair. The part was on order and given the limitations of the pandemic, would take close to a month to arrive. The Husband suggested that to keep up with my cardio, I should run the stairs in our building. We live in an old factory building that was converted into lofts, so the stairs in the fire exits are quite high and the rise is quite deep. I have short legs and asthma. My first attempt at the stairs lasted all of ten minutes. I was sucking wind and dripping like Rudy Guiliani's hair dye. Six days later, I tried again. Why six days? Well, it took that long for the pain to subside and to be able to move my legs without screaming. Since then, I have increased my time on the stairs to close to thirty-five minutes and it is now a regular part of my workout rotation. I still hate it but I am afraid to stop doing it and reignite the leg spasms. Pain-avoidance is a great motivator.

I've taken to day-drinking. Friends and family know that I am not much of an imbiber but these are desperate times and they call for new habits. A glass of chilled chardonnay is just the ticket to unwinding after a tough day of doing absolutely nothing. I sent The Husband to the Wine Rack next door to purchase a couple of bottles of something light and white. I was pleasantly surprised by the whole thing. Alcohol consumption is still very rare for me but I'm finding that I don't hate the occasional glass. Any more than that and I am down for the count. There is a story floating around about me not knowing my left from my right after a couple of glasses of sangria. Lies! Don't trust unreliable sources. When I went to replenish my stock, the lovely guy at the Wine Rack pointed at the refrigerator and asked if I wouldn't prefer an already chilled bottle because of course, I was planning on drinking it immediately upon returning home. The man knows his business.

There was an episode with edibles which I shall not discuss here. Just know that it was chocolate and that is all I'm admitting. The rest is like Fight Club. What's the first rule of Fight Club?

I had a conversation with my two-year-old granddaughter via FaceTime while one of us was on the potty. I will leave it to you, dear reader, to figure out who. That said, can we all just say a small prayer of gratitude for video calls of all types this year? Without Zoom, Skype, FaceTime and Messenger I'm not certain that any of us could have maintained even a semblance of sanity.

I learned how to use Instacart. It isn't my favourite way of grocery shopping but it is better than being in crowds. There were a few glitches, like the time I ordered a single garlic bulb and received thirteen. For the most part, the delivery people have been amazing and lovely. I have over-tipped them because I am so grateful for what they are doing and I have given every single one of them a 5-star rating, even when they didn't really deserve it. These people have helped hold our city together. I would hug them all if allowed. 

This is a lot of garlic.

I watched far too much television and read far too few books. Concentration wasn't a strong suit this year. I am trying to get back into reading but it is definitely a challenge. Pandemic brain is affecting us all differently. The Husband and I realized that we don't watch any network television programs regularly. Netflix, Prime, Apple+, and Disney+ (thanks to Younger Son) have been our viewing habits in 2020. Oh...and The Big Bang Theory reruns. I can't explain why but those ridiculous nerds and their annoying laugh track have kept me entertained, even after dozens of repeated watchings.

We decided to refresh our living space. After four years here, we embarked upon a modest renovation. Of course, we couldn't go anywhere while the contractors were here, so The Husband and I holed up in the small second bedroom for three weeks while they painted. The day after they finished, our humidifier sprung a leak and ruined the ceiling in the front hall. How very 2020 is that? 2021 will begin with more structural repair and even more painting.

We have done jigsaw puzzles (they are not nearly as much fun without my mom beside me) and I have played my guitar, although not nearly as much as I'd like. I learned to work with royal icing and decorated cookies for Chanukah. I've yelled on Twitter, celebrated on Facebook, and played a lot of games of Words with Friends. We have walked the empty neighbourhoods in our area and have distressed over the scores of For Rent signs. And now, as winter has come and we are once again locked down, it is difficult to look ahead to the coming year without a huge dose of cynicism. I am not rosy-eyed in my predictions. There will be a vaccine for all of us, and we should be immensely grateful for the astounding advancement of science, but it won't come soon and I suspect that another Pesach seder will be held online without loved ones and that many more of us will experience a Covid birthday as I did yesterday. 

2020 has been brutal for so many of us. I look back on what I have written and I know that I have been amongst the most fortunate. I didn't have to work in an overrun hospital or deliver groceries. I was spared the horror of having loved ones in a long-term care facility and I didn't have to try to do my job with bored children at home, desperate for friends and school. My family is not separated by the border closure and I don't live alone. My employment didn't disappear because of the forever lingering pandemic. But, 2020 has taught me that nothing is certain and we aren't promised anything. I will take the lessons of 2020 and move into the new year with a renewed love and appreciation for my friends and family. I will resolve nothing, expect nothing, and cherish it all.

Bring it, 2021.