Bulls, Boats and Birthdays

The COVID thing is wearing me down. The best things I did this weekend were get some sun, paint my office and watch an ESPN documentary The Last Dance about the last season of Phil Jackson coaching Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls. Having lived in Chicago while the Bulls reigned, I am loving it. ESPN was going to show this in June during the NBA playoffs, but since there aren't any sports right now, they wisely decided to move it up. The New York Times Arts section reviewed the documentary.

The best lines in the article:

• "ESPN’s new 10-part documentary doesn’t ask Big Questions. But it does go big on a team whose personalities and feats warrant just this sort of excess."
• "You could call these 10 hours a walk down memory lane. But that’d be like calling Mardi Gras a parade."

This documentary is the closest thing I am going to get to Mardi Gras while staying at home. Maybe next I'll dig up the Beatles Anthology.

I read an article on social media how the Corona virus is impacting people: "We are all in the same storm but in different boats."

Brilliant. I love it.

We all are in different boats. I talked to my hairdresser this weekend, who isn't working. He and his boyfriend are doing okay considering they both work retail. They have savings to rely on but they were hoping to use that money for a downpayment on a house, not to live off of. I was greatly relieved to hear he was doing okay, especially since his boat is different than mine. My conversation with him made me think how we each are uniquely impacted.

What am I doing in my boat? Painting it. I did the bedroom a few weeks ago and this weekend I painted my office. I have mixed feelings on this color. It looks very different in different light.

Today is the Boy's birthday. He is seventeen and in Montana. Last year, I took him and three friends skiing to Stevens Pass. It was the last day of the Steven Pass ski season, so the place was a little crazy.

How am I feeling about this? I miss him, of course, but I am still glad he is there and not a home. If he were at home, who knows what kind of condition he would be in? After staying in bed for six months, it wasn't like he was going to pick himself up and get to school or get a job on his own.

But let's pretend he wasn't depressed and he were home instead. I'd probably make him breakfast and a cake. In a non-Covid world, we'd go out to dinner--his choice.

Later this week is my birthday. Last year, I had a party with a dozen or two friends--catered and everything--at the condo. Neither of my children attended, and Jack was MIA when it came to planning the party even though he said he was going to make all of the arrangements. What my family didn't give me I gave to myself. At that point, who needs a family?

At the party, I gave a speech telling each of my friends what I most appreciated about them. Gratitude is an amazing gift we give ourselves. The week I spent thinking about all of the nice things I was going to say about my friends was the brightest week in my life. I felt blissful.

This year, Claire-Adele is coming to town for my birthday, at Jack's recommendation. Clearly, I am not going to have a party, at least not while social distancing is in effect. I am, however, looking forward to seeing Claire-Adele. Unlike other college students, she was not kicked out of her housing in March so she decided to stay on campus. While I have very mixed feelings about her flying this week, I feel it is probably safer her to fly now on an empty plane than it would have been to fly home a month ago with thousands of other college students.

So much has happened since last year. I had thought 2019 was a fresh slice of hell, but 2020 isn't starting out with a lot of promise. I am not sure what to wish for. Perhaps my wish is that I will be a little bit kinder and gentler with myself this year. I hope the Boy can be gentler with himself, too.