Life Is Too Short to Drink Shitty Wine
And 4 other valuable lessons I learned from the pandemic
I’ve learned quite a few things in the last couple months. One, I’ve learned the importance of limiting the flow of info regarding anything that starts with “corona” and ends with “virus.” I try to limit my intake to once a day, maybe twice tops, but I fail regularly.
Here are a few other things of value I’ve learned in the last two months:
1. Life is too short to drink shitty wine.
After one email too many, eyes crossed from scanning Excel files, mind melted from convoluted documents, I needed wine — fast! So, I sliced some Swiss cheese, cut some dark chocolate, and poured me a glass of white wine. I sat out on my back porch imagining that the blue sky behind neighboring fences and house rooftops was the rolling Pacific ocean viewed from a villa in Oahu. As soon as I took a sip of my long-anticipated vino, that daydream burst. I nearly spit out the junk that had just punished my tongue. *Bleh!*
Trust me, I’m no wine connoisseur, but my palate is picky enough to know when it’s been duped. My taste buds awaited crisp, refreshing viognier with citrus notes, and instead drank something that tasted more like cheap whiskey, with a touch of salt. It wasn’t the wine maker’s fault. I neglected the bottle and left it half-empty in the fridge for too long. Sorry, vino!
I wondered, “Should I open a whole new bottle of more expensive wine if I’m the only one who will drink it and likely will not finish?” Hell yeah! Because why not? Aren’t we ALL worth a good glass of wine just because? The moment was no less precious than any of the other fleeting moments that will pass in life. I grabbed my bottle of Louis Jadot Beaujolais, popped it open, and enjoyed the hell out of watching the dark red liquid fill my glass. Didn’t take a sip of that full-bodied bliss for granted.
2. Gray hair suits me. That is, until I look in the mirror. (Getting my vanity checked.)
I combed back my dark hair, and apparently that’s an act I hadn’t done in front of a mirror in awhile. When I pulled my hair back, the mass of stray grays bunched at my forehead startled me. I thought maybe my kids played a trick on me and spray painted my pillow case with white spray paint. I realized it had been months since a drop of tinted hair dye touched my uncut locks.
A couple more lines on my forehead mysteriously appeared, too. I’d like to think that’s a symptom of quarantine psychosis, not an accurate reflection of reality. Sure, my age now begins with a “4,” but come on. Quarantine doesn’t speed up the aging process, does it?
Pre-shutdown, I stocked up on some essentials, including hair dye. But I still haven’t bothered to hide my grays. Before, I would have never walked into my office looking like the Bride of Frankenstein. Yet for whatever reason, I’m okay with that look in the confines of my home. I wish I could say it teaches a valuable lesson about how my appearance isn’t tied to my worth or abilities and that I am totally secure with how I look in my fourth decade of life. No, it’s more like I appreciate the gentle reminders that I’ve come a long way and am still enjoying life’s ride. Maybe a little laziness keeps my grays alive, too. Because who am I kidding? You know I’ll bust out that bottle of Medium Brown N7 as soon as my kids can go back to an actual school and I can go back to an actual office. For now, my gray hairs and I are getting along just fine.
3. The world won’t end if my kids suck at remote learning. (Parent guilt during a pandemic is a waste of time.)
T-minus 6 days left before the end of this cursed school year was over, and I still found myself fighting with my kids to turn in their math homework, language arts, and science, knowing full well their homework wouldn’t do jack for their grades. That nagging guilt that turns me into a neurotic a-hole wouldn’t shut up. “Am I doing enough? Should I take a break from work so I can help my kids adjust more to remote learning? Do I need to make sure they finish their homework and not binge watch vapid YouTube crap, such as ‘Top 10 Most Satisfying Disney Villain Deaths?’ Am I turning my kids into losers? Or am I being a hover parent who needs to let my kids self-regulate and learn responsibility?”
Girl, stop. Just stop. The kids are not quite alright, but they’re doing their best. We all are. My kids put up with social isolation every day. They’re getting used to friends on screens instead of friends at the playground. They’re adjusting to a less than ideal learning environment that no one asked for. I’m sure my kids aren’t the only ones who didn’t take a liking to remote learning and think remote learning sucks. I know many educators probably share their sentiments. And I’m sure my kids will have plenty to say to their kids and grandchildren about this, um, interesting, time. To all of my kids’ educators, I say THANK YOU! For putting up with my kids’ shit as well as mine!
4. Maybe lazy asses are on to something.
Here is how a normal day used to look for me: Wake up at 4 a.m. Shower, get dressed, eat breakfast. Rush out the door no later than 5:10 a.m. to catch the 5:39 a.m. bus to work. Work out at the gym during my lunch break. Finish work at 2:56 p.m. to catch the 3:06 train and pick up my boys from school by 3:30. After that, fight traffic to take my kids to the activity du jour: judo, swimming, music lessons, soccer. Work some more during their activities. Run errands. Attend a weekly French class. (J’adore le français!) Attend a monthly meeting at my boys’ school. Eat. Clean. Go to bed. Rinse. Repeat.
When the shutdown put that madness to a halt, my system went into shock. I waded through each day in a trance, processing this weird, seemingly substance-induced, situation. I slowly acclimated to a commute from my bed to my downstairs guest-room-turned-office. There, I drew inspiration from my new office mates:
No denying it, these are some lazy-ass cats. They maybe twitch a whisker or stretch a limb once every five hours. But look how peaceful they are. I look at them with envy as I hear the Hamilton song in my head “It must be nice…it must be ni-ice…” These cats don’t give a shit about the coronavirus. They are oblivious to layoffs, canceled vacations, high school seniors whose senior year rituals were squashed. They don’t care who wants to wear a mask out in public and who doesn’t. The words Donald Trump and Joe Biden mean nothing to them. They are in a permanent state of content.
Their zen-like poses and laid back approach to life enlightened me — it was finally okay for me to rest! At last! No pressure to leave the house and pack weekends with hikes, family and friend visits, or trips to the zoo. I could finally train my body and my mind to chill. Just chill. A foreign concept to me until now, although it is a work in progress. The result? Placing back burner items in the front (including myself!) and doing things I didn’t have time to do in my old life, such as apply for MBA programs, or write and publish blog posts on Medium!
Turns out that John Lennon was right: “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” Speaking of which…..
5. When in doubt, classic rock it out!
Seriously. You can’t go wrong when you live your life according to the gospel of John, Paul, George, and Ringo. “Let it Be.” “All You Need Is Love.” “Come Together.” (6 feet apart, of course!) Or take some advice from The Eagles. “Take It Easy.” “Peaceful, Easy Feeling.” Led Zeppelin has always had my back in rough times, too. Don’t know if the title “Stairway to Heaven” is really apropos at this time, but that climb still gets me through the day. Or “The End” by The Doors. Too morbid? Nah. Just throw in a little Pearl Jam. “Alive.” Add in some Queen. “We Are the Champions.” Stomp to “We Will Rock You” like you’re stomping on the virus.
I admit, I also rock out to some beloved old school rap. Nothing makes me feel like a badass more than singing at the top of my lungs to “F*** the Police!” Except I substitute the word “police” for other more timely nouns that I’ll keep to myself for the time being.
My favorite female crooners always do me right, too, like my girl Adele. “Skyfall” should be 2020’s theme: “Let the sky fall….when it crumbles…..we will stand ta-all and face it all…together at Skyfall.”
Whatever is getting you through this, whatever the heck you want to call it, may you get through it safely and without any shitty wine!
