Written thoughts and opinions that might keep me from going completely bonkers:
— I can go to Publix and get all the fixins’ for a “sammy,” but God help us if we want to go to church. I didn’t hear many “How was your Easter?” queries. That was sad.
— In need of an essential grill brush, I donned a mask (first, only and last time) and headed for Home Depot. Ran into a gentleman who felt the need to share: “Sorry if I got too close. If I get this thing, I’m going to die.” I told him we’re all going to die of something someday.
“But I have a heart valve from a pig!” he jabbered. I asked him how the pig was feeling right about now? “I guarantee the pig is dead. And what would happen if you got the regular flu?” I had to ask.
“I would die.”
Even though it’s frowned upon, I scratched my head and asked him, as nicely as possible: “Why, in the name of all that is holy, are you in the grill aisle of Home Depot?”
— Doctors are offering “virtual” visits. Does that mean I can have a “virtual” colonoscopy from the comfort of my desk chair? If so, sign me up for five years’ worth of them.
— Sheltering in place has been a godsend to neighborhood busy bodies. Some local college kids needed to play. There was an epic whiffle ball baseball/tackle football game on the neighborhood clubhouse lawn last Saturday. Lots of stares of disapproval. Social media made it seem criminal.
Mind you, this isn’t a nightly occurrence. It was kids who needed to connect with former high-school teammates. I said a prayer of thanks that we don’t live in California, where such a wanton disregard of an invasive government edict would’ve landed the boys a slot on a chain gang.
Hopefully, as they whacked weeds, there would have been the proper social-distance spacing.
— I broke down and bought a new Traeger Grill. It’s a beauty, complete with Wi-Fi that assures Porterhouse perfection. Chris and Greg assembled the 300-pound beast, which was named Chester, because it was portly.
It was begging for Easter dinner steaks. My former seller of beef adopted a policy of having customers call ahead and waiting in a car line, whereas the meat would be brought to your auto.
Leonard’s Farmers Market had no such nonsense. I bought filets, a T-bone and ribeyes, which I chose from a fully stocked meat case. Gorgeous tomatoes, some twice-baked potatoes and I was in business.
Chester the grille shined in its inaugural test and Chester the English Crème Retriever savored every morsel that was seared on his namesake.
— On Monday, the Los Rios food truck is visiting the neighborhood.
Bueno. If I had one, I’d wear one of those Mexican luchador masks worn by “rasslers.” I almost bought one on a trip to San Diego. If only I’d known how it would eventually come in handy.
— There is a marvelous spirit of reaching out to local restaurants. The eateries are doing their part to provide food at fair prices.
Tam’s Backstage has a family menu with items that will feed a family of 10, not the four diners it advertised. Broadway Pasta, Caesar salad, rolls and two-days of leftovers for $25. We’ll be doing that one again.
Giorgio’s, Lenny’s, Baba’s and many more have epitomized community spirit during this time of forced isolation.
Ginger “The Tax Lady” didn’t get angry when I dropped all of my stuff off last Monday. The July 15th deadline is probably a relief for most.
— I miss baseball. In a “Life is Mostly Attitude and Timing” example, our 27-game partial season-ticket package and Truist Park is like all our churches: abandoned and unused.
Any plans to play the games without fans offers an unfulfilling, sad alternative. MLB without fans is like going to eat at Waffle House and discovering there’s no syrup.
— Finally, it looks like China is responsible for COVID-19. Instead of fessing up, it looks like they are taking a bully’s stance.
“Yeah, we did this. So, what are you going to do about it?”
Oh baby. Do I have some ideas!
Mike Tasos’ column is published every other weekend. He needs a haircut before he requires a man-bun. And this beard is getting itchy! He is on Facebook. Comments can be sent to email@example.com.