[et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ _builder_version=”4.9.10″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”-1%||||false|false”][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.10″ _module_preset=”default”]<\/p>\n
For a year, except for carefully calibrated trips to the doctor or dentist, I truly was happy in my little 680-square-foot apartment. I considered it a variation on a theme of Michael Cohen\u2019s house arrest.<\/strong><\/p>\n I cooked for a very small circle of friends. I shared a pod of sorts with a neighbor who has become a dear friend. I\u2019ve become a kind of surrogate grandmother to her 8-year-old daughter and 10-year-old son. I\u2019ve even dog-sat for Khan, their 12-year-old mixed-breed something or other.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/04\/pexels-markus-spiske-1679618-scaled.jpg” title_text=”pexels-markus-spiske-1679618″ _builder_version=”4.9.10″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”-1%||2%||false|false” custom_padding=”|5%||5%|false|true” box_shadow_style=”preset3″ box_shadow_spread=”17px”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.10″ _module_preset=”default”]<\/p>\n For exercise I swam when and where I could, walked from my tiny abode to the trash room–and\u2014if feeling ambitious, all the way down to the cavernous 1st floor mail room.<\/span><\/p>\n To bide the time I did what others across the country did and watched tv, read new and old books, raged at right-wing Republican callousness, and spent ridiculous time on the phone. I was already hopelessly addicted to Facebook. . . .\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.10″ _module_preset=”default”]<\/p>\n But to understand this bizarre event, we must step back a moment in time.\u00a0<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row column_structure=”1_3,2_3″ make_equal=”on” _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”1_3″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.10″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”||3%||false|false”]<\/p>\n My daughter, who lives about 1500 miles away, gave me an exotic violet plant for Mother\u2019s Day in lieu of joining me for lunch or brunch on this made-for-the-day, outrageously expensive, meal.<\/span><\/p>\n I was so moved I vowed not to kill it as quickly as I have caused the demise of its predecessors\u2014including cacti.<\/span><\/p>\n I read up on the care and feeding of African violets. I bought violet food, read and reread the instructions. I consulted with friends who were gardeners. I positioned my gift so it got just enough light. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”2_3″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/04\/PikiWiki_Israel_32204_Saintpaulia_Ionantha.jpg” title_text=”OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA” _builder_version=”4.9.10″ _module_preset=”default” max_height=”993px” custom_padding=”|||8%|false|false” custom_padding_tablet=”” custom_padding_phone=”” custom_padding_last_edited=”on|desktop” border_width_all=”12px” border_color_all=”rgba(29,0,66,0.97)”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.10″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”-5%||||false|false”]<\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n It rewarded me by not dying.<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n In time little leaves got bigger.\u00a0 Biden got elected.\u00a0 Vaccines hit the market, and free vaccinations were decreed for all.\u00a0 Being of a certain age, I met Moderna reasonably early in the game \u2014 on the first day of March to be precise.<\/span><\/p>\n About that same time, something magical happened: the violet bloomed. I almost cried. I took pictures from different angles and sent them to my kid. <\/span><\/p>\n Calling upon my great gift for creativity and imagination and as a sign of great joy and gratitude, I named my blooming plant “Violet.”<\/span><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row column_structure=”1_2,1_2″ admin_label=”row” _builder_version=”4.9.10″ background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat” custom_margin=”2%||||false|false”][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”3.25″ custom_padding=”|||” custom_padding__hover=”|||”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/04\/reflected_pexels-alleksana-4113889-scaled.jpg” title_text=”reflected_pexels-alleksana-4113889″ _builder_version=”4.9.10″ _module_preset=”default” border_width_all=”12px” border_color_all=”rgba(29,0,66,0.97)”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”3.25″ custom_padding=”|||” custom_padding__hover=”|||”][et_pb_text admin_label=”Text” _builder_version=”4.9.10″ text_text_color=”#ffffff” background_color=”rgba(29,0,66,0.97)” background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat” custom_margin=”10%|0%|2%|-15%|false|false” custom_padding=”5%|5%|5%|5%|false|false”]<\/p>\n That\u2019s when things got strange.<\/span><\/p>\n I took to talking to Violet, which I know some won\u2019t think odd because they talk to their plants too. <\/span><\/p>\n But Violet starting talking back.<\/span><\/p>\n She became annoyed even if I apologized for leaving her to start dinner. <\/span><\/p>\n Things then took a really dark turn: carrots, celery, onions and garlic got snippy about spending unnecessary time on the chopping board.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cEither you\u2019re going to make Bolognese or not,\u201d huffed the thyme and oregano.<\/span><\/p>\n I had recently fallen under the spell of Stanley Tucci in Italy, a country I\u2019ve been trying to visit for years. When I had the time, I didn\u2019t have the money.\u00a0 When I had the money Covid crept in \u2014 hence the vicarious visit to Bologna.<\/span><\/p>\n But I digress.<\/span><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row column_structure=”2_5,3_5″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”2_5″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” custom_padding=”||0px|||”]<\/p>\n Just as I was halfway through dicing a yellow onion, a plaintive voice from across the room whined, \u201cI\u2019m thirsty.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n I realized I had originally stopped to visit Violet to check the soil and to water her. <\/span><\/p>\n A smart aleck garlic clove whispered to the carrot, \u201cThis sauce will never get made.\u00a0 Y\u2019all might as well go on and wilt.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI heard that,\u201d I snapped, then glanced furtively from side to side, as though fearing someone in the empty apartment might hear me and not the gabby flora.<\/span><\/p>\n When my brain stopped sizzling and the circuits readjusted themselves, I realized I was having a post-lockdown, pre-freedom episode. I was beginning to experience short-termer hallucinations.<\/span><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”3_5″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][cwp_image_collage num_image=”3″ three_style=”six” st_src_one=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/04\/Onion_on_White-scaled.jpg” src_one_h_pos=”37%” src_one_v_pos=”61%” st_src_two=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/04\/2880px-Garlic_whole-scaled.jpg” st_src_three=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/04\/2880px-Vegetable-Carrot-Bundle-wStalks-scaled-e1619140258547.jpg” src_three_h_pos=”72%” _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” custom_padding=”|||5%|false|false” custom_padding_tablet=”” custom_padding_phone=”” custom_padding_last_edited=”on|desktop”][\/cwp_image_collage][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.10″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”-3%||-2%||false|false”]<\/p>\n <\/p>\n And then the call came.\u00a0<\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Moderna #1 was scheduled, and, in short order, done. Thirty-four minutes, in and out, including the prescribed 15-minute wait.<\/span><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.9.10″ _module_preset=”default” background_image=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/04\/pexels-cottonbro-3952241-scaled.jpg” min_height=”443px” height=”100px” max_height=”434px” custom_margin=”2%||||false|false” box_shadow_style=”preset6″ box_shadow_blur=”31px” box_shadow_spread=”24px”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.8.2″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.10″ _module_preset=”default” text_text_color=”#FFFFFF” background_color=”rgba(29,0,66,0.97)” custom_margin=”56%||||false|false” custom_padding=”4%|10%|4%|10%|true|true”]<\/p>\n In 28 days Moderna #2 would occur, and after 20-some hours of abject misery and a 10- or 16-hour wait, I\u2019d be free to move about the cabin. The light at the end of the tunnel would not be an oncoming train.<\/span><\/p>\n I would soon cast off jeans and t-shirts, trading them for girly girl clothes.\u00a0 I\u2019d don my favorite green, linen dress and the handcrafted copper-and-beaded earrings that look like little pea pods and hope like hell<\/em> they didn\u2019t start a conversation.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" For a year, except for carefully calibrated trips to the doctor or dentist, I truly was happy in my little 680-square-foot apartment. I considered it a variation on a theme of Michael Cohen\u2019s house arrest. I cooked for a very small circle of friends. I shared a pod of sorts with a neighbor who has […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":44,"featured_media":237425,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"on","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[10,12],"tags":[217,261,296,67,274],"class_list":["post-237411","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-stranger-than-fiction","category-theme-park","tag-cooking","tag-covid","tag-humor","tag-pandemic","tag-quarantine"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/237411","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/44"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=237411"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/237411\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/237425"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=237411"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=237411"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=237411"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}And then it happened. <\/strong><\/h4>\n