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Part 2: Holy crap. We bought a cabin.

covid cabin

Picking up where I left off: By September, we were getting pretty frustrated with the whole “let’s buy a vacation cabin” experience.

When we began looking in June, we had visions of spending late summer all settled in the country. After all, our rowhouse in Old Town was literally the first house we looked at when we were looking at houses. We looked at like, three other properties (just to be sure) and put in an offer right away. We know exactly what we want in a property and are pretty decisive when we see it.

So when September rolled around and we still couldn’t find our dream cabin, we did what any nervous buyers would do in our situation. We increased our budget. Which brought us to our little chocolate box in the woods. A three-bedroom, single story cabin set on five wooded acres at the top of a mountain with views, decks and a screened in porch.

Side and back view

I’ll admit: for me, it was not love at first sight. Even though it most definitely did check all of our wishlist boxes, it just did not have very good curb appeal. But as XFE points out, we don’t have many people driving by. Our “subdivision” has four other residents spanning six homes (two AirBnBs owned by one of the long-term residents).

It also seemed like too much space for a vacation house (it’s 1900 sq ft versus our 1200 sq ft rowhouse), but it turns out, it’s perfect, especially since we’re both working from home. XFE has his own office and I work out of the guest room/office. And the internet is shockingly good out here, thanks to a $31 million federal grant to build out high-speed fiber-optic infrastructure in the entire county in 2010.

The cats love it too. There’s a screened porch for them, plus huge windows throughout that are also close to the ground. Pinot, our older cat with an old back/hip injury really appreciates the lack of stairs.

Cabin cats

We put our offer in on September 2 and after a delay in the appraisal process, we finally closed on October 9, with a move-in date of October 22.

We had hoped to find a cabin that was furnished, but the furniture at the chocolate box did not convey. And, because of the pandemic, we did not want to go into any stores at all.

The solution? We literally bought an entire household online and had it delivered to our city rowhouse. That included furniture for the living room, the dining room, the kitchen (including a 300-pound table), two offices, two mattress sets and all the bedding. Rugs. Artwork. Dishes. Pots and pans. A new grill. New cleaning supplies. New vacuums. New cat stuff (litter boxes, cat towers, scratching posts, food, toys, grooming supplies). Everything was purchased online.

Another wrinkle: the address for the cabin had never been registered with the post office and didn’t show up on most mapping services, such as Google Maps, so we couldn’t risk having things delivered out to the cabin. In fact, we didn’t even have a mailbox. We had to buy one (and a post) and install it ourselves at the end of the road (after we finally got the address registered)

So we had everything delivered to our rowhouse, we moved the furniture close together and piled boxes in every available space, all unopened, until move-in day. We had UPS, FedEx, Amazon Prime and sometimes DHL at our house every day from October 9 (ok, maybe a bit earlier) to October 21. It was insane. Anyone walking by our front windows thought we had turned into some kind of crazy hoarders.

Just a small sampling of the box fort that was our home.

It took the movers about an hour to load everything into the truck and drive it to the cabin. We also rented a small dumpster to dispose of all the boxes and packing materials, which we filled to the brim. In one day. Let’s just say, we do not play around when it comes to unpacking and getting settled in.

Again, just a glimpse of the boxes.

And now, six months later, we’re still out here. We got to experience late fall and watch the leaves changing right from the Adirondack chairs (purchased online) on our front porch. We had Thanksgiving dinner, Christmas tamales, and a million other meals. We’ve gotten tons of snow and even got snowed in (we literally could not drive down the ½ mile gravel road from our house to the main road). Right now, we’re watching the trees start to bud and the hill behind our house is turning green with moss and plants and teeny tiny flowers.

We’ve learned about septic tanks, well water quality, propane maintenance, cast iron gas stoves, what works for fire wood, and all sorts of pests, including woodpeckers, carpenter bees, and yes, country mice. We’ve seen a rafter of turkeys in our driveway, chipmunks darting in and out from under our deck, tons of deer, and even a couple of cows in our front yard one recent morning. And the squirrels here? They’re on steroids. HUGE. Plus they have these black squirrels out here. I’ve only seen one once, but yeah, he was definitely black as night.

We’ve done a ton of household projects and upgrades, and still have more planned.

We bought a wood-fired hot tub and an outdoor gas-fired pizza oven. XFE has become obsessed with trout fishing and I’ve become obsessed with cabin sweaters. We’ve gone on amazing hikes at Lost River State Park, Trout Pond Recreation Area, Short Mountain, Wolf Gap, Seneca Rocks, and Blackwater Falls. One of our most challenging hikes is that roundtrip one-mile trek to the mailbox, which is down-the-mountain on the first leg, but a grueling climb on the way back up.

Eventually, XFE will have to go back into the office and our cabin will likely become the weekend and holidays escape it was intended to be. We just feel lucky to have it and to have had all this time to love it and get to know it. It’s been weird. It’s been wonderful. And it has definitely been an adventure.

By the way: if you are looking for a cabin in West Virginia, I highly recommend our realtor, Kim Eggert at Lost River Living. I found her on Instagram at @lostriverliving and she was fantastic to work with.

Part 1: Holy crap. We bought a cabin.

Hello from the other side, my fellow vaxxed and inoculated pandemic people. We made it. I mean, we’ve still got a ways to go to make sure we reach herd immunity, but there seems to be a very dim light at the end of this long, crap tunnel of death and illness and isolation.

We got our second shot of Moderna about a week ago and while I feel a great deal of relief, I’m definitely not ready to venture out into the world again. My only concession to being inoculated is that I now feel ok going maskless when I go outside to greet our non-vaxxed UPS driver, Mike (he’s got some….theories).

Luckily, I’m in the perfect place to retreat from the world. Because we bought a cabin in the mountains of West Virginia and we’ve been living here full time since late October. (If you follow @thepoelog on Instagram, you already know this)

Our corona cabin on the day we closed in October

It. Is. Crazy. All of it. The fact that we bought a cabin. During a pandemic. In West Virginia. And we’ve been living here. For the past six months. All of it is nuts. Just nuts. I still can’t believe we did it.

Let’s back up a bit and I’ll explain.

Before the pandemic, we used to travel. Like, a lot. Big travel. Big, extravagant, long vacations to places very, very far away a couple-few times a year. We wanted to see as much of the world as we could and we wanted to do it while we were reasonably young and physically able. And I think we both still feel that way.

For the last couple of years, we had taken our spring vacations a bit closer to home, renting AirBnB cabins in North Carolina and focusing on relaxing and hiking. They were great way to unwind and spend time in nature. In fact, we liked them so much, we started talking and daydreaming about buying a vacation place of our own. Someday. Way down the line when we were tired of our international travel.

But when the pandemic hit last March, that was the end of travel for us. For everyone. We cancelled a beach vacation we had scheduled for July in Antigua, and for the first time in a while, we didn’t have anything on the books as far as international travel. 

We were working and living in our 1,200 square foot row house in the middle of our great walkable urban neighborhood and it was fine. Except. Everything we loved about living in that neighborhood was basically gone. We couldn’t walk to shops, restaurants, bars, salons, anywhere because everything was closed. And suddenly, with everyone, all our neighbors working from home as well, it began to feel very crowded.

By the time summer rolled around, we were spending lots of evenings outside on our patio, listening to our neighbors on either side of us, doing the same thing. And we started talking about the cabin dream…..

One of the ones that got away.

Let me just interject here to say: I know that we are incredibly privileged and lucky to even be considering such a thing. A lot of people suffered economically during the pandemic, including people close to me. I’m not insensitive or immune to that reality and my personal privilege. XFE and I were both able to continue to work from home during the pandemic and our financial situation allowed us to do this. Sure, I lost a couple of clients when the pandemic hit, including a big client, but I was able to keep going and find new work from existing clients and even previous clients. I also knew going into the pandemic that I had put aside enough over the years in my savings to cover living expenses for up to a year, even if I lost all of my freelance clients, which I did not.

I had originally (in the back of my mind) planned on maybe buying a vacation place in my home state of Texas. But if the pandemic showed us anything, it was that having to fly to a vacation home might not always be an option.

We thought about North Carolina, which we loved so, so much. But at best, it was a four-hour drive away. We decided we needed something closer, maybe about two hours away so we could take the cats with us as well. That would mean Virginia, Maryland or West Virginia. We knew we wanted something with some land, in the woods (low yard maintenance), near hiking and outdoor activities, that felt safe and private above all else. Oh, and good wifi. Of course.

Another one that got away

We really had our hearts set on the Lost River Valley region of West Virginia, right over the state line. There are a ton of hiking opportunities nearby, a state park and national forests; lakes, streams, rivers for fishing, and a couple of really cute towns (Wardensville and Lost River) that have been built up as tourist destinations by DC transplants. So we started by putting our focus there, but there wasn’t much available.

We began looking in June and it was so stressful. Apparently, a whole lot of DC people had the same brilliant idea as us and everything with land within a two-hour drive was getting snapped up as soon as it went on the market. It was competitive to say the least.

Plus, we just really did not want to go see houses in person. Even with all the precautions. We didn’t attend any open houses, only private showings. We wore masks and insisted the realtors do the same. We opened all the windows and doors and didn’t touch anything. We brought our own lunches and drinks so we didn’t have to stop anywhere and hand sanitized like crazy. I think, all told, we looked at nine houses in person and each time was so stressful.

We put in an offer on a place in Berkeley County, West Virginia—an adorable A-frame with a completely dangerous spiral staircase and no washer/dryer–but backed out after the inspection revealed some serious problems, including foundation. We also put in an offer on a log cabin in Mount Jackson that we weren’t totally in love with the day it came on the market but we got outbid.

So pretty yet so full of problems.

We had put in offers on two houses in our preferred area. We got outbid on one of them. The other house (again, with a totally unworkable spiral staircase we planned to replace) had an even more disastrous inspection than the Berkeley A-frame. In addition to a bunch of other issues, all the pipes in the house were made of polybutylene, a material that was banned in the 1990s and would have to be replaced. The seller didn’t want to budge on the price or any other concessions, so we walked away.   

I’ll leave it there for now and pick up the rest of the hunt in my next post. But, spoiler alert: we did eventually buy a cabin.

Reality TV Time: Escape to the Country

If you are a reasonably cautious person, you are now well into your fifth month of quarantine/self-isolation/stay-at-home/work-from-home-ness. Congratulations on caring not only for your own health, but for your community as a whole.

I’m sure, like most of us, you are hankering for a getaway. Maybe a trip abroad (HA!). Or, slightly more realistically, someplace serene and peaceful, with lots of fresh air and rolling hills dotted with quaint cottages and rustic cabins.

Maybe you yearn to go someplace far from the bustle of urban life full of all these people going out maskless to restaurants and bars and Costco because, in reality, those people are idiots who don’t believe that COVID-19 is real, or at least, not as bad as the media is making it out to be and, goddammit last time they checked, “America was the land of the free and the home of the brave,” and they’re “not going to be told what they can or can’t do,” and by the way, “it’s a proven fact that masks make COVID worse!”

I’m already hyperventilating. I feel you. I, too, wish to escape. In fact, a lot of us do, which has given arise to a whole new, back-to-basics aesthetic trend known as cottagecore.

Along those lines, I have found a (very) safe way to give in to that vibe. Let me introduce you to the quarantine viewing wonder that is the BBC One’s “Escape to the Country.”

There is no coronavirus on “Escape to the Country.” Mostly because the only season we seem to be able to track down is Season 22 on Amazon Prime, and, lucky for us, Season 22 was filmed in the quaint olden times of 2014.

I had read that the show was available on Netflix, but I can’t find even one other season, either there or on our YouTube/Roku TV.

The beauty of this program is that it combines the desire to travel abroad (safely) with the yearning for beautiful, peaceful landscapes. In this case, in England. Without leaving your house.

We’ve been watching Season 22 for the last week or so and let me tell you, my heart swells and my stress melts away just hearing the dulcet string instrument intro and watching the camera pan over hills and valleys and dales before settling on a close up of some yellow flower in the field (Is it a daffodil? I think it is).

Nope. Not a daffodil.

The format is a lot like HGTV’s House Hunters, except, decidedly rural: A couple or family is looking to trade in city life for a slower paced life in the country.

Many of the house hunters on the show are also looking for more independence, and want a property that also presents a business opportunity, like a separate apartment or cottage to rent out.

And, they all want properties that combine character and Old World charm with some modern conveniences.

To me, it sounds like a ridiculously tall order. But, literally, in every episode, our hosts of “Escape to the Country” deliver, offering up two properties that fit the bill (and, unlike many house hunting shows, actually come in around or under the couple’s stated budget).

They also offer up a third “mystery property,” that challenges the home hunters to think outside of the box. Sometimes that’s like, a church conversion, or a huge property with lots of outbuildings and barns waiting to be converted into apartments or rental units, or a miniature airplane modeling and sales studio (that was the stated professional goal of one of the gentlemen house hunters in a recent episode).

After a walk through each property, the house hunters meet up with the host and give their best guesses on how much the property is on the market for. Then the host reveals the actual price, which, again, is usually under budget or very near the top but almost never over.

At the end of two days of looking at the three properties, the house hunters sit down with the host and tell them which property was their favorite and what they’re next steps will be.

The houses are charming and sometimes quirky or historic (I now know exactly what a snug room is and am thisclose to demanding we buy an AGA range), there’s a little local history lesson in each episode, the hosts are gentle, patient and helpful. The cinematography is gorgeous. It’s a great, great show.

My only quibble is that Brits are just too cautious for my taste. They almost never agree to just put an offer in on one of the houses! They always say they’re going to do some more research about the village or the area and visit the property again. Even in instances where they’ve already sold their own city homes and only have like, a month for find something. They’re just so timid!

It is beyond frustrating. My TV co-partner, XFE and I always end up shout incredulously, “But you LOVED the mystery house! It literally had everything you asked for!! And was way under budget!!! What are you waiting for? Get to the estate agent before someone else snatches it up!”

As XFE recently put it, the show should be called “A Chinwag in the Country.”

But it is a really great show that seriously plays into my recent cottagecore/cabin fever feelings. Now if we can just figure out how to get the more recent episodes. I saw on Twitter that one couple with a sizable budget was looking for a country house with a helipad!

Vacationing During the Pandemic

July is traditionally when we take our annual “fly-and-flop” vacation. We usually go somewhere south of the equator (usually an all-inclusive) and lounge around a pool or beach with lots of books and sweet, frozen drinks in hand. We eat lots of salty, buttery seafood with our fingers and wash it down with crisp, cold beers. We sleep late, get massages, wear the same bathing suits, t-shirts and shorts every day, and are just generally lazy and totally checked out.

This year’s July vacation was, understandably, different. But also, in many of the most fundamental and meaningful ways, the same.

We were supposed to be at this place in Antigua. But then…well, we all know what happened.

So we had to switch gears.

Luckily, we had some experience on vacationing during a pandemic. Earlier this year we had reserved a cabin with a hot tub in North Carolina, near Asheville for late March. We had paid a lot of money and the agent/owner seemed reluctant to refund it, so we went (this was pre-state-stay-at-home order days).

Isn’t it gorgeous. The owner sold it right after our stay. Listed for $423,000 and it got SNATCHED up.

We had made a couple of dinner reservations in Asheville, so we cancelled those. Then we loaded up the car with all our own food, drinks, and cleaning supplies, and drove all day to the cabin. When we got there, and before we brought anything in, we opened up all the doors and windows to air the place out and cleaned everything with bleach.

The views were pretty great.

We spent the next week going on long hikes in the state and national forests, reading books and cooking fantastic meals. It was a great break from the craziness and a chance to reconnect and recharge. We came home literally the day after Virginia’s governor announced the stay-at-home order for the state.

When deciding what we wanted to do for our July vacation, we knew two things for sure: we wanted to have a private pool and it needed to be within close driving distance. That’s when my personal travel agent and life partner, XFE found this place in Charlottesville.

Photo courtesy of Stay Charlottesville

I’m not going to lie: it was weird to drive to Charlottesville and not stop at any wineries. We love the wineries on the way down there and I did get a little pang in my heart when we saw the signs for some of them.

But, it is a gorgeous home and we were there the hottest week of the year, so we were very grateful for that pool. We also sat up on the rooftop deck watching the fireflies in the evenings, which was wonderful.

We did the same cleaning protocol as before. And it’s a good thing we did bring all our own cleaning supplies, because while the place is beautifully decorated, it was not the cleanest place we had ever been in. Just one example, we had to throw out the sponge in the sink because it had become a breeding ground for nasty little fruit flies. Luckily, we had a new sponge in our supplies. Also: yes, we did complain to the management company, and yes, we got the cleaning fee refunded.

Always, always, always bring your own bleach wipes (and masks)

Also, the owner did make his presence known: He was there cleaning the pool when we showed up 20 minutes before our check-in time of 4 p.m. And, he dropped by a couple of days later unannounced to skim the pool and top it off. All of which was a little disconcerting and a little less private/hands-off than we would have liked, especially during a pandemic. I get the impression he’s a reluctant renter.

I wouldn’t want to rent out this place either: it’s gorgeous!

We kept the vacation menu very easy: lots of dips, meats, cheeses, crackers and chips, plus hot dogs and sausages on rolls. We also had our traditional seafood, but this time in the form of XFE’s famous shrimp rolls. We brought our own beer and rose, as well as a bunch of fun, canned mixed drinks to drink in the pool, like sangria and Italian margaritas featuring lemoncello.

Our last day of vacation, XFE turned to me and said he thought this vacation was as good as any of our trips to Mexico or other fly-and-flop destinations and I have to agree. We had everything we needed and it served the same purpose – relax, recharge and reconnect with one another. Plus, we didn’t have to fly anywhere, there was no monster seaweed, and nobody had any stomach issues whatsoever. So I guess it’s Corona-Vacations for the win.

RIP Live PD

I don’t think I’m being overly dramatic when I say: It has been a couple of seriously heavy weeks in this country.

And, honestly, I don’t even feel like writing. Literally, the only writing I seem to be able to force myself to do is contractually obligated items with a hard deadline. I’m in awe of everyone who seems to be able to just get on with things.

I don’t really feel like doing anything other than stalking secluded mountaintop chalets on Zillow and then decorating said dream houses in Scandinavian minimalist cabin chic via Pinterest every damn second of the day because I just want to hide far, far away from all the news.

This seems like a safe place to be sad.

But I know that is not helpful or productive.

There is just nothing I can say about the current climate that hasn’t already been said, by those who are far more eloquent than I am. So I’ve been taking the advice to be quiet and listen. Listen to those voices who have stories that have been muted or ignored. Take it in. Reflect on it. Be more than an ally, be an accomplice. Be antiracist. Don’t think I know what others have gone through, because there’s no way I can. Just be proactive, supportive and take action every chance I get.

I grew up, like many people, with a deep-rooted respect for the police. Any figures of authority, really, but especially the police. Unlike the sheriff’s departments, who were the guys that came to serve and carry out eviction notices when the adults in my life didn’t fulfill their rental obligations, the police were the good guys. They were the ones who kept the peace, the ones who came and broke up the domestic disputes, the ones who could throw cold water on a hot situation.

As I got a little bit older, my thoughts about the police changed from one of “They’re the good guys” to “Ehhhh, just don’t mess with the police.” I thought, if you aren’t doing anything wrong, there shouldn’t be any issues. Minimize exposure and no one has any problems, right?

But we all now know: that’s not the case. Even when a Black man, woman or transgender person is complying, there is no escaping deep-rooted, systemic, race-based violence and, possibly, death. It’s just now, there’s phone video to prove it.

When Live PD premiered on A&E in October 2016, we got hooked right away. It became mandatory weekend viewing in our household. We cheered on the good guys (the cops) and laughed at the bad guys (the criminals) and applauded whenever they gave an update on a cold case that had been closed, thanks to the watchful eye and helpful tips of Live PD viewers.

We also noticed that it was formulaic and sometimes, the cops gave Black people a seriously hard time for seemingly minor infractions, while letting white people go with just a warning. Drunk white lady drivers were allowed to yell at police officers who pulled them over while Black people who were just parked outside of a convenience store were searched. The show has been accused and sued over racial profiling.

For this and other reasons, we stopped watching Live PD about a year in. For us, it stopped being entertaining and started being, I don’t know, I guess….disturbing?

I look back on it now and I feel such shame for even watching that show for so long. I actually thought it could be a good thing, showing a good side of cops and how they work in their communities. I was wrong.

We weren’t entirely surprised by the news that the show had been cancelled. But what was (slightly) surprising was this:

“The cancellation also comes after an Austin, Texas, newspaper and television station reported fresh details of the case of Javier Ambler, a black man who died while being arrested by law enforcement in 2019. A camera crew with Live PD was there and recorded footage of the incident.”

Another video of another black man dying at the hands of another police officer in broad daylight in front of witnesses (a camera crew, no less) and no one stepping in to do anything about it.

We have seriously got to do better.

Welcome to the Annex

In the summertime, when we were kids, our mom would kick us out of the trailer and lock the door. She’d leave a big red Igloo water cooler of Kool Aid and a sleeve of saltines on the porch and would tell us to basically entertain ourselves all day – “you kids go play.”

I’ve now experienced the adult version now during this quarantine-work-from-home situation. But first, let me provide some background….

When my loving life partner XFE was told by his employer to work from home in mid-March, it became very clear right away that he would set up camp in the home office (formerly, “my office”).

Former headquarters of Poe Communications

There are a couple of very good reasons for this. First off, he has a very important, high-stress job which requires a non-stop day of conference calls and Zoom meetings with high-powered, demanding clients and his various teams and bosses.

This is quite different from how I run Poe Communications in which I have almost zero vocalic or auditory contact with anyone all day long, and the most stressful situation on any given day is that the cats are fighting right outside the office door while I’m trying to write.

The bosses

Here’s how business goes at Poe Communications:

Email comes in: Hey, can you write/copy edit this 400/800/1200-word article/blog post/white paper? We need it by Friday. The creative brief may/or may not be attached. Let me know if you have any questions. – Signed, Beloved Client

Response via email from me: Sure thing. Sounds great. I’ll get started right away. Thanks. – Signed, Thankful Freelancer

OR

Email goes out: Hi there, I’m a freelance writer and I’m checking in to see if you need any content help. Here’s my experience/a couple of recent links/my short pitch.

Response from potential/current/past client: Sounds great. We’ll be in touch. – Client (Maybe)????

This is apparently NOT how business is conducted in the corporate world. So, XFE definitely needs a dedicated office space with a desk and a door.

Also, he is the undisputed head of our household who is single-handedly keeping us fed and hydrated during quarantine, has steady employment (ie: not the jerky career rollercoaster of freelancing) and makes a hell of a lot more money than me. It was really a no-brainer.

So, I’ve been working downstairs at the dining room table/on the couch, which is honestly fine because it is closer to my beloved Bravo and the kitchen where the snacks and wine reside. But sometimes I really do miss my pretty, little home office. It made me feel so professional and proud. And I loved my chandelier.

This week, we came up with another work from home option for Poe Communications and, thankfully, it does not involve a red water cooler Igloo. Far from it.

Behold: The Poe Communications Annex.

Seen from upstairs window (hence, the screen)

Isn’t it pretty?

We’ve lived in this house for eight years and are just finally buying proper patio furniture. We ordered the set from Overstock last week and it was here by Tuesday. The umbrella stand showed up on Wednesday and we were in business.

We figure we’re going to be spending a lot of time out here in the coming months (we already had to cancel a July trip to Antigua that we had put a deposit down on), so we might as well make it a bit more comfortable.

Plus, I can send and receive all my super-important writing and editing assignments without being interrupted by cat fights. Now if we can just get a TV out here so I can watch Bravo…..

Coronavirus Couture: In Defense of Quarantine Jeans

Hello fellow hunker downers, shut-ins, and just plain ol’ normal, work-from-home freelancers.

I have a question: Why are we mad at pants? And by “we,” I mean collectively as a people and as a country. Is there some conspiracy theory floating around that pants are what caused the coronavirus?

Ummm, not sure about this protest.

I’m not sure whether to believe this source, but something called YouGov recently came out with a poll that found that 47% of Americans working from home aren’t always wearing pants (or other legwear) during their workday.

As if to drill home that data there was this famous incident involving an ABC reporter who reported to remote work on “Good Morning America” in a suit coat, dress shirt but no pants. (He said he was wearing gym shorts for his post-segment workout).

When did we decide pants are optional?

All over Twitter and the Internet people are proclaiming their abhorrence for pants while working from home, with particular vitriol reserved specifically for jeans. As one fellow freelancer (and pro-jeans advocate) put it: “If quarantine has made anything clear, it’s that there are pro-jeans people and anti-jeans people, and rarely do they understand each other.”

I genuinely do not understand the anti-jeans hate. Jeans are as American as baseball, pickup trucks and apple pie. We invented jeans. Jeans are the fabric of our lives (oh wait, that may be cotton, but also, jeans are made of cotton—mostly–so this slogan still applies).

Do you know how many great songs center around jeans? Genuwine sang about “In Those Jeans,” not “In Those Leggings.” Mel McDaniel did not sing “Baby’s Got Her Pajama Bottoms On.” No. He sang about a fine woman in blue jeans. The Donna’s “Dirty Denim” is a lot cooler than “Dirty Sweatpants.”

I’ve been working from home for five years now and I wear pants–specifically, jeans–Every. Damn. Day. I wear them on workdays. I wear them on weekends. It never occurs to me to NOT be wearing pants. Except in the shower or in the pool. All other times are pants time.

Apparently, a lot of people do not find jeans comfortable, which leads me to ask: what denim prison casings have you been wrapping your legs in? Because I have lots of jeans that are comfortable: stretchy skinny jeans, baggy boyfriend jeans, straight legged high waisted jeans, all extremely comfortable.

In fact, I have almost no other pants in my closet, except for jeans. Jeans and a loose, button up shirt is my daily work-from-home uniform. Along with slippers, which is maybe my one casual concession to work from home life. I see no reason to variate because of quarantine.

But honestly, I’m worried about what the rest of America is wearing. I suppose it’s all sweatpants and leggings? Or do y’all really walk around without drawers on whenever you are at home? Was this going on pre-quarantine? Were people going drawerless on the weekends?

All of which is ultimately fine, I guess. You do you, boo. I understand that we’re all just trying to get by as best we can. As for me, I’m going to get try to live as  normal a life as possible, which includes getting up, showering, dressing (in jeans and slippers) and doing something presentable with my hair.

Hair Accessories to Cover the Quarantine Grays (Inspired by Bravo)

As Leslie Jordan of Instagram fame would say: Hello, all you fellow hunker downers.

(I know you’re already following him on Instagram. He’s got 3.5 million followers. But if you’re not, you should. His hot takes on quarantining are gold. Pure, Instagram gold.)

So, it’s getting to be that time. No, not time to begin going to bars, restaurants and bowling alleys again, no matter what various idiots in the government say.

I will not be leaving my house until there is an FDA-approved and completely tested vaccine shot, an at-home antibody test, and a comprehensive contact tracing program up and running. (By the way, where is our Google website directing me to popup testing facilities in the parking lots of WalMart and Walgreens? Huh, JARED??).

Anyway. Sorry to get so political there. I just get so mad.

What I’m actually talking about when I refer to “that time” is that first missed hair appointment. With salons closed across the country, we are all about to have to come to terms with our “natural” hair (likely for the first time in years).

Pretty accurate.

My last hair appointment (single color touchup and a trim) was on March 3 and we went into self-isolation on March 13. I usually have my hair appointment every 7-8 weeks, and my regularly scheduled appointment would have been today.

Obviously, my salon is closed and I wouldn’t go anyway (see above). So, I’ve been having to do some deep soul searching. I’ve been fluctuating from Dora-the-Explorer optimism (“Oh, I wonder just how gray I am under there? Maybe it’s not so bad”) to Bill O-Reilly-Inside Edition-take-charge-meltdown (“F-it, we’ll do it live”).

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I’m definitely not home cutting my own naturally curly hair. I’m pretty sure I’d end up looking like Rosanne Roseannadanna.

However, I might eventually cave in and home color my own naturally gray roots. I have not actually decided yet. I will say, those Madison Reid people appear to be reading my thoughts and are absolutely stalking me with ads on Instagram.

More likely, I’ll embrace a few hair accessories to tide me over until I feel safe to go outside again without dying, so, like 2021 or 2022.

And you know who knows how to work a hair accessory all the live long day? The ladies of the Bravo Universe. Here’s a few Bravo-inspired suggestions I’m thinking of adding to my Sally’s Hair Supply “essential needs” cart.

Turban: I think I actually saw Porsha Williams wearing a gorgeous multi-colored geometric turban on one of the last episodes of this season’s Real Housewives of Atlanta, but the real queen of Turbans on Bravo is none other than the former Shahs of Sunset’s Asa Soltan Rahmati. Paired with an Asa Kaftan and a bottle of healing Diamond Water and you have perfect quarantine couture. Even better if the turban is blinged out.

Wig: Clearly, there are many Bravo celebrities who enjoy a good wig, including every single cast member who has ever appeared on Real Housewives of Atlanta (in fact, several of them have their own wig lines). However, my current favorite wig devotee is Destiney Rose from Shahs of Sunset. Not only does she have a whole slew of them that she wears just for fun (her own hair is gorgeous), but she creates whole personas and back stories for her alter egos in each of the wigs. It’s great fantasy fun for our quarantined times and I am here for it.

Hat: There have been lots of hats in the Bravo Universe, including some really bad cowboy hats in the recent episode of Shahs of Sunset when the crew went to a Boots & Brews music festival. However, the true iconic hat on Bravo has to be my queen, Erika Jayne Girardi’s slicked back hair/Moschino couture confessional LEWK on season 9. (Sheer black swiss dot gloves optional). While I’m not confident it will cover my gray roots, it’s would look great on Zoom.

Headscarf: Real Housewives of Beverly Hill’s Lisa Rinna often dons a bandana on her way to and from workouts, but I’m interested in something much more glamorous. Which is why, once again, I turn to my Destiney Rose from Shahs of Sunset. This light blue silk print number (worn OVER A WIG to a POOL PARTY with a long, FUR-trimmed coat) is amazing. It’s a one-two punch that will definitely cover the grays and the growing out haircut.

So that’s it. A couple of mostly sensible hair accessory options to help tide us over while we all do what is necessary and stay inside.

Reality TV Time: Too Hot to Handle

Whelp, Netflix has done it again. The streaming TV service is legit winning the quarantine game, releasing one splendid, bingeworthy, let’s-forget-what-day-it-is-and-escape-this-hellish-landscape-called-modern-life program after another.

Their latest offering: #THTH, otherwise known as “Too Hot to Handle.”

(I know I said I was going to talk about Tiger King, but honestly, in this fast-paced, binging environment, TK is old news and we have got to get to the hot, new, young disaster programming).

“Too Hot To Handle” is indeed, muy caliente. The dating game/reality series was filmed at a $15,000 a night private resort in Punta Mita, Mexico sometime last year. The show feels very familiar at first: there are 10 very attractive young people (mostly from the UK and the US) with the expected outsized egos (Several of them mention their super attractiveness during their intro reels, as well as the size of their ahem, eggplants. Honestly, you start off hating each and every one of them).

There’s Haley, the sorority girl from Florida, Francesca, an Instagram model from Canada, Chloe, a model from Essex, Rhonda, a restaurant manager from Georgia; Nicole, a social media influencer from Ireland. On the guys side, there’s Sharron, a model/entertainer from New Jersey, David, a nutrition coach from London, Harry, a YouTube “star” from Australia, Matthew, a model from Colorado and Kelz, a football (not soccer, American-style football) player from London.

The whole show has very much got the whole “Love Island” vibe, right down to the soundtrack and even the setting, which is very similar. But unlike Love Island, which clocks in at oh, approximately 40 episodes, each one hour long (not kidding. My reality-TV-life-partner, XFE and I watched all of them over the holidays and it was a project, let me tell you), Too Hot To Handle is just eight sexy, sweaty 40-minute episodes.

THTH is also very reminiscent of that other Netflix gem, “Love Is Blind.” Not because our singles first meet each other by flirting through a frosted wall in a weirdly called, “pod.” But, both shows do push the ridiculous narrative of “forming deeper emotional connections” with members of the opposite sex.

But while Love Is Blind tried to capitalize on the idea of forming a connection based on personality and conversation, not physical attraction, the folks at THTH try to push a deeper emotional connection (PLOT TWIST) by banning sexual activity. No kissing, no putting things in other things, and no self-gratification.

And, because that no sex rule truly seems impossible when you have 10 hot, young horndogs running around in skimpy resort wear for 30 days, the producers had to add an incentive: a $100,000 pot of money. They don’t really outline who will win the money or how, exactly, but they do make it clear that money will be deducted for every indiscretion. Also, neither we, nor the contestants, find out how much will be deducted until an infraction occurs. Which it does, almost immediately.

And the reason we know that is because of an Alexa-like, digital assistant known as Lana who is placed throughout the resort and is basically spying on our hot, young singles. Lana then spills the beans on any infractions — often in graphic detail which for some odd reason was bleeped out — during a nightly gather-around-the-firepit.

The show was actually a very interesting psychological study, because you really did get an idea of how different people are motivated by different things. XFE pointed out that all of the contestants could just agree from the start that they were all going to bonk like little rabbits for the next 30 days on this gorgeous resort and who cares about the money? You basically got a free vacation and nonstop sex.

But they didn’t do that. Some of them (mostly those who weren’t immediately attracted to someone else) really cared a lot about the money and did not want to see the pot dwindle at all. Others, the “rulebreakers” often felt a lot of pressure to not give in because they didn’t want to get grief from the rest of the group. And in a few instances, the rest of the group felt the “rulebreakers” had actually formed a deeper connection by getting physical and therefore agreed that it was ok and probably worth the price.

There are a couple of other hokey, typical dating-show twists thrown in throughout: some self-improvement workshops that are mostly silly, a fantasy suite, a reward system, a couple of attractive “grenades” thrown in to try to shake things up—most of which didn’t necessarily need to happen, but kept the show from getting stale the last couple of episodes.

I think it remains to be seen whether any of the “rulebreaker” couples really did form deeper, more lasting relationships – unlike Love Island and Love Is Blind, there isn’t a reunion episode (but articles can be found all over the Internet). But Too Hot To Handle did help me form a deeper emotional connection with Netflix’s excellent programming choices and made me even more wary of our Google Home devices.  

The Great Coronavirus Novel: Prologue

(blows dust off blog landing page)

This seems like a good time to restart this thing, right?

I mean, after all, we’re all supposed to come out of this quarantine business with having acquired a lucrative side hustle, learned a new foreign language and musical instrument, perfected the art of sourdough bread baking and putting the finishing touches on the next great American novel (according to the inestimable Gwyneth Paltrow).

So, here I am, in the Spirit of Paltrow, taking a very brave and productive step and updating my blog.

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It’s honestly, the very least I can do.

It is a weird time, to put it mildly. For everyone, to be sure. Including (and maybe especially) for freelancers and independent contractors. I know lots of fellow freelance writers whose work totally dried up, right away. Others who have stayed pretty busy. And then the third group, which had a bit of a bump and then a slow phase-out of work (this is definitely me). I get it. Believe me. I’m not here to make the argument that freelance writers are “essential.”

The weirdest part, I suppose, is that quarantine is not really a big difference from my normal day. For the past five years as a freelancer, I’ve been mostly a homebody. I have a home office (and an espresso machine) so I really don’t go out much. A big week would include a couple of trips to the grocery stores, the occasional lunch out, yoga class at the neighborhood studio, or a pickup or drop off at the dry cleaner (all just blocks from my house). Maybe if it was a really busy week, I’d have an appointment at the dentist, doctor or hairdresser (two of these providers are within walking distance of my house).

I would estimate that before quarantine, I spent 90% of my time at home. So having to just “Stay Home,” isn’t really a big switch up for me. In fact, I’m a big supporter of quarantine. I started quarantining before quarantining was even cool.

But what is a big switch up is how the rest of the world (and work) is shutting down. At least for me (and approximately 16 million other Americans—and counting). So while I still feel like it’s “business as usual,” my clients definitely do not. One of them is involved in the travel sector, so…..that’s pretty understandable. Another is involved in retail. They’re proceeding with caution and tightening the purse strings for now, which is relatable. Another client is a service provider for meetings and events. A bit difficult for them to pivot right now.

And I know that I am one of the lucky ones. I still have a trickle of work, I have plenty of savings, I have a roof over my head, and food in my fridge (thanks to the tireless efforts of my non-husband, XFE, who spends a good chunk of his time tracking down and figuring out who can deliver what food and essential items to our house on any given day. And then does most of the meal planning/cooking).  

But it all feels weird. For everyone. I know.

So, in an effort to stay busy and get back to something normal and distract myself from this “new” normal, I’m dusting off the ol’ blog. We should definitely start with some reality show recaps. Maybe “Tiger King?” Because you know I have thoughts.