I took a four year hiatus from blogging, but these are trying times, folks. I'm here to bring you real, endearing, and sanity saving stories from the 2020 lock-in.
Some days, I barely survive. Other days, I'm crazy awesome.
Yoy is my husband's nickname, so naturally, I'm Mrs. Yoy.
Mrs. Yoy: Fan Girl
Dear Mindy Kaling,
I haven't written a piece of fan mail since the 1980s when David Hasselhoff and KITT ruled TV, but I'm feeling very inspired.
I'm sure you get loads of fan mail from girls proposing best friendship. I am not one of them. I had a best friend and she was the bee's knees. She wore funky glasses and kicked ass as an architect.
She passed away last week at the age of 39 after a two year battle with a very aggressive form of brain cancer.
I'm not trying to bum you out. I just wanted to thank you.
You see, me and my best friend would cuddle up on our couches to watch The Mindy Project together. And even though we were separated by over 600 miles, it was like she was right there with me. I'd pick up the phone and call her to repeat some insane Dr. Lahiri line. (We especially enjoyed the Jewish summer camp intro, as two former campers.) And later, when she lost the ability to talk, I'd text her. And I'd get an LOL right back.
For those thirty minutes we forgot about the chemo and the scary prognosis, and laughed our asses off. We could just be us again. And I will be forever grateful to you, the actors, the writers, and especially the costume designer, who dresses you oh-so fabulously.
I'm not sure if you'll ever read this, I just wanted to put it out there into the universe.
P.S. The Hoff sent me back an 8x10 signed photo of him laying atop KITT in an awkward/sexy pose which was pretty much the best thing ever. In case you were wondering...
I bet you didn't expect to hear from me... At 8:45AM this morning, I had a very worried child wake me up. He was ultra concerned that we were not yet up. How were we going to stick to the schedule I had printed out? The schedule I printed out in attempt to convince myself that this homeschooling/quarantine would not be the dumpster fire, that deep down, I knew it would be. I don't normally sleep this late, I promise. But Mr. Yoy and I were up extra late last night, finishing off the Hunters. I fell asleep around 2AM. I checked my phone and I had a very special message from a very special lady requesting I resuscitate the Mrs. Yoy blog, at least for the time that we are locked in, as she needed some laughs. So here I am. It's a little after 6:30PM. No one in my house has died and I feel like I need some praise and validation. The morning wasn't so zen. 9AM was P.E. time per Little E and his militant schedule, so we went out for a walk/bike ride. We came back
I opened my eyes and had a moment that I thought I had overslept. That one second of panic that pumps your adrenaline so hard, you could flip a car. The sunlight that was beginning to creep into our bedroom had fooled me. Moments later, Little E, the schedule sergeant, bounded in to inform me we had to get up and go on our morning walk. Today I was a little more enthusiastic as I craved the fresh air. I threw on my quarantine uniform, leggings and a sweatshirt and met Little E in the hall. He had put on his full camouflage outfit, vest and sweatpants, and I had put on my camouflage sweatshirt. We perfectly coordinated, but didn't match, like early 2000s Destiny's child, but without the singing talent. We are the Jewish Duck Dynasty After our walk, the teachers' emails came flooding in with their real assignments. Phew. Tangible work. I was getting worried that I'd have two homeschool dropouts. I set them up at the kitchen island to work and that las
Day 65. I first want to say Happy Birthday to my best friend who would have been 44 today. I found a funny email exchange we had with each other back when we both first had our babies and had zero clue as to what we were doing. DOES THIS THING COME WITH AN OWNER'S MANUAL? The buildup has been immense, but this was the actual last day of school here in Cobb. Big E had his final Zoom call with his class. His teacher put together a video of them with baby pictures mixed in with their current pictures and I stood over Big E's shoulder and watched and silently cried. I left to grab a tissue and returned to watch the whole 5th grade video with photos of them starting as babies in Kindergarten and now as 5th graders. Again, I stood over Big E's shoulder and silently cried. He turned to look at me. I tried to play it cool. YOU CAN LEAVE NOW. Normally that would have hurt my feelings, but I'm so raw from everything, that I just numbly walked away to clean up