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Full Disclosure: Culinary Tendinitis

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As a self-appointed expert on unknown medical conditions, I would like to shed light on an affliction that has impaired my ability to function as a home chef. 

I am not-so-quietly suffering from Culinary Tendinitis. In layman’s terms, it’s the overuse of one’s culinary skills during a pandemic, resulting in a lack of inspiration to prepare food for more than zero people. It’s a battle, and my family is trying to be supportive, but they are constantly hungry and wondering when I am going to pull it together. After a year of excessive, never-ending meal planning, I am having difficulty conceiving of and executing appealing entrees. No one seems inspired by my new recipe suggestions or jazzed by ‘80s throwback ideas, like Shake ‘n Bake.

Full Disclosure

Full Disclosure: Tell Me When It’s Over

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I suppose that at a certain point during a global pandemic everyone gets a little fed up. So, for the record, I am about five months past “fed up” and one month beyond the point of “over it.” Shouldn’t we have turned the corner by now? 

In fairness, pandemic pundits did warn us that this winter was going to be brutal. 

I wasn’t prepared for them to be right. 

The emergence of super-strain variants and the literal doubling-down on mask wearing has thrown me for a loop. Did anyone see the multiple mask wearing movement coming? I could have been blown over by a concealed sneeze when health officials recommended wearing two face coverings and urged for even more restrictive social distancing measures. Of these two safety revelations, I am most troubled by the concept of wearing doubled-up masks—it seems like a new low. 

On the flip side, I’ve got the socially distant thing totally nailed. 

Maybe it’s just the winter blues, but the “bad news bar” has been lowered so consistently that I shouldn’t be shocked anymore when I am expected to shimmy underneath it with the grace of a contortionist.

Full Disclosure

Full Disclosure: A Sign from Above

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This may be the only January during which I do not repeatedly write last year’s date on all outgoing checks and permission slips. There will be no need to cross out ‘2020,’ because I am ready to move on. Though my family has been fortunate to avoid contracting coronavirus thus far, there were approximately seven to 25 different occasions (dating back to November of 2019) when I was convinced we had it. The paranoid hypochondriac in me has been working in overdrive for far too long, wreaking havoc on my cortisol levels. My “fight or flight” reactions are completely fried, since the option to flee anywhere has been a no-go. 

This seems like a small price to pay for getting through last year mostly unscathed, though I suspected 2020 still had something up its sleeve for me as we rounded out this turbulent year.

Full Disclosure

Full Disclosure: Finding Joy

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As a topsy-turvy 2020 wraps up and the holidays come into full view, I am embracing some of the simplicity that the pandemic has forced on us. 

With fewer distractions and another abrupt halt to sports and socializing, my focus will be redirected to things that bring more joy and less aggravation. 

I refuse to get wrapped up in self-inflicted Christmas mania and have made the executive decision not to commemorate 2020 with a holiday card. I will not give 2020, the “middle child” of years, the attention it desperately wants. 

And just like that, I feel relief. 

A major headache will be avoided trying to find the perfect family photo—one that has been actively withheld from social media and safeguarded for a perfectly timed debut. I can now save myself from reviewing 365 days of unflattering iPhone images in the hopes of finding one that conveys familial bliss, whilst I lovingly use my children as human shields to combat unflattering angles. 

No such luck. 

And forget creating an idyllic holiday visual now—a bloodsport in New Canaan that I will gladly sidestep. On one recent afternoon, when the light was just so, I passed through Waveny during peak “shooting season” and, man, it was a revelation. Perfectly coiffed and color-coordinated families spread throughout the great lawn as professional photographers snapped away, using puppets, horns, balloons and whistles to attract the gazes of attention-deficient subjects and wayward toddlers.

Full Disclosure

Full Disclosure: Turf War

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So, that was Halloween. Meh. I was expecting a bit more excitement for top-billing on a Saturday night, a Blue Moon and a bonus hour to sleep off my sugar hangover. Clearly, I was not fully prepared for this year’s low-key Halloween. 

If I had to assign blame for over-hyping last weekend’s festivities, I would point my finger squarely at the insane number of squirrels that have been celebrating Halloween on my front doorstep for weeks. Exploding out of quarantine in record numbers and with an unrelenting appetite for destruction, my furry frenemies have been rubbing their Halloween fun in my face for a month now. 

In early October, I purchased six overpriced, but locally sourced, pumpkins that perfectly expressed my positive, and hopeful, fall holiday vibes.