chocolate will save the day

Sitting on the deck in the hot sun - a heavenly day. And I'm wearing jeans, aka hard pants, and underneath my t-shirt an actual brassiere, because I'm a respectable grownup woman. Occasionally. Earlier this morning, I ordered $130 worth of dark chocolate to be delivered from two local chocolatiers - Soul, a tiny place just down the street on Gerrard, and Rheo Thompson in Stratford. If I were forced to choose between dark chocolate, peanut butter, and red wine - I'd have to shoot myself before deciding.

That much chocolate should keep me going for a few days.

Today's adventure: riding my bike to University Avenue, in the heart of the financial district, to leave my tax forms for my friend John, one of the nicest guys I know, Vice President of a big finance firm who years ago offered to do my taxes for free. He has done so every year, and then Sam's as well. I'm not sure why we deserve this kindness; I know he does the taxes for his extended family, but us too? Of course, Sam did create a special cocktail for him called the Taxman, and offered to create another, the Rebate.

Downtown is a desert, a ghost town - almost no cars, air clean, quiet, John's 14-story office building empty except for a cleaner and a receptionist. I've never had such an easy time on the bike, never been more grateful for my trusty steed, the best way to get around. Never more grateful for my garden, my house and friends. That my family is healthy on the other side of town.

A superb article by the invaluable Bruce Arthur in the Star today, about "America's radioactive instability" - "And above it all, above the 40 years of anti-government, anti-science, anti-working-class, anti-poor, anti-public state - it is obvious to anybody who watches Donald Trump for 5 minutes that he is essentially a wicked, lying child who bluffed his way into being in charge of an aircraft carrier and has no idea what to do now." It ends, "We all know it's going to get worse, south of us. We remain locked in a cage with a feverish gorilla, and it's getting sicker by the day."

Much discussion among friends - will we learn anything from this? Will our new appreciation not just of clean air and water, but strong government intervention, carry over when this ends? Or will we just go right back to where we were, heedless of the planet and each other?

Last night, My Brilliant Friend. It's slow, an intricate deconstruction of these two young women and their world. Fascinating, extraordinary actors, and Italy. A healthy Italy.

How I would like a haircut. How I miss visiting my family, the Y, Doubletake. But now I'm going down the street to buy a pot of tulips. Just had a talk with Jean-Marc, I on the sidewalk, he on his steps. He thinks I'm far too careless, even to go to Monique's deck for a six foot apart aperitif. He hardly touches anything. I understand. But I think I'm careful without being overly fearful. Will I regret this?

Was just looking back at last month, how fast things changed - one advantage of a blog. This is March 1. Move apart! I want to shout. Danger! Danger!

People are leaving helpful messages all over the place.