When the author held her birthday party at Los Arroyos Restaurant in Montecito in early March, little did she know how much a part of her life the Lysol Disinfecting Wipes were about to become. 
The author has been passing the time reflecting with Hardy, her 2½-year-old long-haired dachshund. 
Solitary walks on the beach help pass the time. 
Coronavirus pandemic or not, we can still take comfort in Santa Barbara County’s breathtaking views.
In early March, I celebrated a milestone birthday with a gaggle of women friends at Los Arroyos Mexican Restaurant in Montecito.
With much trepidation about the new decade upon me, I decided I would face it head-on with great food, margaritas and a lineup of friends who have filled my life with shared camaraderie sine 1988 when I moved to Santa Barbara from Los Angeles.
The birthday bash was everything I had hoped it would be: a stand-around cocktail party, hors d’oeuvres, flowers by Hogue & Co., music and the high lilt of voices reminiscing. It was the great 2020 girlfriend reunion.
The coronavirus was starting to spread worldwide so I brought Lysol Disinfecting Wipes and placed them next to the guest book. It was more of a courtesy than an prescient harbinger of things to come.
The weekend of festivities continued with a romantic Friday night dinner at San Ysidro Ranch and, on Saturday, another memorable evening with two of my three adult children (daughter Lizzy was in Chicago but not for long) and their spouses at Lucky’s Steakhouse.
A Sunday brunch with my Los Angeles sister, nieces and great nieces was followed by cupcakes with my beloved granddaughters. Then I wrote thank-you notes.
I was full, happy and content. Being surrounded by my posse and family assured me that I “looked good for my age” (a cliché I hate) and could do this aging thing with much ahead to look forward to.
One month seems so long ago now, doesn’t it?
Being an experiential writer for most of my life, I’ve been asked how I spend my days during the stay-at-home order and have I been writing? With all that is going on outside my control, the answer is no.
The last time I had such an emotional block was during the Thomas Fire, the deadly Montecito flash flooding and debris flows, and the aftermath of those twin disasters.
Once again, I’ve become a prisoner in my own home with my dog and my daughter, Lizzy. I have been ruminating on the then and the now, and this global COVID-19 pandemic has me seemingly worrying bout everything.
This time I’m experiencing a restlessness and a loneliness for my family and friends, and the lost lives and horror stories of others all over the world.
I find myself glued to the news and the roller-coaster ride of emotions each update brings. I try to find that middle ground of staying informed but not overwhelmed. I’ll admit I’m not doing well.
I’m on several email threads with friends, forwarding some of the most creative and funniest jokes and even Broadway musicals. That helps, as does a Zoom exercise class.
There is an exhaustive volume of shared stories about how lack of personal maintenance — for women, especially — has us glad we are in hiding, as well as tales of strange eating habits that evoke memories of pregnant cravings.
This week is Holy Week for the Christian community and Passover for the Jewish community. We can all make a mental list of things to be grateful for and appreciate our frontline caretakers.
Overcoming adversity is the backbone of many of the world’s religions. Whether you are faith-based or family/friend-based, we know this pandemic eventually will end.
Although our resolve and tenacity have been tested, we will win and resume life. It will not be as we knew it, but for now it is as the late Tom Petty immortalized, “waiting is the hardest part.”
— Judy Foreman is a Noozhawk columnist and longtime local writer and lifestyles observer. She can be contacted at news@noozhawk.com. Click here for previous columns. The opinions expressed are her own.
(tompetty video)