{"id":36407,"date":"2022-09-10T00:01:24","date_gmt":"2022-09-10T07:01:24","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/barbarafalconernewhall.com\/?p=36407"},"modified":"2026-06-06T06:31:55","modified_gmt":"2026-06-06T06:31:55","slug":"covid-birthday-party","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/covid-birthday-party\/","title":{"rendered":"My Covid Birthday Party — One Guest and a Slice of Cheesecake"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"covid-birthday-party\"<\/a>
I celebrated my covid birthday party with son Peter and a slice of cheesecake — outdoors and socially distanced. Photo by Barbara Newhall<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Eighty-one years on the planet calls for a celebration, and son Peter was happy to oblige. He came by with a slice of cheesecake and we had ourselves a covid birthday party — just the two of us.\u00a0Outdoors and socially distanced.<\/p>\n

Seventeen days in, covid and I are still keeping uneasy company. I don’t feel dreadful, not at all, but this bout with what is probably an Omicron variant is getting old. I’ve been isolating on and off since that first telltale<\/a> sore throat way back on August 31.<\/p>\n

A round of Paxlovid early on helped — until it didn’t. On the thirteenth day, symptoms returned and CDC guidelines<\/a> sent me back into isolation.<\/p>\n

So here I am, my covid birthday party behind me, feeling not bad at all. Loafing. Changing out of my pajamas just in time for lunch, talking on the phone with friends, and binge-watching “Call the Midwife” and the Queen Elizabeth coverage from London.<\/p>\n

Low on energy and ambition as I am, I was amused last week to come across an old San Francisco Chronicle story I wrote back in 1979. Apparently I once had the wherewithal to jump into a tank of frigid water with a killer whale.<\/em><\/p>\n

I Can’t Believe I Got in the Water With That 1400-Pound Whale<\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n