“Remoted” – Day 76 (Sunday)

Omelette fail.

Today involved minimal activity. Drank coffee and read indoors because it was chilly on the porch. Did a load of laundry so there are clean pants for the week, even though there is a high likelihood of wearing the same pair every day (again). Finished the jigsaw puzzle with all the chickens and quotes about chickens (there are some beautiful chickens!). Dined on scrambled eggs with veggies and cheese (it was supposed to be an omelette, but it went a little sideways) and later in the day, more veggies. Ate too much ice cream (at least twice). 

The lawn was mowed yesterday to leave today free of yard chores and the yard waste barrel is ready for Monday’s pickup. The faux grass grows fast, and the raked up clippings fill the barrel. The back yard had scatterings of little yellow flowers which were impossible to avoid with the lawn mower and then I felt bad for robbing the bees. The box of wildflower seed mix, which has sat on the kitchen table for several weeks, was never planted. Usually I get plants around Memorial Day, but this year I haven’t gone out and the flower pots are empty. I really need to order some plants.

Successful mixed veggies.

A small farming experiment is taking place in the kitchen by way of an attempt at rooting some herbs. A recent Whole Foods order included what was listed as “basil plant” and is actually about a dozen plants in the pot which will be replanted into a couple pots. Another order included “fresh mint” which was a large bouquet of mint. Some has been dried, some will be frozen, and some is sitting in water to root. The produce delivery for this week includes Rosemary, which will also be rooted and planted. A carrot in the fridge started sprouting roots, and a potato has eyes, so these will go into the currently plant-free deck planter to see what happens. The past two summers were disasters for me with tomatoes, so I’m taking a break from that flavor of disappointment this year. 

The computer was untouched most of the day to avoid seeing news stories. I can’t process the depth and magnitude of recent and current events in the country, so I'm taking the news in measured doses. It hurts my head and my heart and makes me cry, so today the focus was books, puzzles, and Netflix shows to keep from having a total meltdown, with news in small amounts around the edges. The workweek should be easier with work for most of the day and news allowed in around the edges.

“Remoted” – Day 75 (Saturday)

The flora is beginning to bloom. 

Rhododendron.

The Lily of the Valley flowered during the week. The Rhododendron is loaded with buds and beginning to blossom. Today there was an open blossom and dozens of buds on the Rose bush that grows out of control in the front yard. It used to be supported by a fence post, but that was mowed down by a vehicle over a year ago. Last year the Rose bush had few blooms and in the fall, after the string that contained it broke, I cut a lot of the lanky branches off. Maybe that helped all the buds this year, because it is really full. There are still long branches that have crept out to the street and into the yard, so today I attempted to tie it. Of course, there is no string in the house, so I ended up using gift ribbon which may not be the best for durability, but at least it’s more contained for now and I was able to mow under it tonight. 

The problem with me and Roses is I have no idea how to take care of them. I’ve considered just digging the plant out so I don’t have to deal with it any more, but then I start (over)thinking. First, I don’t have a shovel, but that’s easy to fix at my neighborhood hardware store. But what would I do with the plant after it’s out? And what about the hole that remains? I need to figure something out before a new fence goes it, but there is nothing scheduled yet, so there is some time.

Then I start thinking about the plant itself. Maybe this was a gift that was once important to a former resident but they weren’t able to take it when they left. That shifts to thinking about the many plants I’ve been gifted by friends over the years that were planted and loved at former homes but not possible to dig up and take with me when I left. That makes me sad. Perhaps I am too sentimental when it comes to things. I have a lot of “stuff” that remains in my life because it came from a certain person or is linked to a memory.

Today, after the wind blew.

Yesterday's Irises.

Yesterday, the view from the desk was of one Iris bloom on a stem with several buds, and today there were five open blooms between two stems. Unfortunately, the steady breezes that blew all morning and made for incredibly comfortable weather bent the glorious stems over so they were on the ground in a matter of hours. So sad. I ended up cutting them and bringing them inside where it turned out there is not an appropriately sized vase to properly show then off. 

“Remoted” – Workday 56 / Day 74 (Friday)

For the third time in a week, the air at the BungaLowell was abuzz. It started on the long holiday/staycation weekend, but it’s hard to pinpoint. The first of something isn’t always notable until later when piecing together a string of events.

On the Memorial Day weekend, there was a wasp buzzing around the double crank-out window over the sink. It clearly wanted to be out, about as much as I wanted it out. The screens on the crank-outs cover the full size of the window, are lightweight and easy to handle, and pull inward to remove completely. When the wasp was on the right  window, the screen was removed on the left window and after a few minutes it found its way out. The problems for both creatures was solved with minimal stress, no stings, no death, and no guilt.

During the week, there was a wasp flying around the office window where the desk sits. The desk is just deep enough and wide enough to make raising the bottom window a bit of a stretch. Lowering the top window, which would provide instant outside access for a flying critter walking on it is nearly impossible with the added stress of a potential sting and my short arms with the strength of ramen noodles. The bottom window was raised, and an attempt made to raise the screen to create an exit, but the screen release was stuck. The wasp ended up on the screen and the window was closed. Despite my good intentions, it spent the rest of its life trapped there. With time to study it safely from the other side of the glass, I now fully understand the inspiration of the wasp-waisted fashions popular way back in the late 1800s.

As I arrived at my desk at 8:25 a.m. this morning, once again, there was a wasp walking on the window by the desk. There is no clue as to where they are entering from, but the wasp situation has started to feel like a real problem. While the wasp was at the top of the window, the bottom window was raised and the screen successfully raised several inches providing a clear exit. The previous wasp and two deceased flies were blown to the outside world by my coffee scented breath. Today’s wasp walked down the window almost all the way to freedom, before turning and going back to the top, then flying around the office and into the kitchen. As it buzzed around, I opened the door and tried to will it outside. No luck.

While I was trying to mentally coax a wasp onto the flight path out the door, another wasp guest arrived in the office, either through the now open door, the open window with the raised screen, or whatever secret passageway they seem to have. Soon, there was a wasp walking the window in front of the desk, another on the window behind the desk, and a third flying outside the door as if waiting to be let into the party. What the heck?

Stress was mounting. It was hard to get much work done while tracking the location of various wasps and trying to figure out how to get them out. I considered spraying them with some White Rain Hairspray left over from an 80s-themed event a few years ago, but I didn’t want to be cleaning hairspray off everything. The screen was lowered again lest I end up inadvertently hosting a full blown wasp convention.

A wasp on each side of the glass.
At least only one could get me. 

Eventually, one ended up trapped between the screen and window. The other was touring each of the four office windows and reclining in the draped folds of the marigold dance veil serving as a curtain on a double window. It even walked around on the rug where I unsuccessfully tried to roll the chair over it before it retreated back to the window fabric. 

Finally, around 1:30, it went back to the floor and ultimately ended up smashed by my shoe. Despite humane intentions, multiple counts of wasp murder are on my conscience. Not cool. There will probably be nightmares involving wasp revenge tonight.

“Remoted” – Workday 55 / Day 73 (Thursday)

Today's weather was cloudy, breezy, and comfortable all day. To shake things up this morning, coffee was taken to the deck, but it was a smidge to cool out there for me, so the newly curtained front porch was  the coffee-time winner. Finally.

Two or three summers ago I sat out there fairly regularly with coffee and a book in the mornings before leaving for work. It stopped being fun when the guy next door’s dad would arrive to pick him up for work. No matter what time dad arrived, the kid was never ready, and dad would call on his cell phone and yell, knock on the door and yell, sometimes go inside the house and really yell, then wait in his big black pickup truck with the engine idling outside my porch window for 15 to 30 minutes. After too many mornings of shattered tranquility, defeat was accepted and I just stayed inside.

New morning coffee spot. 

This morning, instead of sitting on the couch with coffee and a laptop, I was on my porch with coffee and a book (A Thousand Splendid Suns). There is a glider swing on the porch that my sister got from Whalom Park (For a Whale of a Time!) after the park closed. The dogs joined me on the glider swing and it was everything I wanted. The sheer curtains hung last weekend look nicer than I thought they would, the dogs were content, the book is good, the coffee was tasty, and there was nothing but the sound of chirping birds outside. 

It felt like pleasant vacation moments throughout my life, and the best part was that I was home and hadn’t needed to spend time and money traveling somewhere else to enjoy it. I told a colleague today that one of the things I like best about working from home is that I finally feel like I’m getting my mortgage money’s worth being home during my quality awake time instead of just for supper and sleeping.

There are other benefits to working from home. It’s great not planning, packing, and carrying lunch somewhere. At lunchtime, I open the refrigerator, grab some stuff, and have lunch on a plate instead of from a microwave safe storage container. Today’s lunch was broccoli and cauliflower salad leftover from last night and onion rings left from the seafood delivery order on Sunday. The salad was even better today, as the flavors had melded overnight. The onion rings, reheated in one dark toast cycle in the toaster oven, were nice and crisp.

Somebody's watching 

While eating at my desk (despite having a kitchen table and a dining room table - some habits are hard to break), there was the all too familiar feeling of being observed. Sure enough, my constant companions, my canine overlords were now sitting nearby, intently staring at me. Unbeknownst to them, they would get none of this lunch. Onions? Bad for dogs, more for me. Raisins in the salad? Bad for dogs, more for me. 

Sometimes I feel guilty not giving those sweet little faces what they want, but fear not, it is always made up for eventually. They may have been denied my lunch, but while making tonight’s dinner, they were the beneficiaries of things they love – cucumber peels and slices, carrot coins, and broccoli and cauliflower stems. Supper was originally intended to be a simple tomato and mushroom saute for pasta, but the first thing cut was a roma tomato from last week’s produce box. It was the sexiest, lushest, most perfectly ripe tomato since last summer. It was a temptation to just eat the whole tomato on the spot. Control won out and there was a sudden decision to have a massive salad instead. And it was good. Life is good.

“Remoted” – Workday 54 / Day 72 (Wednesday)

The temps were on the warmer side again today (high of 89? not sure), but windows were open, it was breezy, and  it was comfortable inside the house. Once it hits about 5:30 or 6:00, the house starts to feel stuffy and it’s time for the ceiling fans go on. Upstairs is another story. It’s usually stuffy up there all summer and thank goodness for the ceiling fans. I’m replaying last year’s game of “how long can I go before turning on the air conditioning?” Last summer was a triumph of successful temperature control using strategic window openings and ceiling fan use, and the electric bill was about half the cost of the previous year when the A/C went on and stayed on.

Overall the day was pretty good. Work was busy. Multiple balls in the air, hopping busy most of the day. Around 3:30, while trying to finish some things that needed resolution by the end of the day, my end of the street was suddenly serenaded by the exploding sounds of rap music booming from the party house across the street. Clearly, the neighbors of the year were kicking off today’s chapter of the pool party without end. After work, I went out to the deck to sit in the sun and read, my new evening pleasure, but the music was so loud I had to go inside after about four pages.

As usual, the party cars were double-parked in the street. Yesterday’s party started in the late afternoon and ran loud and steady until 11 p.m. when the music was finally turned down. The long and rowdy goodbyes in the street commenced around 11:45.

Healthy stress eating.

It might be time to rally all the other neighbors who actually work during the day, (try to) sleep at night, and miss the peace and quiet we used to enjoy on the once-tranquil street. Maybe we could hold a breakfast party around 6 a.m. It will need to be loud with music that is suitably annoying to the targeted residence. What is is the opposite of swear-laden rap? Or an untrained musician pot and pan concert ? Suggestions of specific music selections and loans of instruments (the louder the better) and amplification equipment are welcome.

In violation of my one, usually simple to follow diet rule of no food after 7 p.m., some stress eating took place at 8:00. At least it was on the healthier side of stress eating. Even though there are Doritos and potato chips in the house, the snack of choice was the remainder of the mango salsa made yesterday. Surprised the heck out of me. The recent tendency has been salty snacks or peanut butter crackers, mostly because there hasn’t been any chocolate in the house for several weeks. 

“Remoted” – Workday 53 / Day 71 (Tuesday)

Tuesday after a holiday always feels like a Monday and is almost always a confusing launch into the workweek. A Tuesday after a holiday that starts with an 8 a.m. doctor’s appointment is probably the dumbest scheduling ever.  Routine stuff is rarely a big deal, but this appointment felt stressful. It was originally scheduled for the week after being remoted, was changed for several weeks later, and then again. That’s when I realized the dreadful timing.

This being only the third trip out of the house since March 16, and after having a couple dreams about going out into society and making every physical distancing mistake possible, there were some nerves involved with this trip out. In addition to the actual society stuff, I also didn’t know if my downtown garage pass would work. The Bank’s parking lot, located spitting distance from the doctor’s office, seemed like a possibility, but when I got there, the street on one side of the bank was partially closed with a police officer posted. The street at the other end of the block had workers and equipment and more equipment moving in and out of the alley that feeds into the parking lot.

There was plenty of open parking at the metered spots on the street so I parked in one conveniently located near a parking pay station. It wouldn’t let me input the parking spot info or the $1.50 per hour payment. Following the instructions, I tried another machine which also did not accept info or payment. The signage said parking is enforced 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. so maybe that was the problem. The machine also informed that there is a payment app that can be downloaded, but my phone has been temperamental and space is limited. There are already 119 apps on my phone because a bunch come preloaded and can’t seem to be removed, and every single organization I transact with has an app. It was a calculated risk, but there was now only five minutes to get to my appointment, no time to wait until 8:00 to see if the machines would magically work, or look for a third machine, and I speedwalked to the appointment because I hate being late.

Upon arrival, there were four women standing on the sidewalk blocking the entrance and all the informational signs. I thought it might be a line, but it turned out they were just having a conversation. One of them hit the handicap button with her elbow and opened the door for me. After checking in, the appointment opened with a tech having computer login issues in one exam room, a relocation to a different room and more login issues with my practitioner. It was a day for tiny tech challenges all around. Then there was what felt like a long wait in the exam room freezing while wearing a paper top with another giant paper towel across my lap.

There was a shot, then a wait for the lab with three people ahead of me. Finally it was my turn, then I was one vial down on blood and had gained a huge headache, most likely from not having had coffee or any breakfast yet. 

Machine not working
 = expensive ticket.

Back at the car, 1.5 hours later, there was a $25 parking ticket on the windshield, issued 14 minutes earlier. This definitely didn’t help the headache. Super annoying stupid crap. 

The headache lasted all day and into the night even after coffee, food, and several large glasses of water. The shot made my arm hurt and could also cause flu-like symptoms like a fever and achiness. There is definitely no fever as the house is 81 degrees and I’m cold. Which begs the question, what the hell is the magical temperature on this earth where I am not cold? Is it hell? I really need to know.

“Remoted” – Workday 53 / Day 70 (Monday)

This was a confusing day. I kept thinking it was Sunday. Four days of mini-staycation with no plan wasn’t boring for one single second, it was just a bit confusing keeping track of the days. I really need to block out a longer chunk of time to see how long it takes before I go crazy with no obligations and no plan. Mom says the stretch of days with no plan describes her life in retirement. If that is what it’s like, I’m going to own that lifestage. Stay at Home doesn’t count for my boredom study, as working Monday through Friday working has kept the same schedule as working downtown. There is no leisure time during the day, it’s a straight eight hours (or more) of working. Maybe I’m doing it wrong.

Today started out chilly, so coffee was in front of the TV instead of out on the newly curtained porch. Mom called and it was nice talking with her. Did laundry. Read. Washed dishes. Hovered over Moose much of the day like a true (s)mother. He’s being weird again with the eating/not eating. Yesterday he skipped his supper and the real shocker, wasn’t interested in treats and barely barked. He slept and snored all day, and it was bad enough that I was trying to determine if was “just” snoring or a breathing issue that warrants a call to the vet. Today he ate breakfast and slept a lot during the day, but with no snoring. When he was awake he seemed peppier. He wasn’t thrilled with supper, so I set it aside and a couple hours later he stood in front of me staring and barking, then led me to the shelf where his supper sat. But His Royal Highness would only eat it if I hand fed him, one piece of kibble at a time. I am an obedient servant.

Shrimp and stuff
with angel hair.

My own supper was a tasty dish using the leftover shrimp extracted from last night’s baked seafood dinner delivery and cut and tossed with sauteed mushrooms, green pepper, fresh roma tomato, and garlic, with a dash of creamer (more precisely, four Land O’Lakes Mini Moo’s coffee creamers) mixed with angel hair and topped with parmesan. I fork fed myself. With two dogs staring at me the whole time.

The new chicken themed puzzle was opened late today. Step one – the border – is super hard, as most of it is white. This will not go was quickly as Sherlock Holmes

“Remoted” – Day 69 (Sunday)

It was another enjoyable morning where time was stretchy and gooey and the pace was slow. Coffee (of course), Prime video, and napping dogs, which is always preferable to their yapping. And finally, there was progress on the enclosed porch. The skis and boots, optimistically moved there for easy access last fall in anticipation of winter skiing (which never happened), were relocated to their summer cottage, also know as the backyard shed. Some shipping boxes that seem extra sturdy and a shame to dispose of were moved to the shed. And after three summers of deliberation, the porch windows were finally dealt with.

Since 2017, there has much online research, Pinterest board dreaming, and online and in-store shopping in the search for the perfect solution for the porch windows. The windows had plastic rollup shades that were functional, but didn’t match the window sizes providing a hodgepodge effect with some shades too narrow and wider shades spanning one window and part of another.

The ideal (and expensive) top choices are decorative laser cut panels or double hung shutters for each window. In both cases, the challenges included cost (starting at $30 per window), complicated by count – there are ten windows in three sizes, not all of which match the standard sizes for shades and blinds. If resources were unlimited, custom treatments would be installed and my porch window treatments and I would live happily ever after. Or, more realistically, happily until the novelty wore off.

Porch windows are dressed.

There was a false start with semi-affordable matchstick rollup shades in not quite the right sizes for some of the windows. One was installed as a test, which revealed they offered zero privacy and not much more sun shade/filtering, and they were immediately returned. A budget-friendly option was found at a thrift store when sheer panels were acquired for $1 each. They were laundered, then languished in a bag in the coat closet for over a year, possibly two, it's all a blur now. Today, every unused curtain rod in the house was assembled for an inventory. By some miracle there were enough of the right size matching rods on hand, and the panels were finally hung. The porch space was admired.  Maybe I’ll even start having my morning coffee out there again.

Delicious, but not fried. 

 Bouyant with success, a celebratory delivery supper seemed appropriate. Fried seafood had been on the brain for nearly two weeks. During that time, menus from two local restaurants with delivery were studied and compared several times before my frugal gene activated and the plan was nixed. But today would be the day for the long-awaited fried seafood dinner of fried clams, shrimp, scallops, and haddock with French fries and a side of onion rings. It was a splurge of both calories and budget. I could taste the tartar sauce and imagine tomorrow's leftover lunch as dinner was ordered. With excitement, I checked the order confirmation containing the countdown clock with the order’s progress. That’s when I saw the one word that deflated my supper joy. Baked seafood dinner. Ugh. I ordered the wrong dinner. There would still be no fried seafood on my plate. The baked dinner was delicious, but it wasn’t fried. Maybe next week.

“Remoted” – Day 68 (Saturday)

Another leisurely (some may say wasted) day in the four-day mini staycation. It was nicely paced with no strenuous activities and quiet time reflecting on recent events and non-events including substitute graduation ceremonies, the weeks-long procrastination of tidying up the enclosed front porch for summer use as a seating area, and the incident of the salad dressing cruet.

Between a garden salad on Wednesday and Thursday’s kale, farro, and roasted squash salad, the dressing cruet was emptied of the house made red wine vinaigrette. Somehow, with the ensuing food scraps in the disposal and dishes in the sink, the cruet stopper also found its way into the garbage disposal. This was apparent when it was run and the abnormal sound was heard. The stopper was fished out, a bit scratched, but seemed ok.

The stopper danced with the disposal.

The rubber end piece was cut the last time the stopper danced with the disposal, causing it to collect and retain water when washed. The rubber end was removed for washing. The stem was broken inside and glass bits bounced into the sink. With a rubber glove clad hand, a fork, and a flashlight, bits were retrieved. The disposal was tested. It makes a sound like it wants to run, but doesn’t. The two metal spinny parts move freely, so clearly there is a piece of glass in there somewhere jamming up the works. 

Now the garbage disposal can be added to the fix-it list with the washing machine, which is not level and has been limited to the hand wash cycle for about two years. There is also the need for new, secure deck rails, as the ones currently installed are loose and not anchored to the ground. Then there is the fence project, needed because guests of the party-house neighbors backed into it and knocked it down. Today’s entertainment and distance socializing included a visit from a fence guy for measurement and pricing.

The easiest fix on the list was the salad dressing cruet. An Internet search delivered an overwhelming number of options. Some were just silly. Twenty-five dollars for a glass cruet that used to be part of the Seven Seas dressing kit? No thanks. But there are stoppers aplenty. Crystal, cork, stainless steel, silicone. Dozens (nay, hundreds!) of styles in a variety of colors and quantities. Some of the product descriptions offer amusing English translation efforts including “with grip top for keep the wine fresh” and “utilize wine stoppers to serve yourself well.” 

After a journey down the online shopping rabbit hole that consumed between one and two hours of mini-staycation day one, the “Buy Now” button was pushed. Top contenders in silicone included a set of eight stoppers in four colors, six stoppers in six colors, or five red stoppers. The prices were great, but the quantity was overkill. At best, two stoppers are needed at any time – one for the dressing cruet, one for a wine bottle. 

The ultimate winner in stopper shopping was a set of two wine bottle openers with silicone grip handles and two silicone stoppers. This solves the obvious stopper issue, and the other issue that is top of mind for about thirty seconds when uncorking a new bottle. The wine bottle opener owned since a brief stint working in a hoity-toity private dinner club immediately after graduating college hurts my hand. But once I’m done and toss it back in the drawer, it’s forgotten until the next bottle. The new wine opener has a nice looking grip, and luckily, the wine opening hand is different than the hand cut Friday while bagging a broken ceramic planter for the trash. Friday was a rough day with sharp objects.

“Remoted” – Workday 52 / Day 67 (Friday)

Work/vacation day …. Friday!

In true vacation mode, I chillaxed. Coffee, online Scrabble, lunch (okay, that happens everyday), wandering around the staycation property (that’s a quick one, this resort is tiny), sat in the sun on the deck and read a book (30 minutes with sunscreen, after that I’m cooked). In violation of chillax time, I also cleaned the kitchen in what the former military former husband referred to as “G.I.-ing” it. In other words, there was a toothbrush involved and it was inspection ready.

Late in the afternoon the gears shifted to business with trying to resolve some new phone issues which are fortunately covered under my “Total Protection Coverage” (yay!), but not fully resolved yet (boo). After 45 minutes on the phone and trying to figure out if my phone was indeed backed up and to where (never could figure that out) I ran out of patience. Maybe tomorrow. The next step is “reset to factory defaults” so I really need to know that my stuff is backed up and that I can get to it.

My sister called to tell my middle niece’s senior parade was tonight and how to see it. That instantly became the day’s highlight. I remember my high school graduation. And college. And graduate school. Each time involved baking on a grassy field, plus nerves followed by totally blanking out and somehow walking across a stage without incident, then relief, then a big celebration with friends and family. 

My feelings go out to the Class of 2020 for missing out on the traditions of the cap and gown procession with public recognition of their accomplishments. Not to mention all the other stuff like yearbook signings and knowing when your last day of school is to have your goodbyes, instead of having it yanked away prematurely by a pandemic. And there is Prom,  which I hear on good authority is a fabulous and momentous event to be remembered forever. I certainly remember my Prom night, but it wasn’t because I was at Prom. I was at a drive-in theater with a couple other girls, declaring myself the president of our chapter of Old Maids Anonymous, then getting sick from drinking beer. (Things were different back then - including the drinking age.) And kids, be careful what you put out to the Universe.

When my eldest niece graduated, it was a beautiful sunny evening on the Monty Tech field. Every time I caught a glimpse of her, my heart swelled with pride. To keep from sobbing through the entire ceremony, I took lots of photos for the distraction. I was so proud of her, and after the ceremony, it was exciting to take pictures with her in her cap and gown.

Chowdah in the Senior parade.

The Class of 2020 is having their own unique celebrations in their own unique way in this crazy time. The Monty Tech event was really cool. It was broadcast on Fitchburg Access Television and I saw it via the website. It opened with a slide show of the Seniors with their yearbook photos (I cried), then photos of the seniors outside their homes with yard signs declaring “Home of a Monty Tech senior” (I cried). 

Today's equivalent of crossing the stage?

Then it moved to a live telecast of the seniors in vehicles driving around the school property. There were multiple camera angles and locations along the route and even a drone. There were police and fire representatives from the communities the school serves, and the buses were decorated and marked the parade route through the parking lot behind the school. The faculty was there to cheer and wave, and the line of cars snaked past the field where the usual ceremony is held, which made me sad. My niece drives a distinctive car – it used to be all silver, but a mishap when it was her older sister’s car left it with a silver body and a black hood, making it easier to spot “The Silver Bullet.” And through the tears, I did spot her car a couple times (but not so much my niece). Bonus, even though “PrtSc” didn’t seem like it was working during the live broadcast, it was. Dang, I love that button. And there was the faulty phone, poised to commemorate. 

It wasn’t the traditional ceremony, but this far from a traditional time, and it was great that it was able to happen. Congrats Chowdah! Proud of you, and can’t wait to see you again in real life.

“Remoted” – Workday 51 / Day 66 (Thursday)

The weather has been nice for several consecutive days. The heat is off and the windows have been open during the day. Except for the pollen and the itchy eyes and Mother Nature’s semi-annual attempt to kill me, it’s been great!

This afternoon during our team video meeting, a couple people attended from their decks overlooking beautiful yards. There was some outdoor envy, partly because the BungaLowell deck abuts the neighbor’s asphalt driveway. After the meeting, I decided to try working from the deck to sit in the sun.

There is an outlet on the corner of the house, so power needs are covered. I gingerly transported the laptop with the cracked screen (that also has the better graphics and the remote connection to work), to the table on the deck. The wireless keyboard and mouse, which, now that I have them, I can’t work without them, came along. The phone, with its increasingly annoying issues including turning itself off any time an app is opened, was in my pocket. There was a glass of water. And the dogs, of course. My two little shadows. All this stuff was carried to the table on the deck, where I immediately discovered it was too bright to see the computer screen. At each of the four chairs at the table it was the same story. Opening the umbrella might have helped, but the objective was not to sit outside in the shade, there is plenty of that inside the house. Conceding defeat, it was all schlepped back into the house and the desk.

Kale, farro, and squash salad
with an Australian white. Yum!

At half past five o’wine o’clock, a trek to the outdoors was attempted again, armed this time with a glass of wine and a bowl of kale, farro, and roasted squash salad. By then, the table at the end of the deck was in complete shade. Shady dinner was still nice, except for the crappy soundtrack of Moose barking through most of it. When the dining was done, a chair was moved a few feet further down the deck into the shifting sun to read a book (still The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto). Barely a page in, Moose was barking again, so he was put in the house, which paid off with roughly five minutes and a few pages of peace before the concert resumed. (It’s hard to know for sure, as the phone/timekeeping device had died for the 57th time.) Even with total sun time of barely ten minutes, there was a fresh crop of freckles, because that’s how I roll in the sun. Much more time outside and I would likely have burned. 

Produce day!

Today has a nice highlights reel. The weather was beautiful, and even when indoors it’s still a mood lift. It was Friday-eve, which is always a mood elevator. It’s the kickoff to a four day weekend, which has been classified as a mini-vacation here at the BungaLowell. The produce delivery arrived with the kale for the supper salad, which was an attempt to replicate a food memory. Last fall, I had a similar salad at a restaurant in the JW Marriott in Austin, Texas. It was close, but the mustard on hand lacked the full punch of Dijon, so that flavor didn’t come through as well as it was remembered. It was still two bowls good, though. There were also some of the most tasty potato chips to ever dance across my tongue. Deep River Snacks Sweet Maui Onion? Oh, yes please. And a lovely Australian white from the wine delivery of several weeks ago. The living feels large and easy here tonight, and that feels good. 

“Remoted” – Workday 50 / Day 65 (Wednesday)

Tonight, I spent a couple minutes listening to several saved voice mails to get to a call from my doctor’s office that I missed, half listened to the message and saved, figuring I'd “get to it later.” Once a voice message is saved, I’m stuck listening to all of them to get to the latest one. These saved messages are not the loving words of, well, anyone. Most were saved for the intrigue. There is one from a female that goes on for about 30 seconds in a language that isn’t English, French, Spanish, or Korean, which is the full extent of tongues familiar to my ear. (I’m not saying I know all these languages, but I can usually recognize them.)

Another message is a very stern sounding man who says, in his clipped enunciation, “This is the FBI.” He goes on to inform that they have tracked my “phonestamp” and I “will be busted in 30 minutes.” Does the FBI really call in advance of arresting people? Is that in case you need to freshen up, and maybe put out some snacks for the now-expected guests?

Another message is from a robotic male automated voice that starts in progress with “the authorities” and I should “revert immediately” on their number, (which is reeled off twice), before they “begin legal proceedings.” Then the robot automaton closes with “thank you, and have a nice day.” Such a polite robot. Which authorities? Port Authority? Sports Authority? And “revert” is a peculiar way of saying “call.”

Maybe I'll take your
next call about the
pretend job.

For the past three Tuesdays, there have been calls from the same 800 number. The Tuesday rotation 800 caller identifies herself as “Adrianne” and says she is calling from “Energy Networks” about my resume. This week, her team needed an answer and asked that I call to let her know if interested in the position. Now, I haven’t floated a resume in over four years, so if “Adrianne” is really calling about a position I might have applied for, at this point I’m most definitely not interested. 

After this week’s call, I did a reverse lookup on the phone number (I love research!) to discover a string of comments back to at least 2013 about callers from the same number. The caller names change, but there are many comments detailing the same speil, which always starts out claiming to be a call about a job, then turns into a hard sales pitch of some sort. I considered blocking the number, but now I’m thinking maybe I should answer the next call, which, if the pattern of the last three weeks follows, will be on Tuesday. Armed with multiple reports of how the call usually flows, I could have my own script to play along. We’ll see. Sometimes  it’s more fun to imagine such things than to actually do them.

“Remoted” – Workday 49 / Day 64 (Tuesday)

Monday may have had a lot of headache action, but it ended with a laugh.

A package arrived with yesterday's regular mail – a plastic covered parcel sealed with packing tape, about the size of a long loaf of bread and about as light as air. Without checking the return address, I thought it must be the mask ordered from a Houston-based seller on Etsy, with some extra wrapping to keep it from being lost in some space in a truck. There have been some small items shipped in bulky and oversized wrapping, so it seemed possible.

Tiny TP loves me.

I cut my way into the super secure, heavy duty industrial-strength packaging to find ten of the daintiest, tiny-ass sized rolls of toilet paper, straight from China according to the return address label. (I finally looked at it). Each is individually wrapped in plastic with the endearing message, “The feeling of falling in love with you.” Oh, China-based Amazon seller, you crack me up. This is the most romantic thing that has been said to me in a decade. My toilet paper loves me! Back at ya, tiny TP!

The size was so surprising that the last full roll of normal-ass sized Family Dollar store-brand toilet paper was taken from the closet for comparison. The new straight from China TP that loves me is narrower than even the newly narrow sized paper. (Have you noticed how TP rolls keep getting narrower? Toilet paper holders look stupidly wide compared to the ever-shrinking rolls.) And these newly arrived rolls are even narrower. One and three-quarters of these new rolls would fit on my holder. Yes, I checked. Don't judge, non-TV screen entertainment options are limited here. 

Portable! Like cash!

That isn't all I checked. In the spirit of science, I checked my slightly large but not gigantic purse. Three rolls fit into it without much trouble or having to remove anything. This could be handy if and when I ever leave the house. Perhaps there might be a need to trade a roll for a better spot in a line or a packet of yeast, which I hear is now scarce due to all the at-home bread making. But it’s almost too cute to use. Maybe I’ll just save it as a COVID-19 stay at home commemorative souvenir.

“Remoted” – Workday 48 / Day 63 (Monday)

Holy hell’s bells. Today made my head hurt. I returned from one day off to discover 130 emails in my inbox (sadly, not surprising), and (real surprise) we are suddenly in the midst of multiple ad campaigns, with a few ads due to newspapers as soon as, you guessed it, today. Damn. Miss a little, miss a lot. No problem, I’ve done this countless times, I’ve got this. Yes, I was dumb enough to think that.

Traditionally and not that long ago, newspapers published and distributed annual rate cards containing all sort of useful info like how much ads cost, what sizes they should be, and any discounts. I learned all about this stuff at my old marketing agency job and did a decent amount of media planning and placements while there.

It used to be pretty straightforward (like it should be), but suddenly, newspapers are acting like their ad sizes are freeking top secret. It should have taken about six minutes each to find the necessary info for several papers by looking it up on the rate cards. Hah! The digital rate cards in our files were consulted. Publication websites were visited. Ad reps were emailed after calls went straight to voicemail (two newspapers) and one automated recording telling callers to “use email for best service” which in today’s case was no service at all.

One rate card on file had 3 pages of rates for various daily and weekly publications covering many different towns and cities, followed by three pages of demographic info (number of residents and average income) for quite possible every town in Massachusetts. There was not one single dimension provided that would give our designer the tiniest clue about what size the ad should be.

One media group has their 2020 rates in their rate card from 2018. OK, so rates haven’t changed, but would it be that hard to change the year on your file so advertisers don’t think it’s outdated info? It took several emails back and forth before our rep finally understood that there are no ad specs in the magical outdated file and we were provided the 2015 rate card for the specs. Because, sure. Wait, is Punk’d back in production? Because that’s what it started to feel like.

Overall, it took a period of four hours to get the info needed for three out of four ads to be placed with four papers under three different newspaper groups. One was never heard from. 

It was exhausting. It should not be this hard to spend thousands of dollars. Don’t even get me started on how we usually have to beg for an invoice so we can pay it. That adventure will be coming up in a few weeks.

Today's high point was lunch.

Through all the muttering and swearing, the dogs were mostly content and snoring nearby. Maybe they had the luxury of being bored, which is something I am really eager to explore for myself. I don’t think I’ve been bored for the past 20, maybe 30 years. I hope to live long enough to be able to afford retirement so that someday I can find out what boredom is like. 

At least lunch was free of grief and angst. It was a green pepper stuffed with yesterday's leftover chili and rice. Tonight is going to involve some sort of award for surviving today. It might involve the finishing off of the sea salt potato chips and the ice cream. There is no chocolate here, but there is bacon ... 

“Remoted” – Day 62 (Sunday)

Today almost made up for yesterday’s squandering. It was leisurely and relaxed without being wasted.

There was morning coffee (of course) and the delivery of more coffee (thanks Amazon Prime!). There was also the ordering of unglamorous household necessities from Amazon – dog biscuits, paper towels, dishwasher drying agent – so today failed in the financial measure of daily success, but that was the only deficiency to the day.

The neighborhood was alive with the sounds of yard work in the lovely weather. There was leaf blowing, chain sawing, and illegal dumping over the embankment to Beaver Brook from the party house across the street (despite the "No Dumping per Order LPD" sign immediately outside their yard). If there were a neighbor of the year award, the occupants of that house would never be contenders.

There was concrete work and edge trimming from one house next to me, and lawn mowing and pool prep and cleanup from the house on the other side. All this activity shamed me into working in my own yard. Old Sparky was fired up for mowing, followed by raking up the clippings and now my arms feel like limp noodles. Thank goodness I succumbed to the need to not have the shittiest looking yard at the end of the street. The back yard grass was a bit high from skipping mowing last week and a few more days would have been a nightmare to deal with. The weeds in the front yard still haven’t come in, so the look there is more dirt lot, embellished with random clumps of faux grass and a flower bed. The cigarette butts, candy wrappers, and fast food litter that that blow over from across the street frequently downgrade the look to that of an abandoned city lot.

When the outdoor work was done, there was the completion of the Sherlock Holmes puzzle against the backdrop of “High Fidelity” with Zoe Kravitz on the TV. That series has some great music, which makes sense as it's set in a record shop. The puzzle features much text about the great detective and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and was an interesting read. 

Smothered chili and rice.

Lunch was canned chili tossed with rice, then smothered in queso. There is more (of course there is) so the next incarnation may be stuffed in a pepper, topped with cheddar, and baked. Meal prep for the week focused on what is already jammed into the freezer. There is no point complicating a full freezer by cooking and freezing more stuff. 

If the weather stays nice, it might finally be time to put away the winter clothes and pull out the spring and summer. (Dare to dream!) Maybe next weekend, which opens with a vacation day and closes with a holiday, will include inspiration for the wardrobe change. 

“Remoted” – Day 61 (Saturday)

How do you let a beautiful-weather day slip away? Easy. Start the day with coffee, good intentions, and “just a few pieces” in the Sherlock Holmes jigsaw puzzle started the night before. It will be 7:30 a.m, then the next thing you know, it will be noon. Then 3:00, then suppertime. 

Puzzle progress!

At 5:00, I finally came out of the puzzle stupor and went on the deck to sit in the sun and read a book (still The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto). Prepared with a big glass of ice water, I herded the dogs out and settled into a chair in the sun. Moose settled into pooping on the deck. Not in one spot of course. It was a walking poo that spanned a good foot and a half of distance. He has never done this before. Not on the deck, anyway. That I know of. As I arose to fetch poop bags from inside, Moose let loose a giant stream of pee onto the planter on the deck. By the time I cleaned up the poo and sprayed down the scenes of both canine crimes with Nature’s Miracle to kill the scent, the sun was blocked by a series of clouds. By then I was chilly, even though it was in the mid 60s, so back inside we went. 

Around 6:30 p.m., a neighbor texted wondering what happened across the street at the party house to attract five police cruisers. Each time they come, they bring more reinforcements. Cripes, I even missed that. It's like a puzzle coma stole my entire day. Whatever went down across the street was quiet. They didn't even have a massive party going on with 10 cars and eight motorcycles (that was last night). And there was no screaming and swearing match, which has preceded some of the earlier visits by the police. Today is a mystery all the way around. 

And that, along with some potato chips, was the day. Pretty much all of it. Is there a restart option like on cable channel shows? 

“Remoted” – Workday 47/Day 60

Today was the best kind of workday. It was payday and it was a paid vacation day. Or, stay-cation day. Because, you know. It ranks as a successful day on multiple fronts including zero dollars spent. 

The weather was sunny and warm and beautiful. Windows were opened and time was spent outside. There was frolicking with the neighbor dog, Harley. She is still a young thing, but 45 pounds of playful. Moose and Winston were ignoring her and she looked sad, so I ran sprints along the fence line with her. It was fun to have a workout partner for that invigorating full two minutes and I didn’t have a heart attack so it was all good.

There was trimming of branches from a neighbor tree overhanging onto my shed roof. It was  comical when I couldn’t figure out how to operate the folding ladder bought at a yard sale several years ago, stored in the shed and not touched since. I managed to get it into an unhelpful M shape, but the neighbor guy came to the rescue and got it into an A shape. Turns out the trick was setting it on its side and stepping on the stupid button that releases the bendy parts, and once I knew that, I was able to fold it again when done.

Bleeding Hearts! 

There was time spent reading a book on the deck. An actual book – made of paper with pages. It’s a Mitch Albom book (“The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto”) and it’s got great storytelling and short chapters, which is how I like books to be. There was flower cutting from the Bleeding Heart plant growing a bit out of control at the front door.

Indoor fun included starting a puzzle and too much TV. The Xfinity “Watchathon Week” ends on the 17^th so the clock is ticking on finishing The Handmaid’s Tale and Billions and probably some other shows I didn’t think of yet. Unlike the way the pups ignored next-door Harley, Moose was super extra shrill and barky with me most of the afternoon. There are times with him where deafness would be a blessing.

Does a healthy lunch cancel
a junk food supper?

Food choices were carefree and on the fly. Breakfast was matzo brie (scrambled eggs with busted up matzo cracker) and coffee (of course), lunch was a massive and colorful salad. There was almost a proper dinner delivery of a seafood platter or an extra cheese pizza but when I couldn’t decide between the two, it seemed a clear signal I didn’t really want either. That’s when the dinner pendulum swung to the choices of a ten-year-old and it was sea salt potato chips with caramel swirl ice cream (together in a bowl) for the win. 

The tornado watch that popped up on my weather app, Next Door app, and Facebook feed prompted moving the deck chairs from the open deck to the front enclosed porch to minimize the potential airborne object count. So far no tornado, which is good news, but the thunder is rolling in.

No plans for the weekend (no surprise there) so it will probably be, as a couple colleagues call it, “MOTS” – more of the same. Which is fine, because this all feels rather leisurely and comfortable. I could get used to this.