“Remoted” – Workday 136 / Day 198 (Wednesday)

It was a miracle waking up today without a headache. After watching the spectacle of Tuesday night’s Presidential Debate, it seemed a certainty that my head would explode. In my voting life that spans more years and more elections than I want to think about, I haven’t watched many debates, but I was interested to see this one. It certainly wasn’t boring. Or civil. When it was over, I needed to unwind and ease my blood pressure back down to its usual low rates. There was an attempt to find a “happy place.” There was conscious breathing. There was Candy Crush.

Beyond keeping me up even later, Candy Crush was a lot of empty promises to “Escape the stress of today” which delivered nothing more than “Level failed! You did not reach the goal!” and me muttering “I hate this frigging game.” 

Relax? Hardly.

When I finally (thankfully) ran out of pretend lives in the candy matching game and put away the phone to sleep, it was mere minutes before Moose was barking to go out. Our timing is not always ideal. The round trip from bed to front door is 82 steps (which I know thanks to the new pedometer) and depending upon Moose’s pace, can take around three minutes. After that, there was a 3:00 am wakeup, and then bam, it was 6:15 and I was being barked at again. My days and nights involve a lot of me being barked at by Moose.

By 8:00 this morning, after the usual pot of coffee, I was feeling less tired, more alert, and ready to tackle the day which fortunately included few meetings and time to deal with the to-do list. Maybe I need to stay up too late more often. Productivity didn’t seem to be adversely affected. Of course, it was just one super late night followed by one work day. Once work finished it felt a lot like running into a brick wall. Two nights and days of it could be the death of me.

“Remoted” – Workday 135 / Day 197 (Tuesday)

Some days, between work and the dogs, there is not much energy left or words to say. Today is one of those days. Thank goodness for no-thinking-required leftover pizza from the freezer for supper. 

The word well, which sometimes has a limited reserve to begin with, was tapped dry early. Today’s  depletion was not due to grand and philosophical writings or  grandiloquent musings. It was a small number of words, repeated over and over with the cumulative draining effect. These included:

• Who wants to go out? Let’s go potty! (Approximately 1,250 times.)
• Good boy, [Boo, Bubba, Bubs] now go lay down.
• Such a good boy!
• What’s up [Boo, Buddy, Bubba]?
• Good job Winnie, now lay down and stop barking. (After each of 100 incidences of sounding the alarm at some mysterious thing outside.)
• Hyvä poika! ("Good boy", in Finnish. And me being braggadocious.)

Yes, the dogs have multiple names, but calling them "Boo" or "Bubba" leaves me feeling less guilty than calling them by the wrong name and then wondering why there is no response. They know their names. And they know when I screw them up. 

Two against one.

The two adorable aging and exhausting pups usually give each other wide berth. At night, they might accidentally end up sleeping close to each other on the couch or in bed, and once they realize it, they growl and scramble to create a healthy distance. 

During the day they stake out turf in separate rooms or separate areas of the same room. Then, on some signal not perceived by humans, they'll suddenly look at each other, and be side by side, staring at me. A silent communication passes between them and you can feel the energy shift. Then, they give me “the face.” The irresistible face that turns me to putty and has me handing them biscuits or zucchini, blueberries, the keys to the car, my credit card numbers for more biscuits, whatever. When it’s one dog giving the face, it’s adorable. When it’s both, I don’t stand a chance. 

This is what I’m up against. No wonder I’m tired.

“Remoted” – Workday 134 / Day 196 (Monday)

I’ve been watching Bordertown, a Finnish crime drama, partly to hear in conversation the language I’m learning with Duolingo. It seemed it would also nice to focus on some drama of the non-American political type. Except even in a Finnish crime drama there are politics and land deals and payoffs, and issues between the small town on the border and Russia. And just weird stuff. 

Sometimes I wonder ... 

For example, the main character is a police officer. The family left Helsinki for a small town so he could spend more time with his family. Of course, his job is with a special crimes unit, and now the small town is riddled with murders. One of the city officials even commented that he brought the crime with him. No, my Finnish isn’t that good, it’s the magic of subtitles.

The 16-year old daughter went to a party, someone drugged her drink and she ended up face down in the pool. The policeman father arrived on the scene in the nick of time and got her out, she was brought to the hospital and her stomach was pumped. Afterward, there no consequences at home. I kept waiting for a big lecture and a punishment, but life just resumed like nothing had happened. I guess parents in Finland are different, or at least these TV show parents.

Heck, in my teenage life in America, I was grounded one week for every five minutes past curfew – which was usually 11, but might be 12 for a super special event. Once, I was grounded for two weeks for being ten minutes late getting home from a dance where my date had left the headlights on and the car battery was dead when we got out. Then we hit every red light between St. Bernard’s High School and my house. I opened the door to Mom standing there glaring at her watch. The punishment was decreed, no explanations allowed and I was sent to my room. Thank goodness I had a job or I’d probably never have been allowed out of the house.

Another two-episode story arc waltzed right into unbelievable nonsense. The family is being held hostage in their home and the father is being forced to work on a missing person case for the home invaders. Another hostage (friend of the daughter who came to visit at the wrong time) is enlisted to translate documents because she knows Russian. By “enlisted,” I mean they cut her loose from the bedroom furniture she was duct taped to and she got to go to another room to look at papers. Then they let her leave.

In case that isn’t enough, guys from the field text him fresh crime scene photos from a case but one of the kidnappers has the phone. Then, the policeman sits there explaining what he sees in the photos and discussing the case with the kidnapper. Meanwhile, two different law enforcement agencies are just hanging around outside the house, periodically phoning to check on things. For two days. I mean, come on. Seriously? 

Each time I think it can’t get any weirder, it does and I'm left wondering when it will end. It’s presented like a drama, but parts of it just seem ridiculous and comical. Sort of like the real life stuff I was trying to escape. 

“Remoted” – Day 195

The day began with a headache, just like most of the past week. The tinnitus has also been extra shrill and steadfast. I don’t know to what degree one affects the other, but they are becoming more frequent. Or maybe my world is sufficiently free of other distractions that it’s the same level as always and just more noticeable.

There was a miracle this morning, but I’m not sure of the proper channels to alert for verification or the required evidence. After barking me awake at 5:30 to go outside, we returned to bed and Moose let us sleep until 7:45. Correct – 7:45. Maybe he sensed the headache thing. Or the Sunday thing. 

For about as many days as the double feature plague of headache and super-screechy tinnitus have been front and center, Moose has been rejecting his food. Maybe he just doesn’t like it, because he still eats everything else including the wet food meatball surrounding his morning medicine, rice, squash, and doggy biscuits. Both dogs are masters of delivering the penetrating stare whenever I’m eating something or even thinking about eating something, as if by boring holes into my brain with their eyes an accidental steak will descend from the heavens and land at their feet. (Maybe THAT is the cause of the headaches?) Ha ha boys. The only steak here is the so-called “steak” in your canned dog food, and your best shot at food from above is carrot chunks and broccoli stems.

The stretch of cranial distress caused me to not participate in a dance meetup this morning and it hurt my heart a little to not see my belly dance sisters. It felt too hard to commit to in the midst of days of feeling tired and wanting to rip my own head off. The self-decapitation won’t happen, of course. The safety valve against that specific consideration and all other rash and potentially dangerous decisions is one question. “Who would take care of the dogs?” Plus, I’m not an animal. I’m not going to leave a mess like that for someone to have to clean up. 

Why nothing gets done,
Sunday edition.

Much of the morning was spent on the couch with coffee and my cell phone. Moose was snuggled against my leg and sleeping, while I read news and the usual tsunami of emails. Cripes, you answer one political survey on social media and the penalty is a steady stream of campaign emails from no less than seven affiliated organizations (and counting). About every two hours an email comes in from one of the many groups, and even with reading one every now and then, there are 735 unread political emails since July, many with all caps screaming subject lines. I wish I was kidding. I almost unsubscribed and deleted, but decided to get all scientific and move them to a separate folder to see just how many there would be by the time the election happens.

While Moose and I owned the couch, Winston was shunning us and laying on the floor. It was a lovely way to spend a morning. And an afternoon. And an evening. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

“Remoted” – Day 194

Last night involved staying up much too late watching “Ratched” until I finally was compelled to turn it off. I kept covering my eyes and muting the sound due to the graphic and cringe-worthy medical scenes, so it made sense. By “much too late,” we’re talking nearly 1 a.m. The dogs had been staring at me steadily since 10, the usual bed time. The foolishness of thinking that being up late would mean we could sleep late this morning proved to be a huge miscalculation. At 5:30, Moose was barking the house awake so he could go out.

The fog and the streetlights of 5:30 looked like a scene from a movie. It was a cool image, but unlike most mornings, the camera/phone was not in my hand. We returned to bed for barely an hour before the barking resumed, signaling it was time to be up for real. By then, the beautiful effect of the fog was diminished with daylight and a mist was falling. The clouds remained until after 1:00.

The butt dragged all day. Coffee helped, but not much. There was a scrambled egg, cheese, and salsa concoction, TV watching, and an attempt at Finnish lessons (day 87!) but the Duolingo program wouldn’t let me in. If my streak is broken because the program wouldn't let me in I'll be mad. 

While a Ricky Gervais standup show played, I finally opened the box and set out to assemble a stacking cube purchased at least a year ago, and likely longer. Two were purchased, but despite the claim of “easy assembly,” the first one was such a pain I almost gave away the second one still in the box. Luckily, today’s assembly wasn’t as bad. 

Construction completed.

The whole construction effort was inspired by a phone call with a friend where we compared notes over the dismal states of our guest rooms. We decided to tackle a task at our respective dwellings and compare progress notes later.

After the victory of the cube construction, I was ready for a nap. The urge was ignored, I hung tough, and started watching Cobra Kai instead. Strike first! Strike hard! No mercy! Why do I now have a sudden urge to learn the Cobra Kai way of the fist? And the dating advice from the character Johnny Lawrence is so awful and the same thinking of a few too many exes. 

“Remoted” – Workday 133 / Day 193

The beloved blue jumper,
before the Christmas gravy. 

One Christmas I was in love with a blue velveteen jumper. I adored the color and rubbing my fingertips on the pile of the fabric. Then I spilled gravy down the whole front if it at the dinner table and felt completely gutted over ruining it. There were plentiful tears. 

As early as kindergarten, there were fights with Mom about what I wanted to wear to school and she finally gave up. There was a red plaid dress with smocking across the bodice, slightly poufy sleeves, and a white rounded collar that I adored. My favorite summer dress was navy blue with stitching down the center front to look like a fishing line and a hook, and red pockets shaped like fish.

It was a family joke for pretty much forever that I might not remember what we did, but remembered what I was wearing. There is a lot of truth to my memories being linked to clothing. First kiss? That was a white short sleeved bodysuit and long pants in salmon with big white daisies on them and a green fabric tie belt. At age 12, I wore a dress with a red, white, and blue knit top and white cotton pleated bottom when my family flew to Texas to visit Grandpa Ray. Seventh grade began in a brown long sleeved dress with images of small houses all over it, buttons down the front, and white patent leather go-go boots. The first day of ninth grade featured a salmon turtleneck, forest green pants, and a forest green and patterned sweater with a shawl collar and a belt. I could go on an on.

There were a couple memorable fainting outfits. In my mid-twenties, I fainted in the lobby of a Manhattan office building while wearing a cotton dress with blue and white windowpane check, pleated skirt and a polo collar. My sister-in-law stepped out of the elevator and I passed out cold onto the cool, stone floor. This cancelled the lunch plans for the day, but my mother-in-law and I got to spend four hours of quality time in the emergency room before taking the series of buses back to the Bronx. Many years later, while wearing my favorite jeans and a tee shirt with four multicolored screen printed skulls on the front, I fainted at the Abbott Kinney music festival in Los Angeles and got to spend the rest of the day hanging out in, you guessed it, the emergency room. So fun.

High school outfits were meticulously recorded in a school notebook to avoid accidentally wearing the same outfit twice in a week. And yet, every time the photographer was on site for candid yearbook photos my senior year, I was wearing the same rose cowl neck top with a cream scarf with tan, blue, and rose stripes that I wore in my senior portrait. Go figure. During my first professional job after graduating college, I went three solid months before repeating an outfit. For some reason that was important at the time. Maybe it had to do with the high school photographer thing.

In middle age in more modern times, the importance of outfits has diminished. The pre-pandemic daily outfit test had devolved to two questions: Did I wear it yesterday? Does it fit today? If the answers were no and yes respectively, it was the winner. Working from home, the bar is even lower. Did I wear it yesterday? Who cares, and who will even know? The only concern now is whether or not there is a video meeting involving the same people as yesterday’s video meeting. It’s almost a certainty I’ll be feral by the time I return to the office.

“Remoted” – Workday 132 / Day 192

One year ago today, I returned from a trip to Austin, Texas after attending a bank marketing conference. It was a great trip. The sessions were interesting and I was able to spend time with a banker friend from Tennessee. The days were long and busy, but there was a bit of room for fun, too. On a nice evening I took a walk to the Congress Avenue Bridge where the bats fly out at dusk but there weren’t very many on my visit.

Ideally, vacation days would have been built in around the conference to extend the trip, but the reality was the dog boarding made that idea prohibitively expensive.

Austin! (2019)

Arrival in Austin was early enough in the evening to do something, but I was too tired to want to. The hotel had a restaurant where I had a pecan porter beer and Frito Pie. I recall this today because Facebook memories reminded me the other day. Facebook memories are great, but dang I feel totally senile sometimes. There are a lot of fun times that are largely forgotten, save for FB memories. 

Yankee attempt at Frito Pie

Back to the Frito Pie. Facebook memories had my post about the Frito Pie the other day. Once that memory was revived, it became a fixation. At 5:15 today, my Prime Pantry order, placed on Tuesday, arrived a day early with the key namesake ingredient. By 5:30 I was scrambling vegetarian meat substitute with sautéed onions, taco seasoning, and salsa. A dollop of queso, a handful of shredded sharp cheddar, topped with a bunch of Fritos and dollop of sour cream, and dinner was served.

By 6:15, dinner was done and so were the dishes. Dang, I love fast food. I have no idea how close my happy mess came to the real recipe due to not bothering to look it up. It was quick, it was good, and it hit the spot. If it wasn’t Marriott good, no big deal.

The Austin trip also included tacos and an amazing kale, butternut squash, and faro salad I have recreated several times. The one regret was not having Texas brisket barbeque while there, which feels like a gross error. A friend had recommended a great place, which had a line down the street when I went by it, but the conference fed us so well, I wasn’t hungry after the days’ events. Such nice memories. It feels like forever ago. Maybe some day I will get back there.

“Remoted” Workday 131 / Day 191 (Wednesday)

This super weird year is really, really super weird. It feels like it’s flying by, and at the same time it feels like life has stopped. I can’t believe it’s been six months working from home. Half a year that sometimes feels more like half a month. There are times where it really grates on my nerves, and other times where it feels completely natural to not leave the house for days at a time and live in a time warp.

Work is super busy again, but that is completely normal. We basically operate on two levels – busy and busier, and we are deep in busier right now. That seems to impact the feeling of time passing more quickly. And also more slowly, it just depends on the specific project and task. 

Soup's on!

Moose, whose whole life used to revolve around food, has been showing almost no interest in it. Not the specifically for dogs kind, anyway. It really kicked in with the new bag that recently came, so it’s possible he doesn’t like it. This is unfortunate, as it’s a 30-pound bag of food, and will be around for a while. Luckily, he won’t starve with all the veggies he loves to eat when I’m cooking. Today the boys dined on bits of carrots, celery, and squash which were being cut to be sautéed in olive oil, then added to the remainder of the vegetable soup from the other day and the leftover vegetarian meatballs, creamy gravy and radiatore pasta. That made one crazy delicious soup. 

Along with the challah and apple butter for breakfast, it was a day of such great food I even forgot there was salted caramel gelato in the freezer.

The fine dining really helped gloss over the annoyances of the day, which included having to hand wash a sink full of dishes due to the soup making and the broken dishwasher. The appliance place called to relay the news that there are no white door panels at any of their suppliers. This activated the undercurrent of dread over either shopping for a new dishwasher (cha-ching!), or having to look at a replacement panel that clashes with the stove, refrigerator, microwave, counters, cabinets, and walls (barf).

In the grand scheme of things, I am fortunate that dog food and dishwashers are the level of my immediate worries, and I hope it stays that way. Focusing on my tiny domestic world keeps me from completely losing my mind and going, as my Dad used to say, "totally bat shit crazy" over all the things happening in the world outside The BungaLowell.

“Remoted” – Workday 130 / Day 190 (Tuesday)

Today was the day of the appliance Service Call Part Two with the part for the dishwasher door latch. I had been given a service window, the customer friendly, fan favorite, four-hour window of “8am to noon.” Some time after 9:00, as I was checking multiple computer folders in search of the ad files I clearly remembered renaming and saving just yesterday afternoon, there was a knock on the door. The dogs went nuts in accordance with the canine security protocol. Today, it was two technicians, neither of them the one from a couple weeks ago.

They approached the dishwasher, a part of the house before I bought it, and commented, “Oh, this is really old. What is this, like ten years old?” Maybe I was a bit overly sensitive, but the tone felt insulting and I felt judged.

The dogs were being pesky, but this is their home and these were new people. Had I known what time the repair crew would be arriving, the dogs would have been moved outside or to another room, but a four-hour span is pretty broad. The pups kept going over to the repair team who clearly were not enjoying it. After some cajoling, begging and one accidental swear, the boys were finally corralled out to the deck with the new front gate and new opening to the back yard. Doggy situation solved.

The repair team was busy inside the dishwasher door and almost immediately delivered the news that the part in hand isn’t the part needed. A latch had been ordered, which made sense as the latch wasn’t latching. I said it seemed too good to be true when the previous tech said it was an easy fix and a $50 part. One of today’s dudes said, “oh, yeah, that’s Steve. He’s a real know-it-all,” the other nodded in agreement and they muttered to each other a few other comments seemingly about Steve. 

Today’s revised diagnosis from the new panel of experts is that the machine needs a new door panel in the $150-$200 price range. One guy checked his little computer for part availability, said there is one in stock in black, and asked if he should order it. Every single appliance in my kitchen is white, so no, thanks, I’ll pass. They said they’d check for a white one which of course, may not exist anywhere due to the elderly status of my machine which was already pointed out. The machine is not fixed and I’m waiting on a call that may never come about a part that may not exist.

At this point, I was feeling a bit cranky. The repair team had insulted me via my “really old” machine, and seemed to enjoy slamming their colleague in front of a customer. There was disappointment in still not having an operational dishwasher, and worse, the repair team seemed to have zero interest in my situation. They seemed anxious to get out the door.

I was also miffed at being out the $149 already paid for the service call with the incorrect diagnosis, and now the actual correct part, assuming it can be located, could be as much as $200. This now comes close to the sale price of a new machine the first day I called the shop. But hey, they’ll knock $50 off the price if I end up having to buy a new one. (Which will cost another $250 to install.)

Challah and apple butter.

The repair guys left and I went outside to let the dogs back in. Two dogs had gone out, but there were zero dogs in the back yard. When I put them out via the newly accessible deck side of the house, I had forgotten the gate near the back door was open. Moose appeared quickly, but it was a few too many annoying minutes before wandering Winston re-appeared. 

After the chaotic start, the rest of the day was significantly less annoying. Later, groceries from Whole Foods arrived with a loaf of fresh challah bread and a jar of apple butter, making for a delicious evening snack. 

Not sure if all is well yet, but challah certainly made things better.

“Remoted” – Workday 129 / Day 189 (Monday)

The last day of summer started off a little rough. Opening my eyes in my cozy, winter fleece pajamas, it was a surprise to see that it was already 6:30 and Moose was only just waking up. His internal clock has shifted the past few weeks and I may need to start setting an alarm. Breaks in routine throw me off.

After feeding the pups, letting them out, and brushing my teeth and the supremely glamorous and sexy night guard that prevents  me grinding and fracturing all my teeth, it was back upstairs to get dressed. A look at the thermostat revealed it to be 59 degrees in the house. Google claimed it was 43 outside, which made for a most depressing final morning of summer. Knowing it would be cold overnight, before bed on Sunday, the last of the basil had been cut and brought inside, which felt like defeat. 

The last of the basil.

The chosen winter outfit was long pants, socks, and layers of a cami (aka grown lady fancy undershirt), long sleeve flannel shirt, and a long knit sweater. It caused me pain to be wearing actual winter clothes on the last day of summer, but I was also very cold. Back in the kitchen, the empty coffee pot reminded me that, unlike nearly every morning at the house for the past four years, I hadn’t started the coffee while the dogs were eating.

While waiting for the coffee to brew, which took approximately 10,000 times longer than usual, I decided to put a load of laundry into the washer. The thinking was that the dryer step of the laundry process might warm up the kitchen, and I was not psychologically ready to put on the heat at this early date.

Shortly afterward, it was an endurance test of failed attempts to log into the work system while receiving texts from colleagues in a similar situation. A check of the laundry yielded a surprise. The laundry basket with the rest of the dirty laundry that had been set on top of the washer was wet. So was the wall behind the washer and the one next to it, what could be seen of the floor, the wire shelf above the washer, and the underside of everything on the shelf. Mop up operations commenced. The best guess is the output hose somehow came loose and the water sprayed upward. This was a new and exciting situation. 

Fruit tea all day.

It was an eventful first two hours of the day, which seem to have been specially designed to keep me on my toes. The rest of the day involved me being super cranky as a result of being cold. Attempts to stave off the chill included hot coffee, hot fruit tea, and hot soup throughout the day. 

After work, there was the hand washing of dishes in hot soapy water (dishwasher still not fixed) and another load of laundry to deal with the towels used in the morning mop up (after checking the hoses). There was even more hot fruit tea. And finally, sick of being cold all day and tired from being cranky all day about being cold, I caved. The heat was turned on, far too early in the year. 

“Remoted” – Day 188 (Sunday)

It was another quiet day at home with minimal effort expended that demonstrates my mastery of this Sunday “day of rest” concept. A butternut squash, an acorn squash, and the seeds from both were roasted. Prime video shows were watched.  Thoughts were thought. These, along with letting the dogs outside less than usual due to their own restful, daylong napping, account for the day’s activities.

The squash roasting occurred because I was cold and the idea of a 350-degree oven was appealing. Plus, the two squashes had been sitting on the counter for several weeks and finally guilted me into action. Having no experience with acorn squash, I was curious to know about the roasted flesh of that varietal. It had an impressive number of seeds. When it came out of the oven, I had a taste and it was good. While a slice of pizza from last night’s delicious supper delivery warmed in the toaster oven, one half of the acorn squash was consumed. The butternut squash was huge, and the result is two containers of roasted squash chunks in the freezer, one in the fridge, and a small amount eaten by the dogs who also love it. Then there are the delicious, snackable, lightly salted and roasted seeds.

Roasted squashes and seeds.

The deliveries from Primo’s over the town line in Dracut have been a pandemic benefit. Each delivery has yielded multiple meals, and even though I’ve lived in the house for four years, it’s been only six months that I’ve had prepared food delivered. Yes, it’s oddly true, I never had a food delivery until March. I also rarely dined out, and even more rarely, got take out. I have a kitchen and I use it. A lot. Now, I’m living large with monthly deliveries of pizza or seafood dinners. 

Also in the luxury category, there have been fairly regular grocery deliveries. These may continue after the work from home period ends. As much as it feels like a frivolous treat, there is less impulse buying that happens when I place grocery and food orders online, and I’ve saved money as a result. Silver linings everywhere, even when it feels like decadence.

“Remoted” – Day 187 (Saturday)

The week of chilly mornings has set the thoughts to fall. It hasn't felt like a gradual easing in. Perhaps it's great that the fall/winter stuff from last year was never put away. It made finding a sweater easy today. And soup was made. Soup is how I survive cold weather, so this is kind of the warm up.

This morning at 8:30 there was the chopping of kale, celery, onions, carrots, and potatoes. An exploration of the freezer yielded broccoli, roasted butternut squash and Gardein soy protein meatballs. An absence of bread led to the idea of making biscuits. 

The Bisquick box had an option for dumplings, and never having had dumplings, I figured “why not?” Ten spoonfuls of the dough were dropped into the soup. Of the three of us eating soup, Mom and I were not exactly fans of the dumplings. I ate the two heavy, doughy blobs in my bowl, but dumplings are on my list of things I never, ever need to try again. Bleeech. It will be baked biscuits henceforth.

Dumplings? Yuck!.

As for the rest of the day, the bulkhead is painted a bright blue, the deck has a gate and a stone step, the lawn is mowed. 

It’s all thanks to the awesome, amazing StepDad. It was another day sitting in the sunshine under a clear blue sky hanging with Mom while the dogs paced and sat and barked and were mildly entertaining. It was great day.

“Remoted” – Workday 128 / Day 186 (Friday)

There was a range of emotions and feelings bursting forth today. Most of them weren’t the rainbows and butterflies hearts and flowers happy stuff. There was frustration, confusion, and fatigue coming from all directions. At times, it was irrational, like when I went nuts on the plastic containers that got stuck in the cabinet and resulted in a seven syllable swear word stream that sent Winston running to the bathroom to hide. I’ve been cold for days, which makes me cranky. Or more cranky. You know, if the shoe fits, I’ll wear it. Even the cozy toaster waffles for breakfast didn't help for long.

One source of not-work frustration was paint. Who knew it was so hard to get paint for a bulkhead? This week was a lesson. The new bulkhead has been primer gray for a while. As in, an entire year. I meant to deal with it last summer, then last fall, but stuff happened. Or didn’t.

During the year since the installation of the replacement bulkhead, color options were considered. This extended to lengthy ruminations on the adjoining foundation color, currently a dingy looking flat black. Paint chips were ordered online in March and a foundation color was chosen – Sherwin Williams “Dress Blues.” Progress!

It seems like work needs to be done to the concrete before painting the foundation. There are gaps between some of the blocks. Some of the paint is peeling. 

Anyway, the bulkhead is being painted Saturday morning, thus the immediate need for paint. Rustoleum was specified for the job. The mission was Royal Blue, as shown in the extensive line of Rustoleum colors. The website of my friendly neighborhood hardware store showed two shades of blue. The man on the phone suggested a gallon. He also referred me to another store in town. So confusing.

A trip was squeezed in this afternoon to the local neighborhood store with the not super convenient business hours of 8 am to 5 pm. They had blue. It was in an 8 ounce can, not nearly enough for a bulkhead. The gallon option, recommended by the man at the store, was available only in flat black. It was suggested I visit Lowe’s. 

Website checks of the Big Box stores resulted in a trip to the orange one where there was Rustoleum in Royal Blue. In quarts. The neighborhood hardware guy said a gallon, the person painting said a quart, and the Google responses to “how much paint to paint a bulkhead” yielded nothing. There were four quart-sized cans on the shelf at the big orange store and no clerk in sight, which is pretty much the service model every time I’ve been in one, anywhere in the country. The two quarts on the shelf which weren’t severely dented were purchased. Hopefully, it’s enough. A potted mum was also procured because it is yellow and happy looking and sometimes a day needs help. 

The silver lining.

More help was found upon returning from the orange store. The new darker mornings and early darker evenings seemed to scream for a dark beer. A bright spot was found in the form of a forgotten Spencer Monk’s Reserve in the back corner of the fridge. 

Today may have been gray, but the monks make quite a lovely silver lining.

“Remoted” – Workday 127 Day 185 (Thursday)

The past two weeks have felt brutal, like being beaten up by the class bully. In our team meeting today, I learned this sentiment is shared by others in my group, which made me feel a bit better. It’s easier to deal with feeling overwhelmed and buried knowing it’s not just me. 

Work has challenges and quirks, but at least the after-work hours feel more productive and less frustrating. There are a few recent things that have made me feel slightly better about life beyond work. 

Ever since the wild eviction of the mouse from the house last week, I have seen neither a mouse nor fresh evidence of any. It’s probably a long shot that there are no others, which is why I am still on the lookout for their tiny calling cards. In an odd quirk of visual prowess, while I may not be able to see the earrings or pen or scissors I’m seeking and which are plainly in open view, I can spot a mouse dropping from halfway across the room. It’s probably more paranoia than actual bird of prey visual acuity. At least for now, I feel like I can relax a bit. Even Winston is more relaxed, no longer sniffing the baseboards and closet doors and staring intently into other rooms.

In a testament to my amazing focus (which alternates with moments of complete and shocking flakiness), the puzzle was finished after supper. The part I thought would be difficult, when approached methodically, was quite easy. Last night, all the names of the quilt squares were assembled. Tonight, with a laser beam focus, I looked through the remaining pieces thinking, and sometimes muttering (which got the dogs all hyped up), search clues like, “H bottom, with purple on a nubbin,” and “pink leading to green,” and other cues to the pieces that stitched the rest of it together. 

H bottom with purple
on a nubbin.

Finishing the puzzle was much more satisfactory than walking. My shins still hurt from Monday and Tuesday, and I felt every single step taken while sweeping the kitchen floor and later, limping through the yard to harvest the dog poo and three dinner roll sized mushrooms. After staring at quilt squares in the puzzle for the past week, now I want to make one. Or return to the stained glass panels I used to make, which, when I first started, were based on quilt squares copied from books borrowed from the library. I have all the supplies, including most of a 35-pound reel of lead came, six-foot lengths of zinc rail, and dozens of sheets of glass and boxes of bevels. Soon. I think I feel the itch coming.

“Remoted” – Workday 126 / Day 184 (Wednesday)

The day’s calendar had three hours of training and wellness programs that I voluntarily registered for prior to the current over-abundance of the to-do list. For two hours I learned about group dynamics with introverts and extroverts on teams. A short time later, it was an hour-long webinar about coping with stress. One coping method is to avoid exposure to what triggers the stress, and take control with actions including taking a walk. Outside of the learning, there was a lot of fail that happened today. The work to-do list encountered some detours and bumps. 

Puzzle progress.

Later, the after-work walk didn’t happen. The pedometer that arrived on Tuesday was used for one long walk, but that wasn’t quite exciting enough to motivate today. There were multiple lame-ass excuses. It was very breezy and I don’t like wind blowing on me. The light was fading fast and the puzzle building goes better in natural light, especially when adhering to the "no looking at the picture" rule. I was already cranky, cold, and have a newly runny nose (crap, I hope it’s allergies). My shins are sore from the previous two evenings of walks.

Perhaps the final nail in the coffin – I prefer having a destination when I walk. Walking around a neighborhood of primarily dead-end streets branching off a very busy road isn’t really that much fun. I'm not sure about dealing with stress, but it appears I have thoroughly mastered avoiding one of the things alleged to help avoid stress.

This walking challenge is going to be harder than I thought. Maybe I can get all the steps in on the weekend with some long hikes where there is actually a point – get to the top of the hill, then get back down, without becoming lost or breaking anything.

There were a few deliberate steps executed despite all the webinars, sitting, and avoiding taking a walk. While waiting for my black cherry tea to heat in the microwave, laps were walked around the kitchen table. The table is small, so I got a bit dizzy during the three full minutes of athletic activity. I was also eating cookies at the time. Those strawberry creme sandwich cookies from Family Dollar that cost $2.00 are really good. An early-to-bed night may be in order to hide from the cold and avoid eating more cookies.

“Remoted” – Workday 125 / Day 183 (Tuesday)

Resting after a tough day.

The reality is sinking in. The cold is coming. The house was 66 all day, which is close to the winter thermostat setting, and I was cold all day. I guess one big difference is that in winter, the attire is multiple winter layers and not summer lightweight.

Work is hopping busy. Little fires all around and big projects everywhere. Oy. In the midst of it all, Moose had a seizure. Every time it happens, it’s scary. 

They happen randomly and with varying intensity and duration. Today’s was brief and not the worst, thank goodness. He was behind my desk chair, and it sounded like he fell. I picked him up and then his legs got stiff and there was some thrashing. After that was over, he had trouble walking and seemed confused for a few minutes. After that he slept long and deep. 

His episodes have been happening occasionally for most of the years we’ve been together. Any time it happens, there is more concern with making sure he isn’t hurt than trying to get a video of it for the vet. But dang, a video would sure help describe things to the vet.

Neighborhood old-time cemetery.

Day two of the walking challenge and day two of walking after work. I thought about a walk before work, but it was too chilly and digging around for warmer things would take too long. Today’s route took me past an old cemetery barely a quarter mile from the house. I would probably have known about this sooner if I had ever bothered to explore the neighborhood on foot in any of the past four years. But hey, there’s no time like the present. 

“Remoted” – Workday 124 / Day 182 (Monday)

Yo, Monday. Shower, news, puzzle, Finnish lesson, work, lunch, work. All the usual stuff. And then, I shook it up.

Today was the first day of the steps challenge through our wellness program at work. To make the step quota and earn the points, I need to average 7,000 steps a day. I signed up last week in an especially ambitious (or delusional) moment. After work, I laced up the walking sneakers and downloaded the “Map My Walk” app because the pedometer I ordered hasn’t arrived yet.

Then, I left the house on foot, phone in hand. Because Map My Walk works on GPS, it doesn’t track the steps around the house or the 5,000 daily 50-step round trip journeys to let the dogs out to the back yard. I learned of this quirk the time I used it to track the distance and steps while mowing the lawn. It registered nothing but elapsed time and the map looked like a knotted clump of thread. And I still don’t know the distance involved in mowing the lawn.

Tonight, the dogs remained in the house, as they aren’t super fans of walks. Winston hides when the leashes come out. Moose jumps and barks, and gets all hyper, then, once we’re two houses away, refuses to walk any further, thus killing the walk. For these reasons, I don’t even try any more. They barked a lot when I left, and when I came back. 

Veggie boats!

Once back home, it was reward time, also called supper. I've been slacking a bit on the dinner prep, but tonight I was the captain of veggie stuffed veggie boats handcrafted of zucchini and squash. The stuffing was a tasty mix of sauteed kale, mushroom, onion, diced tomatoes, and parmesan, Then it was puzzle time. 

While working on the puzzle, I also had a show running on Netflix called “The Social Dilemma.” Watch it, but be prepared to be disturbed. It’s a terrifying glimpse into the algorithms, psychology, and ability to shape/distort society engineered into the social networks. “If you aren’t paying for the product (social media, Google) you are the product.”

“Remoted” – Day 181 (Sunday)

Following the concept of Sunday as a day of rest, there was a LOT of restful activity today. Some may call it wasting time or being lazy, which is also valid.

It really started last night when I stayed up until 1:30 working on the dumb puzzle while the new season of “Greenleaf” ran on the TV. This meant, of course, that I was super tired this morning. And like some kind of whack-a-doodle puzzle addict, I was right back at the table this morning, but only for about 10 hours or so. 

Today's progress.

While working on the puzzle in the quiet house, my mind was meandering all over the place. Among the random thoughts were mysteries to ponder, like the weekly appearance of the U Haul truck at the house across the street. From it, generally three to six motorcycles are unloaded and rolled into the back yard. Today it was two blues and a red. At least they arrived at 1:00 in the afternoon instead of the usual midnight.

When I finally turned on the TV for some noise to offset the tinnitus, which was especially loud, I randomly chose a home organizing show. I like decorating and organizing tips, and this show has Nashville locations, so it’s fun to see familiar sights. What is not fun is all the shrill shrieking that goes on. Dang. The greetings of the home owners is shrill. Then there is the squealing at the reveal of the newly organized pantry or closet. The tinnitus is almost preferable, and the show was almost turned off even though Reese Witherspoon’s closet, which is larger than my house, was being organized with movie and TV show costumes and awards show dresses.

I somehow hung in there for the whole season, despite the shrieking and the overly precocious children. Clear cannisters, referred to in the show as “The Product” are very popular. I love cannisters in general, but cringe at the specific idea of pouring rice into a cannister. There are a million types of rice, all with different cooking times. Once it’s dumped into a cannister, how do you know if it’s the 15-minute rice or the 45-minute? How much water is needed? That can differ, too. Dinner could be destroyed, but damn, the pantry looks like a lovely display from a general store in 1820. I’m probably doing it wrong from an aesthetic viewpoint, but if my rice lands in a cannister, it’s still in the bag so I know if it’s the Basmati, Jasmine, or the store brand plain white. There are dinners where I choose the rice solely by the cooking time.

“Remoted” – Day 180 (Saturday)

In Dr. Gary Chapman’s The 5 Love Languages, the five different ways of giving and receiving love are “Words of Affirmation, Acts of Service, Receiving Gifts, Quality Time, and Physical Touch.” I think StepDad, who is the most awesome step dad possible and I will fight anyone who disagrees, seems to be in the “Acts of Service” camp for showing love.

Today, I was once again fortunate to be on the receiving end of a full day’s worth of his acts of service when StepDad and Mom came to visit because he wanted to tighten my loose deck railing. While here, he also fixed the jammed garbage disposal, leveled the washer so now I can use all the cycles instead of just hand wash with no spin cycle, and leveled the dryer and cleaned the vent.

It was horrifying how much lint was behind the dryer and trapped in the vent, but that is all cleared now. The laundry project started as leveling the washer. Like so many projects, it suffered scope creep and evolved to include the dryer and removing the laundry closet folding doors, the top track, and the bottom anchors to pull the doors forward an inch or so to the frontmost edge of the door frame and allow the closet doors to clear the hinges of the dryer door, which has been a problem.

Winston has grabbed
the throne.

While the laundry closet work was underway, the dogs seemed puzzled by the activity and all the laundry closet stuff that was strewn about. Even the dog beds were disrupted, with both beds, pillows, and blankets stacked in a pile, and Moose and Winston alternated being king of the heap. Winston is a pro at tricking Moose off the couch and today, the dog bed pile, so he can assume occupancy of the space. Poor Moosie falls for it every time.

After the inside work, StepDad headed out to tighten the deck rail, and also cut an opening in the back of the deck rail to create direct access to the back yard, made steps to the back yard using stacked paver stones, and took the removed section of deck railing home to add hinges and create a gate for the driveway end of the deck. I’m exhausted thinking about all he did today. For much of the time, Mom and I hung out talking about a million different things and started a new puzzle. I’ve always felt badly that my 12 years in Tennessee meant 12 years I didn’t get to spend with Mom. But it also means I value and appreciate the quality time we get to spend together now.

This could take a while.

The puzzle, which features quilt blocks and has 2,000 pieces is going to keep me busy for a while, not that it was any kind of potential issue. My track record of keeping myself entertained at home since March is pretty solidly established. 

The freezer/magician’s cabinet delivered again today. While looking for the hot dogs and rolls, I found two cider donuts. That makes three treats found in three days – brownies, vodka, and cider donuts. 

“Remoted” – Workday 123 / Day 179 (Friday)

I'm Winston. I lick strangers.

Finally, the end of the longest short workweek, and of all days, this was the afternoon with two project meetings. I hate Friday afternoon meetings. There is rarely enough time to tackle any of the new tasks that come out of them, and by Monday, there have been two glorious days of not thinking about work, so it’s like starting over. At least one of the projects has a clear target date. The other one, I don’t quite know what is happening, but the project lead seems to want to build the tasks then arrive at the launch date. Does he not know that work expands to fill the time allotted? If I built the list for my part using the ideal timelines for each task that thing would never be done. There is nothing more inspiring than a deadline. Just tell me the the target date and I'll make my part happen. Maybe that’s just me.

It was also the day of the dishwasher service call. I was thrilled to hear the guy say it was an easy fix, but that was offset by the less thrilling bit of information that the part was not in his truck and needed to be ordered. It will likely be another week before he has it and is back. The whole half hour he was sitting on the floor in front of the machine, Winston was begging for his attention by trying to lick the guy's leg. I was at my desk trying to work, trying not notice that the guy had nice calves, and also whisper yelling for Winston to “stop it” and “come here.” When nobody else is here, Winston retreats to the top of the stairs, but when anyone else is around, he acts like he is completely deprived of attention, which he demands of the unsuspecting person by licking whatever skin he can get at like a hand, ankle or a leg. 

Ginger beer and vodka,
please and thank you.

To use up the tomatoes that looked like they were bordering on freshness issues, a sauce was started with mushrooms, onion, green pepper, and chopped up Roma and Heirloom tomatoes. I thought I’d just freeze it all, because I love a nice taste of summer in the winter. Suddenly, I was adding chopped summer squash and the zucchini which I had intended to use for bread, but forgot until after it was in the pot with the tomatoes. Oops. The next thing I knew, it also had Gardein meatless meatballs in it and I was devouring a bowl of the stuff with black olives and feta cheese. It was the tastiest impromptu tossing of stuff into a pan in a while. Some rice could put it right over the top. Maybe tomorrow.

After supper it was time to kick back and relax with the newly arrived extra spicy with a slight undertone of dirt ginger beer with a little bottle of vodka found in the freezer while getting the meatballs. The freezer is like a magician’s cabinet lately. Last night I found brownies in there, tonight it was vodka. Maybe if I make a wish, tomorrow I'll find a million dollars behind a bag of vegetables. Or an ice maker, that would also be nice.

“Remoted” Day 122 / Day 178 (Thursday)

The day was neither good nor bad. It was mostly neutral, which is an acceptable state, sometimes even desirable. It was steady busy with only mild annoyances.

Suomi!

Before work it was calm and productive with a chapter from the current book (The Indian in the Cupboard), and Finnish lessons (day 72!). After work, it’s screen time on the big Samsung. The current entertainment is Bordertown, which I saw listed as a Netflix feature a while ago and dismissed. Then, in one of the Finnish-related Facebook groups I’m in, someone mentioned it because it’s a Finn crime drama. 

Well, there you go – a chance for me to hear some “real life” conversational suomi with englanti subtitles. There is certainly nobody I know that I can attempt talking Finnish with, and it’s fun to hear the few words I know. I even have some favorite words, like “kaupunki,” which means “city” and “kysymys,” which means “question.” They are fun to say. There is a smidge of disappointment that in nine episodes they still haven’t said my favorite sentence of 72 days of lessons and reviews – “Kissa on viikinki,” which means “The cat is a Viking.” Based on its prominence early in the lessons I had assumed this to be a very important phrase.

I keep thinking about last night’s mouse between the sliding door panels that was coaxed out onto the deck and I feel a little guilty. If you guessed I lost a bit of sleep worrying about a little mouse in the dark on the deck you would be correct. It’s true, I didn’t want it in the house, but I can’t help wondering if the little critter made it to safety somewhere not in my house and is all right. It was small and kind of cute. I was born in the Chinese year of the rat, and maybe I was intended to be its queen.

Post rain pond puddle.

It rained this afternoon, which was probably guaranteed when I remembered to water the plants this morning. During the downpour, the water was deep and swirling the storm drain. After it stopped, 

there was puddle out front and little brown bunny was dining in the back yard. The puddles have been smaller since the road paving last year, which is good. The Finnish word for bunny is “pupu” which cracks me up every time I hear it because all I can think of is a Chinese restaurant PuPu Platter.

It’s amazing the ways I find to entertain and/or torque myself up. Survival tactic? Sign of complete insanity? I guess time will tell

.

“Remoted” – Workday 121 / Day 177 (Wednesday)

The holiday week state of confusion continued with Weirdo Wednesday, which was odd from the start. First, I woke up hot and sweaty. This is probably my most rare physical state since I stopped playing roller derby. It’s far more likely for me to be whining that I’m cold when it’s 95 degrees out than to wake up hot on a morning in the high 60s. My first thought was, “ewwwwwww, gross.” The second was, “what time is it?”

That’s when the second weird thing was realized. It was 6:00 and Moose was sound asleep. For two days now, he has not barked us up at 6:00 (or earlier) and I woke him up. Little Big Ben is off his game this week. He wasn’t especially interested in his breakfast, either, but he eventually ate it. Maybe he is just old and tired (aren’t we all, especially this year?). I’ll keep a close eye on him for a while (and myself if this body heat situation keeps up).

The third weird thing was good. The produce box that was due to arrive a day late because of the holiday arrived today, on time. Figs! Ginger! Nectarines and plums! And four cans of ginger beer, which came with the Moscow Mule recipe printed on the box. The package said the ginger beer is “extra spicy” but it tasted more “earthy” to me, so I’m not sure which spice that would be exactly. I have fresh ginger which does not taste like dirt, so I’m a bit confused by the "extra spicy" ginger beer.

Today’s work aggravation involved stock photography. Holy hell, why are images of a person at a desktop computer so scarce? It’s like the photographers all jumped on the person on a laptop, tablet, and cell phone images by the thousands and completely abandoned the regular desktop monitor and keyboard. Newsflash – lots of businesses still use desktop computers, and when I’m looking for images to represent business online services, I need something besides a 25 year-old on a laptop. Sure, the 25 year-olds and the laptops are fresh, shiny, and pretty, but come on. We had the same technology photo problem a year ago on another project. Do I have to start shooting stock photography just so we can have the images I need? Hmmmm … I’ve got time and a few cameras ...

At least I finally remembered to call the pest control company. For the cost of a modest week-long vacation, I can enjoy an initial rodent and wasp treatment and quarterly pest service with monthly payments. It might be less expensive to just get a cat, but that could drive the dogs straight into therapy, which would eat up any savings.

Winston, who already exhibits a charming blend of canine “pet me” neediness and feline “don’t touch me” aloofness, was sitting very still all evening, staring fixedly into the kitchen and then later at the open deck slider. When I went to investigate, there was a mouse sitting between the two overlapping glass panels. Winston watched as I slowly slid the door more open and closed and tried to figure out what to do. If I closed the slider the mouse would be released into the dining room. 

Winston and his pet mouse.

It worked out that I was able to open the screen (which usually comes off the track so my solution has been to avoid touching it), then slide the door open further. This could have gone two ways – the mouse would be back in the house, or out on the deck. Luckily, it turned to end up on the deck, and I slid that door shut as fast as I could. 

One less mouse in the house, as least for now. It’s anyone’s guess how many there are, because I doubt it was an independent operative. And there are probably 47 entrances I don’t know about. After the mouse was out, Winston took himself upstairs. Apparently, his work was done.

“Remoted” – Workday 120 / Day 176 (Tuesday)

It was the usual punishing Tuesday that feels like Monday – the price of a holiday. Woke up late, tired and with a sinus headache. Moose didn’t do his usual 6:00 wake up barking and I woke up at 6:15 confused. Most unusual, and has me a bit concerned. The late-night basketball practice in the street along with my usual nocturnal teeth grinding surely contributed to the throbbing headache, and sleeping weird left me with a sore shoulder. The sinuses were stuffed and the tinnitus was super extra loud, to add a layer of deafening fun to the mix. Much of the day that followed was a headache punctuated by aching eye sockets and occasional eye twitch. 

Does not care about
the rodent problem.

And now, it would be nice to relax, but a frigging mouse just ran across the living room floor. Winston was outside sniffing the neighbor trash cans that have been in front of my house since Sunday, having crawled under the gate to freedom. Moose was sleeping on the couch as carefree as can be. I clapped loud and both Moose and the mouse jumped.  Moose went back to sleep and the mouse stopped and somehow disappeared. 

I want to barf. If I sleep tonight it will be a miracle. Tomorrow must include a call to a pest company. Either that or I will just run away.

There have probably been mice here the whole time I lived here. I liked it better when they stayed hidden. But now, it is time to declare war.

“Remoted” – Day 175 (Monday – Labor Day)

There were two opportunities for fun today. The dance group was meeting in the morning, and there was also a potential hike with cousins. Both were declined.

Today may have been a holiday from work-work, but it wasn’t a holiday from housework. Chores have been accumulating, and the recent rodent sightings had me anxious to explore an area of known visitation.

Before - four years of clutter.

The entire morning was spent dealing with the bathroom closet. Oy. It hadn’t been reorganized since I moved in, so it had four years’ worth of accumulated disarray. It was hard to even tell what was in there. The project began at 8, was finally finished at 1:30, and was an example of a saying I learned in business school, “work expands to fill the time allotted.” 

Most of it felt like a treasure hunt, which is why it took so long. My little trip down Memory Lane saw the reacquaintance with two caulking guns, three packs of sandpaper and a wistful remembrance of all the traveling I used to do and the excess of cosmetic and toiletry bags collected in the process. Then there are all the hair flower clips and gadgets I keep buying on sale in case they are ever needed for a costume.

Due to slacking by the warehouse team, inventory levels were skewed, resulting in an excess of toilet paper but paper towels and tissues are low. There is a mysteriously large number of lightbulbs. At least a dozen contact lens cases were rounded up, along with four pairs of new contacts in the original boxes. I haven’t even worn contacts in about four years. After decades of great success, they just didn’t work for me anymore and I still needed readers for close-up, so I finally said screw it and returned to glasses full time (which I take off for close work).

Three bottles of long ago expired canine skin sprays were discarded. There are enough hair gadgets and bottles of nail polish to open a kiosk and an overabundance of sheets and towels. There is an entire Sterilite container of neatly wound extension cords and every variety of computer and electronics cable. All the old exes who cherry picked my tool bag left me with all sorts of cables, but it doesn't feel like a fair trade. A basket is full of Ace Bandages, physical therapy bands, gauze, and bandages. I hope I never need the medical supplies, and until the magic “someday” when the spare room sleeping situation is sorted out, all the sheets will stay.

After five hours of work.

The bathroom closet was the day’s target because I have seen a mouse (or maybe a rat, I don’t really know) scurry under the door and disappear in there. After everything was pulled out and the floor was cleaned, I crawled in to have a good look. One corner had a big gap between the baseboard and the tile floor, another corner had a smaller gap. It didn’t look like it had been chewed, it looked more like crappy workmanship.

The gaps were stuffed first with cotton with tea tree and grapefruit essential oils. Then I used a shim to cram some steel wool in there, which I read the rodent types are not fans of. Then, I finished it off with a nice line of caulk.

The next project will be the coat closet, which is jammed full of coats, every one of them mine. It’s smaller than the bathroom closet, but if I go through all the coats, it could take forever.

“Remoted” – Day 174 (Sunday)

Is it Saturday? Is it Sunday? These were today's immediate questions. It took a few minutes to puzzle it out this morning.

Turned out to be Sunday, which was the day for a cookout with Mom and StepDad. There were four of us and I had offered to bring dessert, so the hand mixer and ingredients emerged from the cabinets shortly after the butt crack of dawn. By the time the coffee pot was drained, there was flour and powdered sugar all over the kitchen. And lemon juice. It turns out that hand squeezing lemons is hard on the hands and the juice can go in directions that are neither intended nor desired. The practical brilliance of the many glass juicers of the days of yore seen in antique shops over the decades is now crystal clear. Using lemon juice twice a year probably doesn’t justify dedicating storage space for such a handy tool, so I won’t be running out in search of one. It’s probably why the plastic lemon juice thingy sold at the grocery store was invented.  

Lemon bar crumble?

The lemon bars made for the Independence Day cookout at Mom's were recreated for today’s pre-Labor Day event. It was a blatant attempt to atone for the July driveway incident that involved about a dozen lemon bars becoming intimately acquainted with some pavement while I attempted to carry too many things into the house. At least it happened later in the day and we'd each had one before the unfortunate mishap that sent the rest to the trash bin.

Today’s sophomore batch had less than stellar results. The dough wasn’t pressed down firmly enough and far enough up the sides of the baking dish per the instructions. The shortbread layer didn’t bake to “golden brown on the edges.” It didn’t get golden anything and remained rather anemic after the full bake time, probably because it was a bit too thick on the bottom and not pressed up the sides.

Because the shortbread wasn’t pressed up the sides of the dish the full half inch specified in the recipe, when it was time to pour in the filling before the second bake, there were no lovely golden brown shortbread walls to contain it. The filling layer that should never have been in direct contact with the baking dish got quite brown on the edges. Oops.

Once cooled, frosted, and later cut, the shortbread layer was very crumbly. Probably another consequence of not having been “pressed firmly.” They still taste good, but no bake-offs will be won, no medals or stars awarded with this attempt. At least I didn’t drop them in the driveway, although if a batch deserved such abuse, it was probably this one. The stray crumbs make an excellent ice cream topping, so they aren’t a total loss.

As for today’s lesson, when life gives you lemon for lemon bars, read and follow the directions. All of the directions. Completely. No slacking.