“Remoted” – Day 229 (Saturday)

It was another exhausting overnight. After the multiple pee spots in the bed of the Thursday overnight shift and additional laundry duties of Friday, the dogs were, indeed banished from the queendom of my  bed. They were presented with their own beds for the night for possibly the first time in a decade. During the workday, the dog beds are in the kitchen, then after work, they sometimes move to the living room, but this is possibly the first time the beds were brought upstairs, and the boys were understandably confused. 

Pretty morning.

There was barking when I was settled under the freshly laundered bed linens and the pups were still on the floor. They eventually settled into their own beds, but unfortunately, the peaceful slumber did not last for very long. I was awakened by low level, polite growling from Winston around 1:00-ish. The adventures continued as the boys alternated the wake-up and potty activities at 3:15-ish and 4:30-ish in a brilliant display of coordinated teamwork. When Winston did the waking up, Moose remained in the bedroom until we returned, at which time he decided he wanted to go out, and vice versa. After the 4:30 potty break hijinks, there was finally a beautiful, blissful stretch of uninterrupted sleep until 7:30. They were probably as worn out as I was by the early morning puppy protest.

Winston had a visit scheduled with a veterinary technician for a blood test, so there was the pre-travel adventure of getting into the snow-covered vehicle to access the tools with which to clear the snow from the vehicle. As the snow fell on Friday, there was a sense of denial about the total accumulation, combined with the misguided notion that the Saturday morning sun would warm and melt the snow from the car before departure time. It seemed I had forgotten the lessons of the previous three winters that the early morning sun does not actually shine upon the driveway. By the time the sun rises high enough to clear the much taller house next door, it is closer to noon. 

Resting after a night
of protest and
morning blood test.

There was a thin coating of slick ice in parts of the driveway around the car, so the snow clearing operation involved clownish acrobatic balancing escapades and mild swearing. The dogs and their beds were loaded in the back seat and the ride to Fitchburg under a brilliant blue sky commenced. The trees along the roadways were still decked in colorful leaves topped with a coat of snow that was picturesque. The dogs lay in their beds and missed it all. They were probably recharging their batteries for another protest tonight. 

The results of Winston’s vet visit for blood work showed his sugar in the 400s, which is lower than last week’s 600s, but not quite the desired level in the 100s. The vet will call on Monday to discuss the new level for the daily insulin shot.

Once back home, it was lunch and Netflix. The dogs slumbered on the couch, and I eventually joined them in the napping, because naps are awesome. My battery needed recharging, too, after the night of scrambled sleep.

“Remoted” – Workday 156 / Day 228 (Friday)

The day started a bit early, defined as 2:00 am. Winston had wriggled out of his diaper wrap and was walking around on the bed while Moose was sleeping. I got Winston outside to have a pee, but Moose didn’t come along. Winston had a big drink of water before we went back upstairs, and back in the bedroom, Moose stood on the bed looking like he needed something to happen. I picked him up and got him downstairs. As he was outside, I noticed my bathrobe was wet where I had picked him up and rested him on my hip to carry him. Once back upstairs, Houdini was re-diapered and we all went back to bed.

Winston, Overlord of the Snowfield.

Sliding into bed in the sliver of space between the bed-hog Canine Overlords, one on each side, my leg felt something either cold or wet. I can’t always tell the difference. An investigation ensued. There was a wet spot through the puff, the quilt, and two sheets. Peeling back the covers further, it was revealed there were actually two separate wet spots.

Based on the evidence of Winston Houdini previously standing diaper-free in the area of the wet spots, and Moose Crankypants standing in the area of the wet spots just minutes later followed by the wetness on my bathrobe, the initial conclusion is that both beasts exercised liberties with their prolific streams. They are damned lucky they are cute, but still may find themselves banished from the bed and relegated to the floor henceforth. 

After the exciting early morning sleep interruption, there was a frustrating 48 minutes-long attempt to get back to sleep, then sleeping a bit later than usual, stronger coffee than normal, and early season steady snow with intermittent loads of laundry. The fluffy snow looked pretty on the leaves which haven't yet fully changed colors and left the trees. The shovels, stored in the shed since spring, were retrieved to facilitate the clearing of the steps and walkways for the convenience of the Canine Overlords. 

Winston the cuddle-bug.

Moose stayed close to the house under the shelter of the roof overhang for his potty visits, while Winston frolicked in the backyard snow to pee and play. Running from place to place, he seemed perkier and happier than he has been in ages. It was delightful to see. He was also more cuddly than usual and even sat on my lap willingly. Maybe the insulin is helping him feel more like himself. 

The evening involved lackluster leftover frozen pizza. There was the tragically wasteful accidental overfilling of the new wine glass after miscalculating the volume in the bottle, followed by the subsequent cleanup operation. In anticipation of the reassembly of the bedding (again), an entire bag of Pepperidge Farms Milano cookies was consumed. Yes, the entire bag. For strength, and followed by regret.

The TV turned on like it’s supposed to, so there was an immediate reboot-free launch directly into Netflix comedy night at the BungaLowell with a Rom-Com (Holidate) and Sarah Cooper Everything’s Fine, with the surround sound effects of two snoring dogs.

“Remoted” – Workday 155 / Day 227 (Thursday)

Finnish military surplus!

A day of accomplishments. While searching for the missing Bank logo fleece which may or may not even be at the house and might instead be in the drawer at the downtown office-office, the missing red and gray dog sweater was found. The fleece jacket for humans is still MIA, but will probably be found next summer while searching for a swimsuit or something else unrelated.

During the workday, price quotes for signs were reviewed and signs were ordered, more quotes were requested for other printed things, logistics were handled, plans were made, emails were sent and a greater number received, meetings were attended. Whew! Even with all the rain, the basement was still dry at mid-day. And .... my Finnish military surplus wool twill hat delivered. It's cute, but it smells kind of funny, like long-term storage. But when I flee to the land of my maternal ancestors, I can blend in. You know, in an AWOL thrift store way.

Pretend fried rice!

After work, a super supper of pretend fried riced made with riced cauliflower and Gardein Szechuan Beefless Strips was had. It was so good that too much was eaten. The kitchen and bathroom floors and rugs were vacuumed, thus earning the eating of ice cream. It was discovered that the TV, despite the brand new cable box installed on Monday, once again displayed the blue screen of nothingness. Go figure. I was in no mood to deal with the call center folks again so soon, after just a few days. I performed the ritual of turning off the power strip, turning it back on, and letting it go through the five minutes that feel like forever reboot sequence.

Once the box was finally functioning, much needed mindless entertainment was enjoyed with a Finnish-language comedy about a heavy metal band (Heavy Trip). Who doesn’t love some, as the fictional band calls it, “symphonic post-apocalyptic reindeer-grinding christ-abusing extreme war pagan Fennoscandic metal”? This was much lighter fare than the dark and grisly Finnish crime series (Bordertown and Deadwind). Despite the 118 days of Finnish lessons, I still recognize only a few words, and in none of the many hours of programs has anyone yet asked “Onko tuhma kissa viikinki?” (Is the naughty cat a Viking?). But I keep hoping.

“Remoted” – Workday 154 / Day 226 (Wednesday)

My ballot was logged as accepted and now I can stop worrying I will forget to deliver it or worse. There was a teensy moment of panic during operation ballot drop off last night. Flush with the excitement of finding a perfect parking spot, I jumped out of the car with my ballot in hand. I was up the steps and more than halfway across the concrete plaza to the box when I realized I had no mask. Sure, it was outdoors, but I had to walk past two people having a conversation at a pickup truck parked in JFK Plaza, one masked, one not, and it felt reckless and not in the fun way like when I was in college. 

Accepted!

I got to the box, pushed open the metal panel, and slid the envelope horizontally in the tiny space between the panel and the metal that was under the panel. After the envelope was out of sight, I saw the slit to drop the envelope vertically into the box. There were ruminations during the night about my ballot being lodged in some sliver of space and not being found until years later and having to go vote in person anyway.  All because I was hurrying due to feeling socially irresponsible for forgetting my mask in the car while being civically responsible and voting.

Polenta = really boring food.

One of the first things I did this morning was check the ballot status, fully prepared to stalk the Secretary of State website for days, if necessary. Luckily, it was already logged as accepted and I could move on to other concerns including but not limited to the whereabouts of the red and gray dog sweater that matches the navy blue and green one. I can’t find it anywhere, and the boys look so cute wearing the same sweater in different colors. Also, why is polenta so boring? I have bought it several times, each time hoping it will be better than the previous times. Then I punish myself with eating it because I bought it. This was the case tonight, when I baked polenta slices topped with parmesan and served with sauce topped with even a bit more parmesan. Not impressed all over again, and I have about a dozen more slices of the stuff. I probably won’t vote to have polenta again after this tube is gone. 

“Remoted” – Workday 153 / Day 225 (Tuesday)

Vote for the sexy sweater dogs!

It is chilly and autumnal and I wore a giant scarf shawl all day like someone’s little old grandma. The only thing missing was a rocking chair. The dogs were fidgety until I put sweaters on them and then they seemed more calm, probably because they knew they looked fabulous. Moose wore a handknit sweater in tan with brown trim, which has a coordinating scarf for the human, gifted by my talented cousin. Winston sported a green rib knit with black trim. 

After supper, I diapered the dogs in the standard leaving the house ritual and took a ride downtown to finally drop off my ballot in the drop box at City Hall. It’s been completed since last week, but I didn’t see a parking spot when I was in the area several days ago, and knowing I still had plenty of time, kept driving. 

Because I was already out and dog free, there was a quick stop at Family Dollar to check for Spray and Wash. There was none, but because I was already in the store, it seemed logical to shop. There were paper napkins and coffee filters, which I needed, but it seemed like a dumb trip to only spend $2.50 (plus tax) on a debit card. The next thing I knew, I was carrying sugar wafer cookies, Swiss Rolls, chewy granola bars with chocolate chips, and a wine glass to replace the crystal stem knocked into the metal sink and broken about a month ago. A pint of beloved butter pecan ice cream was rejected because every single container in the so-called freezer was squishy and soft. The total of $6.73 seemed more “worthwhile” for the trip.

While heading to my car, there was a guy in the parking lot. He was tall, dressed in dark clothing, and beyond that, seemed average and nondescript. In other words, I would make a crappy eye witness. He was walking towards me from three or four parking spaces away, saying, “Miss, can I ask you something?” My wise-ass former self would have pointed out he had already just asked me something, but I wanted to get home and wasn’t in the mood for a parking lot conversation. And any time a question begins with a preamble to request permission to ask the question, it’s already feeling like a full-blown conversation.

There are times I would welcome a conversation, any conversation at all, but tonight I was chilly, my hands were full, and it was getting dark, so this was not one of those times. He followed up with, “I’m not weird, I’m driving the Mercedes,” and gestured to a silver Mercedes in the next row. Maybe he thought I’d be impressed. I wasn’t. Right, dude. You aren’t weird because you claim that you’re not, and everyone knows that you have to pass a test proving you aren’t weird to be allowed to drive a Mercedes. Did I get that right? 

I kind of waved him off saying, “Nah, I gotta go,” as I continued to my car. He kept on, “Can I just ask you a question?” The tally was now two questions, and he still hadn’t managed to ask his actual question. I got in my car and left and he wandered towards the next person exiting the store. At home on the couch, eating Swiss Rolls, no longer outside in the chill, I’m kind of curious as to what the question was.  But now we’ll never know.

“Remoted” – Workday 152 / Day 224 (Monday)

After managing to slip out of it once and being re-diapered, Winston wore the infant diaper inside the doggy band the rest of the night, and I woke up to a dry bed. It was just like it always was, and always should be. It was wonderful. It is quite amazing the things that bring satisfaction and contentment in everyday life. 

Sweater boys!

The day included the scheduled visit from the Comcast Xfinity technician to swap out the cable box. The dogs were corralled in the kitchen and the tech was on time. Allegedly, the TV will once again reliably turn on like magic at the push of the power button. It doesn't need to be actual magic as long as it routinely and predictably functions as designed and intended. The tech said his team spends a lot of the day swapping out boxes, and also that my old one lasted a long time at four years. Easy peasy and it was done.

Waking up in a bed free of dog pee and having a new cable box can be filed under things I would never have thought in a million years would be benchmarks for domestic peace or joy. But there they are.

I was chilly today so the dogs were dressed in sweaters. My being cold doesn’t mean the dogs are, too, but they seemed happy once they had them on. Maybe being warm and feeling stylishly attired in a cozy sweater is a mood booster for them, too.

The laundry detergent arrived from Amazon Prime, which was another mundane event never expected to bring joy. After all the additional washing of bedding from the recent pee events, the volume of laundry detergent was low. The household is now set for another 140 loads, and under normal laundry circumstances (i.e., no pee on or in the bed) this should last for several months. It's great not having to worry about things like laundry soap. Again, a case of the small things bringing comfort. Or maybe it means that my world has gotten unbelievably, tragically small.

“Remoted” – Day 223 (Sunday)

Winston at the scene of the event.

The first day of Winston’s new daily insulin injection was accomplished without incident. It was like we've been doing it forever. Winston peed on the bed overnight again, which is also feeling like it's been happening forever. The day's laundry plan was expanded to include the quilt and duvet cover which were just washed the other day. 

Several nights of this doggy bedwetting have illustrated that it is preferable to be awakened at 2 am by a dog needing to go out than to awaken at 7 am next to soggy bedding. Of course, until a friend suggested it, it never occurred to me to put the diaper pants on him for bed, which has been a standard part of my leaving the house routine for more than four years. Talk about missing the obvious. Winston slept most of the day. Within a few hours of the insulin shot, his trips to the water bowl and outside were fewer than the recent usual, which feels promising.

To add insult to injury, salt to the wound, or maybe it was to participate in the fun, as the bed was being stripped, Moose delivered a fresh offering of poop on the bedroom rug. This happened immediately after he had been outside. We were out, we came in and went upstairs, and the next thing I knew I smelled it, and there was a glorious heap of poop to be cleaned up.

The washer and dryer were running with back-to-back loads and the dishwasher was dealing with all the coffee cups, silverware, and small plates. Turning on the TV and seeing the frequently recurring blank blue screen of Comcast Xfinity death was the next hurdle in the day's aggravation marathon. The cable can be accessed, it just requires turning the power strip for the TV and cable box off and then turning it back on and waiting for all the initialization steps to run. On a good stretch, this is needed only once every few months, but it is usually needed every week to 10 days. The whole process had just been done yesterday, so today was the last cable straw. The techs were contacted and their remote online troubleshooting went nowhere. The options offered were trading in the cable box at the local store across town, which would require dressing to leave the house, or making an appointment for a tech visit. A technician will be here Monday. The cable box was rebooted using my usual workaround so I could I could watch the magic screen.

Santa Tracker
for adults.

Groceries were ordered from Whole Foods and six brown paper bags arrived on the doorstep after little effort on my part. The freezer is now well stocked with vegetables, pot stickers, frozen pizza, and Gardein pretend meat products including plant-based versions of beef crumbles, Italian sausage, crab cakes, Szechuan beef strips, and chick’n scaloppini. And Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream. Online grocery shopping is possibly my favorite pandemic activity. It might bring even more joy than doing nothing, which it has become a favorite. The status notifications and map with the location of my order always feel like Christmas and the NORAD Santa Tracker. 

“Remoted” – Day 222 (Saturday)

Moose had a vet appointment scheduled for his annual checkup and some routine shots, which had been rescheduled a couple times due to my schedule, then the vet office schedule. The loose plan was vet office, maybe visit my sister or Mom, and possibly go hear my brother-in-law’s band at Hollis Hills Farm. 

I'm Winston.
Lately, I pee a lot.

For about ten days now, Winston has been draining entire bowls of water and discharging an impressive volume of pee much more frequently than his normal routine. His ribs have become easy to find, like they were in Tennessee, before he packed on some Yankee weight. The vet office was unable to piggy back an appointment for Winston with Moose's, but our earlier conversation resulted in changing the appointment to Winston instead. I dressed in layers for the day, and packed a dog bowl, water, and treats. Both dog beds were put on the floor in the back seat of the car, which is the best way I’ve found to keep the boys contained while I’m driving. We left the house packed for the day, and had not made it a half-mile before I could smell the familiar fragrance of poo. It was more than dog farts, it was real poo. Because I was driving, the source could not be immediately investigated. It would be an interesting ride.

We arrived in Fitchburg early enough to swing by the cemetery and stop to say “hey” at Mummu’s grave. I noticed a chip in the headstone – the center of a nine is missing in one of the dates. The source of the poo stench was determined to be my left boot. Driving through the cemetery was a trip down memory lane. My friends and I rode our bikes in this cemetery. In junior high I would sometimes cross the street from school with another friend and we would smoke Marlboro cigarettes on the hill before going to our respective homes.  Many years later, I often spent time there taking photos of the beautiful monuments.

We still ended up at the vet’s office early and I was able to complete a Finnish lesson (Kippis! 113 days!). With the COVID-19 protocols, at the appointed time, Winston was delivered to the front door, his collar was traded for an office leash, and he was handed over to the care of a very nice veterinary technician with blond hair, pretty blue eyes and a magenta face covering. His symptoms were reviewed and permission granted to perform urinalysis. I rejoined Moose at the car and he popped out for a potty break which included a big poo in the parking lot. Once it was bagged, no barrel was found to dispose of it, so now, in addition to the poo ground into the rug from my boot, there was a green bag of poo on the floor on the passenger side. Before too many Candy Crush games were completed, there was a call requesting permission for bloodwork.

The next call delivered the news that Winston will now be a member of the Insulin Club, and lengthy discussions about diabetes. He's lost four pounds since his visit in February. Beginning tomorrow morning after his breakfast and every day going forward, he will receive a shot. I managed to not cry. With years of practice holding back tears it is second nature at this point. It was a few more minutes before the office called to say I could some inside for my syringe technique lesson and to retrieve Winnie and his new daily supplies. The practice shot of sterile saline was not as awful as anticipated. 

Thank goodness for
wine and pizza.

The bill for the visit and the supplies was less than feared, but still an unexpected high expense. It had been barely 24 hours since reviewing my checking balance, noticing its healthy state, and wondering if I had forgotten to pay something, which is the usual reaction any time this has happened. Well, it’s not healthy any more, and the normal state of financial nervousness and stress has resumed. This is exactly how my world works. As soon as something good is acknowledged, something else usually comes along to erase it. It was a fabulous 24 hours of being able to breathe and not being conscious of every dime.

After all that, there wasn’t much desire to be around people and have to be sociable, so the pups and I headed back home. They napped like always, and I spent all afternoon mindlessly scrolling Facebook, playing Candy Crush, and eating all the chocolate candies out of a surprise Halloween delivery that recently arrived from work. Tonight, it’s leftover pizza from last week, which is why I always buy a large pizza and freeze most of it. There will be a glass or two of Grenache, maybe three, could be the whole bottle, we’ll see how it goes. Next Saturday, we’ll be back at the vet office for a check on how the Insulin dosage is working. 

“Remoted” – Day 221 (Friday)

Friday was a vacation day scheduled to spend time with Mom on her birthday. My sister and middle niece were also available and it became a girls’ adventure day.  

There was some hilarity. My sister was driving Mom’s car and I was navigating, which was our first mistake, as I'm lucky if I can find my way in my own house. The first question to me was “How do we get to the beach from your house?” which is a perfectly reasonable question, but I didn’t know the answer. Even using Waze I got us stuck in the wrong lane approaching a construction zone and we missed an exit. We laughed as we drove by the same road construction crew, police officer, and the Rockingham Mall three times. We wondered if we would ever get out of Salem, New Hampshire and arrive in Salisbury Beach, Massachusetts.

Salisbury Beach.

At Salisbury, the water was grayish, the sky was gray, the air was cool, and my niece, dressed in shorts and a hooded sweatshirt, went into the water and stayed there a lot longer than seemed possible. Further down the beach, a man in shorts was swimming. It was chilly near the water, and the sun was barely perceptible through the clouds. We wandered around Salisbury, then decided to ride to Hampton and check out Brown’s for lunch. Mom took the wheel for this leg, and luckily, she knows how to get from Salisbury to Hampton. I was off the hook on the navigation and there were no routing incidences. 

Brown’s had several groups waiting outside the restaurant and we decided to skip it and visit the beach. In the spirit of adventure, we took on the challenge of finding a free parking spot. This had us cruising up and down almost every one of the letter-named side streets. What looked like an open spot from Ocean Boulevard turned out to be occupied by a motorcycle, marked by a “Resident Only” sign, was a driveway, or was snatched from our grasp mere seconds earlier by the car ahead of us. Along the way, we concocted fanciful tales of being reported as a suspicious vehicle and laughed over the mileage being logged in the search for a free parking spot.

Pandemic Hampton Beach Birthday.

In the end, the car was parked on Ocean Boulevard, where the next challenge was the pay machine, in effect until the 31^st. Not knowing while in the car what the payment options were at the machine, my sister and I armed ourselves with bills and my bank card. The instructions indicated we could enter bills into a slot, which couldn’t be more straightforward, except we couldn’t find the slot. We finally realized the cash slot was securely covered with tape that matched the color of the machine. Thank goodness for the bank card for the $2 win. 

Lunch was at the Sea Ketch. At the host podium, we were asked if we wanted the lunch menu or the appetizer menu. Not knowing what was on either menu, we had a hard time answering. Apparently, the lunch menu is served on one level, and the appetizer menu on another level, so it wasn't possible to have both menus. The better first line of inquiry might have been  to ask if we had been there before, and then explain the menus when our answer was "no, we have not."

We blindly chose the lunch menu and were seated at an inside table with a view we enjoyed briefly before a party was seated on the porch and blocked it. After lunch we walked the nearly empty boardwalk, then crossed the street to walk on the nearly empty beach side. The sun had managed to appear, at least looking towards Massachusetts. The sky was dark and serious in the other direction.

Getting back home was as comical as the trip to the beach. We missed an exit resulting in a journey through a residential neighborhood as Waze tried to point us in the right direction. We passed an exit for Salem and wondered if we should drive by the mall again for old times' sake, and laughed about our earlier Salem trek when we thought we might never get out of there.

My thoughtful sister had made Strawberry Shortcake, Mom’s favorite dessert. Back at the house, we were all still too full from lunch to have any. Overall, it was a great day filled with laughs. Happy birthday, Mom!

“Remoted” – Workday 151 / Day 220 (Thursday)

Mine was not an athletic family. We didn’t play team sports, and with the exception of Mummu, we didn’t even watch sports. My sister and I danced ballet, and my much cooler sister also served as the family athlete as a cheerleader for church league basketball and high school varsity football.  

I tried out for cheering in high school a couple times but never made the squad. For tryouts in freshman year, we wore socks on the gym floor. During the cartwheel into splits at the end of the cheer, my socks slid on the floor, the splits happened too fast, and my left hamstring tore. This was during a preview for the judges, so I didn’t even get to try out. I sat on the bleachers rubbing my injured leg while everyone else tried out for the squad. It was days (weeks?) of aspirin and very painful walking. After the ordeal, my left leg was much more flexible in dance class, so there was a tiny benefit.

Zombies and Commandos.

Decades later, as an adult living in Tennessee, I helped organize a roller derby team and learned to roller skate. I loved the workouts and my teammates. After months of training, recruiting, fundraising, and skills tests, we launched our first season with big crowds at the rink and several wins against other teams. Our home bouts usually had a theme and the teams and spectators could dress for the theme, which included “Hillbilly Hoe Down” and “Glam Slam Metal Jam.”  On October 22, 2011, for our final event of the first season, our full team split and played as two teams – Zombies vs Commandos. I was on team Commandos.

Under the training protocol during the regular season, the 10 to 12 skaters on the roster for an upcoming bout worked on advanced moves, strategy, and specific bout drills. The rest of the team worked with the “Fresh Meat” newer team members on basics for the skills test including crossovers, knee taps, the safe ways to fall, the various stops, and the three seconds to get up and resume active skating from a fall.

In that final bout, another Commando tried to launch me in a cannonball move into a Zombie skater to knock her out of bounds. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been rostered for the most recent previous bouts and hadn’t practiced that particular maneuver.

Going Commando!

During the attempted cannonball move, skates were entangled and I hit the floor. The protocol for an injured skater is to tap the helmet, the action is stopped, and skaters take a knee. When I fell, I felt the snap of my shin, said “oh fu#%,” slammed the floor with my hand, and finally remembered to tap my helmet. Skaters took a knee, the refs and our EMTs came to my aid, and a teammate got my skates off my feet before I was carried off the track to a bench. My unplanned blood donation was mopped up from the floor. While waiting for the ambulance, there were no tears and people later said I was badass. I rolled out of Magic Wheels on a gurney, into the ambulance, and to the hospital, dressed in patterned tights, camo patterned booty shorts, a tee shirt stenciled with Commandos on the front and shades deville - 813 on the back, and camo face paint. 

This was my trifecta – first broken bone, first surgery, first hospital stay. The x-rays revealed a tibia-fibula spiral fracture. There was no pain, likely due to the nerve damage and numbness which lasted for years and still lingers. The treatment options were nine months in a cast or the insertion of a rod in my shin and a walking boot. The rod option was chosen and surgery took place overnight.

Oh, snap!

The hospital was exhausting. There was a constant stream of nurse visits and the taking of vitals. There was a stream of visitors. There was physical therapy. There was a woman in the next bed who constantly moaned in pain and didn’t know how to press the button for the nurse station. There was a beautifully printed menu for each meal and a kitchen staff that seemed surprised by my order. Each time they asked, “Is that all you want? That’s it?” They must get some big eaters there. 

On Tuesday, or maybe it was Wednesday, it was time to leave the hospital, and my teammate and derby wife Devlin D Flesh took me to her house. Moose was already there creating havoc, having been collected from my house Saturday night while I was at the hospital. At Wifey’s house there was great food, many laughs, visits from our teammates, a visiting nurse, and physical therapist. It was probably the longest week of her year. For me, it was a catalyst for big life changes that included the eventual sale of my home in Tennessee, leaving a great job, and moving back to Massachusetts to be near family. 

“Remoted” – Workday 150 / Day 219 (Wednesday)

Pink  umm...what is this?

It is a pretty surprise when looking out to the deck and seeing there are still flowers in the deck planter. The recently-acquired pot of mums is obviously not a surprise, as they are a fall flower, but the stray bachelor button, red flowers from the potato plant, and pink flower of I don’t know what it is are pretty to see in late October. The leaves are turning from green to red and orange and starting to fall from the tree in the yard behind my house.

It’s still rare to venture very far from the house, and when it happens, I look forward to being back home. The level of homebody-ness currently embraced would horrify my younger self who thought staying home was a punishment, probably because as a grounded kid that is exactly what it was. There have been long stretches of time where home was the place where my stuff lived and the mail arrived, and where I dashed in briefly to change outfits between activities and finally returned to sleep. Staying home on purpose was specifically for being sick, and generally for others like the elderly and the antisocial. Oh, how attitudes change with time, a pandemic, and dogs to keep one company.

Red flower from
the potatoes.

Sometimes, current-me worries about slipping into dangerous waters with the antisocial hermit tendencies. After working, writing, and feeding the dogs and myself, there is barely time to leave the house, not that there is anywhere to go, or a modicum of energy available to bother going. When it’s cold, there is even less interest in making the effort, if it's at all possible to have less than no interest.

The trip to the new Market Basket has still not happened, and the store has been open almost two weeks now. Not even coupons for free Edy's ice cream in my possession since the summer have gotten me there. 

The tree is changing slowly.

The routine of the days is pretty solidly set with coffee, work, lunch and supper, writing, and sleep. Writing used to be my favorite activity, but lately sleeping has climbed the ranks and is closing in on the top position. Eating is still solidly in the top three.

Hopefully, the preference for avoiding activity will shift again like the seasons, and there will be a renewed spark for doing anything more than nothing. The idea of the nothingness sounds boring, and occasionally even alarming, but while I’m doing it (or am I actually not doing it?), it feels okay. Until a shift occurs, the quiet life with the dogs, fruit tea, and the remaining oddball flowers on the deck feels pretty okay. I can ponder whether what is happening is actively doing nothing, or passively not doing something. Either way, inertia is a real thing. 

“Remoted” – Workday 149 / Day 218 (Tuesday)

Spider! 

Tuesday had a lot of things going right and for that I am grateful. Progress was made. Clarification was received. Priorities were shuffled. It seems like my nervous breakdown is now postponed, so if you are in the office pool and picked me to snap this week, you might be out of luck. Ok, I made that up. There is no office pool. Not that I know of, anyway.

The tree behind my house has been turning colors since the end of August. First it was red on a few of the outermost tips of some branches, and it has progressed steadily. I missed the prettiest glow of the sun and the red leaves today. Well, I saw it from the kitchen, so I really only missed getting a photo of it. By the time I made it outside with a camera, the magical light had already shifted and that glowing had become blah, and there was a hint of skunk in the air. Maybe I can catch it tomorrow. The leaves and the sun, not a skunk. There was a big spider in a web near the fence. That is pretty much the full extent of my nature trip outside. 

The day was delightfully free of roaming nuisance neighbor dogs. There were no calls to ignore from unknown out-of-state numbers. Arizona is up this week, and I know zero people with an Arizona phone number. Last week there were calls from Tennessee, where I do know people, but not the numbers ringing in. The week before that, it was Georgia calling. This sudden popularity could go right to my head. 

A nice letter from a stranger.

I also received a lovely letter recently from a total stranger with nice printing. The letter was in pencil on yellow lined paper and invited me to visit a website and engage in Bible correspondence. I admire the precise lettering, and I can't recall the last time a stranger was concerned for my spiritual welfare. I can't help wondering what list I am on to have received the letter. The return address, according to Google, is the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah’s Witnesses. It is pretty much the extreme opposite of the anonymous letter in my mailbox (summer of 2018?) inviting me to participate in "sweet lovemaking," and all I had to do was circle yes or no on the letter and leave my response under the flower pot. These might be an interesting study in contrasts framed and hung side by side. 

I completed my ballot and planned to deliver it to the drop box after work, but then I was noticing the tree, and cooking and eating. Oh, look, a squirrel! And then it was dark. Tomorrow. I’ll drop it off tomorrow. Then I can stalk the state website to track when it’s accepted, the same way I track delivery alerts. It’s the small things that keep life interesting.

“Remoted” – Workday 148 / Day 217 (Monday)

Today was an annoying day. There are more genteel ways to describe it, but “shit show” seems to fit. It was a long span of stress, annoyance, and frustration. The week’s to-do list had been drafted on Friday afternoon, like always, so it was easy to see what needed doing, and at least when things started skidding sideways (and they did) the original mission was there for reference.

There were technology issues and the work system started slow, got slower, and felt like moving under water. There was lag with mouse clicks. There was lag with typing. Logging off the server and restarting the computer provided minimal improvement. Everything took significantly longer than normal.

Much of the morning was spent fighting with Constant Contact and trying to set up three messages with videos. The goal was to have them all entered in the review system today, but late in the day, only one was set up, one had format and spacing issues, and the third needs a few graphic elements. There was a morning call with a consultant about my part of a project that delivered surprises. There were more issues and frustrations, but why dwell on it? It just means reliving the pain. 

While the technology and other issues were happening inside the house, the guy next door was having car trouble in the driveway between our houses that involved the loud muffler and a lot of banging. A backyard neighbor's dog somehow got into the yard, peed on everything he could, and tore up the yard, including some plants, with his feet. When his human came to collect him, she trampled a bunch more of the plants.

All day long I was cold, compounding the foul mood from the tech stuff. There is only so much hot tea that can be had. The bright spot was lunch of stuffed roasted squash, which was awesome, and reinforced the whole “make food on Sunday and plan for the week” thing.

He's touching me!

After the day of frustration, there was supper, and then it was time to unwind on the couch. The dogs joined, and nearly got into a brawl when Moose jumped up where Winston was already situated, and parked himself with his butt touching Winston. There was growling. Winston clearly expressed his doggy displeasure at being sat upon. This was a hiccup in my search for calmness with another cup of tea and a brand new package of Pepperidge Farms Milano cookies. "Package,” means 90% of the just opened bag is now gone. So far. In a day or two when the cookie weight hits and no pants can be zipped, there will be much, much regret and despair. But for now, fleeting solace has been found in the bag of cookies. 

“Remoted” – Day 216 (Sunday)

The morning had a slow start due to the newly recurring fatigue resulting from the newly recurring nocturnal events. Yes, the Winston 2:00 a.m. potty break seems to really be a thing now at six nights in. 

New mailbox and
vinyl numerals.

There were multiple household victories for the weekend. The deck furniture is stored for the winter. The bike, optimistically moved to the front porch in the expectation of riding, was stored, never having been ridden. The new mailbox was mounted on the house Saturday, in time for the mail delivery where it received the tube holding the vinyl numerals for the fence post, gate, and front mailbox panel. The shed was evaluated for needed repairs. These victories involved help for which I am hugely grateful. By help, I of course mean that StepDad did them while Mom and I visited. 

In addition to the wardrobe changeover mostly finished yesterday, the new Art Deco vinyl numerals were attached to the new mailbox today. One vinyl down, three more to go. I started with the smallest one to build my confidence. You know, baby steps. 

The tiniest potatoes!

The potatoes planted in early summer were harvested. The potatoes are hilariously tiny, barely larger than the eyes they were planted from, but the red flowers on sturdy stalks that bloomed during the summer and even now were worth the small effort of planting. It's a good thing I like cooking potatoes with the skins on, because peeling these might cause serious injury. Halved and possibly quartered, these will end up in a soup.

Roasted and stuffed.

An acorn squash and a butternut squash were roasted for Sunday's kitchen entertainment, not that anything could top the potato crop for amusement value. The seeds were roasted for tasty snacking. Instead of cubing the roasted flesh, one half of each squash was stuffed with a mixture of rice, onion, apple, celery, cranberries, Gardein meatless ground crumbles, and cinnamon. This was inspired by recent images of my cousin David’s stuffed acorn squash which became an aspirational kitchen obsession. Prior to this, I was roasting and cubing squash, eating some and freezing the excess. The freezer holds sizeable reserves of squash. There is some of the rice mixture, as well as plain rice left, and half the acorn squash, plus the plain and stuffed halves of butternut. Saturday night supper and Sunday brunch were extra cheese pizza, with several slices now in the freezer. Meal planning and preparation for the week are done. 

The tentative plan to visit the brand new Market Basket near the house didn’t happen. A shopping list was drafted and the flyer reviewed online, but then the squash roasting began, followed by the eating and kitchen clean up. Maybe during the week. Or next weekend. The only truly urgent item on the list is coffee filters, which will be gone in about four days unless the emergency coffee filter re-use step is enacted. Drastic, yes, but useful when needed.

 

"Remoted” – Day 215 (Saturday)

Saturday. I love Saturdays. It was raining this morning, which has been the case for three days, but around noon the sun came out and it was like a whole new day. The rainy morning was spent with the seasonal wardrobe changeover.

I’m super old school when it comes to changing out the wardrobe for fall/winter and spring/summer. I know that many people don’t do this, and I can’t figure how it is possible to function with just “clothes.” For one thing, clothing is made in completely different fabrics for the weather. For another, it's tiring seeing the same clothes in the drawers and the closet for more than six months, especially if they aren’t even the right fabric weight for the current season. Why fish around past a cashmere sweater when retrieving a tee shirt in July? Just get it out of the way for a few months.

Pants and tops, ready to live
under the bed until spring.

Twice a year, I go through the clothes and pack up the stuff I know won’t be worn due to the seasonal weather, and unpack the upcoming season. Twice a year, it feels like Christmas when rediscovering sometimes forgotten favorites from the previous year. The out-of-season stuff goes in the cedar chest or into clear bags to be stored under the bed. Items are grouped by type – pants, shirts, dresses, shorts, skirts, beach/pool wear – each group in its own bag. And there are always a few items in the laundry or tucked away somewhere that miss being packed correctly and end up shoved into the wrong bag. Almost without fail, these are the items that will be most desired early in the next season, and won’t be located until much later. 

It felt a little weird changing out the wardrobe today. Roughly 99% of the spring/summer clothes pulled out last March, just a few days before the “remoting” began, were never worn. Just one of the six long jersey-knit skirts was worn (to a dentist appointment), and only one pair of the cute work ankle pants (again, to the dentist). The seasonal costume for staying at home turned out to be a pair of denim Bermuda shorts alternated with plaid cotton knee-length shorts; three pairs of cargo capris, two of which are in a camo pattern; three pairs of ankle length chinos; and a steady rotation of basic short sleeve tee shirts. And the same thong sandals alternated with one pair of slip on shoes. Shoes are also rotated for the season. Why be taunted by cute sandals when there is snow and ice outside? It’s not worth the pain.

Seasonal costumes, waiting for a life.

The closet is hung by categories – dresses, blouses, skirts, pants, jackets. Vintage pieces hang in a protective bag, or are stored flat in the cedar chest. The closet contains “work” and “going out” clothes, but with working from home and not going out, these pieces are just collecting dust. It’s the costume department for a life that is just waiting in the wings, ready to happen. Or worse, may continue to never happen. 

Drawers are rotated to contain seasonally appropriate short-sleeve or long-sleeve tee shirts, seasonal cardigans, pullover sweaters, and the growing collection of base layer tops and long johns. Jeans live year-round in a drawer with a relic of my fondly-remembered, long ago size-four life – supple cream-colored, straight leg leather pants with a faint gold wash. I love those pants. I looked (and felt) damned fine in those pants, which now serve as a memento of a time when I dated and had a bona-fide social life. Those pants, paired with a maroon vee neck top with a bell sleeve and a lariat necklace I made with maroon and black beads, were worn to dinner in a Greek restaurant in Los Angeles in September of 2008. They haven’t fit since 2010, and the effort and discipline required to ever get into them again has been deemed not worth the energy required. What would be the point? Would I dress up in my fancy size-four pants to sit home alone watching Netflix? I didn’t even want to do that pre-pandemic. Soon, they will likely crack and flake like the leather on my much-loved dining room chairs is doing. That’s life. One day you are young, supple, and feeling damned fine, and before too long, you are collecting dust, cracked and disintegrating.

"Remoted” – Workday 147 / Day 214 (Friday)

Another gray and drizzly/rainy day that required having lights on all day. Parts were great, other parts made my head hurt. It started a little rough with being too tired, thanks to staying up a bit too late followed by Winston and night four of the ongoing 2:00 a.m. potty break saga. Too much coffee was consumed, resulting in feeling simultaneously tired and overly caffeinated. The placement of the overhead office light causes my shadow to fall on the desk and then I’m trying to get out of my own way to see what I’m working on. 

Even though it was wet outside, the basement is still dry, which is great. Although the wine reserves are dwindling, there is plenty of cocoa and tea in the house, which is comforting. Things were crossed off the work to-do list this week, which tasted like victory, or maybe that was just all the cookies. 

The week of the rotini.

The rotini with sauce and cheese, rotini with broccoli and pesto and cheese, and rotini baked in a dish with sauce and squash and cheese, that has been either lunch or dinner every day for the past six days was finally finished with tonight’s dinner and I don’t have to see it again for a while. A ton too much of rotini was cooked with the intention of baking a rotini mac and cheese to freeze. Realizing there wasn't enough cheese on hand for that, and also that the plan would require more cooking later in the week, the decision was made to ride the rotini wave until it was finished. This might be resourceful. Or lazy. Or a testament to being sufficiently numb that eating basically the same thing for six days barely registers. 

On the headache inducing side of things, after writing several documents and shepherding them through multiple reviews, it was revealed that I had the frigging product name wrong because I missed a detail in one of the 10,000 emails I can’t seem to get my arms around. Now, the task is to backtrack and find all instances of the name in multiple documents to insert a hyphen and make a capitalized letter lowercase. Thank goodness this was discovered now, instead of after all the writing was done. And I owe an eagle-eyed colleague for the catch, but how to reward that is beyond me. The email situation has become insane with this remote stuff. Things that used to be a 15 minute conversation are now a 15 email chain with 47 attachments. Insane amounts of time are spent writing, sending, reading, and trying to organize emails.

A bottle of wine and an endless stream of shows on Netflix is tonight's plan for unwinding. And cookies. And no personal emails, even though it means there will be twice as many to deal with later. Let’s see how it goes.

"Remoted” – Workday 146 / Day 213 (Thursday)

How many repetitions make a pattern or a routine? It’s been three consecutive nights of Winston and the previously unusual 2:00 – 2:30 a.m. potty trip. Because I have been scrutinizing his every move like never before, he seems to be drinking a lot of water. Maybe he always did, and it just wasn’t noticed.

In another, more deliberate pattern-developing tale, the same pants have been worn for the past three days. One week ago, they were worn for several days, and two weeks ago, they were worn for five straight days. They are black Tommy Hilfiger cotton chino-type pants with welt pockets in the front and flap pockets in the back. They lived in a drawer largely ignored for a couple years. They were too tight for some of that time, are a smidge too short even for flat shoes, and are a bit too casual for the office-office. But dang, since rediscovering them a month or so ago, they are currently my favorite pants for this home-office life with minimal human contact. It’s certainly easy enough to roll out of bed and into the pair of pants left on a chair the night before because they are too clean for the laundry and too dirty to go back in the drawer. Being black, they coordinate with the entire rest of the wardrobe.

Meatball Time provisions.

A trip out to the civilized world was required this evening. This was done while wearing the slightly too short pants and socks with holes in them, which describes nearly every pair of socks currently owned thanks to the crappy quality of socks nowadays. The mission was to procure canned dog food for tomorrow morning’s “meatball time,” having used the last of the canned food today. 

This popular daily routine, beloved by the fur babies, was developed several years ago when Winston was on a medication. Whether the pill was wrapped in cheese, encased in a glob of peanut butter, or mixed in the bowl with his dry food, in all instances, Winston managed to eat the food from around the pill and spit the wet pill onto the floor.

Burying the pill in a meatball of wet, canned dog food was the only way to get Winston to take his pill, and it became the official medicine delivery method for both dogs. Winston hasn’t needed medication for a long time, but Moose still takes a daily capsule for his Cushing’s Disease, and “Meatball Time” lives on as the 7:00 a.m. featured activity. If the designated time has passed and no meatballs have yet been delivered, Moose delivers “the stare.” Like many other delightful domestic moments, Meatball Time has a song, for which the words are daily forgotten and ad-libbed anew. The common thread is that “puppies love meatballs,” and “meatball time is the best time of the day.”

With meatball time covered for a couple weeks, there was additional browsing in the store which resulted in a three-pack of tissues and the only box of Milk Duds on the shelf. It’s the “movie box” size that holds an alleged (and comical) 4.5 servings and about 4 billion calories. 

Single serving or 4.5 servings?

There is an unfortunate ritual with Milk Duds, which is to open the box and eat the contents in one sitting. All of the contents. Because sometime the switch flips and one box, one bag, no matter how large, is one serving. Even when a stomach ache is already in the making. By the time the box was empty, which was very little time at all, there was a case of stomach upset underway and my teeth felt as though they were wearing sweaters. The dogs, confused when the 10:00 brushing of teeth happened at 8:00, went and sat near the treats, where they remained for an hour, quietly waiting for the pre-bed treat. Meanwhile, I sat in the living room, enjoying the quiet and all the uncrowded couch space. 

Hopefully, the fun routines like meatball time will continue, the overindulgent overeating of Milk Duds will be controlled, and the less fun, newly-emerging pattern of 2:00 a.m. awakenings for potty breaks is just an anomaly. Fingers crossed.

“Remoted” – Workday 145 / Day 212 (Wednesday)

Tuesday overnight was another night of interrupted sleep. There are long ago stretches of years and chapters of life where sleep was regularly shattered by nightmares or the stretches of insomnia that visited for several weeks each April and October. Now, it’s the Canine Overlords who are the thieves of sleep.

This time, Winston was the instigator needing to go out at the wee and glorious time of 2:30. He was standing next to the bed, doing his very polite “whisper bark” where he blows air out of his mouth that seems like his version of a human “ahem,” and marked the second night of him needing to potty, which is unusual. Of the three beings in the house, Winnie, until this week, was the one that managed to sleep solidly from 10 or 11 pm until 6 am.

Before bed, at the magic usual bedtime of 10 pm, which Moose still recognizes, the two dogs were staring at me as if to say, “excuse us, lady, but are were not going to bed?” They went outside and I brushed my teeth, two key pre-bed rituals. When Moose came in, he parked himself behind the office chair, near the treats, knowing that there is always a treat before heading up to bed. I told him to wait a minute, went back into the living room, got busy on the computer, and suddenly, it was 10:30. Moose, usually by my side, was nowhere in sight. He was sitting perfectly composed, still as a statue, still behind the desk chair near the cookies.

Bed hogs.

When we go upstairs to bed, there is an entire circus of routines and rituals before sleeping. Before we head upstairs, three biscuits are broken to make six or eight smaller bits which are carried upstairs. As I change into pajamas, the boys sit on the floor at the end of the bed and then we work on “stay” and then “paw” earns a biscuit bit. I walk across the room while they “stay” and I wait until it starts to feel weirdly long and tell them to “come.” Then it’s “paw,” and “other paw,” and the payment of the final biscuit bits and then we can go to bed. We used to also work on “up” where Moose would balance on his hind legs and twirl, but he’s too old for that now. They both need help getting onto the bed, and by the time they are on it and I get in, there is barely any room left in the bed for me. 

The Prime truck delivered the new mailbox ordered Tuesday and the hot cocoa packets ordered on the weekend. The regular mail included my mail-in ballot requested in August, so it’s time to finally read the booklet with the breakdown of the ballot questions. I’ve sat down with it three, maybe four times since it arrived, fully intending to read it, and never gotten beyond the inside cover page.

Mini, wee apple pies!

After work, the apple mini pies debated over the weekend were finally brought forth from the oven. Brown sugar and pears were added to the recipe in my own little flourish, and they are tasty little things. The refrigerated crust makes them quick and easy enough, so apple season just gained another treat. 

Hopefully, tonight will be full of long sleep and dreams of new mailboxes and tasty little pies served with cups of steaming hot cocoa. But even if it’s the usual night of one or both dogs either growling, barking, or whisper barking, it still beats the old insomnia and nightmares.

“Remoted” – Workday 144 / Day 211 (Tuesday)

The day was gray and rainy. Despite opening the mini-blinds in the kitchen office, the gloom required turning on the lights. With no distractions from things like sunshine and backyard critters, there was definitely no wishing to be outside. Focus and productivity were good, and it was actually a pretty good day for working from home.

The only reason to exit the house was to roll the trash bin to the street and roll it back up the driveway later. Both legs of the brief, rainy journey of the trash bin required an encounter with the puddle at the foot of the driveway. It’s a large puddle and sits a couple inches deep, and it’s been smaller since the street was repaved last year, but it still spans the width of my driveway and about a third of the way up. The dry summer meant it's been rare to have to deal with the puddle, but for today, there it was, the return to luxurious waterfront living. 

On the waterfront.

Despite the miniature lake out front and the day of alternating drizzle and rain, the basement was delightfully dry with no signs of waterpark features when I checked it late in the day. If the ceiling wasn’t so low down there, there might have been a little happy dance. Having already nearly concussed myself too many times on the ceiling beams which barely clear my head even when I’m wearing flat shoes, it was learned that expressions of joy over a dry basement are best delivered in constrained ways. At least until I get upstairs and regular height ceilings.

In addition to the dry basement, the day delivered other reasons to celebrate starting before work. It was day one of two Amazon Prime Days, and purchases were transacted. Last week’s Whole Foods order earned $10 off for Prime Days, and vinyl numerals for the fence ordered during the weekend's Support Small Business promotion earned another $10 off. Ordering the new mailbox (and a few other items)  using the discounts plus credit card rewards points meant the order cost exactly $0 out-of-pocket. Boo-yah!

An impulse Prime order of recent days arrived with chocolate chip cookies, a three pack of Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies, and 144 individual Caramel Macchiato coffee creamers (delicious in coffee, hot cocoa, and mocha), continuing the day's streak of good stuff. When the hot cocoa arrives in another day or so, stocking the cold weather hibernation pantry will be underway. Not that the cookies will last very long. One bag of Milano cookies is already two-thirds gone and rapidly dwindling. It is far less an issue of hunger and more the situation that they are just so fresh and tasty. It's amazing the level of contentment a $3 package of cookies can provide.