“Remoted” – Day 471 (Wednesday)

Twelve years ago, on this date I was “assembling my photos” for a group show in a Nashville art gallery. So it is written in  Facebook Memories and the “On this date” feed. The show was by “Underground 9,” a group my brilliant artist friend Terri Jordan conceived of and organized. Clarksville Online in Clarksville, TN called us “a rogue group of artists” in an article about a show we hung in a Nashville gallery with the theme “Sanctuary.” Or maybe we called ourselves that. It was long ago and far away and I didn't note that in my Facebook post so now I don't remember.

"Dancing Fringe" once hung in a
Nashville gallery. Now it hangs
in my kitchen.

Underground 9 members might be the same nine, might be a different group of nine, but there would always be nine in a show. We would hang shows with a central theme, and donate a portion of sales to a community organization.

The show we were preparing on in this date in 2009 was called “Tribal,” and would be up for Nashville’s July Art Walk event. My grouping for the Tribal show was photos taken at the Trail of Tears pow wow local to Clarksville, and featured the bells of dance skirts, fringe of shawls, birch baskets, and other sights specific to the Native American traditions displayed at the pow wow. Later in 2009, we hung “Sanctuary.”

It was a fun and exciting time living the life of an artist, being part of a tribe of artists and being challenged and inspired by the talent of others. I miss the camaraderie of the artist community in Clarksville and the manual labor of laying out and hanging shows. It was my intent to find that when I moved back to Massachusetts, but like so many other things including a social scene and romance, for whatever reason, it just hasn’t happened. The reason is probably me, as I am the common denominator to all that has not happened.

For now, I am pretty much a lone wolf which makes it tragically easy to just hunker down and hibernate, if not underground, pretty close to it. Being content does not help me one bit, either. For years (who am I kidding, it was decades) I was fueled by anger, which was a constant source for inspiration. With my level of pissed-offness gone now for many years, I have not created much. Without the anger, I've got nothing. It's like I need to add some crappy conditions to my life  for no other reason than the creativity generated in trying to escape the misery. I used to kiddingly say "Misery breeds creativity," when people asked about all the work I was producing, but damn, it's not very funny anymore, knowing it was actually true. Talk about a curse.

“Remoted” – Day 470 (Tuesday)

Orange day lily.

As much as I have always claimed the heat doesn’t bother me, today, the heat felt like a bit much. At 7:30 this morning, before the heat had time to develop full bloom, I was out front trimming the wild and wayward rose bush and then the once again crazily overgrown rhododendron. It seemed like I would melt. By midday, the temperature was solidly in the high 90s and the dogs seemed to be avoiding going out in the heat and humidity. 

While the front yard flowers are growing wildly, the orange day lilies are blooming in the back yard. A couple of them are as tall as I am, which is pretty cool. They were all dug up from the front yard in a rush to clear the way for last summer’s fence installation. Dang, how the time flies. The day lilies seem to be thriving in the new spots along the property side property line, near the shed, and along the back privacy fence, so at least I got that right. One poor hosta has been overwhelmed by the irises, and another withered away, so that has felt less successful. 

At 8:30, feels like
a lofty promise.

The other news of the day is anticipation of an Amazon order that is supposed to arrive by 10:00, but the odds of success seem to be slipping. At 4:30, I was faked out by the arrival of a Prime van in my driveway, but as usual, I was just being used as a turnaround spot on the dead-end street. UPS and FedEx also regularly toy with my affections and abuse my asphalt in this manner. It feels like a cosmic conspiracy, and is reminiscent of high school (and college, and all the time after) when it seemed like the hot guy was coming over, but at the last minute, the direction is changed and poof, gone.

As late as 8:00, the order tracking still optimistically delivered the promise of a delivery by 10:00 tonight, but also according to the same tracking page, the package has not even shipped, never mind advanced to “out for delivery.” If they pull this delivery off, I will be impressed.  

“Remoted” – Day 469 (Monday)

Monday morning started slow and gooey and it was perfect. Moose barked the house awake at the new usual 5:00 so he could be taken outside, and it sure beats the old earlier awakenings. After he did his thing, it was back to bed for another 45 minutes. Once up for real, it was the breakfast shift at the Canine Café, but the pre-measured portions set up on Sunday made it a breeze.

Still working from home, dressing for the day is a mindless joy. The “going to the office” criteria included considerations like “Do I have meetings today?” and “Did I already wear this item within the past few days?” The neighbor nearest my back door has seen me in my pajamas and bathrobe while letting the dogs out and isn’t usually around to notice what I wear during work hours. There is rarely any other in-person human interaction at the home office.

There is very litle considered for the work from home wardrobe. It's a snap, usually involving the same pants every day for a week, dug out of a drawer on Monday and then left handy the rest of the week. The shirts vary and are usually a smidge nicer on video meeting days. This is quite a departure from my first career position when three solid months passed before an outfit was repeated. The stuff that seemed important at age 23, or even 18 months ago sure seems trivial now.

Once dressed (camo patterned cargo capris with a plain heather gray vee neck tee shirt), it was time to take the dog beds downstairs for the day. Trash and recycling were taken to the curb, and email and social media were checked. A few strawberries were removed from the freezer to accompany my own breakfast of vanilla Greek yogurt with “five active cultures” as recommended by my dentist to help maintain the “good gut bacteria” that is/will be annihilated by the Amoxicillin for my problem tooth.  Of course, I keep forgetting to take it at least once of the prescribed three times daily. It’s enough keeping up with Moose’s morning Vetoryl for Cushing’s and Winton’s twice daily insulin, now I have my own meds in the mix. Oy.

So many hints ... 673

There was a brief visit to Ancestry-dot-com to be overwhelmed by the 673 “hints” about ancestors and mark some of them as “ignore” before fleeing the site because it is just too much. All that, and it was only 7:30, with a solid 60 minutes before needing to log in for work, but more likely 30 minutes, because I usually run out of small-scale morning amusements by 8:00. 

When it’s time to return to the office in September, the end of the relaxed start to the day may be the biggest loss felt. Instead of sitting with a cup of coffee and a dog on each side, it will back to sips of coffee while dressing, sips while applying makeup, sips while styling the hair, each one colder than the last and often interrupted by the game of “Where did I leave my coffee?” Instead of reading email, it will be diapering the dogs and setting gates to contain them in the kitchen for the day and saying goodbye to travel downtown.

These easy mornings will be enjoyed while I can because working from home full time won’t last forever and neither will the old and infirm dogs. As their health declines, I am so glad to be able to be here with them instead of at the office worrying about them.  

“Remoted” – Day 468 (Sunday)

After a brief hiatus during the week when temperatures dipped a bit, the summer was back with a seriousness for the weekend. On Saturday morning, the windows were open, the curtains billowed in the warm/hot breezes, the dogs were panting. Windows were closed and the A/C was turned back on. It might be okay for me to sweat puddles, but I am not going to make the dogs suffer with heat. They have enough issues going on.

There was belly dance class this morning which included a pleasant Sunday drive along the curves of Route 113, past barns and cows and stone walls to arrive at my musical destination. It’s a pretty ride, much more interesting than the boring stretches of 495 and Rte 2.

The Dynamic duo of
Winnie and Moosie!

After class there was a stop at Family Dollar for a can of dog food for Moose’s medicine, to avoid going to a larger store. While on the approach to the farm stand along the route home there was a sudden desire for a tomato, but there were a lot of cars in the lot and the decision was made to override the desire and drive on by.

Though initially dismissed, the tomato urge did not go away, and several miles later, there was a new decision to visit to the new Market Basket. Finally. This MB is huge and includes a coffee shop, a fancy looking "butcher shop" counter and a grill counter with a wide range of ready to eat food.

The mission expanded beyond a tomato to include a roasted chicken for Moose's fancy new food regimen, dishwasher detergent, and a tomato and cheddar cheese for a sandwich for me. I boldly stepped into the Disneyland of super markets without a list, and emerged later with the chicken, the sandwich fillings, and eight other items that did not include dishwasher detergent, only realized upon unpacking all the groceries at home. Oops. And yes, this was a grocery store visit just three days after receiving a Whole Foods grocery delivery that also did not include dishwasher detergent. It's only money, right? 

A crazy amount of time was spent first assembling the night's dog supper from already cooked and diced chicken and potato and combining it with nuked peas and carrots, and then dicing the newly acquired fresh roasted chicken and the last remaining baked potato and packaging individual containers with Moose’s meals. It was exhausting. After cleaning up the mess from that little project, there was zero desire to make my own supper, so a few slices of cheddar some Triscuits were unceremoniously dumped on a plate and it was declared done.

“Remoted” – Day 467 (Saturday)

Ice cream!

Earlier this week, groceries were explored on Amazon Prime Whole Foods. Sometimes it’s just a curious musing to see what is on sale, other times a legitimate search for needed items, and often there is no purchase. Seeing that Ben & Jerry ice cream was on sale for $2.70 was certainly an inspiration to assemble an order for delivery this week because it's usually $4.99. 

Thanks to a lot of empty freezer space, four containers were ordered, confident there would be room. Some minor reorganizing could have made room for even more, but I didn’t want my Whole Foods shopper thinking I have an ice cream problem or that I'm some kind of freak. I congratulated myself on the self-restraint exhibited in ordering, and again on the delayed commencement of consumption after the ice cream arrived on Thursday and none was opened until Saturday. Talk about will power! Or maybe it was the power of not being home.

Treasures!

Today was a hair appointment in Worcester, booked 12 weeks ago, when I was there last. My ideal life would include someone playing with my hair every day, but I settle for one hour every 12 weeks. After the appointment, it was time for one of the regular post-salon stops – Savers Thrift Store. There were none of my coveted 8.5” soup bowls there, but I found an iittala Ultima Thule tea light holder in the original box. 

After Savers, I met Mom in West Boylston, and we went to a couple antique shops where Mom found one of the birthday angel figurines she collects and I found two Arabia Finland small (3.75”) wall plates adorned with line drawings for the delightfully low price of $5. At home, I looked them up online and learned they are part of series of four. Some online sellers have the set of four listed for as much as $150 and individual plates for $25, so my low price carried the taste of victory. Next up is hanging them on the wall, in one of the two or three possible places.

The ride home from West Boylston was great along Rte 140 and then a 30-mile an hour crawl along I-495, where I was surrounded by vehicles with racks laden with bikes for the whole family and bearing license plates from New Jersey, New York, and most abundant, Connecticut. I can’t say I wasn’t jealous of the vacationers.

Canine Overlord gourmet food
ingredients awaiting assembly

At home, the boys jumped with excitement when I came in, and it was time for whatever you call the human meal at 4:00 when one has eaten only a cereal bar all day. It was ravioli with a pesto cream sauce with mushrooms and onion, the terminology for this meal is wide open. Super-duper late brunch? Geriatric early supper? High tea? This was followed by the timely preparation of the new gourmet meal plan for the Canine Overlords – plain chicken, potato, peas and carrots with wheat germ for Moose, and prescription weight and glucose control kibble with a small bit of Moose’s stuff tossed in for Winston so he’ll actually eat it. The Canine Overlord Catering Counter is in full swing. 

“Remoted” – Day 466 (Friday)

It was another vacation day, and because it’s been a few months since my last visit, it was back to the dentist for a check on a newly-developed problem with the previously problematic crown of last summer. Last summer saw the saga of the COVID-delayed visit to finish the crown on the tooth that broke on popcorn in February and had me in the dental chair for a super special Valentine’s Day. When the office reopened, there was the crown fitting and ordering, the attempted delivery when the crown didn’t fit, followed by a new crown and installation. Then, this past winter, it was the unbridled excitement of the routine cleaning and 18 x-rays resulting in TMJ and a full week of not being able to open my mouth wide enough to eat. So much fun.

Understandably, it was totally thrilling to interrupt yet another vacation day to return to the dentist to have the same tooth checked again due to new jaw swelling, gum irritation, bleeding, and other gross things. Note, the term “thrilling” here is used loosely and definitely and specifically means "frigging filled with dread." There was some tapping on teeth, poking around in the mouth and under the jaw, and after another x-ray, the verdict was <drum roll, please> … a root canal! This is scheduled for the afternoon of July 2 to kick off the Independence Day weekend with a spectacular bang.

The reward for being a mature adult and going to the dentist was a stop at my favorite directly-on-my-flight-path package store to check on the presence of Long Drink, a Finnish beverage described as “A refreshing citrus soda with a premium liquor kick.” A brilliant social media marketing plan has resulted in Long Drink working its way firmly into my consciousness and developing a sense of desperation to water my Finnish roots with a drink from the land of my people. 

The start of a Long relationship.

The Long Drink website was visited earlier in the week to check on local availability. The site listed a chain store with locations in Shrewsbury and Danvers, and knowing I’d be in Worcester on Saturday, Shrewsbury was a distinct possibility. The bonus to being in Leominster today was twice driving by Kappy’s at the Twin City Plaza in the regular and logical route. It would be stupid to not shop for it today.

Barely ten seconds in the store and likely looking confused while scanning the signs over the expansive aisles, an angel of alcohol purveyance asked if I needed help, then led me directly to an impressive towering display of six packs of the four flavors of Long Drink of Finland. Options were Long Drink Traditional, Zero (no carbs!), Strong (high gravity!), and Cranberry.

I was through the checkout and out the door with a sixer of Long Drink Strong in no time. If I’m going to drink like my kin, it’s all in with the alcohol content, baby. I didn’t even get a bag, and proudly carried my exposed package of Long Drink Strong to the car.

At 5:00 and several hours after returning home, it was well past the vacation day time for a chilled bevvie. The top was popped on my first can of now-chilled Long Drink, “gin with natural grapefruit and juniper berry flavors and carbonation.” A familiar scent like Fresca wafted from the can and it was instant love. It smells like Fresca, it looks like Fresca, and I can’t even taste the gin listed in the ingredients, which is good, because since an unfortunate introduction to Tanqueray and Tonic in college, gin has been deliberately avoided as if it would kill me. 

Long Drink won me over immediately, which is good news. It would be unfortunate to have five more cans sitting in the fridge taunting me while I avoided them in perpetuity. The successful introduction feels like the start of a wonderful Long relationship, delivered in 12 ounce installments. 

“Remoted” – Day 465 (Thursday)

The Finnish Club at Saima Park in Fitchburg has been hosting hikes on the full moon, and tonight with the Strawberry moon, there was a guided wildflower hike through the field. Friends and I met there, and learned it’s called the Strawberry Moon because this is strawberry season.

 

The Saima String Symphony played under the pavilion and the music wafter through the air and could be heard during the walk. In addition to Finnish and Swedish folks tunes there were arrangements of pop songs, which was really cool. Some of the music was recognizable from cartoons, including SpongeBob SquarePants. 

It was informative, with descriptions about the uses of yarrow for fever, cold, and hay fever. There was a description of elderberry and mountain laurel and bits about poisonous uses, but I didn’t make notes so there is no recall of which things were poisonous and in what regards. Oh well. There will be no premeditated plant murdering happening by me. Not on purpose anyway. Not without research.

It was a beautiful night to be outside. Not too hot, not too buggy, and light out until nearly 9:00. By the time it was finally getting dark, the event was over, and there was still no rising moon in sight, but it may have been due to the trees surrounding the park. I got to see it full, golden, and lush hovering in the sky as I drove on Route 12 and then again on Route 2.

“Remoted” – Day 464 (Wednesday)

Chuck surveys the kingdom.

The local wildlife made several appearances in the yard today. Chuck the woodchuck has been back under the shed the last couple days, and yesterday, stood at the entrance to the underground palace, surveying the kingdom that is the BungaLowell back yard. Previously, Chuck had been spotted only in the weeds at the end of the street and darting into or out of the round storm drain opening across the street at the neighbor’s yard. 

Today, Chuck alternated yard visits with Bunny, who has often been seen in the front yard, dashing across the driveway between my yard and the neighbor’s yard, and in the back yard. The difference between the visits by Bunny and Chuck is that when I appear, Bunny freezes in place, disappearing into the background, and Chuck runs and just disappears. A couple times, Bunny would be near the flower bed, and minutes later was replaced by Chuck. I never saw the changing of the guard, and could only wonder if it was magic that replaced one brown critter with another in Pawtucketville's Animal Kindgom.

Bunny frozen in position.

Early this morning, I let Moose out to potty, and for whatever odd and rare reason, there was no phone in my hand. He paused just inside the gate to poop on the stone pavers and Bunny sat, still as a statue, just feet away. Talk about a missed photo opportunity.  For most of the morning, Bunny sat in the shifting shade, nose twitching, nearly blending into the stone flower bed edge stones or the dirt between the shed and the chain link fence along the property line. 

Many times, when a dog went out, Bunny froze in position until the dog, still completely unaware of Bunny, went back inside. It was a fascinating scene that played out with numerous encores. Once upon a time, before breathing problems and blindness, there would have been a chase. Winston was always ready to give pursuit to whatever happened along – including the black cat with the yellow demon eyes that he once chased behind the shed in the chilling and exciting feline canine confrontation.

While Chuck and Bunny alternated sitting and grazing in the yard, Moose and Winston had a food war happening inside. Moose loves his new plain prescription food to ease digestion, and also Winston’s prescription food. Meanwhile, Winston is boycotting his pricey prescription kibble formulated to maintain glucose levels, while trying to get at Moose’s food. It’s a good thing their bowls are separated and I have time to intervene when I hear the positional changes so I can send them back to their corners. We get our excitement where ever we can find it around here.

“Remoted” – Day 463 (Tuesday)

Last night, after returning home with my ailing bestie Moose, there wasn’t much time before it was bedtime. During the night, I awoke a couple times. The first time was at 12:40 am, which is the second night waking at that exact time. Weird. The second time was at 3:00 when Winston gently “oofed” me awake with his very polite and gentlemanly whisper bark. 

Moose and the
magic carpet bed.

Winston was carried downstairs to go outside, then carried back up, which is faster and safer than him sniffing his way and bumping into things with his recent vision loss. Moose stood at the top of the stairs, surveyed the descent, and retreated to the bedroom, where I finally coaxed him back into his bed and folding the sides up like a taco shell for conveyance down the stairs. The bed works great as a carrier. He went outside under his own power, had a drink of water, and was carried back upstairs in the bed/magic carpet. The middle of the night stair climbing and weightlifting workouts are a nice bonus.

It seemed the dogs went right back to sleep, but not me. I lay awake, listening to Moose’s every breath. There was a lot of shallow panting that alternated with something like snoring. He’s always been a loud breather and snored, but now I’m on heightened alert. By 4:00 am I was still listening to his labored breathing, tears streaming down my face, and pondering the inevitable. 

I finally got out of bed to lay on the floor with Moose. Winston was nearby, within reach, so it was almost a doggy cuddle puddle with the three of us on the floor. There was a waterfall of tears that may have spilled out. Every breath Moose took was audible. When Winston inhales, his chest quietly expands, which seems to be the correct form. At 5:00, the idea of sleeping was abandoned and we got up.

I was attuned to Moose and his breathing patterns all day. It's possible I was also holding my breath all day. Once we were up for the day, his breathing was quieter. An email was sent to his regular doctor at the vet office, asking if she could look at the file for yesterday’s visit. I don’t want him to suffer, nor do I want to subject him to tests for the sake of it. In the meantime, I’m trying to mentally prepare for what is ahead. It may soon be time to say goodbye. 

“Remoted” – Day 462 (Monday)

Fish Cock. 

Today featured some adventure with the brave entry into Finnish specialty food, the canned Fish Cock. It’s been in the cabinet since it arrived from Finland with one of the Finnish army surplus hats bought in the cold weather. It was bought because the name was funny, and also because the description of smoked salmon in rye bread seemed interesting and I like smoked salmon and I like rye bread. I’ve just never had them together, never mind together from a can. 

The moment the can was opened there was a delicate aroma of salmon. Or maybe it was strong and that’s why I could smell it at all. My nutshell review of the Fish Cock is that it’s dense, filling, a bit dry, and overall, not bad. With a five year shelf life, I can imagine it would be terrific for emergency rations. The easy open can makes it good for camping or hiking. I don’t know if there will be more cans of Fish Cock in my future.

After work, there was a trip to the vet with Moose to have the lumps in his throat checked out. I imagined it would be like April when Winston had lumps in his throat, and a week on antibiotics took care of the problem.

Moosie at the vet.

Because I didn’t want to lose work time to go during the day, the 6:15 appointment was with the vet who may be great with animals but is not so great with people. Doctor Doom opened with “Moose is in a very bad way.” His breathing is labored and the lumps are hard like golf balls instead of softer like grapes, and she launched immediately into the worst case scenarios including lymphoma and “humane euthanasia” as an option. That’s when I started to tear up. This is the same doctor that started with “it could be cancer” when Winston had swollen glands and then they cleared up immediately with antibiotics.

The speechifying ratcheted down to other potential situations including an overnight stay at an emergency vet office and various tests. It swung wildly in the direction of medical speak, bombarding me with info, then asking what I want to do. Meanwhile, Moose was in another room and I couldn’t even think. Moose was finally brought in with me and she saw some other patients while I sat with my Boo. Later, an x-ray revealed that his lungs are clear. Blood work didn’t indicate liver disease. A sonogram can be done, but that is a special visit and something to think about. It was a long and brutal hour at the vet, and after living life on the verge of tears for about a year, many were shed at the animal hospital.

In the end, there was no hospital stay, and Moose and I headed home with a recipe for a bland diet and three cans of expensive, special prescription food. The cans will carry us over for a couple days until I can get to the grocery store to buy chicken and potatoes and wheat germ for the special home prepared food plan. 

“Remoted” – Day 461 (Sunday)

Strings under the pavilion.

The first day of summer was greeted with the Kesajuhla  Festival at Saima Park. The weather was perfect with sunshine and blue skies. The large lawn at Saima was set up with an assortment of games for all ages including an obstacle course, lawn bowling, horseshoes, and cornhole. There was a chess tournament, chicken barbecue, grilled hot dogs, and of course, coffee.  

The Saima Park Community Orchestra/String Circle played a variety of songs under the pavilion. My sister and I sat at a table under the pavilion and chatted while enjoying the music floating on the air and the beautiful weather. Later in the day, the Revontulet Folk Dancers were scheduled to perform Finnish folk dances, but we weren’t able to stay for that.

Leipa!

We left with reikaleipa (rye bread) and kahvileipa (coffee bread). Since arriving home, wielding my rarely used bread knife and exercising the precision of a surgeon, thin slices of the rye bread were removed. 

In theory, the bread was to be sliced and some of it frozen, but in reality, slices were adorned with a schmear of soft butter, and eaten. One tasty, thin slice at a time, half the loaf has managed to disappear. So fresh and yummy. So little self-control. A break from the bread was finally forced when the soft butter was gone. Cold butter is yucky and brutally rips bread. 

“Remoted” – Day 460 (Saturday)

Another gorgeous day. While sipping morning coffee, several entertainments were considered which included the beach, attending some of the Juneteenth activities in town, and meeting my sister after she got done working. An errand was run downtown to drop off prepackaged cookies for an art reception. This ended up being the day's only success story. There was no beach, no community activities, and no sister meeting, but she and I talked on the phone.

False Hope on page 259.

Exciting and interesting social activities may not have been attended, but the reading of the Jeep manual continues. The technology is having a slightly steeper learning curve than I thought. I was excited on page 259 upon seeing a section titled "Disc Operation (If Equipped)" and rummaged through the center console in hopes of finding a remote disc player. It was false hope. I am not equipped. 

I knew the six-disc player in the Honda would be missed, but I feel like I’m in mourning. It was the perfect way to set my brain for upcoming activities. The 45-minute drive to belly dance class was perfect for one of the several belly dance music discs. Latin church hymns sung by Beth Nielsen Chapman were a calming influence and road rage preventative on the highway and became my “495 disc.” I might be able to live without the hymns, although it would be amusing if I was ever pulled over and Ave Maria was blasting. The inability to find a belly dance or Middle Eastern music channel on Sirius is just adding insult to injury. I can't even get the stupid stations to play that I chose after receiving the Sirius Welcome email. 

The next approach may be an MP3 player and quality time spent ripping discs. Or not. Yes, I know phones can stream music, but my specific phone is literally full and there are daily messages about how some things may not function properly, and I keep having to delete apps and photos. My stupid One Cloud is also full. You know what is practically empty? The hard drives on two laptops, chosen for the ample storage space. For whatever annoying reason, everything defaults to One Cloud, and I haven’t been able to figure out how to reset that, but the One Cloud folks are offering to sell me more space. Umm… no thanks. My pockets have enough subscription hands in them already.

“Remoted” – Day 459 (Friday)

In a vacation day miracle, Moose let us sleep until 7:30.  After feeding the dogs, delivering their medication, making coffee, and having a shower, it felt like half the day was over. It was a little disorienting.

Outdoor lunch dining.

Mom and I had soft plans for today, meaning, a week ago we said “We should do something,” but hadn’t yet specified what or where. This morning we decided to meet to for lunch and then visit an antique shop in a town roughly halfway between our respective locations. It was a nice day to finally drive the Jeep more than a mile. The sun roof was open, the radio was on and the chosen route was a nice ride past cows and barns and New England churches and old timey town halls.

Our lunch spot had a patio shaded by trees and umbrellas and flower boxes bursting with dark purple petunias. When we first arrived and were waiting in the parking lot for the noon opening, a bus pulled in. A literal bus, emblazoned with the name of a senior residential community. Full of people. We panicked for a second, but our worry about seating and service was for naught. Burgers were had. They were delicious. Our server was terrific.

The antiques shop we chose to visit is large, tidy, and nicely arranged as in, not cluttered with dusty stuff. There is room to move around comfortably. It’s the opposite of the cluttered co-op we  used to visit frequently.

When we arrived, there were no vehicles in the parking lot and we thought maybe it wasn’t open, but then we saw that the lights were on. There was a lot of cool stuff in the antiques store including carousel horses and some interesting photos in nice Nielsen metal frames priced at barely the cost of the frame, but nothing either of us needed or really wanted. That is often the case, but it’s still always fun to look.

Once back in Lowell, I finally visited the new Marshall’s that is next to the New Market Basket not far from my house. I say “new,” but it’s not like it opened last week. Market Basket opened last October, and Marshall’s has been open for months, and for months I’ve been thinking, “Someday I’ll go in there.” There were some shoes I liked, and I even subjected myself to the torture of the fitting rooms and trying on jeans. Let’s just say that trying on jeans was not a successful endeavor and leave it at that. The shoes also remained at the store, because I liked them, but I didn’t love them enough to open the wallet. I didn’t venture into Market Basket, which I’ve heard is quite nice, but visiting a grocery store without a plan and a list is just reckless.

“Remoted” – Day 458 (Thursday)

Work was crazy busy today in the slightly headachey but sort of exciting way. Things got done. It felt great finally crossing them off with red pen because the list kept getting longer all week. Tomorrow is a vacation day, so next week’s list is already drafted and waiting for Monday morning. This is good. I like knowing what I will be working on and when my project list gets short, I get nervous.

Canine Overlord Moose
of the bumpy throat.

After work there was a mature adult garden salad with a mature adult dressing that had a splash of red wine in with the olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and lemon juice. It was not the most exciting supper. Not like last night’s monotone medley of ice cream and chips. The Canine Overlords liked the cucumber peels and slices and cabbage that they were given during preparation. 

Also in the Canine Overlord realm, it’s Moose’s turn for lumps in his throat.  Winston had a set of matching lumps in April, but Moose has an unbalanced pair of one large and one small. There is now a vet appointment Monday after work, because it’s been a couple weeks since I dropped a few hundred dollars in there. Their receipts are probably suffering withdrawal in the same way my wallet is still suffering sticker shock and separation anxiety. 

After the meager and only moderately satisfying supper, the lawn was mowed and it was quite satisfying. In a series of miracles the lawn mower started immediately and without effort or swearing, not once but three times. At the initial start, after it ran out of gas most of the way through the back yard, and again after moving over to the front yard. Either I’m getting stronger or the oil added the last time helped with the ripcord action. It's probably the oil.

The grass was approaching tall-ish, but thankfully, was a quick mow. The back yard featured a variety of mushrooms scattered among the grass and faux grass. The front yard was dominated by weird weeds and once the mowing was underway, an odd aroma somewhere between mustard and earth stench arose and it was a relief to finish and flee into the house. In Tennessee, the neighborhood would smell like onions when anyone mowed, due to the abundance of wild onion things growing in the lawns of North Clarksville. That was mildly amusing and not unpleasant, but tonight’s front yard mow smell was unfamiliar and yucky. At least I can’t smell it indoors.

“Remoted” – Day 457 (Wednesday)

While I am sometimes a conscientious and healthy eater, there are times I just don’t feel like preparing actual food. After nights of healthy meals full of fresh vegetables, followed by days of leftover lunches, I hit a wall and just can’t. Can’t peel, chop, or slice another morsel. Can’t stir fry or bake another colorful meal. As much as I like vegetables, unless it’s Equatorial hot or someone in a restaurant is making it, I’m not really interested in salads.

Last night was one of those nights of not wanting to cook. I had to take a ride to fetch the paperwork that was forgotten with the Jeep delivery and get a can of dog food for morning medicine meatball time. While at Family Dollar, I grabbed my favorite $3 frozen pizza, Tony’s, to have on hand for emergency backup. While driving home, ingredients in the fridge and the combinations that could be assembled in a skillet were pondered. It was exhausting. The pizza became Tuesday’s supper, topped with some mushrooms and extra shredded cheese. 

Monochrome dining.

After a work day of hustle and hurry, 10,000 emails, a decent dose of stress, and yet another day of eating lunch at my desk, there was zero ambition available for preparing any kind of supper. This means that bad decisions may have been made. Tasty, but probably not the best choices. Specifically, tonight’s tasty supper turned out to be not a colorful symphony of fresh produce, but instead, a monotone medley of Friendly’s Butter Crunch ice cream topped with potato chips. The cold, creamy ice cream, crunchy buttery bits, and salty crunchy chips were the perfect ending to the day.

Many days I dine on healthy and vibrant vegetable-based meals like a mature adult. Sometimes, I feed my inner child with comfort foods like Mom’s American chop suey or scrambled eggs. Other times, I just eat like an unattended child and it’s all ice cream and potato chips. At least there is variety, that famous spice of life.

“Remoted” – Day 456 (Tuesday)

Today was mostly just another nondescript day. Gray-ish. Busy-ish with touches of stress and mystery and wild weather just to spice things up. There was thunder, rain, lightning, heavier rain, then it was quiet and the sky cleared a bit. Recycling was picked up today, a day late. The truck wasn’t the normal automated truck with the arms that pick up the barrels, empty them, and replace them neatly. There was a man emptying the barrels by hand into the back of the truck. Upon departure, there was a trail of empty barrels strewn willy-nilly, giving the appearance the street had been ransacked.

The Canine Overlords are a puzzle. Winston wasn’t interested in his special prescription kibble breakfast, and because I had added water to it (like always) it was ruined after a while and chucked. At over $60 for the bag, it costs more than a week’s groceries, so I was highly displeased by the rejection of the precious nuggets. Winston slept most of the day. Moose was also not interested in his food, but eventually ate it before quietly laying around under my desk all day. I hope it’s the weather keeping them mellow and not that I have two unwell dogs. The vet bills have been unbearable lately.

Current reading list.

The reading of the lengthy Jeep manual continues. It’s pretty dry, with lots of references like (if equipped) and I don’t know of my vehicle is equipped or not, so it’s slow going. It’s not nearly as fun as the Steve Martin book I’m rereading, The Pleasure of My Company. It’s well written and short (163 pages), which are a couple of my preferences for books lately, when I even bother to read one. 

What really needs rationing is screen time, but it will probably take a full rehabilitation or detox program for that. But it would clear more time for reading short books.

“Remoted” – Day 455 (Monday)

Cuh-razy, busy day. Lots of emails, lots of projects in play, lots of little surprises landing in my lap. While work was busy for me and it was also fun to be juggling projects and tasks and even crossing a thing or two off the list, the dogs slept. The weather was gray and wet and required indoor lighting but it seemed to work to maintain a steady pace of productivity with none of the distractions of nice weather.

There was a call from my helpful Jeep sales guy followed by a call by me to the auto insurance company which included 25 glorious minutes on hold before a ten-minute call to nudge the policy transfer paperwork along. Twenty-five minutes of listening to on-hold music that would skip at a certain point, then continue on as it looped through, over and over. It was background noise like in a dental office and I forgot I was on hold for a while as I worked. 

The helpful insurance guy had things moving quickly and a couple hours later helpful Jeep guy was back on the phone letting me know he would be delivering my chariot shortly. At 4:45, it rolled into the driveway, where it looks really nice. Now, the next step is finalizing the transfer of the Honda to its next home-base driveway.

Greenish grayish new ride with no
puddle setting in the terrain options.

After work, did I drive around in the gray day rain in my new grayish greenish ride like most owners of a new and exciting vehicle? I did not. I sat on the couch thumbing through the thin and user-friendly Quick Reference Guide, and the much thicker, awkwardly sized 330-page User Guide. Maybe I’d be driving around if it was nicer out, or if there was an errand to run, or if I actually liked to drive around aimlessly like so many other people. For now, the Jeep sits in the puddle lake at the end of the driveway. While I have Select Terrain settings for snow, sand, and mud, there is no puddle or water setting. Trailhawks have a rock setting, I wonder if there is some model with a water flotation setting.

Tomorrow, there are actual errands because I need a can of dog food and today’s vehicle delivery inadvertently didn't include any of the paperwork for the transaction, the financing, or anything beyond the Registration and State Inspection Report and I’m going to the dealership to pick it up and also find out about a replacement for the missing spare key fob. As one who chronically misplaces the main keys and routinely grabs the spare set, and having once misplaced my keys for nearly a month, I’m not comfortable without a backup. It will sort itself out and I just need to not misplace the fob in the meantime. Easy, right?

“Remoted” – Day 454 (Sunday)

Dance day!

Today featured a resurrection of sorts. For the first time since March 8, 2020, my belly dance practice clothes were dug out, dance belt and zills dusted off, and my class met to dance. It was great. To work off the rust, we reviewed the basics. There were shimmies and hip drops and chest lifts and snake arms. It is a reasonable certainty that I will be sore Monday, but it will be a good sore, not like the usual soreness of the past 15 months. Sitting in a mail order office chair not from an office supply or designed for long stints for roughly nine hours a day followed by a lumpy futon all evening and not much else was probably not the best “fitness” plan since beginning Remoted life. 

After class, my sister, one niece, Dad, and I met for ice cream for an early Father’s Day meetup. There is a lot going on the next couple weeks, especially in my sister’s world, so we needed to think a few steps ahead. This means my lunch was a small hot fudge sundae with caramel pretzel ice cream and it was really good. I feel less guilty about my ice cream consumption since my physical a few weeks ago. It turns out ice cream and cheese, which I was worried about possibly having too much of, is okay for me given my general avoidance of red meat.

It was a breezy, sunny day, and we sat under the metal shade shelter, wondering was making the sound like rain hitting the metal when it wasn’t raining. We also analyzed the various sounds and groaning noise patterns of the building’s compressor until it stopped making any noise at all and we then wondered if all the ice cream inside would melt. We aren’t totally weird, we also talked about regular things like the weather, availability of construction materials, prefabricated residential structures, and the gas mileage of luxury RVs. It was a nice visit, nice day to be outside, nice time dancing, basically nice everything.

“Remoted” – Day 453 (Saturday)

Vacuuming in progress.

Today saw some house cleaning with the vacuuming of the super annoying kitchen rug. The rug is made with rags woven in ribs. Aesthetically, it looks great, but the spaces between the ribs collect dog hair and dirt and take a solid 30 minutes to clean with the vacuum's crevice attachment. Every time I work across the rug row by row, I’m glad I didn’t buy the larger size. At least the effort shows when it’s all done. This is the same rug that was cleaned with snow in the winter, the other time I was glad it was not a larger rug.

There was a trip to the St. Vincent Thrift Store in search of my shopping Holy Grail – more 8” soup bowls in the blue willow pattern. I have three such bowls, purchased for about $1 each at Lincoln Discount back when I was married to ex-husband #1 and lived in Fitchburg. There was originally a fourth bowl that was broken countless years ago. Bowls now are a smaller circumference and deep. I want the traditional shallow soup bowl where the scalding soup cools quicker. It is a ridiculous search that has gone on for years. I found some through Replacements Ltd., but they cost about $14 each and I don’t want them that much.

Worth the $1.98.

At St. Vincent’s I found a white cotton shirt with dots and a yellow patterned cotton sweater for the delightful sale price of 99 cents each. I love the sale tags. Now I need to choose the items that will be donated out the door. 

The lingering daylight at 8:45 has me all confused with the time. When it’s finally getting dark at 9:00, my head thinks it still 7:00. Then bam! It’s bedtime. Crazy. Disorienting. I wish the light was late like this longer in the year. By the time I start to get used to it, we hit the solstice and the sun starts setting earlier again.

“Remoted” – Day 452 (Friday)

The vacation day was busy with a lot of waiting. It started last night with the continued near-obsessive checking of Jeep websites for vehicle availability. The criteria list was on the short side – sun roof, four-wheel drive, not red or white, not costing a fortune. Easy, right?

The inventory of blue Renegades with sun roofs seems to have disappeared in the past week. The 0% Jeep financing deal of late May that came and went, then came back long enough for me to learn about it on Monday, was gone again on Thursday. A person at one dealership that I had been communicating with via text for several days suddenly disappeared without a trace. 

In preparation for visiting a dealership today, credit reports had been taken off “Freeze” status a few days ago. The Honda was cleaned, just in case. Not like dealer detailed clean, but extra everyday clean cleaned. Book value had been checked, and according to the Kelly Blue Book site, the trade value could be around $1,000 to $2,000.

Inventory at local dealers was checked and two suitable potential prospects located at one dealer. Neither was blue, but they weren’t any of the “don’t want these colors” list, either. An appointment was scheduled. I was greeted and checked in by a very nice person. 

2017 Latitude dealer photo.

The first test drive was a 2021 Renegade Latitude with sun roof in some shade of gray. It was nice. I didn’t love the color, but I also didn’t hate it. The new car technology will take getting used to. The sun roof on Renegade is basically the whole roof. It’s kind of cool. The gas tank was on empty, and I worried it would run out, but my sales guy assured me that would not happen.

Anvil? Okay. 

After that, I drove a 2017 Renegade Latitude with a half tank of gas. This one has removable sun roof panels. The front panel lifts up to vent, slides back, or totally comes off. The back seat also has a removable roof panel. 

On the second test drive, I deliberately went beyond the turn I took earlier to “see what’s up ahead.” I got sort of lost, and ended up on 495, so that was actually a more thorough test drive. Not worrying about running out of gas helped a lot.

It turned out I liked the 2017 better. Nothing was wrong with the ’21, but the ’17 just felt right. I also liked the color better. The information calls the color “Anvil,” which I am fairly certain was never a color in a Crayola box of any size. “Anvil” is grayish green. Or maybe it’s greenish gray. Maybe Wile E Coyote is involved. Whatever, I like it. There are rubber floor mats which should help with the dogs. Vacuuming dog hair out of carpet mats is not so easy. That doesn’t even consider the crazy amounts of my own hair that is always everywhere.

Then the fun began. It ended up being four hours at the dealership. Apparently, there was only one finance guy on site where there are usually two. The trade offer was very much lower than the online estimate. By 2:00 I was hungry and glazing over, still hadn’t done paperwork, but had been enjoying a lovely chat with the sales guy, who was infinitely more helpful than the guy at Honda in April. The only way Honda guy could have been less interested in providing help would have been if he stayed home.

Anyway, by 3:00, the paperwork was completed. It was kind of dizzying, but mostly because spending money stresses me out. Things still need processing at the RMV, and even though the insurance rep at the auto insurer I’m moving to told me exactly what to do on Wednesday, I totally forgot and screwed it up on Friday. Whatever. There will be a new-to-me vehicle in my driveway possibly as soon as tomorrow, and definitely on Monday.

Hours later, at home, I realize there are probably a lot of things that should have been checked out, but I still don’t know what those might be. That is where having a wing person is helpful. I got the important stuff – how to open the sun roof, location of the phone charging port and the gas door, how to change the radio stations. Upon delivery, the Bluetooth connection will be set up.

There are things I will miss that are not in the new vehicle. The first and worst will be the beloved six disc CD player. That will be hard to deal with. How am I supposed to listen to my Middle Eastern music discs while driving to belly dance class, or to Latin Church Hymns while cursing my way along 495 or 128? The absence of the right-side arm rest will also take getting used to. It was realized how much I use it during the test drives when there was none. But change is good, right? It’s certainly exciting. And stressful.

“Remoted” – Day 451 (Thursday)

This morning offered perfect sleeping weather. It was cool, and not humid, but delicious sleep had to be abandoned. Dogs needed to be let out and fed, which is the driving force for exiting a comfortable bed every single day. Every. Day.

Morning coffee was enjoyed on the porch for the first time since last summer. The curtains fluttered in the windows and it felt like vacation, but it didn’t last long as it was a work day. Even still, the weather made the day seem light and cheerful. It inspired feelings of being reckless and carefree, which manifested in the form of having lunch delivered. 

Lunch and dinner and still leftovers.

Normally, delivery meals are reserved for a Friday or Saturday night. Not today. Lunch was a seafood platter from Primo. The order is huge with haddock, clams, shrimp, scallops, and a ton of fries. It’s generally good for two or three meals, so the $30 tab, equal to a week’s grocery bill, feels less painful when amortized over multiple feedings.

The carefree feeling extended to booking Friday off as a vacation day. If I could have three-day weekends every week, that would be a dream. There would be a whole lot more carefree and footloose happening.

After work, where Thursday had suddenly become Friday, the lighthearted feeling carried itself (and me) outside to the driveway to tackle another task that languished on the to-do list for a year. The car was cleaned. Vacuumed, dusted, windows cleared of the doggy-schmutz nose prints. The vacuuming was a challenge. The upright unit that works great in the house is crazy clunky when trying to clean a car. The wand and accessories are great in the house, but a real pain in a confined space. There is still a lot of hair in the car, but it’s greatly improved. My habit of setting a towel across the back seat for the dogs really helps things, but there are crevices with grit accumulated in them since 2004 that no vacuum tool can fit in and I know, because I have tried about 10,000 times over the years.

After the ninety minutes of hard cleaning labor, it was time for supper, which was, of course, meal number two of the lunch extravaganza heated in the toaster oven and accompanied by a pint of Guiness. This was followed by the cannoli that had been saved in the refrigerator all day, a true reward for the car cleaning. Maybe tomorrow I can get to a car wash to get the outside cleaned. Or if the weather is as motivating as today, I might even do it myself. I have a hose and bucket.

“Remoted” – Day 450 (Wednesday)

Today, when I took the dogs to the back yard for their first or maybe second visit of the morning, there was a dead mouse behind the air conditioner unit. It lay on its left side, facing the foundation wall, with its long skinny tail extended behind it and pointing at the air conditioning unit. It had a white belly and white legs and a gray back, small ears and teeny tiny feet, and a few small ants crawling on it. There were no visible puncture wounds or blood. I don’t know how it met its demise. Yes, I took a picture, and no, you don't have to see it.

Winston and Moose are more
the indoor type of dogs.

Luckily, the expired rodent was out of the usual dog path around the yard, and for whatever reason, they didn’t see or smell it. Or maybe they did and they didn’t care. Moose and Winston are more the dogs of luxury, lay about the house type. In Tennessee, Winston once brought home a piece of what looked like a petrified squirrel pelt, and another time, a raw chicken breast, but other than that, there has been no true hunting skill or killer instinct exhibited by either dog. This is okay with me. 

The mouse lay there on the cracked concrete all day. Every time we went outside, I saw it, but I wasn’t ready to deal with it. It’s a little bit like last year when the newborn, featherless bird lay dead at the bottom of the rain spout below the bird nest. The dogs ignored it, and I spent the day debating what to do with it.

Today, it was decided to pick up the dead mouse with the poop scoop when I cleaned up the back yard after work before mowing the lawn. That is exactly what happened. Partly, anyway. I got the bucket and the scoop tool and picked up the dead mouse. I paused to study it in the plastic bag lined metal bucket. One of the legs seemed to be screwed up – even skinnier than the other legs, and twisted.

As the dried poop landed in the bucket near the mouse, I felt bad. Last year, the tiny dead bird was picked up with the trowel and buried under the rhododendron. This year, the dead mouse lay in the bottom of a bag of dog poop and was set in the trash. I felt mean, like the mouse was less than the bird and didn’t deserve a proper burial, but I was also concerned the mouse may have died from poison, and if it did, I didn’t want it planted in the yard. So sorry little mouse. 

After that, I didn't even mow the yard. It was just some of the lanky weeds that were tall, and it seemed like a waste of gas and effort to run the mower. Maybe this weekend. 

“Remoted” – Day 449 (Tuesday)

Peonies in the morning.

Surprise was the word of the day. Moose delivered a surprise demand to go outside at 4:30, and it was quite pleasant standing in the yard in my summer pajamas and robe. There were not as many stars visible at that hour as there were at 2:30 on Monday morning, but it was still enjoyable standing there, waiting to guide Winston back inside with verbal cues. His eyesight has dramatically failed in recent weeks. 

Before 6:00, Moose was barking again, and by 6:15 when the clock on my phone was set to ring its musical alarm, I was already dressed in casual spring/summer capris and a cotton shirt that screamed “I’m not seeing anyone today,” had checked the peonies, and prepared a cup of coffee. 

At 6:30, there was an unusual text message from our department head. Our remote access was still out. It had gone wonky Monday afternoon. If we could work from our phones, it was okay (I can’t), and otherwise, we could come in. To the office. In person. I briefly considered taking a spontaneous vacation day, then decided against it. I told myself it would be good to be with colleagues. It would be an adventure. Like many adventures, preparations were needed.

There was the frantic rummaging through drawers and Space Bags in search of a non-winter work top and pants, packed away since the end of summer 2019. There was a rapid wardrobe change into patterned capris and a black top that declared, if not “I am going to work out in the world,” at least “I am leaving the house.” Surprisingly, I was able to get into the pants without struggle or tears. Makeup was applied.

The “work bag”, a heavy leather computer tote bag, untouched since March 2020, was hauled out and inventoried. Two pairs of winter gloves were removed. A notepad, a file folder of stuff, and other papers were loaded in the bag, along with my wallet, a mask, and a sweater for the chilly office A/C. The location of the building access badge and parking garage pass card were verified. Lunch was packed. The dogs were let out and back inside, diapered, and showered with treats. The usual departure speech was delivered, a mix of lies and truths. “Bye puppies, I love you!" (true). "I’ll be back in a little while!" (sort-of lie).

Stuff needed relocating.

The drive downtown was quick with no university activity. The parking garage had open spots on the third level. This was all surprisingly easy. The quarter-mile trek to the building was a nice walk and my access card worked in the elevator. 

Upstairs in the office, my desk looked like a storage unit. Everything from the floor had been moved onto the counter for carpet cleaning. Christmas wreaths covered the remaining counter space. I started relocating items. At 8:41, word was received that remote access was restored, but there was no turning back at that point. I was in the office.

Things got done. My tape dispenser and stapler seem to be missing, or maybe they are involved in their own remote work situation. My tiny cactus plant seemed to be suffering and drowning, but somehow hanging on. Water was poured out of it and it was packed to come home and recuperate. The other plant from my desk, a gift on my first day, was enjoying window light and has grown quite unwieldy and gangly. 

Peonies in the evening.

A message from HR declared that I need to use some vacation time or run the risk of losing some of it at year-end. I have no idea how this happened, but it's time to start scheduling. The day flew by, suddenly it was time to go home, and the ride back was a dream. Another surprise!

The dog’s diapers were soaked with pee, but they were otherwise okay and ready for supper. Thank goodness for absorbent technology. Another peony bloomed during the day. The dogs have napped most of the time since eating, so perhaps the surprising day was exhausting for them, too. 

“Remoted” – Day 448 (Monday)

Apparently, tall tales are some sort of a family tradition. I learned recently from relatives that Grandpa used to say that he rolled the ten-ton Boulder down from Rollstone Hill to the Upper Common and that his best friend was Paul Bunyan. One cousin got in trouble in third grade for repeating the tale that Grandma Olive came from Canada in a canoe via the Nashua River. Her mom received a phone call from the teacher about it. 

Peony opening.

At my house, dinner table conversations included occasional tales from Dad. In one, he was with George Washington crossing the Delaware River, but he’s not in the painting about it because he was out getting cigars. He was also with General George Custer at Custer’s Last Stand and escaped injury or death because he was out getting cigars. Dad was part of every major historical event – Paul Revere’s ride, the Civil War, you name it, and he was always spared injury or death thanks to his need for cigars. Never mind that the events took place long before his birth. He was there. He left to get cigars, he lived to tell the tale.

I thought the historical retellings were hysterical and would tell my friends at school and we wold all laugh at how funny my Dad was. My sister repeated these tales in kindergarten. At parent’s night, the teacher mentioned that S was telling wild stories. When Dad admitted to telling them, he got a scolding from the teacher. Oops, comedy needs a warning label. Maybe “results may vary,” or “past results are not an indication of future performance”?

In the yard, the peonies are beginning to perform with the opening of the first blossom. I hope in this case, this is an indication of future results with plentiful peonies, and nobody gets scolded for tall tales.