“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 624 (Tuesday)

The day began with a weird dream set in a gray concrete building that felt huge and full of corridors and somehow, despite not seeing prisoners, I knew it was a prison. There were intimidating dudes in street clothes following me and two other women I didn’t know through the place. I said I was there only to apply for a marketing job, and that yes, I was allowed to leave.

While seeking an exit, the other two women and I visited a rest room (pee before you go!). The stalls were crammed with stuff as if doubling as a storage room. Two massive and intimidating guys followed us in and blocked the doorway. One tossed two huge clear plastic bags of white pills into the stuff in the restroom and I knew we would be blamed for it. We got out of the room and tried to find an exit but it was all dead-end corridors.

A long hallway led us to a huge and bustling mall that was still part of the prison complex and was as nerve-wracking as the rest of the building. There was a dirt room with two massive pickup trucks that seemed too large to move out of there, but I wanted to try and drive one through a wall. Then I woke up, confused and disoriented. I’m sure there a many psychological messages in that dream, especially about dead ends and road blocks and feeling trapped.

The awake part of the day felt a lot like the dream. There were problems and pitfalls, speed bumps and road blocks at almost every step. There was even a minor hissy fit, but I was working remotely today, so there were no witnesses. 

This took forever ...

Tasks lacked sufficient information to act on them and led to delays and dead ends. There were error messages and multiple computer issues included applications and programs freezing several times and for most of the last hour of the workday. Things wouldn't close. Things wouldn't open. Help was unavailable. Patience was gone. Some stuff might have been smashed if I didn’t know how much it costs to replace things. 

The day was full of frustration mixed with regret over having sold my freestanding punching bag before moving back from Tennessee. There have been way too many days I’ve needed that thing, and especially today.

This went on for a zillion screens.

It didn’t stop with the end of the work day, either. After retiring to the living room to seek solace in an escapist movie or show, (which sounds a lot nicer than the more accurate “plopping my arse on the couch to stare at the TV screen”), suddenly Xfnity was messed up. The evening routine is to power on the TV with the remote, click the Xfinity button, arrow over four clicks to the right to Apps, press OK, and choose either Netflix or Prime or sometimes hulu from the row of icons across the top of the screen.

Today, to add a level of royal icing to the multitiered crap cake of the day, the apps are all different. No familiar top row of subscription apps, but there are suddenly about a million other options, grouped by categories including Sports, Games, Gaming Videos, Kids & Family, News & Info, and on and on and on, none of which are the paid subscription apps like Prime and Netflix. They were definitely there last night when I watched the entirety of Tiger King 2. 

Sorry, we're having some troubles.

It was an hour of searching and scrolling through selections, checking the mobile app and the website for help, and then, after multiple rounds of getting nowhere with the robot agent and self-service tools, online chats with two Live Agents. The first confessed to being from the wrong department – billing – and transferred me to another agent. The second Live Agent checked a lot of things that took a lot of time and then reset the box.

If ever there was a day worthy of punching and kicking the stuffing out of a weight bag, today was it, from start to finish.

There is a lesson, but I already knew it. The next time I move (if there is a next time and I almost hope there is not), if the choice is golf clubs, ice skates, a kick bag, 210 vinyl albums in a box and two night tables, or a washer and dryer set, trust me, the washer and dryer will get the boot and not the other stuff. And sometimes nightmares just roll right into daytime wide awake shit shows.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 623 (Monday)

Cyber Monday used to be a productive time for holiday gift shopping, especially if Black Friday online shopping had been ignored like I did this year. Today, after seeing some ads for interesting Cyber Monday sales items, I took the bait and for two hours after work, online shopping was undertaken. 

Dining room spruce up.

Sure, there may be a history of occasionally buying myself pretty, shiny things around the holidays after being swept up in the holiday shopping thing. There was that time years ago when I went "Christmas shopping" and came home with four white leather dining chairs. Other times it was pretty shoes or sparkly clothes. And tonight's online shopping may not have actually been for gifts for others. Oops.

Did I buy myself jewelry, a new camera, or fancy clothes? Maybe some high heeled shoes that make me feel like some kind of superhero? Not quite. The things that cause my pulse to quicken are quite different these days. It was covers for the dining room and kitchen chairs and a book, socks, and hats for myself. My, how things change.

The chair covers will freshen the look of things in the kitchen and dining room while hiding some emerging flaws in the current upholstery. It turns out that leather covered dining seats crack. I had no idea, but the giant leather dandruff flakes on the floors were big clues.

New socks are coming!!

Shopping for socks was the result of a Cyber Monday sale ad for socks seen after an entire day of my feet freezing. After studying a dizzing array of patterns and reading descriptions for fiber content, a six pack of supposedly warm, allegedly wool blend socks was chosen. And now, I eagerly await the delivery of my new socks. 

While comparing socks, an ad for cute hats that I liked last year and didn’t buy popped up. Despite not needing any hats because there are already about a million of them in the closet, the bait was taken and a hats were ordered. The psychologists helping design the internet shopping models are doing a good job.

There are still several cyber shopping carts out in the online shopping atmosphere from a week ago that contain actual potential gift items for other people. That’s probably what should have been under the microscope when patterns and colors on socks were being studied and analyzed. Oops. It might be a late shopping night tonight.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 622 (Sunday) – Korean Wedding Anniversary

Twenty-one years ago, on a cold day in a foreign country, I got married. Luckily, I wrote about it immediately and emailed friends back home. If not for a printout of the email recently found in a file, there would be few memories of the day beyond the folder of legal marriage and divorce paperwork.

We got married on Tuesday, November 28, 2000. Our wedding day started with coffee at Burger King. How’s that for romance? Just before 9:00 am, armed with our pile of paperwork (blood tests, divorce decrees, and other official forms) we headed to the Legal Assistance Office on Yongsan Army Post in beautiful downtown Seoul. 

So many copies left.

The first step of the three-step marital process was the final “legal sufficiency review and notarization of forms,” which consisted of three typed originals of the very official form EA Form 736-E (the Report and Certificate of Marriage) and one typed original and four copies of EA Form 738-E (the Affidavit of Eligibility for Marriage). We never learned why we needed five copies of the affidavit, and at day’s end we still possessed four of them. 

The first minor obstacle – our carefully prepared forms needed edits. Mr. Ku, our Legal Affairs forms reviewer and a stickler for aesthetics, scrutinized our forms and announced that “Massachusetts” was too long of a name and didn’t look good the way it sat on one particular line. He wanted us to shorten things so it looked nicer. Other appearances of the name were apparently ok, and he didn’t make us change it in the other two places it appeared. He also didn’t like the wording of “United States Army,” and wanted it changed to “U.S. Army.” And the real kicker, he prefers the use of a backslash and not a semicolon to separate certain pieces of information.

We went to Mr. D’s office, changed the forms to please the diminutive forms reviewer who held our marital fate in his slender hands, and returned to Legal Affairs. Our forms received Mr. Ku’s official stamp of approval and we were sent to the front desk for the notarization of signatures and congratulations from the notary. We didn’t know if “congratulations” meant we were married yet or not, but we were at least on our way.

Step two in the matrimonial journey was the visit to Chongro-ku Ward Office to register the marriage and the Certificate of Marriage. We headed to the hotel on Post to get a cab from the line that was always waiting out front. It seemed like a simple task, but there was a hiccup. The taxi driver had never heard of the Ward Office and we were clueless as to the location. He got directions from the driver of the cab behind him and we began our crawl through Seoul’s perpetually traffic clogged streets.

The Ward Office was a well-run operation. An information desk at the entrance was home base to a helpful man wearing a yellow sash across his torso, somewhat like a beauty pageant contestant. The angel in the sash got us a queue number (#11) and filled out our forms in Hangul. After the customary line cutting which we were already used to, (#12 jumped ahead of us), shoving on the part of other clients (#12 again), and payment of a fee of 10,000 won (roughly $10 in U.S. currency) in exchange for two stamps much like postage stamps, we stood before a man with a dozen rubber stamps lined up at his disposal. He checked our identification and reviewed our forms, and like a multiple armed robot he stamped and stamped, then stuffed one copy of each of our forms into a file folder, returned a stack of paperwork to us, and sent us on our way.

The final step in the process was a visit to the U.S. Embassy, conveniently located around the corner from the Ward Office. We entered the security gate, had our passport numbers recorded by the guard, turned over our camera in exchange for a claim ticket (cameras are not allowed in the Embassy), witnessed a search of my purse, and received ID badges. After passing through a turnstile, it was a walk across the parking lot and into the building itself, where we passed through a metal detector and the purse and folder of precious paperwork passed through the x-ray machine. Finally, we arrived at the American Citizens Services Office, took a queue number (#34) and waited to be called.

There were several people ahead of us with apparently long and complicated Embassy issues. Finally, our number was displayed on the magical display board and we slid our forms under the window to the person behind the bulletproof glass. We were instructed to have a seat and wait.

During the wait, it occurred to me that as Mrs. D, my initials would be “TRD” which was uncomfortably close to “turd” and I started to chuckle. Mr. D looked at me like I was nuts and the reason was shared so he could laugh, too.

Wedding day in Seoul.

Eventually, we were called to the counter by a stern looking clerk who looked like a movie villain with the power to physically crush anyone who displeased her. She handed us our officially stamped and embossed form and dismissed us. The process was complete. We were signed, sealed, stamped, married. The entire process took three hours.

And that was my Korean wedding to the man who eventually became ex-husband number two. There were no photos of us that day. The only images recorded by us were of a couple of the craggy mountains you can see while standing in front of the Embassy. There was no wedding garb. It was cold and a weekday, and we wore basic American business attire. 

A week later we had portraits done so we’d have something for ourselves and to send to our parents. Two and a half months later, we returned to the States, with grand and earnest plans to return to Korea. We talked about it often in the following years, but, like the rest of our few shared dreams and plans, never made it happen. It seemed like once we returned to America as a married couple, all the plans we had while dating evaporated and after seven years, we split up.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 621 (Saturday)

Snow dusted.

The Friday snow fell periodically throughout the night, which I was witness to the four times Winston woke me up to let him out. Letting him out during the night at our house is easy and involves opening the front door to let him into the fenced yard, popping back into the house for a moment, and opening the door to let him back in. 

But we weren’t at home, we were having a sleepover at Mom’s, where we had arrived with an overnight bag for each of us, a dog bed, and a botte of wine. It's amazing how much stuff one little diabetic, vision-impaired doggy needs for one night away from home. 

None of the clothing options included footwear for snow, having somehow missed the weather memo. Nighttime pottying meant donning shoes that slip in the snow and a coat and hat, and guiding Winston in his harness and leash through the unfamiliar floor plan, furniture placement, down the outdoor steps, up the driveway, and into the back yard. 

The storm door slammed shut the first time we went out (1:00 am) and I was afraid it would wake the rest of the house, but the subsequent trips (2:45, 4:15 and 4:45) were quieter and therefore less stressful. The 4:45 excursion was my own fault for rushing Winston at 4:15, leading to some unfinished business. There wasn't a lot of snow accumulation, and the dusting was pretty.

When it was time to get up for the day, I was tired. The time in between the outside trips was spent trying to get back to sleep. After coffee, a shower, and breakfast, Mom and I headed out to some antique and gift shops in the Templeton area. The Country Roads Christmas program was happening in Templeton and surrounding towns with a list of 16 small businesses. We visited six of the locations and between the two of us, managed to spend some money at each one with Finnish coffee bread at the bakery, cheese dip at the cheese shop, home décor items, and small Christmas stuff.

After about three hours we called it a day and headed back to Mom’s for lunch and a quick game of Scrabble before Winston and I headed back home. It was a fun couple of days with all the games and food and hanging with Mom. Supper was a turkey and stuffing sandwich, one of the best parts of Thanksgiving dinner. There was no cranberry sauce to include in the sandwich, but it turns out strawberry jam is quite tasty. 

Catalogue tree.

The time in antique shops today had me in a retro decorating mood and the next thing I knew, I was looking online for instructions for the trees made of magazines. Way back when I was a kid, people folded the Reader's Digest magazines to make trees and angels and Mr. and Mrs. Claus decorations. It seemed like everyone had at least on version of a folded magazine thing. There are several videos available and after a few minutes of “research” a couple catalogues were retrieved from a pile of recyclables on the kitchen counter and  the pages folded to make a tree. It was fun to do. Once, anyway. There aren't enough incoming magazines and catalogues to plan for many more, which is okay, because it may not need repeating. 

The upcoming Sunday morning coffee musings will include whether to embellish the magazine tree with spray paint or doo-dads or not, and where in the kitchen to the hang the new decorator sign that declares “Drink Coffee - Do stupid things faster and with more enthusiasm.” These decisions could have been done already, but there was no valid reason to use up all the fun in one day.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 620 (Friday)

The day had no formal plan as I sat in the couch drinking coffee, but after one phone call, suddenly it was a road trip kind of day. Winston’s bed was loaded into the floor of the back seat and we were blazing down routes 495 South and 2 West, radio playing, headed to Mom’s again. We are not Black Friday shopping people, and generally take pains to avoid it.

Skip-Bo!

Today’s gathering of the tribe was a pizza party with my sister and the nieces. Niece number one and the beau return to Vegas Saturday morning, so it was our last chance to spend time with them before they leave.

After lunch, it was game time. A board was set atop the coffee table for a larger game play surface, and we began with several rounds of Skip-Bo with everyone participating. I took Winston outside and when we returned, suddenly the game had switched to Clue. Almost every one played, which made for a long game when we each held just three cards in hand. It seems there is no such thing as a “quick game of Clue” no matter how many players, but it was still fun. 

Snow!

After Sis and her crew left, there was supper. It was turkey and stuffing leftovers, which is one of the best things about Thanksgiving. Fortified with supper, Mom and I settled in for a few games of Scrabble. Outside, snow was falling and clinging to the grass but not the asphalt. When I checked the weather before leaving the house the only precipitation noted was rain. Then again, I forgot to check the unique weather system of Gardner, which I swear is covered by a snow globe. In any event, it was a nice taste of what is to come. The first snowfall is always pretty. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 619 (Thanksgiving Day)

Supper!

While I appreciate the efforts of organizations to post helpful information, sometimes the timing feels way off. For example, this morning, Thanksgiving morning, at 9:04, an email came in from AAA. The subject line was about Getting Ready for Black Friday Deals, which is timely, but the other 99 articles in the newsletter were much less timely. It was full of Thanksgiving recipes and cooking tips for Thanksgiving dinner which feel late by at least several days. 

Depending upon the planned dinner time and size of the bird, the planning likely well underway and the turkey is quite possibly already in the oven at 9:00 am. I can’t imagine many cooks are looking up dinner menus and cooking instructions this morning, and if they are, I wish them luck with no stores open.

Maybe Mom and I are just neurotic level planners, but I doubt it. I think we do a normal amount of planning and executing for meals and events. On my end, the stuffing for today (ok, dressing) was made on Tuesday. Mom cooked the turkey Wednesday so it just needed a quick warmup today. Thanks to planning, I was able to spend a stress-free morning sitting on the couch, drinking coffee and reading email and laughing at newsletters about major Thanksgiving dinner preparations that was delivered just hours before dinner.

As for our dinner, it was a small group (four of us), and the food was delicious. We had turkey, mashed potatoes, squash, dressing, cranberry sauce, and gravy. This menu is dramatically scaled down from the menu of my youth when it also included toss salad, one or two Jello salads, sweet potato, corn, green beans, pearl onions, and probably fourteen other things I have forgotten. Of course, back then, the house was bigger, the table was bigger, and there were 12 or more of us, elbow to elbow seated around it. That’s before people grew up and moved away and/or passed away and any other number of things.

Before dinner it was relaxing in the living room with cheese and crackers, and after dinner it was pies. All the hits were represented. There was apple, pumpkin, and mincemeat. Throughout the day the TV selections bounced all over the place – parade, football pre-game show, a fragment of an old western, a sliver of a Hallmark show, over to football. 

Scrabble!

Post pie, then there was a very old-fashioned split. The men stayed in the living room with the football game, we ladies retired to the kitchen table for a couple games of Scrabble, Winston slept in his bed, and everyone was happy doing something they found enjoyable. 

When it was time to head home, I ended up with the turkey carcass, some sliced turkey, and pieces of three types of pie that equaled half a pie. The carcass has been simmering in the soup pot for a couple hours now and the house smells better than any candle I might have lurking in a drawer. It was a light supper of slivers of pie with a nice red wine. 

Overall, it was pretty much a perfect day. Kudos to the hosts, the chef, and the guests. It was a five star day, and for that, I'm thankful.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 618 (Wednesday) Thanksgiving Eve

There have been many chunks of lifetime where the night before Thanksgiving meant one thing and it wasn’t watching TV. It meant going out. Depending upon where one’s acquaintances were, it might mean staying at one place, or visiting a string of locations. In the Fitchburg of decades ago, if one wanted to run into former classmates, it often meant that Slattery’s or The Boulder Café were the places to be and be seen. Once upon a way-back time, there was also The Wine Cellar (may it rest in peace).

Because many people returned to the hometown for Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Eve and throughout the weekend were the prime nights to see friends. As the years increased between graduation and the current year, people fell off the Thanksgiving Eve festivities due to traveling or hosting visiting family and dinner preparations. 

The waves of younger folks filled the gathering spots, and there were times when a friend and I would enter a place packed with people and not know a soul in the mob. Funny how that works with age.

Now, Thanksgiving Eve mostly means being at home in the quietness. Since Tennessee, I haven’t hosted Thanksgiving dinner, so that isn’t even the reason. Usually, being home on Thanksgiving Eve was the result of poor planning or lack of companions with whom to carouse, and it felt like the worst of punishments. But now, it is a most welcome situation. Socializing as a singleton is hard. It’s stressful. It’s not like the days of being a student when it was easy to make friends within the confines of school and shared classes. It seems like after age 30, it is harder to make new friends with each passing year.

Canine Overlord Winston,
king of the social circle.

The reality of being a middle-aged singleton is one of usually being the odd person out. Way out. As in, often not invited to the things that the couple groups do. And there aren’t that many other singles to pal around with.

Luckily, regardless of the day (or night), staying at home has become the preferred activity. Each moment spent at home feels like receiving full value from the monthly mortgage payment. Home has become more than a place to change outfits between exciting social activities. Or maybe I just tell myself that to feel better, but in any event it’s still good.

As a working adult with a food budget and no obligation to exhibit healthy eating habits to any younglings, there are snacks and eggnog. And wine, beer, soju, and other alcohol. And while there may not be the company of any friends for the evening, there is the company of Canine Overlord Winston and the bonus of no strangers to tolerate, so it is a total win. Sadly, no medal, but still a victory of sorts. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 617 (Tuesday)

After a workday of projects progressing and things running mostly smoothly, a realization hit. Thanks to a planned vacation day on Friday and the holiday on Thursday, although it’s Tuesday, it’s basically my Friday Eve. As they say in response to practically everything in The Great, my current hulu streaming obsession, huzzah!

My contribution to Thanksgiving dinner is the family stuffing recipe, which, according to the most technical terms, will be “dressing” this year, as it will be cooked outside the bird. Monday night, the preparation began with the onion, pork, and hamburger mixture. 

Friday night, while grocery shopping, the display of instant mashed potatoes was bypassed, thinking there were two packets at home. It turned out the two packets were actually one of vegetable soup and dip mix, and one of cheddar mashed potatoes. It was impossible to find packages of hamburger and pork smaller than one pound each, which meant having twice as much meat as was needed. Thank goodness for the two containers of farm fresh Maine potatoes that had been boiled, mashed, and frozen a few weeks ago. Huzzah!  

The recipe, not made in about eight years, has some gray areas. The first step is to sauté the onion then add the pork and hamburger and brown. That part is easy and was Monday evening’s entertainment. The mixture was refrigerated.

The next step reads “Combine all ingredients in bowl.” Those ingredients are mashed potatoes, three celery stalks, half a bag of Pepperidge Farm stuffing mix (no particular package size noted) and spices.  

So much stuff ...

After it was already sliced, dumped in a bowl, and covered in the measured spices, it seemed that maybe the celery should have been sautéed with the onion. Oops. It’s not mentioned in the directions. 

The mess is intended to go into the bird, so there aren’t any baking instructions, although there was almost always excess that was baked in a dish. Thank goodness my standard cooking rule of 30 minutes at 350 degrees often does the trick.

The double meat ration provided two options – double the whole recipe or set half the meat aside for something later. It seemed easier to double it, which filled an 8.5” by 13” baking dish for Mon’s and an 9” x 7” dish for my house. That’s a lot of dressing. Huzzah!

Guess what was for supper? It’s not exactly like I remembered it, which was with more potato. And it’s definitely moister and when cooked inside the bird. Maybe gravy will help on Thursday. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 616 (Monday)

While at Coggshall Park on Sunday, I noticed commemorative stone benches engraved with names and remembrances. There were several in a line on the way to the stairs leading to the trail around Mirror Lake and to the gazebo.

Who is this Carnival Queen?

Most of the messages engraved on the benches were the likes of “In memory of Meme and Pepe” with various family members named, but one bench was a bit different and has me intrigued. It says, “In Loving Memory of Ruth Ray Hession Fitchburg Carnival Queen 1936.” 

I need to know about this woman. I tried checking with my friends Google, Yahoo, ancestry-dot-com, and Newspapers-dot-com. An obituary for a woman of that name who was born in 1931 and died in 2009 was found and it’s possible she was the Carnival Queen in 1936, although she would have been but a wee girl of four or five.

The obituary didn’t mention the royal title or the carnival, even though the paper regularly carried stories about people recovering in the hospital from appendicitis and the news that Mrs. So-and-so just returned from visiting friends in a neighboring town. One would think a royal coronation would be newsworthy.

But I need to know. Which Carnival? How old (or young) was the Carnival Queen? What did she wear? Was she given a tiara? How was she chosen? Is she connected to Mummu's lifelong friend who was named Hession? Was Carnival Queen her greatest accomplishment, or just the one most interesting to the average Fitchburger? That one bench has birthed so many questions.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 615 (Sunday)

Coggshall!

One group’s ordinary Sunday playing Pokemon GO in the park is another group’s family unplugged day in the same park. For my family, as it was for several others, it was a family photo day, although there were many of the Sunday Pokemon Go folks wandering about.

The plan was to meet  in Coggshall Park, the 250 acre gem of Fitchburg. The objective was to take photos of my niece Shannon and her beau Britt for their Christmas cards. Photos with her immediate family were also planned. 

There were photos in the gazebo with the stone house in the distance and then on the other side of it with the woods in the background. We walked around to the opposite side of Mirror Lake over by the benches across from the gazebo. There were photos on the steps of the Stone House and up on the porch. It was a little chilly, but not completely awful. The red roof of the gazebo is very faded from the sun beating on it constantly, but the most disturbing element of the whole time was the very bright white sky. We called this particular sky "nuclear white" in my old photography class, but schedules are tight, the younger folks are in town from Vegas for only a week, and this was the day, so there would be no waiting for a blue sky.

And then they were engaged.

After the other sites, we returned to the gazebo to get a couple more shots we missed because other people were waiting for the space while we were in it. Plus, there was one more big secret event to happen there, because one family’s Sunday of photos was also a day for a major life event. When Britt took a knee, produced a diamond ring, and proposed, there were happy tears. 

The official act had already been cleared and blessed by the parents, and carefully mapped in advance. At the conclusion of the proposal, there was cheering from high up on the rock at the top of the hill where Shannon’s two besties had been hidden amongst the trees, observing and recording.

It was a great afternoon. Exciting times!

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 614 (Saturday)

Enjoying quality time chatting with seldom seen cousins is really fun, and today I got to do exactly that with two of my cousins when we spent several hours trading family stories. Thanks to stories shared by their mother, I now know a bit more about our parents’ generation of our common family. Other than being in a hospital in Boston with rheumatic fever as a young child and years of follow up visits, Dad rarely talked about life growing up.

The menfolk of the family seem to have a tall tales gene, and one of my cousins got into trouble after sharing one of our grandfather’s stories at school. Grandpa said that Grandma, who was from Canada, “came down the Nashua River in a canoe.” The teacher was neither impressed nor amused and made a phone call to my aunt.

Meanwhile, over at my house, Dad loved to regaling us with dinner table tales about his exploits with George Washington, George Custer, and other historical figures. In one tale, he crossed the Delaware River with George Washington. In another, he was at Little Big Horn with Custer, but didn’t die in battle because he had gone to get cigars. Never mind that the Washington river crossing was in 1776 and Custer’s Last Stand was 1876. Dad is apparently ageless, and in all the various tales and escapades, Dad always escaped injury or death thanks to having gone “out to get cigars.” After my sister repeated one of the tales in school, my parents got a talking-to from the kindergarten teacher at parents’ night.

The supper that shouldn't have been.

There was a food spread catered by Legends, a local restaurant. It was an array of comfort foods – toss salad, mac and cheese, pulled pork, chicken parmesan, shepherd’s pie, chicken and broccoli with rigatoni – and it was perfect. There was an abundance of desserts and much overeating was done. Maybe not by all, but by me. It’s okay, I avoided the cost of the “I’ve eaten too much and done too little for 20 months and my pants don’t fit” situation by wearing a stretchy knit skirt. I also avoided the salad, which is probably where I should have invested my lunch efforts. 

After the huge lunch, the plan was to skip supper, but you know how that goes. Once home, somehow a pecan roll found its way onto a plate as the accompaniment to a Sam Adams Holiday Porter. Oops. Nothing like potentially bad (but tasty) decisions.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 613 (Friday)

Office Overlord Winston
performs a desk check.

The work day (ha, more like the whole week!) was a headache pretty much end-to-end. At least it was a work from home day with the delightful and mostly scarce office Overlord Winston, who periodically appeared to make sure I was still busy at the desk. And at its conclusion, the frustrating workweek shifted to more of a success story. 

There was the now monthly 5:20 chiropractor appointment which was declared by the doctor as “the best yet!” I may be feeling like I’m wound a bit too tight, but apparently, it’s more in my head and less in my spine.

From the chiropractor, it was yet another trip to Hannaford. I've been there more times in the past two weeks than in the previous 19 months. The primary mission was ingredients for my Finnish grandmother’s Canadian stuffing recipe to bring to Mom’s house on the Day of the Turkey. Or, as the point of debate that raged the entire length of marriage number two, “dressing.”

X2, raised in a small town in Pennsylvania, referred to the stuff made from bread crumbs and other ingredients and served with turkey as “dressing.” Imagine my surprise at our first Thanksgiving together when he kept referring to “dressing” and I kept thinking of the stuff in the bottle. That first years'  conversation was along the lines of:

“Is there dressing?”

“Why, I thought you didn't like salad?”

“No, dressing!”

“Ummm…. what, what?!?!”

Anyway, we finally got it sorted out and agreed to disagree on whether it was called “dressing” or “stuffing.” But, really, if it's actually "dressing" like he claimed, why is every box of Stove Top and every bag of Pepperidge Farm called "stuffing" and not "dressing"? I rest my case.

Of all the ingredients on the shopping list, the Bell’s Poultry Seasoning was the hardest to find. I checked the spice row. And over by the turkeys. And on each of the endcaps featuring all sorts of Thanksgiving related displays. And while fetching the forgotten onions, even looked in produce. Then it was back to the spice row, where the yellow boxes were finally located, shoved far back on the shelf. In a flashback to my DeMoulas days, I pulled the remaining boxes (all three) forward to the edge of the shelf to spare the next shopper the hunt.

The reward.

Other grocery conquests included a 12-pack of Sam Adams assorted holiday brews and two bags of the coveted Tri-Sum 1908 recipe chips, which were woefully absent from the shelf on my previous three visits. I almost missed them, as they were behind some of the not quite as tasty more modern recipe. My tendency to be like a dog with a bone when on a mission paid off. And there was a payoff. 

The persistence at both the grocery store and the desk, and a sensible lunch of rice, chicken, salsa, and cheese was rewarded. Despite the overabundance of delightful and healthy foodstuffs, supper was a spontaneous meal of Tri-Sum 1908 Original Recipe chips and Sam Adams Winter Lager (Festive and Smooth!). And the rewards will continue into the night and weekend with the discovery of "20 years of Harry Potter" on the Peacock streaming channel.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 612 (Thursday)

I'm no quitter.

Today is another milestone day … <insert drum roll> … Duolingo Day 500 of Finnish lessons. No, I am not fluent in Finnish. I can barely formulate a short sentence and am better at reading it than speaking it. If the actual Finnish speakers talk as fast as the speaker in the lessons, I’m in deep trouble if I ever meet a Finnish speaker who wants to chat. But it's still a "hyvää päivää" (good day).

It’s an interesting language. After 500 days of it, I can say that some of the words are long, but for a lot of it, the language feels very economical. There is often one word for something it takes several words to say in English. For example, “Do you live in that country?” Six English words needed! In Finnish, it’s three – “Asutko tassa maassa?” Economical! Sure, it’s the same number of syllables, but let’s not get picky. There are double duty words like “han” which means both “he” and “she” and “hänellä” which means both “he has” and “she has.” Talk about equality. Also, the letter “ä”seems to be very popular.

Ever so briefly, I was #1.

And credit goes to the Duolingo creators for working in some fun sentences. For example, “Missä kissa on? Kissa on kuusaa” is fun to say in Finnish. It means “Where is the cat? The cat is on the moon,” which is significantly less fun in English.

The app is very game-like with points and rankings and wagers, and I held roughly one full second of glory in the number on spot in the “Diamond League” last weekend. It just happened that mid-lesson the day in the app changed over and the lesson points rolled to the new day. The ranking as top diamond dog lasted only as long as it took to grab the screen shot, and in a blink, I was already demoted to number nine as points rolled in for other people. The highest I’ve ever ended a week’s ranking is third, so at least I got the screengrab proof of my fleeting glory for the first few seconds of a new ranking week. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 611 (Wednesday)

 It was a day. It was like a lot of other days, except I was kind of extra cranky and there probably should have been blanket apologies issued to all who were present on my half of the fourth floor. 

Everything is exhausting. Even sleeping is exhausting. I go to bed tired and get up seven or eight hours later, still tired. The crankiness is built on a foundation of tiredness.

I did laugh at work today. Once. Thanks, workspace neighbor! Laughing is fun and I would like more of it. It seems rather sad (pathetic?) that a single afternoon laugh at work is noteworthy, but that's the way it is lately. It’s not like we were watching a comedy cavalcade or anything, either. I don’t even recall exactly what it was, but there was a dry and amusing comment that had to do with my being super extra cranky this morning. 

After supper, while scrolling through images on my phone, a second laugh happened. How could I not? It was a screenshot of post shared on Facebook last year. Instead of scrolling through my phone, I may need to get an enlargement of this solicitation for commissions for "Processional animal portrait" by "a professional drawer person" to cheer me up whenever needed. I'm not sure which part I find most amusing -- the language or the sample pet portrait.

After the "professional drawer person" post, the next image is a screenshot from the website of our health plan at work. There are educational modules and challenges available throughout the year and this particular module was about a healthy eating challenge. While the tips about eating more fruit may be helpful, I am pretty sure I will never be tempted by "an attractive bowel" on my counter. Never. Nope. I don't see that happening.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 610 (Tuesday)

The morning was cold and I didn’t want to get out of bed, but it was a work day and I like to eat, so yeah. I got up. It was the usual drill of getting dressed, makeup, packing lunch, saying goodbye to Winston – all the extra things that need doing that make a work from home day superior to a work at the office day.

On the way to work, there was a numbskull who acted like an idiot and drove into the intersection when the traffic was already piled up and there was clearly no room for his car. When the light changed, he was blocking the intersection I needed to cross and my road rage may have activated with some horn blowing, swearing, and a passionate display of the one finger salute. 

A bit further down the road, a vehicle approached from the other direction, straddling the two lanes. The driver had his hands at 12:00 on the wheel and as we got closer, it looked like he was scratching a lottery ticket. He snapped to awareness of where he was (a city street) and his primary activity (driving) in time to return to his own side of the road. Maybe it’s the approaching full moon. Or something.

Thankfully the rest of the day and the ride home from work were without incident. Once inside the house, however, it was obvious there had been an incident or two in my lengthy absence. A sizeable puddle of pee sat on the kitchen floor. It was a joy mopping it up. No, really, the stuff of dreams.

Had a sweater, but no pants.

That’s when I realized the morning departure activities missed one critical element. I remembered to put a stylish sweater on him, but I forgot to put Winston’s pants on him. Based on the many times I let him out while home and the size of the puddle, it was gone far too long without a diaper for the doggy who needs to pee a lot. Winston was standing at the top of the staircase waiting for me, as cute as ever and I didn't mention the accident. It wasn't his fault anyway. 

It seems the new “thing” is for me to forget something reasonably important each day on the way out. A few days ago it was my phone. Last Friday it was my lunch. This morning, it was Winston’s wrap. The alternating hybrid schedule and regular morning routines aren’t really coordinating right now. Maybe it’s also a casualty of the approaching full moon. Or something.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 609 (Monday)

When Monday is a work from home day, it’s the best sort of a Monday. Not as great as a Monday holiday Monday, but you know, better than the usual wretched Monday.

While I toiled calmly at the desk, the outside world chugged along. The trash, recycling, and yard waste were all picked up during the day, and in the process, nothing was destroyed on my fence (this week), so that is a big win.

Ouch. Thanks, trash truck.

A couple weeks ago, while the mechanical trash truck arms were emptying the neighbor’s recycle bin, there was an unfortunate incident. The fence post cap, which had previously been securely glued to the post, was forcibly removed. It was found lying in the flower bed with parts of it smashed to bits. Vinyl is final, but apparently only until the trash truck arrives. Since the event, the busted post cap pieces have sat on the counter, mocking me. 

The whole broken fence thing could have been avoided if the neighbor’s bins could be picked up from the front of her house. When the truck had two workers, one would get out of the truck and empty the bins into the truck, but recently it’s been a one-person operation. There were several weeks over the summer where the neighbor bins were left in front of her house and were not emptied, which was unfortunate. Also unfortunate is my current level of trash knowledge.

My favorite part is the section of the curbside collection instructions on the city website which states, and I quote, "All items must be put out in front of one's own property; it cannot be put out in front of another's property. Anyone found in violation of this is subject to fines up to $100." Except on my street, where the neighbor's bins in front of the neighbor's house are ignored for weeks.

I recently learned from the neighbor that some time ago, a trash truck ripped down some low-hanging wires running to each of our houses from the pole across the street. There are still many wires draped low and casually across the street, so, that’s still a real problem. I called the city to talk trash and asked what could be done about the pickups and the wires and was told the engineering department would look into the wires. It's been months with no change, but maybe someday, which is not an actual day of the week, something will be done about it. 

Also someday, I’ll get to either Lowe’s or Home Depot for a replacement to the fence cap. First, I need to scroll through old text messages, and hopefully, the ones from May or June 2020 are still there. That’s when former neighbor guy sent fence pictures, and hopefully there is a brand/style/store noted. Neighbor guy ordered everything and had all the paperwork, and also moved away several months ago. When I texted to ask where the fencing came from, he responded not so helpfully, "Either Home Depot or Lowe's." With luck the messages weren’t part of the recent massive cell phone purge, and if they were, well, then the real detective work will begin.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 608 (Sunday)

When it was 68 degrees out the other day, it felt warm and wonderful. I wandered around outside with no jacket. Why then, at 68 degrees inside my house, have I felt cold all day today? These are the things that will drive me absolutely bonkers (assuming I’m not already there).

Stuffed peppers and
things baked in a dish.

Feeling cold inspired more cooking. It started with thinking I wanted rice to go with yesterday’s roasted veggies. As the last of the rice from the pantry cooked in the pot, I realized most of the veggies roasted on Saturday are potatoes, and rice is just more starch. Oops.

With enough cooked rice to feed a small American subdivision, it was time for another plan. Green peppers were prepared and stuffed with rice and other fun, tasty things. Rice was mixed with radish and other stuff and baked with in a dish with cheese (there is always cheese). A container of rice went into the refrigerator for as yet undefined purposes. More creamy vegetable soup was produced. 

The oven made the kitchen warmer, which was nice, except I was in the living room under a blanket watching streaming shows I would realize around episode seven or eight I had already seen. This happened twice. Thanks for continuing to recommend shows I've already watched, Netflix.

There was a quick trip made to Hannaford (again), for which I blame their loyalty program and an email reminder that the offer of $10 off a $25 order was expiring Monday. That is not the sort of thing to ignore. I will haul my butt to the store for a discount like that. A list was made, which included things often avoided until the last minute due to cost, like the large bottles of olive oil and baking supplies that are not desperately needed yet, and things I’m low on but forget to buy, like shampoo. Thanks to the discount, the pantry is now restocked with olive oil, flour, rice, three types of chocolate baking chips, and shampoo.

In other exciting and uncharacteristic planning ahead news, this year’s annual winter holiday greeting cards have been produced. Twice, after I got the first batch in hand and realized it used the same image as a couple years ago. Usually, there is a mad, panicked scramble in mid-December. This year, the cards are ready for signing, and envelopes are already addressed.

There are a couple possible explanations for this new business of doing things in advance. One is that the personal hermit-like habit of limited activities since the shutdown has produced a relatively stress-free personal environment conducive to thinking, planning, and doing. Another option is that there has been an alien abduction and my body was replaced with the innards of some being who plans and executes tasks and activities well in advance. A third possibility involves the pandemic time warp that leaves me constantly questioning what day it is. At least it’s working in my favor (for now, anyway). It is less stressful to be completing things in advance than to be running into deadlines or accidentally blowing them off.

Next up in the amateur armchair self-analysis series, we’ll try to unravel why I keep buying too many perishables and have a freezer so full of prepared meal portions it’s ready to burst.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 607 (Saturday)

Eight weeks ago, an appointment was scheduled for today at my regular hair salon, an hour from home. On Friday, it was learned that today was the only Saturday of the month that the veterinary office was open, 45 minutes away in a different direction, and Winston’s insulin is down to just a few more doses. Additionally, a trip was needed to my sister’s house in the same town as the vet to drop something off for an event next week.

Once upon a time I would have tried to pull off all the things. I would have either arisen super early to get to the vet in Fitchburg and then to the hair salon for 10:00 in Worcester, then possibly back to Fitchburg before heading home. Or I might have gone to the hair salon, then raced to Fitchburg before the vet closed at 1:00. I used to rush around pretty much all the time, fueled by caffeine, adrenaline, and stress. I also weighed a lot less and my clothes were two sizes smaller back then, so there was a benefit to living like a spazz. I appreciate a quieter life now. Operating in a constant state of urgency has lost its appeal.

My mature adult self took the time to analyze the options. Arriving at the vet when they first open has not worked well for me in the past because the person opening the office was 20 or 30 minutes late, which threw that entire morning off schedule. It doesn’t mean it would happen again, but it also means I will avoid the situation when possible. You know, once bitten ...

Oven ready.

Another option was to get the hair done as scheduled and go to the vet one night after work for the insulin. This would put me in 5:00 traffic on 495, which is not my favorite weeknight activity.

The sensible, stress-alleviating, grownup option was to change the hair appointment. The scheduling has lately been around 12 weeks, so really, it could wait another three to four weeks without issue. It’s a mystery why it was scheduled at eight weeks out. There was probably a logical reason, but I don’t recall it.  

Anyway, on Friday the hair appointment was changed, and today the vet pickup was made, followed by a nice and unhurried visit with my sister. As I prepared to leave with two bags stuffed with stuff from my sister, I saw I’d missed a call from Mom. I called her, but it went to voice mail, so I headed out. The loosely planned next leg of the day was stops at Big Lots and Market Basket, and possibly the $3 car wash and Ocean State Job Lot, all part of the usual Fitchburg circuit. 

While heading out of the ‘burg, a call came in from Mom asking where I was. She was en route to my house with StepDad and the repaired lawn mower. The first two potential stops had already been scrubbed as nonessential on the approach to the shopping plaza, and the remaining options, which were mostly for entertainment purposes, were also scrapped and I headed home.

Velcro dog fashions.

When I arrived, Mom was sitting in the truck, and StepDad was pushing the mower to the back yard. Not only had he fixed and delivered the mower, he had mowed both the front and back lawn. Talk about service. 

We entered the house for a brief visit and discovered that Winston, the Harry Houdini of his breed, was parading around pantsless. A mystery was afoot. After Mom left, I found the male wrap with the diaper inside it on the small landing at the bottom of the stairs. It was still closed, and the rough exposed velcro panel was attached to a toss pillow from the upstairs dog bed. It's a wonder this hasn't happened a million times before. Poor guy was attached to a pillow, but somehow managed to get down the stairs and liberate himself. He is a clever pup. 

The next phase of the day was a jump on the usual Sunday food prep with roasting veggies, some of which my sister had given me just hours earlier. Radishes, sweet potato, white potato, and broccoli were cut, tossed with olive oil and seasonings, and put into the oven. The temperature was set at 375 degrees, knowing that 400 causes the smoke detectors to go off. 

Roasted, broccoli half eaten.

Despite the temperature adjustment, the smoke detector went off anyway because I had forgotten to turn on the vent over the stove. Dish towels were waved and windows and doors opened. Winston sat trembling on the living room rug. The detector stopped briefly before going off several more times. Annoying. Embarrassing. Funny, because just hours earlier, I was telling my sister about the optimal temperature setting to avoid the smoke alarm going off. I failed to account for the teeny tiny broccoli bits that char to the delicious crispiness that I eat immediately upon removing the pan from the oven. At least I know the smoke detectors work.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 606 (Friday)

Rain splattered.

The drive to work was in a light shower and the forecast showed a 100% chance of rain for most of the morning. Leaving the car, I was laden like a pack mule with two large bags containing one decorated wreath each, a smaller bag with leftover decorating items, the work purse/tote, and an umbrella. As I stepped from the garage, two things happened almost simultaneously. I realized I had totally forgotten to grab anything for lunch, and the sky opened up in a heavy rain. 

By the time I made it to the office, my toes were wet in the footwear carefully chosen for the pretend leather material which was believed to not be ruined in wetness. The umbrella was not of the oversized variety, and my casual Friday jeans were wet from the back of my knees down to the hems. Longest quarter-mile ever.

Lunch - aka"why my pants don't fit."

The pants dried in time for the noon-ish wreath delivery errand, which luckily occurred between downpours. I was able to get to the gallery and on the way back, grab a veggie sub from Subway. In theory, half of the sub would be lunch, and the other half would be supper. It didn’t work that way. The entire thing was consumed and oddly, I was still hungry. Lately I want to eat everything in sight, like an animal preparing for hibernation. If only there could be a real stretch of several months of nothing but sleep. This is the dream I dare to dream.

I was the only occupant of my half of the fourth floor which felt a lot like solitary confinement or detention or some other punishment. Two colleagues were on the other side of the suite. Everyone else was either on a scheduled remote day or a vacation day. Work was busier than expected and went by strangely quick despite the solitary confinement and the soundtrack of the rain slamming against the roof. 

There were content reviews and rewrites coming in and going out. Projects were moved to the next review phase. The only phone call of the entire day was a wrong number. It took only a small bit of detective work to find the correct banker, and ended up being a transposition in the last two digits of the phone number. Now I’ll probably remember the other banker’s number forever. 

Around 4:00 the rain had stopped, the clouds were breaking up, and the sky was tinged with pink. After work, there was a route deviation for a quick stop at Market Basket for a couple items and to check for Tri-Sum original 1908 recipe chips in the odd chance the brand was suddenly carried there. It was a whole lot of nope in the chip aisle. There was a mystery in the cracker aisle with the absence of saltines with salt, which seems to defy the entire concept of SALT-ine crackers, but what do I know. I skipped the salt-free saltines and got the store brand versions of Ritz and Triscuits.

In addition to needed half-and-half and coffee, I got some bonus seafood and clam dip. It was an optimistic accompaniment for the coveted chips that had not yet been confirmed to still not exist in Market Basket, and was later certain would be found at the Hannaford that was on the way home. Hannaford had bags of Tri-Sum chips on the shelf, but not the newly revived 1908 original recipe in the vintage design bag. It was the sad taste of disappointment and a pivot from the planned light supper of chips and dip. It was crackers and dip for the win, but it didn't taste like victory.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 605 (Thursday)

Sorting the supplies inventory.

The plain and naked wreaths picked up on Wednesday were today transformed to adorned wreaths. It was the first of the annual “let’s destroy the tidiness of the house with holiday activities” day.

A box of ornaments segregated last year for future wreath use, plus a bag of random ornamental bits were laid out on the dining room table. The glue gun was dug out of the crafts cabinet. The scissors and craft wire gathered. The sales tag was removed and the many sprigs of the plain wreaths were straightened, fluffed, and arranged. Then the fun began.

The white poinsettias and silver sprig things were divided between the two wreaths. Wiring began on the first wreath. Soon, all the white poinsettias were arranged on one wreath. That left silver and silvery blue poinsettias and more silver springs and some random silver leaves for the second wreath.  Like with wreath number one, items were arranged for general placement then wired in place. Hallmark Christmas movies played on the TV in the next room mostly for the noise. Winston slept on the couch.

Done!

Three hours later, the two wreaths were decorated, just in time to figure out something for lunch. Finally. It seemed like a stunning example of Parkinson’s Law which states, “Work expands to fill the time available.” Then the activity flowed into soup making, but I was too hungry to wait for it to be done, so a grilled cheese sandwich was made while the soup simmered. The soup was a delicious supper, but the side of veggie crisps was a bit stale and boring. 

After wreaths and soup, it was time to round up photos for a family thing coming up. Then, photos were reviewed for use on this year’s Christmas Card. This took forever, but less due to expansion of work and more due to 10,000 stupid little things going sideways. It was a productive but frustrating chunk of time. While the morning activity was calm and peaceful, the afternoon project involved muttering about hating technology which startled Winston several times, and maybe some swearing. Ok, there was definitely swearing.

Original Recipe!

Usually, my inertia is the living embodiment the body at rest staying at rest. But today, all the crafty activity was a demonstration of the part of Newton’s law about bodies in motion staying in motion.

In exciting news, there was a post on Facebook from Tri-Sum Potato Chips that the original 1908 recipe is back in production and on the shelves in bags with the old-time design as of today. This is huge. It’s the best potato chip news in years since they changed the oil and the chips began to taste like every other chip on earth. I was so excited I called Mom to tell her. She wasn’t home, but my next call to share the news was to my sister, where Mom was visiting, and now we are all caught up on important news and excited that order is restored with the original flavor.