“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 696 (Monday) - paths

Snow tracks.

As the sun rose and cast its rays across the snow in the backyard. It highlighted two sets of little critter tracks from the shoveled path to the gate across the snow to either side of the back yard shed. 

The part of my street that can be see from the house looked reasonably clear of snow, and I set out for the workday thinking that was an indication of the level of street clearing that had occurred since the storm ended. I turned left out of my driveway and made it halfway up the street before that delightful little fantasy was dashed to smithereens. Further up, the road was plowed not much wider than one car width, flanked by deep swaths of snow.

The sloppy streets trend continued most of the way and it was a hellacious white-knuckle drive through the narrow, snow clogged streets of Lowell. From the garage, it was a trudge through the sometimes shoveled, sometimes snow-clogged paths along the downtown sidewalks.

Once safely seated at my desk, it was another of those out straight workdays. Things were wrapped up, other things were moved further along the path to completion. One minute it was 8:30. The next thing I knew it was 11:00. Then it was 3:00. Suddenly, it was after 5:00 and time to head out. 

Winston not wanting to get up.

The ride home was almost as a rough as the ride in. Outside the garage there were traffic lights flashing red and yellow instead of cycling through all the colors. One major road had parked police cars, officers in the road with light wands, and a major snow relocation operation underway.  

The traffic through the University area featured the usual joy of cars rolling through the red light and blocking the intersection. The slow progress allowed time to run through the pantry inventory and plan supper. It was between frozen egg roll and ramen, but ramen won for speed of preparation and its filling properties.

The next thing to look forward to is reading in bed. All I have to say is “Let’s go to bed,” and Winston emerges from under the living room blanket, springs to life, and is ready to sniff and pick his path upstairs. He loves going to bed, but getting him up in the morning is less easy and he lingers under the blanket as long as possible. We are so much alike. If not for the schedule driven by food and insulin, Winston could just stay in bed. If not for the schedule driven by the work path chosen to satisfy my fondness for food and shelter, I could just stay in bed. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 695 (Sunday) - snow labor

The snowed-in back door.

The words of former Fitchburg mayor Hedley Bray were half true. God put the snow there. And over there. And there. And basically everywhere. It was not taken away. Not overnight anyway. It was, however, today rearranged and relocated as it awaits the next step of its life cycle – melting and flowing to the drain in the street.

It took three shovel sessions. The first one was first thing in the morning when Winston needed to go out, and his potty path was extended to the gate nearest the driveway where the car is usually parked. The car was cleared except for the center of the roof that couldn’t be reached with the shovel from ground level. The bank left by the plow was cleared. Most of the snow was tossed over the picket fence into the front yard. The real adversary was behind the car, and a path was started to the drifted-in steps to the back door. 

The back snowfield.

The second shovel session cleared a path in the parking spot on the other side of the yard to provide a way for the mail carrier to access the other gate and the mailbox. It’s not quite wide enough to get the trash bin out to the curb, but the effort required to expand it was deemed too much. The trash bin holds one half-full bag of trash for a few hours each Monday, and it can wait until next week.

The third session was to finish digging out the snowdrift blocking the back door, and the short stretch along the side of the house to the gate to the back yard. It was the only way to achieve a vantage point to see if the vent pipes at the back of the house were obstructed by a snow drift or not. They are not.

The back yard is a snowfield. The wind sculpted rolling hills and small crested dunes accented with a  moiré pattern. There is one odd spot near the shed where the snow had blown off and a few bits of grass could be seen before the rise of the next swirled dune.

After the shifts in snow labor camp a reward was needed. During the pre-storm grocery run, instead of the familiar blue Swiss Miss and red Nestle Rich cocoa boxes, there was a row of yellow boxes of Abuelita Mexican hot cocoa mix and cocoa with separate Lucky Charms marshmallows. The Abuelita was bought and this was the reward made this afternoon. There is nothing in the ingredient list to suggest a special flavoring but this cocoa has a little something extra going on that is good. For the first time in ages, I actually drank the entire cup. There may be a new favorite house cocoa.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 694 (Saturday) – snow day

Snow dog.

The snow came overnight and it stayed. All day long the phone showed “snow for 120 minutes.” When Winston went out this morning there were a couple inches on the front steps which I removed while in my bathrobe and the snow was falling steadily. 

It blew and swirled and drifted all day. By suppertime, the back door had a drift against it that extended halfway up the lower panel, and it’s going to be somewhere between hard and impossible to exit the house from the kitchen. The front steps were constantly drifted, and were cleared several times during the day for Winston to go outside. By evening, the sides of the crude front yard snow path were nearly one Winston high.

Gaps under the porch doors allow snow to blow under them into the porch, with the door leading to the deck being the worst. The gaps are due to the slope of porch floor from its original design as an open porch, and the floor not being leveled, and the gap not being sealed when it was enclosed. Thanks to the DIY fixes of the previous owners, the house is loaded with quirks, some of which randomly let the outdoors in. 

Indoor porch snow!

Many of the snow day fantasies crafted on Friday played out in real life. The TV was tuned to a music station and a book was read while reclining on the couch. The usual pre-bedtime Finnish lesson was done in the morning. 

Over in the kitchen, mushroom vegetable soup was started for supper just before having Friday's leftover cheesesteak sub for lunch. A friend called late in the afternoon and we talked for nearly two hours which felt like a minute. On my end anyway.

After super, a Hot Fudge Pie was baked from a really easy Pampered Chef recipe posted in a Facebook group. After 35 minutes in the oven, the top and the edge are a bit crispy, and below that it's a bit gooey, and it’s great with a glass of chilled rose. Milk would probably also be good, but I don't drink milk, so I'm guessing. 

The thing that did not happen during the day was the major homeowner rearranging of the snow, which I am usually on top of. There was snow rearranging light, when several times the front stairs and a short path were cleared for Winston to potty, but the car was not cleaned off and shoveling the driveways on either side of the house was not done. This blatant neglect will probably carry a hefty price on Sunday.

Hot Fudge Pie.

As I wasn't shoveling, I remembered (and ignored) the words of X2, who was stationed in Alaska long before I ever met him. He said in Alaska, people went outside to start the cars and shovel every couple hours around the clock to keep on top of it. Otherwise, it would be a nightmare if left until the end of a storm.

Growing up in Fitchburg, we knew of the legend of  Hedley Bray. This was the mayor who famously said, in response to the lack of snowplowing in the city, “God put the snow there. God will take it away.” It's now my legitimate and earnest hope that this is a valid snow removal plan, because that is exactly the level of snow rearranging service The BungaLowell and I are going to need.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 693 (Friday) - long day week

Winston - wake up machine and
model in a handknit sweater.

Winston delivered a 4:00 wake up “oof” this morning. He went outside, and then back inside and back to bed, which was followed by nearly two hours of tossing and turning. For me, not Winston. He curled up and went right back to sleep. I hate checking the time when I can’t sleep, and at the same time, I can’t seem to not do it. The phone showed 4:15. 4:45. 5:30. 5:50. Then there was the briefest of naps before it was 6:15, and the alarm signaled that it was time to get up and kickstart the day. Ugh. 

There was a shower and coffee and reading a few pages of the new book bought last night. It was a remote day, so there was no need for the usual predeparture preparations and it was straight to the computer. Login was earlier than an in-office day. Log off was later. And every minute in between the two was non-stop. There was barely time to breathe. It was a long day at the end of a long week.

Delivery dinner.

When work was done, there was no supper plan and no interest in cooking. That turned into a delivery from the local pizza and sub joint. After thinking about scallops all week, for some reason, the order evolved into a cheesesteak sub, Cowboy Bites with ranch dressing, and a cannolo. Even the wine was from a wine club delivery. Talk about getting all uppity and high-class with people bringing me things. Self-control was exercised. Only half the sub was eaten, and a few of the Cowboy Bites. 

The ranch dressing was missing from the Cowboy Bites and the cannolo filling was uncharacteristically thick and dry. It’s the second consecutive time the favorite delivery joint has not met their usual quality standard. A third strike and they may need to be moved out of the rotation, which isn’t really a rotation in the same way that one item isn’t quite a collection. 

After supper, a trip was made to the yard to fetch the snow shoes from the shed. With them sitting in the porch, use is more of an option than if they were still in the shed with the usual snow drift blown up against the door.

Dog sweaters in a row.

Doggy laundry was done. All the pee bands were washed. Winston wore a beautiful handknit sweater today and all the other sweaters were laundered. The industrial strength Velcro on the pee bands is practically impossible for mere mortals to separate. It was carefully closed on the bands before they went into the washer, but somehow, when they came out of the machine, the stuff was firmly stuck to the sweaters. 

And now it’s officially weekend snowstorm mode at the BungaLowell. Entertaining new book? Check. Food, snacks and cocoa mix? Check. Baking supplies? Check. Jigsaw puzzles? Check. Cleaning supplies? Check.  Binge watching has already kicked in strong with the The Woman in the House Across the Street from the Girl in the Window on Netflix. Maybe I'll stay up really late ... like, past 10:00. 

You’d think this was a week-long vacation instead of just the normal two-day weekend. If either day feels as long as any of the workdays this week, that would be swell. A long-day weekend would be a nice reward for the long-day week.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 692 (Thursday) - book club

I was in a book club when I first came back from Tennessee. I thought it would be a good way to meet people and maybe some new friends. It met in a coffee shop that also served food, beer and wine, which is a great setting for a book club. There were always formal and intimidating discussion questions and I often felt really stupid and unprepared, like being a high school freshman who wandered into a graduate level literature class. 

Books!

Some of the members seemed to have known each other for a long time and would be involved in personal discussions that I felt like I was intruding upon when arriving at the meeting spot. They were polite to those of us not in their tight group, but it was a cool, detached, arm’s length politeness. After months of going to book club, I was going broke buying the selections which were often new releases only available in hardcover. It still felt like intruding in a clique, and I didn’t know any of the members any better, except for my cousin who was sometimes at the meetings.

Tonight, I attended my first meeting of The Boozy Book Club, based out of La La Books, the new book store on Market Street. The group of seven was informal, casual, friendly. There were no college level essay questions to wrestle with. Instead, we bounced around the characters and the issues in the book (On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong) and it felt like a very natural conversation. It was much more relaxed than the earlier book club. And friendlier.

This club has two rules for selections -- the books should be fiction and available in paperback. This is much more affordable, so we’re off to a good start. The book store is next door to the restaurant we met at, so after the meeting, I got the book for February (The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune). The goal of reading one book each month feels attainable this year. And I've already been in 100% more evening social situations than last year.

Storm prep.

On the way home, there was a stop at Market Basket, partly in case the snowstorm really hits and Saturday is, indeed, a homebound day. The primary objective was hot cocoa mix, which was the hardest thing to find. Twice I walked past the shelves, probably because the boxes were crazy and unfamiliar brands. Thirty-three dollars later, there were chips, deli cheese ends, half and half, English muffins, frozen vegetables for soup, and of course, bread. 

I’m ready for the snow that may or may not be deep and plentiful. There is a new book and snacks, and I could read all day like when I was a kid. Maybe if I disconnect the Internet and cable for the day, I can pull it off, whatever the day delivers.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 691 (Wednesday) - possible now, real magic

After the balmy Tuesday with temperatures in the 30s, it was back to the chill of 15 degrees today. At least it’s still a positive number. The weekend forecast is for as much as a foot or more of snow, which will be either fun and exciting or a total pain in the derriere. If I remember to pull the snow shoes from the shed before the snow arrives the fun has a solid chance. 

Maybe a foot. We'll see, National Weather Service.

Of course, there is plenty of time for the storm to shift, but there are already tales of people jamming the grocery stores for the usual hoarding of bread and milk. Apparently, French toast is the American snowstorm comfort food. My cart would more likely hold chips, cookies, and hot cocoa mix. 

If I don’t join the throngs at the grocery store, a luxurious day of snowstorm cooking may not be possible. There are sufficient baking ingredients for sweet-foods, but a deliberate drawdown of the food-food things may have been poorly timed. The freezer is only half full, and the vegetable bin is empty. At least Winston is all set with a fresh, giant bag of his food, and I can live off cookies and brownies for a while if needed. Or, I could haul my butt to the store.

The Magician at rest.

When I got home from work yesterday, there was a fresh wet spot on the kitchen rug and another wet spot on the pee pad on the kitchen floor. The pee pad is there because Winnie needs a midday poop whether I’m there to let him out or not, and for a blind dog, he’s pretty good at planting it on the mat.

The surprise is, the wet spots yesterday (and other days) happened while he was wearing the pee band with a diaper in it. Somehow, my talented little guy has figured out how to pee on a rug (and a pad) while wearing his pants which are carefully fitted to him each time I leave the house. 

A couple times, the master magician even liberated himself from his pants entirely, but that is less often than the wet spots while wearing pants. Mister Winston is a dog of many talents.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 690 (Tuesday) - legal in Lowell

Tracks in fresh snow.

It snowed overnight on Monday and Tuesday morning started out clean and bright with a light fresh coating of prettiness. Winston’s little paws left fresh tracks in the snow in the back yard, parallel to those of another critter. Bunny? Kitty? I used to be better at identifying tracks, but now I don’t know. 

The roads had been salted and were cleared pavement. Outside the parking garage downtown, the red brick sidewalk was coated with a smattering of purple rock salt that looked like decorative sanding sugar and made me want sugar cookies.

The temperature was in the high 30s and felt refreshing during a quick noontime walk to City Hall. Today’s mission was to get Winston’s dog license. Starting February 1, a $5 per month late fee kicks in, and that is just wasted money.

It took longer at the City Clerk's office than it seemed like it should. While waiting to enter the Clerk's office, the woman ahead of me and the woman behind me commented on the broken parking pay stations outside City Hall and said they hoped they didn’t get tickets while inside City Hall on business. 

On Monday, as I was walking in to work, a visibly frustrated man on the street told me he had tried three different pay machines that all said “Out of Service” and he was just going to risk getting a ticket. People try to follow the rules, but it isn’t always easy when the technology gets in the way. And it seems like my newest role in life is the Parking Pay Machine complaint department.

Legal in Lowell.

 There were two clerks working the counter in the office, and sharing one computer. The guy on the computer helping the lady in front of me in line was having a hard time with something. The person helping me was pacing the floor, answering the phone, wrote my receipt, and started writing the receipt for the guy on the computer. Finally it was her turn, and thank goodness she didn't have the problems her colleague ran into. 

It's lucky I work close to City Hall and can walk there in minutes. And now Winston is legal in Lowell for another year. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 689 (Monday) - driveway attire

Around 12:30, there was a wretched banshee scream sound from the slightly aged silver Mercedes next door as it was driven from the street end of the driveway three car lengths forward to the end at the edge of the yard. It was a repeat of the same awful noise heard around 6:30 this morning when it heralded its own arrival at the house. 

Ahem! I'd like to go out!

Of course, I looked out the window. Nosy? Maybe. In my defense, the racket was directly outside the office window and impossible to ignore. Neighbor guy eventually turned off the screeching engine, got out of the car, and walked around the front to try, unsuccessfully, to raise the hood.

His dark hair and beard were neat and tidy. A black, shawl collar formed a vee below his collarbone and accented the winter paleness of his skin. As he moved around the car, the garment was revealed to be a terry bathrobe. His pale, bare legs extended below the robe and ended in the crocs upon his feet. The day’s high temperature was 29 degrees, hardly the weather to be running around in not much more than a giant towel.

Seeing this made me feel a little better about the times I’ve been outside in my purple plush bathrobe over my pajamas to let Winston in to the back yard. This usually happens at the precise moment that I am about to head upstairs to get dressed, when Winston decides he needs to go out and won’t use the front door where I don’t have to exit the house. Thanks, little buddy.

I always feel self-conscious in the driveway in my robe, but neighbor guy was practically parading around in his. He walked from the front to the back of the car, checked the gas cap, and a couple times  looked under the car, then lifted his fingers to his nose for a sniff when he stood up.

Meanwhile, I was wondering how long it would take for hypothermia to set in and if I might need to call 9-1-1. Luckily, after about five or ten minutes he went back inside and I could again focus on media plans and photography schedules, a webinar that was starting at 2:00, and Winston, who suddenly decided he needed to go for about the fourth time.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 688 (Sunday)

Sausage and potato soup.

Sunday cooking began with a soup. The idea recently lodged in the cranium was a sausage and potato soup. It started with taking the casings off two of the sausages and browning the meat. Then onion was added, and diced potato, mushrooms, and a dollop of butter. There was a bottle of rose open, so enough was poured in to help simmer and soften the potatoes. A packet of onion soup and dip mix and a good shake of red pepper flakes were stirred in, then two cups of water and two cups of half-and-half. Kale would have been great, but there wasn't any on hand.

Then I retired to the living room to watch a movie while the soup cooked on low. It’s delicious. A little bit buttery. A smidge spicy. Fully satisfying. It was perfect fuel for finishing the laundry and other glamorous household and the yard duty of picking up dog doody. Folding laundry that is warm from the dryer is one of the cheapest thrills I know. The pile is pulled from the dryer as soon as the buzzer goes off, taken to the couch and dumped into my lap for the folding to commence.

The yard work was hindered by much of the poop being frozen solid to the ground. The well-deserved reward after the attempt was having more soup. By then, half the pot was gone, and soon afterward, there was a rather unfun consequence of a stomach ache. It’s been a long time since overdoing it on milk and cream, and this was a good reminder why. Oops. Lesson learned, at least for now and until the next time. 

Winston spent his Sunday sitting in various slivers of sun as they appeared throughout the house, and burrowed under the couch blanket. With his new insulin dosage, his thirst and trips outside seem to have diminished, which is a relief. 

Grilled PB&J.

At suppertime, there was hunger coupled with a lack of interest in making food. Usually, when this situation arises, a family size bag of chips or an entire package of cookies is called into service, but there is presently none of either on site. Of the non-chip, non-cookie, actual food options available, none seemed appealing. Supper ended up being a grilled peanut butter and orange marmalade sandwich. It hit the spot for being easy, quick, and tasty, just not like chips or cookies.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 687 (Saturday)

An 8:00 a.m. routine dental appointment in Fitchburg kicked off the day’s exciting festivities. This was the appointment rescheduled from two weeks ago after the hygienist was out sick. Sure, the slot was early, but the convenience of Saturday appointments makes it tolerable. There was a hair salon appointment in Worcester at 11:00, which had been rescheduled due to the double booking with the original dental appointment. There was time to fill from 9:00 until 11:00 between the appointments, so a trip to Kohl’s was considered after the dentist, as the route to Worcester went right past it. Luckily, I checked the website for the opening time, which is 10:00 and not 9:00 like I remembered from the pre-pandemic times.

Instead of Leominster, I headed to Kohl’s in Worcester. The distance from Fitchburg to Worcester on a light-traffic Saturday morning meant arriving a half hour before opening. Breakfast was the next logical option, and Denny’s is right there at the end of the street leading to my favorite Lincoln Street shopping cluster – Kohl’s, Savers, and Aldi.

It’s been decades since I was last in a Denny’s, and back then it was probably at 1:00 a.m. after being out for the night. It’s entirely possible that this morning was my first time in a Denny’s during daylight hours.

Oh man, those crispy hash browns. 

The Denny’s menu was a surprise. As I recalled it from the olden days, there were basic breakfast mix and match items and the beloved “Grand Slam Breakfast,” my late-night/early-morning go-to. Now, there are many “Slam” items, but today it was a “Loaded Veggie Omelet” for the win. And it was good. A three-egg omelet, with wheat toast and the most delicious super-crispy, finely shredded potato hash browns. It held me all day and there was no need or desire for lunch or supper, making it an economical investment of time, money, and calories. 

From the table at Denny’s, the next move was contemplated. My Kohl’s online shopping cart items were reviewed and discovered to be not available in the store, and it was Aldi instead. I recently read about some covered fry pan at Aldi that is supposed to be super great. Unfortunately, it was a couple weeks ago, so there were no covered fry pans available at this location today. But I did score some basics like mixed frozen veggies, butter, mushrooms, corn chips, salsa, tortellini, and a few others and the pantry is restocked. 

The next stop was Savers, with 15 minutes available to look for the current hit list of soup bowls, butter dish, and spoon rest. It was covered butter dish heaven in Savers with at least four suitable options available, and the blue Fiesta option at $3.49 won for color. At the checkout, it was discovered every register there is now self-checkout. It took so long for me to read the prompts and complete the transaction that I was glad to have just the one item, and I also may never return to that location. If I need to do the retail labor, I would like an employee discount please and thank you.

From Savers it was off to the hair salon for the most glorious shampoo with scalp massage, followed by a trim and blowout. It seemed a waste of my stylist’s talent to not put the hair on display, so from the salon, it was a stop at the Habitat ReStore where sadly, not one single person stopped me to tell me how great my hair looked. I, however, knew it looked fabulous, so there was comfort in that.

Multicolor placemats!

There were interesting light fixtures and living room and dining sets that would never fit in The BungaLowell, and a blond mid-century bed headboard I liked but not enough to deal with trying to get it up the steep, narrow stairs to the bedroom. The only ReStore purchase was a set of four multicolor placemats for $2.50, which was rung up by a very nice human working the register. 

The ride home included the ideas of visiting the St. Vincent DePaul thrift store, Target, and/or the Lowell Antiques Mall. But really, for what? I already had a covered butter dish, and the first half of the day held more activity than in the past six months combined. 

The next stop was home to Winston. With his absence of vision, he is not able to appreciate my professionally styled, straight and silky hairdo, so it seems a night on the town would be required for any sort of complimentary attention. That’s pure fantasy, however, and reality was a glass of wine (Devil’s Advocate from the FirstLeaf Wine Club delivery), and new episodes of Ozark.

Once the dishwasher is run, probably after the usual Sunday cooking, the new butter dish can begin hosting butter again. As for the placemats, there is no solid plan in place, but a couple ideas are percolating that go beyond just placing them on a table under a dinner plate. They might very well become window valances or a wall hanging. Or they might sit in a drawer for the next decade. Time will tell.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 686 (Friday)

Random abandoned bike seat.

It was an office-office day. With remote schedules and other factors, it was a skeleton crew of four on all of  the fourth floor. Parts of the day totally dragged ass, other parts flew by in a blink, and then it was done. There was no mid-day walk to break up the stretch of it as it was cold outside and I am currently in full-blown weenie hibernation mode.

After work, bundled in a long puffy coat with the hood pulled up over my hat-clad head, it was a rapid walk to the garage in the brisk weather. While the pace was quick, there was still time to notice things on the journey. As often happens, there were unexpected, fascinating points of interest along the way.

Street shoes.

The first item of interest was about a block from the bank on Merrimack Street in front of the bakery where the beautiful and delicious office celebratory cupcakes are often procured. The place is usually illuminated and abuzz with the glow and energy of young folks at 5:00.

Today, there was the usual lively group inside enjoying the hanging basket seats and tables with chairs. On the sidewalk side of the massive plate glass window, two bikes were parked on the concrete near the door, and also a bicycle seat. Just a seat. A nice, rather new looking, cushiony bicycle seat, just laying on the concrete sidewalk. A gnawed chicken bone, looking like a stray punctuation mark, lay nearby. Both of the parked bikes were fully intact and neither was missing a seat. 

Not far away on John Street, there was a worn pair of shoes, casually tossed on the brick sidewalk. A puddle of light shone down from the lamp at the opposite end of the lamppost that rose up from a crusty pile of dirty ice and snow. 

Fresh bandana.

A half block further, a crisp and bright red bandana sat in the gutter. Its pristine cleanliness accented the asphalt street and the stone curbing. It was neatly rolled as if it contained something special, and maybe it did. It didn't seem my place to look, plus, it was cold and I was nearly run over by a motorist turning the corner from John Street. 

Unfortunately, there was no informative label copy or museum panel to interpret the intriguing artifacts encountered along the journey to the garage. There is nothing left to do but wonder about the bicycle seat and the chicken bone, the shoes, and the bandana, and how they landed on the streets of Lowell.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 685 (Thursday)

There were moments of panic. There were moments of satisfaction. In other words, it was mostly just another normal day.

Lunch soup. 

The morning began with turning on the laptop used for work earlier than usual to check some personal files and emails before logging in for work. The green battery icon showed 86%.  After about two minutes, the screen went black. The power strip was checked and turned on. The battery icon glowed red and showed “plugged in” with a whopping 1% of power. The battery was 86-ed all right. 

After 45 minutes of browsing photos from Tennessee on a recently discovered thumb drive, it was time to log on for work. The battery indicator was still red and showing a mere 4%, and I was feeling about 86% worried.

Logging on for work was beautifully uneventful, everything proceeded normally, and the battery finally charged to 100% after a couple hours. Maybe I’m just used to the cell phone Turbo Charger that charges the phone battery to 100% in next to no time. 

The day was productive. Specs and first drafts for eight ads were written for a project. Notes were reviewed for a meeting. Tomato vegetable soup with shredded cheddar and corn chips was eaten for lunch in a repeat of Wednesday night supper. Winston periodically went out and came back in. Morning coffee and afternoon fruit tea were had. Emails and quick Teams chats with colleagues took place. The usual.

When the workday was done, there was a quick personal email check, and a visit to my never visited by me or anyone else website. It hasn't been updated in a few years, which I realized when I finally checked in on it and read the content. Oy. And the fun part is, I can't remember how to get into the editing module, which is a huge part of the reason it's not been updated. 

Supper soup.

After too much time spent trying to figure out the website thing, it was time for supper preparations. After approximately 30 seconds of half-hearted consideration, the decision was creamy chicken flavor ramen for a double-header soup day. There was no interest or time to spend on actual cooking of real food, so it was the standard fallback option.

It was a basic ramen brick made fancy with cheese from a jar and Korean hot pepper paste mixed in, plus frozen vegetables and shrimp. It’s a household favorite, wondrously quick meal. Tonight, though, too much water was put on to boil, which wasn’t realized until the cheese, hot pepper paste, and powder flavor packet were already mixed in. It’s kind of hard to screw up ramen, but it can, indeed, happen. It was edible, just not as flavorful. That’s sort of the story of life lately – tolerable, just not as flavorful. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 684 (Wednesday)

The office-office day featured a slice of leftover plain pizza from the home freezer for lunch, and there were cupcakes for a Boss birthday, plus dried fruits and caramel.

There was a spontaneous research project that started with a simple question along the lines of “can you find out ..” It was heaven, looking through records and logging info in a spreadsheet and then sorting said info in said spreadsheet. Maybe it was fun because I’m a dork with a weird sense of entertainment, but the time flew by. The answer to the question that prompted the search was 2014. A few more tasks were tackled, and suddenly, it was 4:00. 

The just past 5:00 light.

It was one of the best work days in ages. And the icing on the day? It was still light out at 5:00. We have turned the corner and the light is noticeably longer, which is nearly as good as the icing on the carrot cake birthday cupcake I had at the office. 

At home, supper was more of the homemade healthy tomato vegetable soup, with a sprinkle of shredded cheddar and a handful of corn chips. It was followed by too many more of the less healthy handfuls of corn chips. Damn you, fresh bag of Fritos.

The current streaming show was “A Discovery of Witches” on Prime which would be more interesting if it wasn’t basically just a giant stupid romantic drama. I need more relatable shows – you know, about cranky middle-aged people. Bonus points if they mutter when trash from the neighbors blows in their yard every day and they yell at other drivers in traffic when said other drivers twice sit through half a green light cycle during the ride home.

Worse, the dumb “contemporary love story” on Prime has a charge to see Seasons 2 and 3. No thanks, I’m good. Had I read the series info in advance I would have been spared some angst about both the plot line (more love story than witch action, ewwww) and the news that only Season 1 is free on Prime.

It’s now onward and upward (or maybe sideways), to “Love Type D,” a movie about hard luck losers in love. Sadly, this I can relate to. At least it’s a lighthearted treatment of the malady.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 683 (Tuesday)

On Sunday, which was Day 559 of Duolingo Finnish lessons, a breakthrough was made. Sadly, not the dreamt of, wished for breakthrough where I am suddenly fluent in Finnish like a native speaker. It was more of a technology event.

One of the hardest things about doing the Duolingo online lessons has been not knowing why words were suddenly changing or what the grammar rules are. Duolingo lessons were being done since Day 1 in the mobile app, which is tops in convenience, but not so generous in dispensing the “whys.” Quick lessons have been knocked out while waiting for Winston during vet appointments or while sitting in the car waiting for it to be time for an appointment of my own. 

Sometimes, the translations from Finnish to English are successful not because I understand the Finnish provided, but because I know English, so it's easy to choose the correct multiple choice words. 

Laptop has "Tips."

Sunday, Duolingo was visited on the laptop. I still don’t know why I went to the website, but there I was. Once logged in, I clicked on Hobbies, the current lesson module, and there was a button labeled “Tips” just above the button for “Start.” 

The Tips button was clicked, and there it was, the critical key to the grammatical magic kingdom. But only available through the laptop portal. There is no fantastical, magical “Tips” button in the mobile app. And the key icon in both modules leads to an opportunity to test out and skip to the next level, not the keys to language learning and enlightenment. 

For 558 days it was a sometimes slow and usually painful process of slogging through lessons with no guidance on the rules of the language. Trying to memorize things with no way to understand the things is not so much fun. Make an error, lose a heart. Lose all five hearts, need to use points to buy more hearts. No points, no dice, so that means going back to practice old lessons and watch ads to earn hearts. So many struggles. At least some of the ads are good. The first time anyway. 

Mobile - no "Tips."

Apparently, the price for the convenience of having lessons in the palm of one's hand is wandering blindly in the woods. But that is history. 

Sure, some of the struggles will still be there, but now I know where to find the treasure nuggets and the golden rules. It was in my lap all along. The process of backtracking through 34 lesson modules to read about rules and gain cultural tidbits has begun. Enlightenment shall be mine. Better late than never. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 682 (Monday)

Instead of awakening to a winter wonderland snowfield, it was a slushy mess with cold rain coming down on top of the night's snowfall. Luckily, the clearing plan was limited to the front steps and walk for the convenience of Canine Overlord Winston. This was done while wearing the purple bathrobe over pajamas, so trust me when I say it was Olympic level speed shoveling before any neighbors had a chance to enjoy the spectacle. Luckily, it was 7 am, so hopefully the neighbors were still sleeping.

Due to the sloppy weather conditions, the plan was for an indoor day with housekeeping and tidying up. Somehow, the next thing I knew, nothing had been done except for unloading the dishwasher and wiping the kitchen counter, so the day was reclassified as “a relaxing day.” Easy how that works.

Tomato vegetable soup.

The pot of tomato vegetable soup started on Sunday was pulled from the fridge and set back on the stove. It was enhanced with the remnants of a jar of salsa, baked rutabaga from the freezer, fresh diced potatoes, and a heavy pour of half and half. Topped with shredded cheddar and corn chips, it was a tasty supper. It would have been great with a grilled cheese sandwich, but that part of the plan was forgotten when it was time to eat. Danggit.

Around suppertime, the basement was finally checked for water. It had been avoided all day. Sometimes it’s just better to not know. The usual locations had wet spots, but it wasn’t too horrible. The back yard, on the other hand, looks a lot like a swamp thanks to the rain.

Either Winston’s increased insulin dosage is working, or he was holding his water most of the day to avoid the rain. He didn’t want to go out as often today as recent months. It’s always good to have several consecutive days of quality time at home with the fur baby.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 681 (Sunday)

 This was one of those mornings when Winston needed to go out in the freezing cold of 3:00 to potty. The sky was clear and the moon was a shining silver disc over the street. When we returned to bed, it was a sleepless stretch. There was tossing and turning and rearranging of blankets. For both of us. After a while, I checked the time and noted that it had been an hour of trying to get back to sleep. 

The usual consequence is that once I finally return to sleep, it’s 8:00 before I wake up again. When I finally get up, it feels like half the morning is over. There were no plans to rush for, and by the time there was coffee and a shower, it was 10:30. There was casual shopping at Kohls-dot-com in the quest for new pajamas, a pair of slippers that will fit, unlike the just received torture slippers, and soup bowls, but it was incomplete. No touchdown. 

Sucked into the games.

The rest of the day was a crazy spiral of spider solitaire and the mahjong tile matching games on the laptop. It’s been at least a year since either game has been played or even thought about. All it took was for Mom to mention she was playing solitaire during a phone call yesterday. We had barely hung up and the next thing I knew, the games were open on the laptop and I was on my own trip down the rabbit hole on a cold winter weekend.

For chunks of two days, while three seasons of Bordertown played on the TV, cards were stacked in columns, then tiles were matched, and then it was back to the cards. My eyes are dry and glazed from hardly blinking. Spurts of obsession can be draining. There were brief potty and food breaks, and a pot of soup was started. 

In an amazing show of strength, a Christmas gift box of Godiva was not opened until today. I don't know how I managed to hold out for so long. Having a box of fancy Belgian chocolates go untouched for weeks in my presence is truly unprecedented. There ought to be a medal awarded. Preferably in chocolate.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 680 (Saturday)

Mr Handsome under the blanket.

The wind. The cold. Ole Man Winter is definitely in town. I’ve been actively avoiding the dude by staying inside. The closest I got to outside today was opening the door to let Winston out to the front yard, then closing it and running back inside. Then, in a minute or so, going back to let him in.

Winston and I spent most of the day on the couch under a blanket. I was dressed in what I imagine to be “ski lodge clothes,” based on faint memories of weekend ski trips of a million years ago – base layer top and bottoms, leggings, long CuddlDuds top and long cashmere cardigan, and thick socks. Winston was sporting his orange and brown striped sweater, but he was under the blanket so it was impossible to tell.

There was reheated leftover seafood with fries and later, hot cocoa. The day's viewing selection was “Bordertown,” a Finnish language crime drama on Netflix that I’ve already seen, but am watching again to see how much more language I recognize after 557 days of Duolingo lessons. It’s fun to catch more words of dialogue and actual complete phrases.

Perfect day for some
Finnish crime drama.

The newly arrived boots were finally tried on. It seems that Easy Spirit footwear sizing runs smaller than other brands in the closet. Luckily, I went up a half-size on the boots thinking “thick socks.” I can get the new boots on with regular weight socks, so it will be a fingers crossed situation that the thinsulate lining is warm enough outdoors. They were great for indoors, with my legs stretched out onto the ottoman so I could admire them while scanning the English subtitles. If the slippers had fit, those would have been the day's preferred footwear. Stupid too-tight slippers.

And now the hunt for silk socks is once again active. Years ago (think decades) I had a couple pairs and they were the best socks I’ve ever owned. I wore them skiing, along with a set of silk long johns. After years of use, the fabric ran, pulled, shredded, and finally just disintegrated. The sad part is I’ve never been able to find replacements. Had I known they could never be replaced, I would have stocked up way back when. Maybe someday I’ll find more. I’ll look great in the nursing home with my silk socks and long johns. Most people have bucket list goals like travel and adventure, and mine is finding the perfect socks. Something feels wrong here.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 679 (Friday)

New footwear for
 indoors and out.

For most of the week, the work computer has run frustratingly slow. Like 1995 slow. Today it was even slower, which was extra annoying because patience had worn pretty thin. In celebration of closing the book on the annoying workweek and it being the Friday night of a long holiday weekend, there was a supper splurge. 

The $5 loyalty coupon was redeemed from the preferred pizza and seafood delivery joint, and the fried seafood platter was ordered. I wanted it last weekend, but the shop was closed. All week long, the idea of it grew until it became a near-obsessive situation. Each day crept one day closer to Friday and a seafood platter. It was ordered, and delivered 

Sadly, tonight's fried dinner was not as good as those in the past. Some of the clams were sandy. It was ordered extra crispy, and arrived super soggy. Edible, just not the experience that was remembered. There was still time for a bit of redemption with the always delicious cannolo. Yes, even though the menu called it a cannoli, that is plural, and technically, I got one, so it’s a cannolo. Google told me so.

After dining on the disappointingly soggy seafood, it was time to open the box that arrived from Easy Spirit via UPS with new footwear for both indoors and out. Cute cold weather boots and much needed slippers were ordered last weekend. The boots were on sale and were a case of Internet lust at first, second, and third sight and were the reason for multiple visits to the website before finally caving in and buying them. 

The slippers were an add-on item. New slippers have been needed since the last pair was laundered and donated to charity. They were too loose, and after skidding down the stairs in them twice and acquiring some massive eggplant colored bruises, they were christened “the death slippers” and retired. Over the past couple years, slip-on indoor shoes have served as slipper replacements, but have become beat to heck and are barely serviceable.

After carefully unpacking the goods, the beat-up indoor shoes were cast aside and the new slippers were slipped on. And … with my cozy and thick winter socks, I can’t actually get them on. They can be squeezed into with thinner socks, but thanks to my supremely high arches, they are not what could be called comfortable. More like torturous. I’m not even trying on the boots until tomorrow. For now, they are still full of potential and I can imagine they fit. Why ruin it now? 

Cure on a plate.

It was time for that cannolo. It’s a lot of pressure on a singular pastry, expecting it to cure a day, but it did the trick. It’s the best $2.50 cure for a week so far. That and doggy hugs, which are priceless. Wine is helping, too.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 678 (Thursday)

Winston’s results from wearing the glucose monitor came in from the vet. His sugar, which has a target level of 100, was consistent at 400 in the readings. Oy. His insulin dosage is now increased from six units to eight. Today was the first day with the new dosage, and unfortunately, it was an office-office day, so I wasn’t at the house to keep an eye on him. 

Winston on the couch,
January 13, 2012.

When I got home, all seemed as usual – Winston waited at the top of the stairs, just outside the bedroom. His tail was wagging, butt wiggling, front paws tapping, diaper band full of pee, and seemed as happy for me to be home as I was to be home. Gotta love the doggy love.

This month marks 10 years since Winston came to stay with me, but I can’t remember the exact date, which makes me feel like a horrible pet parent. Was it the 9th? the 12th? the 6th? I don't know. Facebook Memories has a picture of him on January 13, 2012, sprawled on his back on the couch in Tennessee looking very comfortable, with the post “I guess Winston is comfortable,” so it seems the anniversary date was close to now. Maybe I shouldn’t beat myself up too much, because it doesn’t seem he remembers it, either. Winston sill loves sprawling on the couch, but lately he prefers to hide under a blanket. Sometimes his nose sticks out a bit, and other times, he is undetectable to the untrained eye. It might be a pile of blanket, or it might be Winston.

Winston on the couch, 2022.

It’s been a fun decade. Moose was my longest relationship, and Winston is the solid second longest. Both dogs lasted longer than any human male partners in my life, and I’m not sure what that says about me and human men. I do, however, recall what some of the men who were once in my life have said to me. There was, “You’re too independent.” “You just don’t need anyone!” “Damn, you’re hard to read.” And possibly my favorites, both from the same five-year relationship live-in ex, “You should be a CEO with your MBA,” and in another conversation, “When I get married I want a stay at home wife.” Dogs are adorable, mostly easy to please, and they definitely don’t give me that kind of grief. So happy anniversary, Winston, my boo! Whenever it was. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 677 (Wednesday)

This morning while letting Winston out, there was an older Beemer outside with chipped greenish-blue paint on the hood. It had “Fearless!” in large lettering on the top of the windshield, and was impossible to miss. It was parked in my driveway, outside the gate to the fortress of solitude. I have no idea to whom it belongs or from where it came. Maybe the driver was visiting the neighbor on the other side of the shared driveway. I figured if it was still there when I got home, it could be dealt with then, and headed downtown. 

While driving behind a school bus, the live entertainment featured a gaggle of rugrats in colorful parkas climbing over the seats, shoving each other, and running back and forth in the aisle. 

Work was a day of more of the same. Lunch was a mediocre offering of leftover pasta with green bean casserole. There were chocolates in the office.

Supper was the singular shining moment of the day. It was an egg roll. Tuesday after work, a stop was made at Family Dollar for the usual affordable and entertaining greeting cards, makeup remover wipes, and toilet paper. The freezer cases were checked en route to the registers, and several boxes of egg rolls caught my eye. There were vegetable, shrimp, and chicken flavors displayed. The calorie count was not bad at around 230 per roll. The cost was phenomenal at $1. It was worth a gamble, and all three flavors were bought.

Best frozen $1 egg roll.

Tuesday’s supper was the vegetable egg roll. I was worried about not having any sauce for it, but a packet is included with the egg roll. After 45 seconds in the microwave, it went into the toaster oven for crisping. After one toast cycle, the egg roll was rotated 180 degrees for another toast cycle. The once frozen sauce sat in a metal cup warming atop the toaster oven. And it was good. Best $1 meal in ages.

Wednesday, there was egg roll on the brain and supper was the one labeled “shrimp.” It didn’t taste any different than Tuesday's vegetable selection, but maybe 24 hours between tastings was too much time and a side-by-side flavor test is needed. Perhaps this can be scheduled in for the long holiday weekend.

It seems a bit unsophisticated and a lot immature and pathetic that some of my favorite meals are 50-cent ramen, $1 egg rolls, and $3.10 frozen pizza (which provides three meals). Once upon a lifetime ago, when I was 2/3 of my current age and had a social life and lots of disposable cash, my favorite meals were things like filet mignon and homemade pasta with pricey wines. Yes, I was fancy and sociable once upon a time. Now my palate (and lifestyle) is $1 egg roll basic which is perilously close to gas station hot dogs on the dining scale.

The beat up Beemer was gone from the driveway when I arrived home, but the curiosity is killing me. Not to be too judgey, but the shoddy look of it seems to suit my 50-cent ramen, $1 egg roll life. If it’s ever back in my driveway, maybe I can meet the driver and make a friend with whom to share my new proclivity for fine-dining.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 676 (Tuesday)

Snow tracks.

It was cold, but only if you think five degrees is cold. Sure, it was well below freezing, but at least it was still a positive number. Right?

The ice at the end of the driveway was the dry brittle stuff that shatters when stepped on and makes a satisfying sound. A dusting of snow covering the driveway was accented by a trail of tracks between the car and the yard. They ran  under the car and came out the other end. Weather reports proclaimed it was “the coldest temperatures in three years” and the on-dash monitor informed me the tires are suddenly low again. On the bright side (literally) the sun was out and required use of the visor.  

The walk from the garage to the office was invigorating. I play the little games played while a student walking to school including altering routes around other pedestrians to avoid changing speed, and engaging in foot races with other unsuspecting pedestrians, which I nearly always win. Walking fast can build up some body heat, even when it’s only five degrees out. During those mile-long walks to school, the scarf would be loosened and coat unzipped halfway there, and I would often be sweating by the time I arrived. Maybe I should start walking to work on the cold days, for old time’s sake.

The day’s attire included a base layer of long johns and the super warm and cozy recently mended alpaca sweater, and the alpaca shoe liners were in the tan suede chukka boots chosen for the day, so it wasn’t too bad. There’s a saying that has been attributed to the Norwegians, the Swedes, the Finns, and possibly folks from all the cold weather countries – “There’s no such thing as bad weather, only the wrong clothing.” It really does make a difference.

It helped being at the office-office today, where my favorite amenity is the water dispenser with instant hot water, allowing for endless cups of hot tea. Or, more accurately, one cup of hot fruit tea that is frugally refilled with hot water enough times that eventually it is just hot water. The home-office was once a porch, and when it was finished into an extension of the kitchen, insulation doesn’t seem to have been part of the project. The office and the bathroom closet are the coldest spots in the house. If the refrigerator ever ceases working, I know where to keep the perishables. And it was nice to not be sitting in there today.

Best boy in the world.

After settling in at my office-office desk after the invigorating walk, I realized that I had put a sweater on Winston but I forgot about his pants. Apparently, the five consecutive days at home between remote workdays and the weekend made me soft and forgetful. I envisioned the potential flood of pee that would greet me upon my return. 

Luckily, at lunch time, I was able to dash home to check on things. The floors were dry and my good boy met me at the door and was ready for a trip outside. The cold must have inspired people to stay indoors, because there was no traffic during that quick errand. It was like driving in a ghost town, and it was pretty fantastic.

Powered by hot beverages, too many chocolate truffles brought in by a colleague, and the joy of setting up new spreadsheets, the afternoon passed quickly. (Yes, I really do enjoy spreadsheets.) At 4:55, it was still light(ish) out. It may have been friggin’ cold, but it was still a decent day.