“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 656 (Saturday) New Year's Day

I am aware that there are rituals to usher in the New Year, but the only one that has been a regular event for me is breaking open a new daily journal on the first day of the year. The separate daily calendar/planner was opened a  month or two ago to log multiple appointments already scheduled throughout the year. 

It may be only the first day of the year, but the first scheduling glitch has already happened. A text message reminder came today for a routine dental appointment set months ago. It turns out it’s next Saturday and the same day and time as a hair salon appointment that was also scheduled months ago. Crazy things happen in the weird space before the new calendar arrives.

Quiche!

There were bursts of activity during the day. A spinach, mushroom, and cheese quiche was baked, prompted by the trip to Aldi on Friday. The challenge will be finding freezer space for the five pieces remaining after lunch.

The finally completed puzzle of fishing lures was dismantled and put away. A few books were gathered for a donation box being picked up Wednesday, and it was reinforced that I am indeed a book hoarder with separation anxiety. Every time I touched a book not read in forever (or at all) it caused physical pain. There seems to be some imagined world where I lay around and read books all day, but I can't find the secret portal to cross over to that magical space. In the end, one never used cookbook, a dog training book, and a book of short stories by J.D. Salinger were all that made it into the donation box.

A pile of jeans and tops that don’t fit (and haven’t fit for years) was collected for the donation pickup. The reality is being accepted that I will never be a size four again, and there is no interest in going through the effort to get back there because currently the joy of eating outweighs the pain of dieting and exercising. It’s time to clear the fabric ghosts of sizes and lifetimes past and create some room in the drawers and closet for actual reality.

Mystery blanket with mystery gash.

A wool blanket that was recently pulled from a stack of stored blankets was discovered to have a tear extending several inches from the fringed edge. Neither Mom nor I can figure out how the mystery blanket came into my possession, where it is from, or how long I’ve had it. 

For weeks, I’ve been thinking about stitching it, mulling such details as whether to try and make it an invisible repair, or go bold and make it an obvious one, maybe even highlighting it with it a contrast decorative cross stitch overlay in yarn or embroidery floss for a bolder repair statement. There was no floss or yarn kicking around, so it was heavy buttonhole thread for the job. Maybe the decorative stitch can happen later.

Dinner for the New Year.

The many Facebook posts during the day from Southern friends featuring the traditional New Year black-eyed peas, greens, and ham, inspired dinner at The BungaLowell. Spinach was swapped in for collard greens purely due to availability, and with black eyed peas, some rice, leftover Christmas ham, and some bonus shrimp, it was a very tasty plate indeed. 

The evening is all about Cabernet Sauvignon, Mexican mocha ball cookies, and Emily in Paris (Season Two) on Netflix. So far, 2022 is all good, man.