“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 752 (Thursday) – time off

A mid-week decision to take a couple vacation days means that it’s calendar Thursday but also my Friday. The best Thursday night might be a Thursday-Friday. A four-day stretch of freedom lies ahead with time off to goof off. A bottle of wine was opened to celebrate. The last of the fried onion rings were added. The combination is not as good as imagined. Lesson learned.

Of course, per the usual pattern of things, there are no plans. Not solid ones, anyway, beyond dance on Sunday and a dermatologist appointment at the butt crack of dawn on Monday. The rest of the calendar is open for quests (trips to accomplish a task), adventures (trips without a destination), and journeys (when the trip is more important than the destination). 

Wine and fried onions. 

Much like when I played World of Warcraft, I tend to specialize in solo quests. Adventures are more fun with an accomplice and are rarely undertaken by me, mostly due to the lack of accomplices. Trips without a destination feel like a waste of gas and time. As for journeys, if life is a journey, that one is an everyday occurrence. Or is it “Life is a highway”?

One potential quest in the idea phase is getting a new phone. This one has been cooking in the cranium and also been on the back burner for months. As much as it pains me, and it pains me greatly to shell out money for a phone every few years, it seems to be time. The current phone has no room for apps, and as existing apps need upgrades which turn out to be larger than the originals and won’t fit, then another app is tossed upon the sacrificial fires. It is problematic.

Another potential quest is visiting a short list of thrift shops with limited hours of operations for some Holy Grail items. Other quest items include various gardening supplies, new paint for the bathroom, and new mini blinds for the office. There are art studio open houses. Shopping trips might be taken for boring but necessary life maintenance items like cotton swabs and makeup remover wipes.  There could be excavations in the spare/guest room to seek the box of souvenirs and decorative items brought back from Korea and Mummu’s knitting needles just because it seems important to know where they are.

Maybe there will be fanciful lounging about like a wealthy person of eras gone by. This practice will be in anticipation of the long-awaited days when I can be a person of leisure (aka “retired”) so I can hit the ground running. Or, more accurately, laying on a sofa.

For now, it’s a glorious stretch of possibility. With wine.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 751 (Wednesday) – pains and pizza

I forgot to keep track when it first started, but this is roughly week three of smelling phantom cigarette smoke. Again. This happened before, but because time is a blur, it’s not clear when that was. Maybe it was in the fall. Bonus, it’s not just smell, it also includes a taste in the back of the throat. So gross. It’s most noticeable at night when I’m at home, but also happens during the day at the office.

Layered onto the joy of olfactory hallucinations is a knee that gets a harsh and stabby pain some of the time when climbing stairs, and an elbow that hurts nearly all the time and especially when lifting anything – even as minor as a cup of coffee. This getting old and falling apart crap is not fun in the least.

As a result of the recent spell of frivolous spending, ordered items are filtering in. The pair of pants that arrived on Tuesday mostly fit except for the thighs, which are too tight, and this is not because I have some super athletic power thighs. Think more along the lines of overstuffed sausages.

Today, another package arrived from a different Kohl’s shipping point. It held the other pants and the two camis. The camis look oddly huge, and I’m afraid to try on the pants which are a different color of the same style that already didn’t fit, but the sizes often differ between colors. Garment try-on is being temporarily avoided purely to delay the onset of the potential crushing disappointment. At least the yet to be delivered purse will be free from fit issues.

Magnificent breakfast pizza with bacon
from the magnificent folks at Espresso.

On the bright side, at work there was breakfast pizza, a delicious concoction from the folks at Espresso Pizza that can cast aside conscious awareness of almost any discomfort, trouble, or pain. It’s pizza crust with a topping of egg mixed with cheese, and optional toppings of bacon and sausage. We used to have it periodically at bank morning events, but the last time any of us could remember having it was December 2019. Today we dined upon breakfast pizzas with bacon, sausage, and plain. We ate like royalty, and it was so good. Delicious. 

The cheesy breakfast pizza temporarily exorcised the demon smoke smell/taste. Then, later, there were mini cupcakes for a colleague’s birthday. It was all delicious, and as I devoured one, then a second, then a third slice of breakfast pizza and followed it with mini cupcakes, the bad knee and the sore elbow were momentarily cast aside. The memory of the ill-fitting pants still swirled in the background, but I ate it anyway. And it is not and never was a mystery why my pants fit like sausage skins these days, but hopefully one day I’ll be overtaken by an urge to be more mindful of eating and being more active and exercising. But probably not before the elbow feels better.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 750 (Tuesday) – whining

The cold weather is back and so is my weather whining, adding a fresh layer that contributes to the overall symphony of whining. The high temperature was around 37 degrees today, with the low shown as 23, but in a couple days it will be back into the 50s again. Gotta love that New England weather roller coaster ride. It is rarely safe to put the gloves away until Memorial Day.

When the temperature dropped and I woke to snow on Monday, it was a bummer. Just two days earlier I had cleaned up the flower beds and removed all the protective cover of leaves from last fall. Now all the new shoots are left exposed to the weather and I feel like a neglectful plant guardian. 

Sunday night had a moment of impulsive online shopping at Kohl’s. There was a coupon, and things I wanted were on sale, and there was Kohl’s Cash issued, and I love the pretend money. Five items were ordered to help revive the wardrobe – two pairs of Vera Wang pants, two cami tops, and a new purse.

Today, the first parcel arrived, bearing one pair of the pants. This means there is the possibility of relieving the “what to wear to work” stress on Wednesday. It’s still just a “possibility” because, until the pants are tried on, I can still imagine they actually fit. If they don’t fit, it won’t be the end of the world. They can be exchanged or returned in a store, defeating the purpose of shopping online to avoid going to a store, and reloading the reserve of excuses for whining. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 749 (Monday) – treasures and stuff

The snow-covered Monday morning was a surprise and had a tardy start due to the required cleaning of said snow from the transportation vehicle before the commute could commence. The route to work was riddled with heavy volume, school buses, and cars blocking intersections after the drivers decided to boldly roll into the grid behind a line of stopped vehicles and hope for the best.

City Hall.

The chilly walk from the garage included found treasure. Someone is missing a dangle earring with a metal dream catcher and feather hanging from it. After grabbing a coffee, another shiny spot in the parking lot turned out to be a nickel, so it was a solid two-fer treasure walk.

At lunchtime, a walk was taken in the chill to City Hall. The day’s mission was to pay the excise tax on the Jeep and pick up new stickers to replace the one peeling and curling from the yard waste barrel. The excise tax payment was easy, as the door to the appropriate office was labeled. 

Finding where to get the stickers was another story and was the real reason for the personal visit, as the excise tax could be paid online. While making the excise payment, I asked where to get the sticker, and the clerk gestured with her head to the main lobby and said “Sometimes there are some on the main desk.” There was a reception-type desk with no stickers visible, no clerk, no sign, or anything else useful.

Poor bat.

The City website was consulted on my phone to check about the stickers, but my phone couldn’t get a signal to access the website. After wandering around the first floor past a series of doors marked “Private” and “Employees Only,” I finally got in line at the City Clerk’s office to ask for direction. Luckily, they had the stickers in the office and I was on my way back to my own office. I asked for two stickers and the clerk gave me four. Success!

At 5:00, after a day of progress on projects, the walk to the garage included another surprise. Outside a shop on Merrimack Street, there was something brown and black and furry on the sidewalk against the building. I couldn’t help but stop to have a look. It seemed to be a deceased bat, which made me sad, just like the random expired birds and the various highway roadkill sometimes seen. 

Despite the surprise snow and the poor dead bat on the sidewalk, it was still a pretty good day. Things were accomplished and the week is off to  a good start.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 748 (Sunday) – clown pants

The nonsensical items being advertised by high end stores are in full entertainment mode again. This time, Saks Fifth Avenue is offering up the insanity. 

Today’s frivolous Facebook ad was for “Moose Knuckles x Telfar Unisex Nylon Pants.” This comical design confection is presented by Moose Knuckles, the “Canadian-based outerwear brand” that makes clothing for extreme temperatures and is “celebrated for their edgy appeal.” The pants advertised were made in white and black with coordinating parkas, and feature three rings of what I assumed were faux fur, but  product details revealed it to be natural blue fox fur from Finland. I mourn for the foxes.

Crazy pants.

The cost is a modest $750, so it’s rather shocking they weren’t seen in the lift lines at Wachusett and Nashoba Valley, as well as the snowy streets and driveways of Lowell, Fitchburg, and Worcester this most recent winter.  There is always next season, I suppose. Of course, by then, everyone will know they were last season’s pants and the wearer may be subject to ridicule and finger pointing. That is likely to happen anyway, because these pants are just silly. If not for the cost, they might make an amusing clown costume for next Halloween.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 747 (Saturday) – awake and asleep

New life!

There are times when the body decides the day’s schedule, despite what is on the calendar and today was such a day. It didn’t arrive without warning. For a few weeks, and especially since the clocks were changed, I’ve been feeling tired. Sometimes it’s hard to tell if it’s a side dish to stress or a cause to stress, but it shows up like an undercurrent, often undercutting any plans for the day, whether tentative or solid.

This morning’s tentative plan was to attend the Finnish breakfast, held from 8 to 10:00, an hour away from home. My family and I often attend, and meet there around 8:30. After that, the next option was to visit the phone vendor to explore upgrade options.

Knowing that I've been tired and dragging butt all week and that last Saturday, when up at 6:00 am to get to a dental appointment, I promised myself that “next Saturday I can sleep late,” it was iffy. Friday, it was decided that I would wake up on Saturday whenever I did, and if time allowed, there might be a trip for the breakfast and phone shopping.

I woke up at 6:00, checked the time, rolled over, and went back to sleep. It was 8:00 when I awoke again, and Finnish breakfast was ruled out due to the whole time/space thing. It was 10:30 before I was fully caffeinated, awake, and motivated enough to do anything. The “anything” that was finally done turned out to be the start to the yard cleanup. Flower beds were cleared of last fall’s leaves and as much dead growth as the ground would willingly release when pulled. The neighbors were out, and it was a nice chance to chat with them after the long season indoors.

The time to divide is now.

Back inside, the magic of the Internet was consulted for answers to the day’s burning issues of “when to divide a bleeding heart, “how to divide a bleeding heart,” and “where to transplant a bleeding heart.” FYI – the answers are right now, the process doesn’t look horrible, and the location should be part shade. Nonetheless, no dividing took place.  

The yard work was satisfying, and the research was interesting. None of it was especially exhausting, but mid-afternoon, a nap on the couch was had, which devoured the rest of the afternoon. Evidently, feeling tired wasn’t an exaggeration and hopefully the two extra hours of sleep in the morning plus the two bonus hours in the afternoon have cured that situation. We’ll see.

Sometimes, it seems like a month of nothing but sleeping and reading and writing would be the perfect remedy for the accumulated load of stress and fatigue. Unfortunately, that is a probably a fantasy.  It’s odd and mildly amusing that as the yard is waking up with signs of spring bursting forth from the earth, I am still dreaming of hibernation.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 746 (Friday) – marching on

It was another deathly quiet and empty day in the office. In addition to colleagues scheduled to be working remotely, a couple were volunteering for the Belle of the Ball Boutique Day event setup. For the first hour, two of us didn’t know there was a third colleague silently toiling on the other side of the suite. When I traversed to the far side of the floor for instant hot water for my instant oatmeal, we learned we were three for the day.

The usual street cacophony of sirens, car horns, and thumping bass carries through the air with regularity, and is especially clear when the office is nearly abandoned and silent. Shortly before 1:00, the street sounds took on a new tone with the possibly imagined sound of marching band drums, and I leapt from my chair to look out the window.

There was, indeed, a marching band making its way down the sidewalk on Merrimack Street from the area of City Hall and JFK Plaza. My phone (aka the camera that takes the occasional call) was still on my desk and there was a quick sprint back to grab it, then back to the window, then to another window and over to yet another, trying to puzzle out the random appearance of the band and how to grab a photo. Of course, the best angle was the one missed before the camera was in hand.

Friday marching band.

The colors of the uniform were those of Lowell High School. The band turned the corner onto Kirk Street in the direction of the high school, confirming the guess. While the drumming indicated a band, the marching formation needed work, but it seemed the group was returning from its performance and not in the midst of it. 

We later learned it is Greek Independence Day and there was a flag raising at City Hall and suddenly, the midday appearance of a marching band made sense. If only the dots connected as easily with all of life’s little events, and every Friday featured a marching band.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 745 (Thursday) – pseudo social

Book club snacks.

This was the one night of the month that my pseudo social life occurs. For one hour and 15 minutes (because the waitress was lagging in getting to the table with our checks), I was in the company of a group of people to discuss the month’s book, The Vanishing Half. None of us thought the book was “Breathtaking,” as declared in the one-word snippet from People on the cover. The book matters, but not as much to me as a night of fellowship and something fun to do. 

While walking from the car to the book shop to pick up next month’s selection before going next door for the night’s meeting, there was a guy standing on the sidewalk. As I walked past him, I said “Hi!” like I do to practically everyone I pass on the sidewalk. He wore jeans with the bottoms folded in a cuff of several inches and an Irish style wool cap. He had a nice face. He returned my greeting.

In speed-walking “I have someplace to be” mode, I continued around the block past Athenian Corner and on to Lala Books. While I was standing at the counter paying for the April book club selection, the door opened, and the guy with the nice face from one block away walked in. Feeling much bolder than usual, I pointed at him and said, “Hey, didn’t I just see you?” He laughed and said, yes, and that he was meeting friends, and something about Northampton and being late, but I couldn’t tell if he had come from there or if the friends were coming from there.

After completing the transaction, I headed next door to Warp & Weft. The table reserved for the book club was in the usual spot near the entrance and I grabbed a seat. A few minutes later, the door opened and in walked the guy with the nice face. He looked at me and we laughed and he said, “I promise I’m not following you. I’m here to meet friends. I’ll be here about an hour.” He sat at a tall table along the wall with his newly purchased book. It was the third time and third location I'd seen him in about six minutes, and it felt a bit like something in a book or a movie.

The book club people ate appetizers, sipped our drinks, and talked about the book with offshoot conversations about family and mother-daughter relationships and parts of our own lives that helped us to either relate to the book or not. It was nice.

When book club was done chatting and eating, there was a trip to the restroom to avoid a speeding ticket on my brief trip across the river to home. Two friends had joined the man with the nice face and they were eating at the table along the wall, which was on the way to and from the restroom. For a fleeting nano-second, I considered pausing at the table to drop a wise crack or phone digits as I passed by. Maybe, if more than one beer had been consumed, or if was more like one of my more outgoing cousins or colleagues or if I was anybody else at all, it might have happened. But old habits and personality traits die hard and I am not that fearless and spontaneous person, which probably explains the 12-year gap since my last relationship. I really need a wing woman. Or a matchmaker. Or maybe a miracle.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 744 (Wednesday) – daily routine

Who is a good boy?

The usual morning routine was in force – out of bed at 6:15, and put the dog outside. While he’s outside, food is measured into his bowl and the coffee is started. A shower was followed by the usual office day attire-induced stress which is largely the result of the ill effects of the new dual hobbies of overeating and rarely exercising. 

The first attempt to coax and cajole Winston to eat his food flowed into the time suck of conditioning freshly shampooed hair and then combing, blow drying, and taming it with a curling iron. At 7:15, it was realized that not a drop of coffee had yet been poured for consumption. So much precious coffee drinking time lost. 

After a hurried chugging of half the cup of coffee, the second attempt to get Winston to eat commenced. It’s important he eats when I am home for the timing of his insulin, which is a daily stressor. For me, anyway. Winston seems oblivious.

Lunch at the desk.

Wordle was played. A Duolingo Finnish lesson was completed. Three dances were practiced in preparation for an April performance. Lunch of rice with black beans, chicken, and queso was assembled. Winston was let outside once more, and pee pads were laid on the floor in his absence.

Upon his re-entry, Winston was tricked into a pee band lined with a toddler diaper against the soundtrack of apologies (“I’m sorry Winnie, I know you hate this, I hate it, too. Who is a good boy? Winnie is a good boy!”). This was followed with a cookie. 

Suddenly, it was 8:00, the designated time to dash out the door, and half a pot of coffee was still on the counter. The usual departure lies were dispensed, followed by a truth (“I’ll be right back. See you soon. Have a good day, and no parties. I love you, Winnie.”). And then I was headed out to the world downtown.

Nearly nine full hours after arriving, the end of the work day suddenly snuck up on me after a busy day in a busy week in a busy month and year. Upon arrival home, the nightly routine kicked in with disposing of the dog poo on the puppy pads. For a blind dog, he is very good at sticking the landing on the pads. After the disposal operation, it’s upstairs to greet Winston at the landing and liberate him from his heavy, wet diaper.

Tonight, as has happened once before (that I am aware of), on the way down the stairs, he missed a step and slid down on his stomach. I was in front of him, which slowed his slide, and the carpeting provided cushioning. Poor doggy. It was stressful. Again, for me. Winston seemed oblivious.

His supper is devoured with the same energy with which Winston ignores his breakfast. Then it’s time for me to assemble my own supper before retiring to the couch with Netflix, the laptop, and the nightly writing. Winston often curls up in his bed, where he often stays until he arises around 9:30 to let me know it’s time to get ready for bed. The Canine Overlord is an excellent buddy and also an excellent timekeeper.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 743 (Tuesday) – holes and glasses

Mysterious yard holes.

The March winds have been howling. The windows were rattling, and when I let Winston outside the 57 times he wanted to go out, it was a bit blustery. One of those times, I walked into the back yard with him and noticed that the holes that had appeared in the fall have multiplied. Whatever is making them has been very busy and the yard looks perforated. 

This morning, the topmost level of the three-tiered corner fence cap was laying in the yard, and now half the front post caps are on the injured list. It wasn’t as battered as the cap that was ripped off by the trash bin, and it also wasn’t laying in the yard yesterday morning. I’m not 100% convinced it was the wind that knocked it off. My primary suspects are the neighborhoodlums who hang their sweatshirts on the fence while playing basketball in the street and they aren't very good, so the ball crashes into the fence, cars, and even the house. But there is no proof, just my perpetual annoyance.

More new glasses!

The pace at work has been frenetic. It feels like there are ten times more projects in process now than ever before and I can feel my edges fraying. And thanks to my new glasses that were ordered last week and arrived today, I can see those same edges fraying.

The fun part of the new glasses is, the champagne color (listed in the product description as light brown) changes in the sun to a purplish gray (listed as gray in the product details). This could be fun and confusing. For other people, not me. I’ll be behind the frames and won’t even see the magic happen. This means that until the novelty wears off, I’ll likely be standing with glasses in hand, moving them in and out of sun and shade, watching for something to happen. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 742 (Monday) – Gilmore Spam

In between newer shows on the streaming platforms, my default show for background noise/show I don’t need to pay close attention to is Gilmore Girls, described on Wikipedia as “A dramedy centering around the relationship between a thirtysomething single mother and her teen daughter living in Stars Hollow, Connecticut.” 

I never watched the show when it originally aired on CW from 2000 to 2007, and I was only vaguely aware it existed. I was married at the time, and TV watching was dictated by X2, who insisted we watch what he wanted. 

Because Gilmore Girls didn’t include hunting, fishing, NASCAR, or Jennifer Love Hewitt and her cleavage whispering to ghosts, it would never have made the cut at our house. It was easier for me to agree and protest silently with much eye rolling than to fight over something as inconsequential as what was on TV.

I finally watched Gilmore Girls on Netflix in the past few years. It was binged. It was enjoyed. It was forgotten. In another recent “What should I watch?” drought, there was a return to Stars Hollow, and it's up to Season Two again. Enough time has passed that I don’t remember all the story lines, so it's fresh all over again.

Like with any show, sometimes I notice weird details. Tonight, the phone was not in my hand, and my eyes were on the TV screen during a scene in the kitchen and pantry at the inn. Sookie and Lorelai were having a conversation, and I noticed the rack of supplies which included two neat stacks of Spam. Spam! Sookie is supposed to be some great chef, and her kitchen is stocked with Spam and now I need to know her menu items featuring Spam.

Gilmore Girls - with Spam tower.

The show was paused several times in an attempt to get a photo of the Tower of Spam, and let me tell you, it’s impossible to pause a show in the exact spot you want it paused. After suffering through the same dialogue and trying to pause the show at the exact moment, the best view of the Spam that could be captured was an obstructed view. 

Google was consulted for the “Spam recipes of Sookie St. James” which yielded several Gilmore Girls cookbooks and an article with a list of “the 8 Best Dishes That Sookie St. James Made on Gilmore Girls,” none of which reference Spam. 

Perhaps, some things are not meant to be known.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 741 (Sunday) – spring

Spring planting to plan.

The first day of spring had some of the best features of spring – like sunshine and blue skies. The sunshine inspired this year’s first opening of the sun roof during the drive from dance class. A stop at Family Dollar for trash bags yielded a bonus planter of lavender seeds and a bag of hollyhock bulbs. 

The map on the hollyhock says to plant from April to June. Knowing the wild mood swings of New England weather which have included a snow day school cancellation in May when I was in high school and the heartache of planting things too early, there will be a wait until at least the middle of the recommended timeframe. The lavender packaging hasn’t been explored for the instructions yet, but it's a planter that can be started indoors.

There were efforts to be out in the yard during the afternoon, but by the time I went outside to harvest the ever-replenishing poop, it was breezy and the wind kept delivering a face full of hair. Tossing the hair out of my face was not effective. I was too lazy to go inside for a hair elastic. I was cold. The poop harvest went as quickly as possible to get back inside.

It’s a miracle I don’t have whiplash from all the hair tossing. In addition to the wind related tossing, there is the constant tossing of the bangs out of my eyes all day for the six or seven weeks when they are suddenly too long be fore my next scheduled hair salon appointment.

While inside, Winston slept and I watched hours of programming. After something on Apple, it was over to Netflix for show titles that are already forgotten that rolled into Bad Vegan which rolled into Gilmore Girls until it is blessedly time for bed, where hours will likely be spent searching for articles about flower bed preparation. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 740 (Saturday) – rainfall and a filling

Unlike Friday’s soft focus foggy gray morning that dissolved into a warm, spring-like afternoon, Saturday was a harsher gray, less warm, and much wetter. It was the perfect weather to curl up with a pot of coffee, blanket, and a book. Unfortunately, the morning was booked about six weeks ago with a 9:00 dentist appointment which required being out of bed and out the door at the same time as if it were an office work day. Sunday morning is dance class, and I told myself I can sleep late and then lounge about next Saturday.

Car reading.

Once out the door, the journey featured rainfall intensities varying from light misty drizzle to steady rain. The ride to Fitchburg, necessitated because I failed to change to a dentist closer to home, was completed in 30 minutes. This put me in the parking lot a solid half hour before the appointment time, and the opportunity was seized to spend a few minutes reading my book club book for March (The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett). 

When I entered the building, the waiting room TV was tuned to a home decorating/flipping show, which is what the TV there is always set to. The show was at the point where the designers were revealing their work to the homeowner. The house, an older basic ranch, had gotten a new exterior color and a salvaged front door, which looked great. I missed the part with the before views, but the inside seemed to have been liberated of walls to create an open floorplan of kitchen and living room.

As the camera panned up to what was once probably an attic and was now a cathedral ceiling, I mourned the loss of storage space and the likely skyrocketing heating cost. A loft had been built in one corner with a black metal ladder mounted on the wall to access it, which looked impractical and dangerous for anyone over the age of ten.

The kitchen had received white floor paint and white counters with dark black cabinets and a massive center island. The designer practically squealed, “you can put all your chairs around it!” while talking about the island. Chairs may fit around it, but the shallow overhang provided no room for legs, so good luck trying to eat at this alleged dining spot. 

The kitchen show-stopper turned out to be the massive island, which was not loaded with storage, but had panels that swung open to access a staircase leading down to a basement wine cellar and bar. That’s when the dental assistant arrived to escort me to the torture chair, so I missed the rest of the house, but I googled "kitchen island that opens to a basement" and there was a video clip from HGTV. 

The rain slammed on the metal roof of the office, which was commented on by the assistant and the dentist. During the advance chit chat about dental work, the assistant said she “hadn’t found a good dentist yet” after “dental trauma” from a previous dentist who began to remove the assistant’s wisdom teeth while referring to another patient’s x-rays. The words “haven’t found a good dentist” hung heavy in the air, delivered from the mouth of the assistant who had just likely insulted her dentist boss who was preparing to work in my mouth. If there had been visible cartoon speech bubbles, mine would have read WTF?!?

The replacement of my old filling seemed to be going well until my jaw began twitching. This triggered flashbacks to last year’s 18 x-ray series that resulted in the week of TMJ issues, a prescription for muscle relaxers, and being unable to open my mouth enough to eat for eight days.

After the procedure, the dentist showed me the x-ray of the tooth that received the new filling. The old filing was very close to the nerve and he said if there are any problems a root canal might be needed. That certainly wasn’t anything I wanted to hear, and he even joked about how he never has good news for me. I commented that it had certainly been two years of dental drama with a broken molar, crown, TMJ, dental surgery, and now more hints of a root canal.

Ibuprofen was suggested to avoid inflammation and hopefully ward off a repeat of the jammed-up jaw issue, although not being able to eat for a week would quite possibly be the ideal way to address the tight pants situation.

I was back in the car at 48 minutes after my appointment time. I was still pouring, so any desire to visit the sights and shops of Fitchburg and Leominster were cast aside. It was back onto the highway and homeward bound. After lunch and a couple episodes of The Morning Show on the Apple TV free trial weekend, there was a nap. Suddenly, it was suppertime and another non-work day was gone. Over. Lost. But hey, I have the possibility of a potential root canal to look forward to.

 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 739 (Friday) – foggy

During the predeparture preparations this morning, mistakes were made. Twice, the refrigerator and then the freezer were opened to check for something for lunch. Twice, nothing especially interesting was found, and I thought, “I’ll deal with this when it’s closer to time to leave,” as if something better would magically appear while I was drinking coffee in the living room.

Lowell on a foggy morning.

Halfway to downtown, driving along practically deserted streets shrouded in soft, gray fog, it was remembered that nothing had been taken out for lunch. Apparently the weather wasn’t the only thing that was foggy at the start of the day. 

The gas station that is often driven past because it’s too crowded to get near a pump was also deserted, and there was a quick stop for a fill up. Between the easy ride and access to gas, it occurred to me for a nanosecond that I should buy a lottery ticket, but then I forgot.

The fog was magical over the river. It was one of those picturesque times that being stuck in traffic would have been welcomed, just for the photo opportunity. A few photos were grabbed on the drive, which failed to capture the density of the fog hovering over the Merrimack in five or 10 or 50 shades of gray. 

It wouldn’t have been impossible to walk back towards the river after parking the car, but Mummu’s words echoed: “Work first, play later.” Then it was the usual speed walking pace for the on-foot portion of the commute to the office and away from the river. Outside the bank, the tower of City Hall was barely discernable. 

Grilled brie, apple, and fig jam.

The forgotten lunch worked out in the end. Since December of 2019 and the last office party Yankee Swap before life as we knew it screeched to a halt, there has been a Purple Carrot $20 gift card in my wallet. 

Today was that gift card's day to shine and it was exchanged for the apple, brie and fig jam grilled sandwich for lunch, and a take and bake boiled dinner of corned beef, potato, carrot and cabbage for supper. After 20 minutes in the oven, it was everything I imagined it would be. Bonus, there is corned beef left for a sandwich tomorrow.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 738 (Thursday) – two years

Two years ago today was the first day of the remote work life. It was new, exciting, and nerve-wracking, but finding a new work rhythm turned out to be easier than expected. There was no anniversary celebration today, because parties of one get old really quick. Oops. I meant, because every day is a party around here. Ex-cla-mation point!

The day also saw minimal recognition of St. Patrick’s Day, but that was due purely to a lack of planning. There has been a craving for corned beef for a couple weeks, but zero interest in cooking a corned beef and cabbage dinner for one. I wanted it for one meal, not for a month. Being a remote work day, there was no easy access to a restaurant that might be serving such a delicacy that could be gotten to and back during the usual 30 minute lunch break.

Not exactly St. Patrick's Day food.

Lunch at home had a touch of Irish with diced Irish Cobbler potatoes in the corn, veggie, and chicken chowder. The chowder was very thin, so technically, maybe it was just a milky soup. The question about the proper name for thin and milky soup would be posted in the Soup Lovers Facebook group, but I’m not psychologically prepared for the skewering that might ensue. 

Now it’s already been six full months into the new hybrid life and the return to “life outside.” It’s been at least as nerve-wracking as the start of remote life, just in different and prolonged ways. 

The office stress is related largely to the logistics of leaving the house to which I would be content in  remaining confined. There are wardrobe issues, prepping the dog for my departure, packing lunch, and getting out the door and downtown three days a week. It’s dreadful, although once I get to the office, it’s less awful and mostly worth it. Mostly.

There really needs to be some sort of finishing school to polish off the burrs for those of us who started out awkward and devolved to a full-blown feral state after the lengthy stretch of not participating in society. Please help.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 737 (Wednesday) – fabricated saint

March 16 is a delightful made-up “holiday.” It’s St. Urho Day, fabricated in Minnesota in the mid-1950s and celebrated by Finnish-Americans. In the fantastical tale, Saint Urho drove the grasshoppers out of Finland and saved the grapes. In reality, Finland doesn’t have much of a grape industry and it still has grasshoppers. The colors for St Urho’s Day are royal purple and Nile Green. 

It’s said that March 16 was chosen to get a jump on St. Patrick’s Day. Another story adds the colorful detail that the feat of driving out the grasshoppers was accomplished by St. Urho’s loud yell.

A few weeks ago, while in Target with Mom, I spotted a gold-colored resin grasshopper. It was part of a spring collection that included a bee, dragonfly, and snail. It has sat in the living room since, and possibly forevermore.

In honor of St. Urho’s Day, this morning a tableau was set up with the grasshopper, the red and gold first official state flag of independent Finland, and a province insignia patch for Vaasa, which is where my maternal grandfather was born. I failed to plan any Finnish food and didn’t even manage to pull the Finn coffee bread from the freezer. The half-Finn in me is often half-assed. Or as Mummu would say, it’s the non-Finnish half that is half-assed.

Anyway, Happy St. Urho Day. Drink some wine made from the fabled grasshopper-free grapes of  Finland and enjoy the made-up holiday.

 “Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 736 (Tuesday) – eyeing victory

There has been a small victory. For a week, I had been eyeballing a new pair of eyeglasses on the Eye Buy Direct website. These are clearly a luxury item, as I already have at least six pairs of glasses in my current prescription (maybe more, and why are they called pairs?). There are also several pairs of prescription sunglasses.

Already have upper left,
center right, and lower right.

Maybe it should now be referred to as a collection. Collecting is an interesting diversion. Until it turns into hoarding, anyway. I already own 50% of the glasses featured in one recent ad.

This morning’s triumph was one for the wallet. Eyeglasses sold online are generally at a significantly lower cost than those in a shop, which, even with the so-called benefits of my vision coverage, still cost about $300. I have gotten two pairs for as low as $150 online, which is how having so many pairs is justified. 

The new frames I liked were half-off and the lenses boosted the price to $80, which is a great price, but I needed to feel like I scored a win. The rest of life is rather lackluster, and small victories, even if silly, make a difference.

The new ones
are in this list.

There are daily emails from the seller with discount codes for 25% or 30% off, but each time a code was entered, a message said it wasn’t valid on frames already on sale. I could afford to wait it out. They aren’t a necessity. The frames in the shopping cart were checked regularly for a change in price, usually on the living room recreational laptop or my phone.

This morning, the website was checked on the home office laptop. It launched into a series of automatic coupon searches affiliated with a credit card. The next thing I knew, there was another $20 knocked off the price and express shipping was suddenly included for free. Bingo! That, plus a percentage in cash back through Rakuten and now we’re talking shopping triumph. The checkout button was activated. The glasses were ordered. The next phase of the operation will be the “track my order” feature for the next couple weeks until they arrive. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 735 (Monday) – big chill

Temps in the 40s outside,
system on cool inside.

In today’s weather, the sky was clear and blue, the temperature was in the mid-to-high 40s and I was in the office-office and freezing. All day. The office thermostat read that it was 74 degrees and the system was on “cool.” The “cool” setting explained the York Peppermint Patty sensation of chilled air permeating the space. 

The last time I asked about the system running on cool in the winter the answer was something like “blah, blah, smart building, blah, blah, building gets warm and system goes to cool, blah, blah.” All I know is 74 degrees on the cool setting in the office is colder than 68 degrees with the heat on at my house. While the office thermostat has buttons, it can't actually be adjusted.

The situation of being thoroughly annoyed at feeling cold was exacerbated by a couple factors. First, I was appropriately attired in three winter layers (base cami, long sleeve knit shirt, and a winter jacket) and should not have been cold. Second, the recent disappearance of the water machine has cut me off from the endless daytime supply of hot water which at lease makes me feel like I have some control. It used to be conveniently located ten steps from my desk. Trudging from the desk to the machine at the  opposite side of the floor is just too easy to not do. My office hydration is greatly affected by convenience.

At home, feeling cold continued. Immediate access to all the food in the house developed into an immediate feeding frenzy in a misguided effort to be warm. The cooking and the eating and the heat of the stove didn’t help. Several cups of hot Raspberry Zinger tea helped a little. 

Possible lies.

One weather headline is promising skyrocketing temperatures in the Northeast. Another source shows a high of 59 for Wednesday in the ten-day forecast, which doesn’t feel very much like skyrocketing. For now, I’m just waiting for it to be time put on the nice warm jammies and crawl into bed under the blanket, comforter, and wool blanket. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 734 (Sunday) – hot dog demons

The ongoing punishment of screwing with time to “spring ahead” an hour continues. Last night, despite plans to go to bed early, I barely made it to bed at the usual hour. Dance class in the morning meant there was no opportunity to sleep late. Much coffee was chugged before leaving the house.

New zills!

New zills arrived during the week, and this was the first class to use them for longer than the few times they were practiced with at the house. By the halfway point of dancing, my lower back was nagging at me. By the time we finished, it was screaming so loudly at me that my zills were drowned out and I was fantasizing about drugstore hot/cold patches. 

Today’s plan was to meet Mom and my sister at Jeffrey's, a local antiques co-op after dance. It was fun looking at the old timey stuff (which now includes a couple booths of Lego items) and being with Mom and sis cracking wise with comments, but walking around the store had me feeling like a call for the EMTs might be needed. Thank goodness for the most remarkable accessory ever added to an automobile – the heated seat, which was activated for the entire ride back to Lowell.

For reasons I can’t understand, I found myself in the parking lot at Market Basket on the way home. Again. Without a list and hungry. It was as if the car autopiloted itself into the lot. The best, most logical guess is that Market Basket is radiating a forcefield that overtakes the computer and mechanical systems in the Jeep and drags it into the lot.

At the end of the shopping trip, there were few enough items to go through the 20 items express checkout. The usual staples like sliced mushrooms, potato chips, and English muffins were represented. These were accompanied by the extravagant and decadent indulgence of lobster salad finger sandwiches. And there were some oddball things in the cart, not bought by me in decades.

Somehow, a package of hot dogs landed in the cart. Not even the gourmet, all beef kosher dogs of my past hot dog eating life, either. They were the cheapest hot dogs on the shelf. It was as if I suffered some sort of demonic possession while in the store. What next? Chicken feet, beef liver, and tongue?

Based on recent cravings for steak and cheese subs and today’s acquisition of hot dogs, it seems my mostly vegetarian days may be diminishing. Next thing you know, I’ll be running off to a steak house and ordering steak tartare. Or choking on a hot dog like that time when I was three and needed a Heimlich at Mummu’s to dislodge it so I could live to tell the tale. I better make sure to invite someone over to provide supervision on hot dog day.

More ab exercises might help with the lower back situation. An exorcism might be helpful for the grocery store thing. The upcoming Google searches are sure to be interesting.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 733 (Saturday) – art and snacks

For the first time since February or March of 2020, I attended an art show reception. It was at a Lowell gallery where I am a member of the board, and there were snacks and wine. Despite cold temperatures and drizzle, a steady stream of visitors came to the gallery where two shows were being celebrated. One show was prints by the North of Boston Print Collaborative, the other, an exhibit of wall-mounted sculptures. 

Usually, the board members provide the reception refreshments, which, before the pandemic, included cheese and crackers, stuffed grape leaves, finger sandwiches, and baked goods. Since the pandemic, the biggest difference between refreshments now and the before times is more individually wrapped items, a habit developed during the receptions held during the remote times. Today’s table included individually wrapped Little Debby frosted cakes, individually wrapped home-baked cookies, wrapped sliced turkey and cheese subs, and single serve bags of salty snacks, plus unwrapped jumbo shrimp, dip, and baked goods.

Little Debby cakes - very tasty.

While chatting with other board members at the reception, I noticed a well-dressed woman wearing a long black skirt printed with red flowers, a coat and stylish hat, carrying a dark brown purse with designer logos that zipped open at the top with two tan leather handles over her arm. 

She slowly and elegantly circled the table, picking up items. Two Little Debby cakes, a couple cookies, some sub slices. Instead of setting the foods onto one of the plates stacked at the corner of the table, each was slipped into her purse. Three or four times she glided around the table loading up her purse. It is not the first time or place I’ve seen people stocking up at an art reception food table.

There was a reception at another nearby gallery that featured works inspired by Jack Kerouac. I considered going after the first reception, but it was cold and rainy, would have required walking a couple blocks from where I was parked, and my back hurt from standing for the past three hours. Plus, Winston was home alone, and his dinner time was approaching, so home won out over another event. I told myself I'll catch the show some weekday during lunch break.

It was great to be amongst my fellow board members and the arts community. It was nice to be surrounded by art and artists. And when it was over, it was nice to return to the quiet of home. The rain changed to snow and began coating lawns, cars, and everything but the pavement.

After the much-needed diversion and social interaction, it was right back to the boring parts of daily life. The day’s domestic highlights were running the dishwasher and laundry, including a load of Winston’s pee bands, the most glamorous laundry load of all. The next important household/life task will be remembering to turn the clock ahead one hour.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 732 (Friday) – good day

The day began with waking up to the fourth consecutive day of feeling slightly less dead inside, which sounds a bit like dark schtick, but that minor shift felt pretty amazing. Maybe it’s the approach of spring and emerging from a protective emotional hibernation.

NEW BOOKS!

While drinking coffee, Wordle was solved in two tries. The ride to work was easy and annoyance free. Bouyed by the positive start to the day, I was convinced I would be declared the winner of the Canon camera with two lenses in the “Celebrating Our Team” raffles at work.

Looking ahead, lunch was the remaining half of the yummy steak and cheese sub ordered in on Thursday night. There was a plan to take a walk to nearby Lala Books to pick up two books that were recently ordered and came in this week.   

The morning included conversations with colleagues, more coffee, and progress on projects while waiting for the final winners of the week-long raffle to be posted. Promotional campaign materials were ordered. Updates were sent out. All was relaxed and peaceful.

Not long after 11:00, the raffle winners were posted. For the fifth day this week, and possibly the second consecutive year, none of the dozen people on the floor where I work was a winner. It is now dubbed “the curse of the fourth floor.” Some other lucky person won my camera. And my laptop. And my Jordan's Furniture and Wayfair gift cards and a dozen other items. Still, this was not allowed to deflate the mood of the day. Maybe I didn’t win the camera or any of other many items I entered raffle tickets for, but it’s not the end of the world. There was the bookstore visit still ahead, and that was a sure-fire winner. 

The leftover lunch was delicious. The books were picked up – two books by Shana Thornton, a talented writer with whom I was acquainted while living in Tennessee. A walk along Market Street was taken in the sunshine with a stop at Gallery Z to look at the art. 

Yo, Jack!

Jack Kerouac banners fluttered from lamp posts for the month long 100^th anniversary celebration of his birth. As I took pictures of a banner, a man in a suit standing the doorway of Market Street Market asked if I was in town for the Kerouac events and we had a brief chat during which he remembered that he, too, had ordered books from Lala. One block over on the loop back to the bank, a stranger on the street said she loved my hair.

After the errand and the encounters with strangers, the afternoon dragged. Then it suddenly sped up, and the next thing I knew it was 5:00. There was scrambling to put away files and papers, log off from the system, put on my coat and get out of the building with the two other colleagues who were waiting by the elevator.

The day was over, the week was over, and the weekend had begun. It was time to go home to feed Winston and myself and open a bottle of wine. As soon as I finish my book club book for March, I can start on the new books. Some days feel better than others, and today was one of them. Thank goodness for such blessings.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 731 (Thursday) – kitchen puzzled

The Facebook ads are delivering the puzzles this week. Today featured another head scratcher. A screen shot was grabbed, thank goodness, because when it was looked for later, it wasn’t found. There needs to be a section of Facebook that holds the ads you scrolled by too fast previously and finally want to look at. These are never the same ads that appear 100 times a day in the feed.

Anyway. The ad seems to be for kitchen remodeling and features a photo of a fresh, modern kitchen. There are plain white walls with no upper cabinets. I’m not an architect, designer, or chef, so perhaps I misunderstand the stylish kitchen. My point of view is that of a person who cooks at home regularly and has enough dishes and silverware to only need to run the dishwasher once a week.

The kitchen depicted in “A 5-star menu of cooking inspiration” features a half-mile long rod on the wall with S hooks and five utensils centered over the stove. Two cabinets and two drawers sit below the nearly empty, carefully staged counter holding a few jars of pasta and a half-empty knife block.

A stove, dishwasher and refrigerator are pictured, but no toaster, microwave oven, coffee maker, air fryer, or any other of the trendy appliances du jour. For now, let’s assume they are elsewhere in the kitchen, which probably extends for a mile to the left and behind the camera.

Shelves mounted on either side of the range hood hold a few colorful dishes, mugs, and white bowls. Therein lies my problem and puzzlement. The lowest shelf seems to be the height of the top of the refrigerator and it seems potentially impossible and quite uncomfortable to access the items. The breakage rate must by very high in this kitchen. Maybe one of the lower cabinets or pull-out drawers contains a step stool.

The only logical conclusion based on the evidence presented is that the kitchen in the photo belongs to a professional basketball player, a member of the Boston Beanstalks Tall Club, or someone who doesn’t cook at home. Sure, it’s kind of pretty, but if the photo is supposed to inspire me want to spend thousands of dollars to update my kitchen, it’s not working.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 730 (Wednesday) – snow trails

The King in his living room bed.

It began snowing in the early afternoon, and was falling steadily when I left the office at 3:00. When I arrived home to collect Winston, he seemed to know something was different about today. 

Instead of the food bowl fill that usually happens after I get home, he was being put into a harness and coaxed out the door.  He didn’t want to leave the house and in the end, was carried to the car. Usually Win is enthusiastic for a road trip and spends the journey trying to sneak into the front seat, but today he stayed in his bed on the backseat floor and didn't utter a sound. 

The ride to the vet, 25 miles away in Fitchburg, was slow going in the snow. On 495, which has a speed limit of 65 and most of the drivers regularly do 80, three lanes of traffic limped along at 40 mph. The snow coated the trees and the furthest edges of the road and made for a pretty view, but the asphalt was mostly clear.  It was impossible to know if there was a hazard or impediment up ahead or if the drivers were suddenly collectively cautious.

The trip can often be accomplished in 45 minutes, and even less on a quiet Saturday morning, and we usually arrive early enough that I have a few minutes to relax in the car before we go inside. Today, with the steady snow and the slow crawling traffic, it took over an hour, which still wasn’t that bad and could have been much worse. The main pressure was racing the clock to arrive on time, but that didn’t happen and there was no parking lot relaxing. When we arrived at our destination, Winston wasn’t keen to get out of the car, and didn’t especially care to go into the vet office, either. Thankfully, the office wasn’t busy, and our tardiness didn’t cause a disruption.

Winston was due for his annual shots, but the main reason we were there was related to his diabetes. Despite an insulin increase after wearing the glucose monitor for two weeks, he is still drinking lots of water and back to urinating an ocean each day. Thank goodness for the initial stretch of remote work and now being able to work remotely two days each week, or I wouldn’t have been aware of his daily habits and his condition might be much worse.

At the vet office, he was nervous, even though he’s been there several times a year in each of the past nine years, but only a few times since losing his sight. He yelped when the team touched his feet while drawing blood from his leg, but didn’t react at all from the shots in his hind quarters. His sugar was high this afternoon, and the dosage is increased again, as of supper tonight. Here’s hoping it helps.

Blazing new snow trails.

After having his supper, Win curled up in his bed for a couple hours, until he needed to go out. I hadn’t looked outside since we arrived home at 6:00 and I cleared an inch or so off the back steps and deck, and the front steps were surprisingly deep with snow and it was still falling. I cleared the steps and a patch of space of the asphalt in front of them, but brave little Winston, 16.7 pounds of spunk and pluck, charged forth into the yard, up to his knees in snow, to get to his preferred potty spot. Such a little trooper, blazing trails every day. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 729 (Tuesday) – man-skort

Huh?

Some things cannot be unseen, and today, via the magic of the inescapable Facebook ads, I saw a thing before work that haunted me all day. Luckily, I took a screenshot, because when you want an ad to reappear in the feed it never, ever does. Ever. But I had enough key word clues to Google it.

It’s a menswear item, and if anyone I know ever showed up wearing it, I would not be able to stop laughing. There is actually only one character I can imagine who would wear this nonsensical item, and it’s the fictional character David Rose on Schitt’s Creek, played by Daniel Levy. 

The memorable item is the MM6 Maison Margiela Asymmetrical Cut-Out Wool Cargo Shorts in the Saks Off 5^th ad. The description says this uniquely tailored version of shorts is “cut from wool and features elements of classic tailoring contrasted with an edgier cargo-style silhouette. Style yours with a tucked-in t-shirt to keep the cut-out details in focus.”

Oh, a skirt!

Fancy designer marketing words be damned, in plain language, this is a skort for men – a tragic coupling of a skirt and shorts. From the back, it looks a bit like a finely tailored skirt, or at least a part of a skirt. The front features peekaboo cropped pantleg with strips of fabric and cutouts to display the knees. These “shorts” sit at the waist without any butt or underwear hanging out of the back, but a couple carefully tailored slits at the thighs and around the manly parts are a unique feature and provide a titillating glimpse of thigh and who know what else. I wonder where this clothing curiosity fits into the newly relaxed office dress codes.

The “asymmetrical cut-out wool cargo shorts” are currently on sale for the low, low price of $699.99 – marked down from $1,790. Tempting, no? Sadly, you’ll need to have them shipped, as they are not available in Boston nor anywhere within 100 miles.