“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 813 (Tuesday) – surprise day

Didn't hate it, didn't love it.

While drinking coffee this morning, I got the urge to paint the bathroom. It’s taken five years and nine months to get to this point, so it would be a mistake to call it a “sudden urge.” It’s more like I was suddenly ready to do something, and I am as surprised as anyone. I never loved the blue color, but I also didn’t hate it, so there was no sense of urgency. Until today, when suddenly there was. 

The “relaxing” aspect of the week set on Sunday and Monday was out the window, but cool breezes were blowing in and the conditions felt right for the project. The weather was pleasant and not sweltering, there was time available, and I was motivated.

There was online research on riveting topics including “how to tell if you have latex paint on the walls,” “how to paint walls with plastic bags,” “patterned paint rollers,” and “what colors go with robin’s egg blue.” Gift card balances were checked on two Lowe’s Gift Cards in my wallet for the past several years. Yes, years.

Looks like bread crusts,
smells like low tide.

There was no agonizing over the color. An ivory/cream/almond tone was going to be applied over the blue to tie the walls to the toilet, vanity top, and tub enclosure. Walls were washed and the nail holes filled. There were a lot of nail holes because it sometimes takes two or three or ten tries to hang one picture. 

At 1:00 I headed to Lowe’s because the neighborhood hardware store closed at the end of March, and I had financial resources in the form of gift cards for Lowe’s. Two paint chip cards were chosen and carried to the toilet aisle to check against the almond color throne, which helped to rule one option out. 

Rollers were looked at in the hopes of finding a patterned one, despite the website not showing any in-store. Miracles were already in play, so it felt possible. The only non-standard roller option available was a sea sponge roller and it was bought with a quart of paint called “Sunset Nude,” a tray, and a paint can key so I didn't have to look for the one I already have somewhere. 

Surprise drawer!

By 2:30, taping was nearly completed. I tried to see if the front bottom board on the vanity would come off, and surprise, surprise, there was a drawer there! All this time, and I had no idea. A tarp was spread over the vanity and the toilet.

The sea sponge roller looked comical, like it was assembled with various glued on bread crusts. The instructions were to wet it, which caused it to smell a lot like low tide. 

There was rolling. Drips. Hard to reach spots in all the corners and edges. There was filling in by dabbing some spots with a foam brush. The progress was quick.

Blue toned down and
order mostly restored.

By 4:15, the painting and cleanup were done and I was foraging for something for late lunch/early supper. By 6:30 the tape was removed, slight bits of overpaint cleaned from the vanity, towel rack reinstalled, the glass shades on the light fixture washed and replaced, and order almost completely restored. The switch plate covers still need to be reattached, but that's about it. 

It’s satisfying handling something from idea to delivery, seeing the result, and enjoying a sense of completion. Sadly, not everything in life comes that neatly packaged.  

Next will be deliberations over use of the surprise drawer and the agonizing rehanging of the artwork, which will probably be swapped around and change 15 times before it’s done. It’s nice to have puzzles to work on.

Unfortunately, the weather forecast seen last Friday that showed warm temperatures and sunshine all week has drastically changed to 60s and cloudy. That is a surprise I could have skipped, and now the loosely planned beach trip with Mom feels less appealing and will be swapped for Plan B, whatever that turns out to be.

 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 812 (Monday) – work and leisure

Ready for summer.

The weather was perfect again today and the life of leisure is looking damned appealing. There was morning coffee drinking, light housework and yardwork, then the day shifted gears to relaxation. Even the labor part was unhurried and unfolded in its own time. I can’t wait to jump off the work treadmill, retire, and adopt leisure as a lifestyle. Thanks to recent stock market movement, it should be only another 50 years of working and saving and I can finally retire. 

The cool morning allowed for the washing of the deck chairs and placement of the outdoor rug on the deck. The table pedestal and umbrella base were hosed off and set on the rug. Indoors, there was a light tidying up and lunch made in preparation for visitors. Nothing gets my housekeeping ass in gear quite like visitors.

Mom and StepDad came for a visit and to swap the gas mower for an electric one. I almost always have a hard time pulling the cord to start the gas mower and maybe some actual exercise would help (in  more ways than one), but now I don’t need to worry about it for starting the mower.

We all sat on the deck in the freshly cleaned chairs after StepDad set the glass table top onto the base and installed the umbrella. There was a lunch of chicken salad with dried cranberries, onions, walnuts, tarragon and mayo, made this morning, plus potato salad from Mom’s cookout on Sunday. This was followed with cake with strawberries and whipped cream. It was great to spend a nice chunk of a second day in relaxed conversation. After the guests departed, the afternoon pace continued with ice water and Netflix (Moms) under the gentle air movement of the living room ceiling fan. It's now deep into the game of "how long can I hold out before turning on the A/C?"

Beer, breezes, book.

The evening featured an Anchor Porter beer and a book on the newly set up deck. There was a light breeze and it was comfortable. This is much like I imagine my time would be occupied on a proper vacation at a beach cabin or a resort. For now, I will make due at home with my imagination. 

The book, Where the Crawdads Sing, was the May book club selection and should have been finished a week ago, but I signed up too late for the meeting and was fourth on the wait list. Once it was clear I wouldn’t be attending the book club meeting, I switched gears and read Jack Kerouac’s Satori in Paris for inspiration for work for an art exhibit with the theme of Kerouac, Paris, and enlightenment. 

The Kerouac book was great, but the inspiration for new work didn’t happen and the print from my Paris visit of long ago was not as good as I remembered so I didn’t enter anything in the show. Maybe when my life of leisure kicks in the photo bug will return. 

Maybe tomorrow  the blender can be hauled out for an added vacation dimension. If only I could manifest a bartender, housekeeping staff, food service crew, gift shop, and a travel companion for BungaLowell Staycation 2022, it would all be quite perfect. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 811 (Sunday) – relaxing

Winston relaxing on the floor.

The weather was perfect for a backyard cookout and dining in a screen house and that’s exactly what we did at Mom’s.  

There were all the hallmarks of a perfect day – good company, sunshine and light breezes, and food. The chiminea was burning wood and emitting smoke to keep the bugs away. It all felt like the best parts of camping, but without the hassle of the central toilet and shower facility, and bugs.

Mom is always a great hostess, and there was a pre-lunch food spread of crackers, cheese, pepperoni, chips and dip.  Then the actual lunch food was paraded out – garden salad, macaroni salad, potato salad, and hot cooked stuff perfectly prepared by Step Dad at the grill. That was all followed a short time later by dessert of fresh strawberries over vanilla layer cake with whipped cream.

Winston relaxing in his bed.

It was all quite relaxing. After lunch, Mom and I sat on the glider swing in the sun and looked at the flowers and wooded section of her back yard. Later, we played Scrabble in the screen house. Real, old-time Scrabble on the fancy board with the raised grid that spins and with the score kept on paper.

Winston, the Canine King of Chill, relaxed by alternating between laying on the stone tile floor of the screen house, laying in the sun in the grass, laying in the shade in the grass, and finally, sleeping in his bed in the screen house (once I brought it outside). 

At home, the relaxation was shattered with chores like laundry and dishes and neighbors periodically setting off fireworks which stressed out Winston, but the in-between times were peaceful. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 810 (Saturday) – memorial day prep

It was a day of ancestral connections. It began with Finnish breakfast at Saima Park in the company of my cousin, Mom and Step Dad, and a friend and her brother and a sister-in-law. It was a nice visit with good food of my ancestral homeland.

After that, I met Mom and Step Dad at Forest Hill Cemetery and we planted flowers on family graves. I  remember being a kid and going with Mom and Mummu to decorate family graves. This is the sort of stuff I missed when I lived 1,200 miles away, and one of 10,000 reasons for moving back. And now Mummu’s is one of the graves we decorate.

My great-grandparents.

We started at Mummu’s, then went over to Aunt Julia and Uncle Pat’s; Aunt Mary and Uncle Clyde; Mom’s grandparents John and Wilhelmina; and John William and Lilja, two of Mummu’s siblings who died as young children. A second brother, John Emil, died at age 17, but we don’t know where he is buried, nor several other of Mummu's siblings who lived and died locally. 

There were several carloads of people in the same section of the cemetery doing the same thing as us, decorating family graves. It was hard work, as always. For some reason, the grass chooses to grow thick and dense up against the headstones, even when it is sparse and patchy just a few feet away, and even though we dig it out every year to put in flowers.

While standing at my great grandparent’s stone, I could feel the tears building while thinking about my own brother who died last summer. We still haven’t given ourselves closure with a memorial service or interment, and worse, we can’t even seem to talk about it. I looked over at Mom. There was a tear in her eye, and a look passed over her face like a cloud. It seemed that some feelings were happening with her, too. And then it was back to stoic for both of us. It’s how we roll.

Military graves on the hill.

I took the long way out and drove around the cemetery a little bit. The American flags were flying at the military graves atop the hill and the cemetery looked good. When I was in junior high and high school, my friends and I often met at the cemetery to sit on the wall at the stone entrance, or to walk or ride bikes on a one-mile loop that a friend’s parents had mapped out for running. 

When I started taking photography classes back in the last century, I spent a lot of time at the cemetery taking photos of interesting monuments. It was close to where I lived and the older monuments are beautiful sculptures. Cemeteries are peaceful green spaces and I can understand why people in the 1800s picnicked in them like parks.

In the cycle of life and back at home, there were baby birds in the nest over the drain pipe. There was noise and two little heads up with beaks open waiting for some food this afternoon. In a typical scenario, it was impossible to get a photo of  both of them.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 809 (Friday) – issues and isolation

Today, I was the only person on the entire floor of the building in which I work. The space is probably larger than my house, and it was mostly deathly quiet, except for some random weird building noises which made it a little spooky. I could have stayed home and had the same sense of punishing solitary confinement without the driving and parking except, I couldn’t, because, rules and stuff.

There I sat, alone all day except for a brief time when one of the guys from facilities arrived in response to my service ticket about a broken shelf. While facilities was in the suite, a complete and total stranger came off the elevator. This was surprising, because elevator access requires a security pass, and thank goodness the guy from facilities was still there, because there is a very good chance I might have had a complete heart attack when a total stranger wandered into the deadly quiet suite while I was there alone. 

I have no idea who put the man in the elevator, swiped an access card, and let him ride up alone instead of escorting him, but it's probably a good thing I was rattling around in the office after all. And thank goodness for the facilities guru who was still in the suite after fixing the shelf and knew who to call, because the printer repair man wasn’t even in the right building. For whatever reason, the department listed on the service order sent him to our building, but it turned out the printer was in a building in another state. I handle a lot of random stuff, but coordination of printer repair is not one of them. Facilities guy sorted out the printer situation and escorted the repair guy out of the suite.

Sad sandwich at the desk.

The not-my-department’s-printer-repair surprise visit came in the midst of a maximum frustration situation of waiting for proofs related to account statements that should have been approved days ago, but the demon vendor who shall not be named pulled the wrong date for the review file when they finally got to it on Wednesday after two weeks and several follow-up emails from me. Today at 2:30, a new file was received and reviewed after another email follow-up. Nearly all of the 60+ account product types appeared as expected, but there was one problem affecting one specific account type. It's a good thing I carried in my lunch of a sad little sandwich, because there was not a moment to think about or fetch food all day.

At 4:00, after yet another follow-up email, the vendor rep called (because unlike the vendor, our phone numbers are included in our email footers, making a phone call possible). He said he was still sorting out the problem, with just one hour left for me to be able to receive, review, and approve the statements before heading out for a week. Just one tiny problem, there was still no content to review. 

Replacement beverage.

The rep determined the issue involved another department at the same vendor doing a server migration and some mumbo jumbo about the new server not recognizing special characters in product names and as a result, not pulling the account type to receive the message on the account statements in our sample. Perhaps ironically, the message is about the upcoming change to the product name which removes the special characters and is probably necessitated by the whole migration to the new server thing. The name change isn't even scheduled until August.

Basically, much of the day was a total shit show for both me and the rep sitting in his office far away in Georgia and it won’t even be resolved until next week. That required emails to team mates to fill them in about the situation, because I won't be in the office to complete the task.

At home, the cursed day continued when I knocked over a very large, very full glass of a cool, refreshing adult beverage that was on the end table and sent liquid flying all over the bottom of the bookcase, under the couch, basically everywhere in that entire corner of the living room. It was replaced with a cool refreshing glass of ice water. 

Then I realized that during the entire afternoon spent dealing with the demonic vendor, I forgot to set my out of office auto responder for next week. Now I need to remember to log in to get take care of that. Maybe tomorrow. Today has seen enough crap already.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 808 (Thursday) – french toast

Tonight, while studying the contents of the refrigerator and trying to conjure up something for supper, my eyes rested on the bottle of maple syrup in the door rack and French toast flashed through my mind. Hot, buttery fluffy French toast, dripping with maple syrup.

That was it. The only acceptable option for supper was settled. Everything became laser focused on French toast.

There was a frosty forage through the freezer where the bread lives. Behind the new bagels and some forgotten old bagels and even older English muffins, there were various remnants of various of loaves of bread. One bag of sliced something or other was removed. Eggs were scrambled with creamer and cinnamon. The slices, of varying thicknesses and sizes, were dipped in the egg and fried in butter. Then they were stacked and topped with pats of butter and drizzled with maple syrup. 

This was no pretty plate of restaurant quality uniformly sized white bread French toast triangles, and the oddball slices from the dense bread remnants made for an almost comical looking stack.

It was good, but not exactly the best French toast. The bread was heavy. There was probably enough to save half of it, but that didn’t happen. Soon, it was all gone, except for the stomach ache, which took about thirty minutes to set in, and then lingered for a while. The penalty for zealous overeating is pain. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 807 (Wednesday) – graduation day

Graduation Day.

After a busy half day of work followed by a half vacation day for me, it was my youngest niece’s big day. In earlier years gone by, many a month of May had a big event in the form of a ballet recital, but this year it was even bigger. Tonight, it was her high school graduation, after four busy years of juggling school, both remote and in person, academics, shop, family life, team sports, and a job. 

When my middle niece graduated in 2020, it was a pandemic-forced limited-attendance ceremony a month or two later than the usual May schedule. Seating was marked out in the field in social-distanced squares. The local community television station streamed the event and I watched from home on my computer. We celebrated with a graduation party on a weekend.

This year’s graduation was in person and on the usual May timetable. A slide show played on a big screen above the stage to entertain the spectators on the field in a sea of folding chairs with bleachers forming a backdrop. The sun hovered just above the stage, and a bank of slightly moody clouds was a blessing for the eyes.

The only shot, and not a good one.

It was great to be able to be there in person with my sister, her husband, my middle niece, and Mom and Step Dad. The eldest niece watched the proceedings from Vegas, via the livestream.

The graduates marched onto the field in a stream of vivid purple like the irises in my front yard, accompanied by a recording of the Graduation March, aka, “Pomp and Circumstance.” The speakers were interesting, the weather was a mix of blinding sun and moody clouds, the temperature was pleasant in the low to mid 70s, and in one hour and fifteen minutes, it was done. The attempt at a photo of her on stage and screen receiving her diploma was not very successful.

After the ceremony, our location (near the concession stand)  was texted to our newly minted graduate with honors from the Cabinetmaking program. Like most of the other families on site, we gathered for hugs and photos and congratulations. In a week we will get serious with a party to honor the graduate and her accomplishments. And maybe get some better photos.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 806 (Tuesday) – mercury retrograde roses

The year's first roses.

This work week, like last week, is having more than its fair share of heart palpitating excitement with technology mysteries, program quirks, misplaced files, vendor delays and confusion, flaming balls in the air, and a couple routines of tap dancing and diplomacy. It's almost scary. It's definitely stressful.

Tonight, I finally invested the whole 60 seconds it took to check online, and sure enough, we are deep in the “second mercury retrograde of 2022 – from May 10 to June 3.” I knew it without knowing it. All the signs were there. There were  several emails I thought I sent, and after being in a huff over the absence of responses, I discovered they were sitting in “drafts.” Not once. Not twice. Three times. In a week.

Then there were the websites I suddenly couldn’t access, which required help from the tech team. And the programs that suddenly take forever to open, then the file freezes in the middle of working in them. It goes on and on, but dredging it all up now could be too traumatic for a Tuesday.

The Old Farmer’s Almanac website information on Mercury retrograde states, “To those who practice astrology, these times in particular were traditionally associated with confusion, delay, and frustration. Think undelivered love letters, email blunders, and frazzled travel plans! This is an excellent time to reflect on the past, however, and it’s said that intuition is high during these periods. Coincidences can be extraordinary.”

Oy. 

An article by Kyle Thomas published on New York Post listed the effect of this Mercury retrograde on each zodiac sign. According to that piece, for Leo, “If you want to reconnect with an old acquaintance, bestie – or gasp! – even an ex, you're in luck to do so.” Um, nope. There are usually really, really good reasons why we are exes. 

I don’t know about the love letters and intuition, but some of the rest of it has been ringing true. At least I can take comfort in a documented planetary cause and knowing it’s not all me, while simultaneously living on high-alert and dreading the next week and a half until it’s over. Let me go look through some photo albums and “reflect on the past” for a while, but definitely not with an idea of reconnecting with any exes thank you very much. 

At least the yard flowers are still doing their thing, seemingly without confusion and chaos. Today, two rose blooms were spotted, more irises opened, the rhododendrons are starting to pop, and the peonies have lots of buds. The columbine miraculously survived and there are actual opened blossoms on lanky stems. Perhaps the flora are spared the technology snafus of Mercury retrograde.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 805 (Monday) – walks and photos

Pine cone bounty.

Today saw minor personal victories, including actually getting outside for a break during the workday. It was sunny with a light breeze and the temperature was 71 comfortable and seasonal degrees. 

I took a left out of the bank, and headed down the walkway along the trolley tracks to the canal. There were many sights to be seen. 

The equivalent of a pine cone harvest lay on the ground next to the walkway. It was a crafters dream, and knowing how much a bag of pine cones costs in a craft store, for a second or two I wished I had a bag to carry a bunch of them out. 

Water falling.

A yard or so away, the ground was carpeted with little acorn hats and a few steps beyond that, a plant with bright pink flowers. There was the waterfall along the canal, ribbons of pollen floating on the quiet water steps away, a sculpture that looks like a ribbon. 

Across the street, the contemporary new Justice Center filled with glass and metal and smooth concrete sits with a vintage brick steeple just beyond. Further along there was wrought iron metalwork and back at work, the fountain with factory smokestack shapes poured and splashed its reflective water. 

Fountain.

The entire scenic tour was quick and I was back at my desk in thirty minutes. Any time I leave for a walk, it isn't simple. There is internal dialogue/mental debate. Is my purpose walking (focus on exercise, cardiac betterment, and time), or is it for sightseeing and taking pictures (focus on looking around, taking photos)? There have been many walks intended for fitness where great photos were noticed and deliberately zipped right past because it wasn’t a photo walk. Sometimes the photo walk involves bursts of speed walking crammed between sudden stops to photograph something interesting. 

Some days, like today, the mission isn’t determined at the outset. Today, the intent was decided after noticing the pine cones and then a few feet later the acorns, at which point I backed up to get photos of the pine cones, then the acorns and then the objective of the walk was suddenly set. At the end of it, 25 photos and one accidental one-second video had been captured in pixels. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 804 (Sunday) – flowers and groceries

The heat kicked in on Sunday, as forecast. The morning ride to dance class was pleasant because the car A/C was blowing nicely chilled air and it wasn’t blistering hot yet. After dance class, the plan was to stop at the farm stand for two more packs of flowers. Last week’s two-pack purchase was a brilliant orange and a mixed color pack. This week’s are orange in a different flower, and reddish orange Snapdragons. Next week, I’ll buy two more of whatever catches my eye and by the time the are planted I will probably have forgotten their names.

At the farm stand, I parked next to a really cool looking silver Volvo with a glass hatchback, and wondered who at the place was driving it. As I returned to the car with my two little packs of flowers, an older couple squeezed into the Volvo. They had fille with entire back of the car with flowering plants that were tall enough to hit the ceiling, giving me twinge of inadequacy with my meager selections.

Planter in process.

Some of the plants have gone into a three-tiered planter on the deck, and others fill some of the big gaps between the irises and around the coneflower along the fence. Behind the irises in the front yard, three hollyhock roots were put in, and with luck, those will come up. 

Out back, despite the scalding sun and the oven-like heat, the lilac was pruned a bit. The gardening book said to clip off the spent blooms and hopefully I did it correctly. As least I had the loppers depicted in the drawing in the gardening book.

A second stop on the ride home was planned for Market Basket to get a roasted chicken. There were a few other items on the list, which was recited in the car like a mantra on the way to the store, “chicken, cucumber, tomato, cheese.” 

A few of this week's additions.

Being a massive store, and the acreage separating the produce from the deli and dairy meant that a few other items landed in the cart. Day old bakery cookies, because; ramen, because the “right” flavor was in stock (creamy chicken); blueberries because the price was right and I like them and Winston used to, but this afternoon we learned he is now off blueberries. And the weakness, the cash register temptation impulse purchase – store brand milk chocolate and caramel candy bars that still somehow only cost two for a dollar. They aren’t even that good, but the price is right and they work in a pinch when a need for some chocolate hits. 

At home, the chicken was carved and packaged, and will be mixed in Winston’s food to coax him to eat, especially in the morning, when his boycotts are in effect. Supper is often a bit easier than breakfast, thank goodness. The carcass went into a pot, was covered with water, and simmered all afternoon. The last time this was done, two spoonfuls were heated and poured over the kibble and it worked like magic to postpone the morning kibble boycott for a week. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 803 (Saturday) – boxed in, going long

Front yard irises.

The day began like every other day – relaxing with coffee. There was a brief tour of the front yard irises that are now popping open. Then there was a trip to the spare room to look for some specific photo prints needed for a specific purpose. 

The spare room visit led to a lot of rummaging around and countless incidences of finding high-quality empty boxes. Small ones, medium ones, larger ones. As I laid hands on each, I remembered saving it with thoughts like “this could be decorated and used for a gift box,” or, “this would make a good shipping box,” or, “someday I’ll probably move again and this is perfect for [insert item]”.

Half the previously empty recycling bin was filled with various boxes from the junk room. It felt good. Almost. It’s shocking that I was able to put a bunch of perfectly good and functional boxes into the bin. There is also a suspicion/fear that as soon as the recycle truck drives away, there will be a clear, immediate, and desperate need for at least one, if not all of the boxes. There is also the ever-present and underlying worry that a pile of empty cardboard boxes could someday be all that stands between me and complete and total financial ruin.

I’m blaming genetics. The best guess is it was seeded by the maternal grandparents who fled Finland during an economic upheaval and the threat of conscription of Finnish males to the Russian military. After some 35-ish years of those ancestors working hard to make their place in America, the Great Depression descended. The family scraped by, and some of us descendants have been scraping by ever since, because apparently that is how we roll. It’s just reality. If all it took was hard work to be well off like we were led to believe by the imaginary "American Dream" (and not "good connections" and politics), my family, friends and I would be rolling in dough, property, and riches. 

In any event, it seems that the ever-present fear of financial ruin is baked into my bones and is a reason for the constant state of high alert about wastefulness. It seems there is never a moment to relax, and the recent stock market movements that are tanking an adult lifetime of retirement savings have made it worse than usual. It's probably time to grab a second job just to be able to sleep at night (not that there would actually be time for it).

Go Long.

There is a good chance I’ll be rummaging in the recycle bin under cover of darkness to rescue the magic boxes that could be my lifeline sooner than later. And I'll probably never have a functional guest room. 

While these deep-rooted, potentially irrational fears are ruminated upon, there is time to enjoy a cold, crisp, refreshing Finnish Long Drink. It's the drink from the land of half my people. It's also damned good. 

As for the photos that triggered the day's neurotic episode? They weren't found, and may not even exist in its currently imagined form. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 802 (Friday) – impending hotness

Friday, it’s good to see you and thank goodness you are here. There seem to be some fine features flaunted by recent Fridays. The traffic has been light for both the morning and evening drives for several weeks and I couldn’t be more thrilled leaving the office at 5:00, heading down four floors, walking a quarter mile to the garage, and pulling into my driveway around 5:18. 

With a few exceptions, the office is mostly quiet, which allows for wrapping up all the loose ends for the week and makes up for some of the too many distractions and derailments of the previous in-office days.

Quiche was carried in for lunch (again), and it’s such a time saver not having to think about what to eat and where to get it. On the downside, despite planning to get out for a walk while the weather is still tolerable, I never left the desk for a break, continuing a longstanding bad habit.

The forecast for the weekend is for crazy hotness, at least if you consider 100 degrees to be hot. The 30-degree jump means it’s certain that the A/C will need to be turned on in the house, purely for survival. 

I used to think I loved the heat, but living in Tennessee for a dozen years with central air absolutely everywhere changed things. The upstairs gets so hot, I may need to wrangle the ten-ton window unit into the bedroom window. That activity, coupled with my noodle arm strength, usually elicits a lot of swearing alternating with prayers that it doesn't launch itself out the window into the asphalt path below. 

Both Saturday and Sunday have plans that will require driving, and the “Max A/C” in the car isn’t blowing super chill, and is running mediocre at best. At least the weekend plans don’t include baking in a field at a graduation or a wedding or anything like that. Might be a good day to hang out for a while in the ice cream aisle at the grocery store. It's good to have an option in the pocket. We’ll see.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 801 (Thursday) – shaping up

Fresh morning drops.

This week, just like last week, is flying by at breakneck speed. It’s dizzying. At least there was some time before work began to breathe while pausing to notice the water drops on the leaves of the bleeding heart. Despite being split in half, the bleeding heart plant near the front steps is bushy and encroaching on the steps again.

And there is a ray of light on the calendar. First, is the upcoming Memorial Day holiday (six work days to go, but who is counting?). That will be followed by the rest of that week booked off for vacation time.

The vacation week plans are shaping up. Mom and I are planning a trip to the beach, and there are some antique shops we want to visit. As usual, it won’t be all fun and games (we all know how I roll by now). 

One day of vacation week is booking itself up with life maintenance stuff. The yearly physical, booked a year ago, is scheduled at an ungodly early hour. This will now be followed later that morning by an appointment at AAA to renew/upgrade my license to Real ID.

The AAA membership pays off in ways not realized when I was thinking in purely automotive terms with battery jumps and tows. It was definitely easier and more comfortable having my passport photo taken at the AAA office than in front of a window shade at some drugstore battery wall. And any opportunity to avoid the RMV is a blessing. So, thank you AAA. My only regret is that the physical isn’t at the office of my primary care practice that is located directly next door to AAA, but the office across town with the labs. Oh well.

The brain was so fried after work it couldn’t even process the concept of making supper. Luckily, it was the week for the 20% off a $30 order from the favorite local delivery joint, so it was a fried seafood platter delivery for the win. 

I am handsome and a good boy
but I do not like my food any more.

Bits of the haddock were mixed with Winnie’s food in an attempt to get him to eat. Unfortunately, it seems his very expensive food is the problem. He ate fresh sliced carrots and a French fry. This morning, mixed frozen vegetables and pumpkin were carefully removed from his breakfast. The breakfast kibble, moistened and bloated by the water from the heated frozen veggies and the pumpkin, sat in the bowl all day and was chucked at suppertime. 

It looks like I need to get another chicken carcass so I can make him some bone broth. That trick worked for an entire week a couple weeks ago. It appears the weekend plans are also shaping up. Yee haw. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 800 (Wednesday) – 800-what?

Hitting the 800^th consecutive day of daily writing seems like it should feel like more important. More impressive. Maybe spectacular fireworks exploding in the sky impressive. Mostly it just feels like another anticlimactic ordinary Wednesday.

There was the full day of working in the office where some things got done and others suffered setbacks. There was a quick break with a quick visit to the library to check for a book I wasn’t able to buy because it isn’t available anywhere the book store checked to order it for me. The library delivered, and on the way back to work I had time to sit on a bench and read a few pages. A book where an entire chapter fills half a page (Chapter 2 of Satori in Paris) and two novels fit into 238 pages is my cup of tea. Thank you, Jack Kerouac and Satori in Paris and Pic. As a technical point, shouldn't these two "novels" be called "novellas"? Just wondering.

The work day concluded and was followed by arriving home for the office day ritual of picking up dog poo from the kitchen floor potty pads. To his credit, for a blind dog Winston really sticks the landing on the potty pads and for that I am appreciative.

There was the daily installment of begging Winnie to eat his dinner and then foraging through the refrigerator and the cabinets for my own. The foraging, as often happens, was accompanied by a Q&A monologue of all the things I didn’t feel like eating. Pasta? Nah. Ramen? No. Salad? There was enough of that for lunch. French toast, a sandwich, canned candied yams? Nope, nope, nope. The final decision was a hot dog and roll cooked in a fry pan with butter and dressed with relish, mustard, and ketchup in the bun first. 

I even forgot it was day 800 until I sat down to write, an activity which feels like a chore some nights. I’m not sure I’ve ever done any one activity intentionally (beyond eating and basic hygiene) for 800 consecutive days. And now what? I guess we’ll see. As long as I continue to not have a social life there is plenty of time for another 800 nights of writing. Or maybe as long as I keep writing every night, I can continue to avoid having a social life. Chicken? Egg? Whatever.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 799 (Tuesday) – accomplished

The work computer was logged off a few minutes after 5:00 and by 5:20 I was heading to the back yard to liberate the mower from the shed and then trying to start it. It went pretty well, taking only about five tries before it roared to life for the first time this mowing season. The recent sunshine and rain caused the back yard to spring to life and it was suddenly overdue for a cut.

Two spots left and the mower died.

There had been a visit to the back yard a few days ago where the tallest clumps of green stuff were trimmed close to the ground with the giant outside scissors that may or may not actually be hedge trimmers. They work, that is what matters, and who cares what they are called. It's probably quite entertaining for the neighbors too see sections of a lawn being cut with giant scissors. 

The mowing progress was reasonably quick because after years of our seasonal relationship, I am finally finely attuned to the mower's nuances. It lets me know when to take tighter, narrower rows to reduce the opportunity for clogging. I can tell by the sound of the motor when the blade is starting to get bogged down and I need to pause for a second or two to let the clippings clear the output shooter thing. If only I understood humans half as well.

The back yard was a few passes shy of complete when the mower suddenly shut itself off. The engine was exhaling a thin wisp of smoke. I went inside for a minute to let it cool off and when I returned to the mostly tamed grassy expanse, the mower restarted after a few pulls. The front yard was really quick work, being still mostly dead stuff and dirt. The challenge was accepted to mow around the violet clumps.

Late supper quiche.

In under 40 minutes, both yards were done, even with the brief break. I’ve already forgotten what the personal best time is, but this felt close. Once inside, the sinuses started flowing freely and the eyes were itchy.

At 7:00, I realized I hadn’t eaten supper yet and there was a sudden urge to bake a quiche. It’s been months since I last baked something because I wanted to. Tonight’s supper was several hours later than usual and lunch will be good on Wednesday. And it was nice to end the day with a sense of accomplishment. Twice. Too many days slip by without it.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 798 (Monday) – water and rain

Canal reflections.

The weather was nice and calm early in the day. It was warm outside and cold enough in the office that walking to City Hall in the heat was a pleasant opportunity to defrost. 

The afternoon journey took me over the canal, across a couple streets, and up the worn stone steps that people have climbed for over a hundred years. Today's mission was to pay the water bill. There are other ways to pay the bill, but paying in person is convenient when the destination is a block away and visible from the office window. The City Hall building is old and pretty with stained glass and wood and stone and it's library quiet inside, so it’s usually a pleasant visit.

On the way to City Hall, I was so busy looking at the reflections on the water in the canal that a few steps later, it was a surprise seeing there was a trolley parked on the trolley tracks. That’s Lowell. You just never know when you might walk into a trolley parked with it's nose protruding into the sidewalk. 

On the walk back to work, the clouds overhead grew darker and moodier. It made for nice textures, especially near the church built from stones dug to create the canal and the nearby trees with white flowers and leaves in shades of green.

Watch for parked trolleys.

The forecast called for rain. Mid-afternoon, the clouds continued getting darker and more dramatic, and suddenly the rain was slamming on the roof and the skylights of our office. It ended pretty quickly, but began again shortly thereafter. 

In a stroke of meteorological kindness, the rain stopped before it was time to walk to the car and the silver lining was not needing the umbrella.  A jacket would have been helpful, as the temperature felt like it had dropped along with the rain. Perhaps to make up for the previous dry weather that resulted in the dehydration of the pansies I forgot to water, it has rained several times since the afternoon. The car was parked in the covered garage during the afternoon free car wash, but hopefully, the  evening rain will rinse the pollen off. It really needs it.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 797 (Sunday) – holly

When I was in college and for 18 months afterward, I spent a lot of time with my cousin Holly. We graduated in the same high school class but didn’t hang around until after graduation when I started working with her mother at a local clothing store.

Holly was actually Mom’s cousin. Holly’s grandfather was Mummu’s brother and was 13 years older than Mummu. Holly’s mother was a couple years older than mine. The 20-year difference in ages between Mummu and her oldest sibling, with eight siblings born in between meant Mom had cousins in a wide range of ages. Three of Mom’s cousins who were local were in my high school graduating class and several more were in the surrounding years. 

Holly was striking – long blond hair and in the summer her golden tan set off her sparkling green eyes. She went to college in Boston, and when she moved there, I spent many weekends visiting her. When we arrived at Boston nightclubs, door security often waved us in ahead of the line queued up outside as if we were royalty. It could be a little chilly in her shadow when guys fell over themselves to be near her, but there were also a lot of benefits.

For a while, Holly drove a lime green Pinto that required a screwdriver to open the hatchback. Once, around the time Pintos were in the news for the gas tanks catching fire, we were stopped at one of the 10,000 red lights on Route 2 between Fitchburg and Boston. The engine in the Pinto kept revving, and we were freaking out and convinced it was going to blow up. The options were limited at the moment – jump out of the car into traffic, or blow up.

The light turned green and Holly got the car off the road and onto the dirt strip along the side. About five seconds after she emerged from the car, her long blonde hair glistening like spun gold in the hot summer sun, two different guys in pickup trucks slammed on their brakes and pulled over to help. They conducted whatever negotiations were needed – arm wrestling, intellectual debate, maybe a tiddly winks match – and one stayed to help. That was the classic Holly effect in action. Crazy stuff happened and people (always men) came to the rescue.

Rescue dude told Holly to start the car and pop the hood, and he hovered over the engine to investigate. The noise was awful, and Holly turned the car off. This happened several times, and the guy, frustrated, finally said, “I can’t understand why it keeps turning itself off.” When Holly said she was turning the car off because she didn’t like the noise, I thought the guy was going to lose it. He finally concluded the gas pedal was stuck and fixed it, and we were again on our way to Boston.

That Saturday afternoon, we finally arrived at the restaurant where we had plans to meet a guy one of us knew and his friend. Throughout the entire lunch, Holly and I couldn’t stop laughing about the hell ride in to town. It was so bad, the guys thought we were on drugs. Watermelon was served with the lunch, and I almost delivered the classic Mummu line, “Don’t swallow the seeds or you’ll get pregnant.” In an effort to be “ladylike” I didn’t say it, and when she whispered to me later that she had swallowed all the watermelon seeds so the guys wouldn’t think she was gross taking them out of her mouth, it triggered another laughing fit. We never heard from those guys again, but we laughed over that lunch for years.

Holly and I had a falling out the weekend of my wedding, in which she was a bridesmaid. It was the stuff of soap opera plots and centered on her, the bridegroom, and their three-hour disappearance from the rehearsal night festivities. It escalated, and her date, who was told they were attending a cookout but hadn’t been informed about her being in a wedding the next day, got mad and left in the middle of the night to return to Boston.  

The last time I saw Holly was after we arrived at the wedding reception in the limo. She bummed change from my sister-in-law, made a phone call from the pay phone, and slipped away. She went to Mom’s house the next day to pick up her non-wedding clothes and was never heard from again. Grandpa Ray said she asked him at the reception about catching a ride to Texas with him when he returned in a couple days. She planned to look for her father, who had “run off with his secretary” when Holly, the youngest of the three kids in her family, was very young. It devastated her mother, who never quite got over it.

I’ve thought about Holly countless times since the day of the wedding that should have been called off but wasn't. At first, it was with anger, but as the years passed, feelings for her softened. Periodically, I would try and look her up with no luck.

Last year, while doing genealogy research, info on Holly was found. Sadly, it was her obituary, published in The Dallas Morning News in 2008. It seemed she had found her father and his family in Texas and created a new life. She died in Dallas after a year and a half battle with cancer. She was predeceased by her mother, father, sister, and brother, and there were no relatives in Massachusetts to share the news when it happened.

May 15 is Holly’s birthday. When we were in our early 20s, we would have been celebrating her birthday for weeks before and after the event. Happy birthday Holly. I hope you found peace. I miss you and all the fun times we had. And you were right, I never should have married that guy. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 796 (Saturday) – air quality

It was hot today. One source had the temperature at 90 degrees at around 1:30. The forecast for Sunday is 77 degrees, which will probably feel refreshing in comparison.

The neighbors embraced the weather early and had their power yard equipment cranking by 8:30. The cacophony of lawn mowers and blowers and pickup trucks coming and going was the soundtrack for most of the morning. Against the almost deafening wall of sound, I drank coffee inside and consulted the newly acquired gardening book for advice on peonies before taking the action to the front yard for the weekly dog poop harvest. The hollyhock was finally planted, under the belief it’s now safely past the danger of frost and ok for them to be in the ground.

More buds!

Later, while out running errands, the UMass Lowell sidewalks were full of pedestrians and there were graduates in caps and gowns posing for photos in front of buildings and on the lawns. A few streets away and halfway to my house, a dozen shirtless guys sat in a circle of lawn chairs in the driveway of an apartment building on the campus perimeter. Music blared from speakers. Warm weather sure is loud.

The air was fragrant. In the back yard, the smell of the lilacs hung in the air as I planted new bamboo stakes for the peonies. It was discovered that the columbine has sprouted a couple new buds on the recently desecrated stem, and a fresh coating of cayenne pepper was applied near the plant. Operation “Bud Watch” is back in effect. 

More salad, but with salmon.

Out front, once the neighbor’s yardwork was completed, their grills were activated and the aroma of grilled meats and veggies filled the air. As a next-door neighbor and I chatted while unloading our cars in our shared driveway, she said it smelled like sausage and peppers. Whatever it was, it smelled good, and it was a cruel disappointment heading inside for my boring and basic salad. Supper was more basic salad and a piece of salmon, which at least had some weight to it and was more filling than lightweight lettuce and salad stuff. Of course, the ice cream that followed likely negated all dietary benefits of the salads.

The great outdoors is still tormenting me with allergy symptoms which feel especially extra horrible this year with gritty, itchy eyes and freely flowing sinuses. Indoors, once the morning breezes died down the air inside was stuffy. The goal is to enjoy some time with neither heat nor A/C running to give the budget a break, but it was tough not putting the A/C on today because I was roasting. To add to the fun, the A/C in the car, even on the “Max A/C” setting is not exactly refreshing, as experienced while running errands. On the coldest possible setting, it feels far from maximum anything. Once accustomed to the conveniences of modern life, it's pretty hard to give them up.

In today’s mail was a Jeep|Mopar postcard reminding me of the importance of “getting any previously declined recommended services” and listing “Replace brake fluid.” Umm… excuse me and what the heck? When the car was brought in for the oil change about a month ago, there was zero conversation about replacing brake fluid, even when I asked if any other services beyond the oil change needed to be done. I most definitely did not “decline” brake service. Errrr. At least now the brake fluid replacement can be piggybacked with A/C service. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 795 (Friday) – conquering hero

The day continued the trend set earlier in the week and flew by. There were three of us on all of the fourth floor and it was quiet. The peace and tranquility provided the time and head space to knock out some fires that kicked off the morning, and during the day a few other list items were conquered. The best thing about keeping a list is crossing things off it. 

Lunchtime adventuring across the canal.

In a departure from the normal day, I actually took my thirty-minute lunch break. I uncharacteristically broke away from my desk, grabbed my purse, and exited the office and then the building. There was a short walk across the canal and down the street in the glorious sunny weather with temperature around 80. The weather arrived yesterday, and being New England, it can and probably will drastically change soon, so we know to enjoy it while we can.

The target destination was the library and the Friends of the Library book sale. There was a clear mission, which was stated aloud before leaving my desk. At the book sale, a gardening book would be sought and hopefully procured. There would be no distractions allowed from fiction, biographies, photography, or any other book category that might be assembled at the sale.

The mission was successful. A copy of the Better Homes and Gardens Complete Guide to Gardening was found for the bargain book sale price of $1. There was some reckless flirting with the other categories of books, but I did not succumb to their tempting siren song.

Thirty minutes after leaving, I was back across a couple streets, some trolley tracks, and the canal and at my desk, hefty paperback tome in hand. Then it was back to the keyboard, keys blazing while writing and planning and fixing 10,000 things based on new information received late yesterday, and setting up a PowerPoint document. Basically, all at the same time.

Supper of conquering champions.

At 4:53 I was stunned to see the time. There was a scramble to close the many open files and programs and log out. It was time to flee the office and head for freedom. 

Once home, "freedom" officially began with a supper of conquering heroes. Leftover fries with sriracha mayo and a Jack’s Abbey Hoponius Union hoppy lager beer celebrated the end of the work week. It is great to be an adult. Let the weekend begin.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 794 (Thursday) – flower puzzles

Bunnies posing in the yard.

There were two bunnies in the back yard today, sitting still like statues when I let Winston out to do his business. He sniffed along the side flower bed, unaware of their presence behind him and across the yard. They sat, motionless, for what felt like a long time, probably highly aware of both me and the dog.

As the bunnies sat in the yard, a bird in a tree made a constant, steady noise. Maybe it was a cooing bird, maybe it was a hooting owl. I couldn't really tell, and I couldn't see anything in the trees or on nearby roofs.

Dandy looking dandelion.

Even when I shut the gate and it made a noise, the bunnies did not react. I went into the house and saw them through the office window, and they sat long enough for a photo from the bathroom window. Then, in a blink, they were gone.

The evening walk in the yard (about fifty paces) showed that the invasive flowers are not disappearing and seem to be doing well. The Violets and Lily of the Valley are spreading, and the random Dandelions are holding their own. 

The bunnies are not the only thing that disappeared in a blink like a magican's trick. Despite the best protective interests of plastic pointy forks, the pot with mint, and the cayenne pepper perimeter, nature has won again. 

Clipped Columbine.

The Columbine leaves are still plentiful, but the buds are gone. In their places are neatly clipped off stems. A few of the leaves are broken or chopped off and left on the ground. These must be the most delicious flower buds s in the history of flowers. I might as well just rip it out of the ground because it’s unlikely I will ever see it flower again. One time, for part of a day, I saw a purple flower. then it was gone. Maybe the bunnies ate them.

In other floral puzzles, the mint that was in the flower pot set near the Columbine seems to be gone. 

Inside the house is a Calla Lily that had a couple flowers when was delivered in a pot last summer. After a restful winter in the same pot, it is growing again this year. It’s already twice as tall as before, the stems are all curved and flopping over, and it may need a larger pot and stakes or something. 

Hopefully the Google search will yield more helpful results for Calla Lily that it did for “what eats Columbine buds?” That search yielded a lot of info about leaf-eating flies but nothing about bud eaters.