“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 897 (Wednesday) – office music

It was an office day with the usual things – team meeting, tasks, reviews, rearrangements and removal of words in projects. On the unusual side of the scales, a break was the taken – the kind that involved leaving the building. Hopefully, that will become a regular thig again.

The rippling canal water.

At 1:00, the sun was shining, it was 80-ish degrees, and there was a breeze. I went outside for a walk, and the breeze blew my hair from my face like in a shampoo commercial or an old MTV music video. Except when a corner was turned and the breeze blessed me with a face full of hair. The breeze made ripples on the water in the canal that looked like textured glass. 

In just under 20 minutes, 1.09 miles were completed. With the dust shaken off, the cobwebs cleared from the cranium, and a sense of accomplishment at taking a break and reaching the one-mile goal, it was back to work.

After work, a small group of us went out for drinks and supper. While a song by Wham played, we talked about how this morning one colleague asked us for an album to listen to, and someone said, “The Outfield!” another English band from the 1980s. When it was suggested, the colleague sang the opening line, “Josie’s on a vacation far away,” from their popular song “Your Love.” It turns out she has a nice voice. While describing the song from the morning story to a couple people at the table who didn’t know it right away, it began to play on the restaurant’s music system. There was pointing upward to the ceiling speakers and a couple of us said, “THAT song.” It was kind of spooky in a weird coincidence way, or maybe the robots and AI connected things really are listening to everything and the robot uprising isn’t far away.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 896 (Tuesday) – Worcester on TV

Somehow, I managed to not know that there was a series set in my beloved City of Worcester (Kevin Can F**k Himself). I had an awareness of the title and that Annie Murphy from Schitts Creek is in it, but that was extent of the knowledge in my cranium. 

Tonight, while flipping through the streaming services for something to watch that hasn't already been seen, the title was displayed on Prime with a note that season one is “Free until 8/31” which is tomorrow so it felt like a now or never moment.

Partway into the first episode, I thought I heard the name Worcester. The show was paused, backed up, played again, but I couldn’t be sure. That led to a visit to Google to look up the show. Sure enough, right there in the Plot Line on the Wikipedia page, it says, “Set in Worcester, Massachusetts, the show explores the life of Allison McRoberts (played by Annie Murphy), a woman struggling to redefine her life amid an unhappy marriage to her husband Kevin, an insensitive, unambitious man-child.”

Not going to lie, “insensitive, unambitious man-child” sounds like more than a few people I knew during my time living and playing in Worcester. 

Ralph's Diner tee shirt!

The show pulled in an actual Worcester iconic item in the form of a Ralph’s Chadwick Square Diner shirt worn by one character. If there is one place in Worcester which holds a perpetual soft spot in my heart, it’s Ralph’s. 

There was a stretch of life when Ralph's was the center of my social sphere. My wardrobe was supplemented with tee shirts from Ralph’s, including the glow in the dark Halloween shirt (given to me at their Halloween costume party the year my costume was a Ralph's matchbook) and the Christmas shirt with the three wise men in front of the diner (gift from the doorman there when we dated). 

The woodwork in the apartment looks like the woodwork in nearly every apartment seen while looking for a rental. Beyond the Ralph’s tee shirt, I haven’t noticed any other genuine and specific Worcester items, and I’ve been looking. According to one site, the show was filmed in Braintree, so I can probably stop looking for familiar Worcester scenery. 

In the first four episodes, the dialogue included references to multiple redesigns of the infamous Kelley Square, Grafton, and Shrewsbury, which was even pronounced correctly. Not once have they used the nickname "Wormtown." The only weird reference noticed was when Allison says she’ll get her husband something from the “duty free” store in New Hampshire. Tax-free New Hampshire, sure. But duty free? What, like the airport?

Overall, the show is okay. Not spectacular. Parts are borderline annoying. But I like Annie Murphy and I'm not a quitter, so I’ll keep watching. Plus, it's kind of fun looking for the signs of Worcester. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 895 (Monday) – take a walk

Artist in a bucket.

Monday returned as expected, on the usual weekly cycle and the heat is hanging in. There was a lunchtime walk, which, despite my best half-assed imaginary intentions, have been exceedingly rare. The Map my Walk app was reinstalled to track the steps and distance and hopefully inspire continued activity.

The temperature was in the high 80s, and I was walking about downtown in black ankle pants and a long-sleeved black floral print silk blouse, which were perfect for the climate conditioned office, but less comfortable in the blazing sunshine. At least I was wearing sensible flats and not heels.

The pace was quick to start, but there were new and exciting things to see and photograph. Not far from the office, a bucket truck held a man aloft. He was painting a new mural on an old building. Murals are popping up everywhere and it really makes the old brick walls look more fun and colorful. 

The path along the canal was chosen. I was very nearly run over by an older man who was talking on a cell phone while riding a bicycle rather unsteadily along the canal walkway. There was a huge pile of dirt marking another construction site and the usual litter in the plants and bushes along the walking path because people suck. The water in the canals was low, which isn’t a surprise with the drought. 

The heat, improper attire for walking in the heat, and my general appalling level of inactivity all combined to keep the walk short. In the before times, upon noticing the distance of under a mile, I would have kept walking to hit a full mile. Not today.

Canal water level looks low.

According to the app statistics, the day’s three-quarter mile walk was at a 22-minute mile pace. This is considerably slower than the 17-minute mile pace recorded on a two-day streak in September 2020, the last time the app was used before being removed due to phone space issues. The 2020 effort was part of a feeble attempt to take regular walks from the house while working remotely and finding it boring and wanting it to end. Plus, it's easier to walk faster when not constantly stopping to take photos.

Walking downtown is much more interesting because it’s possible to walk in a loop without backtracking. From home, it was verified that the landscape is all dead-end streets off a state highway with limited sidewalks often occupied by parked vehicles, overgrown weeds and shrubbery, and people who drive too fast. Some might consider it exciting, but I did not.

At least there is a new baseline for hot weather overdressed walking and plenty of room for improvement. The first goal will be hitting one full mile, and then the focus will be improving the time. Before 2020, the challenge was to see how far I could walk in 30 minutes. Too bad those stats are no longer in the app.  

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 894 (Sunday) – food

It was noon, I was starving, and I finally realized breakfast had never happened. The day’s food plan had been tomato pie, but it didn’t exist yet and its creation would have to wait.

Brunch - matzo brie.

Eggs and matzo were assembled into matzo brie, which was plated with herring in wine sauce. It was good. Eggs are my go-to cure for a variety of situations including being sick, being hungover, and today’s ailment, being super, suddenly hungry. Thank goodness for chickens and eggs.

Fortified by matzo brie, the refrigerator and freezer were checked. Thank goodness I checked. The mozzarella that was thought to be in the freezer did not exist and the pie crusts in the fridge were old. Not just a little old, but “Best when used by December 12, 2021” old. Yikes. There were bread remnants in the freezer, saved for bread pudding, that had “Sell by” dates in 2020. Yikes again. A purge occurred.

Market Basket (Store number 1, baby!) on a Sunday afternoon is always hit or miss. Sometimes it’s nearly deserted and other times, like just before a Patriots game, it’s packed. I don’t know what was happening today, but it was one of those crazy busy times.

Carts and baskets were scarce and checkout lines were long. It didn’t take long to gather my two needed items and four additional items because I was there. I would have to wait in line for a box of pie crusts and a pound of mozzarella, so it made sense to grab some mixed frozen vegetables, ice cream, stuffed grape leaves, and a magic eraser cleaning pad while there.

Supper - tomato pie.

Once home, the timing of tomato pie baking had to be established. Too early and it wouldn’t be warm for supper. Too late, and I might be very hungry waiting.

The crust was pre-baked and shrunk during the process. Tomatoes were peeled, sliced, and drained. Mozzarella and cheddar were mixed with mayonnaise. Basil leaves were picked from the plant on the deck. Pie was assembled and baked. There was a patient wait for it to cool a bit and then it was suppertime. 

The tomato pie that had been dreamt of for at least a week finally came to be. And it was good. I am still grateful to the South for the introduction to tomato pie (and other things, but we’ll save those for another day.) 

Cake with honey -- yum!

Breakfast may have been missed, but it doesn’t mean there weren’t three meals for the day. Between brunch and supper, an additional “meal” happened in the form of a chunk cut from a plain single layer cake found in the freezer during the hunt for mozzarella. There was no icing or fruit, and honey was drizzled over the cake. And it was good. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 893 (Saturday) – action and adventure

Summer sky.

Action and adventure ruled a gorgeous summer day. The schedule kicked off with a 7:15 am departure to head to Fitchburg for the Finnish Breakfast at Saima Park. We had a full table of family and friends and it was a fortifying start to the day with oven pancake, coffee bread, sausage, bacon, cantaloupe, OJ, and coffee. 

After eating, we scattered to the winds. My cousin headed off for a kayaking adventure. Mom, Dottie, and I went to a church indoor yard sale where I scored a bag of Scrabble letters and a few other things from the 4/$1 table.

Mom and Dottie peeled off to some plans, and I was making the day up as it went along after having postponed a scheduled hair appointment by a few weeks. My next stop was my favorite clothing and housewares consignment shop in search of a very specific style of soup bowls that seem to have become extinct. The consignment shop is very near a big liquor store and Long Drink was finally bought to restock my fridge. 

Back in Lowell, there was a quick stop at St Vincent de Paul to look for the mythical soup bowls before heading homeward. There were no bowls. 

Dancing with swords.

After checking on Canine Overlord / Best Boy Ever, it was back out to the world. The next phase of adventure day was a Renaissance Festival at Regatta Park. A dancer friend had posted a couple days ago about the dance performances and that is how I heard about the event. 

The afternoon featured hot sun which was beautifully interrupted by clouds and breezes. The festival featured blacksmiths in action and whip cracking lessons. Costumed vendors sold jewelry and chain maille wall hangings. A dress-up booth had a green screen and racks of costumes. 

The dancers performed in an open area, with recorded music and the hammering of the blacksmith helping to keep time. The various dances included zills and props like swords, fans, and baskets. During the sword dance, a kid in the audience was peppering his mother with questions. "Mom, are those REAL swords? Do they practice?" Dear kid, the answer is yes. The costuming was gorgeous with brightly colored 25-yard skirts layered with scarves and belts.

Near the end of the show, an ice cream truck showed up, its arrival accompanied by the traditional ice cream truck music. It parked on the street along the field with the blaring truck music overpowering the dance music until the driver turned it off.  

As the dance performance concluded, festival attendees flocked to the truck for a chilled treat and I headed back home to hang with Winston.  The day had family, friends, food, and entertainment. Overall, it was a win.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 892 (Friday) – national dog day

Winston, Canine Overlord
of The BungaLowell.

According to the calendar and a Facebook feed filled with even more adorable dogs than usual, today is National Dog Day. Of course, at The BungaLowell, every day is Dog Day, lorded over by Winston, ruler of the humble abode.

It started like most days. First, the Canine Overlord did not wish to arise when the alarm went off at 6:15. He was allowed to sleep while the coffee was started. The royal breakfast was apportioned by the kitchen staff (me). This morning, the usual diabetes control kibble was embellished with hand-diced cheese and cucumbers topped with a sprinkle of wheat germ.

Winston eventually quietly made his way downstairs, sniffed the pricey enhanced kibble in his bowl, turned, and wandered away. When it suited him, he eventually signaled his readiness to be guided outside for his morning wee. His return to the interior world was heralded with the declaration that he is a good boy in both English and Finnish (“Winston on hyvä poika!”). He trotted directly to the cabinet where the container of treats is housed.

There was the usual amount of cajoling (by me) and reluctance (by His Royal Highness) before he ate enough food for the staff nurse (me) to administer an insulin shot. For tolerating the morning jab, Winston was again told he is a good boy. The best boy. Better than all the other boys of any species.

At 7:45, Win went back outside and the predeparture preparations began. It was time to carpet a section of the kitchen floor in pee pads, because even though he wears a male wrap with a toddler diaper in it, he has skillfully developed some sort of maneuver that allows him to still deposit an offering of urine outside the wrap. That is some talent.

Canine Overlord at rest.

After sneaking up on Winston, which is a lot easier now that he can’t see, I got the wrap band on him. Cookies were doled out with the stream of pre-departure mix of a lie sandwiched by truths. “Be a good boy! I love you!  I’ll be right back. I miss you already. Really, I’ll be back soon. I’ll miss you!” 

It’s a mystery what Winston does when I’m at the office, but when I’m home, he sleeps. He sleeps on the little blue rug in front of the A/C vent under the sink, on the little blue rug in front of the kitchen door, behind the office chair on the rug, on the kitchen floor, on his bed in the living room, on the rug next to his bed, and on the couch. So probably one or all of those in some sort of rotation.

After work, Winston meets me at the kitchen door, tail wagging. I greet him with a series of truths and no lies. “Hello good boy! I missed you! I’m so glad to see you! I told you I would come home!”  Today, the diaper was uncharacteristically dry. He went out to the backyard for a long wee. 

Half of the breakfast kibble (minus all embellishments) was still in the bowl from breakfast and another half ration was added. The container of bone broth made last week and stored in the freezer was demoted to the refrigerator on Thursday. It had thawed enough to pour out a couple ounces into a bowl to be microwaved and poured over the kibble.

Supper for the human.

The kibble with warm bone broth was clearly more appetizing than the morning ration where no broth could be added due to the still frozen state. I was spared the indignity of begging Win to eat and the insulin was injected. Good boy accolades where sung and treats were dispensed. 

This human opted for a supper of cheesy hot pepper ramen with shrimp. Post dinner napping commenced. For Winston, not me. My evening’s mindless entertainment was Partner Track on Netflix. It’s a rom-com series set in a New York law firm. It’s not awful. It’s good for unwinding.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 900 / 891 (Thursday) – wait, what day?

I woke up thinking it was Day 900 of this thing. Wrong! Holy moley. It turns out an audit was needed.

A discrepancy was discovered by accident with a Google check of “900 days” to see if there was any significance to the number 900 or the concept of 900 days. One entry in the results to the query “900 days” was “900 days before today” and I clicked on it. 

It turns out that 900 days before today was Sunday, March 8, and if there is one thing I know it is that this little misadventure didn’t start until Tuesday, March 17.

Oops. Date skip.

A quick and clearly very tardy mathematical check indicated today, Thursday, August 25, 2022 is Day 891. What. The. Heck. As noted aloud several times in the past couple years, I’ve lost all concept of time. Clearly, this isn’t hyperbole. It’s true. 

Now what? A choice needed to be made. One option was to correct the day count for today and move on. Another option was to hold at Day 900 in some sort of Groundhog Day movie remake until it’s finally, correctly Day 900. The day count was rolled back to the correct number. 

When did this miscount happen? And how? This is the sort of thing that will be stuck in my head and keep me awake at night until I find out what went wrong. Aware of the impending insanity, titles and day counts were scanned in the monthly listings. Would there be an obvious transposition and sudden jump of nine days that would be noticed? When could it have been?

No transposition was found in a quick scan, but it’s not like I was checking a column of numbers on a spreadsheet. Around the time I was thinking I’d probably be building a spreadsheet to log dates and entries, I started spot checking months and tallies.

After a while, there it was. In January 2022, the count jumped from Day 659 to Day 670. What? But that’s 11 days, not nine. There are additional issues.

Day 713 x four.

The scan revealed something else weird. In February 2022, it seems that the day that was tagged as Day 713 was great enough to be the count for four days. That muddied the water even more. Do I keep digging until I find every little glitch or do I just move on? 

Now, two things are possible. When I wake up tomorrow, I will have forgotten all about it. Or, it will bug me so much that I fret over it and eventually end up reviewing and retitling every entry and probably also make a spreadsheet index with day counts and topics. We’ll see.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 899 (Wednesday) – easy fix

Cause for concern?

The car was in the shop. A kind and observant neighbor had sent a text on Sunday that there were some big spots on my driveway where I park, and because the car is usually parked there, she correctly thought I hadn't seen it. 

The car was parked overnight on Sunday in a different spot to check if new leak stains appeared overnight and photos were taken of the leak stains. Some were reddish brown, some were darker, and all looked rather sizable. I wasn't sure how worried I should be.

The dealership website was consulted. It had easy online scheduling when I needed the oil changed in April. This time, the service online scheduling link led to options for either an info form or a chat box. Both required providing a lot of info, only to be informed that someone from the service department would call during normal business hours to schedule service. It seems that some programmer completely missed the point of “online scheduling.”  

Monday was a remote work day based on an email from the previous week that the A/C had been fixed but might not be totally set, and it was suggested to work remotely to be sure. The car was moved to a different spot in the driveway to check if it leaked overnight. It hadn’t.

At 12:30, with no call yet from dealership service, I called them. Joe in service told me that the earliest date they could look at the car was September 8. Three weeks felt like an excessive time to be worrying about a possible leak. I called the service garage two streets away from the house, and they could look at it Wednesday morning. Local for the win! At 2:30, a call finally came from the dealership service ticket opened online. I told her what Joe said hours earlier and that I was all set.  

Tuesday was a regular remote day. The car was relocated in the driveway to check for a leak. There was none.

Wednesday morning, the car was taken to the garage, located two streets away. There was bonus exercise with the walk back, a brief 0.3 miles. At 1:30, the call came from the garage that the car was all set and a second walk was taken to retrieve it. No leaks were found, the oil was full, but the oil filter was loose. And now it’s fixed, and worked out in the best way possible.

Decadent. Delicious.

After being at the house for most of vaca/staycation week, I was surprised to be feeling antsy to be in the office. During my online attendance of our weekly team meeting, I learned there were treats today to recognize birthdays and an intern finishing up her rotation. There were gigantic cookies from Crumbl Cookies in flavors like red velvet and strawberry and cinnamon frybread. There was also a decadent homebaked brownie treat layered with marshmallow and topped with chocolate. That was added incentive to  bolt for the office  as soon as I was in the car.

After work, the lawn was mowed. The weeds out front had gotten shaggy, but the back yard wasn’t too bad. The whole mowing operation took barely 30 minutes. Between the two little walking adventures and the mowing, the day was more active than most. I probably burned off one bite of the massive and delicious cookie and the homemade amazing treat. 

Overall, with an easy car fix that was also easy on the wallet, office time with colleagues, and amazing yummies, it was a pretty good day. A real treat.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 898 (Tuesday) social experiment

Tuesday night’s entertainment is a reality dating show called Cosmic Love. Check that – it keeps being referred to by the personalities involved as a “social experiment.” Unlike Indian Matchmaker which involved a human professional matchmaker who appeared on camera as a participant, Cosmic Love uses astrology to make love matches. The astrology matching part is interesting, but the disembodied voice of “The Astro Chamber” providing narration and astrological info is kind of weird.

Every person on the show is attractive and fit and looks like they stepped out of a luxury goods ad campaign or a toothpaste ad. The teeth are all perfect and blinding in their whiteness. The casting call for this show must have read something like “Buff swimsuit models only. No regular people. Nines and tens only.” Maybe the narrator isn’t attractive enough to be on camera and was forced to be represented as a glowing orb.

The Astro Chamber tells Connor about his match.

The eyelashes on some of the uber-stylish women look so thick and heavy that it seems it requires huge effort to keep their eyes open, and the super long nails have me wondering how these women can even get dressed. How do you zip anything, put in contact lenses, or get those insane lashes attached with two-inch talons? I know the lashes and long nails are hugely popular, so maybe some real-world people can fill me in on the logistics of these important details. Old people want to know. This one, anyway.

In one segment, groups of three are doing an activity involving body paint.  And magically, or more likely, on a cue from some producer, all the painting trios run together and “spontaneously” engaged in a paint fight. Seriously? And then, the body painted people break off into twos to engage in earnest one-on-one conversations about their feelings, while still covered in paint which is kind of funny. Both “funny ha ha” and “funny peculiar” like Mummu used to say. 

"Spontaneous" paint fight.

One of the guys talked about his “comfortability.” That’s not even a word. Is “comfort” too hard to say? Another guy said “intellectual” like “into-a-lectual.” Do the extra syllables make it sound smarter? I mean “into-a-lectual.”

One girl said, “I’m so beautiful, I’m not used to not being wanted.” Wow. Mummu’s words jumped immediately into my head. If she thought someone was being conceited, she used to say, “I love me, who do you love?” Either her spirit is watching Cosmic Love with me or I've finally, totally morphed into her.

It might be time to take up a new hobby besides streaming crap on TV. Maybe I can hire my own matchmaker. Perhaps get some long coffin nails and try to figure out how to function in daily life with them. Or start my own “social experiment” and make up fake words. Life goals.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 897 (Monday) – rain

Parched flowers,
hang by a thread.

It has been a summer of occasional promises of rain and near misses. Maybe we would get ten rain drops and often it seemed the rain was somewhere that was not here. The flowers in the planter have been parched. Despite efforts to water them, they have been baked and it's a miracle any of them are still alive. 

The front “lawn” crunched underfoot for days (weeks?) where the grass was valiantly attempting to survive. The weeds have miraculously managed to stay green, although the growth has been significantly slowed this year. Past summers have required a 7-to-10 day mowing cycle, but this year, it's been maybe only three times. If there is an upside to a drought, that would be it. 

Today started cloudy, and finally, it rained. There was a soft and gentle rain in the afternoon. It was friendly, congenial, and quite welcome. Winston didn’t seem to mind it during his potty break and I didn’t mind it while standing there at the gate keeping an eye on him (in scientific terms, observing his pee color and volume). It was like a friendly pregame party. An appetizer of sorts. The gentle rain didn’t last long before it took a break. 

It seemed to be getting
 greener as it rained.

A couple hours later, it rained again. It was less timid. Steadier. Heavier. More determined. It rained with a quiet confidence. The usual puddle (“Lake Lafayette”) formed at the end of the driveway.

Around 7:00, it was raining and the light took on an interesting quality. The sky was gray, but the light was also bright and a bit golden with the usual evening glow. It seemed the front lawn was turning greener as I watched.

There is more rain in the forecast for Tuesday, and as long as there is some pacing involved, it will be good. Hopefully, today’s rain helped to prepare the ground to receive more water. And hopefully, there will be some more rain for it to receive. We need it. Just not all at once. Pacing, please!

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 896 (Sunday) – farm fresh

Atop the rock crop.

Mom saw a sunflower festival listed in a regional events guide, so we took a ride to check it out. It was at an apple farm with pick your own blueberries, apples, and sunflowers. 

A duet played music and sang on a little stage in a shady picnic grove. The barn store had baked goods, cider, fudge, popcorn, and gift items. Another building had beer and a country BBQ menu. 

There was a handful of arts and craft vendors across from an outdoor wood fire pizza grill. A large pen contained several goats lounging in the shade and posing atop large rocks. Surprisingly, the the goats didn't smell that ripe and goat-y, but it was still a bit early in the day's heat.

I had seen many recent photos posted by Facebook friends that showed their children in towering fields clutching armloads of sunflowers with blooms as large as their beaming cherubic faces and perfectly manicured adult hands clutched bouquets that seemed to explode. I was a little excited to experience the majesty of being swallowed by a field of sunny blooms. 

The thing that seemed a bit scarce at the so-called sunflower festival today was sunflowers in the field to which visitors were directed. We walked along a dusty road, beyond a blueberry patch and arrived at a sad-looking garden of tall plants with some small and drought droopy blooms. It was the second weekend of the sunflower festival and based on number of cut and naked stems, it had apparently been a success before our arrival.

One of the remaining
 sunflowers.

As we left the apple farm, the road took us past a larger field of sunflowers which looked a lot fuller and more festive than the garden patch we were sent to for the "festival." Despite the comical and rather sad patch of sunflowers, it was a nice morning to be outside in the country. 

Our next stop was a bakery that sells Finnish and Scandinavian breads and baked goods, books, and gift items. 

For lunch, we "went into town" to the Gardner Ale House. My veggie sweet potato burger was quite tasty, and Mom said her fish tacos were good. 

Spontaneous day trips to a farm are fun. And I need to get my hands on one of those regional event magazines. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 895 (Saturday) – downtown

Morning blooms.

It was a nice weather day, hot and sunny. The kind of day where people flock to the beach, and based on the posts and photos flooding Facebook, that is what many people I know did and I'm guessing it was crowded from Salisbury, MA to York, ME.

The morning was spent mostly indoors with a few trips to the yard with Winston. The yellow evening primrose has been blooming at night and into the early part of the day when it is alive with fuzzy bees doing their pollen thing. I'm glad I was able to intercept the neighbor before she ripped it all out because she thought it was weeds.

The afternoon had a trip downtown. I tried to visit the new vintage shop on Merrimack Street.  A girl was standing in the doorway smoking a cigarette at 3:00 when I tried the door. Upon determining it was locked, I said, “Hmmm. Not open?” She said, “I think you have to call the number and make arrangements to go in.” That, my friends, is too much effort to browse some old-timey stuff. It sounds like a heck of a retail business model. If the street level storefront is never going to be open, why pay rent for a brick-and-mortar shop? Really, I want to know.

The brick park on Middle Street that is nestled in between brick buildings has had a facelift. There is a new, colorful mural on a big brick wall that really brightens up the space. 

New mural, Middle Street.

It was National Romance Book Day and LaLa Books had an author event and book signing. My visit was strategically timed to avoid the event because romance isn’t really my thing and I was afraid I’d end up in an awkward conversation where I would be forced to admit that at a romance book event. Yes, potential conversations are often imagined in advance.

The bookstore visit was made with the idea of getting the September Boozy Book Club selection and possibly Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman. There was a tempting display of books wrapped in plain brown paper with cute “profiles” for a “Blind Date with a Book.” In the end, the Book Club book (The Elephant of Belfast) was the only purchase, mostly because I remembered the many other recent book acquisitions that are piling up, still unread.

Once back home, a new book that was a birthday gift was opened and reading commenced (Darling Girl – a novel of Peter Pan). Sprawling on the couch reading a book with the A/C on when it’s 90 degrees outside was a pleasant way to enjoy a chunk of time at home.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 894 (Friday) – fantasy plan

Current porch ceiling.

The weather got hot again. There was no ambition and a lot of sitting around the house. In other words, it was a normal day off with the normal feeling of guilt for wasting another vacation day. 

While passively rooted to the couch, at least my mind was semi-active with imagining how the porch ceiling will look when finally painted. This, of course, requires prep work like choosing the color, buying paint and tarps, and researching best practices for painting a ceiling. 

There was an active planning moment when I stood in the porch and stretched my arms out to each side. There are just a few inches to spare on each side, so based on my height, I estimate the porch to be about six feet deep. The porch ceiling, like the stairwell and the two bedrooms and both sides of both their doors, is covered in wood paneling. The porch is the only paneling that is not yet painted. The fence along the front yard is as long as the house and is either 20 or 22 feet, so the project is something like 120 to 132 square feet. 

The color will be some version of Southern Haint Blue. Yes, I recognize I no longer live in the South. But I like blues. The porch walls and floor will eventually be transformed from the current burnt red color to some version of navy blue, but that is a fantasy plan for another day.

If not for needing to remove curtains and rollup shades from the 10 windows and the ceiling mounted light fixture, moving a bunch of stuff out of the way, covering furniture in tarps, and buying paint, it would already be done. It’s only been six years of deliberation, so it’s probably getting close.

This is one of those times when I really miss having a man friend or best gal pal. This partner in crime/sidekick would be the one who, at the first mention of such a project, would have us immediately in the car enroute to the purveyor of paint. No such person exists in my world, so it’s usually me trying to inspire myself to get my own butt in gear.

While headed to the backyard gate with Winston on one of his several afternoon trips, I was treated to a terrifying sight. Movement in the yard next door caught my eye, and not the cute little hop of the yard bunnies. It was a huge brown rat with a long tail, and it ran the length of the yard then disappeared. It looked like some kind of monster rat, not much smaller than the baby bunnies that were in the planter the other day. It’s a safe bet what will be starring in the next fresh crop of nightmares sure to be visited upon me. <Shudder.>

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 893 (Thursday) – showtime

The view from the
concert venue.

August 18 has been quite possibly the most anticipated Thursday in ages. Back in May, my friends and I bought tickets to see the multi-talented Matisyahu at Blue Ocean Music Hall at Salisbury Beach and I’ve been waiting ever since. Of course, in the feast or famine way of things, it also was the night of another anticipated event, and a sacrifice was required. Stupid space-time continuum. 

In case you don’t know of him (and I can’t believe that is possible and if so, how can we even be friends), “Matisyahu is an American Jewish reggae singer, rapper, beatboxer, and alternative rock musician, known for blending spiritual themes with reggae, rock and hip hop beatboxing sounds.” Check him out. I bet you know some of his work, even if the name is not top of mind.

The first time I saw Matisyahu was in July 2008 at an outdoor show at the San Diego Fair at Del Mar Raceway while visiting my cousins. In addition to the wonder of Matisyahu, the fair presented us with fairway food that included Chocolate Covered Bacon (oh, yes, yum!) and Deep Fried Butter, about which we could only ask “why?”.

Matisyahu, December 28, 2019.

My second date with Matisyahu was at Tupelo Music Hall in New Hampshire, in December 28, 2019. You know, shortly before the pandemic landed and the world skidded sideways. 

This third Matisyahu show places him in the running with my other musician boyfriend, Chris Isaak, as the artist I’ve seen the most often. They are also tied for the title of “famous musicians who don’t yet know they are my boyfriend.”

Summer 2022 may be nearly over, but this was my first concert of the summer. That is because the George Clinton Parliament Funkadelic show scheduled for Worcester in June was cancelled without explanation. There is still a twinge of bitterness over that.

Father and son, Blue Ocean Music Hall.

The night was fun. We kicked it off with beach pizza eaten at a picnic table. 

Matisyahu's older son sang a song about Fake Friends, and the younger son was on stage for a couple songs, playing drums and providing vocals. There was some stage diving coaching from his dad, and the younger son got to crowd surf. After the show, the younger son waved to people as he walked to the tour bus and seemed to be having the best night ever. 

According to the latest official Matisyahu schedule, Salisbury is the first of three shows in Massachusetts this weekend. There is a festival in Spencer on Friday, and another in Marshfield on Saturday. Hmmmm… I’m free both of those days.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 892 (Wednesday) – waiting

Winnie in the morning.

It seemed like it might rain. The weather forecast had not been checked and it was more of general hunch. When I was a kid, I could accurately smell when it was going to snow, so I figured my rain hunch had some backbone. Plus, it was cloudy. 

The early morning was occupied with the usual coffee, Wordle, Quordle, Facebook, and email. Winston sat on the couch, cool and composed. Mid-morning, I had the idea to check with my sister to see if she wanted to meet after lunch for ice cream near the farm stand with the cool plants. I did not reach out. Instead, I waited to see if the clouds would pass. They did not. It also did not rain.

Mid-day salad.

After a mid-day lunch of a healthy salad, I had the idea to check with my sister to see if she wanted to meet for ice cream mid-afternoon. During the trip, new plants could be bought to brighten the yard. I did not reach out, and instead, waited to see if the clouds would pass. They did not. It also did not rain.

The container of six brownies that had been baked the other day were removed from the freezer where they had been stored for safekeeping. “Just one” was had. Frozen brownies are pretty good.

Mid-afternoon, there was the idea to check with my sister to see if she wanted to meet for ice cream after supper. Instead, there was a nap on the couch, likely the effect of having eaten all six brownies. Groggy from the couch nap, I discovered Winston’s undigested breakfast vomited all over the bathroom floor.

Over the course of the day, each time Winston went outside, I noticed the clouds. They transformed from individual moody white and gray puffy things to solid and total cloud cover. Still thinking it would rain, the plants were not watered. Winston seemed ok, despite the earlier evidence of the mysterious digestive distress. 

Late day continued cloud cover.

My mood got a little gloomier over the lost opportunity for ice cream and new flowers. And also maybe a little bit for not doing a single thing except for loafing around all day and thinking about doing things instead of doing them. The clouds still hung overhead, and there was still no rain. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 891 (Tuesday) – beach day

Short Sands Beach,
York, ME.

Beach day was a good time. Mom and I arrived in York, Maine and parked the car at 10:45. It was breezy and cool at the beach. Cool, as in, I unrolled the sleeves of my shirt to their longest point over my wrists and debated adding another layer. 

The sun was shining, the sky was blue, the hard packed wet sand was dark gray, and the water was shades of green and blue. Kids rode the waves on boards as we walked toward the shallow water. We couldn't be at the beach and not at least get our feet wet.

We spent time in York most of the years of my youth, but Long Sands Beach was always our beach of choice. Once or twice, we shared a rental unit with Mummu, but usually it was my nuclear family camping in a tent for a week. In addition to the camping week, we often took day trips to York, arriving extra early to score parking on the street, making us amongst the first few people on the beach at 9:00 in the morning.

Hard packed wet sand of York.

Long Sands Beach has houses across the street from the ocean. Mom said the absence of a boardwalk and all the money-sucking distractions that kids would want like candy, pizza, arcade games, and souvenirs made it the top choice of the family adults. 

We would pack Dad’s scratchy, olive-green wool Army blanket and a lunch of sandwiches made of deli meats or chopped ham and pickle salad. Chopped ham (or Spam) and pickle salad was not every day food at our house and was reserved for the beach picnic cooler and holiday parties.

Today, we unpacked our chairs and spent time on Short Sands Beach, near the shops, Goldenrod Kisses, and the arcade. Mom wondered why we hadn’t been to that beach before, but I pointed to the building marked “Fun O Rama,” said that was probably why, and reminded her of the conversation we had just had about boardwalks. 

After an hour on the beach, we were hungry for lunch and chose the restaurant at Goldenrod Kisses. Our timing was perfect, and we were seated immediately. Bowls of clam chowder fortified us for the next planned activity – When Pigs Fly Bakery. Some of their bread is sold in local grocery stores, just never the chocolate bread, which is the one I like, due to its exotic flavor and scarcity.  

Mom got a loaf of sourdough, which had us reminiscing about the loaves of frozen sourdough bread dough she would sometimes buy at the grocery store and bake at home. When she baked a loaf of the sourdough bread and set the warm loaf on the supper table, we would devour the entire loaf in one sitting. 

After the bakery, it was a quick stop at the outlets. Mom wanted some new casual shoes, which we found at the Clarks Bostonian outlet. The next stop was the Cole Haan outlet so I could check out the clearance rack. Ever since finding a pair of pink loafers at Cole Haan several years ago, I’ve wanted to return. An ad for the ØriginalGrand Wingtip Oxford has been haunting me for months, but the price (listed at $180) was soundly rejected by my wallet. Today, the coveted shoes with the hot pink sole were found on the clearance rack for $33.

Wingtips all in a row - first to latest.

The new Cole Haan wingtips are the fourth pair in what now appears to have become an obsession which started with a pair of Rockport black and white wingtips. Now that knee pain and a jacked up ankle make it difficult to wear my beloved heels, it’s loafers and wingtips and low-heeled booties for comfort and stability. 

With sun, sand, chowder, fresh bread, and shoes, the day with Mom was a success. Everybody was a winner.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 890 (Monday) – staycation day

The BungaLowell is currently doubling as a staycation retreat, making it a budget friendly lodging option for my time off. If it were to be described in a rental listing it might be something like “Cozy bungalow on a dead-end street, just steps away from the embankment to Beaver Brook, features occasional visits by local wildlife. Nearby free entertainment includes impromptu productions presented by the Nuisance House Drama Company, directly across the street.”

Since the latest wildlife sighting of the two little bunnies on Saturday, it’s been a case of high alert and extended bunny searching. No bunnies have been seen, but bunny droppings were seen in the front yard. Also, there is a weird pile of dried grass and leaves covering a depression in the planter tub and I’m wondering if there is a bunny habitat in the planter.

Vacation menu: chicken salad
sandwich and an Arnold Palmer.

The relaxing staycation day at The BungaLowell included carving the Market Basket in-store roasted chicken bought yesterday and starting a stock with the carcass, baking brownies, and making chicken salad for a sandwich for supper. Weeds were pulled. Ice tea and lemonade were made and mixed together. The Canine Overlord and bunny lawn offerings were harvested. Attempts were made to stretch my very tight neck. 

Since turning off the central air conditioning and opening the windows when the high temperatures eased the other day, there is once again a front row seat to the live theater performances across the street. The lead actor loves to yell into his phone with bi-lingual recitations and the speaker phone is so loud, the voice on the other end can also often be heard. The acoustics and volume are such that I need to increase the volume on the TV if I want to ignore the show outside.

The weekend matinee featured frequent use of “court case” surrounded by lots of words in Spanish. Today’s scripting was focused on “the store.” The set design is always the same simple residential environment and the action is mostly the main character pacing in the driveway, on the sidewalk, and in the street while bellowing into the phone.

Overall, except for the brownie baking, it was a lot like a regular weekend day. There are plans later in the week, so the days will not all be this passively leisurely.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 889 (Sunday) – shake up

This morning was a little rough around the edges. It felt like a hangover, but the drink of the prior day was nothing but several large (20 ounce) glasses of ice water. In light of the absence of alcohol, the next best guess was the ill effects of too much sugar, but only if consuming minimal “real food” and multiple wedges of birthday carrot cake with cream cheese icing is “too much sugar.” It felt like it was. 

Today saw slightly better dietary choices. There was cheese quiche for brunch, but then it was followed by cake.

The weather was comfortable. A new hanging piece with glass pieces that look like peacock feathers (a gift from my sister) was hung in the porch. Hung, in this case, meant set onto two nails already in the wood above the windows since before I lived here. It was the morning's sole accomplishment. 

After several hours of doing very little which included watching multiple episodes of  Indian Matchmaker on Netflix, the idea struck to visit Goodwill in Hudson, New Hampshire. Sometimes, when the idea strikes, great treasures are found. Other times, procrastination is enjoyed until it’s too late to go. 

Today, adventure was undertaken. Two frames with window matts and glass were found ($5 each), one brand new and still in the original shrink wrap. The other holds a piece of artwork that I have decided I like and may keep in the frame and hang it as is instead of swapping in a piece as initially intended.

Goodwill is across the street from Market Basket, the convenience was seized upon, and groceries were gotten. The home produce bins are now restocked with salad ingredients and cheeses. It’s always fun to visit a different Market Basket than the ones usually frequented, and he Hudson store launched itself to favorite status. 

Healthier than cake.

Hudson has a wine aisle and a beer section. There is a nook with a refrigerator and several short aisles stacked high with beer. Unlike Hannaford in Dracut, which has mostly major boring beers like Miller, Bud, and Coors, the Market Basket selection was a bit overwhelming. There were many local and regional breweries represented. I wandered in a bit of a daze. My initial criteria had been “something I haven’t tried yet,” but that was most of the selection. I almost left the section with nothing.

A guy shopping in the section said to me that this was “the biggest choice of the day.” I agreed, and it led to a chat about beers and which types we liked. When I said “dark” he suggested Pig’s Ear Brown Ale from Woodstock Inn Brewery (NH). When he mentioned IPAs, I suggested Wormtown Brewing’s Be Hoppy. 

Pig's Ear Brown Ale.

We talked about buying beer in grocery stores in New Hampshire versus Massachusetts. He was nice. And then it was over and he checked out with his one item, the four pack of Be Hoppy and that was the end of that. It was nice while it lasted. I may have to start shopping the Hudson store and lurking in the beer department. 

There was a lovely fresh salad with feta cheese, Kalamata olives, and homemade dressing of olive oil, balsamic vinegar, lemon juice, and pepper. It was followed by an ear of fresh corn. Then, the rest of the cake was finished, under the guise of getting the cake container into the trash for the Monday pickup.

And because it’s officially vacation, the usual routine has been abandoned. A beer was opened. On a Sunday night! It’s been a day for shaking things up a bit. The beer is okay. I suspect the remaining 11 cans will last in the fridge for a while. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 888 (Saturday) – a day

The plants that once looked so bright and happy in the three-tiered planter on the deck have suffered in the heat and dry weather, a situation exacerbated by my neglect in regularly watering them. This morning, watering was remembered, mostly because company was coming and I was rushing around like a little tornado wiping the deck table, opening the umbrella, sweeping floors and wiping counters. The rushing was hindered by knee and leg pain, which the orthopedic guy dismissed months ago, saying the x-rays look fine, but some days there is pain with practically every step.

Little bunnies!

The planter was watered and the remainder was poured into the large deck planter where tomatoes were slaved over for several summers, only to disappear or not produce. Last year I gave up, but not to the point of emptying the dirt and removing the tub. The giving up was along the lines of letting whatever chooses to grow in the tub grow without interference from me. Last year a few random flowers grew. This year, it looks like weeds and smaller plants of the evening primrose that grows on the other side of the deck. 

While shaking the last of the water from the jug into the tub, I realized I had just shaken water onto two little bunnies sitting in the dirt at the edge of the tub. I ran inside for some carrot slices just in case it’s true that bunnies like carrots. When I dropped carrot slices into the tub, it startled one of the bunnies and it jumped out of the tub. When I checked a few minutes later, the other was also gone.

Carrot cake. Yum!

I felt like a horrible human giant that scares little bunnies and they were on my mind for the next few hours until I was distracted with running an errand. The objective was to drop off some snacks for a reception downtown and get back to the house before Mom, StepDad, and my sister arrived. When I got home, they were waiting in the driveway, but luckily hadn’t been there long. We sat on the deck in the beautiful weather. There was lunch followed by carrot cake.

After they left, there was a nap on the couch. Maybe it was a sugar crash from the cake. Or advanced age. The rest of the day was quiet and solitary. It’s been a full week of the return of smelling cigarette smoke that doesn’t exist and it’s really grossing me out. It’s the third or fourth time of this in the past couple years and I wish it would stop, or at least not drag on for weeks. I ate more cake for supper, because it was available. Winston napped.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 887 (Friday) – low high

The busy day had stretches of time where it felt like I hadn’t breathed in hours. It was a continuation of the trend of most of the rest of the week. Part of it was the usual flow of project elements that were suddenly ready for next steps needing to be executed by me. Part of it was my effort to clear the desk for a week out of the office. 

Winston!

New today, Winston has something going on that caused him to yelp when I picked him up and a couple times when he got up from laying down. It’s different than the times he had a knee issue and temporarily became a three-legged dog, and I wasn’t able to call the vet until a skosh after 4:00, at which time they were already closed for the day. If it keeps up, we may get to visit the emergency vet this weekend. It’s been one year and five days since that last awful, final visit there with Moose.

In past years and different circumstances, birthday eve and vacations were often kicked off with cocktails with friends. Tonight, the vacation for one kickoff option was dinner for one ordered from the preferred purveyor of home delivered delectable treats. Two coupons arrived from them via email this week – one for the free birthday dessert (expires August 21) and my favorite in the regular coupon rotation, 20 percent off an order of $30 (expires August 17).

The strategic planning of orders and coupon usage was underway. The site was visited with a fried seafood dinner in mind. A narrow banner at the top of the site announced “The store will be closed for summer vacation. We will reopen Monday, August 22nd Happy summer!!!” Umm… seriously? This was feeling a little like a sinking ship.

The unfortunate timing of the pizza parlor vacation leaves the weekends at both sides of vacation with me having to fend for myself for food. What if I find a new favorite place during this time? It could happen. (Probably not.)  And thanks for the poorly timed valuable coupons. I sure hope they are honored the week of the 22^nd.

Luckily, there was still pizza in the freezer from a couple weeks ago and a slice and a beer, while not even close to a fried seafood dinner, became the sad substitute. The beer was Yuengling lager, which may be steeped in history coming from the nation’s oldest brewery, but it’s so lackluster it’s been in the fridge since last fall.

While reaching for the laptop, a glass of water was overturned by an elbow and spilled all over the floor. The usual nighttime foot cramps kicked in with a vengeance. It might be birthday eve and the start of vacation, but it really is just more of the same here.

Evening sky in car windows.

On the cheery side of things, while I didn’t quite see a summer sunset thanks to being surrounded by tall houses and trees that block the view, I saw evidence of the evening magic. While letting Winston out, the evening light was reflected in the car windows where it was more visible than in the sky above. It wasn't a dramatic sunset or a meteor shower or a super moon, but it was something.

To cheer myself up further and take a break from searching from shows to binge, YouTube was visited to see the new video “Goth Beach” by Walter Sickert and the Army of Broken Toys, a local band I was introduce to by a friend several years ago. There is a treasure trove of videos by the band on YouTube, and watching a steady string of them was the high point of the night.