“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 958 (Monday) –bonus lesson

Near the end of tonight’s Finnish class, we were introduced to the word for “to love” (rakastaa) and some cultural context around its usage. It’s changing for the younger generations, but apparently, saying “I love you” for the older generations of Finns is rare. Hugging, for the older generations is also kind of rare and awkward, and classmates shared stories of their parents and some comical hug situations.

It was like a lightbulb exploded in my head. This explained most of my childhood. When I was growing up, we were not the kind of family to be hugging and tossing out an “I love you” on the way out the door. Or hardly ever. It didn’t mean we didn’t love each other, just that we didn’t vocalize or demonstrate it as a regular thing. 

I remember being at a friend’s home in junior high school, and as we were preparing to leave to go somewhere, each of her parents gave her a hug, said “I love you.” We weren’t going off to Canada for a week, we were going to a school thing and would back in a couple hours. I observed the goodbyes then and many more times afterward, always wondering what the heck kind of freaky, sappy, weirdo nonsense it was. The affectionate goodbye thing was a completely foreign concept to me. 

In my 20s I was stunned the first time my brother hugged me and tossed an “I love you” on his way out the door. The family eventually climbed on board the hugging and “I love you” wagon, probably thanks to the friends we brought home who would hug my parents, and now it is a regular thing for us.

Tonight, in class, I learned that the absence of hugging and saying “I love you” is a very Finnish thing, at least with the older generations. Clearly it came through from Mummu’s upbringing and that of her parents and all the generations before them.

I never expected my language class to have the added bonus of a free therapeutic breakthrough, but that nugget of information has been illuminating.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 957 (Sunday) – dog day

On October 30, 2020, it snowed at The BungaLowell. It certainly snowed elsewhere, too, but the back yard is the only place I have a photographic record from that day. Winston was perky and spry and could still see then, and he frolicked in the yard in the fresh snow. Moose was not really a fan of snow, avoiding it whenever possible and tolerating it when he had to. He would walk as close to the house as possible, seeking the shelter of the few inches of gutter overhead.

Winston - a work of digital art.

The 2022 edition of October 30 featured sunshine and foliage and seemed to be not too chilly. Inside, the household appliances were busy with laundry and dish cleaning. A new pot of soup with potatoes, carrots, broccoli, and onion soup mix simmered on the stove and filled the house with a yummy fragrance. Despite my best intentions to finish writing sentences for my Finnish homework, time was spent streaming a new season of the Finnish crime drama Deadwind, recently added to Netflix.

The only times I went outside were to bring the trash bin to the curb and to cater to the Canine Overlord and his 10,000 outdoor adventures. It was another day of him scratching at the front door, then taking a hard left to stand at the door to the side deck. He would steadfastly refuse my urgings that he go to the front yard and would hold his position at the side door until I caved to his demands. It rarely takes long, because I just don’t have the attention span for it, and he’s old and has enough going on without me micromanaging every second of his remaining time.

Once on the deck, Winston’s routine is to alternately wander and relax in the sun, then mosey through the yard, sniffing the perimeter fence line. Eventually, he makes his way to the gate at the end of the driveway, where he barks to come back inside.

Winston in the snow, October 30, 2020.

While Win is engaging his deck and back yard entertainment I either scurry around the outside of the house to close the back gate, or head through the house and out the back door to close it. A couple weeks ago I forgot that step and after an extended period of quiet and no barked demand to come inside, I discovered there was no longer a dog in the yard. Winston was walking in the street about three houses away.  Since losing his vision, he moves more slowly. In his sighted days he liked to run, and once out of the yard, would make a break for it. With his nose to the ground and bumping into things, travel progress is much slower, which gives me a decent chance to catch him. 

When indoors, Winston lounged on the couch, tapping my leg with his paw for me to rub his head, then shifting just far enough away that I couldn’t reach him. That has long been one of his favorite games, and it reminds me of cats I used to know. At least he’s easily entertained, and the drama is left to the shows on TV.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 956 (Saturday) – dancers

It was a colorful ride to Ashby, Mass. and a nice couple hours at the reception for the Marion Rice Dance Legacy Project Photography Exhibit. The Gallery of Art at the Ashby Free Public Library was hung with dozens of images of Mrs. Rice and her dance group through the years from the 1930s to 70s. 

The dance legacy of Marion Rice includes her daughter Carolyn Brown, founding member of the Merce Cunningham Dance Company; daughter-in-law Mona Irvine Rice, founder of the dance department at Cushing Academy; and granddaughters Rebecca Rice, founder of Rebecca Rice Dance; and dancer Robin Rice.

Marion Rice in "Impromptu,"
choreography by Ted Shawn.

It’s always nice to spend time in the company of dancers from the dance studio of my high school years. Some of my favorite moments and memories are tied to Mrs. Rice's Main Street studio with the seafoam green walls and the big window to the fire escape that was opened to serve as the air conditioning in the summer. 

We chuckled over our current posture and its deviation from the “four points of good posture.” “Heads up, shoulders back, tummy in, and hips forward” was taught beginning with the “Baby Class” of three- and four-year-olds and continuously reviewed. As teens, our studio training included how to walk confidently to always look like we knew where we were going even if we didn’t, and especially if we were in a city like Boston or New York City for auditions. Great life lessons.

Today, we studied the photos, and looked at old newspaper clippings about Mrs. Rice and the studio that belonged to a friend’s mother, both of whom were dancers with Mrs. Rice. There was even the handbook for Camp Maristuda, the summer dance camp held for many years at Mrs. Rice’s Ashby home at Rice Acres. 

Some of the dancers still gather weekly to run through the studio repertoire of Denishawn and Marion Rice choreography. During the pandemic they danced outside, even in the cold. You can take the dancer out of the studio, but you can’t take the dance out of the dancer.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 955 (Friday) – halloween weekend eve

Bettie Page, 2008.

The week was busy and flew past like a Halloween image of a witch on a broom. Not a cute and sexy witch on a broom like Samantha on Bewitched, but more like the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz. Meaning, it went by fast, but it was stressful and not exactly always pleasant, with minimal comedic moments.

At least a dozen times I wished a house would fall on me, because the odds seemed a lot better than the “Calgon take me away” allegedly relaxing bull crap produced by some major New York City ad agency and broadcast on TV way back when. 

There were at least 100 times that I tried to remind myself I get paid the same amount of money whether I am cool as a cucumber or a ball of stress. It did not work. Stress prevailed.

I wobbled and teetered on the edge a lot. But at least now it’s over. Until Monday anyway. Or more exactly, Tuesday, because Monday is booked as a vacation day, which I totally forgot about until in the car on the way home. I hadn’t set my out of office message or taken my handwritten “Weekly to-Do” notepad with me or anything else I might need or want for working remotely on Tuesday. There may have been some colorful language, but I was alone in the car, so it's all ok.

Prince, 2019.

And the vacation day, as usual, isn’t even for anything fun. It’s for yet another medical appointment in the morning of a day where I would be going in early to leave early for Finnish language class in a season where I need to use vacation time before year end. So yes, vacation day, You have no idea how much I wish I could say I was attending some sort of Halloween witch convention or something else interesting and exciting. But nope. Not at all.

As for the weekend, there are exactly zero costume parties on the calendar. Once upon a time, Halloween weekend meant parties at bars, or houses, or garages attached to houses. There were costumes including Prince, (twice) a disco queen, Groucho Marx, Bettie Page (twice), a Cowboy, Red Riding Hood (thrice), a mermaid (twice), and more. Not this year. This year, the "costume" is stressed out hermit witch alone in the lair with the company of her decrepit dog.

For the past few years since the great disruption of the pandemic, Halloween weekend is just another weekend in normal attire. Dressing up in a costume to sit on the couch alone and watch TV would just be weird, even by my flexible standards. Maybe I should wear a costume to the appointment on Monday.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 954 (Thursday) – sky blue pink

When I was a kid peppering Mom with questions one of them was, “What is your favorite color?” She would always respond “Sky blue pink,” pause a beat, then add, “with purple polka dots.” I would ask the question periodically to see if the answer would be the same. It always was. There was no such crayon in any Crayola box, and I thought it was her made-up comedy schtick, because how could there be such a fantastical sounding thing as “sky blue pink?” I would tell my friends Mom’s favorite color, which was so exotic compared to their Mom's preferences.

The rapidly fading sky blue pink.

While sitting in traffic on the University Bridge at 5:45 this evening, trying to get downtown for a meeting, there was time to notice the sky. To the right, towards the direction of Tyngsboro, it was a painterly combination of pale blue fading into a golden glow over the Merrimack River. To the left, it was pale blue melting into pink. There were no purple polka dots. 

I was a fully formed adult before realizing that “sky blue pink” existed. I was in my early days of photography when I was paying attention to everything. It’s right there in the sky, ever so briefly.

By the time I arrived at my destination and parked, the color was fading. The magical evening light comes quickly and disappears just as fast. The photos I was finally able to take are pale, barely there representations of reality. Stupid traffic.

Book club snacks, aka supper.

The monthly book club meeting was fun. It turns out all of us had “a day” in the midst of “a week.” I know I was grateful for the chance to shake off the workday and enjoy a dark-ish Smuttynose Old Brown Dog Ale and the shared appetizers of crispy onion rings, fries, sweet potato fries, fried cheese sticks, and fried pickles.  

Almost as quickly as the sky blue pink faded from the sky, our meeting was done and we scattered to the winds. And now, we are on hiatus until January due to holiday schedules. It’s a bit of a bummer, but also a great opportunity to address the growing stack of books on the bedside shelf, so there’s that.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 953 (Wednesday) – memory lane

I wasn’t always a stay-at-home hermit, only venturing out for work, board meetings, monthly book club, and the occasional entertainment. Once upon a time, life was rich, full, and exciting and October was a month for big entertainment.

Zoe Jakes in Boston, 2013.

On October 21, 2010, I attended Bellydance Superstars at the Belcourt Theatre, one of two or three shows I saw staged by them during my time in Tennessee. BDSS was a touring group with a repertoire incorporating many different dance styles. And by different styles, they aren't kidding. There were all sorts of Middle Eastern belly dance, tribal, and fusion, and I once saw a dancer in one of their shows perform a belly dance in classical ballet pointe shoes. I wished I’d seen something like that as a teen studying dance.

On October 15, 2011, I saw Beats Antiques in Nashville, and then again on October 26, 2013, when I went with a friend to see them at the Paradise Rock Club in Boston. In both Beats Antiques shows, the music was their fun, interesting, and quirky blend of experimental world fusion and electronic music. There are sounds of the middle east, klezmer, jazz, and everything else. 

Zoe and antlers, Boston 2013.

Zoe Jakes, who was a member of Bellydance Superstars, is a member of Beats Antiques as a composer, musician, and lead dancer.  Her pioneering fusion style incorporates styles including traditional belly dance, tango, and Indian dance. Depending upon the song, she might be playing a big drum, or dancing with fans. The costumes were creative, clever, and in some cases wild, and included a headpiece with large antlers in both shows I’ve seen. It’s quite a spectacle.

In October of 2013 and 2014, it was Cirque du Noir in Worcester. The wardrobe was black themed, the food and music were amazing, the artwork for the fundraiser auction was always varied and exciting. In 2017, it was the vacation trip to Jamaica.

Those were fun times. There isn’t much time left to beef up the entertainment plan for October 2022, but maybe next year I can get back into the groove. Adding it to the life goals list.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 952 (Tuesday) – betty quaker

Over the weekend, the ghost of Betty Quaker visited the BungaLowell and was welcomed with open arms. Betty Quaker is the name my sister and I came up as kids with while joking that Betty Crocker and the Quaker Oats guy should get married. We called each other Betty Quaker while making brownies and whatever else in the kitchen of our youth, and then we would laugh hysterically. 

Hot on the steam of the baked sweet potato – apple – sausage thing, Betty Quaker engaged in a pantry raid. The first instinct for a follow-up bake was macaroni and cheese, but things got all crazy up in the kitchen and some improvisational cooking happened.

Instead of mac and cheese, the idea morphed into baked gnocchi with grated cheese of various cheesy flavors. It was pretty good and will likely be made again. 

Hooray for Betty Quaker.

There are now several perfect portion sized containers in the freezer containing the sweet potato stuff and the gnocchi, expanding the microwavable fast lunch and supper options. Today’s supper was a bit of each, supplemented by stuffed grape leaves from Market Basket. 

I used to buy the stuffed grape leaves from MB all the time pre-pandemic, but hadn’t had much luck finding them recently until one of last week’s several “my hobby is now grocery shopping” stops. And now the grape leave obsession can begin anew. There was a stretch when I ate them regularly until I overdid it and just couldn’t eat any more. Luckily, it seems I’ve recovered. Other food overdoses haven't had a miraculous recovery.

There was a situation involving a solid white chocolate cross on Easter when I was maybe eight or nine years old. Because I loved it, the Easter Bunny brought me white chocolate while my brother and sister received milk chocolate bunnies. It turned out that eating the entire ten-ton hunk of white chocolate before church was a great way to be cured of a love of white chocolate. Sometimes, too much of a good thing really is just too much.

A more extreme situation occurred with the chopped liver overdose of the mid 1980s. We never had to eat liver growing up because Mom hated it, but Mummu liked it, so I had it at her house. Decades later, I was introduced to chopped liver while visiting the in-laws. After I had a speck of it on a cracker and said I liked it, Ex 1’s mother sent us home from the Bronx with a margarine tub packed with the stuff. After eating it for another day or so, it was like a switch flipped and suddenly, the sight and smell of it was unbearable. 

White chocolate made a mild comeback after many years, but chopped liver can stay in the been there, done that, never going back section of life. Betty Quaker shall make sure to avoid such a fate for stuffed grape leaves. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 951 (Monday) – music memories

Music used to be a big part of my daily life. Thanks to the constantly changing technology including my current vehicle with no CD player, my music collection now lives in bags, boxes, a malfunctioing iPod, and the hard drive of an outdated Mac desktop computer.  At age six, love of classical music began when I started ballet classes. Dad was a DJ when I was growing up and our dining room was dominated by a reel-to-reel tape recorder and Dad's music collection. He would play music and would practice his song introductions, and listen to the beginnings and ends of songs to ensure smooth segues between songs, avoiding awkward tempo changes or the biggest sin in his music playbook – dead air. 

Shopping bag of music that was
in the old car with CD player.

When I was in junior high school, he was the DJ at a couple of our school dances. Lucky me. Every awkward kid in 7^th to 9^th grade wants her father to be the entertainment at the dance. Not really.

Throughout my life, music has marked chapters and people. My family’s home life had a music soundtrack and it was the Top 40, which Dad owned and constantly updated on vinyl. The radio always played in the car and there were constant pop music quizzes – “Who sings this song?” Every time I am faced with a major life change with a relationship, job, or relocation, The Clash's Should I Stay or Should I Go is suddenly everywhere.

Mummu bought me Broadway musical soundtracks and tickets to Boston theaters when musicals came to town. She sang along to music from the 20s, 30s and 40s when I was young, and stray lines from very old music still randomly pop into my head. “Five foot two, eyes of blue, oh what those five feet could do. Has anybody seen my gal?” and many others are solidly linked with Mummu’s kitchen and her small, red plastic transistor radio. Sunday with the Pops played while she cooked our dinner and  I twirled and practiced ballet.

Mike, Mike, Mike.

Guys I liked in high school and college are forever linked in my brain with Bruce Springsteen, Bob Seger, and Southside Johnny. A guy I dated briefly in high school and again after the divorce from Ex 1 shared his love for the movie It's a Wonderful Life. He also introduced me to the band  Del Amitri when we did the Denver – Worcester long-distance relationship thing for a while. During that romance and for many years after it had quietly imploded, it seemed that every time I shopped, and especially in a TJ Maxx, Del Amitri’s Roll to Me played on the sound system and I would think of Mike. 

Tonight, Roll to Me played on the radio as I drove through the hometown we are both from. It was like Mike was right there with me, on our dates in the public library after school, at a bookstore in Denver and my class reunion in Fitchburg where he knew more people than I did. He died in 2012, and it was nice being musically reminded of him, while at the same time feeling sad missing him. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 950 (Sunday) – ruts and tradeoffs

Jamaica, October 2017.

On this date in 2017, I was in Jamaica with a group of friends. We arrived on the 21st, and it was the last “proper” vacation in years in that it required packing and being away from home for a full week. There was fine dining and buffets and drinks on the beach brought by waiters and a spa massage.

Vacations in the years since then and now have been closer to labor camp than a tropical all-inclusive resort, and it’s all my own doing, the not making plans or having fun, whether near or far. 

The reasons for not traveling feel valid and depressingly practical and are dominated by finances, Canine Overlord health, and the boarding expenses that are equal to my own vacation cost. It’s part of the ongoing series of boring and practical life tradeoffs, started when I was a wee lass.

Some of the most memorable practical life tradeoffs have included not attending high school plays and events because it would have required taking time off from the part-time, minimum wage job that helped finance my life as a student. There was a week-long archeology dig not done in college, due to finances. There was the photography group trip to Ireland that was skipped in favor of paying first and last month’s rent on an apartment that let me move out and break up with a live-in boyfriend. And so on.

The most carefree and frivolous recent activities have been grocery shopping without a list and the online purchases of several pairs of shoes. Maybe the spring trip to Rome can help bust the rut.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 949 (Saturday) – once upon a day

Conjugating verbs.

It was up at 6:00 and out the door at 7:37 for Finnish breakfast at Saima Park in Fitchburg. The intent was to leave by 7:30 to allow for an unhurried stop at the ATM on the way, but I was busy conjugating Finnish verbs for my homework and got a late start. Once at the breakfast, it was a full house with hardly a seat available. 

After breakfast, a few of us headed to my sister’s house for a small birthday gathering for Mom, whose birthday is on Sunday. After a couple hours of conversation and some strawberry shortcake, we peeled off in separate directions. My direction was an appointment for a dental cleaning because it has been two days since my last dental appointment and I kind of missed the place. There was a detour to Mummu's grave for a quick visit and weed pulling on the way, because I haven't stopped by for a while.

The dentist’s office had a very different vibe from Thursday. I was the only person in the waiting room and the TV was a blank rectangle on the wall. It’s the first time in all my years going there that there wasn’t some sort of home decorating or property search/flip show blaring. There was only one person behind the counter that had three or four people working on Thursday. My hygienist and one dentist were the only others in the office at 1:00 and I wondered what they had done to deserve the punishment.

Then it was exciting errands including gas and a car wash with vacuum in Fitchburg. There was a grocery run once back in Lowell, after a journey of epic proportions thanks to a massive traffic jam on 495. It took forever to navigate the ramp onto 495 N and then we crawled like pond scum, hitting top speeds of three or five mph. There were five vehicles in the median further up the road. 

For some weird and inexplicable reason, grocery shopping seems to be my new default hobby. In the past week I have excelled at it, visiting two different Market Basket stores and a Hannaford.

Back at home, the weekly chicken was carved and the bones set to simmer for broth. Supper was a compilation of earlier kitchen efforts – the sweet potato, apple, and sausage baked dish, rice pilaf with broccoli and brussels sprouts, supplemented with newly purchased Greek stuffed grape leaves and still-warm roasted chicken.

Winston was a happy guy when I returned home, and was ready for his supper, which he devoured with gusto. It’s significantly less stressful when he eats. And if buying a store roasted chicken each week is the answer to him eating his fancy medicine food, it’s worth the trips to the grocery store.

Broken. Oct 22, 2011.
Exact words were "F*%k."

For all the activity of the day, present day October 22 was relatively tame compared to some of the October 22s of the past. In 2016, it was my niece's ball hockey tournament and 2013 was a David Sedaris show in Worcester. In 2008, I was packing for a trip to Vegas, barely a month after a trip to Santa Monica. The most dramatic was clearly October 22, 2011with the roller derby bout and trifecta of first broken bone, first surgery, and first hospital stay. 

Conjugating verbs and grocery shopping, even at their roughest, sure are tame compared to a busted leg and the bonus accoutrements that came with it, and that's not a bad thing at all. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 948 (Friday) – lounging neglect

Baked sweet potato.
apple, and sausage.

Today’s vacation day kitchen adventure involved sweet potato, apple, and hot Italian sausage. There were sliced and layered with red hot pepper flakes and cinnamon, and baked for a half hour. During the bake time, I was suddenly hungry. Immediately, can’t wait 30 minutes for this thing to cook hungry. 

Thank goodness for soup season and the Reheat > Soup setting on the microwave. The entire starvation situation could have been avoided with breakfast, but for whatever reason, breakfast is often forgotten on non-work days. Routines really are the glue that holds my days together.

Once the baked thing was done baking, it went untouched. I wasn’t hungry after the soup, and then I forgot about it when nuking leftover rice, broccoli and brussels sprouts for a fast supper.

The North Central Mass tourism guide was consulted for inspiration for activities. None was found for a Friday. Facebook events were consulted. The Waze route to IKEA in Stoughton was plotted. Then, Netflix was turned on and scary shows were streamed. These can only be watched during daylight hours to increase the odds of sleeping at night. Vacation days seem to be waver between life maintenance and willful neglect. 

Meanwhile, over on the Canine Overlord side of the couch, Winston slept. The napping was interrupted by dozens of trips outside. There were times he went out to the front yard then barked to come inside just moments later. Then he would walk to the back door and bark to go out to the back yard. He played me with that stunt multiple times. 

Lounging.

Win ate only half his breakfast today, so it was surprising he had the energy to run me ragged with his in and out antics. After several days of good eating, he seems to be back in another cycle of not eating his food. Sometimes he finishes breakfast during the day, but today, it was 5:00 before he was interested in it again. 

Winston's evening naps took place on the floor. There were session on the rug and others where he draped himself casually across his bed, which he skillfully turns inside out, kind of like how I sometimes feel dealing with the shenanigans. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 947 (Thursday) – four stars

It was a vacation day, specially selected to accommodate a dental appointment. For a root canal. Ugh. Clearly, my trend of using personal time off for living large and in charge and maxxing out the fun meter continues.

Winston was up at 1:00 a.m. and 3:00 a.m. which meant I was up at those ungodly hours because you know, dog, locks and doorknobs, no opposable thumbs. As a result, we slept until 8:00, which felt great. 

Retro sneaker style in a
modern dental office.

Blah, blah, usual morning routine, outfit included brand new Retro Multi Suede  sneakers, an online impulse purchase from Hush Puppies earlier in the week. The original intended purchase was low rain boots depicted in a Facebook ad and the $70 sneakers were added to save the $6 shipping. Shopping logic reigns.

Then it was out the door to the dentist in Fitchburg, because I never got around to changing to a new one closer to home. When visits were only twice year for cleanings it was fine, because they have Saturday hours, but when there are problems it’s a lot less fine.

I arrived a bit early which allowed time to sit in the parking lot and investigate the suddenly extra loud volume on the nagging system voice that broadcasts the speed limit when hitting seven miles above it. Once in the system settings, I saw that the volume was mysteriously at 37, despite being manually set at 20 months ago. It takes about 97 commands to get into that setting and it isn't the sort of thing that can be accidentally changed. So weird.

Once inside the building, it was a 15-minute wait beyond my appointment time. The usual home decorating /house flipping /home search shows played on the waiting room TV. My stomach was growling and there was regret at not having eaten breakfast. Once in the chair in the surgery wing, there was tapping on the tooth and blasts of cold. Then there were at least twice as many numbing needles as usually received for a normal filling.

The drilling of the temporary cement and the old filling commenced, and then there was a declaration from the dentist. He didn’t think I needed a root canal, and the situation looked worse on the x-ray than what he saw in my tooth. I said, “I think I love you.”

There was a build out done, and I get to go back for a crown, but I’ve been on that journey before and know what to expect. There was advice to be alert for throbbing or sensitivity and to call if that happened. Overall, it was a good dentist visit. Four out of five stars. A five star dental visit would be none at all. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 946 (Wednesday) – triumph

Today saw a victory. After months on a project that had been fraught with delays and challenges and a high level of frustration, my department’s role was completed. The final step involved printed letters, which we usually outsource, but due to the project timeline and the smaller volume, we chose to handle it ourselves. Yesterday was consumed with list sorting and file preparation. Today saw the printing, stuffing, and mailing of three different letters in three different mailing envelopes with various enclosed documents.

The triumph was aided by our real-life Mail Room Action Hero. For whatever reason, in all the project starts and stops and discussions and plans, the specifics of the envelopes had never been discussed and I was prepared to run hundreds of envelopes through the printer and then match them to the letters.

When using window envelopes was finally realized as a possibility, a question was sent to the mail room. Faster than a speeding bullet, window envelopes were in my hands, delivered with a smile by our very own superhero colleague. Thank you, kind sir, you saved us a bunch of time. Teamwork really does make the dream work.

Buried!

There was a brief interlude for our weekly team meeting, and then it was back to envelope stuffing and the mental game of “I can eat lunch after I finish stuffing this stack of letters.” It seems I respond well to a reward system, even when I make it up myself.

Carried-in lunch of leftover fusilli, hot Italian sausage, and sauce was heated in the microwave. My desk was uncharacteristically buried in stacks of letters, inserts, and envelopes and I couldn't eat there like I usually do. While eating at the little table near our kitchenette, a safe distance between spaghetti sauce and white envelopes, we got word there was leftover catered food from an event in the suite downstairs. The homemade lunch went back into the fridge and colleagues and I dashed downstairs to grab some mushroom ravioli and butternut squash ravioli. It was delicious.

After the fine dining, the 239 letters were sealed (with help from a colleague) and bagged for the mail room. It was a huge relief. I wanted to cry tears of joy. Instead, I ate way too much of the cookies and candy that had magically appeared on our work counter. The sweet taste of victory was supplemented by the sweet taste of Hershey Kisses, M&Ms, Reese’s Cups, and apple caramel oatmeal cookies. Finishing a big task has never felt or tasted so good. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 945 (Tuesday) – comfort lava

You know those days where things start out maybe a little rough and then just get rougher? Yeah, me too.

The Monday night thunderstorm rolled in just as I was trying to go to sleep. There was thunder, vivid lightning, wind, and heavy rain, and somewhere in the racket, I thought I heard a dripping sound, which is a great sound for instilling paranoia, fear of leaks, and keeping sleep at bay. Eventually, sleep arrived, but I woke up more tired than when I went to bed.

Luckily, it was a remote work day with no video meetings because the reflection in the mirror was not that of a well-rested person and no amount of concealer was going to help. The bags under the eyes were definitely not designer accessories. 

The best part of a morning routine is the ability to sleepwalk through it. Muscle memory guided the measuring of the royal kibble, heating of the royal chicken bone broth, chopping of the royal chicken, and finally, the brewing of coffee for the human servant to the Canine Overlord. Before the caffeine kicked in, things moved at a glacial pace, but afterward, the pace was normal.

Remote work days are my favorite outcome of the entire pandemic. No commute, just log in and get going. The day’s priority on the to-do list seemed straightforward – check a data list, segregate the data, do a file merge for three letters, prepare and send proofs for review.

The best laid plans of marketing folks are an awful lot like the best laid plans of mice and men. They go awry. Even the simplest of tasks involved sidestepping landmines and forward progress knocked backward by new info from elsewhere. The letter project took most of the day.

Comfort in a bowl.

Lunch was the exception to the day’s aggravation and thank goodness for what seems to be an endless supply of soup in the freezer. A block of frozen soup plus a can of red beans, some frozen veggies, and a splash of milk heated over a low flame while I continued wrestling with the letter crap. Soon there was a delicious, comforting, steaming lunch. It was soothing. A little hot, but that is why proper soup bowls are great for cooling the surface area quickly. 

The afternoon hot cocoa break, taken to seek more comfort before my head split wide open or I punched a wall (or both), was a different story and more like the rest of the day. For the first time possibly ever, the water was measured for the caramel flavor hot cocoa and it turns out that six ounces is a ridiculously tiny amount of water. All of my mugs are significantly larger than six ounces, which explains all the crappy hot cocoa of the past.

The caramel cocoa smelled delicious. There was a sip. It was hellfire hot. The effort to spit it back into the cup failed and a stream of caramel cocoa lava spewed onto the keyboard. The accompanying  adrenaline rush launched me from the chair. Luckily, napkins were nearby and the lava mop up began immediately. It’s possible the keyboard is now cleaner than when it arrived in the box from Staples, so there is small comfort in that benefit.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 944 (Monday) – eye candy

Being Monday and Finnish Class, of course there was rain. It wasn’t rainy when I left the house for work and there was a failure in comprehending the forecast when the temperature was checked before dressing for work.

The rain coat was left home in favor of a leather jacket and the umbrella was left on the kitchen table. During the day, the clouds gathered and became darker, and there were varying degrees of precipitation. Luckily, it diminished to a light drizzle as I left the office, race walking the quarter-mile to the garage. The speed was to minimize the rain on the hair which tends to get wavy and fuzzy with moisture. Plus, it was a bit cold and raw.

Road eye candy.

Sometimes the Waze app really is my best friend and tonight after work was one of those times. I know the way to class, but I use Waze regularly to monitor the traffic delays. The “Police reported ahead” alerts are also helpful.

For reasons completely unexplored by me, Waze mapped a totally different route to Fitchburg today. The route bypassed University Bridge and Fletcher Street, which were throbbing red lines of glorious Lowell traffic on the screen. The idea of avoiding routes 495 and 2 and the road rage they inspire was worth following the suggested route.

It was the Rourke Bridge to cross the Merrimack River, which was a bit nerve jangling, but after that it was routes 40, 225, and 2A. The speed limits were lower than the Interstate, traffic was light, and the foliage was beautiful. There was one spot which wasn't the most fabulous eye candy color, but mine was the only car on the road and I was able to stop and grab a picture of the road ahead.

At Saima.

For most of the drive, I had no idea where I was, and just trusted the lady in the phone as she guided me along the way. In Lunenburg, street names became familiar, and when I crossed into Fitchburg, there was some of the "hey I didn't know that road came out here" joy of discovery. The arrival at Saima featured more colorful trees on the approach to the parking lot. 

If every journey could be like today’s trip to Fitchburg, commandeering a motor vehicle might fall off the “don’t like it and do it because I have to” list and move to the “it might be fun to do this more often” list.

Hooray for traffic apps, minimal traffic, and pretty leaves.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 943 (Sunday) – fall effect

The gorgeous fall day included sunshine, blue skies, and colorful leaves. The weather seemed great for a marathon, but I’m just guessing about that, because I don’t run, except to the bathroom or the refrigerator. Previous day route planning allowed for a clean escape from the neighborhood and the area of the Bay State Marathon road closures. 

Fallen leaves decorate other trees.

The foliage is popping with yellows, reds, maroons, and oranges and was the perfect seasonal backdrop for the stately monuments and the mood for the walking tour at Lowell Cemetery. Swaths of lawn were covered in carpets of richly colored fallen leaves. Small pine trees were adorned with colorful leaves from larger trees. 

The tour group numbered around 100 people, on site to hear a local historian talk about some of Lowell’s prominent citizens who are buried there. Stories were shared about early pioneers including those who invented Moxie, early over the counter medications, influential investors in the early telephone industry, and more. People asked questions and seemed to enjoy the information, and it was fun being out on such a lovely autumn day.

Apple berry fruit crisp.

After the tour, it was back to The BungaLowell and the usual laundry, lounging, streaming, and catering to the whims of the Canine Overlord. It was an afternoon of letting him out, him barking to come back in, then him barking to go back out. It seems to be his game of preference lately.

At 3:00, there was a sudden spurt of activity and an apple, strawberry, blueberry crisp happened. The topping didn’t come out as buttery and crispy as past efforts, but that didn’t stop me from eating several bowls of it under the labels of “supper,” “dessert,” and “reward for washing Winston’s pee bands and opening the door 1,000 times.” Whatever works. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 942 (Saturday) – banshee wails

There is a marathon taking place on Sunday, and signs were posted a week or two ago proclaiming “Baystate Marathon Oct 16 Expect Significant Delays.” The impact of what this meant hit Friday evening when the Emergency Notifications system sent both a phone call and a text message about it. The text was short and the voicemail was long and listed a dozen streets that would have closures for much of the morning. 

It's fun being near city events until suddenly it isn't. There are things I want and need to do on Sunday. Plotting escape from the neighborhood is now added to the list.

In preparation for the road issues on Sunday, groceries were procured Saturday. Anything to avoid starvation. In addition to avoiding the Sunday traffic situation, there was the incentive of not missing out on a coupon at Hannaford for $10 off a $25 order that expires Monday, when I’ll be working all day then at Finnish class after work. When I have food, any other activities fall into the luxury activity category.

Hannaford started out with a serene feeling. The parking lot was more than half empty. The produce department was quiet and the absence of shoppers was matched by what felt like an absence of produce. Or at least, a lot less of everything than is usually there. The department felt spacious, with plenty of room to maneuver carts. 

All quiet in the beer and wine aisle.

The beer and wine row, usually one of my favorite aisles, was shopper free. I didn’t need any beer or wine, so it was just a pass-through point to the rest of the store. Basic provisions were gathered to facilitate cooking and make life less stressful. The cart held staples including pasta, breakfast bars, oatmeal, milk, frozen vegetables, an acorn squash and sweet potatoes. 

Halfway through the store, the blissful peace and tranquility was shattered. A little girl with her hair in a fountain pony tail atop her head, accompanied by a very pregnant woman and a man, was screaming at the top of her toddler lungs. For several aisles, we passed each other, often with the momentarily quiet kid breaking free from an adult hand and running down the aisle screaming. She would shriek extra bloody hell when the man caught her and tried to keep her from running again. 

When we all hit the frozen food section, one aisle over, another child joined the wailing. As I turned the corner, I spotted a little girl in a stroller, in full volume wailing, perhaps in solidarity with the first shrieking kid.

The volume was high. These little kids have some stadium volume capabilities. It felt like an experimental, repetitive soundscape experience, perhaps inspired by the compositions of Philip Glass and I couldn’t wait to escape it, which was a luxury available to me. I felt for the other shoppers, but especially the parents involved, because they had no escape. The wailing toddler banshees would be going home with them, while my destination was a quiet car and a quiet home, for which I was grateful.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 941 (Friday) – hail, poutine

I tend to think a lot more about my Finnish heritage from Mom’s side than the ancestry from Dad’s side, where my DNA maps to France, Scotland, England, and Ireland, from where ancestors migrated to Canada. It’s probably because Mummu shared many stories of her Finnish family on the farm in Isokyro and in the mills of Fitchburg. There were no stories about Dad’s ancestors until I was in high school and my aunt told us about the genealogy research she had been doing. Tonight, I celebrated the Canadian kin.

Poutine in P-Ville.

First, there was a freezer excavation/archeology dig. Beyond the individually foil-wrapped pizza slices, further to the back and under the shrimp, was a bag of seasoned fries bought months ago. In the deli drawer sat the bag of cheese curds that are within flirting distance of the expiration date. A packet of brown gravy sat in the cabinet. These three items had been bought months ago, in a singular shopping trip with the idea of making poutine, the French-Canadian delight. 

A few hasty minutes of internet research were conducted to consult recipes and confirm I was on the right track with my ingredients and plan. I also learned that poutine is from 1950s Quebec, and it seems they have gained popularity on local menus and even have a festival in New Hampshire that celebrates their glory. Tonight, poutine were celebrated in Pawtucketville. It was a party of one, so it was pretty tame.

Most of the recipes found online were totally from scratch and involved potato peeling, cutting, and frying, and gravy made from scratch. Being a mostly modern cook, I had the benefit of shortcuts and didn’t need to peel and fry potatoes, even though there is a bowl of them on the kitchen table.

The frozen fries were baked, curds were distributed over them, and the gravy was poured over it all. The hot gravy made the cheese a little melty and the fries were nice and crisp. And it was delicious. So, so delicious. I ate too much. It hurt in the best way possible. It will happen again. Hail poutine!

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 940 (Thursday) – fresh rain

At the DIY Lowell
Sunset Showcase.

Sometimes there are events after work for various local organizations and tonight was one of those nights. The DIY Lowell group hosted an event called the Sunset Showcase, were they reviewed projects they’ve done like the lanterns in the canal and the food truck festival. 

The event was scheduled to take place on a downtown rooftop deck, and nearby, another local organization was hosting an event on the rooftop level of one of the garages. The event concepts were great, but unfortunately, the weather, which seems to have a mind of its own, had other plans. 

What started as a sunny, slightly humid day, eroded into a late morning windstorm which deteriorated into rain with a few cycles of varying intensity. During an afternoon “off” period in the rotation, the neighbor kids played basketball in the street. Around 4:30 the basketball sounds stopped, which registered in my half-aware brain as either suppertime or a weather pause. 

At 5:00, as I prepared to leave the remote office for the downtown event, the cycle was back to a steady stage of precipitation.

Freshly rinsed.

Even without the deck and sunset setting, the event was still very nice. A singer, accompanied by a guitarist performed during the cocktail hour, and there was great food and a nice crowd. My colleague is new on the advisory board of the organization, the bank is a sponsor, and in all, there were four of us from our department in attendance. 

It was nice to be out for a couple hours, share some time with colleagues out of the office, and support a great organization. Leaving the event in a light drizzle, the freshly rinsed cobblestones glistened under the lights and the air felt a little fresher.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 939 (Wednesday) – growth

Old mum and new, lightly fried mum.

The autumn flowers and a few stragglers of the summer flowers are blooming. Last year’s maroon colored mum finally flowered after weeks of sitting patiently and plain next to a new yellow one put in this year that already has some tired blossoms. The snapdragons that were put in this summer seemed to have died during the drought, but a couple have now revived themselves. 

Up the street in the front yards of a couple neighbors, roses are still blooming. My rose seems to bloom once and be done with the flowering, while it continues to grow and sprawl.

Still blooming.

In the back yard, a lone evening primrose is still blooming on one side of the shed, and on the other side, a single stalk has stretched to the height of the shed. Some sort of vine has spread along the chain link fence near the shed which looks pretty cool. 

 The weeds and vines used to be either trampled by Moose, or pulled out be me to clear the way for his back yard explorations. This was the first summer that I didn’t pull out the growth between the shed and fence and it’s been fun seeing the cool stuff that grows when left alone.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 938 (Tuesday) – photo finish

Outside the board meeting.

There was a meeting tonight for a nonprofit board I’m on. The meeting was done by 7:00, which is now the dark of night and afforded the opportunity to wander a couple blocks and spend a few minutes taking phone pictures downtown after dark. I couldn’t remember the last time I did such a thing. 

The meeting was in a building off a large brick courtyard which has an entrance near the canal across the street from the Haffner’s gas station and the kicking donkey sign. Haffner's It Kicks! The same elusive Haffner’s sign that I’ve had zero luck photographing out the car window during the red light that is forever long most of the time and changes in two seconds when I pull out the cell phone camera. Hmmm…. Trying to take photos may be the secret to getting traffic lights to change faster.

Even though the phone has a night photography mode, it’s hard to get night photos. The low light means it takes several seconds for the picture to capture and without a tripod there is risk of camera movement which means blurry photos.

Across a canal, across a street ...
Haffner's - It Kicks!

Being out in the dark of night taking photos brought up memories of past nighttime shoots with a film camera and a tripod. The quality was good, but schlepping the gear was a pain. The cell phone wins for being portable, but would still need a tripod. 

We used to joke around in my old photo group about what is the best camera. I was in the Nikon camp, my photojournalist friends were all in with Canon, and we all dreamed of having the money to buy a Leica, but the real answer to the “best camera” question turns out to be kind of simple. It’s the one you have with you. Lately, mine just happens to be a phone. And it provided a nice finish to the day.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 937 (Monday) – resurrection and wizardry

In exciting news, after 2.5 days of not leaving the home property, I left the house. It was a sort of a resurrection. It was necessary to attend the in-person Finnish Class. It was great to have someplace to go that didn’t require  giving myself a pep talk first.

Kitchen wizardry in process.

The day was eased into with the usual tools of shower, coffee, Wordle, news, and Facebook. I lost Wordle, despite having four of the five letters (but only one in the correct place). Finnish homework was reviewed, Duolingo lessons were reviewed, continuing the daily lesson streak to 826 days, and then it was leisure time with Bling Empire and Woodoku while a couple loads of laundry were underway.

The food break involved the use of kitchen wizardry to transform a frozen block of soup to a hot lunch. It's amazing what a saucepan on a gas stove fire can do to a previously frozen item. Delicious! 

In the afternoon, the evening primrose along the deck was pulled, filling the yard waste barrel with barely half of the growth.  There is another barrel in the shed, and the application of a city-issued sticker would convert it from the once-needed bottles recycling barrel to the current yard waste variety. But, for as seldom as a second barrel is needed, the rest of the weeding can wait. The barrel will be emptied on Tuesday. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, BungaLowell waste management team. Pacing is important.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 936 (Sunday) – suspended animation

It was another day spent in suspended animation. The couch is the center of the world within The BungaLowell. It’s often more of an anchor than a piece of furniture.

Signs of life were everywhere outside. Birds chirped and scratched in the gutters. Neighbors yelled. Loud cars visited the neighbors who like to yell. Weekend activity continued with a $19.95 rental van at another neighbor’s house.

Winston at rest.

Meanwhile, on the couch, Winston sprawled and napped and I streamed Netflix shows while playing Wordle and then Woodoku. At 3:30, I finally sprang to action and changed out of pajamas and into jeans, a long sleeve shirt, and the tan yard chores sweatshirt with a schmear of black paint. Once dressed, the key was retrieved from the drawer and I marched to the shed and removed the lawn mower.

The grass was lush, thanks to the recent rains and tall thanks to the recent neglect. It took several passes over some spots in the back yard where the grass seemed to flatten out and didn’t seem willing to be cut. In the front yard, the mower wouldn’t start. That’s when I learned about the reset button on the outside outlet. The yards certainly look a lot better than before they were mowed, and the electric mower is much easier to start and maneuver than the previous gas mower.

Back inside, it was back to the couch and the Asian wealth of Bling Empire. It was a change of pace from the recent suspense movies (Mr. Harrigan’s Phone, The Midnight Club) and the full three-season binge of Derry Girls.

When I stop to think about it, which I usually don’t, the amount of time spent with the big screen is quite horrifying. It’s equivalent to a part-time job. Or an actual life out in the world.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 935 (Saturday) –

Like countless weekends before, the current one had a plan. There was a Jack Kerouac commemorative event this morning at the Jack Kerouac Commemorative Park. This was followed by a downtown walk with a guide from National Park Service pointing out Jack Kerouac related spots. Later in the day there were various musical events scheduled. I had printed the weekend’s schedule a couple days earlier and flagged Facebook events for the reminders.

It was a late sleep this morning – 8:00. The multiple awakenings from Winston all week long have taken their toll and leave me tired. He’s often up at midnight and again around 4:00. Of course, he usually sleeps all day while I'm trying to drag my arse through my own.

There was coffee and news and Facebook and when I let Winston outside the first time it felt cold. The next two times were also cold, and when it was time to get dressed to go downtown for the walk, I didn’t. I didn’t dress in cold weather layers shoes appropriate for a 90-minute walk. I stayed in my jeans and slippers and pajama top with the chambray short over it, temporarily donned so I would look sort of dressed when I let Win out. It was cold enough that I didn’t fee l like being outside for it, alone in a crowd, making idle chit chat with strangers and wondering if they thought I am as awkward as I usually feel. It would all take too much effort.

Instead, like countless weekends, I sat on the couch and streamed shows on Netflix. There were movies in the morning and a series with 10 episodes that consumed the afternoon and all night.

Cannolo!

I break plans with myself constantly, but at least I follow through on the food aspect of life. Breakfast was an English muffin with butter and cinnamon sugar. Lunch was two corn tortillas with melted cheese. Supper was ordered in – a large pizza, a burger plate, and a cannolo. The delivery tracker showed the driver on the street, but when I checked, there was nobody out front and no food on the table in the porch. 

The driver was turning in circles in the driveway at the house next door, his face in his phone GPS and my food stack neatly on the roof of his car. Had he bothered to look at the actual houses as he drove down the street, he might have noticed the dark blue numbers attached to the white fence post and on the mailbox. In any event, it made it into my hands.

Most of the huge burger was eaten and some of the fries. The pizza was intended as more of a grocery order and went into the fridge untouched. It will be Sunday lunch and the remainder frozen for future lunches. The planning happens pretty well, and sometimes the execution happens, too, at least when it comes to food. The activities are often abandoned, for a host of reasons. It’s too hot, too chilly, too crowded, too far, too something or other.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 934 (Friday) – boo day

As office office days go, it was like a roller coaster ride. The kind in the kiddie ride section of the amusement park. Not too scary, maybe a belly flop or two, but overall, on the pleasant side of things.

The ride into work was an even lighter version of Friday morning light and it was in the seven- to nine-minute range getting to the garage. It was green lights all the way and light volume. Once in the office, it was a morning routine of logging in and checking the to-do list. Not long after, it got busy with a rush of activity and frenzy due to other people’s poor planning becoming an emergency in our department. Basically, just another day. Poop flows downstream, and most times, we are the collection center for it.

Hunger hit quickly and lunch was heated and eaten just past 11:00. Office office hunger hits suddenly and early. It is very different from home office hunger, which creeps in slowly and much later, often not until 2:00. It’s weird.

Then, all of a sudden, the busy disappeared. Evaporated. The energy that carried the morning was gone, and like a switch had been flipped, the momentum stopped and the day dragged. Time stood still. Not just for me, but for all of us on the floor. Open a file, make changes, save said file and it was as if time had moved backward. 

Hooray, I was "Booed"!

The afternoon interoffice mail delivered a “Boo.” October means the potential for being “Booed” and in October that is a good thing. In chain mail fashion, treats are delivered anonymously with a note and the recipient is asked to keep it moving by sending with a copy of the note and a treat anonymously to two other bankers. 

Today, I received a delightful and delicious boo in the form of a Ziplock treat bag stuffed with candies. The chocolate ones, Snickers, Hershey bar, Almond Joy, and Whoppers, disappeared in a matter of minutes. So weird. The Smartees and Star Bursts were saved for next week. And now the fun task is to make or buy some treats to send and keep it going. 

Finally, one million hours and a bunch of name-brand chocolate candies later, it was 5:00 on Friday of a long weekend and freedom had arrived. Hallelujah.

October has many redeeming qualities besides foliage. One of them is secret candy deliveries, the hope thereof, and spreading the secret joy.