random truths – Day 1,050 (Tuesday) – go team

Red River Sirens - 2011.

The Facebook memories for January 31 have been about women’s sports at least twice in semi-recent years. In 2011, the Clarksville Roller Derby Red River Sirens competed, not on the derby rink, but in a chili cookoff.  The chili cookoff was a fun event. 

We donned our team colors and fun socks and boots, and brought our chili entry to the local Harley Davidson dealer for the event. A couple brave teammates skated gracefully amongst the very expensive motorcycles that I was afraid to even walk past for fear of crashing into one. It was a legitimate fear, as I was constantly bouncing off the furniture at home. I still do, and slammed a hipbone on the corner of the buffet just the other night.

One year the Sirens won the chili contest in the category of “Best Name” for our “Fire in Yer Hole” spicy chili. Another year we won in the tasting for our “Road Kill Chili.” Winning is fun. I remember it fondly. It hasn’t felt like there has much that could be classified as winning lately.

Oakmont Spartans (white jerseys),
 #63 in action at left.

The other women’s sports event in the FB memories on this date is from my eldest niece’s hockey game. She took to the ice wearing number 63, which she chose after her favorite Bruins player, Brad Marchand. 

Skaters from my niece's school, Monty Tech, joined with skaters from Oakmont Regional to form the team. I was so proud of her. She and her teammates were blazing a trail for ice skaters in the Fitchburg, Massachusetts area, just like the Red River Sirens had done for roller derby in the Clarksville, Tennessee area. 

random truths – Day 1,049 (Monday) – treasures afoot

This morning, I found a nickel in the parking spot next to mine on the fourth level of the garage. It was laying on the concrete next to a motorcycle parked in the corner motorcycle spot. Tonight, leaving work, I spotted a penny in the crack in the sidewalk.

I’m pretty good at spotting shiny things. Crowlike, even. I have a rule that once I pick something up from the ground, even if it turns out to be nothing more than a flattened nip bottle cap, it’s my responsibility to either hang on to it, or properly dispose of it.

The “hang onto it” part has resulted in a dish full of odd things found on the ground – random solo hoop earrings, various charms in both plastic and sterling silver, decorative zipper pulls. Someday they may become an art project. The coins join their currency compatriots in the glass jar holding coins.

Jesus in the stairwell.

A week and a half ago, while walking down the stairwell at the parking garage, I saw Jesus. I wasn’t sure at first, but last Monday, when I was downtown again, Jesus was still there. He was tucked in a corner of the stairwell under a drain pipe with flaking paint, nestled in some paint chips and grit. 

The second time I saw Jesus, I got proof, because I wasn’t sure who would believe me if or when I said I saw Jesus. On Wednesday, and again on Friday, Jesus still sat quietly in the corner with the drain pipe.

Today, as I came down the stairs to the street level, newly found nickel from the fourth floor in my coat pocket with my phone and access badge for the office, I noticed that Jesus was gone. Vanished. I blinked and looked again. Nope, definitely no Jesus. 

Did someone pick him up like a treasure in the same way that I picked up the nickel? Should I have picked up Jesus days ago, and why didn’t I? I may be awake all night wondering about Jesus. So many questions.

random truths – Day 1,048 (Sunday) – weekend update

Little guy did not
want to get up.

The weekend had a theme and it was headaches, sleeping late, and missing things. After the Saturday sleeping in, missing Finn Breakfast, and all day headache, Sunday featured an even later sleeping in, headache, and missing dance class. The alarm went off at 7:00, but it was 9:00 before I was finally awake and able to haul myself out of bed. What the heck? Winston was equally unwilling to depart the slumber cocoon. Little guy really is my soul twin. 

Dance classes were missed, but there were two things that happened as scheduled today. Knowing the aggravation (mine) that would result from failure to buy a roasted chicken for Winston’s meals which would not be touched without the poultry embellishment, I went to Market Basket. There was a tiny debate as to which Market Basket to visit, but out of habit, the car headed to Fletcher Street (Store #1 in the chain).

At 2:45, I sprinted down the coffee aisle to the back of the store and the chicken warmer. Despite there being another five hours until closing, the warmer was empty. The lights were on but no roasted chickens were home.

Behind the deli counter, the door to the roaster stood open, revealing an empty roasting oven. A worker in a red jacket was emptying something from the roaster, but it wasn’t fresh roasted chickens. I asked if there would be more chickens. The answer was “no,” accompanied by a weary head shake.

I bolted from Store #1 and headed to the other contender in the debate just a few minutes earlier, Market Basket Store #88, 2.5 miles away on Pawtucket Boulevard. The chicken warmer near the entrance to Store #88 held at least a dozen hot roasted chickens and I grabbed one. 

The second thing that was accomplished as scheduled was a 4:00 meet and greet with a pet sitter found on Rover.com. We went to the house to meet the sitter and see the boarding space and play areas. Winston was a total gentleman. There were two dogs in the house and three on the deck and Win sniffed around and seemed comfortable. One dog came inside from the deck, and Win was calm as she sniffed his butt very thoroughly.

I’m so glad to finally know about this online pet sitting site and so annoyed that I didn’t know about Rover before. Life has been suffocating and small over the past six years due to not having a pet sitter. The sitter we met today is four miles away from the house. This is a game changer. Better late than never, and time to seize life by the road trip.

random truths – Day 1,047 (Saturday) – slow start

It was impossible to get out of bed this morning. The plan was to attend the monthly Finnish Breakfast which requires getting up at 6:00, as if it was a work day and getting out the door around 7:30 or 7:45, which is earlier than a work day, to arrive on the early side of the event and before things sell out.

Winston the perky.

Today, despite planning on it for two weeks, I just couldn’t get up. The alarm went off and I snoozed it. And snoozed it again. After an hour of the snooze thing, I called Mom to tell her I wouldn’t be making the trip to breakfast and cancelled the snooze. Another hour of sleep was enjoyed. 

Finally, I donned my bathrobe, then peeled back the puffy comforter and awakened my little Sleeping Prince. His red and gray sweater was slipped over his head, but Winston still wasn’t feeling the get out of bed vibe. He slithered back under the comforter and disappeared.

The kitchen staff (me) got busy preparing Winston’s breakfast of kibble, chopped chicken, wheat germ, and warm water. The coffee was started, with a dash of cinnamon added to the filter basket. I returned to the bedroom to make the breakfast announcement and finally coaxed Winston out of bed by peeling back the comforter (again), stroking his silky head, and telling him that breakfast is served.

Once he finally got up, Win was extra perky today. Maybe the extra two hours of sleep helped. There was a lot of his cute front paw tapping and hopping. The “Look how cute I am” choreography is usually staged when company arrives and when he wants cookies or some of whatever I am eating. As often as it happens, the dance has not yet been captured on video. Despite the vision loss, Win seems to know when I’m trying to take his picture or a video and flees.

While Winston was full of pep after the slow start, my energy was zapped, despite the extra sleep. My butt dragged all day. So weird.

random truths – Day 1,046 (Friday) – legal in Lowell

It’s a new year and that means a new dog license, and it’s late in the month so that meant I was running out of time to avoid the $5 late fee. For two weeks I’ve had “dog license” penciled on my day planner for the days I’m downtown. The renewal form and rabies shot certification were in the day planner, poised for action. 

There were days that were too cold, too rainy, and too snowy. Once, probably more, I was too lazy. On Fridays, City Hall closes at noon, so a couple times it was suddenly too late.

Today, the note in the day planner was seen early, but it felt too early to go. The next thing I knew, it was 11:40 and I hadn’t gone yet. I got busy, grabbed my coat, scarf, and gloves and  got going.

The weather was dry and sunny. The breeze caused ripples on the surface of the water in the canal across the street from the office.

There was a couple in the City Clerk’s office being helped. When I walked in, someone behind the counter leapt into action and asked how he could help me. As I waited for my business to be completed, the couple at the counter was getting a marriage license and being asked about their ages ("Are you both over 18?") and informed about the three day waiting period. That seemed a lot more exciting than my dog license.

Legal in Lowell.

Winston's renewal was processed and I had the license tag in hand and was back outside in mere minutes. Winston is once again legal in Lowell. 

I’ve never put the tags on the collars. After having a dog with no ID tag land in my yard twice in Tennessee, with no way to reach the pet parent, it seemed more important to have a tag with my phone number on it than a city license number tag. Hanging the rabies tag, city license, and ID tag seemed like way too many tags. 

There are years’ worth of pristine tags in the kitchen junk drawer. Someday they may become a wind chime or a mobile or something. We’ll see. It will happen when the time is right.

random truths – Day 1,045 (Thursday) – bones

Quinoa bowl.

Today’s lunch soup was a random container grabbed from the freezer. Through the sheer plastic container carrots and barley were seen suspended in the frozen block of brown broth. A few seconds under the running tap and the block was loosened from the container. 

The block of soup was set on the stove in the saucepan. Roasted cauliflower and broccoli florets were added before I returned to the desk and the day's to-do list. 

As the soup melted and eventually warmed, it proved to be thick. A splash of milk was added to thin the sludge-like substance, along with a dash of red hot pepper flakes to spice it up. 

After a few minutes, the soup was temperature hot, mildly spicy, and quite tasty. Like previous bowls of soup from the same batch, it was also full of small bone fragments. 

Of all the many pots of chicken bone broth made over the past year, this one particular broth took the bone part a bit too literally. Previous bowls of soup had a few bones, but today’s bowl, hopefully the last of the killer pot, had 13 bone bits of various sizes in it. As I kept picking the bone bits out and setting them aside, I wondered what would happen if I accidentally swallowed one. Winston would be of no help, so maybe I should do a Google search now in case I ever need to know.

Geez, all from one bowl. 

Thank goodness I hadn’t brought any soup from that batch to Mom. She would have thought I was trying to kill her. 

There was no interest in foraging in the cabinets to assemble food for supper and the refrigerator was leftover free. It was a delivery quinoa bowl with chicken for the win. The grilled chicken breast was choking hazard free, I didn’t have to cook, and there is enough left over for lunch. 

The slices from the pizza delivered with the quinoa bowl have been individually wrapped in foil and tucked into the freezer for future meals. Now lunches are set for a while and if I ration the chicken from the quinoa bowl for Winston's meals, I can delay visiting the grocery store this weekend. So much winning.

random truths – Day 1,044 (Wednesday) – decisions

There was never a conscious decision to have a collection of small trees. I never woke up and thought, “You know, I’m going to collect a bunch of Christmas trees.” It happened gradually.  

The fake tree forest
of procrastination.

There was a red and silver foil tree bought in Tennessee because it was festive and in the colors of the roller derby team I was part of and could be left up until Valentine's Day without being too weird. It was followed several years later by a cute plastic tree with candy decorations found in an antique shop while shopping with Mom. It accelerated with three mid-century modern style ceramic trees from Target that lived in storage until I had my own place. More followed, found at clearance sales and church rummage sales. 

Most of the year, the trees live in boxes on shelves in the cellar.  Once a year they are unpacked and dusted off for the Christmas season. The two foil trees go on a table in the enclosed porch. The white and silver ceramic trees on the dining room table. One on the buffet, one on the TV stand, some on a bookcase. This year, a small forest of bottle brush trees sprouted under the black tinsel tabletop tree.

It’s nice to see the trees. It’s less nice packing them up to be put away. A couple weeks ago, after the COVID convalescence, the trees were gathered onto the dining room table in preparation of packing and storage. They are still there, a fake tree forest of real procrastination. 

Just like there was no decision to start a collection of trees, there hasn’t been a conscious decision to finish putting them away this year. It will happen eventually, I suppose. Maybe this weekend. Or not. It’s not like the world will end or someone will be injured because the trees are still on the table. I hope. 

random truths – Day 1,043 (Tuesday) – whatta day

Winston “oofed” me awake at 4:00 a.m. so I could let him outside to potty, but in a few minutes I was back in the still warm bed. At 5:00 a.m., I was awakened by the sound of barfing, which is probably the fastest response alarm sound available. In a matter of minutes, I had run downstairs and grabbed some cloths and was cleaning it off the puffy comforter, the handmade quilt, the duvet cover, the dust ruffle, the carpet next to the bed, and even the wall next to the bed. There was a case of simultaneous annoyance, feeling bad for Win, and wonder at how the dog that didn’t eat most of his supper had so much to expel. 

The little patient at rest.

While logging in for work, the system prompted for an update which felt like it took forever, but at least it provided time for quiet coffee sipping. Later in the morning, I couldn’t access the program to send large files, then I couldn’t get into the program to submit a service ticket to the tech folks about the first program problem. The programs that were working were as slow as pond scum and kept freezing. There was a lot of slow deep breathing alternating with sweary words.

Questions came in from every direction via emails, chat messages, and phone calls. It was non-stop problems, administrative crap, and a whole lot of Whiskey Tango Foxtrot all morning and into the afternoon.

For two days there have been calls on the office number from someone saying they are returning my call, except I’ve ever heard of them and hadn’t called them. The robocallers were busy today and my cell phone received three calls in one hour, which is more than I get in an entire normal week. While at the office-office, my phone is almost always on “Do Not Disturb” but for whatever reason, the ringer was on today at the remote office and I was stupid/curious enough to answer it. The day was already so annoying, what was a little more aggravation piled on?

One caller claimed to be from the generic and scammy-sounding “police association fundraiser.” In the past few weeks I’ve blocked three numbers from three callers claiming to be raising money for “police relief.” A caller from a Colorado number asked for “Nancy.” Calls come from that number every two to three days, and today I finally answered. Points for persistence, Colorado caller.

It was challenging (polite code for total pain in the arse) from the get-go and the trend lasted most of the day. It reached the point of being laughable. The maniacal crazy kind of laugh, not the lighthearted, cheery laugh. Thank goodness it’s over. Winston slept all day and his stomach seemed quiet, but for the third day, he didn’t eat all his food. Fingers are crossed for a vomit-free night. That's today's measure of success. My, how life has changed.

random truths – Day 1,042 (Monday) – no joe

Every store I’ve been into since Christmas has vibrant and plentiful displays for the upcoming Valentine’s Day terrorism, which has me thinking about the last date I went on. It was in the first couple years of living in Lowell and the best guess right now is it was in 2017 or 2018.

The guy and I had met on an online dating site. We exchanged fun and interesting text messages and then talked and laughed on the phone for a couple hours that flew past. We decided to meet for coffee at a shop in downtown Lowell. Based on how much we had laughed on the phone, I hoped for a bit of the hilarity in person.

When I arrived, he already had a cup of coffee and was seated at a table in the shop. The place felt crowded and loud and the table was tiny. The line of people waiting to order drinks was long. We dove into conversation immediately. The vibe wasn’t at all like on the phone.

My date kept referring to himself as “Ugly Old Joe.” He was neither ugly nor old and it got boring really quick. He talked a lot about himself, peppered with references to being Ugly Old Joe. “Well, I’m just Ugly Old Joe and you sure are pretty.”  “Now that you’ve met Ugly Old Joe, are you ready to run out of here?”

Maybe he felt insecure. Maybe he thought it was funny. Maybe he was looking for a personal cheerleader or a therapist with all the “I’m just Ugly Old Joe” stuff, but he wouldn’t shut up long enough for me to even try either direction.

I had imagined us continuing our earlier chats about vinyl records and bands and art, but there was none of that happening on date day. It was all one big monologue about Ugly Old Joe this and Ugly Old Joe that and not even any room for two-way conversation. Maybe he just wanted an audience.

It didn’t take long before Joe was right and I was ready to flee, just because the whole thing was painful. The funniest part was, I never even got any coffee. It's a good thing I'm self-sufficient and have coffee at home.

random truths – Day 1,041 (Sunday) – adulting

There was a loose plan to recognize Lunar Year, after having been less than well on the Gregorian New Year. There was a Lunar New Year festival at Lowell City Hall plaza with a dragon dance, but when the time to go there arrived, it was ruled out.

The Bungalowell party for one didn’t require a lot of planning. In the past several weeks, various frozen Korean foods had been found at Trader Joe’s and Family Dollar. 

Lunar New year dinner for one.

From the plentiful dinner options, the last scallion pancake was cooked, along with the most recent acquisition, steamed Korean dumplings. The dumplings are so easy to prepare. It takes one minute and 45 seconds in the microwave to steam the tray of six dumplings. The scallion pancake took about eight minutes in the frying pan. The stockpile of chopsticks from the silverware drawer was tapped for dining utensils. It's easier than trying to find the real ones brought home from Korea, plus I'm not sure of the proper care of jade or fancy wood chopsticks.

Forget chain restaurants, this is my preferred version of fast food. If only everything was this quick, easy, and tasty. 

The fast food prep left lots of time to clean up the kitchen which had been neglected the past few days. There were two saucepans in the sink, along with every steak knife, each used to cut chicken for Win’s meals. The pots don’t fit into the dishwasher, and I don’t put the sharp knives in there.  

There were no clean coffee cups or spoons, so the contents of the dishwasher were rearranged (another hobby) and it was run. Drinking coffee in the morning and herbal tea at night uses a lot of mugs. Winston is on an antibiotic for his bad teeth and gums. The dosage is half of an unscored tablet, which requires a sharp knife to cut. The spoons were all used to get the peanut butter from the jar and embed the pill half to give him the pill. We sure dirty a lot of dishes.

There are three or four fortune cookies left from a bag bought several weeks ago. Tonight's fortune read, "Never bring unhappy feelings into your home." Ok. That doesn't feel like a fortune, and I wonder where I'm supposed to leave those feelings. 

This is the cycle of life at The BungaLowell – some form of cooking, eating, dirtying a bunch of dishes, cleaning up the mess, and trying to decipher odd tidbits of advice. Adult life can be very repetitive.

random truths – Day 1,040 (Saturday) – shopping scene

The new coffee maker is inspiring a series of necessary kitchen changes. The lone teal item seems odd and needs the company of other items to make it seem like it belongs in the space. The lower cost ideas are new kitchen towels, curtains for the window over the sink, and a couple small kitchen decor items. 

The day after the snow fell.

The original plan for the day was to stay home and do as close to nothing as possible, but after standing in the kitchen and looking around, the plan shifted. There was some online window shopping for café curtains and kitchen towels which yielded nothing. This was not promising. Depressing, actually. Maybe the color is currently out of style, because it sure is hard to find right now. 

This is where thrift shops often come in handy for variety. The stay home plan shifted to driving to Nashua, the closest city with any actual stores, including thrift shops that usually have housewares. The parking lot at Savers on Daniel Webster highway was mysteriously packed. Inside, the store was crowded. People ambled about with the same glassy-eyed zombie gaze often seen during the throes of Christmas shopping. They stood in the middle of the aisles as if completely unaware there were other people in the store. It was awful.

Worse than the shortage of available shopping carts and overabundance of zombies, there were no curtains, placemats, towels, or small kitchen items with the desired color. There was, however, a teal handknit Nordic pattern sweater for $2.99 so I had to buy it. Handknit items seem to be the only items with true thrift store pricing at Savers, probably because there are no brand labels to check on eBay for inflated asking prices. Most of the clothing I saw in Savers was priced higher than the same items brand new at Kohl’s and Target. It’s insane.

After Savers there was a stop at Goodwill. There were a few random plates and planters and coffee cups in close to the right color. In the “By the Pound” room there were lots of nice quilted table runners in all the wrong colors. I left Goodwill empty handed.

Coneflower in winter.

The shopping results were disappointing, but the trip out of the house wasn’t a total bust. Waze did a back roads route on the way home which was a blissful escape from the traffic and the scenery was beautiful. It was cloudy and cold and the trees were still coated in snow from the Thursday night-Friday weather event. I pulled over and paused to appreciate the view and get a few photos. In the yard, the winter garden featured coneflowers with blobs of snow perched upon the prickly remnants of the spent summer blooms. 

On the scorecard for the day, the shopping was a bust, but the winter scenery was great so overall, it was a pretty good day.

random truths – Day 1,039 (Friday) – snowy

After a mostly snow-free winter, we got a little bit of it last night. The morning featured a few inches of heavy wet snow perched on top of water from the rain that preceded the snow. It was messy, but the coating provided the look of the season.

School had a delayed start and traffic was so light as to be nonexistent. Despite a late start thanks to rearranging the heavy snow slush, I somehow managed to arrive at the office on time. There were six of us in the office, and we were all so busy it was as quiet as a tomb most of the day. Well, except for first thing in the day when the coffee I chugged in a hurry before leaving the house kicked in and made me super chatty. It happens. 

Snow fell all day.

Snow fluttered, floated, and steadily fell all day, but it didn’t seem to accumulate on the street or the sidewalks. At lunch, I walked to visit LaLa Books and get the book for February’s Boozy Book Club meeting. I forgot to pay attention and missed January’s book and meeting.

Back at the office, the zipper on my coat jammed and wouldn’t open at the bottom. I had to slide it off my arms, let it fall to the floor, and step out of it. Once liberated, I could look closely and see that the bottom two teeth on the zipper weren’t quite aligned and were stopping the slider from making it all the way to the end. I don’t even know how it zipped up. At the end of the day, I stepped into it and shimmied it up. Luckily it still zipped up, because the snow was still falling on the walk to the garage.

random truths – Day 1,038 (Thursday) – thick coffee

The new coffee maker arrived on Wednesday as promised by Amazon under the Prime two-day delivery that used to be next-day delivery. Big thanks to the delivery person for leaving the box inside the porch, out of view from the street and protected from the weather. If only the UPS and FedEx folks could follow suit.

There was a meeting after work. When I got home at close to 8:00, I wasn’t in the mood to unpack and setup the coffee maker, even knowing that it would create a time crunch for the morning.

This morning, the old coffee maker still sat on the counter. It was moved to the dining room where it will sit until I figure out what to do with its corpse. The new unit is “retro” teal and dainty compared to the bulkiness of the old machine. 

"Thick" coffee and a
dainty coffee maker.

The manual said to “brew water for several times without coffee powder.” I knew this would be a pre-usage step. It was run for one brew cycle with plain water. It took forever. Then it occurred to me that usually, I’m not standing there staring at the coffee machine while it does its thing. Normally, coffee would be started, I would brush my teeth, then go upstairs and get dressed. When I returned to the kitchen, there would be a pot of hot coffee.

The process was repeated with coffee, according to the amusing instructions in the manual with two oddly punctuated headers. The first is “How to Brew Normal Coffee?” The other is “How to Brew Thick Coffee?” Thick coffee involves turning “the knob to the STRENGTH setting" and “the coffee maker will brew thick coffee.” Six cups of “thick” coffee were brewed because normal is boring. Over the next couple hours, most of the coffee was drank (drunk?), and it was good. 

Now that the coffee maker situation is all set, it’s probably time to plan for the eventual demise of the toaster oven. 

random truths – Day 1,037 (Wednesday) – bagel day

After stopping at the coffee shop nearest the office for a Breakfast Blend brew, I walked across the customer parking lot to the building. It was the first proper cup of coffee since Sunday due to the dearly departed coffee maker and I was looking forward to enjoying it. The coffee guaranteed an improvement over Tuesday’s caffeine-deprivation headache and it was going to be a great start to the work day which already had some awesomeness scheduled. 

"Candy Cane Memory Lane."

In December, our department participated in an internal holiday decorating event. A theme was provided ("Candy Cane Lane") and departments and branches decorated. Photos were submitted for internal voting and a committee visited for judging. Each participating team received a voucher for free breakfast, which was a big motivator for the folks on our floor. 

Our entry was "Candy Cane Memory Lane" and we used childhood photos of each member of our team which were styled into individual holiday cards and hung as part of the display. We also traced our hands and made a wreath in a throwback to elementary school. It was fun to work on. 

Today, we indulged in part of our breakfast budget. One colleague lives near a great bagel shop and volunteered to pick up bagels and spreads. The bagels are huge and delicious.

Half of the big bagel and coffee.

With a 16 ounce cup of fresh, hot coffee in hand, I walked into the office to see a bunch of bagels and containers of cream cheese laid out on our counter. We lived large and dined upon bagels and spreads as if we were royalty. Mine was an everything bagel with veggie cream cheese. So fresh. So, so delicious. 

We still have breakfast money left, so next Wednesday will also have a treat. Branch and department winners also received a free lunch. We won for brand and team representation, so after we finish enjoying breakfasts, planning for our lunch prize can begin. Good times. For real.

random truths – Day 1,036 (Tuesday) – coffee talk

The workday morning without coffee was rough. Much rougher than the Monday holiday without coffee, but that day I was running on adrenaline to get Winston to the vet.

Today’s remote work day meant there was no face-to-face interaction required. Yes, I could have carried my caffeine deprived self around the corner to Dunks for a coffee of any size. But, (and here come the excuses), the parking is next to nonexistent there and for six years I’ve seen cars having trouble getting in and out of the parking lot the size of a placemat. And yes, it’s close enough to walk, but also just far enough that the hot coffee would be cold when I made it back home. Top Donut was considered, just a bit further away, but I think they only accept cash, which would require a visit to the ATM. 

Herbal tea is not coffee.

This is the scope of mental debate that took place as I stood in the kitchen, clad in a purple bathrobe, hair wet from the shower, staring at the deceased coffee maker still on the counter. But, but, but. Had it been an office day, I would have stopped at one of three coffee shops downtown located near the office.

Wednesday is an in-office day, so the morning coffee crisis will be over. It will be a morning of living large with coffee shop coffee, likely with the gift card a friend gave me for Christmas.

The coffee maker ordered online is also scheduled to deliver Wednesday. There is a light at the end of the tunnel and it is glowing in a beautiful coffee color. And it will be most welcome, because the plentiful reserves of herbal tea are no substitute for coffee. And the next time I’m engaged in the grocery shopping hobby, instant coffee will be on the list. Just in case.  

random truths – Day 1,035 (Monday) – RIP coffee maker

The trusty coffee maker brewed its last pot of coffee on Sunday. I learned this on Monday after dropping in a fresh filter and coffee grounds, and water for eight cups of coffee. The power button was pushed, and nothing happened. No red light to indicate it was on. None of the rumbling and gurgling sounds as it sprang to life with each brew. Just silence. 

The plug was removed from the outlet, plugged in again, and the power button pushed. The outlet reset button was checked. The entire unit was moved to the outlet at the counter on the other side of the sink and plugged in there. Still nothing. 

This was a grim start to a Monday. Since the long-ago death of my much loved old-timey percolator, there is no backup system for the production of hot caffeine. It was instant chai latte for a substitute. Good, but much sweeter than I take my coffee, and without the nice kick.

I'm old but hanging in there.

It was a bank holiday, and theoretically I could go shopping for a new coffee maker. Today, however, Winston had a vet appointment which consumed the morning. He weighed in at 17.5 pounds, so despite the current food boycott, his weight is steady. 

The medical marvel had a bad heart murmur at last year's checkup, but today it was barely detectible, puzzling Dr. B. Win's knees are bad, probably because he used to enjoy leaping straight up in the air to look out the window in the front door at Mom’s. A full blood workup was done and will take a couple days for results. 

The vet trip route passed one Kohl’s and two Target locations, but I couldn’t stop and leave Win in the car to shop for coffee makers. It was decided to shop online with the potential of buying online and picking up at the store a couple hours later.

RIP old Farberware.

The recently departed Farberware coffee maker was bought in 2007 after buying my house in Tennessee. It  was used daily for five years and two months before being packed for the move back home. After its release from three-and-a-half years of incarceration in storage, it delivered hot coffee daily for another six years. I probably got my money’s worth.

Online coffee maker shopping was frustrating. Tabs were open for Kohl’s, Target, Bed Bath and Beyond, and Amazon. Most coffee makers are for the single cups, which feels impractical for the volume consumed each morning. There are high-tech models that make both pots and single cups. The real marvel was the toaster oven/grill /coffee maker “breakfast station.” The idea is appealing, as the toaster oven /broiler, which is even older than the coffee maker, has recently been faltering in its toaster role and English muffins now take two cycles to become golden. But dang, the four-cup capacity  on the coffee pot is comically small. Trusty old Farberware ran a six cup pot on weekdays and eight cups on weekends. Of course, “cup” in the product descriptions in coffee pot world is five comical ounces, which is just over half a cup in real world liquid measurement. I don’t know anyone who drinks coffee in a five-ounce cup.

The online search terms veered to dark blue because it would look good in the kitchen, but the only one available that isn;t a single cup unit is a refurbished item that wouldn’t ship for a week or two. "Retro" teal is currently popular. Red was available. A five-cup model was available in several colors including yellow, but that size is just too small.  

The pick up at store options were meager and the desire to visit a store was nonexistent. It was online order and delivery for the win. A new coffeemaker is scheduled to arrive Wednesday and I’ll be waiting for the other shoe to drop with the pending demise of the toaster oven. I may regret not ordering the matching set of toaster oven and coffee maker, but the wallet was still reeling from the vet visit. 

random truths – Day 1,034 (Sunday) – mandu

Dance class started today, so it was the ride down routes 113 and 119. It had been quite a while since the last time I traveled this path. Class was good, and because I haven’t done a thing since the last time we danced together months ago, I was feeling it immediately. Thank goodness for the heated seat in the car.

When I say I “haven’t done a thing,” it’s pretty close to a literal statement. This past summer and fall saw no hiking, no walking, no bike riding. With the drought, there was very little lawn mowing. There were no yoga or dance classes following videos. It’s entirely possible that this was the laziest summer and fall of my adult life. The price is already being paid in the form of some very vocal muscles.

Dance class is near a Family Dollar store which is much better than the one near the house. The Townsend store is neat and organized, whereas Dracut usually looks like it was ransacked. In Townsend, the prices on the shelf tags match the prices at the register. The freezers in Dracut were broken for months, and have sat empty in the several weeks since they’ve been replaced, taunting me with the continued absence of the egg rolls that I liked for convenience, taste, and low, low price.

After dance class, I stopped at Family Dollar to check for frozen egg rolls. Yes, I know there is already too much food, but Lunar New Year is next weekend and suddenly it seemed like it would be fun to have something to go with the last of the frozen Korean scallion pancake from Trader Joe’s. 

Instead of heading directly to the freezers, I walked through the store to enjoy the tidiness. Taking the scenic route to the freezer meant that items were gathered – black beans, makeup remover wipes, tiny hair clips for when my bangs are in my eyes and testing my patience, food storage bags, trash bags. While clutching all the items, the freezer case was searched as I paced back and forth a couple times analyzing the contents behind the glass doors.

Fried mandu and
soy sauce with ginger.

Family Dollar has really improved its frozen food game. There were no egg rolls, which was a minor disappointment upon discovering there were Korean food selections. My pulse quickened at the sight. I bought a bag of bibigo brand fried mandu (dumplings), but decided to wait on the steamed version. 

Lunch was mandu with soy sauce with grated ginger. They took a bit longer to fry than the directions indicated, but they were really good and worth the wait. Hopefully, the local store will finally receive some frozen food and stock the freezers with egg rolls and mandu. But until then, I’ll keep enjoying the store in Townsend. 

random truths – Day 1,033 (Saturday) – stores and stuff

The grocery shopping hobby seems to be in full force again. Or maybe the hobby is closer to food hoarding, but whatever it is, in two days there have been three trips to two grocery stores in two different cities.

The first trip was on Friday after work to Market Basket to look for stuffed grape leaves for an art reception today. For years, they lived in a refrigerated end cap near the produce department in the store closest to home, and I would often buy them for reception food tables and for my own fine dining.

In the past year, the stuffed grape leaves become scarce. On Friday, the case was filled with containers of soup and some prepared meals. Near the deli, there were jars of just grape leaves for the real do it yourself types, or a 70 ounce can of stuffed grape leaves fit for commercial usage. I bought the fallback item, two boxes of Little Debby cakes. Because no trip to a grocery store for a single item is ever limited to the target item, Friday’s trip also yielded a roasted chicken, Italian anisette cookies, sliced mushrooms, and bananas, “to make it worth the trip.”  

Freshly trimmed.

Today’s itinerary included a trip to my friend’s hair salon in Worcester. There was a trim and freshening of the layers and the chunk of hair that keeps falling in my face was trimmed and the professional blowout is smooth and shiny. It won't be long before it's back to the wavy on the bottom and straight on the top average daily 'do. 

After the salon, a stop was made at Aldi, a couple miles away, to look for the ginger and turmeric tea I like from there. Not knowing where the tea might be located, all the rows were visited, which is basically the kiss of death to sticking to a list. The stop for a single box of tea ended up being 19 items, with two of them being the tea.

Because Aldi is across the street from Savers, it’s pretty easy to guess where the car drove itself next. The plan was to look for a very specific style of soup bowl that seems to have gone extinct and café curtains for the window over the kitchen sink. There were none of those items, but I left with a merino wool quarter zip sweater and a cashmere vee neck. The last thing I need or have room for is more sweaters, but they are merino and cashmere! And to my credit, I put two other cashmeres and a merino back on the rack. There was a time I would have bought all five, so I it felt like progress. My wallet can thank the removal of the dressing rooms and my inability to try on the three where the fit was questionable for the restraint shown.

Back in Lowell, there was another visit to Market Basket in the hope that stuffed grape leaves had miraculously returned since the night before, and if not, a savory option for the reception. No miracles had occurred, so it was Club Crackers and artichoke and spinach dip for the reception plus some for home, and a bag of frozen mixed vegetables. The dip is delicious, so it will probably never be found there again.

Supper!

Grazing was done at the reception, which served as a light lunch after a breakfast of the last two anisette cookies. Lobster ravioli was one of the off-list purchases at Aldi, and all afternoon I imagined preparing it for supper with olive oil, capers, parmesan and whatever else hopped into the pan. 

By the time I got home, the ravioli was forgotten. Supper ended up being a small plate with Club Crackers, artichoke and spinach dip, and pepperoni slices. It was like I was still grazing at an art reception, and it’s one of the perks of being an alleged grownup. It’s certainly more fun than the other adult crap like snaking the bathtub drain, paying bills and taxes, and worrying about retirement savings.

random truths – Day 1,032 (Friday) – songs and cookies

This morning’s WUML commute soundtrack featured a song in French. It had a dance beat and I could imagine being at a party or in a club where it played. My four years of high school French fled my brain long ago and I could recognize only every 20^th word. The next song sounded like more of a dreamy Latin  sound, but I couldn’t be sure of anything because the artist names and song titles don’t display on my screen when listening to WUML like they do with the Emerson College station.

For a couple minutes, I sat in the car in the garage and listened to the dreamy instrumentals while willing my phone to charge faster on the car charger after finally noticing it was getting low and the charging cable was at home. I neglected to charge the phone overnight and then forgot to plug it in to charge during the ride to work, which is usually enough time to power it up to a reasonable level.

Queenly cookies.

While catching up on emails and the Facebook feed after a workday plagued by numerous pesky software issues, one message popped out. Man Ray, the Cambridge nightclub popular in the 1990s and early 2000s is coming back. There was a time when Friday and Saturday nights were designated for dancing and drinking followed by eating in late-night diners. This is not that time. 

Thanks to the wonders of technology and the Internet, while quietly dining like a queen on Italian anisette cookies and ginger probiotic tea, I pulled up the show from WUML's website. There was an archive of the entire show and I was able to learn who the artists are and hear the songs again. The first song was “Sante” by the Belgian singer Stromea, and I liked it as much the second time as the first. The other song was “Tres Hermanos” by the band Hermanos Gutierrez.

Good times. For real. Kicking back for a quiet night at home with a few minutes of some cool music and a tasty treat are about as far removed from the Man Ray nightlife scene as I can imagine. That's okay, I'm much more well rested these days.  

random truths – Day 1,031 (Thursday) – pretty girl pearl

Pretty Girl Pearl.

Pretty Girl Pearl was a white and brown dog that landed on my doorstep ten years ago. It was a cold and rainy Tennessee night, and Pretty Girl Pearl was skinny and wet. She had come to the house the night before and as I wondered what to do with her, she left. The second night she stood on the porch, I let her into the house, where she made herself comfortable hanging out with Moose and Winston. 

Pearl was a leggy gal who thought she was a lap puppy and got cozy on the couch and my lap. I called her Pretty Girl Pearl because she didn’t have a collar on and I needed to call her something. 

She settled in pretty quickly. Pearl would counter surf the kitchen, where she got hold of my leather gloves and chewed off the tips of the fingers. She was thin, so I bought high calorie puppy food for her. She ate her food, anything left by Moose and Win, and anything of mine she could snatch.

After a week or so, on a weekday vacation day, I was walking with Pearl in the neighborhood. Pearl was practically dragging me down the street when a soccer-mom mini van drove past and came to a quick stop. A woman leaned out and asked if I that was my dog or if I had just found her.

By then, as I recall it, Pearl had been with us for over a week, during which time I posted on Facebook, ran a classified ad in the local paper, contacted animal control and friends who had rescue contacts, taken her to a vet to be scanned for a chip, complained about owners who don’t put collars with info tags on their pets, and other things I don’t remember.

It turned out, Pearl had been in the woman’s yard just a couple doors down from me before coming to my house. The woman had taken off the leather collar with a plate permanently attached that had a name and phone number on it. Then Pearl bolted from her yard, and she didn’t want to call the number to say that she had the collar but no longer the dog. 

Later in the day, after the woman finished the errands she was on her way to do when she drove past me and Pearl, she came to my house. Together, we called the number on the collar and made plans for the owner to come to my house. 

Pretty Girl Pearl’s name was actually Belle, and she was a purebred hunting dog that lived a few streets away in a pen she had figured out how to open the latch and escape from. As she dragged me down the street on the walk, we were approaching Pearl's house, but I didn't know that, and after meeting the woman in the van, we went back home.

Pearl/Belle and Winston.

Her pet dad, an older guy, didn’t use social media or read the newspaper, so he hadn’t seen my found dog ad or posts and pictures of Pearl or thought to post his own lost dog ad. As Pearl hung with Winston and Moose in my house during the day while I was at work, her pet dad  was driving all around the neighborhood looking for her.

He was glad to get her back. She was glad to see him. I was sad to see her go. The timing of her stay was stressful, with me trying to get rid of things and arrange the house sale, giving notice at work, and getting ready to move, but it was still fun having her around. 

random truths – Day 1,030 (Wednesday) – wicked good

The current preferred radio station in the car is WUML, the station at UMass Lowell. I like the Feature News with the newsreaders with the British accents at 8:00 am, and the huge variety of music is impressive. This morning, after the news and as I turned off Bridge Street onto French Street, the familiar notes of a long-ago song from a once beloved band came through the speakers.

Ahhh.... The 'Mats.

It took just a few notes to recognize it as The Replacements. By the first line of lyrics I knew it was their song "Answering Machine" from their 1984 album Let It Be. The song had already been around for several years before I knew about the song or even the band, but once aware of the The ‘Mats, I was hooked. I liked the song “Answering Machine” enough that part of it was recorded as my answering machine message back in the olden days of answering machines.

Much effort was expended starting and stopping the tape in the cassette player to try and record a spot in the song that included the line “I hate your answering machine” to be in my answering machine message. Damn, I thought I was clever.

This morning, I found a parking spot, and sat there listening to the rest of the song. Then, the day got even better. There were donuts at work to celebrate the birthdays of three colleagues in January and February. A colleague brought leftover pizza from an internal meeting. And to top it off, it was “snack and share” Wednesday, when we rotate turns bringing in our favorite snack. Today it was Goldfish. 

Talk about a wicked good day – a song from the 80s that hasn’t been heard in ages, then donuts, pizza, and goldfish. The only thing that could have possibly made it any better would be hearing the entire album. It's been ages since hearing "Tommy Gets His Tonsils Out" and "Gary's Got a Boner." Tonight's going to include another walk down memory lane with Paul Westerberg and the the rest of the band.

random truths – Day 1,029 (Tuesday) – failure

There was a meeting after work. In preparation,  Winston was fed, put outside to potty, and rewarded with a cookie upon reentry to the dwelling. My own supper of vegetable, bean, and barley soup with a sprinkle of shredded Italian cheese blend was exactly the same thing as lunch.

A notepad and pen were set near the computer, along with the board reports that had been provided in advance. The email was opened with the Zoom link ready to be clicked for entry to the cyber gathering.

The human said it wasn't my fault.

Board business was conducted, and I scribbled notes in the role of secretary. About halfway into the meeting, Win could be heard in the dining room, barking near the front door.  It was his kind, gentle, bark which changes between the very polite excuse me please “oof, oof” and the slightly louder hey, I need help “arf, arf.” 

I heard him, but I was in a meeting and taking the notes and couldn’t stop just then. When it seemed I could step away to jog the 20 steps to Winston, I turned up the speaker volume and turned off the video, and bolted from the desk. Winston was slowly heading back into the kitchen, and there was a big wet spot on the wool rug in the dining room behind him. Big, as in about 12 inches long and three inches wide. And it wasn’t his fault. He had stood at the door and barked to go out and I ignored him because it wasn't convenient. Multiple times. So he did what he had to do in the absence of the potty pads on the floor and the diaper wrap around his body that are usually present when I leave the house. I failed him.

Paper towels and the red plastic spray bottle of Nature’s Miracle to neutralize the odor were grabbed to address the mess. The nearest issue of Worcester Business Journal was grabbed to set under the rug under the wet spot (sorry WBJ, it was handy). Then, I bolted back to the meeting. 

Poor Winston slunk to the kitchen. I gave him a cookie. And another. And another. He gets lots of cookies when I feel guilty about leaving him and tonight, for ignoring his request for help because he lacks the resources to turn the doorknob and let himself out.

After the meeting, I finished cleaning up the wet spill in Aisle One. The apologies to Winston began with me telling him he is a good boy and it wasn’t his fault. That’s when I couldn’t remember if I gave him his insulin with his dinner. I remember chopping the chicken, mixing it with the pricey prescription food he hates, nuking a cup of water and adding it to warm the chicken and soften the kibble. I remember setting the bowl on the mat near the water bowl and Winston eating it. And maybe the insulin was taken from the fridge, shaken and nine units measured and given. Or maybe that was this morning? Or yesterday. 

There was no way to tell if the dose was done or not, but it is better to miss one than to double dose the insulin. So, I’ll just worry about it all night, but chances are very good it won’t be forgotten at breakfast.

random truths – Day 1,028 (Monday) – alpine stress

Thanks to my previous watching of several foreign shows, mostly crime dramas, my Netflix recommendations are heavy on foreign series and movies, and by “heavy,” it’s currently about 75% of the suggestions. Weeding through selections to find an English language show to have playing while simultaneously doing other extremely important things like playing Wooduko, reading email, scrolling Facebook, and writing is becoming frustrating and time consuming. 

Curvy road in the Alps.

I prefer to run the foreign shows in their native languages with English subtitles to get the sound and pacing, so I need to be in the mood to want to read a movie under this preference. Tonight’s series is Woman of the Dead, chosen for the interesting title and brief synopsis of being about a woman who can talk to dead people and before I realized it was in German. 

The show is set in the mountains of Austria and the scenery is spectacular, but the driving scenes, with the main character usually on a Ducati or in a hearse (business vehicle), stress me out. There are frequent overhead shots of a hairpin turn near the main character’s home, which eventually expanded into a shot of a series of switchback turns, and it set me on edge, even more than the crimes happening in the series. I’ll stick to the local hills when I need a scenic drive and leave the Austrian Alps to the experts and the shows. 

random truths – Day 1,027 (Sunday) – Winston-versary

On this date in 2012, Winston was officially living with me and Moose. For real. Forever. There had been a successful weekend-long test run several weeks earlier where the two dogs had a chance to meet and Win spent the weekend. 

Moose and Winston,
January 8, 2012.

Unfortunately, unlike Moose’s arrival which was announced with the equivalent of a full corporate press package with photos and Facebook posts and much heraldry, Winston's arrival was quieter. As the second fur baby, he did not receive the full benefits of royal proclamations, decrees, and individual photo shoots. 

This follows the pattern of the photo documentation of the kids in my family. As the firstborn, there are countless photos of my every move, breath, blink, and sleep position for the first 11 months of my life. Then my brother burst forth into the world, and there are lots of adorable pictures of the two of us, but not many of him alone. My sister, the youngest, is accompanied by a mob scene in nearly all her photos and there are close to none of her alone.

If not for mentions in Facebook posts that appear in memories, the anniversary of Winston’s special day might have escaped completely unnoticed and that makes me feel like a terrible pet parent. According to a post on January 8, 2012, “So far, life with two fur babies is kind of lame. Now there are two dogs moping and sleeping on the couch ignoring me. What's a gal gotta do to get some attention in this house?!? Maybe Lady GaGa's meat dress would help.”

The lounging period ended, things got lively, and the next post, later the same day, reads: “HOLY CRAP!! Suddenly the fur baby boyz have sprung to life! They are running all over the house and acting like derby girls in a bout -- hip checking, positioning, moving fast! Winston's tail is wagging, and Moose has never moved this fast in my presence.”

That’s pretty much how the next decade went – periods of leisure alternating with spells of frenetic activity. Now, with just Winston in the house, it’s a lot more of the quiet and lame level of things. The absence of the third personality really makes a difference. Plus, we aren’t as young as we used to be.

Winston and me, January 2023.

This 11^th anniversary of Winston’s arrival pushes him into record-breaking territory as my longest relationship, having surpassed Moose’s milestone record. If only I had this kind of patience and longevity with human relationships. Cripes, I haven't even been on an actual date since 2017, which was memorable mostly because it was awful. It's clearly Canine Overlords for the win.

random truths – Day 1,026 (Saturday) – negative events

The most splendiferous day began with a negative COVID test. Finally, and hooray. There are still sniffles, but at the normal winter level of mild snot suckery and not the recent excessive volume of gross unwellness.

Early in the afternoon, the idea struck to peel, chop, and boil the few remaining potatoes. Before I could think too long or procrastinate my way out of it, potato peels were flying from the last three white potatoes and a lone sweet potato. Part of the idea was to also drain the water from the cooked potatoes into the latest batch of soup after having read that potato water and pasta water both thicken soups. The plan for the potato chunks was to mash and bake them in a dish with pretend meat crumbles and mixed frozen vegetables in a loose interpretation of shepherd’s pie.

In a scene of domestic industriousness, laundry tumbled in the dryer and potatoes cooked on the stove in my favorite saucepan. In the living room, Amazon was being browsed for scarves that were being imagined worn in Rome in March, and new drapes for the dining room sliders and café curtains for the window over the kitchen sink. No suitable drapes or curtains were found, but there are six scarves in the shopping basket pending further deliberation.

Oops. 

At some point during Season 2 Episode 2 of Netflix's Ginny & Georgia, a charred, burnt smell wafted into the living room. That’s when I remembered the potatoes, which had been unattended for about an hour because I totally forgot I was cooking. 

The water had boiled out. The top surface of the potatoes looked ok, but beneath that, potatoes were blackened and stuck to the pan. So much for adding potato water to the soup. The whole thing started from a desire to not waste the aging potatoes, so they were mashed with butter and milk and mixed with Italian blend cheese. The bottom of the baking dish was layered with the browned fake meat crumbles and a layer of Italian blend cheese and topped with the mashed potatoes.

Tasty, considering.

The oven timer was set to prevent another fragrant but negative kitchen mishap like burning down the house. A candle was lit in the living room in an effort to cleanse the air. It wasn’t until partway through the baking it was realized I forgot the vegetables. 

After 30 minutes, the timer buzzed and the dish was removed from the oven. It was pretty good. A smoky flavor was infused in the potatoes, but it was mild and not horrible.