random thoughts – Day 1,231 – (Monday) – wild kingdom

It was wildlife Monday in my little piece of Pawtucketville. 

Dining at the backyard salad bar.

A white cat with gray patches slunk through the yard in the morning and was gone from sight so quickly I wondered if I imagined it. It appeared again later, from the same corner of the yard as earlier, and disappeared again at the same approximate location. The third time White Kitty appeared was later in the afternoon when it came from the far side of the house near deck and sauntered across the lawn, through the flower bed where the peonies and lilac live, and around to the back of the shed.

At lunchtime, Chuck Wood the woodchuck was spotted dining at the backyard salad bar, where he chomped his way across the yard. As my cell phone camera clicked at the open window over the sink, he froze, then spun around and dashed back to safety under the shed from whence he had come. It always amazes me how fast the woodchucks can move, and the small spaces they fit into. It’s also impressive how if I move near the window, Chuck's spidey senses activate and he runs off. I have to engage in ninja-like stealth maneuvers to try and get a picture of him.

Mystery soup from the freezer.

After my own lunch of mystery soup excavated from the furthest corner of the freezer and embellished with fresh onion and carrot, frozen mixed vegetables, and a splash of half-and-half, I let Winston out front to potty. Small Brown Bunny was sitting in the grass near the gate nearest the car did the bunny thing where they freeze and play statue, nothing moving but the most subtle twitching of the nose. We were closer than ever and the camera that takes phone calls was on the desk. Then Brown Bunny bolted under the gate, dashed under the car, and disappeared from view.

The final segment of today’s episode of "The BungaLowell of Pawtucketville’s Wild Kingdom" was less soft and fuzzy than Chuck Wood, White Kitty, and Brown Bunny. It seems there is a home for wayward wasps behind the vinyl siding at the corner of the house near the drainpipe with the bird nest. Wasps were crawling in, wasps were flying out, and I was both slightly fascinated and majorly horrified. Ugh. 

random thoughts – Day 1,230 – (Sunday) – folk fest sunday

Folk Fest Sunday was perfect. The sun was shining and the temperature was in the 70s. It was markedly more comfortable than yesterday’s oven-like conditions followed by the rain that derailed a chunk of the day.

Friends came in from out of town and we carpooled downtown in their mid-life Chrysler convertible in perfect weather conditions to be topless. We met other friends at Boarding House Park for the Fran Grace sacred steel guitar performance before peeling off for lunch nearby. 

On the trolley, ready to ride.

We surveyed the menus and narrowed our choice to two vendors, then chose one based on the shorter length of the line. We are quite strategic. The winner was the Middle Eastern food booth where a man yelled to the crowd they had “THE BEST FALAFEL.” It was true, they did. Within minutes, all the lines at all the booths on the street were exponentially longer and we congratulated ourselves for both our food choice and timing. 

After lunch, the adventure continued with the Ukrainian band Cheres, which reminded me of playful and delightful cartoon music, followed by our annual trolley to the other side of the festival footprint. We rejoined our friends for the Chuck Mead rockabilly and honky-tonk show at the Dance Pavilion where there were lots and lots of cowboy hats under the tent and the seating and dance floor were mobbed.

Break time! Aperol Spritzes
 and a Hendricks and tonic.

Our Folk Fest day hit all the high points. There was the music and food and the wandering through the art market and LaLa Books. We enjoyed a sit-down beverage break at Fuse Bistro, which had Aperol Spritz, my current favorite beverage, on the menu. A jazz band played while we sipped and chatted and watched the crowd passing by on the street. We forgot to take our annual Folk Fest group photo. 

After more music at the Market Street Stage, the walk back to the car included a stop at a very crowded, barely navigable antiques shop. The proprietor of the antiques shop told us there are no prices, and people just “make an offer, hand over the cash, and bounce.” Dang, I really prefer to see a price tag lest I insult somebody with a horrible price offer. Luckily, I didn’t see anything I wanted because the stress might have killed me.

Vent nesting.

After a quick visit to Jack Kerouac Park, we were back in the car, top down, and back to the house. As we pulled into the driveway, the unobstructed view of peak of my roof revealed multiple clusters of straw near the attic vent which never would have been seen if the roof wasn't down. 

Bird nests, precariously perched on the slope of the roof, seemed to solve the spring mystery of the four baby bird corpses on the front lawn. It made me sad. And now I need to figure out how to get the nesting material out of the vent. The BungaLowell is always full of surprises.

random thoughts – Day 1,229 – (Saturday) – folk fest saturday

After coffee and a visit to the gym, it was time to go downtown for Folk Fest Saturday. Some of the board members with The Brush Art Gallery and Studios signed up for one-hour blocks to help with greeting guests at the Brush, and I was due at noon. Checks of the weather forecast helped to determine wardrobe options. The high temperature caused a rejection of denim (too hot). A check in the mirror caused a rejection of two ensembles before a long, lightweight wrap skirt and tee shirt were chosen.

At 11:30, preparations for the festival day were underway. Streets were being machine swept. Equipment was being moved around on some of the stages. Some of the artists were still setting up at the Experience Lowell area in the bank's parking lot.

After hoofing it in the heat from the garage near Boarding house Park to The Brush and finally arriving in a full sweat, the air conditioned comfort of the gallery was most welcomed. It was nice chatting with people who came in.

Greek dancing in the pavilion.

From The Brush, it was time to wander the festival. My first point of interest was the Dance Pavilion, where a Greek band was scheduled. A crowd filled the seats and once the music began, the dance floor also filled up. The band leader introduced each song with information about the specific region of Greece from which it originated and Greek dancers guided the action on the dance floor. 

Heading away from the Dance Pavilion area, I bumped into a friend and we went exploring. We hoofed it over to the stage with the tap dancer backed by a jazz combo, then back to the artist area. Along the way, we saw a few other people we knew.

Clouds led to rain.

Around 2:45, as we stood near the Market Street stage where a group of musicians onstage was discussing various elements of their craft, the clouds had darkened overhead. Options considered were seeking an indoor location, or heading out. By then, my leg was aching except where it just plain hurt, so I opted for home.

It took a long time to get out of the garage. A growing line of cars snaked through the levels attempting to leave. Pedestrians flowed into the garage to retrieve vehicles. When I finally reached daylight, raindrops were falling. Outside the garage exit, a Lexus blocked one lane while two men unloaded bags of charcoal. The red light around the corner on Bridge Street cause the traffic to pile up for the block and around the corner to the garage exit and inside the garage.

Meanwhile, once the light changed and the traffic was able to move, people leaving Boarding House Park walked with a sense of entitlement in front of the cars, exacerbating the traffic issues. The driver ahead of me was chewed out by bulky middle-aged man carrying a lawn chair who emerged from between two concrete barriers and walked in front of the moving vehicle, then yelled at the driver for not stopping. Errrrr. People.

While in the traffic on Bridge Street, it was decided to go to Market Basket for Winston’s chicken. In the parking lot I emptied items I had been schlepping around in my bag all day. The small paintings bought from the art market and the umbrella were set on the passenger seat. I hobbled through the unfamiliar store, leg in full pain mode. By the time I hit the checkout line, a drenching rain was pouring from the heavens and I regretted the decision to leave the umbrella in the car.

It turned out the festival afternoon activities were put on pause due to the rain. The rain stopped and started a few times, and eventually the evening performances were called off.

We don’t need any more rain, but there were benefits to today’s precipitation. It was confirmed that something needs to be done with the gutters on the house. Ugh. But the rain knocked the temperature down by close to 20 degrees, so that was welcome relief.

random thoughts – Day 1,228 – (Friday) – folk fest friday

Folk Fest opening night was ushered in with a heat advisory in effect from Thursday at 11:00 am until Saturday at 8:00 pm. And a parade. It usually begins with a parade that I haven’t managed to see yet.

All day long, I thought about heading downtown after work and imagined the food I might have for supper. Burmese? Greek? Filipino? Something else from the wide selection? The ethnic food is always popular, and sometimes the vendors run out on Saturday, so this would be the ideal time to make sure I got what I want.

At 5:45, while feeding Winston, I was suddenly bordering on hangry. It always sneaks up like that. There would be no waiting until downtown for food. A new favorite fast food, frozen steamed dumplings, was in and out of the microwave in one minute and 45 seconds. Definitely the fastest fast food I know.

After thinking about it all day, I was suddenly less into going to Folk Fest. I almost let myself slip into the usual pattern of sitting at home, but then thought there would be regret for not going, but probably not for going. Footwear was changed from sandals to walking around shoes, a pee band was put on Winston, keys and phone and bank card and license were grabbed and a trip was made across the river.

From the garage roof.

The parking garage was full up to the fourth floor, but I wanted to go to the roof, so it didn’t matter. For years, I’ve been meaning to go up there for the sixth level view and when I arrived, the sun was low and the light was pretty. A man’s voice wafted up from the block on John Street with the food trucks. The words weren’t clear, except for “Jesus” which several times penetrated the muggy air and pauses in the music of the band playing at Boarding House Park. 

Boarding House Park was packed with lawn chairs and people, and more people queued up at the food tents outside the park. The streets were crowded, but a good level of crowded and not mobbed like it will be tomorrow. The cooling stations refreshed the people who walked through them.

The Dance Pavilion was hopping.

At City Hall Plaza, the opposite edge of the festival from Boarding House Park, a Cajun Band played under the Dance Pavilion. People danced under the tent and in the street. The chairs under the tent were filled, as was the wall along the sidewalk around the Plaza. Food tents filled the concrete plaza outside City Hall.

A block away from City Hall Plaza, a band played at Cobblestones and people filled the street there enjoying food and beverages. A couple blocks further, a band played in the doorway of Fuse Bistro and filled Palmer Street with rock songs while people filled the sidewalk seating.

On the bridge headed home.

All the activity was just a portion of the full festival on Saturday and Sunday. In the parking lot of the bank, workers assembled tents for the artists and other vendors that will set up on Saturday and Sunday. Stages were set up and ready on the lawn at St. Anne’s Episcopal and over on Market Street.

After walking around for an hour or so, it felt like time to head home, across the river via the illuminated bridge on Bridge Street. People walked over the bridge towards downtown  and the festival, which still had an hour to go. 

random thoughts – Day 1,227 – (Thursday) – downtown

It’s been a weird week. The A/C has been under repair all week at the office office, so my usual Wednesday office day was a remote office day, and all day long I kept thinking it was Thursday. When the real Thursday arrived, it was met with confusion and then hustle to get up and ready and out the door for the 7:30 physical therapy appointment. 

PT didn’t hurt hurt, but it sure wasn’t pleasant. There was a lot of gentle poking and pressing on the left hip area and every touch felt tender. That was followed by the exercises, several of which involved rubber band things and most of which were draining. It was a hard 40 minutes. The legs felt like jelly when I was finally done.

Friday is my second office office day in a usual week, and the A/C repair was due to be done today, but tomorrow will be another remote office day anyway. This time, it's due to the street closures for the Folk Fest, which are well underway for the event that begins Friday at 6:15. I’m kind of missing the office and the efficiency of in-person conversations and the ability to bounce ideas off others. 

I was downtown for book club tonight and the streets are lined with Temporary Police Order No Parking signs. It took some driving around the block to get a parking spot. There are tents set up and partially set up and road barriers and all manner of preparation. Folk Fest is a big deal. It’s the longest-running, and second-largest, free folk festival in the country, and you don’t attain that status and longevity without a lot of work. Fingers crossed the weather is decent. 

Another book club
beer adventure.

Book club was initially set to be at the outdoor tables but the rain that began to fall as I left the house and the hint of tornado warnings had us set up inside Warp & Weft. Ten of us snacked on fried onion rings, French fries, sweet potato fries, and the Fig and Pig flatbread pizza, and sipped cocktails and chatted about the book Portrait of a Thief. 

Overall, we agreed the book would make a great Netflix eight-episode series. My adventurous beer selection for the evening was Dorchester Brewing Punchbowl Fruited Kettle Sour. It sounded interesting and I’d never had it, so it was an easy choice. Book club also serves as my beer of the month club.

random thoughts – Day 1,226 – (Wednesday) – timelines and backstory

My car was in the shop for 10 days for repair of a dent. 

Backstory: The neighbor puts the three trash and the three recycle bins for her three-family home in front of my small bungalow. Sometimes, the barrels run right up to the edge of the fence and driveway where I park. The barrels are usually two to three feet into the street away from my fence, which spares the fence caps from being ripped off when the barrels are lifted (it happened once) and adds an extra degree of difficulty to back into my driveway. I back in because the other neighbor’s basketball net is placed directly opposite my driveway, and I don’t want to risk running over one the kids who can’t seem to get out of the street when I’m trying to leave.

The $1,200 dent.

More backstory: One Sunday in May, after getting groceries, I hit the next to last of the neighbor’s recycle barrels in the lineup while pulling right in preparation to turn to the left and back into the driveway. The two bins at the end of the lineup moved and one tipped over and spilled into my driveway. 

I was super unhappy and sweary as I righted the tipped over bin and picked up the stuff from the driveway and threw it back into the bin. The recycle bin was unscathed. Baby Jeep sustained a $1,200 dent and gouge in the paint. Zero stars, I do not recommend. 

It took a couple weeks to get the estimate and schedule the repair. When the appointment was made for three weeks out, the service manager explained it was a three-day job, with details like “part X comes off and part Y comes off and this happens and that is painted and things dry and blah blah blah. Ok, cool. I had basically stopped listening after “three-day job” because I just wanted to know the time, not how to build the clock.

The car was dropped off before work last Monday. The service center said text updates would be provided. Cool, because I don’t necessarily love talking on the phone. The prearranged pickup from the rental car place was an hour late.

On Tuesday, I noticed the black Chevy Malibu rental car, which is low to the ground and harder to get in and out of than the Jeep, had a New Hampshire inspection sticker and license plates that had all expired in March. Not cool, but it was only for three or four days and one day was already done, so not the end of the world. I wasn’t in the mood to ask for another car for just another day or two.

On Wednesday, day three at the body shop, there had been no updates on Baby Jeep. I finally called, expecting to hear it would be ready Thursday or Friday. The service manager casually said, “early next week,” as if I should have known this all along. When I said I thought it was a three-day project, he repeated, “nope, early next week.”

On Monday, one week after drop off, the first text update finally came. The estimated completion date had been updated from pending to 07/27/2023. Tuesday’s update said they were “nearing completion,” and if delays were encountered, they would call. At 4:00 today, the service manager called to say the car was done.

Upon learning they close at 5:00, I flew into action. I haven’t moved that fast in a while. I was in the service center waiting room handing over my bank card at 4:17 and back home by 4:45. There was no way I was waiting another day. Thursday’s schedule includes physical therapy before work, meetings and a webinar during work, and book club after work. Nope, nope, there was not room for anything else on Thursday.

The car looks great. They even cleaned the inside to a showroom ready look. It’s nice to be back in the vehicle where I know where everything is.  

random thoughts – Day 1,225 – (Tuesday) – getting physical

In May, my left leg had hurt long enough that I finally went to see the doctor, mostly because I was worried about doing the TeamWalk for Cancer Care later in the month. I was told to take a bunch of Ibuprofen every eight hours and given a referral for physical therapy, which specified “sciatica.” Around that time, the sciatica seemed to go on hiatus and I hit pause on looking for a PT place. The other pain that ran from knee to ankle didn’t take a break. 

In June, at my regular checkup, I got a very direct “go to physical therapy” from my primary care physician. Ok, cool. Research was done to see which of the many PT providers listed on the back of the order are in my health plan network. Luckily, the office around the corner from home is in the network. When I called, the next appointment for an evaluation was more than three weeks out. Oy.

Because my leg hurt just from walking, physical activity was avoided. One day, I just couldn’t take doing nothing any longer. It was time to get physical and join a gym. The leg felt better almost right away.

So much for the favorite stretch.

Today was finally the day for the PT evaluation. There was conversation and some manipulation and poking and prodding. Notes were taken by the therapist. We talked about the gym and the stretch I do at night when the sciatica kicks in.

It was all very interesting, especially when, after poking around on my lower back, the therapist said she thinks some of the problems with the leg are from there. Riding the recumbent bike is good. The abs crunch machine and the lower back machine are bad for this situation. The favorite stretch I do when I can't sleep and the sciatic nerve is acting up is very bad. Noted. 

The thunder started rumbling in around 5:00 and I considered skipping the gym, but that felt like a real copout. The travel bottle was filled with ice and tap water and I headed out into a gentle rain. Tonight’s gym activity was 30 minutes of “hill” setting on the recumbent bike. It was followed by a lower than usual intensity ride on the massage chair. In the ten days since joining the gym, there have been more massages (six) than in the past six years. Jackpot!

Thursday is when the actual physical therapy work begins. All the notes made today will be transformed into a plan that I imagine will hurt at 7:30 in the morning. That will be an interesting  morning.

random thoughts – Day 1,224 – (Monday) – focus

Winston was a lap dog
 for two minutes.

There was sunshine today and it was good. It’s nice being able to look out the window from the desk and see the grass, the tree in the neighbor’s yard that provides shade over my shed, and the vinyl fences under a sky free of rain clouds.

Despite it being trash and recycle day, it was quiet in the 'hood and it was nice. There was some hyper focus on work and I didn't even hear when the trucks came. 

A couple times Winston went outside and sniffed and wandered the yard while I plowed through emails and to do lists and schedules to be set and all the usual glamorous work stuff. Mostly Win slept on the floor behind my office chair.

Winston is not much of a cuddler anymore now that he isn't competing with Moose for attention, but he let me put him on my lap twice today. It was nice and of course I told him what a good boy he is. When I managed to sneak in a quick picture of us, I felt like a conquering hero. It’s the simple things. Or I’m easily amused / pleased. Sometimes, anyway.

random thoughts – Day 1,223 – (Sunday) – weekend fun

Saturday night rolled around, and I had plans with friends. They live several miles from The BungaLowell in the countryside of central Mass where there are a lot of trees and they have chickens and the neighbors have sheep and horses.

Sunday drive on a country road.

Winston and I drove out there Saturday afternoon and as soon as I hit the wooded road, I felt calm. I haven’t spent nearly enough time outdoors among the trees. Spring passed and summer arrived without any hiking done. Thoughts of hikes had been displaced by rain and inertia triggered by weeks of headaches and the leg that hurt. 

Winston had a chance to meet Marco Polo, the resident canine, and Lincoln, a visiting pooch. While the pups stayed at the house in their respective crates and cushiony beds, the humans went out for dinner at the Tavern in the center of town. After cocktails and dinner, we headed around the corner for a speaking presentation by Father Nathan Monk, self-described “Dyslexic author. Former priest. Depressive humorist.” I will say, he is not everyone’s cup of tea, but he is most definitely my cup of tea. He is most interesting and I really enjoyed his storytelling.

This morning, we sat on the deck under a blue sky. From across the yard and through the trees, the sheep next door could be heard bleating. An eagle soared overhead. Lincoln, the young visiting Yorkie, alternated between relaxing and running around the deck with the zoomies. Winston relaxed.

The Sunday drive home along the country dirt road was beautiful. Sunlight filtered through the trees before we were spit out onto a state highway. It was much nicer than the Interstate. The entire visit was most refreshing and much needed.

random thoughts – Day 1,222 – (Saturday) – headache season

Another day, another headache.

In June I had an extra annoying number of headaches. The trend continued well into July, with the visitation of a headache every day from the 1^st of the month through the 15^th. Every. Single. Day. And night. Let’s not forget the nights. 

It usually felt like I was wearing a too-tight hat, and often included aching eye sockets, cheekbones and jaw. The greatest (only?) refuge was sleep. 

On an interesting note, I noticed in the daily Facebook memories that headaches are a recurring theme for me in July, going back many years. I just don’t remember having them for such a long string of consecutive days and weeks. Then again, I don’t remember if I had breakfast this morning or not, memory can be faulty and frail, and that is why I write down so much stuff.

There aren’t many theories floating around in my crowded cranium as to the cause of the headaches. Life has stress, sure, but that happens all year long. Unless, maybe the first half of the year is for planting and cultivating, and July is the bountiful headache harvest. Is this covered in “The Old Farmer’s Almanac”?

My only reasonable guess, for this June and July anyway, is the weather. Maybe the frequent clouds and rain are exerting extra pressure on my brain. It doesn’t sound any crazier than some of the other kooky theories floating around in the world lately.

Perhaps related, perhaps not – the first day without a headache in the month of July was the day I got off the couch, joined the gym, and exercised. I had been reluctant because of the leg that was hurting for weeks (but only when I walked or stood). Trying to pedal a bike, walk on a treadmill, or do leg machines when 50% of my legs already hurt felt like a gamble. Plus, the gym closest to the house was closed for several weeks for renovations and the level of self-awareness is sufficient to know that if the gym isn’t convenient, I probably won’t go.

Last Sunday, the gym reopened, I ignored the leg that hurts and joined and exercised and that day the cranium experienced some peace. And the leg also felt better. There was also no headache on Monday, and the gym was visited again after work. No headache on Tuesday, and a trip to the gym after work. No headache on Wednesday, but the gym was replaced with sweating my butt off mowing the yard after work because it looked like a jungle and it also wasn't raining. No headache on Thursday, and there was a trip to the gym after work. No headache on Friday, and it had been declared a rest day from the gym.

There is a headache in those
shimmery reflections.

It turned out there were Friday headaches later in the day. They appeared in the basement, floating lazily on the puddles pooling from the rain. They looked like gentle ripples directly over the hairline crack in the concrete floor and gurgled in steams of water flowing from the walls. They shimmered with the reflections of the ceiling lights. The weather, the basement water, the presently on strike sump pump float … a headache.
Bummer.

And guess what Saturday arrived with? Yeah, a headache, right from the get-go. But it was a terrific run of 5.5 days without one. Hopefully the run can be repeated. Bested even. 

random thoughts – Day 1,221 – (Friday) – monsoon season

Another day of wild weather.  It was cloudy and mostly calm all day until suddenly it wasn’t any more. By 5:00 the dark clouds had gathered. By 5:45 it was pouring, but I was home by then, dry and indoors.

Front door water feature.

The gutters overflowed in a rather unwelcoming cascade over the front door, but nobody was expected, so it was mostly ok. The porch curtains fluttered in the wind and the rain blew in, soaking the deep window sills. 

Soon, the walk leading to the front steps, part of the front yard, and the end of the street were under water. Both driveways were under water from the street to bottom of the steps at the back door and the deck on the other side of the house.

I was afraid to look in the basement. When I finally did, after 45 minutes of rain, it wasn’t pretty. The wall along the driveway had two impressive water spouts shooting liquid onto the floor from the height of one to two cinder blocks. The wall at the front of the house had two lesser streams from about the same height. Water pooled on the floor. It was time to push the water with the broom to the relatively dry corner with the sump pump. It was going well. Felt manageable, for the moment anyway.

Indoor water jets.

Then, the sump pump hole emptied, kept running, and wouldn’t stop. Faint smoke rose from the sump pump hole. The air carried the smell of something burnt. Manual effort was needed to get the pump to stop. Push the water to the hole, let it fill to trigger the pump and drain, then manually set the arm to the right position to get it to stop. Push the water, fill the hole, stop the pump. Repeat. 

During my time swabbing the basement, Winston created his own puddle on the kitchen floor. It wasn't his fault, I wasn't there to open the door for him. Not that he would have gone outside in the deluge anyway. I wanted to cry, maybe just a little, but there is really no need for any more water here at The BungaLowell.

The sky brightened, along with my mood. The storm drain in the street had a chance to catch up and the water emptied from the street and driveway. By 8:00, it felt safe to stop and enjoy a beverage – Finnish Long drink, cranberry flavor. The break was short lived. Around 9:00, thunder rumbled and by 9:15 it was raining. Again. 

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the city, people posted photos on Facebook. Parking lots were underwater, streets were flooded, and other basements were several feet under water. It was a small comfort knowing my situation wasn't as bad as these, but also stressful. Like waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m pretty sure I prefer last summer’s drought to this year’s monsoon season. Maybe it's because I'm a fire sign.

random thoughts – Day 1,220 – (Thursday) – music truck

There is an ice cream truck that makes its way through the neighborhood at various times between 2:00 and 7:00. This afternoon around 3:30, as I sat at the home office desk working, I could hear the tinny music of the truck in the distance. 

Music truck cranking out the hits.

When my nieces were very young and the ice cream truck rolled through the neighborhood, my sister, in her infinite wisdom, told them it was a music truck. They would laugh and clap when they heard the music truck drive down the street blaring Scott Joplin’s 1902 ragtime hit “The Entertainer” and that was that. Well, until the little girl next door spilled the beans about it actually being an ice cream truck.

Today, the music truck was playing a most eclectic medley of partial tunes. There were no jingly strains of “The Entertainer.” No “Camptown Races,” “Pop Goes the Weasel,” or “Sailing, sailing.” This was a very different music set.

From a distance, the first musical strains that interrupted the quiet and registered in my brain were “O Come Let Us Adore Him.” Yes, the super popular Christmas song. This transitioned into just enough of “Red River Gal” to trigger flashbacks to sixth grade and the girls so-called “phys ed class” of square dancing. Suddenly, the dance call “and circle to the left and to the right” was dancing in my brain. This was immediately followed by the memory of me, at about the same age, pounding out that song on our electric organ at home. Good times. 

The quiet returned for a few minutes, then suddenly the music truck’s eclectic playlist of tinny musical snippets came back into earshot with “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.” Christmas in July for real. By the time it was at the end of my street and making the u-turn on front of my house, it was cranking out “Battle Hymn of the Republic” which we sang at high school graduation so many years ago, followed by “Do-Re-Mi” from The Sound of Music as it departed. Wow. 

There were no customers coming out to buy ice cream treats so it was a quick visit on the street. I’m slightly interested in the ice cream, which I imagine to be grossly overpriced, but I'm more fascinated by the playlist. Are there more songs I didn’t hear and what are they? Who compiled the list? How long is the loop? Can I get a copy?

random thoughts – Day 1,219 – (Wednesday) – rewards

Crushing the
basic Spanish.

It was a mostly ordinary Wednesday, speckled with random bright spots. There was a landmark 100% accuracy score in the online Spanish lessons which came with an on-screen declaration of superiority. The office air system is back to its bipolar behavior, which would have been great info to have before dressing in a long sleeve polyester blouse and long pants, based on having been cold there last Friday. Thanks to the warmth, the health plan Hydration Challenge of 8 glasses of water daily was conquered by 2:00.

A walk downtown was a self-issued afternoon reward for dealing with some tasks. On a whim, a quick pick lottery ticket was bought for whatever the big drawing is. (Yes, that is how I asked for it.) Snack and share, the reward for being in the office each Wednesday and provided today by our summer intern, was a delicious assortment of chocolate chip, double chocolate chip, and white chocolate chip cookies. 

The lawn was mowed tonight (hooray for me!). The time was not noted, so there is uncertainty if it is a new personal best. Sleep may be lost wondering. The reward for all the rain has been splendid growth of the yard greenery and a never-ending need for mowing. 

Best Dollar Tree
buy this year.

Despite one day of no rain, (daylight hours only, it probably rained last night), the thick growth of weeds interspersed with actual grass was a bit damp. At least with the yard cut, Winston can more easily maneuver the yard and there is no more worry about losing him in the prolific weeds. At least until it rains again and they suddenly sprout another six inches.

The underside of the mower was cleaned out, with gobs of wet grass clumps scooped out by gloved hand in what was an oddly satisfying activity. That was followed by raking the dried tree helicopter things that just keep appearing in the driveway like some recurring nightmare.

The yard labor deserved a reward. Tonight, it was a delicious, fruity freeze pop. The box of 20 tubes of summer nostalgia might be the most rewarding Dollar Tree purchase this year. 

random thoughts – Day 1,218 – (Tuesday) – machine love

Day three as a member at the gym, and day three of attendance. Gold star for me!

It’s the place that claims to be a “Judgement Free Zone.” Unfortunately, when there is nobody to talk to and too much time to look around while riding the recumbent bike, I was slipping fast and far down the judgement rabbit hole.

On Sunday when I was there, another member came in and told the desk clerk she liked the new white ceilings (which she said used to be black) and how bright and fresh it feels in there. This is true. And just like when I was a member there several years ago, the massive ceiling fans really stir the air and I was cold and the music was too loud.

For a place running social media ads proclaiming in all caps, “ALL NEW UPGRADES!” beyond the fresh ceiling, there is still some shabby stuff on the premises. While doing a 30-minute hill ride on a bike with the strap missing on the left pedal, there was time to look around. One of the observations was that all but one of the recumbents are missing the strap on one pedal. Some of the buttons for settings are temperamental. There have been unsuccessful battles with two not-so-fresh treadmills.

Apparently, the workout equipment was not part of the all new upgrades, I thought in a super judgey tone. Maybe the 200 TVs are supposed to provide a distraction from looking around too much. There are so many screens it’s a bit overwhelming. 

Before the impromptu bike examination, I was in the circuit training room where the entire point is to move from one gently beat-up looking machine to the next and get a full-body workout in 30 minutes. Three of us were trying to move through the circuit as it is designed. Unfortunately, the abs machine had one dude on it who was cranking out endless reps when I arrived and he was still on it when I left. The hamstring machine had a guy standing in the way of it as he chatted with abs dude. A neighboring machine had a guy sitting on it and staring at the ceiling. There was a lot of judgement happening in my head.

Machine love.

At least the massage equipment looks brand new. Sunday and Monday the massage chairs were enjoyed. Today, I fell in love all over again with the hydro massage bed and the allotted ten minutes of bliss. It already feels like I got my membership money’s worth just in machine delivered massages. 

So far, the self-designed reward system of the massage equipment after working out is working out well as a motivating factor and might be a sustainable long-term plan. Also, I might be a genius of self-trickery.
 

random thoughts – Day 1,217 – (Monday) – flashback 2009

Remember the once popular digital chain letter game things on Facebook? Your favorite this or that; how many of these have you seen/done/eaten; describe yourself with [whatever] ...Then share this with x people.

On July 17, 2009, my post on Facebook was one such game, brought to us today by the wonders of Facebook Memories. No worries, unlike 2009, there is no request to pass this along. The objective was to describe your life using song titles by one artist.

As for the artist chosen in 2009 ... Prince was the choice. For years he was my favorite artist, before I stopped playing favorites. I used to know all the lyrics to the all the songs on Purple Rain. (Still might.) Once, I saw him in concert (Worcester Centrum with Sheila E on drums). Twice, I was him for Halloween. As for the answers in 2009? It was a different time, place, and space in life, but most of the answers still hold today. Clearly not the relationship one.

Presented in its entirety, rules and all, straight from 2009 ...

My Life According to Prince

Being Prince for a night -
Halloween 2019. 

Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions. Pass it on to 15 people you like and include me. You can't use the artist I used. Try not to repeat a song title. It's a lot harder than you think! Repost as "my life according to (artist name)" 

Pick your Artist: Prince

Are you a Male or a Female: Girl

Describe Yourself: Irresistible Bitch

How do you feel: La, La, La, He, He, Hee

Describe where you currently live: Alphabet Street

If you could go anywhere, where would you go: Erotic City

Your Favorite form of Transportation: Little Red Corvette

Your Best Friend is: Sexy M.F.

You and your best friends are: Thieves in the Temple

What's the weather like: 1999

Favorite Time of Day: 7

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called: She’s Always in My Hair

What is life to you: Shockadelica

Your relationship: Power Fantastic

Your fear: Another Lonely Christmas

What is the best advice you have to give: Gotta Stop (Messin’ Around)

Thought for the day: I Would Die 4 U

How I would like to die: Gett Off

My soul's present condition: Delirious

My motto: Let’s Go Crazy

random thoughts – Day 1,216 – (Sunday) – control

Winston!

The new Monsoon Season is no joke. Another day, another flash flood warning on social media and the car dashboard. New to the party, was the morning tornado warning. 

The Merrimack River has been running fast and looking aggressive for a couple weeks, and the recent rain has encouraged it. I'm afraid to look at Beaver Brook, which is on the other side of the house next door, and hoping the higher embankments are sufficient. Fitchburg, where I grew up, was torn up today with streets flooded all around the city and chunks of pavement broken from the streets and relocated. 

Winston was blissfully unaware of the weather and napped in his bed most of the day. That is what he does most days, so for him the weather was truly a non-event. 

There was a conscious effort to focus on the things I could control. Under this effort, the basement was checked for water, and luckily there wasn’t much to deal with. The four dances that are the core of our belly dance troupe repertoire were practiced. Later, there were trips away from the house. The first was to Market Basket for the weekly provisions – Win’s chicken, salad supplies.

After putting the groceries away, there was a trip to Planet Fitness. The daily website stalking paid off today. The “Closed for Renovations” message was gone from the website for the Dracut location. It had been posted there for several weeks, since right around the time I had decided to get my derriere off the couch and move. I put on some workout pants, laced up my official worn only to the gym shoes, and pounced. A membership was bought. The team member at the desk said this was the first day open after the renovations. It was wonderfully not crowded, so maybe word about the reopening hasn’t gotten out yet.

After the membership process was completed, there were battles with two treadmills which I couldn’t get to run for longer than two minutes. I finally gave up and went to fight with a recumbent bike instead. A 15-minute ride that covered more than three miles was the first bike ride since riding my hybrid actual bike with a friend on the rail trail once two summer ago. A few machines in the circuit training room were visited. Nothing major, just a quickie to get reacquainted.

New best friend control.

The final stop was the massage chair. During my previous membership (2018-19) quality time was spent on the hydromassage table. Hydromassage wasn’t set up today, but the very new looking massage chairs were and I was all about it. It was ten minutes of peace, quiet, and machine applied massage on all the settings available on the control – knocking, kneading, and shiatsu. Also air massage. I can’t wait to go back there for the chair. 

The only learning curve is going to be phone app. I used to not take my phone into the gym on purpose for the brief period of tranquility and separation from the distractions. Now, check-in is by phone, and so is the sign up for the Black Club feature massage chairs and hydromassage. There is also a tanning booth that I always ignored. And something called “Total Body Enhancement,” whatever that is. Something to explore.

It felt good to be in control.

random thoughts – Day 1,215 – (Saturday) – shopping

Shopping happened today. Mom and I made the journey to Frugal Fannie’s Fashion and Shoe Warehouse. The place is huge, full of stuff, and we entered full of optimism. A clearance sale was going on with big discounts in most departments. 

We started in swimwear because it was near the entrance. It was depressing. There were hundreds of swim suits, most sold as separates. Despite several rounds through the racks, I couldn’t find a top and a bottom that worked together. Some of the pre-clearance discounted prices were nuts. There were swim suit tops tagged at $75. Seriously? For just the top part of a bathing suit. 

Dressing room rejects.

There were pants suitable for work and blouses, and a couple were tossed in the cart as we made our way to the true reason for the trip – dressy stuff for the eldest niece’s upcoming wedding. The big department of special occasion dresses offered a sea of sequins. It was hard browsing the racks because all those sequins kept catching on each other and snagging the fabric of neighboring dresses. 

A lot of the dresses were floor length gowns, which were too formal, and a tragic percentage of them were matronly. Pass, pass, pass. I found three cocktail length dresses with potential, but the trip to the dressing room revealed they looked better on the hanger. The potential blouse for work was too big, some pants were very unflattering. Ugh.

Shimmery pants.

We wandered around a bit more before I stumbled upon a corner marked as designer stuff and there were even more sequins. On a rack labeled Isle with clothes tagged “Isle by Melis Kozan,” which I never heard of before but Google tells me is a brand out of New Jersey, there were a few pairs of shiny, dressy pants. Boom. 

A multicolored pair of pants covered in the tiniest of sequins for allover shimmer were bought. Victory! Finding a top was less successful, but the chances are good that there is something in the closet that will coordinate. Mom didn’t find anything, but we have a few more months.

random thoughts – Day 1,214 – (Friday) – light assembly

It was another day with a little bit of everything the weather has to throw at us – sunshine, heat, an afternoon storm with lightning, booms, and rain slamming the skylights and roof. There was a flood watch for the area. An hour later, it was sunny again. The weather thingy on the tool bar on my computer screen had the temperature at 80 before the storm, down to 75 after the storm, then back up to 80 in the course of a couple hours.

My new home office file cabinet, ordered several days ago, delivered late in the morning. The message from FedEx included a photo of the box safely inside the dry, enclosed porch, sparing me angst when today’s installment of Monsoon Summer began. 

Once home after work, the box was hauled into the house and through the dining room, into the kitchen, and over to the office. Liberated from the packing materials, the necessary, not noted in the product description light assembly commenced. The Phillips head screwdriver was fetched from the tool bag and the wheels were attached through the pinhole sized screw holes which required dexterity, patience, and some effort. Then the drawer handles were attached with the impossibly small screws. 

Wheels on,
handles next.

The color of the file cabinet is a match to the office chair, and aesthetically pleasing, but the materials are lightweight, rather flimsy, and the pencil drawer has an issue right out of the box. The front panel isn’t connected to the side panel on one side and it doesn’t seem like it will take much for the whole piece to come off in my hand. That led to an online “Contact Seller” message to ask if there is a way to secure the panel, and the duct tape is on standby.

The next challenge is to find a place for the chrome kitchen rack holding baking supplies and cookbooks. It used to live in the 17-inch space between the desk and the cabinet, and was rolled over in front of the laundry closet to make room for the file cabinet. It is by no means a solution.

In the success column, I feel like a grownup with a file cabinet for all the papers I insist on keeping. Unlike the spacious desk I had in Tennessee in my very functional and comfortable office space, the small desk for the very small office nook off the kitchen lacks drawers, probably because it isn’t very wide. I also didn’t expect it to become a permanent home office, and the cheery yellow desk was chosen because the space could be used for a dining or food service area for the dinner parties I imagined having when I bought the house and also imagined I would make friends in Lowell.

There are now folders set up for important grownup matters like property repairs and car service but more hanging files are needed. The goal is that the file boxes cluttering the room that was once intended as a guest room can finally be eliminated, helping to remove the appearance that I never finished moving in. One apartment and two houses indicate that “not quite moved in” is a recurring decorating theme requiring the sacrifice of one room. It needs to stop. The BungaLowell is too small for that nonsense.

random thoughts – Day 1,213 – (Thursday) – time flies

How are we already nearly at the middle of July? Cripes. Having fun, not having fun, the time flies either way.

Gross and grubby gate section.

I keep thinking things like, “Once we’re past Memorial Day  … father’s day ….” I can [fill in the blank]. Umm, those ships sailed months ago. Twice this week I’ve thought, “Maybe on the Independence Day weekend I’ll wash the siding on the house,” then I remember that glorious four-day weekend was more than a week ago already. And no, there was no house washing happening. 

Extra grubby section of back fence.

The dream weather for spraying water onto the house’s vinyl siding and the fences, which inevitably results in me being soaked, is hot, sunny, and humid. The weekend weather this summer has been heavy on rain and not at an angle that provides a free nature power wash.

Until the right weather conditions coincide with me being at home, the landing outside the kitchen door, the front of the house, the side deck and steps, and all the other grubby spots where the sun never gets to rest will continue to accumulate grubbiness.

 On the bright side, when the washing finally happens, the results should be dramatic. The BungaLowell and its accessories will sparkle.

random thoughts – Day 1,212 – (Wednesday) – dear brother

My brother John.

My brother John. Today is the anniversary of his birth, and it is still painful knowing I can’t call him for our annual birthday chat. Or anything else. 

The last time we spoke was two years ago today when I called him to say happy birthday. He was driving home after being out fishing on his friend’s boat all day and sounded really happy. Because he was driving, we kept it quick and I told him we could catch up later when he wasn’t driving.

Dad was into cars and not sports, and it was Mummu who introduced my brother to Little League Baseball, watching football on TV, and fishing. She used to take us to “Cousin Johnny’s farm,” a 100-acre spread on Sheldon Road in Fitchburg. “Cousin” Johnny was actually Mummu’s nephew, and because her sister/Johnny’s mother was 20 years older than Mummu, Johnny was 13 months older than Mummu. She delighted in telling people how her nephew Johnny was 13 months older than she was.

Johnny would drive us down the farm’s dirt road through the trees to the pond, and under his tutelage, we would fish for hornpout from the dock. Note to friends beyond New England, “hornpout” are catfish. Cousin Johnny would bait the hooks, and we would tend the lines and shriek with glee when we caught a fish.

Later, Mummu would fry the sliced hornpout for our supper in her small fry pan on her big stove. It was always fun going fishing, especially the year that John got a new fishing pole and gave me his old one, and I caught more fish than he did. Not that we were competitive about it or anything. Much.

We were young once.

The trips to Cousin Johnny’s farm planted the seeds for my brother John’s later love of fishing. When he moved to the Cape, fishing became a regular part of the fabric of his life. He loved ocean fishing, whether it was surf casting from shore or from a boat with his friends.

I’m glad the last time I spoke with my brother he was happy and had been spent the day doing something he loved. He said he couldn’t believe he was 60 and never thought he’d be that old. I hate that it was the last time we spoke. I hate that underneath it all, maybe he wasn’t really that happy and I had just caught him on a good day. It was several weeks later that he took his own life.

random thoughts – Day 1,211 – (Tuesday) – desk jockey

The remote work desk jockey gig continues several days a week. Today saw some soul searching concerning the pencil holder on the desk. The container is a white enamel container with black trim and is part of a vintage set. When Mom gave it to me when I moved into my first apartment during divorce number one, she said it was the refrigerator food storage precursor to Tupperware.

Many moons ago, a long ago boyfriend helped me pack my kitchen stuff when we were moving in together. His packing style was to basically throw everything loose into a box without packing paper, without care, and the lid was never seen again. The glass globe on the lid of the much beloved and regularly used vintage percolator was also smashed during the same move. It’s tough when the boyfriend helper causes destruction. In retrospect, it was a sign of things to come, but that is another story for another day.

So many pens.

Now, the container with no lid serves as a desktop pen-pencil-catchall container. It was chosen because the office space adjoins the kitchen and it was sitting on a shelf doing nothing so it made sense. In the past three years, it’s gotten a bit out of control. 

Recently, the enamel holder thing has become crammed with pens I don’t use, the few versions of the pen I like, more highlighters than are needed on a regular day, corrector tape, business cards, random scraps of paper, and sticky notes. 

Today, there was a tiny reckoning and mini Marie Kondo moment. The pens I don’t like, the ones that do not “bring me joy” and just annoy me when digging around for the one style of pen I like, were removed. Why paw through a mess of pens to get to the one I like? That’s just craziness. Why rummage though highlighters that are rarely used? 

The pens weren’t fully Marie Kondo’d – they were relocated to the junk drawer, which gets junkier every month, but once it's pushed closed, it's really easy to ignore. The highlighters were put in one of the desk drawers and are quick to get to when needed and out of the way when not. Baby steps. Besides, what do I do with a bag full of pens? Throwing them in the trash feels wasteful. Anyone need a pen (or ten)?

random thoughts – Day 1,210 – (Monday) – motivation

Right around the time I felt sufficiently motivated to join a gym, specifically the Planet Fitness a mere half-mile from home in the same plaza as my beloved Family Dollar, I visited the website to check for specials. When I was a member there in 2018-19, I didn’t go as often as I thought I would, mostly because I prefer group classes and PF doesn’t have those. But I do love the hydromassage table. 

After PF and before the pandemic that derailed world, I joined a different gym the next town over. I was lured there by the Saturday morning yoga classes, but some time into my 18-month prepaid membership, they stopped offering yoga and my interest in the place dwindled. When the pandemic hit, with still about six months on my membership, there was no communication from the pace at all when it closed or when it reopened, so I was kind of mad at them.

Now, I have the motivation of a wedding to attend in October in a hot weather part of the country where the likelihood of me keeling over from heatstroke in a long sleeve top that covers my carefully un-chiseled arms and long pants or skirt that cover my unfit legs. Suddenly exercising, which I used to enjoy once upon a time very long ago, seemed slightly appealing again.

That’s when I learned via social media posts that the nearby gym is currently closed for renovations. There hasn’t been an expected completion date noted. Ugh. Not that it really matters. It’s still another two weeks before my physical therapy evaluation for the leg that hurts when I walk, and who knows if I could even exercise at all. But dang, I bet the massage chair and hydromassage table would feel good. Hmmm.... maybe I should replace the couch with one of those.

random thoughts – Day 1,209 – (Sunday) – pockets and thrifts

Early this morning someone posted a message on Facebook to the effect of “good morning, it’s going to rain.”  I nearly dislocated my shoulder patting myself on the back for having mowed the lawn yesterday. I spent the morning waiting for the sound of rain, but it didn’t happen. This was quite ok with me. There was a lot of Sunday morning lounging about and phone calls with Mom and my sister as we formulate a plan to go shopping for outfits for the eldest niece's wedding in October.

Another day, another veggie pocket.

The obsession with veggie pockets continued. Since last Monday, there were eight meals of veggie pockets, with the last being lunch today. When I get on a food track, I really embrace the heck out of it.

In the afternoon, St Vincent de Paul Thrift Shop kept intruding in my thoughts. It was tugging at my brain and after an hour or two, I went. Sure enough, it was a jackpot day. There was no specific quest item, just a vague and general list of “things I could use” like summer blouses and the holy grail of 8.5-inch soup bowls.

Thank you St. Vincent de Paul
for the fabulous $16 haul.

The store was comfortably not crowded, and my attention was laser-focused on the two colors of tags on markdown – blue at half-off and green at 99 cents. The shopping vibes were favorable. After a couple laps through the store and adding carefully curated items to the cart, I left with two cotton blouses by Express, Vera Wang ankle length jeans, an olive cashmere sweater because winter happens every year and there can never be too much cashmere, a reversible satin baseball jacket in black and maroon because I seem to have an obsession with baseball jackets, and a like-new pair of tan suede bucks all for $16. 

The only “full price” item was the cashmere sweater at $4.75.  The shoes were 99-cents and spotted atop a children’s rack while trying on the tops over my tee shirt at one of the few mirrors in the store. Once I saw them, I couldn’t not get them.

The laundering process to remove the thrift store fragrance has begun, and most of the items are ready to flow into the wardrobe rotation. An equivalent number of items will flow to a donation pile. Eventually. These things sometimes take time.

A stop at Market Basket for more pita pockets will allow the salad pocket diet to continue. Tonight’s supper pocket, a repeat of the lunch pocket, featured feta cheese and kalamata olives. It will be interesting to see how long this food fixation lasts.

Preparing the trash for pickup tomorrow led to the realization that there are no more trash bags, prompting a trip to Family Dollar. While parking in the driveway, a flash flood alert displayed on the dashboard screen. It seems another storm is on the way. What a wet summer. I should probably be shopping for rain coats.