random thoughts – Day 1,384 – (Sunday) – New Year's Eve

The end of 2023 is wrapping up on brand with the same “What day is this?” that has dominated a few too many days in the past few years. Ever since 2020, time seems to have taken on a mushy quality where the days seem to blur together. No one day stands out from any other and it's a good thing there are phones with the date and time to help keep people straight. Or maybe it's just me. Too many days, it feels like time is pressing down and I’m trying to swim to the surface from the bottom of a lake. And I’m not a great swimmer, so that makes it all feel a bit too much extra.

Recently, I overheard two people talking in a store. One said to the other, “I know you’ve had a rough year, but 2024 should be better. You know you do better in even years.”

I hope that is the case that 2024 will be a better year, not just for the person in the store, but for all of us. It’s not that 2023 was horrible, it just wasn’t very good for a lot of people. Not necessarily catastrophic illness awful, but like a long-term lingering low-grade fever with annoying side effects. 

Here’s hoping that the celebrations, noise makers, bonfires, and fireworks and even (especially!) the quiet moments of New Year’s Eve can help us shake off the dust of 2023 and welcome a fresh, new 2024. 

 

random thoughts – Day 1,383 – (Saturday) – interactions

There was a ride to Worcester today that featured 100% cloud cover and pockets of rain of varied intensities. The destination was the hair salon for my 16-week appointment. Since letting my hair run free and natural with whatever color it chooses to grow, appointments have gone from around every six weeks to 16 or more.

The highways and city streets featured the usual cast of drivers performing the usual antics. There was the weaving in and out of traffic, waiting until the last possible second to race across two or three lanes to take an exit, and changing lanes in the middle of an intersection, as if they are accidents looking for a place to happen.

After the salon appointment with the shampoo and amazing scalp massage from the stylist with magic hands who could probably get any foreign operatives to spill all their spy secrets, there was the tiniest of trims because my hair and I have been getting along great lately and I didn't want to screw that up.

After, there was a trip to Habitat ReStore, which, unfortunately, was closed for the weekend. Not far down the same street is Savers, which was filled with shoppers and no available carts. Signs throughout the store declared that orange tags were 50% off, and after browsing the equivalent of 15 miles of racks of sweaters, blouses, and long-sleeve knit shirts, I had not found one single orange tag. Nada. Zip. The same situation was true in housewares.

I wandered the store for an hour or so in search of soup bowls and looking at sweaters, and had a conversation with a lady who stopped to ask me about my hair which morphed into a chat about a sweater she was considering buying, and a quick chat with a guy who asked “Is it my imagination or do I see you in here all the time?” Spoiler – unless “all the time” is every 16 weeks, then it’s his imagination. 

The day's acquisitions.

The browsing rescued two merino wool sweaters and a cashmere turtleneck. The sweater infatuation, which began in high school, continues. The new facet of “collecting” them is probably reaching the level of a psychological sickness, but there are worse things I could regularly be spending small amounts of money on. And the merino and cashmere versions take up much less space in the drawer than the acrylics they replace. 

A cure to the sweater hoarding might be to stop looking at sweaters in thrift stores, or maybe stop going to thrift stores at all, but that would mean fewer reasons to leave the house, and I’m not looking to stop going to thrift stores. If I pay $5 for a sweater, wear it twice, and donate it somewhere, I’m okay with that. And there are days when the tiny random conversations with strangers in thrift stores are my only  contact with another living being.  

random thoughts – Day 1,382 – (Friday) – green lights

It was another light traffic morning drive-time in beautiful Pawtucketville, Dracut, Centralville, and downtown Lowell. Fridays usually have lighter traffic and a quick and easy ride, but today was even lighter, quicker, and easier. To add to the thrill, every intersection I approached had a green light in my favor. All five of them. It was amazing, I wish it could be like that every day, and once upon a time it probably was.

Draining the garage.

The weather was more of the now too-familiar and becoming increasingly annoying gray, cloudy, rainy motif. The garage on John Street was flooded on the lower level and hoses drained the water into the the street. This has also become a little too familiar. Luckily, on the other side of the river, my basement was dry.

At the office, the vibe was light. There were five of us in the suite and it was mostly quiet, except for right after I chugged a cup of coffee and then got all chatty because that it is how it often works with coffee and me. 

A healthy amount of the chatting was about work stuff, so it could be labeled "collaboration" or "project planning" and be correct. The peace and quiet of the office was sometimes punctuated by the sound of rain on the roof. Project parts moved along in the review process, tasks were completed, and things were crossed off the list in red ink. It was a triumphant achievement for the last day of work for the year and felt most satisfying. 

The ride home was a quick as the ride to work with more green lights and no idiots blocking intersections, which was also satisfying. Of course, once school resumes and holiday vacations end and the traffic pattern returns to its regular self, I, and the other drivers, will all be cranky again. But it's been nice while it lasted and I can cherish the memory of the week the drive was civilized and pleasant.

random thoughts – Day 1,381 – (Thursday) – time not clock

Today’s work projects included a dalliance with MS Excel Spreadsheets. It was like heaven. The question that came to my desk was about how many greeting cards (birthday, sympathy, congratulations, and thank you) were used this year, and how much we spent for printing to stock them. The companion question was about the usage and cost of the companion envelopes, customized for each geographic region in our network.

The research was easy because I save the weekly inventory reports, prepare the specs and quote requests, and handle the other steps involved including the panic when the card inventory at the literature warehouse suddenly dwindles/disappears.

The tricky part was boiling down the many nuggets of a year’s worth of info into a digestible, simple answer. I figured the high level officers asking the question didn't want a blow-by-blow account of all I know about the cards -- like how we many we ordered when, the average usage, and how the orders spiked one month and the equivalent of three months average usage suddenly went out the door in a matter of weeks. 

The best editing advice I ever overheard was early in my corporate finance career. A manger I worked for was asked a question by the CFO. There was a short answer, but the manager chose to do a massive brain dump and prepare a lengthy report. The CFO, upon receiving the overdone report, replied with, “[Manager Name], I asked what time it is, not how to build a clock.” Burn! And very good advice. And also funny because we worked for a time clock company. 

The final answer to today's initial question fell into the region of “kind of a lot.” In the process of compiling info from several sources and verifying figures, I was reminded how much fun it is to get a little data crunchy. Like the recent water in the basement situation, the data crunchy joy flowed into the after work time when I decided to back up my claim that Omaha Steaks buried me with emails leading up to Christmas.

A search in my email inbox to segregate all the Omaha Steaks emails yielded a tally of 105 emails from November 21 through today, with as many as five emails some days. Technically, there were more than 105, but I had deleted the earlier ones. It was nice to know I didn’t imagine it or exaggerate when I said they were sending a lot of emails. 

Now that Christmas is over and the Omaha Steaks emails have dwindled to a couple a day, I’m feeling a little bit neglected. It’s like they are pulling away, and any minute they’ll just disappear. Well, until next year's holiday shopping season when they want to blow up my inbox and try to pick my pockets again.

random thoughts – Day 1,380 – (Wednesday) – weather weirdness

Still some roses
hanging on.

Wednesday of Christmas vacation week was a great day for driving downtown. No trash trucks. No school buses. No students walking into the middle of the street and crossing wherever they please. No heavy traffic volume clogging the intersections. It was a weird, beautiful, and peaceful seven-minute hassle free drive to the garage. 

The walk from the garage takes me past the little garden on John Street tucked between two concrete buildings. Despite the recent erratic weather and last week's storm, in the mostly untended garden and surrounded by discarded bottles and a other litter, there are still a few weary red rose blooms clinging to the thorny vines. Nature somehow endures. 

The day’s weird un-wintery weather featured temperatures in the 40s that climbed up to 50. I was a bit too warm in the office in a cashmere sweater. We were also blessed with more drizzly moisture. Yay. 

Seems warm.

The unseasonable forecast for the rest of the week includes more temps in the mid 40s and a suggestion of more rain Thursday through Saturday. How exciting is that? I’ll tell you. It’s not. Not at all. This is winter, we need something more seasonal, more New England picturesque. Less gray and cloudy London. There should be some snow, at least once. Or, if it's going to be spring-warm, let it be on some days when I can go hiking. 

No wonder it didn’t feel like Christmas with weather in the high 30s and 40s and thoughts of hiking. The weather controllers seem to think it’s closer to spring and it's confusing and weird.

random thoughts – Day 1,379 – (Tuesday) – food issues

The four-day weekend and the holiday have all conspired to deliver a mini series of “what day is today?” On Friday, the day of the oral surgeon appointment, I kept thinking it was Saturday. Saturday felt like Sunday. Sunday felt ok, but then Monday felt like Sunday again. Tuesday felt like Monday. Things may be set right on Wednesday while in the office with other team members (fingers crossed).

Even though Christmas has now come and gone and there were days off, feasting, and gifts, it still doesn’t feel like it’s happened yet. Now it’s the task of un-decorating and paying the Christmas bills.

The other post-Christmas task is the purge of the refrigerator, currently underway. The purge involves removing the Christmas calories from The BungaLowell. Mom sent me home with roast, squash, mashed potatoes, a slab of apple pie, and a slab of mincemeat pie leftover from dinner, plus a bonus box of Priscilla chocolates. My sister sent me from her home with several slices of cheesecake. Plus, there was the pecan pie bought at Aldi on Friday, leftover rice and veggie korma, and the chili chocolate cookies left over from the platters.

As much as possible and practical was stuffed into the freezer, including some of the cheesecake and  a bag of the cookies. This was an attempt at the “out of sight out of mind” principle. There are still some treats under the tree. 

Despite vowing to eat better (as in fewer sweets), today didn’t go very well and much food was stuffed into my face. Lunch was a reasonable bowl of rice and veggie korma, but it got a little crazy after that. 

One hour in.

The Priscilla chocolates were opened. It started with one chocolate. Then another. One hour after being opened, about seven pieces of the candy had disappeared, and then was all downhill and the box was three-fourths gone. At that point, it seemed dumb to stop, but when the stomach ache kicked in, that helped a lot. There was a decision to not have supper. 

Around four o’clock, thoughts of squash, mashed potato, and roast crept into my head, interrupting work. At 5:15, after finishing up some loose ends and shutting down the computer, the refrigerator was ravaged for the supper items. For the supper that had been allegedly cancelled. The candy consumption was a colossal fail, and so was skipping supper.

After supper, the slice of cheesecake still in the fridge kept whispering my name and I caved. It was creamy. It was delicious. It gave me another stomach ache, which was not a surprise and probably deserved. The food indulgence in the name of cleaning things out is not without consequences.

Additional consequences will undoubtedly be realized Wednesday when no pants fit when attempting to dress for work. It might have to be a dress day. There are a couple dresses in the closet that are a little bit forgiving. I think. At least, that is how I remember it. It’s been ages since I last wore a dress, and it was long before the current “I have to eat all this food before it spoils” Christmas leftovers removal project. If only it burned calories instead of loading them.

random thoughts – Day 1,378 – (Monday) – Christmas!

A quiet Christmas crept in with the dawn and it was most welcomed after the week of unusual events. I stayed at Mom’s on Christmas Eve and woke up Christmas morning to coffee already made, which was followed later by Mom’s French toast. Gifts had been exchanged the night before, so it was all quiet conversation against a background of morning shows on TV.

Sweets!

After seeing the same success story of an adopted three-legged poodle for the second time, we eventually found our way over to the channel with A Christmas Story. We tuned in as it was in progress, but the 24 hour marathon meant it was on again immediately. After the full run through, we channel surfed through shopping, news, and sport and finally landed on Die Hard in time to see Hans Gruber falling from Nakatomi Tower. It’s my recently acquired understanding from some fans of the movie that it isn’t officially Christmas until this fall occurs, so it was fortunate that we were able to see that important scene so as to avoid having a potentially unofficial Christmas catastrophe. 

Dinner was eaten. Dishes were cleared and cleaned. The tray of cookies and candies and dipped things was unwrapped and set under Mom's new paper tree on the food table. Mom and I played Scrabble. Formal dessert of apple pie and mince meat pie was had. 

Leftovers were packed for transport, and by 3:00, I was on the road heading east towards home, where food and gifts needed to be put away. There were Priscilla chocolates and dinner and pie leftovers from Mom's house, and a gift six-pack of Wachusett seasonal beers and slices of cheesecake from Boston's famed Modern Bakery from my sister's. A sparkly key chain with my name on it from my sister hangs temporarily on the silver tree, not far from the Moose and Winston name tags and rabies and license tags.  

After the minor refrigeration tasks, the rest of the afternoon was leisurely, quiet, and enjoyable. It included a marathon of The Gilded Age, despite having seen every season two episode countless times by now. It's fun to study the costumes and the social dynamics of the time period as the old money people find discomfort with the new. 

Around 6:30, when the bag of trash from the kitchen bin was taken out to the bin for the morning pickup, I noticed (and very nearly stepped on) an Amazon box on the top front step, directly outside the door to the very dry enclosed porch. The box was damp from the weather and small enough that the door cleared it when I swung it open, so at least it wasn’t launched down the steps. 

It was an unexpected delivery with no alerts, and why, why, why, was it not placed on the other side of the door where it would be protected from both the weather and porch pirates? Duh. I get to ask that question for about 50% of deliveries, but usually, Amazon drivers are the most careful and it's the other delivery companies that don't seem to care. The box was wet but the contents were still dry, which was fortunate. Almost as fortunate as finding unexpected gifts at the door, having a delicious dinner and leftovers to put away, and being warm, dry, and watching TV. Merry Christmas! 

random thoughts – Day 1,377 – (Sunday) – Christmas mystery date

Christmas Eve delivered a homeowner’s mini-miracle. The basement was no longer taking in water from the wall/floor area of the side closest to the brook and furthest from the sump pump. The water flowing directly into the pump was entering at a much slower rate and lower volume. Christmas was saved.

The day included a stop at Dad’s for a quick visit to drop off a gift and some baked goods, then a swing by Mom’s to pick her up before heading to my sister’s for the family annual feasting festivity. We sat around and laughed and ate sandwiches, chips, pickles, kielbasa, macaroni and cheese, baked goods, and candies.

"Mystery Date!"

The TV played a video fireplace and it was amusing to us humans when one of the family cats appeared to be watching the fire. Later, the cozy fire was exchanged for Chevy Chase and Christmas Vacation.

We played the 1965 hit board game “Mystery Date.” I had it as a kid, and my sister gave me a special edition last year for Christmas. It took almost as long as a game of “Monopoly” until we changed the rules to get it done. If you aren’t familiar with the game, you move your little game piece, dressed in a 1960s housecoat, around the board and draw cards to build outfits to possibly go on a date. It takes three cards to build a very 1965 outfit for a beach, bowling, skiing, or a formal dance date. 

There are a lot of “ifs” involved in “Mystery Date.” If you have three cards to complete an outfit, and if you land on the block that says “Open the Door?” you can lay down your outfit cards, spin the doorknob, and open the door to reveal your “Mystery Date.” If the date behind the door corresponds to the outfit shown on your cards, you win. If not, keep trying.  

1965 "Mystery Date" Dud.

If you open the door to “The Dud” you lose your three outfit cards and have to start building a three-piece outfit again. The funniest part of the 1965 “Dud” is that he doesn’t look much different than the average guy seen in the wild today. The bowler showed up so often on all of the door openings (but never the few times that one of us had a bowling outfit prepared) that we began referring to him as “The Stalker.” 

We spent a lot of time with our little outfit cards assembled, waiting and hoping to go on a date, which felt a lot like my entire time in high school and much of my time in college. Even when there was a date planned, usually the guy didn't show up, which had (has?) me feeling like the Dud in the real-world version of the game.

random thoughts – Day 1,376 – (Saturday) – relaxing stress

Water is still coming into the basement but at a much slower rate. The stress level has reduced with the water volume. Thank goodness.

The driveway is iced over again due to the continued pumping, but the reduced volume means there is less ice than Friday. If my shoulders and arms weren't screaming from the effort on Friday, I would think I had imagined all the ice chopping. The McGyver fix on the sump pump float isn’t 100% yet. The float is still going sideways and not always triggering the lever to drain, but it is shutting off after emptying so the risk of motor burnout is lessened.

Today, a new recipe was tackled – Chili Chocolate Cookies. I learned about it from a friend and located the recipe online. It seemed straightforward and reasonably detailed, but as I worked on it, questions arose. There was a note about specific oven positions for the racks and a step to line the cookie sheets with parchment paper. Easy, done. 

Chili chocolate cookies.

When the two cookie sheets were in the oven, I realized the first ingredient on the list, “two sprays of cooking spray” hadn’t been referenced in the directions. A few minutes later, things were smelling unpleasant. The parchment paper on the sheet on the bottom rack was scorched, half the cookies had burnt edges, and some of the cookies were stuck to the paper. Ah, the cooking spray would have been super helpful. The next trays of cookies were both set on the top rack.

The recipe included cayenne pepper, but I can’t taste it in the cookies. The measure was “1/4 teaspoon or to taste” which was hard, never having tasted the recipe. The next batch, if there ever is one, will get twice the measure of cayenne. And I still need to try the sriracha cookie recipe I've seen.

Keilbasa!

Later, the family kielbasa recipe was prepared. It’s sliced kielbasa in a sauce of ketchup, vinegar, and dark brown sugar, and we’ve had it at most family Christmas Eve parties since I was a kid. I have no idea where Mummu originally got the recipe from, but I remember helping her make it in the kitchen of her tidy four-room apartment on Rollstone Street when I was a teen. 

A photo of the recipe, copied by me decades ago from Mummu's own files, lives on my kitchen wall in a little frame. For whatever reason, the instructions say to par-boil the keilbasa and then slice it. It's a miracle I have fingerprints. As much as like rules, I slice it first now, directions be damned. 

Mostly ready.

Cookie trays still need to be set up, and a couple gifts wrapped, but overall, everything is under control. Gifts sit under the silver tinsel tree. Some are from friends and will be opened on Christmas Day. Others will be taken to the recipients at the annual family Christmas Eve party.  

Despite the ongoing backdrop of water in the basement, ice in the driveway, and periodically needing to check the sump pump, it was a rather relaxing day. There was time and the available head space to roast Brussel sprouts, and later, sauté onion, carrot, and broccoli to toss with rice and a jar of korma curry sauce. Delicious.

I never left the house until 7:30 when I took a quick run to Family Dollar for some cookie plates, paper towels, and disinfecting wipes. There were more customers in the store than usual. Some seemed to be involved in serious product examination and analysis. 

The weirdest thing seen in the store was an entire section of Valentine’s Day candy right next to the toys and Christmas stuff. Yes, Valentine’s Day. That stressful day in February. As I came down the aisle, another customer said, “Valentine’s? Could we at least get through Christmas?!” Amen, sister. One stressful event at a time, please.

random thoughts – Day 1,375 – (Friday) – ice chopper

It was finally the nerve-wracking day of the biopsy at the oral surgeon. But first, there was basement business to be dealt with.

The sound of the pump continuously running greeted me. There was no telling how long it had run without automatically shutting off, but it was smoking a little. The pin is so rusted that whatever part kept the ball from slipping off was missing. Clad in pajamas, bathrobe, and boots, water was pushed with the broom to the pit.

Fixing it.

There was enough time before having to leave for the appointment to push water with the broom a couple times. A wire hanger was located and unwound and fashioned into a pin for the float. The hanger had a bend that looked like it would work at the bottom of the floater to keep it on the pin. The hardest part was cutting the hanger without wire cutters, but hacking it with the scissors and bending it back and forth a bunch of times worked. I can be like a dog with a bone when needed.

A few test runs were done. The pin was too long at first and the top bend had to be redone to shorten it. There was time for three tests before leaving. Water was broom pushed across the floor to fill the pit. The float still goes sideways as it nears the top of the water and the lever, and takes a little too long to trigger the pump, but it eventually raises the lever to empty the chamber and it shuts off after emptying it, which is an improvement.

The biopsy was quick, exactly as the oral surgeon had promised during the consultation. A numbing swab, some Novacain, and some cutting, and we were done. The odd thing was whatever they were doing the biopsy on had gotten smaller since the consultation. There was no need for stitches. With the holidays, it could be a week for a lab report.

The recovery room felt unnecessary as I felt fine, but it’s where after care was explained. No hot or spicy food. Nothing crunchy or crusty. No nuts. I asked for clarification on the “hot” and yes, that meant temperature. I could eat ice chips and use an ice pack on the outside of my face. 

Basically, I have to be careful until Monday, which will likely infringe on the Christmas Eve party eating. Ugh. That idea hurts more than the procedure, which felt like a non-event. 

Iced. 

Back at The BungaLowell, it was time to deal with the driveway. All the water coming out of the basement had frozen in the driveway. Worse, it had flowed over to the neighbor’s side. It was thick and looked like a skating rink. 

Rock salt was the first step, and as I tried to chop the ice with a plastic shovel, the neighbor came out to put something into his recycle bin. We chatted about my basement and said he hadn't checked his. He lent me his ice chopper and a metal shovel and apologized for not being available to help.

It was 1.5 hours of ice chopping, shoveling, and trying to clear a path for the water under the ice and still coming from the pump to flow to the drain in the street. The pump hose regularly spit out water, an indication that my wire hanger fix was working. 

Space to put the chopped ice ran short. It was relocated along the fence near the driveway and the street, and at the end of the labor, a heap of it sat at the end of the driveway near the corner of the fence.

I got to chat with the neighbor from the house closest to Beaver Brook who was amazed at the volume of ice and water in my driveway. She said her basement wasn’t taking in water anywhere like mine. Go figure. Another neighbor who has a view of the Beaver Brook mentioned the water is receding. I didn’t walk up the embankment to look.

I was getting sore from chopping and pushing and scooping and tossing and needed to eat. The job wasn’t completed, but it was better than it was. Chopping ice turned out to be a great stress reliever and distraction. Quiche was found in the freezer, heated, and eaten more carefully than possibly ever. A Netflix movie was put on and I fell asleep on the couch halfway through.

It felt reckless going four or five hours without checking the basement, but I just couldn’t. When I finally went back downstairs, it wasn’t horrible. There was water on the floor and I pushed what I could to the hole. There was ice cream for supper. I’ll check the basement again before bed.

random thoughts – Day 1,374 – (Thursday) – interval training

It has been a hella-week.  

Last Thursday, the evening peace and quiet was shattered by pop- pop ... pop-pop-pop-pop and I, in my living room, thought why the hell are idiots shooting fireworks now? But it wasn’t fireworks. It was gun shots, directed at the Nuisance House across the street. It was followed by at least two hours of police car lights and flashlights and loud conversations in the street including such tidbits as “I know who it was – well, not their names, but I know the faces.” Ugh.

Waterworld..

The weekend felt quietly normal but Monday delivered the rain/wind storm with a power outage that lasted 24 hours and 24 minutes on my street. Tuesday had the split personality of no power/have power, the 45 minute drive two miles to work, and screwed up traffic and general weirdness. Wednesday had the overworked sump pump and water covering the basement floor. Thursday was frenetic attention to things that needed to be done at work  followed immediately by home-based interval fitness training. 

The interval training was kind of exciting. For a  minute anyway. It involved rushing downstairs to the basement, manually resetting the sump pump, and pushing water with a broom from the perimeter of the room to the sump pump hole.  

During the work day this occurred approximately every hour. After work it was every 15 minutes. There was the resetting of the pump and, because I was already downstairs, pushing water to the sump pump hole with the specially designated basement broom before resetting the pump again. Who needs a gym when the water table is high?  Also, fuck you climate issues and high water table.

The source of the exterior water table angst is the extra-high level of Beaver Brook after the late-fall edition of monsoon season. The interior water angst is the messed up rusted narrow pin that holds the sump pump floater ball which clearly needs replacement. But how do you buy a single metal rod that allows the floater ball to rise and fall? You can’t. It doesn’t exist. You need an entire new sump pump system, starting at $249 at the local Big Box hardware store. It might be possible to McGyver it with a wire hanger (or some other solution), but wire hangers were replaced at The BungaLowell years ago by wooden hangers and while there are random art supplies, hardware is another game altogether.

So there I was, every fifteen minutes, staring and swearing at a floater ball on a rusty metal rod in a pool of water. It won’t rise and it won’t fall. The water just collects around it. The ball floats sideways. The connecting lever is pushed down by hand. The interval training takes place with the pushing of water via broom from the far edges of the basement towards the sump pump hole. Every fifteen minutes. This is measured data, not poetic license like when I say a “gazillion” to indicate “a lot, but I’m too lazy to get an actual amount, so I’ll use some fantastical amount.”

Bright side – the 15-minute interval training was probably physically beneficial and might make up for blowing off the gym for at least one day of the past several weeks. Well, except for where it feels like I pulled a muscle in my boob. That might require medical attention. Pushing water with a broom is hard. And water can be evil.

random thoughts – Day 1,373 – (Wednesday) – swap it

On Wednesdays, the entire Sales and Marketing team is onsite at work and once a month we gather for a meeting. Today’s meeting was designated as a holiday social lunch event with a Yankee Swap gift exchange.

The main work surface in the office, an island with cabinet storage is dubbed “the altar” because it isn’t uncommon for it to hold various food offerings. Today, the food started with homemade Oreo cookie truffles, pizzelle waffle cookies, and later, pretzel squares with chocolate and caramel. 

Ready for the Yankee swap!

By lunchtime the altar held 16 wrapped/bagged gifts for the Yankee Swap plus stacks of pizzas, salads, and appetizers including chicken tenders, broccoli cheese bites, and steak and cheese spring rolls. We stood around chatting and stuffing our faces. 

When it was time for the gift swap, it got comical. The marketing head and the sales head set up the numbers and we began drawing for the order. I drew number 4, but it was soon discovered that there was a blank slip, and two of this number and two of that number and not enough numbers overall. The slips were collected, the numbers were rewritten, and the jokes were cracked. This time I drew number 15 of 16.

The coveted beer.

There were some gifts that proved desirable. A craft beer assortment was swapped for prosecco. Then the beer was taken by a beer lover who was pleased with the collection. He didn’t have it for long before it was taken from him. Before the taker could explore the assortment it was lost again. To me. I took it. And I didn't feel bad about it. Sorry guys. Don't hate the player, hate the game. Luckily, I got to hang on to it. The only thing that beats a craft beer assortment is craft beer I don’t have to go out and shop for. 

Decorated.

After work, several of us went to Cobblestone’s to meet up with a former colleague who is home for Christmas. There were laughs and drinks near the garland festooned beveled-edge mirrors and tin ceiling. 

The first time I went to Cobblestone's, not long after starting at the bank, the light fixtures had leaded tiffany style lampshades. There was a redecoration along the way and now the lighting looks like boring-ass colonial lanterns.

The thrill of craft beer victory was replaced by homeowner angst when I arrived home. It was the end of the fun and reindeer games for me beginning the minute I walked into the house.

The sound of a motorized something greeted me as I opened the door, laden with a heavy shopping tote filled with the beer and candy treats from colleagues. The whirring was punctuated by the chirp of the still not replaced carbon monoxide /smoke detector in the basement. The motorized sound was the sump pump pumping away and not automatically stopping when the pit was empty. Ugh. For a day when it didn’t even rain, the basement has more puddles than two days ago when it did. And unlike previous efforts, the chirp didn’t stop when the reset button was hit. 

All I see are dollar signs and it's blinding. Yay. Maybe Santa can bring me a pile of money. Or a handyman. Or pull a Yankee swap for a different house on higher ground. Any of these would be acceptable at this moment. Or maybe I could just run away.

I suppose if I drink all the new beer, it would temporarily blot out the chirping, the pump, and the puddles, but that would make for a terrible work day on Thursday. And it still wouldn’t solve the problems. Ugh.

random thoughts – Day 1,372 – (Tuesday) – power up

Candle light chocolate project.

Monday night with no electricity was a bit of an adventure. The kitchen was illuminated by pillar candles, jar candles, and a very handy LED lantern of mysterious origin that usually resides in bathroom closet. 

The gas stove was lit and an attempt made to melt chocolate, which didn’t go well. Once I remembered I had a double boiler and cell service to access Google to check what to do when the chocolate seizes, things went better. Pretzels were dipped. Chocolate coins were made. It took forever. 

At bedtime, I felt like an old-timey ghostly lady as I walked through my house holding the LED lantern. I should have been wearing a flannel nightgown and bedcap to complete the look.

The overnight featured many instances of waking up. Once, the bedroom had become bright and I woke up, excited, thinking the street light outside was on and the electricity was back. It was a false alarm, and the illumination was the headlights of a car backed into the driveway across the street, bright modern LED headlights shining straight into my house. It happens often enough that the idea of lining the windows with reflective paper is starting to sound like fun. Back at you headlights!

When it was time to get up for the day, the power was still out. Clothes were chosen by lantern light, and I  worried I looked like I had dressed in the dark (which I had). I left the house a half-hour early to get to get a jump on the day and also enjoy the electricity and a coffee. Ha! The joke was on me. It took 45 minutes to travel the two miles from home. The traffic lights were out, and people seemed to have forgotten the basic road rule of practicing a four-way stop at intersections.

Behind the scenes.

There was a photo shoot in another town with a drive that was much more civilized than the ride to the office. The route included fully functioning traffic lights and I have never appreciated them more than this morning. At the shoot, the photographer got to climb up on a step ladder and position people and I took pictures of him taking pictures of the photo subjects. I can entertain myself pretty easily. 

At 11:24 am today, 24 hours and 24 minutes after the power went out at The BungaLowell, a text came in with the exciting news that the power had been restored. That was a great moment of the day, an hour later when I saw it. Twenty minutes after the power company message, a text came from the cable/Internet provider that service had been restored.

After work, there was another kitchen workout. Tonight, it was possible to melt chocolate in the microwave, which went much better. Sugar cookies were baked from a mix which was less easy that it seemed in the directions. Cookies and treats were packed into loot bags from the party section of Dollar Tree. The bags will go to the office on Wednesday, the day all of us are in attendance.

There was a feeling of completion. Not all the planned recipes were made, partly due to the derailment caused by power outage.  Further baking will likely occur Thursday and Friday, in preparation for the family festivities to supplement what has already been done. Or not.

random thoughts -- Day 1,371 -- power play

The power went out around 11:00 on Monday morning. It went quietly. Stuff just disappeared from the computer screen. It wasn’t long before the quiet was pierced by the sound of sirens. It seemed like they were coming from every direction. My lunch wasn’t affected by the power situation. At 10:30 I had gotten hungry and eaten leftover turkey, potato, green bean casserole foraged from the freezer on Sunday. Delicious! It was brunch. 

Cell phone service was still active, and texts were sent to colleagues about the power situation. After another half-hour, it was decided to use vacation time for the afternoon. I read a part of a chapter of a book on the couch in dim daylight. Curtains and drapes were opened for natural light, and the string broke on the honeycomb blinds. Three drawers were reorganized and things I thought had been donated were found and reallocated to the current donation pile. This was interesting for about 45 minutes, and I was ready to go to the office where there was electricity and climate control.

I texted the colleagues to say I was canceling the half-vacation day and coming in.

The ride downtown wasn’t bad. The traffic volume was light, and the signals in Dracut were functioning, but once I crossed the line back into Lowell some of them were out. Most people recognized the four-way stop process, so it was semi civilized.

The temperature was 57 and crept up to 62. Warm. Balmy. Wet. Windy.

The afternoon was well lit. Work happened. The cell phone was charged. There are three or four of us in the suite affected by the power outage, and maps and updates were consulted and compared.

As the time neared 5:00 and when we would normally flee the premises for home, we saw an update. The estimate for power to be restored was noon. December 21. Like, Thursday. As in, several days from now. Ugh. A later update scaled it to Wednesday, which is still pretty far away. A couple of us stayed late catching up on things, enjoying the modern conveniences, wondering what to do about dinner and morning showers and other practical considerations.

It could be an interesting night. Thank goodness I have a healthy stockpile of candles.

random thoughts – Day 1,370 – (Sunday) – time spent

The morning was quiet. The midday included an excursion to a psychic fair and craft show in Andover and Aldi in Salem, NH. The evening featured domestic labor.

The psychic and craft show was interesting. Not being a psychic, it would have helped to have some guidance upon entering the room. There was a center aisle with tables of crafts on each side. That part was straightforward. There were all sorts of items available including wands, jewelry, crystals, and décor. I had a nice chat with a woman selling Herkimer diamonds mined in Herkimer, New York. The stones were fascinating with 18 facets and I was tempted by a pendant filled with tiny stones. I didn't buy it and now wish I had.

The confusing part of the event involved the "psychic" part. There was an outer ring of people at tables doing readings or waiting for people to sit for a reading. When there were signs, they were hard to read from the center aisle, so I couldn’t tell if someone was a card reader, palm reader, psychic, or what. It felt awkward walking near the tables of readers to see the signs because, in several cases, I would potentially be intruding on someone’s personal reading in progress. There was no indication who to ask for help or a listing of the types of reading available, or if signups were required.

Supplies!

The grocery store, fortunately, was blissfully straightforward. The layout, products, and process are familiar and I had a list. There were a few items needed for the baking project and baking chips, butter, and milk, plus other glamorous non-baking items like toilet paper were procured. 

The annual baking project did, indeed, begin. The kitchen gets quite a workout each year at this time. Peppermints, and later, walnuts, were smashed with a meat mallet, which is always a good time. Butter was melted and stirred and boiled with sugar. 

Tonight’s shift produced two batches of the annual Christmas Crack (saltines with candy deliciousness), followed by brownies. There are several more recipes scheduled to be dealt with each night after work. Some require the oven, others the stovetop, some others, just the microwave. Most require at least a bit of time being heated, being chilled, and later, being packed. It always feels like time well spent.  

random thoughts – Day 1,369 – (Saturday) – glassware

When I woke up, there was no plan for the day beyond morning coffee. By the time the coffee was gone, there was a plan to meet Mom in Fitchburg to do some shopping. 

We met up and parked her car and visited UpScale Consignmint, Bob’s Store, Home Goods, Dollar Tree. We looked at stuff. We touched stuff. We dodged other shoppers with carts in the narrow aisles lined with holiday items. Bob's had signs declaring 10% to 80% off, and even still, the prices seemed pricey. 

Candelabra.

Home Goods had a display of five shelves of fancy glassware. The entire display was dust free and sparkled under the lights. A heavy looking candelabra on the top shelf captivated my attention. It would look great on the grand piano in the massive foyer or music room of the dream house of my 20s. 

Funny how things don't quite work out. The entire first floor of The BungaLowell would fit in the front hall of my elegant once upon a dream house and I have long since given up the idea of a dream house, dream car, dream job, dream life, or dream partner.

At Dollar Tree, I bought bags for baked goods in case I actually get it in gear and actually bake. Mom got some paper plates. The checkout line was forever long, giving us time to study the heavy traffic on Route 12 in Leominster. We couldn't wait to get away from the area.

We fled to the quiet dining room of Uno for lunch before peeling off on our separate ways. I drove deeper into the ‘Burg on a sort of a joyride through residential streets. When I’m in the area, sometimes I just drive around the hills where once upon a time in much younger days I walked or rode my bike. Those were good days.

On the way out of town, there was a stop for gas and a visit to the Salvation Army Thrift Store, mostly because the parking lot was empty and a break in the traffic allowed for an immediate left turn. Kind of a miracle. The hunt for the “right” soup bowls continues. Instead, I found a smaller creamer than the one I have, a small dish shaped like a tree, and a red tee shirt with the outline of a reindeer in tiny studs on the front (total cost $6). The glassware at Salvation Army was a far cry from the glassware at Home Goods, but it is certainly more suited to my actual life.

Back in Lowell, it was a stop at St. Vincent de Paul Thrift Store to check for soup bowls. Instead, I found a one-cup liquid measuring cup to supplement my two-cup version, a wire tree sculpture thing, a black and white plaid shirt, a black and white sweater, and a brown print silk blouse (total cost $12). It’s odd how the search for soup bowls keeps turning into clothing acquisitions. Merry Christmas to me? 

While predictable Christmas movies with similar plots played on the TV, I flipped through the Land O'Lakes Cookie cookbook. Ingredients were scanned and a couple sticky notes placed to flag potential recipes. It's another step closer to actual baking. Tomorrow has no solid plan, but there is a loose idea of baking. 

random thoughts – Day 1,368 – (Friday) – Barbie (again)

Sometimes you (by which I mean me) need to watch something lighthearted. No crime. No big family drama. Nothing in a foreign language with subtitles.  

Tonight was such a night. 

First, it was a fluffy little movie about a wedding planner (“Christmas Wedding Planner”), and while choosing a follow up show, I remembered the cheery email that came this week. Barbie is streaming on max! The happy colors! The Dream Houses! The beautiful clothes! The convertibles!

So yes, I watched Barbie. For the third time, but the first time at home alone while wearing my cozy fleece pants. It’s still funny. How can you not love blond Ken (whose job is not lifeguard, but "professional Beach”) posturing and arguing with the other Kens with lines including “I’ll beach you off!” and “I’ll beach you both off!” That scene still cracks me up.

Stereotypical Barbie
in her convertible.

And then there is Barbie, in her dawning existential crisis and newly flat feet, telling the other Barbies, “I know I’m stereotypical Barbie and therefore don’t form conjectures concerning the causality of adjacent unfolding events, but some things have been happening that might be related.” The events being, “Bad breath this morning, a cold shower, burnt waffle, falling off my roof.” Barbie is suddenly no longer living the perfect day everyday. Harsh. 

In Barbieland, it’s easy to forget about work, bills, Christmas, and all the Real World aggravation. At least until Barbie takes us to visit the Real World, anyway.

But before the Real World, there is Barbie’s local trip, clad in a dress reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland and trekking like solo Dorothy on the journey to Oz to see Weird Barbie at her Weird House. And Weird Barbie points out the new appearance of cellulite on Stereotypical Barbie’s thigh and delivers the terrible news “that’s going to spread everywhere. And then you’re going to get sad, and mushy and complicated.” Amen, Barbie sisters.

Anyway, gotta run. I have a big date with my Barbie gal pals and the epic trip to the Real World to fix the rip in the Portal. We need to take “a sports car to a speed boat to a rocket ship to a tandem bike to a camper van to a snowmobile” to get most of the way to Los Angeles for the neon outfits and roller blades. Talk about a trip. And I whine about my commute.

Gotta run. Don't want Barbie to leave without me.

random thoughts – Day 1,367 – (Thursday) – meat haunt

It has been a bombardment of ads from Omaha Steaks for the past few weeks. Snail mail with sheets of glossy paper with glamorous photos of meat. Texts. Sponsored ads in my Facebook feed. And the emails -- two, three, even as many as five a day.  

The ad onslaught began in earnest after ordering a gift pack. The ads arriving since sending the gift are loaded with offers and extras. Twelve free burgers! Free freezer pack or lunch bag or cookware saver kit. A $30 coupon. Bonus this. Extra that. 

Yes, I realize I could unsubscribe, but ... but ... what if I need to send another meat gift in a hurry? And from a marketing perspective, I'm curious to see if it gets worse as we get closer to Christmas. 

The worst part is, while ordering the gift on Cyber Monday, I had an itchy little thought that the deals might get better and maybe I should wait. Now, I’m thoroughly annoyed that seems to be the case.

I’m also kind of annoyed by the crushing avalanche of ads. Enough already. I understand the whole customer touchpoint thing, but cripes, they could touch me a little bit less and that would be great. It's a fine line between feeling wanted and feeling stalked. Tonight, as of 9:00, I had received four emails from my friends at the steak company, timestamped three, 9, 11, and 14 hours ago. Do I hear five? A few days ago saw five. 

Most of the ads feature the image of a succulent petit filet mignon, and after seeing this countless times a day for the past three weeks, I have never wanted a stupid little filet mignon more. Usually, I don’t want one at all. Don’t even think about it. Red meat is generally pretty far off my radar. I don’t buy it or prepare it at home, and if a red meat craving hits (every six to eight weeks or so) I have a burger in a restaurant. 

But damn, if I wasn't looking at Omaha Steak packages and counting the number of filets and burgers and caramel apple tartlets and thinking about how much freezer space could be made available.

Tonight, I nearly ordered a package for myself. I was saved by the pork chops. Except for the novelty of the 2-inch thick chops one time at Patti’s 1880s Settlement in Grand Rivers, Kentucky, I’ve never been much of a fan of pork chops. The presence of pork chops in the package with a decent number of filets and burgers was enough to have me scroll on. Besides, ordering it tonight wouldn’t satisfy the sudden filet craving, also tonight.

The filet craving morphed into a burger craving which sent me to the website of my favorite delivery joint to scroll burgers, including the Impossible Burger. That seemed promising, but in the end, it was leftover tortellini for the win, both for speed and affordability, and in mere minutes I was dining thanks to the wonder of microwave oven technology.

Maybe tomorrow I can continue to hold strong against the daily haunting of the steak ads. With luck I’ll be over the (hopefully) temporary filet mignon infatuation. Maybe I'll even buckle down and unsubscribe from the emails and texts, but at least they make me feel wanted. Or maybe I’ll be roaming the streets in search of a filet mignon. Fingers crossed I’ll be spared such a fate.

random thoughts – Day 1,366 – (Wednesday) – time flew

The day flew by. It began early when I woke up at 5:00, stressed out over some dumb thing and couldn’t get back to sleep. At 5:30, I gave up and got up. Instead of using the extra hour of awake time for something productive, I read news and drank coffee, solved Wordle in three guesses, and forgot to do a morning Duolingo lesson. The next thing I knew it was time to leave for work. It kind of snuck up on me.

Festive floral.

The office day kicked off in a big way with with an amazing breakfast spread, prepared and presented by the two top managers on the floor. There were fresh donuts from Market Basket, procured by one of the bosses immediately after they were put out at the bakery. Market Basket has such great donuts at their bakery that they sell really quickly, but our boss knew the timing and showed at the strategically timed moment. The healthier fare included cider, orange juice, Greek yogurt (two flavors) and fruit. The hot dish stars were the Bank-famous French toast casserole and a quiche casserole. It was all delicious. A beautiful table arrangement with white roses, hydrangeas and seasonal accents, left from an event yesterday, rounded out the holiday scene. 

Powered by the fabulous sustenance, it was nose to the grindstone at the desk. The hours flew by. Words were deleted and rearranged in that fun task called editing. Ok, it’s fun to me. I realize it isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.

There were conversations about campaigns and shock and awe over a couple ad and flyer requests that came in with ridiculously short deadlines. Suddenly, it was a surprise to see it was few minutes past 5:00. Cuh-razy. Time had snuck up on me again.

It was a sprint through the darkened streets to the garage, but mostly because that is my usual pace when my leg isn’t being an annoyance and luckily today it was not. There was no real reason for the rush, it was more that I could walk really fast, so I did. Once home, the dishwasher was emptied and then  it was lot of relaxing, also known as sitting on the couch.

random thoughts – Day 1,365 – (Tuesday) – work and laughs

Last week,  multiple nights with after work activities had me confused about what day it was. Today, it was going in to the office on what is usually a remote day that had me a bit sideways. 

There was a photo shoot in the suite this morning and I invited each of the ten bankers scheduled so I wouldn’t feel right not being there to greet them. There are sometimes location shoots that I coordinate that I have to miss, including one last week when I had a medical appointment, and I always feel a bit guilty about not being in attendance when I was the point of contact and organizer.

I nearly forgot my lunch as I headed out the door for the office on a regular remote day, but I remembered and visited the refrigerator to grab some tortellini and sauce. At the office-office, colleagues and I chatted about the day ahead of us and things after work and I realized I had forgotten my notebook  for my board meeting after work. It's the notebook where the attendance spreadsheet lives and where I record the meeting notes, and it was at home in the cubby slot where it belongs and not in the pile of notepads I stuffed into my work bag.

The day moved along smoothly. Everybody on the photo schedule showed up and the photos went well. Other projects moved along. An orders for banners was placed. Invoices were requested from a couple vendors for year-end processing.  

The board meeting after work was quick. Eight of us attended in person and several more were attending via Zoom. The meeting was followed by our annual holiday gathering with pizza, a cheese board, olives, chips and homemade guacamole, and homemade fudge, plus wine and cider spread out on the conference table with the seasonal centerpiece with the bowl of Hershey nugget candies. 

We sat around the conference table and laughed at the stories told to us by a fellow board member who could easily do standup comedy. There were hilarious tales from grade school with the nuns and work hijinks from various jobs. The laughs were much needed because there certainly isn’t enough laughter in the world most days and it was nice to relax for an hour and talk with people. Good times.

random thoughts – Day 1,364 – (Monday) – estimates

There was a weather forecast for heavy rain overnight and into today with estimated high winds and notices about potential flooding. There were alerts from National Grid about how they were gearing up for potential outages and it was nice to know they were preparing. My preparations were mostly making sure my phone was charged. In a power failure it would also be a light source.

This morning, when I rolled the trash and recycle bins to the street, the usual giant puddle was at the end of the driveway as testament to the fact it had rained, but overall, the weather didn’t seem to have been as bad as forecast. The basement had a couple wet spots, but nothing like I’ve seen before and that was a relief.

While the weather was less bad than expected, other recent info was less than delightful.

An estimate was received recently for a new front door. I hate the front door to my house. It has a glass pane vertically down the center with a strip of some stupid looking etched frost effect. When the neighbors across the street have cars backed into their driveway with the headlights on, they shine all the way through the house to the far wall in the kitchen. This happens a lot more than seems necessary.

Kind of close to
the door I want.

The door I really want is like the one I had at my little ranch house in Tennessee. It was a Craftsman style door with a paneled leaded glass window high on the door with a rail with dentil molding below the window. 

Since moving in at The BungaLowell, I've looked for such a door online and in person at the big box stores with a focus that varies from casual to highly focused with no tangible results. The Tennessee door was from a big box store, but the exact style doesn’t seem to exist there anymore, although several are kind of sort of close. 

I can settle for a door I like much less than my Tennessee one with a mediocre leaded window from the company I spoke with, for the princely sum of around $6,000. If I get the door I don’t really like with a plain window that I like even less than the leaded one available, it would drop the cost to between $3,000 and $4,000. At least the estimates include installation, but even still, I’ll have to pass. 

I suddenly like the current door a few degrees more now that I have an estimate of what it could cost to replace it. Funny how that works.

random thoughts – Day 1,363 – (Sunday) – stuff and sadness

Clarksville, the city in Tennessee where I lived for 12 years (2001-2013), was visited by another tornado on Saturday. It was during the intermission of Saturday night’s Christmas Concert at Fitchburg State, while standing in the building’s lobby with the weakest of cell phone signals (one tiny little notch of a bar) and no wi-fi connection, that I was able to somehow connect to Facebook to finally broadcast my presence at the concert with a check-in and see what else was going on in the world of my friends. What I was reading seemed scary. 

In 1999, there had been a tornado that ruined a chunk of downtown and during my time in Clarksville there had been more tornado watches and warnings than I wanted to think about. Once, one had touched down in Gallatin and danced around X2's workplace and damaged some buildings. Last night’s event damaged and even destroyed a lot of housing and took the lives of two adults and a child.

Moose, 12-10-2009.

The Sunday morning news included various videos of a tornado and the damage left in its wake. So far, my friends and acquaintances still in C-Ville have fared ok. I miss my friends and the arts scene there, but I sure don’t miss the weather when it gets wild and temperamental.

After the sad news from Tornado Alley, there were Facebook memories to contend with. This date in 2009 was Moose’s “gotcha date” when he left the shelter and came to live with me. It took me about two seconds to be head over heels smitten with him and he was my buddy until the end. We had a good run with lots of cuddles and snuggles. 

After some time spent with coffee and reflection, it was time to get moving. It was Sugar & Spice weekend at The Brush Art Gallery and Studios, and the added incentive of artist made cookies was just the extra little nudge I needed to get me out the door. 

Little Sculpture by Jay Hungate.

The stack of Christmas cards had been addressed, sealed, and stamped and was brought to the Post Office and then it was a mission to get a few Christmas gifts knocked off the list. The mission was a success and there were even a couple things for myself, including a precious little dog sculpture by Jay Hungate. 

Back at home, gifts bought previously and the items from today were wrapped (ok, put into gift bags if we must be precise) and presented a visual accounting of how much has already been done. It’s a relief.

 Next up, the drafting of the annual baking schedule.

random thoughts – Day 1,362 – (Saturday) – more spontaneity

The spontaneous fun continues. Tonight, it was a Christmas concert at Fitchburg State University with a friend. I don't think I've been to a Christmas music show since I was married and living in Tennessee and saw Trans Siberian Orchestra with X2.

The plan came together early this afternoon. Before the plan was hatched, I had procrastinated my way out of going to the gym and even having a shower. There were some alerts on a social media account and an attempted log in from Oklahoma to deal with and I finally got around to taking the annual Christmas card photo. There had been several false starts testing the card concept over the past couple weeks and when I realized the date today, panic set in, a setup was devised, improvised, and finalized. There is nothing like a deadline to get my arse in gear. The envelope addressing was underway when suddenly I was changing gears and showering and planning an outfit for appetizers and a concert. 

My friend and I met at Slattery’s, a longtime Fitchburg favorite. After much deliberation over zucchini sticks and chicken strips, or a fig and prosciutto flatbread, or nachos, we ordered the nachos. Later, it was a quick trip to campus and the concert in Weston Auditorium. I couldn’t remember the last time I was in the auditorium, but it's possible it was when I was still a student, long before the school was promoted from "college" to "university."

The concert featured a collaboration of five choral groups from the region including Gardner and Westford, and multiple instrumental groups. The music was segmented into three groups, “Songs of Christmas Past,” “Songs of Christmas Present,” and “Songs of Christmas Yet to Come.” 

Full stage.

The first segment featured classics from Tchaikovsky, Irving Berlin, and selections from Handel’s Messiah. The "Hallelujah Chorus" sent me back to singing with the youth choir in the choir loft at Faith United Parish. The second segment had two interesting arrangements, one of Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” and the other a very fresh take on “Jingle Bells.” The final segment was heavy on adaptations of pieces from Trans Siberian Orchestra.

The event was described as having 250 musicians and when all the singers in white shirts were on stage with the instrumentalists in black shirts, the stage was full. The odd thing was, with around a hundred singers, they weren’t that loud and it seemed like the instruments were drowning them out. In spite of that, it was still pretty great. Very enjoyable, and a nice change of pace.