random thoughts – Day 1,501 – (Friday) – town and city planning

It’s usually feast or famine with my social calendar, and this weekend is a feast. But it doesn’t mean it’s all fun. It’s requiring planning, with which I have an intense love-hate relationship. I like when there is a plan, but I hate having to be the one making the plan. This is why my job title is not event planner.

When there is no plan, I often end up doing nothing. The sit on the couch and stare at Netflix while simultaneously messing around on my phone kind of nothing. When there is a plan, I can move from one thing to another and it’s lovely. 

Venue map.

But again, there is the dreaded making of the plan, which is a lot easier when it's allowed to be sequential -- Event A at Location A at time A, then Event B begins at Location B after Event A is done and everything is just a few steps away. Saturday afternoon art receptions sometimes work like this, or pretty close.

This weekend’s issues include the two-day (nights really, but let’s not nit pick) The Town and The City Music Festival. On the Friday night roster, there are several bands I’d like to see, and they are all playing at overlapping times at different venues that aren’t necessarily near each other. Robin Hitchcock at Christ Church United? Heck yes! But why does it have to be so far from the main cluster of venues which has Muck and the Mires at Smokehouse Tavern at an overlapping time? Seriously, why? 

Do I park at the first venue then hope for parking for the second (4 minute drive, who knows how long to park)? Do I park for the second venue and walk to the first (12 minutes, per Google), then hope I still even feel like going to the second one? Park in the work garage sort of in the middle (10 minutes to first place, five minutes from the second)? What in the actual blankety-blank?

Night two of the festival puts it in direct conflict with an event commitment in another town, so I’ll be, as Dad used to say (and still might, but I’m no longer in the audience of his dinner table tales to know), “high-tailing it” from Dracut to downtown Lowell where I will most definitely miss David Amram (Academic Arts Center), but might be able to catch Roger Clark Miller (Thirsty First) or Jen Kearney (Warp & Weft). Who knows? I sure don’t.

Trying to plot a schedule for this music thing feels way too much like the planning and scheduling I do at work, but at least at work there is a monetary reward doled out every two weeks. Figuring out where to be at what time is just giving me a colossal headache. I can't even highlight my choices on the schedule because it is printed on a glossy cardstock that doesn't take ink and is a pain in a butt to fold. Normal paper would have been fine. 

And then there are the wardrobe issues. What jacket do I need tonight? Will it be crowded? Do I have suitable pockets, or do I need a purse? This will be followed tomorrow by full blown panic over dressing for the fancy Saturday night Dinner and a Show event. What fits? Will I be cold? 

I’ll be fine with whatever show I’m at. It’s the coin toss and decision-making on the front end and the related logistics that are giving me heartburn. It’s 2024 dammit, where is my personal jetpack and the “Scotty, beam me up” technology? Elementary school was so full of lies.

random thoughts – Day 1,500 – (Thursday) – outwitted

I have been outwitted. Clever, crafty little Miss Kiki’s levels of psychological warfare and cunning are more sophisticated than I suspected. 

Stationed at the top of the stairs.

Within the first few days of her arrival in February, she ferreted out the box spring supporting my mattress. The box spring had ben sawed in half on the long sides and center support, and folded in half to get it up the steep and narrow circa 1930 staircase to the bedroom. Once upstairs,  it was spliced back together with strips of wood and the fabric at the sides and underside of the box spring had duck-tape covering the slices. 

Over the years, the tape came off when caught on a storage bag or box in transit. It was mostly a nonissue. The loose fabric had no effect on sliding the storage boxes and bags under the bed. Non-issue until Kiki arrived, anyway.

Clever little Kiki found her access point in the detached fabric within days of arriving at The BungaLowell, and spent half a week tucked up in various corners of the box spring. The sliced fabric on the sides of the box spring allow for sliding my arm in, but she is always too far away for me to reach with anything but the beam of the cell phone flashlight.

One day during that first week, I sat patiently in the living room, ear cocked for sounds of movement from my feline roommate. When Kiki came downstairs for a sip of water or whatever it was, I sprinted upstairs and closed the bedroom door. Then I congratulated myself on my success.

Back in the box.

In the two months since her excommunication from the box spring, Kiki has set up a rotation of preferred lounging spots – halfway up the stairs, at the top of the stairs, behind the couch, behind the chair, in the hidey bed. When I went to bed, she would camp out under the dining room table randomly meow at odd hours. 

If the meowing seemed excessive or sounded especially plaintive, I would leave my bed to check on her. Sometimes she would let me close enough to pet her, with “close enough” being equal to the length of my arm plus a little extra smidge so I have to stretch. She would even back up a bit if it seemed the position was growing less cumbersome for me.

In the most recent week or two, there was another shift and anytime I approached her, or even entered the room she was in, Kiki ran and hid. When I went up the stairs, she sped down, then would pause at the bend in the stairs to look at me. When I entered the living room, she'd slide off the chair and run behind the couch. To attempt to pet her required me hanging over the back of the couch to barely reach her, wood frame digging into my ribs

Last night, I went upstairs to bed and Kiki ran down, into the living room, and behind the couch. Once I was settled and warm in my bed, she meowed and scratched outside the bedroom door. Quietly. 

This morning, when I opened the bedroom door, Kiki was outside on the landing. This morning, she was very close to the door and when it swung into the room, instead of dashing down the stairs like she has done for the better part of the past two months, she bolted into the bedroom, over to the far side of the bed, and disappeared into the box spring. Clearly she had not forgotten.

Good work, Kiki. Clever, clever girl. Luring me into the relaxation of a routine over a period of months, and then boom! When my defenses were down, she made her move. So that's how it's going to be.  I’m doomed.

random thoughts – Day 1,499 – (Wednesday) – moods and weather

Mother Nature had a bit of a mood swing today. The morning was a bit chilly, but not awful, just enough to make we walk faster. It got cloudier and by late morning, the rain rapped sharply on the skylights in the roof over the suite. The rain came and left quickly and the clouds lingered for a while, but at 1:00, as we gathered for the monthly S&M team meeting (Sales & Marketing, pervs), the sun was shining against a spectacular blue sky.

Sunny and cloudy at 3:00.

By 3:00, sunshine splashed on brick buildings against a cloudy sky tinged with gray. By 3:30, rain slammed against the half circle window from which I often monitor the weather and the world outside, and a brisk wind whipped the flag down the block. The closed deck umbrellas at Cobblestones across the street flapped in the wind. And then the wind died down (for a while) and the rain let up.

The weather was calm outside at 5:15, the traffic was an unpleasant cluster. When I finally arrived at home after a 20-minute, two-mile crawl along the cluttered streets, the wind seemed to be reactivating and the teenage across the street neighbors were tossing a basketball at the hoop, blocking access to my driveway. They moved, they always move, and overall, they are decent kids, and there are far worse things they could be doing than tossing a basketball. After changing for the gym, I interrupted the game again by exiting the driveway.

Training mode isn't so great.

The gym included a test of the Training mode on the fitness watch, which seems to depict a person running on a treadmill. It was mostly a failure. The readout on the treadmill was 1.5 miles. Most of the first mile was done at a pace of 4.0 mph (about 15.5 minutes) and the remainder was at 3.5 mph before the five minute cool down slowed things.

The total readout on the watch after 25 minutes on the treadmill, the half-mile round-trip trek between garage and office, a trip to the coffee shop, and countless trips to the water machine and the restroom at the office is 1.85. The heart rate readout was the only thing that matched with the treadmill.

I posted a review on Amazon a couple days ago about the pros and cons of the watch, including the scant product info. Yesterday, I received two emails from the company. 

One included an apology for the shortcomings and pointed out the user manual located on the Amazon sales page – a link found way, way, way down on the page. Silly me, I had looked on the company website for info, as noted in the tiny guide in the watch box about how to charge the battery and turn it on and where to go for "more info." 

The second email offered both an apology and a full refund, my feelings about which have vacillated like the day's weather. I think I would find more satisfaction revising and expanding their skimpy info to make it more accurate. The watch works great for walking the streets, so there is that.

random thoughts – Day 1,498 – (Tuesday) – signs aplenty

Spring seems to have officially arrived. The signs are now everywhere. The music truck, from which people sometimes buy ice cream treats, drove down my street spewing its tinkly tunes. Instead of last year’s parking strategy of parking diagonally across the street, the driver backed the truck partway into my driveway. The neighbors from the nuisance house across the street, always regular patrons of the ice cream truck, filed from their dwelling and crowded the window for treats. I was tempted to step outside and demand a treat as a parking fee, but I am mostly a coward and think about a lot more things than I act upon.

First dainty blossoms this year.

It was another night of blowing off the gym, but like Monday night, I carried myself out to the yard for a bit of light yardwork. The prize for the first dainty Bleeding Heart charms goes to the plant in the backyard flower bed along the side property line. 

The orange day lilies and irises have spread. A few clumps of irises and lilies were moved from one flowerbed to another. 

The irises next to the shed ramp have grown thick and crept closer to the ramp over the years. Last year, the iris stems were often slammed by the shed door when opened. The trowel nearly broke tonight while attempting to dig out some of them and I may need to pull out the big pointy digging shovel. Things are growing so quickly I will need to act soon.

Lump-faced woodchuck.

The plants aren’t the only thing suddenly growing quickly. This morning, I woke up to my week-and-a-half old bangs being suddenly too long. I feel like a sheepdog, and all day long, they were tickling my forehead. The tickling sensation causes me to try and shake them off, putting me at risk of whiplash. I’m probably going to need to learn how to trim them myself. Or get ready for a big fluffy neck brace.

A thinner version of Chuck/Chuckina wandered the yard today. This version of the yard critter is much narrower in the hindquarters and even through the window screen, I could see it seems to have a large lump on one cheek. Oh, dear. I hope the lump is temporary, the woodchuck is okay, and the other woodchucks aren't being mean little buttwipes about it. 

Shiny silver moon.

After dark, the moon hung in the sky, bloated and shiny like a silver medallion. It shone through the tree in the yard of the house behind mine. 

It won’t be long before the branches fill with leaves that will block the sight of the morning sun and the evening moon, so I paused to enjoy the sight of it while I could. 

random thoughts – Day 1,497 – (Monday) – tested

Bunny blending in the yard.

Things had been seeming mostly sane lately. The official lowering of the benchmark to “tolerable” has been helpful in setting and managing daily expectations. Recent weeks featured primarily mild stress and mostly low-level annoyances that could be forgotten pretty easily and acknowledged purely for the sake of conversation. Little brown bunny has been hanging around the front and back yards, nearly blending with the dirt and dead grass.

Today did its best to collect payment for some of the recent low-key, tolerable days.

Three emails with sample ads attached were sent to different parties early last week for a new project without a single response received. Today, all parties were sent revised emails, sans attachments. I love having to do everything twice. There were two responses in a couple hours.  

Another email had been sent the same day to a media rep for advice on handling a change to a radio spot, with no response, highly unusual for this contact. A follow-up sent several days later, sans attachments, yielded a response confirming that the original email hadn’t been received. By then, half of last Tuesday had been reconstructed.

A project with a different department was close enough to approval that I could smell it and it smelled like success. Minor edits had been requested and made, but the project sat with the business line for approval of the accuracy of the changes for several days with no feedback, updates, or even an acknowledgement it had been received. A follow up was sent to nudge it along. A response finally arrived today, and in the end, the project was issued a bullet. I hate having the plug pulled on projects I have 95% completed even more than I hate having to do things twice.

An ad delivered for an event sponsorship was acknowledged by a request to change the ad to include a middle initial in the event name. The event name is referenced three times in the sponsorship info, without the middle initial every time. But sure, tell us we listed the name wrong.

Over on the so-called-life side of the work-life seesaw, there is more friction. The shipping label still hasn’t arrived for the return of the Verizon Home Internet equipment, originally requested on March 28. And again on April 4 after the “return kit” arrived with a shipping box and no mailing label. And again on April 10. Today, a fourth call was made to request it again. For the fourth time, a label was promised by a human on the other end of the line. Meanwhile, the unopened equipment box has been sitting on the dining room table since March 23 and my frustration with Verizon grows.

California and Chicago.

Speaking of phones and frustration … today, the barrage of out of state calls resumed. My phone is on “do not disturb” during work hours, and when I finally checked it, there were three missed calls from a Chicago number, and four missed calls from California, but no messages.

A fifth call from California came while my phone was in hand, and I answered it. It was yet another call for Nancy L of some credit union in New Jersey (it usually sounds like they are saying N J or E and J Credit Union, and I always regret not interrogating). 

There was a nice chat with today’s caller, who, like all the others, was told there was no Nancy at my number, nor has there been since 2013 when I was assigned this number, and further, my number is a personal number and is on the do not call registry. The callers are always apologetic when I explain all this, and I recognize it is not their fault the database they are using has bad info. Several callers have said the number is from ZoomInfo, and today’s caller confirmed this.

Instead of going to the gym after work, which had been the plan all day, I played Nancy Drew, trying to hunt down info on the other Nancy with the many callers. There are no results for a name search of Nancy L, but this time, I noticed the phone numbers on a New Jersey credit union listing had the prefix “973” and maybe that is the issue, a typo on some source file, 978 instead of 973. It’s today’s best guess to an irritating situation that has been going on for years.

The only help on the ZoomInfo site was an option to delete my own listing, not that I know there even is one, and anyway, it’s Nancy L’s listing that is the issue. There is no guidance for getting your personal phone number off someone else’s business listing. There are no obvious departments for the handling of such, nor is it addressed in the FAQs.

Wait, there’s more, just in case the work hiccups and calls for Nancy weren’t enough.  It was trash and yard waste pickup day. When I collected the empty trash bin and yard waste barrel, the trash bin was empty and waiting. The yard waste barrel, one of those big, heavy duty Rubbermaid barrels with a lid and the city issued, orange “Yard Waste” label affixed, which are emptied by hand into the back of the truck, was gone. The lid sat on the ground at the corner of the fence where the barrel had sat beneath it a few hours earlier, but there was no sign of the barrel. It wasn’t in front of my house, in the street, or at any of the neighboring properties. The current best guess is it landed in the truck with the dead leaves and stuff from the flowerbed that were in it.

Good luck, little transplant.

While outside, where the weather was dry and pleasant,  front flower beds were tidied, but there was no barrel to put the stuff in, fueling the cycle of aggravation. Luckily, there was a brown paper leaf bag leftover from who knows when. The big Bleeding Heart at the steps was divided, and chunks of it were placed towards the sides of the yard. 

Today felt a lot like a test. At least the yardwork was okay. I think. I'll reevaluate if I wake up and the transplants are dead, with a note from the mysterious Nancy L laughing about all the phone calls.

random thoughts – Day 1,496 – (Sunday) – annoying and imaginary

It was a mostly regular Sunday. There was dance class and performance group. Now that the Earth Day performance is behind us, we are starting to learn a very cool new choreography, which is exciting.

Gary's is now Dale's.

The ride home included a stop at Gary’s Too Farmstand, except now it’s called Dale’s Market. There was an assortment of flowers out front, with more tables suggesting there will be more plants, and there are still fruits and baked goods and small flower pots inside. I like pansies, and I will certainly regret not having bought any today, but I drew an imaginary line in the imaginary sand and declared that I really need to have a plan before shelling out money for plants and then standing in the yard wondering where to put them. Also, any time I have planted flowers before Memorial Day there has been a late snow, so for the sake of the pant budget and all fellow citizens, I’m waiting. You can thank me later. 

Two motorcycles were driving up my tailpipe along several miles of Route 113 and every time I had to brake because the two vehicles ahead of me had hit their brakes, I was quite certain I would suddenly have a couple back seat passengers. Some people really annoy me. There were a couple colorful words uttered. It was a relief when they finally turned off at Route 3 and I could stop imagining our destruction.

At Market Basket (Fletcher Street, Store #1, baby), some knucklehead chose to stop their vehicle halfway around the turn to the parking lot, and I very nearly hit them as I turned from the street. The rear passenger door was open and a woman was on the sidewalk engaging in some sort of transaction with a guy standing there. They chatted for what felt like an excessively long time for someone who was blocking access into the parking lot. They finally finished talking, the guy walked away, the woman closed the back door and got into the front passenger seat, and the car (finally) moved. Even more people annoy me.

After cruising the aisles with my red shopping basket, my few items were rung up by a young cashier who barely looked at me and didn’t utter a sound. This was a relief from the annoying customers yammering away on cell phones in the aisles (on speakerphone, of course, for double the pleasure and fun). Even better, she packed the bread in the bag on top of the cabbage and not under it. Thank you, and bless you dear cashier, for not being annoying. You have restored a tiny glimmer of faith in humanity for me.

In the hidey hole, avoiding me.

Kiki continues with the annoying psychological warfare push-pull behavior. Her favorite action is to almost let me near her, then she runs away and hides behind the couch, behind the chair, or in the little hidey house. After I go to bed, she sits on the stairs and meows. 

Over the course of a week, I'm lucky to get a total of seven minutes of time within an arm’s length of her. If not for the vet bill, adoption fee, and the few photos I've been lucky to grab, I might think she was merely a figment of my sometimes overactive imagination. 

random thoughts – Day 1,495 – (Saturday) – dance day

Waking to the sound of pouring rain, yet again, was depressing. The disheartened feeling was amplified by it being the day of the Earth Day Festival in Townsend. Troupe Salaamati was scheduled to dance outdoors at 11:30. The rain was forecast to stop around 10:00.

Preparations began inside, while the rain fell and blew outside. Coffee, but not too much, because makeup needed to be done. The regular day makeup is usually some light eye shadow, pencil liner, and mascara, but stage makeup requires a heavier hand.

There would be a full face – foundation, blush, eye shadow, liquid eyeliner, lipstick. It looked chalky and felt garish, but the intent is to define the features from a distance. I prefer sunny days when I can wear sunglasses to hide all the stage eye shadow on the drive to a performance gig, but today was not one of those days. 

When the weather forecasters are on, they are really on it. At 10:00, I was in the parking lot across the street from the festival, having arrived a half-hour before our scheduled meeting time. It was no longer raining, but it was cloudy and a bit raw.

Waiting in the chill.

The ten of us gathered in a parking lot. There were two full-length mirrors leaned against two dancers’ cars. We layered our skirts, hip belts, and veils. The weather called for leggings under my skirt. We had on our coats as we crossed the street to the festival.

The wet grass prompted us to reconfigure our entrance. Instead of entering from the grassy side, we entered and exited from the side with the concrete walk. It took just one quick walkthrough and we were set. Our slot was between the cheerleading group and the magician.

Lovely, but gets hot in the sun.

As we waited for our time, the sun broke through the clouds. Bright. Squinty. Wonderful. In our faces. It definitely beat rain. While we stood there, finally warm enough to take off my coat, a discovery was made. The sun, rather quickly, heated up the big metal necklace I was wearing, which I noticed when my skin under it began to feel hot. Ouch. Apparently, it’s a cloudy day piece. Or maybe I need a turtleneck for under my dance tops.

The show was good and in 24 minutes, we had danced five pieces, and then we were done. A couple attendees asked for photos with us before we headed around the corner of the building to a more secluded spot for some group photos. Friends and family members captured us in pixels before we scattered our separate ways. 

I wandered the festival for a few minutes, scoping out the vendors. Honey, jewelry, upcycled clothing, décor, and more. I didn’t have much time, as I had a lunch date with my sister across the street at Bailey’s.

The dining room at Bailey’s had a wait, so we took a table in the bar. It was a tall table with tall cushioned booth seating. At some point, we heard a thud. My small purse had tipped over, and the noise was that of my wallet, phone, and keys hitting the floor in the gap between the wall and the seat I was parked upon. Oops. It required crawling under the table to fetch the items. I have to wonder how many times that has happened.

Back at home, I was wiped out. After an hour, I was napping on the couch. When I woke up, I realized the fitness watch seems to track sleep only during set nighttime hours. It certainly couldn’t tell I was sleeping for a chunk of time between 4:00 and 6:00. Hmmmm.

random thoughts – Day 1,494 – (Friday) – dance prep

It was the second Friday vacation day of three on the calendar, and I could really get used to it. A four-day workweek feels like a pretty good workweek (if there has to be one at all).

With no Friday morning obligations, I stayed up too late Thursday night, watching a series on Netflix (If Only). Then it was French exercises on Duolingo (gotta keep that streak!), reading (Golden Girl, by Elin Hilderbrand), and too much screen time with news and social media. Suddenly, the time was ticking towards 1:00 am.

The sleep data on the fitness watch app indicated there were only five hours and forty-four minutes of sleep. Oops. That certainly explained waking up tired, and a pot of coffee helped kick start the day. A trip to the gym confirmed that the fitness watch definitely doesn’t log activity on the treadmill under the “walking” activity, and it’s like the 1.5 miles didn’t happen. The next attempt will involve the “training” setting which, upon closer examination, seems to show a stick figure running on a machine.

The Troupe Salaamati dress rehearsal was tonight in preparation for the performance at the Townsend Earth Day event on Saturday. That September day when we were logging performance dates feels like just yesterday, and suddenly our first engagement is tomorrow. Time is a sneaky thing. Except in our dance music for tomorrow which is all a very steady 4/4 time signature.

Troupe Salaamati at Earth Day 2023.

The drive to the studio was beautiful with color. The forsythia has exploded along property lines and fronts of yards along the sidewalks on Routes 113 and 119, and the flowering trees are all doing their thing. It was still light out for the ride back home at 7:30.

We’re as ready as we can be for the dancing, and now it’s just a matter of the weather. The latest forecast is for rain in the morning, stopping by 10:00, which is when the festival begins. We are slated to dance at 11:30. Any weather delay decisions are expected by 5:30 am and our collective fingers are collectively crossed for dry conditions. Tonight there will be an effort to get to bed early enough for a decent sleep.

random thoughts – Day 1,493 – (Thursday) – rain again

The work day was pretty much like all the others. Things were done. Progress was made. An afternoon walk was taken, where I discovered it was chilly and raining and my umbrella was at my desk. I am so thoroughly and completely sick of rain. 

Rain on the canal.

A decision was required – keep walking? Turn and go back into the office? I walked, but kept the loop close to work in case the rain got heavier. I also walked fast to get it over with more quickly due to the weather. If it had been sunny like yesterday, there would have been more enjoyment during the walk. 

The rain was neither light and misty nor heavy. Evidence of the impact of raindrops was visible on the sidewalk, and drops could be seen pinging in the canal water and sending out ripples. I got lucky and it mostly stopped.

Along the walk, I passed a thrift shop on Central Street that I was previously unaware of. There was some cute stuff there. The owner said the shop had been open 14 weeks. It might encourage more walking breaks.

The walk to the car after work was in a heavier rain. A wind caught my umbrella and there was a flashback to a rainy, windy morning when I was in grammar school. That day, I was running down our dead-end street, headed for the bus stop around the corner. I was always afraid I would be late and miss the bus.

The wind caught my umbrella and Mary Poppins-ed me right off the ground. The feeling of weightlessness was exhilarating. The loss of control was terrifying. And every time I walked with an umbrella on a rainy and windy day, I hoped a little bit for a repeat of that split second of hang time. Ok, hope, in the present tense is more accurate, because I still kind of hope for that even though at my adult weight and size it’s likely impossible. It would be fun though, and less risky than parachuting, hang gliding, or parasailing.

After the rain.

The rain during the drive home was steady enough to require the wipers, but it wasn't too awful. Well, except for the part that it was raining. The river still looks high and fast, and it is now a habit to analyze it every time I cross over it. 

Later, the sun broke through. Beyond the power lines that criss-cross over the street, the clouds were colored a golden pink. By the time I grabbed the cell phone/camera, it had faded a bit. The light shifts quickly at day's end. Just like the childhood moment of umbrella flight. 

random thoughts – Day 1,492 – (Wednesday) –springing to life

Jack Kerouac Park in the morning.

Work was good. Taking the long route from the garage to the office by Jack Kerouac Park was a pretty sight, as the place is springing to life. 

Pink flowering trees lined the far side of the park, and closer to the street, tendrils hung from the trees that are beginning to turn green.  Under a sunny blue morning sky, the park looked great. 

There was a noontime walk on my calendar, planned weeks ago and rescheduled at least once, with a colleague from finance. We made a loop past the new high school building and around the back of the Tsongas Center before weaving our way through the construction sheeting turning Lucy Larcom Park into an obstacle course. 

Trees over by the Tsongas Center.

It was a time of fresh air and more trees which have recently exploded with blossoms of white and pink. It was rejuvenating to be outside in the sunshine fresh air, and flowers. It seems we may have moved beyond mud season and suddenly it’s a proper, flowery spring. 

We chatted about the weather and how it's nice to feel alive again after the wet and dreary fall and winter. The sunshine makes such a big difference in my mood and is way less expensive than therapy. 

The workday was followed by a gathering for “Wine Down Wednesday” at Fuse Bistro near work. A colleague had previously sent an Outlook invitation, basically the office equivalent of shining the bat signal into the Gotham City sky, and several of us responded, gathering at the bar for adult beverages. 

Represented in our group beverages were a chocolate martini, Aperol Spritz, an IPA, a peanut butter porter, and several others to which I forgot to pay attention. It was fun being together outside work and talking about vacations (recently taken and on the horizon), crappy neighbors (seems everyone has at least one), sports (soccer, football, hockey, and roller derby), and all sorts of other topics completely unrelated to work. Five stars. Highly recommend.

random thoughts – Day 1,491 – (Tuesday) – fitness tracking

The sign-up for the wellness plan spring steps challenge opened last week and of course I signed up, because I seem to like signing up for the step events and never reaching the goals. The only days I've come close to the pace were vacation days spent walking, quite literally, all day.

My latest accessory.

After the last challenge in the fall, my old fashioned, clip on a beltloop or put it in a pocket pedometer accidentally went through the washer and dryer. It was in a pocket. It was ruined. My results in the challenge weren’t that great, either, and I still can’t process how people can achieve 7,000 steps in a day unless they are in professions that require a lot of walking like restaurant or retail work or professional athlete.

Anyway, the challenge begins soon and I wanted a way to track my semiannual lack of progress and completion. The massive digital mall of Amazon presented an overwhelming array of pedometers, watches, and rings. The rings are fascinating to me, but my fingers swell at night so I can’t wear rings to bed and sleep tracking would be foregone taking it off. Bright side, I saved hundreds of dollars by not getting a ring.

The descriptions for watches weren’t completely helpful and it was hard to compare. General vague statements like “tracking for 20 activities” would be more helpful if it listed which activities. One watch with 13 activities had an icon that looked like a stick figure dancing, but the reviews on it weren’t great so I opted for a different one with 20 unspecified activities and hoped one would be dance. It had overnight shipping and would arrive in about 20 hours after being ordered, so why not. I may fly blind into a purchase, but I feel better if it comes quickly.

The magic watched delivered this morning and the battery was set to charge. The app was downloaded to my phone. The mechanics of operating the thing with minimal guidance were attempted. The quick start guide took four pages to say little more than “charge before use” and the rest is all user guess work. The misnamed product videos were of the ridiculous unboxing genre and essentially useless because already know how to open a box. What I wanted to know was how to count steps, get heartrate and oxygen readings, know the battery charge level, and see which 20 activities can be tracked.

Lessons have been learned on day one of the fitness watch. The 20 activities do not include dance, but do include something called “lazy car.” What the what? The walking mode seems to work like the Map My Walk app on my phone – meaning it tracks the distance by GPS. I've been down that road when I mowed the lawn a few years ago and the walking app on my phone logged no distance for the 40 minutes it took and the image of the route looked like a knotted mess of string.

Stats from a chunk
 of a mostly usual day.

According to the treadmill at the gym tonight, I walked 1.38 miles in 25 minutes, most of it at a 4 mile per hour pace, plus there was the normal workday minimal level of walking around. The watch logged about 700 steps at the gym, 1151 steps total for the day, and half a mile for the entire day. Not super helpful. 

I’m bummed about the absence of a dance mode, because we really don’t cover a lot of ground with our choreography either, which is created for some really small stages. Even the old pedometer only tracked forward and backward movement but not side-to-side and in circles which is the direction of a good amount of dance steps. But it buzzes (nags?) me when I've been sitting too long and also when I should drink water. 

Anyway. It will be fun to see how the fitness watch experiment goes. The actual step count accuracy seems iffy, and I haven’t set it up for weather or social media updates, but I like the heart rate monitoring and can’t wait for the sleep analysis. And it wasn't expensive, so there won't be a high level of wallet misery or buyer's remorse.

random thoughts – Day 1,490 – (Monday) – feeling springish

Streamers.

The wildlife in the yard has been busy. On Saturday, signs of rebuilding efforts were spotted at the site of the mostly destroyed nest over the drainpipe. The winds and rain had left barely more than a little pile of what looked like mud, but on Saturday, long streamers of dried, dead, leaves swayed in the breeze. 

The building material for the repair efforts had come from the flower bed below, where it had been left for the winter. The negligence was partly due to the never-ending summer-fall rain impeding fall cleanup, which was further justified by a gardening article that said it’s better for yard critters to leave it all over the winter and until after some magical number of days after danger of frost or something like that. What hasn’t blown from the garden with the blustery, gusty winds of 2024 is still there, waiting for me or the birds to start yard cleanup. If I wait long enough, maybe the birds will take care of it all.

Also over the weekend, as I sat in the living room, there was a weird sound that sounded like it might be near the roof. It was different than the sounds made by the birds messing around in the open-top gutters outside the home office. It was more scratchy than the gutter sound. More rhythmic.

Getting busy at the doorframe.

It turned out to be a small-ish woodpecker going to town on the narrow wood strip between the vinyl siding and the metal frame of the storm door. I’ve heard them in the trees along the brook, but never getting busy on the wood on my house. 

I watched the bird for a few seconds as I set up my camera for a quick shot through the purple sheer curtain hanging in the office window. Then I rapped on the window and the bird flew away. 

Today featured the first sighting of Chuck, the resident woodchuck. He (or she, I can’t tell) emerged from under the shed and posed near the ramp, sniffing the air. There was a waddle around the yard, with pauses to eat blades of whatever tempting greenery is presently popping up in the yard. 

Chuck (Chuckina?) edged along the perimeter of the yard where it was shady, then returned to the shed to pose atop the stone edgers before dashing out the gate, taking a hairpin turn, and heading into the neighbor’s yard. Later, Chuck/Chuckina reappeared in the back yard, did another lap, then slithered between the pickets in the fence and  into the neighbor’s yard on the other side.

There have now been sightings of all the wildlife of The BungaLowell area. Brown bunny was spotted several times over the winter, the bird builders are back, the woodchuck is still around, the squirrels never leave. The neighborhood cats – the all white, the all black, the ginger, and the tabby – have all been spotted in the past month. It’s finally starting to feel like spring.

random thoughts – Day 1,489 – (Sunday) –burnt stuff

As Sundays go, this was a really nice one. Mom and I met at 10:00 to update our little booth at the Antiques Co-op. We tried to do so last week after I got out of dance, but the lot was packed and we couldn’t even park. This week, we met before I went to dance. 

Once the door was unlocked and the outdoor display was being set up in the parking lot we pounced, signed in, and got busy. We’ve had a fairly steady stream of small sales since February. We try to keep restocking, and each time we go, we rearrange and straighten things. Some of the things we thought would move quickly haven’t and others have surprised us by selling almost instantly. 

There are still boxes of stuff that I haven’t touched in several moves that will be instrumental in the clearing of the guest room. There are soft-focus romantic memories of magical stuff that will cover our monthly rent threefold. There is almost always ambition for the box-tackling chore when I’m not at home, and then when I am home, a dozen other things pop up instead that are infinitely more interesting than cleaning out the junk room.

From Jeffrey’s Co-op it was dance group practice, then home, where, once again, the junk room was avoided. The Aldi visit on Saturday had eliminated the need for a Market Basket stop today, but did nothing to prevent a stop at St. Vincent de Paul. The week’s discount tickets, blue at half-off, green at 99 cents, were scarce, but it didn’t mean I left empty-handed. Two blouses were bought, one for 99 cents, the other for $2.50.

Hello, old friend.

Back at home, the pizza delivery of Saturday’s supper meant that late lunch-early supper was set. Two loads of laundry were done, and then in a blast from the past, the ironing board was hauled out to press some pants and the freshly laundered “new” blouses. 

Back when nearly all the work clothes needed ironing, it was my favorite household task. I found it relaxing. When I was in college, Mom was working as an accountant at a major computer company, and paid me to iron her work clothes every week. I would set up the ironing board in our dining room, put on Meatloaf’s Bat Out of Hell album, and go to town. Then I would take my easily-earned ironing money to The Buttercup Lounge for Happy Hour with DJ Sullivan. 

The newer fabrics that don’t need ironing have deprived me of the one household chore I enjoyed. In its place, there is now an appreciation for cooking from scratch, which is a healthy counterbalance to my ramen and pizza loving tendencies. And sweets.

Burnt Caramel.

Today’s sweet was one bought at Aldi. The name, “Burnt Caramel Sea Salt” caught my eye on the chocolate bar display at the register. Usually when “burnt” is used in reference to something cooked at The BungaLowell, it’s best to toss it, right after the smoke detector stops screeching. The curiosity of whether and how “burnt caramel” could be tasty led to the purchase. 

The candy bar’s caramel and brown colored outer paper wrapper was opened, followed by the matte gold foil paper wrapper inside. Would this become the new gold standard of grocery store register candy bars against which all other grocery store register bars would be measured?

The verdict? The milk chocolate was smooth and definitely better than the lower-cost milk chocolate of the Market Basket register chocolate bars. The burnt caramel sea salt filling, flaunted on the wrapper, didn’t seem any different than any of the many caramel sea salt fillings tasted before. Nice, but not remarkable. I would eat it again, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to get it.

Overall, the day had everything. Meet-up with Mom, dancing, thrifting, ironing, chocolate. There was a bonus, too. Kiki let me stroke her head and cheeks, and so what if I had to hang over the back of the couch to do so. The armpit bruises should be gone before my annual physical. I hope. It could be hard to explain.

random thoughts – Day 1,488 – (Saturday) – bangs, cheese, sequins

There were big doings today. I woke up thinking it was Sunday and that I had forgotten to call Mom about something on Saturday. There was a moment of panic until I realized it was Saturday and I needed to get up for my hair salon appointment and had plenty of time to call Mom.

At the salon, my stylist and I reviewed photos and talked about what to do on my head next. The photos were of some of my past haircuts, so at least we knew they would work with my hair eventually, if not today. One thing under consideration was the return of my very long layers, the other was bangs, or as the British call it, “a fringe.” I loved having bangs when I wore contacts, but I am usually less keen  on them with glasses. On me. When I see other women with bangs and glasses I think they look great while my bangs often take on a life of their own over which I have no control.

Due to some imbalances where the hair is growing back in the bald spots from my dalliance with alopecia (likely from COVID, and thank the good scientists and dermatologists for the steroid scalp injections), long layers were ruled out for now. It was bangs for the win to change up the look. Full bangs, but not blunt. My stylist is amazing and I love it when we have a plan. 

Bread cheese!

After the salon, it was the Worcester Lincoln Street trifecta – Savers, Aldi, and Kohl’s. Having three of my favorite places in one area was almost enough to convince me to move back to Worcester. The commute to work was the top reason not to. There were scores at all three places, but there were a couple standouts. 

Aldi had bread cheese which I’ve heard about in Finnish groups and wanted to try for ages, but it's just not the sort thing that is widely available. Enter Aldi.  

Leipäjuusto (the Finnish word) looks a bit like grilled bread and is also called “squeaky cheese” because it squeaks on the teeth when bitten. It’s often eaten warm, topped with honey or cloudberry jam and sometimes is even dunked in coffee. I can't wait for the bread cheese adventure and if it's as good as the cheese curds at Aldi, I plan to return and stock up. 

Need a game show host?

The big clearance rack score at Kohl’s was a sequin suit. My best guess at explaining my adult fascination with sequins has two parts. There are the ballet costumes I got to wear beginning at age six, coupled with not being allowed to wear them on anything else. Mummu always gently steered me away from the sequin clothing in stores and actually said it was so I wouldn’t “grow up to be gaudy.” 

Now I make up for it on my own terms. There are belly dance costumes and a closet full of sequin jackets, pants, tops, and rhinestone encrusted boots, just in case. If anyone needs a fill-in game show host or a gala seat filler, I probably have the outfit. Call me. 

random thoughts – Day 1,487 – (Friday) – rain and torment

The Friday morning awakening was accompanied by the all-too-familiar rain soundtrack. Not a gentle rain like in the noise machine in a spa or that in a commercial with soft-focus foggy scenes for something romantic and lovely. No, this was an aggressive rain that meant business. Business like pelting and drowning all the new shoots that have come up in the past couple week. Business like invading a basement and causing the big puddle to fill at the end of the driveway and the end of the street.

Hydromassage command center.

The weather that made going outside less desirable was perfect for sleeping a bit later than usual, sitting around with coffee, and being thankful to have scheduled the day as a vacation day just yesterday. The rain let up by the time of a late-morning trip to the gym with another fast-paced (four mph) walk on the treadmill and a visit with my old friend the Hydromassage table because the two massage chairs were occupied. The slow speed on a pressure level 10 is divine, and at least the water in the machine is contained.

After the gym, there was a visit to Family Dollar for coffee creamers (caramel macchiato flavor) and greeting cards. I have not made an extensive national or even regional tour of Family Dollar stores. However, I can confidently say that of all the ones I’ve been to, the one nearest The BungaLowell is the absolute worst. It’s never been great, but it’s become even more horrible in recent months.

Today, even more u-boats than usual, loaded with product waiting to be put onto the half-empty shelves, clogged most of the aisles, rendering them impassable. The greeting card display hasn’t been tidied in weeks. A handful of cards dotted the nearly empty Easter endcap which should probably have been swapped for Mother’s Day cards by now. The main display running the length of the aisle looks like a cyclone hit it.

The guy that I think is the manager was talking loudly on a cell phone the entire time I was there. He pulled beverages from an aisle and put them into a refrigerated case with one hand, while the other held the phone. He arrived at the register to ring me out, still talking on the phone and tossing in the occasional bone of recognition to me and my transaction. He seemed overly excited about the Easter jelly beans on sale for 62-cents. For dollar store jelly beans, they are very tasty. The best by date is in October and I may need to brave the mess to buy all the rest of them.

The regular morning lessons were done – Duolingo (a 1,370-day streak, and working on French lately, because Finnish has gotten on my last nerve) and Wordle, which isn’t a course per se, but is a daily exercise in word puzzle solving so I’m counting it as a learning opportunity. It's only a 48-day streak in Wordle. Don't ask.

Kiki keeps an eye on me
from her command center.

Kiki continues her preferred activity, which happens to be tormenting me. The current manifestation is running away when I get anywhere hear her. She isn’t hostile and doesn’t seem skittish or anxious, it’s more like she has a highly developed level of psychological warfare. Command headquarters is located in her private quarters under the buffet.

After I returned from dance rehearsal tonight, Keeks let me sit three-quarters of the way up the stairs and stroke her head and face as she reclined on the landing. The scenario with her reminds of a line in the movie Barbie. “Barbie has a great day every day, but Ken only has a great day if Barbie looks at him.” I’ll let you guess who is playing which of those characters in the Kiki-Tam dynamic. It won’t be hard. 

random thoughts – Day 1,486 – (Thursday) – buds and polish

I swear I need a personal assistant to remind me of my thoughts. When I’m driving and 100% unable to note a thought for future reference and refinement, great ideas to write about magically appear in my head. It doesn’t matter if it’s the quick trip to work or a longer drive, by the time I park and exit the car, poof, the ideas are gone. Totally evaporated. Like they never happened.

Tree buds. Longer
lasting than idea buds.

This morning, in traffic on the Bridge Street Bridge, there was another one of the daily ideas! For the next two traffic lights and a couple blocks to the garage, it danced in my head and flirted with words. I tried to nurture it and cement it there with sheer will and wishful thinking, but by the time the car was in park and shut off, the budding idea had disappeared, just like every other day. My tote bag and I headed for the stairwell, emptyheaded.

At the end of the drive, the buds of writing ideas that just needed some sunshine and encouragement to blossom are often replaced by a focus on city survival. Important safety elements move to the forefront and take over—like not tripping over uneven bricks or concrete and avoiding the stone slabs that are slippery when wet. There is the dedicated effort to not being run over by the reckless downtown drivers and afternoon hoodlums on bicycles and dirt bikes. That kind of stuff.

Later in the evening, after most of the life and brain function have been depleted, I’m stuck babbling about the weather and what was for lunch or supper. Again. So frustrating. And boring. Where do all the idea buds go?

If I had managed to somehow log those forgotten ideas, I’d have enough material for a dozen books. Ok, maybe not a dozen, maybe one. Even one would be satisfactory. Until I can figure out how to capture the fleeting buds that want to blossom, those nuggets that could be polished into gems, unfortunately, it’s lightly polished turds.  My apologies.

random thoughts – Day 1,485 – (Wednesday) – miscellanea

Siblings, together on a day in 2017.

It was an exhausting day. Before I even left for work, I’d already dealt with a big ball of sadness seeing on Facebook that it’s “Siblings Day” and I’m a sibling short since my brother chose to check himself out of The Game of Life. 

The sadness is always there, just below the surface, like a low-grade fever. It randomly spikes, and predictably explodes after a stimulus like a holiday, birthday, song, memory, or seeing a reference for a designated day like “Siblings Day.” 

From there, the day continued on a path of highs and lows. Before leaving for work there were frustrations with videos and Spotify playlists. The traffic on the way to work was borderline miserable with moderate cussing. Taking the long way from the garage to the office was a therapeutic walk, achieving a personal best speed for walking on bricks that helped to blow off steam.

Yummy gyro wrap platter.

Work was busy with a dose of stress and a topping of headaches. My desk phone wouldn’t let me log in and I couldn’t find some files worked on yesterday, but at least I didn’t have a nosebleed in the office like last Friday. The folks on my floor went out for lunch to a local restaurant, the first time in my nearly eight years there. The choice was Athenian Corner for Greek food. So yummy.

After lunch, a very helpful creative planning meeting was followed by delivery of a completed different project that finally let me cross something off the list this week. The headache lingered. After work, with zero interest in cooking, it was cookies and Lemon Zinger tea for supper while crashing on the couch half-watching an over-acted drama on Netflix.

Days ago, I decided the show, The Marked Heart, was really dumb, with people making an extraordinary number of really bad decisions and acting that is over the top, but I can’t stop watching it. One not-so-brilliant decision in one of tonight’s episodes involved a woman who was being held captive in a mansion by her husband. There is an automated system of bars on the windows and bolted doors, and this rocket scientist decides to set the place she already knows she can’t escape from on fire. Seriously? Of course she was rescued.

While I critiqued the steady flow of bad acting and crappy decisions, Kiki reclined on the stairs, avoiding and ignoring me. She granted me about one minute of stroking her cheek and telling her how fabulous she is while the tea water heated in the microwave. When I fetched the mug, she disappeared, but at least I had that one minute.

random thoughts – Day 1,484 – (Tuesday) – blue sky for now

Blue sky in Lowell.

It was another blue sky beautiful weather day and I could get used to it, even though I spent very little time outside for it. It’s comforting knowing it’s nice and seeing it out the window. There was a board meeting after work and it was very pleasant walking around downtown. The sunlight and blue sky were reflected in windows. Sunlight bathed a mural painted on the side of a building. Sunglasses were needed. It was glorious. 

Of course, the bad news is that the forecast shows rain for Wednesday through Saturday. I keep hoping there will be a major shift and we’ll get some more sunshine this week. The forever-long stretch of gray weather has gone on much too long for my taste, but I have never yet succeeded in altering the weather with my wishes.

Inside the house, two flies buzzed around in the office and kitchen during the afternoon. One was huge, approximately the size of a hummingbird, the other was tiny, and both were supremely annoying. I have no idea how they got inside, unless it was during one of the 227 times I checked the mailbox hoping for the stupid label to return the cancelled equipment for the cancelled Verizon program.

Beyond the sudden appearance of two flies on the second nice day in forever, there have been other mysteries at The BungaLowell. 

A fine microwaved mess.

Monday morning’s breakfast was prepared according to the package directions. At work, I add an unmeasured amount of hot water from the water machine to oatmeal in a cup and boom, it’s done. Yesterday, the water was measured (2/3 cup) and stirred with the instant oatmeal and put into the microwave to cook. Before it had reached the recommended time, oatmeal was flowing over the top of the bowl in a rather spectacular mess. I tried it again with another packet which came out like soup. 

This morning for breakfast, a bagel was taken from the freezer and toasted. Somehow, it was scorched in a couple spots and wet in others after the toasting. Maybe this is a sign that the usual dry granola bar is the best course for breakfast. I can’t mess it up, anyway.

Over in the win column, the bibigo brand steamed dumplings prepared for supper in the microwave did not meet with disaster and were delicious. Despite having been told by her former foster care human that Kiki doesn’t like wet food, I opened a can and put some in her food bowl with the dry food last night. This morning when I checked the bowl, the wet food was gone. I have never been so pleased when looking in a bowl of pet food.

random thoughts – Day 1,483 – (Monday) – eclipse (in)action

The weather forecast was for a sunny, warm day with temperatures in the 60s. That’s right, sunshine! No rain or even clouds! No raging wind! Pretty much a dream come true, especially for all the very many New England folks with plans for seeing the eclipse.

Some New England acquaintances traveled to Vermont or to Maine to be closer to the path of totality for the eclipse, and some Middle Tennessee acquaintances headed to Kentucky for the same reason. I had no such plans, despite having been aware of the event for possibly as much as a year. I neglected to hurry up and make friends to see the eclipse with. I neglected to get eclipse glasses, even after hearing that they were available at the library two blocks from work. Whatever. Planning for and getting excited about things as a party of one is just a lot of work for not a lot of fun.

It was a remote work day and I went outside several times during the height of the activity. I heard the birds being very active and chirpy as the light shifted. Neighbors chatted in nearby yards while wearing eclipse glasses and looking up at the sun.

I made a hole in a piece of manila folder to watch the shadow on another piece of manila folder, like I did once as an elementary school kid. Back then, I stood alone in the middle of our dead end street, some nerdy kid staring intently through a pinhole in a piece of manila cardboard, looking for the shadow on another piece of the flimsy cardboard. I don’t remember it working then, either.

I noticed the diminished light in the home office that was just a few minutes shy of needing to put on the light, and then it returned to the usual level of afternoon daylight. By the end of the workday, the lighting and workflow were back to usual.

Kiki's all day, eclipse day hangout.

While all the eclipse action was happening, Kiki stayed in her little hidey bed under the buffet. Like she has in recent days, she spent hours in it today, deep in the shadow, with one eye keeping watch from the opening. 

In addition to the eclipse, there was another unusual thing today, in that I wanted to go to the gym. Huh? So, I went. To limit the time I was there, the treadmill program was set for 20 minutes instead of 30, but to maximize the shortened time, the pace was increased from the usual 3.5 miles to 4.0 miles per hour. With a long stride at that pace, I could feel it a lot more than the usual slower place at a longer time. That might be the new treadmill plan.

Hours later, I could feel my lightly smoked hamstrings in a way that hasn’t been experienced in ages. Jackpot! The treadmill was followed by the massage chair, then a quick stop at Family Dollar for jugs of dishwasher and laundry detergents because even on a magical eclipse day, the boring things in life still need to be dealt with because I ignored them on the weekend.

Barely a bit left of the old nest.

Arriving back home at 7:00, it was still sunny. What a difference sunshine makes after a dreary winter and the recent temperamental weather which even destroyed the bird nest over the drainpipe, leaving a muddy mess on the ground near the downspout. If I act quickly, maybe the gutters can be replaced before the avian squatters return and I’ll be spared the guilt of home improvements displacing residents.

The gutter replacement might already have been scheduled if not for the current gutter heating system. It isn’t used often, maybe once or twice a winter for a couple days, but when the gutters freeze and I need it, it is crucial. The gutter folks were very clear in stating in the estimates that they will take the wiring out as part of the project, but under no circumstances will they replace it. It seems like every home repair that needs doing has some stupid speed bump.

random thoughts – Day 1,482 – (Sunday) – pizza and more

After the gym on Saturday, not a lot happened. I didn’t change into jeans and a sweater or any other outfit I might wear to go out. I sat on the couch not going to any of the several events scheduled around town that I had flagged in Facebook. Grocery shopping and laundry were ignored. It was a luxurious day and evening of relaxation and leisure and suddenly it was bedtime.

Sunday was busier than Saturday. Items were packed for transport to the booth at the co-op. The dance bag was reorganized and checked – zills, 25-yard skirt, veil, coin belts, payment for the new session, all present. Jeans for after class, card for my niece’s birthday, accounted for. The resale items and dance gear were loaded into the car, and it was time to hit the road.

After two hours of dance, the plan was to meet Mom at Jeffrey’s to add more items and reorganize the booth. We arrived at the same time to discover there wasn’t a single parking spot available, which is good for the sales potential, but not so good for us getting out of our cars and into the store. We skipped the stop and proceeded to my sister’s for family party time.

Yum, pizza.

We began with fresh popcorn and chips and dip, where I was introduced to bacon horseradish dip, which is quite delicious. We moved on to pizza and grilled chicken tenders from Parkhill Pizza. 

We shared stories and laughed and sang the Happy Birthday song (quite badly) before birthday cake and ice cream. There was a Facetime call with the eldest niece in Vegas. We were entertained with tales of my eldest niece’s career progress and the middle and youngest nieces’ hilarious workplace stories.

I hated to leave, but the laundry and grocery shopping chores ignored on Saturday awaited. A stop at Market Basket was an adventure unlike any experienced recently. There was a little kid dancing excitedly in the dairy department and then the deli, but thankfully, he seemed to have calmed down by the time I next saw him in another aisle. Three times passage was blocked by the same woman wearing a set of large white headphones – first in the very active dairy aisle, then the pasta section, then the ice cream freezer. Elsewhere, half-filled carts sat in the middle of thoroughfares while the shoppers wandered off to who knows where.

I had gone in for a few produce drawer staples – mushrooms, onion, broccoli – and got a few other items because, well, I was already there. The long checkout lines extended up a couple aisles. At least the 12 items or fewer line I was able to use moved quickly. There, the cashier slapped my produce around like it had offended him. The bananas, the broccoli, and the onion, all dropped onto the scale, then tossed down to the bagging spot, where they were tossed haphazardly into the bags. I walked out with two bags that resembled lumpy pillows and were awkward to carry. 

At home, I discovered the deli pack of Kalamata olives was on its side with olive juice dripping on other items and collecting in the bottom of the bag. Dumb bunny. 

The just-purchased pre-made salad with cranberries, walnuts, and blue cheese, was transferred onto a plate, and a quick dressing of red wine vinegar, olive oil, garlic, salt, and pepper was mixed. Served with sauteed tuna chunks, I could feel all the fresh and healthy benefits flowing through my system. Practically like magic, or when Popeye eats spinach and get big muscles. Or it's just my imagination.

Maybe the healthy supper will be enough to chase away the “crap, it’s practically Monday again” blues, although usually that requires something more powerful, like half a cake or a tub of ice cream.

random thoughts – Day 1,481 – (Saturday) – delusions and time

This morning, after dicking around for three hours (pardon my French), I slipped into my unbranded black fleece pants which have seen better days and my recently acquired from the thrift store, slightly dingy at the cuffs white hoody imprinted with a pattern of roses in shades of tan and gray, laced up my blue and yellow Hush Puppy sneakers, and went to the gym. There was an age and stage of life where it would have been all the latest "cool" labels, but I mostly don't care anymore. (Hooray for being old and frugal!)

I was feeling a bit guilty over having not been there since last Saturday, and also for having spent three full hours doing nothing more than sitting on the couch in my pajamas while drinking coffee, reading emails, news, and social media, playing Wordle and Words with Friends, accidentally locking myself out of my online banking account (again), and hanging over the back of the couch to try and pet Kiki the recluse cat and hoping that maybe someday she will like me even just a little and allow us to transact at a distance closer than an arm's length away.

Mostly, I went to the gym so I could say I went. A secondary benefit was actually doing something while there, but accomplishing 30 minutes on the treadmill was not the main impetus. There was a sliver of motivation in the memory that last Saturday, as I walked into the gym, a handsome man held the door open for me. He had short gray hair, blue eyes, was a bit taller than me, and had on light blue shorts. I think. It’s been a whole week.

Last Saturday, at approximately a smidge before 9:44 am according to my check-in time on the app,  after passing through the magic portal to the planet of fitness and scanning the QR app code allowing entry, hot guy turned to the free weights and I went to the treadmills. After my 35-minute walking sentence, I went to the massage chair for the 10-minute reward. As I walked to my car, we caught each other’s gaze through the big window facing the parking lot, he inside, me outside. At least that is what I told myself. I definitely saw him, so half of that is true.

So this morning, yes, I may have used the idea of the hot guy from last week being at the gym again this week as an incentive to go. Except I didn’t go at the same time as last week, so that could be a factor. Whatever. At least I went, right?

In any event, there was nobody meeting the description of my memory from a week ago in attendance today. Trust me, I scanned the place from the treadmill, which afforded a pretty good view of most of the floor. There was, however, a much larger number of much older people and canes there today, which made me curious about the shift in demographics. Usually, I feel like I’m in the top 5% of the oldest people there, but today it seemed my ranking had slipped to barely the top 25%. I’m still processing my feelings about it. After that, I read the book I brought with me, which made the time pass more quickly, but not by much. I swear, the only time that doesn't fly by is the time on the treadmill. That half-hour sure felt a lot longer than the previous three hours.

While in the beloved massage chair after the treadmill (ten minutes that zip by in a blink), my mind wandered and entertained some fanciful thoughts. It occurred to me that on Sundays, I could go to the gym before dance class. All it would take is being ready and leaving the house just one hour earlier, then going to class directly from the gym. Easy. 

Of course, this idea is pure nonsense. It already requires a disproportionate level of effort to leave the house when I do. The logistics would be cumbersome. I wouldn’t want to go to the gym in my dance clothes, and I wouldn’t want to go to dance class in gym clothes. And yes, there are separate wardrobes for these activities. Mummu taught me about being properly attired for each of life's activities and events.

Further, I doubt I would want to be schlepping the extra clothes and shoes around, as I already pack civilian clothes (jeans and a normal top) to change into after dance, just in case I stop at Market Basket. It’s not like I’m 30 and energetic and bouncing from my suit and pumps-clad buttoned-up corporate finance job directly into the lycra-clad gym ensemble then into jeans and boots for photography class followed by Ralph’s Diner. The days of having a car that looked like a closet and possessing that much energy (and caffeine) are long gone, relegated to being a head shaking “how did I pull that off for so many years?” mind-boggling mystery for me to look back on in these delightful late middle-aged bordering on elderly years.

At the edge of the parking lot.

By the time I hit the car, parked at the edge of the lot overlooking the tiny pond? bog? swamp? drainage hole? it was pretty clear that the odds of me leaving an hour earlier than my carefully constructed Sunday routine are about equal to the odds of buying a remote tropical island and forming my own government. Since last fall, I could also have been going to the gym after dance class, because most weeks, I drive past the Planet Fitness in Townsend. This has never once happened. (See issues noted above.) 

It was a fun little massage chair fantasy while it lasted. I can’t wait to see what delusions I dream up (and destroy) next.