random thoughts – Day 1,564 – (Saturday) – groundhog day

Another Saturday, another day possibly misspent. Unlike last Saturday, which had about fifteen events taking place including one in which I was dancing with Troupe Salaamati, today had one potential event of interest. Unfortunately, it was happening at 10:00 a.m. and I had forgotten about it until the little reminder popped up while I was drinking coffee and doing the morning email and Facebook checks. I had 45 minutes to decide if I wanted to hustle up, get dressed, and get my arse downtown for the guided historical walk. Or not. The pendulum swung to “not.”

Instead, I spent time in the bedroom finally dealing with the seasonal clothing changeover. The piles of winter sweaters can sit out for only so long, you know? Things were tried on. Things that were thought to have been donated already were discovered and restacked to go out the door. A couple pairs of pants that should have been donated long ago were added to the stack, but unfortunately, the hugely unflattering photos of me wearing those pant that were inspiration for joining the gym are still out there in the world and having donated them can't undo that. 

In the backyard, there was a show underway. The week has seen a baby bunny, a baby groundhog, and the big groundhog. There was one instance of the baby bunny and the big groundhog in the yard at the same time and I wondered if they were aware of the other’s presence and if there would be an interaction, but nothing happened.

Groundhog day.

Today’s featured backyard performers were the big brown groundhog and two littles, one brown and the other lighter in color. For a while, the two groundhogs were interacting in what seemed to be play fighting/ wrestling. They tumbled, they rolled around, they disappeared into the plants and remerged, they chased each other and disappeared under one side of the shed and reappeared at another side. 

Meanwhile, the big groundhog sat nearby during all the playing and tumbling, facing in their general direction but not interfering unless it was in some groundhog language I couldn’t hear from inside. Of course I was trying to get photos, but the positioning of the play and shooting though the window and screen made it nearly impossible to any great images.

In what felt like a total betrayal of Kiki, I wanted nothing more than to run outside and hug a baby groundhog. Because she likes to hide, Kiki is more of an imaginary pet who runs away from me, lets me only occasionally stroke her face, and won’t let me close enough to even try to hold her. After a week-and-a-half of lounging on the stairs, she is back to hiding behind the couch, so I may not see her for another week or more. I don’t want to say it’s her fault that my attention is wandering to other critters and manifesting as a desire to pet them, but … At least I haven't acted on it. Is petting a neighbor dog's head through a picket fence a form of pet cheating? (Asking for a friend.)

To complete the task started earlier, following the afternoon matinee of the groundhog show, the bag of clothes was taken to St. Vincent DePaul Thrift Shop along with a bag of jigsaw puzzles bought from Amazon and built during the stay-at-home times of pandemic. The impact on space was minimal. The psychological impact was considerably better.

Of course, I can’t be anywhere near St. Vincent’s without crossing the threshold into the store (lather, rinse, repeat). There was lots of glassware I don’t need and none of the ideal size water glass I am looking for because some of the ones I have broke. There were two cute end tables that looked great, but there is no room in the house for them. And yes, despite having donated a bag of clothes to alleviate the first-world personal problem of excess, the clothing racks were browsed. A few summer items were bought, most with the 99-cent tag color (red), not that the unavailable closet space cares about the bargain price. And the shopping serves as a distraction to the loneliness.

random thoughts – Day 1,563 – (Friday) – downtown buzz

The week was neither especially stressful nor especially boring, but it was still tiring. Exhausting even. This afternoon had elements of being annoying, especially around 4:30, because who doesn’t like to receive an email with a bunch of problems at that hour on a Friday. Me. I don’t like it.

Fuse Bistro supper.

Thankfully, there were after work plans with a couple colleagues. Shortly after 5:00, we grabbed a sidewalk table at a bistro near work and enjoyed the sunshine. It felt amazing after freezing in the office all day and I was thrilled I could finally take off my jacket. 

We exorcised the stress of the week by talking about it briefly before moving on to more fun topics. We talked about vacations – recent and upcoming, ours at the table and those of our colleagues – a trip to Punta Cana this past winter, a recent tour of Europe, a fall trip planned for Mexico, a colleague leaving for Italy on Sunday. 

Around us, downtown was buzzing. The National Academy of Future Physicians and Medical Scientists has been in town for their annual conference at the Tsongas Center since Wednesday, and the sidewalks were alive and crowded at their lunch breaks and again at dinner time with lanyard badged attendees in search of sustenance. As if that wasn’t enough, there was a Summer Music Series concert at Boarding House Park. Chair-toting concert attendees weaved through the future doctors and scientists.

We were lucky to have gotten our table and finished eating before the concert-goers and the conference dinner rush hit hard. As we were finishing up at our table, prospective patrons were eyeballing the few open sidewalk tables at the Bistro and lining up at the door of the place across the street. 

On my walk to the garage, Merrimack Street was crowded. The bakery looked packed, as were the sidewalk tables at the Mexican restaurant and every other restaurant I passed was full or filling up quickly. The street vibe was energetic, more like a bigger city, and it felt good. The vehicular traffic getting home felt a little less good, but that's how it works. People need to get to places somehow. 

random thoughts – Day 1,562 – (Thursday) – inspection day

Despite spending most of the week thinking about timelines and logistics and scheduling ads and a dozen other things that require consulting the calendar, and exclaiming out loud more than a couple times that “Wow, Independence Day is next week!” it was still a surprise (shock!)  this afternoon when I fully realized that the last day of the month is Sunday which is when my inspection sticker expires. That’s when I said “Oh, shit!” and bounced out to Hank’s Garage, conveniently located two streets from my house where I was working remotely. Friday is an office day and it would have been much harder to get to a station during the inspection hours and Saturday morning at an inspection station on the last possible day of the month is not someplace I can be (again).

There was a car in the bay when I arrived, but it was the only one ahead of me. I sat in my car in air-conditioned comfort for a few minutes until it was my turn. Then I went to sit in the office and play Woodoku on my phone while the inspection was done.

The office was fascinating. Cluttered. Grubby. A refrigerator was plastered in crispy looking yellowed and browned newspaper clippings. A book about the flood in 1936 sat on the desk nearest me but I was afraid to look at it because that would be snooping. I did sneak a few photos of the office though, which also felt like snooping, but it isn’t often I see a space like this.

Garage office.

Directories with yellowed pages were crammed into a bookcase across the office near a second desk. A crucifix hung on a brown paneled wall near a portrait, a youth league team photo, a thermometer, and a lot of other stuff. The brown upholstered office chair at the second desk across the room had a unique feature not seen before – two flattened wheels. How on earth is that even possible? Fascinating!

A breeze blew in through the open door and a bright white fan, the cleanest, most modern element in the office, spun from the ceiling. It was more comfortable than being under the blazing sun outside.

I was back home in my own desk chair with four very round wheels in about a half hour. During the two-street commute, there was another close encounter with another motor vehicle. A pickup truck blasted through the stop sign on Alma at Rosemont as I was entering the intersection on the street with no stop sign. The second close encounter with an aggressive driver in as many days has me feeling like a giant magnet for potential trouble.

In other events, tonight, Kiki has taken a sudden interest in the large floor grate in the dining room floor under the buffet. It’s the intake for the HVAC system, and she sat at full attention for far too long, inspecting it as if it is the most interesting thing in the house. Usually, she avoids the area. It should be real fun when I find out what that is all about. Can hardly wait.

random thoughts – Day 1,561 – (Wednesday) – lost and found

The ride to work had a couple hiccups. The first involved me remembering there were earrings in my wallet and thinking it was a good idea to try and put them in while siting at a red light and at the same time thinking it could go badly. Yes, I often hold conflicting ideas. One earring went in easily. The light changed before I got the second one in, but the back was reattached to the post and I proceeded straight through the intersection and down Lakeview, earring held between my thumb and forefinger while holding the steering wheel.

All of a sudden, a silver SUV came lurching out of a side street to my left and nearly hit the front quarter of my car. The brakes were hit and the work bag flew off the seat and spilled business cards, pens, folders, and all sorts of stuff onto the passenger side floor. The adrenaline rushed. The aggravation of a 2009 traffic accident that had my car in a shop for what felt like forever flashed through my memory. The earring was dropped when I leaned on the horn for a long blast. There were some colorful sentence enhancers uttered at and about the idiot driver and also a tiny voice in my head saying "I told you so. Not half a block away, remember?"

Once I parked on the fourth level of the parking garage, a search for the earring began, using the flashlight on the phone and detective skills acquired though an adolescent love of mystery novels and  years of adult indulgences in TV detective shows. The seats and floor mats and under the floor mats were checked, along with the space between the front seats and the tracks that the seats move along. Two pennies were found, plus all the dirt the car vacuum can’t ever reach, but no peridot post earring in a gold setting.

There were donuts in the office today, which was a win. It was also our quarterly team lunch day, with lunch ordered in from a downtown deli. That was another win. The rest of the day was ok. Productive. Sane. I didn't lose anything else. 

Worthen House, the oldest bar in Lowell.

There was a quick walk the block to historic City Hall with its clock tower to drop off the annual street census for voting precincts at the Election Commission. The route back was deliberately more circuitous, purely to enjoy the beautiful weather and visit previously found landmarks. A turn down Worthen Street took me past the Worthen House (oldest bar in Lowell) where local citizens (including Jack Kerouac) have socialized since 1898. 

The garden at
Whistler House Museum.

Spitting distance from the Worthen (no, I don't actually spit) is the birthplace of James MacNeill Whistler, now the Whistler House Museum of Art. The parklike courtyard garden, presided over by a  statue of Whistler, is always pretty. 

After work, at home, the car search continued with no luck. The theories are whirling in my head. Maybe it was in my lap and fell to the ground in the parking garage and landed under the car. I forgot to check the area around and under the car and didn’t even think of it until I was heading down the exit ramp to the first floor, with the exit in sight. 

The earring may be gone for good, sucked into some small Jeep black hole from which it may never return. It looks like The BungaLowell chapter of Earrings without Partners has another member, and the mental file of things I will fret over when I really want to be sleeping has a new entry for the ever-expanding mental slide deck. But it was still a pretty good day.

random thoughts – Day 1,560 – (Tuesday) – old friends and pink light

Hello, my dear old friends.

There was an event after work tonight that allowed for spending some quality time with a couple dear old friends. As much as I looked forward to it, it was still a bit awkward. The event was a family roller skating night where we had the entire place to ourselves. 

My old friends were my Reidell quad wheel derby skates, which have been neglected for years in my skate bag in the junk room. If not for my hoarding tendencies and emotional attachments to things, I would have disposed of them years ago.

Although I have dreamt about it and imagined doing it again for ages, tonight was only the second time I’ve spent quality time in my skates since our dramatic break. You know, the one where I literally broke my leg in two places in the final roller derby event of our team's first season. My parting gift from that little escapade was a metal rod in my shin. The gift that keeps on giving was nerve damage issues in my foot and leg that lingered for years. The first time I was back on skates was also a banking event at the same rink, several years ago in the pre-pandemic times.

The event was great. Our small-ish group had plenty of room to spread out. The gleaming and glossy floor reflected the colorful lighting which was heavy on the pink tones. Parents guided and supported wee ones on the the rink. Some of the kids were invincible. They fell and they got up. Over and over again, completely unfazed. The parents were also pretty amazing, wrangling the wee ones, keeping them upright and managing to defy gravity and stay upright themselves.

Colored light splendor.

As for me, I took it easy. Really easy. It was slow skating, mostly with all eight wheels on the floor because I like how it feels, both the connection with the floor and ability to slow down and speed up without lifting a foot. The urge to skate fast with crossovers was resisted. It was hard, but not that hard, because there were so many itty bitty wee ones there and tiny tots on wheels have always scared me more than any roller derby opponent ever did. 

I took lots of breaks because my legs were feeling it. Maybe it was my brief dalliance with the leg machines at the gym on Sunday. Plus, I’m a hundred years older than that year I broke my leg and out of shape compared to those days when I skated four to six hours a week and danced in between.  Dang those were good times. Today was also a good time, just a slightly different, much milder flavor.

random thoughts – Day 1,559 – (Monday) – seeking control

Even after nearly eight years in the house, The BungaLowell continues to surprise. The random odd symphony of noises – creaks, groans, and squeaks – continue to spontaneously erupt from all corners and at all hours. Some have been narrowed down, specifically, the birds that like the open gutters and make all sorts of crazy noises. Most of the noises are still a mystery.

There are temperature variances that are mostly logical. Upstairs is predictably warmer and in the summer it gets hot and stuffy. Even with the central air conditioning running, the bedroom is perpetually several degrees warmer than the rest of the house. The temperature difference can be felt halfway up the stairs but that all seems pretty normal because heat rises.

The weird temperature thing seems to have more to do with the thermostat, which seems to be located in its own little climate hot pocket. In the winter, I can be almost anywhere in the house and feel chilly, but when I stand before the thermostat to check it (and swear at it), it's warmer in that one magical spot in the dining room just outside the kitchen doorway.

In the summer, when the A/C is running I'm often freezing on the couch, in my little home office, or in front of the sink. And that puzzling, magical little pocket in front of the thermostat is the most comfortable spot in the house.

This afternoon it started feeling chilly at my home office desk. Before long, my feet had turned to ice. Shortly after 5:00, I grabbed my book and headed for the warmth of the deck, where is is often hella-hot in the late afternoon full-blown sunshine. It was bright, but also breezy and not quite as warm as I had hoped. 

Found the perfect spot.

It started to feel like some sort of Goldilocks quest for the perfect domestic climate. And there it was, the ideal scenario – the enclosed front porch. Some days it is as hot as a sauna, but today it was great. Not overly bright, not too breezy, neither too warm nor too chilly. It was just right. The glider beckoned. It was a most comfortable pre-supper reading break. 

Now the challenge will be to monkey around with the thermostat settings. The primary objective will be to find the magical winter heating and summer cooling temperature settings where the rest of the house achieves the current optimal temperature of that sliver of space in front of the dining room wall near the kitchen doorway. Maybe it's as simple as finding a way to cool the hot spot so the heat and A/C don't need to be so enthusiastic through the rest of the house. Or maybe move the thermostat. 

random thoughts – Day 1,558 – (Sunday) –weather or not

Sunday clouds.

There aren't any dance classes for a couple months and there wasn’t a plan for today, which is largely how I roll. When the weather forecast and talk of a tornado watch from 1:00 to 8:00 dominated social media, the idea of attending the Finnish summer festival in Fitchburg was scratched. I drove home yesterday in an afternoon downpour with poor visibility and wasn’t thrilled with the idea of another crappy weather road trip. 

When I would ordinarily be in dance class working on shimmies and hip slides and undulations, I went to the gym. It wasn’t crowded and I headed for the 30-minute circuit training area, where “not crowded” is unfortunately not the same thing as “not annoying.” The premise in the circuit area is, do reps while the light on the wall is green. When it turns red, wipe the machine down and move to the next one. Theoretically, following this timing, all the stations can be done in 30 minutes.

There were four people in the area with the circuit stations. Half the stations are cardio steps that are supposed to be used in between each weight machine, but I’ve never seen anyone use them.

The first machine was occupied by a guy sitting there staring at his phone. The next one was occupied by a guy sitting there staring at his phone. A third guy was finishing up on the abs machine, and nearby, a woman used a leg machine.

I stood there observing for a minute or two and then jumped the numbering sequence to the third machine. After the set, I wiped the machine and surveyed the area. The two dudes were still sitting on their original machines and still on their phones. The woman had moved to another machine. The guys on the machines staring at their phones really needed to move it along. Unfortunately, design and theory aren’t the same thing as actual practice.

In the end, I used only four of the machines before bailing and jumping on a treadmill. I didn’t have all day to wait for the cell phone boys to finish whatever it was they were doing. The visit ended with the massage chair, which is still the primary reason I go to the gym at all.

It was a quiet afternoon at The BungaLowell. Laundry was done. Vacuuming took place, which sent Kiki dashing for safety to the space behind the couch. As I vacuumed the living room, she meowed so loudly behind the couch that I could hear her over the vacuum.

Supper was prepared. It needed to be more substantial than the salad that left me hungry enough to eat off my own arm by 4:30. Mushroom ravioli was topped with a pesto cream sauce with grape tomatoes, onion, and olives. It was delicious.

Possibility of wild weather.

An eye was kept on the weather. Lowell was in the “Scattered severe storms possible” area of a weather map posted earlier in the day. During the day, clouds gathered and then they broke. It got sunny. It got cloudy and windy again, with the trees flailing in the wind. At 7:00, it rained for a few minutes, but not even enough to water the plants. And that was pretty much it. 

For a day with the promise of a 10% chance of potentially exciting weather, it was kind of a nonevent on that front. But for a stress-free day with plenty of relaxation that was influenced by the weather forecast, it was a total winner.

random thoughts – Day 1,557 – (Saturday) – dancing in the street

It was dance performance day for Troupe Salaamati. Today, we were at the Small Business Day and Gardner 239^th Birthday celebration. The morning involved the usual lengthy preparations. Coffee, but not too much too soon. I needed to be awake enough to function, but not too caffeinated, because eyeliner needed to be applied. An ounce too much of coffee, the hand is shaky, and it's not pretty. The dance bag was inventoried and packed. Initial dressing began.

A hairpiece had been bought, but I never quite figured out what to do with it on the first couple attempts. After countless bobby pins and another 30 minutes this morning, the effect looked like a dead mammal was precariously perched on my head. The messy bun and hairpiece idea was abandoned in favor of the usual predictable and manageable hair down and held off my face with a stretchy headband and several flower clips. 

Performance done!

We (dancers and a few spouse/significant others) met up in a shopping plaza parking lot before forming a caravan (parade?) to relocate to a parking area adjacent to the festival. A bridal shop owner, a friend of one of the troupe dancers, generously allowed us to dress in her shop. It was the most luxurious belly dance show prep accommodations ever experienced with multiple full-length mirrors and private dressing rooms. I can feel the Diva Mode 1.0 system install taking place just thinking about it. It was quite a contrast from our usual process of arriving half-dressed and finishing up in a parking lot with the help of a mirror propped against a car.  

The new purple and black dip dyed 25-yard skirt made its stage debut. Hair kept blowing into my face and sticking to my lips, but that always happens when it's worn down. My stupid vinyl shoes kept catching on my skirt, reminding me how much I prefer dancing barefoot, but when dancing in the street it isn't practical. There were no major glitches or malfunctions.

Months ago, during the early planning stages, the 10:15 performance slot was chosen. The very valid concern, validated by the three recent days of hundred-million-degree temperatures was that an outdoor show in late June could be hot at 1:15, the other slot offered.

Our chosen slot worked out great, but not because we avoided afternoon heat. The rain, the other recent weather condition that had been visiting us over the past couple days, was the potential problem. The drive from Lowell featured some mist, but luckily, the rain held off during the morning. 

We were able to perform our show with the biggest challenge being breezes during a dance using veils. I didn’t toss hard enough for the wind and my veil went a bit wonky, but that is part of the outdoor experience. The audience participation component was fun and we had some people willing to play along, with really helps with the concept. 

The performance space was near the police and fire vehicle “touch a truck” kids feature. We took advantage of this opportunity and had a photo taken on/in front of a fire truck. The fire department folks were great sports taking photos with us. Not a surprise. Firefighters rock. And dancer friends and family who help with music (Chris!), take photos and videos (Richard and Jess and Chris!), show up for us, and provide yearlong support (so many!) are our original dance troupe rock stars. 

Dancers + firetruck.

After we danced, a group of dancing witches, who may or may not be actual witches, performed. There were quite a lot of them and they were fun to watch. I am dying to know if they are actual witches. It suddenly feels important, but I don't know why.

Witches dancing in the street!

The weather did turn into an official heavy rain event as predicted by numerous weather sites, but it had the decency to wait until the early afternoon. After that it became even heavier. We were so lucky. Sometimes things work out.

After the dancing part of the day, I got to visit with Mom and we had lunch at the Ninety Nine. Following lunch, my Aldi world tour continued with a visit to the Gardner location, conveniently located across the street from the restaurant. That puts me at six stores in three states, but out of 2,387 stores in the U.S. it isn’t even a dent. Looks like I finally maybe might have a life goal?

What. A. Day. Dancing, lunch with Mom, Aldi. A winner all around.

random thoughts – Day 1,556 – (Friday) – career lift

This was a week with tech lessons with the website and blog platform, ongoing progress with Kiki, and too many nights of waking up every hour, which may or not have been connected to some daytime headaches. And there was a discovery tonight while leaving work. I took a detour through the bank parking lot. And there it was, surrounded by empty parking spaces.

It glowed in the late afternoon night in green and white glory – a bucket lift, or as I imagined it, a modern-day version of the fabled career ladder. Less actual climbing, just push a button to make the right connections and enjoy the ride. 

Modern career ladder?

The lift was elevated, and from certain angles, it looked like it was at the height of the floor on which I work. It seemed like a sign, but what could it mean? Was the lift telling me that I have reached the 4^th floor height of my career?

Maybe the message/sign wasn’t for me, and maybe it’s someone else’s career lift, although there were few other people around. A guy in a fedora sat in a shiny red convertible with the top down, checking his cell phone and looking a bit like a city-fied version of Malibu Ken. He seemed to have already arrived at someone’s coveted successful station in life. Perhaps he was returning the career ladder for someone else to use for a career boost.

More likely, it is waiting to be picked up from the filming that took place downtown this week, but dang, that almost sounds kind of boring.

random thoughts – Day 1,554 – (Thursday) – calm in the storm

It was hot outside again today, so I stayed inside, which was easy with it being a remote work day. It was comfortable in the house all day, until the A/C kicked in with full force around 4:30 and then I was freezing. After supper, I went outside to the deck to warm up because my feet were frozen and when I came back in I grabbed the couch throw. I need to pull out the manual and adjust the thermostat.

Storm rolling in.

The weather was changing. Thunderstorm watch alerts popped up on the weather widget on the phone and by 7:30, the house was as dark as it is at that time late in the year. Outside, the trees swayed wildly in the wind, thunder rumbled in the distance, and the streetlight came on across the street. The clouds over the house were gray, but a lovely blueish gray color and not the angrier mean gray color.

By 8:00 the rain had swept in which worked out for me and the parched flowers out front. I’m good at noticing things like droopy, thirsty plants, and even better at completely forgetting about it by the time I walk back inside to the watering can and hydration source. In barely eight minutes, water was pooled at the foot of the front stairs, the gutter over the front door resembled a waterfall, and a rainwater lake had formed at the usual spot at the end of the driveway. Lightning flickered. The air was noticeably cooler and refreshing. The weather app says it will rain for two hours, and it’s scary sometimes how accurate the app is.  

Unlike the many rain storms last fall and all winter, this one doesn’t make me nervous. Recent commutes over the river used the time stopped in traffic to look at the river and analyze the water level. There was excitement at seeing the rocks, which mean lower volume. When the Merrimack is low, so is Beaver Brook. When Beaver Brook is low, my basement is dry.

Stair princess.

During the storm, Kiki lounged on the stairs, where she had been all day. The stairs have replaced the armchair and behind the couch as the preferred daytime hangout spot. Later at night, she camps out under the dining room table.

Except for the one terrible time I chased her with the carrier to take her to the vet and the two times I chased her with the squirty syringe for her roundworm medicine, she is a mostly calm house princess. It seems the trauma of the vet visit and medication have been either forgotten or forgiven. Either way I am okay with it.

Kiki no longer runs and hides every time I am enter the room she is in. She greets me with a meow in the morning and approaches to let me stroke her face. At night, she lets me feed her treats. Treat by treat, stroke by stroke, and day by day, we are making progress. And in a thunderstorm, she is as cool as a cucumber. 

random thoughts – Day 1,553 – (Wednesday) – tech stuff and seafood

Once upon a sort of long ago time (February 8, 2013 if you want to be all precise about it) I bought a domain name through Go Daddy (tammydohner.com) and built myself a website with Wordpress. It was advertised as “easy” and took an entire weekend to build.

The initial reason for the website was to serve as an electronic resume and work portfolio to help with a job search which started as a Tennessee to Massachusetts long distance thing in advance of my move. The site had (has) a few (very few) photos in a gallery, a resume, images of jewelry and tie dye works, links to various writing projects, and client project samples from when I worked in a marketing agency. 

Over the (many) years, it became a habit to notice the automatic renewal charges hitting the credit card (cha-ching) and move on to other things. The site was periodically checked and links to the portfolio pieces sometimes needed to be rebuilt, but mostly, it ran on autopilot. More accurately, it lounged about in cyberspace. There were monthly notices about the automatic backups being performed and the subject line always read “Backed Up.”

Changes in Google analytics on the blog site pulled the website to the forefront of my brain. Blogger recently had an info banner about a deadline of July 1 for action needed to continue receiving statistics, which had me wondering if there was any action needed over on the website. 

Mostly, the Blogger data shows where people visit the blog from, which is almost 100% Facebook and a mysterious site called vampirestat-dot-com that doesn't seem to be currently active. The data also shows from which countries readers logged in, with surprising numbers from foreign countries. Slightly less than half of the locations are the United States. Singapore and Hong Kong have the lead for countries outside the US. I have no explanation for this, but it is exactly the kind of thing that could keep me awake at night as I puzzle it over.

Today was spent (invested? wasted?) dealing with all sorts of tech geek stuff, because I recently learned that the website had become inaccessible, and when I tried to visit it, there was an error message. The super sleuth skills slipped into action today. Go Daddy and Wordpress were visited. The last backup report was from March, and despite the email subject line of “Backed Up” the details in the message showed the backup wasn’t completed due to errors. (Maybe the subject line should reflect that nugget.)

A chat session with a Go Daddy guide helped fix the disappeared website issue. They found an error somewhere, fixed it, and the site was back in action. There was tooling around to try and update the template version and a bunch of technical stuff I barely comprehend. It would be a lie to say it took all day, because it took only about five solid hours, too much of which involved watching a circle spinning on the screen while the website got hung up. Five hours that a couple days ago, I had imagined spending on a beach. But the website is functional again and I probably still have a vitamin D deficiency and am still mostly summer freckle free. The fitness watch was on overload buzzing me with "sit too long" messages.

Seafood plate leftovers.

Today may not have been a day at the beach, but as a reward for the toil of the day, I ate like I was there. The preferred food delivery place (Primo’s) sent a 20% off a $30 order coupon last week that expired today. The fried seafood plate was ordered with onion rings instead of fries. And Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream. 

Dining in the living room in front of the TV lacked the seashore ambiance of Brown’s or Markey’s or Sea Ketch, but the Primo’s plate is huge and there will be probably two more meals enjoyed from it. As for the ice cream, those containers are individual servings, right?

random thoughts – Day 1,552 – (Tuesday) – downtown filming

There were alerts issued about a downtown street closure for filming today. The closed street is two blocks from work, but there was a lot of parking either coned off or filled with production company trucks in the nearby streets. The Walking Dead: Dead City has been in town filming at a couple locations around downtown. Unlike previous film projects over the years, we couldn't see any of the action from our office.

Movie scene on Market Street.

There was a chance to walk over to the filming site during the afternoon and again after work. The stretch of Market Street between Palmer and Shattuck Streets was littered with dirt coated cars including a yellow New York taxi, a New York police car, and a box truck labeled with “New York Post.” Other cars were positioned as if bumped up to a lamp post or into each other. There was litter in the street and faded, tattered New York banners hanging on lamp posts.

Toilet truck!

There were quite a few people hanging around on the sidewalks looking at the scene and taking pictures. There were no people who appeared to be actors, but lots of crew along the edge of the street under black tents with equipment, and Lowell police officers at the end of the block where the street was closed. A shiny white portable potty trailer was parked next to the sidewalk. 

It was overall quiet. And hot, because the heat wave rolled in and the temperature was in the mid-90s having risen 20 degrees since the morning, exactly as forecast.

Back in the office, the air conditioning was doing an admirable job of keeping the place comfortable. Work chugged along. During the afternoon, there was stretch of more siren noise than usual. Then there were text alerts on all of our phones about the 9-1-1 system being down statewide, and then being operational again. There were also voice mails on my phone with the same information for “residents of the city of Fitchburg.” Unfortunately, I keep getting the Fitchburg alerts I signed up for when I lived there and can’t figure out how to make them stop.

Over at the deck.

After work, the giant white light box that had been positioned earlier at the end of the scene on Market Street at Shattuck had been relocated to Merrimack Street. Now it was positioned on the far side of the building with Subway, facing the deck near the canal and where Salsa dancing happens on Sundays. A few guys who looked like movie crew sat on a bench, and other regular looking non-zombie people sat on benches reading and typing on their phones. 

Two blocks away on Market Street, the cars were still in the street, but the sidewalk, which had been passable earlier, was blocked off with caution tape. The sidewalk on the opposite side of the street was lined with people who seemed to be waiting for something to happen. A girl in a light blue dress twirled on the sidewalk. 

It was hot and I didn’t join the ranks of the people hanging around and waiting for something. Instead, I headed for my car to hang around at home in air conditioned comfort, free of any potential zombies.

random thoughts – Day 1,551 – (Monday) – pillows and pancakes

Ik*a Stockholm pillow.

As much as I think I like the Swedish-based furniture store that I am now afraid to mention by name for fear of being deleted (again) by the cyber overlords, in my entire adult life, I have been only twice. The first time was around 2011 during a trip from Tennessee to Chicago with a friend to visit another of her friends over the Independence Day holiday. It was magical. So many products! Room displays set up by square footage! 

I bought two black and white Stockholm pillows which looked great in my old living room; a wall mounted magnetic knife rack that has still never been taken out of the package; two light timers, one of which is still in daily use; and a ladle/serving spoon set. Oh, and the blue square duffel and the big tote. 

The second trip to the blue and yellow paradise was with Mom to the one in Stoughton on June 17, 2014. The drive from Fitchburg felt like it took forever, even though according to online mapping, it’s only 60 miles and tracks at a little over an hour,. Something about the highway made it feel really far. Like a million miles far. Ten years later, we still laugh about it, and say, “Ugh, it was sooooo far.”

That day with Mom at Ik*a, I had Swedish meatballs for lunch and bought a plastic drying rack that looks like an octopus and some frozen Swedish pancakes to take home so we could see how they compare to the Finnish crepe-like pancakes Mom and I each grew up with. Except for being much larger, the store pancakes are very much like Mummu’s Finnish lettu, for which I have the recipe but am usually too lazy to make for just me.

Ik*a Swedish meatball lunch (2014).

As I house shopped (2015-16), I naturally assumed a trip to "the place" would take place for the stuff I would need for the new place. And some of the frozen Swedish pancakes. Despite being in the house since September of 2016, that trip to that store has not yet happened, even though I think about it every time I grab that ladle or big serving spoon. Not to mention the full 10,000 times I have thought about those frozen microwave pancakes in the past 10 years.

It turned out I didn’t really need anything for the house, thanks to all the crap I schlepped from my former larger house in Tennessee, then stored for three years while searching for a job and then a house. Some of it still lives in boxes, including those big square black and white Stockholm pillows that I still love, but which don’t really go with the undefinable "style" of décor that seems to have accidentally happened around me. Sigh.

I might try justify the drive for the chance the food market section will have the Swedish pancakes in stock. The temptation of the entire rest of the store might be too much to handle, though, and won't help with the current overabundance of stuff. But … the pancakes!

random thoughts – Day 1,550 – (Sunday) – labor camp

Dirty and embarrassing.

Since the winter when I became horrified at how gross the north-facing front of the house and vinyl picket fence had become with greenish icky stuff I knew it would need to be washed. It hadn’t been done for several years. Last year it rained all summer, so, despite being on the 2023 chore list, it never happened. But now, it was gross. It was embarrassing.

The question was when it could be done this year. There was a short list of criteria. Ideally, the day should be warm enough that messing with the hose and being splashed isn’t uncomfortable, but not so hot as to provoke suffering. Also, several hours may be needed. It would be great if the next-door neighbors with the pool weren’t entertaining, because it felt very awkward that time on July 4^th when I was toiling away washing my house while a yard full of guests enjoyed a cookout next door. Lesson learned.

For at least a month stores and websites were checked for one of those brush heads on a pole that screws onto a hose to facilitate the washing of the siding and help with reach. The local neighborhood Ace Hardware, my go-to for pretty much everything, closed a couple years ago, leaving me high and dry for most things home-related.  Big Lots, Tractor Supply, and Ocean State Job Lot were checked in person. The Lowe’s website inventory showed I would need to go to New Hampshire or order one and wait several days for it to deliver to the Lowell store. Didn’t happen.

Today was sunny and warm-ish but not hella-hot like it is supposed to be later in the week. The neighbors weren’t entertaining. I psyched myself up to get outside with a pail of soapy water, the plastic brush, and the hose hauled from the shed. 

Then I got sidetracked by another nuisance project. Rust spots keep appearing on the front of the refrigerator and an online search for peel and stick appliance coverings was done. The vinyl seems to be sized for the side-by-side doors and is too narrow for my stacked refrigerator doors. That information led to a search for appliance paint. Like the brush thingy, the paint seems to also require a trip to New Hampshire because the Lowe’s in Lowell only showed forest green as being available while lots of colors live in New Hampshire. I talked myself out of going to the store to buy paint.

Clad in capris, a tee shirt, and my Hush Puppy rain boots, I finally went outside. The plan was to just clean the fence out front, which seemed manageable. Once underway, the labor required a lot more brush scrubbing than straight up hose work. The weather widget on my phone claimed it was 76 degrees but it felt a lot hotter and after the first 22-foot section of fencing it seemed less likely I’d get the whole fence done, never mind the gross vinyl siding on the front of the house. Several breaks were required.

Clean and no longer embarrassing.

After the completion of the front-yard fence, it became the game where I trick myself into doing things. I started with the small wall to the right of the front door. It was gross. The slightly textured siding cleaned up quicker than the smooth vinyl pickets. Spurred by success, the larger portion of the front of the house was done.  

Progress moved around the corner to the side of the house, which wasn't bad at all. That led to the deck at the back door, which was gross with the spaces between the decking caked with gunk. A screwdriver was fetched to try and dig the gunk out of the deck. Then the rest of that side of the house was finished.

Momentum was building now. The hose was relocated to the spigot at the back of the house, which has southern exposure and didn’t look too dirty, especially compared to the front. The furthest side of the house with the long deck along it was also quick and easy.

The mental gymnastics and mind games continued. After coming so far, it seemed like a total wuss move to bail before tackling the backyard fences. The long stretch of vinyl picket fence was decorated with plentiful bird droppings on the post caps, but it was mostly hose work until I got to the panel fence along the back property line.

The panel fence faces north and was gross, but I didn’t have it in me to go hard at it with the brush. It was blasted with the hose, which was more effective on the lightly textured lattice at the top of the fence than the smooth panels below. A visit with the bucket and brush is still needed to properly clean it, but at least it is improved. And after several hours of semi-hard labor, I let myself call it a day. Until the next session of labor camp.

random thoughts – Day 1,549 – (Saturday) – family wedding

Farm wedding ambience.

After a couple sunny days, Friday turned up with a morning downpour. And some afternoon rain. And a forecast with evening rain. Oh, and a farm wedding to attend. Wishes were sent to the Universe for dry conditions during the ceremony, which did not seem like too much to ask.

The morning was spent relaxing and mentally spinning through the contents of the closet. The originally planned outfit for the wedding had been tried on the previous weekend with disastrous results. The high waist, wide leg teal pants imprinted with orange flowers which fit a few weeks ago would have required a serious illness with rapid weight loss or highly successful crash diet to have any chance of fitting in the week leading to the event. The plan B outfit of bright green vintage wide leg pants paired with a pink vintage jacket with embroidered flowers fit and was called to action.

Dad and I at Kim's wedding.

The wedding venue  (Wildwood Farm), set in the rolling hills of north central Mass, is spectacular. The site features barns with horses, an indoor equestrian center, outdoor riding ring, and historic buildings. On the modern side, there is an outdoor bar, patio, and fire pit. A trailer holds clean, modern toilet stalls. A large event tent contains the dance floor, bar, and dining tables.

As for the ceremony – the weather remained precipitation free. The bridesmaids were lovely in pale green gowns. The groom and groomsmen wore beige suits. As the matron of honor came down the aisle between the two sections of benches, I choked up. She is the eldest of my two half-sisters and looked beautiful (not a surprise).

When Dad and his wife walked the bride down the aisle, the tears were a bit harder to hold back. She is the younger of my half-sisters, and was beautiful (not a surprise) in an elegant white gown with embroidered lace overlay and a train. She looked so happy. So did the groom.

Just married.

There were a few raindrops during the cocktail hour. Later, rumbles of thunder sent the guests scurrying to the big white tent, which I kidded was the “fitness portion of the festivity.” A bit later, the bride was on the patio, smiling under an umbrella. It was all good. 

The bridal party was introduced and dinner was served. Somewhere during the dinner proceedings, it rained harder, but inside the enclosed tent you couldn’t tell unless you were looking out the clear vinyl windows.

Later, the DJ asked everyone to step outside for a group drone photo. As the guests gathered, a herd of cows meandered across the fenced-in field to stand behind where we stood. 

Beautiful even under an umbrella.

It was magical. All of it. The beautiful setting, the cows, the bridal couple, family, and the other guests, several of whom I got to chat with and a couple of whom had traveled from as far as California and Florida to attend.

It was such a fun wedding. The setting, the food, and the vibe were all perfect. Congrats to Kim and Gerry, and their beautiful wedding and reception. Best wishes for a happy future together.

random thoughts – Day 1,548 – (Friday) – trash talk

In the early days of personal email, signing into my email account was exciting. First off, I had to be home at the desktop computer to do so. While out doing things like working or socializing live and in person, which is how life was back then, there was an underlying sense of anticipation. Do I have a new message? Is that person thinking about me?

During the stretch of the earlier fun times, two romances were conducted via the magical wonders of the still kind of new electronic mail. There was a Denver – Worcester situation (1998-99) that blossomed for a chunk of time with an old high school beau and included emails supplemented with late-night landline phone calls and personal visits requiring airline transportation before it all crash landed. The relationship, not the planes.

Another relationship began with Match of the dot-com before shifting to personal email. It started local and in person before a swift redirect to a Seoul – Worcester long distance situation (1999-2000) courtesy of the United States Army. That email enhanced romance involved lengthy daily letters peppered with song lyrics, recaps of the day, hopes, dreams, and future plans. There was international travel. There was longing. There was a marriage (X2) and then it all died in a 2007 split after the realities of real life together clashed with the misty romance of long-distance email promises.

Now, email is heavily weighted towards crap. Around 2011 I became suddenly popular, but it wasn’t a great thing. (You can read about it here if you want.) Back in that slightly more innocent time, my popularity was with magazine publishers trying to separate me from my heard-earned money. The short version – I subscribed to one magazine and soon dozens of others appeared in my inbox, uninvited. It felt kind of like when you see one creepy bird circling in the sky and then the others join until there are a bunch (flock? murder?) of them circling before they all descend to feast, and I was the feast.

These days, it’s even worse.

Current favorite.

Thanks to the scammers and spammers, there is a sense of dread when logging in to my email and the inbox shows 50 or 100 new messages. These are rarely from my friends writing to me. We text. We even text each other to alert of an incoming email, because, well, scammers.

A small percentage of the daily emails are news sources, member newsletters, and blogs to which I consciously and deliberately subscribed. A sliver are legitimate billing notifications from vendors accounts. The bulk of it is just crap, and that doesn’t even include the stuff that is automatically filtered to the spam folder for its obvious suspicious nature. Ugh. 

The spammers and scammers try to worm their way into my attention, wallet, and bank account with emails allegedly from warehouse stores, banks, utility companies, credit card companies, and stores with which I have never conducted business and which often do not even exist anywhere near my location. This week saw a trend with several messages each day from a generic individual’s name and a subject line about my alleged invoice for an alleged order. Sorry, not falling for it.

Gotta love the data breaches – publicized and otherwise – and the buyers and sellers of contact lists and personal information on the dark web. As if there aren’t enough things to worry about on a daily basis.

Getting “trashed” now has a different meaning than it did in college when it referred to the successfully achieved effects of drinking as a hobby. Instead of beer bottles (or a peace sign or smiley face or heart) the little digital trash can has become my favorite icon and trashing email is now a daily, time-consuming activity. In a lot of ways, I miss the old days.

random thoughts – Day 1,547 – (Thursday) – mostly ordinary

It was mostly just an ordinary day with beautiful weather and not a cloud in the sky during the morning commute. The office was populated by five of us and it was as quiet as if I’d been at home. The progress on projects was good and the annoyances were minor. Lunch was a garden salad, satisfying when eaten, but by 4:00 I was starving. Not unusual.

The afternoon commute had lovely weather and the usual, predictable obnoxious drivers blocking intersections. Ordinary.

The approach to the house delivered a surprise that something grand had been delivered sometime during the day. With the exception of a white stretch limo parked in front the house across the street for a couple hours Wednesday night, it’s been rather quiet and uneventful on the street lately, and my guard was down. 

Tiny house? Large-ish RV?

The recent quietude made it a bit more startling to see the equivalent of a small house in the form of a rather large-ish Kodiak Express Ultra Lite RV parked across the from my driveway. The pullout sections protruded into the street to add an extra degree of surprise and difficulty when navigating ingress and egress to my own driveway. Good thing I love a challenge. 

It will be “exciting” to see how long it will be there, or more specifically, if it will still be there during one of the frequent cookouts and pool parties across the street that draw an average of a zillion vehicles parked haphazardly all over the street. 

random thoughts – Day 1,546 – (Wednesday) – headaches and roses

Today felt a harder than it needed to. As I prepared to leave to for work, I couldn’t find the jacket I planned to wear to stave off the office frostbite and ended up wearing one that didn’t work as well with the pants and shirt I had on. Then I couldn’t find the sunglass clip for my glasses and drove downtown squinting. The battery in my "good" watch was dead. 

For my next act, I managed to lock myself out of online banking. This meant I was unable to verify that I set up the online bill payments I think (hope) I did. If not, there will be fresh issues to stress me out.

The sink at the office is still broken. I forgot to have my morning office coffee, and remembered when the dull headache from insufficient caffeination kicked in.

There was a webinar offered at work about planning for age 65 which I had signed up for. If the horror of my age isn’t quite enough to put me into a grave, the shit show that is government health care for old people will certainly do it.  

It was a delightful hour filled with information about Medicare and its alphabet soup of Parts and Gaps and Plans and prescription coverage and timelines with potential lifelong penalties, all delivered by two overly cheerful presenters. It did nothing to minimize my growing hatred of the American healthcare system. It succeeded in making my brain hurt. I wanted to cry. For real. To make it extra enjoyable, my seldom used headset kept slipping on my head.

The rest of the day followed a similarly annoying and frustrating trajectory. It was a near never-ending series of small to medium-sized aggravations. The cumulative effects of several weeks of aggravation may or may not have resulted in a quick eruption in the vicinity of my desk. Ok, there definitely was one. It was mine. Some days I'm as non-stick as Teflon. Other days I absorb all the crap like a sponge. Today was a spongey day.

With everyone in the office for the day there were meetings and conversations and printer noise swirling around. I used to like the activity and noise and buzz of the office, but that was before the pandemic that broke the world and the long stretch of quiet solitude that came with it (and in my case, never really left). I resorted to earbuds and music, which was a bright comfort for the day.

BungaLowell roses.

On the way to the garage, yellow roses were blooming in the little garden nestled between two concrete buildings. It was another bright spot. At The BungaLowell, the rosebush in the front yard still looks great, full of bright blooms. 

After supper (salad), I attacked the rhododendron in front of the house. It was cathartic. Straggling shoots were trimmed to reshape it. The trickiest part was trying to reach the branches that have grown against the house without falling off the front steps I was perched on. 

At least I didn’t screw it up (that I know of). One year, I waited too long to trim the hugely overgrown thing and trimmed off all the buds that had set for the following year. Oops.

random thoughts – Day 1,545 – (Tuesday) – not dull

Projects were ticking along and moving into the review phase. One file went into the system looking great, but when it was accessed in the program for the first review step (spelling and grammar), the line of text at the top of the document converted itself into numbers, aka total gibberish. Junk that is also impossible to review for spelling and grammar.

The designer checked the file and sent me a new one. It was checked, then loaded into the system and then checked again before being marked as fixed. The file did the same thing when opened in the program and the header was converted to numbers. Seriously? 

These used to be English words.

It seems when the file is opened in a browser, the top line is numbers instead of words. Why? Seriously, why? Now we have a mystery to solve before the project can be reviewed in the system. 

The door is open and these
used to be English words.

Also today, the car is back to flaunting its foreign language skills. The dashboard messaging is back to Italian for the second time in a week. Today, I got to enjoy Italian messages for “Door is open” and “Key is not in vehicle” and one or two others. Super fun. I mean, “super divertente.”

So far, the temperature is still holding in Fahrenheit. My trip downtown for a meeting after work was such a short drive there was no time or space to exceed the new 25 mph citywide speed limit by the seven mph to trigger the alert, so I don’t know if that message is back to kilometers. On Sunday it was definitely in miles and this should not be construed as a confession. 

Even when it's mostly quiet, the days are not dull.

random thoughts – Day 1,544 – (Monday) – delaying connection

In what seems like a gift from the Universe, today was the most un-Monday of Mondays. It was calm and quiet. The pace of the work was civilized. There was time to think about things before they were done instead of having to react to everything and race through it all. It was amazing. 

Update elements. 

The Jeep navigation has needed an update for a couple years, and last week I finally caved and bought the update while it was on sale ($99 + delivery + MA sales tax). The delay was less about the cost and more about the installation directions which noted 45 minutes. And because of the instructions, the installation using the thumb drive that arrived Saturday has still not taken place.

First, approximately 975 code numbers are needed including the VIN, the software version from the radio, the product code from the thumb drive, a code that is sent once the process begins. There needs to be wi-fi access, and the manual says the car needs to run for 45 to 90 minutes. What in the actual eff? Is the software sketching the maps by hand?

A potential note of concern is that when I am in the car, in the driveway, some 20 steps away from the kitchen door and just a few more to the router, my phone usually has no wi-fi. It is very important that my phone has wi-fi access because the cell signal strength shows as the tiniest, itty-bittyest bar on the symbol. 

It’s not specified in the manual, but I hope the wi-fi is needed for the code sent to the phone at the beginning of the installation and not the actual full 10-hour installation or I'll have to drive the car into the house, violating the instruction that says it needs to be running forever outside in a well ventilated area. 

Rice, veggies, and
Tikka Masala sauce.

After work, I seriously considered finally doing the navigation update instead of going to the gym. It will be great to have instructions that use the correct exit numbers, which changed in Massachusetts several years ago. That's when I noticed the clouds were taking on some charcoal gray tones like it might rain. 

Doubts crept into the cranial sphere. What if there is a storm during the update and it is somehow interrupted? That is not covered in the installation manual. It says to not turn the car off, but not what happens if you do. 

So, instead of the install and before I remembered the original plan was to go to the gym, I made supper. The current food kick is rice. Last week, it was rice and black beans. Today it was rice, mixed frozen vegetables, broccoli, and Tikka Masala sauce. 

random thoughts – Day 1,543 – (Sunday) –lunch, rain, music

My sister’s birthday was this past Monday and today we were able to meet up for lunch. Birthdays are almost always (like 99.9% of the time) observed in some way in my family, just not always on the one and only exact date, because, well, work and life and stuff.  

Today’s festivity took place at Bailey’s in Townsend, which is becoming our go-to for a nice weekend lunch, usually after I get out of dance. We like Bailey’s for the consistent kitchen. The delicious whatever that was ordered the last time is just as delicious the next time. When lunch was first planned, we had hoped to be able to eat outside on the patio.

All week long, weather forecasts mentioned rain and I left the house armed with a raincoat and umbrella that became unnecessary baggage because it didn’t rain. I even had to keep watering the parched yellow pansies in the flower pot out front. Today I said screw it and wore just a light jacket. No hood. No ball cap. Left the car umbrella in the car.

Wet patio.

It was a reckless decision. In the multiple intervals between the car and various buildings throughout the morning, drizzle and humidity made my hair, which was foolishly blow-dried smooth after showering, a bit, um, bulky-wavy-frizzy. Oh well. And of course, the patio was closed due to the rain because who on earth would want to eat outside in the rain? 

Our arrival for lunch (12:15) was perfect. People kept coming in to the dining room as we ate, and as we were near to finishing, a steady stream of other patrons was filing past the window towards the entrance. Many were young girls in short-skirted outfits and really big wigs and jackets with the name of an Irish Step Dance school. Clearly, there had been a performance and clearly we had beaten the post-performance rush. Sometimes we get lucky in my family. We wound our way through a small crowd near the host station on our way out. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent relaxing. The TV stayed off. I read a book, Sam by Allegra Goodman, which is a touching and realistic trip into the head and heart of a kid. Later, instead of the usual diet of Netflix shows, it was YouTube for music videos, which is the closest to the old MTV I can get, with the added benefit of being able to search for bands I want to listen to/see. Today’s entertainment included Balkan Beat Box, The Dresden Dolls, Gogol Bordello, and Miley Cyrus. Overall, a great day.

random thoughts – Day 1,542 – (Saturday) – bitchy resting face

Another flashback -- from June 12, 2013. The video is still up, and currently has 8MM views. As for my face, advancing age and thinning lips makes the usual Bitchy Resting Face condition even worse, which is making me actually bitchy even more often. Cycle of life?

There is a YouTube video written by Taylor Orci and directed by Behn Fannin making the rounds of social media. Called “Bitchy Resting Face,” it chronicles “a disorder that affects millions of women every day.”

It’s funny. Well, to me anyway, because for as long as I can remember, I have been subjected to casual queries and full-blown interrogations as to why I am mad, glum, depressed, etc., etc. My history of wearing a lot of black probably didn’t help the situation, but hey, it’s not my fault that black happens to be appropriate for practically every occasion, episodes of bitchiness or depression included.

For as many people I know who walk around smiling like a toothpaste ad, there is an equal number of my acquaintances who are afflicted with Bitchy Resting Face. I relate to my non smiling friends, maybe in part because I completely understand when they look mad but aren’t, and the ensuing aggravation when people keep commenting on it.

Although I was kind of a moody teenager (who isn’t, really?), I’m pretty sure I was not as perpetually pissed off and bitchy as my face apparently portrayed me to be. Not when I was a kid, and not now. Even when perfectly content, I get the questions about being mad. I’m just not one of those people who can walk around all day every day with a smile plastered across my face. I’ve tried. It looks more like a constipated grimace than a genuine smile, and I’m pretty sure it’s scarier than my Bitchy Resting Face and my “get the hell out of my way I’m pissed off” face.

Even the photos of me as a young kid look serious. Shy. Thoughtful, even. The fact is, I was self-conscious as all hell. As my classmates blossomed into womanhood all around me, I lived with daily worry that my own bosom would never develop because I slept on my stomach and refused to wear undershirts in first grade. I spent fifth and sixth grade tormented by female classmates with chests that bore more resemblance to Playboy centerfolds and Maxim cover models than 11-year-olds, and who delivered daily torture (today it’s called “bullying”) over my dream worthiness to pirates (sunken chest) and carpenters (flat as a board and skinny as a nail). These girls shoved orange peels down my shirt while chanting they were “adding to the cause.” Trust me, there was a LOT going on behind my early non-smiling Bitchy Resting Face, and cultivating a lovely smile was not as high on the agenda as surviving sixth grade. Or seventh. Or any of the others that followed.

Ample photographic evidence exists that even when I tried to smile for a photo, it usually looked fake. While attempting to smile (especially during my teens and 20s when I was engrossed in fashion magazines and fantasies of being a model or a wealthy tycoon’s wife), I was also worried about crinkly eyes, smile lines, my super prominent cheekbones appearing even more prominent, showing the chip in my front tooth (earned at age 8) and later the repair to the chip in my front tooth (finally at 17). YOU try smiling with all that going on. The inner life was affecting the outward appearance. But I wasn’t always mad, I was usually just thinking. Focused. Trying to not trip over cracks in the sidewalk. Riding the mood swing between wanting to totally be invisible and desperately wishing to be noticed.

During a short stint as a beauty pageant contestant (two pageants, one crown) I had to resort an insider trick -- Vaseline on my teeth. Try it. It’s freeking disgusting. The feeling is so nasty you’ll do anything to avoid closing your mouth over your teeth. Ta da! A smile, but not exactly practical for daily use.

Regular "Wasn't expecting a
photo "Resting Bitchy Face (2010).

Thankfully, some of the baggage of my inner life has been shed, and I’m slightly less self conscious (or no longer give a crap). Thanks to the proliferation of camera phones and digital photography, there is a small reservoir of recent photographic evidence of me smiling. These may be directly linked to an indulgence in beer, wine, or good old fashioned hard liquor (friends have said I am one smiling, happy drunk) but I’ll take whatever breaks I can catch. And now there is the comfort of the official recognition of “Bitchy Resting Face” and my sisters and brothers in faces.