random thoughts – Day 1,627 – (Saturday) – coffee meetup

When high school classmates roll into town and post an alert that they will be someplace, I try to make it there. Sometimes the scheduling is impossible, but other times it works out great.

A classmate who currently lives in Las Vegas is in the area for a wedding this weekend. He posted on social media on Friday that this morning, he and one of his cousins would be at a coffee shop in the town we all grew up in. Luckily for me, the coffee shop location isn’t far from the dance rehearsal location I needed to be at later in the morning. 

After the kickstart of a granola bar and coffee at home to be able to function like a human (and so I can tolerate myself), I hit the road. It was more coffee with long ago friends for the win. I love morning coffee. It is difficult for me to function without it. The more if it I drink, the more I talk (ask my colleagues).

This hangs in my kitchen. I didn't take any coffee shop photos.

Five of us – my classmate and his wife, his cousin who was a year ahead of us in school, and another schoolmate from the year ahead of us – chatted and reminisced and caught up in a booth in the coffee shop. In my mind, time has frozen as far as my high school classmates and I are concerned, and our faces are perpetually preserved at 17, 18, and 19 years old. Wrinkles and gray hair be damned.

In our more mature times, the former football player and mortgage banker is now a talented and prolific painter and frequent traveler. The cousin, once upon a time a paratrooper, is the officiant at the wedding they were in town for this weekend. These are things I wouldn’t have predicted when we were 18, but they are fascinating aspects of the people they’ve become. Of course, at 18, I also wouldn’t have guessed I’d have done roller derby or be a belly dancer performing at small, local festivals. Life is full of fun surprises.

Meeting up with friends from long ago is great. Note that I am being careful to not say “old” friends because I hate that foul word. As much as I love colorful language and especially the glorious, all-purpose F-Word sentence enhancer that slips out of my mouth on a shockingly frequent basis, “old” is possibly the worst word I can think of.

When you lived in the same city and know all the neighborhoods, went to the same schools, had the same classmates, and have shared experiences, there is a built-in shorthand. We don’t need to provide backstory for teachers, classes, and big events.

Remembering some of the specifics to the teachers, classes, and big events can get a bit fuzzy, however. There were amusing moments this morning when trying to recall some people and places. There was the search for the name of a kid from our class of 330-plus students – “you know, the blond kid.” Then there was the forgotten name of a neighborhood club which led to us running through the names of half the bars and hangouts that existed back in the day when the drinking age was 18 and so has half of our senior class. “You know, the one near where Marty’s Pizza was. What’s the name of the street? A short street. No, not Mill Street, that’s downtown. No, not British American Club, that’s in West Fitchburg across from The Log Cabin.” We finally circled back to the name two people had said much earlier – South Fitchburg Social Club. I can’t even remember why we needed to know the name of the place, but it was fun getting to it.

Dang, being the old people in a coffee shop is different than being young and overhearing the old people and their convoluted conversations. Hearing the elders talking in circles and trying to fill in details used to be a combination of comedic, boring, and terrifying. Now that being a participant in that type of conversation is a frequent event, it’s closer to pure terror, mostly because it won’t get any better. Oy.

In terms of time, the hour at the coffee shop was a small portion of a great day, but the value of that hour was far greater than just 60 minutes. Long live long-standing connections. And coffee.

random thoughts – Day 1,626 – (Friday) – finding food and fun

Wayfinding!

Today at work was a delight. The real kind, not the sarcastic kind. Sure, first thing in the morning we were told the water had been shut off for the building due to a sudden incident, and then not informed it was back on, but we figured it out and it was all okay.

The drive in was the last of the summer easy ride. By next Friday, school will be in session full time and the ride will be less easy and pleasant, but only for most of the next 10 months or so. New wayfinding signs have popped up all over downtown with directional info to attractions like Lowell Memorial Auditorium and Tsongas Center and the time needed to walk there. 

A couple buildings on Merrimack Street seem to be in the midst of conversions and renovations and I always wonder who owns the buildings and how a unit can be rented. And also where people living downtown grocery shop and if they walk or drive there. 

The phones were quiet, but at my desk, at least, it might have been because I forgot to log in to it for several hours. Or maybe because almost everyone I emailed was off for the day. The result was a rare luxury – an interruption-free day. There was time to think about the work in a calm manner. Tasks were completed or at least moved along to be someone else’s task to deal with for a while.

Dessert!

After work, a couple colleagues and I went to The Old Court. Aperol Spritzes for all of us, two orders of fish tacos, a fried haddock sandwich, and a Guinness chocolate ice cream pie with three spoons. Yummy.

It was nice night, cooler than it has been, so we skipped the outside seating and ate inside. The table was near an open window which turned out to be as chilly as if we were outside, but it was fun. The Old Court filled up around 6:00 and we were glad to have our precious real estate in the corner away from the crowd.

Downtown crackled with activity and energy. Every restaurant looked full, at the inside and outside seating. Maybe the shiny new wayfinding signs helped people find their way to food and fun.

random thoughts – Day 1,625 – (Thursday) – in the gutters

The rainy day water feature over the front door should no longer be an issue. The gutters have been cleaned out, sealed, and covered with screens. I was concerned about putting brand new screen caps atop who-knows-how-old-they are gutters, but the salesman had assured me that they would “look like new” after being cleaned and sealed. Maybe they look new on the inside, but the cleaning stopped there and the outside surface of the gutters is filthy and not exactly new looking.

On the bright side, they have a limited lifetime warranty that is transferrable with sale of the home.  Another bright facet to the jewel is that the screens should keep the snow from settling into the gutters, preventing the melt-freeze cycle with big icicles.

And wait, there’s more! The caps didn’t require the removal of the wiring system for the heating system in the gutters. It’s not used often, but when needed, it helps with the ice on the side of the house where the only way to insulate the attic space it to cut big holes in the walls of two rooms. And then, of course, repair said big holes on the walls of two rooms.

Gutter work.

The expense portion was an interesting ride. When the sale person came to measure and provide an estimate, the price was a bit rich for my taste. Like six grand rich. After I didn’t bite, there was an email from a different rep offering to knock the price down by a couple thousand, which still felt too steep. In a surprise maneuver by the company, a different rep reached out recently via text with an even lower price, saying he wants to keep his crews busy, and suddenly we were at a decent number. 

The work order arrived for review on Tuesday. The crew was scheduled for Thursday. When things start moving, they really move. At 4:00 this afternoon they arrived and got busy. One guy in the back yard trimmed the material and laid out sections around the house. Another guy on a ladder worked on the gutters and installed the screens. The view through the sheer curtains in the office window featured the unusual sight of repairs finally being done. The office rumbled and shook as the ladders were moved along the side of the house. 

At 6:25 the work was completed and I was being shown before and after cell phone photos of the interior of the front gutter (which was the worst), the front corner with the new silicone seal (so it shouldn't leak onto the recycle bin anymore), some new brace bracket whatever thingies, and the fresh new screen filter things.

Now I want it to rain to test this expenditure out. I will not miss the front door waterfall. The rush of an item being crossed the too-long household repair list has me wondering what can be tackled next. Dracut Appliance is having a Labor Day sale and the idea of a new refrigerator keep creeping in.

random thoughts – Day 1,624 – (Wednesday) – work watching

Road project progress.

The Shattuck Street cobblestone road project is showing progress. Some of the stones have been lifted off and carted away in a dump truck. Now that the work isn’t directly below our window, the project is a bit less noisy, which is a blessing for us, but the Quilt Museum on the corner is probably not enjoying it.

Throughout any in-office day, those of us on site wander over to the window for a look at the outside world several times a day. Sometimes we just need something to look at that isn’t a computer screen or it's something to do while waiting for the Keurig machine, microwave, or toaster oven to finish performing their food and beverage magic. We check the weather, the volume of traffic, what people are wearing to see if we need a sweater or jacket to go outside. 

Today, a colleague noticed unusual activity out on the sidewalk near the unusual road project. A guy who seemed to be high or a coordinated drunk was moving along in a little cha cha step, walk, turn combination on the sidewalk along the chain link fence enclosing the road project. Every few feet he would shake the fencing sections and seemed to be yelling at the workers on the project. He did some weird physical gestures like he was imitating a dinosaur or maybe the bucket digger equipment at work. Then he would do a few more dance steps on the sidewalk then walk, then twirl down the sidewalk some more.

He squatted on the sidewalk and lit some sort of paper rolled smoking treat. He stuck his head between the parking pay station and a “Pay Here” sign pole and we were just waiting for him get stuck there. That didn't happen, and he got up. Further down the fence there was a gap between the sections and the dude slithered through the space into the hard hat construction site. Then he did a victory dance like he was a football player who just scored the game winning touchdown or maybe Rocky Balboa at the top of the staircase.

Just having a chat with the law between dance-walk performances.

Happy dancing dude returned to the sidewalk and dance/walked a bit towards the little park. He made his way back up the sidewalk towards Subway. A policeman appeared on the scene to have a few words with the guy and they walked a few steps, separated by the fence. That’s about when I returned to my desk full of work. Watching other people work and the fun little sidewalk  show was a nice performance art entertainment break, but I had my own work to deal with.

Later, a colleague and I took a walk to get outside on the sunny day. We stuck to straightforward walking with no embellishments. The equipment that looks like Tonka toys from the window is impressively larger when viewed from the ground, but the project itself looks less impressive with the limited view. The worksite seen from four floors up is more interesting, and the next few weeks will be a visually captivating experience.

random thoughts – Day 1,623 – (Tuesday) – fog, photos, headache

It was a slightly more aggravating ride to work than usual, but not quite as bad as I feared. It was the first day of school for Lowell K-12, and the traffic volume was heavier with school buses and parents driving their offspring downtown to the high school and commuters blocking intersections because that seems to be the way of land lately. It took three light cycles to turn off VFW onto Bridge Street even though I was the fifth vehicle, and then another few minutes to sit on the bridge not moving.

Foggy view from the bridge
over the Merrimack.

At least on the bridge, the view is more interesting than the backsides of a bunch of vehicles. To the right, the converted mill buildings and the greenery along the Merrimack River disappeared into the morning fog. To the left, fog floated around the smokestacks of more mill buildings. I don’t mind traffic as much when there are interesting sights to be seen.

Inside the office, our professional photographer brought in for the day was setting up gear. It was month-long ordeal on my end to set up today’s photo shoot, because it’s usually about as easy as nailing Jell-O to the wall, but vacations and delays reaching people made it even harder.

In the morning session, 13 bankers were photographed. After a break and some lunch and my feeble attempt to plow through emails and the project list, 10 more individual shoots plus team photos in a conference room on another floor the building were accomplished. It all went smoothly, except for the work I kept screwing up at my desk in the eight minute increments available in between greeting new arrivals and explaining the next step to the people who were heading back out. After wondering why I hadn’t heard from a print shop with a quote request, it was discovered the email I swore was sent on Friday was sitting in the “drafts” folder and hadn’t been sent. That was par for the course of the attempted work for the day.

In a couple days, regular work will be cast aside again as I forward photo galleries to all the photo subjects so they can select their poses and log the choices and send them to the photographer. If the averages hold, I’ll have to chase half of them for their selections so the photographer can retouch and send the final files which will then need to be saved on our server. If the averages hold, at least one will never send any choices and I'll say screw it and stop chasing them because I'm not a babysitter. 

Cobblestone road work.

While we had photo lights flashing and photos happening, outside on Shattuck Street, a yellow digger scooper machine thing picked up cobblestones and set them into a big dump truck. It was loud busy outside, and slightly less loud and a different kind of busy inside and my head was pounding most of the day with the new flavor of headache over the past week where my face and eyeballs also hurt.

According to the memo we received last week, the road project will run about eight weeks. According to the magic of a Google search, the road project is “for cobblestone restoration as part of a gas main restoration program.” As much as I love Internet searches for quick answers and deep dives, I haven’t Googled the recent headache situation because that just feels like planting seeds for a potential flirtation with hypochondria.

random thoughts – Day 1,622 – (Monday) – six months in

Kiki lounging.

Kiki had a vet appointment in March. On that traumatic day, I had to chase her all over the house and trick her into her crate to go there. the chase went from room to room, behind the couch, atop the desk, up the stairs and back down. With all the furniture moving and running around, it was one of the best home workouts I'd ever had, but beyond that it was just stressful. I finally was able to trap her in the bathroom (the only room on the first floor that has a door) and get her into the carrier. She wailed the whole way to the vet and through the entire visit.

The file notes from the visit said she was very anxious. The vet said to give here three to six months to get comfortable with me and being at The BungaLowell. True to the timeline, in the past couple weeks, at six months and a bit after the day she came here, she seems a bit more relaxed.

She lays on the rug in the living room, sometimes sprawled with her belly exposed. She runs away less often when I come near her. If I say her name and extend my hand, she comes to me for pats and lets me hand feed her treats. One of her toys, a small cloth rope thing was marketed as “quiet for nighttime play” finally, after six months of being ignored like most of her other playthings, was found on the dining room rug this past weekend, largely shredded. Whether it was played with or murdered, it was a new activity. Today, Kiki delivered what feels like the next milestone of getting comfortable.

Kiki rubbing on my sandal.

As I sat on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, foot clad in my $8 rubber slides from Aldi (a real bargain for the lightweight comfort), Kiki walked across the room. She got close to my foot and rubbed the top of her head against my slide. Then she rubbed each of her cheeks on the edge of it. Not once, but a few times. She walked back across the rug, and a few minutes later, returned to rub on my shoe again. 

This action was repeated several different times. So much progress! 

The cloud that hangs over the warm fuzzy glow is her next vet appointment, scheduled for a Saturday morning in late September. The fear is that getting her into the carrier to go becomes another traumatic event and act of human betrayal that sets us backwards on all the progress. She still runs away if it seems like I might pick her up, so I haven't executed yet the imagined road trips to nowhere to get used to car rides with no consequences. I better get busy.

random thoughts – Day 1,621 – (Sunday) – soul satisfying

In the ongoing joke of the Universe, after months of not a lot to do on a Sunday, tonight was one of those dates with multiple events competing for calendar space. The battle was between a belly dance showcase in Natick, or a Cambodian dance troupe performance in Lowell. Because it's the cusp of my own dance lesson and performance season, the belly dancers won for inspiration and motivation.  

Common Street Spiritual Center.

Entering the Common Street Spiritual Center, located across the street from an idyllic park with a gazebo and sweeping lawn, the sounds of The Drum Nomads drumming group set the mood for the evening. Sunshine through the stained glass skylights cast reflections on the opposite ceiling section. 

It was fun seeing some familiar dancers on stage and in the audience. The dancing was a mix of styles presented by soloists and groups against a red stage curtain. The stage itself is gorgeous. The beautiful floor is wide and deep and large enough for groups. I couldn't help comparing it to stages I've danced on that were very shallow.

There was so much talent on stage I couldn’t choose a favorite artist or dance. There were a couple dancers with sinewy and amazing snake arms and undulations that looked like they had no bones. One  dancer performed with double swords. One troupe did some incredible fan and shawl work and another did basket work with interesting floor patterns. There were ruffles and hair flowers, silk veils and props, rhinestones and sparkles, costumes in earth tones and jewel tones.

Drummers and dancers.

Overall, it was a visually appealing, entertaining, and soul-satisfying night. There was a chance to catch up with a dance  friend I usually only “see” on social media. For nearly two hours, I didn’t think about things going on beyond that space with the beautiful stage and the stained glass skylights. It was definitely much better than the average Sunday night of watching TV, scrolling social media and news, and thinking about work on Monday. 

random thoughts – Day 1,620 – (Saturday) – working girls and cats

It was a great morning for a history walk – sunny, warm but not too hot, plenty of shade on the route. Getting to the walk, however, involved a series of minor events with disproportionate levels of aggravation.

Interpreters talked about Mill Girl work and  life.

Since Wednesday, the car has been notifying of low tire pressure, in Italian because for the past month (or more), and despite consulting the manual and the Jeep Renegade Online Forum, I haven’t been able to locate the magic hidden setting to reset it to English.

When I failed to address the tire issue Wednesday, it was decided to do it on Friday on the way to the office, but I left the house late that morning. After work, there was supper out and then I just wanted to get home. Today had to be the day.

The "Lowell Walks: Mill Girls & Boarding House Keepers" left from the Lowell National Historical Park Visitor Center at 10:00. My plan was coffee (of course), breakfast (a banana), visit the gas station in Dracut with slightly better gas prices and an easy to access air machine, and arrive in time for the walk. Ha! 

Wardrobe challenges included a shirt change (three times) and debate over a purse alternative. The debit card and license were removed from the wallet. I went upstairs to pull four quarters from the coin jug for the air machine and put them in my pocket. The purse and wallet (but not the cross body bag) went to the car in case there was grocery shopping after the walk.

On the way to the gas station, while checking to confirm the presence of the debit card in the back pocket, it was discovered the pocket was empty. While doing so, I sort of blew through a stop sign. A car waiting at the cross street let me know of my error. Oops. At the gas station, it was confirmed the debit card was not in my possession. There wasn't enough cash on hand for the gas fill up, but the tires were filled.

While exiting the gas station to go home for the debit card, the low fuel alert illuminated the instrument panel. A few houses away from mine, a neighbor whipped out of his driveway and into my path. We couldn’t see each other due to the big white van in front of his house blocking the view, so why he was backing out so fast was a mystery to me. It felt like quick payback from the Universe for the stop sign.

Card and license were retrieved from the cross body bag on the kitchen table. Gas was acquired. At 10:00, I was still at the gas station in my neighborhood. Nine minutes later, I was parked downtown and walking to catch up to the tour at a sculpture of Mill Girls called “Homage to Women” by acclaimed sculpture Mico Kaufman. At the statue, the question was posed about a sculptural detail where one girl had her hand over another’s. Was she helping pull the other girl along, or holding her back? The Park Ranger said the answer might depend upon one’s generation.

At the Lowell Institute for Savings building, we learned that Mill Girls had savings accounts at the now defunct bank. Even after paying room and board, church pew fee, and sending money back home to their families to help support the family farm and often, education for their brother(s), they were still able to save some money for themselves.

In Lucy Larcom Park, two historic interpreters in 1800s style dresses talked about work in the mills (six days a week) and what life was like.  At one of the Park sculptures we paused to hear about 14 hour work days and early labor organization by the Mill Girls.

At Boarding House Park, we learned about boarding house life while the Angkor Dance Troupe rehearsed for their Sunday night performance. In true feast/famine fashion, it’s at the same time as a belly dance showcase in Natick that I also want to attend. Stupid time/space crap. At least I saw a bit of the rehearsal. 

Saturday with Kiki on the stairs.

Back home, I remembered it was Cat Video Fest day. There was a trip back downtown to Mill No. 5 for a Vintage Market and the 3:00 showing at Luna Theater. Cat Video Fest is a 75 minute compilation of amusing, adorable, and silly cat videos.

Back at home, Kiki was lounging on the stairs in peace and quiet. She is a sweet and very not silly cat and I was glad she doesn’t climb the walls or tear up the house like some of the cats in the film. Not yet, anyway. 

random thoughts – Day 1,619 – (Friday) – downtown and homebound

There was a stop for drinks and supper downtown after work at an outside table at Warp & Weft. It was sunny and breezy enough that the drinks sheet blew off the table. My nimble colleague leapt from her seat and retrieved it. Then the specials sheet blew off the table. She got that one, too. 

We were chatting and relaxing in the comfortable air and suddenly nearly three hours had gone by. Later, the waiter's pen I was about to use to sign my debit card slip fell and landed across the sewer grate. Luckily, it didn't fall in.

Downtown at dusk.

When leaving downtown at 8:00, the sun had already set. The sky was dusky blue and downtown looked great with streetlights and storefronts aglow. 

Before long, this level of light will happen around 4:00 and that will be depressing. In the time it took to walk the couple blocks to the garage, it seemed like it had gotten dark almost immediately. 

At home, I couldn’t find KiKi. I ran the drill and checked on the stairs, under the table, behind the chair, and behind the couch. She was found behind the couch, hanging out. She remained there for an hour after I found her, and when she came out, she was ready to socialize.

Kiki lounging.

She let me stroke her face and head. She did a lap around the house and came back to me at the couch where I had a stash of her tiny, tasty treats. She ate from my hand. She stretched on the rug near the yard work sneakers from yesterday and the loafers just removed today. 

Keeks looked up at me as I sat on the couch. And then she sauntered off to sit under the dining room table. From there, she stared into the living room. We admired each other from afar. Kiki is an enchanting housemate and I'm ready to be wrapped around her little paw.

random thoughts – Day 1,618 – (Thursday) – mowed and conquered

It was one of those days. In the good way. Work was good. The insanely long to-do list for the week saw some items crossed off which made it easier to breathe.

The plan floating in the back of my brain all day after seeing a weather forecast free of rain was to mow the yard after work. After logging off the system, the official yard sneakers were donned and I marched out to the yard.

The yard beast.

The march was interrupted almost immediately. Some pervasive, fast growing weed vine thing had wound and interlaced itself through the chain link fence and the gate and needed to be yanked so I could open the gate and get into the back yard. It’s amazing (in a horrifying way) how much yard work hasn’t been done this year with no dogs and the frequent trips to the yard with them. The fear of losing a small-ish dog in a wild, overgrown yard was a powerful motivator for regular yard work.

The mower, probably feeling as abandoned as the yard, was released from the shed and wheeled to the front yard where some of the grass was so tall it couldn’t fight gravity and stand up anymore. It was tougher going than usual, but the mower is a true beast and the front was finished. Then the chore moved to the back yard.

The back yard greenery of grass, faux grass, and known weeds is much sender than the scrappy front yard stuff. It was damp closer to the ground and clumped in the mower. That meant digging it out a couple times during the ordeal. After the mowing, some unmowable weeds were pulled. The yard waste barrel is full and ready for pickup on Monday.

It was a very productive hour or so and The BungaLowell looks less neglected and abandoned. I half expected the neighbors to come out and offer thanks and congratulations and was disappointed when they didn’t.

random thoughts – Day 1,617 – (Wednesday) – clouds and spells

The air had a fall feel to it today. Crisp. Cool bordering on chilly. Free of the summer humidity. It made me a sad. It’s much too early for this. I haven't even hauled myself to the beach yet this year.

The cloud blanket crept in.

When the car was started, it immediately informed me (in Italian because I haven't dug into the many menus to change the language back to English again), that the tire pressure is low on all four tires. I think I liked my old (2004) Honda CRV that had a five-disc CD player, cassette deck, and didn’t constantly nag me with data and speed limit notifications, and co-workers, neighbors, and/or strangers in parking lots would say, “hey, your tires are low.” 

The skies did the practically daily gray cloud cover thing. At one point, it looked like a fleece blanket sliding itself low over downtown. It kept looking like it would rain, and the weather widget on the desk monitor kept saying it would do so in about an hour, but it didn’t. Not downtown where the office is anyway.

The absence of rain meant I could mow tonight. In theory, anyway.  

Kiki getting closer.

When I arrived home, I fell under the spell of little Miss Kiki. We are at a point where I can say her name and extend my hand and she will approach and place her silky little face against my hand for a gentle pat. She will sit on the living room rug and at a smaller distance than before, sometimes right near the couch. 

Over the past couple weeks, Keeks has begun parking herself in the doorway and meows. When I meow back and extend my hand, she comes over for a pat. She has begun grooming herself in my line of vision. My stony little heart melts with each of these activities. 

Tonight, she has been periodically strutting around the living room as if she wants me to notice her. When I do notice her, she comes nearer and lets me stroke her. Maybe soon, I’ll have a cuddle buddy. Or she's trying to tell me it's time for me to give her a tasty little Temptations treat and hen take myself upstairs to bed. In any event, she is frequently acknowledging my existence and I'll take it. I'm not a fan of the day's chilly weather, but I'm definitely a fan of Kiki and her new, warmer affections. The lawn can wait.

random thoughts – Day 1,616 – (Tuesday) – weeds and stuff

Evening primrose
along the deck.

The evening primrose has been flowering along the deck with its bright yellow flowers. The edge of my deck sits right on the property line, and the plants made a nice privacy screen that blocked the view of the neighbor’s cars and activity when I would read on my porch in the mornings.

There used to be a lot more evening primrose along my deck, but a few years ago, the woman next door ripped out a bunch of it thinking it was weeds and the natural privacy screen hasn't fully come back yet. Now that she knows it has pretty little flowers, she has it growing in several spots in her front flower bed. Last year, I relocated some of it along my front yard picket fence and it’s taken pretty well. Some of it is taller than the fence.

The evening primrose looks nice, but the so-called front lawn has turned into a nightmare. I didn’t mow it during the last yard cut, but it’s had a growth spurt and is now a meadow of weeds swaying in the breezes. The plan was to mow over the past weekend, but either the grass was wet from a recent rain, in the process of becoming wet from a current rain, my hair was behaving too well to get it all sweaty, or I'm just lazy. Or something.

Supper, aka why I didn't mow tonight.

I thought the mow might get done tonight, but at 5:00 the wind was whipping the trees and the clouds were looking like it might rain and I didn't feel like playing Beat the Clock. Instead, I made supper (black bean burger with cheese and sriracha mayo on a Portuguese muffin) and turned on the TV which is pretty much the kiss of death for all ambition and potential chores or projects. 

In another day or two, the front yard is going to look like abandoned property (if it doesn’t already). Maybe tomorrow I’ll get to the yardwork (famous last words).

random thoughts – Day 1,615 – (Monday) – sleep issues

Sunday night featured another episode of what has been happening at least once a week for too long. There was a focused effort to get to bed at a time that would allow for seven to eight hours of sleep. Once in bed, there was the trap of just one more Duolingo lesson, just one more check of Facebook, and just one more chapter in the book club selection for September. That sucked up at least an hour of quality sleep time.

When the light was finally turned out I was tired but not sleepy. There was relaxation breathing like we used to do in yoga classes. There was enough tossing and turning in an effort to get comfortable that it should count as a workout. 

It felt like I was awake all night. After a brief nap, a noise in the street woke me up after 1:00. It wasn’t even loud, but the window was open for the night air and someone whispered just right and bam, there I was, wide awake all over again.

Sleep not.

There was more tossing, turning, and flopping around on the bed. On the right side. On the left side. On the back. Later, rinse, repeat. There was an acute awareness of my right leg. Not the full-blown aggravation when the sciatica kicks up or the pain of the occasional leg cramp. It just felt not right. After a couple hours of it, I was thoroughly pissed off. 

It was nearly impossible to not obsess over the time. The check of the time I recall was around 2:00, and thankfully, sleep finally happened. What felt like five minutes later, the alarm on the cell phone bleated to awaken me from my nap. I wanted to fling it across the room. The app for the fitness tracker declared four hours and 17 minutes of sleep for the night. It's a mostly cool feature, but sometimes it seems that it's better not knowing how little sleep was had.

Despite the tragically short sleep, I wasn’t dragging ass too badly and the workday went well. Maybe it was the pot of the magical life elixir from Maxwell House that powered me through the day.

If the pattern that has been repeating much of the summer holds, I’ll sleep well tonight and maybe for the next one or two nights. Then, it will be another dreadful night of tossing and turning all over again. Ugh. Maybe the next time I can't sleep I'll start a spreadsheet to log the sleep time and moon phases and whatever other factors I can toss into the mix. If only I hadn't gotten rid of the economics textbook that used to bore me to sleep in grad school. Live and learn. 

random thoughts – Day 1,614 – (Sunday) – oddball inventory

Thanks to Facebook Memories, I was reminded today of the odd incident bravely endured on this date in 2018. It was a typical summer night in The BungaLowell. I was seated on the couch, eating a bowl of ice cream, and watching TV (probably Netflix or Prime Video). 

Injury-free ice cream.

Moose and Winston (my two biggest fans) were still around then, and were probably with me on the couch, jockeying for position in my lap. No matter what I was doing, as soon as one came near me, the other wanted in, too. Damn, I miss those little guys.

August 18, 2018 is the date I injured my lip eating ice cream. After a lifetime of ice cream consumption, on that evening, somehow the metal spoon got stuck on my bottom lip. New England winter training kicked in and I drooled onto it to free the spoon, but it still removed a bit of skin and drew blood. Tonight, I had the ripped lip in mind as I ate a bowl of ice cream. Caution prevailed. There was no bloodshed.

Of all the scrapes and dings and scars of a lifetime, the ice cream injury might be the stupidest/weirdest one. Or at least in the top five, up there with the time a wave knocked me over at Long Sands Beach in York Maine and I ended up with my hat and swimsuit top floating on the water and a purple toe. For the rest of the day, every time there was a big wave, my nieces and I would shriek “Inventory!” and we would check to make sure we still had on all our clothing parts. 

Childhood mishaps in the top five include a YMCA shower mishap that resulted in a broken front tooth. Another was around the same age when my brother and I raced across a playground and I ran straight into the top cable holding the tennis net, catching it in the nose, right between the eyes. Ah, the dramatic injury of an active child who hadn't yet flunked the school eye test and been fitted with eyeglasses.  

In the adult list, I once closed my left thumb in the door of my friend's Corvette after we had parked at a nightclub.  I was dressed all in white and managed to not get blood on my clothes before receiving a Bandaid from club staff. The busted ice cream lip while seated quietly on a couch is mostly embarrassing.

Fortunately, there have been no further ice cream spoon injuries since 2018. Or repeats of any of the other oddball injuries.

random thoughts – Day 1,613 – (Saturday) – old time stuff

The actual birthday was on Tuesday, but that doesn’t mean it was a limited time offer, one-day deal. Today, Mom and I met up to do something we enjoy together and visited a couple antique shops. The first stop was a small shop called The Twisted Daisy on Main Street in Westminster. It has an interesting assortment of stuff. From there we headed past Wachusett Mountain up route 31 to a larger shop called Hunt & Gather Vintage Market in Princeton. 

Bedsprings on the ceiling.

We weren’t looking for anything specific, we were just looking. It's fun to get ideas and see what is available, especially the antiques, many of which are 100% unfamiliar to us. It's also fun to laugh about some of the stuff. 

My favorite things were in Hunt & Gather and they were part of the store décor and not even items for sale. The music playlist was amazing, and I asked about it. It turns out they have a Spotify Playlist and I can listen to the old-timey arrangements of modern songs anytime I want. 

My other favorite things were mounted on the ceiling. There were rusty bed springs, cushion springs, old wooden ladders, trellises, and grids with lights and artificial greenery woven through them. I liked it when I saw it years ago. It turns out, I still like it.

The Old Mill Restaurant.

It would look cool in my enclosed porch if I ever get things in gear and do the scraping, painting and organizing and arranging needed out there and figure out how to mount the bedspring on the ceiling that I want painted in haint blue in the southern porch tradition. Oh, and I'll need to find some old bed springs, or even better, smaller old couch cushions with springs.

After the antique shops, the plan was for lunch at The 1761 Old Mill Restaurant with Mom and Step Dad. The place has been around for over 250 years, and I’ve driven past the place many times since moving back to the homeland, but hadn’t been inside in ages. It was fun seeing the covered bridge, the ducks, the waterfall, and the babbling brook. 

The corn fritters and pecan rolls are as good as ever and my wild mushroom ravioli in tomato cream sauce topped with parmesan was delicious. Overall, it was a fun day of happy good times.

random thoughts – Day 1,612 – (Friday) – kitchen time

Second consecutive Friday vacation day. Once again, no plans. Slept late (8:30 am). Spaced out on the couch with coffee, Wordle, Words with Friends, Duolingo (Spanish) and suddenly it was 10:30 and I finally put on “real clothes” (not pajamas). Time flies when you have the day off.

Cheese grating underway.

It was close to 1:00 before I even thought about eating, probably because I wasn’t very hungry. The eggs and cheese began to call from the refrigerator and soon I was cutting and grating hunks of cheese from the freezer, chopping broccoli and mushrooms, and mixing eggs with half and half diluted with water because I don’t have milk. 

There was no way to gauge how much grated random cheese ends equaled the “one block of Cracker Barrel sharp cheddar” noted in the recipe so I just grated all of it, knowing it was more than needed, but not by how much. So what. Unless it’s for a cake or some pastry where the chemistry aspects matter, I consider recipes to be rough ideas.

There have been several summers where there were many vegetables roasted and quiches baked. This was not one of those summers. It’s been hot enough that the thought of using the oven felt like insanity. Or maybe it was my very low levels of olive oil and ability to give a sh*t that kept me from putting in the effort to roast veggies for the past month or so. Whatever. The olive oil and energy still haven’t been replenished, but quiche doesn’t require olive oil and I somehow dredged up the energy today to bake the thing.

Quiche.

An hour after going in, a puffy, steaming, crustless quiche heavy on cheese came out. The top was much browner than usual, probably from all the cheese. Before it cooled a bit, it looked like the whole thing came close to overflowing during the bake. That’s because after I grated too much cheese, I added two extra eggs, but the problem is the only baking dish is smaller than the size noted in the recipe (8” x 8” versus 9” x 9”). Welcome to “Living on the Edge,” the kitchen version. 

At 3:00, while cutting the quiche, I wondered if I was eating late lunch or early supper. In the end, it didn’t matter and it was just eating. The rest is just the human construct of labels and time and recipes. It was good, and now there are portions in the freezer for future meals. Future me will be grateful that today me got off my butt and did something.

random thoughts – Day 1,611 – (Thursday) – missed photo ops

There is an old adage “A picture is worth a thousand words.” Today, on one of the most visually interesting and exciting days in a long time, I forgot my cell phone at home and there would be no pictures for me. 

The omission was realized when I was gathering my bag from the passenger seat to exit the just parked vehicle and walk to the office. Keys, check. Parking garage pass returned to its storage spot, check. Lanyard with work access card, check. Phone. Phone? Phone?!?!? Nope. Not in the bag, nor on the seat, the floor, or the tray under the heater controls and radio. Dang.

It was too late to go back home and fetch the thing, which was likely on the counter where I had been assembling lunch. Or maybe on the bathroom vanity. Or the living room couch or ottoman. Or any number of places.

It was concluded that it might be possible to survive the work day without a phone. That is, as long as I didn’t need to access the timesheet program, content management system, email marketing platform, my bank account, and a few other things. Fingers were crossed. The greatest stressor was the absence of the camera, but some days there isn't much of interest noticed.

This was not to be one of those days. Barely ten paces from the car, there were already visions to be captured in the garage. The levels above the fourth have been closed for a couple weeks and all sorts of noise have drifted down. This morning, looking up the ramp, it was like a movie scene – clouds of steam or mist swirled in the space, backlit by the light from the openings at the top of the ramp. Water streamed down through the gaps in the concrete panels and pooled at the bottom of the ramp. It was a mysterious and fascinating grayscale tableau. And I had no camera.

At lunchtime, with my freshly warmed leftover quinoa edamame bowl arranged in a yin/yang motif on a paper plate with chilled shredded cabbage and broccoli salad, I reached for my phone to take a picture. Then I remembered. No phone, no camera.

At 3:00, an ice cream truck was due in our parking lot, after having visited several branches. The clouds had been darkening and gathering. The truck was late, and during the wait, the wind picked up and the sky became so dark the streetlights all came on. The city hall clock tower, Wannalancit smokestack, and UML tower were shrouded in fog and at times, almost completely hidden. Lightning flashed, and a colleague counted 15 flashes in a short space between thunderclaps.

Storm remnants.

The view out the office window made me think of descriptions of London or Seattle, both places I have never visited. The rain began to fall, gently, then harder, then with full torrential force. What sounded like hail slammed on the skylights. It was dramatic. Picturesque. And not captured in pixels by me, because I forgot my phone.

By 4:00, the sky was getting brighter and the rain had stopped. The ice cream truck had arrived in the midst of the downpour. Those of us on my side of the suite chose to not venture out in the height of the storm, and by the time it had stopped, the truck was gone.

Back at home, the street was mostly cleared, the puddle had formed in one driveway, and the basement had remnants of incoming water. The basement scene was nowhere near as visually interesting as the scenes earlier in the day.

Kiki lounging.

I wondered if Kiki was scared during the storm. She was behind the couch when I got home. She has been more receptive to head pats and face rubs and tonight she walked into the living room and came near me as I sat on the couch to let me stroke her face. She sat in the room, and lounged on the rug long enough for me to get a couple photos. I keep inviting her onto the couch by patting the seat. She watches me, and maybe someday she’ll get the idea to come on up.

Some days there is nothing of visual interest going on. Then there was today, with fascinating visual moments everywhere, and the torture of no way to capture them for future reference. It was painful.

random thoughts – Day 1,610 – (Wednesday) – backyard crop

The big mushrooms
are back.

It’s time for the backyard crop of weirdness. Almost every year since moving into The BungaLowell, there has appeared in the back yard some sort of big mushroom that is huge. They are often the size of a large dinner roll or a small artisan bread loaf and one day they are just there, as if placed by magic. Or maybe it’s fairies and elves.

This year, instead of one in the usual spot on the side of the yard near the shed, there were three on the opposite side of the yard near the deck, noticed on Monday. Tonight, another was spotted in the center of the yard. A real bumper crop of I don’t know what.

The usual course of things has been that after two or three days they evaporate into a puff of dark dust and disappear. Then it’s like they were never there.

The evening primrose seems to be blooming later than usual. Or maybe my recent accidental, self-imposed in-house incarceration has kept me from noticing and it has blooming for weeks. Without dogs to be let in and out a thousand times a day, I spend much less time in the yard, and then it’s just to mow, which is done as quickly as possible every ten days or so.

There were several years of attempted “gardens” in a big tub on the deck. The cost in money, time, and effort was not justified by the meager yield of six grape tomatoes and ten basil leaves, and the farming life was abandoned. It’s just as well. The heat this summer would likely have served as a big air fryer and cooked everything that the heavy rains didn’t pummel and drown. Or the critters that have eaten the mums and echinacea would have devoured anything that survived in the heat and monsoons, except for the weird giant mushrooms.

random thoughts – Day 1,609 – (Tuesday) – mostly quiet with deliveries

It was the best of days it was the worst of days. Sorry for the pilfering, Charles Dickens. And for the drama, as it was neither the best nor the worst of days. It was just another mostly usual Tuesday remote work day. There was coffee and the usual morning rituals – 10,000 passwords and PINs and forever and a day to log in, emails, blah, blah. Office workers, you know what I mean. Retirees, I wear my envy of you like cheap cologne, but you might remember the old drill if you haven't successfully scrubbed your brain of it.

There was a 12:00 Teams Meeting with a vendor doing a product sort-of demo, which is always a sh*t show. Come on, a noon meeting/demo? Seriously? Are we not familiar with the concept of lunchtime? But it was the quirky Teams technology part that was the actual poop parade.

What I heard of the product talk was interesting, but it was on Teams so there were issues. Within the first two minutes of the call, Teams bounced me out of it. When I logged back in, my camera froze, then all the images of the other participants disappeared from the gallery view. The presenter screen froze on my screen. My favorite part might be the survey from Microsoft that popped up when I was bounced out of the meeting. “Would I recommend Teams to a friend or colleague?” Ha ha ha ha hell, no. Not even my fiercest adversary (if I had one).

Special delivery!

The rest of the day before and after the meeting was far less annoying. Nondescript, even. Once, when I came out of the bathroom, Kiki launched herself out of the dining room into the living room. That’s when I saw someone through the glass center panel I hate, standing on the other side of the front door I hate. I never heard the knock (toilet flushing) which must be what startled Keeks, and a flower delivery person was waiting for me to open the door because oh yes, it’s my birthday today.

Later, a much quieter delivery from Amazon arrived without giving Kiki a heart attack. Nothing exciting – a canister of Maxwell House coffee, some foam art brushes, and batteries, all ordered yesterday when I realized the coffee was low and the brushes and batteries were on sale. So practical.

The third delivery of the day again sent Kiki scampering for safety behind the couch. It was my birthday supper for one from the preferred pizza place. It wasn’t pizza, though.

Healthy quinoa and less healthy ice cream.

I always thought I could live on pizza forever, but that train seems to have hit the end of the line, partly thanks to a string of work and family pizza lunches over the past few months. There was a quinoa bowl with edamame, veggies, and grilled chicken chosen from the "Healthy Selections" section of the menu. And a container of Ben & Jerry’s “Lights Caramel Action” ice cream, my free birthday dessert choice, clearly not from the "healthy" choices. Miraculously, I didn’t eat all of the quinoa or the ice cream.

The mostly ordinary day had some extra special touches. These arrived throughout the day and time was spent appreciating them later. In addition to the flowers, there were many text messages and more than a hundred greetings waiting for me when I checked Facebook after work. Wow. My circle sure knows how to make an old gal feel like a queen for a day.

random thoughts – Day 1,608 – (Monday) – security cheese

The Monday remote office lunch was back on the salad wagon. One way to ensure salad is eaten is to have not much more interesting available. The freezer has been bereft of pizza slices for weeks. There haven’t been any take home boxes because there haven’t been any restaurant meals. But I have been faithful with the produce purchases and sometimes it is all eaten. Other times, the garbage disposal is the healthiest eater in the house.

The best way to jazz up my salads seems to be adding bits of all sorts of everything. Today's base of shredded cabbage mix was boosted with the traditional garden basics of cucumber, celery, and tomatoes. This was supplemented with the nutritional additives of broccoli, carrots, and snap peas, plus tasty bits of chopped dates, halved green grapes, and Kalamata olives. And cheese. There is nearly always cheese.

This weekend, while browsing the packaged deli cheese ends in Market Basket and thinking that I probably had enough cheese at home, the realization struck that cheese is a sort of security blanket for me. The thought of running out of cheese can send me into a tailspin.

I imagine it might be like the panic likely felt as a toddler when my security blanket was stolen while I napped (on the advice of our family pediatrician). Or maybe akin to the panic at age ten when we moved to a house across town and while unpacking the box of my personal treasures, discovered that my favorite stuffed animal, an elephant that was missing its ears, had been removed from the box and thrown out. Or the despair as an adult when X1 threw out the tiara I won in a beauty pageant, or years later when a boyfriend chucked my yearbooks. 

Salad with cheese.

The key difference is that my past beloved items were discarded by trusted loved ones without my knowledge, the now, I live alone and the cheese inventory is in my sole control. I can prevent a cheese shortage and protect the reserves. And I do. If there are not at least three different types of cheese in the refrigerator and freezer, I start to get a bit nervous.

We’re not even talking about fancy cheeses here. It’s pretty basic – whipped cream cheese, jarred queso, plus bags of shredded cheddar, Italian blend, and/or Mexican blend, grated parmesan, and feta blocks or crumbles. The packaged cheese ends from the deli are the bonus, with random amounts of American, provolone, Swiss, and mystery white and orange cheese slices and slabs.

Security cheese.

The current hoard of security cheese includes the aforementioned basics, plus two flavors of bread cheese. I won’t run out this week, and probably not next week, either. As the cheeses are reduced to smaller bits and blobs, they are relocated to the freezer, from which they eventually emerge and all come together in a splendiferous baked macaroni and cheese.

Today’s fresh salad was improved by cubes of provolone from a package of cheese ends. Provolone holds a special place in my world of cheese. In my early twenties, I was introduced to provolone at an Italian restaurant when it was an option for a salad. I fell in love with it, and my dear friend of that time gifted me with an entire ball of provolone on my birthday. It’s still one of my favorite gifts.

random thoughts – Day 1,607 – (Sunday) – food and rest

Grilled PB&J.

The day was a fog. Despite Saturday being pretty low-key with an art reception, grocery shopping, and an outdoor concert, and arriving home and in bed at a reasonable hour, on Sunday, I was dragging. For reasons I can’t discern, I slept until nearly 10 this morning. It felt so late in the morning and so close to the noon caffeine finish point that I didn’t even bother with making coffee.

Breakfast was skipped in favor of lunch. The top contenders for lunch came down to grilled cheese or grilled peanut butter and jelly. The cheese consumption has been on the lofty side lately, so PB&J won. Every time I make one of these I mentally thank my sister for introducing me to the delicacy ages ago, when we were kids.

A dull headache thudded for most of the day and despite nearly ten hours of sleep, I was feeling tired. At some time in the afternoon, the binge-watching of The Crown was paused and a nap on the couch commenced. No idea when the nap began, but it wrapped up around 4:00. 

Ice cream and potato chips.

With little ambition to prepare food and no interest in the salad for which ingredients were carefully chosen on Saturday, supper was chosen with the logic of an unattended child and was cherry ice cream with potato chips. On Monday, the preferred pizza delivery shop reopens after a closure for a week’s vacation and the meal planning gaps will be once again taken care of.

Even with all the sleep, I’m looking forward to bed. The head is still throbbing and I still feel tired. Completely out of character, I'm hot. There is no energy to try and stay up late to look for the potential sky double feature of Aurora Borealis and Perseid meteor shower. I’m sure I’ll regret it, but it won't be the first thing, nor the last.

random thoughts – Day 1,606 – (Saturday) – weather, arts, and such

At 7:00 this morning, there was a thunder clap that sent Kiki airborne from under the dining room table and to her safe space behind the couch where she hunkered down for a while. I was already up, drinking coffee, and gearing up for a morning mission. The forecast promised sunshine later in the day, and the decision makers at Lowell Summer Music Series had declared on Friday that tonight’s Martin Sexton show would be outdoors. It was my self-appointed role to secure the seating spot, and I was waiting out the downpour.

Real estate claimed.

At 8:00, I was standing  Boarding House Park participating in the land grab, where concert ticket holders set out blankets and/or chairs to stake the real estate claim for the evening. The rain had stopped, the sky was blue, the sun was blazing and it was warm. Not many people had grabbed spots yet and there were some great options. The brightly colored concert/beach/picnic blanket was planted.

The Brush Gallery has the annual quilt show, and when I headed out to attend the reception that had begun at 2:00, I was surprised how hot it was. Then I was surprised that I was surprised because, except for a couple days this past week when it was around 70, it’s been hot, hot, hot for most of the summer.

The quilt exhibit was, as always, impressive. I would like a tour inside a quilter’s head for a peek at how some of the stitched fabric art pieces are conceived. The colors and stitching combine to create gorgeous patterns and textures.

The reception refreshment table featured the array of beautiful and tasty treats the Brush board is known for. The crowd was a nice size, and I had some great conversations including one with a stained glass artist who teaches in Worcester at the same place where I studied darkroom photography for several years. Now I have a goal of getting a glass workshop into my fall calendar.

After the gallery, the next stop was the grocery store for provisions from the produce department. The drive to and from the gallery wasn’t long enough to get the A/C cranking and the remote start feature is almost never remembered, so the cool environs of Market Basket felt most refreshing. The hot weather was pretty obvious in the store by the clouds of body odor that lingered in the air. Then I got paranoid that maybe the stench wasn’t from other customers and was my own from baking in the car on the ride over. How I torque myself up, Chapter 27.

The sun blazed all afternoon, and it was a roasting situation in the long jeans I stupidly dressed in for the gallery, which triggered the wardrobe dilemma for the evening. If it’s 85 at 5:00 when getting ready to leave for the 7:30 show, but the sun goes down by 8:00, after which, it will drop into the 70s, what is the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow, (nod to Monty Python and the Holy Grail) and how many layers do I need to bring?

It’s a proven fact I’ll be cold when the sun is down, the only question is how cold. So, what should it be – long jeans or capris? A sweatshirt, denim jacket, or one of the office security sweaters taken to work because it looks odd if I’m wrapped in a blanket in July and August. And do I wear the brand-new sneakers that arrived today, or “save them” for another day because tonight I’ll be walking on grass and what if I trip and these kicks are pristine and new and ... and ...? These are the wardrobe woes I have inflicted upon myself since childhood. Spoiler alert -- cotton pants I forgot I had, long sleeve pullover shirt, sweatshirt hoodie donned at 7:50 when I felt my initial chill, the new sneakers. 

Ryan Montbleau and Martin Sexton.

When we arrived at the Park, there was a moment of near panick when our blanket wasn't where I had set it and other chairs had encroached. I had neglected to anchor it with a chair or rock I didn't have and the thing had blown down a step and flipped over, landing a couple feet closer and ended up being a better spot. Brilliant! 

The concert was great. Ryan Montbleau opened, and shared tidbits of his Lowell connections -- family! He used to play at The Blue Shamrock on Sunday nights. Then came Martin Sexton. It finished with a a few songs with both of them. The sky was clear, a few stars twinkled up above, the crickets or whatever vocal insect they were, accompanied the musicians. 

 

random thoughts – Day 1,605 – (Friday) – sneakers and crown

It was another isolated, random vacation day and another day without a plan beyond sleeping until I woke up. Today, that meant dismissing the regular alarm at 6:15 and then waking up naturally at 8:00. The fitness watch declared I had enjoyed eight hours and 48 minutes of sleep. I do love sleep. Now, anyway. It wasn’t always the case.

It seems as if I’m reclaiming some of the sleep that was recklessly forsaken in my younger decades of being constantly busy, running on steady streams of caffeine plus adrenaline, and some people called me “our lady of perpetual motion.” Those days involved working two jobs, attending grad school, taking photography class, participating in art exhibits, and maintaining a social life, and I thought sleep was overrated.

Now, it’s one job, no extra classes, minimal social life, zero artistic inspiration, and it's more a case of near-perpetual stillness. If more time was available, I would enjoy a solid eight or nine hours each night, but writing, Duolingo lessons (1,488 day streak), Words with Friends, and reading creep into the sleeping time nearly every night. I have no idea how I used to pull off the high level of activity, but the key may have been to not ever think about it and just keep going.

Sneakers.

The day of leisure was spent (wasted?) searching for a local store from which I could find a certain pair of sneakers that keep appearing in the ads interrupting my Duolingo lessons. I liked them the first time I saw them, and by the hundredth time in a week, they were burned into my brain and now I must have them. This is clearly a demonstration of the power of advertising. Or propaganda. Or how, I can, eventually, be worn down.

No store was found to have them in stock, but they could be shipped to a store in four to seven days and then I could go to said store to pick them up. Of course, none of the stores are in Lowell. 

The big online retailers won again. Amazon was out of stock, but Zappos, which is owned by Amazon, had the sneakers at the same price as the shoe company and the brick-and-mortar retailers, with free delivery to my house tomorrow, plus, Rakuten is having a 10% cash back special and money will come back to me.

The Crown.

After all the research/shopping, there was reading for pleasure (The River is Everywhere by Emilie-Noelle Provost). The story involves a bad thing that happened (a drowning) and then a series of increasingly bad decisions. 

The book was set aside to watch the Netflix series The Crown, a party to which I have arrived eight years late (Thursday night, to be exact). Suddenly it was 3:00. Then 5:00. Then 9:00. The time kept jumping ahead much like the bunnies jump across the yard when startled.

Except for the time flying by so quickly, it was a nice day of sneakers and crown. And tomorrow, when the sneakers arrive, will also be a nice day.