random thoughts – Day 1,640 – (Friday) – working with oldies

The weather talk top topic for the past couple days has been rain. Mostly, how there hasn’t been any for 29 or so days, the longest time since some magical benchmark, blah, blah. I only half listened because after I had heard “chance of rain Friday and Saturday” I had what I needed to know and tuned out.

Safe for wet weather.

Wet weather footwear choices avoid anything real leather or suede, which is kind of easy because practically everything is vinyl nowadays anyway. Today’s choice was the modern silver platform interpretation of the old classic wing-tip oxfords. Water resistant, and the platform is enough to keep hems out of puddles. Perfect! 

The Farmer’s Market, just a couple blocks from the office, advertised a Food Truck Festival, which seemed like a fun lunchtime option, but the Farmer’s Market runs from 2:00 to 6:00 and I’m hours past lunch by the time it starts, and it's too early for supper. Today had the added elements of being chilly and drizzly, so there were no trips outside for me. When I left for the day, there was zero interest in taking the walk in the direction opposite my assigned garage.

The day had a musical theme today and it was Chopin. There was a song playing in ballet class last night that I remembered dancing to at the Marion Rice Dance Studio when in high school. Someone used Shazam to get the title, but it was listed with the pianist on the recording and not the composer. And the title wasn’t anything memorable, it was one of those “some thing in some key” names.

Today I tapped into You Tube, my favorite “drown out the office noise” companion and landed on the complete piano works of Chopin. The collection was listed as being 14 hours and 50 minutes long (no, I’m not making this up). With meetings, and work conversations and so on, about an hour of it played during the afternoon and the recording didn’t list the individual titles, so even if I guessed correctly that it was a Chopin piece that I heard last night, I still wouldn’t know the title.

Much like a dog with a bone, I will likely keep trying to find the name of the composition, for a few days anyway, until the day I forget about it. There will be a romp through Chopin and maybe Schubert and whoever else comes to mind. I should start with composers with the smallest catalogues so it will feel like progress. Or, I’ll find something new to fixate on and puzzle over and this will just be another rabbit hole in life that soon will pass, but I’ll enjoy it while it lasts. When I say I like oldies music, I mean really old oldies. Music from the 1980s is great, but I like my oldies to come from around 1780 give or take a century or so.

random thoughts – Day 1,646 – (Thursday) – team building recharge

Every once in a while, a workday gets a much-needed shakeup. Today was one of those once in a while days, and involved a voluntary team building event. Approximately 25 of us from departments and branches throughout the bank gathered in our Community Room. The morning began with a breakfast spread of muffins, bagels, coffee, and juice so we would be sufficiently fueled for what came next.

There were some ice breaker questions in the “Raise your hand if” scenario. If you had done whatever was said, you raised your hand. We filled in the blanks about things like “ever won a prize,” “were in a grammar school play,” “were ever in a talent contest,” and so on. Then people were called on to elaborate. It was fun. The talent contest question revealed we have a lot of singers in our ranks. Like a lot, a lot.

Bagged and ready to go.

After the bonding portion, we moved on to the labor portion of the program. We counted off like in the olden days of gym class, which split up people who naturally gravitated to people they already knew and determined which of five numbered tables we would work at. The teams at each table filled 50 bags with toiletries that would be donated to non-profit organizations. Items included body wash, toothpaste, toothbrush, bar soap, body lotion, foldable comb, and some other items I couldn’t see because they were at the far end of the assembly line for my table.

We blew through the task like we were in a race with a big prize at the end, with "we" being every table. There was no prize, though, and our speed was kind of dumb, because it meant we finished early. Finishing early meant we got to return to our regular work locations earlier. What were we thinking? Seriously, what?

Overall, it was really fun. There are a few people I interact with frequently, and others I rarely get to connect with, and some I’d never met until this morning. It was enlightening. Energizing, even. In the same way that being around a lot of people a lot of the time can drain the life out of me, so can the extended solitude. The team building event was a great way to recharge my depleted social battery. I wonder how long it will last.

random thoughts – Day 1,645 – (Wednesday) – sandals and cigar

There was a walk in the sunshine this afternoon. Because I hate walking with no destination, I set LaLa Books as my target. I was barely around the corner from work when my feet were hurting.

Cute, but deadly.

The cause was my practically brand-new sandals, bought years ago, and recently discovered buried in the closet. They are tan and lace up the front and zip up the back and are cute. They are Aerosoles brand which claims to be comfortable, and the bed of the sandals is definitely cushiony, but dang, the uppers were not so comfortable this morning. Maybe this is why they were buried so deep in the closet. They look cute and friendly but they have a dark side. 

The walk from the garage to the office nearly hobbled me. Both feet were raw and one was bleeding when I arrived at my desk. Luckily, there were two bandages in my work bag – one for each foot.

There was cake at the office today after our monthly sales and marketing meeting for our quarterly birthday celebration. It was delicious because Market Basket bakery does a great job with cakes.

The walk to the bookstore got crazier when I crossed the threshold into the place and realized I had left my wallet at my desk. That’s certainly one way to save money. I took a quick loop through the bookstore and continued back to the office, mindful of shredding my feet any more than I already had.

The walk to the garage after work wasn’t as bad as feared. Or maybe my feet were just numb to the pain of the death sandals. I took a different route than usual, just for the change of scenery. On Lee Street, I noticed what seemed like a suspicious volume of gray, white, and gray and white feathers scattered on the ground.

Street cigar.

Across from St. Joseph the Worker Shrine, a decent size cigar, seemingly whole and still encased in its plastic sheath, peeked out from under a plant that seemed to be spilling out of a garden next to the sidewalk. It was next to a large gray feather. A few steps further away, some shattered peanut shells were scattered on the sidewalk. I see peanut shells and even whole peanuts all over the place, including my yard and deck. Yesterday, a blue jay with a whole peanut in its beak perched on the peak of the roof of my shed. 

While stepping carefully across the parking lot of the former Lowell Five Bank, a large brown bird was sitting in the shrubs at the edge of the lot. Before I could unlock the phone to get a picture, it spread its wings and flew up to a rooftop across the street. Maybe that was the reason for the feathers on the ground. The shrub was near the tree where I once saw a bird plucking the feathers out of its breakfast. The feathers were fluttering down from the tree like snow.

Back at home, the sandals were tossed back into the closet, safely away from my feet. I won’t be sad if I don’t see them again for a good long while. And I'm wondering about that cigar and its story.

random thoughts – Day 1,644 – (Tuesday) – back at it

Life has gotten busy with a new dalliance in night classes. Nearly three weeks ago, the Thursday night five-week ballet class in Wayland began. And it was good. Tonight, the ten-week belly dance class in Marlboro began. And it, too, was good. On the drive, I got to see the shiny full moon sitting large and low-ish in the sky. I can almost never see it from the house, so it was fun when it suddenly appeared.

For several years, there were classes I wanted to take but life was kind of in the way. One impediment was the expensive health issues of my two beloved, elderly dogs. My wallet was tied up with special prescription food and even more costly medications. I really miss the pups, but I don't miss the expenses involved.

The other impediment to taking classes was that most of the classes I wanted to take were on Tuesday nights, some of which were already committed to Board of Director activities. That would have meant missing multiple sessions of whatever class was enrolled in. The board had term limits, and my term recently ended, freeing my time for leisure pursuits. A shortage of dance classes in Lowell means that as of tonight, I’m driving to Metrowest twice a week.

There was a time, once upon a lifetime ago, when I lived near the school where the newest class is located, but that does not in any way mean I could get to it without the assistance of navigation software. Tonight, I was navigated in through a back route. Then I drove around the massive structure, past an automotive building and another marked culinary.

I finally arrived at what was recognized as the main entrance from long ago classes taken there. Classes taken in the last century included inline skating, portrait photography, flamenco dance, night club dance as an aerobic sport, and a Latin dance class taken with an ex so he could know how to dance with his new girlfriend at parties. Yes, for real. The class was a public display of our former relationship with me nagging him for not doing what the instructor said and also me trying to lead because one, he was doing a crappy job of it, and two, in ballet I was usually stuck dancing the lead in partnered dances because I was taller. That class was also a demonstration of how I don’t follow weak leaders very well.

Deserted.

Anyway. I strode the absolutely deserted hallway with the shiny floors for what felt like a very long distance before finding the correct cafeteria. And there was the class. 

Several dancers stood around chatting. A table was piled with hip coin scarves for sale. And then boom, at the class start time, we were doing a warmup which was a full blown dance that everyone else except two of us knew. Then we started working on a new choreography., followed by a review of another dance the other students had worked on before, but with combinations broken down, thank goodness.

The whole thing was pretty great. It was a combination of different from the class I’ve been taking for the past several years, but familiar enough to not feel overwhelming. And the best part is, next week I get to go back. 

When the Sunday class resumes again, it will be like high school when I danced three days a week. For a week or two anyway. Sometimes, I just need to shake things up, but all the driving to all the far flung towns could be the deciding factor in how long it continues.

random thoughts – Day 1,643 – (Monday) – summer threads

The beautiful sunshiny summer weather and temperatures in the 80s are hanging in there, for another day or two anyway, before it's back to the 60s. There hasn’t been any rain for a few days and yesterday I had to water the flowers. I can’t remember them looking so parched this summer. This morning the petunias, dahlia, and the new red one and the purple one which I can’t recall the names of looked much perkier than yesterday when they were all keeling over in the blazing sunshine.

Clinging to summer.

The beautiful weather today had me wearing summer linen and cotton gauze and clinging to the threads of summer tonight. One of the last two Luigi’s Italian ice cups was pulled from the freezer. The blue one, whatever that flavor is. That just leaves a lemon one. A half hour after eating the ice, the blue color had finally left my tongue, probably due to the help of a big glass of water.

The summer of Italian ice cups will soon transition to the fall and winter of soup containers. There are enough onion skins and ends, broccoli stems, and carrot bits accumulated in the freezer over the summer to start the first vegetable broth. It feels like the perfect project for a chilly weekend. 

It won’t be too long before the stove is once again regularly hosting simmering pots of soup and the oven is roasting vegetables. Many people look forward to fall for the pumpkin spice everything, but I like it for the oven-roasted veggies, baked casseroles, and quiches, all the lunches they generate.

random thoughts – Day 1,642 – (Sunday) – panic shopping

It was another weekend of multiple competing events clamoring for attention. Saturday, in addition to the Field Day event where Troupe Salaamati performed, on my radar were the Lowell Irish Festival, the Greek Festival in Fitchburg, a belly dance workshop outside Boston with Issam Houshan, the famous Middle Eastern drummer, and Johnny Appleseed Festival in Leominster. I ended up grocery shopping and running errands.

Today’s calendar competition included a tour at Lowell Cemetery, the final StART on the Street event in Worcester, and the Finnish Market in Fitchburg. None of those were attended by me, either. I was sidetracked on a shopping excursion for vacation wear, necessary after trying on my swimwear on Friday.

Most of my swim suits are circa 2017, bought before I went to Jamaica, or, egads, even earlier. Surprise, surprise, they don’t fit. I haven’t taken a summer trip to any beaches in several years so this nugget of info was crammed into a storage bag under the bed. The one-piece suits bought from Aldi were a gamble that didn’t pay off.

Swimwear.

Panic shopping took place at Kohl’s where there are still a few swimsuits, including some on a clearance rack. It was brutal and I was in there for what felt like forever, partly due to the extra peppy disco-era music piped through the store. And I really was in there for a couple hours, trapped in the clothing department, obsessively circling racks in the hope that items I needed would magically appear. 

Some swim bottoms that fit were found, but finding tops to go with them was another story. Of course, the mission strayed and additional items including a dress and sweater were added to the cart with the justification “I could wear this to work.” 

At least Kohl’s has fitting rooms and everything actually fits, at least for the sliver of time during the try-on. There have been numerous documented cases of clothes shrinking on the drive home and suddenly not fitting me once I got home. There was none of the “Well, if I lost a couple pounds this would look great” aspirational (delusional) shopping that has frequently befallen the wallet and closet. 

Kiki!

Kiki, who seems unbothered by wardrobe issues, seems to be relaxing more. Lately, when I pass through a room, instead of snapping to attention in a state of high alert, sometimes she continues napping. This afternoon, she let me brush her silky coat for several minutes. She leaned into the brush and even let me brush her belly a bit. 

I still carry the hope that someday she will do the stereotypical cat antics like sitting in bags and boxes and laps. Her antics are limited to watching me from under a dining room chair and randomly meowing for no discernible reason. For as long as she lets me, I'll enjoy the moments of stroking her face and brushing her coat and feeding Temptations Treats to her from my hand.

random thoughts – Day 1,641 – (Saturday) – big day, big hair

Dance performance day at the Hubbardston Lion’s Club Field Day dawned with a forecast of sunny and 80+ degrees by noon. Last year when we danced at this event it was cloudy, chilly, extra breezy, and I wore several layers. Today, my strategy was definitely fewer layers than last year – no leggings under the giant skirt and just a cropped top underneath the top with the big paillettes. 

Zills = portable music makers.

My hair is usually worn down, but there was no way I wanted to deal with hair stuck to my sweaty neck, and it was put up in a bun. It was an architectural feat guided by two online instruction videos and requiring smoke, mirrors, magic, a couple prayers, and purple and black fabric flowers. It looked good and didn’t fall out, so that was a big success on the big hairdo. I was out the door by 9:50 a.m.

We met in a building next to the event to get ready. We took some pictures. When it was close to our noon scheduled time, we made our way to the field. After our introduction, we made our entrance and set our formation. The first number started and not too far into it, the music stopped. The same thing happened during the same dance at the same event last year. Last year, we kept going and the music came back after a pause. Today, that music didn’t come back on. We did the dance with no music, and just our zills (finger cymbals) to keep the beat. Thank goodness we are our own percussion section on that dance.

Big hair updo.

It turned out the power to the amplifier had blown. After a few minutes of technical work, a solution was found and we were able to dance our next three dances with the music. Thank goodness, because we can roll though the first one with no music, but we can’t do the rest of the show without music.

After the dancing, we changed back to our street clothes and scattered to the winds. My winds took me to the shopping highlights of Gardner. First, it was the magical Timpany Plaza with Tractor Supply, Five Below, Gardner Cinema, Aldi, Big Lots and more. That shopping plaza is enough to make me want to move to Gardner.

It was Aldi for groceries including this summer’s addiction, green grapes. Then it was a quick stop at Big Lots to check out the half-off summer shoes there. Not only were the sandals different than in the Fitchburg store, the furniture selection is significantly better. In Fitchburg practically everything was gray, but Gardner had a gorgeous pale pink love seat and a cool mustard side chair and everything seemed fresher.

The next stop was Ocean State Job Lot on the quest for the 2025 date book with the flap with a magnet. I’ve been buying these for eight or nine years after it became impossible to find the spiral bound books I used for a bunch of years. There were none to be found in Leominster yesterday, but the Gardner store had it in the full range of colors – orange, red, green, and blue. I bought the last blue one, because this year’s is orange, last year’s is red, and, well, it was the last blue one so it felt more valued than the green.  Sometimes that is how I roll.

Unwinding.

It was 3:30 when I finally landed back home and all I’d eaten all day was a granola bar before I left. Groceries were put away and things rolled pretty quickly into food prep. Rice was started. Onions and broccoli were sauteed and then simmered with the rice in the Tikka Masala sauce bought yesterday. So yummy. 

The day wound down with a glass of wine and the bag of Milano cookies. Yes, the whole bag, but that wasn't the intent, just the result of taking the whole bag into the living room. 

random thoughts – Day 1,640 – (Friday) – full day

The vacation day had a sort of a plan for a change. The dance troupe is performing at Hubbardston Field Day on Saturday, and we had a dress rehearsal scheduled for 6:30 in Townsend tonight, which is close enough to Fitchburg and Leominster to deal with some errands.

Before leaving Lowell, the plan was to stop at St. Vincent de Paul Thrift Shop then Market Basket, return home to drop off the groceries at the house, then hit the road. Planned destinations were Ocean State Job Lot, the gas station on Route 12, the car wash, Big Lots, then rehearsal.

The bag of clothes for the donation and my weekend purse were grabbed. Of course, no donation trip to St. V’s has ever happened without a stop inside the shop. Treasures were found in the half-off tags and I stood in the checkout line with a pair of Ralph Lauren striped pajamas, a pair of Jones New York blue linen pants that will be perfect for an upcoming trip to Mexico, and a gray shirt with a hood because gray seems to have replaced black as my go-to color. As I approached the checkout, I discovered my wallet was absent from my purse and asked the cashier if she could hold my items while I went home for it.

Sitting in traffic and at lengthy red lights on the way back to the house provided plenty of time to debate returning to St V’s. At the house, the wallet was retrieved from Thursday's dance bag and a lemon Italian ice and a granola bar were consumed for sustenance, then it was back into the traffic. Market Basket was bumped for the afternoon, knowing it would be possible to go after rehearsal. Or Saturday. Or Sunday. The items were bought at St. V’s and then it was off to the direction of The ‘Burg.

Ocean State Job Lot was uncrowded and I browsed the entire store like a lady of leisure on a Friday afternoon. The grocery department, which always fascinates, yielded Tikka Masala sauce, Milano cookies and smoked paprika. 

In the car wash.

The gas station was oddly empty and it was a quick in and out with a full tank of $2.97/gallon gas, then next door for the car wash with the free vacuums. While vacuuming, I was mindful of the peridot and gold earring dropped in the car a month or two or three ago. And there it was, nestled in the nubs of the driver’s side floor mat, where I have looked for that earring at least a dozen times since dropping it. Eureka! Now I can stop sitting in the driveway looking through the car, and relax in the parking garage where I would look for a glint in the cracks and crevices of the concrete which yielded a dime and a work logo lapel pin but no earring.

The traffic was heavy all through Leominster and Fitchburg, but Big Lots was quiet and pleasant. The main objective was makeup remover wipes, but the summer shoes were half off, so sparkly thong sandals were chosen after going through the entire display. While casually wandering the store without a care, I checked my watch and was shocked that it was already 6:00 and rehearsal was at 6:30.

It was a hot-footed trot to the register where the sandals rang up wrong but I didn’t notice until I was nearly at the door and reviewing the receipt. The clerk verified the price with another worker and refunded the amount of the overcharge to my debit card. Then it was onto John Fitch Highway where the traffic crawled when it wasn’t fully stopped but the minutes kept moving along.

I arrived at rehearsal barely on time which hurt because I usually arrive at the studio ten or fifteen minutes early for class or rehearsals because I hate being late. It was a rush to get into costume and everyone else was dressed and chatting.

 We danced great and finished quickly. Afterwards, I stopped at Family Dollar in Townsend where the store is always tidy and the shelf tags are correct, unlike the Dracut store which always looks like a cyclone just visited and the prices posted on the shelves are almost never correct. The mission was caramel macchiato coffee creamers which were not found at the other stores. The added bonus was coffee on sale.  

Ritzy dinner.

At home, it was time for the latest episodes of Emily in Paris. There hadn’t been any supper, so it was a snack of Ritz crackers and sliced American cheese. Not exactly gourmet, and the only thing ritzy was the brand of cracker, but it was after 8:00 and there was zero interest in cooking or eating anything heavy at that hour. It was quite a full day, even if my belly ended on a light note.

random thoughts – Day 1,639 – (Thursday) – shake-ups and footwork

It’s been a self-inflicted schedule shakeup this week. On Wednesday, after scrutinizing my calendar and verifying there were no meetings, I decided to take Friday as a vacation day. That bumped the second day in the office to today. There was morning closet heartache and angst while trying to find some pants that fit. On the Friday office day, jeans are allowed, but Thursday is a different story. Three pairs of pants hit the reject pile before I found a pair that could be zipped. Ugh.

After work, there was a traffic-inflicted headache on the ride home. So many drivers being rude and aggressive and cutting people off! all I wanted to do was get home and change for ballet class and give Kiki some pats and love, before heading back out the door. 

Waze guided me on a different route than last week’s jaunt down I-95. Tonight, it was all winding back roads past beautiful homes and for a solid half-hour I had absolutely no clue what towns I was passing through. Nothing was familiar until the junction of Route 2 near Walden Pond, and even that was more of a brief flash than a full memory. But shortly thereafter, I arrived in Wayland at the ballet studio.

There were four students in class tonight. I had new ballet slippers freshly arrived on Wednesday from the shopping jungle of the Amaz*n. They are a stretchy canvas instead of leather, and I like the way they hug the arches of my feet. It felt like magic dancing off the dust of the day, practicing at the barre and traversing the floor diagonally with various steps. So familiar, and it felt so good.

Treasures from the Amaz*n.

The new ballet slippers, along with ten lace headbands for belly dance and yoga/water shoes for vacation, were bought with credit card rewards points, making them practically free. The kicker is, the set of headbands was bought primarily for the purple one, to go with my dance skirt, but the color is darker than I thought it would be, and more of a dark eggplant color. Errr…. Oh well. 

After class, Kiki was adorably seeking head rubs. Then I freaked her out by showing her a stuffed fish toy. She hauled butt out of the living room like something was chasing her. In my fantasy life with Keeks, some day she will have a favorite toy and she will curl up in my lap with it and we will be a picture of domestic tranquility worthy of a painting. It’s important to have life goals. Or delusions. 

random thoughts – Day 1,638 – (Wednesday) – food, dramas, fashion

Wednesday means downtown to the office day, and today was our quarterly group lunch. The idea is, the whole team eats lunch together, either at a restaurant or with takeout/delivery. So far, we’ve had deli food from Lou’s Deli and eaten Greek food at Athenian Corner. Today, we ordered food from Mandarin Asian Bistro and ate at the office.

The menu there has a Chinese food section and a Japanese food section and it’s huge. Large menus stress me out in much the same way as the cereal aisle at Market Basket, which gives me anxiety. There are too many options screaming for attention and it becomes overwhelming. When I’m hungry, like I was today when scrolling through the seemingly endless online menu, it’s worse. The headache that started pounding may have been from hunger, but it might also have been from the magnitude of the menu.

Teriyaki salmon bento box lunch.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had Chinese or Japanese food, or even what I used to like. There were combos and bento boxes and sushi and all manner of dishes. I finally narrowed it down to tofu pad Thai or a teriyaki salmon bento box. In the end, the variety offered by the bento box with its miso soup and salad won out. It was delicious. And filling. 

The volume of food was much more than I usually eat for lunch and I was uncomfortably full for the rest of the day, so much so that I skipped supper. 

Tonight's K-drama   fashion item.

Back at home, it was a dive back into Love Next Door, the Korean drama I recently started watching on Netflix. This one is set in current times and I am once again sucked into the fashions and the home furnishings. This one features food, and now I’ll be dying for bibimbap and scallion pancake and all the side dishes, and searching online for the hot pink bomber jacket and the oversized gray sweatshirt with studded swirls on the sleeves photographed off the TV after pausing the show. 

A potentially excessive number of photos in my phone are shots grabbed from K-dramas with clothing, food, artwork, and even doors seen in a show that I decided I need some day. Of course, some day isn’t actually a day of the week, so I should probably get busy on figuring out specifics. The food might be the easiest. Time to make a plan.

random thoughts – Day 1,637 – (Tuesday) – seasonal shifts

The summer seems to have picked up its toys and left the playground in the past few days, ready to give it all up for autumn. That viewpoint could be skewed by my not spending much time outside recently, or for most of the summer. And the tips of the tree limbs exhibiting red-leafed tips.

I'm unfortunately less tapped in to the outside temperature in digital readout since the home screen display on my phone has decided to change things up and no longer display the time and temperature. It happened last week around the same time I finally got the car dashboard cluster changed from Italian back to English, which required changing the radio panel setting from English to French and then back to English. Go figure. And thanks to whoever posted that trick on the Jeep Renegade Online Forum. Now I need the same for the phone. 

Much to the joy of my wallet, the house has been running comfortably without the A/C on and with windows open for a couple weeks. It’s been great sleeping with a bedroom window open a few inches and I haven’t woken up 100 times overnight like I did all summer. For the past two or three days, it’s even felt chilly when I got up. The thermostat read 67 degrees this morning with all downstairs windows closed. It might be a false start, but it seems like the seasons are changing over.

Glass cruet on a September morning.

It's dark earlier in the evening, and the light is different in the mornings, too. It’s darker when I get up, and the blinds need to be opened when I work in my little home office. 

This morning around 8:00 or a bit later, as I refilled my coffee mug while the computer did whatever it is that takes it forever to be operational each day, the angle of the sun was low and shining on the pressed glass salad dressing cruet that currently sits on the kitchen windowsill. It was kind of pretty, and I was glad to have noticed it. Sometimes I forget to pay attention and just charge through the days with blinders on. Other times, I am mindful enough to pause and admire the sun illuminating a cheap piece of glass that came with a salad dressing mix.

random thoughts – Day 1,636 – (Monday) – shoe quest

Originally posted September 24, 2011 and repeated today, just because. All these years later, some things haven't changed. I'm still not keen on shopping, and still default to thrift shops, they are just different shops in a different state.

One seemingly ordinary weekend afternoon, I went shopping, which was actually a bit out of the ordinary for me.  My girly-girl card may be confiscated and cut to pieces for this, but I generally don’t enjoy shopping. In fact, the word “detest” comes to mind. This may be shocking news to any who remember me from my recreational shopping days when I shopped three or four times a week. Back then, I was trying to get out of the house and away from a husband. I thought buying things would fill the emptiness in me. I know better now. 

For one thing, I know I already have far too much stuff. I could probably hang a banner outside my house and have enough clothing and housewares to run a little shop for a month or two. For another, beyond the quarterly pest treatments at the house and two random visits by the cute guy who used to live next door, I rarely have people over. This means there is no sense of needing to impress anyone. No need for the latest and greatest kitchen gadget, toothbrush holder, scented candle or hostess outfit. In the nearly four years I have lived in my house, I’ve had exactly two parties, so it’s not like I am competing for the Martha Stewart home entertainment award. Fact: New Year’s Eve 2011 will be the fourth anniversary of the same bottle of champagne living in the lower right bin of the refrigerator.

Given my absence of house guests, already excessive wardrobe, and lack of need concerning basic living accoutrements, why would I invest my precious time and risk the potential of being hypnotized by some retailer’s music system lulling me into the appropriate level stupor to shell out money I don’t have for things I don’t need?

Like I was saying, it was unusual that I was shopping. The place I was shopping, however, was completely usual for me -- Goodwill. People think I am kidding when I say it, but Goodwill is my first choice for shopping in Clarksville. Yes, the mall here is THAT pathetic and overstocked with disposable clothes clearly intended for one wearing as evidenced by their propensity to disintegrate in the washer the first time through. The TJ Maxx in Clarksville is the smallest I’ve seen in the five American cities resided in during my adult life. Since the flood of May 2010 there has been no Opry Mills with my beloved Gap and Nine West Outlet stores, so yes, shopping here stinks and I am almost exclusively a Goodwill gal.

This one particular day, I must have had a lot of time on my hands, because I was wandering all over the place, way beyond the usual skirts and tops for work section, and the “I don’t really need more jeans but these are cute and only $8” rack, and and even paid attention to the shoes, a category I tend to ignore because I already have some decent hookups for inexpensive shoes.

If you know me, you might have guessed that there is a tiny chance I have too many pairs of shoes to count. I have not figured out how to make the abacus go that high,  or maybe I just don’t want to know. The last time I took an inventory (many residential moves ago), I had 150 pairs of footwear (including specialty footwear like snow boots and hiking boots, but not counting super specialty footwear like ski boots). Family members vowed to never again help me move my household due to my excessive holdings of books, clothing and footwear. Ignorance may be bliss on this one, unless I can convert the unworn footwear to cold cash.

But there I was, cruising the shoe racks, when I spotted them. Amazing blue croc-textured shoes with squared toes, bearing a garish orange price tag proclaiming the price to be $5. It was a plunge into instant adoration. With me and retail, the lower the price, the deeper the love.  A wistful sigh escaped my lips. Or maybe it was a gasp. I stroked the uppers and examined the soles which were barely sullied by asphalt or gravel and still seemed perilously slippery. The pale gray, pristine insoles still had cushiony cushions. The black heels bore hardly a nick nor a scuff. I was swooning. Somehow, I tore myself away and walked halfway to the checkout to clear my head. Even from half a store away, I heard the shoes whisper my name.

And suddenly, a vision of a tall, handsome, muscular man in nicely fitting dark-dyed jeans and vintage-styled, hipster shirt burst into my head. This stunner of a man, worthy of a magazine cover and as yet unknown to me, was the perfect accessory for these shoes. I returned to the shoe rack. I snatched up the shoes.  As I walked to the checkout, clutching the shoes to my bosom, I imagined the dates I would go on with the the beautiful shoes and the handsome man I didn’t happen to know yet.  And I bought them.

Here’s the good part -- they are men’s shoes. Size 10. In my date fantasy, the handsome and charming imaginary prince is wearing the shoes. It will take a special guy to pull off wearing these shoes, and that is the guy I want.

So now I have a pair of shoes, but there is no man in my real life (yet) who can fill them. But I have an idea ... a quest!  A reverse Cinderella type thing. I will find the man who fits the shoes. Granted, it will be kind of weird asking men I only recently met what size shoe they wear, and they might get a little creeped out when I pull out my pair of blue men's shoes and ask them to put them on and walk around for me. Sure, some might think I am a total whack job. But think of the stories! I can chronicle my journey for the man to fill the shoes, they can tell their buddies about the nutcase running around with the blue shoes. Everybody wins! Especially me, when I find the right man to fill the shoes.

random thoughts – Day 1,635 – (Sunday) – rug work and kiki-proofing

Sunday as a day of rest has never really taken hold at my house. I tend to loaf off most of the day on Saturday and then make up for it by tackling a bunch of things on Sunday. Plus, Monday is trash pickup day, so it seems to make sense to vacuum and empty the canister. There is the litter box cleaning, refrigerator sweep, emptying of various small wastebaskets, and the rolling of the trash bin to the curb

Back in place.

Today involved some additional hard labor in the bedroom when I finally got around to Kiki-proofing the box spring and repositioning the rug. It occurred to me a month or so ago that a deep pocket fitted sheet on the underside of the box spring should fix the problem of the tattered fabric allowing easy access into the framework. Stapling the fabric had been considered, but the stapler doesn't open up to allow stapling on a flat surface, and the nonwoven material is shredded and disintegrated beyond repair from the frequent movement of under bed storage boxes being slid out and back. 

And suddenly, today, there I was, finally doing the thing. It required tipping the mattress on its side, then flipping the box spring on its side to put the sheet on. The rug adjustment project was to fix the position of the area rug that sits on top of the vivid blood colored wall-to-wall carpeting and somehow manages to shift a good six to eight inches across the floor while the bed is on top of it. It’s another one of life’s mysteries. That required stacking the two plastic lidded boxes and the several plastic storage bags in the only place available, which happened to be in front of the door, essentially barricading myself in the room for the duration, which was one way to make sure the job was finished.

To adjust the area rug involved rolling one edge of the rug up to the edge of the bed, then grabbing it from the free edge and yanking it in the direction needed. It took a lot of yanks to get it where it belongs. While the rung was rolled, the carpet underneath was vacuumed. While the box spring and mattress were off the frame, the area under the bed got a good vacuuming.

When the rug situation was finally resolved, the mattress was rotated 180-degrees. It is one of those pillow-top things that can’t be flipped, so the head to foot rotation is the extent of it, and it’s really a two-person task. The whole project is a lot faster as a two-person task, and I have a newly-reinforced admiration for mattress delivery people, maids, and anyone who does this sort of thing on the regular. It was a workout. There was sweat involved, which didn’t even happen when I was going to the gym. Later, the freshly laundered sheets were returned to the bed, which felt like child’s play after the earlier labor.

Now, I need to prepare for Kiki’s next foray into the bedroom, because she is likely going to be an unhappy little camper when she tries to crawl up into the box spring and is blocked by the tan cotton sheet that was definitely not there before. It will not be a pretty day.

random thoughts – Day 1,634 – (Saturday) – didn't and did

Good job, flowers!

It was a day filled with promise and opportunity. A morning dance rehearsal was cancelled, freeing up three hours of travel and practicing and basically opening up the entire day. 

Entertainment options included Open Studios at Western Ave Studios, a themed market at Mill No. 5, the launch of the latest issue of a literary magazine at The Luna Theater (located in Mill No. 5), the Lowell Multicultural Festival at City Hall Plaza, and Dracut Old Home Days, just to name a few. It would have been possible to park downtown and walk to the Multicultural Festival, the magazine launch, and the market. 

I dressed as if I would leave the house and mingle with humanity, meaning, shirt and pants were in colors that coordinated and I thought it didn't look like I had just rolled out of bed. Then I decided it would be sensible and practical to eat lunch first, seeing as breakfast had been skipped. That turned into a kitchen adventure of fancying up a can of spaghetti sauce with sauteed onion, mushroom, and garlic, plus Italian spices and Portabello mushroom vegetarian meatballs. This was poured over mini spinach and cheese mini ravioli and topped with shredded parmesan. Then the pots were washed by hand. 

You can likely guess what happened next and which of these many options I did. That’s right, kiddos, none of them. Not a single one. But I thought about each of them quite a lot. I imagined navigating a crowded and lively festival or the massive Western Ave complex, alone. Visiting the shopping market and the magazine launch where I knew nobody, alone. Driving to Nashua to attend the Egyptian food event, alone. There was the possibility of trying to talk myself out of spending money on things I like but don't have room for. And I did nothing, at home, also alone, but without the driving, temptation to spend, and feeling alone in a crowd.

So delicate!

The glass in the two storm doors on the porch were cleaned. The flowers in the front yard were visited and encouraged in their growth journey by me saying things like "good job, keep it up." Some light and lovely fluff from some weedy plant pods were found delicately balanced in the rose bush and photographed. 

Mostly, though, it was hours of mindless scrolling on my phone and playing Woodoku. A Korean drama on Netflix was started (Poong, the Joseon Psychiatrist) which made me think want kim-bap from the shop on Lakeview that I haven’t been to in ages. Instead of driving over, I checked the website which listed them as “temporarily closed.” It’s pure crap luck that just a couple months after they opened, the section of the major street they are located on was closed for a culvert project and getting to any of the businesses on that block was a confusing challenge.

Market Basket was visited instead, to see if the Ben and Jerry’s ice cream is still $3.50 (it is). And for some mayonnaise that I keep forgetting to buy, plus potato chips (why not?), spanikopita twirls for lunches, and sliced cheese because the current reserves in the freezer are slabs too thick to be practical in a sandwich. It’s probably not hard to guess that supper was potato chips and Phish Food ice cream. Some of the ice cream was soft enough from its grand tour of the store in search of peeled hard-boiled eggs and canned black beans before checking out that it worked as chip dip. Delicious!

For the evening’s entertainment, it’s the K-drama and wooing of Kiki where I tell her how wonderful she is and hand feed her treats and keep inviting her up on the couch in the hope she will then move to my lap. So far, she’s a huge fan of the treats and not at all interested in the couch, but when I call her name, she very often comes to me, and that feels like a victory.

random thoughts – Day 1,633 – (Friday) – ugh day

Evening birds with  no gutter access.

After a short and blissfully quick three days of the short holiday workweek, work day four was one of those days that felt like a month. And it wasn’t a slow and leisurely long day, it was packed with annoyances from start to finish that really put the ugh in rough. 

The minute I logged on to the computer at the office, a non-stop stretch of annoyances was launched. The first program needed required a sudden password reset. Of course, the password criteria are the length of a novel and can’t resemble any of the passwords already used in the past eight years.

There were annoyance edits on an ad that weren’t actually edits and were more philosophical commentary that served to do nothing more than delay the project unnecessarily.

There were more edits on another project that has already had so many revisions that the numbering system for versions was abandoned by the designer and letters were adopted instead. We’re up to version JJ at this point. If I suddenly keel over from a heart attack, feel free to blame the product comparison charts. Or passwords.

There was a short-notice ad request – with short being “we need this now” for an ad in an odd size for an event we haven’t sponsored before and an organization that still wasn’t clear even after three rounds of emails. This wasn’t even the banker making the request’s fault – it was delays from the organization that needs the check yesterday and the ad in five minutes. Please help us to help you, for crying out loud. It might actually be an obscenely short-notice ad request that kills me.

There was an abrasively worded email from a program admin, chewing out a list of us for not having signed into some program for months and giving us a deadline of 1:00 today to do so. I didn’t know I was set up on the program, and even better, have no idea what the program does, but I seem to be in trouble for not logging into it. And when I tried to log in today, after jumping through a few hoops to have the password I didn’t know I had reset, it turns out I can’t actually log into the program from my office computer until IT does something to it first.

Kiki coming in for some love.

Of course, the ad, the login, and a few other things that needed immediate attention were happening simultaneously, and not a single one of them was on my to-do list for the week, which was completely neglected today. 

To add to the fun it was cold in the office and I wore my jean jacket over a shirt and sweater most of the day. By 3:00 my head was pounding, especially after I accidentally logged myself out of a program I wasn't done with, which requires multifactor authentication through an app that doesn't refresh. Three times. At 5:00 I could not get away from this work day quickly enough.

At home, confused birds were scratching on the newly installed gutter filter screens that now cover the gutters they used to use as a playground. I feel a bit sad about that. I'm imagining their suddenly blocked access is the avian equivalent of my password issues.

Inside, Kiki was feeling affectionate and erased all the stress. She was chattier than usual and wanted to be petted and I was happy to play along. She is a good distraction from the stupid home laptop touchpad that is acting up. Thank you sweet Keeks, for salvaging all the crazy ugh days. 

random thoughts – Day 1,632 – (Thursday) – (re)intro

Early ballet days.

As a six-year-old first grader, I was introduced to ballet. Mom and Mummu thought it was a good idea. (It was.) The Alice Corliss Dance School was chosen because it was close to where we were living and also close to where Mummu lived. This was a consideration back in the days when families had only one car and had to walk to a lot of places.

There was one year we were ducks in the recital and wore white bodysuits with yellow net tails and felt beaks on our heads. There was a year or two when we wore a green costume with red roses all over it. In all the years I took ballet as a kid (first through twelfth grade) we had formal photos done only once. The only other dance photos in existence are those taken by family, usually blurry and with our heads cut off.

The dance school also taught tap and jazz. I wasn’t allowed to take tap because Mom, who was a drummer in school and practiced on the woodwork at home to annoy Mummu, said tap was “too noisy.” When I was older (third or fourth grade) I also took jazz. Our costume had a long fringe of metallic gold that looked like Christmas tree icicles. 

Last week, after years (no lie, YEARS) of looking for ballet classes for adults that weren’t “Mommy and Me,” absolute beginner, or professional level, a sponsored post showed up in my Facebook feed for an adult ballet class called “(re)intro to ballet for adults.” Bingo and hallelujah, we finally have a winner!

The best part was, the class was starting in a few days so I didn’t have much time to talk myself out of it. It’s only five weeks long, so it’s not a major life commitment. After thinking about it for a day or two, and deliberating on the realities of driving to Wayland for a class, on Labor Day, I enrolled online.

Footwear contenders for dance class.

Tonight was the first class. I barely had time to dig out my old dance shoes. And by “old,” I mean, last used in the last century, therefore, practically old enough to qualify as a museum exhibit. (Packrat, much?) 

The jazz flats, leather ballet slippers, and a totally broken pair of pointe shoes that I used to wear as classroom ballet shoes were unearthed and tossed into a bag to go to class. The character shoes and satin pointe shoes were not taken out for this little experiment.

There are lots of fresh new ballet slippers available from sellers online, but the problem that I remember from when I used to buy them regularly, is that dance shoe sizes are not the same as street shoe sizes, and vary between brands. I can't find anything in the brand of my old slippers to get the same size and brand. It could be a real crap shoot ordering online, where most of the customer comments and returns are related to size. I might benefit from finding some in a brick and mortar store. Or, as a more practical, economical matter, sewing some new elastics onto the ones I already have.

The class was fun. Not rollicking, rowdy, fun. It was more like, hey my brain remembers the names of these movements and my body still remembers how to do this and I didn’t die fun. I ended up wearing the soft leather ballet slippers with the stretched out elastics. There might be some muscles screaming at me tomorrow, but so far, so good. I'm looking forward to going back next week.

random thoughts – Day 1,631 – (Wednesday) – cat training

Sneaky Kiki is really honing her skills. She has the timing down and seems to know the precise moment when I  relax and fall into the web she has spun in which to trap me with a sense of calm and safety.

Back in the box spring again.

On Monday, she apparently detected my sense of comfort/false belief that she had lost interest in the box spring. She laid the trap and lured me in after she hadn’t even ascended the staircase to the landing in weeks. 

Kiki slipped upstairs like a ninja while I drank coffee and read a book. She hung out in the box spring all day, safely barricaded in her self-imposed exile, out of my reach. It was nighttime when she eventually left her palace of peace and I was able to trot upstairs and close the door. The look I got from her when I came back downstairs was priceless.

This morning, after spending the night downstairs while I slumbered behind the closed door, Kiki tricked me again. Unbeknownst to me, she was outside the bedroom door when I opened it. As the door swung open for me to leave the room, I spotted her as she crouched and slithered in like a panther. She even paused halfway across the room and turned to look at me over her shoulder as if to say "ha! just try and catch me!" before completing her journey to the far side of the bed and slipping back into the box spring. She was still there when I left for work.

Cobblestone work underway.

Work was quiet and productive. There was the weekly team meeting. There was my microwaved lunch of rice and leftover sautéed vegetables. There was an afternoon walk in the sunshine, past the crew busy resetting the cobblestones at the Merrimack end of Shattuck Street. 

As I headed to the canal, concrete barriers sat in a parking lot, lined up like dominoes. Downtown has cobblestones, canals, concrete barriers, and brick. So much brick.

After work, there was no sign of Kiki. She will come out when she comes out, probably around 10:00. That's the hour when she generally comes to meow at me until I give her treats and head rubs before I go upstairs to bed. It may not be possible to train a cat, but Keeks the cat definitely has me trained.

random thoughts – Day 1,630 – (Tuesday) – downloads and downtown

 Despite some quirks with work, it was an overall good day. The only real annoyance was that it took forever to download portrait files from last week’s photo shoot. They all automatically dump into a download folder rather quickly and automatically, but they need to live on the department drive, which takes a ridiculously long time to do. Today's files took more than two hours to execute. Half the photo subjects haven't made their choices yet, so there is still a part two to look forward to. Ugh. Can't wait.

Broken box. Bummer.

While the computer was tied up doing the move of massive-size files, a truck was running outside for longer than usual. It was a Prime delivery truck, idling at the end of the street, blocking the neighbor’s driveway. Finally, a door slid open and a driver emerged, carrying a large box topped by a smaller box.

Halfway across the neighbor’s front yard, the bottom failed on the bottom box and the contents were downloaded onto the the lawn. Based on the crappy taping on my recent deliveries including the box that recently arrived with 16 pounds of cat food that nearly downloaded on my porch, I wasn’t really surprised. I felt for the driver, who seemed both annoyed and flustered. 

Slow files are annoying, but not nearly as bad as what that poor driver seemed to be going through, having to re-stuff the box with ten miles of brown crunched up paper plus several items that were previously inside the box. Then, when he tried to pick it up again, it looked like it might collapse all over again. It was kind of funny, but only because it wasn't my stuff. 

The file move finished at about three minutes before 5:00. It was just in time for me to start closing files and get ready to sign off the computer for the day.

Harmonious colors.

First Tuesday of the month means book club, so I didn’t have to deal with thinking about supper. As I was preparing to leave for downtown, I noticed that my purse and the book’s cover coordinated nicely with each other and the chair cover on the kitchen chairs and even the wall color in the kitchen. At book club, someone pointed out that my nail polish also coordinated. It seemed like a carefully curated moment suited for a Hallmark movie or a decorating show, but it was mostly a coincidence.

We all liked the book, Shark Heart, by Emily Habeck. We were seated outside, and enjoyed the sunshine and nice air for likely the last time for a few months. Soon, the tables, chairs, and concrete barriers will be collected and stored for the winter.

random thoughts – Day 1,629 – (Monday) – labor day 2024

The Labor Day holiday was equal parts leisure and labor, with a dash of mystery. There was no plan (as usual) except to read the book for Book Club tomorrow night. The morning included coffee, the reading of news, social media, and the book. There was a brief glimmer of an idea to mount and matt some recently printed photos.

There was vacuuming and the cleaning of the litter box. Weeds were pulled. Trash was bagged and the bin rolled to the curb for pickup tomorrow. The dishwasher was emptied. The yard was mowed. The chores were done during pauses in Netflix shows.

The temptress, one day last week.

Meanwhile, Kiki, who has lulled me into another false sense of security with all her coy meows and stretches on the living room rug, and requests for head rubs, slipped off for an outlaw holiday at Camp BoxSpring. Mid-morning, as I sat on the couch, still in a cotton kimono, it occurred to me that she hadn’t been seen in an unspecified measure of time. I checked all the regular spots, including the box spring and didn’t see her. 

The bedroom door was open because when I went downstairs, the door must have been left open, with the plan to start the coffee maker and return immediately upstairs to dress. Instead, I forgot about the open door and sat on the couch for a couple hours, drinking coffee, playing Wordle and Words with Friends and all the other time suck phone stuff.

Meanwhile, the little feline explorer who hasn’t even gone to the top of the stairs in weeks (that I know of), was probably making notes. She saw the opportunity in my sloth and quietly did her thing. I imagined her silent amusement as she heard me calling her name and looking for her, especially when I looked into the box spring the first time and didn’t see her.

She has been reclining in her palace of peace and quiet for at least ten hours. It’s possible that she came out and returned while I was mowing the yard. Eventually, she will exit the fortress for food, water, and the freshly changed litterbox. And I will risk a broken hip and run up the stairs to shut the door that should have been closed this morning.

random thoughts – Day 1,628 – (Sunday) – september again

And just like that, August is over. It came and it went and now it’s September (or Syyskuu on my Finnish calendar, which translates to "autumn moon"). And in grown-up times, August feels different than it did once upon a time. It's less magic.

As a junior high and even a high school student, August was for planning and preparing. At least one week of August included time spent sprawled across my bed, practicing how I would write my name during the upcoming school year. (I have spent no time attempting to improve my penmanship in recent decades, and it's becoming obvious.) I loved summer, but looked forward to returning to school to see friends not seen since June. 

And there were the fall fashions. The thick fall fashion editions of magazines were scrutinized to determine which sweaters, tights, and footwear I would be searching for in our local shops when shopping with Mummu. An "as seen in Seventeen magazine" ad or sign would send my pulse racing. 

Mummu always set me up on my mid-August birthday with a new outfit for the hallowed first day of school. Then, I would count the days until I could wear the new duds. It wasn’t an actual rule, but the outfit was never worn before that magical first day. It hung in the closet and was admired often. 

Back then, school didn’t begin until after Labor Day. Some families may have squeezed in one last weekend at the lake cabin in their family for generations, a beach house, or camping, but at our house, the last weekend of summer included the Jerry Lewis Muscular Dystrophy telethon and the Fitchburg summer grand finale, the Saint Joseph’s Bazaar.  

The weather on the first day of school was always a wild card. We might be walking to school in 80-degree weather or temperatures that were dramatically cooler, but the weather didn’t alter the first day of school outfit. That carefully curated ensemble was as sacred as the new outfits for Christmas and Easter.

August feels different, but September still feels a little bit fresh and new and more like the start of a new year than the actual new year on January first. Even a zillion years after last being in a formal school program, I think of September as the beginning of a new chapter and I suddenly want new spiral bound notebooks and pencils and maybe a new outfit or ten. And shoes. 

Despite the fun and anticipation, there was one dreaded school preparation item in my world and it was the gym uniform. Those were the stupidest, ugliest, most ill-fitting one-piece punishment ever designed to inflict pain upon girls in the school system. Ours were in a maroon tee shirt knit fabric, solid color below the elastic waist, and thin horizontal stripes above. The stupid thing would shrink in the wash and practically bisect you when raising your arms, making volleyball extra fun. I definitely don’t miss those stupid back-to-school furnishings.