random thoughts – Day 1,686 – (Tuesday) – solar, soup, skirts

It was 4:55 this afternoon when I learned how nice it was outside. It was 67 degrees. How did I miss that? Also, why did the 67 outdoor degrees feel warmer than the 67 degrees inside where I was sitting and freezing? Another of life's everyday mysteries.

Without dogs, I have a dozen fewer daily reasons to be outside in the yard, so it's not really a surprise why I'm rarely outside. Today it was a knock on the door at dusk that gave me a heart attack and had me poking my nose outside. I was busy cleaning out duplicate files on the department shared drive and the rap on the glass storm door startled me. Most of the time, a rare knock on the back door is from someone from the house next door, and I bolted out of my chair, expecting to see neighbor K or another familiar face. Nope. It was a guy with a clipboard.

Clipboard guy wanted to talk to me about solar in the near-dark. Again. He seemed a bit surprised I didn’t remember him from the last time he bothered me with this, like maybe he thought I'd been waiting and hoping for his return or that he is the only clipboard bearer disturbing my peace and quiet to try and sell me stuff I don’t want. 

I told clipboard guy the same thing I told him the last time and what I tell everyone trying to sell me solar. The panels are hideous, but when the technology advances to being built into the usual styles of roofing shingles, I would feel differently about it. Also, my average electric bill is low enough that it would take forever and a day to recoup the cost. What was not said is that my house needs a whole hell of a lot of other things before dumping money into solar panels. He told me that “pretty soon, everyone will be solar,” as if he thinks I’m some little sheep that follows the crowd. I said, “well, I’m old, I’ll probably be dead by then.” He finally went away. I suspect he’ll be back.

After work, I heated up some of yesterday's soup. The tortellini had absorbed some of the broth since yesterday, so water and leftover spaghetti sauce from the freezer were added, along with some sliced mushrooms. It was delicious and different from the day before. Soup is fun to play with. 

New trio of dance skirts!

It was dark enough at 5:30 that I was ready to snuggle up with some fruit tea and call it a night on the couch, but it was dance class night. Text messages were mentally drafted with potential excuses as to why I wouldn’t be in class. No texts were sent, but I delayed until nearly the last possible minute to gather my dance skirt and get myself out the door. This sort of debate happens all the time. 

The traffic was light tonight, so the ride was easy. And as always happens, I was glad to be in class once I was there. Dance is always fun, and I got to wear the new blue and purple skirt that arrived last week as part of a three skirt random bundle from the same company that made my troupe performance 25-yard skirts.

My reluctance to leave the house is almost never about the destination and almost always about the transportation. If we had the personal jet packs and flying cars we were told we might have in the year 2000 by my elementary school teachers, I might like commuting more.

Perhaps the best part of being gone for three hours tonight was that I wasn’t stressed out and staring at the TV and the election news. Never have I been as nervous about an election as I have been about this one.

random thoughts – Day 1,685 – (Monday) – winter mode

Just another autumn day after the time change. More light in the morning, much less at the end of work. It felt chilly, so the winter 2024-25 wardrobe was unveiled with a base layer, sweater, jeans, and thick socks. There were mugs of black cherry fruit tea throughout the day.

Vegetable soup.

After work, the kettle of sweet potato and vegetable soup was set on the stove, some half-and-half was poured in, and tortellini was added. Dinner was taken in the living room in the warm glow of the table lamp and some show or other on the TV. 

The first bowl of soup was topped with tiny cubes of cheese and ground black pepper and it was good, so a second bowl followed. Then there were some crackers and black cherry tea.

To fetch the trash bin, the wet weather boots were dug out and put on for the trek through the still lingering two-inches deep water main leak puddle at the end of the driveway. Super fun. 

Yes, it's only November and it's true, it's not even that cold. Except for Mexico (which already feels like it was forever ago), I've been cold since last winter. I know it's not really winter yet, but the idea of it is already kicking my butt. Mentally, the switch has flipped and full winter mode has been activated in my brain. It could be a brutally long stretch from now until spring. Still convinced I was born to hibernate.

random thoughts – Day 1,684 – (Sunday) - saturday night out

The Saturday morning mystery music theater with Kiki took place simultaneously with the latest episode of my own long-running drama series, What Should I Wear? This drama has tragically repetitive episodes each Wednesday morning as I stare and swear into the closet and stress out over what to wear to the office. Considerations generally include outside temperature, best guess of the freeze level of the indoor office temperature, and what items might fit that day based on recent meals and activity. There were five or six outfit changes during the weekend morning episode. 

The wardrobe plan needed to include packing for an overnight stay at my friends' house after we attended a concert in Boston. The night would involve standing in a line outside in weather that was significantly cooler than recent days and then standing indoors for several hours. The standing ruled out all high heels and pants that are too long and require heels to not drag on the ground. A coat was an important factor for the outside segment of the night.

Waiting in line.

The winner of the morning fashion show showdown was a green and black open weave sweater paired with jeans and lug sole boots. Several additional options were packed in the overnight bag including multiple tops and jackets. Also packed was the Sunday dance bag with hip scarf, costume veil, yoga pants, and tops. Sometimes I come with a lot of baggage. 

At my friends’ home, I decided to wear the long velour and sequin coat. As we readied to leave, the sequins on the collar were scratching my neck, prompting a last-minute change out of the sweater and into a pleather (now rebranded as “vegan leather”) vest over a white and black striped blouse with a collar high enough to save my neck from sequin destruction. Oddly, this was the original morning outfit until the last-minute remembrance of the sweater as I was about to walk out of The BungaLowell.  

The show was at Roadrunner Boston, a 3,500 capacity venue in Brighton. It was chilly and a bit breezy with the sun setting during our 45-minute stint in the line, and I was glad to have worn the longer coat. IDs were checked and bright orange wristbands issued as we stood in line. The doors opened close to the advertised time of 6:00.

As we approached the doors, a woman in front of us was asked by security to show her wristband and they took it off her wrist and marked her hand with a black marker “X” as they confiscated the nip bottle of Fire Ball that she was drinking from. Security cited her violation of the Massachusetts open bottle law, and told her she wouldn’t be allowed to buy alcohol in the venue. Ouch.  

The show lineups and times were posted on Friday, and the night followed the schedule closely. The first band, Emperor Norton’s Stationary Marching Band, had 18 musicians on stage delivering what they very accurately describe in their Facebook page as “A joyful cacophony of Balkan, Klezmer and funk, with a tasteful thrash of metal thrown in for good measure.” They were a lot of fun to watch and looked like they were having a great time themselves.

Backstage action on view.

The next Band, Gogol Bordello, has been on my “must see” list since falling in love with their brand of Gypsy Punk music back in my Tennessee days. The high energy set was everything I had hoped for. During the very efficient stage changeout after Gogol Bordello, we could see the crews clearing all the instruments and rolling out platforms with the keyboards and drums for the final group. It's possibly the first time I saw all the backstage stuff on display like it was.

Amanda Palmer of The Dresden Dolls.

The Dresden Dolls (Amanda Palmer and Brian Viglione) were amazing and really delivered the goods. They can play soft or loudly pound the heck out of the keyboards and drums. Their music is predominantly those two instruments, but on some songs, Viglione played guitar. The lighting was like another member of the band, changing with every song and passages throughout the songs.

It was a great night and also a late night. Luckily it was also the night to change the clocks back by one hour so sleep was a bit less short-changed. I felt okay in the morning and in dance group, and managed to get to the grocery store on the way home. During the afternoon, I crashed on the couch for the first nap of fall-winter hibernation season.

random thoughts – Day 1,683 – (Saturday) - toyed with

Miss Kiki!

Miss Kiki, The BungaLowell cat of mystery and intrigue, has been an adorable and entertaining puzzlement all morning. She has silently padded around the house in her usual “now you see, now you don’t” appearances and disappearances. That part isn't unusual. 

The added element of art and theater has been when she displayed her vocal talents with meowing (singing?).  It started in the dining room, and the tour continued to the living room. Then she disappeared (not uncommon), and in what might be best described as a game of Marco Polo, she meowed from a hidden location (quite uncommon). And I, the silly human, engaged in meowing back while scanning the rooms and then actively looking for her in all the usual preferred places – the top of the stairs, under the dining room table, in her hidey bed, on the chair, behind the chair, under the TV console, near the patio sliders. Like the wails of a fire truck somewhere in traffic, I could hear her, but not see her anywhere. I finally found her behind the couch. 

At least she doesn’t seem to be mad at me anymore. I greatly prefer her messing with me instead of avoiding me because I had to chase her around to give her foul tasting medicine and jam her into a carrier to go to the vet. She's been actively seeking the face and head rubs and stretching out on the rug until she sees me seeing her and then she scampers away. 

Maybe someday she’ll play with her stuffed toys and balls. At least for this morning, it seems I am the preferred toy to play around with. It works for me. 

random thoughts – Day 1,682 – (Friday) - vote cast

When I was married and living in Tennessee, X2 and I would always vote during the early voting period. We’d choose a Saturday to vote and then after, we'd go out for lunch. It was fun. Even when the voting line was out the door and extended down the sidewalk outside the Montgomery County, TN Election Commission office, it was always a smooth, quick, and orderly process, and we made it a fun day.

This year, I planned to vote on the specifically designated election day, the first Tuesday after the first Monday of November (November 5th). I imagined (and overthought) it would feel ceremonial and special to vote on that specific day. It’s a remote workday for me and would have required a special trip out of the house, which felt less special and appealing the more I thought about it. Taking a small detour to vote on the way downtown to the office is different than leaving the home office to vote and then returning to where I started.

Voted here.

While driving to work this morning, the radio announcer person mentioned that this was the last day of early voting in Massachusetts. As I walked down the block to the building where I work, I could see historic, stately, beautiful City Hall and the “Vote Here” sign out front. 

At my desk, I decided to vote today and the Friday City Hall operating hours were confirmed (8 am to noon). Why not? I knew who I was voting for in the various offices on the ballot and there is very little that could happen between now and Tuesday that would change my mind. The ballot questions in the voter info booklet that arrived at the house weeks ago had been read, along with the favoring and opposing positions to each and multiple Reddit threads and Facebook posts that solicited the opinions of those who would be affected (tipped workers, ride-share drivers, educators).

Calm canal water.

Once the decision was made, I trotted down the four flights of stairs and bounced out the door, headed to City Hall with its stained glass windows, beautiful woodwork, and stone floors and stairways. Merrimack Street was crossed without suffering injury or death by rowdy young bicycle riders or inattentive drivers. The water in the canal was as calm as my mood as it reflected the autumnal leaves on trees in Lucy Larcom Park. The sky was pale blue-gray with white clouds. The air was warm and in the high 60s.

Signs inside City Hall directed voters to take the elevator to the second floor and I obeyed, even though ordinarily I would have taken the wide stone staircase. I was greeted in the Mayor’s Reception Room and offered the choice of providing the first three letters of my last name or scanning my license to check in. I scanned my license because it required less conversation. The number “388” was called out. I was given a sharp-tipped felt black pen and instructions for the three-page ballot (front and back) and the yellow envelope and thanked for voting. It took longer to wait for the drivers to stop to let me cross Merrimack Street than it took to check in at the voting table. Sweet!

The ballot was so long because it was printed in English, Spanish, and Cambodian languages. I filled in the circles, refolded the completed ballot, and slid it into the envelop with a label with my name and “388” on it. I sealed it, dropped it into the large black collection box, and exchanged the felt-tipped pen for an “I Voted” sticker. I was again thanked for voting, and I was on my way. I wish I had asked what the 388 meant. Was I the 388th person in all of the early voting that started October 19? That seems like a low number. I dashed out the door and back to the office. 

The whole thing was quick, easy, and even after helping a lady with a cane get though our main door, vestibule door, and branch lobby door, I was back at my desk 17 minutes after I had left it. It would have taken at least that long on Tuesday to drive to the very unglamorous school building with the name I can't pronounce that is my polling location and find a parking space in the mostly residential neighborhood of one-way streets, resident sticker restricted on-street parking, and always full school parking lot. 

To congratulate myself on the completion of my civic right and duty in a beautiful and historic setting, efficient use of time, and avoidance of future parking annoyances, I celebrated with a piece of the office birthday cake left from Wednesday. Now, I just need to drown out the rest of the so-called news of what has felt like a 100-year political news cycle and wait for the results. Someone on Facebook recently commented that waiting for the election results would be like waiting to learn if the biopsy is benign. Sounds about right.