random thoughts – Day 1,847 – (Monday) – noticing things

Woven around and between the movies recently I watched and episodes of the two weekly HBO series I like (The White Lotus, The Righteous Gemstones), the fill-in show is Love Is Blind. The show has women and men dating without seeing each other. This is accomplished by having each person seated in a pod, talking to the other through a wall, and if they eventually connect and like each other, they can get engaged and then they finally meet each other. They go on a vacation, then they go back to the home city and meet the families and friends and prepare for their wedding in two weeks.

Official show drinkware in a bar.

I’ve watched other seasons, and never have I once seen an unattractive person as a contestant. Almost all the women are an 8, 9, or 10, have movie star white teeth and are attractive in a conventional way. The guys will have one or two who are slightly more everyday looking, pulling the range down to a smidge from 7s to 10s. Love might be blind, but on this show, you are at least spared dating an ogre.

The current season has me noticing some things. No matter where the scene is set—the men's quarters, women's quarters, the date pods, on vacation, or in the city, the drinkware is always the same. Gold-toned metal wine goblets and stemless drinking glasses were used everywhere, including the family homes and the restaurants and bars when they are back in the hometown. They are nice glasses, but come on. They hide the contents, but it seems weird the production company would dictate the drinkware used in a restaurant.

Joey, flossing his teeth.

Then I googled “Love Is Blind drinkware.” It turns out the show has an official drinkware line, which can be ordered from the Netflix Shop, so even we plebian non-contestants can “Impress with trendy drinkware from the official Love is Blind collection.” The show is essentially a 12-episode drinkware commercial.

The quarters are full of cameras, and the participants know they are on camera, but it doesn’t stop them from doing dumb things. In an episode I watched last week, the guys were in their living room area talking, and one guy, Joey, 34, Physician Associate, stood behind the bar flossing his teeth for several minutes that felt like forever. 

Dude! You are on camera, in a show that will be seen by a lot of people, with your fingers jammed in your moth flossing your teeth with your stupid little floss pick. Go to a private place for your hygiene practices. Please.  

Dental picks in a grocery
store parking spot.

It was funny seeing the flossing episode because earlier the same day, I was at Hannaford. In the parking space next to mine, there were dental floss picks scattered on the ground. Was Joey, 34, Physician Assistant, there and left his calling card? Also, I see those things on the ground everywhere. The bank parking lot, the parking garage, on the sidewalks, shopping center parking lots. Everywhere.

What is the deal people? Is everyone sitting in their cars doing a floss and toss? Maybe meet up with your friends, circle the cars and do a group event? Gross. Or maybe it's a panic purchase on the way to an event and the person realizes there is something in their teeth. Then, opening the bag in a hurry, it explodes open and the picks fly everywhere. Could be. Noticing things and then thinking about them can make my head spin.

random thoughts – Day 1,846 – (Sunday) – happy family time

Today is one of the days that are heavy on birthdays. According to the Facebook birthday reminders, five of my FB friends and family members have birthdays today. There are probably more, but not everyone is on FB. The list includes my niece, a former colleague from Tennessee, a friend from Tennessee, a high school classmate, and a belly dance sister. Fun!

Dance practice went very well again this week, and then it was off to my sister’s house for lunch and birthday cake to celebrate my middle niece. Today kicks off a string of family birthdays with at least one close family member birthday in April, May, June, July, and August. Party season has officially opened.

Didn't work like in the video, required a knife.

I arrived in the midst of the pre-dinner comedy show involving a pineapple and a YouTube video. The person in the video had a technique to divide a pineapple without having to cut it. There was rolling, and slamming it on the counter three times, and then the little sections were supposed to be able to plucked out individually. 

It worked in the video, but not in real life in Sis's kitchen. The sections did not pluck out. There was pineapple juice everywhere. Sis eventually used a knife to get some of the sections out. But watching the attempt was certainly entertaining and we all had a great laugh.

Birthday candle fun.

Today’s festivity featured my sister’s cooking with baked chicken, cauliflower, and sweet potato, followed by cake. The cake had a fun candle feature with small birthday candles and a musical mobile that turns like the wooden Swedish Christmas candle spinners. My eldest niece, who lives in Nevada joined us by video chat and we had a fun time. 

These are the things I missed while living in Tennessee.  All the birthdays and lunches and spontaneous gatherings and family moments that I would hear about from afar or maybe not at all. They kept chipping at my stony little heart and I needed to come home. 

random thoughts – Day 1,845 – (Saturday) – bunny season

Real backyard bunny.

Signs of spring continue and today there were clouds and April showers. It seemed like a lighter, gentler version of the many months of fall and winter rain.

There was a brown cottontail bunny sighting in the yard today, the second time in a few days. Now I'll be looking for baby bunnies and better photo opportunities. 

Maybe brown bunny is scoping out where to hide my Easter treats. A year or two ago, there was a blue plastic egg in the yard with a dollar bill inside. I though it might have migrated from the yard of the neighbors with the small kid, but maybe it was brown bunny. 

Inside the house, my minimalist style of spring decorating took place today. The living room currently hosts Creepy Bunny. Creepy Bunny is a papier mâché piece that probably came from Christmas Tree Shoppe a million years ago. 

The family house had a front porch with an enclosed vestibule entryway with space to set bags down and unlock the door. It was large enough for a small table, and Mom would decorate for the seasons. During the Christmas season, a narrow, foil tree usually lived on the table. During the spring season, the table had a spring floral tablecloth and CB greeted/startled visitors.  

Indoor Creepy Bunny.

I was lucky enough to recently be awarded custodianship of Creepy Bunny. This is probably because for years I said I loved and wanted the scary little thing. Victory! And now CB sits on a plant stand and presides over the living room. 

Kiki has not noticed CB, and this isn't a surprise. There are two pom poms on the cat tree stand and I regularly plant a treat on the higher one, hoping she'll use the sisal wrapped pole for scratching. The treat stays on the pom pom, until I take it and feed it to her by hand. 

Kiki always eats the treat off the lower pom pom, but has never once even noticed it on the higher one to retrieve it herself. The only reason she even goes near the thing is to fetch the treats I plant on the base of it each night so she won't be afraid of the thing.

random thoughts – Day 1,844 – (Friday) – springing up

Spring finery is
popping up.

It was in the mid-60s and sunny when I took a walk downtown, and I was comfortable in a light-ish trench coat. There were new pop-up shops and windows covered in brown paper with "coming soon" signs. Next to the newly opened Lazy Cat Lounge Cafe, a nail salon is outfitted with a wall of pink and white fabric flowers and displays of nail polish. A white sign lettered in red posted near the door declared "Nail Salon Coming Soon." Restaurant names I didn't recognize were scattered in the area. It's good to see shops and restaurants opening.

In addition to the new shops, there was an array of attire on display downtown. The warmer weather inspired many people to shed the winter coats and don sweatshirts, jeans, jackets of all weights, tee shirts with no jackets, and lightweight summery floral and patterned dresses and sandals. 

I was behind one such bright and breezy dress and sandals outfit for a full block and it made me wish I was back in Mexico at a beach resort wearing my own floaty dress, but no luck. I was soon back in the office shivering in the very unspring-like arctic environment as the cooling system enthusiastically blasted chilled air. Despite my wearing an indoor-appropriate blouse and sweater and pushing the setting up to 80 degrees, I was cold nearly all day.

Tree with buds.

Later, as I headed to the car in my trench coat, a woman in a tangerine-colored sleeveless dress and flip flops unloaded groceries from the trunk into a wagon with a companion in jeans and a tee shirt. I felt like a dork in my coat but at least I wasn’t freezing.

At home and preparing supper, looking out the window over the sink, I noticed the tree in the back yard neighbor’s yard. The branches that were bare earlier this week were loaded with red buds that will eventually be leaves. Green shoots are poking through the ground where the irises and lilies live, and maroon shoots where the Bleeding Heart is near the front door. Is suddenly seems that spring is here. 

random thoughts – Day 1,843 – (Thursday) –feelings and groceries

The latest x-rays and previous ones.

The follow-up with the surgeon was today and it was more of the usual with another x-ray and quick visit with the surgeon. He had me make a fist and extend my fingers. Make prayer hands. Invert the prayer hands with the backs of the hands touching. The official medical declaration was that the bone is about 90% healed, there are no restrictions, I don’t need any more appointments with the surgeon unless something happens, and the best news of all – I don’t need physical therapy. 

I’m convinced the PT bullet was dodged thanks to two friends who told me exercises to do to work on mobility and flexibility. So thanks K and K!

The appointment took about 10 minutes and I had the afternoon off. Instead of taking the left towards home, I took the right towards the shopping plaza and Hannaford. I had a coupon for $12 off a $60 order and $6 in rewards I could redeem.

The Hannaford discount coupons are when I splurge if the usual pantry staples haven’t hit the total to trigger the coupon. I was keeping a running total in my head, but kept forgetting the total, and unlike the old-timey days before bar codes there are no price tags on items to start over.

Produce, granola bars, coffee, spaghetti sauce, salsa, cheese, English muffins, rice, and more were loaded into the cart to bolster the pantry reserves. Splurge items included ice cream and cookies. At the register, as the number of items left to be rung up dwindled, I mentioned to the cashier the need to hit $60. That’s when I learned that the $6 rewards came off first, which put me $6 shy of hitting the qualifying amount for the other coupon. My math was on the mark, but the rewards deduction knocked me back.

Splurge that led to savings.

The cashier offered to pause my transaction and take the next customer while I got something else to hit the target amount. My mind went blank and under pressure I couldn’t think of anything else I needed. I was darting around the aisles like the ball in a pinball game until jugs of trail mix were spotted on a bottom shelf. 

Usually, I mix my own using whatever is in the baking cabinet, but the reserves are low-ish. The Hannaford mixes have dried fruits and nuts I would never have on hand at the same time. And it let me hit $60 to get $12 off. Getting $68 worth of groceries for $50 felt like a financial and psychological victory. Sure, I had to spend more to save more, but I would have buying the pantry stuff eventually.

The rest of the afternoon involved putting away groceries and watching movies on Max. There was a chunk of Steel Magnolias, of which I remembered only that I didn’t really like it when it first came out, and also someone dies. I liked it a lot more this go-round and bawled my eyes out. It was followed by Sixteen Candles, which I’ve seen several times, and also made me cry. I have no idea what is with the waterworks today. It’s nice to live alone and be able to cry freely, even when it’s a rare occurrence. During my tween and teen years, Mom and I would cry while watching movies and my brother and Dad would make fun of us. My response was to master stuffing down the feelings and choking back the tears, which was preferable to being mocked for having feelings.

There were other feelings today besides the mushy movie ones when I read the follow up notes sent by the doctor’s office. The notes claim that “The patient was informed a slight chance of reinjury/refracture, need for future surgery and a slight chance of arthritis in the future. If appropriate, a permanent growth plate deformity may develop. A home exercise program was given to the patient.” My accompanying reaction was straight up, full blown, out loud exclamation of “what in the actual f*ck?!?” NONE of that was discussed. Not a single word of it. A chance of refracture? A potential growth plate deformity?!? Trust me, had this been told to me, we’d still be in the office discussing probabilities, ways to avoid such things, and options if they developed. And where is the “home exercise program?”

I was all set to enjoy some tropical trail mix that I would probably get all over the couch, but I couldn’t get the lid off, which was disappointing. The lid and the container are each a smidge too large for me to grasp. Maybe I’ll bring my 30-ounce jug of trail mix to the office tomorrow and see if someone with large, strong hands can loosen the lid for me. And who are the sadistic product packaging design engineers who come up with so many cruel ways to frustrate the shopper? I would like to slap a couple of them.

random thoughts – Day 1,842 – (Wednesday) – wednesday walk

Working downtown today meant an afternoon walk downtown, and afternoon downtown walks sometimes mean seeing interesting things. Shortly before going out, I looked out the window to check the world outside. The high school had gotten out and the sidewalks were filled with students. Merrimack Street was filled with seven city buses waiting for the light to turn green.

There was a wait of a few minutes to let the students clear. When I went outside, wearing my leather jacket, after a colleague said it was “wicked nice out,” I was surprised at how chilly it was. There was a stiff breeze as I turned a corner and I wished I had gloves and a scarf. 

New doggy friend.

There was a quick pop-in at the new bakery, followed by a pop back out. There are no prices posted near any of the items and I hate asking. I'm not going to stand at the case asking the price of every item. After buying a loaf of rye bread at the grand opening that turned out to cost seven dollars, a transaction that likely wouldn’t have occurred had I known the price in advance, I’m leery of the sticker shock and potential personal loan that might result from a brownie or a slice of torte.

On the way back to the office, two older gents in fedoras sat in the window of Market Street Market. In a nearby doorway, a stocky and sturdy looking white and brown dog with shoulders about the same width as mine barked at me through a glass door. 

With each bark, both front paws bounced off the floor. It was loud-ish, but didn’t seem especially angry, as in, there was no teeth baring or growling. I was amused enough to take a picture of my doggy friend through the glass door separating us. 

Middle Street stoop party aftermath.

Around the corner and down the block on Middle Street, there was evidence of a picnic of some sort with food wrappers and packaging abandoned in a doorway. A few doors down there were signs of a stoop party, with two empty liquor bottles left on a step. Come on people, there are trash barrels all over downtown. 

On Palmer Street, closer to the office and outside one of our buildings, Heineken beer boxes sat on the sidewalk, presumably from the beer distributor truck parked in the alley on the other side of the street. Why were they in front of a bank building when the bar is across the street? Who knows. Whatever.

On the way to the garage after work, Merrimack Street filled with the wail and scream of sirens. Multiple firetrucks sped by from the station behind City Hall and more could be seen approaching from the other end of Merrimack and turning onto John Street. I was concerned the street might be closed and I’d have to walk another block to the next street and backtrack a block to get to the garage.

When I got to John street, there were several engine trucks, a couple ladder trucks, and a red SUV filling the length of John Street between Merrimack and Paige. The sidewalks were open and available and firefighters walked in the street. The cluster of fire trucks blocking the street meant that there was no traffic blocking my egress from the garage and it was quick getaway to home sweet home.

random thoughts – Day 1,841 – (Tuesday) – luck or whatever

With Monday being a vacation day and feeling like Sunday, it wasn’t a surprise when Tuesday dawned feeling like a Monday. 

Coffee cleanup underway.

As I sat on the couch and sorted through paperwork before work, I reached over to set something in the nearby bookcase. A pillow shifted and knocked over the mug of coffee recently set on the flip-up end table of the couch. The ten or eleven ounces of hot coffee with caramel macchiato creamer in the just-filled mug arced up and out, kind of like a wave in a Japanese painting. It hit the wall, the bottom of the drapes, and the side of the same bookcase that I nearly concussed myself on last week. It was dangerously close to the power strip for the laptop and phone charger. Coffee pooled under the couch and along the edge of the rug in various coffee colored shades and earth tones. It dripped from the end table. It was fun chasing it around on the floor where it sort of blended in.

Paper towels were fetched and the cleanup alongside the couch commenced. In my head I was announcing the intercom page, “Cleanup needed in the coffee aisle,” and thinking it would have been nice to have some of the sawdust that was used at Market Basket when I worked there in high school. 

Coffee dripped from the little side table onto the sleeve of the brand new, rose-colored half-zip sweatshirt I had put on less than an 30 minutes earlier. This was the same sweatshirt that had to be washed on Monday after three hours of wear when I dropped butter-flavored movie popcorn on it, leaving greasy marks. It’s starting to feel like the sweatshirt is cursed. Or maybe yesterday’s popcorn marks were because I’m kind of a slob when left without adult supervision, and maybe today’s coffee dousing was the klutz gene kicking in again. Or an April Fools' Day prank from coffee overlords. Or just crazy luck.

The floor and furniture got a good hand wiping, and hours later, the faint aroma of coffee still lingers in the air and on my sleeve. It’s not unpleasant. It’s actually nicer than most of the fragranced candles I have.

After a work day where things got done and it felt good, it was my big return to the Tuesday night dance group. It was pleasant to be driving there after work in daylight under a sky that shifted to a magical blue-ish teal color that reminded me of paintings by Maxfield Parrish. So pretty, and so impossible to capture in a photo while driving. I really need a chauffeur so I can take photos out the car window while going places. Yesterday I missed some gorgeous soft fog photos while driving down a narrow country road.

Dance group tonight was challenging because I haven’t been in this one very long and I don’t know the dances yet. Missing six weeks of it definitely hasn’t helped. I’ve got some work to do. After arriving home, the April Fool's Day pranks continued on the technology front with the cable box needing to be reset. Again. It's been about two weeks, so I guess it's time. Welcome. Bienvenido. Bienvenue. Bad luck? April Fools' Day? Whatever. Either way, pound sand Comcast Xfinity.

random thoughts – Day 1,840 – (Monday) – more eggs and words

The David Sedaris show was hilarious, as expected, and as delivered each time I have seen him. It felt so good to laugh. My friends and I arrived in Keene early enough to walk around and choose a place to eat before getting into the pre-show book signing line. Half the time we were walking in the chilly air, we wondered if David Sedaris himself would be in a local eatery and if so, which one he might be at. We ended up in the Mexican restaurant next to the theater and chose a table near the window so we could keep watch. There were lots of dogs being walked in a Sunday evening in Downtown Keene.

Too slow with the camera.

Just a few minutes before the theater doors were supposed to open and while waiting for the check after a delicious meal, my friend and I whisper-yelled “that’s him, that’s him” as Sedaris approached and then walked by the restaurant in a flash of silver lace-up glossy oxfords, a red patterned baggy shorts/skirt piece, a long white shirt, and beautifully tailored black jacket. Unfortunately, instead of being inches from hand at the ready, my phone was jammed into my tiny purse and by the time I fumbled it out, unlocked it, and opened the camera, he had passed by our window. I barely got a photo of his back. We learned during the show the ensemble was the designer label Comme de Garcon. 

It was cold in the book signing line that eventually extended down the block behind us. We chose from the big selection of books and worried in the line we might say something ridiculous that will land us in a future show. When it was our turn, the three of us stood at the table and had a great chat with David while he signed and drew in our books. He asked if I had children, and my standard response of “No, I forgot to do that” popped out. The topic continued to David wondering why it’s always seemed ok to ask women that question, Bible names and how funny they would be today and how Methuselah would likely be called “Meth,” ways parents punished us as kids, and other random and fun tidbits.

After the show, we were able to exit quickly and get to the car. We were on the foggy roads headed to my friends’ house. This morning, it was still foggy, or maybe it was all over again. My friends had to work, and I waited until 9:00 to head home, thinking I could avoid some of the morning commuter traffic. The winding wooded roads looked mysterious and slightly creepy in the autumnal bare tree mood. There were still patches of snow.

It was a vacation day for me, and I briefly considered continuing up 495 to visit the beach, just because I could. Instead, I got practical and boring and the spontaneity was redirected to Market Basket instead and then home. Kiki was scarce. I yelled greetings and meowed and there was not a single Kiki syllable in response.

Egg and cottage cheese bake.

It was 5:00 and I was mixing eggs, cottage cheese, cheddar, spinach, tomato, and pepperoni for a version of what seems to be the new trend in baked egg  dishes before she showed herself. It seems I was being punished for having been gone for 24 hours. 

Kiki meowed at me from under the dining room table for the 15 minutes it took to mix the egg mess and it felt like forever. Once I sat on the couch, she  seemed to have forgiven me and came over for head rubs. My sweet baby girl. 

As for the egg dish – it was okay. It sounded a lot better in the recipe posted on Facebook than it tasted in my mouth. Maybe I can doctor it up the next time. 

random thoughts – Day 1,839 – (Sunday) – eggs and words

This morning I was finally back to the studio for dance practice. I hadn’t been there since early February due to snow cancellations and then the wrist thing. It went pretty well in that I remembered all the dances, but the wrist was very fatigued afterward. I understood the driving ban with every little twinge while en route to and from class.

After dance, there was a quick brunch at 873 Tavern. A veggie omelette with hash browns and toast hit the spot. The hash browns were extra crispy and delicious. 

Then, it was off to see my friends for a quick visit before we headed out to Keene, NH to see David Sedaris. After the tickets were bought for Keene, other shows were announced in the area on days that might have been more convenient for being up late (as in, not a Sunday night with work the next day). The same thing has happened to a colleague with concert tickets. It's definitely a thing. But you can't not buy the tickets for the certain event because you're holding out for hopes of a different date or location that doesn't exist yet. That can result in "missing the boat," as my parents used to say.

And in news of other writers who I love, I saw Saturday night that Margaret Renkl, whose work I adore, will be in my area in a couple weeks. I saw her speak at the Clarksville Writer's Conference (possibly the first one ever) while living in Tennessee. She will be at The Bull Run in Shirley for a brunch with the author event, and in another one of life’s cruel little tricks, it’s on a Sunday two weeks before our April dance event at exactly the same time we have practice. It was a brilliant flash of excitement (brunch with an author I admire!!) followed immediately by the dark sadness of it conflicting with a much earlier commitment for something I love. 

Instead of sleeping, I spent time trolling the Internet looking for other nearby appearances, but came up empty. In this case, I definitely cannot attend the brilliantly convenient location on the impossible date, so I am on high alert for other engagements. Fingers are crossed and I can do it on both hands now, so maybe that will double my chance of success. We'll see.

random thoughts – Day 1,838 – (Saturday) – out of the house

Today was the big day I left the house all by myself and was back out in the world. There were errands, an event to attend, and innocent fantasies about grocery shopping and visiting St. Vincent de Paul Thrift Shop.

The day kicked off with coffee like every other day. I was registered for a two-hour webinar with a resume coach that began at 10:00. There were five attendees from locations including New Jersey and Maryland, plus the coach. It was my third resume workshop in about as many weeks and each one has provided different helpful nuggets. At first, two hours seemed like it would be a long time, but it went by quickly.

After the webinar, there were two hours before the start of the event downtown. Pizza was extracted from the freezer and reheated for lunch. A product return was logged with Amazon, and I checked the hours for the preferred UPS drop-off and saw it closes at 1:30 on Saturday. Assuming, of course, I didn’t screw up the military time in which it was displayed. And why was it shown in military time? Sir, I don’t know, sir. Also, why was it spitting snow? 

The minute the car started I was greeted by the yellow “you gotta check something out” indicator. The last time that light was on by itself it was something with the gas cap and sensor. By the time I got to the UPS store to return the “elegant lace long swing Latin skirt” that was supposed to be for women but arrived in a child size version, the glow of the low tire pressure indicator dominated the instrument cluster. The driver front tire was showing 25 puny pounds of pressure, another was at 33, the other two were okay at 35. There was a stop at a gas station for air, because hey, it had been six glorious weeks without such a stop and clearly I was overdue. I accidentally overfilled one tire when I didn't hear the dinging sound.

Rainy day in downtown Lowell.

It felt a bit early, but from the gas station I went downtown for the event. The spitting snow had turned to rain, enough to take the umbrella from the car, but not heavy enough to use it. 

I looked in the window of the bakery but decided to not place myself in the path of that specific temptation and kept walking to the bookstore for different temptations. I hadn’t been in there for at least six weeks and things were different. There was a vinyl record vendor tucked in the back area where the used books used to be and the used books are now in a different nook. It's a small shop, but I still find it a little overwhelming when I'm not there for something specific. 

My 2025 4x4 raffle prize.

The event was the "Four by Four for Education" at The Brush Art Gallery and Studios. I checked in and a card with my name went into the bucket. There was plenty of time to preview the art on the shelves and note several that I liked, and chat with people, many of whom I hadn’t seen in ages. I was number 30 in the lottery draw and chose a mixed media piece with silver, pearl, and turquoise. 

The beauty of this event is how quick it is. It took only 45 minutes for the names to be pulled and the canvases to be chosen, but at the end of it I was exhausted. As I prepared to leave, I calculated I could home on the couch settling in for a nap by 3:15. Grocery shopping was off the schedule. 

Even with a stop at Family Dollar for coffee creamer, which expanded to include chips, popcorn, jelly beans, and mascara, the timeline estimate was close. I waited about an hour to enjoy the nap, finishing the series The Lady's Companion on Netflix. Now I can look forward to going to bed.

random thoughts – Day 1,837 – (Friday) – household hazards

For the last day of being on the driving restriction, my arm was letting itself be made aware of. The scar is really sensitive, the arm feels tired and overworked from the shoulder to my fingers, my wrist is larger than it used to be and my metal bracelet watch doesn’t fit right now. There are twinges from my pinky finger down the outer edge of my arm and in my thumb. The body that the arm is attached to also feels tired. I keep reminding myself it was just six weeks and a couple days that the wrist was broken, but dang it feels like a lot longer.

Dangerous furniture.

Tonight, a new layer was added. I bent over to plug in the phone charger into the power strip from a different angle than usual. When I stood up, I hit the top of my head on the very pointy corner of the bookcase. I saw stars. It hurt like crazy. Then, in less than five minutes, it was like it never happened, which was okay with me. 

There are certain challenges with a lifetime of being a klutz. Everyday household items can become lethal weapons and walking into things happens so frequently, it barely registers in my brain. A day or two later, I’ll being rolling back the mental tape, trying to recall what happened to leave the bruise on the knee, the hip, or the arm. They could (and do) come from almost anything really – the doorway, corner of the table/buffet/bookcase, underside of the desk.

I once punched myself in the face pulling the blankets up while in bed and had a bruise for days. Decades ago, I pulled a groin muscle moving a full case of paper with my foot. Earlier this week I dropped a metal spatula which landed on-edge on the top of my foot, and nearly burned both hands removing a bowl of soup from the microwave. 

Really, almost everything is a potential danger. It’s feeling like it’s time to start working on some bubble wrap outfits and inflatable furniture.

random thoughts – Day 1,836 – (Thursday) – random retail memories

Sometimes random memories explode into consciousness without warning. Recently, it was one involving a job I had while in college. It was a minimum wage gig at Child World, which was a toy department store that disappeared when Toy "R" Us won the toy store war.

I was a cashier at Child World (aka "Wild World" because we like nicknames), and like my high school cashier job at DeMoulas, we also go to straighten the sales floor. 

It's probably obvious that straightening a toy store sales floor is more fun than a grocery store. At DeMoulas, we had to stack the cans and jars two high and two rows deep and face the labels to the front. The dreaded baby food wall had a million tiny glass jars and it didn't take much for one or more of them to launch themselves onto the floor and smash to smithereens. At Child World, there were balls to toss, light sabers and bats to fight with, and all kinds of everything fun to goof around with while putting things back where they belonged.

When working night shifts at Child World, I was eventually assigned the closing task of going upstairs to the office to set up the cash drawers for the next day. The task itself was okay, but it meant I wasn't downstairs playing with the toys, and the office working conditions were not the greatest. The manager would also be in the office, seated in a chair to my left.

While he prepared the deposit of the day's cash and I set up the register drawers for the next day, he would edge his chair over closer to mine. Soon, his leg (and sometimes his hand) would be touching my leg and I would shift my chair away from his. And he would move his again. Eventually, I’d run out of space and would end up wedged between the office wall and his chair. The entire time the cat and mouse game was happening, there was also a whole lot of praying for the assistant manager to get upstairs to the office. 

I was a 19-year-old college student, living at home, raised to not question authority. It was many years before I cultivated the courage to say “knock that shit off.” I don’t remember there being an employee handbook with a section on what to do when the creepy store manager who is twice your age tries to get handsy, so my solution was to find a new job, which was probably the solution for most females of the time. I found safety a few doors down the concrete sidewalk at a shoe store. My time at the job with the creepy boss may not have lasted long, but the icky memory still lingers.

random thoughts – Day 1,835 – (Wednesday) – camaraderie and potato

The end is near for work life as I have known it for the past nearly-nine years. The merger is on the horizon. Colleagues have been notified of having or not having roles post-merger, and lately, every project, every once regular fundraiser or event or gathering has overtones of “this is the last time I’ll [fill in the blank].” I suppose it’s better than not knowing it’s the last time for something and having it brutally yanked away without warning, and in some cases it's a relief. There are some tasks I deal with that I can't wait to be free of.

In some respects, the looming finality is bringing people together. It’s possible that being no longer certain we’ll see person A from team B regularly is making us more deliberate and intentional in our interactions. Or maybe it's just me. 

For years, our IT team has organized and hosted the Baked Potato Day and raffle, a fundraiser benefitting Sun Santa. The team provides baked white and sweet potatoes and a variety of toppings and for $5 we would gather, load our potatoes with our individual choices of toppings and socialize. 

Loaded baked sweet potato. 

Today was our last ever Baked Potato Day, so it had extra meaning as we moved down the assembly line and stood in the Community Room saying, “dang, this is the last ever Baked Potato Day.” And it was the best baked sweet potato I have ever loaded with an obscene amount of shredded and melted cheeses, broccoli, crispy onions and bacon bits. It was mildly disappointing that I didn't win any of the raffle baskets loaded with grocery gift cards or lottery scratch tickets, because I had some plans for those winnings. 

One of the departments in my building started hosting a Wednesday gathering at the end of the day, and not going feels like a missed opportunity to connect with people with whom I won’t share the bond of common employment for much longer. Today I had the chance to chat with people I have only connected with via email or not at all and it was great. And sadly, it won’t be long before it might require a lot more effort to connect with this group, mostly because I'm not always very good at that.

Inside The Old Court.

Pub of the Month, a once-regular gathering at a local establishment which evaporated during the pandemic, has been resurrected. Tonight was the March edition at The Old Court in downtown Lowell. The place was crowded with my purely unscientific breakdown of 90% bankers and 10% unsuspecting innocent civilians. And every conversation carried with it a sense of finality.  Will I see so-and-so from branch administration again? I don’t know, but it was sure a blast seeing her tonight. And there was regret that in nearly nine years, I’ve had too few conversations with her and too many other colleagues at a handful of events.

Maybe it’s just me and the camaraderie was always there and I just wasn’t part of it or forgot to pay attention. Maybe it is just recently amplified due to facing the finality of work life as we have known it. In any event, I’ll take the comfort of colleagues wherever it is offered. Change is coming, we are in the same boat, and meeting up regularly feels good. It’s everything I had hoped for when I started working with this bank. It’s unfortunate it took nine years and an acquisition for me to finally find it.

random thoughts – Day 1,834 – (Tuesday) – excuses and progress

Taking on undertones of green.

The weather continues to be a hodgepodge. Yesterday there was some snow and then rain. The wind seems to be alternating between lead roles and cameo appearances in each day’s production. Today saw sunshine and clouds and the grass in the backyard is starting to take on undertones of green. 

On Sunday, I ventured outside to empty the accumulated coffee grounds in the yard. The nitrogen helps plants. Or something. There was a weird hole dug at the base of the rosebush. It’s much larger than the crop of holes dug by the squirrel. I filled it with the potting soil from a flower pot that was wintering on the porch, and tossed some of the coffee grounds around the area. 

Yard waste collections have already begun, but I’m still delaying the start in my yard. The wrist is still healing, the weather is still too chilly, it’s best to let the pollinators rest a bit longer – spin the wheel of excuses (powered by the hamster on the wheel in my brain) and win a prize every time (basically, a new excuse).

The recent declutter/shred old files activity has had an unintended side effect that isn’t exactly feeling like progress. The process of liberating documents from a cardboard box has led to the creation of piles in new and exciting locations including on the couch, the ottoman, and on top of the cardboard box they used to be inside. The box now holds some recycling stuff and will make its way out to the big bin. Eventually.  Soonish. At least by pickup day next Monday. This is the philosophical wheel of excuses in action with gems including “what’s the rush?” and “what if you change your mind about getting rid of that?” And so it goes.

random thoughts – Day 1,833 – (Monday) – earworm supper

Food is one of my reliable go-to topics. I eat multiple times most days, so there is almost always something for me to babble on about, which is a relief when there isn’t anything substantive or more interesting happening. It’s a safe topic compared to religions, politics, or world events, unless I mention my love of anchovies, pineapple on pizza, or breakfast cereal with orange juice instead of milk. In those times, especially in real life, the oven mitts come off and people are ready to throw down. But usually, the stakes are pretty low and nobody’s knickers end up in a twist because I said I ate pineapple and black olives on a pizza.

Today, we have another food tale starring my supper. It’s a love story of sorts. My sister and her friend introduced me to my supper item when I was in high school and they were in junior high school, but we might have been younger. It was during our days of being latchkey kids, unattended for several hours every day after school until the parents got home from work.  

In our youth, we experimented in the kitchen, concocting disgusting combinations to be consumed on a dare. We fought and broke things, then came together to attempt repairs and a cover-up. Our weekday independence spilled over to weekends and we were fully able to feed ourselves as needed and start supper for Mom as needed when we got a call from her to start the Hamburger Helper or the Rice-a-Roni.

One day, Sis and one of her many friends were in our kitchen with the gas stove going. My older sister interrogation elicited the information that they were making grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It sounded completely gross to me, and back then, I was not one to hold back from torturing my siblings for sport, so I told them how revolting it sounded. Somehow, they harnessed their super-persuasive powers to convince/cajole/dare me to try it. As much as I hated having to admit it, they were right and it was delicious.

Grilled PB&J is now on the short-list for when I need something easy, comforting, quick, and delicious. I think of my sister every time I make one. She had the option to tell me to get lost and withhold the greatness of this particular fried sandwich, but she’s kind and generous and shared the delicacy with her supremely annoying older sister.

Yum!

It was gray, snowy, rainy, and icky today, and grilled PB&J exploded into my consciousness after work. The perfectly sized frying pan was called into service, and in a few minutes, dinner was ready. 

As an added bonus, while I was spreading the peanut butter onto the bread, I suddenly remembered the annoying song the Tennessee boyfriend and his young son used to spontaneously sing, usually in a moving car when I had no chance of escape – “Peanut Butter Jelly Time.” You’re welcome. Now we can all be miserable. If you don't know it, you are lucky, but it's available online.

As annoying as the earworm was, it was a mild distraction from the ever present, recently extra loud and high pitched tinnitus, which was a bonus. And it didn’t diminish the crispy bread, warm filling, and cozy deliciousness of the supper sandwich. Grilled PB&J for the win. Thank you Sis.

random thoughts – Day 1,832 – (Sunday) – health and records

While recently sorting through and discarding paper artifacts (clutter), interesting things (crap) were found. Some of the medical paperwork was for long-ago, completely forgotten ailments and incidents. Wrist x-rays in Tennessee? Why? What happened? No clue.

Health artifacts.

I still have the hospital and insurance paperwork from 2011 when I broke my leg. That exciting event was the tri-fecta of first hospital stay, first broken bones, and first non-dental surgery, with total expenses around $50,000. It was also the first time it felt like I got my money’s worth with health insurance.

The paperwork was there from 2008 when I fainted in Los Angeles at a music festival. That autumn day, the public safety officials on site made me go in an ambulance to the hospital to be checked out, despite my insistence it was likely a low blood pressure incident that would be corrected by the time I got there. “No thanks” was not an option, and it was around $3,300 in ambulance and emergency room charges for the medical team to finally conclude it was most likely a drop in blood pressure. No shit. I said that the minute I regained consciousness, after already having enjoyed a lifetime of fainting and the cardiac tests that led to the low BP diagnosis. But nope, the insurance company and I got to share the privilege of paying lots of money for an answer I already knew. The $900 ambulance ride might have been worth it if there was a souvenir map and I saw some movie start homes, but that wasn't the case.

Throughout the courses of my days, most injuries have been on my left side. The only right-side injury I can recall is an episode of carpal tunnel syndrome that led to me becoming a lefty on lots of regular, everyday actions.

A freshman year cheerleading tryout injury resulted in a torn left hamstring and being unable to complete the tryout, but once I was healed and got back into the ballet studio, that leg was much more flexible. Two fingers on my left hand (plus my chin) were split open and needed stitches after tripping on the walk while rushing into the house with my first blue ribbon in a photography club slide competition. My left ankle was twisted and ended up swollen for days after I stepped in a hole while taking photos in a cemetery.

There was an x-ray bill from Tennessee for my left hip. Why? What?  I don’t remember, but that same hip is doing weird things now (again, apparently). When I worked at Kohl’s, I slammed my left foot on a display setup and ended up limping for the rest of the day and in an x-ray lab after work. And of course, there is the latest broken left wrist, for which insurance paperwork and office billing statements are still to arrive.

I’ve always known I had a high level of clumsiness, but seeing a series of ailments laid out in insurance and medical records is a bit alarming. And these were just the things in one of several folders, and only ailments for which medical attention was sought. It’s interesting to me that most injuries have been on the left side.

The mystery of the left sided ailments lingers. The next time I can’t sleep it’s highly likely I’ll be attending a late-night session of Google Medical School looking for root cause weaknesses that can lead to a tendency for injuries on one side.

random thoughts – Day 1,831 – (Saturday) – entertainment date book

Some dates have a history of fun activities, and I love how Facebook memories keeps track of them for me. In the early morning hours of March 22, 2009, after leaving Dave Attell’s show at Zanie’s in Nashville, I declared on Facebook, “Wicked funny good time.” I barely remember it now, and might not have at all if not for the memories feature. As for Dave Attell, I haven’t heard his name in ages, but an Internet search tells me he is still out there doing standup. I wonder if I would still find him as funny as I used to.

St. Urho dinner, Saima Park, 2015.

Back in 2015, I went with family to a St. Urho dinner at Saima Park in Fitchburg and we were in a decorated hat contest. I remember the dinner and contest and decorating the hats before we went, and not just because there are photos. In 2018, there was a fundraiser event at a gallery in Lowell, followed immediately by the reception for a show in another gallery in Lowell that I had photography in. Gallery back-to-back events are fun – park once, and be a social butterfly in multiple settings. 

Last year on this date, friends and I went to see Richard Thompson in Derry, New Hampshire. It was my second or third time seeing him, but my friends had seen him dozens of times.

Today, the final Saturday of broken wrist home incarceration, was spent at home. There were multiple events happening in different cities including an art reception, a photographer’s talk, some craft fairs, and this year's edition of the St. Urho dinner, but not for me. There is still no driving for me, but at least I’m in the home stretch of it. I practiced dances, then puttered around the house. Attended an online writing webinar. Did laundry and changed the sheets. The wrist that has me grounded alternates between feeling pretty ok and more mobile and frustratingly stiff.

The incision scar forced its way into my consciousness with sensitivity that amplified when I bumped it on the edge of the mattress while tucking in the clean sheets. Ow! It remained extra sensitive for the rest of the day and into the night and all I could think of was Harry Potter and his occasionally painful scar.  

The Residence, Netflix.

Unlike some previous years, tonight was not a night of live comedic or musical entertainment, but that is okay. Not every day can or should be a carnival, and there is a live entertainment event lined up for next weekend. 

Tonight, The Residence on Netflix kept me quite occupied and entertained. It stars Uzo Aduba, who I first saw as Suzanne “Crazy Eyes” in Orange is the New Black. She was great in Orange, and I love, love, love, her in the White House comedic whodunit as the brilliant and quirky detective Cordelia Cupp. There is nothing like a well-written lighthearted murder romp on a solo Saturday night.

random thoughts – Day 1,830 – (Friday) –rain, wind, cheese

Kiki, morning
meow machine.

The rain woke me up early this morning and by 5:00 I gave up trying to get back to sleep and got up. Kiki, who had been downstairs meowing her morning song, seemed puzzled when I got up. This accelerated her morning hijinks of running to the general area where I am, meowing once or twice, and scurrying away. This happens three or four times while I make the morning coffee, with another performance as I brush my teeth before bed.

The rain stopped during the morning, and in the early afternoon the wind came roaring back with intent. It blew one of my neighbor’s bins into her parked car, and the noise startled me right out of my desk chair. Later, it knocked the same bin over, spilling the contents into her back yard.

As the day transitioned from 5:00 end-of-workday to 5:01 start-of-the-weekend, I started feeling tired, chilly, and my back felt sensitive and crawly like it does when I’m sick. Again. This seems to be my recent weekend status. I will tolerate it (grudgingly) this weekend, but next weekend the doctor’s wrist-healing driving ban will be lifted, and I’ll be mighty miffed if I feel cruddy again then.

Grilled cheese comfort.

Time was spent before supper on resume refinements and looking at job postings. Ugh. This was not in the plan that was finalized just last summer. It was supposed to be two-and-a-half more years at the current job, working and saving for retirement. By then, the car would be paid off, the new furnace would be paid off, and the outstanding mortgage balance would be thousands of dollars lower. 

So much for plans.

After the resume work, it was grilled cheese for some much-needed comfort food for supper – quick, predictable, and tasty. There was the extra treat of some pepperoni slipped into the sandwich, but not enough to make an impact. Lesson learned. Use more pepperoni next time. And plans are good, but they can blow up, so be ready to pivot.

random thoughts – Day 1,829 – (Thursday) – shredded

After a supper of homemade vegetable soup enhanced with a can of diced tomatoes with green chilis and topped with shredded cheddar, I settled in for a chore involving different shredding. The kitchen trash basket was brought to the living room and the paper shredder head set over the top of it. A pile of paperwork from a decorative bin on the counter was brought over.

Shredding.

There was sorting and reviewing of the heap of papers which turned out to be mostly gas and electric bills plus various statements and inserts. Before I bought a file cabinet for the little home office, paid bills had the payment date noted on them and were tucked into the bin on the counter in case the payment ever needed to be verified quickly. Most were dated from 2019 to 2022, but some were from as early as 2017. 

The historical nature of bills is fascinating. Well, to me. I got to see how low my cable/internet, gas, electric, and cell phone charges used to be. For ages, I have had this idea that the details of rates and usage and random notes and thoughts on various sheets of paper might be helpful for a novel that I will likely never write. 

Every few years or if company is coming, whichever comes first, I sit down with the shredder and get rid of the paper piles. Yes, I know about electronic bills, but no thanks. I don't mind the act of reviewing bills, making notes on the paper bill, and paying them online. And yes, there are shred days hosted by credit unions and banks (including the one I have worked for just shy of nine years) but I am either unavailable on the designated day or I forget about it until it’s over.

The shredder box in which the apparatus lives 99% of the time, says “light use.” The instructions note ten sheets, which I initially thought meant ten sheets at a time, but it usually overheats and declares a recess after about ten passes of one or two sheets. It also has a tendency to accordion pleat some of the strips inside and jam itself up. Then there is a period of picking the compacted bits out with a toothpick. 

Shredded.

By the time I stopped, 80% of the original pile was in shreds in the trash bag and the rest was sorted and set aside to go into the file cabinet where more recent files live. There are two benefits to the seldom done task. First, a mountain of paper disappears with next to zero physical exertion. And yes, I recognize that there wouldn't be a pile if I tossed the stuff right away, but that has never gone well the few times I did so. Second, it’s meditative. Feed in a sheet or two, listen to the whir of the shredding mechanism. Repeat.  Periodically, push the collected shreds down to compact them, end when the pile is gone or the trash basket is full, whichever comes first. 

Sometimes, I think the shreds would be great for papier mâché, but I haven’t done that for decades and I really don’t need to start any more hobbies that will likely be abandoned right around the time I finally accumulate all the materials and supplies and start to get good at it.

This is turning out to be the week to shed some stuff. Wednesday had an Epilepsy Foundation pickup of a box of books, a bag of clothes, and a box of housewares. Tonight, a stack of papers was turned into shreds for the trash. I hope the momentum continues.

random thoughts – Day 1,828 – (Wednesday) –felt like old times

I got up with a fresh energy this morning. The sun was shining. The air was crisp. There was a plan. 

A colleague picked me up on her way in to the office. I hadn’t been onsite since February 12 and it was starting to feel like forever. It felt a tiny bit like one of my favorite days from age six until 22 -- the first day of school.

The day’s schedule included our team meeting, Medicare informational webinar, delivery to an art gallery, chocolate chip cookie competition in the sales suite, and an end of day social hour in finance and accounting. 

It was nice to see people. The prolonged broken wrist remote work was beginning to lose some of the luster of peace and quiet and taking on an undercurrent of solitary confinement and it was nice to get out of the house for a day. The team meeting was cancelled due to an absence of updates, but the rest of the day proceeded pursuant to the entries on my Outlook calendar.

It felt like the pre-pandemic times. All the folks hired during and after the pandemic have heard about the many food and social events we used to have and are finally getting a chance to experience some of it. Next week is the popular baked potato fundraiser. Pretty soon it will be the final gathering of all of us. That one will be bittersweet. Part food and beverage, part games and prizes, part funeral. 

The Medicare seminar was at least the third one I’ve attended and the convoluted crap of Parts A, B, C, and D all feel like a big F-you, but it’s finally starting to make sense. I still hate the whole idea of it. 

The canal, 1:14 pm.

The treat after suffering through the webinar was a walk outdoors with a couple colleagues. Two of us needed to deliver our four-by-four art pieces for the upcoming fundraiser event and three of us set forth. From The Brush Gallery, we swung by City Hall so I could drop off my city census form. We crossed the canal and proceeded down Merrimack Street and Kirk and walked a bit downtown. 

The cookie competition was amazing. There were 19 banker bakers who baked chocolate chip cookies which were lined up with numbers. Bankers from the downtown campus swarmed the suite hosting the event. We chatted, we tasted cookies, we voted. Winners for “best tasting” and “best looking cookie” were announced later in the afternoon. The team members who organized it and those who baked did a great job.

The finance and accounting social hour events have been happening for a couple weeks, but I haven’t been on site to attend. Today was a great chance to spend time with folks I haven’t seen in a long time and some I had never met before today. There were beverages, tortilla chips, salsa, and a bucket-sized bowl of cookies leftover from the competition. It was a great day to be onsite.

random thoughts – Day 1,827 – (Tuesday) – outdoors and in

The snow is gone from the backyard and the squirrels were frolicking and digging random holes. It seems they are good at burying things and less good about remembering where. It must be what I look like when I misplace something. Today was a good day in the sense that I didn’t misplace anything and didn’t have to run around like a backyard squirrel looking for it. 

Evening sky, 3-18-25, 7:09 pm.

It might have been nice weather based on the numbers of squirrels and birds in the yard. Except for trying to get a picture of the pinkish evening sky from the side deck, I didn’t really have a reason to go outside and find out, so I didn’t. 

When Moose and Winston were around, I was outside several times throughout the day and night as they stretched their little doggy legs and did their outdoor activities. Now, it feels weird to go and stand the yard by myself. I feel like a doofus just standing there not watching and talking to a dog or two and I’m not really a sit on the stoop by myself person. I need something to do. 

Later in the season, it will be easy to take a quick break and go outside to pull a few weeds, but it’s too early and chilly for that still. Based on a few articles I’ve read, it’s too early to clean up the flower beds, because the pollinators are still winter sheltering and aren’t quite ready yet. One article suggested mid- to late-April for flower bed cleanup, which works for me in terms of delaying it, but it removes a reason to be outside.

Sometimes I wonder if other people jump through 27 mental hoops first, or if they just boldly go and stand outside their homes. I don’t think I was like this in Tennessee, but in my neighborhood there, the houses were further apart and mine was set back from the road, and if I stood in the yard and pretended to be a scarecrow, nobody would see anyway.

The outside will wait and for now, the focus is indoors. There has been studying of the contents of cabinets to see what can be donated away. Do I really need so many plates and bowls? Probably not, but some of them were Mummu’s, including items she told me were wedding gifts when she married in 1941. Much of the stuff I own was handed down from family elders and there are sentimental attachments, making it nearly impossible to ever downsize.

Mummu's porcelain shoes.

Once, as I struggled with getting rid of a pair of porcelain knick-knack shoes with chipped flowers and leaves that Mummu had given to me, Mom said, “you do realize she gave those to you because she was getting rid of them, right?” Well, no, I hadn’t seen it that way. I thought it was because she saw me admire them 1,000 times when I was a kid and they sat on her dresser. Oh, and maybe she was getting rid of them. 

Decades later, the porcelain pumps are still around, and now sit on my dresser. Maybe some day I will let them go. Or maybe I can be buried with them.

random thoughts – Day 1,826 – (Monday) – five years

This date, five yeas ago, was my first day of remote work during the COVID-19 pandemic. There had been a brief stretch of part-time remote work in 2011 when I lived in Tennessee and was recuperating from the broken leg. Working half-days on a laptop from my couch, leg propped up with pillows, was a short-time situation with clear start and finish dates, and helped preserve my income and my sanity. The house was abuzz with visits from the home physical therapist and roller derby teammates who brought prepared meals and helped with laundry. I was tired from exercises and medication and working. It didn't prepare me for 2020.

The first work from home space.

The 2020 work-from-home situation was initially thought to be short-term, maybe “a couple weeks.” I left the office at the end of the workday on March 16 armed with a notepad, some printer proof sheets for the annual report, a couple highlighters, my favorite blue Bic stick pen, and the snacks from my desk. That evening, there was some clearing and rearranging to accommodate working from the dining room table.

The fully remote pandemic scenario lasted for 18 months, and mostly, I liked it. It felt like an adventure, at least initially. 

The pandemic legitimized my hermit-like tendencies. The plentiful solitude of my youth and the many long stretches between partners as an adult prepared me well for the big shutdown that my more sociable friends and family members found excruciating. The years spent with partners who failed to pull their own weight had taught me self-sufficiency. I was pretty sure I’d be okay. Not having to deal with society for a while was the icing on the already potentially glorious cake.

Five years later, life is different than it used to be. Not necessarily worse, and some things are better. There have been valuable lessons and surprises. For one thing, I never thought I wanted to work from home, but once I was doing it, I loved it. I learned how much better I function in a quiet environment, which was a huge revelation.

Dedicated office space.

Working from the dining room table was physically uncomfortable, and having work be the first thing I saw in the morning and the last thing each night became psychologically painful. The purchase of a desk and chair let the weird space off the kitchen that never quite caught on as a coffee nook be reborn as a cozy and functional office space. At the end of the day, I can step away from the office and be done with it, a big improvement. 

When the work schedule shifted to hybrid in September 2021, I got the best of both worlds – time to work in blessed peace and quiet and time to be downtown in a noisy office with colleagues.

For five years I have written every day, which has kept me disciplined and sane. I dance more, sleep more, enjoy cooking more, and drink less alcohol. It’s been interesting.