random thoughts – Day 1,781 – (Friday) – gray with pastries

Gray morning downtown.

It was grayish when I got up and drove to work. Gray has been a popular sky color recently and I barely noticed. It's also a popular color in my wardrobe.

The streets and ground were wet. The temperature was above freezing, so there was some melting of what remained of the snow from the other day. For some reason, the morning routine was slightly “off.” The showering and hair washing, drying, and styling took place, but I almost forgot to play Wordle while drinking coffee. I almost forgot to check my email.  At no time before leaving the house was the weather forecast checked. I just put on the coat that was on the kitchen chair since Wednesday and left.

 During the day, the sound of rain pinged on the skylights. Or did it? Was that today or the other day? Or both? It’s hard to keep the days straight sometimes. What was a certainty was that for most of the day, I was the only occupant on the fourth floor. It was peaceful. A Teams chat message alerted me that there were leftover pastries in the fridge that a colleague had brought in on Thursday. It’s pretty easy to guess where that information took me.

Pastries!

The Purple Carrot pastry box was extracted from the fridge. A cup of coffee was brewed. A layered brownie treat was cut in half and eaten. Then half an apple berry pastry. A colleague came and had a small bit. Throughout the morning and into the early afternoon, the pastries were eliminated a fraction at a time, mostly by me. It was an effort to exercise restraint, but I’m not very good at that where pastries and candies are concerned. Besides, at 5:00, I would be chucking them into the trash. They would turn to rock over the weekend.

At 4:15, it was extra gloomy. The pavement and concrete sidewalk crossing the frozen canal were glossy and wet. The weather widget on my work monitor showed 36 degrees with a raindrop and a snowflake. A “snow statement” special weather advisory had been issued at 3:22 pm. Snow is expected between 6 and 9 pm north of route 2. A map put Lowell in the “mild” range and southern New Hampshire in the “light to moderate” range until 8:00 and the time scale ends.

It was raining on the ride home, but a couple hours later, the snow arrived on schedule with fat, fluffy flakes. They got smaller and steadier and piled up. In a couple hours, a couple inches of wetter heavier snow were on the ground. There might be a beach body shovel workout in my morning, which might help counteract the pastries and the pizza had for supper.

random thoughts – Day 1,780 – (Thursday) – sharing space

Twice in my life I have shared longish-term living space with someone to whom I wasn't married or who wasn’t a family member. Both times, there were some challenges that, to this day, make me glad I live alone.

In my college years, I spent one semester at Chamberlayne Junior College in Boston. I lived in a dorm on Commonwealth Avenue (“Comm Ave” to the locals), in a building that was a converted hotel. There was a marble lobby and a sweeping marble staircase, and some of the rooms had closed up beautiful fireplaces with gorgeous mantels.

I shared a room with Monica, a classmate from Colombia, South America. We were each initially assigned to other roommates. I never even met my original roommate, who, before I arrived, moved in with her boyfriend who went to Emerson College. Monica decided after a couple days that she didn’t like her assigned roommate, Janet from Cape Cod, because she had blue streaks in her hair and Monica said she was weird. Because I was paying for a double room, I couldn’t refuse when Monica asked to move into my temporarily single room.

Monica drove me nuts. She would wash her underpants in the sink in our room (not a problem), and hang them to dry in the room (not quite a problem) and leave them hanging, adding a new pair each day (a problem for me), until her drawer was finally empty and they all came down. Her friends were worse, though. I would arrive at our room after classes or my job and her friends would be sprawled on my bed and sitting at or on my desk, usually doing lines of coke (which Monica often complained was far inferior to what she was used to in her home town of Cali). Meanwhile, Monica’s bed and desk were pristine and unsullied. By mid-semester, things had gotten pretty tense, and Monica had actually befriended her original roommate and moved back to her original assigned room.

My new dorm roommate was Liliana, a new student who arrived at mid semester and was also from Colombia. She was studying English for the remainder of the semester and tried to teach me Spanish (unsuccessfully). We got along great and it was a much better situation than with Monica. We were both quiet and respectful and my desk was no longer covered in drug residue. Liliana made me sing "La Cucaracha" every night before bed.

My Tennessee house.

Decades later, in Tennessee, I had a house, and a year or so later, a housemate. We were dating, and he asked to move into my house after a change in his housing situation. He suggested a rent amount (which he often failed to pay) and I rearranged some of my stuff for his stuff to fit.

Tennessee dude had the idea that what was mine was his for the taking and one day, the hand mirror that I used every day disappeared from the bathroom. He had taken it to (and left it at) his art class because, in his words, I “never used it,” which he probably thought because after it was used each morning, it went back under the sink. 

Other things disappeared during the time he lived with me, including a couple of the good knives, likely left in discarded pizza boxes; my silver skull ring with yellow citrine eyes, which he had often admired and playfully (or maybe not) said he would steal; and my favorite sweater that Mummu had knit for me which was in the laundry basket awaiting a special hand wash (I am still peeved about that one after all these years).

While doing his laundry, he spilled a bunch of bleach on my favorite jeans that were in the laundry area and left them there, never mentioning it. I discovered it after the bleach had eaten holes in the denim, and I ended up cutting them into shorts.

More than once, the doors were left open on every kitchen cabinet. The first time it happened, I thought the place had been ransacked. He would often leave the front door unlocked, and one day, I came home and the door was open. Not open just a crack, but wide open and visible from the street, and he wasn’t home. Afraid I was walking into a robbery situation, I braced for the worst, but luckily, it was just another case of his carelessness.  

It was a relief when we broke up and he moved out. My stress level went way down, along with the electric and grocery bills. Since then, I have joked that my ideal cohabitation situation would be either separate wings of a large house, or separate houses. It's probably not a joke, though. 

random thoughts – Day 1,779 – (Wednesday) – snow and pizza

Downtown after the snow.

Wednesday arrived with more snow and after I brewed the coffee and dressed, I went outside to rearrange it. It was a couple inches, but it was the light fluffy stuff again which was a blessing. It took only 15 minutes to clear the front steps, back steps, and a path to the car.

The drive to work featured trees and the steelwork on the Bridge Street bridge edged in snow. The streets downtown were sort of cleared and slightly slushy. The sidewalks were cleared and slightly slippery.  

The sun played hide-and-seek throughout the day and the temperature climbed to the high 30s, so much of the new stuff melted away. A quick walk outside at noontime was effective for clearing the head. 

Lunch was BiBiGo microwave steamed dumplings, tossed into the work bag before realizing it is Lunar New Year today. It’s a pretty good lunch for under $4 and ready in under three minutes. And the plastic tray inside is great for art and craft projects that need small amounts of paint or to hold small quantities of beads. Double win!

Pizza party for one.

After work, there was a bankers meetup at The Old Court. It was nice to be out amongst colleagues and be able to talk in the shorthand that comes with the shared experiences and environment. 

At home afterward, Kiki greeted me with meows. She either missed me and was greeting me, or was annoyed with me and scolding me. Or a combination. She's been becoming more vocal and regularly graces me with her running commentary and narration.

There was a pizza delivery from the preferred pizza purveyor to use the $4 off coupon that was expiring today. It was a hot, fresh, delicious pineapple and black olive pizza for the win. All for me. And still lots more of it for the rest of the week. 

random thoughts – Day 1,778 – (Tuesday) – windy and nameless

This is not an official report on the wind, just my potentially distorted perception, but it seems that January 2025 has been the absolute windiest month I can recall. Today the wind seemed extra blustery. Mid-morning, it was accompanied by blowing, swirling snow.

The roar of the wind, almost always accompanied by the rattling of storm windows, was enhanced by some new sounds. There were hours of the sounds of various neighbor’s trash bins rolling and crashing. At one point, one of the recycle bins from the house next door hit the side of their house several times before it pivoted and rolled a third of the way down the paved driveway. Later, the wind blew it back up the driveway and into the yard. When it crashed into an overturned metal can, the big green bin tipped over and spilled its contents all over the yard. In front of the house at the edge of the road, two empty red trash bins were blown over. Across the street, three more trash bins, were blown over on their sides. I guess it was a good thing that trash was picked up Monday. Surprisingly, my own bins managed to stay put.

Inside the small home office, the constant wind, along with a couple other things also beyond my control, was grating on my nerves. An old song says “They Call the Wind Mariah,” but I was calling it lots of other things.

Soup with no name.

The wind and stress called for comfort food, which today (like most days) is soup. As I was combining a couple frozen blocks of brownish soup in a pan to heat for lunch, I wondered if it was vegetable soup, or chicken, or ham, or something else. None of the soups I make uses a recipe and they lack names. If anyone asks, it’s usually a list of ingredients. Today it was mystery soups with rice and beans and veggies plus fresh shredded cabbage and broccoli. Nameless and delicious. 

And suddenly, my head was dancing around with “soup with no name” to the tune of “Horse with No name” by America. The earworm of the day was one line, “I’ve been through a winter with a soup with no name.” Not my favorite songs by any stretch, but it beats the windy Mariah song.

random thoughts – Day 1,777 – (Monday) – unusual usual day

Cool sun effect.

As I poured another cup of coffee around 8:00 this morning, the sun rose over the backyard shed. It was bright and I decided to take a picture. There were some cool colored flares in the camera and I spent the next few minutes taking a bunch of pictures of this flare effect.

Logging in for work was normal, regular, and routine. No surprises, no aggravation. Later, there was our regular Monday morning online meeting. 

During the Zoom meeting, there was a rumbling vibration in the office floor beneath my feet and the glass jars on a shelving unit in the office were all rattling. The meeting on the screen seemed to move in normal time while the rumbling under my feet felt like it was running at a slower speed. My best guess was there was a big truck idling outside, but there was no truck.

I almost interrupted a colleague to ask if they felt anything weird, but I’ve been trying to be more mindful and not do that. When they were done speaking, I had forgotten about the rumble thing, which is why the interrupting thing happens.

Earthquake!

After the call, I learned the rumbling was an earthquake around the New Hampshire-Maine border. And I thought the cool sun flare thing would be the remarkable thing of the day. This was an unusual usual day.

Many years ago, while I was in San Francisco for a conference there was an earthquake. The hotel I was in had put notices under the door alerting guests about high winds that were expected and that the building might feel like it was swaying and that was normal. When I felt the building moving later that night, I figured it was the wind, but the next morning I learned it had been an earthquake. 

Today, sitting on a ground floor level in a different part of the country during an earthquake was a different sensation than that time on a high floor of a San Francisco hotel.

I checked the basement for any fresh weirdness and was glad to find nothing unusual. The rest of the day was much calmer than the suspended animation time warp of the earthquake event. The afternoon felt like the morning was a million years earlier.

random thoughts – Day 1,776 – (Sunday) – sunday chilling

Some days there isn’t too much going on. This isn’t a bad thing.

It was sunny and warm enough for some snow melt. I left the house with my coat wide open and no gloves and didn't regret it. There was a visit to Family Dollar on the way to dance class for the usual small housewares. Today it was drywall anchors and screws to fix the curtain rod that fell down, caramel macchiato coffee creamers, onion soup mix, and toothpaste. After dance, in an unusual move, there were no stops made on the drive home. Market Basket looked busy and there was nothing that couldn’t wait a few more days or even a week.

Not so welcome mat.

At home, the leaf filter gutter guard things installed last summer seem to have solved the big icicle problem and replaced it with another one. Now, there are small icicles and steady drippage that created a ledge of ice immediately outside the back door and along the driveway on the shaded side of the house. It's nature's version of a not so welcome mat and a good thing I got the snow melt pellets last weekend. 

In a rare twist, the afternoon passed as slowly as a work day, but unlike a work day, it was very welcome situation. Time stretched out like taffy and I enjoyed it.

Kiki napping.

Kiki napped in her chair all day and then disappeared upstairs. I think she enjoyed the day, too, but I’ll ask her when she come back downstairs to confirm.

random thoughts – Day 1,775 – (Saturday) – life cycles

There are many cycles of life. There are the obvious and sometimes exciting life ages/stages like infant, toddler, tween, teen, young adult, adult, middle age, old age. There are stages and milestones like pre-school, kindergarten, elementary-, middle-, and high school, maybe college, maybe grad school. There are various stages of career with entry level, mid-career, late career, mentor, retiree.

Then there are the daily cycles of life that regular people know all too well. The more people in a dwelling, the greater the possibilities. Domestic delights like the never-ending routine of dirty laundry. It piles up on the floor and/or in a laundry basket. It may be relocated closer to the washer and eventually into the washer, then move to the dryer where it may or may not sit for days. Maybe it’s folded and put away, maybe it’s folded and sits at a staging area en route to the closet and/or dresser. There is no judgement or finger pointing happening here.

And then there are the dishes, which might hang out in a bedroom, on a kitchen counter, on a table, and/or in a sink. As a teenager I had a habit of taking a large drinking glass of water or fruit juice upstairs to my bedroom each day. They might not find their way back downstairs until there were no glasses left in the cabinet and, inspired by a parental scolding, were finally brought back downstairs to go into the dishwasher to be washed. I grew out of my dishes in the bedroom stage when I moved out on my own and discovered how truly annoying it is to be engaging in a scavenger hunt for dishes and glasses.

Dish cycle - the sink stage.

Once the dishwasher is run, there could be a lag before it is emptied. Maybe it’s run after supper and not emptied before bed, then there isn’t time to do it in the morning before leaving for work so the coffee mug ends up in the sink. After work, the lunch containers end up in the sink followed by a plate from dinner and a salsa jar rinsed for the recycling and the evening tea mug and perhaps a water glass. There could be a saucepan "left to soak." This could go on for a couple days. Not a confession, just a possibility. Ok, maybe it’s a confession.

And that is adulthood for most people. Never ending cycles of laundry and dishes, plus the bonus rounds of grocery shopping, cooking, and cleaning. Ad infinitum. Ugh. Such fun being a grownup.

random thoughts – Day 1,774 – (Friday) – heart issues

While driving to work this cold Friday morning with the Emerson College radio station (WERS 88.9 FM) providing a musical soundtrack for the journey, a lyric caught my ear as I crossed the Bridge Street bridge. This happens a fair amount and most of the time I forget by the time I arrive at my destination.

My Anti-Valentine card, ca. 1990.

The song was “I’m with the Band,” (2024) by The Black Keys featuring Beck. I wasn't paying much attention to the song, and suddenly, a line reached out and grabbed me. It was “I got a heart full of napalm - and a black bouquet.” Yes indeed. Napalm is scary and I do have a bouquet of black fabric roses. 

After work, a Google search on the napalm heart line led me to “Search and Destroy” (1973) written by Iggy Pop and sung by The Stooges. That song opens with the line “I'm a street-walking cheetah - With a heart full of napalm.” Oh, I like it. 

Over the years, my lyrical heart journey has had me singing along with Chris Isaak “I don't wanna fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart)” (1989). 

Then there was “Dyslexic Heart,” (1992) with Paul Westerberg and “I try and comprehend you but I got a dyslexic heart - I ain't dying to offend you, I got a dyslexic heart.” 

Years later, the Canadian band Sloan had me singing “I've got a barbed wire heart - And you can't handle it” in the song “Burn For It” (2008).

Clearly, lyrics about hearts seem to get my attention and resonate with me. Or maybe it’s just a musical diagnosis and my problem going back several decades is that I’ve got a broken, dyslexic, barbed wire heart full of napalm. That explains a lot.

random thoughts – Day 1,773 – (Thursday) – looking back

Dad, Mom, Donna, Tommy.

Today is the anniversary of the day my parents married. They were young when they married. Kids, really. Dad was 19, Mom 16. They were married for 23 years and have been divorced for longer than that. 

Mom wore a light blue skirt suit with a twinge of purple thread in the weave. The suit used to live in my closet, but now it lives in my cedar chest. 

When I lived in Tennessee, Mom sent her wedding suit to me in a box with some Valentine stuff and I cried when I opened it. I wore a size four then, and the suit fit me. One year I wore Mom’s wedding day suit to the office on the anniversary of the wedding day. Another time, I wore Mom's Chanel style winter white wool sleeveless dress with boots to a reception at the Museum where I worked. I was lively and sassy and wore a lot of vintage clothes during the 12-year Tennessee stretch. 

I wish there was a picture of me wearing Mom's suit. It no longer fits me and the skirt probably wouldn’t make it around one thigh. (Words written while sitting on the couch typing and eating saltines slathered in peanut butter.)

As much as I missed Massachusetts when I was in Tennessee, I feel like I left the best parts of myself back in Clarksville. I had a social scene, a professional network, and was an active artist regularly selling stained glass, photography, and jewelry. I had visibility in my job and community and was adventurous and reasonably happy-ish. 

And I felt like a stranger in my own life, according to a Facebook post on this date in 2009. Little did I know that 16 years later, I’d still feel that way. Even moreso. Maybe I wasn’t happy and having fun, and was just wearing a fun life like a suit. 

Maybe I need to invest in a new suit.

random thoughts – Day 1,772 – (Wednesday) –chilly day

I’m not sure, but we might be on the cusp of the famed “hell freezing over” situation. I remember hearing of this as a kid, and in the vein of “Sure, when hell freezes over!” or “when pigs fly” or maybe “over my dead body” and a few other gems I can't think of this second.

Frosted morning.

The temperature was lingering below zero degrees this morning in beautiful Middlesex County. Wispy tendrils of fog or mist rose from the Merrimack River as I crossed the bridge. More dramatically, the Gulf Coast from Texas to Florida was yesterday hit with what was called “a rare winter storm” and as much as nine inches of snow. What, what? The snowbirds who fled the northern winter probably feel cheated. I know that’s how I would feel. On the west coast, let’s not forget the fires raging in California since January 7. Meanwhile, across the pond, the entirety of Ireland is under a storm event with snow and 90 mile per hour wind.

The panes in the office’s arched window facing towards City Hall were etched with frost that looked like tiny fern patterns and lasted all morning. It was pretty, but also a reminder of the cold outside.

Inside the office, we celebrated the first quarter birthdays with a cake at our monthly Sales and Marketing team meeting. We really put a dent in it, and late in the day, there were just a few pieces left with forks protruding from them like spikes.

Dusk, Merrimack Street.

There was a quick afternoon walk in the warmer 20-degree temperature, partly to burn off some of the too much cake I ate and partly for an errand that could have waited until Friday. It was a mix of exhilarating and “crap, it’s cold,” but it still felt good to be outside. Walking really fast helped combat the chill.

At 5:00, it wasn’t full daylight, but it also wasn’t dark-dark and that was good. The sky was deep blue and the white lights shone in the trees on Merrimack Street. It was cold, but not brutally so. According to the forecast, there will be a few more days of cold nights in the low teens and days in the 20s and 30s. It’s still winter, and it could be worse.

random thoughts – Day 1,771 – (Tuesday) – eye see

Back in elementary school, around third grade, I flunked the in-school eye exam. This meant going to an eye doctor for glasses. Mummu wore glasses and I went to her eye doctor. And because in my mind, Mummu hung the moon and all the stars and the sun, I got eyeglass frames that were like hers. The frames were brown and called “Peanut Bar” and I can’t believe I remember that. Note: I didn't name the frame, that's the work of the folks at the manufacturers and retailers and it's easier than trying to remember a code number.

Me and my crooked glasses.

After a while, my glasses were all crooked, probably from reading in bed and falling asleep while wearing them. We weren’t eye glass repair people, so I had crazy crooked glasses for a while. The problem with being a kid needing glasses in a family where the motto was “We can’t afford it” meant being always at the mercy of family budget and a potential wait of several years before getting new ones. 

As a college student, I finally got contact lenses. The first thing I did after leaving the eye doctor’s office that day with my new contacts was to go to a department store (Stuart’s in Fitchburg) and bought brown aviator sunglasses off the rack like all my friends were able to do. For the next few decades, glasses were optional and were usually worn at home when nobody would see me. Cheap sunglasses became the collectible. 

Eyes keep changing, and eventually it was multi-focal contacts, and then multi-focal contacts with reading glasses. And then one day, even reading glasses didn’t help with the tiny lettering on tags when I was working in retail and I ended up back in glasses which could be removed to see close, small things like tiny stock numbers. There was no point paying for contacts and supplies if I also had to wear glasses with them most of the time.

The current rotation.

The key difference in being an adult is I can buy glasses whenever I want. Online eyeglass retailers with great prices mean I can (and do) shop for glasses on a whim. My prescription hasn’t changed in several years, so the number of frames in rotation (and on reserve) keeps growing. They are a necessity, but also an accessory (like shoes!), chosen by mood, outfit, activity, and weather. 

The latest frame, in green acrylic and called "Tamalpais," arrived this past weekend. Like the orange acrylic pair bought last summer (Petula), they darken in the sun, which is more convenient that the two pairs with magnetic clip-on sunnies. 

The current rotation is six pairs deep and includes Tamalpais in gray and green and Zephyr in clear that turns purple in the sun. A seventh beloved frame (Japan Morning in light blue) was broken a couple years ago when they fell onto the floor and I stepped on them and broke one of the arms and I'm still in mourning. The frame is no longer available and the eyeglass shop I checked with couldn’t help with new arms. So sad. I even looked online to buy arms with no luck. 

Several pairs of sunglasses and other frames are stored in the closet, waiting for their turn to flow back into the rotation. It’s great to not be a kid stuck wearing crooked or out of style glasses because sibling dental work, a broken car, or a furnace are also competing for family budget dollars.

random thoughts – Day 1,770 – (Monday) – snow holiday

The snow that was foretold arrived when expected on Sunday and the overnight accumulation wasn’t as bad as it could have been. At least it didn’t seem that way in my yard and driveway. 

The plows were out overnight, which I know because they woke me up two or three times with the flashing lights and rumbling and scraping. In my sleepy state, I figured it must not have been too bad if the plows could hit a dead-end residential side street that many times. I woke up tired from staying up late reading then being wakened by plows, and gave up and got up around 7:30 after another plow came rumbling down the street with multiple passes.

To the plow drivers’ credit, they did a great job clearing as close as they could to the neighbor’s trash and recycle barrels lined up in front of my house. I was also jealous to see that the plows cleared right to the edge of her fence line because her barrels were in front of my house (since 7:00 Sunday morning), and if she ever moves them back to her property (still at my house at 6:13 Monday night) I will have a good four- or five-foot wide swath of snow in the street in front of my fence.

Snowfield and shadows.

The morning sky was blue and clear. The sun cast blue-gray shadows of the back yard neighbor’s tree across the sparkling snow that covered my backyard. So pretty. By mid-afternoon, clouds in multiple tones of gray had returned.  

There was a mid-morning trip outside to clear the car and the driveways, not just because I am a grownup, but also because I sometimes fantasize about spontaneous plans and want to be semi-prepared, and also because I am an older grownup who worries about things like falling in the house and the EMTs not being able to get to the door.

Like last week’s snow, today’s precipitation offering was dry and fluffy and easy to brush away. A light wind frequently blew it back into my face which was both refreshing and annoying. There are now two snow rearranging workouts logged and I’m really killing the fitness goals this year.

After the shoveling, the pot of chicken broth started on Sunday was returned to the stove for another simmer. After a couples hours of simmering, and then cooling enough to work with, the bones and onion skins and carrot ends were scooped out (the metal pasta scoop thing is great for this) and the softened cauliflower stalks were mashed into the broth before it was returned to the burner and loaded with freshly sliced carrots, spinach, onion, broccoli, and mushroom. The house smelled comforting. Even later, there was rice and chopped roasted chicken added for the supper soup.

Despite it being a holiday from work, known about for ages, there wasn’t a plan for the day other than to not work (one of my strongest bad habits). Unlike most weekend days, the TV stayed off and I read a book. Like all the weekend days, the time flew by.

The new furnace and refrigerator are quieter than the older versions they replaced, so it was peaceful. A couple times the sounds of snowblowers broke the stillness, and the plows stopped scraping the cleared street by noon-ish.

Protected by the chair fortress.

Kiki meowed frequently and sought face rubs, but still always on her terms. She will come to me when she wants attention but if I approach her, she runs away. She sat in the beam of sunlight that comes in through the kitchen window in the mornings, and watched me from under the rungs of a dining room chair. It probably feels like a safe space with all the chair legs, but open enough to see what's going on and with multiple escape routes. She even slapped her fish toy around a little.

It was a good day at The BungaLowell. Maybe I'll make a plan for the February Presidents Day holiday weekend. Or not. I seem to do ok at home.

random thoughts – Day 1,769 – (Sunday) – dance and snow

Kiki, Sunday morning.

The weather was a hot topic for several days with minute-by-minute updates all week about cold weather and a snow event headed our way. The morning featured sunlight streaming through the kitchen window into the dining room near where Kiki sat neatly composing herself for photos. 

On the way to dance class this morning, where we broke down the new choreography into smaller units of combinations, there was time to stop at Family Dollar and get some necessities – caramel macchiato coffee creamers for the long luxurious Monday holiday morning of bottomless coffee; trash bags, because I love spending money on products whose main function is to be thrown away; and a 20-pound bag of snow melt pellets because there is snow coming with potential accumulation of 4, 8, 12, or a million inches. Or not. The forecasts aren’t always accurate and are sometimes just wrong, but I was definitely low on snow melt stuff.

Driving back home from class around 1:00, the temperature display in the car showed 45 degrees. Had I not heard the many, many weather updates all week long I might have gotten comfortable with the temperature. In a risky maneuver and despite the potential for pre-snow panic shoppers, I stopped at Market Basket on Pawtucket Boulevard because the parking lot had plenty of empty spaces.

The vehicular occupancy rate in the parking lot set a false expectation for the situation inside the store. The place was hopping, and it was a navigational challenge working around and through entire families, some of whom were talking with each other on cell phones from separate aisles. “I’m in aisle seven now, where are you?” I looked for the openings and danced my way through in the grocery store equivalent of a major stage production.

The usual small crowd at the grill counter waiting for pizzas and subs and whatever else they make there was tripled in size today. I wondered if my mission of a jar of Indian curry simmering sauce was worth the effort required. 

Rice and veggies in tikka masala sauce.

Within minutes of arriving home, I set to work making rice and sautéing veggies to mix with the jar of tikka masala sauce. I grapevine stepped my way back and forth between the fridge and my favorite burner on the stove, a distance of two sequences of side-back-side-front. Dodging and dancing around the many parents and kids clogging the aisles at the store was worth the effort when I sat down to eat my homemade approximation of restaurant food.

The forecasts noted the snow would start in the Lowell area between 3:00 and 5:00. The Sunday chores of litter box cleaning and trash bagging were tackled and done early to beat the snow. As the trash bag full of kitty litter was lifted out of the trash can, litter pellets and dust spilled onto the floor from a tear in the bag. That led to vacuuming and adding the contents of the cannister to the now double-bagged trash. 

Cookies for TV.

The snow began a bit after 4:00 and before I got the trash business fully sorted. Plowing will likely be a production with all the bins lined up along on both sides of my street. 

A fantasy of French toast for breakfast with bread acquired a few hours earlier began to form. Or maybe a quiche. The shovels are stationed near the doors. The snow melt is ready for service. But first, it would be an evening of Netflix movies, iced anisette cookies, and tea while the snow does its thing outside. The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent with Nicholas Cage was an amusing diversion. 

random thoughts – Day 1,768 – (Saturday) – dance and rain

Today’s treat was attending a belly dance workshop in Cambridge. In the mode of everything is always on the same day, it meant missing the birthday cake at LaLa Books in celebration of Edgar Allen Poe’s birthday and two art exhibit receptions.

Fuzzy sun in a gray sky.

The morning was spent drinking Finnish coffee that has been reserved exclusively for weekends followed by hanging around the house waiting for it to be time to leave. While the coffee was brewing, the sky was turning pink with the sunrise. Later, the clouds moved in, and the sun was a fuzzy white cotton ball hung in a gray sky.

The dance bag was packed with my yoga mat, bottle of water, two granola bars in case I got hungry, wallet, veil, four hip scarves because I like options, and jeans in case I wanted to change before returning home.

The workshop info said to dress in dance layers and my dance friend and I couldn’t figure out quite what that meant. I ended up in black yoga pants with a purple ¾ sleeve crop top, a purple long sleeve vee neck over that, and a gray lightweight long sleeve hoodie over that. The building was warm and the topmost layer came off early.

There was soup for lunch, and head pats for Kiki, and a check of the mailbox (still empty) and then finally it was time to leave. The drive out of Lowell and into Mass Ave in Cambridge had a lot of traffic but was tolerable. I had been to the area just over a month ago, but for some reason, Waze took me a in different way today. This happens a lot, and probably had to do with the traffic.

The workshop was at Dance Complex, a five-story brick building built around 1884 in Central Square. Black tiles spell out IOOF in the entryway for Independent Order of Odd Fellows, whose members built the building for their Fellowship Hall. Now it houses six dance studios and the Julie Ince Thompson Theatre, where we had our workshop.

Our workshop started with some meditation and floor stretches. The space above us had a noisy activity underway that involved heavy thumping on the floor. I kept wishing it was at least in some sort of rhythm, but it wasn’t and I found it annoying. After that hiccup, it was fine because our music was loud enough or the activity above us had simmered down or I had something else to focus on with following the dance teacher.

It was a great two-hour stretch of time with shimmies and hip drops and lifts and veil work. By the time I was in the car to come back home I was feeling the effects of the muscular activity and grateful for the heated seats.

Leaving Cambridge in the rain.

It was raining when we were done, which made the drive home not fun. The reflections on the wet pavement were pretty and also a complicating factor for keeping track of street lane markings. Early in the drive, I missed an important right turn because Waze gave the instruction too late and I wasn’t able to execute it. That resulted in a 15-minute circuitous route to get back on the correct route. 

On the way out of Mass Ave I saw a sign on a building that read “India Palace” and suddenly wanted Indian food. Maybe that’s why I missed the turn. I spent the ride back to Lowell trying to figure out where I could get Indian food, but came up with nothing. I haven’t had Indian food since moving to Lowell, which is also when several other things stopped happening including Korean food and Thai food.

I ended up in Market Basket, hoping to find something from the prepared foods warming station like maybe an eggplant sub or some rice and butternut squash. I took the long way there, through the dairy section for half and half and through the deli for cheese ends but there were none. I got granola bars and tea (Bengal Spice and Fruit Sampler), broccoli, carrots, and mushrooms. At 6:30, there was nothing in the prepared foods but a couple packages of chicken wings. The frozen food section had nothing I found interesting. I ended up getting a bag of corn chips to have with the hot salsa and queso already at the house. It was okay, but definitely not Indian. Maybe tomorrow.

random thoughts – Day 1,767 – (Friday) – fresh air and color

Because the task of putting air in the tires and gas in the tank was neglected on Wednesday and I didn’t leave the house on Thursday, it needed to be done this morning before heading to the office. Ugh.

There wasn’t time to go to the station I prefer for the lower gas prices and easy access air machine, so I went to the station closer to home. It was cold, maybe 19 degrees, as I muttered and swore at the persnickety and annoying gas tank access on the Jeep. I’m not sure if I'm just an idiot, which is totally possible, or if there is a design defect with the gas tank, but unless the pump nozzle is inserted at a very precise angle and depth, it will shut off every few seconds. It takes three to five adjustments of the angle of the nozzle to fill the tank. Every. Single. Time. This never happened with the old Honda CRV. 

After the annoying tank fill, it was a short trip across the pavement to the air machine. Not only is the gas more expensive at the station closest to the house, so is the air. It’s $1.00 at the preferred station and $1.50 at the closer station. Parking spots are marked on the pavement, perpendicular to the air machine, which is an orderly and efficient arrangement, but also problematic. The air hose barely reaches the rear tires. There was more swearing as I yanked and stretched the hose to the back tires, but I got it done.

Thank goodness the rest of the day was less annoying.

At 3:00, I took a walk. The sky was a stretch of uninterrupted blue with the sun shining. The temperature was 34 degrees, and it felt comfortable and warm compared to recent days. I boldly walked the streets with no hat on. My gloves were in my hand and not on my hands.

Color outside ALL Gallery.

The walk was mostly to get outside, but also to see a couple art shows recently hung in downtown galleries. I headed to Arts League of Lowell, where a new show called “Color Color Color” recently opened. The gallery door was locked and the place seemed closed. The adjacent art supply store was open, but the last thing I need right now is more art supplies. 

I may not have seen the color-themed show inside the gallery, but I took a minute to admire the mural painted on the building next to the gallery. It still looks great. 

From the failed gallery mission, I crossed the street to finally explore the Ma Cuisine shop, which specializes in France-oriented groceries, gifts, and take-out food. I’ve been following the place on Facebook for ages and never gone there. The only discovery for me there today was that they close at 3:00. The sign on the door told me so.

Color outside Athenian Corner.

From the two closed places, I went somewhere I knew would be open – Lala Books. There is another mural on that block, on the building housing Athenian Corner, so I got to enjoy another splash of color. 

I wasn’t disappointed at LaLa. The shop was open and staffed and ready for me to browse. I bought the book that Boozy Book Club read for the January meeting, The Berry Pickers, by Amanda Peters. I even got the scoop about how the book club felt about it. I’ve missed book club for the past several months because it’s the same night as dance class. 

I really wish technology would have reached the point where I could be two places at once, because there have been a lot of sacrifices made due to that inability. Is anyone even working on it, or are the billionaires just working on the rich people's space tourism program? 

random thoughts – Day 1,766 – (Thursday) – death by a thousand cuts

Note: This was originally posted in my random truths blog on January 23, 2014, and in a now long-gone website that was called Unite4Women on January 22, 2014.

According to Wikipedia, “death by a thousand small cuts” is a way major negative change happens — slowly, in many unnoticed increments not perceived as objectionable. It is akin to the expression “boiling a frog,” where the belief is a frog placed in a pot of hot water will jump out, but one placed in cold water and gradually heated won’t notice the danger and will eventually be cooked to death.

I think this was the manner in which my second marriage was ultimately, incrementally extinguished. 

In the beginning, as in the end, it was all about the small things. I believe that had we continued our attention to the small things we could have sustained what was once the most important big thing — our marriage.

Initially, we specialized in details, niceties, and politeness. He was in the US Army and transferred to Seoul, S. Korea while we were dating. Before he left we spent hours talking about our concerns for the forced separation, but it turned out we excelled on separate continents, emailing each other daily (often multiple times) with long messages recounting the day’s activities and filled with sentiment for each other and plans for a future together. I raced home to check for his emails.

On weekends we invested two and three hour blocks of time burning the international calling plan and bridging time zones to discuss everything under the sun, the moon, and the stars. Under the classic “way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” philosophy, I regularly baked cookies to mail to him.

Separated by half a world, we still maintained a magical closeness.

After 18 months of long-distance relationship nurturing and maintenance I quit my job, moved to Korea, and we married. Together in time and space, he opened doors to buildings and vehicles for me and I thanked him for it. Hand in hand we rode the subway and walked around Seoul. We talked about our future and planned our life back stateside.

Three months later, he retired from the Army and we returned to the house he owned in Tennessee and a new life together. We continued our habits of paying attention to each other by talking, dreaming, holding hands and opening doors. Married life was good.

But somewhere along the line we stopped noticing each other. I don’t know when it happened, I only know that about four years into our marriage, I realize with a shock the many ways our relationship had shifted. We had managed to commit the tiny crimes of neglect we vowed to never do when we first married.

When he walked in the door from work, the warm “Hi, Babe” and quick kiss had been replaced with a curt “What’s for dinner?”

Instead of rushing home, I found reasons to be elsewhere.

We stopped eating facing each other at the dining room table and were eating side by side on the living room sofa, facing the TV.

The routine question of “How was your day?” was met with “OK,” or “crappy,” instead of the once detailed stories of coworkers, bosses, work successes and frustrations.

Too much space in between.

Weekend walks in the woods had been traded for near-silent observation of outdoor shows on TV.

We never emailed or spoke to each other during the workday.

We stopped talking to each other and replaced it with watching other people talking on TV.

My self confidence took a nosedive and I began provoking arguments primarily for the conversation and attention.

The volume and resonance of his snoring increased. I resented what I perceived as his indifference to the effect on my own sleep, and stomped down the hall to the guest room, where I set up permanent camp.

Where we had once done everything together — talking, shopping, hiking, driving aimlessly around town holding hands — we had degenerated to living separate, parallel, mostly silent lives.

When I expressed my concerns, he didn’t want to discuss it. He said he was happy and that we had a great marriage because we rarely fought. The way I saw it, we rarely fought because we didn’t talk, and a marriage is only as happy as the least happy person.

On separate continents, we were able to focus on each other and maintain closeness, but under the same roof, we had incrementally neglected each other until there was too much emotional space between us.

One thousand small cuts later, we signed papers for our divorce.

Originally published January 22, 2014 on www.Unite4Women.com.

random thoughts – Day 1,765 – (Wednesday) – delights and annoyances

It was a day with ripples and bumps comprised of small delights and not-huge but too-frequent annoyances.

Blurry Kiki chasing a blurry ball.

Kiki played with a ball – delight! (Also a miracle, because in the past 11 months, she has never played in front of me.)

Missed getting a good photo of Kiki’s milestone of playing with a ball, so fuzzy has to do – annoyance. 

The tire pressure is low again – annoyance.

The drive to work is back to the regular traffic and knuckleheads blocking the intersections – annoyance.

The new stop sign configuration at the parking garage has some drivers confused about the meaning of the word “stop” and flashing red lights – annoyance.

Bagel!

Got a parking spot on the second level instead of level five – delight. 

Bagels, cream cheese, and a fruit tray for breakfast at the office – delight.

The paper plates, usually in the cabinet, were all gone (again) – annoyance (ongoing variety).

Lunch was quiche and fruit – delight.

The Internet went out mid-afternoon – annoyance.

Sautéed veggies.

It was 24 degrees when walking to the garage – annoyance.

Traffic on the way home was light – delight.

Slipped on ice in my driveway and hit the ground – annoyance.

Supper (sautéed veggies) took only 10 minutes to make – delight. 

At least the delights and annoyances kinda sorta balanced each other out. Thank goodness for the delights or my head might explode.

random thoughts – Day 1,764 – (Tuesday) – another day

It was mostly just another day. There was coffee, like all the other many days, which was good, followed by just another day of work which wasn’t bad.

Another day, another bowl of soup.

Lunch was a case of another day, another bowl of soup. It was soup made the other day with spinach and mushrooms added and topped with cheddar cheese. So delicious. Any day, every day -- they are all soup days in my mind.

A midafternoon knock on the front door introduced a moment of annoyance. I considered not answering but I failed to meet that challenge and answered it. On the walk at the bottom of the stairs stood two dudes, bundled in coats with “Trinity” lettered on the left chest.

I’ve been feeling pretty salty, so I greeted them with “Hey, so what are we selling today? Could it be …. Solar?” Of course it was. The guys were actually nice and listened to all my concerns about solar panels and all the reasons why I don’t want them (ugly, stupid looking, would probably need a roof first, and based on my electric bill, I would never recoup the cost).

After work, it was off to dance class. Dance, no matter where it takes place, almost always elevates a day beyond just another day. While Sunday dance takes place in a yoga studio, Tuesday dance happens in a church hall. We did a veil warmup and worked on a choreography and it was fun. It might have started as just another day, but it wrapped up as better than average.

random thoughts – Day 1,763 – (Monday) – somebody’s watching

Kiki admiring the art.

Kiki spends more time out of hiding recently. She hasn’t hunkered down behind the couch in several weeks, and I can’t remember the last time I saw her hidden in her hidey bed. 

Kiki being out in the open gives me ample time to observe her and her elegant beauty and shiny coat.

Her current adorable behavior is when she quietly climbs up onto her chair, then onto the arm of the chair and faces the corner of the room. Sometimes she sits tall, sometimes curls up like a fluffy lump. 

When she isn’t napping on the narrow chair arm, she often faces the corner like she’s being punished in the naughty corner. Then she will turn her head to the wall next to the window and it looks like she is admiring the artwork on the wall. 

Micromanager at work.

When not looking at the artwork or staring at the corner of the living room wall, Kiki has other interests. She can sometimes be spotted halfway up the staircase, peering between the handrail, surveying the dining room region of her kingdom. 

It is from her elevated post on the stairs that Kiki silently monitors the scooping of the litterbox and prepping the trash on Sunday nights. The Rockwell song “Somebody’s Watching Me” runs through my head as Kiki observes me during her training program for a micromanagement position. It can be a little unnerving.

random thoughts – Day 1,762 – (Sunday) – sunday drive

The day after the snow day was dance day. This meant a drive down the picturesque Routes 113 and 119. 

The roads were clear and the dark pavement wound through the snowy towns between Lowell and Townsend. The sky was blue and there were horses wearing blankets in snow covered fields, snow capped New England stone walls running along the road and between fields, a covered bridge, gazebos, and churches. The river was covered in snow and ice. For most of the drive, there was no place to pull over for pictures on the narrow two-lane roads.

Birds on the snowy river.

A couple hours later on the drive home, much of the snow had fallen from the trees, but the fields and walls were still blanketed in white. There was finally a chance to pull over and park when I was back in Lowell. There were spaces available in the parking lot on Pawtucket Boulevard at the park along the Merrimack River. 

There were a few people walking along the paved path and lots of birds on the partially frozen river. Seagulls, geese, and ducks convened in groups on the snow-covered river while pigeons congregated in the parking lot. There was a lone goose close to shore. It stood on one webbed foot, the other raised off the snow. When it tried to walk, there seemed to be a lot of trouble with putting weight on it. It limped along at a very small pace. Poor goose.

random thoughts – Day 1,761 – (Saturday) – snow day

Welcome.

So, I opened my mouth a couple days ago and said I would like some snow. I got what I asked for, and more. Maybe I need to confidently ask for some other things, like a level of job certainty or maybe a million dollars so I don’t need to worry about the job part anymore.

The Friday weather forecasts called for a “coating to an inch” and I went to bed with the impression there wouldn’t be much when I woke up. When I looked out the window at 8:00 this morning, there was snow. It was falling and had already accumulated an inch or so. The morning weather reports seemed to be backpedaling and covering their butts with language like “Well, we said maybe an inch but then we added that there could be isolated higher accumulations.”

I’m not mad there is snow. I just wish the forecast had set expectations that were closer to the reality. It felt like being at work for the past month and feeling blindsided by developments beyond the control of me or anyone on my team. If the forecasts said several inches, I would likely have been mapping out my snow day welcome and imagining reading and drinking hot cocoa and the shovel workout.

Snow day leisure.

Anyway. I dressed in my fantasy ski-lodge ensemble of Cuddl Duds long john base layers under leggings and a Cuddl Duds long top, and Nordic patterned socks. I haven't been inside a ski lodge in several years, but a girl can dream. The attire was snowy-day suitable for leaving the house to go to LaLa Books for the book I wanted to buy on Friday before I realized I didn't have my wallet, but the jury was still out as to whether that might happen or not. It would depend upon factors like the snow stopping and if my street was plowed or not. In the meantime, my butt was parked on the couch. 

The snow day menu was soup. Of course it was. It was a snow day, and there was a pot of it in the fridge. This time, half and half was added to the bowl, to change it up a bit from the past couple days. Instead of bread or crackers, I got all wild with toast with butter. Before deciding on the soup, the idea of making a quiche was toyed with, because baking and a snow day go well together. Then I decided to do it later in the afternoon, possibly after going downtown to the bookstore.

Shortly before 4:00, a break was taken from the marathon of The White Lotus on Max. I slipped on the tall snow boots and the L.L. Bean coat and the Burton snow gloves and trudged to the shed for the shovels. Had I been prepared for snow accumulation beyond a dusting that could be swept, there would already have been a shovel planted at the front and back doors.

The snow was several inches deep, but it was light and fluffy. Not good for making snowballs or snow people, but quick work for shoveling. In about 30 minutes, the car and driveway were cleaned off, there was cleared access to the doors and trash bin, and I was sweating. The street had been plowed and there was time to go downtown, but the activity was postponed. Maybe on Sunday. It was back to the season one marathon of The White Lotus, which I’ve already seen a couple times, but had forgotten so much of  it felt new.

The Swedish drama, The Breakthrough (Netflix), was the early evening entertainment. It involves use of DNA to solve a crime, which is the detail in the show’s description that caught my attention. This kept me from making the quiche, but there is still Sunday for such delightful domestic endeavors, and maybe I’ll have been to the grocery store for mushrooms or spinach or something else interesting to add to it.

random thoughts – Day 1,760 – (Friday) – work and cheese

The first full workweek of the year and also in several weeks is in the books. I made it. Five consecutive days of work and I didn’t die. Whew. The month-long stretch of weeks with holidays and vacation time felt disjointed, but this week had shades of accomplishment.

The day was full. There was coffee and a granola bar. Ads were delivered and new projects were set up to be approved. The best part was that the red pen came out several times and things were crossed off the week’s to-to list. Dang, I love when I can pull out the red pen and strike through completed list items. 

There were a couple errands planned for lunchtime – the jeweler for the batteries for the two watches in the work bag for several weeks (finally) and LaLa Books to buy the second book in the series I’m currently reading. That’s when I discovered my wallet was not in my bag. Nor was it in my coat pocket. I was downtown without a single cent or financial card in my possession. 

Delicious reward.

The best guess was that the wallet was at home on the kitchen table. The batteries and book mission was cancelled, although a walk was still in the running (hah) to enjoy the much more comfortable sunny, wind-free 35-degree day. That didn’t happen either.

In the success column, a colleague and I took apart and bagged the Christmas tree that has been standing naked since last week. Ornaments were organized in storage tubs and boxes. Exactly the sort of practical tasks I’m good at while at work and never get around to doing at home.

Back at home, it was time to dive into the cabinet and the freezer and explore the supper options. The winners in the supper wheel of fortune were a block of slightly bland mac and cheese from the freezer topped with chili pesto. The chili pesto was exactly the kick the mac and cheese needed. It was delicious.

 I would eat mac and cheese with chili pesto again tomorrow, but the pesto jar is now empty and I can’t remember where I bought it. On the bright side, I love a challenge. Luckily, there are only maybe four stores it could have come from. The challenge is accepted.

random thoughts – Day 1,759 – (Thursday) – soup weather

Another day,
another soup.

It was another day of more of the same. Cold. Dry. Windy. 

The sky spit snow most of the morning, but it was probably just the same few random flakes blowing in the wind. The volume increased a bit in the early afternoon, but it was still never an actual, proper snowfall. 

Inside, the menu was also more of the same. Soup. I love soup. As far as I'm concerned, it's always soup season. Ever since I learned how easy it is to make, I enjoy creating it. Some of this, some of that, and it's magic in a pot. The current incarnation has fresh sweet potato, carrots, broccoli, onion, and mixed frozen vegetables in a homemade broth. 

There is a National Weather Service wind advisory in effect until Friday morning, but after that we are expecting to enjoy a heat wave as the temperatures climb into the 30s. I bet it will be crowded at the beach. 

Meanwhile, in my former home of Clarksville, Tennessee, friends are bracing for a snowstorm with school cancelled and Middle Tennessee under a state of emergency. Weather Channel meteorologist Jim Cantore is in the area, always a sign of exciting weather events.  

I kind of wish we were getting the snowstorm in Massachusetts. Just one, to blanket us in a fresh, pretty white coat and make everything stop. It would probably be warmer than the current 22 degrees, the air more humid, and there is the beautiful quiet during a snowfall. I could take the snowshoes out for a spin and then it can proceed directly to spring. I never got to shovel my wat to a beach body last winter and this season's workout isn't looking promising. 

Even with the continued wind and cold and no pretty snow, it could be so much worse. We aren’t dealing with the intense winds and hell fires raging through California in the midst of a drought. Holy crap that looks intense.

random thoughts – Day 1,758 – (Wednesday) – blown in

The new year has blown in. Literally. It’s been windy all year. And cold. Well, all eight days of it so far, and so far, I’m quite over it. 

It’s been a week of too frequent rattling of a storm window on either the porch or living room window. A week of a face full of hair every time I step outside. Crazy chill seeping into the home office through the walls and windows.

Several times, the trash and recycle bins have been blown out of their designated spots near the deck. The across the street neighbor’s basketball hoop blew over several days ago and still lays on the edge of their property at the side of the street like a guardrail. The trees sway wildly in the wind. The new furnace hasn't had a rest since it was installed.

Wind, flag, dusk.

Morning and evening, the view from the parking garage has often featured the flag at the old Lowell Five Bank building snapping in the wind at full attention. As much as I hated hoods on coats as a youngling  because they weren’t “cool,” I value the practical aspects of them as an adult because I no longer care if I’m cool and more than that, I hate being cold. 

I’m quite sure the me of ages 13-40 would be horrified by the me of today, all practical and boring and wearing hats and/or the hood on my coat in cold weather and delighted to stay home as much as possible. Whatever. 

The good news is, there are only 70 days to spring. It can’t stay cold forever. Right? Dang, I hope I’m right.