“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 601 (Sunday)

Mom and StepDad came over on Saturday to help me disassemble the deck umbrella and table and store them for the winter. The garbage disposal mysteriously ceased functioning on Friday but now it's fixed, and bonus, I now know where the reset button is thanks to Mr Fixit. The gas-powered lawn mower, which has refused to start for a couple months, has been spirited away for a check-up. We had a nice visit and a light lunch of chicken, broccoli, and cheese quiche before they headed back home.

Because guests were coming, Saturday morning was spent on a quick house tidy up. The best incentive for me to straighten the place is to have Mom over. It's amazing how fast it gets done when there is a company on the way.

The “change the clocks” weekend bonus hour of sleep was most welcome. Sunday morning started with me feeling rested and refreshed for the first time in ages. This may be evidence that I should get myself to bed an hour earlier, and this theory will be tested.

Sunday meant a morning ride on routes 113 and 119 for dance class. We used zills and veils, did drills and worked on choreography and it was great. Now we are on break until after the holidays, so let's see if I do any better with practicing at home during this break. My home practice record was quite dismal during the shutdown times. I thought about it, just never actually did it. I'm very disciplined when we are preparing for a performance, but without that goal line, I fall apart.

After class, it was back to the house to check on Winston. A delivery update text came during class that Winston’s prescription food arrived two days earlier than expected, and thank goodness it did. Provisions were low and were being stretched with pumpkin puree once I realized the vet wasn’t going to be open on Saturday. 

Cooking for the week took place. Macaroni and cheese was made with one mystery cheese from a deli cheese ends package plus triple cheddar blend, and smoked gouda.  The hint of smoked flavor from the gouda was a nice flavor enhancement. Between the rest of the quiche, the mac and cheese, and homemade soup, the eating will be good this week. 

Dog flower.

Laundry was done, including the sheets. Finnish lessons were done. Flower pots were emptied and weird branches growing under the fence from a neighboring yard were trimmed for yard waste pickup on Monday. Winston sunned himself in a flower bed. The afternoon stretched and the day felt as long as a work day and I was thrilled. I have prayed for this – a weekend day that feels as long as a work day. It was basically sunshine, lollipops, unicorns and rainbows wonderful. Not to be greedy, but I would like all the Saturdays and Sundays to feel long and leisurely like this one did.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 600 (Saturday)

Ugh. Do these even coordinate?

On November 6, 2016, I began stripping the wallpaper from the kitchen, which, like so many other memories, I know only thanks to the Memories feature on Facebook. The main paper featured images of utensils and jars with labels including “marmalade” and “red currant jelly,” with a wide border of baskets with fruit on a cloth that didn’t seem like it coordinated with the other paper. I remember the paper vividly because I hated it. Pictures help, too. Duh.

There was no immediate plan beyond removing the paper. It just needed to be gone. Eventually it would be painted, but no color had been selected. Because of all the seams and the sculpted edge of the border, painting over the paper wasn’t feasible.

The first stage involved peeling off the border which was easy. If the paper underlying paper had gone all the way to ceiling, that might have been a temporary project stop, but it was clear by the raggedy edge that the border was planned from the start. All the sections that would come off dry were done. Then a butter knife was enlisted to get under the edges for more of it, and there were flashbacks to helping Mom peel off paper when I was a kid. That was good training back in the day, gouging the walls from holding the knife at the wrong angle and it reminded how to not gouge them now. It’s gratifying peeling off someone else’s ugly-ass wallpaper choice and there was hope the painting step would feel equally good.

A vinegar and water solution was sprayed on the paper that didn’t come off easily, and eventually, the walls were bare. They stayed bare for a while. It was at least a year, and maybe two. (I’ll need another round of Facebook Memories to remind me when the painting finally happened.) Color chips were gathered. Colors were debated. Finally, a grayish purple color was chosen, but by then the entire paint line had been discontinued from Lowe’s. The color selection process began again and a purplish gray was selected and purchased. During a staycation week, the kitchen was finally painted, and it was at least as satisfying as the paper removal.

The taping took the longest. The kitchen has six doorways (basement, bathroom, back door, laundry closet, office area, and dining room), a window, two long runs of counters, and cabinets. It didn’t need much paint, as there isn’t all that much wall space with all the other stuff going on. When  I got to the last wall, I was tired and just wanted to be done, and somehow got two spots of paint on the ceiling over the bathroom door. Oops.

Doorways and art wall in process.

It’s been a few years since the walls were painted and I still like the color, which feels like a win. The color ended up being a perfect choice with the mottled countertops. Once, while painting, what looked like a small smudge of paint on the counter turned out to be part of the counter color.

Bit by bit, artwork has been added to the plain walls and is still in process. Even with the new color, the walls don’t speak to me like they did in every other place I’ve lived where I knew exactly what to hang where and it was done in no time at all, and enjoyed for the rest of the time there. I hoped that after five years the house and I would be communicating better, but it’s not happening. Yet. Apparently, we’re still a work in process. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 599 (Friday)

The neighbor house had service on their siding today. This would have gone largely unnoticed if not for a couple things, First, there was the doofus who parked the company van straddling the shared driveway, but mostly on my side of it. Apparently, my driveway had been commandeered as the staging area for the job at the house to the other side of the asphalt. Then, there was the name emblazoned on the van -- Erect Construction and Roofing. The eternal 12-year old inside me took delight in this name.

Um, parked kinda
close, dude.

When Winston needed to go outside, it was an obstacle course to get to my back yard. The van was parked close to my back door landing, and with the back doors open (which they were) there was barely enough room for me to squeeze through. It’s a good thing the pandemic weight hasn’t crept any higher than it already has or I might have been wedged there, helpless, arms flailing. 

Winston tends to take a wide turn at the bottom of our stairs and navigates with his nose to the ground. Even with six months of walking to the back yard without sight, he sometimes walks into the post near the gate. He would have walked into the tire of the van for sure. Once beyond the van, there was a bucket and a ladder and tools along the usual route blocking the access to the gate to my yard. I carried Winston out to spare him injury and my wallet the potential vet bill.

While Winston was doing his business, a workman came to the back of the van. I asked if he would be there long, but it was immediately clear there was a language barrier. There was some gesturing, mostly me pointing at the stuff in front of the gate and then at the gate, and he moved the items and it was fine. Then I picked up Winnie and carried him back inside with fewer obstructions.

There was a small amount of banging and house repair noise but it wasn’t bad and didn’t last long. Soon, the van was packed up and driven away, and I felt kind of like an ass for asking the guy to move the stuff, but it definitely was in the way and was definitely blocking access when I needed to get out to my yard.

But no harm, no foul. Well, except maybe for the birds that have for several years nested in the area of the missing piece of siding just under the roof line at the second floor of the house next door. Now I am filled with questions. Were there nests up there? And what will happen to the avian squatters? Was it the same birds coming there each year? And why did I keep working instead of peeking out the window like a creeper when the work was happening? (Ok, I know the answer to that last one. I was working on articles for the Learning Center of Bank’s website, which is currently my favorite work thing.)

Beyond the small, overdue repair on the house next door that has now possibly displaced a family of birds, the day didn’t hold much that was remarkable. It was coffee for breakfast, work, pizza for lunch (frozen, already paid for), work, soup for supper (homemade), wine and oatmeal cookies for dessert, writing, Netflix (Love Hard and Rita Moreno: Just a Girl Who Decided to Go For It). Overall, it was a decent day. At my house, at least, where no birdies were evicted.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 598 (Thursday)

A lifetime ago, I was married. It was the 1980s and I was about 18 months out of college and working as a bank teller. Even though we married in September, it was November before we took a honeymoon trip. Partly due to our “not exactly rolling on dough” status, or maybe we were just cheap as all hell, our post-wedding trip was low budget and low key. We went to New York. Don’t get excited, it wasn’t like we stayed at a ritzy place in Manhattan.

My sister-in-law at the time got married November 4, and we were in town for the wedding. The wedding was in a function facility and started with a cocktail hour and smorgasbord in one ballroom. Then the wedding service took place in another room, followed by a sit-down dinner in a different ballroom. Rolling liquor carts came to the table to deliver drinks. The only thing you needed to leave your seat for were dancing and to use the rest room. It cost a bundle. As in tens of thousands of dollars.

After the wedding, sister-in-law and her new husband went to St. Thomas for a week on their honeymoon and we went to their apartment in Rego Park, Queens for a week for ours. Elegant and exciting, no? The apartment was small and the kitchen was claustrophobic. The car had to be moved from one side of the street to the other each day. Hubby wrapped our cash in aluminum foil and put it in the freezer.

During that week, a hurricane hit the region and the St. Thomas honeymoon had heavy rain, so we probably got the better honeymoon of the two. And our accommodations were free. 

Age 23, in the early
days of adulting.

From our base in Queens, we did New York things. We rode the subway and took a horse-drawn carriage ride in Central Park. We saw Cats at the Winter Garden Theater with my mother-in-law Helen and her friend after our friends bailed on us and left us with two extra tickets. There was a shopping trip at Macy’s, and a visit to the family jeweler, a guy named Al who had a counter in the Diamond District where Helen would badger him until he promised he wasn’t charging her sales tax.

We drove to Atlantic City and I heard at least 1,000 times on the drive that Bruce Springsteen is from New Jersey. We stayed at the Tropicana for a night or two, where I spent lots of time in the room alone and the husband lost most of our money gambling. Those are the things I remember, but it was a long time ago. Somewhere, there are photos of the wedding and the trip to Queens, but not in any of the dozens of photo albums that are readily available.

Neither of the marriages lasted. Maybe the storm during the week of the honeymoon was an omen for the St. Thomas couple, and the unexpected solitude and gambling were omens of things to come for the Queens honeymoon couple.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 597 (Wednesday)

Another work at the office day. These are not my favorite days. I have considered this and figured out why I like working from the house.

It’s a control thing. It exists at home. Cold? Run upstairs for a sweater or boost the heat. Hot? Boost the A/C or open the windows or drink some refreshing ice water. Hungry? Hit the fridge. Or the pantry. Or the fridge and the pantry. Don’t like what was planned for lunch? Switch it up, the food is only a few paces away.

Stuffing with chicken, onion,
apple, cranberries.

This magnificent level of personal control doesn’t exist at the office-office. Heating and cooling cannot be adjusted by us, but I can pull a blanket from a drawer to fight the freeze. Food is a hassle with having to remember to pack a lunch, and too bad at lunchtime if the packed lunch is no longer appealing. That happened today when the corn bread stuffing tossed with chicken, cranberries, apple, and onion lost its luster before it was time to eat it. There would be no foraging for replacement lunch, and like a true adult, the lunch that was already bought and paid for was eaten. It didn't even heat all the way through, but when the chill in the middle was discovered, someone else's lunch was spinning on the carousel. I just kept eating it.  

Winston has a rebellion that takes place on office-office days. Every day that I work at the office-office, I arrive home to a pile of his displeasure on the kitchen rug. This doesn’t happen when I work at home. On the remote days, he goes all day between poops, so I know it’s possible. The only reasonable explanation is the pile is a protest against having to wear a diaper for nine-plus hours and not receiving any treats during the day.  I totally get it.

There was a dental appointment scheduled to have the stitches removed from the tooth extraction of a couple weeks ago. The office sets an appointment time, then says to arrive 30 minutes in advance. I arrived early enough to have a few minutes in the car to listen to the latest round of scam calls in voice mail, which today included a suspicious call about my student loans, (which I haven’t had for decades).

I entered the dental office and had barely sat down when summoned to the inner sanctum. My temperature was taken and declared “perfect.” After barely a  minute in the exam room, the stitches were removed, the next appointment was scheduled, and I was out the door. I was back at my desk ten minutes before the actual stated time of my appointment.  Maybe there is a method to the demand of arriving 30 minutes early.

Poop protests are tiring.

After work, as I was walked down Merrimack Street, a woman of indeterminate age but much younger than I am approached from the opposite direction and said that she liked my hair. I thanked her, and immediately considered postponing the hair appointment scheduled for next weekend. Half a block later I found a shiny penny gleaming on the sidewalk. When I got home, there was the pile of displeasure to dispose of, but then there was a refund check in the mailbox from the oral surgeon’s office I had just visited. It equals about one-third of the cost I had to pay on the day of the surgery. 

Thank you, speedy dental visit, lucky penny, and substantial insurance adjustment. This day turned around nicely. Winston, likely exhausted from the protest, is now napping. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 596 (Tuesday)

It’s Election Day. Did your city or town have an election and did you vote? If yes, thank you for participating in the process. If not, don’t let me hear you whining about any outcomes. Seriously. I mean it.

Over the years, I have known several people (too many, really) who neglect to vote and then complain constantly about any and all local, state, and national elected figures. Umm…. No! If you choose to not participate at the ballot box, I choose to not participate your whining. 

A pile of  words.

During campaign season, the postcards and door hangers are collected in a pile, and reviewed right before voting. Candidate mailers for today’s election showed that half the candidate mail received featured two mailers each – an 8.5” x 11” piece, and a smaller piece. The others sent two mailers of the oversized postcard variety. Two mailers seemed to be the magic number across the board. Some of these pieces had waaaay too many words. Oy. I am not reading the equivalent of War and Peace on your election mailer. 

Mailers for one city council candidate featured an awkward, self-conscious photo. The candidate wore casual, but neat attire that seemed a bit ill fitting, and was posed squinting into the light and standing with a bizarre leg position. It wasn’t a dynamic action pose that captured walking, it was just a weird static pose, like maybe there was a wedgie happening or something else uncomfortable was going on. Constipation, maybe? There was nothing natural about it at all. It's hard to decide if the candidate wasn't comfortable in the outfit, or in their own skin.

The photos were taken on various city streets. Or more accurately IN the streets, as in, in the middle of a travel lane with not a car in sight. Maybe that was the source of discomfort. What the heck time of day does one need to be downtown for there to be no traffic? And why feature yourself in a a deserted downtown street when the flip side of your mailer features a photo of a traffic jam as a problem to be solved?

Maybe the weird poses were a strategy, because I sure spent a lot of time analyzing those photos. I can’t tell you a single word about what this candidate stands for, but I can tell you they stand weird.

Now that the votes have been cast and the campaigning is done, my mailbox will probably be a bit emptier and I won’t mind. It’s been a bit of a mystery why the political mailers in my daily USPS notifications have managed to arrive according to the upcoming delivery notices, but the mortgage bill, car loan bill, and a card from my cousin have not. According to the notifications, the mortgage bill was due to deliver October 23 and the other two were due last Friday. These have now been checked off in the system as “not received.” Let’s get with the program USPS. Don't tease me with images of my mail and then hold out on me.

Now it’s over except for the results – of the election and the “where is the rest of my mail?” game.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 595 (Monday)

Life has had a new feel for several months. It started the first week of August when my family learned of my brother’s death. We began to process our shock and grief and broken hearts, and piece together the pain and turmoil that we can only imagine my brother was feeling to cause him to take his own life. But of course, we will never know. 

I wonder if my brother knew the joy he brought us. I wish we knew what he was dealing with so we could have tried to help him out of it. Now we are bracing for the holiday season, which is when we were usually all together. That is when our loss will be felt most acutely.

Moose in 2009 - love at first sight.

Two days after learning about my brother, Moose was liberated from his own pain and failed health. My heart shattered all over again. Since those days of early August, life has taken on new tones. Bleak. Gloomy. Heavy. Humor seems to have gone on hiatus. I see it and feel the shift, but I don't know how to change it. It seems like it just has to run its course. 

Events like forgotten lunch, stubbed toes, and low tire pressure that would ordinarily be dispatched and dismissed have felt disproportionately large. There is some value in the amplification of minutia, as it helps to crowd out the ever-present undercurrent of sadness. For a while anyway.

Before death and sadness barged in, the backdrop of life was general lightness with dust motes of darkness. Now the image is reversed and the current version is overall, general darkness with pinpricks of light and occasional brilliant beams of glorious sunshine.

Mini Moose - 2021

Some of the rays of light came from family and friends through cards, texts, calls, visits, flowers, and plants that deliver relief from the new weight of life and pierce the gloom temporarily. Long-distance kindnesses from far away friends have sent golden beams burning through the fog like a lighthouse. A recipe book from Indiana. A beautiful painting from Tennessee. Today, a package of sunshine arrived from Washington state.

My friend handcrafts tiny animals and she made me a mini Moose. It’s a beautiful, thoughtful, tiny delight that injected a beam of pure light into the day. Mini Moose reminds me of his picture on petfinder-dot-com when I first fell in love with him. I might have cried a little, and maybe more than once. But it’s a nicer kind of cry than the daily sad tears that randomly well up and leak out.

Friends and family can be such a blessing.