“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 608 (Sunday)

When it was 68 degrees out the other day, it felt warm and wonderful. I wandered around outside with no jacket. Why then, at 68 degrees inside my house, have I felt cold all day today? These are the things that will drive me absolutely bonkers (assuming I’m not already there).

Stuffed peppers and
things baked in a dish.

Feeling cold inspired more cooking. It started with thinking I wanted rice to go with yesterday’s roasted veggies. As the last of the rice from the pantry cooked in the pot, I realized most of the veggies roasted on Saturday are potatoes, and rice is just more starch. Oops.

With enough cooked rice to feed a small American subdivision, it was time for another plan. Green peppers were prepared and stuffed with rice and other fun, tasty things. Rice was mixed with radish and other stuff and baked with in a dish with cheese (there is always cheese). A container of rice went into the refrigerator for as yet undefined purposes. More creamy vegetable soup was produced. 

The oven made the kitchen warmer, which was nice, except I was in the living room under a blanket watching streaming shows I would realize around episode seven or eight I had already seen. This happened twice. Thanks for continuing to recommend shows I've already watched, Netflix.

There was a quick trip made to Hannaford (again), for which I blame their loyalty program and an email reminder that the offer of $10 off a $25 order was expiring Monday. That is not the sort of thing to ignore. I will haul my butt to the store for a discount like that. A list was made, which included things often avoided until the last minute due to cost, like the large bottles of olive oil and baking supplies that are not desperately needed yet, and things I’m low on but forget to buy, like shampoo. Thanks to the discount, the pantry is now restocked with olive oil, flour, rice, three types of chocolate baking chips, and shampoo.

In other exciting and uncharacteristic planning ahead news, this year’s annual winter holiday greeting cards have been produced. Twice, after I got the first batch in hand and realized it used the same image as a couple years ago. Usually, there is a mad, panicked scramble in mid-December. This year, the cards are ready for signing, and envelopes are already addressed.

There are a couple possible explanations for this new business of doing things in advance. One is that the personal hermit-like habit of limited activities since the shutdown has produced a relatively stress-free personal environment conducive to thinking, planning, and doing. Another option is that there has been an alien abduction and my body was replaced with the innards of some being who plans and executes tasks and activities well in advance. A third possibility involves the pandemic time warp that leaves me constantly questioning what day it is. At least it’s working in my favor (for now, anyway). It is less stressful to be completing things in advance than to be running into deadlines or accidentally blowing them off.

Next up in the amateur armchair self-analysis series, we’ll try to unravel why I keep buying too many perishables and have a freezer so full of prepared meal portions it’s ready to burst.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 607 (Saturday)

Eight weeks ago, an appointment was scheduled for today at my regular hair salon, an hour from home. On Friday, it was learned that today was the only Saturday of the month that the veterinary office was open, 45 minutes away in a different direction, and Winston’s insulin is down to just a few more doses. Additionally, a trip was needed to my sister’s house in the same town as the vet to drop something off for an event next week.

Once upon a time I would have tried to pull off all the things. I would have either arisen super early to get to the vet in Fitchburg and then to the hair salon for 10:00 in Worcester, then possibly back to Fitchburg before heading home. Or I might have gone to the hair salon, then raced to Fitchburg before the vet closed at 1:00. I used to rush around pretty much all the time, fueled by caffeine, adrenaline, and stress. I also weighed a lot less and my clothes were two sizes smaller back then, so there was a benefit to living like a spazz. I appreciate a quieter life now. Operating in a constant state of urgency has lost its appeal.

My mature adult self took the time to analyze the options. Arriving at the vet when they first open has not worked well for me in the past because the person opening the office was 20 or 30 minutes late, which threw that entire morning off schedule. It doesn’t mean it would happen again, but it also means I will avoid the situation when possible. You know, once bitten ...

Oven ready.

Another option was to get the hair done as scheduled and go to the vet one night after work for the insulin. This would put me in 5:00 traffic on 495, which is not my favorite weeknight activity.

The sensible, stress-alleviating, grownup option was to change the hair appointment. The scheduling has lately been around 12 weeks, so really, it could wait another three to four weeks without issue. It’s a mystery why it was scheduled at eight weeks out. There was probably a logical reason, but I don’t recall it.  

Anyway, on Friday the hair appointment was changed, and today the vet pickup was made, followed by a nice and unhurried visit with my sister. As I prepared to leave with two bags stuffed with stuff from my sister, I saw I’d missed a call from Mom. I called her, but it went to voice mail, so I headed out. The loosely planned next leg of the day was stops at Big Lots and Market Basket, and possibly the $3 car wash and Ocean State Job Lot, all part of the usual Fitchburg circuit. 

While heading out of the ‘burg, a call came in from Mom asking where I was. She was en route to my house with StepDad and the repaired lawn mower. The first two potential stops had already been scrubbed as nonessential on the approach to the shopping plaza, and the remaining options, which were mostly for entertainment purposes, were also scrapped and I headed home.

Velcro dog fashions.

When I arrived, Mom was sitting in the truck, and StepDad was pushing the mower to the back yard. Not only had he fixed and delivered the mower, he had mowed both the front and back lawn. Talk about service. 

We entered the house for a brief visit and discovered that Winston, the Harry Houdini of his breed, was parading around pantsless. A mystery was afoot. After Mom left, I found the male wrap with the diaper inside it on the small landing at the bottom of the stairs. It was still closed, and the rough exposed velcro panel was attached to a toss pillow from the upstairs dog bed. It's a wonder this hasn't happened a million times before. Poor guy was attached to a pillow, but somehow managed to get down the stairs and liberate himself. He is a clever pup. 

The next phase of the day was a jump on the usual Sunday food prep with roasting veggies, some of which my sister had given me just hours earlier. Radishes, sweet potato, white potato, and broccoli were cut, tossed with olive oil and seasonings, and put into the oven. The temperature was set at 375 degrees, knowing that 400 causes the smoke detectors to go off. 

Roasted, broccoli half eaten.

Despite the temperature adjustment, the smoke detector went off anyway because I had forgotten to turn on the vent over the stove. Dish towels were waved and windows and doors opened. Winston sat trembling on the living room rug. The detector stopped briefly before going off several more times. Annoying. Embarrassing. Funny, because just hours earlier, I was telling my sister about the optimal temperature setting to avoid the smoke alarm going off. I failed to account for the teeny tiny broccoli bits that char to the delicious crispiness that I eat immediately upon removing the pan from the oven. At least I know the smoke detectors work.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 606 (Friday)

Rain splattered.

The drive to work was in a light shower and the forecast showed a 100% chance of rain for most of the morning. Leaving the car, I was laden like a pack mule with two large bags containing one decorated wreath each, a smaller bag with leftover decorating items, the work purse/tote, and an umbrella. As I stepped from the garage, two things happened almost simultaneously. I realized I had totally forgotten to grab anything for lunch, and the sky opened up in a heavy rain. 

By the time I made it to the office, my toes were wet in the footwear carefully chosen for the pretend leather material which was believed to not be ruined in wetness. The umbrella was not of the oversized variety, and my casual Friday jeans were wet from the back of my knees down to the hems. Longest quarter-mile ever.

Lunch - aka"why my pants don't fit."

The pants dried in time for the noon-ish wreath delivery errand, which luckily occurred between downpours. I was able to get to the gallery and on the way back, grab a veggie sub from Subway. In theory, half of the sub would be lunch, and the other half would be supper. It didn’t work that way. The entire thing was consumed and oddly, I was still hungry. Lately I want to eat everything in sight, like an animal preparing for hibernation. If only there could be a real stretch of several months of nothing but sleep. This is the dream I dare to dream.

I was the only occupant of my half of the fourth floor which felt a lot like solitary confinement or detention or some other punishment. Two colleagues were on the other side of the suite. Everyone else was either on a scheduled remote day or a vacation day. Work was busier than expected and went by strangely quick despite the solitary confinement and the soundtrack of the rain slamming against the roof. 

There were content reviews and rewrites coming in and going out. Projects were moved to the next review phase. The only phone call of the entire day was a wrong number. It took only a small bit of detective work to find the correct banker, and ended up being a transposition in the last two digits of the phone number. Now I’ll probably remember the other banker’s number forever. 

Around 4:00 the rain had stopped, the clouds were breaking up, and the sky was tinged with pink. After work, there was a route deviation for a quick stop at Market Basket for a couple items and to check for Tri-Sum original 1908 recipe chips in the odd chance the brand was suddenly carried there. It was a whole lot of nope in the chip aisle. There was a mystery in the cracker aisle with the absence of saltines with salt, which seems to defy the entire concept of SALT-ine crackers, but what do I know. I skipped the salt-free saltines and got the store brand versions of Ritz and Triscuits.

In addition to needed half-and-half and coffee, I got some bonus seafood and clam dip. It was an optimistic accompaniment for the coveted chips that had not yet been confirmed to still not exist in Market Basket, and was later certain would be found at the Hannaford that was on the way home. Hannaford had bags of Tri-Sum chips on the shelf, but not the newly revived 1908 original recipe in the vintage design bag. It was the sad taste of disappointment and a pivot from the planned light supper of chips and dip. It was crackers and dip for the win, but it didn't taste like victory.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 605 (Thursday)

Sorting the supplies inventory.

The plain and naked wreaths picked up on Wednesday were today transformed to adorned wreaths. It was the first of the annual “let’s destroy the tidiness of the house with holiday activities” day.

A box of ornaments segregated last year for future wreath use, plus a bag of random ornamental bits were laid out on the dining room table. The glue gun was dug out of the crafts cabinet. The scissors and craft wire gathered. The sales tag was removed and the many sprigs of the plain wreaths were straightened, fluffed, and arranged. Then the fun began.

The white poinsettias and silver sprig things were divided between the two wreaths. Wiring began on the first wreath. Soon, all the white poinsettias were arranged on one wreath. That left silver and silvery blue poinsettias and more silver springs and some random silver leaves for the second wreath.  Like with wreath number one, items were arranged for general placement then wired in place. Hallmark Christmas movies played on the TV in the next room mostly for the noise. Winston slept on the couch.

Done!

Three hours later, the two wreaths were decorated, just in time to figure out something for lunch. Finally. It seemed like a stunning example of Parkinson’s Law which states, “Work expands to fill the time available.” Then the activity flowed into soup making, but I was too hungry to wait for it to be done, so a grilled cheese sandwich was made while the soup simmered. The soup was a delicious supper, but the side of veggie crisps was a bit stale and boring. 

After wreaths and soup, it was time to round up photos for a family thing coming up. Then, photos were reviewed for use on this year’s Christmas Card. This took forever, but less due to expansion of work and more due to 10,000 stupid little things going sideways. It was a productive but frustrating chunk of time. While the morning activity was calm and peaceful, the afternoon project involved muttering about hating technology which startled Winston several times, and maybe some swearing. Ok, there was definitely swearing.

Original Recipe!

Usually, my inertia is the living embodiment the body at rest staying at rest. But today, all the crafty activity was a demonstration of the part of Newton’s law about bodies in motion staying in motion.

In exciting news, there was a post on Facebook from Tri-Sum Potato Chips that the original 1908 recipe is back in production and on the shelves in bags with the old-time design as of today. This is huge. It’s the best potato chip news in years since they changed the oil and the chips began to taste like every other chip on earth. I was so excited I called Mom to tell her. She wasn’t home, but my next call to share the news was to my sister, where Mom was visiting, and now we are all caught up on important news and excited that order is restored with the original flavor. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 604 (Wednesday)

November pansies?

It was another nice weather day. This morning before leaving for work, I noticed a couple pansies still blooming in a flower bed. I don't get it, but I like it. Note to self: plant more pansies next spring.

During the afternoon, I managed to get out of the office-office for a few minutes to run an errand. The habitual speed walking pace got the errand done in about 15 minutes. If I didn’t always insist on walking a million miles an hour it could have been enjoyed longer, but old habits die hard. I find it nearly impossible to walk slowly. 

Winston seemed happy and bouncy when I got home tonight. It’s been a long time since he’s been that perky, and it was good to see him so lively. After a month of it, the routine for downtown office days seems to be set. First, there is the cleanup of the pile of doggy displeasure on the kitchen floor. Then, it’s a climb up the stairs to find my guy. He waits at the top of the staircase at the edge of the top step, wearing his fabric wrap with a #3 baby diaper in it. The diaper fabric turns to gel and expands when wet, so it’s usually heavy, and I think the weight of it not only slows him down, but would make it hard for him to navigate the stairs. 

He waits at the top of the stairs until I ascend, tell him what a good boy he is, rub his silky head, and liberate him from his pants. Then he makes his way down the stairs to the front door.

While Winston is outside, his dinner is prepared. Prescription formula kibble is measured. He has refused to eat it unless it is enhanced with canned food or pumpkin puree, either of which solves the problem. While he’s eating, it’s insulin time. 

He knows when I have food.

After his entree, Winston stands in the kitchen, halfway between the bathroom doorway and the office area. He taps his front paws on the wood floor in a pattern. One, two three. Rest. One, two, three. Rest. It’s really cute. He’s telling me we’re not done yet. He will do this for however long it takes me to get the hint and deliver his dessert – a bit of doggy biscuit. It works. He has me trained well.

The next phase in Operation Suppertime is sticking close to me while I eat, edging closer and closer, silently like a ninja, nose twitching. It’s clear he is hoping for a morsel. Depending upon the meal, it sometimes works, but it’s rare, because nearly everything I make starts with onion, which is tasty for me but toxic for dogs. While cooking my own food, I have considered making an onion free version for Winston, but it never happens. There is a limit to the doting.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 603 (Tuesday)

The weather today sure felt unseasonably swell. The Internet tells me the high was 70 degrees. All I know is it felt warmer outside than inside the house. Inside, I was zipped up in fleece and trying to pull my long sleeves longer but when I let Winston outside, it felt like spring had arrived. Winston, being the golden sun worshipper he is, wanted to go out many times. He would poke around the yard and sniff his way around the perimeter. Then he would politely bark to come back in. Lather, rinse repeat. If not for tending to the adorable Canine Overlord, I might never leave my seat, so it's all good. The evening temperature of 50 also feels rather nice, but I can't remember what the usual temperature is for the first half of November. Is this typical? I dunno.

While Winston was outside, I was inside enjoying webinars, one of which was more a lengthy sales presentation and product demo than a helpful discussion about content management. Actual content management happened as documents flowed to various stages of review and in a couple cases ready to be loaded and launched to the world.

At 3:00, while Winnie had yet another potty break and walkabout, I took my own break outside. The back door deck and driveway were swept of leaves and some weeds were pulled and then it was back in to the keyboard.

Canine Overlord snuggle.

After a productive day, it was on to the next stage. A quick supper of macaroni and cheese was supped upon. This year’s Christmas list was drafted and I automatically started the downstroke of a “J” to write my brother’s name when I remembered there will be no more Christmases with him and that made me tear up.

After a quick monthly board meeting, where Zoom allowed me to not have to leave the house, it was off to the couch for Netflix and laptop time. Winnnie snuggled himself under the edge of the blanket that was across my lap. Mostly. His face, legs, and butt were sticking out. Soon it will be bedtime and Winston will snuggle between the duvet and the top puffy quilt where he usually sleeps through the night. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 602 (Monday)

As I walked down John Street from the garage to the office, I noticed white and gray feathers strewn on the brick sidewalk amongst the fallen leaves. Then a few more floated down to the ground from above. I looked up to see a bird sitting on a branch over the sidewalk. It was larger than a pigeon and smaller than a turkey which comes close to summing up most of my bird knowledge. The bird was pulling out feathers with its beak and releasing them to float through the air, then tearing at the flesh of what it was eating. Judging by the feathers, I guessed it was pigeon. 

Breakfast bar diner.

As I took photos with my phone of the lone diner at the breakfast counter, a tall, thin man with a yellowed and scraggly beard appeared. I pointed up to the bird and he asked if it was eating a squirrel. I pointed to the feathers and he said “oh, pigeon.” The bird shifted on the branch and the scraggly man said it was a red-tailed hawk. A few minutes were spent moving around trying to get a vantage point with less tricky lighting for photos to keep the bird from showing as just a silhouette in a tree. After about 20 photos of varying clarity and focus, the bird on the branch stopped eating and swooped down towards a flower bed bordering the sidewalk and a parking lot before turning sharply and heading skyward. It was dramatic, as if he was putting his flight skills on display for us.

The new 5:00 dark.

Scraggly beard and I began walking, because as pleasant as our chat was, I still needed to get to work. He told me about other birds he has seen downtown and pointed out crosses on a couple buildings on Merrimack Street. Some of the “crosses” looked like repairs to the buildings, but one was clearly a decorative carving in a stone façade. Then he stopped at the bus stop and I kept walking.

When I got out of work, it was already quite dark, so there was no returning to the scene of the breakfast crime. Then, it was all about admiring the glow of white lights in the trees and the shop windows. It’s been a long time since I was downtown after dark.