“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 672 (Friday)

Snow was promised. Snow was received.

Ready for the snow.

At 3:00 am when Winston politely “oofed” me awake to take him out to potty, there was a light dusting of the stuff the ground, and an abundance of tiny flakes falling steadily. At 7:00 when he next went out, smartly attired in a slightly too large, waterproof, fleece lined overcoat, snow needed clearing. The steps and paved walk were shoveled, along with a crude short path across the lawn. It was mostly wasted effort, as he can’t see the shoveled path and blazed his own trail through the accumulation. 

The first surprise was that Winston tolerated the coat. The second surprise is that he is still such a trooper in the snow, walking all over the yard. It’s just too bad he doesn’t get to run and frolic through it anymore since losing his sight. He always seemed happy bouncing around the yard. 

Blazing trails in the snow.

At lunchtime, while admiring the steaming bowl of the day’s updated soup offering concocted from yesterday’s freezer mystery soup plus leftover Vegetable Masala and rice tossed in, the idea was to have French toast for supper. It felt like a brilliant plan. Decadent, even.

The only drawback to remote work is the loss of snow days. To make it worse, every program used for work today was as slow as pond scum. Opening programs took forever. Navigation within them was like moving under water. Email was closed and reopened. I logged off the system and then back on. It was so annoying that it was decided to go out and shovel for a bit before putting my fist through the screen.

According to National Weather Service reports, Lowell got 7.4 inches as of 2:30 this afternoon. Westwood got the most at 14.4 inches. Two neighbors were already outside rearranging the snow in the shared driveway and the street beyond. The three of us cleared the rest of the driveway and the end of the street wider and better. The plow that came late in the morning had cleared a strip barely wider than a footpath down the center of the street.

As suppertime approached, it was suddenly fried seafood on the brain. After work, the favorite pizza place with the amazing captain's platter was checked, but the banner at the top of the ordering site announced they are closed until Monday. Plan B was enacted, but that shop's site said they weren’t currently taking online orders. Over at Plan C, a seafood place with great reviews, there were no descriptions of the menu items. What exactly comes on the seafood platter? It’s anyone’s guess, apparently. Plan D was Chinese food, but I didn’t love the sound of any of it enough to bother. 

The final decision was the usual fallback – yet another slab of the leftover pizza from last week, straight from the freezer and into the toaster oven by way of the microwave. As it slid from the toaster oven onto the plate, I finally remembered the plan had originally been French toast for supper, but it was too late. Maybe tomorrow. Unless there is some random diversion to derail the plan.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 671 (Thursday)

The morning was crisp and a clear blue sky with a touch of weird. At 8:00, while logging in for work, butt parked in the chair, coffee at the ready, noise from outside began to creep into consciousness.

There was a lot of cawing going on. The door was opened for a look and a better listen while the computer did its logging in magic which seems to take forever when I’m sitting there glaring at the screen.

The cawing had a pattern. A black bird in a tree to the left called out “caw, caw, caw!” One to the right responded with “caw, caw, caw, caw!” Three times from the right, four from the left for several repetitions. I wondered what they were communicating to each other. 

Then it got quiet. 

Four on a roof.

The bird from the right flew from the tree and swooped down towards the road before arcing back up. Another bird came from another direction and flew down close to the road. Several other black birds appeared and circled the sky and I wondered if there was something dead and delicious in the road. The birds quietly gathered on the rooftops of the two houses across the street. There were four on one house, three on another, and several more stationed in the surrounding trees. There ended up being about a dozen of them. It's the first time I've seen so many gathering. It was still quiet. 

It had creepy overtones, like a Hitchcock movie. Then I thought of Schitt’$ Creek actress Catherine O’Hara as character Moira Rose in the role of Dr. Clara Mandrake in the movie The Crows Have Eyes III: The Crowening. This amused me. 

And then, one bird flew away. Then another, and suddenly they were all just gone. That had me even more curious. Where did they come from? Where did they go? Who knows, and there was no time to care any more. It was time for me to fly back to my desk.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 670 (Wednesday)

There was icy rain and slick conditions during the morning, but luckily not for my commute. As the morning wore on, the traffic horror stories began to filter in. On a conference call at 9:30, a presenter from Connecticut mentioned his wife had been stuck in traffic on a slick road for two hours while trying to bring their son to school. Later, we heard that a portion of a major interstate in southern New Hampshire was closed. It was good to be inside, where the only contact with the weather was hearing the rain pelting against the roof and skylights.

In addition to the dry and comfortable conditions in the office, there were treats. We’d already eaten our way through the holiday gifts of cheese baskets, chocolates, and more, and thought we were clear to buckle down and focus on shedding the holiday weight gain, but more treats arrived this week. Now it’s a fresh mine field of fancy chocolates, fruit candies, and some amazing soft and creamy caramel. Oh, and delicious bakery cupcakes to celebrate a colleague’s birthday. It was a grand day for cheating on a diet plan. Then again, most of them are.

Illuminated emptiness.

Late in the afternoon, the rain had stopped. The wet concrete sidewalk that wrapped around the Subway shop across the street on corner was deserted and the interior lights illuminated the emptiness of the dining room inside. There are times of the day when the shop is bustling with people picking up food and sitting and eating. This was not one of those times and the sole diner at a window counter seat was mostly obscured from my view by a light pole directly outside the shop. It reminded me of an Edward Hopper painting and made me feel a little sad. Or maybe it was a sugar crash from all the treats earlier.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 659 (Tuesday)

Soup du jour.

The past couple days have been cold, with temperatures in the 20s. This heralds the beginning of serious  soup season. 

Monday was an office-office day, so it was quiche carried in for lunch and soup had to wait for supper. Today was a remote work day, which meant there could be soup for lunch and then more soup for supper. The soup base was made with the Christmas ham and has seemed to be a bottomless pot. 

It started as a smaller pot of soup, but it's lasted for days. And nights. Every time it’s been eaten, a little of this and a little of that was added. It was the same soup, but it was never the same soup twice. The most recent evolution included additions of sautéed fresh spinach and mushrooms, plus leftover black eyed peas and rice. It was delicious.

Tuesday's soup of the day is nearly (finally) gone, so the next soup adventure will begin with another container from the freezer. Pick a tub, any tub. None of them are labeled, so it’s always like a Vegas crap shoot. Whatever it is revealed to be when it thaws, new things will be added anyway. Carrots, celery, mushroom, onion. All game. Pasta, white potato, sweet potato, rice. Choose one, maybe two. Part of the soup fun is the randomness of the adventure. And fresh multigrain bread with a schmear of butter.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 658 (Monday)

Sky blue pink.

Around 4:30 this afternoon, I had the luck to turn my head to the left in the direction of the window and catch a glimpse outside. The sky was turning the color my Mom always called “sky blue pink.” I was an adult before realizing that is actually an accurate description of the sky at a point in a sunset before the pink deepens and the orange sets in. 

Until then, I thought it was just one of Mom’s often amusing, sometimes snarky sayings. The conversation took place many times in my youth. Sometimes I asked because I genuinely wanted to know the answer, and other times it was to see if the answer would be the same as the last time. It went like this:

Me as a youngling: “Mom, what’s your favorite color?”

Mom: “Sky blue pink with purple polka dots.”

You can probably see where the uncertainty came in. And I still don't know if that was Mom's favorite color, with or without polka dots.

Once the sky was noticed today, I started stalking it. Over the next seven or eight minutes, I kept jumping up to try to get a decent photo on my phone through the window before the colors were gone. As each minute ticked by, the colors deepened outside and the reflections on the window glass from the office lights behind me increased inside.

Sky blue pink with
window reflections.

By the time the sunset had reached its most intense color, the interior reflections were impossible to avoid and the image impossible to capture, on the phone anyway. The reflections might be overcome if the sunset was at a straight angle to the window and I could set the phone flat against the glass, but that is not the direction where the sun sets and the colors paint the sky. In a few minutes, the light was gone and the sky was dark, the hunt was over, and I was back at my desk typing. 

Turning off the lights is an option, but not a practical one, nor one that would be well received by the other colleagues working throughout the suite while I’m monkeying around with a sunset. Knowing there will be a lot of reflections on the glass doesn’t stop me from trying. Year after year, I keep taking and deleting sunset and holiday light photos.

At home and on Facebook, the newsfeed was full of glorious and intensely colored photos of the same sunset I was trying to capture. Had I been in a better position, or not looking through glass, or able to hang out the window and using a proper camera, or any number of other variables, maybe I could have captured the ultimate moment.

Maybe someday I’ll get lucky and get the shot when the sky is most intense.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 657 (Sunday)

Most of the decorations.

The Christmas wreath is now down from the front door. It was the only sign of Christmas at The BungaLowell that was visible from the street. Minimal decorations were done this year, mostly just enough to feel a sense of the season without going overboard as in years past. 

A candle ring, some ornaments in a candy dish, a soda can snowflake, and the church rummage sale tree topper still adorn the living room, and represent nearly all the Christmas decorations placed in the house this year. Most of it was forgotten when the 2020 decorations were put away, and were slipped into a drawer in the living room. This is where they will return. 

Not having the usual trees set up in multiple rooms makes the undecorating step a lot quicker and easier. Now my mind is free to shift back to overthinking other longer-term decorating matters like drapes for the dining room sliders, café curtains for the kitchen window, and maybe an entertainment center wall unit for the living room.

The domestic musings are nothing new. They’ve been tumbling around the cranium for the entire five years I’ve been here. One of the biggest arguments in favor of inaction specific to the entertainment unit is the need to designate furniture to go out in order to be able fit anything else in. And where would it go and how? It all feels like a lot more work than just shopping for a specific furniture piece. Then there is the moving it into the house and setting it up part. 

Deeper shelves to
hold more work.

A small part of the day involved actual activity and not just sitting around overthinking curtains and stuff. It was the day to pick up unsold artwork from the member show I had photos in for the past month or two. While at the gallery, time was finally spent swapping out acrylic display shelves for deeper ones bought at least six months ago.

Laziness and procrastination prevented making the shelf swap earlier. At least now, when the closet door is opened to grab paper towels or dog food, there will no longer be a box of acrylic shelves parked on a shelf emitting guilt rays. Several more matted photos were brought to my gallery space, a framed piece was swapped out, and the wall was rearranged. It was a brief and unhurried hour that delivered a long overdue sense of accomplishment. With the deeper shelves installed, I can bring more matted photos into the space.

The rest of the afternoon was spent with Cobra Kai playing on Netflix and an online search for more mats and frames playing out on the laptop. There are another nine gajillion recent photo prints waiting to be dealt with for both the house and the gallery space. They’re everywhere. Open a drawer, find a pile. Family photos. Dog photos. Artsy photos. Each begging for a window mat and a frame. Soon, little photos, soon. It’s in the unofficial official goals for the new year. The progress may be accomplished in shards and fragments, but over time, hopefully it will make something larger.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 656 (Saturday) New Year's Day

I am aware that there are rituals to usher in the New Year, but the only one that has been a regular event for me is breaking open a new daily journal on the first day of the year. The separate daily calendar/planner was opened a  month or two ago to log multiple appointments already scheduled throughout the year. 

It may be only the first day of the year, but the first scheduling glitch has already happened. A text message reminder came today for a routine dental appointment set months ago. It turns out it’s next Saturday and the same day and time as a hair salon appointment that was also scheduled months ago. Crazy things happen in the weird space before the new calendar arrives.

Quiche!

There were bursts of activity during the day. A spinach, mushroom, and cheese quiche was baked, prompted by the trip to Aldi on Friday. The challenge will be finding freezer space for the five pieces remaining after lunch.

The finally completed puzzle of fishing lures was dismantled and put away. A few books were gathered for a donation box being picked up Wednesday, and it was reinforced that I am indeed a book hoarder with separation anxiety. Every time I touched a book not read in forever (or at all) it caused physical pain. There seems to be some imagined world where I lay around and read books all day, but I can't find the secret portal to cross over to that magical space. In the end, one never used cookbook, a dog training book, and a book of short stories by J.D. Salinger were all that made it into the donation box.

A pile of jeans and tops that don’t fit (and haven’t fit for years) was collected for the donation pickup. The reality is being accepted that I will never be a size four again, and there is no interest in going through the effort to get back there because currently the joy of eating outweighs the pain of dieting and exercising. It’s time to clear the fabric ghosts of sizes and lifetimes past and create some room in the drawers and closet for actual reality.

Mystery blanket with mystery gash.

A wool blanket that was recently pulled from a stack of stored blankets was discovered to have a tear extending several inches from the fringed edge. Neither Mom nor I can figure out how the mystery blanket came into my possession, where it is from, or how long I’ve had it. 

For weeks, I’ve been thinking about stitching it, mulling such details as whether to try and make it an invisible repair, or go bold and make it an obvious one, maybe even highlighting it with it a contrast decorative cross stitch overlay in yarn or embroidery floss for a bolder repair statement. There was no floss or yarn kicking around, so it was heavy buttonhole thread for the job. Maybe the decorative stitch can happen later.

Dinner for the New Year.

The many Facebook posts during the day from Southern friends featuring the traditional New Year black-eyed peas, greens, and ham, inspired dinner at The BungaLowell. Spinach was swapped in for collard greens purely due to availability, and with black eyed peas, some rice, leftover Christmas ham, and some bonus shrimp, it was a very tasty plate indeed. 

The evening is all about Cabernet Sauvignon, Mexican mocha ball cookies, and Emily in Paris (Season Two) on Netflix. So far, 2022 is all good, man.