“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 679 (Friday)

New footwear for
 indoors and out.

For most of the week, the work computer has run frustratingly slow. Like 1995 slow. Today it was even slower, which was extra annoying because patience had worn pretty thin. In celebration of closing the book on the annoying workweek and it being the Friday night of a long holiday weekend, there was a supper splurge. 

The $5 loyalty coupon was redeemed from the preferred pizza and seafood delivery joint, and the fried seafood platter was ordered. I wanted it last weekend, but the shop was closed. All week long, the idea of it grew until it became a near-obsessive situation. Each day crept one day closer to Friday and a seafood platter. It was ordered, and delivered 

Sadly, tonight's fried dinner was not as good as those in the past. Some of the clams were sandy. It was ordered extra crispy, and arrived super soggy. Edible, just not the experience that was remembered. There was still time for a bit of redemption with the always delicious cannolo. Yes, even though the menu called it a cannoli, that is plural, and technically, I got one, so it’s a cannolo. Google told me so.

After dining on the disappointingly soggy seafood, it was time to open the box that arrived from Easy Spirit via UPS with new footwear for both indoors and out. Cute cold weather boots and much needed slippers were ordered last weekend. The boots were on sale and were a case of Internet lust at first, second, and third sight and were the reason for multiple visits to the website before finally caving in and buying them. 

The slippers were an add-on item. New slippers have been needed since the last pair was laundered and donated to charity. They were too loose, and after skidding down the stairs in them twice and acquiring some massive eggplant colored bruises, they were christened “the death slippers” and retired. Over the past couple years, slip-on indoor shoes have served as slipper replacements, but have become beat to heck and are barely serviceable.

After carefully unpacking the goods, the beat-up indoor shoes were cast aside and the new slippers were slipped on. And … with my cozy and thick winter socks, I can’t actually get them on. They can be squeezed into with thinner socks, but thanks to my supremely high arches, they are not what could be called comfortable. More like torturous. I’m not even trying on the boots until tomorrow. For now, they are still full of potential and I can imagine they fit. Why ruin it now? 

Cure on a plate.

It was time for that cannolo. It’s a lot of pressure on a singular pastry, expecting it to cure a day, but it did the trick. It’s the best $2.50 cure for a week so far. That and doggy hugs, which are priceless. Wine is helping, too.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 678 (Thursday)

Winston’s results from wearing the glucose monitor came in from the vet. His sugar, which has a target level of 100, was consistent at 400 in the readings. Oy. His insulin dosage is now increased from six units to eight. Today was the first day with the new dosage, and unfortunately, it was an office-office day, so I wasn’t at the house to keep an eye on him. 

Winston on the couch,
January 13, 2012.

When I got home, all seemed as usual – Winston waited at the top of the stairs, just outside the bedroom. His tail was wagging, butt wiggling, front paws tapping, diaper band full of pee, and seemed as happy for me to be home as I was to be home. Gotta love the doggy love.

This month marks 10 years since Winston came to stay with me, but I can’t remember the exact date, which makes me feel like a horrible pet parent. Was it the 9th? the 12th? the 6th? I don't know. Facebook Memories has a picture of him on January 13, 2012, sprawled on his back on the couch in Tennessee looking very comfortable, with the post “I guess Winston is comfortable,” so it seems the anniversary date was close to now. Maybe I shouldn’t beat myself up too much, because it doesn’t seem he remembers it, either. Winston sill loves sprawling on the couch, but lately he prefers to hide under a blanket. Sometimes his nose sticks out a bit, and other times, he is undetectable to the untrained eye. It might be a pile of blanket, or it might be Winston.

Winston on the couch, 2022.

It’s been a fun decade. Moose was my longest relationship, and Winston is the solid second longest. Both dogs lasted longer than any human male partners in my life, and I’m not sure what that says about me and human men. I do, however, recall what some of the men who were once in my life have said to me. There was, “You’re too independent.” “You just don’t need anyone!” “Damn, you’re hard to read.” And possibly my favorites, both from the same five-year relationship live-in ex, “You should be a CEO with your MBA,” and in another conversation, “When I get married I want a stay at home wife.” Dogs are adorable, mostly easy to please, and they definitely don’t give me that kind of grief. So happy anniversary, Winston, my boo! Whenever it was. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 677 (Wednesday)

This morning while letting Winston out, there was an older Beemer outside with chipped greenish-blue paint on the hood. It had “Fearless!” in large lettering on the top of the windshield, and was impossible to miss. It was parked in my driveway, outside the gate to the fortress of solitude. I have no idea to whom it belongs or from where it came. Maybe the driver was visiting the neighbor on the other side of the shared driveway. I figured if it was still there when I got home, it could be dealt with then, and headed downtown. 

While driving behind a school bus, the live entertainment featured a gaggle of rugrats in colorful parkas climbing over the seats, shoving each other, and running back and forth in the aisle. 

Work was a day of more of the same. Lunch was a mediocre offering of leftover pasta with green bean casserole. There were chocolates in the office.

Supper was the singular shining moment of the day. It was an egg roll. Tuesday after work, a stop was made at Family Dollar for the usual affordable and entertaining greeting cards, makeup remover wipes, and toilet paper. The freezer cases were checked en route to the registers, and several boxes of egg rolls caught my eye. There were vegetable, shrimp, and chicken flavors displayed. The calorie count was not bad at around 230 per roll. The cost was phenomenal at $1. It was worth a gamble, and all three flavors were bought.

Best frozen $1 egg roll.

Tuesday’s supper was the vegetable egg roll. I was worried about not having any sauce for it, but a packet is included with the egg roll. After 45 seconds in the microwave, it went into the toaster oven for crisping. After one toast cycle, the egg roll was rotated 180 degrees for another toast cycle. The once frozen sauce sat in a metal cup warming atop the toaster oven. And it was good. Best $1 meal in ages.

Wednesday, there was egg roll on the brain and supper was the one labeled “shrimp.” It didn’t taste any different than Tuesday's vegetable selection, but maybe 24 hours between tastings was too much time and a side-by-side flavor test is needed. Perhaps this can be scheduled in for the long holiday weekend.

It seems a bit unsophisticated and a lot immature and pathetic that some of my favorite meals are 50-cent ramen, $1 egg rolls, and $3.10 frozen pizza (which provides three meals). Once upon a lifetime ago, when I was 2/3 of my current age and had a social life and lots of disposable cash, my favorite meals were things like filet mignon and homemade pasta with pricey wines. Yes, I was fancy and sociable once upon a time. Now my palate (and lifestyle) is $1 egg roll basic which is perilously close to gas station hot dogs on the dining scale.

The beat up Beemer was gone from the driveway when I arrived home, but the curiosity is killing me. Not to be too judgey, but the shoddy look of it seems to suit my 50-cent ramen, $1 egg roll life. If it’s ever back in my driveway, maybe I can meet the driver and make a friend with whom to share my new proclivity for fine-dining.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 676 (Tuesday)

Snow tracks.

It was cold, but only if you think five degrees is cold. Sure, it was well below freezing, but at least it was still a positive number. Right?

The ice at the end of the driveway was the dry brittle stuff that shatters when stepped on and makes a satisfying sound. A dusting of snow covering the driveway was accented by a trail of tracks between the car and the yard. They ran  under the car and came out the other end. Weather reports proclaimed it was “the coldest temperatures in three years” and the on-dash monitor informed me the tires are suddenly low again. On the bright side (literally) the sun was out and required use of the visor.  

The walk from the garage to the office was invigorating. I play the little games played while a student walking to school including altering routes around other pedestrians to avoid changing speed, and engaging in foot races with other unsuspecting pedestrians, which I nearly always win. Walking fast can build up some body heat, even when it’s only five degrees out. During those mile-long walks to school, the scarf would be loosened and coat unzipped halfway there, and I would often be sweating by the time I arrived. Maybe I should start walking to work on the cold days, for old time’s sake.

The day’s attire included a base layer of long johns and the super warm and cozy recently mended alpaca sweater, and the alpaca shoe liners were in the tan suede chukka boots chosen for the day, so it wasn’t too bad. There’s a saying that has been attributed to the Norwegians, the Swedes, the Finns, and possibly folks from all the cold weather countries – “There’s no such thing as bad weather, only the wrong clothing.” It really does make a difference.

It helped being at the office-office today, where my favorite amenity is the water dispenser with instant hot water, allowing for endless cups of hot tea. Or, more accurately, one cup of hot fruit tea that is frugally refilled with hot water enough times that eventually it is just hot water. The home-office was once a porch, and when it was finished into an extension of the kitchen, insulation doesn’t seem to have been part of the project. The office and the bathroom closet are the coldest spots in the house. If the refrigerator ever ceases working, I know where to keep the perishables. And it was nice to not be sitting in there today.

Best boy in the world.

After settling in at my office-office desk after the invigorating walk, I realized that I had put a sweater on Winston but I forgot about his pants. Apparently, the five consecutive days at home between remote workdays and the weekend made me soft and forgetful. I envisioned the potential flood of pee that would greet me upon my return. 

Luckily, at lunch time, I was able to dash home to check on things. The floors were dry and my good boy met me at the door and was ready for a trip outside. The cold must have inspired people to stay indoors, because there was no traffic during that quick errand. It was like driving in a ghost town, and it was pretty fantastic.

Powered by hot beverages, too many chocolate truffles brought in by a colleague, and the joy of setting up new spreadsheets, the afternoon passed quickly. (Yes, I really do enjoy spreadsheets.) At 4:55, it was still light(ish) out. It may have been friggin’ cold, but it was still a decent day.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 675 (Monday)

In all the chores and responsibilities and crap of adulting, there are pleasures. One of my favorites is having control of my environment. Another is getting new glasses.

The need for vision correction arrived in third grade, after not being able to read the chalkboard and then failing an eye exam in school. Those first glasses were dark brown plastic, the frames were called “Peanut Bar,” and I loved them because they were almost exactly like the glasses Mummu wore at the time.

Gotta love the cockeyed glasses.

It didn’t take too long with reading in bed and falling asleep with glasses on before they sat crazy crooked on my face. This was not something anyone in the family knew how to fix so I was stuck wearing cockeyed glasses. As a kid, this was usually the situation until that magical time when there would be another failed eye exam to force a new prescription. Or, if I was lucky, an epic after school latchkey kid brawl around fifth or sixth grade would happen and my brother would punch me in the face and crack the bridge of those cockeyed glasses enough that it took very little to snap them totally in half. Yes, that happened. Thank God. 

From third grade until freshman year of college when I finally started wearing contact lenses, eyeglasses were dictated largely by family finances. Choosing frames was a high-pressure situation, because the pair chosen would be the ones stuck with for years. 

Contact lenses meant freedom. It meant stylish sunglasses off the rack. Eyeglasses were reserved for emergency backup, worn only in the event of a torn or lost contact lens, eye infection, hangover, or time spent kicking back at home. About 10 years ago, age set in and contacts stopped being the perfect solution. Reading glasses became necessary, even with multi-focal contacts. Soon, even that didn’t help.

Returning to wearing eyeglasses as an adult with an income and a vision plan has been far superior to being a kid with no financial control and needing glasses. Being an adult in control of one’s own situation is amazing. Glasses are trendy and people don't call me "four eyes" and "window face" anymore, so that's quite pleasant. Having access to the Internet and online providers of eyeglasses is pretty awesome, too. Even with the eyeglass coverage in the vision plan, it is far less expensive to buy glasses online, which I learned the hard way. In the past eight years, at least eight pairs of glasses and two pairs of prescription sunglasses have been acquired, mostly from online sellers.

New glasses!!

The latest online eyewear shopping expedition started around Thanksgiving in preparation for the annual eye exam in December. “Favorites” were stockpiled on both the Zenni and EyeBuyDirect sites. Frame sizes were studied and compared to the fit of existing frames. Virtual try-ons were done. I was ready.

The newest prescription has a smidge of a change in one eye, so it was worth the wait. Just after Christmas, new frames with a new prescription were ordered. Despite the order never being updated in the order tracking, the new glasses arrived in the mailbox today, which was another Monday mailbox surprise. They were loose out of the case, but a quick check on the Zenni site for how to adjust frames produced the solution. 

Now, a new pair of glasses is in the rotation, and for a while they will probably be the favorite pair. Then it will swing back to another pair. Once in a while, it’s a pretty cool being an adult. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 674 (Sunday)

Today, movie time featured The Tender Bar on Prime Video, a Ben Affleck movie that included scenes shot in Fitchburg. I can take or leave Ben, but I was ready for the “is that Fitchburg” game, knowing there was shooting in the neighborhood where my great aunt Julia and great uncle Pat lived when I was a kid.

I wanted to love the movie. Scenes were shot in my hometown. It features a character who loves to read and wants to be a writer. Despite the built in bias to like the movie, there was one thing I had trouble reconciling.

Character J.R. in The Tender Bar.

The very young J.R. had dark hair, dark eyebrows, and dark eyes with long black, curly lashes, which were featured in many tight shots on his face during his scenes, making them  impossible to miss. They are the lashes featured in the selfies of hundreds (thousands!) of trendy young women on social media, including countless videos of the application of Thrive Causemetics brand mascara. The older J.R. has lighter hair, lighter eyebrows, and lighter blue-gray eyes with stumpy, nondescript, brownish lashes. This is the thing upon which I became fixated.

I fully recognize and acknowledge that hair and eye colors can naturally change. Mom went from Scandinavian blond to brown as she grew up. When my brother was young, his eyes were so dark the pupil often couldn’t be distinguished from the iris, and they lightened to a beautiful golden honey brown as he got older. It’s the lashes that are my problem. Can someone’s lashes go from long, black and curly to stumpy, light and straight? I’m not buying it. This was a stumbling block for me. With all the lash lengthening products available, this issue could have been easily solved in the makeup chair in mere minutes.

Maybe I’ve spent too much time poring over family photos studying changes through the lives of individual relatives and resemblances between family members.

Green bean casserole.

Beyond scrutinizing the movie, which was overall pretty good aside from the main character eyelashes, the rest of the day was mostly normal. Not that analyzing the actors playing the young and older versions of characters isn’t normal for me. Normal like a curse.

There was laundry. There was a green bean casserole made with ground pretend meat crumbles added in an attempt to make it less of a side dish and more of an entrée. Sadly, it wasn’t as great in the dining phase as imagined during the preparation phase. Lesson learned. Maybe chunks of chicken or turkey next time. If there is a next time.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 673 (Saturday)

A dental appointment in Fitchburg at 11:00 meant having to go out into the cold temperatures and potentially icy roads from the snow on Friday. It was discovered earlier in the week that there was also a hair salon appointment in Worcester scheduled at the same time, which was pushed out a couple weeks in favor of the dental cleaning.

At 8:00 this morning, while drinking coffee and scrolling through emails, a text came in cancelling the dental appointment. The message said it was due to the illness of the hygienist, and rebooked the cleaning for two weeks from now at the same time. As in, once again at the exact same time and date as the previously rescheduled hair appointment. The idea of not having to go out was totally acceptable, but now I need to change the dental appointment. Sometimes it feels like I need an administrative assistant.

Super long pull in a sweater.

With the day suddenly free, I had the buoyant feeling of a kid on a snow day. It was time to evaluate the entertainment options. Art open house? Read the book for book club? Household tasks? Cook? Then I spotted my alpaca sweater in a heap.

It’s a creamy white, fine gauge cable knit from a Central Mass alpaca farm gift shop, and is the most expensive sweater I’ve ever bought for myself. It’s lightweight and warm, and  has been a cold weather favorite since moving back from Tennessee. At least it was, until last winter. One day while I was working at the desk,  Winston caught a nail and made a gigantic pull in it. Since then, it’s been relegated to the mending pile where items tend to languish for ages while solutions are contemplated and avoided. 

Except for a fine horizontal line a couple inches from the bottom edge, the pull wasn’t visible from the outside, but it was easy to see from the backside. The long loop had been tucked to the inside and was so long it hung below the edge of the sweater where it was in danger of catching on things and becoming worse.

All fixed. from the backside.

There was an idea to fix it by pulling the yarn back along the site using a crochet hook which wouldn’t damage the fibers. A search began this morning for the crochet hook I swore I had. It’s green and was my grandmother’s. Drawers in the sewing desk were rummaged. There was rifling through the button tin which holds an amazing collection of buttons, hooks, needles, small scissors, and assorted tidbits from my grandmother and great aunt, supplemented by buttons left over from my old sewing projects. I had no idea I possessed a mattress needle until this morning. There was no crochet hook found, but crewel needles were located. 

Coffee was topped off. Hulu and a British series were turned on. The eye end of a crewel needle was used to carefully pull the delicate two-ply yarn stitch by stitch back along the route of the pull. 

The next thing I knew, it was 12:30. I wasn't really hungry, but I felt a little broken from hunching over the work. A container of macaroni and cheese was pulled from the freezer and heated for lunch. After the quick break it was back to the pull. And in another  blink it was 4:30. 

Salmon, spinach, farfalle reward.

Somehow, I spent an entire Saturday with dogged focus, working an eight or ten inch piece of yarn back though a sweater. When I paused for supper, after the many hours of close work on the tiny stitches, my vision was blurry. Reading the instructions on the pasta box to know how long to cook it was difficult.  

After a week of meals of reheated pizza and soup, it seemed there should be a grander reward for Saturday’s tedious task. Supper was salmon on a bed of spinach, with farfalle, capers, and kalamata olives. Dinner was great and my beloved sweater is repaired and can safely go back into the wardrobe rotation. It was a good day.