“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 827 (Monday) – minor mission

It was a day of gooey time, quick time, and reckoning. Most of the workday was quiet and passed slowly. There were several of us in the office, and all were focused and quiet and busy at our respective work stations. And after a day where the clock dragged and took its sweet time, as though slogging through thick mud, suddenly it was 4:00, which was important because I needed to leave early.

Winston, the good boy.

At 4:25, files were closed, the computer was shut down, and I bolted from the desk, to the garage, and for the not-so-open road of Route 495 and then Route 2. That is where time began to stand still again a bit. But just a little. 

The traffic was moderately heavy, the travel was steady, the destination was Winston’s vet office, and the objective was getting his veterinary insulin. While in the slightly less expensive area for gas, the tank was filled. Cha-ching. Bye bye money, it was nice knowing you. 

The return trip featured steady travel and at 6:20, I was home. Winston was waiting inside the kitchen door, all cute and happy. He was let outside and his supper was prepared – prescription kibble with fresh chicken broth heated and stirred in the way he likes it. Today, anyway. This preference can and likely will change. Probably soon.

The vet trip was required because the insulin supply seems to be fine and then suddenly, one day it is nearly depleted. Last week it was getting low and today it was nearly gone. Today was one of the days the vet is open until 7:00. 

Calculations were made for time, distance and the latest possible departure from the office to still get there, even if there was a traffic tie-up. The refill was ordered and the mission scheduled on my calendar. Now we are good for about six weeks or so. With that singular aspect, anyway. There is another day of reckoning on the horizon for more flea and tick and heartworm prevention, but those refills weren't requested for today's pickup. And a wallet can take only so much aggressive activity in one day.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 826 (Sunday) – productive procrastination

Another beautiful weather day. Imagine if it could stay like this all the time -- sunny, breezy, temperature in the high 70s with sunrise around 5:00 am and sunset at nearly 8:30 pm. Sigh.

Love this plant place --
Gary's Too, Rte 119, Townsend.

The drive to dance class took place with the roof open, sunglasses on, and radio playing. Dance was fun, but now we are done until September. There are other teachers with summer classes that might be good to check out. Or not. Relaxing sounds pretty good.

The usual Sunday visit to the farm stand happened after class.  I wandered aimlessly looking at the plants and all the colors, but didn’t get anything. Unfortunately, this week I had no plan for where to put more flowers and the lack of a plan was crippling. The selection can be overwhelming when not looking for something specific. But it’s okay. I can go back there anytime. 

There was a ripple effect from the non-purchase of flowers. It meant there was no need to be digging today, which allowed time and energy to trim the rhododendron. It had begun sprawling again and was covering windows, hanging over the lawn, and crowding the neighbor plants. It’s trimmed now. While trimming, I realized that handling that task was really a delaying tactic to avoid mowing. At least it was a productive procrastination effort.

The game of “should I water the flowers or should I not” played in the background. After hearing it was going to rain the watering was skipped, but so far, not a single drop has fallen.

In exciting news of other adulting tasks, grocery shopping was done and the produce bin is restocked with salad ingredients. A roast chicken was bought  and there is fresh broth for Canine Overlord Winston’s food. It’s the three tablespoon solution that gets him to eat his food, so it’s worth the hours of a chicken carcass simmering on the stove.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 825 (Saturday) – invitations and inspiration

Inspiration strikes when it wants and where it wants. It can be hoped for and invited, but that doesn’t mean it will appear. This knowledge was reinforced recently when I read the book Satori in Paris by Jack Kerouac. It was the theme for an exhibit and I hoped the words would invite a visit from the Muse and I’d be inspired to make photos to enter into the exhibit. I enjoyed the book, but the Muse didn’t visit. I had exactly zero ideas for new work, and insufficient ambition to look through the multiple binders of old negatives from Paris or hard drives of newer work to print from those. Looking at photos of a young Jack Kerouac during the past few months and various sources has shown me one thing. Young Jack was hot and if I was around Lowell in his young days, I would likely have been crushing on him. Hard. But I digress.

Satori in Paris - the exhibit.

The exhibit reception was today, and the show is an assortment of paintings, photos, and mixed media pieces. It was a treat to see the studio artists who were on site, a couple colleagues who attended, and a friend who had work in the show. Except for the masks required because the gallery is in a federal building, it all felt very pre-pandemic normal.

Looking at the artworks done by the folks who managed to get their acts together and create elicited mixed emotions. There was interesting work to admire and appreciate. At the same time, there was a twinge of sadness and regret that I hadn’t gotten my own crap together to have something to enter. It’s not the first time and surely won’t be the last.

During a conversation with a writer I met at the reception, we ran through a variety of topics. While I told her about photos I’ve taken in Maine and the vacations of my youth camping at York Beach, she commented a couple times that it gave her an idea. Sometimes all it takes is a conversation for inspiration. For half the conversational transaction, anyway. At least we exchanged business cards so we can resume the conversation. Too many times there have been great conversations with just-met people and then we go our separate ways and it becomes an eroding memory of “person X was so interesting, too bad I’ve never run into them again.”

So. Much. Brick.

After the reception it was back through the courtyard to the car and home. I took a minute to acknowledge all the brick. Downtown Lowell has a LOT of brickwork. Brick buildings. Brick courtyards. A brick park. More brick buildings. It feels stable. Solid. Dependable. No fairy tale wolf will blow down this little pig's house.

At The BungaLowell, Winston was waiting for me. Recently, instead of being upstairs outside the bedroom, he is in the office when I arrive home. When I come in through the kitchen door, he does the cute thing where he taps his front paws on the floor. This particular choreography is presented when I get home and twice a day when he reminds me that he has not received his good boy cookie for eating the prescription food he isn’t so keen on. The cookie reward system is alive and well, even if the Muse invitational system is not.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 824 (Friday) – downtown walking

Another beautiful weather day, another quick afternoon walk downtown. It was a refreshing break from the desk, even though things were running great at the desk today. There were four people working on the floor and there was light conversation and fellowship. You know, the things that make working in an office fun and that provide energy to power through the work. 

Friday reflections in a store window.

Content was finished and polished and sent to a business line for review with a deadline of next Friday. In possibly the fastest review ever, all three articles were returned in a most expeditious manner with minor edits to one of them, and they were submitted for full review. Things were running on all cylinders today and it felt good.

The afternoon walk was to further stalk the Vintage Store that is in the process of setting up. Merrimack Street was abuzz with energy at 3:00. Outside the bakery, there was a cluster of student types and the scent of marijuana hung in the air. People walked along the sidewalks and ate at restaurant sidewalk tables.

Nobody was inside the vintage shop today, but there was a QR code inside the glass door. Since the pandemic, QR codes have made quite the comeback, and are now used for restaurant menus, beer lists, and links to websites in print ads. I hoped the QR code would lead me to a website for the store, but it opened a list of payment apps and Poshmark, the online secondhand site. There was also a link for an Instagram site for the store that has no content yet, but at least it’s a clue and I am now a follower on the site along with 125 other people.

Brick park tucked into downtown.

Life must have gotten pretty small for me when stalking a not yet opened vintage store and peeking in the windows ranks as a highlight for the day. Not just once, but twice in a week. It’s probably long past the time to bust things open and start living large again. 

One block away from Merrimack on Middle Street, it was another world. The sidewalks were nearly deserted and my favorite little all brick pocket park that makes me think of New York City was empty and quiet. The air smelled like grilled hamburgers, but I couldn't figure out from where it came. 

It was a nice walk. Rejuvenating. A sensory delight. I need to remember to do it more often.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 823 (Thursday) – downspouts and flowers

Another remote workday done. Another day closer to the weekend. And it is good.

It poured for a while in the morning, and I was glad to be working from home for two reasons. The first was not having to be out in the rain. The second reason was that, if not working from home, I would have missed the return of the gutter waterfall feature over the front door. After the gutters were cleaned last year, the problem seemed solved, but now it seemed to be back. 

A minute was taken to revive the memory of beloved book character and teenage sleuth Nancy Drew, which involved dashing upstairs and opening the second floor window and raising the screen. By hanging out the window a a bit, it is possible to look down on the top of the gutter. The gutter itself, from what I could see, was was full of clean looking water and not much else. This is quite unlike last year when it was full of black goo, decomposed leaves, and even a tennis ball. The unofficial, very amateur fictional detective conclusion is that the problem must be at the downspout at the corner. 

As it rained, there was effort required to convince Winston to go outside. The front door water flow had Winston refusing to pass through. To get him into the back yard, meant I also had to go outside to guide him out to the yard and check the gate. While outside in the rain I had been glad to avoid just minutes earlier, the downspout was observed to be dispensing barely a trickle of water. It was far from the streams of water pouring forth from the downspouts on the other corners of my house and even the house next door. 

Peony popping!

Now the question is, now what? The low-budget solution is to haul a ladder to the corner of the house for a removal action. Or I could call the gutter company that did the cleaning last year. And two postcards arrived by mail in the last week from Leaf Filter gutter protection. How timely. 

The rain stopped, the skies cleared, and the sun returned. After work, there was a sense of surprise at seeing the thermostat reading of 80 degrees in the house. I had been chilly most of the day despite wearing long pants and a long sleeve tee shirt and adding a long sleeve lightweight hoodie. Either the thermostat is broken or I am. It wasn’t until after supper and pulling weeds that I first felt the tiniest bit warm.

June can be such a spectacular month. Flowers are blooming everywhere, and the peonies are taking the stage now with blooms. The daylight is long, and the temperature is often comfortable. When the cool evening breezes blow, the windows are opened and the house feels refreshed. The BungaLowell benefits from nice airflow in the dry, cool mornings and evenings. Downstairs anyway. Upstairs is noticeably more stuffy with essentially no air flow and thank goodness for the ceiling fan in the bedroom. Once the humidity settles in, the A/C will have to be turned on, but for now, it’s all good. 

Dry, clear gutter.

The evening basement check revealed it to be dry and the follow-up gutter check showed the gutter water to be gone. The only thing to be seen in the gutter was a bountiful cluster of the tiny helicopter seed things way down in the corner near the downspout (Nancy Drew wannabe was right!). The seed things actually have a name that I just now learned, which is "samaras" and sounds a lot prettier but far less descriptive than "helicopter thingies." 

There was one windy day some weeks ago when the air was briefly filled with a squall of samaras as they swirled and fluttered down from the tree in a neighbor's yard. It was the first time I recall seeing a magical swirling cloud of helicopter thingies, and it was impressive.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 822 (Wednesday) – coming and going

A colleague told me the very exciting news that a vintage shop is coming into downtown in a corner shop that has been empty for a while. The location is on the way to a shop I was planning to visit today, so I made sure to pay attention, pause, and check it out.

Take Care Vintage - Opening in June.

There was lettering on the window that said “Take Care Vintage” and “Opening in June.” Racks were set up inside with clothes hanging. A wall held some purses and knickknacks lined the window sill. Someone inside had things spread out on the floor and was organizing and arranging. 

I was tempted to bang on the door and pepper the person inside with the questions burning in my brain. When are you opening? How do you source your inventory? Are you going to specialize in any particular decades? Do you want to buy my vintage purse collection? How about my 1950s/60s day dresses that no longer fit me? How about some gowns from the 1970s?

I did not bang on the door or harass the person inside the building. Instead, I crossed the street to my existing favorite downtown store and original destination, Dollar Buy. There, on the sidewalk outside the window, my blood turn to ice. There was a sign reading “For Sale – Business.”

It seems that downtown giveth and downtown may also taketh away. 

What if I need another Movable Stick?

New questions flooded my brain to replace the questions about the new shop. Are you really closing, or is that just a sample of signs you sell here? Where will I go to laugh at odd translations into English for things like “Moveable Stick” (rolling pin)? Will a buyer keep it as a shop of super cheap assorted stuff? Should I buy every single household item I might need in the coming decade right now, just in case? It was depressing. I left, planning to inventory the kitchen before Friday when I am downtown again. That way, I can replace and stockpile. 

Since walking past the site of the incoming vintage store, an internet search on the store name was done, looking for info. There was none. Dang! Set your shop up with some social media sites. Announce your existence and upcoming opening. Potential customers want to know. 

  

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 821 (Tuesday) – more of the same

The weather was sunny, the house thermostat claimed the house was 77 degrees, and despite wearing long sleeves, long pants, and shoes with socks, I was chilly. It was basically just another Tuesday remote work day. More of the same, really.

Winston is still boycotting his breakfast, but a few hours after it’s served, he gets around to it. Supper goes a bit easier, but not by much. This morning, he woke me up at 1:00 to go out and pee, and as I was still tossing, turning, and raging at still being awake at 3:00, he wanted to go downstairs to drink water. It was reminiscent of Moose’s old nocturnal patterns and I don't know if it's a coincidence or a sign of the beginning of the end.

700 days on the stats board.

There was a quick nap until waking again at 5:00, a quick toss/turn and another nap until the 6:15 alarm. I was exhausted when the alarm went off.  There was a zombie sleepwalk through the morning routine which required the extra large pot of morning coffee for basic functioning. All hail the magical, rejuvenating powers of daily caffeine and more of the same.

The Duolingo reminder this evening was to do a lesson to keep my 700-day streak going. The 700th consecutive day of Finnish lessons was last night and it didn’t even register enough for me to take a screen shot at the time and now the moment is gone. Is nothing special anymore? More of the same, really. 

Light supper.

About the only things that broke free of the more of the same rut today were the tomato, lettuce, cheese sandwich for supper and the load of laundry done after supper. There was zero interest in cooking, and not a lot to work with that wouldn't take multiple steps and the equivalent of forever to make.

Tuesday laundry was mostly spontaneous and unusual, but now the sheets are clean and fresh (and still in the dryer as I type), along with the cushion covers from the glider in the enclosed porch. It’s time to get the porch space set up for the season so I can begin the early summer “More of the same” morning porch reading until it’s too hot to do so.