“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 633 (Thursday)

For at least two days there were headlines and hype about snow this week. All day on Wednesday, along with the time and date, my cell phone displayed snowflakes and the message that it would snow, and I quote, “in 103 minutes.” So precise. News reports referenced possible snow during the evening commute. So inaccurate. 

It didn’t snow a single flake all the work day nor on the ride home. We’d dodged a snowball. Maybe my preparations with buying Snow Melt last week and having the shovels ready acted as snow prevention. Perhaps I take too much credit. 

During the night, the phone continued to indicate it would snow in various near future timeframes, or that it was currently snowing when it was not. When I let Winston outside, the yard, car, street, and sky were surveyed, but there was not a flake to be seen. It was just cold. I wasn't sure if I was glad or sad about the lack of snow.

At 5:30 this morning there was a noise outside that woke me and inspired me to get out of bed and look out the window. A salt truck was treating the whitened street. By the full light of day, it was revealed to be just a light, powdery coating of snow, perfectly fitting the “dusting” description. In under a minute, I scraped the front stairs and cleared a path so Winston could access the yard more easily. After drinking coffee, a minute was spent clearing the back stairs and path to the back yard. The snow scraping activity is an increase in the recent physical activity level, so it was declared a win. 

I didn’t have to go downtown today, and from the remote office desk I could admire the fresh snow on the back yard grass. Winston went out a couple times and sniffed his way around the unevenly coated yard but didn't care to stay out very long. 

As the sun rose above the neighboring houses and trees, the scant snow cover melted. It was fresh, pretty, and short-lived, which might be the description of a perfect city snowfall.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 632 (Wednesday)

North Pole Coal
hits Nashville.

A quick review of photos and Facebook memories shows that December can be have almost as many dress up activities as October. Decembers past have included a variety of events and opportunities to put on a costume or something super sparkly and cut loose a little.

One year featured the Santa Rampage in Nashville, where hundreds (maybe thousands) of revelers dressed in Santa, Elf, and related costumes engaged in a bar crawl after meeting at a designated Christmas tree for a group photo. 

That year, my cobbled costume was “North Pole Coal,” the keeper of Santa’s Naughty List. Totally fabricated character, but it was fun, and people actually voluntarily added their names to the naughty list. 

Marketing Elf.

The costume was easy, as the closet already contained many more black and charcoal gray garments than anything remotely close to a Santa or Elf ensemble. The hardest part during the night was the wig and beret which kept slipping on my head, taking the bangs from eyebrow length to radically short and crooked in minutes. Nearly a decade later, the closet still holds significantly more black than red or green, and wigs still slip on my head, a most frustrating situation that needs a solution.  

Several years saw house parties with the Ugly Sweater theme. One year’s party involved decorating a basic boring green thrift store cardigan with a sassy red thrift store bra. The bra was sewn over the sweater and white yarn made a candy cane stripe effect over the bra straps. Decorative red, glittery clips that said “Ho Ho Ho” completed the elegant look. It won second place at the party, bested by a sweat suit that was completely festooned in holiday lights.

Sparkly.

In the early years of my current job, there were Christmas readings each December. Each day for a couple weeks, part of the story was read by a different team or department. One year I was pulled in to don a reindeer onesie.  Another year, the entire Marketing team was dressed in elf costumes. 

On the more elegant side of the dress up spectrum, there were even a couple years with December galas and opportunities to slip on a tuxedo. It was a blue sequin tuxedo one year, and a pink and gold metallic tuxedo with black lapels another.

It feels like it’s long past the time for another December dress up event. There are none on the calendar for this year, but maybe in 2022 will have something. One can hope.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 631 (Tuesday)

Hats I didn't need but got anyway.

The mail was a mixed bag today. More simple joy arrived in the form of a couple hats which weren’t really needed and weren't scheduled to arrive until Thursday. Kudos to the transportation chain on that one. 

And yes, I wore a new hat in the house for a while. It wasn’t necessarily because it’s a new hat. It’s because, despite the thermostat being set at the exact same settings for several years, for some reason, this year I am extra wimpy and sensitive to even the tiniest hint of chill. It’s annoying. And hats worn in the house create a hat head situation which wasn't a concern when working 100% from home but is an annoyance when needing to go downtown to the office. 

In the frequently played “Daily High-Low” game, the high was thanks to delivery folks. In addition to the early Prime hat delivery, US Postal delivered a Christmas card from my niece and her future husband, two issues from new magazine subscriptions, and a ValPack mailer with surprisingly useful ads and coupons.

One of the lows came in the mail where it fraternized with the highs. It was an innocent looking envelope with festive purple and silver dots and what looked like a handwritten address. It was a birthday card from Chewy-dot-com for Moose. His “gotcha” from the shelter anniversary date is Friday, which was the date used as his birthday in the absence of other info. The day I tried to edit him out of the Chewy account info I just couldn’t and haven't tried again since, so today he got a birthday card and I cried.

The other day I came across a small, cheerfully wrapped gift intended for my brother last Christmas. Something else was bought online and delivered to him and his wife directly to the house, so the wrapped gift was set aside for the next time I saw him. Thanks to the pandemic eliminating last year’s usual family holiday gatherings and his death this summer, “next time” seeing my brother never happened. The small, ungifted gift brought tears. 

Winnie relaxing between naps.

A friend who is acquainted with grief told me that it will come and go like the waves and the tides. She’s right. And the waves have been crashing in like a coastal storm lately.

Even Winston is cause for stress and sadness. In recent weeks, his thirst and urination volume have increased and he wakes me up to go out once or twice during the night. When I arrive home from work, his diaper wrap is soaked, dripping, and reeks like ammonia. The drips on the floor are sticky when I wipe them up. He sleeps most of the time. Internet search results indicate these could be bad signs. We have a vet appointment on Saturday and it's going to be a long few days until then. 

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 630 (Monday)

The new socks are here, the new socks are here!

Being an adult sure has changed me. In my 20s, free time was spent studying the high-end jewelry ads and memorizing the names and collections of the top designers and the supermodels who posed in them. A well-dressed life of wealth, prestige, and world travel with a dashing and handsome partner was imagined. 

New socks!

Real life didn’t work out quite that way. There were a couple dashing and handsome men and there was some exciting travel, just not lately. Overall, it’s been a reasonably modest life, but still reasonably well-dressed. The Tennessee years allowed for fleeting moments of prestige and recognition, but the time before and after that chapter has been a life of mostly quiet anonymity.

At least my socks are always new. And six brand new pairs arrived today, which is pretty darned good. 

It turns out a Ferrari or multi-carat diamond ring and an expensive designer wardrobe are not required for happiness. It can be a lot simpler and less expensive. Sometimes all that is needed is a handsome Canine Overlord companion and some new socks.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 629 (Sunday)

The day’s plan, determined on Saturday, was to do nothing, but a sudden urge to accomplish a Christmas task erupted with the coffee drinking. Hail the power of caffeine. Items were searched online. Prices, timeframes, and convenience factors of online versus in-person shopping were compared and considered. Even the hybrid option of ordering online and picking up in-store was entertained.

After the analysis, a trip out into the world was deemed appropriate. The primary destination was a bookstore, and with a gift list in hand and one title known to be in stock, the adventure began. Barnes & Noble in Nashua had the title listed on their website at $13.47, a discount from the usual $16.00. Amazon had the same title at $12.17 that could arrive in a day or two, but visiting B&N would put it in hand today, helping with the timeline for wrapping and assembling a package to be mailed. For the small price difference and immediacy of possession, B&N was chosen. I skipped the buy online pick up in the store option and decided to freewheel it.

The store seemed very large, but that perception may be colored more by living the life of a recluse than actual square footage. After wandering around for a few minutes, help was enlisted to locate the book. Then, clutching two copies of my selection, there was casual but unfruitful browsing in another topical area that also required professional assistance to locate.

Hours after paying for the gift books, I realized the price on my sales receipt was the $16.00 list price. The better choice from a financial perspective would have been to buy it online and pickup in the store after all. And knowing that I paid nearly $4 more per copy with B&N than Amazon caused my frugal gene even more pain.

After B&N, a visit was made across the street to Savers, a secondary factor in the earlier “in person versus online” shopping debate. Since yesterday’s thrift shop visits, handknit sweaters are parked on the brain. I don’t need any, as my wardrobe holds maybe two dozen knit by Mummu, but obsessions are not always rooted in actual need. Or maybe that’s just me and mine.

There were several handknits found in the sweater racks, with seemingly random prices from $9 to $17.99. Unlike some thrift shops that price all items in a category the same amount (all tee shirts are X dollars, sweaters are Y dollars, jeans are Z dollars, etc.) product pricing at Savers follows no discernable logical scheme. Trust me, I've been puzzling over it for years. I’ve held two shirts of same label, same size, and same color, and one was tagged for $5.99 and the other for $8.99. Some of the prices are actually higher than brand new versions of the same items at Kohl’s or Target. Maybe the thrift store stink commands a higher price, but I have developed no theory for the random and erratic pricing differences.

Anyway. Several handknits found their way into my cart. There was a hunt for a mirror, required since the fitting rooms were dismantled and removed from the store leaving nothing but worn marks on the floor where they were once located. This is also why I was not looking at pants. A mirror was found in a main aisle, and the try-on results were comical and disappointing.

True attention to detail.

The several creamy white Irish knits were too large and bulky and looked like they were eating me. There was no level of adjustment that helped, they just looked wrong. That left only the teal and olive button front cardigan bearing the tag “Hand Made by Alice Barnes.” I would love to find more handmade items by Alice Barnes, as the meticulous attention to detail in this sweater beats that in most garments of any type I’ve seen anywhere. The neck seam and front edges feature a handstitched binding to prevent the seams and button holes from stretching. The $12.99 price tag is truly an insult to the expert handcrafting of Alice Barnes, but a fine and affordable addition to my wardrobe where it can be properly appreciated and respected. 

A valance was found to dress the bathroom window, and once that $2.99 decision was made, a striped bath towel featuring all the colors in the valance (plus a few more) practically jumped from the rack and into the cart. It’s an invigorating $8 bathroom refresh, and the boring plain blue valance that formerly graced the window can go back into the thrift stream from which it was plucked five years ago. It may be enough of a distraction that I can probably delay repainting the bathroom for another five years, so it's money well spent. If I could only stop being troubled by the off center towel rod and light fixtures, and oddly placed light switches.

Freshened up.

By suppertime, all the newly acquired items had been liberated of the peculiar thrift shop fragrance. The valance and towel were placed in active service in the bathroom. The handknit, plus another mass-produced factory-made sweater, are ready to be pulled from the drawer. I told myself sweaters would be donated to accommodate the day’s acquisitions, but they have yet to be determined. I think we know how this is going to end, and I should probably just start looking for an additional bureau and save some time.

The day that was intended to be spent on the couch passively watching movies or actively reading the new 700-plus page book that recently arrived. In terms of executing the plan, it was a failure, but if considered in light of adaptability and accomplishment, it was a spectacularly successful, accidentally productive day.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 628 (Saturday)

It was a bit chilly and a vintage coat was pulled from the furthest corner of the closet. It’s navy blue, nearly knee length to combat the morning chill, and coordinated with today’s outfit.

The coat is one of several vintage coats living in the closet. The “collection” began in my 20s when Mummu gave me her black cashmere coat with a detachable fur collar. She said when she was young, she use to love to flip the coat open to display the large label declaring “100% Pure Cashmere.” Today, we sport designer labels, but apparently, in the olden days and in some circles, it was fiber content that signaled prestige.

Tree topper?
Nah, "Sculpture."

Today’s coat was not cashmere. It was a nubby wool fabric. During the course of the day, my coat and I went to a Finnish Breakfast, church Christmas Bazaar, a consignment shop, car wash, gas station, and a couple thrift stores. 

Most of the stops were out in Fitchburg and some were with Mom. The scarf came off once to avoid being too hot in a store, but the coat collar scratched my neck the entire time. As soon I was back in the car, the scarf went back on. I almost bought a super soft teal acrylic sweater at one shop, until a hole was discovered that I didn’t feel like having to fix. Later, there was temptation in the form of an Irish cable cardigan bearing a tag “Knit by Edna,” but the yarn was a bit scratchy, and my neck was currently in itchy torment from my coat collar with no scarf. It was still a contender until I took inventory of all the many stains on it that I didn't feel like dealing with.

Lots of money was saved today, but not from being in thrift shops. It was thanks to not really needing anything and also not seeing anything I couldn’t live without. The expenditures were breakfast, gas, the pricier car wash with the wheel wash, and a snowflake Christmas tree topper for $1 from the “Attic” rummage sale section of the church event. There are no plans for a tree for it to top, so at my house, it's a freestanding sculpture.

It wasn’t until 5:00 that I remembered I never made it to the Post Office, and worse, that I missed the reception for the Members’ Exhibit at The Brush Art Gallery. The stamps aren’t a crisis (yet), but missing the reception was a big, stupid mistake. It seems it would probably be smart to consult the calendar a bit more often instead of being all happy-go-lucky and winging it when I venture out into the world.

“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 627 (Friday)

Too much coffee, too many Hershey Kisses, and by 1:22 (and holy hell, it was only 1:22) it felt like I was already into next Tuesday. Oy. This was an acknowledged possibility while getting the medium-sized cup of coffee shop coffee that is far superior in both taste and potency to the stuff made at home, but the dice were rolled and I went for it anyway. Note to self – the next time I'm inspired to top off the caffeine tank, don’t. Or get a small cup. Or a decaf.

Trying to dull the
 caffeine edges.

The extra morning coffee followed by the heap of chocolate were probably not the best decisions of the day, but they weren’t necessarily the worst, either. It all went one step further mid-afternoon with the consumption of a sparkling sweet apple cider. Double oy. It was a day with few dietary boundaries.

After work it was the usual dash home to tend to the diabetic dog in a diaper, and as usual, he was waiting for me at the top of the stairs on the landing outside the bedroom, wagging his tail and tapping his front paws. This daily greeting is charming, adorable, and always looked forward to. I don’t know why he waits at the top of the stairs for me, but it gives me time to take my coat off and put my bag down first, which is helpful.

A grilled cheese and Sam Adams Winter Ale were prepared, plated, and consumed in an attempt to dull the many jingly, jangly, ragged sugar and caffeine edges. Sleep might be elusive tonight. 

Not quite.

The four dining room chair covers delivered while I was at work. After supper, they were unpacked while envisioning the splendor that, in mere minutes, would be the revived dining room seating. The covers, which include colors from the rug, walls and drapes, were the perfect, low budget pick-me-up for the room. The clingy fabric would hug all the angles of the chairs and hide the fact that the leather has begun cracking. 

One was removed from the protective plastic pouch, and slipped onto a chair. Nope. Despite having measured and double-checked the measurements of every part of the seat and the chair back against the product description and the accompanying illustration, the covers don’t fit. There was no fitted hugging of the angle of seat back where it joins the seat. The fabric didn't quite extend all the way down the back. When slipped over the front edge of the seat, the fabric stretched into more of a drum head feature than a seat cover. Thank goodness for the ability to return things.  

There is still hope for the yet to be delivered, carefully selected kitchen chair covers. Those are from a different company, so there is a shred of hope that “project cover the cracked chairs” won’t be a complete flop. Maybe all the excess caffeine energy from the day's earlier misguided choices could be channeled to whip up some chair covers out of an old dance costume, some tights, and a tablecloth. Or not.