Update your bookmarks and give to a good cause!

The site is going to be moving - or rather re-directing to a new domain. Sure, I'm still Alyssa Boehm but the blog has taken on life of its own. So I think it deserves a separate home. So the new site is www.thebigredblog.com.

Looks pretty similar. Act surprised!

I'm also kicking off the Decemberstravaganza fund raiser at Donors Choose in lieu of some holiday gift giving (ahem, Cuddles).I'm trying to raise a modest $200.

Nothing says Happy Holidays like helping kids learn to read. Doesn't that warm your heart, Internets?

I'll be back - posting fresh content over at The Big Red Blog - this weekend!

A little bit of good

I like to be charitable - like a lot of people. I like the idea of helping to make a direct impact on a child's learning experience.

And so, I'm offering up the Decemberstravaganza. Let's raise some money for a class and see exactly how a little money can go a long way to helping kids learn.

Gone fishin'

Actually, I'm swamped at the office and will have to do a bit of business travel. So posting will probably be a little light. So please accept my apologies, loyal readers.

I should be back and posting by the weekend and podcasting as usual on Sunday. Have you heard my podcast? It's somewhere between amateurish and totally awesome.

Eleven-year-olds agree, I'm not cool

I called my father last night, well - I tried to. The call was intercepted by my niece, Blondie, since she was hanging out with Grandma and Grandpa. We chatted for a few minutes, I made a joke and Blondie promptly announced that I'm weird.

"But I'm you're cool aunt!" I insisted.
"You're weird," she replied with a giggle.
"You know, you're hardly the first member of the family to tell me I'm weird," I sighed.

We talked about Science class (it's good), the death of recess (it's coming) and what kind of projects she'll be working on in the future. Sounds like she's going to have to build a roller coaster. That's the kind of science I can get behind.

I call it breezy, you can call it bad

On this week's podcast Derek and I talk about a lot of things: whether Veronica Mars is getting stupid, what Hero could die, and of course I talk about breezy dramas like Riptide. But Derek had no idea what Riptide was, but I know you remember. Right? It was 1984!

Oh for the days when TV dramas had minute-long opening credits.

Listen to the podcast!

And I'm reminded again that this is a joyous holiday season

Sometimes I need to buy stuff. I haven't figured out how to grow my own toilet paper yet, so until that time I will have to buy it.

And so to buy the giant TP we hit the local Target. Actually, that's not true. We hit the Watertown, MA Target. If you ever have the option of going to a different one (if you live in the greater Boston area) you should. I've started calling it "Bad Target." Not so much because of the Target itself, but because of the people who go there.

When we arrived on Saturday afternoon the parking lot was full. Entirely. We circled for a while before finding a space. I suggested maybe we abandon our trip, but we pushed ahead because we are stupid people and do not learn. Eventually we found a space next to a poorly parked car. We have a tiny car. Yay, tiny car!

Then we entered the store. At some point I had a list, but after a few minutes I started to get a little panicky. The place was hot and crowded. Everything was bombed out - I wanted TP, a humidifier and some cat food for the cat that pukes up the other expensive food I've given her and will show no interest in any of the stuff I buy for her at Bad Target. But I digress.

Deeps and I split up, he looked for Kashi and paper products after snagging the last large room humidifier on the shelf. I wandered back towards the pet food aisle which is next to the consumer electronics. Sweet fancy Moses. What a horror show.

While I was standing in the aisle contemplating food the cat won't eat, a loud woman with a cart and her little Nextel phone arrived. She was loudly talking on the walkie-talkie to her friend. She was incredibly loud and talking about someone's doctor's appointment. A surly man was also in the aisle with me and started loudly talking to himself about how awful it was this lady was so loud and talking about personal things on her phone/walkie. Then the lady started telling the guy he was "so funny" and told her friend about the a-hole/joker in the aisle.

I grabbed three cans of Iams and made a run for it. It's one thing when family members start bickering at Target, it's another when strangers start in on each other. I exited just as they started an escalating yelling match. Perhaps the scent of fresh cat nip drove them wild.

Just remember - it's the most wonderful time of the year. There are still plenty more shopping days until Christmas. And I'll be doing my shopping online.

It reminds me a lot of 1988

I don't watch a lot of filler TV anymore. You know, when you're bored and you just flip on the TV and watch anything? Thanks to the DVR I don't really do that much. Except on Saturday mornings. Sometimes it's just a free-for-all of bad television.

This morning I came across something unusual and oddly familiar. Guys on TV were playing video games - and they were competing against each other. So it was a little like 1988 when Cuddles and Bangles would play Super Mario on the Nintendo in the living room and I'd watch them. It was about that exciting too.

Watching this made me think that some things don't really change that much. Graphics get better, games are harder, but the spectator is still pretty freaking bored. Luckily, I could watch a guy build a stone wall over on HGTV so as I grow older I've transitioned to a new kind of boring. I'm saving golf for my 50s.

The nice thing about watching a guy build a wall is that there's no annoying Nintendo music to accompany it. That Super Mario song used to haunt my dreams.

Sometimes you just have to save yourself

I'll see if Kristen remembers this story.

When we were in college our senior year we lived in a pretty crappy apartment that was cold and drafty and we had a little mouse problem. The mighty Poopus was on the case and cornered a mouse in the kitchen.

K was upstairs - I think in the shower or something - and I saw the mouse, the cat and basically started to flip out. K heard me screaming and blazed downstairs in her bathrobe to see what was going on.

She screamed, I screamed the cat was like, "What?" - that's when we realized that nobody was going to do anything about the mouse and that we'd have to deal with it ourselves. Kristen tried to distract the cat. I grabbed our other roommate's winter glove and gently pried the mouse out of the cat's clutches and flung the offending mouse out the back door.

She went up to get dressed, I washed my hand about 3 million times and we never spoke of the incident again.... 'cause that's what roommates do.

Happy, haunted holidays?

When we lived in Cambridge there was a guy near our apartment who erected a large inflatable ornament for many holiday occasions. I guess we first noticed it around Halloween when the guy put up a giant pumpkin.

Me: Hey did you see the giant glowing pumpkin?
Deeps: You mean the one across the street?
Me: Yeah. It's so spooky.
Deeps: It's hard to miss.
Me: Beware the haunted pumpkin!

And then a giant turkey went up in early November.
Me: The turkey haunts my dreams.
Deeps: Beware the haunted turkey!

When the giant snowman went up, we included that "landmark" as a point of reference in our Christmas party invitations.
Me: The snowman is so spooky.
Deeps: His cold heart will fill you with terror!
Me: Beware his haunted coal-filled eyes!

Sometime around December 26 we started to get a little nervous. What would possibly replace the snowman?

Deeps: If he puts up an inflatable Abe Lincoln, I think he's gone too far.
Me: Or Martin Luther King Junior.
Deeps: Yeah, inappropriate.
Me: Not unlike this conversation.

That's really nice

My grumpy meter is set to 11 this morning.

The mighty Poopus spent much of the night biting me. So when I wasn't having weird dreams about Veronica Mars (I totally shouldn't have eaten that popcorn before I went to bed), I was fending off the ferocious fangs of my feline friend.

Oh yeah, I bring the alliteration at 7:30 in the morning.

Then when I came downstairs I discovered that the cat had... left me a hairball present. Gross.

And that's how you kill my thoughts about breakfast. And my thoughts about getting the cat a little treat. No treats for you, evil Poopus.

Did I mention I'm scraping the barrel on blog posts? Yeah, I'm writing about my cat, Internets, what of it?

Curse you, Rob Thomas!

So I talked myself out of the right answer.

What is the answer? What is the question?

Uhm, it's all about Veronica Mars of course.

And Deeps will be very pleased with himself because he pegged the importance of the prisoner experiment from the get-go.

Righty, tighty

I've got a million little projects to finish before the end of the year. Sure I took the cat to the vet, cleaned out the basement and hung new shelves. But there is still a lot left to do like revise my W4 forms for next year (we're withholding too much), rebalance my 401k, and recaulk the bath tub. And we really need to install a handrail on the front porch steps.

The problem with this project is that we have concrete steps. Ever try drilling into concrete? Talk about a job where you need the right tools. Luckily, I know Sparky and he has more hard-core stuff than I do. He and his wife just renovated their kitchen.

And he tried to feed me slightly (or severely) undercooked turkey for Thanksgiving so I feel like I can call upon him for a favor.

Turkey sashimi

So we had a great Thanksgiving holiday. We've eaten like kings - even if the turkey was a touch under-done. Luckily, everyone understood this and we focused on the roasted veggies, spoon biscuits and mashed potatoes. Everyone has a hard time with the turkey. Nothing a little trip to the microwave couldn't handle.

We wandered out for a little Black Friday shopping, more out of necessity than anything else. We needed to go to the grocery store and pick up some light bulbs. I convinced Deeps that a short side trip to the shoe store was in order. I have powers like that.

All in all we had a quiet, boring, and nap-tastic weekend. Just like the pilgrims intended.

Oh yeah, I made a podcast.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I'm thankful for the YouTube. I can point you to the best part of the greatest Thanksgiving episode on television (and the Onion agrees with me).



So enjoy your meal, your family, and your friends. Try to think of something to be thankful for and chew each bite 20 times.

Have you heard? I make podcasts

Did I mention there's a new podcast up just in time for the long drive to grandma's house for Thanksgiving?

Give a listen.

The incident with the coyote and the SUV-driving lady on and off a sidewalk

Last week I wrote about my encounter - from a distance - with a coyote.

We've heard a lot about coyotes in Arlington over the summer, but we live in a pretty dense spot without a lot of cover for them - so we haven't seen them. Then last week while approaching the back way to the big Alewife T station (that's the end of the line for the subway) we spotted the coyote again.

Actually, I'm not totally convinced it was the same coyote - it looked a little smaller than the one we saw earlier in the week so I thought it might be a female. But what do I know? I own a cat and sometimes watch Animal Planet.

Regardless, this coyote was closer to my drop-off point - about 50 feet away. Deeps was a little anxious. I'll admit I was a little anxious. Luckily, I have a secret weapon - I can make a lot of noise. It works on dogs sometimes, I thought it might work on the coyote. Plus the coyote seemed to be heading away from me.

I hopped out of the car - Deeps told me he'd wait until I made it to the station. The coyote circled back a little edged closer again. I thought it might follow me down the bike path. As I started to cross the street a lady in an SUV drove up. There was nobody else around - just me, Deeps, the coyote and this lady. She rolls through the stop and nearly takes me out. Then she looks at me like, "What?"

I finally cross over and turn back to look at my husband. He shook his head in disbelief. Here I was worried about coyotes and I'm nearly mowed down (slowly) by a dummy in an CRV.

Meanwhile the coyote ran across in a different direction and zigged across the ramp to merge onto Route 2/16. Cars honked, people gaped and I made my way to work. Just another Friday.

Let's Review

I'm having the kind of morning where I try to put the milk in the microwave and the cereal in the fridge - twice. Then I checked our home voicemail by calling my husband's office number.

I'm having a day. Did I mention it's been raining for a week and then yesterday it was like 70 and rainy and humid? Everyone is confused.

So I should really be careful out there to avoid the dangers of urban living - like coyotes, bike messengers and mysterious eye infections. I expect the worst thing I'll face today is long delays on the T followed by a close encounter with a bike riding, coyote with a touch of conjunctivitis.

Crosswalk Catastrophe

I work in Boston near lots of tourist attractions, hotels, businesses and shopping. Where you find those things you also find lots of cars.

Every day I see people - whom I sometimes call idiots - wander out into traffic in front of cars without looking. And then they are stunned when they are nearly mowed down. I'm a big advocate of the crosswalk and crossing with the green.

And this is what I did yesterday as I headed home. I approached the crosswalk, I had the green but a couple of cars where blocking the crosswalk. So I kind of weaved around them, giving the first guy a nasty look when I hear "Look out!" and then a bike messenger ran me down. (Okay, seriously body checked me - but nobody went down.)

Oh yeah, I was one of the idiots. I apologized profusely. The cyclist continued on and the idiot blocking the crosswalk had no idea what role he played in this process (which I considered somewhat significant). It's hard to maneuver around cars in crosswalks because your field of vision is reduced.

I was flustered and PO'd when it dawned on me that - wait! I had the green, I was in the crosswalk. I didn't do anything wrong and yet some biker guy ran me down. I wasn't hurt, everyone lived and I made it home to take the world's angriest house cat to the vet.

She's fine , by the way. We're all fine and dandy. But we're both in foul moods.

Windows

I don't know what the term is to describe this phenomenon - but sometimes Deeps and I leave messages for each other through our browser windows. We leave stuff open that that we think the other person might want to read.

This doesn't always guarantee that someone will read what you've left up, but it's a low-rent, passive-aggressive way of making your point.

Last week I left up an article about how many types of bacteria live in the household sponges that people like to use in their kitchen. (I'm anti-sponge, he's pro-sponge)

Today he left up this delightful article from America's finest newspaper, The Onion.

I particularly enjoyed this quote: "I'd also keep a very close eye on Yasmine Bleeth, the brunette from Baywatch who's not Carmen Electra," he added.

Like the Wild Kingdom

Guess who has the evil eye?

What if I added "again" to that question?

Yep. I have pink eye for the second time in about three weeks. Totally bizarre. I've called the eye doctor per my GP's advice. So there's that.

In other weird news I spotted a giant coyote on my way to work yesterday. We were driving near the big Alewife T station, approaching the back entrance when I spotted a big dog in the distance.

Deeps is a little skittish around animals - he wasn't raised with any pets and I think large animals make him nervous. This coyote wasn't quite as small as I've seen in the past near my parents' house in Indiana. I wasn't inclined to say anything to him about it, but then he said that the dog looked sick.

Me: He has mange.
Deeps: Oh yeah?
Me: Lots of coyotes do.
Deeps: That's a coyote?
Me: Yeah.
Deeps: So I've finally seen one?
Me: Yep.
Deeps: And now I'm going to drop you off just a few hundred feet from the coyote to walk to the station?
Me: Of course!
Deeps: Can you out run a coyote?
Me: He's probably more afraid of me than I'd be of him.
Deeps: I finished listening to the This American Life Halloween episode where the lady is attacked by a rabid raccoon.
Me: I'll probably avoid that.
Deeps: Fine, but if you're attacked by wolves commuting to work don't blame me.
Me: I think it's much more likely I would be attacked by a pack of tourists.
Deeps: And you have no idea if they are vaccinated against rabies either.
Me: Exactly.

Listen to this

I recruited three friends this week to join me in a round-table discussion podcast about LOST. I think things went well, but we have a vocal and bitter contingent of people who are more than a little frustrated with the show.

That said, we're sticking with it and offering up our best ideas about what has happened and what is going to happen on the island of mysterious mysteries.

The lion snores tonight

Dana, our cat, who is also called Poopus, has to go to the vet later this week. WE got the little postcard in the mail addressed to the cat reminding us it was time to get a check up.

This coincides with some kind of weird little growth on her chin. I couldn’t get a good look at it this morning since I was heading out for work and she was very squirmy. She also weighs 16 pounds so… it’s hard to maneuver her with one hand and check her face with the other.

I mentioned this to Deeps this morning and he agreed to help me with her when we got home.

Flash forward to after dinner (mmmm… burrito night!) and he’s got the cat wrapped up in a blanket while I try to hold her head up to see what’s on her face. I’m not really sure I could do anything but at least I could determine if the spot was tender and if she’s in pain.

She started to wriggle around – a lot. See, we stupid humans tried the maneuver on her that also sometimes signals the dreaded cutting of the nails. She was starting to wig out so I told Deeps to let her go as she squirmed out of his arms.

I’m not sure if it was the “excitement” or the fact that we’d been maybe squeezing her a little too hard – but she landed on the ground and started to loudly wheeze. I tried to comfort her and get her to relax, which she did… by throwing up. Twice. Giant hair balls.

Sorry, was that overshare?

Anyway, the cat doesn’t appear to be overly bothered by what looks like a giant cat zit. She’s not coughing up anything. She looks pretty content curled up on the rug. And we have an appointment on Wednesday. She’s learned a new defensive maneuver – vomiting at will and I can’t say that I’m looking forward to messing with her again.

I’ve already warned the vet’s office that Dana is half evil and is inclined to “very bad behavior” once she gets there. The vet tech assured me they could handle it. Apparently there’s a note in her file and a support team is on stand-by.

I need one of those teams at home.

You've got to be kidding me

In addition to dealing with lots of technical glitches with my site, I experienced a new level of meltdown.

We recorded the big round-table discussion about LOST without incident (after delicious pancakes). Then our guests went home and we ran a few errands. When I returned the laptop was doing this funky thing it does with my mouse sometimes (it doesn't recognize it) which requires a reboot.

Then things went horribly wrong.

Seven hours and a few phone calls later, I realize it is very good that I don't keep much important data in any single place - like say a laptop hard drive - and that I have smart friends.

Peaches is very, very handy with hardware in a way that I can't even approach. So he was able to save the raw files from that morning's podcast recording session.

Tonight it'll go up and I'll finish reloading all the software I like on my newly reimaged hard drive.

Sometimes I don’t know when I’m done

Yesterday was a tough day of yard work. Deeps was motivated to deal with the huge deluge of leaves that migrated in our yard. We only have one tree in the front and two pine trees in the back, but every year our neighbors’ trees unload into our yard.

We’ve already done two rounds of tree clean up.

I’m not sure what happened. We worked for several hours doing clean up. I felt pretty good – if not smelly. I cut down a small dead tree that was propping up the neighbors climbing rose bush (please do not try to come between New Englanders and their overgrown shrubbery).

Okay, I didn’t actually cut it down… I ripped it out because it was so dead and rotty. Then we hacked that dead thing to pieces. It was very satisfying.

Afterwards I called my Dad – there’s a point to my story – to wish him a happy birthday. We chatted for a few minutes and then when it was over I wrapped up the call.

Deeps looked at me from the dining table.

Me: What?
Deeps: Are you okay?
Me: Yeah.
Deeps: You realize you just wished your father a Happy New Year.
Me: Did I really?
Deeps: Yep.
Me: Wow.
Deeps: You probably need to eat something. You never know when you’re done.
Me: Maybe he didn’t notice.
Deeps: If he did, he probably thinks you’re drunk.
Me: So what else is new? Hey when did you put the blinds down?
Deeps: Uhm, you did that before you got on the phone.
Me: I should probably eat something.
Deeps: Good idea.

Please stand by

The site is experiencing some technical problems, but don't worry.

Everything will be fine. Just fine. Sure, all of my archives are broken. I'm sure that's just something small. I'll think of something.

Eventually... it will be fixed.

God, do I really have over 1300 posts? Yikes!

*update - sometimes things are called beta for a reason. Don't fall for their shiny promises. Let the chumps test the beta. You wait for the final release.

If you say so, I guess it’s a trend

I sometimes laugh a little when reading trend stories in the New York Times. It often appears the writer has a friend who does something a little unusual and then he/she works to find a trend. Two points on a data chart do not produce a trend. It’s just a line.

This morning CNN is writing about the “mini-trend” of celebrities getting divorced. Is this breaking news?

The next trend will be – skinny blonde ladies will appear in movies and on television. Hot, misunderstood men will try to woo them. Quick! Someone get Wolf Blitzer on the phone.

Blog Filler: My nightmares… revealed!

So last night I had this very specific nightmare. And really – this is so revealing about me as a very shallow person I can hardly stand to share it. I probably wouldn’t except that I’m a little light on blog content today.

Ahem.

I dreamed that I had an appointment to get my hair “done” (which is a lengthy 2+ hour process that involves dye, razors, scissors, product and trashy magazines – and occasionally panicky calls from my husband). In my dream I also had a Very Important Meeting with someone named Nick.

The meeting was in conflict with my hair appointment – which I realized as I sat down in the stylist’s chair. I looked at my hand and saw a little piece of paper with Nick’s name and a time on it. I looked at the clock and realized I had to motor – ditching my appointment.

In the dream I was deeply disturbed that I had to reschedule because it would be at least two weeks before I could get into the salon again.

And then I woke up.

This is the kind of stuff that haunts me. Plus I have on idea who Nick is.

Something is probably going to happen

Even as I type, the fall finale for LOST is starting. I see a plane. What could possibly happen?

As you may know, I have a podcast like all the other cool* kids on the internets. On Sunday I'm recording a special round-table discussion about the six episode fall season and we'll speculate about what this all means. We're not famous or experts or anything - we're just people with too much free time, some pancakes and a microphone.

If you'd like to join in the fun, I've opened up a phone line for Big Red Blog Podcast listeners to leave their thoughts about the finale. The number is 206-312-9599 - don't be afraid to share your wacko theories. Why should Derek and I be the only ones?

That number again is 206-312-9599. Call anytime!

*cool is a very relative term

The lumbering wheels of democracy continue to turn

I don’t tend to get very political on the blog, but I am always amazed at how seamlessly we transition power. Problems? Of course! Shenanigans? Absolutely. Intimidation? Very likely! Stupidity? Why stop on Election Day?

But eventually we swap power with fanfare – we do it with paper and electrons, not bullets. So if your guy/gal lost or, for that matter, won you’d do well to remind yourself of this fact.

And as they say in Wrigley Field, there’s always next time.

A whole new level of nerd-dom

Deeps and I are going to an Election party tomorrow night.

Oh yes people, that’s how wild we are on a Tuesday night. Veronica Mars be damned! That’s why we have the TiFaux!

I’ve been told we’ll have food, watch the results as they float in and play a drinking game. I should be drunk by 7:15.

That sounds pretty nerdy, right? So I shouldn’t be too embarrassed if I run out of stuff to say and I fall back on my “That sure puts the goober in gubernatorial” joke, right?

I’ve been cramming all kinds of political knowledge in preparation.

God, that looks even worse when I type it in a blog.

When November Attacks

November isn’t always about politics and mudslinging – it’s also about television and the first big ratings cycle of the new season. In this week's podcast, Derek returns to talk about what’s happening with LOST, why he’s worried about Wallace on Veronica Mars and I speculate about what types of dramatic surprises await us.

And I read a book!

If you’re interested in keeping up with Big Red Blog Podcast, please visit the podcast site.

Invasion

Yesterday Kristen, Ernesto and the kids came to visit us for the day.

My house isn’t totally kid unfriendly – but we realize our limitations. We don’t have any cool toys, our cat is mean, and then we ruin children for life by turning on the mind-sucking, all-powerful, zombie-making television.

As someone who loves TV and spends a good number of hours per week watching, reading about and discussing it I’m still amazed by its power over young kids. They are quite literally stopped in their tracks. They just stand and stare at the glowing box.

Deeps, ever the scientist, was so intrigued by this notion I think he wanted to spend more time experimenting with the kids reactions. He paused the TV on the credits and they’d still just stand there watching. Awesome.

Aside from husband’s nefarious experiments – the kids were really good and totally charming, even to cranky non-parents like me. And it was nice to try to catch up with K and E.

We walked around town, played in leaves in the backyard, dealt with several head traumas (darn all those sharp corners we have at kid level!), and ate pretty tasty barbecue. And just as everyone was starting to get a little tired it was time to go home. We loaded them up with some bookshelves, a DVD and their children* and sent them on their way.

I don’t know where they’re going to shove a third kid – after all Jackie, the shared “imaginary” friend of the kids doesn’t like anyone to sit on her. She appeared sometime after dinner and I won’t lie, it was a little creepy.

We were sitting around the dining table and the kids were running around when Da stopped and walked quickly to his mother and whispered something in her ear. Then Kristen announced Jackie was here and she wanted to play a game.

Are you kidding? I’ve seen this movie – and I know it ends badly for idiots like me.

On Scrabble… and other stuff

I don’t really play Scrabble. I’m not a huge fan. But sometimes events conspire against me.

My college roommate and friend of more than a decade, Kristen, was (and I believe still is) a huge Scrabble fan. We were excellent roommates. Or rather, she was an excellent roommate. I’m not really sure what I brought to the table.

I thought of K when I came across Stefan Fatsis’ funny book Word Freak which covers his efforts to become a world-class Scrabble player.

Scrabble was the source of one of very few fights*. We were playing Scrabble at her house one day and I wasn’t really into it. But Kristen was very competitive and sensed that I wasn’t especially interested. This … I might say infuriated her. Since she's coming to my house soon, I'll leave out any foggy recollections I may have had. Let's just say tempers flared and words were exchanged.

And that was the last time we played Scrabble.

* For those who care - our other fight was the awful incident involving Christmas. She’d decorated our apartment with all kinds of festive lights for the holidays. I came home from working (possibly all night) at the newspaper and sat down on the couch, exhausted. I chatted with her for a few minutes, but didn’t comment on the decorations. I don’t think I’d really noticed.

She was unhappy.

Then we bickered like an old married couple and stopped in the middle of our fight when we realized K had become like my wife and I had become like her loutish husband. So we decided that we should go find some boys to hang around with or something.

He appreciates my flights of fancy

I’ve become totally obsessed with podcasts. I like listening to other people talk about their interests and their lives.

So yesterday while working on a particularly gnarly project I listened to what might be my most favorite single episode of any podcast ever – how to survive a zombie uprising.

I like the frank and brutal pragmatism of the podcasters. It’s also funny.

Deeps and I live a few blocks from a cemetery and we like to walk through it after dinner. Every time we round the bend with the spooky tree, the weird pond thing and the old tombstones I like to mention the possible zombie hordes.

“Do you think they’ll head for us or toward the center?” I asked my husband.
“Well there are more people in the center,” he answered.
“And a Starbucks.”

Mothers, hide yer babies!

Despite the fact I couldn’t hand out candy due to my Evil Eye (aka conjunctivitis) I did encourage children to take as many pieces of candy possible to avoid the dreaded Halloween Candy Leftover Syndrome (which I think is calculated at 2-4 pounds).

Kids would walk up, ring the bell and then go crazy at the sight of my ginormous bucket brimming with Skittles, Kit Kats and other assorted delicious tidbits. I’ve learned that Skittles are the most popular with small kids.

Although one kid was very excited about White Chocolate Reese’s Cups – despite my explicit podcast warnings otherwise – and another yelled with delight about Whoppers. Go kid! Often, they’d stand and stare into the abyss that is my Halloween candy bucket and mumble quietly too themselves like they couldn’t even process that so much candy would even exist.

Usually the dads are on the sidewalk while the kids were up at the front porch. Dads waived from the sidewalk when I’d say hi. I offered them candy, they declined. Deeps was in charge of kids – they would crowd him quickly and usually there were a few small kids in the back who couldn’t get in for a grab. I’d gently push the door wider and Deeps would squat down a little bit for the shorter kids.

The thing about kids is that some are totally delighted by the most ordinary things: exhibit A – the Poopus. She’d run towards the front door, pause and then freeze in terror as weenies would press their noses against our glass door and scream “Kitty!” It was like those kids never saw a cat before in their whole lives.

By the way, I live like 400 nose prints on my glass door.

I did encounter lots of moms this year. The problem with my plan to push out as much candy as possible was the mothers. The mothers hovered over their kids and strictly instructed them to “just take one.” Mothers – Halloween is about grabbing as much as you can. I plan for that. I give out the good stuff: no Dum Dums or off-brand sweets for us. We bring the good stuff.

Anyway, mothers with their “good parenting” and “careful attention to nutrition” thwarted me. But I figured some gnarly 7th graders or better yet - creepy high school kids in hoodies would help us out with the surplus. They never really showed up.

We only had one hoodie kid and no high school kids. We did get one small group of middle schoolers who politely asked if they could “have more than one” before digging through my bucket. Greedy, but polite – I like it!

Next year I vow there will be less candy, no pink eye and I’ll start plotting now to distract the mothers so that I can dump more candy in their kids’ bags.

‘Weenie Watch

So far we’ve had a princess, a ninja, Jason Vorhees, a werewolf and a vampire.

Those kids had better start to show up soon or Deeps is going to figure out my master plan to overbuy candy so I can eat it all myself.

And in other news, I have pink eye. Which means Deeps has to hand out the candy.

Update:
Witch, Wednesday Adams, another ninja, another princess, a bear, a sheep, a butterfly, a cat, and a cowboy.

A werewolf, a zombie, more witches, princesses, some power rangers, cowgirl, and a loud girl who kept saying "I can't get in! I can't get in!" as her brothers crowded her out.

The mighty Poopus is completely unhinged and hiding in the shoe closet.

More princesses, wizards!, more and more princesses, flapper girl, goth girl, storm trooper, Obi-Wan, dinosaur, lions, tigers and more bears. Plus a kid who is easily excited by Whoppers.

The herds thinned out by 8:30 - and now we are left with our worst fears: dying alone and a giant bucket of candy.

Happy Halloween - Unless you've made a stupid costume

Happy Halloween
Originally uploaded by nopity.

We’ve secured many pounds of candy and I’m not going stingy this year, I’m handing it out by the fistful. Woot!

One year, I think I was in the third grade, I came up with this awesome costume idea: Rubik’s cube! Of course, I had a few issues. One, I was only 9 so I wasn’t super hot on details. For example, I spent time finding a large box and cutting arm and head holes but I didn’t think about the size of the box relative to my arms. I could basically stick my hands and part of my forearms through the holes, but that was it. I couldn’t really bend and maneuver my arms – so I could only carry my candy bag with one hand.

And I didn’t limit myself to just 9 squares on a side. I think I just drew a zillion squares on each side and colored stuff with the full 64 Crayola pack.

I went trick or treating with some of my friends in the neighborhood and we had a good time, until I got to the weird split-level house. The house was perched on a slight hill and we walked up one short flight to a landing, then made a full 90 degree turn to walk up to the door. As I came down the hill I took a tumble and rolled down the hill. I was unhurt, but I think I lost out on some of my candy as my fellow ‘weenies were “helping” me up.

So let that be a lesson to you kids, if you wear a giant box over your body, make sure you can fit your arms through to your upper arms. While I struggled with my costume I was still better off than the poor jerk who dressed up as a shower (a la the Karate Kid).

God, the 80s were so great.

The best cat sitter ever

dana_in_window
Originally uploaded by nopity.

I invited (lured with the promise of homemade pancakes which were actually inedible) Derek - the only person Dana likes - back to participate in this week’s spooky podcast.

I should note that Derek isn’t actually a fan of scary stuff, but he was game as we weakly discussed the wonders of TV Halloween episodes, what he might have been traumatized by as a kid, what freaks us out now, and of course this week’s best television. Plus we do a taste test of some candy I bought for the ‘weenies. We are harsh but fair with our verdict. And I graciously edited out two full minutes of thoughtful chewing.

Subscribe to the podcast!

Extra Hours

I love and hate when daylight savings is over and we get that extra hour. I like to sleep. This weekend, we ended up using that extra hour in the massive basement reorganization. I can live with that – but I really had planned on using that extra hour for a nap.

Anyway, what’s important here is that Deeps has expanded his storage options for his massive CD collections. Men and CDs go together like peanut butter and jelly. You can’t stop them for amassing more CDs. I’ve even suggested that he might want to go all digital. He wasn’t interested.

As long as he’s happy, I’m happy. And when I’m happy, he’s happy. I’m happy – he’s happy. Maybe I’ll get to squeeze in that nap sometime later.

Filler: Attempt number 149

Deeps is hard to rattle when it comes to…. Just about anything. But that doesn’t stop me from trying.

Me: What’s going on with your hair?
Deeps: What?
Me: Your hair looks different.
Deeps: Hmm.
Me: Yeah, like… like anchorman hair. But I like it.
Deeps: Oh I used your shampoo.
Me: The red stuff or the volumizer?
Deeps: I guess the volumizer since my hair isn’t red.
Me: And the bathroom doesn’t look like you’ve hacked up a body.
Deeps: Is that from the shampoo?
Me: Wow. I had no idea that volumizer actually works.
Deeps: I guess it does.
Me: I think I have too much hair for it to work.
Deeps: And I have just enough.

Won't this pretty picture distract you from my cranky behavior?

Boston Public Garden, September 2006
Originally uploaded by nopity.

Deeps picked me up at the train station and I was a little cranky. I'm not sure what the source of cranky is, but I have a suspicion that it's because I'm very, very sore.

See - yesterday I go this bright idea to go to the gym for a good workout. I arrived early enough to make it to the 15 minute abs class. A colleague was at the gym as well and I suggested we go to the class together. Because – you know… 15 minutes, how hard could that be?

Oh my.

About two minutes into the class I realized I’d made a terrible, terrible mistake.

And whenever I can move my neck and head again, I’ll probably return to the class. I don’t know anything else like exercise that can make you feel so awful and still seem like a good idea later.

Anyway, I’m incredibly stiff and cranky. A week off from the gym for a cold didn’t help things at all.

As we drove home I was listening to Marketplace because I’m fascinated by stuff I don’t understand (finance) and Kai Ryssdal’s voice is very soothing. But then one of the reporters was doing a story that started to annoy me.

Me: Why does he say five grand and up to five times that?
Deeps: You mean instead of five to 25 grand?
Me: Why beat around the bush? Just say five to 25. What an *@@&^%#!
Deeps: That’s harsh.
Me: (muttering) Total *=!+ move.
Deeps: So it’s going to be like that is it?
Me: I guess so.

Oh to be so clean

My Living Room
Originally uploaded by nopity.

I cleaned the living room yesterday - okay, I put some stuff away and used the Hoover. I should totally get a medal or something.

I was actually inspired by the ApartmentTherapy Fall Color contest which is underway. While my living room isn't quite as fancy as the rooms pictured in the contest we're still very happy with the wall color. We got lucky - it's soothing in the summer and refreshing in the winter. If only I'd been so good with the office color. Next time, color wheel. Next time!

Podstravaganza of Episode 4

A fire was lit, a challenge was issued, and my first podcast guest appeared in a special 57 minute (I know!) episode of the Big Red Blog podcast.

This week’s guest, Derek, is an old friend from college who watches more TV than I do which is hard to believe. We talked about nearly every show on television from Seventh Heaven (I’m not kidding) to Battlestar Galactica and everything in between. I was worried it would be a 43 hour show.

In light of the length and the late hour of recording (last night) my apologies for any audio problems. I’ll review the podcast more closely today for a little quality assurance.

Please don’t use the P word

I like this Boston Globe article because it illustrates two topics I love to discuss – the … insiderness of Boston and (and even better in my opinion) the battle between the upper classes of American society: the merely rich and the super-rich with a special emphasis on old money vs. new money.

Please to enjoy!

Lost in Paramus

A few times a year, I have to go down to visit the family of my beloved and beleaguered husband. I don’t know if he’s excited about these trips but it’s my best opportunity to spend quality time driving around New Jersey.

Say what you will about Jersey, but it has a lot of shopping opportunities. I haven’t seen so many Targets and diners and Nordstrom’s in my whole life. After we drive around a lot – without shopping – I then get to go to my in-law’s house. They keep the median indoor temperature around 80 degrees. Then I get to sleep on the world’s hardest bed. On the world’s hardest pillow next to my beloved husband.

I like to remind myself how much I love him. This is important so that I don’t try to escape in the middle of the night with the car and the one of my shoes.

But I tried to have a better attitude about the trip this year. We spent 10 quality hours driving to and from Jersey and I saw lots of lovely fall foliage. So I guess it was the longest and most awkward… and hot leaf peeping trip ever.

I do not have an eye disease, I am not an alcoholic

I have had to wear glasses since the…. I think the fourth grade. Thanks to my mother and father I’m pretty vision-impaired. Not blind, but without glasses or contacts I’m able to vaguely distinguish shapes and colors – unless they are directly in my face.

Yesterday I popped my contacts in and noticed that my eyes looked a little red, but no big deal – sometimes that happens. At work I had a meeting around 10 AM and someone mentioned that my eyes looked bloodshot and asked if I was okay. Someone else suggested I had an allergy problem.

Nope. Not a sniffle or a sneeze. And my eyes felt okay. After the meeting I stopped by the ladies room to check in the mirror.

I looked like a crazed, bloody-eyed killer. I’m talking way beyond a little red – my eyes looked like I’d been on a 9-day bender/murder spree.

I was all weirded out and self-conscious about it for the rest of the day. After the Blogtoberfest event (which was thankfully dimly lit) we stopped by the ol’ CVS to get some Visine. I am happy to report that I’ve gotten some of the red out but still look kind of scary this morning.

I’ve busted out my old-school eye glasses for work today so that I might give the eyeballs a rest. God knows that if I roll down to the in-laws tomorrow with bloodshot eyes, I’ll hear about it. They’ll assume that they don’t have any grandchildren because I’m a lush.

Wherein I discover I am more of a fogey than I thought

Oh those crazy kids at the Blogtoberfest – they are all such pistols!

And Match is loud. Or we were loud. Or both. Regardless, I was in lots of photos (see how I was trying to pretend like I was cool) and everyone seemed to be having a good time.

All I know is that my voice is shot from yelling at my fellow bloggers while leaning close to read their name badges. I think if I was a dude, it’d be a good way to check out the ladies. There were lots of women, way to represent ladies.

I’ve also gone partially blind from the camera flashes (cameras are tiny!) and possibly a little deaf.

Anyway, it was nice to meet so many people and I found someone who’d actually a) read my blog and even better b) listened to my podcast. Amazing.

Some casual vision loss and light deafness are a small price to pay. More tomorrow – it’s a school night after all.

You’re not from around here

I’ve never lived in a place where I am so often reminded that “I’m not from around here.” Bostonians, New Englanders in general, seem to take great pride in being from here and if you’re not from here you just don’t get it. Doesn’t matter if you’ve been here for years and years - you’re still “new.”

I’d say there’s a tiny bit of that mentality in Chicago, although I only heard talk like that a handful of times. It didn’t matter if you were born there, we were all Chicagoans and we loved the city. I think one of those “you’re one of us, now” experiences is when your car is towed by Lincoln Towing. You are going to get towed at some point. Trust me; it’s only a matter of time.

You’re going to go down to the impound yard early in the morning and you’ll see the saddest show of humanity waiting around to break their cars out of jail. And you’ll meet someone without a soul, staring at you through triple-pane bullet-proof glass. If ever a place needed bullet-proof glass it’s Lincoln Towing. They are loathed by the citizens.

So what is the defining event in Boston or New England? Is there one? I’ll never be local, I’m okay with that. I just get a little tired of hearing how I don’t get it.

Sweats in the city

Deeps picked me up from the Alewife T station after work last night.

Me: (sweating)
Deeps: Are you okay?
Me: It was really hot on the train.
Deeps: Ew.
Me: And it smelled like…
Deeps: bad?
Me: Only if you consider the complex bouquet of old hobo urine and moldy take-out bad.
Deeps: Huh.
Me: Yeah.
Deeps: So what’s for dinner?
Me: I’m going to need a moment before I answer that.

Day late and… a day late
Due to a small travel snafu, my special podcast guest couldn’t make it to the… studio (aka my dining room) this week. But he’ll be here next week.

In the meantime, I’ve logged podcast number three in which I discuss my problems with nuclear war (on TV), bad dialogue that means well, and that Veronica Mars prison experiment. Didn't we learn that this was a bad idea in the 70s?

Plus I speculate about what the future holds at Blogtoberfest and share my first listener feedback.

Deep thoughts
I’ve read a couple of books recently – and news in Massachusetts that ties thematically to the books – has had me thinking about the nature of forgiveness and redemption.

You can read more about the new story here, but basically a gubernatorial candidate’s brother-in-law did something very wrong in the past and that issue was brought up as part of a political contest. It’s unclear who brought the criminal history to light, but now the issue is out in the world and everyone knows this family’s history

This brings me back to the subject of the books – Citizen Vince by Jess Walter and Case Histories by Kate Atkinson. They don’t seem that similar at first glance, but they do both deal with crime, punishment, and attempts at redemption. If you’re interested, I think Case Histories is the better book but Citizen Vince is clever and an enjoyable read.

Each of the characters in the books has made a mistake (or mistakes); they’ve sinned or committed crimes as heinous as murder. And yet they all want the chance to start over – and the path to starting over requires different things from each of them: taking a chance on a relationship, making amends for past wrongs, serving time in jail, or getting involved in their community in a meaningful way.

Redemption stories are powerful in American literature (and non-American lit of course) – but if you think about the things that happen on the page (or screen) and what happens in life you’ll see that while we like the idea of redemption (and by extension forgiveness) we’re not a very forgiving people.

For example, in many states if you’ve been convicted of a felony you no longer have the right to vote – which plays a big role in the story of Citizen Vince. And if you’ve ever applied for a job, you may recall that on the job application you are often asked if you’ve been committed of a felony.

I know of people who can’t find any decent work because they are convicted felons. If you are convicted of a crime, serve your time in jail and then are released to the world you don’t really get a second chance. People hold that against you – and I can’t decide if I think that’s fair or not. Every financial document I’ve ever gotten has said that past performance doesn’t guarantee future returns.

Perhaps we’re more forgiving of someone who steals cars or robs banks than we are of sex offenders or murderers. Perhaps not. Do you want to live next to a convicted criminal? Will it destroy your property values?

I’ve made lots of mistakes in the past and I’ve looked at people who have made similar mistakes and never recovered from them. One thing leads to another and they end up in a dark place making very bad choices. There but for the grace….

Can we be open to giving someone another shot – but still protect our family? Can past performance predict the future? Can caution and forgiveness live in the same place? Where does redemption begin and condemnation end?

I have no answers. I like to think I’m the kind of person who is willing to give someone another shot. But I feel like if you’ve screwed up – whether on something small or something huge – you have to earn it. Redemption begins within yourself, but you need a little help – the benefit of the doubt - from the world around you.

And that’s the end of my deep thoughts.

In case you missed it
My podcast experiment flew into week two on Sunday as I provided twelve stellar minutes of commentary on: Lost, Veronica Mars, The Nine, Supernatural (and my freaky fear of clowns), Why I broke up with the Gilmore Girls, and a quick review of the Jon Stewart show at the Wang Theater in Boston.

Did you miss it? You can find it right here!

Tomorrow I'll be talking about more pop culture including books, movies and I may dive into the nasty Massachusetts governor's race.

Three conversations about one thing

Me: It was a little cold this morning.
Deeps: I know – we might have to pull out the jackets soon.
Me: I need to take my scarves to the cleaners.
Deeps: Do I have a scarf?
Me: Yeah. I’m thinking of getting a new hat.
Deeps: Oh yeah?
Me: A beret.
Deeps: (giggle)
Me: I look good in a beret.
Deeps: Yeah.
Me: It’s true.
Deeps: okay.
Me: Will you be on my podcast?
Deeps: No.
Me: Please!
Deeps: No.
Me: Fine.

Deeps: What’s for dinner?
Me: Tiny tacos.
Deeps: Like taquitos?
Me: Like tiny tacos.
Deeps: Hmm.
Me: They’re good.
Deeps: Yeah.
Me: Will you be on my podcast?
Deeps: No.
Me: !!!

Deeps: How much was the last cable bill?
Me: I don’t know.
Deeps: Do you have an approximate guess?
Me: I can look. Why do you need it?
Deeps: Because I’m trying to verify our account with the cable people.
Me: Oh. Do you want to be on my podcast?
Deeps: Honestly woman.
Me: It’s going to be awesome.
Deeps: No.
Me: I have music now!
Deeps: No.
Me: Extra awesome.
Deeps: No.

Small wonders
Just when I start to get used to the smell on the T, the insanely inefficient fare “collection” system and the new “random” searches at selected T stations – someone goes and does something nice and throws me off.

Yesterday I was riding home, minding my own business while enjoying a delightful book when a mom and her two boys got on the train at Harvard station. There were plenty of seats available so they parked pretty quickly.

The older boy, I’d say he was about seven, was excited to watch the tunnel fly by as he gazed out the window. His younger brother, around four, was eating some ice cream when he quickly dropped the ice cream on the floor of the train. His mother swooped in before he could do something crazy like eat it off the floor and confiscated the tainted dessert.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But it’s too dirty for you to eat now.”

The little boy looked a bit put out, but he didn’t seem on the verge of a tantrum. His older brother quickly observed what happened and moved into action. He was also eating ice cream and handed over his remaining treat to his brother. His mother smiled, his brother gobbled and I can say that passengers who watched this little drama pass were completely delighted and enchanted. A few people smiled, nodded, one guy even patted the kid on the back.

His little brother didn’t say much but he licked the paper bowl with great relish after finishing his last bite. His mother was quite proud and the older kid went back to staring outside as the train raced through the tunnel.

Breaking!
I have another freakin’ Podcast. Woot!

Also – the weather guy is acting all weird. He said something about snow. I’m so sorry Vermont.

Search Me
While I was fighting off the dreaded rhinovirus, I missed some of the hubbub about the MBTA implementing random bag searches on the T (our public transport for readers outside the Bay state).

I’ll leave my personal feelings about this issue out of my post. But …. Yeesh people, is this the best we can come up with? Anyway…..

The fun thing about searching me is that some guard will end up with a bag of underwear – and there’s a 50% chance it will be dirty. That’s right; I travel with dirty laundry on a near daily basis. On gym days I bring fresh clothes to change into after my workout and I bring home the sweaty, previously worn stuff. At any given time I’ve got drawers, sports bras, socks, shirts and gym pants or some combination thereof.

I also travel with smelly food because after I work out I’m starving. So there’s that to look forward to as well.

Remember, this is a good opportunity to learn more about the fourth amendment.

On that note – happy Columbus Day!

Operation Recovery
I’ve done all I can to get over this stupid head cold. Last night I had donuts for dinner in a fit of weird hunger and possibly rage. I’m tired of being cooped up at home. Why donuts? Why not donuts? I can barely taste anything but I figured I might be able to taste some sugary, donuty goodness. It’s a nice change of pace from toast.

Anyway, full of donuts and NyQuil I recorded my latest podcast. I’m happy to report that while I’m still a little stuffy I have lost most of my scary old man voice that comes with any cold I’ve ever had.

Is the lady of the house home? Speaking. Sir, you cannot be serious!

Good news - I think I've got the feed working so that you can subscribe via itunes. If you're so inclined.... and if I ever make one of these things again.

My friend Jon
I haven’t been to work since Tuesday but I dragged myself out of bed to go to see Jon Stewart. I can rationalize this because I was a) getting better and b) not infecting my workplace – just a bunch of strangers at the Wang Theater. (tee hee)

First, a few observations – my cold-addled brain was stunned by the number of swankily dressed, elderly women ushers we encountered. They must have been stunned by the jeans-wearing, unwashed (and unwell) masses that pushed through the doors. The theater is beautiful and baroque – completely over the top and lovingly restored – and we all came to see a funny guy curse for $55 a head (plus fees).

The show itself was short at 75 minutes. We saw him at the Orpheum a few years ago and the show was longer and included more bits about his life in addition to his material about the war, the president, and gay marriage.

We laughed, we had a good time – but the show material wasn’t radically different from what we heard a few years ago. That’s a tiny bit disappointing primarily because we paid such a handsome sum for the opportunity to see him perform live. Still it was a good show and I’d say if you’d like to see him live you should. If you are a regular viewer of the show you’re going to hear some material recycled, but those are the breaks.

One other observation – people came to the show late, like really late. The show was slated to start at 7 which is early (he did a 10 PM show as well) and around 7:15 he came out on stage. People – lots of people – were still being seated in the dark well past 7:45. Again, I was surprised because you pay a lot of money to see him and you show up so late? It’s a holiday weekend; traffic coming into Boston wasn’t that bad. Maybe there was a snafu at the parking garage.

Anyway, we had a good time and I managed to get home without coughing my head off. So that’s the mark of a good evening out. Nobody died, nobody exploded in a ball of head goo and nobody learned anything.

Shut in
So my weird cold hasn’t really gotten much worse, but it isn’t any better. My throat still hurts and my ears are stuffy and head is foggy.

And I’m totally bored sitting at home on the last warm day of the year watching crappy, crappy television. Luckily, there was an American Ninja (2 if you’re interested) movie on so that was an excellent napping opportunity.

The most surprising part of my day at home is that it’s really freaking loud on my street. People are working, the mail man clomps across the porch, and I’m not sure what my neighbor is doing but it sounds like he’s building some kind of giant wood chipper that is fired with something totally medieval.

I hope to be better soon. Or worse.

I have made a terrible mistake

After a lackluster day of sitting, quietly and sipping broth and tea at work I came home with my low-grade fever to figure out my next step. But then Deeps suggested that we order some Thai food because it would make me feel better to have some awesome Tom Kha Gai.

I also got some spicy chicken dish that I usually love – and I loved tonight. When the food showed up I thought, “Yummy! Food!” and I ate soup and some rice and some spicy chicken stuff… it seemed like such a good idea at the time.

But now I feel all hot and nauseous – could be the ick or the Gilmore Girls that I’m watching. Ooooh no! I’ll have to save that for my next podcast. I think I’m breaking up with the Gilmore Girls.

And my head is throbbing. But I will be okay for Jon Stewart. We love him and I spent four million dollars on those tickets. I don’t care if Deeps has to pour me into a Dixie cup.

Every breath I take
I have been avoiding the office ick for about a month.* This morning I feel the weird fuzziness in my head. I think the ick is about to strike. I’m not sick yet. But I feel like something isn’t quite right.

I’m trying to figure out what kind of home remedy I can make with soy sauce, mustard and leftover guacamole. Time for me to go to the grocery store.

And you know, the ick comes on the last hot day(s) – I think we’re going to be in the upper 70s for the next couple of days and I’ll be trying not to think too much about germies and their march towards the conquest of my nasal passages.

Let this be a lesson to others – if you’re sick, you should really just stay home. Maybe I’ll get lucky and dodge a bullet. If I have to get the ick – I want to get it now. Because on Friday night we have a hot date with Jon Stewart.

*Avoiding only works for so long. I now have a mighty 100.8 fever.

Look at me, I’m so important I made a podcast*
I’ve finally worked out some – but not all – of the kinks in my recording process. I need better notes for next time. And I hope that I’ll have upgraded my recording equipment a bit.

But I wasn’t wearing pajamas when podcasting. I was wearing a very tasteful pair of yoga paints splattered with paint. It was Sunday after all.

This week I tackle some of the new Fall TV shows and I pretend like I’ll ever do this again.

*Have you met my virtual friend Darren? I steal from the best.

As long as there are martinis, I’ll be there
I’ve decided to attend Blogtoberfest 2006 in beautiful Boston.

I find it convenient to attend since I a) live in the area b) can walk there after work and c) I’ve been assured there’ll be martinis. Sure, I have to buy my own – but as an old married lady my years of getting free drinks are over. Unless I bring my husband/designated driver with me and even then it’s iffy I’ll get a free drink.

I’ve never been to a blogger event so I hope I’m not horrified (or horrifying) or disappointed (or disappointing) to my fellow bloggers. Having been to dozens of tech-oriented networking events, I suspect I know how it will go down.

Still, I'm curious and I’m sure none of the people read my blog anyway. I’ve been skimming the blogs of some of the people that are attending and while I did fine a few familiar names I suspect I’m probably older than most of the people planning to attend.

On the bright side, that probably means I have better credit.

Bowling for fathers
My beloved husband of lo these many years is adventurous, funny and game for anything. He’s also easy-going, low-key and is always willing to be the designated driver.

A week ago the Mondos invited us to join them for dinner and bowling – specifically candlepin bowling which is sort of a New England specialty. Mrs. Mondo’s dad was visiting from the Midwest and he’d never “experienced” small ball bowling.

I was totally ready for dinner and possibly bowling, but Deeps was anxious – he’s avoided bowling his entire life and wasn’t sure this was the time to start. The thought of putting on someone else’s shoe send him into near fits.

And yet we ate questionable Chinese food and then bowled for Mrs. Mondo’s father and he had a fantastic time. My husband clapped and cheered for everyone, and following my lead would start to spout random sports aphorisms.

Walk it off, he’d tell me after I had a particularly bad frame.

I told him he had good hustle.

He told me not to thread the needle when I had a particularly heinous split.

I told him he showed real heart out there.

The Mondos response was akin to humoring a dotty aunt.

Deeps wouldn’t cop to “having fun” but he did imply that bowling wasn’t awful (despite our tie for last place two games in a row). I told him cheap beer makes bowling more enjoyable, but he’s not interested.

Will we ever bowl again? I expect we’ll be game the next time someone’s dad comes to town.

Pfft
I’ve been watching the new television season – more about that later – and in addition to watching shows I’ve been watching commercials.

Two new car commercials have caught my attention for their very meta approach to advertising.

First – the new VW ads feature two different sets of people talking about commercials before getting into a car accident. One pair of women is discussing the VW commercials themselves (super meta) and whether or not they are appropriate and exploitative. The other is a group of three men clearly discussing an erectile dysfunction ad they just heard on the radio they joke about that odd four hour side effect before their car is struck.

So what are we to think about this? I suppose it is cute – it’s a way to bring pop culture and relevance into your commercial. Some of these conversations are about topics I’ve discussed or read about elsewhere. Still, I find it a little too slick. Although, I suspect that the ad makers don’t expect you to spend too much time listening to what the people are discussing. The crash is the money shot and we should be waiting for it.

The other ad is for a new Nissan compact car – it apes drug advertisements showing a disease (something like cramped car syndrome) and men suffering by being stuffed into tiny cars. The commercial ends with a man spinning joyously in a field near his new Nissan while clutching a puppy.

I’m not sure what this all means – I suppose it’s a move away from the Head On. But is it a move in the right direction? Probably. Or not. I mean, I barely watch commercials anymore and even when I watch them I barely process them. My husband watched the VW ad at least four or five times before I mentioned to him the meta nature of the commercial – he hadn’t processed that part. He was just aware of the crash. Which is probably all VW wants you to think about.

When big kids play rough
My blog suffers! Apparently Comcast and Google were having some kind of issue yesterday which meant I couldn’t publish my blog or find any of the links I wanted to include in my big entry about VW.

Anyway, I think things are working now. I’m going to attempt to recreate it in the next few minutes.

And for the one person who cares, I’m having trouble finding a place to record my podcast because my husband has trouble being quiet. He’s prone to loudly puttering in the kitchen and then he wants to watch TV – so I’ve got to find a place upstairs that is quiet and doesn’t smell skunky. This is tougher than you’d think. However, at this point I haven’t encountered any vampires. Of course, Halloween is just around the corner.

Mondays stink
Friday I overslept – it was glorious. I woke up a scant minute before Deeps’ alarm clock went off. Everyone was confused. The evil blue jay was cawing which woke up my husband who discovered the cat was sleeping on his side of the bed (a no-no) and then turned to find me still in bed. It could have been chaos.

This morning I underslept. At 5:30 a blast of stink punctured a hole in my quiet, sleepy reverie. We’re in that time of year when cool nights mean sleeping with the windows open and an extra blanket. And for some reason this is also a time of year when the skunks are extremely active.

I’m not sure what kind of skunk warfare is taking place in the back yard but I believe that the Sharks and the Jets having been having nightly encounters for more than two weeks. I’ve been roused from deep sleep to the smell of skunkly horror – then rush around to close windows. But then the skunk smell gets stuck inside.

So today, I’ll say that Mondays stink. I could have used that extra hour of sleep. Whatever is happening on skunk front is unknown to me – because as bad as it smells on the third floor of our house, I can only imagine it smells much worse next to the skunk.

E(nough!)
I was at a lovely wedding on Saturday. Our friends Baker and Mimi got married in a huge field on a cool summer evening.

While they were swearing eternal love, I was wondering if they’d be serving any of that spinach in the salad or if any of the mosquitoes swarming about me had the Triple E.

That’s probably not what they were hoping I’d be thinking about.

Thanks to the Triple E outbreaks in the state and E coli scares in the country I’ve been more paranoid than usual. I don’t consider myself to be exceptionally paranoid but I realize that when I dream about giant mosquitoes coming for me I might have some issues.

Thanks for the nightmares, TV news.

AMEX thinks I’m fancy
Sure, you can look at my blog and think – this woman is fancy. She lives in a glamorous half-a-house and enjoys the good life: cable TV, pizza on Wednesdays and trips to Whole Foods to buy one unusual produce item.

So it should come to no surprise to you that American Express thinks I’m fancy. Like I might have a personal assistant to manage my account – you know, to pay my bills.

I realize now that my life is really lacking something. I don’t have a personal assistant! If I had a personal assistant, everything would be different.

So, I am now looking for a personal assistant. The pay is poor (none), you can sleep in the guest room on the Aero bed, and you must be at my beck and call all hours of the day. If you’re interested, please send an email to: areyoucrazy@you’vegottobekiddingme.org.

Watch the birdie
The evil blue jay of doom is pushing me to extreme actions.

A family of blue jays live in the trees behind the house. They chirp and squawk – blue jays don’t make pretty sounds. They make ugly, harsh, hideous sounds like the four birdmen of the apocalypse.

For the past couple of weeks the head of the blue jay mafia has been chirping and making a ton of noise early in the morning. This morning, he really got going. He was so loud I could hear him through the closed window and over the sound of the fan running. He woke me up at 5:30 and I’ve been awake since.

I’m cranky and I hate that bird. I’m thinking of leaving lots of cat treats on the back steps to get the neighborhood cat posse on the case.

Stupid birds.

Dr. Giggles

I’m not feeling especially clever today – that will become obvious when you read the rest of this entry - but I thought I’d share a few encounters I had with Deeps last night.

Me: Do you know where the colander is?
Deeps: No.
Me: Maybe you should call the police.
Deeps: You think you’re so funny.
Me: (hysterical laughter)

Later
Me: Have you seen my cell phone?
Deeps: No.
Me: I’m worried. I think we should call the police.
Deeps: (grumbling)
Me: (hysterical laughter)

Even later
Me: Have you seen the cat?
Deeps: Why should I call the police?
Me: No. I thought I heard her making the barf sound.
Deeps: Oh god.
Me: I know.
Deeps: Maybe she’s in the basement.
Me: Maybe we should call the police – and tell them to bring the hazmat team.
Deeps: ….
Me: (hysterical laughter)

Call off the dogs
Last night I got my hair cut and colored. Let’s just say the Big Red head requires some regular care and maintenance.

I’ve mentioned this haircut to my husband at least a dozen times. I explained to him that it takes at least two hours to get through the entire process because I have a lot of hair and that sometimes my hair stylist is running behind.

He opted to go to the movies and I went to the salon. He’d planned on going to a 7:30 show but for some reason ended up at the 5:30 show which meant he came home much earlier than expected and that’s when he got panicky – I wasn’t home yet!

He was calling my mobile phone but it was buried at the bottom of my commuter bag so I didn’t hear it. When I didn’t answer, he leapt in action.

First he called Peaches and the Chairman to see if I was with them.

Then he called the local cops (non-emergency number) to see if there had been any accidents.

Then he started walking to the salon. That’s where I met him – on the less-than-two-block walk from the salon to our house.

Me: Hi.
Deeps: I’m glad to see you’re okay.
Me: Yeah, it took a little bit longer than expected.
Deeps: It’s almost 9!
Me: Yeah, I told you it takes a long time.
Deeps: I called the police.
Me: You did not.
Deeps: I did. Then I was going to retrace your steps.
Me: You’ve been watching too many episodes of Without a Trace.
Deeps: Maybe.
Me: Did you call the salon?
Deeps: I figured I’d just walk up.
Me: You should have just called the salon and everything would have been resolved a while ago.

Now we’ve determined that if I’m an hour late, he’ll start to get panicky and he won’t do the logical thing. I blame this on his mother – he’s an only child and she doesn’t really have anything else to do but to focus all of her attention on him. (Seriously, the woman’s other interest is praying.)

I suppose it is nice to know he cares – that he still worries and that he’s a total freak. My freak.

A(nother) Modest Proposal
Boston University has implemented a ban on swearing at sports events. I’ve heard that this is an especially big deal at hockey games where BU students are (locally) infamous for lots of screaming of obscenities and slurs.

So the school has a policy now. The local TV news covered it and here is where my modest proposal comes in – students were asked what they thought about the policy. One of them immediately invoked Nazis and the Gestapo. Another one said, “It’s stupid” but was then unable to articulate any kind of reason why it was stupid.

I don’t care about this issue, but I do care that a) college students are unable to articulate any kinds of reasons for being opposed to this measure and b) that if they do say something they go right to Gestapo. That’s just lazy and boring and predictable (also totally inappropriate).

This is a perfect time to invoke “thought police” people! Or if you want to be very hip try the “thought po po” – this is a legit literary allusion. It is apt and appropriate when talking about something that you think is a ridiculous infringement on your speech rights and something that will be hard to enforce.

That’s just step one in sounding smarter – I think sounding smarter is a 23-step process so there’s a tough road ahead. And if the BU students interviewed on the local news were any real representation of the intellectual capabilities of the student body (let’s hope not), the university has bigger fish to fry.

Possible further technical difficulties
Since my old hosting company went belly-up while I was on vacation I’ve been working with my new hosting company to get all the bits and pieces transferred. I’m doing the official domain transfer – so there’s a chance that you may see hinky behavior from The blog without pity.

Not to worry – it should be temporary. I’m hopeful that service will be uninterrupted but I have no idea what will happen. I expect all of these issues will be resolved in the next couple of weeks. But if you check the site and find the dreaded 404 – it should be a temporary problem.

And once this gets all resolved, I think I’ll be able to start podcasting about the new fall television season! Let’s not get too excited.

Fine for the picking
Peaches loves all kinds of fruit (he has a special place in his heart for peaches) and he’s been advocating for an apple-picking trip. He’s ready to bake apple pies, apple tarts, apple cakes, apple compote, apple jacks – whatever he can cram apples into. He’s excited.

We’ve been invited along to do some picking. Deeps could not be more ambivalent about it.

I don’t know why he hates apples – but I suspect it has little to do with apples and more to do with physical labor. The man is no fan of getting dirty or dealing with nature in any form. I mention that if we should ever take the plunge and have some kids that he’s going to be the wet-blanket dad. He’s unmoved by this assertion.

Me: Do you know how many apples I eat a week? At least one a day and often I’ll eat some extras.
Deeps: That’s great for you.
Me: We love apples. They’re good for you and we spend a good amount of money on them too.
Deeps: So this would be cheaper?
Me: I have no idea.
Deeps: If it is – I’m happy to pay the premium to get them in the store.
Me: But it is fun.
Deeps: Maybe to you.
Me: Come on!
Deeps: Meh.
Me: (sulk)
Deeps: You’re going to make me go aren’t you?
Me: I’ve just learned that Asian women in New Jersey have the longest life expectancies in the US. That means that eventually I’m going to have to live with your mother or something. I feel like you owe me a little something.
Deeps: You have to bring my mother into it.
Me: Oh yeah. I went there.

Good-bye summer
There’s a chill in the air – I’d call it brisk outside; a balmy 49 degrees. September seems more like the time for new beginnings than January. Maybe it is because of school, perhaps something else.

I missed the big tomato harvest when we were on vacation. I discovered that yesterday as I cleaned up a bunch of rotten tomatoes.

Now we need to take the ACs out of the windows….

And today I guess I’m more reflective than usual. Last night I casually mentioned September 11th to a few friends. Everyone got kind of quiet and didn’t say anything. I guess that’s where we are all at right now; no one knows what to say or how to feel five years later.

I find it still hard to talk about, to face – I turn the channel any time a special comes on about the towers. I don’t think I’ve ever even really talked about this with my husband.

I’m still angry. I’m disappointed that our country has taken this bizarre course to fight terrorism. Maybe it seemed like a good idea at the time, but things have gone horribly wrong.

Part of me isn’t surprised that no permanent memorials have been erected and that rebuilding of Ground Zero has not made a lot of progress. It seems very American for us to squabble about what the building will be – if it should be – and what it will look like. I guess the greatest memorial is that more people live in lower Manhattan now than did before 9/11/2001. Isn’t there a saying about living well?

What all this has to do with old tomatoes or cool mornings I can’t really say. Maybe someday I will.

Pictures!
I posted lots of photos from our trip to Montreal on Flickr – so please feel free to check them out. I made sure to include some really cool shots from the Montreal Botanical Gardens. They’re having a big Chinese lantern festival in a few weeks so I think they’d just erected a bunch of giant floating lanterns.

In other news, I fixed the ATOM feed – so it is working again. I’m slowly rebuilding the non-blog areas of the site.

Invisible Girl
My friend Mimi has an old silver Honda. She’s had it for years and she drives it to work every day.

Unfortunately, the car appears to be a magnet for trouble.

She told me that her car has been crashed into nearly a dozen times – she’s never been at fault.

“It’s like my car is invisible or something,” she said. And then she told me the story about the waving guy and I the only conclusion I could come up with is that her car is invisible.

She and her fiancé, Baker, pulled into Harvard Square to run errands. Street parking can be tough to find but she got lucky and saw that a guy in a Mini was pulling out. She waved to him, he smiled and waved back. She motioned that she wanted his space, he nodded his assent and that was the end of it. At least, that’s what Mimi thought.

Then the guy just backed into her. Like she wasn’t there. Like they hadn’t just had this whole exchange of waving and smiling. She and Baker were shocked as was the guy in the Mini. How did that happen?

They exchanged info and agreed to talk later. A few days later, Baker and Mimi came out to find the Honda had been hit again – within days of the incident with Mini. Someone had kindly left a note. Turns out that the house across the street had an open house and someone had just backed into the Honda. The new damage was worse than the damage from the Mini.

I share this story about Mimi’s invisible Honda because I’m starting to worry that our dark gray Toyota Matrix is suffering from a similar paint issue.

Just in the past couple of days we have narrowly avoided being hit on three occasions. One time a guy was waiting to make a left turn – there were no cars in front of us or behind us. He’d been waiting a bit and then he just tried to turn into us. It was like he waited for us to approach to purposely hit us. It was weird, but we shook it off.

Then the same thing happened again when we were driving on Rt. 2 – a guy in one lane tried to merge into us three times in as many minutes.

And who could forget the nose picker in the green VW? She just barreled straight towards us – I actually screamed. I’m not a screamer.

These aren’t the usual little, hey that guy cut me off deals – these incidents require drastic evasive maneuvers.

Deeps told me yesterday he’s afraid our car has been painted invisible. I asked if he’d parked the car near Mimi’s. Maybe her Honda’s invisibility is contagious.

Welcome back!
Today is the first day of school in Boston.

I remember going back to school - usually by the end of the summer I was ready for the change of pace of going back to school. We didn’t go on vacation or anything when I was a kid. I don’t remember any camps or special programs.

One summer I learned to swim and another summer I went to the tennis camp my dad ran. Let’s just say that I quickly put an end to both my swimming and tennis careers.

When I started the seventh grade my friend called me several weeks before school and we discussed what clothes we’d wear for the coming year. She was the first to suggest that we needed to develop a specific style and that perhaps we should coordinate. I thought that sounded good.

We opted to go with some animal prints, a bit of olive drab, jeans and also a collection of cardigans, button down shirts and brooches that we’d wear pinned at the collar. Not all at once, I just recall those two specific looks very clearly – cardigan and brooch; olive drab skirt with cheetah print blouse.

Sweet fancy Moses – we had a look. It was a mix of hooker chic and retirement home.

Thankfully times have changed a bit, although I did cringe mightily when animal prints came back a few years ago. Thankfully, I have abandoned my brooch collection.

Good luck kids and remember those Rs: reading, writing and fashion.

Love Frankie
We went to Montreal for the first time – at least for me – last week. It’s a gorgeous city. I liked the idea of a European-style city that I could drive to. And Montreal delivered. And the bonus: no awkward body searches or dry mouth on a long, crowded flight!

If you’ve never been to Montreal, I’d suggest adding it to your travel list. Canada is easy to visit (although I believe the documentation required to enter the country will change in 2007 and 2008), it’s just to the north and I have it on good authority that Canadians are pretty polite.

Montreal was great – we could get all the stuff we loved in Paris: delicious food, quaint old buildings, a sense of history, a walkable city, and a good time. Montreal is different: more English, people seemed a little more polite and friendly, and fewer incidents of dodging dog poo on the sidewalks.

I spoke French without problem, but I will admit that I had a slightly tougher time understanding some of my French-Canadian brethren – they truncate words and pronounce things a little differently. And since my French is more than a bit rusty I had a few moments of struggle. But we could always switch to English without incident – which is good for my husband because you don’t want to have a language barrier between him and a giant plate of chocolate croissants.

I wish I could tell you that we had a very exciting vacation and that I had a million great stories to share. I don’t really – we had a tremendously relaxing time and we walked miles and miles all around town every day. We ate like kings, slept like babies, read books, took in the city and the parks and enjoyed the great weather.

Then we drove home to be reminded that it was move-in weekend: the weekend when students return to the Boston-area for school. Moving vans, cars with out of state plates were everywhere and we spent some quality time cursing our stupidity and zigging around people who had no idea where they were going.

Just like dumb American tourists in one of Canada’s greatest cities.

Idiots.

Vacation strikes back!
Deeps and I took an impromptu week-long vacation to Montreal. A couple of weeks ago my boss casually asked me if I’d taken any vacations this year. Aside from a quick weekend to visit the family in Indiana, I hadn’t. She suggested I might want to take a bit of time.

I think she noticed I’d developed a little eye twitch.

Rather than deal with the weirdness of flying, we opted to do a driving vacation. And with Montreal about 6 hours away by car we thought it would be the perfect destination. Now, in the past we’ve had some bad luck on vacations, but that streak had ended a few years ago. At least, it had.

We had a great time. I took the laptop in case I felt like blogging. I couldn’t get the wireless to work (probably some user error) so I didn’t bother trying to blog. Sorry, loyal readers.

When we returned late this weekend I discovered that my site was down. No big deal, it happens – I started to visit my web host’s site when I discovered their site was also gone. Then I started checking emails and logs – it looks like my site went down about the time I left for my vacation.

What happened? I can’t say – I was prepaid for another year of hosting service. And I can’t explain what happened to the small company I’d been using since 1998. Anyway, that’s what happened. I went on vacation and apparently so did my former hosting company.

Luckily, I am inclined to back up data so while it will take a while to reconstruct my site (if I choose) I have much of the content from before. The blog is intact.

My new host is bigger and more reputable and I’ve got high hopes we’ll have a good, long relationship.

Meanwhile, why don’t you read this little thread where the Internet makes fun of me and my writing! Internets, I missed you.

Technical difficulties
See - this is what happens when you try to go on vacation. Someone eats your Web site. Thanks, Internets!

Vocabulary lessons
When I first moved to New England – about 12 years ago (ye gods) I had some vocabulary issues.

I didn’t know what a frappe was (that’s a milkshake to the rest of you). I mean, I guessed – I was at an ice cream stand. I come from a simpler land, we call a milkshake a milkshake – we are plain spoken people.

Last night I had more dairy dialogue issues. I asked for a small ice cream cone. I declined the sugar cone and motioned to the wafer cone. Now I grew up calling it a cake cone, but at least a dozen times at the same ice cream store someone corrected me and said it was a wafer cone.

The ice cream guy looked at me and said; oh that’s a cake cone. I made a face at my husband and replied to the ice cream guy, yes that would also be a word to describe the cone. It’s a synonym.

Synonym? The high-school boy looked at me in utter confusion. I don’t know what that is, he said.

I looked at my husband. He laughed a little and I shrugged my shoulders.

Snakes on a plane, man.

Things I think about when I can’t sleep
Last night I had a tough time falling asleep, despite being totally wiped by 10 PM.

I had a little stream of consciousness thinking going – it reveals no great mysteries about me, except that I’m odd. And you already know that.

What is it like to get a pedicure in France?

How could baseball become interesting to me?

I should really go swimming.

We should get a dog. Deeps would totally not go for it. How could I get him to go for it? Of course then I’d have to walk the dog. Sometimes I have to work late. And I can’t just leave him a big bowl of food if we go on vacation for a few days. Plus the Poopus would be mad. Maybe I’ll stick with the cat.

If we have a baby, I think we need a swanky digital SLR – at least 12 MP.

I think more rappers should buy well-made fake bling to wear instead of investing in the real stuff. Then they could take the money they save and put it in a high interest bearing savings account if they are nervous about the stock market. If anyone accuses you of wearing fake stuff, pop a cap in them and enhance your street cred.

They’ve weaponized the moon!
I’m not really a fan of Nicholas Cage. In fact, I’d say that in general I do not like his body of work with the exception of Raising Arizona. I love that movie so much I actually included it in our wedding registry lo those many years ago.

I’m sure he’s a nice guy. He’s got a weird Elvis thing and he kind of reminds me of Lurch and his hair is all over the place (he should call Piven’s hair plug guy). But whatever, I’m sure he’s a fine actor. I just don’t care for him.

And I could care less about his remake of the Wicker Man. In fact, I find it weird that the film is being remade. Here’s the thing about the Wicker Man – it was weird, unscary and as surprising as your average episode of Murder She Wrote. Except it had more nudity, impromptu singing and Christopher Lee.

I rented Wicker Man when I worked at the video store a million years ago in high school. It was billed as the scariest movie ever made (up until that point – which was the early 70s). I watched it, I think I may have taken a short nap in the middle (I had mono) and then awoke to find The Equalizer having a throw down with Dracula. That seemed like a cool thing, except that the movie plodded along and I just hoped that the Equalizer and Dracula would have some momentous battle. Spoiler alert: it didn’t really come to pass. However, I think the ending was probably surprising at the time, it seems telegraphed from the first appearance of Edward Woodward.

Anyway, if there was ever a less essential movie that needed to be remade it is The Wicker Man. It wasn’t good the first time around – I can’t imagine what Neil LaBute has done to update it and make it either a) relevant or b) good.

It’s not on my essential movie viewing list and sadly, Nicholas Cage films won’t be added back to my must-see list.

Like summer
We’ve been enjoying a giant box of popsicles – the kind we had as kids. You know, they come in the thin, plastic sleeves and you can eat lots of them if you want.

I mean, you know – if you eat all of your dinner.

I bought them as a fluke, but lately someone (not me) has been dipping into them late at night.

Deeps: Which one do you want?
Me: I don’t care.
Deeps: Which one?
Me: They all taste the same.
Deeps: Like plastic? You’re supposed to cup the plastic end off.
Me: No, they all taste like sugar water.
Deeps: They taste like orange, green and purple.
Me: And blue. Those are my favorite.
Deeps: Or pink. That’s a good one.
Me: Yeah, I like the pink one too. It tastes like…
Deeps: Pink?
Me: I have no better way to describe it.

Tips for travel
I read an article on Consumerist recently that reminded me of a word of warning a friend once passed along to me.

The Consumerist piece – in a nutshell – was about a woman who offloaded her broken electronics by packing them in her checked luggage when going on a trip. Whenever she picked up her luggage at the baggage claim the electronics were mysteriously missing.

As for the word of warning from my friend, well he was wise and worldly in many ways and I have no reason to not believe this story. But again, I don’t have any evidence except what my friend told me.

Apparently at a family reunion he spotted one of his cousins in a T-shirt that read something like “Hard Rock Café Hong Kong” – except this wasn’t a knock-off item and his cousin wasn’t making trips overseas.

When my friend asked his cousin about the shirt, his cousin smiled mysteriously and asked if there was anything my friend needed – the cousin could get it at work. As my friend knew, his cousin was as a baggage handler at a large American airport. Allegedly, some of the workers were inclined to do a bit of shopping in the luggage they were processing from the check-in counter to the plain cargo hold.

This was all before 9/11 – so maybe things are different. But as a policy, I don’t check anything valuable in my luggage.

Voices carry
A while back my friend Kit told me about the interesting problem plaguing her mother and step-father. Apparently Kit’s step-father has lost some of his hearing as he’s aged. I’d hazard a guess that that’s probably pretty typical.

Kit’s mother has to really bellow sometimes to get his attention. Finally, after several months (maybe years) of nagging Kit’s step-father got his hearing checked. They discovered that Kit’s step-dad has lost the ability to hear in the range that Kit’s mother’s voice registers.

Coincidence?

This issue came to mind when a few months back several us were at a crowded party. I was trying to get some food, but there were people everywhere (sign of a good party). I forgot to grab a fork – so as Mondo made his way to the buffet his wife asked that he grab her something to drink. Then I yelled to him to get me a fork. He didn’t respond in any way, so I suspected he didn’t hear me.

His wife, watching our one-sided conversation then yelled for Mondo’s attention and asked him to bring a fork for me. He acknowledged her and later I got my fork.

Like mother bears and little cubs, I guess you learn to tune into the sound of your person’s voice pretty quickly.

That doesn’t really explain what I have to do with Deeps sometimes. He’s a wanderer. Like a five-year old boy in a grocery store – he wanders away with the cart to look at stuff. Eventually, if I find him he’s at the other side of the store and I’ll kind of motion for him. I’ll say his name in a normal voice. I’ll try calling on his cell phone but it is usually turned off.

So I resort to the Mama call – I’m not sure he’s even processed that I do this – I call him in the sharp, quick way that his mother does. I mimic her call. And he usually responds.

Coincidence?

An open letter to the guy in the silver Mercedes driving down St. James Avenue
I walk to the gym three times a week. I cut across Copley Square and wait at the crosswalk that takes me from Trinity Church to the John Hancock building. It is often a pleasant, if windy walk.

Yesterday I waited at the crosswalk for a break in traffic. By law, I believe, cars are supposed to yield to pedestrians but I don’t get my hopes up.

As I stood there, chatting with a colleague – waiting for you to pass – I noted that you started to change lanes suddenly and to swerve towards us. Then you drove through a giant puddle and soaked us both.

I was completely stunned – but only for a moment. As I let loose a string of invectives that would make Vice President Dick Cheney embarrassed. I was embarrassed. I had no idea I had such a well of profanity at my disposal.

You saw what you did, but drove away without as much as an apologetic shrug. And I can’t help but think you did it all on purpose. There was no obvious reason for you to change lanes.

Anyway, just wanted to thank you for helping to put the nail in the coffin of a bad day. I wish you a lifetime of bad haircuts and soggy sandwiches, you jerk.

Sincerely,
One angry redhead

Farewell les enfants
We need a vacation.

Okay, maybe Deeps doesn’t need a vacation – but I do. I’m a woman on the verge.

Originally, we’d planned on doing a trip to Italy in late September. Then we talked about it a bit and decided that perhaps we should do something less stressful – like an American vacation. We’ve never actually taken one in the US.

We talked and planned and discussed and came up with a trip to California to visit old friends and to extend the summer – we’d go in October (after we see Jon Stewart).

And then the latest airport security fiasco unfolded and I cancelled our California plans. Here’s the thing, before new security measures were implemented before 9/11 flying was a pain. I can’t tell you how many times I was stuck in a plane waiting on a tarmac for hours at a time. My luggage would get lost. I had stuff removed from my luggage (I’d call it stolen) and in general I found the airlines treated their customers like third class citizens, no matter how many upgrades I had.

After 9/11 when security tightened considerably and the airlines business suffered because people were afraid to fly things only got worse. Service was even spottier, it was harder to get information from the airlines and they cut back on the few frills they offered (like food and water). With this latest round of security restrictions, I can’t imagine that the airlines are going to step up to fill the gap.

We have a choice, and we choose not to fly. For now – until things get settled and the TSA figures out what the new rules are and how they’ll be implemented.

I know that there was once some notion about the glamour of travel. I haven’t seen that glamour for a while. I flew a lot when I worked in consulting, so it’s unfair to blame the small-scale disasters that unfold at airports exclusively on 9/11. For the most part the security process – while cumbersome – was pretty clear. But now things are in flux and I’ll wait it out.

I’ll admit to flying in flip flops and sweat pants to reduce my chances of being searched or being forced to remove extra shoes and clothing. There is no glamour in flops and gym pants. Getting stressed out about what I can take on a long flight is not relaxing. And I think we can all agree eating at the airport food court is no vacation.

It’s a beautiful day
We had a gorgeous weekend – the sunny and 75 degree variety. These are my favorite days. I suspect everyone likes days like this: not too hot, not too cool, and great for whatever you want to do inside our out.

We ran errands on Sunday morning and as we were headed back to our house we drove through a weird rotary. Cars and pedestrians flood the area as it is near a giant shopping center and close to a T stop.

Me: Wow.
Deeps: What?
Me: Did you see that?
Deeps: See what? I’m driving.
Me: There’s a little person walking with his iguana.
Deeps: Like an actual live, reptile?
Me: Yes.
Deeps: That’s not something you see every day.
Me: No it isn’t.

Off to my left a little man trudged along with his iguana perched on his shoulder. He gently stroked the iguana’s back as the lizard casually peered around. I suspect they’d visited the pet store near Orange Shopping – and clearly they were taking advantage of a beautiful day.

We can say it was so nice, it was perfect iguana walking weather.

A series of fortunate events
We’ve finally got the car back – and we’ve put it to good use. I’ve made two trips to Orange Shopping in the past couple of days.

We planted two lovely garden beds along the ugly old fence, picked some tomatoes, planted a butterfly shrub in the front, touched up paint, swapped out a shower head, installed some blinds in an awkward window, visited Mondo as he installed his oak floor, and hung out with CC for dinner and a movie.

I call it a full weekend – and our nice clean car has a certain whiff of mulch and potting soil. The front seats are still quite clean and the dashboard is absolutely gleaming.

The movie was Little Miss Sunshine which I found to be interesting – I thought it was a bit predictable but still quite enjoyable. CC didn’t think it was predictable, but he probably doesn’t watch as many movies and TV shows as I do. Everyone gave great performances – I even liked Greg Kinear who doesn’t really do anything for me.

So throw that movie on your “should watch” list – if it comes to your town. There are many good laughs. The trailer is hideous and makes very little sense. Take comfort in knowing it is a funny, dark, and unexpected comedy that actually delivers.

We’re prefer it if you didn’t dispel our misguided notions
Over the years I’ve collected a series of short, bizarre little stories that illustrate that many, many of my fellow human beings are apt to delusion (myself included).

A friend from South Africa once told me that when she was a kid she and her brother found some girlie mags where naked ladies were on display. However, instead of showing nipple the magazine editors had superimposed stars. Apparently later while playing doctor with a neighbor girl, the brother discovered that girls don’t have stars on their chest and was very disappointed.

I spent a lot of time in the early 80s being nervous about an alien invasion because people were talking about “illegal aliens.” I was doubly nervous about the idea of legal aliens, and I wondered if they’d be humanoid like me or wrinkly like ET.

My friend was in a small indie film (really, really small) a long time ago. The director wanted her to do a nude scene, she wasn’t comfortable – so they compromised doing a scene where she was clad (somewhat scantily) and getting dressed to go on a date. The direction was basically to just do what she would normally do to get ready for a date. She said that she pulled on some clothes and then started to apply some deodorant.

The director yelled cut. What are you doing, he wondered. She replied that she was getting dressed.

The director was apparently horrified by the notion that she’d be applying deodorant to her underarms. I guess he didn’t know that ladies a) had armpits and b) that they can stink if untreated.

Deodorant was deemed unsexy, something that men didn’t need to see. So she was forced to skip that step. Every time I get dressed after working out I think of this story when I put on deodorant – it’s better to stink than be sexy. On that notion, I must respectfully disagree.

Dear Car:

I got my hopes up. I’d really hoped that you’d be ready to take home yesterday but that isn’t the case.

I have no idea when you’ll be ready. But I’ve excavated, painted, cleaned, and stained everything I possibly can. Now I need you so I can buy some groceries and pick up some blue hydrangeas to plant along the ugly fence.

So get well soon, little car. I’m saving dozens of dollars on gas and that has just got to come to an end.

Your owner (just 29 more payments to go!),
Alyssa

Pod-tastic
I bought a microphone and I am close to joining the ranks of other podcasters. At least, if I can talk Deeps into joining me. He has a standing policy of “not being involved with the Internet,” which I guess means publishing – because the man reads everything on the Internet every day when he gets home.

Is there something in particular you’d like to hear me ramble about? I thought I’d do a broadcast from the backyard and talk about my tomato plants.

Kidding!

I have declared independence from my to-do list
Isn't that sufficiently patriotic? I don't blow crap up - but I will surely dig holes, cut stuff, drill things and nail stuff. And thus, we have tackled two projects this weekend.

First, we are now the proud owners of a screen door in the back of the house. It's very exciting - of course we don't have a prayer of having the back door open any time soon (too damn hot). But whenever there is a breeze again on a day when it isn't 95 degrees, we will be able to enjoy it. Plus the Poopus will be a bit closer to nature. Huzzah!

I still have to paint it - and get some handles. But we have a door.

We've also put up one piece of crown molding - just six more pieces to go. We decided to go for the guest room first. Deeps and I figured that we should start on a smaller room than the living/dining room (at a whopping 300 square feet). The guest room is a little more straight forward - there are a couple of weird angles.

Deeps is in charge of cutting, I paint the trim and then nail it up - for the family I am the hammerer and Deeps is the sawer. Fun fact about finishing nails you need for crown molding - they are covered in some kind of dark dust so that when you nail up your nice, clean, white molding you see all kinds of crazy black finger prints!

I am actually washing my remaining nails and we'll have to go back over the trim we installed with a cloth - then putty and more paint.

God Bless America.

Your explosions don’t impress me
I am from a part of the world where you know it is summer because some dumbass blows off his hand or worse.

I like to think of it as social Darwinism, but I realize that makes me a bad person so I’ll say I am sorry your parents didn’t teach you better, exploding people.

Anyway, this brings me to my ambivalence around Independence Day fireworks. When I was a kid my dad would shoot bottle rockets off in the backyard. Even at the tender age of four or five I thought a) it’s hot, b) there are a lot of bugs, c) what if Dad explodes? And d) this is loud and hot and boring.

I don’t care much for crowds either, so to me – going outside in the heat where I must mingle with other hot, sticky, smelly masses to watch stuff explode while mosquitoes feast on the blood of the innocent doesn’t really do much for me.

I know – I am a bad American. I prefer to wallow in my hot, sweaty stink alone. Or possibly with my husband and an icy drink.

Mysterious Skin
I am happy to report that not only do I not have a broken nose and that I can take the punch, but I do not have measles or the Lyme disease.

Huzzah!

A couple of weeks ago I noticed a weird oval ring on my hip. Nothing huge or itchy or raised or anything – just a reddish ring. I thought it might be a bug bite or maybe a reaction to new detergent. I ignored it.

After a week, I figured I should take some action and threw a little Lamisil on it, thinking it could be ringworm. When I was in high school I worked for a vet for a while and I got ringworm from the dogs and cats a couple of times (maybe upwards of 4). I threw a little ointment on it and everything was fine, if not itchy for a few days.

But I didn’t have the itch and the Lamisil didn’t work. Then I noticed another, similar splotch. I opted to ignore everything and hope for the best.

Then I noticed more splotches – all over my torso.

I work somewhat near the offices where some people have been passing around the measles. I didn’t believe I had the measles as I don’t have any symptoms besides the splotches. Deeps finally suggested I call the doctor, they saw me this morning.

I have some kind of rosacea – it starts with a p. She pulled out one of those fun skin books with the color pictures and we looked over it carefully. Then she examined me again (behold my gut splotches!) and compared against the book.

Me: So it’s just like, there.
Doctor: Yep.
Me: Huhm.
Doctor: It’ll go away in a few weeks. It might spread a little but doesn’t really go above your chest or below your knees.
Me: How’d I get it?
Doctor: It is a virus.
Me: What causes it?
Doctor: We don’t really know.
Me: And it isn’t contagious?
Doctor: No, and it’ll go away in a few weeks. You don’t need to do anything.
Me: Wow.
Doctor: Yeah, rashes can be bad – you’re lucky it’s nothing worse. Usually when I see rash on the chart I think, “Oh god.”
Me: So that’s it?
Doctor: Yep.

I like doctors who say yep.

She always finds the silver lining
Yesterday I worked with Wendy at the gym.

I explained that I had been a little unwell the previous day and that I needed to take things a little easy – so as not to hurl all over her nice gym shoes.

We worked out, things went okay and I told her my tale of woe.

She listened carefully, asking questions and giving me the sympathetic head nod. She only giggled a little – but that’s when I did.

And then she offered up this little gem, “And now we know that you should be able to take a punch to the face.”

“I guess, but I really hope it doesn’t happen again,” I replied.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I guess I need to work with you on the evasive moves.”

“It’s hard to evade a toilet seat.”

“You’re telling me.”

What are you going to do?

You win American Idol and now you shill for Ford. I guess that’s not such a big deal, except that you’re shilling for the year-end clearance sale. And you’ve stolen the stage from Who Wants to be a Millionaire.

I guess it could be worse – you could have Clay Aiken’s bangs.