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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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)
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.”
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.
