Not only did I share the story of my trip to the ER, I also go to town on the best and worst in television in 2006.
Plus Derek tells me all about his super fun adventures decorating a float for the Rose Bowl Parade (honestly!). Okay - maybe it wasn't super fun. But he did do it, so if you watch the parade and see a float with a big eagle, please know that Derek worked his heart out on the right wing.
I also give a game review, explain why I'm not Shakespeare and beg for some kind of iTunes recognition.
I've mentioned this a few times, but I have a whole passel of nieces and nephews. I start saving for Christmas in January - there are so many people and gifts to buy.
I order most of my gifts online and have them shipped to my family and everything is cool. I get my order in by the beginning of December and everything is cool I even spring for the extra few dollars for wrapping. I've been doing this for years without incident.
This year, there was an incident.
When I arrived at my Dad's house I checked under the tree for the boxes from the large online retailer I ordered from - there were two smallish boxes present. I thought this was a little odd, but I ordered a lot of kid's books so I figured they might all fit in a small box. I cracked open the first box and found one book inside. I opened the second box and found two books and a couple of DVDs. The shipping manifest suggested that all the gifts I'd ordered were in that box....
Except the box was now empty after removing about 20% of the stuff that was supposed to be in there - so either a box was missing in the house or the large online retailer didn't send my gifts even though they thought they did. Dig?
We searched the house, we searched the yard, we looked in the neighbor's yard. Nothing was to be found. Five of the kids were coming the next day, but I only had gifts for three of them. Awkward!
Eventually we got the situation resolved - three days later - and allegedly the company is shipping the replacement items to my family for distribution. Those damn things had better be wrapped too or I will demand refunds!
I was lucky that they weren't the only gifts the kids were getting, and let's be honest - I give them very boring presents. I give them books. Eventually they like my gift, but they never open my presents and scream with delight - like they did when the TMX Elmo was unveiled.
That's cool kids - I understand I give you boring gifts. Next year I might just cut out the middleman and give you an empty box instead. Or a mutual fund prospectus. Nothing says happy holidays like proxy voting.
I’d read somewhere that kidney stones were hotter than Wiis and PS3s – combined – so I had to get one.
We were enjoying a quiet evening at home, packing for our visit to Indiana when a sharp pain struck my left side. Look, sometimes a sharp pain strikes – I’m getting older. It happens.
But this was persistent and the pain was sharper and more forceful. The pain became so sharp that I had to sit and take a few deep breaths – yoga style. I took a couple of ibuprofen and hoped I’d just pulled a muscle or something. I drank a lot of water. I waited to see what happened.
About an hour later, the pain wasn’t any better it was still sharp and sudden. I took my temperature and realized I had a low-grade fever. AT this point I thought I should start looking at the Internet to determine if I had something like appendicitis – because I didn’t know where my appendix was. I do now!
FYI, your appendix is on your right side but the pain was on my left side – near my kidney. Ah ha! I’ve seen this on TV – kidney stones. I finally told Deeps we should probably go to the emergency room – just in case.
Hours later were still waiting in the ER when the angry couple came in – she was announcing that her husband was dead to her and that their marriage was a lie. He was trying to see something about… I think he said he was bleeding. Whatever – they were fighting and she was totally freaking out everyone - especially the two small kids who were waiting for Grandpa to be released.
And on the waiting room TV was To Catch a Predator on Dateline – basically the stuff of nightmares. After talk of condoms came up on the show, someone finally changed the channel to the ever-wholesome NCIS. Nothing to see here except dead bodies, people. This is your new Saturday night lineup! I wandered around looking for a bathroom while Deeps waited to hear if my name was called. That would take a few more hours.
Eventually a young fresh-faced doctor examined me. Let’s just say we were on rather intimate terms rather quickly as he wanted to rule out I didn’t have problems with my inside parts. I was poked, prodded and then out came the needles. They took blood, gave me some pain killer in a saline drip and parked me next to my worried husband.
We waited some more. After a zillion tests including a CT scan and some X-rays the doctor announced they didn’t find anything. The working theory was that in the 7+ hours that I waited at the hospital I probably passed the small kidney stone. I had all the symptoms of having a small kidney stone but didn’t actually have a stone visible. Guess all the water drinking did pay off in the end.
We were released around 4 AM. Deeps and I drove home in a daze to finish packing for Christmas. Our taxi was scheduled to arrive at 8 AM to drive us to the airport.
After our nap, we got ready in hurry and hauled suitcases to the front porch. The taxi was late, my husband was a little grumpy, I was exhausted and we settled in for a fun-filled journey through airport security. It was a very Merry Christmas indeed.
I'm a little wiped out after our travels to Indiana for the holidays, so I'll have to post more later.
However, I'd like to offer you a teaser about what is to come by offering up the following possible titles for blog entries: Where the #@$$ are the Christmas presents I ordered? Oh my god, you kids are so freakin' loud! I think Grandma is drunk dialing Well, Dad, a blog is.... Guess who got a kidney stone for Christmas?
After I take some Advil and a nap, I'll be sure to fill you in. Don't worry - it is possibly worth the wait. At a minimum, it is less painful than passing a kidney stone.
So I didn't exactly write a faux holiday newsletter this year. I hope that my memo worked instead - I'm really passionate about the working conditions of elves.
In other news, Deeps and I recorded a very special holiday edition of The Big Red Blog's weekly pop culture podcast. We don't discuss sugarplums and sweet dreams, we take on the stuff of nightmares by chatting about the Showtime series Dexter. I'll say it, I think it may be the best new show of 2006.
If you haven't watched the show or read the books and don't want to be spoiled, you should skip this week's installment. But if you'd like to hear about the most compelling and disturbing character on television then please, by all means, listen to this week's podcast!
To: S. Claus From: B.V. Gingerspice Re: Elf benefits and workplace issues
The elves have elected me their official spokeself to raise a few workplace issues with you.
As you may know, the cost of retirement is greater than ever before. Health care, housing and basic living expenses have outpaced our meager earnings for more than three centuries.
We appreciate your old-world craftsmanship as much as anyone - but we have not been able to find anyone who will let us deposit wooden train sets and dolly-go-lightlys into our IRAs.
And you may know that we are forced to open IRAs on our own because you still do not offer a company-sponsored 401k. We'd like to see that changed as the younger elves need to save more than ever. We older elves would also like to take advantage of the "catch-up contributions" since many of us are over 50 - like way over 50.
We'd also like to address the issue of benefits overall. Bragging about your excellent "maternity leave" plan is great, but none of us have every actually had a baby. As you know, elves spring fully-formed from your head - not unlike Zeus. We don't even have reproductive organs. So while it looks good in your the press releases you send to Working Mothers magazine, we have to respectfully call BS.
Also - your wife had better stop messing with us. I know she's lonely and has been drinking a little too much egg nog. Several elves have not been seen in weeks. And a couple of others are missing limbs and are too traumatized to speak. Might we suggest you encourage her to take up a high maintenance hobby like orchid breeding?
We'd suggest a pet, but we wouldn't want to have to call PETA.
We hope you will respond to our concerns in short order. That was not a pun. And by the way, the short jokes are not funny.
Sincerely, Butternut Von Gingerspice *Rated S for satire!
I was thinking of writing another satirical holiday newsletter this year - but I really nailed it last year. Now I'll have to really think about it before I commit cursor to screen.
Didn't see it? Just take a whiff of this: Anyway, this year was a big one for the B family. We fought off a vicious squirrel attack (how they could afford F. Lee Bailey, I don’t know!), briefly dallied in synchronized swimming (which failed when one of Deeps little pool wings deflated) and finally decided to buy a house. Oh and the cat finally learned her name – it’s only been 11 years. Good for you, kitty!
After months of hounding the man - Deeps finally relented and agreed to participate in a podcast with me.
He only agreed because Sunday's podcast was basically a disaster because of some very serious audio problems (related his birthday present to me). Whatever. He's on the air now and there's no going back!
You can listen to us talk about Scrubs, The Office, How I Met Your Mother and preview some of the midseason replacements - as well as yell at the cat for attacking my foot. It's like I got the family band together at last!
My husband is also my personal technology support. I can do most tech support myself, but Deeps has an inordinate amount of patience with tech problems, small children and IKEA furniture assembly.
For my birthday he picked up a little gadget I asked for to help improve the audio quality of my podcasts. It doesn't seem to be working right - or maybe we're not working it right.
Anyway, late last night - or it seemed late to me - I was awakened by his voice. And I saw a form standing next to the bed.
Deeps: Are you awake? Me: Yeah. Deeps: I crashed the old computer. Me: What? Deeps: Something with the new audio stuff freaked out the machine and I'm stupid, I should have known. Me: Am I dreaming? Deeps: No. Me: Are you sure? Deeps: Yeah. We'll have to call Peaches to help us extract the data. Me: Oh. Deeps: I'll have to buy him dinner or something. Me: Are you sure I'm not dreaming? This is the kind of thing I'd dream about. Except you'd be a celebrity. Deeps: Go back to sleep. Me: I'm trying!
I already begged for money last week - which was wildly successful. How about I plead for you to listen to my latest podcast? We're experimenting with some new recording equipment, so... okay, this isn't my finest work but Derek is very charming and I'm funny. Doesn't that count for something?
I wrote before with thank yous, but I figure I can do it again. Thanks a million, Internets. The Big Red Blog's Decemberstravaganza fund raiser with Donors Choose was wildly successful. The original goal was to raise $200 for some projects a public schools in Indiana (my home state). Thanks to you, we raised about $450 and helped approximately 300 students.
That's pretty impressive if you ask me - we're talking about relatively small sums of money having a huge impact on kids and their school experience.
I've never done a fund raiser like this with the blog, but given how well it went - we may do something again in the spring. So thanks again for donating, for your support and of course for reading my small corner of the Internet.
This is the time of year people have office holiday parties. Any tips or stories you'd like to share about how to navigate these, potentially, awkward times? Career-limiting mistakes should be avoided at all costs.
I suggest limiting yourself to a friendly drink, circulate a little and then make a timely exit before anyone does anything to embarrass you or themselves.
Maybe I'll share the story about a guy I once worked with, many years ago, who got so drunk at a holiday party he couldn't even walk home. Several of his co-workers had to dump him on his doorstep and he was so humiliated that he took it out on us for months afterwards.
Me: So a lady nearly mowed me down in pedestrian crosswalk by my office. Deeps: Again? Me: I'd say it is a near daily experience. Deeps: Maybe she was from out of town. Or outerspace. Me: Or just from like - Alston or something. Deeps: Was it a tiny woman in a giant SUV? Me: Surprisingly no. Deeps: Hmm. Me: I was thinking about taking pictures at all the places where I've almost been killed. Deeps: What? Me: I could make a Flikr set. Deeps: How many places could it possibly be? Me: Well, that's the problem. I'd have to photograph every intersection I cross. Oh and every rotary. Deeps: Yeah the rotaries are tough. Me: Then I could publish a book of near miss photos. Deeps: Just in time for Christmas. Me: Yeah, nothing says 'I love you' like this. Deeps: I think that may be too dark for the holidays. Me: Or any other day.
Yesterday was my birthday. I mention this because I received some very good news - which to me, is a gift.
We've blown out my Donors Choose challenge. I originally wanted to raise $200. Thanks to some very generous readers and members of my family (also readers) we're now up to $345! So I moved the target a little and the new goal by Saturday is to raise $400.
We've been able to fund five reading programs in Indiana, which I think is so great. The kids - I hope - will hit the ground running when the second semester starts!
So if you have a few extra bucks and are inclined to donate, there is still time before Saturday. Just click that little thermometer on the right.
And if that's not enough to make you feel warm and fuzzy this morning, I got an email from one of the project sponsors - a fourth grade teacher - thanking us for the donations.
I suspect a lot of people watch the same weather person every day - I know I watch the same guy every morning.
For the past few years I've noticed that by mid December, if it hasn't really snowed much, they get nervous. Like kids wound up on too much sugar - the anticipation of snow starts to build. The tension mounts until the first storm comes and they explode into action. Then they become the Storm Tracker team - moving in bright, blue rain slicker formation and braving the blustery wind outside so that you can see how awful it is outside.
This is a good teaching moment for parents - you just point to the television and say, these people aren't smart enough to look out the window before they leave. Actually, if you have children they probably shouldn't watch television news - it might stunt their intellectual growth.
Today the weather people excited because we're slated to have a nasty rain storm. They get excited about rain - but only if it causes flooding. But snow - snow is their cat nip.
I don't often put up a Christmas tree. We travel a lot around the holidays, so sometimes we're not here on Christmas. Plus I have the Poopus, killer of trees and other living things.
Last night I dreamed she killed a mouse. But that's neither here nor there.
This year I figured I should try to drag out a few holiday decorations since so many people on my street go nuts with holiday lights. I bought a new, fake tree. Oh yes New England - I poo-poo your obsession with live things and go for something fake. And not just fake, but so fake-looking it is... well, I realize now I shouldn't have attempted to write this post without a photo. I'll add it tonight.
I have this odd collection of ornaments. I buy the stuff nobody else wants, the stray Indian elephant or magenta lights. I find beauty in the ugly and unusual. It's part irony and part bad taste and all intentional.
This year I wanted something to display my ornaments, but not be bulky and hard to incorporate into the room. And - if at all possible - it should be something the cat wouldn't attack.
I have succeeded beyond my wildest expectations with Fluffy, the saddest Christmas Tree. He, I think he's a he, is spindley and very sculptural. Like an avant-garde tree, he expresses himself with just a few pliable branches that can hold a multitude of ornaments - but looks kind of weird with the lights. Oh and he's got these fluffy white tinsely things covering the metal limbs - so no green. It's like if Andy Warhol, John Waters and Martha Stewart had to come up with a tree - it would look a lot like Fluffy.
I love Fluffy. He's so wrong that he's right... for me.
The latest podcast is up. You'll be sure to enjoy it as Derek and I keep it under 30 minutes! (Okay - technically it is 30:06 - but still) Listen to the podcast.
I'm back from my road/business trip. It was productive, I ate some questionable food and slept like a champ. I guess that late night cocktail helped.
Fun facts - my husband subsisted on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, pizza and apparently fancy hot chocolate. He has never made hot chocolate before, but I guess he bought some from a fancy cheese store.... I have no idea what happened. But the cat is still alive and the heat still works. So I guess I should be thankful.
The site has moved - 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 here you are, at the new home of The Big Red Blog.
Looks pretty similar, eh? Act surprised! I fully expect things might be a little wonky for the next couple of weeks. Please bear with me....
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. My goal is to raise $200 to fund projects at public schools in Indiana.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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).
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
By: Alyssa | Tuesday, October 17, 2006 at Tuesday, October 17, 2006 | |
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.
By: Alyssa | Monday, October 16, 2006 at Monday, October 16, 2006 | |
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.
By: Alyssa | Sunday, October 15, 2006 at Sunday, October 15, 2006 | |
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.
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.
By: Alyssa | Thursday, October 12, 2006 at Thursday, October 12, 2006 | |
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.
By: Alyssa | Monday, October 09, 2006 at Monday, October 09, 2006 | |
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.
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.
By: Alyssa | Sunday, October 08, 2006 at Sunday, October 08, 2006 | |
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.
By: Alyssa | Saturday, October 07, 2006 at Saturday, October 07, 2006 | |
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.
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.
By: Alyssa | Tuesday, October 03, 2006 at Tuesday, October 03, 2006 | |
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.
By: Alyssa | Monday, October 02, 2006 at Monday, October 02, 2006 | |
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.
By: Alyssa | Sunday, October 01, 2006 at Sunday, October 01, 2006 | |
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.
By: Alyssa | Friday, September 29, 2006 at Friday, September 29, 2006 | |
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.
By: Alyssa | Thursday, September 28, 2006 at Thursday, September 28, 2006 | |
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.
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.
