so shayne was sitting at home tonight and she noticed that the furnace was singing. quietly. seeping out through the vents. it was like a slow dirge. a funeral dirge. josh (aka "mustache guy", but now sans-mustache) noticed that it smelled like an elementary school. it smelled like crayola crayons, or a cheaper generic maybe, like a Rose crayon maybe, melting on a heater on a muggy day.
i came home and confirmed the funny smell. checked the cats. checked the oven. listened to the serenade of the dying furnace.
bravely i went down to the basement to check on the condition, where i tripped over a dead starling. impressively, i didn't shriek. most of you prolly know that i am terrified of the basement at night. killers with rusty axes lure down there. they pull the fuses to lure me down there. i refuse! i send Shayne down instead. she's my canary in a coal for mile for axe murders.
but i digress.
the upshot is that Josh took care of the dead bird, while i called the Gas Company. they warned me that it sounded dangerous, although still safe to stay in the house so long as we didn't turn on any appliances or lights. i peed by flashlight since we didn't want to brave flipping on the light. we crouched in fear that somebody would ring the doorbell. we didn't touch the cats for terror of static electricity.
the road filled up with fire trucks soon after i called. alas, it was not for us. i was oddly disappointed.
the gas company finally came out, investigated, and slapped on a Red Tag of Death. they cut the gas and disconnected my furnace.
on the coldest night of the year.
this is how old people die. Joe For Oil warns me on tv all the time. check on the old folks!
and tonight it's my turn. please, friends of the casa call to check in. as i type the temperature is plummeting. my fingers are getting cold, but still i soldier on... growing weaker... i hear it's like falling asleep.... oh so sleepy....
(okay, actually we have a space heater running and the gas company should be out tonight at some time after midnight to give me a new motor).
you can't make up this kind of drama, kids.
first of all thanks to loyal reader banky edwards for being the first to come up with definitive evidence proving that the owner/chef of the new city slicker cafe in somerville is in fact the orginal owner/chef of urban gourmet - you can check his work in the comments section of this post.
and in one of those weird and cosmic coincidences that the universe sometimes serves up, i had my very own personal confirmation of the connection this afternoon, when i ran into the owner/chef's wife (who i used to work with years ago at a local university). she confirmed that her husband just opened his new place on thursday and was glad to hear that some of us old customers had found our way to him so quickly :)
so for all of you urban gourmet lovers, get thee down to 588 somerville ave and pick up a menu! or just call them at (617) 625-0700 and order something (i highly recommend what used to be called the urban cowboy pie and is now dubbed the chicken club - white pizza with bacon, red onion and tomato.... ~drool~).
that's right junior super sleuths -- we need *your* help to solve this crime! you might think you're not ready for field work, but i say that all your training has MADE you ready. get out there, hit the streets, and figure out what the heck is going on!
it's like this. many of you have heard out piteous laments about the burning down of Urban Gourmet, our favorite pizza joint. what we didn't mention is that Urban Gourmet was under new management when it burned. we are not sure where Jen and Rich went when they sold Urban to the owner of Soundbites (another fine Somerville establishment), but they wandered off into the sunset.
recently, a new menu was left in our mailbox (thanks Swissy!) for City Slicker Cafe. the offerings were eerily similar to our beloved Urban Gourmet. who else makes a shrimp and bacon pie, fer christsake? we were told that Jen and Rich were running the joint.
shayne immediately called in an order, and questioned the man who answered the phone there. what ensued was the most confusing ten minutes ever shared. it seems a simple thing, right? to find out who the owners are? nope. this dude wasn't going to tell us. no way. no how. he talked circles around shayne until she gave up in vexation.
"TO THE INTERNET!" we roared. there were numerous references on ChowHound, but they had all been deleted. in fact, there were no references to the new City Slicker that hadn't been deleted. City Slicker's own website isn't live either, even though it's mentioned prominently on their menu. there are no mentions anywhere.
so Junior Super Sleuths, we implore you... do any of you know the answer to this puzzling pizza pie?
so i have been informed recently that the blog has become in grave danger of TMP (too much paladin) and that perhaps i might want to tone down both the crazy cat lady antics and the geek gamer stories. apparently both of these things means that i will be doomed to be single for the rest of my life.
while that proclamation doesn't exactly make me quake with fear, it did give me pause. one of the girls at work is reading "the girlfriend's bible" and has been tossing out interesting tid-bits about everything i have done wrong in my 35 years. she didn't even scratch the surface. other friends of mine have informed me that i need to get off my couch more.
since i am currently home sick on the couch, now is not the time. but here's what the world looks like from my couch... not too shabby. i have a house that i love, overflowing with friends, with a guest room that is often full (did leave a toothbrush here recently?). i have pets i cherish and a roomie who makes me snort with laughter. i have wireless which allows me to relate to the world even while i am crawling with germs and snifflier than a coke addict. i have a cell phone which allows me to know that one of my staff quit while i was out today (good luck in your new job, courtney!) and a landline that i rarely answer (sorry for letting my membership lapse ACLU!). i have music on in the other room (currently playing "if i were a moose" by Fred Small), and a sweet smelling candle burning on the side table. i have three different email inboxes open which tinkle often with merry dings and bells when i get mail.
i could, if i really wanted to, easily find a boyfriend without even leaving my couch. there appear to be a million men out there who are looking for a "partner in crime", a line which if posted in a personal ad will rule that person out automagically even if they are a doughnut baking, pub quiz playing, book reading, llama raising, smart, sexy, big, bald guy who wants nothing more in this world than to make me happy. partner in crime? forget it. he's out.
so, see? why do i need to leave the couch at all? i have it all right here.
can you smell the excitement in the air, folks? do you know that that is? it's been all over the news. it's going to be epic. it's the midnight launch of World of Warcraft: Burning Crusade! and because i clearly decided about three months ago that dignity was over-rated, here' what i've done. shayne and i were both in for the night, plunked down on the couch. i had a long day at work. shayne had just taken a shower and hadn't dried her hair yet. but on a moments notice we ran down to the car and burned rubber over to the Ghetto Glen Mall where we put down $5.00 to reserve our copy of the new Warcraft.
but that's not the worst part.
the worst part.... the shameful part... or what *would* be shameful if i had any shame left... is that i will be getting back into the car later tonight. shayne, big daddy, and i will be doing the midnight run to EB Games to get our copy of the new game the minute it's released.
whispers: heh
so far 2007 is proving to be a banner year for the upper half. we're kicking the lower half's ass in the following categories: shenanigans, wacky hijinks and of course, tomfoolery. not only did we start the year with a squeaky clean casa, but the past two weekends in a row we've partied with various friends until the wee hours of the morning, we've had houseguests from down the street and the suburbs and even australia. you know how sometimes plants and animals get all messed up with unseasonably warm weather in the middle of a new england winter? we're like a pair of crocuses blooming too soon. it's probably gonna bite us in the ass if nature decides to right itself, but it sure has been fun.
for the first week of this still young year, we've been partying like rock stars and damn, are we tired.
to the whole casa family - we hope your 2007 has gotten off to the same kind of start. happy new year, all.
so, as many of y'all know, shayne and i have been "playing a little warcraft". we share a level 36 Paladin named Viskey (after a funny typo the pharmacist made on some medecine for shayne's cat). we periodically yell out such gems as "WILLOW PANTS OF THE MONKEY!!"we have a guild, and some of our "guildies" are ten, or youger. which is good, because warcraft changes all of your cusses into &^%$#@! we have a pet kitten in the bank, safely stowed in a carrier.and we have a very generous benefactor who occasionally buys us trinkets and bad-ass armor.but if all of this isn't geeky enough -- we have reached a new height! yessiree folks. we trolled another warcraft player on youtube.
i am a little ashamed. but stand by what i said. shaman's wear dresses and thus will never be truly menacing.
most of you know that the holiday season tends to leave me cranky and annoyed at the world. look at my holiday post from last year. it's just not my thing.but this year i am more grateful than most. and perhaps a wee bit more emotional.and sometimes there is a small part of the holiday season that touches me in an odd way. this year, i found that small thing.this year it was the runaway reindeer.it made my small heart grow three sizes.
whenever i don't want to do something, and i need to come up with a totally transparent excuse, i say "sorry, i can't do {insert avoided activity here}, i have to wash my cat." it's such a blatant lie that it easily conveys the sense of hell no, i would rather do any inane act than do whatever it is you want to do. cat washing -- the universal avoidance tool.
so have i really been spending the last two blogless months cat washing? nope. just once. and let me tell you, once was enough. scoutie and i were making breakfast one morning, and whiskey came running through the kitchen. her face was *covered* with cobwebs. we grabbed her to get them off, and realized that our usually white kitty was black from the belly down. next, boo came trundling by, and he had the same affliction. clearly these cats had been doing something naughty. we discovered that the cats had somehow gotten into the attic, which is full of roofing tar. boo has been trying to get in that room for 8 years. fucking roofing tar! so we threw them in the bathroom together while we finished our breakfast, grabbed the camera, and readied ourselves for the task ahead. cat washing.
for those of you who have never washed a cat, i have a suggestion. don't. but if for some reason you absolutely need to, let me walk you through it.
HOW TO WASH A CAT:
Find a very dirty cat in need of cleaning.- Decide that once you are going through the hell, maybe your miserable cat would like company so he doesn't feel so foolish and alone. Grab another cat.
- Fill up a small tub with warm water and a dash of Johnson's Baby Shampoo.
- Grab the cat with a death grip around his middle that shows you mean business. this is no time to worry that you are holding him too tight. hold him tighter!
Dip the cat in the water, and squoosh him down until he is up to his neck in the water. Careful, this is often where they get a little pissy. Hold 'em tight and whatever you do DON'T LET GO!- Don't worry too much about scrubbing. The cat will be fighting and biting and clawing so much to get out of the water that he will likely lather himself up with the effort.
- Once you figure he's been tortured enough, take him out of the small tub, and set him down. Pour warm, clean, water over him until there are no suds left.
Take the pathetic, shivering, cat, and wrap him in a towel to dry him off.- By this point, all the fight has probably gone out of your cat. He will just lay there licking himself dry and glaring balefully at you. Take this opportunity to grab your camera and take photo's of his tiny chicken feet.
- Repeat with the next cat.
Blow them dry with a hairdryer set on low if needed. Be careful not to point the dryer directly at their eyes or ears. They don't like it, and I don't blame them. Have you ever accidently suctioned your contacts to your eye by not paying attention to where the hairdryer is? It sucks. And the poor cat has been through enough, don't you think?- Now the cat is clean and dry, and you are probably soaking wet and bloody. Get out that first aid kit and clean yourself up.
so, sorry for the hiatus folks. as you can see, i've been busy. i was washing the cat.
may your life be filled with light and love and happiness!
- i took the GREs. not great scores but perfectly serviceable. hopefully they'll get me in to the grad programs i'm looking at: UNC Chapel Hill, University of Washington, University of Denver, University of Syracuse, and the University of Illinois
- the fall semester has begun. i am a senior. huzzah!
- i received a letter telling me that i've been "nominated by the Simmons College Faculty to be a member of Academy. Academy is the honor society of the undergraduate college." apparently my gpa places me in the 94th percentile of the class of 2007. of course my first thought was, 'dammit. i knew those 2 A-'s would come back to bite me in the ass... i should be in the 99th percentile!!'
- i've drastically cut back on hours at JP Licks and i'm happy as a clam at high tide working for the digital librarian at a private economic consulting company downtown. i scan and index documents and have plenty of time to do homework (or screw around on the internet, whichever comes first)
so that's my life in a nutshell. or bulleted list, as it were.
p.s. you're all welcome to attend the honors convocation at 2:30pm 9/13 at Simmons, where i will be awarded the Academy Scroll and pin. it's going to be ever so much fun.
p.p.s. the above postscript is entirely sarcastic. if i see anyone i know there i will bash you with my scroll and stick you with my pin. if you don't believe me i'm sure i can supply several references attesting to my violent and agressive nature.
so i am watching tv with scoutie tonight, ignoring the commercials and tapping away on my laptop, when i see something out of the corner of my eye, and startled, i look up. there, on my tv screen is a weird brown brick, with arms and legs. and everybody who touches it gets slimed. brown snail-trails are left in it's wake. skidmarks, if you will. scoutie informs me that it's name is "fudgems". and apparently this is supposed to encourage me to buy pizza.
the good folks at Domino's think that this little mumbling, dancing, giggling "brownie" is going to make me more likely to take them up on their Two-for-Tuesday deal.
i look at it and think, as i feel most people will, "oh look! dancing poo!"
i also think that the good folks at domino's need a new ad agency.
check it out for yourself. tasty treat? or dancing poo? i think the answer is clear.
a of days ago i celebrated my one year anniversary at the Crime Lab. yup, i have been gainfully employed for a full year. almost doesn't seem possible. and working for The Man at that. it's been a fun year. i have hired more people than i have fired. i have watched our budget balloon to new heights. we opened one new lab, and in October we will open another even larger one, and move our main offices. i have learned a tremendous amount about state government, crime control, and forensic science. and i have actually had a lot of fun along the way.
some of the fun has been funnier than others.
the crime lab isn't open to the public. we don't give tours, or allow the press inside. although we fly the state flag, the building is fairly innocuous. it's a converted school house and the sign on the front of the building is small. most people can't even find the doorbell.
and yet don't underestimate the public. they're tricky. they can sometimes find their way in.
of course, they make it no further than reception. and generally that means that i get brought up to the front desk and shoo them away. but sometimes i listen to what they want first. and what do they want?
i want a scientist to tell me, or at least an office manager:
a man walks into the crime lab with a zip-lock baggie. in the baggie is a clod of dirt with a chunk of something in it. the man found the clod/chunk in his backyard when he was digging up a tree stump. he thought it was suspicious looking. he thought it needed a trained professional to tell him what it was. he thought it could be a piece of wood. or a bone. but he wasn't sure. he was concerned and wanted a scientist to analyze it. i told him that we didn't do that, and that he should contact his local pd if he was worried. i told him he needed to leave and tried to hustle him along. he didn't want to leave until somebody in authority told him their professional assesment. it wasn't going to happen. finally he beseached me, and begged me to tell him what i thought. i replied "i think i write purchase orders for a living!" he nodded, sagely, took his clod and left smiling.
i want you to tell me if this smells funny:
a lady walks into the crime lab, clutching an disposable coffee cup, filled with what looked like... well... coffee. she sets it on the counter, and tells us that somebody is trying to kill her. every time she walks out of the room, they put a little more poison in her coffee cup. or maybe they pee in it. she's not sure. she wants us to run toxicology tests to prove that someone is out to get her, and she wants to know what the poison is. if it's urine, she wants us to run DNA tests so we call tell her who is out to get her. we explain that we don't do this, and that she needs to contact her local pd (noticing a trend here...?). she asks me what she should do. and i tell her, with a perfectly straight face, that i think she should stop drinking coffee.
i want to spy on other peoples kids, just not piss off my own:
a lady walks into the crime lab, clutching a magazine. slathered across the cover, in big type, is lurid details from the latest high profile pervert who was using myspace. she launches into a long, garbled, but very passionate ramble about how horrible dangerous the internet is. she has two young daughters, who use myspace, and she worries about them. she wants to teach kids about internet safety. she wants to help. she looks at me and wails "I WANT TO HELP THE FBI CATCH INTERNET PREDATORS ON MYSPACE!" i explain that we don't do that, and that she needs to contact the freakin' FBI. i also told her that she probably didn't need her help, but that maybe she should sit down with her own daughters and see what they are looking at and using, and explain to them about how to be safe. she looks at me, very affronted, and says "oh. they wouldn't like that. i like to give them their privacy".
these things never happen on C.S.I.
i'm now officially the second member of the casa to have a weird nerve problem.i blame you, kate.
i normally don't answer my phone, but for some reason when the state of Michigan called me, i decided to pick up. only it wasn't Michigan. it was The Dove Foundation, a non-profit dedicated to family decency in films and television. they said they had a short survey that would take less than 90 seconds, and asked me if i would participate. i was feeling generous, so why not. here's the transcript of the call, to the best of my recollection:
DF: decent, good, kind people are concerned about the morality of television and movies going down the toilet, and are worried that the average american can't do anything to fix it. do you agree that the content of television and movies is often objectionable?
me: i don't think there is enough obscenity on television.
DF: what?
me: there should be more obscenity on tv.
DF: "click"
that's right. it all took less than 90 seconds because they hung up on me. so if you are reading over their survey results (which they swear are "unquestionably accurate and without prejudice") and wondering how middle america is feeling about decency on tv, the honest answer is -- no one knows. they hang up on folks who don't agree.
so to level the playing field, here's what i suggest. if you feel as though their research methods are shoddy, please take this survey. you don't have to tell them you want to see more tits and ass on tv, but you should tell them your opinion in a way that will be more of a pain in the ass for them to delete from the database.
the casa is generally a cluttered world of books and mail and the occassional cat-hair-tumbleweed slowly blowing across the floor. the bathroom and the kitchen are cleaned regularly but they are exceptions to the rule. we tidy up here more than we clean - moving piles from one surface to another, vacuuming the dust bunnies in the corners, shuffling books/dvds/videogames back to where they live (even though they always manage to migrate back to the coffee table/top of the tv/floor). i took a few hours of my days off to tend to a few of the forgotten realms, the areas we always look at and say, 'we really should clean that' but then dinner is ready and 'jeopardy' is on tv and then somehow the whole night has slipped away without getting anything accomplished.
i scrubbed the stovetop, soaking the drip pans and burner rack thingys (i don't know what they're called) for an hour in scalding soapy water. i thought the soaking would losen some grime but it still took 45 minutes, copious amounts of bar-keeper's friend, and plenty of elbow grease to get most of the baked on crud off. unfortunately it didn't occur to me to take a 'before' picture. oh well. recent houseguests may be the only ones who appreciate the full glory that is now the stovetop.
this was living in the fridge. i think it used to be a bowl of tomato soup (the chunky tomato bisque is amazing!). i know it's mold and therefore disgusting, but look. it's kind of beautiful, too.
i also tackled the primary living space with a few garbage bags, some furniture polish and rage (ha! this was a typo too good to fix... i meant to say rags), and the vacuum.
i found some peace in the process of scrubbing, of cleaning so hard i sweated, of going through the accumulated dirt and effluvia and finding things i had forgotten about. already the house has lost its sharp, clean edge. the piles have slowly started to sneak back onto the coffee table and i'm pretty sure i just saw a baby tumbleweed making its way into the kitchen. but i have to start carmelizing onions and chopping cucumbers for dinner tonight and then 'jeopardy' will be on tv and then... well. you know how it goes. why didn't anyone tell me how humbling cleaning a house is? and why did it take me so long to find the joy in the whole process?
so the latest headline regarding the big dig debacle reads "Romney: 1,454 problem areas in ceiling tiles".
really? you want to go on record with exactly how many tiles are a problem?
honestly, i would just stop counting at this point and proclaim "it's all just rotten". because let me tell you, this Dick Clark's Rockin' New Years Eve reverse countdown to total tunnel collapse is just getting ludicrous.
on a related side-note... look closely the next time they air a bit on the news about the tunnels. you will see tiny white tyvek tags used on all the evidence. i helped buy those. that was my work. so maybe that can be considered my donation to the fifty bazillion dollar price tag as well. i've done my part.
-made a tshirt-got a new job (don't be alarmed - i'll still be serving ice cream for your pleasure from time to time)-fell up the stairs 3 times-broke 2 sales records at the ice cream store-dropped: a box of spoons and several ice cream scoops on the floor at work, a container of gorgonzola and a container of oats on the kitchen floor, and a whole pizza (luckily it landed cheese-up so dinner wasn't ruined)-visited my doctor for a fun-filled annual physical (apparently my blood pressure is *very* good!)
-made some cookies and sent them to portand, oregon
-reread several delightful young adult books
-read a new young adult book
-took whiskey out for a jaunt in the backyard in hopes of slimming her down a bit. she gives kathryn's garden two paws up.
i think that's about it. further updates as events warrant.
i am not sure if the 80's were kind to anybody, but they sure seemed to hit me particularly hard. in most pictures from that time, i am staring out at the camera, unabashedly, with baleful eyes. you can see the same look reappear from age 16 to 21. i am sure that i smiled during those years, but it sure doesn't get captured on film a lot.
what does get captured is a fascinating array of haircuts, some spectacular, some scary. and you can tell that my look vacillated from hippie to punk rock to downright preppy. i was clearly trying to find my nook, as most kids were probably doing. i was experimenting. and i was sometimes so unbelievably full of myself that it's hard to take my teenage self seriously.
i look back and wish i could have a talk with that kid. tell her that we were going to grow up okay, and that maybe we didn't have to fight so hard. my senior year book quote was Dylan Thomas, and simply read "do not go gentle into that good night". good lord. i was a pompous, self-aggrandizing, maudlin kid. thanks for all of you who bore with me. it probably wasn't easy!
