Instant Streaming

So post three of stream of consciousness. . .

Little Couple is in Boston. Here are the things that are weird about this. 1. they're in the north end in the summer and it's not crowded to the brim with some festival. 2. they're in Mike's Pastries and they were not only not trampled to death, the camera crew had enough space to get shots of the glass cases filled with pastries. Also, not weird, but I thought I should mention I hate Union Oyster House (they went there too). I realize it's historical and that the founders of our country were patrons of the establishment, but I am convinced given the choices available now, they wouldn't be caught dead in the Union Oyster house (well actually, they aren't caught dead there and they actually are dead so I rest my case).

Speaking of the Faneuil Hall area, I went to Crate and Barrel today and that location is closing. It's been there for 30 years, it is the most convenient location in the world for me and has gotten a number of us in my office out of a lot of jams. I am sooo sad about this closing. The biggest shopper I know has left the country for two weeks and in her absence Crate and Barrel decides to close?!

And while we're on the topic of dishes and being abandoned, my boy is the one in our house that does our dishes. I hate doing dishes. There are a lot of reasons why I hate doing the dishes, but tonight as I was doing them, I was reminded of yet another reason. We have one of those handled sponges that is filled with soap. It's great except that the sponge doesn't stick very far out the front of the handle but it sticks out behind. Why would you design something like this? It means you cannot get the bottom part of narrow cups, vases etc clean. In looking for a picture to demonstrate the maddening design to you, I had to go through two pages before I could find one to show you what I was talking about. Apparently oxo's classic design (and pretty much any other one they've designed) does not have this issue, nor does libman to the same extent that ours does.

I have more randomness I could spurt (like a handled sponge), but I think this is probably good for tonight. Tomorrow will be my last night with ready access to Internet till Monday, so eat it up now!

Friendly Little Public Service Announcement

So clearly the stream or consciousness writing hasn't affected my readership. I didn't get any comments but I also got no complaints. So here we go again.

Have you used up your FSA yet? You have three more days. I was planning on getting a tdap vaccination because I work with the homeless (who can be high risk for pertussis) and am around a few babies (though I've been so slow about it at least one of them has already sped well past the 12 month marker). Apparently whooping cough is deadly to babies, or at least that's what the scaremonger article I read said. The cdc just says:

Adults who expect to have close contact with an infant younger than 12 months of age should get a dose of Tdap. Waiting at least 2 years since the last dose of Td is suggested, but not required.

According to the CVS minute clinic website, that vaccine and a flu vaccine would have taken care of the rest of my FSA balance. Sadly, Mayor Menino (WHO I DID NOT VOTE FOR WHEN I HAD A CHANCE -- TWICE!!!) doesn't like minute clinics (okay fine, it's not just him, but since I currently don't like doctors, I like the above board we're just in it to make money minute clinic idea besides, there are two cvs stores really close to work, so convenient for a quick vaccine).

Anyway, that's a long boring post, to say, if you're like I am and didn't make it to the minute clinic, you can go to drugstore.com, where they have a lovely tab for fsa eligible items. I ate through my balance pretty quickly.

Speaking of eating, have you tried Turkey Hill's Chocolate Nutty Moose tracks?!

It's delicious, you should rush right out and by some -- and by you, I mean my boy specifically because even though it's only 55 degrees in our house and I am freezing, it's becoming a very real possibility I will consume all 12 servings before Thursday.

In other random announcements, did you know that there are pink tomatoes? I mean really, can't Susan G. Komen let just one opportunity to turn things pink go?!? Really it's Burpee, and as as far as I know they aren't donating money to Susan G. Komen, but maybe they should get on them!

Also, my boy is correct, apparently, when he says everything comes from Pennsylvania. Burpee seeds come from Fordhook farm located in Doylestown, PA (only an hour away from all of you in Philly). They appear to have "open days" in the summer and fall months where professional gardners give you lectures on gardening and you get to wander around a truly historic site (this is the birthplace of the big boy tomato, golden bantam corn and, most importantly, iceberg lettuce -- so named because of being shipped in crates of ice long distances. If you're interested in more about Burpee and the farm, you can read an article about how burpee seeds got sold off and then reunited with fordhook farm.

Oh, and to answer my question from the last post about best Christmas present this year, I think the beautiful candy apple red kitchen aid mixer I got pulled out ahead:

source

See how much more blogging you get when everyone I know has left the greater Boston area (and by greater Boston area I mean Roslindale and the South end).

PSSSSSSSST Guess What?! It's Been a Month!

So time flies, that's it, time just flies. . . .

We've come to the end of watching The Waltons. Technically we haven't in the sense that in January all the reunion movies come out. But for now, we're aimlessly searching the television for other options. I pick The Golden Girls my boy picks Air Wolf and usually we compromise on an episode of History Detectives we've only watched once or twice before (especially now that TopChef and Monk are finished).

Way back when I started blogging, I thought I had so much to say. Turns out, that's not exactly true. I blogged quite some time ago about a friend who accidentally emailed me (it makes me wonder how many people get back in touch via the auto-fill feature on various email programs). At the time I struggled to come up with something new and flashy that was going on in my life. Oddly enough, my life has slowed down even more at this point, meaning I have even less to blog about -- for example if you referred back to that post, you'll notice that I had started a multi-vitamin, that lasted about a week (TWO YEARS AGO).

Anyway, since it's late and my boy is set on leaving the house at 5am (you know like three hours from now), I've decided to just free associate. . .

I almost titled this post, I got a ring!! Which is true, I did get a ring, but it wasn't an engagement ring, it's just a ring I had admired for awhile and had hinted very strongly (and by strongly I mean I sent a coupon code to my boy and a link) that I would like to see it under our imaginary tree. So yay! It's beautiful, don't believe me? Go, look for yourself.

I've gotten a lot of really lovely presents this Holiday season (I say holiday, because I opened some of them during Chanukah). For starters, I got apples to apples the Jewish edition. WHO KNEW?! Guess which was the first card I pulled, that's right, Sarah!! I also got a super cute stuffed saint (I plan on buying some for two other friends, but since they never read my blog, it's safe to share it here -- besides, the shop is on vacation so I can't even imbed a link). Also, in going to get you the link for the stuffed saint, I stumbled across this which is awfully cute as well!

My boy and I don't write Christmas cards (come on people, you saw how lame I was with thank you cards) but we've gotten a number of cards with pictures of friend's children and sweet or interesting notes updating us on all the goings on in our their lives (clearly I don't need to do that since I blog so regularly ;)). One note I received from my aunt this year made me laugh. She said she enjoyed my blog and that I wrote like I talk. I thought back on how many of my posts are about how annoyed and how depressed I am and I just felt sorry for all of you. Course those of you far away luck out, cause you can just skim or, you know, just skip.

So your turn now, what was the best gift you got for Chanukah (or Christmas if you're late reading the blog post)? And/or if you were going to write a Christmas letter what exciting, new, or notable thing would you include?

Thankful

So this is the season where people who are ungrateful all year long decide to write down/think about what they're thankful for. I, however, am not feeling thankful this year. The thing is, I should be. There are lots of things I have to be thankful for, including the fact that my boy's family, much like my own, does not make you go around the table, putting you on the spot to say stupid heartwarming things about which you're thankful.

This week, even though I only have to make it through two work days, I am having a really rough time. Things are not going how I pictured it (and for those of you who know me well, know I don't like it when things aren't how I picture it).

Last night though, we were watching an episode of The Waltons and there was a scene that clearly didn't go how the director had pictured it. I am happy they left it as is though, cause I couldn't stop laughing last night and even though I am angry and bitter about some things today, I remembered this scene long enough to laugh once more today.

In the episode titled: The Outage The family is having dinner together and discussing racism and freedom and people's rights. They've just finished telling a story about Lena Horne who was entertaining troops at Fort Reilly, Kansas during World War II, when she saw German POWs seated in the front row and African American soldiers forced to sit behind them. They said she walked to the end of the row of POWs turned her back on them and sang to the black soldiers.

There's a pause after this dramatic story and then the kid playing John Curtis (who must be about two) pats his "grandfather" on the shoulder and pipes up"I got new pants." John (his grandfather) says "I see that. Who got you those, your mommy?" John Curtis replies "No, from Pat" (there's no pat on the show). John says "From Pat? Where does she live? On the next farm?" To which, a rather confused John Curtis says "Yeah." and John finishes with "Okay, Good." It was impressive. As one person said: "Ralph Waite was smart enough to cover it up since John Curtis was so excited that he got a new pants. The producer thought it was cute and they decided to leave it alone. Pat Norris was the costume designer for the Waltons"

I think it loses something in the translation here, but I couldn't stop laughing. It also helps that this total non-sequitur regarding pants reminds me of my favorite ad: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIq58H6CYQU "I invented pants."

So maybe I'm thankful that some people are so proud of the fact that we all put our pants on one leg at a time, whether we invented them or we got them from Pat. . .

UPDATE: I thought I had posted this ad before, and it turns out I did, here. Also, in the process of searching for where I posted it, I came across a New York Time's article I posted about Christmas sweaters. I know it's still a little early for some people to think about Christmas, but it's worth looking at if you're not intentionally avoiding Christmas.

Warning, a little depressing and graphic

I loved Spoon River Anthology when I was in high school. A series of poems that are the epitaphs of various residents of Spoon River. Tonight, while skimming various blog posts I saw a link for the Texas Department of Criminal Justice which reminded me of that book.

On the site, they listed the offender information and last statement for the executed offenders since 1982:http://www.tdcj.state.tx.us/stat/executedoffenders.htm I am not posting this to further a discussion on whether capital punishment is right or wrong. Some of the crimes these people committed are horrific. But reading their last statement first and then their crime, somehow lends more sympathy for them. It may not be of interest to all of you (or any of you), but that's how I've spent my evening, solemnly reading last statements and then records of crimes.

Some of the crimes seem unbelievable, like a made for tv movie, one man had a 160 mile crime spree killing family members and random other people at one point kidnapping a family of five and forcing them to drive him across a border. Some of the crimes are so senseless, a person murdered in an armed robbery that only resulted in getting a six pack. So basically a life (two if you think of the death penalty as murder) all traded for a six pack of beer, there's no mention of whether the criminal actually consumed it or not. Some of the crimes are heartbreaking, one man attacking two people as they left church, stealing $40 from a woman who he then shot and attempted to cut her face with a carpet knife as she prayed to God to forgive her attacker.

I don't know how to explain this fascination I have for this site, the humanizing affect it has on otherwise faceless criminals, the empathetic urges it produces both for the criminal and for the families left in the wake of these crimes. . .

Haven't I seen you on tv?!

So a month or so ago, possibly during the meltdown of Thursday Night Outreach as we know it, or maybe the week before or after, a guy said to me, "I feel like I've seen you on tv."

I said I had never been on tv, but that was flattering, then I proceeded to ask what show. I mean I have been mistaken for Mayim Bialik before, so maybe he was thinking of Blossom? Or Perhaps he thought I could be on a news program? A cooking show?

Nope, he didn't think any of those were it. He said, "Maybe America's funniest Home Videos? Or, Candid Camera?" Great. That's just the persona I want. The kind of person who looks like she gets hit in the crotch or was a bride who slipped and fell on her ass. I said "nope, sorry. . ."

Then I remembered back to my first week here at my job in Boston. There was one incident that had me completely convinced I was on candid camera. So much so that I seriously did look around for the camera.

I was assigned a copying task that involved programming the copier to sort and staple a publication that was well over 50 pages long. Because it was such a large document the document feeder could only take half of the pages at a time. I started the project and went to work on something else. When I came back to the copier what I saw was horrifying*. There were just reams of paper shooting out, falling in huge swathes to the floor. The glow of the light from the copier only made the continued stream of falling pages seem even worse.

After looking around to see if anyone had noticed (or if there were any cameras), I stopped the machine and gathered all the pages together. Clutching them to myself. I ducked into one of the stacks (more difficult than you might think since we have compact shelving). I assessed the damage and realized that part of the problem was that the copier hadn't sorted the pages so they were all being dumped one on top of each other on the top tray. In a panicked moment of stupidity, I began sorting all the pages myself. putting them in different piles to try and collate together. It took me longer than it should have to realize that with the thousands of pages I had in front of me, it would be impossible to sort all the pages back in my little compact shelving alcove without someone (in my office of three employees) realizing something was amiss.

One of the hardest things I've had to do (and yes, probably this is where you really see how blessed I am) was to walk to the front of my office with my arms full of papers and confess to thoroughly messing up the small task I'd been given. My boss was very gracious and, despite my offers to pay for the three reams of paper I'd thoroughly destroyed, she suggested I just try again and forget about the first try.

Eight years later and I'm still here, but boy was I glad when that first week was over!

*I swear there was a movie in the 80s that featured a copier shooting paper out in a similar manner and at this point I was going to link to the youtube featuring it, sadly, I can't find a video of the scene (I think it was 9 to 5 in the xerox room)

You Don't Want to be in Love. You Want to be in Love in a Movie

Sleepless in Seattle is on right now, and I sort of watch it with a contented sigh. Even though most of the movie is spent talking about how you shouldn't believe in romantic comedies, the moral is deep down they really do come true. I was thinking about romantic comedies earlier today when someone mentioned they were going to watch The Proposal. I haven't seen it and don't know much about it, my romantic comedy watching has been severely curbed since I started dating my boy.

Tonight my boy and I ate dinner in my bed while watching an episode of The Waltons (Sadly not a terribly uncommon Friday night occurrence). After dinner, I looked over and he was sitting up with his hands folded across his stomach and I looked down at myself and realized I was in the same position. I said, "look at us, such a hot young couple." He said "yeah, fat and watching tv, that's us."

Sigh, I know life isn't like the movies, but sometimes, just sometimes I wish it were. I mean yeah, there are usually really huge problems like you end up finding out you have your new love's dead wife's heart but there's a lot of laughter and the ending is always happy, it's always right, everything always works out. . . .

If you can't tell, my melancholy returned this afternoon. There was no real pre-cursor, no instigator. I'm just sort of mopey again and everything that goes wrong seems like a bigger deal. . .
I'm watching Monk now, he's my style, OCD and sort of depressed :). In the meantime, I'll think back on two Thursdays ago when, after working late, I came home to a note from my boy : "There is a pizza & a surprise in the fridge, I love you [your boy]" The surprise was some cake which in my stressed out crazy work week I'd wanted for a number of days. I almost cried, it was the sweetest gesture I could imagine at the time. Maybe I do have the makings of a romantic comedy after all.

HI LTOP or Highs and Lows

Yesterday there were a lot of highs and lows.

High: we cooked at the soup kitchen this weekend and it went off without a hitch and for the first time since we've moved the kitchen to a new location there wasn't a low point where the tunnel had closed in and I was so miserable I ended up yelling (not just snapping mind you, actually yelling) at my boy. We also had a good amount of very responsive help.

Low: there was a fair amount of food leftover and we didn't realize until 3/4 through that the rubber mats weren't down so we had sore feet the rest of the day.

High: My boy and I got to spend the entire day together at our leisure with no schedule.

Low: we ran out of errands at about 3pm and we were waiting till dark to shoot some pictures.

High: We went to the Christmas Tree shops because we happened to be near there and found a lamp shade for the hideous chandelier that's been in our apartment since we moved in. Plus, we found perfectly respectable hardwood frames for under $10 for a wall montage we want to do in what I like to refer to as our kitsch-en.

Low: When we got home we realized the shade was about two inches too narrow.

High: my boy rigged it with some wire so that the tips of the chandelier which held ugly glass plates before just sort of stick out the top. I found some faux chandelier crystals in a drawer and we've got a slightly strange looking but far more appealing looking chandelier.

Low: Turns out somewhere along the line the shade got mildly bend so there's a little crease around the bottom on one side, it looks fine from the outside but drives me nuts when I look up at it from where I usually sit on the couch when I see the white creased inside the shade.

High: we managed to find enough things to keep us busy that we were ready to shoot pictures on route one aka the Massachusetts's equivalent to the strip.

Low: the shot we wanted most of Hilltop Steak House wasn't possible since part of the cactus was out and the sign actually read HI LTOP SILAK House due to various lights being burned out there. Also, we were hoping to take a picture of the leaning tower of pizza at prince pizzeria but it wasn't lit very well so we weren't sure how well it would turn out and we were a little too discouraged to try.

In the end though, it was a good day, and even though it's currently snowing out and the heater in my car has chosen this weekend to stop working, today is a pretty good day too!

It Only Takes a Spark to Get a Fire Going

I share a lot of my disappointments so I thought I would share a minor triumph today. When we got home last night our road was completely torn up and the water was out. By the time we went to bed, the water was back and the gas was out (not to mention loudly being worked on). They were still working on it this morning. They rang the bell at 8:30 for access to our basement (It's the first day I've been able to sleep in for weeks I was soooo sad. My boy directed them to the landlords and about an hour later our doorbell rang again. They came in to check our gas in our apartment, Our stove hasn't worked properly since we moved in. The two burners on the left don't have a pilot light that stays lit so I can never use them without my boy at home because matches get too close to the flame for me to be comfortable and my boy thinks buying fireplace matches is ridiculous (oh, and I am lazy). Today though, national grid totally cleaned the area where the gas comes in so now, our stove works perfectly. Sounds like I should make some soup and pay the national grid bill today :).

Tomorrow Never Dies

So clearly I didn't post pictures yesterday, but since I've started this post with a James Bond movie title, it's only appropriate that I start off this post with the few (not great) pictures I got of a famous car stunt from one of the movies. Apparently this car was the first to do a 360 turn and survive (or at least have a driver that survived). They did the stunt originally in the white car (hence the upside down printing) and then the red car was used for the movie.

Also, in addition to consuming five orders of deep fried cheese curds over the course of the day (every order was shared and I am still thinking of them), between the seven of us we ate: cheese fries, kettle corn, cotton candy (both pink and blue and maple), fried dough bites (not funnel cake even though I like that more and am posting a picture of the description for those unclear on differences), pork chop sandwich (voted best sandwich at the fair for a number of years), the Craz-E burger (pictured below which was not as balanced as the link would lead you to believe, I could only taste burger), a beef gyro, corn on the cob, quahog chili, peanut butter bacon pizza (there was something off in the balance there too, too much pb to bacon and the cheese was too oily and added no flavor, I think a smoked cheese might have worked better), maple milk, corn dogs, apple crisp, blueberry pie, baked potatoes with all the fixins, and lobster rolls. Whew, so we definitely got our cheese curds and other fair food taken care of.

We also got to see lots of animals and exhibits, including the peking acrobats, circus, sea lions the butter sculpture. We visited every state house and took a brief stop through storrow town village where there was a root beer cart. The weather, and/or our timing was perfect, though it rained a good portion of the day, we managed to be inside when the worst hit. It was a great day!

How about a cloud for your silver lining?

Sounds like a bad post doesn't it? I like to keep you on your toes. We had gray and rainy weather all day today, but even that couldn't dampen our spirits.

I promise a post with some pictures tomorrow (not many, did I mention the rain).

I've Nicknamed Tuesday "Only"

My dad and I were talking last night and he mentioned that there are peaks and valleys in life and I said yeah, tell me about it. I got through telling him a roller coaster story about how my Monday and Tuesday had gone and I was saying I can't believe it's ONLY Tuesday, if the rest of the week is like this I'm not going to make it.

We continued talking and I discussed how lately my peaks and valleys have pretty much just been a series of valleys similar to the long downward plunge of a roller coaster, but broken up with some bumps (go with me here on this metaphor, the bumps being the bright spots stopping me from just plunging straight down -- can you tell I don't' ride roller coasters?!).

My dad mentioned some craziness going on at work and then he said wait, today is Tuesday! It's only Tuesday. . . (yes, we're that dim of a family we had already talked about it and had forgotten). He said, that's it, I'm nicknaming Tuesday "Only."

I've been trying to end my blog posts with silver linings, you know, so only my boy and my co-worker suffers along with me in my extreme mopiness (oh, right and all of you I im. . . and my dad. . .um, right, who am I fooling?!). But I wanted you to know, this isn't just some silver lining I've pasted on to the end of this blog post. While I will miss a number of people this Saturday who were invited but cannot make it, we're going to the Big E. It's gonna be good people. If deep fried cheese curds can't get me out of my funk for a least a day, nothing can. I have eaten vegetable soup all week in preparation for the deep fried goodness that awaits us on Saturday. There will be deep fried cheese curds, lobster rolls from the Maine state house, deep fried cheese curds, kettle corn, deep fried cheese curds, corn dogs, and cotton candy, with a cheese curd chaser. Life is good (at least life with a side of deep fried cheese curds).

Yesterday was Plain Awful/But that's/ Not Now/That's Then

To continue my Annie theme songs, yesterday was kind of rotten. Perhaps that's why today seems soo lovely. My boy didn't wake me up for church and we can't take the walk in the arb that we'd planned since it's raining, but it's been a quiet pleasant kind of day.

I woke up at nine, we went to pick up our csa, which was kale free (they ran out before we got there and gave us extra pears to make up for it -- talk about serendipitous), we stopped by Allendale farms and picked up some fun veggies to supplement this week's haul and then we came home where I started a veggie soup from the numerous vegetables we had left over from last week. We're settled in now watching the National Parks documentary. It's really great so far, though I read a sort of mixed review.

The smell of the soup is filling the house and it's a sleepy comfortable day with the promise of hunks of walnut wheat bread dipped in a warm broth as a final treat.

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

If you've read this blog at all lately, you know I am currently, mopey, homesick, feeling pulled somewhere I cannot determine.

I was really excited about that house from my last post. Really excited. I was energized and felt like I had a purpose again. Save, save, save like there was no tomorrow. I would not spend money on anything that wasn't utterly necessary. It inspired me to actually consider using the two rolls of scotts toliet paper we have (they are left over from a costco size package that I refused to use the rest of and made my boy take down to Pennsylvania so we could give it away because I couldn't even have such foul toliet paper in my house let alone use it -- yes, this toliet paper is that bad that it inspires a paragraph long paranthetical statement, try it yourself, you'll see). Anyway, if you notice, all that is in past tense. I was really excited about that house etc. I mean yeah, it's still a great house and yeah, if someone gave it to me, or if by some fluke we could afford it, I think I would be happy there (or, you know, as happy as I ever am).

This past weekend was spent with my boy's family. We went up to the White Mountains and did tons of really fun things (and there's soo much more we left unexplored, who knew the White Mountains held such treasures!). We stopped at fun spot (famous from The King of Kong) on the way up, went on the Cog Railroad, saw the bears at Clark's Trading Post and rode the rails multiple times on Sunday (the boys even got to try out a hand car even though they each had a broken arm, I mean it is called a hand car I suppose, not a hands car). When it came time for us to part ways, and for my boy and I to go down the Mass Pike while they continued the long trek home to Pennsylvania, I got teary eyed and said "I miss them already." To which my boy responded with much disdain/disbelief "Are you kidding me?!"

I'm not a big crier and it wasn't my family we were leaving. . . So now I am homesick not only for my family, but for my boy's family as well. Great. If I didn't know where I was being pulled before. I certainly don't know. Perhaps picking someplace random to move like Weekawken, NJ wouldn't be a terrible first step. It would be that much closer to both our families and a move would certainly keep us too busy to notice a feeling of being adrift and purposeless.

I started this post on Wednesday, and by the time I got home and started a couple of loads of laundry and a pulled pork pizza (with caramelized onions, yum!!), I was feeling contented and purposeful again. Unfortunately, the bbq sauce I put on was slightly runny and the sharp cheese I had chosen was apparently a little too greasy and while the apartment filled with smoke I fell right back into my negative nelly thinking. It did remind me of this part of It's the Hard Knock Life "Don't it seem like there's never any light!/Once a day, don't you wanna throw the towel in?/It's easier than puttin' up a fight."

Today is a new day though, and the sun is shining (no, it literally is, this isn't me giving up on bitterness) and so there's hope that tonight at least I won't end the night sulking. Seriously, who am I kidding?

In My Father's House there are Many Rooms

So when I was planning to move to Boston, my future (now former) roommate and I set aside one week to look for an apartment. We made an offer on one apartment and it was taken right out from under us. Then, the last day we'd allotted for the search, we found it. Yeah, in retrospect, it was a little slummy, but there was off street parking and it was a somewhat open floor plan and near some nightlife (though the closest we got to night life was coming home late from class and studying). We had a slum lord, but in the grand scheme of things not even a really slummy slum lord and the police officer living next door was really very kind and would fix major problems.

My roommate moved on to bigger and better things (she now gets to put dr. in front of her name) and I needed a new place to stay. I had just joined a small group and a woman in the group had a friend who was looking for a roommate. This place was even better than my first place, I had my own room this time, there was still a good flow for socializing and my roommate and I, while not terribly close, got along quite well.

That roommate too decided to move on to bigger and better things and two other really fun women were looking for someplace to call home. We searched high and low and found nothing that was a good fit. There were lots and lots of slums far out of our price range and one "compromise" apartment that would mean street parking for two cars and as far as we could tell, no front porch ever! Then, the clouds opened and it was as if a dove flew down and said "This is my apartment in which I am well pleased!" In desperation one of the women posted what we were looking for and in what price range. Randomly, the person who was to become our landlord for the next 2 + years saw that posting. Even now, thinking back on that apartment I almost cry tears of joy.

It was like God had crafted that place exactly for the three of us. There was central air conditioning for the Alaskan in me, two parking spots for our precisely two cars, three rooms, one perfect for each of us, and every little detail, down to bike hooks in the basement demonstrated that this place was ours. It was meant to be. There was no other explanation as far as I could tell. It swooped in right when we needed it and answered every singly petty prayer we had about a place to live. When we finished looking at it the first time we went back to my friend's apartment baked brownies and rushed back to ask when/where do we sign?! I had decided to live in this apartment until I got married -- and even after if I could convince the landlord to sell the place to me!

It didn't exactly follow through on that plan (much to my regret, still to this day). I did manage to outlast my two other roommates. And I still dearly love the place, but last June I moved out. I moved into another place that I really felt had been perfectly created for this part of my life. A cheap place with lots of space (another serendipitous find by the friend who found my last apartment) near friends so my boy and I had a community. A good apartment to help us save money and pay off debt. Last week, we moved my friend out of the apartment I loved so dearly and it felt like a loss again.

Then, randomly searching trulia last Friday, I found something that replaced that apartment in my heart. I found a house that I couldn't find a flaw big enough for it to stop nagging at me, calling to me, whispering sweet nothings at all hours (sure you might call it a stalker, I call it mine). It had everything I could dream of in a house, it had space for a garage and to build an in-law apartment (if and when we ever have money), it had a real yard, big enough for tons of tomato plants (and a grape arbor lush with grapes, my boy loves wild grapes), it had three large bedrooms, and a basement where we could store stuff (instead of behind a curtain in our living room). It's still in our area, but in a slightly less fancy section, in a section that is close to a community center and should be slightly cheaper to buy in. Except. . . . This place is not. It's not cheap at all. In fact it's at least $50,000 overpriced. I was trying to figure out a way we could afford the place. I figured, if we offered them $50,000 less than what they wanted and we could come up with a 10% down payment we could totally afford the mortgage, taxes and insurance. The problem (you're thinking _the_ problem as in ONE? and I am ignoring you) is we don't really have any savings. We've worked on paying off debt, not on saving (don't lecture, I know it's stupid). I tried to figure out how we could swing it. I told my boy, well, I have $5,000 saved and we could use the $8,000 incentive as part of the down payment if we can convince someone to give us a loan and the people to drop their price tons all before November 30th, and we can save my paycheck for the next two plus months and then you can borrow the rest from your 401(k). And if you didn't think I'd lost my boy before then (well you'd be wrong) I certainly did at that point. He put his foot down. He pointed out our credit card debt. He mentioned the fact that we should be focused on other things, not houses.

He is sure that if this house sells (he may have said when. . .I am ignoring that), there will be plenty of other, different houses that will also be a perfect fit for us. I am not convinced. Did I mention this house has central air conditioning?! No houses in Boston come equipped with central air. Anyway, I am praying that they are in slight denial about the market and how much their house is worth. I am also praying that they don't decide to really sell this house till the spring. I am praying that one of those stupid people who always buys during the 20% off part of the going out of business sale (SO DUMB) doesn't swoop in and buy at the far too high price. I am praying that all of this works out so that in the spring I can be living in what I consider to be MY house. The house, that like my last apartment, was fearfully and wonderfully made just for ME.

Oh, and why didn't I post a link or a picture? Cause even though I am trying to put it in God's hands, I am still superstitious and don't want to call extra attention to the place. Email me if you're interested (and didn't already see my google talk status on Friday :)). Also, don't think this is just a completely selfish desire (maybe mostly selfish, but not completely) the in-law apartment desire is so that all of you lovely people spread hither and yon can come stay with us for extended periods! It's almost the compound I've been yearning for, almost.

Egg(plant) on My Face

So I hesitate to post this knowing that the most comments I ever got on this blog was for a throw away post on kale -- I never knew how controversial vegetables were :). But I LOVE eggplant. LOVE it. But only when other people make it for me. I like it when I order it in restaurants, in eggplant parm, in my very favorite dim sum dish which I can only see described as eggplant and shrimp, I love random eggplant dips, and miso dipped eggplant that's grilled. I really do love eggplant.

I have had terrible luck cooking eggplant though, and I don't want tons of tips, I've read the tips, I've watched the alton brown episode. I am just no good at eggplant. I didn't grow up with it, I don't exactly know the ins and outs of eggplant even though I've read and watched shows on them and I just don't think I care enough, I prefer buying my eggplant already prepared.

At least, I was no good. I tried this recipe last night and though it could use some tweaking (on my end, not necessarily theirs -- for one thing I had no scallions in my fridge), I think it came out lovely. My boy, who is not an eggplant fan, said that "if it was too much trouble, you don't have to make it again." Code for, I don't really like it.

But it was not too much trouble at all. We get two eggplants in our csa every week. While making this recipe is slightly more intensive than just throwing out the eggplants, it's not that much more intensive, and takes way less time (in the sense that we cannot bear to throw out perfectly good veggies, so those eggplants have to rot in the fridge before we can just toss them-- I realize it's not hands on time). This meal was thrown together in less than 30 min and was a great main course for me and a nice side for my boy. So one eggplant recipe down, millions more to go!

As for our other continuing problem, to update you on the status of our house, we have three and a half rooms cleaned and two and a half to go (I am counting the pantry as a half room).

Also, there is absolutely no sign of the rat, we've moved every single piece of furniture in every room and swept behind and under them (even the two and a half rooms not counted as thoroughly cleaned). This has confirmed to my boy that one of his two theories is correct. Either our rat was someones pet who came to visit and then left (explaining how it was able to resist the uber tempting Reese's peanut butter cups on the traps) or, the rat was a ghost rat. Yes, I realize the latter theory is ridiculous. I tried to convince him that he was wrong based on the fact that the rat ate our Easter candy. My boy pointed out that Casper and Slimer both ate food. So now our rat has been classified as a Casper/Slimer type ghost. I am so glad that got cleared up. It will be much easier to catch him now! Where's Egon when you need him?

The end of an era

So David Sedaris talks about how when his cat died it felt like the end of an era, "The cat's death struck me as the end of an era. It was, of course, the end of her era, but with the death of a pet there's always that urge to string black crepe over an entire ten- or twenty-year period. The end of my safe college life, the last of my thirty-inch waist, my faltering relationship with my first real boyfriend: I cried for it all and wondered why so few songs were written about cats."

When "The last MASH unit worldwide was deactivated in 2006 in a nod to the increased capabilities of combat support hospitals." it felt mildly like the end of an era. But then I wasn't actually in the Korean war I had just watched Mash repeatedly.

I just found out today though (that's right people, the one who won MASH trivia --uh, right at her birthday party, but still I think it was fair and square-- didn't find out until TWO DAYS LATER), that Larry Gelbart died on the 11th. And so, while he was 81 and only worked on the show the first four years, I still feel like it's the end of the era. God help me when Alan Alda dies (I just double checked to make sure he was still alive since clearly I can't count on any of you to tell me things like this).

I remember my mom crying when Lucille Ball died (or maybe it was when Desi Arnaz died? but that seems so unlikely). Anyway, my dad pointed out that it wasn't like they were going to make any more episodes of "I Love Lucy" and I did think it was odd that she was crying over some celebrity we didn't even know. Now I think, perhaps, she was just crying for the end of that era. Whatever that era encapsulated for her.

P.S. In reference to my post earlier, it would be lovely to just shove our crap in one room and close the door, but there will be 9 people sleeping in our 2-3 bedroom apartment. We don't have a room in the house that will be hidden -- we don't even really have much in the way of closet space to hide stuff.

7 Years Bad Luck

If you couldn't tell by my title, my plan didn't work. We have spent the weekend cleaning for my boy's family's visit. Mostly this has consisted of shredding and throwing out massive amounts of paper, doing copious amounts of laundry and using the broom far more than any witch could imagine. Our house is currently still a disaster area.

My boy just came in saw that I was on the computer and mentioned that I would need to clean my room. Um, thanks, I didn't think we were going to draw a map so our guests would know how to avoid the piles. . .

In the process of moving the coffee table so we could sweep under the couch, we managed to break a mirror and when we reached for it, we knocked over a bottle of water. That's basically an accurate snapshot of how this weekend is going. I am considering going back to bed. That will entail shoving over the three loads of laundry on the bed, but I am willing to make that sacrifice. Think my boy will accept that?

200th Post

This is my 200th post (were you hoping for something more monumental? Perhaps you're reading the wrong blog. . .). I am reading a book about a guy who read the entire Encyclopaedia Brittanica I was going to avoid talking about it since I planned on giving it to my dad for Christmas. Last night though, in the emotion section, I came across an entry that may help my mopiness. It's called facial feedback hypothesis. Basically if I smile like a goon, I should start to feel better. I like how A. J. Jacobs put it though: "This is when your brain senses that your facial muscles are in a happy position, so the brain figures, Hey, I must be happy. (The brain can be remarkably stupid sometimes.)" Anyway, that's my plan for this weekend. That, and actually cleaning -- my boy's family comes in six days!!!

Sprialing out of Control

I was looking back at some of my posts from when I started this blog in 2006. I remembered starting it because, among other things, I was upset about a particular person who had stolen money from me in my own home and had threatened my roommate at the time that she'd commit suicide, insinuating that it would be my roommate's fault, because my roommate had asked one of our pastors how to deal with the fact that the woman had also blatantly stolen money off of a table when we'd been out with a large group of friends.

It's been awhile at this point and I can actually laugh at the picture of this woman stealing cash from my purse while my roommate and I were "shopping" in our pantry for choice foods we could send her home with. We filled two large whole foods bags with food, picking out our favorite rice dishes and canned goods, leaving behind things like canned peas (don't even ask me how canned peas got in our house, I am vehemently opposed). Anyway, I think that's funny now.

At the time though, I was very angry. So looking back at my recent posts, I was wondering how I balanced the angst with still being interesting and keeping a sense of humor. It turns out, that more strange things happened around me at the time (or at least I noticed strange things more).

So I haven't posted particularly recently because I am still fairly mopey and restless; feeling pulled somewhere else, but also not knowing what or where that "somewhere else" is. I also don't know where the funny went. . .

I think, however, the 2006 me would have rushed to tell you all about what happened two weeks ago when we were out on the common. 2009 me is just tired and no longer finds these stories as fresh and charming when they happen (it takes two weeks for her to recover her sense of humor about it -- what can I say, grey hairs, and no sense of humor curmudgeon-dom is just around the corner). Also, as a warning, when I typed this up, it lost some of the funny and gained some serious length, so you might want to skim :).


Two Thursday nights ago my boy and I returned from a two week absence (you know, we'd been to the wild animal park in PA, we'd been to NY the next week etc) and you would have thought we were complete newbies the way the coffee cart we have manned for the last three years was stormed. It was like everything we'd ever taught the people about orderly lines etc. had gone out the window. People were five or six across and they were shoving and pushing (just to clarify, we don't give out free crack, diamonds, or liquor, we've got coffee, hot tea, iced tea, hot chocolate and bottled water). They wanted the bottles of water. They always do. Let's review, they're bottles of water, not vodka, they're worth 12.4 cents (and yes, that's an expensive item for our cart, but still, in the grand scheme of things, really?!). We told them ONE LINE holding one finger up and then putting our hands together to show they needed to move in, that we weren't serving more than single file. They pushed forward still six people across. we pushed our cart back, my boy stood in front making the universal pushing back motion to show them they needed to step back. They ignored him. I said everyone needs to take THREE steps backward. I took a large step held up one finger and said one loudly, took another large step held up two fingers and said two loudly, took a third large step and said three loudly while holding up three fingers. They laughed at me. I closed the cart.

I threw a blanket over the top told my boy to get out from in front of the cart where they had closed in on him even farther. There was no point in someone being crushed over 12 cent water. We stood like that for awhile at an impasse. They still didn't form a single line and they didn't step back. The people in the back of the line though, had no control over the people in the front. We are a religious group. I thought back on "Many who are last will be first and the first will be last." (at the time I didn't remember it was from Matthew 19:30 or the context, just the verse). So that's what we did, as the people in the front of the line crowded and continued to push, we worked our way from the back of the line forward. At one point an unsuspecting group member was pouring some iced tea and one of the women at the front of the line tried to convince him to just give her a bottle of water. As he was reaching for the water, I stopped him -- they will seriously take advantage of any possible way to get what they want and then more than what they know they're entitled to.

Anyway, after all this madness, we worked our way through the line and served everyone (the people in the front finally caught on and started squishing into one line slightly farther back). At this point the line for food had also dissipated, though apparently because we'd run out. It seemed like the night might be calming down. A man came up looking for some food, when he was told we didn't have any he started shouting about how he could break jaws and not to treat him like this because he wouldn't stand for it (mind you, we had no food, it wasn't discrimination, there was just nothing left). He veered around and continued to threaten to break jaws until he'd had enough and left still ranting, a dog barking after him a final good riddance.


The man with the dog (who had barked away the jaw breaker) approached my cart, clearly drunk, but in a cheerful mood. We chatted he got his drink and sat off to the side. When he was ready for a second drink he brought a hibiscus from one of the flower beds. I said it was sweet, but he really shouldn't pick the flowers. He took his drink and we chatted some more. He drifted away and then came back with another flower. If I hadn't realized he was drunk before, I surely would have at this point. The beer goggles were clearly in place.

It was time for our praise and worship circle and sermonette. We sang and the woman designated to speak that night began. She spoke on Ephesians and the double edged sword where we're damned to death and how God cannot associate with us because of our sinfulness and the beauty of what Christ did and what an incredible relationship that opens up for us. Or at least I think that's what she spoke about, I can't be sure.

You see, my flower wielding drunk friend by this point had pulled out some sticks and started juggling. Then, to up the ante, he turned them on. That's right he was juggling fire, behind the woman giving the sermonette. Juggling is putting it kindly, and slightly less menacingly. Really, he was throwing sticks with flames on the end up into the air and missing the catch then dipping down to pick one up while the other was thrown up in the air which he'd invariably miss.

I guess I could have skipped the build up to this point, since the fire "juggling" was really the crescendo, the truly unbelievable part of the evening, but I thought you might be interested in the build up as well.

God -- or perhaps just the NY Times is taunting me

Shockingly I didn't win the lottery last night (not even the $2 minimum prize), but no one won the jackpot at all, so now it's up to 325 million.

Today, the New York Times ran this article I mean really, clearly, I am already having a hard time coming to terms with giving up my mill, now they're just rubbing my nose in it!!

Grinding to a Halt

So my friend called and asked how much the minimum bid would be for my mill. The auctioneer said "well what do you think it will go for?" And she said "A substantial amount, I am sure." At which point he became defensive and said he expected the opening bid to be $500,000 and for it to go for $1.2million at least. So that pretty much stomped my dream to death.

I really, really would like to buy the place and preserve it. I would like to run it as a b&b/tiny dairy farm and rent out the wheat/milling part. I even bought a lottery ticket tonight (yes, I know that I would be better off saving the dollar and letting all those dollars add up and then buying my mill 9,000 years from now). I don't even want to hear what my friend Robert, who has figured out at what salary it is no longer a cost effective use of time to pick up a quarter, to hear I bought a lottery ticket, but there it is out there for the whole world to know.

Since buying my mill is as unlikely to happen as my winning the lottery tonight, and, since I haven't lost my entire readership already despite a long hiatus and inane posts, lets think about what I would spend my $252,000,000 on.

First, I would pay off both my, and my boy's bicentennial fund pledges to the church (yes, we've gotten a little behind on that), then I would pay off any remaining credit card debt we had, I would buy my mill and my sister this house: http://www.trulia.com/property/1068642092-1504-Airport-Heights-Dr-Anchorage-AK-99508 Then I would build my boy's parents a dining room and work shop and pay to move my stuff out of my parents house (so my mother will have space for even more furniture :)), We'd send my parents on a cruise to Australia and my boy and I would plan the most amazing circus themed wedding any of our closest 400 friends have ever attended! I could go on, but It's dinner time.

What would you do with the $252 mil if you won?

There's One Really. . .

So I know a long time ago I wrote on this blog about a loft I wanted my boy to buy, and then I wrote later on about a house I wanted to pay to move, I just didn't have any vacant land, well this time I am even more serious than those other times and my boy (and everyone else thinks I am even more ridiculous). Last weekend while we were waiting for the two hours in the mechanic's shop in the 90 degree weather (subtly different than the two hours we'd spent prior to that waiting for the car to be finished while at the wildlife park), I saw an ad and I fell in love again. Here's the link, you can go look at it: http://www.auctionzip.com/Listings/683520.html I'll wait.

Ever since we went to the White Mountains this summer, I've been longing for a compound for family and friends to come visit. Like a bed and breakfast only more laid back. I really, really want it and I think that we'd be good hosts for something like that, we're very hospitable, we like cooking, my boy likes building crap and growing veggies.

This place fulfills both that longing and the one I've had lately to be closer to family (ok, so it's much closer to my boy's family and probably not significantly closer to my family, but driving wise it is, we're 7 hours closer to Alaska -- maybe).

Also, this farm has been in the same family since the 1700. I think that's amazing, the road this mill is on? It was named after the mill. I want to be a part of the history of this mill. I want to preserve it. I want to make sure that it is kept as one piece, not parceled off for other commercial ventures.

See, don't you want to help the cause too? Don't you want to have a place to get away from the hustle and bustle of life? That's this place. Let's get it!! Need more reasons? Let me know, I can do a follow up post, I just wanted to get this out in the 15 min I had between our exciting NJ/NY weekend adventure :).

The best laid plans of mice and men

We were gone all weekend, still no signs of the mouse, no droppings and no food ripped open. I was starting to think that perhaps he had moved out. then out of the corner of my eye, tonight, I saw a little blur running down the hall. It was on the way into my boy's room. My boy rushed over to try and catch it, but he was too late, he saw the mouse disappear under his dresser. So now we've moved traps to be strategically placed under the dresser and in the hall and we hope that that does something. I'm not too sorry to be gone again this weekend!

. . . How Laid Back Is He?

This weekend we visited my boy's family in rural PA. Among other things, we took our car in to have the water pump replaced (there's a whole story about what a waste that was, or if you're not a pessimist, on what good preventative care we took of our car -- again, that's if you're not a pessimist who was stuck in a car with no ac for 7+ hours in 94 degree weather because you'd already wasted the short overlap of time you and the mechanic had in the same place having the waterpump fixed instead of the ac).

Anyway, while we were waiting for the car to be fixed, also in 90 degree weather, we were stuck in rural Pennsylvania with nothing to do. We walked around the block about three times stopping and looking at a grave yard, twice before we wandered down another road and into a wild animal park. That's right, 15 minutes from where my boy's family lives are lions, and tigers and bears (for real, I'm not just chanting like Dorothy), not to mention alligators, zebras, giant koi, capabara's and many more random, very wild animals.

When I say "not to mention," in the sentence previous, I am serious. I have visited my boy's family numerous times in the two and a half plus years we've been dating and NO ONE. Not one single person (he has a big family), thought to mention that they had a wild animal park a mere 15 minute drive away. I swear to you there have been conversations that have started with me saying "so, what is there to do around here?" with no real response. [edit, my boy claims he's told me numerous times about the wildlife park. . .]

People have always said that my boy is laid back, and I found most of his family to be just as chill (all very good considering I'm kinda high strung), but I am starting to think it's not really a family trait so much as an environmental thing. If you look at the Lake Tobias Wildlife Park website, you will see this: "Any food you bring to feed the animals must be approved by Park Management before you feed it to our animals." Notice that they don't say no outside food is allowed. Nope, they just assume you'll be dragging your ratty (or perhaps zebra-y) food in with you and they're okay with that. Whatever you want. Also, the alligators are allowed to come right up to the fence. I have never been closer to an alligator in my life. My boy pointed out that there was a double fence. I would like the point out that the "double fence" wasn't more than a fingers width apart. I swear if you really wanted to you could get your fingers chewed off. I think the mentality is meh, if that's what you want, that's what you want. Seriously, the most laid back wildlife park I have ever been to.

Final review, well worth the $4.00 to get in, probably worth the $5.00 for the safari ride, but we didn't go on it and we still enjoyed ourselves. If you find yourself stuck in rural PA, with random food just itching to give it to a wild beast now you know , the secret's out!

I Have a HORRIBLE Confession to Make (and many of you already know)

I am a horrible, horrible thank you note writer. I love getting thank you notes from other people. I know that it's proper etiquette, and I usually have good intentions.

Case in point, I planned on having beautiful thank you notes made for all of your incredibly generous support for my participation in The Walk for Hunger. Due to all of you I raised over $1500 for the walk for hunger. I contacted a friend of mine and we had a plan worked out. Then I found cute polka dot cards with my initial on them, so I decided to go with those. I wrote a number of the Thank you cards and they were sealed and ready to be sent out. This was about two months ago. People, I can't find them.

Even worse? I found a thank you card for a birthday present under the couch when I was in the process of writing my thank you cards for The Walk for Hunger. It had been stepped on and shoved under the couch and so I thought it better at that point (you know three months after my birthday but still reasonably close to the walk) to include a belated thank you and explanation in my thank you card to R&C for their support and their lovely gift of red buckets. Sigh. That one was lost too.

Don't even get me started on how my boy and I got a package of cards from Project Bread that would be perfect for writing thank you notes on. I can't figure out where I filed them.

Does it surprise you that I can't find a mouse that's actively hiding from me?

What a failure!

But for those of you who supported me (and the many hungry in MA). I do want you to know that I really appreciated it. Your love and support does far more than you can imagine! The food we're able to provide weekly to people who are on fixed incomes or who are homeless or working at the poverty line does more than just feed a physical need. It also shows a concern for people who are usually marginalized. In each of the programs my boy and I are involved in, we're proud of the work that goes into what we serve, whether it be creative muffin recipes, high quality ingredients, or thoughtful menus. We think that the people eating the food feel the hospitality and the love that goes into the meal (maybe that's why we wanted Carla to win the last Top Chef so badly -- we're right there with her on understanding the love that goes into food prep).

Thank you for making it all possible!

Love,

SRH

P.S. R&C thank you for the pretty red buckets. They are a useful addition to our home!

The Bounty

So besides an issue with pest control in our house (there have been no takers on the 8 traps we've set up), yesterday was fairly exciting just for the sheer amount of fruit and veggies we were able to score from our CSA. We got: 4 ears of corn, 3 red potatoes, 1 bunch of arugula, 1 head of lettuce, 3 zucchini/summer squash, tomatoes, apples, peaches, beets, kale (a new smaller curlier version that we've already eaten some of for those of you who worry about our kale consumption), blueberries, and cucumbers. We supplemented this incredible haul with another stop at Allendale Farms where we got those cute little plums, some Rainer cherries, a couple more round zucchini and a quart of strawberries. We stopped off at our local grocery store and bought 12 more ears of corn for $1.99 (it is soo yummy and sweet and also from a MA farm).

For lunch we had a loaf of ciabbatta bread spread with pesto and covered in toasted pine nuts, zucchini slices, kale and garlic, spring onion, and heirloom tomatoes topped with mozzarella cheese. For dinner, we stuffed those uber cute round zucchini squash with sausage my boy made, corn, cheese, tomatoes, mushrooms, garlic, and, of course, zuchini. It was yummy. Best of all, we had strawberry shortcakes for dessert with the incredible strawberries we had gotten from Allendale and with whole foods shortcakes that taste just like the bisquick shortcakes I grew up on (um, perhaps whole foods will be insulted, but I thought it was perfect).

Anyway, it was a lovely day for veggies and since it was chilly, we had the oven going most of the afternoon baking and roasting various items. We should have plenty of beets for pickled beets when my boy's family comes to visit (you know, if they'll still come to visit if we have a mouse running loose and the ceiling isn't fixed. . . ).

Uninvited Guest

So in the series of weekly misfortunes, this morning we saw a mouse in our house. Perhaps you didn't hear me, THERE IS A MOUSE RUNNING AROUND OUR HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Personally I find that far more distasteful than the ceiling falling in, the car being in disrepair or the washer not working. A MOUSE HAS INVADED MY PRIVATE HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You probably are thinking that I am inherently against rodents or that I am just afraid of them, but you are wrong. I think mice in the wild are darling. I had a lab rat I trained (Ratcliffe was so smart and cute that we won a prize at a rat rodeo -- if you're interested I might even be able to post a picture of the prize -- I don't know how, but I never got a picture of the rat himself). I also had two gerbils (one of which i adored and one which I was scared of -- rightfully so though, he ended up killing the adored gerbil AND then killing another gerbil and eating part of him).

So here's the problem I see with the mouse in my house. He's a complete stranger who's entered my house unasked and is running who knows where peeing all over who knows what and probably eating anything he wants that we don't have sealed up in plastic lock and seal containers. In other words, the worst possible house guest you can imagine. If a human came in your house and behaved this way, the police would come and kindly take him away for you. But no one (besides an exterminator -- and you my readers) is interested in your mouse problem (not even my boy really, he said to me, what, you live in Boston, you're telling me you've never had a mouse in Boston?!). I mean really, can you imagine the animal control call on that one?! I have a friend who was told animal control wouldn't help her when she had a bat in her house (perhaps it was the way she told them that she didn't mind the bat being in her house so much, except he kept hanging on her curtains and you know that those claws were going to put a run in the drapes -- notice, again, bad house guest etiquette). Unless the traps work soon I am not gonna be a happy camper --and don't even get me started on how I'll feel if I find something worse than a mouse on one of those glue traps!

And Then There Was Silence

I mean not really, but it has been four days :). I haven't really blogged because I never finished the pile of laundry that I started in the last blog post -- and really, who would admit that to the whole wide world?! Oh, right, me.


Last night I led Bible study for my small group. I talked to a couple people before and told them how crummy it was going to be, and, from my perspective, it was only mildly better than crummy, but through the grace of God I think people got something out of it.


I led on Luke 6:37-42 I mentioned in my study that I couldn't find the study guides our group has for Luke and none of the books I have at home had much to report on that section of Luke either. I went online to steal shamelessly from random sermons, blog posts and online Bible Studies and didn't find much. It's weird since this is such an important passage. A passage that's quoted frequently and that is a fundamental part of Jesus ministry.


I could have skipped ahead and worked on another passage (we're kinda free and loose in our Bible Study on what sections we study -- last week we had a complete repeat of the section we'd studied the week prior). But I had sort of a soft spot for this Bible passage. When I was a little kid, I couldn't wrap my head around verses 41 & 42. I couldn't understand why it wasn't a completely selfless act to try and help your neighbor get the speck out of his eye when you had a painful giant log in your own eye. I mean really, doesn't it sound like one of the most giving and kind things you could do? I've since learned that in the very basic of terms it means don't criticize and pick apart someone else's problems when you've got your own (larger) sins to deal with.


I still had some issues with the passage when I was leading last night. I was trying to understand where you draw the line between accountability and judging. We are called to keep each other accountable, I mean Proverbs 27:17 is pretty clear, as iron sharpens iron so one man sharpens another. One of the women last night pointed out that just like having money isn't in and of itself evil, it's your attitude toward money that can be evil, so it is that your attitude is what distinguishes between judging and accountability. If you're pointing out faults to make yourself feel better or to bring the other person down, it's pretty likely you're "judging" if you're pointing out faults to help build the person up, it's accountability. . . Okay, sounds pretty simple when I type it out, but I never claimed to be a genius.


In reading the passage over, I also realized I had never noticed the second part of verse 38: "a good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." Somehow that section sort of got overlooked in the crazy, judge not, blind leading the blind, get the plank outta here!! passage. But re-read that part again. It's really wild. I mean yeah, it means that Jesus clearly wasn't a pastry chef, but if he were a dry goods dealer he'd be the one people would line up to visit. To demonstrate, last night we measured a cup of flour properly for baking (sort of, my demonstrator sort of patted down into the cup, so I think hers should have been 2ozs lighter,) and we had our other demonstrator take a good measure of flour, pressed down, shaken together and running over. The difference was approximately 4 ounces (or 2/3rds more in our case -- if I did my math right, which I doubt). Try the experiment yourself at home. It's shocking. So our forgiveness, our giving, it's supposed to be pressed down, shaken together and running over, not the bare minimum we can muster and still slide by, but 2/3 more! -- or something like that :). Hope it gives you something to think about this coming week when someone annoys you! (I've already messed up today, but I am dusting myself off to try again).

A Kale Free Zone

So, if there were a religious ceremony like Passover (which requires taking all of the leaven out of the house), surrounding kale, we'd be all set. This was the first week since we got the csa that we haven't had kale in our house. While you might not think that's huge, I have a horrible confession, we haven't eaten a single bite of kale since our csa started. While we do manage to eat a good portion of our csa, the kale was always wilted and sad before we got to it (and yes, I know about prepping it and freezing it, my boy did an amazing job of prepping it for freezing but we didn't have space in our freezer that week and then it sat for two weeks prepped and nothing done with it).

This week, on the way home from the csa pick up, we stopped at Allendale Farms farmstand. We loved it. While we'd just picked up our veggies for the week, we still managed to spend $20 at the farmstand getting beautiful purple beans (that apparently taste just like green beans and turn green when you cook them -- the turning colors thing is a neat trick, I just wish it worked the other way for maximum impact), perfectly round zucchini, lovely tiny little plums just slightly larger than cherries and lots and lots of sweet corn. It was a lovely haul.

In other news, I started a load of laundry when I came home tonight, over an hour later (after dinner) I went down and the laundry was off but still full of water. I tried starting it again and it would work for a little bit and then stop. I am convinced there was foul play -- my boy thinks I am insane. Every time our washer has a problem, there's someone downstairs. It's always the same someone. My boy pointed out that tonight I couldn't get it to start up right away like I usually can, so probably it was a quirk with the machine, not foul play. I am not convinced, but I'll keep you posted on whether we get any laundry done tonight or not --aren't you thrilled I'm blogging again?!

Cause I know you're waiting with baited breath

The landlords are in Greece still, they'll be back next month. I had a great plan though, I was going to do laundry tonight because I usually run into the landlord's son when I do laundry early in the week. The only catch was our house is far to messy for him to come in still (yes, I am lazy okay?!). So, since we knew I'd see him in the laundry room and bring him up the back way, we worked on cleaning off the table and putting the dry good groceries we had still sitting there away. We figured we could just clean the kitchen and then when I "happened" to run into the landlord's son and bring him up the back way to our apt through the kitchen and into my bedroom he might not notice how messy the house was.

My boy did dishes and I swept up the most recent plaster remnants. I was in the process of making my bed when the doorbell rang. My boy answered the front door and who should be there but the landlord's son. I am sure there's a sermon in this somewhere, unfortunately, I am not a pastor, so all I get out of it is the irony that we spent so much time cleaning the back of the house, I didn't have time to clean up my suitcase or the knick knacks we brought back from Alaska which were strewn around the living room, nor the tarp waiting to be cleaned sitting in the front hallway, all of which the landlord's son had to step over on the way into the bedroom.

Accessories Whore

So it turned out my car just wanted an update on three of her belts. Apparently thin belts aren't in this year and so she just had to have all three replaced!!

She's back up and running again and my boy has promised her if she's good she can have a tuneup and her ac replenished in August (and possibly her shocks replaced).

A friend of mine asked me if we kept track of how much money we pour into this car. I said "no, of course not." Clearly she doesn't understand that we're no longer into the car for economic/convenience reasons (if we ever were). While I have fallen out of love with her, my boy is now firmly in the grips of a doomed love affair with a car that will only disappoint. There's a whole group of them involved in a similar love affair though, and so together they write each other tips and tricks and they each manage to keep their cars on the road one more year.

In fairness to our car, though I complain about it rather frequently, she has performed above average according to the newsletters, her odometer gear did not give out at 60,000 miles like most and so far her thermometer has held out, and who knows when the last time her shocks were replaced (I've owned her for 8 or 9 years and I've never done it). So while she is expensive to fix, under my boys loving care, she's held out a little longer -- and if he gets his way, will continue to do so (though I am eyeing Subarus with back seats so we can actually take passengers/cargo). . .

When it Rains. . .

So the sky continues to fall. More pieces hit the floor this morning. My boy says that it doesn't look like much more should come down since there's only a small bubble of plaster still. We haven't heard back from the two emails we sent to our landlords and my boy isn't sure the landlords are home (we're chickens and haven't gotten the nerve to knock on their door). Rent is due this week, so being passive, we'll include a note with our checks.

In other news we were on the way to pick up our CSA today when our car started making a horrible screeching noise. there was no place to pull off and finally we had to pull into one of the mansion driveways off Centre street. My boy looked under the hood even though, I was screeching, turn off the car first, you don't know what could explode out when you open the hood of that thing with it on!!!!! I also had gotten out of the car and run to the back assuming that even though the sound appeared to be coming from the front, perhaps the exhaust system had fallen off and was scraping and that's why it stopped and started.

Turns out it was some belt that broke which was causing all the noise. We didn't want to stay in the rich people's front yard though so we drove the car back toward the Arnold Arboretum where we knew there was parking. The car showed that it was hot (I thought, big deal, so am I, it's 80 some degrees out and your ac doesn't work!!), but it made it to the spot and AAA sent a tow truck quickly and since our mechanic is in Halifax, PA, we had the car taken to pep boys where they say that they should be able to look at it today.

We're lucky we have good friends. We called three people and the first agreed to pick up my boy at pep boys, and the other two asked if we needed rides (we were calling for them to pick up our csa). So all has ended fairly well, though as soon as we got home from pep boys my boy put on his pjs and went to take a nap so he could start the day over again. . .