Monday, December 17, 2007
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Now I Know Why I Like Staying Home
Holy moly, do prententious, boring people like this really exist? Read it and weep (italics mine). (From Baristanet):
"Wife Does she not have a name? and I got a night away from the baby last night Why did you have said baby if you find you have a need to get away?. We go for a nice dinner at Bangkok Kitchen in Caldwell. Then we want to relax and have a cozy drink. We'd prefer not to go back to our couch at home, since that's our typical evening. Sucks being you, don't it?
"Instead we begin working our way down Bloomfield Avenue: Rutherford's: didn't want to drive out that far. And last time I went it was empty. Cloverleaf... no thanks. walk in and there's a 40/50 something alone Lord, help us! You'll be a 40/50 something someday, too, Dude! at a bar table hammered out of her mind. Watching a classic rock cover band. Trumpets...walk in, and it's brightly lit and someone sounded like they were slowly being tortured on the mic. I know all about torture. I'm reading this, right? Considered Cecere's: But we've never been and were hesitant to go on a whim. Geez, lighten up! Life is short. Walked to Egan's from there. Buy 2 way overpriced drinks and stand up against the bar and watch as young punks stare at my wife. Oh brother. Probably staring at her in disbelief that she was with you.
"Are there no lounges? Yes, in old folks' homes and hospitals. Tried the bar in Little Falls on Main Street one night, and that was a mistake, too. Methinks thou doth complain too much.
"Any suggestions would be wonderful. A long drive off a short pier? Maybe I need to open a lounge. Oh, that'll be a big hit. Just looking for a place to have a nightcap where we're not attacked by college kids, bad music or the town drunk. Or boring, pretentious assholes? I know...it's a lot to ask." You got THAT right.
"Wife Does she not have a name? and I got a night away from the baby last night Why did you have said baby if you find you have a need to get away?. We go for a nice dinner at Bangkok Kitchen in Caldwell. Then we want to relax and have a cozy drink. We'd prefer not to go back to our couch at home, since that's our typical evening. Sucks being you, don't it?
"Instead we begin working our way down Bloomfield Avenue: Rutherford's: didn't want to drive out that far. And last time I went it was empty. Cloverleaf... no thanks. walk in and there's a 40/50 something alone Lord, help us! You'll be a 40/50 something someday, too, Dude! at a bar table hammered out of her mind. Watching a classic rock cover band. Trumpets...walk in, and it's brightly lit and someone sounded like they were slowly being tortured on the mic. I know all about torture. I'm reading this, right? Considered Cecere's: But we've never been and were hesitant to go on a whim. Geez, lighten up! Life is short. Walked to Egan's from there. Buy 2 way overpriced drinks and stand up against the bar and watch as young punks stare at my wife. Oh brother. Probably staring at her in disbelief that she was with you.
"Are there no lounges? Yes, in old folks' homes and hospitals. Tried the bar in Little Falls on Main Street one night, and that was a mistake, too. Methinks thou doth complain too much.
"Any suggestions would be wonderful. A long drive off a short pier? Maybe I need to open a lounge. Oh, that'll be a big hit. Just looking for a place to have a nightcap where we're not attacked by college kids, bad music or the town drunk. Or boring, pretentious assholes? I know...it's a lot to ask." You got THAT right.
Viva Las Vegas!
Here is my wrap up of the Las Vegas Marathon on
Dec. 2:
First the good news--
1. This is the first time that I've ever been able to run the last 5 miles
of a marathon without stopping to walk.
2.Great weather--38 degrees at the start, low 50s at the finish. Sunny, no
wind, low humidity.
3. I ran pain-free the entire way. I did experience the requisite
stiffness at mile 21 but no PAIN, thanks to my masseuse and my
chiropracter.
4. I felt pretty good afterwards, too, just some normal quad stiffness and
very tired feet.
5. I am now a 4-state marathoner.
Chip time: 4:36. (Subtract another 5 mins. or so for a pitstop at mile
4--more on this below!) 34 out of 116 in my AG.
Now the bad--
I didn't run my best time due to MAJOR logistical problems at the start.
Tom & woke up at 4 AM and had every intention of lining up at the start with
time to spare. We finished breakfast at 5 and headed over to the start.
Start time was 6:07 AM. Talk about best laid plans! There were hordes of
people cramming themselves onto the trams that would take us over to
Mandalay Bay. Later, we found ourselves stuck in a HUGE mass of people with
no one to direct us to the start. When we did finally make it, again, no
one was there to tell us how to get inside the corral and line up. We--and
a couple hundred other folks--ended up squeezing through a chainlink fence.
We had both wanted to use the portajohn before the race but that was not to
be as we had only a minute to start time. So unfortunately, we had to wait
until mile 4 to use one and then had to wait online for at least 5 minutes!
ARGH!
The starting horn blasted and we were off---to a slow walk, accompanied by
fireworks and Elvis' "Viva Las Vegas" blaring over the loudspeakers.
Speaking of Elvis, there were hundreds of 'em, all trying to break the
world's record for the largest number of Elvis impersonators in a marathon.
You haven't lived until you've seen a Japanese Elvis.
The race was crowded until about the halfway mark. Althought the crowd
began to thin out, there was much confusion as to where the half-marathon
split began and the full marathon continued. Signage was poor or
non-existent and there was a lone police officer--without a
megaphone--telling runners which direction to proceed. We were fortunate in
that we were able to hear him but many others were not. Several folks we
spoke with afterwards said they got lost.
Tom & I ran together for the full half (another first!) and then decided to
do our own respective paces. At that point, I was feeling a bit tuckered so
I took a GU gel. Almost immediately, I felt a warm buzz course through my
body and somehow, I got my groove back. Both of us were able to make up for
past sins and ran negative splits.
Special thanks is due to my friend, Beth, who told me all about what to eat during
the week leading up to the marathon. It worked! Lots of white carbs,
iron-rich foods plus iron supplements, and a powdered sports drink called
Ultra Fuel.
One highlight:
About Mile 18, I passed a man wheeling what appeared to be 4 baby dolls in a
stroller. It turned out to be a physician who was attempting to break the
world's record for wheeling the largest number of children in a marathon.
(He did). Turned out he's the father of 8 and the "dolls" were his
4-month-old quadruplets. He had some assistance with diaper changes and
bottle feedings along the way. I did manage to beat him--barely. We
enjoyed watching him being interviewed on CNN later that evening.
In summary, this was certainly not one of the more scenic courses: Very
flat, boring scenery alternating desert with freeway, plus minimal crowd
support. Perhaps people in Las Vegas don't wake up before noon.
In my opinion, this is also not the race to do if you are seeking to qualify
for Boston. Very poor organization (the expo took forever to get to and was
poorly marked) and very crowded with about 16,000 runners. While the course
is mostly flat (the last 4 miles are actually downhill), the repetitive
terrain can actually be more tiring to your feet than a varied terrain.
So, where to next? Only 46 states to go!
Dec. 2:
First the good news--
1. This is the first time that I've ever been able to run the last 5 miles
of a marathon without stopping to walk.
2.Great weather--38 degrees at the start, low 50s at the finish. Sunny, no
wind, low humidity.
3. I ran pain-free the entire way. I did experience the requisite
stiffness at mile 21 but no PAIN, thanks to my masseuse and my
chiropracter.
4. I felt pretty good afterwards, too, just some normal quad stiffness and
very tired feet.
5. I am now a 4-state marathoner.
Chip time: 4:36. (Subtract another 5 mins. or so for a pitstop at mile
4--more on this below!) 34 out of 116 in my AG.
Now the bad--
I didn't run my best time due to MAJOR logistical problems at the start.
Tom & woke up at 4 AM and had every intention of lining up at the start with
time to spare. We finished breakfast at 5 and headed over to the start.
Start time was 6:07 AM. Talk about best laid plans! There were hordes of
people cramming themselves onto the trams that would take us over to
Mandalay Bay. Later, we found ourselves stuck in a HUGE mass of people with
no one to direct us to the start. When we did finally make it, again, no
one was there to tell us how to get inside the corral and line up. We--and
a couple hundred other folks--ended up squeezing through a chainlink fence.
We had both wanted to use the portajohn before the race but that was not to
be as we had only a minute to start time. So unfortunately, we had to wait
until mile 4 to use one and then had to wait online for at least 5 minutes!
ARGH!
The starting horn blasted and we were off---to a slow walk, accompanied by
fireworks and Elvis' "Viva Las Vegas" blaring over the loudspeakers.
Speaking of Elvis, there were hundreds of 'em, all trying to break the
world's record for the largest number of Elvis impersonators in a marathon.
You haven't lived until you've seen a Japanese Elvis.
The race was crowded until about the halfway mark. Althought the crowd
began to thin out, there was much confusion as to where the half-marathon
split began and the full marathon continued. Signage was poor or
non-existent and there was a lone police officer--without a
megaphone--telling runners which direction to proceed. We were fortunate in
that we were able to hear him but many others were not. Several folks we
spoke with afterwards said they got lost.
Tom & I ran together for the full half (another first!) and then decided to
do our own respective paces. At that point, I was feeling a bit tuckered so
I took a GU gel. Almost immediately, I felt a warm buzz course through my
body and somehow, I got my groove back. Both of us were able to make up for
past sins and ran negative splits.
Special thanks is due to my friend, Beth, who told me all about what to eat during
the week leading up to the marathon. It worked! Lots of white carbs,
iron-rich foods plus iron supplements, and a powdered sports drink called
Ultra Fuel.
One highlight:
About Mile 18, I passed a man wheeling what appeared to be 4 baby dolls in a
stroller. It turned out to be a physician who was attempting to break the
world's record for wheeling the largest number of children in a marathon.
(He did). Turned out he's the father of 8 and the "dolls" were his
4-month-old quadruplets. He had some assistance with diaper changes and
bottle feedings along the way. I did manage to beat him--barely. We
enjoyed watching him being interviewed on CNN later that evening.
In summary, this was certainly not one of the more scenic courses: Very
flat, boring scenery alternating desert with freeway, plus minimal crowd
support. Perhaps people in Las Vegas don't wake up before noon.
In my opinion, this is also not the race to do if you are seeking to qualify
for Boston. Very poor organization (the expo took forever to get to and was
poorly marked) and very crowded with about 16,000 runners. While the course
is mostly flat (the last 4 miles are actually downhill), the repetitive
terrain can actually be more tiring to your feet than a varied terrain.
So, where to next? Only 46 states to go!
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Happy Turkey Day!
Indians in mind, for one day
BY Mark Anthony Rolo
I usually try to keep a low profile when Thanksgiving comes around. As an American Indian, one has to be careful about admitting to the guilty pleasures of enjoying a turkey feast.
White liberals are shocked to learn that Indians could celebrate a holiday that is essentially a funeral for them -- "You're commemorating your own cultural death?" White conservatives like to use the holiday to make mention that "Indians are the ones who should be thankful for all we've done to civilize them."
Yes, considering that I spend most of the year thinking and writing about the plight of my Indian people, Thanksgiving is my day of rest.
And considering what a lousy cook I am, imagine my delight last year when I discovered "turkey in a bag" for under 20 bucks. It's loaded with seasoning and does its own basting right inside the bag. Just pop it in the oven and in a few hours, juicy turkey is served.
Of course, it's tough to enjoy the bird when you've got white liberal guests reminding you that sports mascots like the Cleveland Indians' Chief Wahoo continue to degrade and dehumanize "your people." And it's even harder to taste the tart canned cranberries when you've got a white conservative telling you to quit the victim game and "learn to pull yourself up by your bootstraps."
My favorite part of the Thanksgiving meal is the microwaveable stuffing. Again, no bother with having to add seasoning. But the plight of American Indians intrudes again. "How can you stuff your face knowing full well that the poverty rate on most reservations is among the highest in the country!"
"Is that so," I reply. "I never grew up on my reservation. But I have to tell you being the poorest family on the block on Milwaukee's south side, we were lucky to even have a turkey."
"More stuffing, please?"
White conservatives don't like to talk about genocide, land stealing and smallpox. "Please! With all the casino money you people are raking in, one would think you'd learn to forgive and forget."
That would seem to make perfect sense, except for the fact that I, like most other Indians in this country, are not members of those few tribes that rake in big casino bucks. "Anyone have room for pumpkin pie?"
Football truly rounds out the day of thanks. Naturally, you have to be discreet about which team you root for. Among white liberals, the Cowboys are not America's team. "I resent embracing the mythic reminder about how our rogue forefathers stole the West!" White conservatives do not really have much comment on the game, unless the Redskins are on the schedule. "What is so wrong with 'Redskins'? Can't you see how your people's pride and warrior skills are being honored?"
A few years ago, I was stuck out of town on business and I decided to slip into a restaurant to enjoy Thanksgiving in peace, among strangers. But as I sat there enjoying my turkey plate special alone, I got to thinking that maybe I should talk about the Indian plight during the holiday.
"After all," I said to the waitress, "Thanksgiving is the only time white people think about Indians."
(Mark Anthony Rolo is a member of the Bad River Band of Ojibwe in Wisconsin.)
BY Mark Anthony Rolo
I usually try to keep a low profile when Thanksgiving comes around. As an American Indian, one has to be careful about admitting to the guilty pleasures of enjoying a turkey feast.
White liberals are shocked to learn that Indians could celebrate a holiday that is essentially a funeral for them -- "You're commemorating your own cultural death?" White conservatives like to use the holiday to make mention that "Indians are the ones who should be thankful for all we've done to civilize them."
Yes, considering that I spend most of the year thinking and writing about the plight of my Indian people, Thanksgiving is my day of rest.
And considering what a lousy cook I am, imagine my delight last year when I discovered "turkey in a bag" for under 20 bucks. It's loaded with seasoning and does its own basting right inside the bag. Just pop it in the oven and in a few hours, juicy turkey is served.
Of course, it's tough to enjoy the bird when you've got white liberal guests reminding you that sports mascots like the Cleveland Indians' Chief Wahoo continue to degrade and dehumanize "your people." And it's even harder to taste the tart canned cranberries when you've got a white conservative telling you to quit the victim game and "learn to pull yourself up by your bootstraps."
My favorite part of the Thanksgiving meal is the microwaveable stuffing. Again, no bother with having to add seasoning. But the plight of American Indians intrudes again. "How can you stuff your face knowing full well that the poverty rate on most reservations is among the highest in the country!"
"Is that so," I reply. "I never grew up on my reservation. But I have to tell you being the poorest family on the block on Milwaukee's south side, we were lucky to even have a turkey."
"More stuffing, please?"
White conservatives don't like to talk about genocide, land stealing and smallpox. "Please! With all the casino money you people are raking in, one would think you'd learn to forgive and forget."
That would seem to make perfect sense, except for the fact that I, like most other Indians in this country, are not members of those few tribes that rake in big casino bucks. "Anyone have room for pumpkin pie?"
Football truly rounds out the day of thanks. Naturally, you have to be discreet about which team you root for. Among white liberals, the Cowboys are not America's team. "I resent embracing the mythic reminder about how our rogue forefathers stole the West!" White conservatives do not really have much comment on the game, unless the Redskins are on the schedule. "What is so wrong with 'Redskins'? Can't you see how your people's pride and warrior skills are being honored?"
A few years ago, I was stuck out of town on business and I decided to slip into a restaurant to enjoy Thanksgiving in peace, among strangers. But as I sat there enjoying my turkey plate special alone, I got to thinking that maybe I should talk about the Indian plight during the holiday.
"After all," I said to the waitress, "Thanksgiving is the only time white people think about Indians."
(Mark Anthony Rolo is a member of the Bad River Band of Ojibwe in Wisconsin.)
Friday, November 16, 2007
Happy Birthday to Me!
Yes, today is my 50th birthday and I have the sudden urge to read AARP Magazine. Not really, just kidding. Please stop sending them to me.
So far, it's been a pretty good one and it's only 11 AM. My brother and SIL are taking us out tomorrow night, I've gotten lots of cards (both real and ecards), a co-worker is taking me out to lunch at a French restaurant and oh, I'm engaged!
LOL! Yes, I am thrilled. No, I didn't expect it, especially at my ripe old age. Wow. My engagment ring, while beautiful, does not fit, as I have skinny piano fingers. But we're taking it for adjustment this weekend. (What IS that little piece called that they insert into the ring to make it fit?) I ALWAYS have a problem with rings and bracelets fitting.
We will most likely get married in the summer, probably at home since neither one of us have any money left after buying a house. But that's what we want, small and sweet, just family and close friends. All right, maybe some dogs. :-)
In fact, I joked to Tom that we should tell all our friends that we're getting married so we can have puppies. LOL!
So far, unless you're reading this blog, I have only told my best girlfriend and my siblings. I will only tell select co-workers because the women around here go BATSO if theere's a hint of an engagement or if someone brings in a baby. (No danger of THAT happening!)
So, that's it, on this sunny, crisp November 16 day.
I am very happy. I don't get too many days like this one.
So far, it's been a pretty good one and it's only 11 AM. My brother and SIL are taking us out tomorrow night, I've gotten lots of cards (both real and ecards), a co-worker is taking me out to lunch at a French restaurant and oh, I'm engaged!
LOL! Yes, I am thrilled. No, I didn't expect it, especially at my ripe old age. Wow. My engagment ring, while beautiful, does not fit, as I have skinny piano fingers. But we're taking it for adjustment this weekend. (What IS that little piece called that they insert into the ring to make it fit?) I ALWAYS have a problem with rings and bracelets fitting.
We will most likely get married in the summer, probably at home since neither one of us have any money left after buying a house. But that's what we want, small and sweet, just family and close friends. All right, maybe some dogs. :-)
In fact, I joked to Tom that we should tell all our friends that we're getting married so we can have puppies. LOL!
So far, unless you're reading this blog, I have only told my best girlfriend and my siblings. I will only tell select co-workers because the women around here go BATSO if theere's a hint of an engagement or if someone brings in a baby. (No danger of THAT happening!)
So, that's it, on this sunny, crisp November 16 day.
I am very happy. I don't get too many days like this one.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
From a Trekkie Friend's Blog:
Autographed Star Trek Phasers, Communicators to Go On Sale Next Week
http://gizmodo.com/gadgets/high_end-memorabilia/autographed-star-trek-phasers-communicators-to-go-on-sale-next-week-322213.php
"A serious Star Trek fan and collector died recently, and an anonymous tipster sent us pictures of the Star Trek memorabilia he left behind. Here's a heads up to dedicated Trekkies everywhere: These items will be appearing on eBay next week, so check out the gallery on the next page; maybe there's something you'd care to bid on.
"There are prop replica phasers, communicators and a pinball machine in the lot, all in pristine condition, and some are autographed by William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy and Patrick Stewart. There's no information about pricing, but these precious artifacts probably won't be cheap."
Wow. Just. Wow.
http://gizmodo.com/gadgets/high_end-memorabilia/autographed-star-trek-phasers-communicators-to-go-on-sale-next-week-322213.php
"A serious Star Trek fan and collector died recently, and an anonymous tipster sent us pictures of the Star Trek memorabilia he left behind. Here's a heads up to dedicated Trekkies everywhere: These items will be appearing on eBay next week, so check out the gallery on the next page; maybe there's something you'd care to bid on.
"There are prop replica phasers, communicators and a pinball machine in the lot, all in pristine condition, and some are autographed by William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy and Patrick Stewart. There's no information about pricing, but these precious artifacts probably won't be cheap."
Wow. Just. Wow.
Monday, November 12, 2007
FIOS and "The Purge"
When we moved, we decided to get Verizon FIOS because 1. it's cheaper than Comcast and 2. it's the fastest Internet service you can get, short of having a T1 connection (like I have at work).
So, I come home last Friday night and the phone and TVs work great but the computer? Don't even go there. Everytime I try to connect to the Internet, it freezes up on me. WTF? This is what we paid for? Why didn't the installer stick around to make sure everything was working? Grrrr! This kind of shit burns me up.
I called Verizon and I wait about 25 minutes to speak with a tech. Finally, Ed comes on the line and I tell him my problem. To make a long story short, we run all kinds of diagnostics on it and it appears that it is not Verizon FIOS that's the problem but my computer. I give Ed props, though. He stayed on the line with me for about an hour and went over everything before he ruled out Verizon. Basically, he told me that my problem is "outside of the realm of Verizon."
OK. What next? I found an old business card from one of those Mom & Pop tech companies (like Geek Squad). I call 'em up and someone, Omar, comes out the next day, a Saturday. Diagnosis? Corrupted file(s) and not enough memory to run XP. (Why didn't Microsoft inform me of that when I loaded the XP?) He had my computer back to me on Sunday! I was VERY impressed. And it only cost me $210. Hey, it's cheaper than buying a new machine. That was the good news.
The bad news is that my hard drive had to be virginized. That is, EVERYTHING had to come off and be reinstalled. That means all my docs, pix, whatever. He said if he put them back on and one or more them was infected with a virus, I could have the same problem again. He did double my RAM, though, to 510, which is optimal for XP. You would not BELIEVE how fast this thing is now. BF & I always used to complain how slow it was and I was always running Spybot to remove adware, shareware, whatever. It would work for awhile and then be slow as molasses the next week.
As it turns out, I was of sound enough mind to either save my photos to disc or Snapfish so nothing of importance is gone. I had to recreate a couple of BF's business forms but that's about it. I'm sure, down the road, I'll be looking for a document and then remember, "oh yeah," but dems da breaks. I am loving the fast 'puter!
So, I come home last Friday night and the phone and TVs work great but the computer? Don't even go there. Everytime I try to connect to the Internet, it freezes up on me. WTF? This is what we paid for? Why didn't the installer stick around to make sure everything was working? Grrrr! This kind of shit burns me up.
I called Verizon and I wait about 25 minutes to speak with a tech. Finally, Ed comes on the line and I tell him my problem. To make a long story short, we run all kinds of diagnostics on it and it appears that it is not Verizon FIOS that's the problem but my computer. I give Ed props, though. He stayed on the line with me for about an hour and went over everything before he ruled out Verizon. Basically, he told me that my problem is "outside of the realm of Verizon."
OK. What next? I found an old business card from one of those Mom & Pop tech companies (like Geek Squad). I call 'em up and someone, Omar, comes out the next day, a Saturday. Diagnosis? Corrupted file(s) and not enough memory to run XP. (Why didn't Microsoft inform me of that when I loaded the XP?) He had my computer back to me on Sunday! I was VERY impressed. And it only cost me $210. Hey, it's cheaper than buying a new machine. That was the good news.
The bad news is that my hard drive had to be virginized. That is, EVERYTHING had to come off and be reinstalled. That means all my docs, pix, whatever. He said if he put them back on and one or more them was infected with a virus, I could have the same problem again. He did double my RAM, though, to 510, which is optimal for XP. You would not BELIEVE how fast this thing is now. BF & I always used to complain how slow it was and I was always running Spybot to remove adware, shareware, whatever. It would work for awhile and then be slow as molasses the next week.
As it turns out, I was of sound enough mind to either save my photos to disc or Snapfish so nothing of importance is gone. I had to recreate a couple of BF's business forms but that's about it. I'm sure, down the road, I'll be looking for a document and then remember, "oh yeah," but dems da breaks. I am loving the fast 'puter!
Friday, November 09, 2007
Apparently, I Don't Deserve a First Name
In short, we have moved into our new home and we are loving it. It's soooo surreal, wrapping my brain around the fact that I am a home/property owner!
Tom has already painted the dining room and it looks gorgeous (pictures promised). It's now crimson with white trim which nicely offsets the built-in white China cabinets.
Yes, moving is a bitch, the physical and mental aspects of it. As bad as I thought dealing with mortgage folks was, moving ranks even lower in the depths of Hell.
Gradually, things are being put away into their rightful places, furnishings are being put together, old grandma curtains are coming down to be replaced by new ones. This weekend will be spent raking the lawn, hanging up pictures, and buying a few things like new bathroom towels, curtains and such. It's coming together.
You're probably wondering about the title of this post so here it is. Yesterday, I arrived home and found an envelope addressed to me in my mailbox. But it was just my last name in bold caps, as if I was a private in the Army. It was my first property tax bill! (Do I dare have it framed?) I was a little put out by this being that our taxes are included in our monthly mortgage payment. A quick call to my mortgage rep assured me that I was NOT being billed twice, it was just a record that I should file away with all my other pertinent papers.
But, yanno? It would have been nice for the Township of West Orange to convey that. And, while we're on the subject, a welcome note would have been nice. Even a friggin' form letter would have been an improvement. How about, "Dear____: Welcome to West Orange! We hope you enjoying living here, blah-blah-blah..." something like that. And how about including my first name on the correspondence? Bureaucrats! They're everywhere.
Tom has already painted the dining room and it looks gorgeous (pictures promised). It's now crimson with white trim which nicely offsets the built-in white China cabinets.
Yes, moving is a bitch, the physical and mental aspects of it. As bad as I thought dealing with mortgage folks was, moving ranks even lower in the depths of Hell.
Gradually, things are being put away into their rightful places, furnishings are being put together, old grandma curtains are coming down to be replaced by new ones. This weekend will be spent raking the lawn, hanging up pictures, and buying a few things like new bathroom towels, curtains and such. It's coming together.
You're probably wondering about the title of this post so here it is. Yesterday, I arrived home and found an envelope addressed to me in my mailbox. But it was just my last name in bold caps, as if I was a private in the Army. It was my first property tax bill! (Do I dare have it framed?) I was a little put out by this being that our taxes are included in our monthly mortgage payment. A quick call to my mortgage rep assured me that I was NOT being billed twice, it was just a record that I should file away with all my other pertinent papers.
But, yanno? It would have been nice for the Township of West Orange to convey that. And, while we're on the subject, a welcome note would have been nice. Even a friggin' form letter would have been an improvement. How about, "Dear____: Welcome to West Orange! We hope you enjoying living here, blah-blah-blah..." something like that. And how about including my first name on the correspondence? Bureaucrats! They're everywhere.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
This Is It!
Just got word from my attorney that my closing is Nov.1 at 3 PM. This it it, folks. I am signing my life away!
I'm excited but scared. I know that's normal but I really DO hate signing papers. I mean, I know what it's like for buying a car so I can just imagine the papers I have to sign for a house.
I am glad that all this jazz will be over. But then I've got moving to which to look forward; that takes place Nov. 5. We're trying to be good, packing up a little bit day by day. Plus, we don't have to be out in one day because we decided to pay an extra month of rent for that very reason. Sound advice from my friend, Deborah, in North Carolina. Thanks, Deb, I owe ya one!
Boy, will I need a BIG DRINK after this!
I'm excited but scared. I know that's normal but I really DO hate signing papers. I mean, I know what it's like for buying a car so I can just imagine the papers I have to sign for a house.
I am glad that all this jazz will be over. But then I've got moving to which to look forward; that takes place Nov. 5. We're trying to be good, packing up a little bit day by day. Plus, we don't have to be out in one day because we decided to pay an extra month of rent for that very reason. Sound advice from my friend, Deborah, in North Carolina. Thanks, Deb, I owe ya one!
Boy, will I need a BIG DRINK after this!
Saturday, October 27, 2007
And Away We Go!
We should be in our new home on Nov. 5, God willing.
Have to share one bit of funniness with ya'all. Tom, the quintessential packrat, has taken to retrieving just about EVERYTHING I'm throwing out, saying, "Honey, what are you throwing THIS out for?" or "You're not throwing THIS away, are you?"
Yes, I am because I don't want our new house to resemble Sanford & Son. But, he replies, our new house is four times the size! Yes, and that means that it can hold four times the junk and I am not having any of it.
I think I'll save the real purging for when he's not home. :-)
{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{SIGH}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}
Current Mood: amused
Have to share one bit of funniness with ya'all. Tom, the quintessential packrat, has taken to retrieving just about EVERYTHING I'm throwing out, saying, "Honey, what are you throwing THIS out for?" or "You're not throwing THIS away, are you?"
Yes, I am because I don't want our new house to resemble Sanford & Son. But, he replies, our new house is four times the size! Yes, and that means that it can hold four times the junk and I am not having any of it.
I think I'll save the real purging for when he's not home. :-)
{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{SIGH}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}
Current Mood: amused
Friday, October 26, 2007
Bush's Mistake
I have no clue who Ed Barr is but he wrote this powerful piece that someone shared with me today:
President Bush did make a bad mistake in the war on terrorism. But the mistake was not his decision to go to war in Iraq. Bush's mistake came in his belief that this country is the same one his father fought for in WWII. It is not.
Back then, they had just come out of a vicious depression. The country was steeled by the hardship of that depression, but they still believed fervently in this country. They knew that the people had elected their leaders, so it was the people's duty to back those leaders.
Therefore, when the war broke out the people came together, rallied behind, and stuck with their leaders, whether they had voted for them or not or whether the war was going badly or not.
And war was just as distasteful and the anguish just as great as it is today. Often there were more casualties in one day in WWII than we have had in the entire Iraq war. But that did not matter. The people stuck with the President because it was their patriotic duty. Americans put aside their differences in WWII and worked together to win that war.
Everyone from every strata of society, from young to old pitched in. Small children pulled little wagons around to gather scrap metal for the war effort. Grade school students saved their pennies to buy stamps for war bonds to help the effort.
Men who were too old or medically 4F, lied about their age or condition trying their best to join the military. Women doubled their work to keep things going at home. Harsh rationing of everything from gasoline to soap, to butter was imposed, yet there was very little complaining.
You never heard prominent people on the radio belittling the President. Interestingly enough in those days there were no fat cat actors and entertainers who ran off to visit and fawn over dictators of hostile countries and complain to them about our President. Instead, they made upbeat films and entertained our troops to help the troops' morale. And a bunch even enlisted!
And imagine this: Teachers in schools actually started the day off with a Pledge of Allegiance, and with prayers for our country and our troops!
Back then, no newspaper would have dared point out certain weak spots in our cities where bombs could be set off to cause the maximum damage. No newspaper would have dared complain about what we were doing to catch spies.
A newspaper would have been laughed out of existence if it had complained that German or Japanese soldiers were being 'tortured' by being forced to wear women's underwear, or subjected to interrogation by a woman, or being scared by a dog or did not have air conditioning.
There were a lot of things different back then. We were not subjected to a constant bombardment of pornography, perversion and promiscuity in movies or on radio. We did not have legions of crackheads, dope pushers and armed gangs roaming our streets.
No, President Bush did not make a mistake in his handling of terrorism. He made the mistake of believing that we still had the courage and fortitude of our fathers. He believed that this was still the country that our fathers fought so dearly to preserve.
It is not the same country. It is now a cross between Sodom and Gomorra and the land of Oz. We did unite for a short while after 9/11, but our attitude changed when we found out that defending our country would require some sacrifices.
We are in great danger. The terrorists are fanatic Muslims. They believe that it is okay, even their duty, to kill anyone who will not convert to Islam. It has been estimated that about one-third or over three hundred million Muslims are sympathetic to the terrorists cause...Hitler and Tojo combined did not have nearly that many potential recruits.
So...we either win it - or lose it - and you ain't gonna like losing.
America is not at war. The military is at war. America is at the mall.
Ed Barr
President Bush did make a bad mistake in the war on terrorism. But the mistake was not his decision to go to war in Iraq. Bush's mistake came in his belief that this country is the same one his father fought for in WWII. It is not.
Back then, they had just come out of a vicious depression. The country was steeled by the hardship of that depression, but they still believed fervently in this country. They knew that the people had elected their leaders, so it was the people's duty to back those leaders.
Therefore, when the war broke out the people came together, rallied behind, and stuck with their leaders, whether they had voted for them or not or whether the war was going badly or not.
And war was just as distasteful and the anguish just as great as it is today. Often there were more casualties in one day in WWII than we have had in the entire Iraq war. But that did not matter. The people stuck with the President because it was their patriotic duty. Americans put aside their differences in WWII and worked together to win that war.
Everyone from every strata of society, from young to old pitched in. Small children pulled little wagons around to gather scrap metal for the war effort. Grade school students saved their pennies to buy stamps for war bonds to help the effort.
Men who were too old or medically 4F, lied about their age or condition trying their best to join the military. Women doubled their work to keep things going at home. Harsh rationing of everything from gasoline to soap, to butter was imposed, yet there was very little complaining.
You never heard prominent people on the radio belittling the President. Interestingly enough in those days there were no fat cat actors and entertainers who ran off to visit and fawn over dictators of hostile countries and complain to them about our President. Instead, they made upbeat films and entertained our troops to help the troops' morale. And a bunch even enlisted!
And imagine this: Teachers in schools actually started the day off with a Pledge of Allegiance, and with prayers for our country and our troops!
Back then, no newspaper would have dared point out certain weak spots in our cities where bombs could be set off to cause the maximum damage. No newspaper would have dared complain about what we were doing to catch spies.
A newspaper would have been laughed out of existence if it had complained that German or Japanese soldiers were being 'tortured' by being forced to wear women's underwear, or subjected to interrogation by a woman, or being scared by a dog or did not have air conditioning.
There were a lot of things different back then. We were not subjected to a constant bombardment of pornography, perversion and promiscuity in movies or on radio. We did not have legions of crackheads, dope pushers and armed gangs roaming our streets.
No, President Bush did not make a mistake in his handling of terrorism. He made the mistake of believing that we still had the courage and fortitude of our fathers. He believed that this was still the country that our fathers fought so dearly to preserve.
It is not the same country. It is now a cross between Sodom and Gomorra and the land of Oz. We did unite for a short while after 9/11, but our attitude changed when we found out that defending our country would require some sacrifices.
We are in great danger. The terrorists are fanatic Muslims. They believe that it is okay, even their duty, to kill anyone who will not convert to Islam. It has been estimated that about one-third or over three hundred million Muslims are sympathetic to the terrorists cause...Hitler and Tojo combined did not have nearly that many potential recruits.
So...we either win it - or lose it - and you ain't gonna like losing.
America is not at war. The military is at war. America is at the mall.
Ed Barr
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Sunday, October 14, 2007
We Interrupt Your Regular Program...
Do you remember what the weather was like last Sunday, Oct. 7? I do. To refresh your memory, that the was day that they cancelled the Chicago Marathon halfway through, where someone died on the course. When the temps hit 92 degrees at noon. I don't even know what the humidity was but it was way up there.
Well, that was also the day that I, and some of my running club buds, were doing the Long Beach Island 18 Miler, a race I've done 4 years in a row with no consequence. My goal was to beat my best time of 2:47. I finished in 3:08. That should tell you something, but it doesn't tell you the whole story which is here, taken from the Essex Running Club web board:
"I should add that I felt fine during the race and at the finish. Yes, it was very hot but as my time attests (Yikes! That's slower than my Philly Marathon pace!), I wasn't trying to be a hero today. I took walk breaks after every 3 miles and around mile 9, I just wanted to finish.
"After the race, I hooked up with Tom at the post-race party at the finish area. I collected my stuff and changed into dry clothes in the bathroom. It was while I was changing that I began to feel well, weird. I didn't feel as if I was going to lose consciousness but I definately did NOT feel like myself. I knew I had to get outside and get fresh air. I found a bench in the shade and lied down. Then it hit me: I had the absolute worst calf cramps I had ever had in my life! So bad, that I could not move my legs without horrific pain. Then my arms began to go numb. I was VERY scared. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before.
"I saw Tom come out of the men's room and I yelled to him. I told him that something was not right (I think I scared the bejesus out of him). He ran to get the medics.
"An EMT guy came over and immediately put me at ease. He said I was going to be all right, I was just having lactic acid build up. He kept telling to try to calm down and take deep breaths. It was decided (not by me!) that I should be taken by ambulance to the hospital for observation. Once in the ambulance, I was put on oxygen and within minutes my legs began to feel better and the feeling came back into my arms.
"At the hospital, everything checked out fine: blood pressure, temperature (it was actually a bit BELOW normal). I was told that I suffered from mild heat exhaustion due to loss of electrolytes and build up of lactic acid. They kept asking me if I had any Gatorade on the course. I told them that took Gatorade and water every chance I could get. The problem was that the Gatorade wasn't being offered until about mile 10 or 11 or so! It really should have been made available from the beginning, especially in temps like we had yesterday.
"I should also add that for the first 3 or so miles, there were major problems with the water stations. One station actually ran out of cups, another had those spring water containers with the push button. Do you know how long it takes to fill cups with those? Runners had to actually stop and wait while cups were being filled, crowding the water stations. The organizers should have been better prepared, especially on a hot day like that.
"When I got to the ER, almost all of the units were being occupied by other runners! One RN actually remarked: "Whose bright idea was it to hold an 18 mile race today?" From what I was told, there were people there in a lot worse shape than me; one was brought in with a fever of 105, another couldn't even remember his name. I hope they all made it out OK.
"After being released, Tom & I hitched a ride back via ambulance to St. Francis where the awards ceremony and post-race banquet took place. I stepped out of the ambulance and I felt like Paris Hilton being released from jail: I was immediately surrounded by volunteers who began clapping the minute I walked through the door! I never dreamed my red carpet moment would be like this.
"I plan to write a letter of praise and appreciation to the EMT staff. They were terrific. They responded quickly and put my mind at ease and were just all-around nice folks. Thanks to Tom for not freaking out, thanks to Mick for his patience and to everyone (Lynne, Catherine) who called and expressed their concern. I am feeling 100 percent better today (just suffering the humiliation of my horrible finishing time)."
Well, that was also the day that I, and some of my running club buds, were doing the Long Beach Island 18 Miler, a race I've done 4 years in a row with no consequence. My goal was to beat my best time of 2:47. I finished in 3:08. That should tell you something, but it doesn't tell you the whole story which is here, taken from the Essex Running Club web board:
"I should add that I felt fine during the race and at the finish. Yes, it was very hot but as my time attests (Yikes! That's slower than my Philly Marathon pace!), I wasn't trying to be a hero today. I took walk breaks after every 3 miles and around mile 9, I just wanted to finish.
"After the race, I hooked up with Tom at the post-race party at the finish area. I collected my stuff and changed into dry clothes in the bathroom. It was while I was changing that I began to feel well, weird. I didn't feel as if I was going to lose consciousness but I definately did NOT feel like myself. I knew I had to get outside and get fresh air. I found a bench in the shade and lied down. Then it hit me: I had the absolute worst calf cramps I had ever had in my life! So bad, that I could not move my legs without horrific pain. Then my arms began to go numb. I was VERY scared. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before.
"I saw Tom come out of the men's room and I yelled to him. I told him that something was not right (I think I scared the bejesus out of him). He ran to get the medics.
"An EMT guy came over and immediately put me at ease. He said I was going to be all right, I was just having lactic acid build up. He kept telling to try to calm down and take deep breaths. It was decided (not by me!) that I should be taken by ambulance to the hospital for observation. Once in the ambulance, I was put on oxygen and within minutes my legs began to feel better and the feeling came back into my arms.
"At the hospital, everything checked out fine: blood pressure, temperature (it was actually a bit BELOW normal). I was told that I suffered from mild heat exhaustion due to loss of electrolytes and build up of lactic acid. They kept asking me if I had any Gatorade on the course. I told them that took Gatorade and water every chance I could get. The problem was that the Gatorade wasn't being offered until about mile 10 or 11 or so! It really should have been made available from the beginning, especially in temps like we had yesterday.
"I should also add that for the first 3 or so miles, there were major problems with the water stations. One station actually ran out of cups, another had those spring water containers with the push button. Do you know how long it takes to fill cups with those? Runners had to actually stop and wait while cups were being filled, crowding the water stations. The organizers should have been better prepared, especially on a hot day like that.
"When I got to the ER, almost all of the units were being occupied by other runners! One RN actually remarked: "Whose bright idea was it to hold an 18 mile race today?" From what I was told, there were people there in a lot worse shape than me; one was brought in with a fever of 105, another couldn't even remember his name. I hope they all made it out OK.
"After being released, Tom & I hitched a ride back via ambulance to St. Francis where the awards ceremony and post-race banquet took place. I stepped out of the ambulance and I felt like Paris Hilton being released from jail: I was immediately surrounded by volunteers who began clapping the minute I walked through the door! I never dreamed my red carpet moment would be like this.
"I plan to write a letter of praise and appreciation to the EMT staff. They were terrific. They responded quickly and put my mind at ease and were just all-around nice folks. Thanks to Tom for not freaking out, thanks to Mick for his patience and to everyone (Lynne, Catherine) who called and expressed their concern. I am feeling 100 percent better today (just suffering the humiliation of my horrible finishing time)."
Friday, September 28, 2007
What a Long, Strange Trip It's Been!
In a nutshell: Yes, we bought a house!
Is it the house we were orginally going to put a bid on? No.
Here's the story:
After we lost the house in Verona (the one where another buyer bid over the asking price), we began looking again, this time in Bloomfield. I found a gorgeous (or so I thought) Victorian on the Weichert web site. Again, pictures lie. You think I would have learned my lesson by now, but nooo!
Inside, the house needed mucho work. The kitchen was a mess and the backyard, which was described as "big and wonderful," was actually neither and sloped off clifflike into an abyss. Also, smallish rooms, choppy layout. Not for us.
Then we looked at 2 houses on the same street in Bloomfield. Neither one was really to our liking. Rooms were smallish, one had practically no kitchen cabinets, and the houses were very close together.
As we had gone running that morning, we were tired and planned to go home to take a nap. That's when our Realtor called. She found a great 3 BR Cape Cod in Roseland in a wonderful neighborhood in our price range. Sounded too good to be true but we were off.
She was right: The house WAS adorable. The neighborhood, grand. I have a soft spot in my heart for Roseland, having grown up there. We even met the owners, a 60-ish couple who were retiring and who had lived in the house for 35 years. The piece de resistance was their gorgeous Lab mix, Willie, who was the size of small pony but gentle as ever.
I recognized the value in this house. It was very well cared for, just need minor cosmetic work. The yard was cool; after all, Willie liked it and he was bigger than any dog we would ever get. I was ready to put in an offer the next night.
But something didn't sit right with Tom. He was bothered by the fact that this house had only one bathroom--and it was on the first floor. "You know how many times I get up at night to use the bathroom!" he said. Not to worry, those of you who are reading this. He doesn't have cancer or diabetes (he was checked for both). It's just the way he is. He gets very thirsty at night and drinks a lot of water. I know this is TMI for many folks but I wanted to put everyone's mind at rest.
So, we'll put in a second bath, I replied weakly, hearing the sound of an imaginary cash register going "Ka-ching!" inside my head. More money to spend. But, we'd be buying a house in Roseland. And the taxes were HALF of what Verona's and the surrounding towns are.
And then God intervened. We were coming back from a race on Sunday and we were driving through West Orange. I hadn't thought to look for a house in West Orange. Not that I have anything against it, it just hadn't occurred to me. I always mistakenly assumed West Orange was full of split-level Levittown horrors and Mc Mansions. I was wrong.
We saw lots of For Sale signs in West Orange and Tom suggested we go home, shower up and hit some of them. I noted a couple of the addresses and went home to check them out on the Net. Son of a gun, there was one on a dead end street, no less, in our price range: a 4 BR, 2 full bath Cape, with a nice yard with a deck, nice-looking photos of the rooms (I know, I know). Off we went.
Well, Tom fell in love before I did. I just couldn't wrap my brain around living in West Orange, forgive me. But the more I walked around, the more I warmed up to it. The rooms were very spacious and there were 4 of them! Two full baths, one up, one down. Fugly 1950s tiles but in good condition. Kitchen was in good shape, with plenty of knotty pine cabinets and a deck leading out to a great yard with a dog run(nicer than the yard in Roseland). Spacious living room, dining room with built-in, catty-cornered China cabinets (my fave thing about the whole house!)
In fact, there were LOTS of built-ins throughout. Someone, somewhere must have been a carpenter. Basement is partially finished and dry as a bone. And a workshop for Tom!
To make this very long story short, we put in a bid $15,000 less than the asking price and we got it! The owner is already in her new home and is desperate to sell.
I just got word that the attorney review has been completed and I scheduled the inspection for Wednesday. I pray they don't find any surprises!
We close in November...yikes. But it's a kinda good "Yikes!"
Is it the house we were orginally going to put a bid on? No.
Here's the story:
After we lost the house in Verona (the one where another buyer bid over the asking price), we began looking again, this time in Bloomfield. I found a gorgeous (or so I thought) Victorian on the Weichert web site. Again, pictures lie. You think I would have learned my lesson by now, but nooo!
Inside, the house needed mucho work. The kitchen was a mess and the backyard, which was described as "big and wonderful," was actually neither and sloped off clifflike into an abyss. Also, smallish rooms, choppy layout. Not for us.
Then we looked at 2 houses on the same street in Bloomfield. Neither one was really to our liking. Rooms were smallish, one had practically no kitchen cabinets, and the houses were very close together.
As we had gone running that morning, we were tired and planned to go home to take a nap. That's when our Realtor called. She found a great 3 BR Cape Cod in Roseland in a wonderful neighborhood in our price range. Sounded too good to be true but we were off.
She was right: The house WAS adorable. The neighborhood, grand. I have a soft spot in my heart for Roseland, having grown up there. We even met the owners, a 60-ish couple who were retiring and who had lived in the house for 35 years. The piece de resistance was their gorgeous Lab mix, Willie, who was the size of small pony but gentle as ever.
I recognized the value in this house. It was very well cared for, just need minor cosmetic work. The yard was cool; after all, Willie liked it and he was bigger than any dog we would ever get. I was ready to put in an offer the next night.
But something didn't sit right with Tom. He was bothered by the fact that this house had only one bathroom--and it was on the first floor. "You know how many times I get up at night to use the bathroom!" he said. Not to worry, those of you who are reading this. He doesn't have cancer or diabetes (he was checked for both). It's just the way he is. He gets very thirsty at night and drinks a lot of water. I know this is TMI for many folks but I wanted to put everyone's mind at rest.
So, we'll put in a second bath, I replied weakly, hearing the sound of an imaginary cash register going "Ka-ching!" inside my head. More money to spend. But, we'd be buying a house in Roseland. And the taxes were HALF of what Verona's and the surrounding towns are.
And then God intervened. We were coming back from a race on Sunday and we were driving through West Orange. I hadn't thought to look for a house in West Orange. Not that I have anything against it, it just hadn't occurred to me. I always mistakenly assumed West Orange was full of split-level Levittown horrors and Mc Mansions. I was wrong.
We saw lots of For Sale signs in West Orange and Tom suggested we go home, shower up and hit some of them. I noted a couple of the addresses and went home to check them out on the Net. Son of a gun, there was one on a dead end street, no less, in our price range: a 4 BR, 2 full bath Cape, with a nice yard with a deck, nice-looking photos of the rooms (I know, I know). Off we went.
Well, Tom fell in love before I did. I just couldn't wrap my brain around living in West Orange, forgive me. But the more I walked around, the more I warmed up to it. The rooms were very spacious and there were 4 of them! Two full baths, one up, one down. Fugly 1950s tiles but in good condition. Kitchen was in good shape, with plenty of knotty pine cabinets and a deck leading out to a great yard with a dog run(nicer than the yard in Roseland). Spacious living room, dining room with built-in, catty-cornered China cabinets (my fave thing about the whole house!)
In fact, there were LOTS of built-ins throughout. Someone, somewhere must have been a carpenter. Basement is partially finished and dry as a bone. And a workshop for Tom!
To make this very long story short, we put in a bid $15,000 less than the asking price and we got it! The owner is already in her new home and is desperate to sell.
I just got word that the attorney review has been completed and I scheduled the inspection for Wednesday. I pray they don't find any surprises!
We close in November...yikes. But it's a kinda good "Yikes!"
Monday, September 17, 2007
Will You Be My Lawfully Wedded House?
Do you take this Cape Cod to be your lawfully wedded house, in (financial) sickness and in health?
Well, it's nitty-gritty time here at Martta's World. Tonight I am putting an offer on the house in Verona that we both like. I understand that there are 2 other offers pending. My offer is for about $10,000 less because if it comes to negotiation, I want the seller to pay for a French drain in the basement.
We looked at another comparable home in Verona but it needed more work, especially the kitchen. Plus, it was listed as a 3BR but the third BR was actually the basement that was converted into a BR! Not fair guys, especially since you also list a basement. You can't have it both ways, it's either a basement or a bedroom. So, we were put off by that.
We wanted to see another cute Cape Cod in Caldwell that was supposed to have an open house on Sunday. We got there and the sign said "Open House Cancelled." Bummer! Just as we were walking away, the owner drove up. We explained why we were there and he said, "My wife wanted to fix a few things up before we open the house. Call the Realtor if you want to see it during the week."
Now this tells me one of two things.
1. His wife wants to hide the bodies.
2. They are not truly motivated to sell.
If they were truly motivated (especially in this market!), he would have invited us in to look around. This tells us that there's something else going on there. My Realtor agreed. So, we're not going to bother going back. It's also a mite higher than we wanted to spend.
I will keep you posted about our offer. Send pixie dust, please!
Well, it's nitty-gritty time here at Martta's World. Tonight I am putting an offer on the house in Verona that we both like. I understand that there are 2 other offers pending. My offer is for about $10,000 less because if it comes to negotiation, I want the seller to pay for a French drain in the basement.
We looked at another comparable home in Verona but it needed more work, especially the kitchen. Plus, it was listed as a 3BR but the third BR was actually the basement that was converted into a BR! Not fair guys, especially since you also list a basement. You can't have it both ways, it's either a basement or a bedroom. So, we were put off by that.
We wanted to see another cute Cape Cod in Caldwell that was supposed to have an open house on Sunday. We got there and the sign said "Open House Cancelled." Bummer! Just as we were walking away, the owner drove up. We explained why we were there and he said, "My wife wanted to fix a few things up before we open the house. Call the Realtor if you want to see it during the week."
Now this tells me one of two things.
1. His wife wants to hide the bodies.
2. They are not truly motivated to sell.
If they were truly motivated (especially in this market!), he would have invited us in to look around. This tells us that there's something else going on there. My Realtor agreed. So, we're not going to bother going back. It's also a mite higher than we wanted to spend.
I will keep you posted about our offer. Send pixie dust, please!
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
I Think I'm in Love!
With a house, you sillies. Don't get all excited! :-)
Anyhoo, we looked at 3 more houses tonight after work. One in Verona, one in West Caldwell that I've had my eye on for awhile, and one in Caldwell.
First stop: Verona. This is where I fell in love. Adorable cottage-style Cape Cod on quaint street. The listing said 2BR but the second BR is actually a tandem bedroom which means it's a bedroom with an attached space. Perfect for a couple with no kids (us) and perfect for a computer/trophy room.
The house is in terrific condition, everything from the kitchen (recently remodeled), the roof (10 years old), the exterior (freshly painted). Nice yard, flat and deep, perfect for a dawg. Fireplace, clean unfinished basement, screened-in porch in the back, nice details like wall molding, two-car garage. All in all, move in ready. The only thing we'd do is rip up the fugly old wall-to-wall carpeting (we both hate wall-to-wall, especially other people's!) There are hardwood floors underneath.
Really, the nicest one we've seen so far. So nice that I am thinking of making an offer. The price is right: $399,000 but my Realtor says that because it's new to the market, I have very little wiggle room as far as negotiation. Especially since it's in such good condition. I have 2 more to look (they're not on till this weekend). Tom is on the same page as me about this one.
Second stop: Caldwell, a 3BR colonial priced at $375,000. The. worse. one. I've. seen. yet. Not only a handyman's special, but dirty and chock full of crap piled EVERYWHERE. Granted, the people are getting ready to move but my Gawd! I had to walk sideways through some rooms because there was so much junk. Moldy ceiling in the bathroom, Toilet looked as if it hadn't been cleaned since the year 1. Kitchen as old as my grandma. I didn't even want to see the basement. Next!
Third stop: West Caldwell. The things that attracted me to this house were the unusual architecture. The house is set back from the street and has one of those low-maintenance yards with lots of flowers, very little actual lawn, which we like.
Plus the driveway is bookended by two gorgeous stone walls. We both like stone.
The other thing I like is that the front of the house sports a huge balcony that stretches from one end to the other. Perfect for entertaining.
The inside, however, was disappointing. Lowish ceilings and a very cramped feeling. This is due, in part, to the fact that the family living there has humongous furnishings which dwarf the rooms. Also, the layout of the house doesn't flow well. Most of the land is in the front of the year, therefore there is no real backyward for a dawg.
This house is priced at $449,000, higher than my budget but I figured that because it's been on the market since May, there'd be some wiggle room. But, it's a moot point anyway since it's not for us.
So, the Realtor is previewing another Cape for me tomorrow in Caldwell. It's priced at $429,000 but the neighborhood is sweet. She'll let me know how it compares to the one I love.
Then there's another one in Verona that doesn't open till Sunday, a small, brick, 3BR ranch priced at $399,000. Looks cute from the outside but you can never tell.
I feel this much closer to buying a home now. Will keep ya'all posted!
Anyhoo, we looked at 3 more houses tonight after work. One in Verona, one in West Caldwell that I've had my eye on for awhile, and one in Caldwell.
First stop: Verona. This is where I fell in love. Adorable cottage-style Cape Cod on quaint street. The listing said 2BR but the second BR is actually a tandem bedroom which means it's a bedroom with an attached space. Perfect for a couple with no kids (us) and perfect for a computer/trophy room.
The house is in terrific condition, everything from the kitchen (recently remodeled), the roof (10 years old), the exterior (freshly painted). Nice yard, flat and deep, perfect for a dawg. Fireplace, clean unfinished basement, screened-in porch in the back, nice details like wall molding, two-car garage. All in all, move in ready. The only thing we'd do is rip up the fugly old wall-to-wall carpeting (we both hate wall-to-wall, especially other people's!) There are hardwood floors underneath.
Really, the nicest one we've seen so far. So nice that I am thinking of making an offer. The price is right: $399,000 but my Realtor says that because it's new to the market, I have very little wiggle room as far as negotiation. Especially since it's in such good condition. I have 2 more to look (they're not on till this weekend). Tom is on the same page as me about this one.
Second stop: Caldwell, a 3BR colonial priced at $375,000. The. worse. one. I've. seen. yet. Not only a handyman's special, but dirty and chock full of crap piled EVERYWHERE. Granted, the people are getting ready to move but my Gawd! I had to walk sideways through some rooms because there was so much junk. Moldy ceiling in the bathroom, Toilet looked as if it hadn't been cleaned since the year 1. Kitchen as old as my grandma. I didn't even want to see the basement. Next!
Third stop: West Caldwell. The things that attracted me to this house were the unusual architecture. The house is set back from the street and has one of those low-maintenance yards with lots of flowers, very little actual lawn, which we like.
Plus the driveway is bookended by two gorgeous stone walls. We both like stone.
The other thing I like is that the front of the house sports a huge balcony that stretches from one end to the other. Perfect for entertaining.
The inside, however, was disappointing. Lowish ceilings and a very cramped feeling. This is due, in part, to the fact that the family living there has humongous furnishings which dwarf the rooms. Also, the layout of the house doesn't flow well. Most of the land is in the front of the year, therefore there is no real backyward for a dawg.
This house is priced at $449,000, higher than my budget but I figured that because it's been on the market since May, there'd be some wiggle room. But, it's a moot point anyway since it's not for us.
So, the Realtor is previewing another Cape for me tomorrow in Caldwell. It's priced at $429,000 but the neighborhood is sweet. She'll let me know how it compares to the one I love.
Then there's another one in Verona that doesn't open till Sunday, a small, brick, 3BR ranch priced at $399,000. Looks cute from the outside but you can never tell.
I feel this much closer to buying a home now. Will keep ya'all posted!
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Realty Reality Check
Yes, the Happy House Hunting has begun and I've learned a few things this weekend:
1. Pictures lie.
2. Listing Realtors often lie.
3. Anything under $400,000 in suburban Essex County is either a fixer-upper or very small.
My Realtor (who is also a running pal of mine) warned me about this, telling me that I wasn't going to find something really nice for under $400,000, at least not right now. Things may change in a few months as prices continue to stabilize or drop. I thought she was exaggerating. How bad can they be?, I mused.
Pretty bad. House #1 we looked at was in Little Falls (LF), part of Passaic County where taxes are a mite lower. I am still familiarizing myself with LF so I had to do a Mapquest search to see where this particular house was located. Turns out it was near both Route 46 and the Passaic River. NOT a good omen.
From the outside, the house looked OK: well cared for, nice front porch (we both LOVE porches). The street didn't really knock our socks off (it was down the street from some sort of gated foundry, ugh). But we were there, let's start the tour.
The listing said that the house needed a new kitchen. What it failed to mention was that the house need "A" kitchen. That's right: this house had NO kitchen but a room with a stove and a separate tiny room with a sink. A few cabinets were scattered about but to call this a kitchen would be a stretch. Plus, it was carpeted. Yucky-poo. Why the F would you carpet a kitchen?
The rest of the house was rather ramshackle, in need of mucho work. There were indications that some the ceilings had leaked at one time.
The unfinished basement had to be designed by midgets. I am 5'2" and my head almost grazed the ceiling. There was no way to raise it; it would have to be used strictly for storage. Not for us.
House #2 was in Verona and also needed mucho work, every room. How can someone who owns a home let it go to seed like that? I could never understand it. It's your friggin' investment for crying out loud!
I guess if someone was very handy and had a lot of time and money to kill, they could make this a somewhat decent place to live. Still, I see a price reduction in its future.
House #3, also in Verona, was adorable but very small (2BR). Perfect, however, for a single gal or guy who doesn't want to do the condo route. Nice quiet street. But those taxes? Ouch! Over $5,000 on 2BR house? You gotta be shittin' me!
House #4, in Verona as well. The Realtor gushed on and one about this one, saying that we MUST see it, it's in a better neighborhood, blah-blah-blah, only needs cosmetic work. The minute we saw it from the outside, we know it we weren't going to like it. It was part of a (yuck) development, Verona's answer to Long Island's Levittown. Very boxy, no porch, not even a portico. Boring, boxy layout inside, horrible ceilings (looks like structural damage), disgusting wall-to-wall carpet buckling in places. Very depressing.
So, there you have it. Week one of house hunting. What I've learned from all this is that I will have to go up in price a bit. The bottom line is that I am either going to spend the money on fixing up a handyman's special or on buying a house that's a mite pricier but has less things to fix up. I vote for the second option. We don't mind doing some cosmetic work but when it comes to structural stuff, no way. Plus there's always room for negotiation, especially in this market.
Next weekend: the Caldwells.
1. Pictures lie.
2. Listing Realtors often lie.
3. Anything under $400,000 in suburban Essex County is either a fixer-upper or very small.
My Realtor (who is also a running pal of mine) warned me about this, telling me that I wasn't going to find something really nice for under $400,000, at least not right now. Things may change in a few months as prices continue to stabilize or drop. I thought she was exaggerating. How bad can they be?, I mused.
Pretty bad. House #1 we looked at was in Little Falls (LF), part of Passaic County where taxes are a mite lower. I am still familiarizing myself with LF so I had to do a Mapquest search to see where this particular house was located. Turns out it was near both Route 46 and the Passaic River. NOT a good omen.
From the outside, the house looked OK: well cared for, nice front porch (we both LOVE porches). The street didn't really knock our socks off (it was down the street from some sort of gated foundry, ugh). But we were there, let's start the tour.
The listing said that the house needed a new kitchen. What it failed to mention was that the house need "A" kitchen. That's right: this house had NO kitchen but a room with a stove and a separate tiny room with a sink. A few cabinets were scattered about but to call this a kitchen would be a stretch. Plus, it was carpeted. Yucky-poo. Why the F would you carpet a kitchen?
The rest of the house was rather ramshackle, in need of mucho work. There were indications that some the ceilings had leaked at one time.
The unfinished basement had to be designed by midgets. I am 5'2" and my head almost grazed the ceiling. There was no way to raise it; it would have to be used strictly for storage. Not for us.
House #2 was in Verona and also needed mucho work, every room. How can someone who owns a home let it go to seed like that? I could never understand it. It's your friggin' investment for crying out loud!
I guess if someone was very handy and had a lot of time and money to kill, they could make this a somewhat decent place to live. Still, I see a price reduction in its future.
House #3, also in Verona, was adorable but very small (2BR). Perfect, however, for a single gal or guy who doesn't want to do the condo route. Nice quiet street. But those taxes? Ouch! Over $5,000 on 2BR house? You gotta be shittin' me!
House #4, in Verona as well. The Realtor gushed on and one about this one, saying that we MUST see it, it's in a better neighborhood, blah-blah-blah, only needs cosmetic work. The minute we saw it from the outside, we know it we weren't going to like it. It was part of a (yuck) development, Verona's answer to Long Island's Levittown. Very boxy, no porch, not even a portico. Boring, boxy layout inside, horrible ceilings (looks like structural damage), disgusting wall-to-wall carpet buckling in places. Very depressing.
So, there you have it. Week one of house hunting. What I've learned from all this is that I will have to go up in price a bit. The bottom line is that I am either going to spend the money on fixing up a handyman's special or on buying a house that's a mite pricier but has less things to fix up. I vote for the second option. We don't mind doing some cosmetic work but when it comes to structural stuff, no way. Plus there's always room for negotiation, especially in this market.
Next weekend: the Caldwells.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
What If Labs Went on Strike?
The headline story in The New York Times might read like this:
Dog parks across the New York metro area, normally bustling, were nearly empty today as a group of New York City Labbies began a two-day strike.
Dog parks across the New York metro area, normally bustling, were nearly empty today as a group of New York City Labbies began a two-day strike.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Beef, It's What's for Dinner (And Lunch)
Just got back from visiting my brother and his wife in Oregon, had a blast, will post pix here as soon as I upload 'em. Took lots and lots of pix of Mount Hood (we were 7,000 feet above sea level), a really neat waterfall, the beach (nothing like the Jersey shore), and a very cool county fair.
And we ate. It seems we ate non-stop and we ate things that I normally don't eat at home: handfuls of delicious pistachio nuts, real ice cream (not frozen yogurt) almost on a daily basis, real butter and beef, lots of it. This IS the West after all. My brother and Tom kept telling me to relax, you're on vacation. Eventually, I acquiesced. There was no fighting it. I did tell Tom that I was not going anywhere NEAR a scale until after I had been home for a week.
I lied. I got on the scale the night we got home and to my surprise, I WAS ONE POUND LIGHTER THAN WHEN I LEFT! How the heck did THAT happen? Tom pointed out to me that we did run almost every day that we were there. In fact, I ran more miles during the past week that I have all year, being that we are gearng up for a fall marathon. (On Sunday ran 13+ miles as well). So, that's probably the explanation for it.
I tell ya one thing. If I trained in Oregon with all those hills and at the higher altitudes, I'd kick butt in Jersey. I don't have any races till Sept. 2 and I am anxious to see if all this hill training translates into faster times. If it does, it will be solid proof that I need to ramp up the mileage and hill work if I want to see personal records (PRs).
Anyhoo, the higher altitudes made us both very sleepy the first couple of days. Naturally, as soon as got used to them, it was time to come home!
Some cool surprises: Watching kids throw snowballs on Mount Hood (in August!) The best peaches I have ever had in my life. Ditto for fresh rye bread. How big and good-looking my nephews got (21 and 25, respectively). How dog-friendly Portland is. Lying on the beach and looking at fog-covered mountains.
Well, more on this later, when I post the pix.
Some good news while I was gone: my house closed!
The bad news: We are being raped by the government (both state and federal) in the form of capital gains taxes, most likely to the tune of $20,000 or thereabouts (don't know yet how much). And yes, it's rape from where I sit.
Every time you try to get ahead in this state/country, there's Big Brother with his hand out. I'd like to go back to 1911, before income taxes. Of course, my house would not be worth as much then! :-)
And we ate. It seems we ate non-stop and we ate things that I normally don't eat at home: handfuls of delicious pistachio nuts, real ice cream (not frozen yogurt) almost on a daily basis, real butter and beef, lots of it. This IS the West after all. My brother and Tom kept telling me to relax, you're on vacation. Eventually, I acquiesced. There was no fighting it. I did tell Tom that I was not going anywhere NEAR a scale until after I had been home for a week.
I lied. I got on the scale the night we got home and to my surprise, I WAS ONE POUND LIGHTER THAN WHEN I LEFT! How the heck did THAT happen? Tom pointed out to me that we did run almost every day that we were there. In fact, I ran more miles during the past week that I have all year, being that we are gearng up for a fall marathon. (On Sunday ran 13+ miles as well). So, that's probably the explanation for it.
I tell ya one thing. If I trained in Oregon with all those hills and at the higher altitudes, I'd kick butt in Jersey. I don't have any races till Sept. 2 and I am anxious to see if all this hill training translates into faster times. If it does, it will be solid proof that I need to ramp up the mileage and hill work if I want to see personal records (PRs).
Anyhoo, the higher altitudes made us both very sleepy the first couple of days. Naturally, as soon as got used to them, it was time to come home!
Some cool surprises: Watching kids throw snowballs on Mount Hood (in August!) The best peaches I have ever had in my life. Ditto for fresh rye bread. How big and good-looking my nephews got (21 and 25, respectively). How dog-friendly Portland is. Lying on the beach and looking at fog-covered mountains.
Well, more on this later, when I post the pix.
Some good news while I was gone: my house closed!
The bad news: We are being raped by the government (both state and federal) in the form of capital gains taxes, most likely to the tune of $20,000 or thereabouts (don't know yet how much). And yes, it's rape from where I sit.
Every time you try to get ahead in this state/country, there's Big Brother with his hand out. I'd like to go back to 1911, before income taxes. Of course, my house would not be worth as much then! :-)
Friday, August 03, 2007
BUDK--The Cutting Edge of Catalogs
My BF & I get a lot of catalogs, everything from Victoria's Secret (sometimes 3 a week, no lie) to pet products(even though we are currently dogless, boo-hoo!) to runners' products (no surprises there), to those that feature all kinds of kooky household gadgets. But I have to say that the one that wins the prize for the most bizarre is The BUDK Catalog. The strangest part is why my BF's name appears on it.
The BUDK catalog features everything your local sword collector, knife aficianado, white supremacist, neo-Nazi, psychopath would want. Here are some samples of what you can order from BUDK:
A semi-automatic C02 pistol
A belt buckle that has a nickel coin slot and says, "Insert Coin, unzip, shake well, guaranteed action, internal use only."
A Confederate Flag belt buckle
A full-size German WWII 1942 helmet with your choice of insignia, including the swastika
An SS Officer's Dagger circa 1933 imprinted with the motto, "Meine Ehre Heisst Treue" (My honor is truth).
A leather bullwhip
A Grim Reaper Clock
Lock picks
Stun guns
Various types of battle axes
A Medieval Barbarian War Helmet
An M-16 Air Assault Rife with BB bullets
Precision handcuffs "for all your law enforcement needs"
Well, at least they're all made in the good ol' USA. BUDK is owned by one Clint H. Kadel of Moultrie, GA, right in the heart of the Bible Belt (although I didn't see any Bibles for sale). There's a bunch of legalese on the order form, exempting BUDK from any indemnity for improper use of any of the products. But we know that only bonafide collectors would order this stuff. Right.
Good for Mr. Kadel. Where else can you go for a 16-gauge chain mail shirt to "protect your hide from the hordes?" Or a Lord of the Rings Battle Axe of Gimli that lets you be "ready for battle at a moment's notice?"
Granted, I have to admit there were somethings I liked in the catalog and would consider ordering (but I shudder to think what kind of catalog list I'd end up on). There's the Medieval chess set, the five-pointed star pewter pendants, the Medieval shields, the silver dragon necklace, the Viking Horn helmet (not historically accurate, I know, but cool as hell!), and a tiny hand-carved coffin for all your keepsakes. It WOULD be kinda fun to open my mail with a battle axe.
And, if I was single, I would always keep a copy of The BUDK catalog on my coffee table to help ward off predatory suitors.
The BUDK catalog features everything your local sword collector, knife aficianado, white supremacist, neo-Nazi, psychopath would want. Here are some samples of what you can order from BUDK:
A semi-automatic C02 pistol
A belt buckle that has a nickel coin slot and says, "Insert Coin, unzip, shake well, guaranteed action, internal use only."
A Confederate Flag belt buckle
A full-size German WWII 1942 helmet with your choice of insignia, including the swastika
An SS Officer's Dagger circa 1933 imprinted with the motto, "Meine Ehre Heisst Treue" (My honor is truth).
A leather bullwhip
A Grim Reaper Clock
Lock picks
Stun guns
Various types of battle axes
A Medieval Barbarian War Helmet
An M-16 Air Assault Rife with BB bullets
Precision handcuffs "for all your law enforcement needs"
Well, at least they're all made in the good ol' USA. BUDK is owned by one Clint H. Kadel of Moultrie, GA, right in the heart of the Bible Belt (although I didn't see any Bibles for sale). There's a bunch of legalese on the order form, exempting BUDK from any indemnity for improper use of any of the products. But we know that only bonafide collectors would order this stuff. Right.
Good for Mr. Kadel. Where else can you go for a 16-gauge chain mail shirt to "protect your hide from the hordes?" Or a Lord of the Rings Battle Axe of Gimli that lets you be "ready for battle at a moment's notice?"
Granted, I have to admit there were somethings I liked in the catalog and would consider ordering (but I shudder to think what kind of catalog list I'd end up on). There's the Medieval chess set, the five-pointed star pewter pendants, the Medieval shields, the silver dragon necklace, the Viking Horn helmet (not historically accurate, I know, but cool as hell!), and a tiny hand-carved coffin for all your keepsakes. It WOULD be kinda fun to open my mail with a battle axe.
And, if I was single, I would always keep a copy of The BUDK catalog on my coffee table to help ward off predatory suitors.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
RIP, Chief
It’s a sad time over here at Martta’s World. I found out last week that my beloved, God dog, Chief, had to be put down due to heart failure.
No one saw this coming. I spoke to my brother in Oregon about a month ago, told him how much we were looking forward to coming out to visit in August and especially to see Chiefy. My boyfriend, Tom, has never met Chief but based on all of my tales and descriptions, was eager to do so. And then this.
My brother said he noticed that something was up about two weeks ago. Chief seemed particularly lethargic on his walks. He no longer looked forward to jaunts in the park. At first, my brother chalked it up to the heat wave they've been having out west. But it was a lot more serious than that and there was nothing anyone could do.
Of course, animals can't tell you "where it hurts" and by the time we find out they are sick, it is often too late.
He was 8. Even by Lab standards, that’s not very old. Middle-aged maybe (56 in people years) but not a true senior citizen.
Anyway, no matter how old he was, he was a special dog. Beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, playful. Rare to find all these characteristics in a person, let alone a dog.
I remember one time I was helping my sister-in-law in the garden. There was this particularly stubborn root from a small, dead tree that, try as we might, could not pull out of the ground. Chief saw that we were struggling, came over to help dig, and it came out in no time.
The last time I saw Chief, he was just 2, a mere pup. He thought that his soggy rope toy was the most wonderful thing in the world and he just had to share it with anyone who walked through the door. We were all glad when the chewing stage was over, however.
Rest in peace, Chiefster. You will be missed.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Gee, What a Surprise!
Wow, Islamic fundies were behind this? Who woulda thunk it?
Breaking News from ABCNEWS.com:
SEVERAL EXPLOSIONS WERE PLANNED USING MULTIPLE VEHICLES BY ISLAMIC EXTREMISTS IN LONDON BOMB PLOT, U.S. AND BRITISH OFFICIALS TELL ABC NEWS
Breaking News from ABCNEWS.com:
SEVERAL EXPLOSIONS WERE PLANNED USING MULTIPLE VEHICLES BY ISLAMIC EXTREMISTS IN LONDON BOMB PLOT, U.S. AND BRITISH OFFICIALS TELL ABC NEWS
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
A No Win Situation
I arrived back from the local pub last week to discover that I had been followed. My apartment was full of men of different shapes and sizes. There was a shortish, plump one with thinning hair who was talking agitatedly into a cell phone and a taller one with a pointy goatee just standing around quietly surveying the place.
A skinny guy with ill-fitting glasses sat quietly on the couch reading Inca Gold by Clive Cussler. There was a very tall, very good-looking blonde one with blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. That was my boyfriend, Win. This made it sort of difficult to break up with him but what else was new? I have been trying to break up with him for six months now.
The plump guy had come over to sell me some stocks. It turned out, however, that he had brought along the wrong briefcase. Instead of the one that contained his stock portfolios and calculator, he had brought one containing some French ticklers and K-Y jelly. He was jabbering on the phone to his mother, asking her to please, please look in his bedroom for the correct valise.
Mr. Goatee was just there to offer the stock salesman moral support although I failed to see how a guy with a mismatched socks and a “Same Shit, Different Day” T-shirt could offer support of any kind to anyone.
The guy on the couch claimed I had borrowed one of his Cussler books, but had failed to return it. I told him that he must be mistaken, I don’t like Clive Cussler, never read even one of his books, and he must have me mixed up with someone else. But no, he was very insistent that it was me who was pillaging his great literary collection and then proceeded to go into great detail about the plot of Iceberg, the book presumably in my possession.
At this point, I thought I would die but I figured trying to get my boyfriend’s attention so that we could have “the talk” would buy me a reprieve.
“Honey, I need to talk with you.”
“Uh, I’m kinda busy,” he said.
“With what?”
“This guy was telling me about some great stock portfolios.”
“But he doesn’t even have the right briefcase.”
“I know but we’re taking a ride over to his mom’s house. Wanna come with?”
“No, thanks, I’m set for French ticklers. You go. We’ll talk later.”
During the past six months, Win and I had grown further and further apart, the irony being that physically, he was always here. But whenever I wanted to talk with him about ending the relationship, he was always watching something important on TV, fiddling with his computer, on his way out the door or, worse yet, doing something incredibly nice like bringing me fresh sunflowers. And then, I would forget why I wanted to break up with him.
A delicious hot and spicy smell of onions, garlic and peppers was emanating from my kitchen. Upon investigating, I found still another man stirring what appeared to be a pot of chili. I was hungry and went to take a taste. Instead, I was harshly slapped.
“Don’t touch!”
“How dare you! This is MY kitchen!”
“That may be but your cooking sucks,” he said. “Ever notice how your boyfriend always seems to disappear around dinner time?”
I couldn’t argue there. Probably the only way we’d ever have dinner together was if we were held at gunpoint. I decided to take a hot bubble bath instead.
I lit a candle, lay back in the tub, the aroma of mangoes filling my nostrils, the steam cleansing the impurities and assaults of the day, my toes tracing the pink tiles on the wall. I fell asleep and dreamed that someone was caressing my shoulders and feeding me chocolate-covered caramels while I lay in a grassy field somewhere in Vermont. In the distance, a cow’s low, plaintive moan could be heard. It seemed to grow more melodic as time went by.
Awakening slowly, I realized that it was not a cow I was hearing at all, but a saxophone. Three men I had never seen before had decided to join me in the tub, one of them serenading me softly with Harlem Nocturne.
“What are you all doing here? Can’t I get any peace?”
“Sorry, but you asked us here,” said the one directly to my left, holding an empty box of Russell Stover. He had way too many piercings and tattoos for my liking.
“Why would I do that?”
“To avoid the unpleasant task of breaking up,” said the masseuse, who was not much to look at but had the most amazing hands.
“I’ve been meaning to get around to that…”
“But you haven’t,” said the chocolate bearer. “So now you must put up with some minor inconveniences. It could be worse, I might add.”
“I just want my life back!” I shouted.
Just then Win walked into the bathroom, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I was sharing a tub with three naked men.
“Your candle went out,” he said. “Let me relight it for you.”
“Win, sit down a sec. I need to talk to you.”
“Hon, can it wait until later? My hard drive just crashed and I gotta get to the computer store before it closes. I promise, we’ll talk later.”
“There might not be a later,” I said, but he was already out the door.
I turned to the guy on the sax. “Do you know any blues tunes?”
A skinny guy with ill-fitting glasses sat quietly on the couch reading Inca Gold by Clive Cussler. There was a very tall, very good-looking blonde one with blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. That was my boyfriend, Win. This made it sort of difficult to break up with him but what else was new? I have been trying to break up with him for six months now.
The plump guy had come over to sell me some stocks. It turned out, however, that he had brought along the wrong briefcase. Instead of the one that contained his stock portfolios and calculator, he had brought one containing some French ticklers and K-Y jelly. He was jabbering on the phone to his mother, asking her to please, please look in his bedroom for the correct valise.
Mr. Goatee was just there to offer the stock salesman moral support although I failed to see how a guy with a mismatched socks and a “Same Shit, Different Day” T-shirt could offer support of any kind to anyone.
The guy on the couch claimed I had borrowed one of his Cussler books, but had failed to return it. I told him that he must be mistaken, I don’t like Clive Cussler, never read even one of his books, and he must have me mixed up with someone else. But no, he was very insistent that it was me who was pillaging his great literary collection and then proceeded to go into great detail about the plot of Iceberg, the book presumably in my possession.
At this point, I thought I would die but I figured trying to get my boyfriend’s attention so that we could have “the talk” would buy me a reprieve.
“Honey, I need to talk with you.”
“Uh, I’m kinda busy,” he said.
“With what?”
“This guy was telling me about some great stock portfolios.”
“But he doesn’t even have the right briefcase.”
“I know but we’re taking a ride over to his mom’s house. Wanna come with?”
“No, thanks, I’m set for French ticklers. You go. We’ll talk later.”
During the past six months, Win and I had grown further and further apart, the irony being that physically, he was always here. But whenever I wanted to talk with him about ending the relationship, he was always watching something important on TV, fiddling with his computer, on his way out the door or, worse yet, doing something incredibly nice like bringing me fresh sunflowers. And then, I would forget why I wanted to break up with him.
A delicious hot and spicy smell of onions, garlic and peppers was emanating from my kitchen. Upon investigating, I found still another man stirring what appeared to be a pot of chili. I was hungry and went to take a taste. Instead, I was harshly slapped.
“Don’t touch!”
“How dare you! This is MY kitchen!”
“That may be but your cooking sucks,” he said. “Ever notice how your boyfriend always seems to disappear around dinner time?”
I couldn’t argue there. Probably the only way we’d ever have dinner together was if we were held at gunpoint. I decided to take a hot bubble bath instead.
I lit a candle, lay back in the tub, the aroma of mangoes filling my nostrils, the steam cleansing the impurities and assaults of the day, my toes tracing the pink tiles on the wall. I fell asleep and dreamed that someone was caressing my shoulders and feeding me chocolate-covered caramels while I lay in a grassy field somewhere in Vermont. In the distance, a cow’s low, plaintive moan could be heard. It seemed to grow more melodic as time went by.
Awakening slowly, I realized that it was not a cow I was hearing at all, but a saxophone. Three men I had never seen before had decided to join me in the tub, one of them serenading me softly with Harlem Nocturne.
“What are you all doing here? Can’t I get any peace?”
“Sorry, but you asked us here,” said the one directly to my left, holding an empty box of Russell Stover. He had way too many piercings and tattoos for my liking.
“Why would I do that?”
“To avoid the unpleasant task of breaking up,” said the masseuse, who was not much to look at but had the most amazing hands.
“I’ve been meaning to get around to that…”
“But you haven’t,” said the chocolate bearer. “So now you must put up with some minor inconveniences. It could be worse, I might add.”
“I just want my life back!” I shouted.
Just then Win walked into the bathroom, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I was sharing a tub with three naked men.
“Your candle went out,” he said. “Let me relight it for you.”
“Win, sit down a sec. I need to talk to you.”
“Hon, can it wait until later? My hard drive just crashed and I gotta get to the computer store before it closes. I promise, we’ll talk later.”
“There might not be a later,” I said, but he was already out the door.
I turned to the guy on the sax. “Do you know any blues tunes?”
Monday, June 25, 2007
Helped Wanted
Mr. Cobb sat at the breakfast table drinking his coffee and smoking a Pall Mall Gold. Mrs. Cobb sat across from him reading the Help Wanted ads.
“Here’s one,” she said. “Own your own business. Owner forced to sell because of relocation. Turnkey operation.”
“What the hell do I know about raising turkeys?” Mr. Cobb answered.
“Not turkey, you idiot. Turnkey. It means it’s all set up for you, ready to go.”
“Smelly birds. You remember my friend, Ralph from Cortlandt, New York? Well, his brother-in-law owned a turkey farm upstate. Dirtiest, smelliest animals you ever want to see. I swear to Christ that you’ll never eat turkey again after seeing a turkey farm.”
“Don’t you listen?”
“I don’t want to have to be getting up at 4 in the AM to feed the damn turkeys! Let me see that paper.”
Mrs. Cobb shook her head and handed him the paper.
“Here’s one,” Mr. Cobb said. “Marketing specialist. Now let me ask you something. When you send me to the market, don’t I always get what you ask for? Jeez, some guys forget to bring the damn list with them. Other ones buy stuff that ain’t even on the list. Take Phil Green. His wife is always yelling at him because he s’sposed to be on a diet and he’s always trying to sneak Mallomars or Haagen Daaz into the house when he thinks she ain’t looking. And he forgets to buy food for dinner. He’s no marketing specialist.”
“I don’t think that’s quite what they mean,” Mrs. Cobb said.
“What who means?”
“A marketing specialist is not someone who knows how to shop in a supermarket. I think it has something to do with sales.”
“Then why don’t they just say that? Jeez! This job hunting stuff is for the birds, the turkeys, whatever!” He took another puff of his cigarette and turned the page. “Here’s a good one. TV specialist. International beauty products company seeks highly motivated TV specialist for negotiating and booking models for photo shoots… Let me ask you, who’s a bigger lover of TV than me? And, don’t you always tell me what a great negotiator I am when we go to Englishtown Flea Market? Didn’t I make a bundle on those fishing poles I bought and then resold because the numnuts who sold them to me didn’t know how valuable the reels were? And booking the models? They pay somebody to do that? Just sign me up! But I don’t like them too skinny.”
Mrs. Cobb sighed, got up and shuffled into the living room. Mr. Cobb put out his cigarette, got up, went to the Frigidaire and got himself a Pabst Blue Ribbon. He sat back down, flipped open the can, leaned back in his chair and smiled.
“Well, I would say this day is already a success and it’s only 10 o’clock in the morning,” he said to no one in particular.
“Here’s one,” she said. “Own your own business. Owner forced to sell because of relocation. Turnkey operation.”
“What the hell do I know about raising turkeys?” Mr. Cobb answered.
“Not turkey, you idiot. Turnkey. It means it’s all set up for you, ready to go.”
“Smelly birds. You remember my friend, Ralph from Cortlandt, New York? Well, his brother-in-law owned a turkey farm upstate. Dirtiest, smelliest animals you ever want to see. I swear to Christ that you’ll never eat turkey again after seeing a turkey farm.”
“Don’t you listen?”
“I don’t want to have to be getting up at 4 in the AM to feed the damn turkeys! Let me see that paper.”
Mrs. Cobb shook her head and handed him the paper.
“Here’s one,” Mr. Cobb said. “Marketing specialist. Now let me ask you something. When you send me to the market, don’t I always get what you ask for? Jeez, some guys forget to bring the damn list with them. Other ones buy stuff that ain’t even on the list. Take Phil Green. His wife is always yelling at him because he s’sposed to be on a diet and he’s always trying to sneak Mallomars or Haagen Daaz into the house when he thinks she ain’t looking. And he forgets to buy food for dinner. He’s no marketing specialist.”
“I don’t think that’s quite what they mean,” Mrs. Cobb said.
“What who means?”
“A marketing specialist is not someone who knows how to shop in a supermarket. I think it has something to do with sales.”
“Then why don’t they just say that? Jeez! This job hunting stuff is for the birds, the turkeys, whatever!” He took another puff of his cigarette and turned the page. “Here’s a good one. TV specialist. International beauty products company seeks highly motivated TV specialist for negotiating and booking models for photo shoots… Let me ask you, who’s a bigger lover of TV than me? And, don’t you always tell me what a great negotiator I am when we go to Englishtown Flea Market? Didn’t I make a bundle on those fishing poles I bought and then resold because the numnuts who sold them to me didn’t know how valuable the reels were? And booking the models? They pay somebody to do that? Just sign me up! But I don’t like them too skinny.”
Mrs. Cobb sighed, got up and shuffled into the living room. Mr. Cobb put out his cigarette, got up, went to the Frigidaire and got himself a Pabst Blue Ribbon. He sat back down, flipped open the can, leaned back in his chair and smiled.
“Well, I would say this day is already a success and it’s only 10 o’clock in the morning,” he said to no one in particular.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Miss Independence
In honor of the upcoming Independence Day (July 4) and following Bloomberg's lead, I am officially changing my party affiliation to Independent. It think this best reflects my views these days as I have no great love for either the Democratic or Republican party. I will vote for the best man (or woman). For the record, my money is on Duncan Hunter unless he does something reprehensible in between now and November 2008.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
What's It Like?
Many of you may know that I will be in the market to buy a house in next year or two. I've always been drawn to the southern part of New Jersey for reasons I can't quite explain. It's probably due to a combination of things, the main points being: my dad's family is from there; it gets a lot of press in Weird New Jersey magazine; from the pictures I've seen, it's absolutely breathtaking; it's less expensive than here; and William Least Heat Moon wrote about it in Blue Highways.
Other than that, and a day trip to Greenwich in Cumberland County a couple of years ago, I really didn't know about the heart and soul of Cumberland, Salem and Gloucester counties. So, I went onto Craigslist South Jersey "Rants and Raves" and simply asked people who lived there what they thought. The response below (condensed somewhat) was described to me by its author as "not the Chamber of Commerce version, but the truth!":
What's it like?
It ain't good.
Don't come down here expecting to find a job. They're in short supply, and what there is doesn't pay too well. Refer to table three at the following link: http://www.dvrpc.org/data/databull/rdb/db75.htm . You'll see that the percentage of total population living below the poverty level is 15%; for children, it's 20%.
Do you have kids? You don't want them attending public school when 20% of their classmates will be poor. Poor people get mean in a hurry. They can also bring down the quality of a classroom, and no area with these kinds of statistics is attracting a talented pool of teachers. (Disclaimer: I grew up dirt-freakin'-poor, I mean free lunch poor, clothes-never-fit poor, so I know whereof I speak.) We've also got the State's highest infant mortality rate, and the youth don't fare too well either. Per capita income: just over $17,000. There's lots of economic redevelopment projects down here--take that as you like.
Bridgeton, specifically, is a hole and I urge you to stay out of it. Take a cruise down Rt. 77 and look at the plates on the cars: all North Carolina (where you don't need to prove identity to get a license) and Pennsylvania (where it's cheaper to insure and apparently they don't check addresses too closely) tags. Stop and walk the streets--during the daytime, I mean. You'll hear nothing but Spanish. Half the stores have that hateful red-white-green flag outside with signage en Espanol. I know I read a statistic somewhere stating that one in five dollars of income in the city comes from some type of public assistance--welfare, unemployment, social security. By the way, it's the County Seat of Cumberland County.
Millville's broke, but it's got a stellar annual Airshow and they just built a new shopping center. An elderly woman was robbed in her garage last week as she pulled in to park her car. She was knocked to the ground and struck her head. The suspect is still on the loose.
The big local newspaper is the Vineland Daily Journal. Read it, check the forums, see what the locals have to say.
Cumberland County houses virtually all of the State's jails. If you can cut it as a prison guard, you'll enjoy it down here. If not, you'll have to put up with society's detritus--the folks who get released from jail but can't afford a bus ticket back up North. They find a job pumping gas and an abandoned car they can sleep in and bide their time until they fall back into recidivism, and back into jail. There's a lot of Superfund sites down here, and we're not too far from the balky Salem Nuclear Power Plant.
The State Police patrols much of the County. In many places, they are the only police presence. In most cases, it'll be a wait if you need 'em.
An important fact for North Jerseyans: there is NO, I repeat, NO PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION HERE. If you don't have a license, stay where you are. If you don't have a car, stay where you are. If you come down here and have neither of these things and no job, you may find yourself trapped! You've gotta drive everywhere, and gas is expensive.
Housing was once affordable. No more. Everything's $250,000, and since the local economy doesn't support that kind of expense, the builders are advertising the area to denizens of Cherry Hill.
I don't know Salem, but I've heard it's worse. And of course, Camden is legendary.
You might be okay toward Williamstown, or Thorofare / Deptford. You'll probably feel at home in West Deptford. Look at Swedesboro, too, I think. There's a good bit of employment there in places (Pureland Industrial Park especially).
Anyway, that's all I've got to say. Good luck to ya, buddy.
Mmmm, don't think I'll be rushing to move down there any time soon. Boy, has it changed from the day of grandma and grandpa.
Other than that, and a day trip to Greenwich in Cumberland County a couple of years ago, I really didn't know about the heart and soul of Cumberland, Salem and Gloucester counties. So, I went onto Craigslist South Jersey "Rants and Raves" and simply asked people who lived there what they thought. The response below (condensed somewhat) was described to me by its author as "not the Chamber of Commerce version, but the truth!":
What's it like?
It ain't good.
Don't come down here expecting to find a job. They're in short supply, and what there is doesn't pay too well. Refer to table three at the following link: http://www.dvrpc.org/data/databull/rdb/db75.htm . You'll see that the percentage of total population living below the poverty level is 15%; for children, it's 20%.
Do you have kids? You don't want them attending public school when 20% of their classmates will be poor. Poor people get mean in a hurry. They can also bring down the quality of a classroom, and no area with these kinds of statistics is attracting a talented pool of teachers. (Disclaimer: I grew up dirt-freakin'-poor, I mean free lunch poor, clothes-never-fit poor, so I know whereof I speak.) We've also got the State's highest infant mortality rate, and the youth don't fare too well either. Per capita income: just over $17,000. There's lots of economic redevelopment projects down here--take that as you like.
Bridgeton, specifically, is a hole and I urge you to stay out of it. Take a cruise down Rt. 77 and look at the plates on the cars: all North Carolina (where you don't need to prove identity to get a license) and Pennsylvania (where it's cheaper to insure and apparently they don't check addresses too closely) tags. Stop and walk the streets--during the daytime, I mean. You'll hear nothing but Spanish. Half the stores have that hateful red-white-green flag outside with signage en Espanol. I know I read a statistic somewhere stating that one in five dollars of income in the city comes from some type of public assistance--welfare, unemployment, social security. By the way, it's the County Seat of Cumberland County.
Millville's broke, but it's got a stellar annual Airshow and they just built a new shopping center. An elderly woman was robbed in her garage last week as she pulled in to park her car. She was knocked to the ground and struck her head. The suspect is still on the loose.
The big local newspaper is the Vineland Daily Journal. Read it, check the forums, see what the locals have to say.
Cumberland County houses virtually all of the State's jails. If you can cut it as a prison guard, you'll enjoy it down here. If not, you'll have to put up with society's detritus--the folks who get released from jail but can't afford a bus ticket back up North. They find a job pumping gas and an abandoned car they can sleep in and bide their time until they fall back into recidivism, and back into jail. There's a lot of Superfund sites down here, and we're not too far from the balky Salem Nuclear Power Plant.
The State Police patrols much of the County. In many places, they are the only police presence. In most cases, it'll be a wait if you need 'em.
An important fact for North Jerseyans: there is NO, I repeat, NO PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION HERE. If you don't have a license, stay where you are. If you don't have a car, stay where you are. If you come down here and have neither of these things and no job, you may find yourself trapped! You've gotta drive everywhere, and gas is expensive.
Housing was once affordable. No more. Everything's $250,000, and since the local economy doesn't support that kind of expense, the builders are advertising the area to denizens of Cherry Hill.
I don't know Salem, but I've heard it's worse. And of course, Camden is legendary.
You might be okay toward Williamstown, or Thorofare / Deptford. You'll probably feel at home in West Deptford. Look at Swedesboro, too, I think. There's a good bit of employment there in places (Pureland Industrial Park especially).
Anyway, that's all I've got to say. Good luck to ya, buddy.
Mmmm, don't think I'll be rushing to move down there any time soon. Boy, has it changed from the day of grandma and grandpa.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Sounds About Right to Me
Martta: At age 101 you will perish under strange circumstances involving a gallon of lotion, two nine volt batteries, and a photograph of a bicycle.
http://evil.berzerker.net/death_predictions.php
http://evil.berzerker.net/death_predictions.php
When Did We Become So Child-centric?
All this Mommy and Daddy blog talk got me to thinking: When did American society become so child-centric?
I ask this not to be facetious but I genuinely want to know.
I was born in 1957 and while having kids was a way of life for my parents and their friends, we didn't seem to be the center of everyone's universe, at least from my perspective. Yes, they spent time with us, did kid things with us, attended our school plays, sporting events and whatnot but they also did adult things with their adult friends, no kids allowed.
Every Saturday night, my parents would go out, sometimes alone, sometimes with another couple and I was left home with a sitter. I actually looked forward to Saturday nights because I got to stay up and play cards (Canasta!)with the sitter or watch Ed Sullivan, drink tea with honey (only one cup was allowed), and eat a Swanson fried chicken TV dinner. Yes, having a TV dinner was a real treat to me when I was 9 or 10. Who can forget the scrumptious, greasy fried chicken, the mashed potatoes that you could remove from its compartment with one fell swoop of the fork, and the gelatinous, but tasty, apple cobbler? God, I lived for Saturday nights.
But I digress. Today, you see kids EVERYWHERE you don't want to see them: at R-rated movies, at the racetrack at midnight, at bars, at fancy restaurants, even at adult-themed parties. God forbid these parents should hire a sitter for one lousy night.
And, it's no wonder that the majority of my current crop of friends are childfree. That's because even on the rare occasion when the kids are left at home with a sitter, the conversation ultimately turns to toilet training, breastfeeding, Mommy and Me classes and sippy cups. Sorry, but life is short and my brain has better things to do. Many of these folks were really cool people before they had kids; it's almost as if the cool part of their brains got discarded with the placenta.
But to me, the telling factor that children have surely taken over the universe is the homes in which they live. That's right, walk into almost any house with kids today and you'll know right away who wears the plastic-lined pants in the family. The house will be strewn with kindercrap, not just in the child's room or playroom but in the living room, the dining room, the kitchen and even the parents' bedroom. All kinds of cheap, plastic, made-in-China crap guaranteed to hold a child's attention for two minutes tops.
When I was a child, my toys had to be picked up and returned to my bedroom or the playroom when I was finished playing with them. I certainly was not allowed to leave them all over the house or on the furniture. I remember crying because our dog at the time had chewed up one of my favorite dolls that I left in the living room. My mother had no sympathy for me, telling me that if the doll had been put away on the shelf in my room, this would not have happened.
But getting back to my original question: When did we become so child-centric? In my opinion, I think it happened sometime after World War II. In the years following the war, people had more disposable income and more imporatntly, more leisure time. Leisure time was almost unheard of when my grandparents were raising families. You worked, came home to eat dinner, listened to the radio, read the paper, went to bed, and got up the next day to do the same damn thing all over again. Vacations were only for wealthy folks.
In post-war middle-class families, more moms stayed home and could, therefore, spend more time with their kids. Once or twice a year, most familes took vacations together. Naturally, since parents gradually began to spend more and more time at home with their kids, a cottage industry grew out of it. Advertisers began marketing directly to kids so that said kids would pester Mom and Dad incessantly until they caved in and bought whatever cheap, imported, plastic bauble or sugar-encrusted cereal they wanted.
Also, for the first time in history, it was no longer a scandal to get a divorce. So, you had more divorced parents, split households and a lot more guilt. The guilty parties would then overcompensate for their perceived failures not just with material excesses but with time as well. Spending more time with your kids is not a bad thing, mind you, but more and more parents began to involve their kids in their own lives, dragging them everywhere, even to places once considered oases for adults.
Call me what you want but I kind of like the phrase, "Children should be seen and not heard." I should not be hearing them in upscale dining establishments unless they can sit quietly and cut their own meat. I should not seeing OR hearing them cry out in R-rated movies or at a bar or a museum (unless it's a kiddie exhibit).
To parapharse the old American Express ad that stated, "Don't leave home without it," my message to these kid-centric parents is "Do leave home without 'em"--at least once in a awhile.
I ask this not to be facetious but I genuinely want to know.
I was born in 1957 and while having kids was a way of life for my parents and their friends, we didn't seem to be the center of everyone's universe, at least from my perspective. Yes, they spent time with us, did kid things with us, attended our school plays, sporting events and whatnot but they also did adult things with their adult friends, no kids allowed.
Every Saturday night, my parents would go out, sometimes alone, sometimes with another couple and I was left home with a sitter. I actually looked forward to Saturday nights because I got to stay up and play cards (Canasta!)with the sitter or watch Ed Sullivan, drink tea with honey (only one cup was allowed), and eat a Swanson fried chicken TV dinner. Yes, having a TV dinner was a real treat to me when I was 9 or 10. Who can forget the scrumptious, greasy fried chicken, the mashed potatoes that you could remove from its compartment with one fell swoop of the fork, and the gelatinous, but tasty, apple cobbler? God, I lived for Saturday nights.
But I digress. Today, you see kids EVERYWHERE you don't want to see them: at R-rated movies, at the racetrack at midnight, at bars, at fancy restaurants, even at adult-themed parties. God forbid these parents should hire a sitter for one lousy night.
And, it's no wonder that the majority of my current crop of friends are childfree. That's because even on the rare occasion when the kids are left at home with a sitter, the conversation ultimately turns to toilet training, breastfeeding, Mommy and Me classes and sippy cups. Sorry, but life is short and my brain has better things to do. Many of these folks were really cool people before they had kids; it's almost as if the cool part of their brains got discarded with the placenta.
But to me, the telling factor that children have surely taken over the universe is the homes in which they live. That's right, walk into almost any house with kids today and you'll know right away who wears the plastic-lined pants in the family. The house will be strewn with kindercrap, not just in the child's room or playroom but in the living room, the dining room, the kitchen and even the parents' bedroom. All kinds of cheap, plastic, made-in-China crap guaranteed to hold a child's attention for two minutes tops.
When I was a child, my toys had to be picked up and returned to my bedroom or the playroom when I was finished playing with them. I certainly was not allowed to leave them all over the house or on the furniture. I remember crying because our dog at the time had chewed up one of my favorite dolls that I left in the living room. My mother had no sympathy for me, telling me that if the doll had been put away on the shelf in my room, this would not have happened.
But getting back to my original question: When did we become so child-centric? In my opinion, I think it happened sometime after World War II. In the years following the war, people had more disposable income and more imporatntly, more leisure time. Leisure time was almost unheard of when my grandparents were raising families. You worked, came home to eat dinner, listened to the radio, read the paper, went to bed, and got up the next day to do the same damn thing all over again. Vacations were only for wealthy folks.
In post-war middle-class families, more moms stayed home and could, therefore, spend more time with their kids. Once or twice a year, most familes took vacations together. Naturally, since parents gradually began to spend more and more time at home with their kids, a cottage industry grew out of it. Advertisers began marketing directly to kids so that said kids would pester Mom and Dad incessantly until they caved in and bought whatever cheap, imported, plastic bauble or sugar-encrusted cereal they wanted.
Also, for the first time in history, it was no longer a scandal to get a divorce. So, you had more divorced parents, split households and a lot more guilt. The guilty parties would then overcompensate for their perceived failures not just with material excesses but with time as well. Spending more time with your kids is not a bad thing, mind you, but more and more parents began to involve their kids in their own lives, dragging them everywhere, even to places once considered oases for adults.
Call me what you want but I kind of like the phrase, "Children should be seen and not heard." I should not be hearing them in upscale dining establishments unless they can sit quietly and cut their own meat. I should not seeing OR hearing them cry out in R-rated movies or at a bar or a museum (unless it's a kiddie exhibit).
To parapharse the old American Express ad that stated, "Don't leave home without it," my message to these kid-centric parents is "Do leave home without 'em"--at least once in a awhile.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Laughing on the Outside, Crying on the Inside
From the Associated Press Medical Desk:
"DIET: Thin People May Be Fat Inside"
I'm waiting for the study that states: "Poor People May Be Rich Inside."
"DIET: Thin People May Be Fat Inside"
I'm waiting for the study that states: "Poor People May Be Rich Inside."
Thursday, May 10, 2007
5 Questions
This meme was passed on to me from MauiGirl, whose link I've added to this blog:
1. What do you hope to accomplish with your blog?
Very good question, indeed. Originally, I was going to create a blog that was sort of a diary of my running/fitness pursuits. But, if that's all I wrote about, think it would be pretty boring to non-runners/fitness buffs. So now I only mention it when I've run a race particularly well, won an award, or achieved some other goal.
I thought about a political blog but there are soooooo many of them out there. I'd be competing with people like Michelle Malkin and Andrew Sullivan. Not a good idea.
So, basically, through no fault of my own, this blog has become the Everything to Everyone Blog. Do I like that fact? Not really. But I have yet to be inspired as to what I want this blog to become.
A while back, a friend told me to walk into a bookstore and let a book pick YOU, not the other way around. I hope I have the same experience with my blog.
2. Are you a spiritual person?
Yes, I am. I do believe in a higher power. That being said, I don't adhere to any organized religion. Too many man-made restrictions. I know I may get flamed for this but I really don't think that God intended for man not to eat certain foods (well, maybe transfats), wear certain materials, or give up other earthly pleasures. My God also does not discriminate against women. He created them, after all!
Basically, my God wants me to treat other people well, be charitable (not just with money) and to find love in the world.
3. If you were stranded on a deserted island, what three things would you want to have with you?
A book on survival, a fishing pole, a good sunscreen!
4. What's your favorite childhood memory?
Having my extended family together for the holidays. I got a feeling of security from that.
5. Is this your first meme? Yes, it is!
1. What do you hope to accomplish with your blog?
Very good question, indeed. Originally, I was going to create a blog that was sort of a diary of my running/fitness pursuits. But, if that's all I wrote about, think it would be pretty boring to non-runners/fitness buffs. So now I only mention it when I've run a race particularly well, won an award, or achieved some other goal.
I thought about a political blog but there are soooooo many of them out there. I'd be competing with people like Michelle Malkin and Andrew Sullivan. Not a good idea.
So, basically, through no fault of my own, this blog has become the Everything to Everyone Blog. Do I like that fact? Not really. But I have yet to be inspired as to what I want this blog to become.
A while back, a friend told me to walk into a bookstore and let a book pick YOU, not the other way around. I hope I have the same experience with my blog.
2. Are you a spiritual person?
Yes, I am. I do believe in a higher power. That being said, I don't adhere to any organized religion. Too many man-made restrictions. I know I may get flamed for this but I really don't think that God intended for man not to eat certain foods (well, maybe transfats), wear certain materials, or give up other earthly pleasures. My God also does not discriminate against women. He created them, after all!
Basically, my God wants me to treat other people well, be charitable (not just with money) and to find love in the world.
3. If you were stranded on a deserted island, what three things would you want to have with you?
A book on survival, a fishing pole, a good sunscreen!
4. What's your favorite childhood memory?
Having my extended family together for the holidays. I got a feeling of security from that.
5. Is this your first meme? Yes, it is!
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Games Mommies Play
When I was in junior high, we had a Book Fair at our school every year where you could basically purchase books that were outside of the school curriculum. Since I was and still am an avid reader, I looked forward to the Book Fair and always went home with about five new purchases.
I still have many of those books but the one that STILL makes me laugh was a delightful little book called, Games Christians Play: An Irreverant Guide to Religion Without Tears, by Judi Culbertson and Patti Bard (1967: Harper & Row, NYC). Yes, the pages are yellowed and the glue from the binding has long dried up but it's still a classic. Here's a sampling of some of the chapter titles:
Holding the Fort Against Heresy
What to Do When You Know More Than the Minister
Instant Status Games
Included in the last one, there's a section called, "My Bible's More Underlined Than Yours."
I bring this up because today we have a new type of evangelism that is sweeping the nation. No, it's not a religion but its fervor might certainly be compared to one. It's called Mommyism or Mommy-anity, take your pick.
Simply put, if I hear about one more web site or TV show devoted to Alpha Moms (I STILL don't know what that term really means), I'm gonna barf.
Instead of "My Bible Is More Underlined Than Yours," the underlying message of many of these web sites is:
My Child Is Brighter Than Yours
My Child Is Prettier Than Yours
My Child Dresses Better Than Yours
My Child's Nanny Is Better Than Yours
My Child Goes to a Better School Than Yours
Hey, I'm Just a Better Mommy Than You'll Ever Be, So Just Go Stick Your Head in the Oven Right Now and We'll Call It a Day!
You get my drift.
But getting back to the concept of the Alpha Mom: What the hell IS that? I know what the Alpha Male Gorilla is (he's the one that gets to screw all the Alpha Female Gorillas) and even the Alpha Girl Teenager (she's usually the meanest girl in school) and the Alpha Boy Teenager (usually a jock who gets all the girls).
By designating herself as the Alpha Mom, this mommy is saying that she's a better mommy than you and you might as well suck it up now. She's the Internet version of the old playground Yenta Mom or Buttinsky Mom who ALWAYS has a better way of doing things, "Why do you give your daughter Brand X juice? Don't you know that Brand Y is better for her?" or "Your kid didn't get into Montessori? Shame!" You know the type.
My own mother certainly knew the type and would have very little to do with them and would laugh behind their backs.
My mom was a great mom, before the term Alpha Mom was coined. Unfortunately, she passed away in 1992 and so Mother's Day is always a little sad for me.
She didn't have Internet access (she didn't even have a college degree but was one of the smartest people I've ever known) but she knew what to do when one of us got the flu, a fever or a bad tummyache. There was no "Alpha Mom TV" back then but my mom somehow instilled in us the drive to do our best in school, in sporting activities, and with creative outlets.
She also knew when we were lying or bullshitting her and would not let us get away with it. We learned at an early age that our actions had consequences.
My mom, like many moms since the dawn of time, would occasionally compare notes on childrearing over coffee with my aunts or other moms in the neighborhood. No one thought this was worthy of media attention or a full-length feature in The New York Times.
So, why is it now? Why are there so many Mommy (or Daddy as the case may be) blogs? NEWS FLASH: Your kid's teething is not that unusual. Your kid throwing up is not only not unusual, it's gross and I don't need to be reading about it over my morning coffee. Ditto for pooping!
Two years ago, I found a wonderful bumper sticker for times like this. I bought two actually, one is at work and one is on the shelf in my home office. It reads, "My Labrador Retriever Is Smarter Than Your Honor Student."
Take that, Alpha Moms!
I still have many of those books but the one that STILL makes me laugh was a delightful little book called, Games Christians Play: An Irreverant Guide to Religion Without Tears, by Judi Culbertson and Patti Bard (1967: Harper & Row, NYC). Yes, the pages are yellowed and the glue from the binding has long dried up but it's still a classic. Here's a sampling of some of the chapter titles:
Holding the Fort Against Heresy
What to Do When You Know More Than the Minister
Instant Status Games
Included in the last one, there's a section called, "My Bible's More Underlined Than Yours."
I bring this up because today we have a new type of evangelism that is sweeping the nation. No, it's not a religion but its fervor might certainly be compared to one. It's called Mommyism or Mommy-anity, take your pick.
Simply put, if I hear about one more web site or TV show devoted to Alpha Moms (I STILL don't know what that term really means), I'm gonna barf.
Instead of "My Bible Is More Underlined Than Yours," the underlying message of many of these web sites is:
My Child Is Brighter Than Yours
My Child Is Prettier Than Yours
My Child Dresses Better Than Yours
My Child's Nanny Is Better Than Yours
My Child Goes to a Better School Than Yours
Hey, I'm Just a Better Mommy Than You'll Ever Be, So Just Go Stick Your Head in the Oven Right Now and We'll Call It a Day!
You get my drift.
But getting back to the concept of the Alpha Mom: What the hell IS that? I know what the Alpha Male Gorilla is (he's the one that gets to screw all the Alpha Female Gorillas) and even the Alpha Girl Teenager (she's usually the meanest girl in school) and the Alpha Boy Teenager (usually a jock who gets all the girls).
By designating herself as the Alpha Mom, this mommy is saying that she's a better mommy than you and you might as well suck it up now. She's the Internet version of the old playground Yenta Mom or Buttinsky Mom who ALWAYS has a better way of doing things, "Why do you give your daughter Brand X juice? Don't you know that Brand Y is better for her?" or "Your kid didn't get into Montessori? Shame!" You know the type.
My own mother certainly knew the type and would have very little to do with them and would laugh behind their backs.
My mom was a great mom, before the term Alpha Mom was coined. Unfortunately, she passed away in 1992 and so Mother's Day is always a little sad for me.
She didn't have Internet access (she didn't even have a college degree but was one of the smartest people I've ever known) but she knew what to do when one of us got the flu, a fever or a bad tummyache. There was no "Alpha Mom TV" back then but my mom somehow instilled in us the drive to do our best in school, in sporting activities, and with creative outlets.
She also knew when we were lying or bullshitting her and would not let us get away with it. We learned at an early age that our actions had consequences.
My mom, like many moms since the dawn of time, would occasionally compare notes on childrearing over coffee with my aunts or other moms in the neighborhood. No one thought this was worthy of media attention or a full-length feature in The New York Times.
So, why is it now? Why are there so many Mommy (or Daddy as the case may be) blogs? NEWS FLASH: Your kid's teething is not that unusual. Your kid throwing up is not only not unusual, it's gross and I don't need to be reading about it over my morning coffee. Ditto for pooping!
Two years ago, I found a wonderful bumper sticker for times like this. I bought two actually, one is at work and one is on the shelf in my home office. It reads, "My Labrador Retriever Is Smarter Than Your Honor Student."
Take that, Alpha Moms!
Thursday, April 26, 2007
He's Not All That
The "he" being Alec Baldwin.
The highlight of his career, in my opinion, was "Glengarry Glen Ross." Unfortunately, similar to the ventriloquist dummy, Willy, in "Twilight Zone," his character has taken over his entire persona.
The phone call to his daughter was real. How it got onto the Internet is another story but there's no denying it's real. And, it's horrid. I'm not saying parents can't yell at their kids, but it's the ugly name-calling that got to me. Too personal for my blood.
Who's the adult here? He was carrying on like, well, a 12-year-old!
Now he's going around saying that he's sorry and the comments were really meant for Kim Basinger. M'kay. Still, how about exercising a little self-control here? If I was his kid, I would never take a phone call from him again! Hell, I'd be hiding under my bed right now.
I really feel sorry for his daughter. Not only is she caught between these two looney tunes but the whole affair has been made public.
And now Baldwion wants to leave "30 Rock." Personally, I think he should stay. That kid's gonna need money for major therapy.
The highlight of his career, in my opinion, was "Glengarry Glen Ross." Unfortunately, similar to the ventriloquist dummy, Willy, in "Twilight Zone," his character has taken over his entire persona.
The phone call to his daughter was real. How it got onto the Internet is another story but there's no denying it's real. And, it's horrid. I'm not saying parents can't yell at their kids, but it's the ugly name-calling that got to me. Too personal for my blood.
Who's the adult here? He was carrying on like, well, a 12-year-old!
Now he's going around saying that he's sorry and the comments were really meant for Kim Basinger. M'kay. Still, how about exercising a little self-control here? If I was his kid, I would never take a phone call from him again! Hell, I'd be hiding under my bed right now.
I really feel sorry for his daughter. Not only is she caught between these two looney tunes but the whole affair has been made public.
And now Baldwion wants to leave "30 Rock." Personally, I think he should stay. That kid's gonna need money for major therapy.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
"Desert" with the Dean
You can't make this shit up. Some of you know that I was graduated from Syracuse University which is well-known for its Newhouse School of Public Communications. So, I was a bit surprised when I received this Hold the Date email today:
THE SYRACUSE UNIVERSITY
NORTHERN NEW JERSEY
ALUMNI CLUB
SAVE THE DATE
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
The SUNNJAC Speaker Series
“Desert With The Dean”
With Special Guest
Susan Donovan, SU Dean of Admissions
7:30 PM – 9 PM
Orange Lawn Tennis Club
South Orange, NJ
Well, maybe I'm jumping to conclusions here. Maybe the dean is going to regale us all with slides of his recent trip to Death Valley. Or maybe it's an invitation to run away with the dean, "desert with the dean," get it?
No thanks, I'm already taken. By a man who knows the difference between "dessert" and "desert."
THE SYRACUSE UNIVERSITY
NORTHERN NEW JERSEY
ALUMNI CLUB
SAVE THE DATE
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
The SUNNJAC Speaker Series
“Desert With The Dean”
With Special Guest
Susan Donovan, SU Dean of Admissions
7:30 PM – 9 PM
Orange Lawn Tennis Club
South Orange, NJ
Well, maybe I'm jumping to conclusions here. Maybe the dean is going to regale us all with slides of his recent trip to Death Valley. Or maybe it's an invitation to run away with the dean, "desert with the dean," get it?
No thanks, I'm already taken. By a man who knows the difference between "dessert" and "desert."
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
The Good News, The Bad News
The Good News:
I now weigh less than what I weighed in college.
I am starting to see some definition in my abs.
I feel pretty good.
The Bad News:
The weather has not been cooperating, so my race times are off.
A lot of my clothes are too big.
I still have boobage. (WHAT is up with that? Even with all the weight and body fat I've lost, they are still the same size...argh!)
I have no idea what my body fat is now but my guess is that's it's probably between 15% and 16%. The last time I was measured was about a month ago and it was 16% and some change. I should probably go and have it done again.
I am getting to the gym 2-3 times a week but I am certainly not getting out to run as much as I did this time last year because of the damn weather. Yes, I stil do races on the weekend but my times are lagging about a minute behind. A 10K race was cancelled this past weekend in Branch Brook Park. We were all set to do it and then a friend of ours called. Bummer. What's a little rain, right? Heck, four members of my running club did the Boston Marathon in a nor'easter; who am I to complain?
I am eating the same amount, more or less. I say more or less because my boyfriend is now on a special diet (temporarily) where he can't have sugar, dairy or wheat. If you think that's easy, think again. I could give up the sugar, no problem, MAYBE dairy, but wheat is in EVERYTHING! The only grainy thing he's really allowed to have right now is couscous, which is pretty tasty actually.
The reason for the diet: TK was diagnosed as not having enough acid in his stomach to digest his food properly. This, according to the fancy-schmancy NY specialist, is why he's been suffering with stomach pain, shakiness, brain fog, fatigue...a while litany of ailments. This syndrome (don't laugh, it's called "dumping syndrome" because all of the undigested food is "dumped" into the small intestine) can be due to years and years of bad eating habits. I always yelled at him for eating a lot of sugar and white flour products. He never took me seriously. But now the doctor is saying the same thing.
He IS feeling better. In addition to the diet, he has to take a whole host of supplements. They ain't cheap, either. But, like I said, he is feeling better and even did a 5K race for the first time in six weeks this past weekend.
So, even though I don't have to give up wheat, I find myself wanting it less and less. Bread (I only eat whole wheat bread anyway) has become kinda boring. I still like brown rice, though, and oatmeal. Pasta, only once in a blue moon. And, like I said, I am loving the couscous. Hence, the reason for additional weight loss. Whole Foods has lots and lots of wheat-free and gluten-free products so it hasn't really been a problem.
According to some experts, humans were never meant to eat such large quantities of wheat/grain products. We've only been an agrarian people for the last 10,000 years or so, a drop in the bucket of our whole existence. Lots of people have wheat and/or gluten allergies and others, like TK, have systems that just can't tolerate great quantities of them.
So, what's been happening also is that more veggies, fruits and nuts have been replacing the wheat products. Not a bad thing, I suppose.
I now weigh less than what I weighed in college.
I am starting to see some definition in my abs.
I feel pretty good.
The Bad News:
The weather has not been cooperating, so my race times are off.
A lot of my clothes are too big.
I still have boobage. (WHAT is up with that? Even with all the weight and body fat I've lost, they are still the same size...argh!)
I have no idea what my body fat is now but my guess is that's it's probably between 15% and 16%. The last time I was measured was about a month ago and it was 16% and some change. I should probably go and have it done again.
I am getting to the gym 2-3 times a week but I am certainly not getting out to run as much as I did this time last year because of the damn weather. Yes, I stil do races on the weekend but my times are lagging about a minute behind. A 10K race was cancelled this past weekend in Branch Brook Park. We were all set to do it and then a friend of ours called. Bummer. What's a little rain, right? Heck, four members of my running club did the Boston Marathon in a nor'easter; who am I to complain?
I am eating the same amount, more or less. I say more or less because my boyfriend is now on a special diet (temporarily) where he can't have sugar, dairy or wheat. If you think that's easy, think again. I could give up the sugar, no problem, MAYBE dairy, but wheat is in EVERYTHING! The only grainy thing he's really allowed to have right now is couscous, which is pretty tasty actually.
The reason for the diet: TK was diagnosed as not having enough acid in his stomach to digest his food properly. This, according to the fancy-schmancy NY specialist, is why he's been suffering with stomach pain, shakiness, brain fog, fatigue...a while litany of ailments. This syndrome (don't laugh, it's called "dumping syndrome" because all of the undigested food is "dumped" into the small intestine) can be due to years and years of bad eating habits. I always yelled at him for eating a lot of sugar and white flour products. He never took me seriously. But now the doctor is saying the same thing.
He IS feeling better. In addition to the diet, he has to take a whole host of supplements. They ain't cheap, either. But, like I said, he is feeling better and even did a 5K race for the first time in six weeks this past weekend.
So, even though I don't have to give up wheat, I find myself wanting it less and less. Bread (I only eat whole wheat bread anyway) has become kinda boring. I still like brown rice, though, and oatmeal. Pasta, only once in a blue moon. And, like I said, I am loving the couscous. Hence, the reason for additional weight loss. Whole Foods has lots and lots of wheat-free and gluten-free products so it hasn't really been a problem.
According to some experts, humans were never meant to eat such large quantities of wheat/grain products. We've only been an agrarian people for the last 10,000 years or so, a drop in the bucket of our whole existence. Lots of people have wheat and/or gluten allergies and others, like TK, have systems that just can't tolerate great quantities of them.
So, what's been happening also is that more veggies, fruits and nuts have been replacing the wheat products. Not a bad thing, I suppose.
Monday, April 16, 2007
The Monkey Song
"I'm no kin to the monkey, no-no-no/
The monkey's no kin to me, yeah-yeah-yeah/
I don't know much about his ancestors
but mine didn't swing from a tree."
Yes, these are the real lyrics to a catchy little tune, "The Monkey Song," sung by no other than actress Crystal Bernard ("Wings") and her sister, Robin. The song appears on the LP, Dr. Jerry Falwell: Feudin' Fussin' & Frettin' (Fret Not) (Thomas Road Baptist Church) 1972...you can't make this up.
There's also another cute little ditty titled, "The Ecumenical Movement" on the same LP.
You don't have to purchase the album, however, to enjoy them. Just go to www.ubu.com/outsiders/365/03-2.html and you can listen to a strange song every day of the year, including one by Louis Farrakhan called "Is She Is, Or Is She Ain't?" about falling for a transvestite, and William Shatner singing "Rocket Man."
Don't say I didn't warn ya.
The monkey's no kin to me, yeah-yeah-yeah/
I don't know much about his ancestors
but mine didn't swing from a tree."
Yes, these are the real lyrics to a catchy little tune, "The Monkey Song," sung by no other than actress Crystal Bernard ("Wings") and her sister, Robin. The song appears on the LP, Dr. Jerry Falwell: Feudin' Fussin' & Frettin' (Fret Not) (Thomas Road Baptist Church) 1972...you can't make this up.
There's also another cute little ditty titled, "The Ecumenical Movement" on the same LP.
You don't have to purchase the album, however, to enjoy them. Just go to www.ubu.com/outsiders/365/03-2.html and you can listen to a strange song every day of the year, including one by Louis Farrakhan called "Is She Is, Or Is She Ain't?" about falling for a transvestite, and William Shatner singing "Rocket Man."
Don't say I didn't warn ya.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
My Final Words on the Imus Debacle
OK, so he's been fired from MSNBC and now CBS Radio. Yes, and even though I think Imus is a drug-addled animated corpse, I think the firing was excessive. That being said, I stand by the advertisers who wanted to take their business elsewhere after Imus' remarks about the Rutgers Lady Knights.
My 2 cents:
I defend the First Amendment with my life and I abhor censorship, all kinds of censorship, including Tipper Gore's desire to rate music CDs. However...LISTEN UP, KIDDIES...just because you have the right to say it, doesn't mean there won't be any consequences. If you make inflammatory remarks about blacks, Jews, women, Catholics, Zoroastrians, whomever, someone somewhere is going to get pissed off. DEAL WITH IT!
Pissed off can mean many things: letters to the editor, letters to the station manager, protests in the street, advertisers pulling dollars, politicians getting their collective panties in a wad, you name it. (And yes, grandstanding by Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson, whom I think are as equally reprehensible as Imus. But that's another blog posting on another day.)
So, why are people surprised at the backlash? If Imus is allowed to call a bunch of college girls whom he has never met "nappy-headed ho's", I--and lots of folks--have the right to get pissed off. And, if I am CEO of Proctor & Gamble, I have the right to pull my ads if I don't agree with the content of the show. Period. This is not fascism, people. It's my right. I'm not saying shut the guy down, I'm just saying that I'm not going to spend my ad dollars on his show.
Let's say the CEO of some big corporation was an animal-loving vegan. He or she is not going to be spending advertising dollars on a broadcaster who advocates wearing fur or hunting animals. And, that is his or her right. I have friends who won't frequent certain establishments because the corporate office of said establishment gives money to Pro Life causes. I could give countless other examples but I think you get the drift.
Yeah, I think Imus is an ass. He's narrowminded, not funny and he hasn't had an original idea since the Eisenhower administration. But should he have been fired? Absolutely not. Fined, yes. Reprimanded, yes. Hit in the wallet by advertisers, yes.
But people should be allowed to hang themselves with their own rope.
One more thing and then I promise that, unlike Imus, I will shut up about this. Lots of people have been saying, "But he gives so much to charity, to sick kids, blah-blah-blah!" That may be and that is admirable but it doesn't give you the right to be a prick. A poster on Gawker said it best: "I gave money to UNICEF in the 7th Grade. Does that give me the right call you a fag?"
My 2 cents:
I defend the First Amendment with my life and I abhor censorship, all kinds of censorship, including Tipper Gore's desire to rate music CDs. However...LISTEN UP, KIDDIES...just because you have the right to say it, doesn't mean there won't be any consequences. If you make inflammatory remarks about blacks, Jews, women, Catholics, Zoroastrians, whomever, someone somewhere is going to get pissed off. DEAL WITH IT!
Pissed off can mean many things: letters to the editor, letters to the station manager, protests in the street, advertisers pulling dollars, politicians getting their collective panties in a wad, you name it. (And yes, grandstanding by Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson, whom I think are as equally reprehensible as Imus. But that's another blog posting on another day.)
So, why are people surprised at the backlash? If Imus is allowed to call a bunch of college girls whom he has never met "nappy-headed ho's", I--and lots of folks--have the right to get pissed off. And, if I am CEO of Proctor & Gamble, I have the right to pull my ads if I don't agree with the content of the show. Period. This is not fascism, people. It's my right. I'm not saying shut the guy down, I'm just saying that I'm not going to spend my ad dollars on his show.
Let's say the CEO of some big corporation was an animal-loving vegan. He or she is not going to be spending advertising dollars on a broadcaster who advocates wearing fur or hunting animals. And, that is his or her right. I have friends who won't frequent certain establishments because the corporate office of said establishment gives money to Pro Life causes. I could give countless other examples but I think you get the drift.
Yeah, I think Imus is an ass. He's narrowminded, not funny and he hasn't had an original idea since the Eisenhower administration. But should he have been fired? Absolutely not. Fined, yes. Reprimanded, yes. Hit in the wallet by advertisers, yes.
But people should be allowed to hang themselves with their own rope.
One more thing and then I promise that, unlike Imus, I will shut up about this. Lots of people have been saying, "But he gives so much to charity, to sick kids, blah-blah-blah!" That may be and that is admirable but it doesn't give you the right to be a prick. A poster on Gawker said it best: "I gave money to UNICEF in the 7th Grade. Does that give me the right call you a fag?"
Friday, April 06, 2007
Am I Supposed to Feel Sorry for Them?
Well, I don't. Too bad. Actions have consequences, amigos. Trolls belong under a bridge. I especially like Javier Diaz' quote, which I've highlighted.
Miami Sex Offenders Live Under a Bridge
By JOHN PAIN, Associated Press Writer
April 6, 2007
MIAMI - Five convicted sex offenders are living under a noisy highway bridge with the state's grudging approval because an ordinance intended to keep predators away from children made it nearly impossible for them to find housing.
Some of them sleep on cardboard raised slightly off the ground to avoid the rats. One of the men beds down on a pallet with a blanket and pillow. Some have been there for several weeks.
"You just pray to God every night, so if you fall asleep for a minute or two, you know, nothing happens to you," said 30-year-old Javier Diaz, who arrived this week. He was sentenced in 2005 to three years' probation for lewd and lascivious conduct involving a girl under 16.
The conditions are a consequence of laws passed here and elsewhere around the country to bar sex offenders from living near schools, parks and other places children gather. Miami-Dade County's 2005 ordinance _ adopted partly in reaction to the case of a convicted sex offender who raped a 9-year-old Florida girl and buried her alive _ says sex offenders must live at least 2,500 feet from schools.
"They've often said that some of the laws will force people to live under a bridge," said Charles Onley, a research associate at the federally funded Center for Sex Offender Management. "This is probably the first story that I've seen that confirms that."
The five men under the Julia Tuttle Causeway are the only known sex offenders authorized to live outdoors in Florida, said state Corrections Department spokeswoman Gretl Plessinger.
"This is not an ideal situation for anybody, but at this point we don't have any other options," she said. "We're still looking. The offenders are still actively searching for residences."
But she conceded a point that many experts have made: This "is a problem that is going to have to be addressed. If we drive these offenders so far underground or we can't supervise them because they become so transient, it's not making us safer."
County Commissioner Jose Diaz said he had no qualms about the ordinance he created.
"My main concern is the victims, the children that are the innocent ones that these predators attack and ruin their lives," Diaz said. "No one really told them to do this crime."
The men must stay at the bridge between 10 p.m. and 6 a.m. because a parole officer checks on them nearly every night, Plessinger said.
They have fishing poles to catch food, cook with small stoves, use battery-powered TVs and radios and keep their belongings in plastic bags. Javier Diaz has trouble charging the GPS tracking device he is required to wear; there are no power outlets nearby.
The whoosh of cars passing overhead echoes loudly under the causeway, which runs over Biscayne Bay, connecting Miami and Miami Beach.
About 100 feet away are the bay's blue-green waters, where a family with young children played in the water this week. In the near distance, luxury condominiums rise from the coastline.
Javier Diaz said he and the other men fear for their lives, especially because of "crazy people who might try to come harm sex offenders."
No shit, Sherlock! But what about the kids you molested? Did they not fear for their lives, too?"
The five committed such crimes as sexual battery, molestation, abuse and grand theft. Many of the offenses were against children. The state moved the men under the bridge from their previous home _ a lot next to a center for sexually abused children and close to a day care center _ after they were unable to find affordable housing that did not violate the sex-offender ordinance.
Twenty-two states and hundreds of municipalities have sex offender residency restrictions, according to a California Research Bureau report from last August.
Miami Sex Offenders Live Under a Bridge
By JOHN PAIN, Associated Press Writer
April 6, 2007
MIAMI - Five convicted sex offenders are living under a noisy highway bridge with the state's grudging approval because an ordinance intended to keep predators away from children made it nearly impossible for them to find housing.
Some of them sleep on cardboard raised slightly off the ground to avoid the rats. One of the men beds down on a pallet with a blanket and pillow. Some have been there for several weeks.
"You just pray to God every night, so if you fall asleep for a minute or two, you know, nothing happens to you," said 30-year-old Javier Diaz, who arrived this week. He was sentenced in 2005 to three years' probation for lewd and lascivious conduct involving a girl under 16.
The conditions are a consequence of laws passed here and elsewhere around the country to bar sex offenders from living near schools, parks and other places children gather. Miami-Dade County's 2005 ordinance _ adopted partly in reaction to the case of a convicted sex offender who raped a 9-year-old Florida girl and buried her alive _ says sex offenders must live at least 2,500 feet from schools.
"They've often said that some of the laws will force people to live under a bridge," said Charles Onley, a research associate at the federally funded Center for Sex Offender Management. "This is probably the first story that I've seen that confirms that."
The five men under the Julia Tuttle Causeway are the only known sex offenders authorized to live outdoors in Florida, said state Corrections Department spokeswoman Gretl Plessinger.
"This is not an ideal situation for anybody, but at this point we don't have any other options," she said. "We're still looking. The offenders are still actively searching for residences."
But she conceded a point that many experts have made: This "is a problem that is going to have to be addressed. If we drive these offenders so far underground or we can't supervise them because they become so transient, it's not making us safer."
County Commissioner Jose Diaz said he had no qualms about the ordinance he created.
"My main concern is the victims, the children that are the innocent ones that these predators attack and ruin their lives," Diaz said. "No one really told them to do this crime."
The men must stay at the bridge between 10 p.m. and 6 a.m. because a parole officer checks on them nearly every night, Plessinger said.
They have fishing poles to catch food, cook with small stoves, use battery-powered TVs and radios and keep their belongings in plastic bags. Javier Diaz has trouble charging the GPS tracking device he is required to wear; there are no power outlets nearby.
The whoosh of cars passing overhead echoes loudly under the causeway, which runs over Biscayne Bay, connecting Miami and Miami Beach.
About 100 feet away are the bay's blue-green waters, where a family with young children played in the water this week. In the near distance, luxury condominiums rise from the coastline.
Javier Diaz said he and the other men fear for their lives, especially because of "crazy people who might try to come harm sex offenders."
No shit, Sherlock! But what about the kids you molested? Did they not fear for their lives, too?"
The five committed such crimes as sexual battery, molestation, abuse and grand theft. Many of the offenses were against children. The state moved the men under the bridge from their previous home _ a lot next to a center for sexually abused children and close to a day care center _ after they were unable to find affordable housing that did not violate the sex-offender ordinance.
Twenty-two states and hundreds of municipalities have sex offender residency restrictions, according to a California Research Bureau report from last August.
Monday, April 02, 2007
Laurie Anderson or Biofeedback?
I recently downloaded Laurie Anderson's "O Superman" onto my iPod and I've never had a song have such a sedative effect on me. That's not necessarily a bad thing but when I even THINK about this song, I go into mellow mode. I actually use it as a sleep aid on the bus.
I think I'm onto something.
I think I'm onto something.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Friday, March 16, 2007
Catching Up on Movies
TK got me a portable DVD player for Xmas and it's gotta be my fave gift. The funny thing is that when we had been out doing Xmas shopping and saw it in the store, I remarked that it was really cool but it was the type of item I would never buy for myself. Believe me, this was not a subtle hint. Anyone who knows me, knows there is nothing subtle at all about me.
Well, whaddya know? There it was on Xmas morning and I have to say it makes my commute into the city a whole lot more bearable.
So, after the Academy Awards, I am finally catching up on all the movies I never got to the theater to see. A short review follows:
A Prairie Home Companion--A real disappointment. I'm a Garrison Keillor fan by proxy. That is, my brother in Oregon raved about this guy forever and I finally familiarized myself with him and I have to say, he's captivating. I genuinely enjoy his stories about Lake Wobegon and whatnot.
That being said, the movie fell flat. There was a terrific cast: Keillor himself, Meryl Streep, Lily Tomlin, Woody Harrelson, Tommy Lee Jones, John C. Reilly. Geez, even Lindsay Lohan was good. If you like country and western, you'll like the music. My fave was Lefty and Rusty (Harrelson and Reilly were awesome with their dirty ditties). But this was supposed to portray the last live radio show of APHC, so the characters should have pulled out all the stops when it came to reminiscing about the past. That didn't happen. All of their stories were predictable, lame and boring. I didn't get the "feel" of APHC; a good reminiscing movie should pull you in to the action, make you feel like part of the extended family. I just didn't get that.
Honestly, I think I learned more about Garrison Keillor and APHC from Wikipedia!
Some other things that annoyed me:
Virginia Madsen as the "Mystery Woman" ghost. WTF was that all about? Too contrived and totally unnecessary!
Kevin Kline's character. He was supposed to be a security guy. He was dressed more like a guy who got lost on the way to a barbershop quartet competition. Totally didn't get his character.
Things I liked:
Garrison Keillor playing himself.
The guy who did the radio show sound effects.
Rusty and Lefty's jokes.
The music.
Art School Confidential--I wanted to love this movie but that didn't happen. I liked some things about this film but I can't say I loved it.
It was a product of Terry Zwigoff, the same guy who directed Ghost World, which I DID love, so I just expected the lovefest to carry on over.
Granted there were some VERY funny scenes and the acting was decent. Plus, there was an actor in it I have never seen before named Matt Keeslar who was the hottest thing this side of wasabi paste. Where the hell has he been hiding? Note to directors: PLEASE cast this hunk in other productions!
Basically, it's a parody of the pretentious people one might find at art school. Now I've never been to art school but I have been in writer's workshops (Breadloaf) and let's just say there are pretentious characters in any artistic setting. You have the crazy chick, the phony intellectual, the druggie-punk, the closeted gay, the ass kisser, the hippy-vegan, you get the picture.
Now in case there's someone out there who hasn't seen the film, I don't want to put any spoilers in here. Suffice it to say that the movie takes a *comic* twist at the end which really didn't bowl me over. If I had to sum up this film in one sentence, I'd say, "It's a comedy about what an artist will do to get some notoriety."
But something was gnawing me about this film, hours after having viewed it. Where have I seen this theme before? And then I remembered: The King of Comedy, with Robert DeNiro, Jerry Lewis and Sandra Bernhard. Same message but funnier. Genius, if I say so myself.
Reviews to come: Jesus Camp and Little Miss Sunshine.
Well, whaddya know? There it was on Xmas morning and I have to say it makes my commute into the city a whole lot more bearable.
So, after the Academy Awards, I am finally catching up on all the movies I never got to the theater to see. A short review follows:
A Prairie Home Companion--A real disappointment. I'm a Garrison Keillor fan by proxy. That is, my brother in Oregon raved about this guy forever and I finally familiarized myself with him and I have to say, he's captivating. I genuinely enjoy his stories about Lake Wobegon and whatnot.
That being said, the movie fell flat. There was a terrific cast: Keillor himself, Meryl Streep, Lily Tomlin, Woody Harrelson, Tommy Lee Jones, John C. Reilly. Geez, even Lindsay Lohan was good. If you like country and western, you'll like the music. My fave was Lefty and Rusty (Harrelson and Reilly were awesome with their dirty ditties). But this was supposed to portray the last live radio show of APHC, so the characters should have pulled out all the stops when it came to reminiscing about the past. That didn't happen. All of their stories were predictable, lame and boring. I didn't get the "feel" of APHC; a good reminiscing movie should pull you in to the action, make you feel like part of the extended family. I just didn't get that.
Honestly, I think I learned more about Garrison Keillor and APHC from Wikipedia!
Some other things that annoyed me:
Virginia Madsen as the "Mystery Woman" ghost. WTF was that all about? Too contrived and totally unnecessary!
Kevin Kline's character. He was supposed to be a security guy. He was dressed more like a guy who got lost on the way to a barbershop quartet competition. Totally didn't get his character.
Things I liked:
Garrison Keillor playing himself.
The guy who did the radio show sound effects.
Rusty and Lefty's jokes.
The music.
Art School Confidential--I wanted to love this movie but that didn't happen. I liked some things about this film but I can't say I loved it.
It was a product of Terry Zwigoff, the same guy who directed Ghost World, which I DID love, so I just expected the lovefest to carry on over.
Granted there were some VERY funny scenes and the acting was decent. Plus, there was an actor in it I have never seen before named Matt Keeslar who was the hottest thing this side of wasabi paste. Where the hell has he been hiding? Note to directors: PLEASE cast this hunk in other productions!
Basically, it's a parody of the pretentious people one might find at art school. Now I've never been to art school but I have been in writer's workshops (Breadloaf) and let's just say there are pretentious characters in any artistic setting. You have the crazy chick, the phony intellectual, the druggie-punk, the closeted gay, the ass kisser, the hippy-vegan, you get the picture.
Now in case there's someone out there who hasn't seen the film, I don't want to put any spoilers in here. Suffice it to say that the movie takes a *comic* twist at the end which really didn't bowl me over. If I had to sum up this film in one sentence, I'd say, "It's a comedy about what an artist will do to get some notoriety."
But something was gnawing me about this film, hours after having viewed it. Where have I seen this theme before? And then I remembered: The King of Comedy, with Robert DeNiro, Jerry Lewis and Sandra Bernhard. Same message but funnier. Genius, if I say so myself.
Reviews to come: Jesus Camp and Little Miss Sunshine.
Nice Way to Start the Day
So I'm standing in the nasty waiting for the 280 Express bus when this car pulls into the service station next to the bus stop. The window rolls down and a young Arabic guy asks me what time the 280 EX is due. I tell him and then the driver, who appears to be his mom in a headwrap, says to me, "Why don't you get inside? Don't wait out in the snow."
I hesistated for a second. C'mon, fess up, you would have, too! I don't know these people from Adam. They could whisk me away to a mosque somewhere and I would never be heard from again. But my gut, which is usually pretty reliable says, "Trust them."
Well, I'm glad I did because they were the nicest folks you'd ever want to meet. The son, Ahmed, who appeared to be in his early 20s, works in the financial industry. While he was telling me this, his mom, beaming with pride, told me that he got his MBA from Fordham. She herself is a pharmaceutical chemist who turned down a high-paying job in NYC because she didn't want to commute. Smart woman!
In all my years commuting, I don't remember anything like this ever happening, whether it was at the train station in Montclair or the bus stop in Verona. God forbid, some rich yuppie would offer me shelter from the storm. I'd have a better chance of winning the lottery.
Just shows to go ya, you can't judge a book.
I hesistated for a second. C'mon, fess up, you would have, too! I don't know these people from Adam. They could whisk me away to a mosque somewhere and I would never be heard from again. But my gut, which is usually pretty reliable says, "Trust them."
Well, I'm glad I did because they were the nicest folks you'd ever want to meet. The son, Ahmed, who appeared to be in his early 20s, works in the financial industry. While he was telling me this, his mom, beaming with pride, told me that he got his MBA from Fordham. She herself is a pharmaceutical chemist who turned down a high-paying job in NYC because she didn't want to commute. Smart woman!
In all my years commuting, I don't remember anything like this ever happening, whether it was at the train station in Montclair or the bus stop in Verona. God forbid, some rich yuppie would offer me shelter from the storm. I'd have a better chance of winning the lottery.
Just shows to go ya, you can't judge a book.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Good Start
Had my first 5K race of the season on March 10 and I think I did pretty well. Tough course, tough weather (32 freakin' degrees and very damp), tough crowd (lots of fast runners...the overall winner was a 40 yo man who clocked in at 15 and some change, with a 5:01 pace. Egads!)
Clocked in at 25:15. That's a little bit faster than I was running at this same time last year. And I felt pretty good, albeit a little out of breath more than unusual. But then I discovered that almost everyone I spoke to, even the best runners in our club, felt breathless.
So, although the weight training and cross-training has been paying off, I simply need to get back on the roads again and build up my lung capacity. Now that it's getting lighter at night (coupled with the early DST), that should be happening real soon.
In other news, my trainer/nutritionist at my gym had said he wanted to see me once race season started so he could go over my calorie intake, possibly bumping it up a bit to keep up with the demand. I hadn't seen him in a month or so I was very curious about my BF measurement. I stopped journaling my food intake because I feel I can do this with my eyes closed now. I was pretty good about sticking to the plan even with a few setbacks (dining out with friends, bad weather pre-empting my outdoor training, etc.)
So, needless to say, I was quite surprised when he told me I was down to 16.7% BF! Evidently, my body is not done yet. All told, I have lost 10 lbs. of body fat and gained about 10 lbs. of lean muscle. My scale weight is about the same, though. Really, I don't want to go any lower than this, folks. He told me to add about 200 calories of some good carbs (whole grains, sweet potatoes, fruit, etc.) every fourth day. That works out to be Sunday and Wednesday for me which is good because Sunday is usually race day and I need the extra calories then.
I also need some new clothes but that's another blog entry, another time.
Clocked in at 25:15. That's a little bit faster than I was running at this same time last year. And I felt pretty good, albeit a little out of breath more than unusual. But then I discovered that almost everyone I spoke to, even the best runners in our club, felt breathless.
So, although the weight training and cross-training has been paying off, I simply need to get back on the roads again and build up my lung capacity. Now that it's getting lighter at night (coupled with the early DST), that should be happening real soon.
In other news, my trainer/nutritionist at my gym had said he wanted to see me once race season started so he could go over my calorie intake, possibly bumping it up a bit to keep up with the demand. I hadn't seen him in a month or so I was very curious about my BF measurement. I stopped journaling my food intake because I feel I can do this with my eyes closed now. I was pretty good about sticking to the plan even with a few setbacks (dining out with friends, bad weather pre-empting my outdoor training, etc.)
So, needless to say, I was quite surprised when he told me I was down to 16.7% BF! Evidently, my body is not done yet. All told, I have lost 10 lbs. of body fat and gained about 10 lbs. of lean muscle. My scale weight is about the same, though. Really, I don't want to go any lower than this, folks. He told me to add about 200 calories of some good carbs (whole grains, sweet potatoes, fruit, etc.) every fourth day. That works out to be Sunday and Wednesday for me which is good because Sunday is usually race day and I need the extra calories then.
I also need some new clothes but that's another blog entry, another time.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Let's try this again!
I tried posting this pic last week and then one day it was gone. Something to do with the Blogger server, I s'pose. But ain't it purty?
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
What Country Is This Again?
You would think that making an appointment to have a mammogram would be no big deal, right? Think again.
First, some background. I am a 49-year-old middle-class woman with a decent-paying job. I live the NY metro area. I have had yearly mammograms since the age of 40, not because there's any history of breast cancer in my family (thank God!) but because I have a conservative gynecologist who insists that his patients 40 and older have one every year. OK, I can deal with that.
But it's not just him. These days, you can't pick up a magazine, read a newspaper or watch TV without seeing ads for mammograms. If you're a woman, you are bombarded over and over with the same message: Mammograms save lives. OK, I'll buy into that for the sake of argument.
Today is February 26. I call the imaging lab that I've used for the past decade. I've always been able to make an appointment on a Saturday morning, no problem. It might not be this Saturday, or next Saturday, but I was able to get a Saturday morning appointment within 2-3 weeks of my call.
Not only have they pretty much done away with Saturday appointments altogther (they only have them once a month), you can't even get a friggin' MORNING appointment until April! That's right, you read that correctly. My appointment is for a Monday morning in late April.
Well, I realized that it's not the "order taker's" fault but I did make a remark that the scheduling is not fair to working gals like myself. She was very nice and asked if I would like to speak to her supervisor. I said, "Why not?"
The supervisor, too, was very pleasant. Here is what she told me, in a nutshell: Basically, very few med students want to take up radiology anymore due to numerous lawsuits against them (I was not aware of this). Therefore, due to the shortage of radiologists, many imaging centers no longer offer Saturday appointments. In addition, it's very tough to get ANY appointment for about two months or so.
This burns me up on a lot of levels. First, you read about doctor shortages like this happening in the inner city, particularly with minority women on Medicaid or with no insurance whatsoever. You read about doctor shortages in remote rural areas. You hear about doctor shortages in places like Eastern Europe, the sub-Sahara, and even "progressive" countries with socialized medicine. This is not supposed to happen in "enlightened" metro New York, however. I mean, don't people from overseas come here because we supposedly have the best medical care in the world?
Secondly, waiting two months is not a good thing. Two months can be the difference between "early diagnosis" and "point of no return" for some people. So, no, waiting is NOT a good thing.
Third, once again, we have the insurance industry raising its ugly, pointed little head. Why, all of a sudden, are there all these lawsuits? Why weren't they there 10 years ago, 5 years ago? Can we spell G-R-E-E-D?
Really, I am perplexed. If somone has answers, I am all ears.
First, some background. I am a 49-year-old middle-class woman with a decent-paying job. I live the NY metro area. I have had yearly mammograms since the age of 40, not because there's any history of breast cancer in my family (thank God!) but because I have a conservative gynecologist who insists that his patients 40 and older have one every year. OK, I can deal with that.
But it's not just him. These days, you can't pick up a magazine, read a newspaper or watch TV without seeing ads for mammograms. If you're a woman, you are bombarded over and over with the same message: Mammograms save lives. OK, I'll buy into that for the sake of argument.
Today is February 26. I call the imaging lab that I've used for the past decade. I've always been able to make an appointment on a Saturday morning, no problem. It might not be this Saturday, or next Saturday, but I was able to get a Saturday morning appointment within 2-3 weeks of my call.
Not only have they pretty much done away with Saturday appointments altogther (they only have them once a month), you can't even get a friggin' MORNING appointment until April! That's right, you read that correctly. My appointment is for a Monday morning in late April.
Well, I realized that it's not the "order taker's" fault but I did make a remark that the scheduling is not fair to working gals like myself. She was very nice and asked if I would like to speak to her supervisor. I said, "Why not?"
The supervisor, too, was very pleasant. Here is what she told me, in a nutshell: Basically, very few med students want to take up radiology anymore due to numerous lawsuits against them (I was not aware of this). Therefore, due to the shortage of radiologists, many imaging centers no longer offer Saturday appointments. In addition, it's very tough to get ANY appointment for about two months or so.
This burns me up on a lot of levels. First, you read about doctor shortages like this happening in the inner city, particularly with minority women on Medicaid or with no insurance whatsoever. You read about doctor shortages in remote rural areas. You hear about doctor shortages in places like Eastern Europe, the sub-Sahara, and even "progressive" countries with socialized medicine. This is not supposed to happen in "enlightened" metro New York, however. I mean, don't people from overseas come here because we supposedly have the best medical care in the world?
Secondly, waiting two months is not a good thing. Two months can be the difference between "early diagnosis" and "point of no return" for some people. So, no, waiting is NOT a good thing.
Third, once again, we have the insurance industry raising its ugly, pointed little head. Why, all of a sudden, are there all these lawsuits? Why weren't they there 10 years ago, 5 years ago? Can we spell G-R-E-E-D?
Really, I am perplexed. If somone has answers, I am all ears.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
You Have GOT to Be Kidding Me!
I swear, if I hadn't seen this in The Times I would've thought I was reading The Onion:
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/02/22/garden/22depression.html
But the funniest thing of all were some of the comments on Gawker.com:
"This twat stayed up until 3 a.m. fretting about her kitchen backsplash? Jesus God, why hasn't there been a revolution in this country yet?"
So this Toth woman became so depressed she actually found herself cooking in her new kitchen? Someone please hold a telethon...
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/02/22/garden/22depression.html
But the funniest thing of all were some of the comments on Gawker.com:
"This twat stayed up until 3 a.m. fretting about her kitchen backsplash? Jesus God, why hasn't there been a revolution in this country yet?"
So this Toth woman became so depressed she actually found herself cooking in her new kitchen? Someone please hold a telethon...
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