Good Deed for the Day

I just helped French tourists. I was putting my trash out for trash day, and there was an older couple standing at my corner with about 5 suitcases of various sizes. They asked me where Beacon Street was, and of course my first response was to panic (in my head, of course). You see, I inherited my mother's panic response whenever I am asked: directions, to introduce someone, or which is left and which is right. All rational thought or sense of direction goes out the window when I am in the aforementioned situations.

In any case, I was able to tell the tourists that Beacon Street was kind of far to drag all their bags, and they'd be better off taking a cab. I called a cab and waited with them. It was 9:00 pm, which was 3 am their time. Found out they were born in Paris (ooh!), but now lived in the South of France (ooh again!). The wife gave me a bag of candy from their area.

I told them I had just seen the new Michael Moore movie about healthcare, and that it seemed like France had great healthcare and I wanted to move there. The husband did all the talking. He said it was still free for the most part, but sometimes they had to pay if they could afford it. This was not their first time in America. They had been to America in 1976, for the bicentennial, woo hoo! They had also been to Cuba. World travelers, these two.

When the cab came, I bid them adieu. I wanted to tell them good luck, and the first phrase that came out of my mouth was, "Bon Marche!" ( the name of a restaurant I used to frequent). I asked the husband if that meant good luck, and he told me it meant cheap food. Oh well. The wife said I should say, "Bon voyage." Duh. I said "Bon voyage" and "Au revoir", and they were off. Hope they got to where they wanted okay.

I love helping foreigners who are lost, because I know the feeling of being somewhere unfamiliar and having someone be nice to you. It's a good feeling.

Does Not Compute

I'm going to buy a new computer. I want a desktop, which is what I've always had. Makes sense to me; the computer goes on the desk. You go to the desk, do your work, and be done with it. Then you go outside and sit on the porch to listen to the birds and read. Go to the park and see your friends and play with children. Go to Starbucks and...drink something! and watch the people.

More than three people have "advised" me to get a laptop instead. "You'll have the option", they say. Option to what? Work outside and not socialize? Tie up a table at Starbucks for hours so the people who come in simply for a cup of coffee and can't sit down?

I will think about it, before the new Mac comes out (oh yes, I'm doing the big switch from a Dell to a Mac, and that's another topic of controversy, I know). I'm not there yet, to the laptop. I want to do my work and enjoy the outdoors, keyboard free.

Make me an arguement for a laptop, I dare ya.

NYC photo fun

Saw these two gals walking down the street in NYC.

What a sight! See how one is wearing the denim on top

and the other is wearing it on the bottom, and the same

with the black, but opposite, so it makes a checker effect?

And the hair, and right down to the shoes, it was just

viusally stunning!

Prince Sing-a-Long

Went to the Prince Sing-a-Long; Diana and I were first in line. The videos were off the hizzook!

First was the contest. The host talked about the hit song, "When Doves Cry." The contest was for each of us to make a sound like a dove crying as it was dying. We weren't supposed to sound like Prince, he emphasized. We were supposed to sound like doves crying. I thought mine was pretty good. It sounded something like, "Coo coo, coo coo, egh!" The guy who won was the last to go, and at the end he threw himself on the stage. Pretty impressive. The prize was a bottle of Gatorade Rain water (Purple Rain), which was spiked with vodka.

Props for the videos included peanuts, which we were to throw during Let's Go Crazy. "Let's go crazy...let's get NUTS!", purple streamers during Purple Rain, and party horns during Cream's, "You've got the horn so why don't you blow it..."

Two hours later I was spent, and at the same time I could have danced all night. Made friends with the host in the parking lot, and got a Princely shot of him. He looked pretty shot, don't you think? Next up: The Pop-Rap Crunk Sing-a-Long in a few weeks!

Potterpalooza...the Day After

It's 8:23 am. I feel like I've been hit by a train going to Hogwart's. I will admit, today, that age definately has an effect on how late one stays up at night. Midnight at 39 is not the same as midnight at 19, that's for damn sure.

I got to the line at 5:30 last night, and I was second, right behind a 6 foot tall Harry Potter look-a-like. He was very friendly, introduced himself as Ari, and was surrounded by about eight of his friends. They were all 8th graders. The joint was jumpin' at the front of the line, and for a long time, that's all it was; the 8th graders and me. Ari had gotten there at 4:00, I got there at 5:30, a friend of Ari's was 3rd in line, and a woman named Robin was 4th, and she got there around 6:30. After that, a big group of friends got in line, and that's when the line really got underway.

After talking to Ari for a little while, we discovered that he attended my school for a summer, and I had actually been one of his teachers! I remembered him, but the 4 year-old Ari I knew was quiet and kept to himself; he was not the personable, self-assured young man giving interviews at the front of the line. It was amazing to see how this kid had blossomed over the years.

At 8:30, there were 150 people in line, and by the time 9:00 rolled around, the line went all the way down the block, around the corner, and down that block too. I was happy to have my place. When we went in at 9:00 to get our numbers, it turned out that they had reserved the first four places for the winners of the character look-a-like contest, so Ari was actually number 5, and I was number 6. No matter; we were in the top 10. Ari was sure to win the contest anyway.

9:00--got our numbers, and we were released for a break until 11:30. What the hell was I going to do for 2 1/2 hours? Well, for one thing, I was having an asthma attack from all the excitement, so I hopped in a cab, went home, got my inhaler, and went back. I wandered around Coolidge Corner in a daze, completely overwhelmed by the crowds. I had never seen so many people in that area at once in all the years I've lived here. Went to the contest, where Ari was the crowd favorite, and was disappointed when he didn't win. We demanded a recount. They awarded prizes to all the little kids. Oh well.

Back in line at 11:30, and the excitement was palpable. The bookstore employees announced ten more minutes, five, and the big 10 second countdown at the end. I got my book, screamed, waved it around, and hopped in a cab to go home. Read the first chapter and went to bed. I'll be reading it until my next event...the Prince Midnight Sing-a-Long...tonight!

Potterpalooza

My local independent bookstore is having an event called "Potterpalooza" to celebrate the last book in the Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. The book will be sold at midnight tonight. At 9:00 pm, people will get a number that will be your place in line when the selling line starts at 11:00 pm. I'm worried about the line for the 9:00 time, so I want to go to the store now and line up. It's 5:15.

I called the store to ask if I should bring a chair, and the guy on the phone laughed at me. He said there were some teenagers in line already, and just don't bring a big lounge chair. I told him I have many years experience waiting in lines, so I'm prepared.

Water bottle? Check.
Camera? Check.
Buddy who will bring me dinner? Check.
Jacket for when it gets cold later? Check.
Chair? Check.

All set. I'll let you know what happens.

Stormy Weather

Back in January, my storm windows were up and I hadn't noticed until one day it was really cold in my apartment (see Jan. 21st post). I berated myself for not knowing about the storm windows.

Today, July 19, it was hot, so I opened up both of my windows, not just one like I usually do. Figured I'd get a crossbreeze going for the cat while I was at work. Getting ready for bed, I went to close the windows, and I noticed that the window that I don't usually open didn't really feel like it had a breeze flowing through. Upon closer inspection, I saw that the storm window was down. Okay, so, strike two for the fucking storm windows. When they're supposed to be up, they're down, and vice-a versa. I hate storm windows.

BTW, I always close my windows at night, even if it's really hot. I don't want any serial killers coming in. My routine at night is this: As I close my window and prepare to go up to my hot loft bed, I say to myself, "Would you rather be a little hot, or dead?" and the answer is always, "A little hot." Makes sense to me. And no, the air conditioner didn't make it in this summer, and I don't think it will. And no, I don't even have a fan. I don't like fans. I hate the noise they make, and for some reason I have a fear especially of oscillating fans. Never know when that breeze is gonna hit ya.

Call me paranoid with an overactive imagination, but I've woken up alive every day with my system; it works for me.

You Never Know

I was on the Greyhound bus going from NYC to upstate NY, and my seat's right armrest was folded down. I tried pulling it up, but it wouldn't budge. I got frustrated, and the guy behind me helped me out by telling me to pull it out, then up. It worked. "Thanks, I like to have an armrest", I told him.

Perhaps he would have liked to have an armrest too, but it would be of no use to him. See, it just happened that the guy who helped me didn't have a whole arm, only half of one. Oh god, I was so embarassed to notice this. What saved me was that the half of the arm he did have was covered with tattoos, so I asked him if I could look at them. We had a short conversation about tats, and I felt better.

At a NYC Bus Stop

Some kind soul put a folding chair at the bus stop, and one guy actually took advantage of it. People will just have to wait at this bus stop; if you look closely, you'll see the advertisement says, "No Reservations."

If you can't afford Fantastik...

Try the knockoff, Fabulous!

And Then There's This

A six-pack and a bag from Victoria's Secret. Someone had a good time in the parking lot of Trader Joe's.

Can't Even Think of a Title For This One

Can you? Let it be known that this shower
curtain was pure in the package.

Yabba Dabba Doo!

Here's a nightstand that my dad picked up somewhere. Doesn't it look like it should be on The Flintstones?

A New Record

I always look to see when Christmas trees get thrown away, and am amazed at how long some of them hang on. I believe the last Christmas tree I posted was some time around March. Well, believe it or not, I saw one the other day on July 15, a new record for me.

A guy was going back and forth, back and forth from his place, throwing away all manner of things, including a huge roll of bubble wrap and the tree. After a couple of minutes I asked him what was going on. "So, just cleaning up?" I asked. "Something like that." he replied. "Break up?" I said sympathetically. "Yeah", he said. I left him to his business and got the shot.

correction

My cousin Amy (yes, Amy, I said you were my cousin, it sounds rude to say my cousin's wife) wrote to say that it's not true that I don't like the sea, she has pictures to prove it. Okay, there is one thing I like about the sea, and that is taking pictures of the sea or being photographed at the sea. BUT THAT'S IT! Now excuse me while I go eat a muffin...

A Buck A Day

I did this thing where, whenever I had a dollar or two in my wallet at the end of the day, I'd stick it in my giant Hershey's chocolate syrup bank. I was going to open it when there was no more room in the bank and do something special like take a trip around the world, but I decided to open it this morning. It was almost full anyway.

Did it for just a few months, and I had $75 in there! All those singles sure add up. I think the key is to get a giant container that's not see-thru, and you should put it up a little so it's not that easy to get to. Try it! Good luck!

6 weird things about me

My friend Sabine just "tagged" me somehow to post 6 weird/quirky things about myself. Click on "What's New With the Munshis" on the right column to read her blog. I'm not going to tag anyone else, but here are my top 6, since there are many more...

1. I only eat food in small bites. This means I cut everything up into tiny bite-sized pieces, including muffins. For example, first you slice off the top, then cut that into 8 pieces, then you cube up the bottom. Eat the bottom first, because you save the best, the top, for last.

2. Like Sabine, I too only sit in a restaurant facing outwards so I can see what's going on. The only exception to this is that sitting in a booth trumps sitting outwards.

3. I collect cat whiskers and dead bugs.

4. I love to clean lint out of things with a Q-Tip or a toothpick, like the hair from brushes or the vacuum.

5. I dislike the sea; visiting it, eating things from it, or reading about it.

6. I brought in a hairball from my cat to show my preschool kids and passed it off a science lesson.

I'm in Love...

...and his name is Mr. Fluffy.

Now, I know it might seem a tad strange that I would declare my affections for a rooster, but take a look at him. Can you blame me?

Yearnin for an Urn, part deux

We got the ice bucket, ahem, urn, home and cleaned it up with silver polish. It was beautiful! B sawed off the tong holder. The big moment had arrived to put the ashes in the urn. Ashes come in a clear plastic bag inside whatever grade container you get, so all we had to do was put the bag in the bucket. We decided to leave them in the bag because I once heard my dad say that when he died he wanted his ashes and my mom's ashes to be mixed together, which I thought was a very sweet gesture. Even though they separated when I was seven, they were always good friends. When I told my brother about this, his response was, "What about Grandma?" Well, we'd think about that later. For now, we needed to get Dad in his place for the gathering.

K lit some incense a friend had given us, and we turned the TV on to the Opera music channel. Since we are neither religious nor formal, we just awkwardly stood there for a minute, and K said something I don't remember, and B put the bag in the buck...in the urn. We put the urn on the mantel with a rose and some gold leaf.

At the gathering we put up pictures of my dad in chronological order next to the urn, but we didn't make mention of dad's ashes. I figured no one noticed. A couple of days later, I was having lunch with a friend who had been in attendance, and I said in a stage whisper, "You know, my dad's ashes were there the whole time..." and she replied, "You mean in the ice bucket?" Guess it was more noticeable than I thought.

Yearnin for an Urn

Rewind to a couple of weeks ago, when my brother, B, my sister-in-law, K, and I went shopping for an urn to put my dad's ashes in so he would be presentable at the memorial gathering we had for his friends at the apartment.

We have a collection of ashes at my dad's apartment. First, my mom's, which arrived 17 years ago in a golden container that looks like something you'd put flour in in the 1950's. I used to have it in my kitchen, and when my friends asked me what it was, I'd say, "That's my mom." I brought it over to my dad's place when I moved to Japan, because it's illegal to bring ashes overseas. It's been there ever since.

Four years ago my paternal grandmother died, and her ashes came in a kelly green plastic container. Her container went next to my mom's.

It seems with each passing, the containers get a little lower in quality. Poor Dad. His ashes arrived in a white cardboard container that looked eerily similar to a Happy Meal with no advertising. We knew we'd have to get a more suitable container for Dad that would look nice on the mantel and didn't look like it would contain a small plastic toy. We only had one day to shop. We knew we didn't want a typical urn like a vase. We'd all seen the movies where the urn falls and ashes get spilled everywhere. Where could we get a container with a lid? We headed to the first place we thought of: Zabar's, the gourmet kitchen and food store across the street.

The first containers we came across were ice buckets. B and I immediately scoped them out, laughing hysterically about the possibility of Dad's ashes being contained in a bucket with tongs. He was a drinker; wouldn't be a stretch. K looked shocked and at one point it seemed as though she was saying a prayer in Japanese to offset the disrespect we were showing to the dead. Peals of laughter could be heard from me, as I moved over to the section of soup tureens.

We moved around the store, looking at pots, pans, and coffee containers. We found one that was just what we wanted, plain and simple, but it was too small. We decided to leave Zabar's and go to an antique store. On the way we thought of one of my dad's favorite haunts: The Salvation Army. Dad used to get his opera outfits there, as well as dresses for his dates, in case they didn't have suitable clothing for the Met.

K and I walked in and headed directly for the back of the store where the furniture was kept, and there it was--a silver plated container with a lid. It was as if it called to us. It was the only thing of its kind around, and the store was about to close, so we had to make a decision. It didn't have a price tag, so we asked an employee. He came back and told us $7.99. Not bad; Dad would have approved.

We brought it to the front to show B, and were intercepted by another employee, who told us that the man had given us the wrong price, it was actually $14.99. B wasn't sure if it would get clean ( it was a bit tarnished), and besides, it turned out to be an ice bucket. I noticed a small piece of metal sticking out of it, and asked what it was, and B informed me that's where the tongs went. Ha ha!

K and I were convinced this was the way to go, and we pushed for it and won. The woman who had informed us of the new price said she had actually wanted it, but too bad for her, we plunked down our money and the crafty container was ours.

To be continued...

The Log Blog

My friends Jenn and Sidhu really want to be in this blog. They didn't choose the cutest subject to get in on, however. The shit hit the fan, so to speak, and here they are. Hope you're happy, guys. Your big moment has arrived.

They invited me out to dinner with them, to the fast food Indian place. Right as we're getting into the minivan, Sidhu announces that he's just stepped in dog crap. He hates stepping in dog crap, and gripes about it the whole ride over. I asked if he wanted to use my sink, but he said no, he'd just keep scraping along the sidewalk.

On the way over to the restaurant, Jenn entertains the van (me, Sidhu, and their 4 children) with poop stories they've heard from other people. We're all giggling and snorting, these stories are pretty funny, but man, we're about to eat, and some of the Indian food I like happens to resemble, well, I can't even go into it, I need to put a hold on the conversation so we can just enjoy our meal.

Enjoy our meal we do, until two year old Sera takes a major dump in her pants. Seems that she's been toilet training this week, and has been doing really well. With pee. Jenn thought that we were just going in for a second to order our food to take out, so she quickly threw a diaper on Sera...on top of her underwear, which Sera had already had on. Once we got in we decided to sit down and eat, and Sera's undergarments were forgotten about.

Until Jenn can hardly breathe, and she's thinking about what to do. Take her to the van and change her, just head home...we decide to just head home, everyone's done anyway. More poop references, lots of laughs, Sidhu not believing that Jenn put the diaper on over the underwear...

So we get to the van, Sidhu puts Sera in her car seat, and man, it stinks! We're all laughing and waving our arms, and Jenn decides to just change her right then and there. Sidhu takes her out of the seat, and smears toddler poop on the seat. Man! I scream, and we all get up to look. Jenn has Sera in the front seat and announces that this is a much...bigger situation than she had thought. Oh god, disgusting! She calls for backup from Sidhu.

Sidhu takes charge, all the while cursing about how disgusting this is, he can't believe this, etc. I tell him to calm down, he's a surgeon, for goddsakes. "Not a rectal surgeon", Jenn quips. When he starts going on about corn chunks, I say that I'm going to be sick, and we really need to stop now. Maxy said she was going to vomit. Jace, the baby, was amazingly quiet throughout the whole episode.

Quinn, while looking in the front seat, puts his hand in the poop and waves it around. Jenn wipes it off and I quickly administer the Purell like an expert. We need to get home. Now. We finally do, and as I get out, Sidhu says it must be nice to breathe clean air. I breathe in the fumes from the front grill of the van and say that's even fresher than what they're breathing. We all bust up, Sidhu apologizes for being a party...pooper, ha ha, I promise to hang out with them again, in a year or two, and go inside. A few minutes later I get an email from Jenn saying that Sidhu thinks the blog entry can be called The Log Blog. So it is. I've got to stop now. I'm pooped.

Perseverance Pays Off

My brother sanded an entire hallway with his foot. I'm not kidding. Look at the shoe he made. He did it with one shoe. A little at a time, he says. I'm bewildered and awed.