Butterflies in my hair

Hey Y'all,

I have so many stories, but I'm not in the writing mood these days, so you'll just have to bear with me. Here's a few pics of butterflies I took while at The Butterfly Place in Westwood, MA. I went with a Canon camera club, and we got the place to ourselves for two hours before they opened. I announced to the group that I had a fear of butterflies (they're so unpredictable!) that I was hoping to get over. Thank goodness the butterfly people turned down the heat for us to make the butterflies less active. Most of them just stayed still.

Later, the sun came out, and some of those beautiful giant blue ones started flapping around, and I swear they were divebombing me on purpose! One guy kept saying, "Watch out for that one, it has fangs!" Hey, I just don't like flappy things flying unpredictably around my head, can you blame me? Anyway, guess I had a small story in there after all. Enjoy the pics. More stories to come!

Fan

I went to Ikea the other night. At the end where they have the pick up bins, I looked up and noticed a huge fan. Looking closer, I noticed the name of the company: Big Ass Fans. Pretty funny.

Charlie Card Update

Update: after 4 letters and about 6 phone calls, my new May Charlie Card arrived in the mail yesterday. The squeaky wheel gets the grease.

Whee!

Yesterday I went to Issei and Yumeko's house as usual to tutor them in English. Issei is 10 and Yumeko is 13. Usually when I arrive, they're both upstairs and they come down with their backpacks. They dutifully start on their homework and I help them with that before we play a game. They've only been in this country for 7 months, so they're still learning English.

When I arrived yesterday, however, it seemed that Issei was suddenly fluent. He was downstairs already, and he greeted me with, "Hi! Homework finish! Want to play a game? I have Wii!" I had heard the big hoo ha over Wii, so of course I was curious. I told him I'd love to play, but since everything was in Japanese, he'd have to explain things in English. He said, "Yes." and Yumeko closed her backpack, clapped her hands, and said, "Okay!"

It was a great English lesson as they both explained how to move the controls, what the games were, and what I should do. My favorite game was a dart game where you held the control but moved your hand as if you were actually throwing a dart. Teaching English was never more fun.

Junk in the Trunk

Here's the thing: When you wear a trench coat, don't wear a fanny pack. It looks silly. And someone might take a picture of you from...behind, pun intended, and post it on their blog. Seriously.

Only in NE

Only in New England will you see a pair of flip flops and a pair of sheepskin boots on the same day...

More Celebrities

I saw Rosie O'Donnell and her partner Kelli in Provincetown, MA once.
Robin Williams eating at a Chinese restaurant in San Francisco.
The comedian Sinbad crossing the street in NYC.

Back when I was in high school, there used to be this hot male model in the Victoria's Secret catalogs. My best friend Aysha and I would drool over this guy in his satin boxer shorts. One day I was walking down the street in NYC and I saw him at a phone booth. I nearly died! I went right up to him and said, "Aren't you the guy from the Victoria's Secret catalog?" and he got this fake model look on his face and crooned, "Why, yes I am." I asked him for his autograph; his name was Bruce. I ran to a phone booth and called Aysha and screamed, "OhmygodIjustmettheVictoria'sSecretguyandIgothisautographohmygod!!!!" We were very excited.

This happened another time. The movie La Bamba was in the theaters, and Aysha and I were hot for Esai Morales, who played the brother. He was typecast as the bad boy; in fact, he had previously been in the movie Bad Boys with Sean Penn. I was waiting for the subway at Times Square, and who should I see coming to wait for the train but Esai Morales himself. He was carrying a basketball.

We made eye contact and smiled, and I said, "Are you Esai Morales?" and he said yes, and we started a conversation. He had just come from playing basketball in the Village. I remember I said something like "you famous people" or something, and he said, "What are you talking about? I'm just like you!" Yeah, right. When it was close to his stop he said, "Well, I have to be somewhere, but if I didn't, you would definitely be kidnapping material." What?? I thought that was a weird thing to say, but I smiled at him, nervously. Then he had the nerve to lean towards me, as if we were going to kiss goodbye! I said, "Uh, no thanks." and he was a little offended. We parted ways, and even though he creeped me out a bit, I still had to rush to the phone and call Aysha. I screamed, "OhmygodAyshaIjustmetEsaiMorales!!!" and she screamed, "Didyougethisnumber???" No, he gave me the willies. But it was still kinda cool.

My favorite celebrity sighting was Jeff Goldblum in Central Park. That man is tall, a real presence. He was bopping along, taking long strides, and everyone was gawking at him. All of a sudden he put his thumbs in his ears, waved his fingers, made a boogey man face and screamed, "Blaughhhhhh!" at the passerby. It was hysterical, and I thought a most appropriate response for a celebrity.

Celebrity Sightings

When I was in NYC, on my first morning I walked out of my hotel and within 5 minutes saw Alec Baldwin. He was waiting to cross the street, and I stared at him to make sure it really was a Baldwin. Looked his image up on the web to make sure it was Alec, and not one of the other ones. He was holding hands with a rather dowdy woman who I thought was his wife. When I called a friend to tell her about my celebrity sighting, she said, "He's not married! He's the Kim Basinger one!" Ohhh...was it his mother? She was short, and a little paunchy, not old enough to be his mother. Unless she dyed her hair. Who was that mystery woman? Who cares? I saw Alec Baldwin!

Other celebrities I have seen, in no particular order:

Madonna and Sean Penn, jogging in Central Park. This was back when they were married. Madonna whipped right past me, but Sean looked in my eyes. I thought he was going to punch me out.

Ron Palillo, who played Horseshack on the 70's sitcom Welcome Back Kotter. He came into Belvedere Castle in Central Park, where I used to work. Saw a lot of celebrities in Central Park.

Morgan Freeman, riding his bike in Central Park. I was in my early twenties, but looked like a teenager. I stopped him and said, "Mr. Freeman, I've been a fan of yours ever since you were on The Electric Company." He replied, "And look atcha now, all grown up!" It sounded condesending to me, and left a bad impression.

Another bad impression was when I met Sonia Manzano, who plays Maria on Sesame Street. I used to be one of the little kids on Sesame Street, and of course all little kids idolize the cast, right? I had proof I was on the show when I was looking through one of my college textbooks that I had bought. There was a picture of Maria and the back of my head, on the Sesame Street set. When I heard that Maria was going to be at the Children's Museum of Boston, I brought the book to show her. I went up to her and said, "Look, this is me and you!" and she said to me, "How do you know that's you?" Oh my god, I was so pissed and disappointed in her.

More celebrity sighting stories to come...

NYC

I was in New York City the other day. What a city. I walked all over, up and down Broadway, and didn't feel like I was walking that much. Till I got back to my hotel room and fell asleep almost immediately. I calculated exactly how much I walked in one day. Eight miles. Eight! Wish I could do that every day, but walking in Brookline isn't the same.

Where else but NYC can you see a guy walking along in a funny hat making bird noises every few feet? And it wasn't to entertain the children; this was around 9:00 pm in Times Square. I saw this big tough looking guy on the subway, listening to his iPod. He looked like L.L. Cool J, very cute. He was listening to one of my favorite rap songs, and I wanted to tell him so. I waited till he looked up, and I said, "That's a great song." He said, "This one?" I said, "Yeah, it's one of my favorites. Thank you for listening to it so loud." He got this bashful "aw shucks" look on his face and said, "You're welcome."

I saw this sign:

Perfect for the camera tripod that

walks. More NYC adventures to come.

When You're Pissed, Write a Letter

This is a letter I wrote to the Massachusetts Bay Transit Authority:

March 13, 2007

To Daniel Grabauskas, General Manager

I have lived in the Boston area for fifteen years, and have been a faithful T rider since I stepped foot in this wonderful city. In recent years I have bought my monthly T Pass at the Mailboxes Etc. store located in Coolidge Corner, Brookline. The set up was great; I'd buy my pass, use the accessible hole puncher to punch a hole in the pass so I could attach it to my key chain, and be on my way. I never lost a T Pass using this system.

In January, when the new Charlie Card arrived, I bought a monthly card as usual. I was disappointed to see that a hole could not be punched in it so I could put it on my key chain. It took me awhile to figure out where to put it each day so I wouldn't lose it. Each month when I went into the Mailboxes Etc. store, I was told by the store owner and employees to save my receipt; if I ever lost my card, it would be replaced. I was relieved.

Lo and behold, last week I had put my Charlie Card in my pocket, and at some point it fell out. I was glad I had my receipt as proof I bought it! I went into Mailboxes Etc. to get a new card, and was told that I would have to contact the MBTA.

I called the number printed on the receipt, and was told there was nothing that could be done. I later heard that the MBTA was supposed to set up a system in January whereby one could register a Charlie Card for replacement if it got lost. According to the MBTA website, that has not been done yet. That is not my fault.

When I went to complain to the owner of Mailboxes Etc., Chuck Peden, he told me that he was told by Rick (last name unknown), an employee of the MBTA, that a card would be replaced if lost. Rick is the person who trained the staff at Mailboxes Etc.

I was told multiple times that my card would be replaced if I lost it. I lost it; I want it replaced. I am asking for a check for $59.00 to cover the second card I had to buy in March. Enclosed is a receipt for the Charlie Card I bought February 28th.

I am extremely disappointed in the lack of organization of the MBTA and the new Charlie Card system. I look forward to improvements and consistancy, in addition to my check for $59.00.

Sincerely,

Alexandra Campbell

I printed this letter on bright yellow paper and sent a copy of it to the MBTA. My plan was to send one copy each week until I got a response. It took 4 letters until I got a phone call. I can just picture the scene in the office: Some higher up waving my letter and giving it to a junior employee, saying through clenched teeth: "Make this woman go away, I don't care what it takes!!!"

The woman on the phone said that while they couldn't cut me a check, they would send me a pass for the month of May so I wouldn't have to buy one. That's all I wanted. Justice was served.

And then...and I really hesitate to write this part of the story, but it wouldn't be complete if I didn't. Was in NYC yesterday during the torrental rain. My bags got drenched. When I got home today I emptied everything out of my backpack to let things dry. I went through every single pocket.

And found the Charlie Card I thought I lost. And I suddenly got a flash of the day I thought I lost it; I had put it carefully in a special pocket so I wouldn't lose it. Can one be too fastidious? Methinks so.

You might say that I owe Daniel Grabauskas a big fat apology. I am very embarassed, it's true. But here's the thing: It could have happened! I thought I lost it. Well, I lost it for a month and a half! Oh god, please forgive me.

Don't Try This

Hiro just bought a Lotus. I don't know jack about cars, but it's some very expensive designer car that's good for racing. He brought it over to show me.

I tried being a hot model for a hot model car, but I wasn't looking so hot when I tried to get out of it. It's not for the red carpet.

Stairway to Heaven, Part Three

Shelby, like myself, is a creature of habit. Every morning she sits on the floor and meows for me to wake up. Sometimes she does it at three in the morning. She doesn't want food or to go out; she wants attention. I go down to pee, acknowledge her, and then she's fine. It took her a week to figure out that she could now go up the stairs and be with me without waiting for me to go down. She did it this morning, and she loves it.

Stairway to Heaven, Part Two

So I got this nasty GI virus (see "A Diet That Really Works!") and when I felt better, I scrubbed the bathroom down with bleach bathroom cleaner to get rid of all the germs. I thought I had rinsed everything properly, but maybe not, because just a day later, Shelby got a case of the runs. This happens to her every once in awhile, and when I described it to the vet, he said that if it goes away in a day or two, it's something she's gotten into in the house. It's not like I leave toxic plants in her reach or have rat poison around. Thing is, Shelby's tastes run on the strange side. She loves to lick photographs and ink, either from a pen or a computer printer. I'm guessing she also likes bathroom cleaner.

In any case, the way I found out she had the runs was by coming home one afternoon to show a friend my place for the first time. We walked into a smell that would knock you back to 2006. Shelby was up in the loft, waiting for me to take her down. She was all the way on the head side of the bed, the very opposite of where she usually is. Why?

Because she had peed and made a puddle of diarrhea at the foot of the bed. Needless to say, I was very embarassed and concerned. My friend was so gracious; she left after a few minutes to let me clean up the mess. The pee had gone through the comforter cover, through the quilt and sheets, and onto the mattress pad. It didn't make it on the mattress, thank god. Poor Shelby had a messy backside, and I had to deal with all of this. Got it cleaned up pretty quickly.

Then I put in an emergency email looking for someone who could make me a set of steps for the loft so that Shelby could go up and down freely. I had to put tape on the ladder so she wouldn't go up there until I got the steps made. My friend Geoff got right on it. We designed a set of steps, I showed Shelby how to use them, and in a couple of days, she was going up and down like she was an act in the circus. My bed is clean, Shelby is getting exercise, and she also has access to the top of my closet, where there are other treats Shelby loves to devour: dust bunnies.

Stairway to Heaven, Part One

(turn your head to see pic properly)

Shelby, my beloved feline, my darling precious baby, likes to sleep in my loft bed. I was the one to introduce her to it. She never tried to climb the ladder herself, so one day when I was about to take a nap, I hoisted her 11 1/2 pound furry frame up there. She loved it. We established a routine; she'd meow, I'd put her up, she'd nap. I'd take her down. If she stayed sitting and bit my hand, that meant she wasn't ready to come down. If she stood up, she wanted to come down, so I carried her down the ladder like a firefighter.

This went on for months, until one day...I came home and Shelby didn't greet me at the door like she usually did. Lo and behold, she was up in the loft! And very happy to see me, as she had probably been up there for awhile and wanted to get down. I took her down, and later witnessed how she got up. Step by step, very slowly, and with some degree of difficulty. Imagine a slow-witted raccoon trying to climb a tree.

Going up was no problem. It was the getting down part that she didn't quite understand. There would be days when I'd come home and she'd be up there, purring and meowing for me to take her down. Friends would ask, "What if she has to go to the bathroom?" She held it till I came home.

I saw her come down once. It was not a pretty sight. She went down, head and paws first, but it was difficult, as the rungs of the ladder were too far apart for her to reach down comfortably. Also, the ladder is at a very steep angle, so she couldn't balance very well. She made it down one step, then took a deep breath, and ran/slid down the rest of the way. You could tell it took a lot of guts to do and that she wasn't anxious to do it again. She stopped coming down and waited for me.

Then I got sick, and that's the beginning of the next part of the story.

What Would You Do?

I witnessed a fistfight between two teenagers on my way to the T today. They were on the basketball court, and I couldn't tell if it was real or if they were just fooling around. There were about five other kids on the court, one of whom was egging them on. At one point, it looked like a girl got in the middle of it and started swinging. It started to look real.

And here I am, little tiny white woman (the participants were not white). Am I supposed to step in the middle of this group and get my ass kicked? Try to break it up? Should I have called the police?

As it turned out, a white woman much taller than me came over and broke it up. I guessed she was a teacher at the high school.

The incident left me unsettled. What would you have done?

A Diet That Really Works!

Are you having trouble getting rid of those last pesky few pounds? Have you tried every diet under the sun? Is exercise just too strenuous?

Have I got the diet for you!

It's called The GI Virus/Orange Juice/English Muffin Diet, and it really works! In just 5 days I lost 3 pounds! Here's all you do:

1) Find a place with an outbreak of a GI virus, such as a preschool or large family. Hang out with the group for a week to 10 days. When you start to feel just a little "not yourself", you're on your way!

2) Eat soup out of a can the first night, instead of the healthy balanced meal you had planned.

3) The second day is when the diet really takes effect. Get knocked out and lie in bed with a fever for 10 hours straight, getting out of bed only to throw up. It's easier than yoga! You'll sleep with no interruptions and sweat your fat away! Some people even get delusional and have wonderful dreams!

4) Drink whatever you want at the end of the fever period. Orange juice will taste like golden nectar. An English muffin will keep you satisfied.

5) The next 2 days are slightly unpleasant, as the little you've put in your stomach will immediately "run" out. Don't tell your thoughtful friends, who have brought you all manner of goodies. Don't let them in on the fact that you've lost your sense of smell, either. It's good to have friends!

6) You should see results on the 5th day. Unfortunately, that will be the highlight of the diet, as your appetite will come back and all the weight you lost is sure to return as well. Just record your low weight on the calendar and know that it can be done, if only for a short time.

Remember, throw that Purell away and get goin' with the GI virus!

Good Enough to Eat

I tutor Japanese people in

English conversation; I am

often served a snack during

our tutoring sessions. Check

out the aesthetic delight I

was served the other day:

Dessert provided by Trader

Joe's; presentation by Chikae.

Well done!

American Idol on the Brain

After dinner, Hiro and I went to the ice cream place. One guy behind the counter had his back to us; when he turned around, I gasped. He looked like a white Ruben Studdard from American Idol! Don't you think so???

Clean Plate Club

Hiro and I went to eat dinner at the Indian place. We were talking for about 10 minutes; I looked up and saw what his plate looked like compared to what my plate looked like. Guess he was hungry.

My Idol

I had a dream last night that I slept with Simon Cowell, the "mean" British judge on American Idol. This was after he told me I went from a size 3 last year to a size 10 this year, and I let myself go. Didn't seem to faze him, though, after I flirted a little. As we started making out, I apologized out loud to his longtime girlfriend.

We were on the top bunk of a bunkbed, and Randy Jackson, another judge, was at the foot of the bed, not paying attention to us. Right at the "moment of truth", I sat up,wanting to make sure Randy wasn't there anymore. The moment was lost, and Simon got up to do something. I did too, but went back to the bed. He came back over, Randy was nowhere to be seen, and we continued...

I'm into dream analyzation. What does this dream mean? Let's see...I love American Idol, and I think Simon is hot. Makes sense. I'm having issues with weight gain. Okay. I sleep in a loft bed, so the bunkbed makes sense. What's the deal with Randy Jackson?

Any ideas? If you have trouble leaving a comment here, send it to me via email. I'm curious!

New species

Saw this guy waiting for the train. Doesn't he look like a human turtle?

It's That Good!

Here's a quiz: You're in a mall, and you see a line of about 30 people. What are they waiting for?

a) a celebrity sighting

b) a book signing

c) white rice

The answer, at this particular time, would be c), white rice. Sarku, the Japanese place in the food court at any mall, has about 3 items on their menu, and they're known for their teriyaki chicken and white rice. You've probably sampled their little chicken pieces on a toothpick, admit it. And damn, it's good!

Today they ran out of white rice, and the next batch wouldn't be ready for 20 minutes. Those of us who didn't really care had fried rice or noodles, but some people held out, those purists.

As I was waiting for my meal, I watched as they prepared fresh chicken on the huge grill. Normally, seeing raw meat makes me feel ill at ease, but this display nearly caused me to throw up right then and there. I don't know if it came from a bucket or what, but suddenly they slopped what looked like liquified chicken all over the grill. I turned away so I could enjoy the end result.

And enjoy it I did, unlike the ungrateful woman whose boyfriend waited the 20 minutes to get her white rice, while he had noodles. My friend and I watched as she picked at her meal. I felt like yelling at her, "Ingrate! There are starving people in line who would kill to have that rice!"

But I kept my mouth shut, for once. And my tummy full. Yum.

Techno Love

TV: Oh, hi, PC! Didn't think you'd actually show.

PC: Wasn't my choice. It's trash day.

TV: So you wouldn't have...

PC: Sony, it's over. The spark just isn't there anymore.

TV: That's 'cause I'm not plugged in! Ha...get it? Not...plugged...in. Come on, P, give me another chance.

PC: I've given you too many chances already. Why don't you go find yourself a nice laptop and leave me alone?

TV: That hurts, P. That really hurts. And so does this Christmas tree up my arse. It's March, fer Chrissakes! What the hell are you doing here?

Tree: Yo, how do you think I feel? Everyone else is partying it up on the curb January 1st, and I'm left to dry out while the Mr. and Mrs. decide what to do about the condo! Who moves out? Do they sell? He's worked too hard to just walk away from this property! Sheesh. The decorations were ripped off me like I was being strip searched. I felt so...violated. And then just tossed back here to rot with hunks of plastic and wires. Uh...no offense.

TV: Whatever, dude. Here comes the trash truck. PC, hope you get past dial up someday.

PC: Don't you worry, I've got a date with Hi Def tonight.

Tree: Oh man, please let that Golden Retriever keep walking. Keeeep walking...

Lazy Sunday

Ahhh...2:30 pm. I just woke up. Now, before you get the wrong idea, I did not go to sleep last night and wake up just now. I got up at 6:30, fed the cat, and woke up again at 9:00 because the phone rang. Friend and I went out to breakfast, and there musta been somethin' in the bacon, 'cause I came back, had a cup of tea, and went right back to bed. Till just now. Nice thing about having a cat is that she sleeps whenever I do, and wakes up with me too. It's so cute.

Now listen, if you think I'm livin' the life, just stop and think about what I do. Why, yesterday I spent a grand total of 3 1/2 hours in a movie theater; the first hour and a half I was in one theater watching a Bugs Bunny film festival, and the other two hours I was in another theater watching the tirades of one Idi Amin (The Last King of Scotland). Went out to eat till 11:15 pm, and now I'm tired all day.

Seriously, I don't sit on my ass all day. Yesterday I also made greeting cards, painted and decopaged a mirror, and wrote part of my memoir. My neighbor came downstairs and wanted to know if I skiied. No. Ice skated? Not really. Sledded? Uh...I tried to be helpful. "I surf the net!" I told her. Har dee har har.

Sometimes it's good to have a lazy Sunday. Gotta go finish the paper, and get ready to sit on my ass for 3 hours tonight watching the Oscars. What a life!

Reality Check

Ah, to be childless and a teacher on the public school calendar. A week off, with nowhere to go. I have watched Ellen and Oprah every day, and Oprah on Ellen. And not Martha Stewart, though I tried. She is just not a talk show host. She's always been so stiff. Maybe she can do wonders with a styrofoam ball and a glue gun, but I need a little more human connection, you know what I mean?

So here's the thing: Every Sunday night I go to my friends' house to watch The Apprentice. For one reason or another, we haven't been able to watch the last 2 episodes, but thank god for TiVo. But now we have to catch up on The Apprentice and The Amazing Race All Stars. And The Oscars are on Sunday. And America's Next Top Model starts again next week. And American Idol is on every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. And that conflicts with Survivor. What is a girl to do?

I am sooo glad I don't like dramas.

I know about five people who read my blog regularly. Four of them can totally relate to the above. One of them has gone to the bathroom and is dry heaving. You okay, Mike? Mike?

I think I'll bust out the bon bons.

A New Look

Ahh, I love Boston in the winter...
Inside My Head has a new look.
Whaddaya think?

It All Comes Back Around

This whole story starts a few days ago. My friend Hiro and I were waiting for the train. While we were waiting, I saw an older couple who looked like they were having trouble with their car. They were trying to get out of a snow pile, and it looked like they were stuck; the wheels of the car were spinning. I thought that I should go and push the car to help them out. Hiro told me to mind my own. I hemmed and hawed, until Hiro told me, "Train's coming!" I reluctantly got on the T, vowing to do a good deed to make up for not helping this poor couple.

My chance to make up for it came yesterday. See, my friend Jenn is eight months pregnant with her fourth child, and about a week ago she slipped and fell; broke her knee cap in half--yowsa!! Just got home from the hospital, and she ain't got nothin' to do but sit up in the bed. Her mother is helping her out, but I figured I'd give them both a break and have two of the kids over to my house for awhile. The kids and I had a great time, and it felt good to have done something nice for someone.

Rewind to two weeks ago. I had gotten my teeth cleaned, and the hygenist noticed a small area of decay in one tooth. She could ask the dentist to come and look at it, but it would be $35 just for him to walk in the room. She went to consult with him, and he told her to just book an appointment for a filling. He trusted her; if it turned out to be nothing, I'd be the lucky one.

Fast forward to today. I went in to have my tooth filled, hoping it would turn out to be nothing. My dentist's room was all the way in the back, down a long narrow hallway. I told the dental assistant I felt like I was on death row. I called out as I followed her, "Dead man walking!" I got a couple of strange looks.

My dentist came in and I joked about the tooth really having nothing wrong with it. Dr. Tencer (good name for a dentist, no?) laughed and said, "Keep dreaming." He looked at the tooth, and guess what? It was nothing! Just a groove, that could potentially get a cavity. He said it was his fault for not checking, and I could just leave. Who goes into a dentist's office for a procedure, and walks away not needing one?! My tooth looked good and I saved $135 by walking into a room! I thanked Dr. Tencer and told him I would not celebrate by getting a donut from across the street, even though the thought had crossed my mind. He said, "Don't get a donut."

Here's the thing: I know that I didn't need a filling because I helped Jenn, and I helped her because I didn't help those other people. Now, you may say that I didn't need a filling because I didn't need a filling. Nope, I believe that what goes around, comes around, good deeds or bad. So do something nice for someone, and when someone does something nice for you, pay it forward! You may save yourself a dental procedure.

Looking for a few nice people

Sorry the picture is sideways. I saw this sign on a Walgreen's door. All you mean cosmeticians need not apply!

Happy Anniversary to Inside My Head

I've been blogging for a year now. Wow!

On my list of greatest inventions:

* the contact lens
* the Walkman/Discman/iPod
* the internet (and email)
* the Nalgene water bottle
* the digital camera
* the laminating machine
*the blog

Negative

Whew! We got the test results. Belinda Bat did not have rabies. Which is good. But she had to die, which is not good. Poor Belinda. I've been taking a few moments here and there to remember her little bat life and her sacrifice to us. Here's to you, Belinda. May you rest in peace.

We're Going Batty!

We had an unexpected visitor at school today. Here's what happened:

'Round about 11:15 am, teacher/director Rosie and teacher/volunteer Amy are almost out of the door on their way to the park with a few kids. Teacher Beth is in the dress up area. I am "floating", going around making sure everyone's okay. Teacher Sue and kid Joseph are alone in the block room. So they think.

Joseph says to Sue, "Hey, look Sue, I see a bat!" Sue calmly tells me. Sue and I calmly tell Rosie to go ahead to the park, we will take care of this. I run to get my camera and snap a shot of a small brown bat on the inside of the window before calling animal control.

I call animal control, who calls the town police. Sue blocks the door to the block room so no one can come in, and, ahem, no one can come out. I go around and alert the grownups (in a whisper) to what's going on. I say to a parent helper who happens to be a doctor, "There is a

W-I-N-G-E-D R-O-D-E-N-T in the block room." She says, "Huh?" I say, "B-A-T." She advises me to wait for animal control and not go in there.

Two town police officers arrive and inform me that I have to call a private company to come and remove the bat and test it for rabies. They instruct me to not let anyone go in there, especially curious children. I say to them, "Hear that parent singing La Cucuracha? That's to make sure no one goes in there." One officer says, "I know nothing about child control." I tell him not to worry, we've got that part covered. By now the children have heard about the visitor in the block room, and I go around showing the picture of the bat to the children. I thank God for digital cameras.

The officers leave, Rosie and Amy return from the park, and Critter Control arrives and removes the bat. They put it in a plastic Glad lunch container. I make a mental note to never use a Glad container again. The bat is the cutest little thing, about the size of a cell phone. It also sounded like a cell phone when they removed it from the window, poor little thing. Unfortunately, it will have to be euthanized in order to be tested.

We are currently awaiting test results, which we are positive will be negative. In the meantime, I shamelessly gave Critter Control my blog address after remarking that I couldn't wait to blog about this adventure. Are you reading, Critter Control? Thanks for your help, and long live Stellaluna!

Recipe for Heaven

Here's a recipe I just made up:

Go to Dunkin' Donuts.

Get a chocolate frosted donut.

Put it in the microwave for 10 seconds.

Eat donut with a glass of milk.

Pure Heaven.

Meet the Neighbors!

Everyone knows I'm into pop culture and have a subscription to People magazine; I'm up on what all the celebs are doing. Recently, Angelina Jolie, Brad Pitt, and their children moved to New Orleans. My dear friend Emily, who also lives in New Orleans, thought it would be funny to play a trick on me.

She got her 5 year old daughter Ramona to call me up. "Alex, Alex, I have a new friend! I had a playdate with a boy. His name is Maddox!" Of course, I got all hyped up. "What is his name, Ramona?" "Maddox! Maddox!" Ramona gleefully cried. She was laughing, and I thought she was so happy to have this new friend. Oh my god! I totally fell for it.

Ha, ha. Emily got on the phone and broke the news that I had been played. She had worked with Ramona for 20 minutes on what to say.

Good one, guys. Say hi to Brangelina for me.

Kids Say the Darndest Things, in Any Language

I tutor Japanese kids and adults in English. The other day I was talking to one of my 10 year old students, a boy who has a great sense of humor. I would ask him a question, and he would respond, in Japanese, to his sister. After a few times, I asked him why he kept answering his sister, when I was the one asking the questions. He replied that he was tired. He said, "School."

I felt so sorry for him. I said sympathetically, "Oh, I know. It's so hard, everyone speaking English all the time. English, English, English! I understand why you're tired."

He replied in English, looking at me this time. "No. Gym. Yoga." Then he said in Japanese that his back hurt. I laughed so hard I almost fell off the couch.

I will never get tired of having conversations with children. It keeps me young.

Brrr...

On January 6th it was 69 degrees. 20 days later, it's 17 below with the wind chill factor.

Tights? check.
Long johns? check.
Jeans? check.
Tee shirt, double layer L.L. Bean shirt, sweater? check.
Down jacket? check.
Snowpants? check.
Hat, scarf, mittens? check.
Boots? check.

I'm headin' out. Wish me luck.

Visitors, beware

Visitors to Boston, take note. Our subway "T"
system has new pricing. Want to find out what
to pay? Simple. Just look at the attached photo
and find your situation. Do you want a Charlie
Card or a Charlie Ticket? Go by bus, bus to bus, subway to bus, or just subway? Are you a
senior? A student? Do you want a pass? For just today or a week?

I have to ask, because, you see, all the answers
are different. Prices range from free to $59.00, depending on how old you are and who you know in town hall.

I'm disgusted.

You Saw a What???

The other day I saw a robin; you know, the bird that announces the arrival of spring? I saw him on January 20th. We had a short conversation, and then sort of got into a tiff:

Me: Hey, what are you doing here?

Robin (he had an accent like a New York cab driver): Yo, I was flying south for the winter, like I do every year, but I stopped here 'cause it was so nice. It was 69 degrees on January 6th, fer crissakes! And now? It's gotta be down to 25. What the fuck? It's 55 one day and 35 the next. I got my one leg tucked in to keep me warm, puffed myself up, and I'm still cold as hell! This El Nino guy's got us all confused.

Me: Tell me about it. This global warming crap is for the...

Robin: Yeah, for the birds, right. Like I haven't heard that one a few thousand times.

Me: Hey, I've got an idea. Why don't you keep flying? And while you're at it, lay off the bread crumbs.

Robin: And why don't you keep walking, lady. And get that camera out of my face.

Who knew that little springtime birds could have such attitude?

I Feel a Draft...

It's 25 degrees outside, feels like 14. When I walked in my place just now from the outside, I noticed it seemed rather chilly.

And then I noticed that my storm windows have been up the entire fall and winter season thus far. Oh my god, how much of an idiot do I feel like right now??? Sure, I can fix the toilet by myself, but can I put down a storm window when it starts to get cold?

Okay, enough beating myself up. I'm going to have some tea. And have my bathrobe on until it gets warm in here.

2 Thumbs Up!

This has been the weekend for movies. Saw 3 of them, and they were all great, and all very different. I recommend:

* Night at the Museum
Funny, good pace, not too heavy handed with the messages. Very entertaining. Excellent animation.

* Dreamgirls

A fantastic musical. Jennifer Hudson, almost American Idol, kicked it! Her singing was so powerful in one song I cried, and led the audience into a round of applause.

* Notes on a Scandal

One word for Dame Judi Dench: Creeeepy! You'll want to speak in a British accent and be wary of older ladies seeking "company" for tea.

Fluffer-nutter

I got this new vacuum sweeper gadget that runs on a battery. After using it only a few times, it stopped working. Cheap piece of crap, I thought, until I turned it over and looked at the roller. This is what it looked like (see above).

The culprit? She's so

embarassed.

Travel Tips

Here's what I learned during my recent travels:

* a medium sized L.L. Bean duffel does fit in the overhead compartment.

* so does a big ass garment bag

* a quart sized Ziplock is the kind you put sandwiches in. That's the kind you have to use, not the bigger one.

* saline solution (salt water) is considered medicine

* Chapstick is considered a liquid

* Dansko clogs and no belt is the way to go for faster security checks

* never check your bags. You can buy stuff when you get there.

THE END IS NEAR

Today it was 69 degrees in Boston.

It is January 6th.

We're in the middle of an earth shift.

I feel like a dinosaur.

Alex "Roto Rooter" Campbell

We interrupt our vacation stories to let you know that Alex is on her way to becoming a full-fledged plumber. She uclogs drains like nobody's business, and tonight she has fixed her toilet all by herself, without calling the landlord! Here, in her own words, is Alex:

So the flusher on my toilet was acting funny ever since I got home from CA. In fact, when I first looked at the toilet after coming home, I thought the flusher had been replaced because it looked different. In fact, it had just been twisted around so it was upside down. Figured that out, problem number one solved.

Then it started twisting every time the toilet was flushed, and then tonight, it just spun around and the water didn't go down. I thought about how I'd have to call my landlord, whose wife just gave birth last week, and how I didn't want to bother him, and how he'd have to call a plumber.

I decided to take matters into my own hands, and I took off the top of the tank. I noticed the chain that goes to the suction thing, then I looked to the left, and I saw this plastic nut that screwed onto a...well, a plastic screw. It was pretty loose. I tightened the nut, and lo and behold, the flusher was fixed!

I am very proud of myself. I think I'll go pee.

You've Heard of Stone Soup? How 'Bout Stone Outfit?

Next morning, no bag. Time to throw something together. Rekha has some things that would fit me. She gives me several options. My first concern is warmth; that's how you know I'm not in my twenties anymore. I don't even care how the outfit is put together. I reject this sleeveless blouse, and that sleeveless dress, and opt for a black clingy skirt that sways, a black turtleneck sweater, and black cotton tights. This will be paired with the shoes I have on, which are red Dansko clogs. To add a splash of color, I will wear the cardigan I have on, which is green. How Christmas-y! I find a multicolored scarf that has gold woven into it for dramatic flair.

As we are getting into the car to drive to the wedding, my phone rings. "Yes, this is American Airlines courier service. We'd like to verify an address for delivery." I tell the man on the phone to shove my garment bag up his ass. Not really, just in my head. What I really say is, "Actually, it's too late, because what I needed in the bag I no longer need. Please take my bag back to the airport, 'cause I'm leaving tomorrow anyway." He says he will.

At the wedding, I am very self conscious, a feeling I am not used to. The tights have never been worn and are slightly big, so the heel rides up on my legs a little. From my head down to my torso I feel like a librarian. Then a flamenco dancer at the waist, and then an old lady at the legs and feet. For once, I do not want my picture taken.

Everyone is so nice at the wedding. Several people say to me, "Oh, they found your luggage!" It makes me feel a little better. And lo and behold, I am warm. It is a beautiful wedding, a meaningful ceremony, good food, and lots of interesting people. A fun time is had by all.

As we're cleaning up, I check my phone for messages. I've received three, from the American Airlines courier service, requesting address verification for delivery of my luggage. I pull a hissy fit and call AA twice to verify that my luggage will be at the airport tomorrow, not in some van. A nice lady assures me that all is taken care of.

And the next morning, I find that it is. I get my bag and get back on a plane. This time I do not check it. I will never check a bag again. Never did before this. I've learned my lesson.

No Dress, But Someone Famous!

So I wait for awhile, and really, my bag is not there, so I go to the office, where there is a huge line of people. Guess this happens fairly regularly, just like I've read about.

They take my info and tell me that most likely, the bag will be delivered to where I'm staying that night, or the next morning. The next morning, of course, I have a wedding to go to, so it better be there the next morning!

Meanwhile, the groom's father, who I have never met, has been waiting for me for at least 30 minutes. What a first impression to make, even though it wasn't my fault. We finally get in the car and head to the Chinese restaurant where my friend Rekha is, along with her family, her fiance, his family, and guests from out of town. I say hi and tell my story, threatening to wear jeans to the wedding. It's all I have.

My story is overshadowed by a celebrity sighting at the restaurant! Rekha tells me in a stage whisper that Robin Williams is at the table across the room, and indeed he is, along with his wife/former nanny, and their children. Wow!! We sneak glances throughout the dinner. Rekha's mom whispers to me, "Is he drinking red wine? I thought he just got out of rehab?" We determine together that it's a Coke, not red wine. No drama.

No one wants to disturb him while he's eating. You'd almost never know they were there. At the end of their meal, as they're leaving the restaurant, a teenager asks for his autograph and whips out the digital camera. Mr. Williams is very nice about the request, very quiet, and sneaks away quickly afterwards.

The night passes without a call from the airline courier.

Ode to an Outfit

My good friend Rekha was getting married two days after Christmas in San Francisco. What does one wear to a San Francisco wedding in late December? It would be outside, in the afternoon. I worried about the cold. Should I wear my standard winter formal dress, the one I've had for five years that is shapeless? No way, time to say out with the old, ring in the new!

I ordered a cute grey dress that my friend described this way: "It's great, if you like the 50's housewife look." Turns out I love that look! Sleeveless, fitted at the waist, poofed out a little at the hips. The thing was, I was still worried about the cold. I thought about wearing a sweater, borrowing a wrap, until...I was at the Gap one night and saw the most amazing article of clothing, perfect for my outfit.

It looked like one of those grey mink stoles one's grandmother wore in the 40's, 'cept it was 100% acrylic. It sort of had sleeves, and went to the waist. Lined with silver satin. Marked way down. It was a little over the top, but together with my dress, it was definitely a look. With some heels and a pen to sign autographs, I would be a knockout. And I'd be very warm. Perfect. Tilt your head to see the pic; I couldn't get it to rotate. Sorry.

Fast forward to the day before the wedding. I packed the outfit in a garment bag borrowed from my cousin and checked it at the airport, thinking a garment bag was too big to carry on. I got from LA to SF no problem. My bag did not. To be continued...

Fly the Friendly Skies...again, and again, and again

I'm on vacation in California. For a week. By the time I go home, I will have been on 8 airplanes. Eight. I have never done such a thing in all of my life. Thing is, my cousin and his wife, who I'm staying with, live near Santa Barbara. So I'm here. But then my friend Rekha got married in San Francisco. So I flew there. I changed planes a lot. My vacation looks like this:

Dec. 23: Boston to LA, change planes. LA to Santa Barbara. (2 planes)
Dec. 26: Santa Barbara to LA, change planes. LA to SF. (2 planes)
Dec. 28: SF to LA, change planes. LA to SB. (2 planes)
Dec. 30: SB to LA, change planes. LA to Boston (2 planes)

The great thing is that I seem to have gotten over my anxiety around flying. I didn't have to go to my "special place" in my head once. I did still locate the exit nearest me, though, in the event of an emergency. Gotta have something.

Annoying Airlines

Hello from Sunny California! Usually I have a lot of tales from my travels, but I had a pretty uneventful flight to CA, so for now there's just one tale to tell: that of the annoying voice of a flight attendant.

She was wearing the standard navy blue uniform, with bright red lipstick and curly black hair done up in a poodle-like poof on top of her head. She went up and down the aisle with one line, "Would you like to buy a snack?" Apparently, gone are the days of meals and bags of Chex Mix; you now have to spend $5 on a stale bagel. I refused.

Thing was, she didn't just ask if anyone wanted to buy a snack. She sort of shrieked it. It sounded like one word, getting louder and more high pitched at the end: "Wouldyouliketobuyasnack???" She sounded like Minnie Mouse on helium, or like a gun was being put to her head and she was told to utter the phrase into the phone so the ransom money would be sent.

By the time she got to the back of the plane, all you could hear was the cry at the end: "Buh bah duh bah eeeee?" I was this close to saying, "Would you like to lower your voice an octave???" I held my tongue, for once. By the time we landed, I was starving. That's a story for the next entry.

Celebrity Sighting sounds inappropriate

I saw kidnapped journalist Jill Carroll in the Sharper Image store tonight in the Copley Square Mall. I'm sure it was her; she had that bright red hair she got right after she returned home. I thought about going up to her, but what would I say? "Glad you're home safely"? By the time I had mustered up the courage, she was gone. It was pretty surreal.

Miscommunication

So at school on Friday it was Owen's first day to stay for Lunch Program, the extended part of our day. His mom (and my good friend) Liz told me in the morning that she would call around 1:00 to check in on him. I told her, "Just call my cell phone; I'll have it right with me wherever I am, so we won't miss the call."

'Round about 11:30, a bunch of us are at the playground, and Yumi's little brother, 18 month old Koh, falls off a climbing structure and cuts his head. His mother Miho was right there, but of course she was worried; the cut was deep, bleeding, and Koh was screaming. We happened to have a mom who is a doctor working that day, and she looked at it and told us to go to the ER.

So Miho, Koh, and I hop into a cab and zip off to Children's Hospital. The family is from Japan; they had never been to an American ER. I was there for moral support and to help with translating (or talking slowly) if needed. Poor Miho; her husband was in Japan.

So by the time we were all checked out and waiting for the three stitches that would need to be put in, Koh had been crying hysterically for an hour nonstop. He could be the next Pavarotti. He cried so hard he was exhausted and fell asleep. And at this point my phone rang.

It was Liz. She said, "How is he?" And I looked at Koh and said, "Well, he's fine now, but man, he was screaming for an hour, poor thing. He needs three stitches." And Liz said in a very high tone, "What??" And I suddenly realized what I had done, and backtracked, yelling, "Not Owen, not Owen! Oh my god, here was Liz, just calling to check on Owen like I told her to, but all I could think about at that point was Koh...I filled Liz in, and she just said, weakly, and still in a high-pitched tone, "Well, okay, I'll just call the Co-op now and check on Owen..." I felt like such a jerk.

So then I was all hyped up on my big goof up and we had to put Koh in a papoose to swaddle him so the doctor could put the stitches in. Not a fun thing to participate in. I felt like an alligator wrestler; that kid is strong! I started to cry but had to stop and hold it together for Miho. When it was all over and Koh was laughing with a popsicle and 3 stitches, Miho and I both cried. Whew.

Come to find out today that Liz had been so sleep deprived from just having her third child 8 weeks ago that when I started talking about "him", she thought I meant her baby, who was with a friend at the time, and I was talking about Koh, and man, when that adrenaline gets pumping in your body, all kinds of miscommunication can happen! What's the moral of this story? Get more sleep? Don't answer your cell phone when you're in the ER? Not possible on either count, so let's just say we can laugh about it now, but we sure weren't laughing then.

Soft as a Baby's Bottom

I have a cashmere sweater. That's right, I'm high society, I'm rich, I live a glamorous life.

Not really. My cashmere is not from a high end catalog or store. It didn't cost $300. Mine is the store brand of Macy's, Charter Club. It probably cost about $30. Still, I feel a sense of luxury just knowing that I actually own a cashmere sweater. That is, I did until the other day.

All of my hand washables had been sitting in my closet for the past year because I hate to hand wash. I finally cleaned out my closet and was reunited with my beautiful red cashmere sweater. I carefully hand washed it in cold water with Woolite, and laid it out to dry. When it was dry, I caressed it, folded it carefully, and noticed the label.

It said, "100% cashmere, 2 ply." Leave it to me to find cashmere that sounds like toilet paper.

Seriusly

Dear Readers:
The following is a description of an actual event. The thoughts inside my head (some would say overactive imagination) are italicized.

I have had so many run-ins with serial killers, it's a wonder I'm still alive. My quick wits and agile mind have saved me from being bound and gagged, stabbed and stuffed in the trunk of a car.

It happened today. I was in an apartment building, waiting to be buzzed in. An older man had just gone in, and he held the door for me, smiling in an older gentlemanly way. Only I knew he was no grandpa; he lured young ladies into his building on many occasions. I told him I wanted the people I was visiting to know I was arriving, so I buzzed anyway but held the door open with my foot.

He waited for me at the elevator, feigning politeness by allowing me to enter the elevator first. I went in, prepared. I cased the elevator for the emergency button, and had my hand on my cell phone in case I needed it to poke him in the eye. I pressed the floor I needed, and he laughed; he was going to the same floor. Coincidence, or trap?

I tensed my muscles and waited to defend myself against this sleazy wrinkled killer. I would elbow him in the stomach and simultanously step on his foot when he grabbed me around the neck. There wasn't enough room to flip him, but amazing things happen when one is under diress.

Luckily for him, when the elevator stopped at "our" floor, he let me go first, and then turned and went in the other direction. Turns out I had saved him from certain death, or at least a nasty and deserved ass-whupping.

Smells like Perfumed Spirit

Today I was sitting at the art table with my co-worker Amy and a few kids, and suddenly I smelled perfume. It smelled just like Poison, that perfume in the purple bottle that was so popular years ago. As I was making a face and inhaling, Amy looked at me, and I said, "Do you smell that?" She did.

This was unusual, because people at my school just don't wear perfume. I looked around; no woman to be seen. We kept smelling it, over here, not over there. I came to the conclusion that there must be a ghost among us. A very nice smelling ghost. I knew it was a ghost, because this same thing had happened to me before. Soon after my mother died (may she rest in peace), I smelled her perfume in my apartment hallway. I knew it was her.

But there at the art table, that was not my mother. It was some other spirit. I spoke to her, and asked her to give us a sign. I put some paper and a marker on the table and asked her to let us know who she was. The kids were blissfully unaware of all of this, except to answer in the affirmative when I asked them if they smelled perfume. It was driving me crazy. Finally, I went upstairs to the church office to see if Mary, the office manager, was wearing perfume and had come downstairs without being seen.

I went into the office and didn't smell anything. I asked Mary if she was wearing perfume, and she said no. Then I saw a can of aerosol spray on her desk. She told me that a homeless woman had come in to get some food, and she smelled pretty bad, so the guy who cleans the church sprayed air freshener around. I sprayed the air with a shot of it, and there she was, the perfumed spirit who had made her way all the way downstairs to the nursery school. Boy, was I disappointed.

I went down and told Amy that we didn't have a ghost, only the lingering scent from a can of aerosol, used to cover up the scent of someone real. She was disappointed too. She suggested that we pretend that it was a ghost anyway, and that's what we played for the rest of the afternoon. With the kids.

I Never Thought About It...

Just now I saw a blind man with his seeing eye dog. The dog was pooping. Now there's something I had never thought about...how does a blind person pick up after his dog? I didn't stick around to find out.

Directing Music

Sometimes when I hear a song, I see a movie. In my head. That I've written and directed. And starred in.

Today I was listening to my iPod on shuffle mode, and "The Long and Winding Road" by the Beatles came on. First of all, that song always makes me want to cry. Today as I listened to it, I saw the final scene in my movie:

I was standing on a hilltop, looking out over the horizon. The barely there grass that covered the hilltop was part green, mostly brown. It was a cool day, late afternoon. I was wearing a long skirt, boots, and had a tan colored shawl wrapped around me; think Robert Redford's Sundance catalog. I was hugging the shawl to me, but standing tall at the same time. My hair was very long, and blonder, for some reason. It was blowing slightly in the wind.

As the credits were rolling up the screen, I stood there, reflecting on my life, and vowing to move on from whatever hardship I had just endured, probably a breakup.

Well, that was the last 3 minutes of the movie, anyway. Now I just need to write the other 120 minutes. Does this happen to everyone when listening to music? I could see that scene with all that detail clear as day; it was just there! Fascinating. I was broken out of my directing fantasy when the next song came on: "Ring My Bell." Different kind of movie.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I went to my friends' house for Thanksgiving dinner. What a feast. I was assigned green leafy vegetables, and I obliged by going to Whole Foods and scooping up all kinds of lettuce and kale. I ended up making The Incredible Shrinking Side Dishes.

First of all, I didn't realize that kale shrunk almost as much as spinach. I had bought a whole pound of kale. It filled the pot. Threw in some free range chicken broth and boiled it for 20 minutes, and voila! I had enough for two people. The other six would have to eat something else.

The salad was diverse. It had two kinds of lettuce, some grape tomatoes, shredded carrots, edamame, and some LaChoy chinese crispy noodles for crunch. I wanted people to experience my favorite Japanese salad dressing, so I doused the mixture with it, tossed it up real nice, then went to take a shower. Halfway through I realized I had made that same mistake once before, and the salad had gotten progressively smaller.

Indeed, when I went to check on it, it had shrunk so much I had to put it in a smaller bowl. Thank god these were my friends, and not my future in-laws. They would understand and not judge me.

Turns out there was plenty of food. The turkey was smoked. Whoa. Everything was delicious. It was all laid out on the table, and it looked good. My dear friend Mike, who makes me look wishy washy, came out with a checklist to make sure everything was out. I had to laugh, because it looked ridiculous, but also because I would have done the exact same thing.

Lisa, Mike's wife, made this really cool soup (yes, I actually said cool soup) that was clear with scallions and carrot slices cut in the shape of fancy goldfish. I'm not kidding, look at the photo.

Mike went into the kitchen to carve the turkey, and it's a good thing he did it there. He had on the same kind of yellow rubber gloves I use when I'm cleaning the bathroom, and he tore that thing apart. I had to get rid of the association of toilets and turkeys, so I went back into the dining room to clear my head.

The turkey came out nicely sliced, and it smelled like smoked turkey, not disinfectant, thank goodness. It was delicious. For dessert there were three kinds of pie, and I had slices of two of them. Pure heaven.

For some reason, as we were all chatting away, satisfied and full to the brim, Mike brought out the turkey carcass and started hacking away at it right at the table. When he was done, it looked like a car that one of my boyfriends once had. He wanted to collect insurance money, so he took it to Harlem and left it there for a couple of days, with the doors unlocked. By the time the miscreants were done with it, it was hardly recognizable as a car. They got the radio, the tires, and some parts, and my boyfriend got his insurance money. I thought about this as I looked at what was once a turkey.

I wanted to take one of the nice cloth napkins and cover it up like they do at the morgue. The mother turkey would have to come along and identify her son, who was killed and then smoked, and then hacked to pieces. It would be too much for her; the family friend would have to do the awful deed. "Yes... yes, this is Tom. I'd recognize that pop up thermometer anywhere."

My overactive imagination did not get the best of me, and I had a delightful time. After Mike and Lisa read this, will they invite me over again?

Tattoo You?

My new tattoo has a heart on it with a banner that says MOM. Someone I hadn't seen in a long time saw just the MO part and thought it said MOI. I replied, "Yeah, and it says above it, 'It's all about...'" She laughed and said she wouldn't put it past me. Really? Moi?

I Can't Believe I Ate the Whole Thing

I have always been a late bloomer. While the other 10, 11, and 12 year olds were developing breasts, mine didn't come until I prayed to God when I was 14. I got my period at 16. I graduated high school at 19, and got my college degree after 7 years.

It shouldn't surprise me, then, that at 38, I am just now experiencing a phenomenon that women have been engaging in for years: the old, "eat a whole package of something in one sitting" phenomenon.

I had never done it, had never understood it, could not conceive of it, didn't know how women did it, but today I did it. I ate a whole container of Pillsbury cinnamon rolls, 5 of them, in one sitting. And they were good.

I had a major attack of PMS on the way to the supermarket. PMS is such a strange phenomenom in itself. The littlest thing can set you off. I was wearing the new down jacket I ordered from Land'sEnd Kids, and it was feeling too big. It's a size L, 14-16. I was depressed about having cut off the tags, thinking I couldn't return it. I was thinking how ridiculous it was that a 14-16 kids was too big for me, a grown woman. I should be wearing a woman's size, but instead I was going to order a 10-12, and give my bigger coat away to some 11 year-old. I was going to run up my credit card bill, again. My eyes welled up.

I looked like a schlump. I looked like a white girl trying to be a homegirl. Real homegirls didn't know I really was one inside; all they saw was some white little thing with a ponytail and tied sneakers wearing a too big down jacket. They didn't know I grew up in Brooklyn, listening to Red Alert and The Quiet Storm. I was into rap before it was on MTV.

All these thoughts were running through my head as I went into the store to get some milk and cereal. I suddenly got a craving for comfort food. I went to the Pillsbury section and considered the options. I could get the buttery cresent rolls, lots of fat, but no sugary sweetness. They seemed healthier. There were the Grands!, the huge cinnamon rolls. Eventually I chose the regular cinnamon rolls, the small ones I used to eat as a teenager on a regular basis.

I hadn't eaten Pillsbury cinnamon rolls in at least 3 years, since I'd moved into my studio apartment, and it had probably been more like 5 since I'd had them. As soon as I got home, I called my upstairs neighbor to ask if I could use her oven. She said yes, and 12 minutes later I was back downstairs, with a plate full of goodness and a cup of tea staring up at me from my coffee table.

One by one, I popped them into my mouth, mindful of what I was doing. They were delicious, soft, sweet, and cinnamony. I didn't feel sick afterwards, but I'm sure I won't be doing it again any time soon. It's just not a good thing to do. But I know now how it feels to eat a package of something in one sitting. The PMS attack went away. And my new down coat should be arriving some time this week.

Cosmic Music

I made a CD of songs I think kids should know, to play for the kids at my nursery school:

The Banana Boat Song (Day-O), Harry Belafonte
Cars, Gary Numan
We Will Rock You, Queen
Yellow Submarine, The Beatles
and a couple more, just 'cause they're fun, including a song by Harry Belafonte called Matilda. Know it? I didn't.

A few kids were really into the CD. I taught them the meaning of The Banana Boat song, and what the word "tally" meant (Come, Mr. Tally Man, tally me banana). One boy really rocked out to Cars, and memorized the lyrics. It's so cute to hear him sing it. For We Will Rock You, I pounded out the beat on my legs or on the rug, and they really got it. One kid said to his dad at dinner, "You know, Dad, we all live in a yellow submarine."

I put Matilda on the CD because it's a live recording, and Harry Belafonte has parts of the audience and band repeat the chorus a million times, 10 minutes' worth. I thought it would be easy for the kids to remember when they heard it. The chorus goes, "Matilda...Matilda...Matilda, she take me money and run Venezuela..." One of my girls in particular likes that song because her mom is from Venezuela, and they had been there in the summer.

So we played it every day for about a week, and then one of the dads came in and told me that he and his son were in the supermarket and The Banana Boat Song came on. That was pretty cool, but then the next song was We Will Rock You, and that just seemed freaky. I thought it was pretty cosmic.

And then the mom who's from Venezuela called me today with this story:

She was in CVS buying stuff, and she was distracted and almost didn't pay. She came back to the counter and apologized, and the cashier said, "That's okay, I didn't think you were going to run to Venezuela." And the mom stopped in her tracks and said, "How did you know I was from Venezuela?" and the cashier said, "I didn't, I was just saying that from the song, "Matilda". And the mom said, "My daughter has been listening to that song at her school for the past month." And the cashier thought that she was the only one to know that song, because it's not that popular. The recording I got it from was from 1959.

So now there are 3 references to songs that haven't been in circulation for at least 25 years, all within a week. While I'm not the most religious person, I have to say I think it's a sign from God. A sign of what, I don't know. Any ideas?

Far from Reality

I had a reality TV moment tonight. I was in a building that had an elevator that had doors on both sides. I pretended I was on American Idol, going up to the big room to meet with Simon, Paula, and Randy to see if I made it through to the next round. It was a little nerve wracking for a minute there, wondering what if I should kiss the judges or just shake their hands. Unfortunately, my dream was shortened due to the fact that the building only had 3 floors. When the doors opened, the reality of the parking lot was like a slap in the face. Guess I'll stick to teaching.

Public Transportation Day from Hell

To continue my story from yesterday...
I decided to take the B line and change to the red line at Park Street. I figured I'd be on the T for awhile; I'd listen to my iPod and people watch. I wouldn't be cold with my dress on because I'd be inside the whole time. The trip normally takes about an hour. It was 2:30.

At Blanchard Street the T driver made an announcement that it would be the last stop due to construction. We had to go outside and get on a bus to go one stop to Kenmore, and then we had to go downstairs to get on another T to continue to Park Street. At this point I could have abandoned my trip and just gone home. Thing is, I'm a Taurus, and stubborn, and I was determined to get that goddamn tea you can only get in England and Cambridge, Massachusetts.
There were so many people getting off buses at Kenmore. Oh my god, it looked and felt just like a cattle call. We all filed down the stairs like lab rats and finally got on the next T.

At Park Street, where I usually change to the red line, there was a T employee standing at the top of the stairs. Not a good sign. He told us that there was construction on the red line and to go upstairs outside to take a bus that would take us to Kendall Square in Cambridge. We, the lab rats, did as we were told.

I thanked myself for having the foresight to charge my iPod battery all the way the night before, and cursed the public transportation system of Boston. But then I had to take that back, because when I lived in Japan, I made a vow to myself that I would never complain about public transportation again, because I lived for a year without it at all. I reminded myself that I hadn't had any plans that day anyway, so what was the big deal?

Got to Kendall and went downstairs to wait for another T to take me two stops to Harvard. Went into the store, picked up two boxes of tea, paid, and went back out. The time inside the store was approximately 8 minutes for an hour and a half of travel time, one way.

Got back on the T and did the same trip in reverse, only this time we only had to take one bus back, not two. By the time I got home, my bladder was screaming so loud I thought I might have an accident. Tights under a dress are very nice for slimming the waistline, but not so nice for riding a T for three hours.

Got home at 5:30 and put my pajamas on; I didn't care what time it was. Had a very nice evening in front of the telly with a hot cup of English tea.

Bad Sense of Direction

Man, what a day. Started off great. I was invited to a Bat Mitzvah at 10:00 this morning at a temple on Comm. Ave. I Mapquested it, and read to go up Washington, which is very close to me, then take a left on Comm. Ave. Seemed pretty close. By car, 7 minutes.

Thing is, I don't drive, so I figured I'd walk to Comm. Ave. I don't like the straight shot up Washington, and it seemed a long way to continue all the way to Comm. Ave. I thought I'd go the way I know, also known to me as the "pretty" way. I zipped down to Coolidge Corner, and zipped on down Babcock Street, which has all the pretty houses and trees and whatnot. I didn't realize that was a pretty long walk to Comm. Ave. too.

When I got to Comm. Ave., it was 9:50. I was looking for 1845 Comm. Ave., so I looked for the nearest number. It was 1021. Great. Couldn't walk, so I'd either hop in a cab or wait for the B line, which stops every block or so. I waited about 5 minutes, and the B came along. By the time it arrived, it was about 10:05. I got on the T and went up Comm. Ave. and saw one place I could've walked to, and then another. And finally, we passed the place I would have come to had I gone up Washington in the first place. It was very close to the temple. How 'bout that.

Here's a visual: Take your finger and put it at the bottom of a piece of paper. Now drag your finger up to the top, then across to the left. That's what I should've done. Put your finger back down at the bottom of the paper. Now make the letters M, Z, S, and T all over the paper. That's what I actually did. I have a terrible sense of direction. In this case it turned out not to matter.

Got to the temple at 10:15 and didn't miss a thing. The family who was hosting is notoriously late for everything, and this was no exception. They arrived at 10:45. I listened to a lot of Hebrew. It was a beautiful and very touching ceremony.

Afterwards, I debated whether or not I would go home and get into some comfy clothes or just get on the T and go to Cambridge to Cardullo's to get my special tea, made in England. I decided to go to Cambridge. I'd be on the T the whole way, only changing trains once, so it wouldn't be so bad. Guess again.

Halloween 2006

I'm going to be Angelina Jolie for Halloween. See my family photo?

Only in New York

Went to NYC this past weekend and had a blast. There were some funny moments on the subway. You know how sometimes on the subway there'll be a random empty bottle rolling around and everyone ignores it? Well, I was on the subway and there was a full jar of peanut butter rolling around. Peanut butter! No one saw where it came from, and no one claimed ownership. At one point, a guy just picked it up and tossed it in the trash when he got off. I wasn't fast enough with my camera, but man, it would have been a great shot.

Another time there was a panhandler singing for money. Normally I don't give money to anyone, but this guy was busting out some classics, and he wasn't half bad! He started with "Under the Boardwalk", one of my favorites. Then he sang an R & B ballad I hadn't heard in years. When he started singing yet another sappy hit, I had to open my wallet.

He was about to go to the next car when a group of inebriated women stopped him and asked if he took requests. They wanted him to sing Happy Birthday to one of the women, which he did, in his orginial way. They all clapped, and he got off at the next stop.

I took this shot of a guy while he was sleeping. I liked the image of just his legs showing.
And that's my little slice of the big Apple, this time around.

Point of View

There's this big controversy going on over here in Massachusetts, regarding wind turbines. They want to build these big futuristic looking windmills and put them in the middle of Nantucket Sound. These turbines will be a source of renewable energy for Cape Cod, which I think is a very good idea. Opponents say it will ruin the view of the beautiful beaches of the Cape. I have to say, I'm not much into views.

Most people are into views, I think. They hike a mountain, get to the top, and say, "Look at the beautiful views!" They go to a hotel and request a room with an ocean view. They go to a foreign country and...you get the idea. I've never been impressed by views. I can appreciate them, sure, but to me, a good view is looking up at the sky and seeing geese flying in a "V" formation. I love to see a pink sunset through tall buildings.

Most of the time, I'm looking down, not up. I don't drive; I walk all over the place. I'm 5'1", so I don't often notice things way up high. I see insects, flowers, spider webs, small children, and interesting trash.

I think I don't have the view vibe because I was raised in NYC. The only views I ever saw were skyscraper views, which are pretty impressive, actually. I worked at a place called Belvedere Castle, "Belvedere" meaning "beautiful views", incidentally. It's the tallest place in Central Park, and you can go to the top and get a good view of the park from there. I guess I like city views.

So, as far as the wind turbine controversy goes, I'm more interested in renewable energy than I am in a different view of Nantucket Sound. And that's my point of view.

Watch out at Walgreen's

I came upon this scene in my local Walgreen's; the
teddy bear in the middle never had a chance.
Somewhere in Las Vegas, Sigfried and Roy are looking
for their beloved tigers.

Here, Kitty Kitty!

I'm taking care of my neighbors' cats for the weekend, and one of them, Kipper,was just over, hanging out with Shelby. I went into the bathroom and opened up my new supply of birth control pills. Must've sounded like the treat bag, 'cause both Shelby and Kipper came running over. "I want a birth control pill!" "No, I do!" Poor little confused things. I redirected them to the kitchen and gave them their proper treats. I'll save mine for tomorrow.

Buggin' out

I liked the last photo I posted so much I thought I'd
post another favorite that I took this summer. I'm
having a lot of fun with my new camera and the edit
feature of my computer. Wow, imagine if I got
photoshop!

This was a beetle that was walking along the curb. I
call it a Curb Beetle. Anyone know what kind of
beetle it really is?

Project Runway at the New England Aquarium

This past summer I got hooked on Project Runway Season 3. One of my favorite designers is Uli, who made it to the top 4. She makes flowy dresses with lots of colors and wild patterns.

I went to the aquarium and I saw a fish that looked like an Uli dress. Is beautiful, no? That fish "made it work"!

Oh What a Night

Oh man, the PMS she-devil has gotta hold a' me! Last night, after putting it off for weeks, I finally sat down to buy online tickets to my friend's upcoming wedding in San Francisco. I dreaded doing it, because it wasn't just that I was going from Boston to SF and back; that would have been easy. No, I wanted to see my cousin James in Lompoc, which is closer to LA than SF, but sort of in the middle of nowhere, as he says. With all the logistics of when to go, how to get from here to there and back, it was a little much. Not to mention the prices.

Finally, I did it. I had spent probably 2 hours total going through this whole thing, and at the very end of Yahoo travel, they announced that my itinerary would be sent to my email address, which I noticed was one letter off! At this point I burst into tears. Yes, I know I can get the info somehow, but I was just so at the end of my rope. I couldn't print out the itinerary that was floating around in cyberspace anyway, because my printer had less than 5% of ink remaining, and my computer told me that if there was no ink in the printer it could stop working.

So, at my wit's end, I called my friend Hiro to go to Staples with me to get the ink. While I waited for him to pick me up, I ate a bowl of Special K for dinner. When Hiro arrived, I told him I wanted to go to my usual Staples, but he wanted to go to his, where you didn't have to pay for parking. After mild complaining from me, I acquiesced and we went to his.

I got my stuff, redeemed my cash card (current value: 63 cents), and swiped my ATM card to pay for my transaction. It didn't go through. I tried swiping it different ways, the young woman behind the counter tried different things, and it still didn't work. I asked for a manager, who came over, and she told me that because it was an ATM card that didn't have a credit card logo on it, it wouldn't work. If I had wanted to use a credit card, I would have used a credit card; I try not to use it on purpose. My ATM card works everywhere, including my Staples.

I didn't have any cash and was really pissed at this point. I said, "Well, I guess I can't get my stuff then", and I walked out. The cashier tried to give me my 63 cent cash card back, but I told her to keep it. I wanted to tell the manager to swipe it up her arse, but I didn't, because I am a mild mannered preschool teacher and kind to everyone.

Hiro and I went across the street to Dunkin' Donuts, where I ordered a chocolate frosted donut. The cashier said, "Would you like another one? It would just be a dollar." "Yes, I would!" I cried. Before we got back into the car I went back into the Staples and apologized to the young cashier, who again tried to give me my cash card. Poor thing, she looked so flustered. As Hiro and I drove home I told him that in the morning I was going to my Staples to see if my card worked there, and I'd call him to let him know.

Hey, guess what? My card worked at my Staples! I called Hiro and told him that I was never going to his Staples again. He understood.

I feel better today. Chocolate helps.