Trick or Treat

Thursday night found Momola, Meredith, and me in a discussion of Halloween costume glory. Little Dumpster was Buzz Lightyear, and having a great time with it, too. I was surprised to see him wearing the hood last night, though. Earlier in the week, when his parents took him to Disney for Halloween, he was not having any of it, and I kind of like that picture better:

Ha Ha! He's doing his very best to rip that bad boy off his head! Momola was feeling the Grandma-Guilt for not making his costume this year, and Meredith's feeling the Mom-Guilt for not making his costume, as Momola did so well when we were little. There was the princess that became a dress-up staple for a long time afterwards, the Hershey's Kiss, and I remember an M&M... Ironically, years later, without access to a fabric store in the city, I would go to Target, buy a Barbie princess costume, and rip it to shreds in order to make myself into a cosmopolitan - complete with a lime-wedge hat. I couldn't find a picture of that one, but both Momola and Meredith like the irony of going from princess to destruction of princess hopes for another little girl in pursuit of alcoholic fantasies. I say, No Comment. I couldn't find a picture of that fabulously fun costume. What I did find was the year I remembered being a princess, and more importantly, how Momola made me a crown with cardboard and aluminum foil. I emulated her creative genius to fashion a giant pair of tweezers and became a life-size Operation game. I picked up a doctor that year - or at least, a man dressed up as a doctor... in all honestly, he was a lame duck, all long phone conversation and no initiative. I hung up.

This year? I waited without really thinking about going out or fashioning a costume. I made last-minute plans to steals a friend's old costume idea (I'll refrain from mentioning it here, because in future years, I may still steal it). All my laziness paid off, however, when I got sick and spent Halloween in my comfy pants watching tv. It wasn't too shabby. Hope you all had a Happy Halloween. Me? I guess I'll start thinking about costume's for next year.

...and then the crazy walked in.

Tonight I met Neighbor Girl at the pub. She lives not far from the pub in the opposite direction, and we linked up for dinner. At what would have been the end of a night when we both proclaimed we weren't staying out late, a "regular" walked in - he was looking for a particular bartender, but recognized Neighbor Girl. An hour later, and a fair bit of bad breath, Mr. Crazy was still talking to us, and Neighbor Girl nodded to the bartender to bring some extra beer our way - it was either that or I was going to abandon her to her fate and run home to bed. The downside of being a regular is being known to the other regulars. He meant well, but... he was crazy! Also, how come the crazies all know the famous people? At least, according to them.

pub goodness.

I took my friends Bill and Anna to my pub tonight. They loved it, and I ran into my cousin. It was a good night. I don't see my cousin very often. I like him, and he lives near me, but we already had separate lives when I moved here, so I don't see him much. I should run into him more often. Also, Scotch eggs? Oh, so good.

I feel the need...

...the need for speed.

I spent the evening with my legs wrapped around an engine.

Get your mind out of the gutter, fools, I was driving a go-kart. Although, racing around the curves and gunning it on the straightaway? Totally hot. Maybe it's a good thing that when I got off the metro and thought about beer the bar at my pub was all full - nary a barstool in sight. That's a shame, as I was temporarily wide-awake with residual adrenaline, and drinking a beer while telling Bartender about my new appreciation for Danika Patrick sounded like a great idea. Don't get me wrong, I still don't understand watching race cars, but driving them? Any day.

With less than two weeks to go before the election, here's something to make you laugh:

Frustration and Inspiration.

Well, this weekend has not been at all as I envisioned it would be. I came home Friday night after an exhausting week, having spent many hours getting ready for a presentation to the the higher ups at my company. (It went well, but that's not really the point.) Also, I spent all afternoon moving office furniture, as my office mate moved into a solo office and I moved back to the window seat. I was pretty dead, and looking forward to a weekend around the apartment, doing some chores, and maybe starting the kitchen reorg I've been planning. Instead, as I walked down the hallway at 7pm, I found a piece of paper waiting on my door. In essence, it said:

Hello, tenant. It's after 4pm, so you can't ask the building manager about this, and we're delivering this letter with so little notice that you have one business day in which to talk to the building manager. Because sometime between Tuesday and Friday (how's that for a time frame?) we'll be coming into your apartment, your home. We're coming in to treat for the pests you don't have, because you clean your kitchen and have a cat. We're not telling you what chemical we'll be using to treat your apartment, whether vapor, liquid, or power, all we'll tell you is to move all your furniture to the center of each room and to move items in the kitchen and bathroom away from the walls (whatever that means, and the letter actually reads "a way from the walls"). Also, the chemical must be pretty bad, because we're going to ask you to shut your pet up in one room and let us know which room that is. We're not telling you if that means the fumes will still be around at the end of the day, or if fumes through the crack in the door to where the pet is will be a problem. Thanks, building management.

I am, as you might imagine, quite unimpressed. I would like to know what they're using in my home, where I've switched to a no-chemical cleaning policy. I also would like to know if that cat is going to be breathing fumes. And, my furniture is heavy, but if they're spraying liquid around the floor I don't want my furniture to be damaged. Luckily, I have a great Momola, who drove into the city on Saturday, helping me move the heaviest furniture and gathering up that cat and me and taking us to the suburbs. Kittay is spending the week out here, and I'll be leaving my windows open when I got to work each day, as well as waiting to wash my sheets and all my dishes again. I'm writing a letter.

In the meantime, I spent last night and today out in Virginia with Lady, and we lamed it up and took it easy. We watched Colin Powell on Meet the Press, and cheered. The beauty of it was, that he's an admirable man no matter who he chooses to endorse, but his endorsement was so well thought out and thorough, so calm and well-reasoned, and so inclusive. "[Mr. Obama is a lifelong Christian, not a Muslim, but] the really right answer is, what if he is?" It was wonderful to hear.

The boys have let me down.

I'm sitting here in my comfy pants, code running on the work machine, and dinner cooked and eaten. If only the Red Sox weren't losing my night would be pretty good. Wakefield, when you're on, no one can touch you. I just need you to be on tomorrow night.

The parentals brought by my Christmas present today - a lovely secretary desk that's been in the family... as long as I can remember. I'm sure Lady will remind me now. They took it to a magic repair guy and he fixed it right up. Now it's sitting in my living room and I'm organizing into it. Let's not lie, I'm a very happy girl when I get the chance to organize. And that cat? She's figuring out how to get on top of it. The cabinet on top makes that a tough one, but I have faith that she'll figure it out. Ok, back to work...

Saturday night's alright.

Another Saturday and I'm watchin' the Red Sox
I got some food, cuz I just went to the sto'

OK, maybe not my best made up song, but I'm calling my day productive: dry cleaning dropped off, check, mani-pedi, check, market, check. And now I've got a fridge full of treats and meals planned for the week ahead, the Red Sox on tv (GO SOX!), and pants with elastic for a waist on. A couple of years ago I'd've been disappointed, but today, I am more than satisfied with my evening plan. I'm enough over the food poisoning to have a beer at hand and pretzel chips with cheesy dip sitting next to me - OK, I'm as belchy as my brother-in-law, but there's no one here to be offended. He can't say that. I'm giving myself the lazy Saturday I haven't had in a while, particularly because I've brought work home for tomorrow and Monday (a government holiday, so nominally a day of rest). In my three full days of work this week I've managed to work enough to take back some of my sick time from Monday and Tuesday. Sounds good in theory, but unless you use your sick time what good is it? You only get to build up so much and then you stop accumulating it, so I want to at the very least get to use it when I'm actually sick. I feel gypped. Oh well, what can you do?

I'm not writing the post about what happened to my housefund in the stock market this year. I know, rationally, that things will turn around, but getting that "earnings" statement still hurts. It just makes me want to take my big raise (October paycheck, I can't wait!) and either spend it on a Burmuda weekend or stuff it in a mattress. Except I love my mattress just the way it is. Burmuda would be a good way to turn thirty...

no baby love.

That baby is too sick to come make his Auntie sick. That is some serious dedication to illness. He's got his momma missing her high school reunion, visiting with her family, and catching up with friends. He doesn't know it yet, but he'll be hearing about this for years. We're all bummed, of course, but mostly hoping he gets better soon. In the meantime, I'll just have to content myself with this image. Change the sippy cup to a longneck and I see that kid in twenty years. Ok, ok, we all know it won't be twenty years, but his momma reads this blog.

I was looking forward to hanging with Meredith this weekend, I was going to go camp out at the Folks' for maximum Meredith and Dumpster time. Daddo was none too impressed that kittay was still at the house (and she's still there). Now I get to arrange a kittay fetching and, gasp, clean my apartment?? I love that Dumpster to death, but what a time to get sick. Little loveable jerk.

is it the debate or the food poisoning?

Yup, I ate some bad oysters during my stay on Martha's Vineyard. They didn't get me right away, but in the middle of the night, right before we were supposed to get up and pack out, I woke up running to the bathroom. I spent the rest of the night trying desperately to sleep in between kneeling to the porcelain and the gurgles in my gut. Oh, it was awful. I had to listen for when Momola woke up and call out to her on the stairs, "I'm going to be less than usless this morning." There's nothing quite like being almost 30 years old, rushing out of the shower to stand, dripping and towel-wrapped, retching until tears come and having your mother have to come hold your hair. I made it through ferry, car, plane, and final car rides without losing anything else, but really, there was nothing left to lose. I arrived at my parents' house completely undone. I spent Monday napping at their house with the cat lying at my hip. I ate toast and broth.

Today I went to work. It was decided early on that I had no interest in my opera ticket for this evening, so that was given away. Shortly thereafter I decided that a full day might be too much for me. First I had a meeting to go to. It ended with a pizza delivery, and despite the hunger the smell awoke, the mingled smells of tomato sauce and jalapeno peppers quickly chased me out of the room. It wasn't too much longer that I was on the phone with Lady, telling her I had to pack it in soon. She listened briefly, and then announced, "you're about to become the girl who stops the train. I'm coming to pick you up." I assumed she was referring to the fact that Metro shuts down whenever someone sniffles, not stopping the train by falling in front of it, Anna Karenina style... She kindly drove me into the city, where I promptly fell asleep.

I'm awake now and watching the debate, and I'm so glad that McCain wants us to achieve peace in the world - he said so. He also tells us every time he's on tv that America has the best workers, the most productive and the most innovative. I'm not so sure about that these days. It was India that gave us Scrabulous, after all. And tell me more about the greed, excess, and crony-ism in Washington and Wall Street, old man, tell me more. Act like you never heard of the Keating Five. Also, I think Palin is rubbing off on him, because his sentence structure leaves something to be desired tonight. Way to side-step and ignore Darfur, you old jerk, you didn't even say the name. I should probably stop now.

Here's to some food with flavor tomorrow, assuming the politi-speak doesn't keep my stomach turned.

a place to summah

Wednesday morning found me at an airport... again. Travel was for fun this time, however, and that Lady and I were headed north to my favorite state. And not just Massachusetts, but Martha's Vineyard! I never made it to the island when I was living in Boston, but we found ourselves with a place to stay, so to Martha's Vineyard we went. It's been lovely, and I am already in love with this place as a vacation destination. We've wandered all over the island, and there will be more to come, but for now, here's a self-portrait I took on the beach: