HNY

Hoping everyone has a spectacular New Year. I saw this photo of fireworks over English Bay in Vancouver, B.C., and it made me miss the West Coast a bit. English Bay is beautiful -- I love Vancouver. Maybe a summertime visit is in order.

No. What am I saying? If I'm going anywhere cool in 2008 it's Italy.

Pawleys marshes

Decided to head south this afternoon to check out Pawleys Island, a little resort town about 40 minutes down toward Charleston. The afternoon light was so pretty, so I went to the marshes to take some pictures and stopped at Huntington Beach State Park for some more. Actually, I was hoping to see the alligators on the freshwater side of the park, but they were not to be found today. I saw big blue heron and some brown pelicans, though. Gorgeous.

Also, finally found a place I would take visitors to eat. This little Italian cafe/pasticceria with panini, perfect cappucino and homemade, real Italian dolci -- sweets -- like a pastacciato, a tiny little pie with a dense, shortbread-style crust, and filled with Italian pastry cream. I'm making the yummy sound right now just thinking about it.

The Bear of Friday

Awwwwwwwwww. There are few things cuter than baby bears. Or really baby animals of most any kind. Not so much baby snakes.

So, now Pakistani officials are saying Bhutto died because she hit her head on the SUV's sunroof. Suicide bomb goes off, five shots are fired, but it wasn't an assassination? Just a stupid accident? I don't buy it. Alternately, the Pakistani government says Al Qaida is claming responsibility. I don't trust our own government to report the truth, let alone Pakistan's. I'm just saying.

The Dream Police

Robin Zander got me out of a speeding ticket this morning. I knew he had magical powers.

Betsey and I went for a drive so I could show her some of the places I've been house hunting, and I didn't realize the speed limit had changed, and, of course, there was a county trooper waiting. He came up to my window smiling and said "So, you'd rather be at a Cheap Trick concert?" He'd obviously read my license plate frame.

But then he said, "So, you'd rather be seeing Robin Zander than a cop, huh?" My answer, of course, was that I'd rather be seeing Robin than doing pretty much anything else, so, you know, no offense, but yeah.

It's unusual for anyone to know Robin. Usually when people think of CT -- if they ever do -- they mention Rick, sometimes even Bun E., but never Robin (not that I understand THAT).

Turns out I was quite a bit over the speed limit, but he gave me a warning and some real estate advice, to boot.

It's a Cheap Trick Christmas present!

I triple-dog dare ya...

...to have a great Christmas. Sure, I've created a slight breach of etiquette by skipping the triple dare and going straight for the sinister triple-dog, but hey, it's Christmas.

I hope everyone wins a major award and gets their holy grail of Christmas gifts.

Just don't shoot your eye out.

And don't forget to let your lamp blaze forth in unparalleled glory!

The Bear of Friday

I just had to share the Friday Bear. Don't you want to cuddle it? I do. Seriously, that makes me a little weak to look at.

I finished two interesting books this week -- one is "Thunderstruck," by Erik Larson, the man who wrote "Devil in the White City." I love nonfiction that's written like fiction. It's about turn-of-the-last-century England, Guglielmo Marconi, who invented the wireless, and a murderer who might not have been apprehended if not for the wireless. Marconi was an interesting, though selfish and socially inept, man. The other is "Dry" by Augusten Borroughs. What an incredible memoir. He's a great writer, and "Dry" is the story of how he nearly drank himself to death, lost most everything that was important to him and finally got sober. It's sad and poignant, and ends on a hopeful, somewhat happier note.

I'm so excited because Jen got me a Netflix subscription for Christmas. I can finally get caught up on all the stuff I've missed in the past 20 months, including "Shoot 'em Up" and "Gone, Baby, Gone."

Betsey's coming over from Columbia on Christmas Eve, and requested that I cook corned beef, which I used to do sometimes for her when we lived in Chicago. Certainly not a traditional Christmas dinner, but hey, it's company's choice. Though I'm thinking I'd better have a backup plan in case there are no briskets in the stores.

Also, I have an appointment to go see three houses tomorrow out in Conway, which is about 10 miles inland, over the Intracoastal Waterway. Homeowners out there pay much less for insurance because they are less likely to have hurricane damage. Plus, they are less likely to find reeking, vomit-soaked college students passed out in their front yards during Spring Break.

My geeky heart weeps with joy

Glorious be the day! Peter Jackson is making "The Hobbit," which means LOTR dorks like me everywhere have something to look forward to. Actually, two somethings, because it's apparently going to be two movies released in 2010 and 2011. Actually, can't they just start NOW? They still have all the costumes and most of the sets. It's not like the wilds of Australia suddenly became suburbs.

Maybe they're just planning to spend the coming year creating Smaug the dragon. Woo!

Yahoo news has a short piece on it here.

Unfortunately, there's no Legolas in "The Hobbit," but there's plenty of Gandalf. Please, someone protect Ian McKellen between now and then. Because if he's out for any reason, they'd probably replace him with Michael Gambon, who plays Dumbledore in the "Harry Potter" movies. If he replaced Ian McKellan, Gandalf would be as lame and boring as Dumbledore is now.

We should be called the Windy City

Today, at least. The wind woke me up this morning, it's so howly. It rained all night and the storm clouds are still heavy and moving fast. Obviously a little wind is nothing compared to the blizzards in the Midwest and north of here -- hope everyone is doing OK, staying warm and safe and having hot chocolate by the fire or space heater, as the case may be.

If you want to check out some nice photos, visit this photographer's site. I stole his awesome picture of Chicago and the blog says feel free to use his pics with credits and a link. I'd love to give him credit if I only new his name.

Must...have...coffee...

Merry Christmas, Bedford Falls!

It's officially Christmas time. How do I know? It's the one and only time of the year I can watch "It's a Wonderful Life." Wouldn't be Christmas without George, Mary, ZuZu and her petals, Clarence and of course, Mr. Potter, that rotten, black-hearted bastard. I always loved how Sam Wainwright doesn't ever seem to care that George stole Mary from him. He just hee-haws his way through the whole movie.

Only one person I know didn't like this movie -- our old news editor, Bob, in Fayetteville, who wrote a column each Christmas about how this movie is actually a very dark picture of someone going insane. Of course, Bob also talked his wife into believing the Nazi's get the Von Trapp family at the end of "Sound of Music," and once prompted us to write poetry about Soylent Green.

Merry Christmas Bob, wherever you are.

Now THIS is cool

OK, it might not affect people's lives directly, but it's still damn cool.

From the AP:
SAN FRANCISCO -- Scientists think they have discovered the energy source of auroras borealis, the spectacular color displays seen in the upper latitudes of the Northern Hemisphere.

New data from NASA's Themis mission, a quintet of satellites launched this winter, found the energy comes from a stream of charged particles from the sun flowing like a current through twisted bundles of magnetic fields connecting Earth's upper atmosphere to the sun.

The energy is then abruptly released in the form of a shimmering display of lights, said principal investigator Vassilis Angelopoulos of the University of California at Los Angeles.

Results were presented Tuesday at the American Geophysical Union meeting.

In March, the satellites detected a burst of Northern Lights over Alaska and Canada. During the two-hour light show, the satellites measured particle flow and magnetic fields from space.

To scientists' surprise, the geomagnetic storm powering the auroras raced 400 miles in a minute across the sky. Angelopoulos estimated the storm's power was equal to the energy released by a magnitude 5.5 earthquake.

Why is this news?

I don't get it. On CNN.com today, there's a video in the "popular news" spot with the headline "Jodie Foster Thanks Gay Partner." So what? Why is this news? If she thanked her husband for something, would that be news? There are plenty of attention-seeking whores out there who are happy to call the papers every time they go out for a frappucino or launch some wine-in-a-can-type crap -- can't the "news" just be happy with them? Or, here's an idea: How about we report on actual news. How many people are dead in Iraq today? What's that crazy Ahmadinejad up to? Maybe a little Kim Jong Il? Or something. Anything that actually affects people's lives. Grrrrrrr.

It's like a ghost town

The MB sure is quiet right now. The off season, the holidays -- driving down Ocean Boulevard to work today, I didn't pass a single other car for 17 blocks. If only people had known the weather would be so nice right now, I'm sure they would have made travel plans.

I've been surprised to learn recently that our town has no community theater. None. There are theaters in towns around here, but nothing in MB. The city's going to deal with a proposal to build a theater after the first of the year, but wow. I don't think I've ever lived in a city that didn't have a theater. Selfishly, I hope the city hurries, because I've been dreaming about getting back up on the boards lately and/or directing a show.

The other theaters don't have anything I want to -- or could -- audition for right now because they are doing musicals. But somewhere, someone's got to be doing a good old standard.

I hate to sound like I'm gloating...

...but this is the current snow-cover map for the U.S. I just had to use my car's air conditioner. I'm actually not gloating, because it doesn't feel like winter here at all, and I just bought a new scarf, dammit. It's 80 freakin' degrees outside. 80. Good day to go wash the car, though.

Happy Hannukah, Hanukkah, Chanukah, however you spell it

Betsey had an Irish-Catholic-Hannukah party Friday night in Cola (Columbia, S.C.) that was really fun. Cool to hear Ben sing the blessings in Hebrew, and fun that he brought an array of yarmulkes for everyone to wear. Mine kept slipping off while I was cooking latkes, though. It's bad enough that I'm not Jewish and a woman and wearing one -- I really didn't want to drop it in the latke batter. Not really sure where the Irish-Catholic part came in, other than that's Betsey's background. Maybe it was the red potatoes.

Betsey's giant cat Cow was the party favor -- everyone was trying to get Cow to stop being a bastard and let them pet him, but several people, including Ben, came away with scratched hands for Christmas. I know better -- Cow hates everyone except B.

Anyway, hope everyone's having a Happy Hanukkah. Here's my favorite Chanukah song:

Put on your yamukah
Here comes Hannukah
So much funnukah
To celebrate Hannukah

Hannukah is: the festival of lights
Instead of one day of presents
We have eight crazy nights

When you feel like/the only kid in town
Without a Christmas tree
Here's a list of people that are
Jewish like you and me:

David Lee Roth
lights the menorah
So do Kirk Douglas, James Caan
and the late Dinah Shorah

Guess who eats together at
the Carnegie Deli?
Bowser from Sha-Na-Na
And Arthur Fonzarelli!

Paul Newman's half Jewish
and Goldie Hawn's half, too
Put them together,
What a fine looking Jew!

You don't need to Deck the Halls
Or Jingle Bell Rock,
'Cause you can spin the dreidel
With Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock!

[Chorus]

O.J. Simpson [not a Jew]
But guess who is? Hall of Famer Rod Carew [He converted]
We got Ann Landers and her
sister Dear Abby,

Harrison Ford's a quarter Jewish
Not too shabby
Some people think Ebenezer Scrooge is
Well, he's not, but guess who is --
All three Stooges!

[Chorus]

So many Jews are in Show Biz
Tom Cruise isn't but I think his agent is

Tell your friend Veronica
It's time to celebrate Hanukkah
I hope I get a harmonica
On this lovely lovely Hanukkah
So drink your gin and tonica
and smoke your marijuanica
If you really really wannika
Have a Happy Happy Happy Happy Hanukkah

So cute you could just...

When I see things this cute, I just have to stop for a minute and stare. It's a baby tiger from China. Probably not hypoallergenic like the hybrid, bioengineered cat below, but who cares? And it has its own stuffed animal.

My day is made

Bob Cesca saw my blog letter to him and wrote me an e-mail. That is awesome of him. Wow -- Bob Cesca read my blog. How cool is that?

A brief note for Bob Cesca

Dear Bob --

You are The King of Snark. I wish you could write a new essay every day.

Sometimes I catch myself reading your blog and your essays three or four times a day. Is this getting to be a "habit?" I'm OK with that.

If loving you is wrong, I don't want to be right.

Adoringly,

Me.

The opposite of love

Obie just sent me a link to The Hatebook, where people can post their brief rants about work, bad Christmas sweaters, sucky music or whatever they are hating on at the moment.

The best one is "I hate that I have this crush on you and that you mistake my shyness for indifference..." Isn't that sweet?

I don't have a crush, so I'm going to add a rant about the redneck bumpersticker I saw this morning telling me that "Gun Control Means Using Both Hands."

A little poem by our fearless leader

This is a short poem sent to me by one of my best editors, Patty F. It's made up entirely of actual quotations from George W. Bush. These have been arranged, only for aesthetic purposes, by Washington Post writer Richard Thompson.


MAKE THE PIE HIGHER

I think we all agree, the past is over.
This is still a dangerous world.
It's a world of madmen and uncertainty
And potential mental losses.

Rarely is the question asked
Is our children learning?
Will the highways of the Internet
Become more few?

How many hands have I shaked?
They misunderestimate me.
I am a pitbull on the pantleg of opportunity.

I know that the human being
And the fish can coexist.
Families is where our nation finds hope,
Where our wings take dream.

Put food on your family!
Knock down the tollbooth!
Vulcanize society!
Make the pie higher!
I am the Decider!

Just like these views...

I found these tonight and just liked them so much I wanted to share them. They were all taken in Aberdeenshire, Scotland, and I've been preparing my Scotland pics to post on this blog in a slideshow, so I started looking at what others have done.

Anyway, enjoy...

Mee-OW

This is one sexy beast. It's an Ashera, a hybrid mix of African serval, Asian leopard and domesticated cat bred by a California biotech company. It's a mere $22,000 for the standard model, or $28,000 for the hypoallergenic type. I'm only slightly allergic, so if you have an extra $22K hanging around and you're wondering what to get me for Christmas, I can tolerate the basic kitty. I would name him Slinky.

An early Christmas present from YouTube

Maybe only Joel will appreciate this post, but this is what happens at midnight when someone sends me links to vids on YouTube.

I wish I had been in Tunica, Miss., a couple weeks ago for what looks like a damn fine Cheap Trick show. But thanks to the magic of YouTube, I can still enjoy it, and so can YOU! Whoever filmed this did a really good job with the sound, and is clearly a Robin Zander fan. She hardly ever films anyone else. I don't blame her. He might be somebody's dad, but he's still woohoo (except for the stupid hats and, sometimes, the leather pants). Plus, he looks like he might be having a good time again.

Forgive me rhapsodizing over Robin, but it must be done from time to time.

I defy people not to like The Flame once they've heard it live. This isn't the absolute best version I've ever, ever heard, but it's got to be in my top 10. I love how enthusiastic the crowd is when Robin rips a little near the end. I love it when they do it slow and acoustic the best. I like this one, from 1988, if I don't look at Robin's hair. It looks like there could be something living in that nest.

If You Want My Love sounds great -- I had gotten way over this song, but the arrangements they've been playing with the past few times I've seen them have got me liking it again. Whatever Robin was doing at the very beginning (the video cuts in after he already started) -- I hope he does it again when I see them next year.

Still playing I Want You To Want Me as fast as possible, but now with a punky little German countdown at the beginning.

Ain't That a Shame is rockin', you get a few minutes of Rick's five-neck on Surrender but then it's right back to Robin and his long blond hair (yay!), or this one, complete with Robin's infamous "hand gestures." It must be those leather pants need some adjusting. And what show would be complete without the Dream Police?

Here are some Canadians enjoying my favorite band, and it's Dream Police again, but the sound is good, even if the video is boring. Auffie still rocks, too.

Fun version of Goodnight Now.

And, someone's tribute to my favorite lead singer in the whole wide world. Yes, this song is actually available on an album by a band called The Breakup Society. Check out all the different incarnations of The Hair. Man, some of those do's were don'ts. But I love the old clips from the late '70s. Flawless.

But Sweet Nancy Moses, what the hell is this? Cheap Trick plays a band called "Pandemonium" on some crap TV show with a message? This is so bad it's delicious! Robin plays Jack Stone, who has lines like "And you're fired, you little poser." It's so good, especially when they party like rock stars.

Here's hoping I can squeeze in eight shows in 2008 and make it an even 50 Cheap Trick concerts. Maybe they'll finally play Way of the World for me, or Speak Now or, well, anything is fine, really.

Woohoo! A new bebe!

Congratulations to Steve and Michelle, who had their first boy, Michael Eugene, yesterday morning.

Steve says he's pretty sure all the limbs are in their proper places.

Can't wait to see pictures, although Steve is computerless for now. Michael's sisters, Miss Julia and Miss Grace, were properly excited, Steve reported, jumping up and down when they were allowed in to see their new brother. Miss Grace, the oldest, allowed Miss Julia be the first to hold Michael, saying "This is her first time to be a big sister."

Lucky Steve and Michelle to have such sweet kids.

Holiday porpoise

This afternoon, I went down to my favorite beach-end, the Second Avenue Pier, and was lucky enough to see a school of harbor porpoise playing in the surf. Not quite frolicking, because they didn't actually leap out of the water, but they came up and dove again. Wish I'd had my camera, but all I would have gotten were their fins and backs, anyway.

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. Hope everyone has a lovely day. The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade is fabulously obnoxious this year!

A Thanksgiving cornucopia...

...of hateful political news.

Apparently, Bush wants a refund from soldiers who got signing bonuses to extend their service in Iraq and then -- because they were injured -- could no longer serve.

It's like the White Star line billing the families of Titanic crew members for the uniforms that were ruined when the crew members drowned.

Bush wants a refund? I think we should get a refund of all the money we've been gouged by Bush's corporate cronies, all the "political capital" Bush thought he could spend and all the worldwide goodwill he has squandered, plus damages.

Get your Bigas on

Per Joel's request, here's the recipe for a shotgun-to-the-heart breakfast that so yummy on cold Sunday mornings in Aurora. It came to me from Miss Schnakenberg, who probably still makes the best pancakes ever. She knows her breakfasty treats.

Warning: The Bigas is addictive. It should be called "Crack-as." But that sounds too much like "Cracker," a word I don't want to be caught using in reference to anything other than a Triscuit here in the MB.

5 eggs
1/4 cup ricotta (sure, go ahead and use the low-fat kind, not that it makes a lick of difference)
5 slices bacon
2 small flour tortillas
1/4 cup chopped onion
handful of shaved Parmesan
salt and pepper to taste

Beat the eggs with a dash of cold water until they are fluffy and season with salt and pepper (I like lots of pepper and only a little salt, because the Parmesan and bacon are salty and full of delicious nitrates). Whisk in the ricotta. Cut the tortillas into bite-sized pieces and stir them into the eggs. Cover and refrigerate while you cut the bacon into bite-sized pieces and fry it until crispy. Remove the bacon from the pan to a paper towel to drain. Reserve about a TBSP of the bacon fat and saute the onion in it until it's tender. Add the bacon back and reduce the heat to low. Get your egg mixture out of the fridge -- if there's almost no moisture left, you can beat up one more egg and stir it in. Pour the egg mixture into the pan and slowly stir it with a wooden spoon until the eggs are cooked through and creamy. Top with the shaved Parmesan. Serves 2.

We liked to eat it with a gooey cinnamon roll on the side and a lot of coffee. The best part is that the tortillas soak up the egg and get all soft like little dumplings. The longer you let them soak, the better the whole dish is. It is, as the kids used to say, "the bomb." Just don't plan on moving off the couch for the rest of the day.

Another disappointing dinner

There are about a gigillion restaurants here in the greater MB area, and I like to try new-to-me places, so the restaurant section in the yellow pages of any new city is nothing but unlimited potential to me.

On Saturday nights, I take myself out to dinner hoping to find that one special place I could share with visitors.

I've found a great place for delicious martinis and mojitos -- especially the black-cherry mojito. Yum.

Other than that, I've had sad Asian chicken salad with the worst dressing I've ever tasted at a place everyone at work billed as "one of the best places in town;" a sucky lobster spring roll that had no actual shellfish in it and was burnt on the bottom; boring fajitas; chile rellenos drowning in cheese sauce; and, perhaps the worst because it should be the best because it comes right out of the local waters: badly done seafood -- overcooked, over-sauced, over-fried, just bad.

Tonight's experiment was a local trattoria. Now, I'll admit being a snob when it comes to Italian food, but when you know enough to call your ristorante a trattoria, I'm going to expect you know how to make at least decent cucina rustica -- a good bruschetta, a nice risotto and a fine espresso to end the meal. And if you're charging what this place charges, it better be better than decent.

Apparently, I need to lower my expectations.

My waiter told me he is Italian, but mispronounced everything on the menu, apparently having learned to identify his Italian food by watching "The Sopranos." Pro-shoot? Moozadell? Give me a break, junior. No, I'm NOT going to let you choose my entree (not when they are heading toward $30 a plate), and by the way, cappuccino is the one with lots of foam on top. Latte is the one with lots of milk in it and just a little foam. When I order a cappuccino, I want the foam. Worst risotto ever: This place.

Oh, and when you come to visit, I'll do the cooking. It won't be gourmet, but I won't lie and say it is, either.

The house hunt begins

Just found out tonight that I'm pre-approved for a mortgage loan, so now I have to get serious about searching out that place I want to live. I found one that's like a little doll house, alhough the pastel paint (different colors in every room) would have to go immediately. But it's kind of funky. I'm hoping I will just know the place when I see it. But my luck with that whole at-first-sight thing -- not so much.

Signage

I was too late to get a shot of the family campground marquee that had displayed an apocalyptic passage from the Book of Revelation -- the owners have changed it to something more soothing from the Book of Psalms.

Also too late to get a shot of the "Booled P-nuts" sign at the roadside produce stand near my office. Someone must have realized "boiled" has an "i" in it.

I did, however, find these.

Mary Kay Latourneau's new store:



And this one, which worries me slightly. Is Wicked Gift the name of a bad cover band from Boston? Or is it code for the STDs that will likely plague people who hook up at this rockin' roadhouse? I believe it's best to avoid this joint 2 NITE.

What rocks right now

The new Bruce Springsteen album. I don't usually listen to Springsteen song after song (except when Adam's plying guest D.J.), but I'm really enjoying this new stuff. Hope my downstairs neighbors don't mind it, or the Pete Townsend revival that's on right now.

Actually, seeing as how they don't even start their door-slamming, yelling, bowling-with-elephants parties until 2 a.m., I don't care if they like it. In fact, I might just put the speakers on the tile floor and turn it up, then dance around in high heels while I scrape a wooden chair across the floor.

Also, I realize I'm late to this, but I recently discovered Good Charlotte. Yay! And Jesca Hoop -- love her voice, especially on "Big Fish."

And I just saw "Sicko" this week. Normally, I'd be first in line for a Michael Moore movie, but I just never got around to it this summer while I was driving, and it came out on video on Election Day (convenient, that...) so I contributed about 50 cents to Michael Moore's fat bank account and bought it.

Typical M.M., there are some great stunts in it -- especially the trip to Guantanamo Bay and the Cuban hospital. I know he's a shameless self-promoter, but I like the guy. The movie will make you cry -- even if he takes a rosy view of what are surely flawed health-care systems in other countries, the stories here at home are heartbreaking. Made me remember to be extra thankful that my parents' health coverage was what it was.

The movie, like all of his films, made me furious. Made me want to move out of the country, in fact, and/or wish I was charismatic enough to start a revolution. But if Michael Moore can't do it, what chance have I got?

Today's driving home the reasons documentarians don't make movies about regular people's lives. Yawn. Here's our subject making coffee. Here she is writing out her grocery shopping list and contemplating actually going to the store. Fascinating.

Hope everyone's having a good weekend. If you haven't yet, or lately, check out my friend Michael Shea's blog from his trip to China (the link is on the right) -- great stories and beautiful photos. He's doing some crafty stuff with his pictures. I have to learn summa that.

La bella luna

Those NASA people. They get the best views.

Just do it

Vote. Seriously. Go right now and vote.

Living on the edge...

I realize I'm risking all hell breaking loose in my last 20 minutes at work tonight by saying this, but wow, has it been quiet. I'm only saying that in comparison to last Sunday, when we had seven college students die in a house fire up in Ocean Isle Beach, plus a meth-lab bust complete with haz-mat suits.

My request to the chaos gods for a peaceful night was granted. Thank you.

Another thing I'm thankful for? Fall back. I love standard time. Maybe because there's more moonlight.

Weather update

Noel has moved on up the coast. Sorry, Long Island.

Hurricane Noel

The hurricane is passing us, heading for the upper North Carolina coast or farther north (unless it turns... though it's a big comfort to me to know that a hurricane has never made landfall in the MB because we're in a sort of a cove). The wind sounds like a furious cow bellowing outside my front door, and the ocean is choppy and grey. This is what Weather.com was showing me just before 11 a.m.

Yahoo!

Congratulations to Dan, who passed the Bar exam. Now that plushy porpoise is never going to leave you alone, Dan. Just don't party too hard or Andrew will call the cops on you.

An office-coffee moment

The other day, a co-worker made some snide comment about the "sludge" we drink here in the office, which I thought was a joke until this morning. I'm on my second cup because I had to get here at 7 a.m. to be the day cops reporter, and of course, last night I was Insomnia Central. Didn't go to sleep until 4, got up at 6. I LOVE those nights. But that's all just an explanation for why in god's name I would ever, ever, have two cups of Folgers, triple Sweet-N-Low and fake creamer powder. And why I no longer laugh at "sludge," because there in the bottom of my cup, sure enough, is some greyish sludge.

The good thing about being this tired? I'm so tired I just don't care, and I'm punchy. Everything is funny, including the woman who just passed through the newsroom carrying a GIANT plastic bag filled with already inflated balloons.

I'm such a slacker -- I was going to post something for Halloween, with dogs dressed up in horrible, torturous costumes. I even found some hilarious pictures, like "dogzilla," with a bulldog in a green lizard costume. But now it's over. I guess I'll save them for next year.

Caption this

I love this picture of Dan so much. It's from his and Kevin's recent cruise in Alaska. To me, it looks like the white plushy porpoise thing is saying something it shouldn't be.

I thought it would be fun to steal a page from DListed and do a "caption this" contest. I'll choose the winner and send him or her a very special treat from the MB.

Come on, be creative! Give me your funniest* caption for this picture.

* Warning: Some captions might not be safe for work or children.

Colbert in '08

Stephen Colbert: Better than the joke we have now.

If you're reading this, Steve, feel free to use that slogan.

Seriously, maybe it's time to let a non-politician with brains, heart and balls take over. At least we know Colbert can read. His state-of-the-union addresses would be better than any previous president's, and he could roast himself at the correspondents' dinner.

I wonder who he'd choose as a running mate.

Colbert's coming home to South Carolina this weekend to "campaign." Unfortunately, his publicists are not letting any local media have access. He's in Columbia tomorrow, and if I didn't have to work, I'd be there.

I'm just hoping he shows up here in the MB for the big primary debates in January. We've got them both this time, which should be interesting for the area, both because the MB's not used to a big surge of people in January and because the Republicans' heads will probably implode when they see that there are actually more than eight Democrats here.

We (not the royal "we," but the paper) are trying to come up with interesting, innovative ways to cover the debates. Our executive editor wants us to do something so creative, so new, that we will become known for it after the debates are over.

Call me crazy, but how about we ask the candidates some really hard questions and don't let them divert our attention with answers that sound good but actually mean nothing?

Nah, that'll never work.

All suggestions welcome...

Stormy weather amended

Of course, no sooner had I signed off last night and snuggled down under the covers to watch "Pushing Daisies" in bed, the real storm arrived - lightning, thunder and rain so hard it sounded like the ocean was washing over the top of my apartment. It was the kind of storm I used to hunt when I lived in Aurora -- spectacular.

I interviewed a Coastal Carolina University student today who is testing shark repellents made from dead sharks. Well, from the chemicals emitted by the rotting flesh of dead sharks, to be more specific. No wonder they call it "repellent." The word "stink" doesn't even begin to describe that nast.

Allegedly, some of the repellents are not smelly at all -- I guess those are the ones they will make sunscreen out of.

One more reason not to swim here: Sharks. Bull sharks, tiger sharks, blacktips, lemon sharks and those creepy freakin' hammerheads. No swimming. Maybe not even any wading.

However, I have decided what I'm doing for my birthday this year: Going down to Florida to swim with these:

Manatees! I cannot wait. There's a refuge, or shark-free zone, as I like to call it, and the tour only lets in a few people a day. You're not allowed to pursue the manatees, you have to wait for them to come to you. But once they do, they want their bellies scratched and their backs rubbed and they like to snuggle. I cannot really think of anything better, unless the manatees also like to listen to Cheap Trick while they are snuggling. But what are the odds?

Stormy weather

I thought the humidity had gone, but it's back today, along with the storms blowing through. No lightning and thunder, though, sadly. It rained so hard this morning I had to pull over. Couldn't see a thing. But it was kind of exciting.

I'm on my ninth straight day of working. Tired. So tired. Can't wait for Friday. Must... sleep... in.

Shortest blog entry ever.

On living in The South

Right up front, let me say this is not a complaint. As I am often reminded, I chose to live here, which is true, and I'm glad I did. Overall.

However, there are some funny little quirks about The South that bear mentioning.

Like people's names. My favorite this week: Hooks Dawson. Don't know what Hooks did, but I heard someone talking about him (I'm assuming it's a him because no one in their right mind would name their daughter "Hooks") in a tone usually reserved for "the legendary," so I like to think that Hooks Dawson is famous, or infamous, for something interesting.

Maybe it's the NASCAR influence, but driving here is a lot like I imagine being caught in a tornado of wild, rabid Tasmanian Devils would be. Bless their hearts (which is Southern for "fuck y'all"). Someone Southern tried to explain it by saying that not a lot of money is spent on education here, let alone driver's education, but that only carries so much weight with me. Some of it is just common sense. These people are insane (and by "insane," I mean "batshit crazy") in their cars. No wonder car insurance is so much more expensive here -- the chances are extremely good that I will get hit by some crazy-ass Southerner who is in a big hurry to either get to the sports bar for the NASCAR races or just to drive right up inside the Jetta's trunk.

It makes me want to put a sign in the Jetta's back window that says "Get off me. Bless your heart."

I like to think the majority of the bad drivers would be able to read it, but maybe not, since they apparently couldn't read their driver's manuals.

Make no mistake, this is a red state. RED. Not even a hint of purple here. We joke about the seven Democrats in the MB (now eight, including me, although my citizenship papers have not arrived yet, so I can't really say I count), but it's really not much of a joke. At least, I don't find it funny.

Also, people here often refer to themselves as if they had lived during the Civil War, as in "we chased them Yankees outta here." And people say I have a problem letting go of the past.

I'm learning to properly use "might could" and "fixin' ta," as in "I might could eat some hushpuppies," and "I'm fixin' ta go ta the store."

Lastly, I heard a woman say this morning, "I'monna go pay-pay."

That really don't need no additional commentin' from me.

Bravo, Boston

The more I travel, the more I realize how little I miss the state of California. There are just so many wonderful, amazing places to see, Boston being one of them.

I can't wait to go back and see more, more, more.

The flight up was so easy. It's 2 hours from here, and I got cheap tickets on Spirit Airlines. Fell asleep as soon as we left the MB, and woke up to see Manhattan out my window. From that point, it's less than an hour to Logan.

Kev took me for a walk around his neighborhood, which is a block from City Hall, an ugly I.M. Pei building that should be a jail or something else. We visited, briefly, the Old South Meeting House, where the Declaration of Independence was read to the people of Boston from the second-floor balcony two weeks before it was signed in Philadelphia; the graveyard where Paul Revere, John Hancock and Samuel Adams are buried; Old City Hall, which, sadly, is now a Ruth's Chris steak house (still don't know what the hell a Ruth's Chris is); and then met up with Dan and some friends from work for drinks at the Parker House Hotel.

I loved hearing about their new jobs at a very high-powered corporate law firm. Andrew and Liz and Dan do corporate law, and Andrew's beautiful girlfriend, Mel, is an assistant district attorney. They all just started their jobs, and Dan is waiting to hear about his Bar exam results (but Mr. Editor of the Law Review Smarty Guy cannot possibly NOT pass), and I loved hearing Mel say "I'm wicked excited to do that" in regards to picking apples, if I remember correctly. Poor Mel didn't realize Kev and I weren't making fun of her -- we really enjoyed her Boston accent.

It was all happy fun until I went outside for a cigarette with Mel and Liz, and a crazy guy wanted to bum a smoke so he could die sooner and find god. He said he had been looking for god everywhere and just couldn't find him, but he knew god had special plans for him.

Soon after, Kevin, Dan and I went to the North End for dinner Friday night at L'Osteria, a great Italian place that had Roman chicken. Irresistible.

On Saturday, Kev and I went on a Duck Tour, driving around the city in one of the land-and-sea vehicles used, among other things, during WWII. Saw a chunk of the city, including the lovely Boston Common and Boston Gardens, Beacon Hill, Newbury Street, the big, old churches, Fenway from a distance, the Museum of Science, the steeple of the Old North Church and more. Part of the tour involves a short sail up the Charles River.

It also generated my favorite Kevin moment of the weekend. This snooty jogger came plowing toward us and the other people who were trying to get to the tour, and she kind of barked "Watch out," at all of us. In a flash, Kevin snaps "YOU watch out -- you're running." The rest of the weekend, we kept warning people to watch out.

Beautiful weather -- perfect excuse to wear my leather coat from Florence -- and lots of fun. We rode the T (the subway) and went to Faneuil Hall for lunch (traditional Boston lobster rolls, but on grilled brioche instead of simple white rolls), then to Macy's for some shopping for Dan and Kevin's five-year anniversary.

Met up with Doug and Al at Kev and Dan's lovely apartment, and went up to the top floor and checked out the amazing view of the city. The sun had just set, and we could see the blimp hovering over Fenway for the game, and a fingernail moon coming up between the Prudential and John Hancock buildings.

Went for dinner in the South End at this cool little place called Tremont 647, and I ended up with a lapful and a purseful of ice and water, thanks to the waitress. Kevin dared me to tease her about it, so when it came time to order dessert, I asked if I ordered ice cream to go if she could just put it in my purse. She didn't find it funny at all, probably because the boys were laughing so hard. Only Kevin knew I would take a dare like that. Sadly, my fish was overcooked, and I said something to the owner about it, so next time I visit Boston, I get "swank" reservations and dinner cooked by him personally. Apparently, he's a rising star of the Boston food scene, and wrote "The Fearless Chef." Seemed like a really nice guy, to me.

Actually, it feels like all we really did this weekend was eat. I'm so stuffed with amazing food. We met Andrew and Mel for brunch in Cambridge, near Harvard. Cambridge is a gorgeous town -- at least the parts near Harvard and MIT are. Didn't see it all, of course, but I'd love to spend more time in Harvard Square.

And with Felix, Dan and Kevin's handsome cat.

What a great weekend!

Boston

This week marks a shift in my work schedule because as of next Sunday, I'll be the editor for the Monday papers. So I'm off tomorrow and heading for Boston for the weekend to visit Kevin and Dan. They've promised me a tour of Cambridge and Harvard, and booked a Duck Tour -- those tour vans that drive around the city but also go into the river. We'll get to see the Freedom Trail, with spots like The Old North Church and Boston Harbor (obviously, I did not take this beautiful picture of the harbor, but I'm excited to get to see it).

Kevin's also promised we'll have plenty of opportunity to hear people say things like "wicked good" and "Haahvaahd Yahhhd." I wish there was any possibility of seeing a Sox game, but we will get to see Fenway Park, in any case.

Para-vomiting

OK, so, my friend who will now be known as "Vomit Girl" is here to visit and we decided to go parasailing this afternoon after work because it's beautiful and summery.

We had to catch a little shuttle boat out to the parasailing boat. This duuuuuuuude on a personal watercraft towed us on a "banana boat," which I firmly believe is what led to the later stomach upset. He thought it would be funny to tow us straight into the waves, so that our little banana boat -- and I -- got some major air. Ouchy on the back, but not a major issue.

When we got out to the parasail boat, "Vomit Girl" warned me she felt less than, but we got harnessed up, and all of a sudden, we're up in the air over the Atlantic Ocean. V. cool, as Bridget Jones would say. V. V. cool, in fact. V. exhilarating, despite my fear of dying in the ocean. It's silent except for the wind and you're just way up there, looking down at the water and the beach and the horizon.

We had been up for maybe five minutes (of a scheduled hour-long ride) when "Vomit Girl" earned her nickname. Actually, it should be "Multiple V. Girl."

We had to come back in V. quickly.

No photos, of course, so I found this one, which also carries a message. Probably the message Vomit Girl's stomach was screaming.

By the way, does anyone know if the Atlantic is saltier than other oceans? I don't remember the Pacific being so nasty in the mouth or the eyes.

A phone call from Iraq

It's times like this that I remember why I love being a reporter so much.

Two days ago, I went to a local intermediate school to sit in on a fifth-grade class that was having a special videoconference call with a soldier in Iraq. It was not just special because the videocall came from Iraq, but because the soldier's daughter was in the class and she was turning 11 that day and had no idea she was going to get to see her dad and talk to him.

Truthfully, I kind of didn't want to do the story because I was worried I'd spend the whole hour crying, not because Jasmine got to talk to her father, but because I can't talk to mine. I drove up there wishing there was some kind of videoconference with wherever my mom and dad are, because I'd give up everything to get on that line. My birthday was always special, too, because my parents would call and tell me my adoption story, and I'll never get to hear that again from them. I know, pretty self-involved, right? What can I say? It's where I'm at right now, and will be for some time to come, I imagine.

In any case, when I got to the class and saw how excited the kids were, and more, how excited Sgt. McNiely was to see his daughter, I forgot all about what I didn't have and was so thrilled for what Jasmine had -- a dad who loves her so much he made this happen.

He sat in a common room at an air base outside Baghdad, in his fatigues, answering the kids' questions about how he feels fighting for our country and what it's like to be in Iraq. He told the kids it's hot and he can't eat at McDonald's.

But when the kids left the room at the end and he was getting ready to sign off -- after Jasmine told him she loves and misses him -- he had to get ready to leave that safe common room. He started strapping on guns he had stashed out of the Webcam's view. Big guns.

It made me sick and sad.

Sgt. McNiely called me today from Iraq to thank me for the story. He said when he gets back next August, he wants to come to the office with Jasmine and meet me. I see that an e-mail from him just arrived in my work inbox, too.

I've never for one moment been in favor of this war, for a variety of reasons. Now I have one more: Jasmine McNiely. I know how tremendously awful it is to lose your parents, and I desperately hope this will not be the last time Sgt. McNiely gets to wish his daughter happy birthday.

Still thinking about Rome

I just finished reading "No Reservations," by Alice Steinbach, a Pulitzer-winning columnnist/reporter for the Baltimore Sun. She took a year off her regular life to travel Europe, spending time in Paris, London and Italy. Of course, I was most interested to read about Italy and that was the shortest section of the book.

Decent book, but what really got me was that she was indifferent to Rome.

How could anyone be indifferent to Rome? I mean, I could see how someone could hate it, and I definitely understand loving it, but to not care?

It got me thinking about how, from the minute I got into the city, I felt at home. I didn't know how to get around, where I was going or anything, but it did not matter at all. I felt safe, I felt welcome and in awe of everything.

I remember stopping to take a picture of a little street I passed that smelled like cinnamon toast, just because I liked the smell and wanted to remember that moment.

And wandering around thinking about all the layers and layers of lives that had been uncovered and those that had not yet been discovered. It was breathtaking to realize how small our lives are in the big picture, but also how we can leave something behind that, millennia from now, will make other people stop and think about us, the time we were here and what we were like.

I never realized you could fall in love with a city. Certainly not love at first sight. But I remember after I checked into my hotel, going for a walk that evening to get the lay of the land in my neighborhood, and thinking "I'm in freaking ROME!" I think that's why I could never write a decent postcard from Italy, because I was so thunderstruck, overwhelmed, in love with it.

That first night, I walked up and down the streets around my hotel, figuring out where to get a "Coke light" and where the taxi stand was and the newspaper stand and seeing Santa Maria Maggiore all lit up, watching the little cars speed past, drivers honking and gesturing at each other. I was so pleased to be able to order a creme caramel gelato (uno gelato, per favore) and sitting on the church steps and just breathing in Rome.

The city might have been dirty; I don't remember. It might have been dangerous, but I never would have known. I just kept looking up and around me, realizing the genius that built that city, seeing angels and saints in the architecture.

I've read two travel memoirs recently, and several others over the past few years, and no matter how good the writer, they can never adequately explain a city and why it so charms them. I'm the same --no words are enough or right.

But I've been thinking a lot about Italy lately. Maybe it's just that I want all good things back in my life, and Italy was the best thing I've ever had the good fortune to experience. Also, I know that of all of what I want back, Italy is the most attainable.

Or maybe I just want to take a crack at a travel memoir of my own.

A candidate for the Darwin Awards...

...courtesy of Ms. Schnakenberg, who works for the dpa and gets to read all the good stuff, comes this story about a man who found an interestingly stupid way of removing himself from the gene pool.

Ms. Schnakenberg said when she first saw the headline, she assumed this was a reporter's way of getting around the prohibition on the word "penis."

But no.

Trouser snake proves the death of Cambodian man

Phnom Penh (dpa) - A Cambodian man who took off his trousers, tied the legs at the bottom and wrangled a 2-metre cobra into them died when it bit him through the fabric, local media reported Monday.

Khmer-language daily Koh Santepheap quoted police as saying Chab Kear, 36, saw the reptile swimming in a river just outside the capital last Thursday during a drinking session and captured it in the hopes of selling it later in the day.

He tied the animal inside his trousers and a scarf around his waist, but as he continued carousing the enraged snake managed to get its fangs free and bite Kear three times on the stomach.

The newspaper reported Kear's last words as being "don't worry, it's nothing a drink can't fix" before he succumbed to the cobra's venom.

Let me take a moment to brag...

...about my incredibly talented nephew, Alec. He's an art director/production designer for movies. He created that ultra-cool plane set in "Flightplan," did "The Contender," "Austin Powers 2 (I'm pretty sure he did the hollowed-out volcano lair)," "Donnie Darko," "Men in Black 2" and other films. He also just built this incredible set for "To Kill a Mockingbird" at the Intiman Theater in Seattle. I'm just guessing here, but that must be Boo Radley's house in the center, all askew. I love this!
The play's run has been extended twice, so more people will be able to see a great play on this awesome set. Nice work, Alec!

Turtle babies!

I get to go cover the hatching of hundreds of baby loggerhead turtles tonight on a beach in North Carolina. The human "nest parents" will help guide the babbies to the sea, past an area of the beach that has recently been renourished with new sand to make up for erosion.

I can't wait! Look at the tiny turtles!

Naughty, naughty

So, if you're ever in Costco here in The MB, look out for the Judgemental Receipt Checker. I bought a "Sex and the City" DVD this afternoon, along with several other items, and when I got to the receipt checker, he looked in my cart, looked me up and down and gave me the raised eyebrow.

Him: "So, you like that "Sex and the City," huh?
Me: "Yes. It was a funny show."
Him: I heard they took it off the air.
Me: Yeah. There was too much sex in it.

Made me wish my cart had an economy-size bottle of vodka, a giant box of condoms and a Marylin Manson CD in it, too.

My favorite Southern name of the week: Withers Swash. He's so famous around here, he has a street and a boardwalk named after him.

Books, bubble baths and Italian dreaming

Wow, it felt great to sleep in this weekend. I finally got my sleeping arrangements straightened out. Feeling a little prima donna, I have so much padding on the bed, but the matresses here are ultra firm. Sure, support is great, but if I wanted to sleep on the floor, I would have.

Now, every time I go in the bedroom to get something or put something away, the bed calls to me, as does the big bathtub, in which I actually started to doze last night.

Rented some movies this weekend to get caught up. Zodiac: Bloody but worth it. It's really well done and the script is written from notes and books and remembrances of the actual people involved. and it was great see San Francisco, cool to see they used an old Modesto Bee (yay, Bee!) in one of the shots, and, in a random six-degrees moment, cool when one of the characters said he was reading a crime investigation book written by my friend David's grandfather, even mentioning Dr. Snyder by name.

Not so great: Lonely Hearts (even with our friend James Gandolfini and John Travolta) and Lucky You.

Thought I might rent more tonight, but chose Barnes & Noble instead. I can never get out of there without a bag of stuff, but I love having books piled up waiting to be read. It feels nice to read again, even though I'm still slow. For almost a year, starting when mom died, I couldn't concentrate long enough to even get through books I'd already read several times, let alone comprehend something new. Someone gave me a book right after the funeral, and I vaguely remember vaguely reading it (yes I meant to repeat myself) over about a month and a half, when usually it would have taken me three days, tops. I remember thinking it was good, but can't recall even one sentence from it now.

Now I'm down to about three weeks for a book I'm into. That's progress, I guess. I'm reading "No Reservations," about a journalist who decides she's going to take a year off her "real" life and travel Europe. It's good so far, but makes me feel inadequate for not having some great artsy reasons for going to Italy in the first place and for not writing adequately about it afterward. But maybe now I have enough persepctive on it to get out my travel journal, look back over my daily entries and write something coherent, just for myself.

Although I'm ready to read, I'm not ready for Jane Austen yet. My sister's copy of "Pride and Predjudice" will have to sit on my side table a while longer. So I got a Dave Barry book, my new AP style book for work (what a geek, I know, but I'm excited to have it in hand again, instead of online) and my Italy and Tuscany calendars for next year. The pictures are so pretty I wish it was already time to hang them up.

I'm already dreaming about my next big trip, which will definitely be a return to Italia. If I had a year to live in Italy, I'd start in Rome and walk every street until I'd seen everything at least twice and found, well, everything. I'd get to know the city like a friend. Then I'd do the same in Florence and Venice. I'd see the Amalfi Coast and Capri, Calabria, the Cinque Terre, Naples and Milan.

For now, I can look at my pictures, write about my trip and start making plans.