Saturday, September 30, 2006

Stopping to Smell the Barbecue (on the river)

You know, it's hard to get anything done around the house when, just around the corner, 10 tons of haunch of beast is slow cooking in its own juices.

My Dad will be surprised to learn that Satan and I have taken a total of two strolls to the barbecue specifically to enjoy a particular haunch of slow-roasted beast: brisket.

Second favorite activity: shoe shopping:

Third favorite activity: anything on a stick:

Sunday, September 17, 2006


Since my "A Place for My Stuff" entry recently, I've had some questions from readers wondering if there REALLY is a semi trailer in my back yard.

It's a fair question. And so today I snapped the photo above from the very chair I'm sitting in now. This is the current view of our back yard from window of our guest room where my computer is located.

Pretty, huh?

You'll note the back end of my car protruding from where it's parked at the far end of the trailer in the distance. Beyond my car is the alley that borders our property. To the left is Satan's vehicle, and to the far left is the edge of the red barn that is soon to be demolished. Right after we move the crap out of there and into the semi.

In the foreground, you can probably tell there is a sign on the front of the trailer. Though you can't make it out in this picture, it is an advertisement for the semi trailer company telling one where to call in case you! too! would like to experience the joy of an entire semi trailer in your yard!

As you might imagine, there are absolutely a thousand and one uses for a semi trailer in your back yard: a place for your crap, a place for your husband to hang out when he's in REAL trouble, as a source of additional shade, etc.

Yesterday, however, when Satan was out in the back yard working on a little painting project and enjoying the weather, he discovered a use we hadn't quite counted on: hiding place for a fugitive from justice.

As Satan scraped the windows he was working on, he suddenly heard a noise coming from the far side of the trailer. When he walked around the corner to investigate, he found the fugitive. He was a young man, looking desperate and shifty and he asked Satan if it would be okay if he, uh, relieved himself in the outdoor shade of the semi?

And, go figure, Satan told him he'd prefer he didn't, just as a couple of police cruisers roared up the alley. The suspect then immediately took off running.

That was the last Satan saw of him until we awoke this morning to find his mug shot in the paper. Turns out he had been apprehended and is suspected in the small-time burglarly of a downtown business.

Yep. It's just non-stop excitement around these parts.


Let's see, otherwise, I continue to enjoy losing myself in the Mary Tyler Moore show. I've just purchased season three. While I knew I would enjoy the stories and the gags, what has surprised me most about seeing the episodes again is THE CLOTHES! At the time, I thought Mary and Rhoda wore the MOST stylish outfits.

Seeing them now is an endless source of amusement.

One thing I'd definitely forgotten about those days is the prevalence of the color ORANGE. It is everywhere in MTM. In the clothes, as carpet, an extra in a recent episode had on a pair of bright orange cordouroys. I thought nothing of it at the time, but now I realize it's just a color we don't wear like we did in those days.

Maybe we should.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006


We had a terrible scare with the kitty.

It was all Satan’s fault, of course, although he continues to disavow any responsibility.

See, the kitty had been settling in fairly well to his new surroundings spending much of his time out front on our balconies (also where his food, water and litter are located, so go figure).

Last Thursday, Satan decided to bust out the hose and water the zillions of plants on the balconies. Unfortunately, the kitty (who I erroneously called “Willow” in my other entry, his name is really Tigger), was out on the balcony as well and as those of you familiar with cats know: cat plus water equals badness. Kitty became so agitated that he actually leapt from the (second story) balcony and was lost.

Thereafter ensued much disruptive searching about the neighborhood. As in:

(across the street calling to kitty near midnight Friday night)

(coming out the front door of our house)




(crossing the street to join forces with Satan)

(Pauses. Looks at me.)
What the hell are you doing?

Gee, I’ll give you three guesses and the….





And so on. I sent an e-mail with a picture of Tigger and word of our plight to our neighborhood association group at which time we started receiving word of all kinds of “Tigger” spottings, none of which actually turned out to be Tigger.

We eventually stirred up every cat in the neighborhood, stray and otherwise over the course of the two-day and night search.

Thankfully, Tigger was found in the pre-dawn hours of Saturday when a sleepless Satan wandered outside, called out from the balcony, and heart a faint, answering, “Meow!”

Tigger was huddled under a parked car on the street in front of our house and was probably so hungry that he finally actually allowed himself to be captured by a relieved Satan.

The cat spent the twelve hours immediately following his return asleep in an exhausted furry heap on the bed in the guest room (which he considers his own) and is now back to splitting his time between the guest room and the balcony.

We haven’t watered the plants since.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

We're going!

Indigo Girls and The Weepies October 3rd at Ryman Auditorium! Special thanks to Eliza for the heads up.

Friday, September 01, 2006