There's nothing like the first day home from vacation. Piles of laundry, piles of cat puke, buckets of rain. OK, perhaps I'm exaggerating a tiny bit - there was only one pile of puke. Stupid sensitive male cats.
For those of you not in the know, I spent the last week traveling to, skiing in, and traveling back from Sunday River. That's in Maine, in case you didn't feel like doing a Google search. About a 9hr drive, which isn't too awful split between three people. The reason I'm only now writing about my trip is because there was no internet in the condo and I wasn't comfortable leaving my netbook at the lodge while we were skiing. I'm going to get the annoying stuff that happened out of the way:
1. Had an underwire fail.
2. Found a hole in some underpants - I think I'm going to be done with Victoria's Secret. Those panties were NOT old.
3. My favorite jammie pants ripped beyond repair. Considering how old they were, it was not entirely unexpected.
4. I lost my ring somewhere in the lodge. Major sadface about that.
On to the rest...
The conditions on the mountains were fantastic. Sunny and warm, not too crowded. The lack of crowds was especially good as I hadn't been skiing for about 2 years and I wasn't sure how it was going to go. Other than having my ski pants jammed up my hoohah for 4 days straight, and taking one minor tumble, it went rather well. The tumble didn't even injure my pride as I was expecting to take at least one. The ski pants issue was just because I'm apparently exactly the same size as I was when I got the pants two years ago...just too large for them. Doesn't really matter because they were comfy enough.
Our condo was on the small size and the door to the balcony required an authoritative push to get it to latch. The bathroom was minuscule but hot water was plentiful. There was a pool with a hot tub and a sauna in the complex but I didn't use either of those. The hot tub was mostly populated by young bucks drinking beers. Luckily for us, since our windows faced the pool, that all closed down at 10.
I had a choice of sleeping spaces. The first was one of the most claustrophobic bunks I have ever seen. Picture a blank wall. OK, now cut out a 6x6 hole and shove two beds, one about three feet above the other, in there. Yeah, I took one look and announced that I would be sleeping on the couch. It was a fold out, but I didn't bother with that. I can manage to sleep anywhere for a short period of time. And the couch was long enough, so I was actually pretty comfy.
We had a great view up the mountain from the balcony. It was really cool to look out the window at night and see them grooming the trails. No, I don't have any pictures. You should know by now that I'm not any sort of shutterbug. Just imagine a hill with trees and snow and you're good.
Not surprisingly, we had some really good meals while up there. One place, S.S. Milton, was in the town of Bethel. Milton's is a small, slightly pricey place (good thing I wasn't picking up the tab) with excellent food. They have a delicious lobster chowder (nothing like being close to the source) and the chef obviously knows how to cook seafood. The lobster casserole I had was a bit on the rich side, but I had skied all day. I needed to replenish, right? Eh, I was on vacation. I've never had the kind of willpower that could keep me on any sort of diet/sensible eating plan while vacationing. I also had a drink from Holland called Choco Vine. The menu said it was better than Bailey's and it was definitely as good. Who knew Cabernet and chocolate were soul mates? We ate at Milton's twice and it was equally as good the second time.
The other place we ate was about 20 feet away from our condo, Phoenix Bistro and Bar. Again, a bit on the pricey side, but the food was good across the board. And the portions were extremely generous. I took leftovers back the first night (chicken piccata), and thought I was going to grow gills after the enormous and delicious and perfectly rare tuna sandwich I had the second night. Couldn't manage dessert but I did down two glasses of Shiraz.
The weather turned a bit on Friday, but I still got a good view of Mt. Washington on the way home. Driving through Connecticut is a fairly awful experience but my mom got that stint. It started raining pretty steadily in NY but without the winds we got today. Got home around 9 or so, thought I was gonna do laundry and watched TV instead.
Now for the minor weirdness. Back in September, I posted a silly little thing in Missed Connections on Craigslist about almost running over a cyclist. Surprisingly enough, I got a couple of replies. Nothing came of it, which was fine as I wasn't expecting anything. Then this morning, I'm checking the email account I used for the post, and I have an email from one of the dudes who had replied to my post originally. It said (paraphrasing here) "Cycling season is right around the corner, do you want to see me in my spandex?" What now? It's been six months, guy. Do you really thing I've been pining away for a glimpse of you in your candy colored man tights? 'Cause I haven't been. In fact, I'm a little worried about you. Why would you decide that this was a good idea? We exchanged about three emails and now you want to parade around for me in form-fitting biking gear? I think I'll take a pass. But thanks for thinking of me.
Showing posts with label weirdness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weirdness. Show all posts
13 March 2010
28 July 2009
An Odd Confluence of Events
During my lunch breaks I have been reading The Brain That Changes Itself. It's about neuroplasticity and it is seriously interesting. And it makes me want to learn how to knit, or foxtrot, or become a neurologist. OK, maybe I'm not going to do the last one, but learning about the brain and how it works and changes is pretty fucking cool.
Sunday afternoon I took a trip to Barnes & Noble. Yes, I voluntarily sought out the source of my addiction. I wasn't sure what I wanted to read, but I had been itching (almost literally) for something new. After doing a reread of a couple of books; I was ready to move on. Unfortunately, and irritatingly, the OV B&N is doing a remodel and the Sci-Fi/Fantasy section was moved, down-sized, and in considerable disarray. Really, did they have to make more room for calendars and board games? Stop hatin' on the nerds! I digress.
After some grumpy browsing and a quick consultation of the book-finding computer (BTW, the Sci/Tech section was not where the computer said it was), I managed to find 4 books. Three of them were books I had deliberately searched for, and the 4th was a random selection by an author I had read once before and enjoyed; James Rollins. The book was The Last Oracle. (Sorry B, I know I said it was Omega somethingorother, but Omega does factor into the story. Again, I digress.)
The point? Oh yeah. My point is that I was reading the Rollins book last night and the concept of neuroplasticity came into play. One of the characters said something about Hebb's Law and I knew what they were talking about before the explanation was offered! No, I'm not going to tell you what it is. Go look it up; learning is good for you. They were talking about neurons, and brain maps, and synapses and I knew all about it. Well, as much as a person who is reading a popsci book can know anything about anything.
I just thought it was neat that I was reading about neuroplasticity and BAM, there it is in a novel I'm also reading. You may now return to whatever more interesting thing you were doing.
Sunday afternoon I took a trip to Barnes & Noble. Yes, I voluntarily sought out the source of my addiction. I wasn't sure what I wanted to read, but I had been itching (almost literally) for something new. After doing a reread of a couple of books; I was ready to move on. Unfortunately, and irritatingly, the OV B&N is doing a remodel and the Sci-Fi/Fantasy section was moved, down-sized, and in considerable disarray. Really, did they have to make more room for calendars and board games? Stop hatin' on the nerds! I digress.
After some grumpy browsing and a quick consultation of the book-finding computer (BTW, the Sci/Tech section was not where the computer said it was), I managed to find 4 books. Three of them were books I had deliberately searched for, and the 4th was a random selection by an author I had read once before and enjoyed; James Rollins. The book was The Last Oracle. (Sorry B, I know I said it was Omega somethingorother, but Omega does factor into the story. Again, I digress.)
The point? Oh yeah. My point is that I was reading the Rollins book last night and the concept of neuroplasticity came into play. One of the characters said something about Hebb's Law and I knew what they were talking about before the explanation was offered! No, I'm not going to tell you what it is. Go look it up; learning is good for you. They were talking about neurons, and brain maps, and synapses and I knew all about it. Well, as much as a person who is reading a popsci book can know anything about anything.
I just thought it was neat that I was reading about neuroplasticity and BAM, there it is in a novel I'm also reading. You may now return to whatever more interesting thing you were doing.
28 April 2009
So Much for That
Tell me, Joe, how relieved were you when you got work? When you knew you could text me and not have to lie about not coming up? Was it a huge weight off your shoulders? Did it alleviate the leaden feeling in your stomach? Perhaps I'm being naive in thinking you weren't lying about that. After all, I also believed that you'd tell me if you weren't interested and not just blow me off.
All that stuff about looking for this for the last 20 years? Guess that was a lie. So wait, you do lie? I'm confused. I'm confused as to why you couldn't tell me you changed your mind. I supposed you don't owe me anything. After all, our "relationship" was stillborn. You just didn't seem the type.
'Cause I'll admit I was messed up this weekend. I started thinking that my pheromones should be bottled as an alternative to Mace or pepper-spray. A non-lethal, yet wickedly effective man-repellent.
Yes, I got a little weird Friday night but I thought we were over that. Was it because I admitted I liked you? A lot? Was I not playing by the rules that we had been ignoring anyway? Or was it because you're so convinced that you are a crazy-magnet that you couldn't believe that I was any different? That despite my mostly normal behavior I was going to show up at your doorstep with a ball-gag, a gallon of Maalox and some rubber sheets?
So I don't know who to blame. Me, for being mildly awkward? Or you, for not having the balls to tell me? Either way, it's lose-lose, Joey.
All that stuff about looking for this for the last 20 years? Guess that was a lie. So wait, you do lie? I'm confused. I'm confused as to why you couldn't tell me you changed your mind. I supposed you don't owe me anything. After all, our "relationship" was stillborn. You just didn't seem the type.
'Cause I'll admit I was messed up this weekend. I started thinking that my pheromones should be bottled as an alternative to Mace or pepper-spray. A non-lethal, yet wickedly effective man-repellent.
Yes, I got a little weird Friday night but I thought we were over that. Was it because I admitted I liked you? A lot? Was I not playing by the rules that we had been ignoring anyway? Or was it because you're so convinced that you are a crazy-magnet that you couldn't believe that I was any different? That despite my mostly normal behavior I was going to show up at your doorstep with a ball-gag, a gallon of Maalox and some rubber sheets?
So I don't know who to blame. Me, for being mildly awkward? Or you, for not having the balls to tell me? Either way, it's lose-lose, Joey.
09 July 2008
Kitty Tales
My cat is strange. Probably not the strangest cat ever, but weird enough for me to have the occasional story about her bizarre behavior.
This morning was fairly typical. Alarm goes off, I haul my sorry ass out of bed, feed the cats, and proceed to the bathroom. My girl cat, Pudgy, was sitting outside of my bedroom door as I left the bathroom. I keep the door to the bedroom closed at all times because I have an antique dresser that I don't want clawed up. Pudge looked up at me beseechingly, her cat eyes huge in the early morning dimness. Miaow? Rowr? Hmm, it's really difficult to spell cat noises. She's talking to me and pawing rather frantically at my bedroom door. I decided to do a little experiment. I was going to stand there, staring down at her, and see how long she would continue to beg to go in the bedroom.
Well, I gotta give the fat furball some credit; she kept it up. She looked sort of pitiful - her tiny head and fat body and stubby little tail. After a few minutes I relented and opened the bedroom door. Pudge immediately darted inside and began to rub her little face on my laundry basket. I don't know if she felt that my clothes weren't permeated with enough "Essence of Pudge" or if she simply enjoys the feel of the rope handles against her whiskers.
After marking my laundry, she crept over to the closet and sniffed at the door. She has a bit of a fascination with closets but since she has a nasty habit of clawing at the things she finds in them, I tend to discourage her from exploring them.
As I wrote that last sentence, an idea popped up. We have all observed cats staring into space and attacking nothing that humans can see. Maybe when Pudge is clawing things up in the closet, she's saving me from monsters that are only visible to felines. Perhaps I owe my continued existence to my brave little kitty.
At this point, I'm dressed and ready to leave the bedroom. I'm hoping that I'm not going to have to tackle her and throw her out of the bedroom. I had to do that to my boy cat, Penguin, once and I managed to give myself a decent case of turf toe in the process. Not fun. Surprisingly enough, when I opened the door, Pudge strolled out, cool as can be.
I have decided that Pudge is making periodic inspections to assure herself that everything is up to her feline standards. Laundry basket? Check. Monster-free closet? Check. Clean sheets? Check. Okie-doke, my work here is done. However, this does not explain why she finds it necessary to hide in the cabinet with my pots and pans. Maybe she loves the feel of Teflon against her fur.
This morning was fairly typical. Alarm goes off, I haul my sorry ass out of bed, feed the cats, and proceed to the bathroom. My girl cat, Pudgy, was sitting outside of my bedroom door as I left the bathroom. I keep the door to the bedroom closed at all times because I have an antique dresser that I don't want clawed up. Pudge looked up at me beseechingly, her cat eyes huge in the early morning dimness. Miaow? Rowr? Hmm, it's really difficult to spell cat noises. She's talking to me and pawing rather frantically at my bedroom door. I decided to do a little experiment. I was going to stand there, staring down at her, and see how long she would continue to beg to go in the bedroom.
Well, I gotta give the fat furball some credit; she kept it up. She looked sort of pitiful - her tiny head and fat body and stubby little tail. After a few minutes I relented and opened the bedroom door. Pudge immediately darted inside and began to rub her little face on my laundry basket. I don't know if she felt that my clothes weren't permeated with enough "Essence of Pudge" or if she simply enjoys the feel of the rope handles against her whiskers.
After marking my laundry, she crept over to the closet and sniffed at the door. She has a bit of a fascination with closets but since she has a nasty habit of clawing at the things she finds in them, I tend to discourage her from exploring them.
As I wrote that last sentence, an idea popped up. We have all observed cats staring into space and attacking nothing that humans can see. Maybe when Pudge is clawing things up in the closet, she's saving me from monsters that are only visible to felines. Perhaps I owe my continued existence to my brave little kitty.
At this point, I'm dressed and ready to leave the bedroom. I'm hoping that I'm not going to have to tackle her and throw her out of the bedroom. I had to do that to my boy cat, Penguin, once and I managed to give myself a decent case of turf toe in the process. Not fun. Surprisingly enough, when I opened the door, Pudge strolled out, cool as can be.
I have decided that Pudge is making periodic inspections to assure herself that everything is up to her feline standards. Laundry basket? Check. Monster-free closet? Check. Clean sheets? Check. Okie-doke, my work here is done. However, this does not explain why she finds it necessary to hide in the cabinet with my pots and pans. Maybe she loves the feel of Teflon against her fur.
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