Welcome

Blog

  • The word of the day is “Craptastic”

    1. As Evil Dan Shaughnessey pointed out in the Globe this morning, the Sox are 8-18 in August. It’s goddamned depressing. The only good news is that they’ve been on a West Coast trip for the better part of the past week — meaning that 10pm start times have allowed me to miss most of the pain firsthand. My sincere hope is that they A) forfeit the rest of the season, so as to release the Nation from the pain of watching their tortured spiral; and B) instead spend the entirety of September playing exhibition games in the Alaska Fall League. Not only would this ensure that they continue to play games at times when I won’t be conscious to watch them, but it also provides for the very real possibility that Josh Beckett will finally be able to pitch two strong games in a row.

    2. TheWife spent the weekend in wine country with a friend, touring some of the Russian River’s finer vintners and enjoying spectacular food morning, noon and night. Today, she returns to her corporate office in the Bay Area for another week of Big Time bidness stuff before she finally makes her way back to the East Coast.

    Meanwhile, the offspring and I enjoyed a spagtacular weekend here in Castle TwoBusy. TwinA brought a double ear infection to full fruition, which meant plenty of fun and yet another visit to the Pediatrician. TwinB, meanwhile, continued to explore the boundaries of human experience by tossing crackers into a toilet and then attempting to go in after them. Granted, they were excellent crackers, but realistically probably not worth the deep sea dive. She also managed to get outside twice, which baffles me insofar as that (at 14 months old) she is not tall enough to actually turn a door handle.

    Which leads me to the conclusion that the Hurricane is trying to get rid of his sisters by opening the doors and letting them “return to the wild from whence they came.”

    3. I was supposed to take today off — my first, actual, scheduled day off since April (when I took a day off for TwinA’s ear tube surgery. Good times.). Fortunately, people at work kept making promises that I could turn things around for them in 2-3 days – without actually consulting me, taking into account my omnipresent crushing workload, or checking the schedule to see if I was going to be out – meaning that if I actually took today off, the world as we know it would come to an end (or the bidness equivalent thereof.) Therefore, I am at work. Again. Staring at the fluourescent lights and waiting for the sweet release of death.

    4.70044591 In an attempt to unwind, I watched “Silent Hill.” This continues my Netflix horror-fest, as TheWife doesn’t share my zest for the genre and I figured her 2-week trip to Cali (Cali, Cali… her bikini, small… heels, tall… she said… she liked… the ocean…) would provide me with a great opportunity to catch up on a few that I’d missed. Anyhow, let my experience serve as a warning: “Silent Hill” blows great big vile goat chunks. Horrible, horrible movie. Yeah, there’s maybe 2-3 cool visual elements to it, but the movie makes NO sense whatsoever, isn’t scary, and features the most annoying child actress I may have ever seen. Jodelle Ferland… you suck.

    5. And how was your weekend?

  • The Siege, Day 4

    1. This morning, all 3 small mammals simultaneously awakened – and demanded my attention – at 5:25am. Each one subsequently decided to scream uncontrollably every time my attention was turned to another. By the time Grandma arrived to give me 20 minutes to take a shower and get ready for work, the howling was relentless.

    Their plot is proceeding on schedule. I will soon be insane. (Little do they suspect I will be murderously insane, which might not work to their benefit.)

    2. Supplies are running low. At some point soon, we will run out of milk, hot dogs and human blood (the staples of their diets). Fortunately, we’ve still got plenty of Fruity Cheerios — but at some point they’re going to crave something different. With any luck, I’ll hit a squirrel on my way home tonight and – at least temporarily – solve that dilemma.

    3. After I throw them into the basement put them to bed tonight, I’ll unwind by watching Hostel — which should calm me down nicely.

    4. TheWife enjoyed PacBell Park the other night. She said the views of the Bay were lovely. She also said she’s very much looking forward to visiting the Russian River Valley this weekend. (Her work thing is also going very well.)

    5. Four days down. Twelve to go. “Who will survive, and what will be left of them?”

  • If this doesn’t bring in more tourists, I don’t know what will.

    Driving in to work this morning, I found myself stuck in traffic behind a white RX300 with an unfamiliar plate design. It had kind of a retro look – like a 50s postcard – of a blue marlin leaping out of the water. I was able to make out the word “Florida” in block letters across the top, but there was another, scripted line of text along the bottom that didn’t read quite as clearly. And for a moment, my heart leapt into my throat as I read what – I thought- was the greatest declaration of state-based pride I’d ever seen in my life.

    Of course, still sitting in traffic two minutes later, I figured out that the second line of text read “Fish Florida!” But for those brief, shining, glorious minutes, I was convinced that I was staring at a license plate of a big jumping fish declaring, “Fuck Florida!”

    Ah, well. Close.

  • Things that happened

    1. The Sox dropped four in a row to the Yankees, being outscored 47-25 in the process. Josh Beckett (pardon me: Prized off-season acquisition Josh Beckett) gave up nine (9) walks over the course of 5.2 innings on Saturday, while also giving up an obligatory home run. Jason Giambi said, “This may be the greatest 4 games I’ve played in my career.” Even Papelbon – God help us, even Jon Papelbon – got slapped around.

    They play the fifth game of the series this afternoon, but if there’s any justice the earth will open and swallow up both teams during batting practice.

    2. TheWife left for yet another bidness trip this morning. This time, she’s gone for two weeks. During those 2 weeks, she’s doing a lot of bidness stuff, but also squeezing in several 4-star dinners, a visit to wine country and a Giants game in PacBell Park. Meanwhile, I’ll be drenched in sweat, snot and smeared, greasy sunblock by a host of savage, screaming CHUDs. Every. Damned. Day.

    3. (They are certainly Cannibalistic and Humanoid… as to whether or not they’re Underground Dwellers, well, let’s just say that depends on how they behave over the course of the next two weeks. The cellar is always a kid-friendly option.)

    4. (Does 3 constitute a “host?”)

    5. There are monsters loose in Maine. With any luck, they eat children.

    6. I am a bitter, bitter man.

  • Another poor bastard.

    Now we know why the Seattle Mariners spent so much money in the free agency market two years ago: night nurses don’t come cheap.

    (No word yet on whether the Sexson twins were named as goofily as Kevin Millar’s offspring.)

  • Snowy Egrets

    Saturday was guy’s day.

    This was kind of a revenge event — a reaction to a “Spa Day” some of our womenfolk had enjoyed a few months back. The worst part about the Spa Day was that it was actually my friend Marty’s idea: he suggested to his wife that she leave him with their kid while she went off and did some Spa thing… she took the idea and ran with it, inviting several of her friends (including theWife) to join in… ultimately, it become something of a ripple effect wherein Marty’s simple, thoughtful suggestion ended up screwing several guys simultaneously, as we all ended up on kid duty whilst our alleged better halves prettied up their fingers, toes and what have you.

    Anyhow. Saturday was our get-back for that long-ago sacrificed Saturday — and we celebrated by fleeing to the beautiful North Shore and kayaking all over the salt marshes of Essex, MA. Essexriver It was a windy day – it’s been unseasonably cool in New England for the past week, making up for the vicious heat wave we suffered through the previous week – and because this created tougher conditions than the beginners in our initial touring group of 10 were prepared to meet, we quickly whittled the group down to my 4-person carload and our guide. Which was ideal: every kayaking tour I’ve done in the past has been hampered by at least 2-3 unreasonably slow and/or helpless boatloads of retirees who seem incapable of running a paddle through the water in any coordinated fashion — meaning that the tour as a whole slows to a crawl while they try to figure out how to get the kayak to actually move through the water.

    But the “rough” conditions (and let me be clear — we’re talking about a mild wind and some chop, but nothing remotely challenging) were enough to end everyone else’s day early… and freed us to really get out on the water, move freely and quickly, and see some great stuff.

    We took advantage of what our guide told us was a “supertide,” meaning that in places where the water is generally a wandering estuary winding its way through acres and acres of salt marsh, we instead paddled over the marshes — our paddles skimming the tops of the tall grasses as we made our way. Our guide claimed that the water was 12 feet above its low tide height, which seemed hard to imagine, although the clusters of grasses and deeper, darker waters where the estuaries lay testified to his accuracy.

    At one point, we came upon a small, marshy “island” – probably a hill in normal tides – on which something close to 30 snowy egrets were perched. (I wish I had photos, but any camera I brought would have been soaked and destroyed.) Seeing that many big, beautiful birds that close up – without disturbing them – was an unusual experience. We floated there next to them, quiet and low to the water. We watched them step gingerly among the grasses, looking for insects or scanning the horizon. Snowy white birds in a field of greens and summer gold, surrounded by the endless ripple and motion of the salty air and waters.

    (I need more of this in my life.)

  • Wow, kids… look at what happened to Disney World.

    So theWife was out of town on bidness all weekend, leaving me responsible for the care and feeding of our three offspring. Midmorning Sunday, the wind shifted and without warning or reason all hell abruptly broke loose — the unholy trinity started wailing and crying and throwing toys and beating themselves with rattan canes to express the full extent of their misery in all its profound glory.

    Poor dears. I felt terrible for them, and so – thinking only of their welfare – I gently picked them up one-by-one and threw placed them gently into the truck, kissing each on his or her sweaty, contorted little forehead as I strapped them in, and took a drive. My goal: to lull them to sleep with the calming rhythm of the vehicle on the road, so as to allow their tortured psyches to heal and the screaming – at last – to stop.

    I headed south with no real destination in mind… took some roads less travelled, and headed further south… missed the left turn in Albuquerque… and somehow ended up in Woonsocket, RI.

    That’s right: Woonsocket. The happiest place on earth. Hometown of Nap Lajoie. Birthplace of Rocco Baldelli. The city that launched a thousand cheap, crappy package stores. The metropolis whose greatest claim to fame is that it’s the midway point on the Providence-Worcester Railway.

    You can only imagine how happy my kids were to wake up and find themselves lost in Woonsocket. To quote my son: “NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!!!!!!!!”

  • On the other hand, this is probably as good a time as any to tune up the snowblower.

    How hot has it been in New England this week? Hot enough to bake cookies on your dashboard. Seriously.

  • Holy Diver, LF

    Impressions from a Saturday night at Citizen’s Bank Park (Phillies 12, Marlins 3):

    * A lady in the row behind us (back, and to the left… back, and to the left…) got smacked in the head with a line drive about halfway through the game. Almost instantaneously, she was surrounded by stadium personnel and EMT-types, which was extremely impressive. She didn’t appear to be badly injured, but still ended up leaving the game to go to a local hospital and have her noggin checked out. Ironically, up until that point I’d spent much of the game telling the friend sitting next to me that she was going to get smacked in the head with a foul ball. Apparently this means I have eeeeerie powers.

    * In the 4th inning, a peanut vendor guy said something about Bobby Abreu getting traded to the Yankees. Instantly, everyone in the section with web-enabled cellphones went online to try to find out more. The rumor turned out to be premature (the trade didn’t happen until Sunday afternoon), but nevertheless it was an impressive display of communal geekitude.

    * Excellent selection of craft beers at the ballpark — as good as anyplace I’ve been.

    * I fought off the 90+ temperature and high humidity with a delicious cherry “water ice” — which is apparently the same thing as Italian ice, only with a name that makes no sense whatsoever.

    * A few rows in front of us there sat a woman who had a tattoo of a butterfly at the base of her neck. The woman was, however, fairly heavyset — so everytime she looked up, the layers of fat on her neck and back compressed and, as a result, she smooshed the butterfly. It provided a nice diversion between innings. “Hey, look at the pretty butterfly… now it’s smooshed. There it is again! What a nice… never mind, it’s smooshed.”

    * Philly baseball fans: very knowledgeable. I was impressed. Next to Boston, easily the best baseball crowd I’ve ever seen. Dioface_2

    * At least twice, Pat Burrell came to the plate accompanied by… that’s right… Ronnie James Dio’s “Holy Diver.”

  • In which I kick ass

    The dinner I made yesterday:

    * Grilled eggplant in a chile-onion relish
    * Couscous with currants and nuts
    * Grilled pork chops in East-West BBQ Sauce
    (E-WBBQ = sesame oil, onions, mustard seed, tobasco, cola (yes, cola), soy sauce, ketchup… a very strange and delicious cross-section of ingredients)

    * And, for dessert, grilled bananas with raspberries in a rum-caramel sauce

    All of which we washed down with half a bottle of Sunce’s robust Cabernet Sauvignon.

    Damn, I’m good.