Nuggets of Gold!

LOVE AND HATE

OK, yeah. That last post was way too depressing to leave up there that long. Moving on ...

Tonight, downtown, there was the most wonderful smell of honeysuckle in the air. A storm was rolling in (well, north of us, I think we're just getting the breeze), and it brought the best wind ever. I wanted to stand outside and breathe it in for an hour. And I would have, too, on my porch, if it wasn't so crapped up with pollen as to make it uninhabitable, for the moment. But pollen, at least, makes honeysuckle grow ... not downtown, but somewhere. So I can forgive it. Honeysuckle is my favorite smell.

While I'm being an earth-mama here, I might as well share that I'm starting yoga tomorrow. Assuming I get my ass to the gym. Regrettably, the Y doesn't make you sign up for classes; you just show up. Which means no commitment. Which means no discipline on my part. Damn. But I really want to give it a try, so hopefully I'll make it. This time, and maybe even another.

End of this peace-y shit. I am now contemplating grabbing a baseball bat and clobbering the driver of the street cleaning truck who has decided this week to park his deafeningly loud truck outside my living room window each night at 12:30 a.m. or later and make a shit-ton of noise while he does ... whatever he's doing. Emptying his truck into the street sewer, I guess. Or possibly getting water from the fire hydrant. Whatever it is, it's noisy, it takes a long time, and it fills my heart with hate.

BAD WAY TO END THE NIGHT

So yeah. OK. Just got home from being mugged at gunpoint. That was, um. Yeah. Surreal, I guess? Also? Bad.

Geoffrey and I were walking home from a bar four blocks from our house when some mo-fo lingering on the sidewalk (YES, I know, but so were a lot of people at 2 a.m. when all the bars just closed) put a gun in our faces and oh-so-nicely asked for money. He came at us out of a church parking lot, so thanks for that, big J. Luckily (I guess?) he just wanted cash, not credit cards, or cell phones, or wedding rings. So I gave him, I dunno, about $35 and Geoffrey gave him whatever he had and then he and his gun (!) walked away, and so did we. Like an idiot (sort of), I called 911 right away -- like on the same block -- and we booked it to my office (which was closer) and waited for the cops there.

So we have a case number now, wooo. And I'm a crime victim. Again (first time being when my car was stolen in D.C.). And some guy just improved his ranking within his gang, most likely. So congratulations to him. I'll just be here, I guess, safe (?) at home, trying to figure out how a city the size of Tokyo can be perfectly safe, but Raleigh is apparently not so much.

God bless America.

LETDOWN CITY

I have been in Atlanta (HOT-lanta!) this week, helping my dad take care of my mom as she recovers from hip-replacement surgery. And I have to say, the theme of this trip has been disappointment.

Disappointment 1:
You still can't buy beer in the grocery stores on Sunday (except in actual Atlanta, which no one has actually ever seen). I went to Publix Sunday afternoon with a list that included dinner fixin's and sweet, sweet beer to get me through my stay -- if you know me, or more accurately my parents, you know that sweet, sweet beer is an absolute requirement for surviving more than 10 minutes with them. After soaking in all the Publix goodness (like the bread lady -- the Publix bread lady is always awesome no matter what location you visit), I turned down the beer aisle to find ... no lights. And a big sign saying "No beer/wine sales on Sunday ... SINNER." Because I guess the baby Jesus doesn't want us to drink on his big day. Or, more accurately, he wants us to plan ahead for drinking on his big day. But lottery ticket sales on Sunday? No problemo. Thanks, Georgia. Thanks A LOT.

Disappointment 2:
I had forgotten that radio station 99X bit the dust. Now it's called Q100 (which is completely ridiculous, as the frequency is 99.7), and its playlist is pure suck -- of the same vintage of suck as every other radio station in this town now. I e-mailed a fellow Atlantan co-worker to share my despair, and, bless him, he reminded me that Georgia State's Album 88 still exists, and is still awesome. Thank you, the baby Jesus, for that. But I'm still going to drink on your big day because you allowed 99X to die. Sorry.

I'm heading back to Raleigh today, blissfully. The City of Oaks may not have the Big Chicken, but it does sell beer every chance it gets, and for that I love it.

SPRING FORWARD

I'll admit it: I'm a little over-excited about this whole daylight savings time thing we did this weekend.

After all, I haven't done daylight savings time in three years, since Japan sits that whole phenomenon out. I loved almost everything about Japan, but I did not love the fact that the sky was pitch-black dark at 4 p.m. in winter, and by 6 at the latest in summer. What can I tell you? I guess I just like light.

Even though I work at night and thus can't really enjoy it, I love the idea that you can eat dinner and STILL have another couple hours of sunlight. It certainly makes my day feel longer (in a good way), since that day doesn't usually start until 10 a.m. or so. Sometimes in winter that late waking hour means I've missed almost half the day's sunlight.

But the best part of daylight savings time is that it means spring's a-comin'! I am perfectly ready to put away all my coats and sweaters and start living in T-shirts again. Bring on the sun! Bring on the heat! Bringing on a little more rain to end the drought would be nice, too, but I don't want to be piggy.

MY GUNS ARE HUGE, BRAH

Quick -- touch the ground, see if it's cold.

Hell MUST be freezing over, because the hubby and I have ... sigh ... joined a gym.

We are card-carrying members of the local YMCA now. The pudge made us do it. I guess we were fine all these years living in Washington, D.C., and Tokyo, with walking being a primary mode of transportation. But not so in the City of Oaks. It's all car, all the time -- until the
weather's nice enough for me to ride my bike to work, that is.

Somewhat related to the whole gym thing -- because I want to get an armband to hold my iPod while I work out but I'm not sure they make them small enough for my sticks -- I measured my biceps today. Turns out, brah, my guns are, like, HUGE. Ten inches around, to be exact. Which actually does sound huge, but I confess that most of it is jiggly stuff. (Not to be confused with Jigglypuff).

One day, brah, if you're rad, maybe I'll show you my guns. I can even point out which way to the gun show. YEAH.

WHEN CHRISTMAS TREES FIGHT BACK

I have to come back to this subject of Christmas trees hauled to the curb long after Christmas. Why? Because in addition to being an eyesore, they're also a friggin' road hazard, apparently.

One tree in particular, placed on the curb that happens to be right outside my first-floor apartment, is definitely out to get someone.

Two weeks ago, I was walking down the sidewalk on the way to my car when a gust of wind caught this nicely rounded, rather large tree and rolled it into the road, a fairly heavily traveled three-lane street. I thought about darting into traffic to grab the runaway tree, but when I saw that the first car barrelling in my direction was driven by someone who was yapping on a cell phone and OBVIOUSLY not paying attention to anything, I thought better of it. Smart move, as he plowed directly into the tree. I watched as he stopped his car, got out to inspect what had happened ("Person, or tree? I dunno, I was on my phone! I can't be expected to look at what I'm driving into!"), tossed the tree disgustedly back to the curb, got back on his cell phone, and drove away.

Tonight it is windy again, and dang if that very same tree (because, news flash folks, the city expects you to bring your tree out to the curb reasonably soon after Christmas, because it has better things to do -- like give parking tickets! -- than patrol for rogue trees all year long) didn't roll back into the street sometime after I turned off the porch light around midnight.

Here's what a Christmas tree in the middle of the street in the middle of the night looks like (click for larger image):

I thought since the street has a low speed limit and is straight and flat and mostly deserted at night, and since people use headlights most times, people would see the tree in plenty of time to choose a non-Christmas-treed lane. But no. In the time it took me to write the part of the post above the photo, two people ran the tree clean over -- without stopping -- and another slammed on the brakes just before it, then carefully drove around it ... and away.

So, being the nice person I am, I ran outside in the pouring rain at 2:30 a.m. and pulled what was left of the tree -- mainly the trunk -- to the curb. YOU'RE WELCOME, people of Raleigh. My hands will be sticky and smell like sap for the next three days, I hope you're happy. Also? Santa, if you're reading this, the former owners of this tree definitely deserve a lump of coal this year. I know you're watching, but I just thought I'd mention it.

EVEN CALENDARS NEED COPY EDITORS

If you can't trust anyone over 30, and you can't trust TV, and you can't even trust the INTERNETS, for darn sakes, who can you trust?

Not your calendar, apparently:

(Click for larger image)

See anything amiss? Check out that bottom row of numbers.

Yeah, seriously. Look at Domo-kun over there on the left -- he's pissed! Right on, Domo-kun. You tell 'em.

MORE STITCHING

Here is a terrible scan of the latest embroidery project I've completed (click for larger, see-able image):

Ignore all the gray stuff -- that's where I couldn't get the fabric to sit smoothly on the scanner. A photo would be a better way to go next time, but both of our cameras have eaten all the batteries in the house, so TOO BAD.

Anyway, I'm afraid of flying, right? Or WAS. I'm sort of almost better now. So this is an airplane, with coloring suggesting a Japanese crane, with very long legs that walk it to its destination. Because while flying through the air a million miles over cities and forests and houses and mountains with NOTHING under you is terrifying, being in a vessel that walks on legs isn't. So this is how I prefer to think of the whole thing.

I have to say I'm kind of disappointed with this one. It's how I wanted it to come out, meaning it's pretty much exactly what I saw in my head. But once it came out on fabric, meh. I think the design needs some work. But no matter! I'll let it simmer for a while and maybe try it again some other time. Maybe on my next flight! If, that is, you're allowed to bring needles on planes these days ...

ARE YOU THERE, GOD? IT'S ME, STACY

K, it's January, right? Like MID-January. So why do I see so many Christmas trees JUST NOW being dragged to the curb for (what I hope is) recycling?

Why, God? Why?

MY NEIGHBORHOOD

Here are two interesting things I noticed around my apartment building today:

1) BUMPER STICKER PROOF: I'd already surmised that our hip little downtown building was filled with damn dirty hippies and bleeding hearts (i.e., my people), but the bumper stickers in the parking lot drove the point home. "Go Organic" and "Make Art, Not War" live here, as does ACLU and lots of indie bands. I even saw a Mike Gravel campaign sticker once! Who even knew there was such a thing??

2) SCI-FI SCARINESS: There's been a lot of exterior work happening at a building just down the street, and when I walked by today on my way to the post office, I noticed a new sign: MINISTRY INCUBATOR. I was picturing evil science labs, and maybe people hooked up to machines like in "The Matrix." But apparently it's just an organization that helps start-up ministries by giving them office space and the like. Maybe there needs to be an organization that helps ministries that help start-up ministries think of less scary names. Just a suggestion.

In news from more than a block away, I checked out a big Asian grocery store today. I give it a C. It was large, and it had some nice touches like fresh fish and a real bakery, but I think it's geared more toward Chinese and Thai populations than Japanese. I did manage to get some soba noodles and the requisite tsuyu sauce, but no Suntory oolong tea and only tiny, wildly expensive bottles of Ito-en jasmine tea. They did have Pocky, but no Men's Pocky, which everyone knows is the best Pocky. Even if you're a girl.