CafeChatNoir

I’ll admit I’m not super comfortable with public religious proselytizing, as it seems to have a rather unnerving focus on whether or not I have been “saved” and the status of my soul seems to create much too large a burden on the people inquiring.  I definitely get the impression that these folks are losing sleep over all the unsaved souls out there, and that’s just too much for anyone to take on as a personal responsibility.  I tend meet those who seem very sad in general that more people aren’t saved and that it is somehow their fault and that the big guy is disappointed in them.  Kinda depressing, and I try to just politely avoid them altogether as to not add another unsaved soul to their already way-too-long list.

However, it isn’t always that way.

Today, I found myself over at the Lotto in Falls Church (or Fairfax, or whatever part of town that technically is) and needing chopsticks (and a couple miso bowls, and soba, and bubblegum, AND POCKY!) I pulled into the parking lot and headed in to do a bit of shopping.  Near the front door was a young woman, all bundled up for the weather with a sash that said, “Love Jesus!”  She was singing (I can only guess it was Korean, as it was definitely not English, and there is a decent Korean population in the area.)  She had a GORGEOUS singing voice, and could have been singing, “You’re all going to hell if you’re not saved!” but she made it sound really beautiful.  As I walked by, I got a big smile and a wave and a “Jesus Loves You!!!!”  She wasn’t trying to stop anyone, or hand out fliers, or recruit people.  Just singing and smiling and wanting people to know they were loved.

She was singing again when I exited, and at the finish of the song, did a little jump and two thumbs up and happily proclaimed, “Jesus!!” almost in the same way a rocker might holler, “Thank you, Cleveland!” at the end of a concert.

I couldn’t help but give her a thumbs up back.

I’m happy she managed to find the cool Jesus.  The fun Jesus who probably kicks ass on bass guitar in Rock Band.  The Jesus that just loves everyone and makes her want to sing and tell everyone they’re loved and isn’t trying to scare the crap out of her, rather than one that is keeping a list of how many souls she’s brought to the flock.  I can’t help but envision a smiling Buddy Christ on the dashboard of her car.  Mainly, I’m happy that her religion is making her happy and joyous instead of sad and angry.

Not such a bad thing.

Up to the pub for beer and SportsCenter this evening.  Nice time, and I come home, ready to curl up and nod off to dreamland on the couch – forget actually trekking upstairs, I’m freaking TIRED today for no good reason.  Come in, let Moxley out, apologize profusely for the fact that the backyard floodlight went out sometime in the past two hours and promise that I’ll get it replaced tomorrow.

Dog back in.  Dog out again.  Dog back in.  (We call it the in-out syndrome.)  Dog out one last time.  Dog back in, with what appears to be one of his stuffed animals in his mouth.

Except it’s a little on the large size for any of his toys.

Trots over to the middle of the living room while I am shutting the back door, drops it, and trots back to me, EXTREMELY proud of himself.

I get a better look at his gift to me.

A squirrel.  A very dead squirrel.  A very LARGE dead squirrel.

I am not horrified that he has brought me a squirrel.  He’s a dog.  Dogs do that.  I really wish he HADN’T brought it in, but not much I can do at this point, since I didn’t even see what he had until it was too late.  Given the amount of rigor and/or effects of deep freeze, I’m fairly certain the dog did not actually dispatch said squirrel himself and it had died of natural causes and fell out of a tree into the yard.  (Quite possibly on his head.)  Given his lifelong quest for keeping me safe from the squirrels via chasing and barking, I really do understand how pleased he is with himself over this spoil of his continuing war against Sciurus Carolinensis.

I am very rattled nonetheless, mainly because of my concern of this turning into some zombie squirrel movie where the damn thing comes back to life while I’m trying to get it out of my living room.  So of course, my first move is to call my brother.  Why?  I don’t know, but talking to someone seemed to be the logical thing to do next.  (OK, maybe not talking as much as freaking out in as even a tone as possible.)  It went something along the lines of “YOUR DOG brought a dead squirrel in the house.  YOU NEED TO TELL HIM NOT TO DO THAT ANYMORE.”

Needless to say at this point, I’m certainly not sleepy anymore as I look at the dog and tell him, “Take it back outside.  Please.  Seriously.  It’s like Mom always told me, ‘Wild things need to stay wild’ and I couldn’t bring frogs in the house, so you can’t bring squirrels in the house.  Take it back out, please!”

No, Mox is still sitting on the other side of the room, tail wagging, so very pleased with himself and not quite understanding why I am not as thrilled at this gift as he is.

OK, so the dog isn’t going to take the squirrel back out, and I’m not going to wait until my brother gets home because frankly, it could thaw and come back to life in that time, and the last thing I need is an undead squirrel running around the house.  First, I thank the dog for his present and give him a pat on the head and ask one more time if he would please take it back outside.  No need to get mad at him, cause he won’t understand anyway and he’s SO proud of himself.  Sure, I’m not thrilled with him at all, but scolding him isn’t going to do anything but confuse him.

OK, time to get the late, great, and damn large squirrel out.  The upside is that he appears to be near frozen solid, so there are no bits-o-squirrel scattered about the living room.  Really, nothing more than a trash bag needed.  But not the kitchen garbage bags.  The undead squirrel will leap to life, come right through them and kill me.  Nope, time for not one, but two of Costco’s super heavy duty 55 gallon contractor rated trash bags.  The environmental lobby can bitch all they want about waste, I am not going to have my obituary read, “Killed by an undead squirrel.”

Get the damn HUGE critter wrapped in one bag and deposited in the other one.  I know we have pretty porked out squirrels around here, but I never have been this close to one of them – my god, they are very well fed.

Out to the trash can and thanking my lucky stars that it will not get above freezing tonight, and that tomorrow is trash day.  I feel ZERO guilt for any noise in getting the bin out to the curb – it **was** a low volume trash week for us and I wasn’t even going to put it out for collection, but now that there is a dead mammal in it, all bets are off.

The dog keeps walking over to where he left the squirrel and looking and me wondering where his awesome find went.

I really need to get that floodlight replaced so I can see what the dog is bringing in before he brings it in.

It’s been a while since we had snow, I realize this.  I also understand that given the transient nature of this area, any given year there are a lot of you out there that have never driven in snow before, so this is all new to you.  There are also those of you that have lived here for years and are just being idiots.

I’ve been out and about on two occasions today and it’s obviously time for a refresher on dealing with snow…

If your employer allows you to telecommute during inclement weather, take them up on the offer.  Even with the economy in the tank, one day less of face time with the boss won’t kill you.  (And if it does end up being your undoing, you were in trouble in the first place.)

If you can reasonably avail yourself of some of our mass transit options, give it a whirl.

If you still have to get on the road, that’s OK.  Just a few things to keep in mind:

Clear your windows.  All of them.  Don’t just have a circle of cleared glass right in front of you.

Try to get as much, if not all, the snow off the top of your car.  It’s not always easy, especially if you have a car that is rather tall relative to your height – but at least give it a shot.

If you have the presence of mind, flip your windshield wipers up off the windshield if you’ll be parked for any length of time.  You’ll be happy when the wipers aren’t frozen to the windshield later.

Slow down.  Seriously.  I’m quite certain that the building you are heading to will still be there when you arrive.

Maintain some space.  What you think is a ridiculous amount of space between you and the car in front of you is probably about right.

Start breaking sooner than you normally would.  (Yes, while still going slower in the first place.)  Again, what you think is ridiculous will probably be spot on.

Please remember that 4-Wheel Drive does not make you invincible.  You will not be able to stop on a dime.  It is not any safer or more socially acceptable to run a red light with 4-Wheel Drive.  Every year, I see more 4-Wheel Drive vehicles in ditches than any other type of car.

In Virginia, it is legal to make a right turn on a red light.  However, as a driver you are NOT obligated to make said turn on red.  Especially if there is oncoming traffic and you don’t think it’s the wisest idea to try to zip out through a big slushy mess in order to beat said oncoming traffic.  This also applies to the person in front of you at the red light and if you decide that laying on the horn to get them to go is a good idea, well, you’re just a jackass.

Tomorrow they’re calling for ice pellets all day.  For that, I suggest you simply call in sick.

As much as I despise winter, I LOVE snow.  It’s one of the few redeeming aspects of an otherwise dreary and light deprived season.  Everything is brighter and quieter.

In today’s White House press conference, the press decided to beat up the new press secretary a bit on it with, “Well, if he took the oath again, why didn’t he sign his first executive orders again?”

Now folks, I think we ALL know why they did the oath again.  Not out of “an abundance of caution” as is the party line at the moment.

They did it to get people to STFU about the “OMG, he’s not really the president!” hollering.

He’s president.  He’s been the president since the 20th.  He will be for the next 4 years, goofed oath or not.

Please be aware that you need to download form RNBW-UNC-2009 from Change.gov, fully complete the form and return it to the White House, or your local chapter of the Democratic National Committee.

Bear in mind that these are live animals and can’t just be sent out willy-nilly across the country like a slew of tax stimulus checks.  There is also the issue that only so many unicorns can be fit in a standard USPS delivery truck, and trained animal handlers are still being dispatched to the regional post offices.  Delivery addresses need to be confirmed as well as verification that zoning laws allow unicorns in residences in your area.  If you rent your home, a note from your landlord indicating that unicorns are allowed as pets will be required as well.

Additionally, it has been brought to light that many people are planning on naming their unicorn “Hope” or “Change”…  You may wish to seriously consider alternate names, as you could end up with half a dozen unicorns at your back door when you go out to call “Hope” inside for the evening.

Finally, please do not be duped by those claiming that they can “expedite” your unicorn delivery for a “small administrative fee” – these are not legitimate government officials, and often can also be found selling “marijuana farming licenses” as well as “jackalope hunting permits”  Be aware!

Enjoy your unicorn, and be sure to follow the care and feeding instructions that will be provided at delivery.

Between the DCist updates and CNBC coverage, I’d say Obamapalooza is in full swing.  As of 10 AM, the Mall is at capacity.  One Metro line has been shut down.  Several Metro stations are holding trains because you can’t get *out* of the station.  Cell phone service is spotty at best as everyone tries to send cell phone camera pictures back home.

I’d say my decision to stay home and watch from the comfort of home wasn’t the worst idea in the world, but the energy of the crowds is evident, even through the TV.

Word has it that Cheney will be attending in a wheelchair because he threw his back out trying to move things…  Mr. Cheney, didn’t anyone tell you they will provide help for that?  You shouldn’t be trying to move a man sized safe by yourself.

While I don’t think there is enough money in the world for me to want to be the President of the United States, there is one aspect of it all that I do envy:  The moving staff.

Between the time that the Bushes and Obamas leave the White House after their morning coffee and the Obamas return back home this evening, all the old items will be packed up and moved out, and all of the new items will be moved in – AND UNPACKED.  Who wouldn’t want that crew the next time they have to move?

In all seriousness, it’s a pretty nifty day today, and I am enjoying how chuffed people are about it all.  It wasn’t that long ago that the idea of electing someone into our highest office who *wasn’t* a white male (and probably a somewhat older one to boot) was well, inconceivable.

I don’t expect that at 12:01 this afternoon that the world will be filled with unicorns and rainbows.  President Obama will have his share of screwups.  Every President does.  And he’s walking into a bit of a mess to put it mildly, and trying to fix it all without at least a few missteps will be virtually impossible.

However, I’m looking forward to something different.  Maybe it will be better, maybe it will be worse.  But I think a new approach won’t be the worst thing for the country by any means.

Welcome to DC, Mr. President.

But I have PLENTY of words for it, the vast majority of which are unprintable.

Weather Underground is telling me that it is 7 degrees out there, and I can’t say that I disagree.  It’s not that I’ve never been through a cold snap before – hell, I’ve lived in this area for longer than I care to admit, so I know this is nothing new.  However, it seemed that this year it took longer for the cold weather to kick in to begin with, so it’s all just a nasty blow to my system.  (Or I was in complete denial and wearing my Tevas for much longer than I should have after the summer ended.)

The fact of the matter is that I’m a warm weather girl.  Or I have the circulation of your average reptile.  Either one works, but these temps SUCK.

My skin is dried out beyond belief, despite taking in ridiculous amounts of liquids.  I swear that yesterday when I went out, my snot froze.  Now, if you dress for the weather, it’s still cold, but it’s not TOO bad.  I seriously feel for those who have to wear skirts to work during this time of year.  When I ventured out today, it was with tights under my jeans, layered tops and then a coat on top of it.  Which really makes me wonder – how do Alaska and Canada not have negative population growth?  When you have to put on that many layers just to avoid instantaneous hypothermia, by the time you take them all off again, you’re exhausted and need a nap more than you need sex.  (Or maybe I’m just not choosing my layers properly – do our fellow citizens and friends to the north have breakaway long underwear?)

I let my car run for 10 minutes before going to the market this afternoon, which according to Google maps is only a 5 minute drive from here.  My need to not shiver uncontrollably while driving outweighed my need to be environmentally friendly.

In short, I want summer back.  I am one of the few people that LOVES the DC metro area in August – I do not say “gosh I want snow!” on August 15th.  Go out and run in 95 degree weather with 90% humidity?  Sure!  Even contemplate going for a walk in 20 degree weather?  No way in hell.

My dog, on the other hand, is LOVING this weather.  As best as we know, he’s got a good chunk of Tibetan Terrier in him (as in: hanging out in the Tibetan wilds with the Dalai Lama Tibetan) and he does have the coat for it.  However, I get cold just watching him out there.  He’s outside right now, and I figured he’d be smart enough to go out, do his thing and then come back in.  Nope.  I just looked out and he was sitting on the deck surveying his vast acreage that he has to protect against the squirrels.  Seriously.  I told him to either do what he needs to do or COME BACK IN.

Now he’s chasing invisible squirrels around the yard.  At least it’s better than just sitting on the deck.  But he is definitely enjoying being the wild dog of the frozen tundra.

At least he humors me and lets me wrap him up in a blanket for a couple minutes when he comes back in.  (No he’s not spoiled rotten, why do you ask?)  But the cold just pours off him, and being a good dog mom, I want him to be WARM.

And people wonder why I’ve never had any real interest in attending Inaugural events, this year or any other year.  If they held them in June, the idea would probably be a lot more appealing.

Inauguration Day will be a historic day to be sure, but my plans are quite sedate.  I’ll be taking in the festivities from my comfy couch, likely with a warm blanket and a hot cup of coffee.  There’s a good chance that I’ll head up to the pub for a celebratory pint that evening.  No parties, no big food extravaganza, just another day with a historic event in the middle of it.

However, I apparently am the only one taking that approach.  I went to the market and was greeted with a sign saying that “In Order To Serve You Better On Inauguration Day, We’ll Be Opening at 4AM on January 20th.”

4 AM?  I’m out in the suburbs.  It’s not like our local streets will be jammed with traffic all day.  Even if people are having parties, lots and lots of very large parties, I am not quite sure I see the need for the grocery store to be open at 4 in the morning.

So, I got the newsletter from the community pool about the fun things that happened this past season and things they want to do next season.  (Already done: Drains are no longer death traps, YAY!)

One of the items spoken of was a Ladies Bunco Night.  Now, I have had no direct experience with this, but as best as I have been able to discern, it is a floating craps game that requires the hostess to remodel and/or redecorate every room that any of the various participants may set foot in.  Also, it appears to require a catering budget that rivals some weddings.

Granted, this information came primarily from spouses of Bunco hostesses/players (who seemed to be exhausted from having to repaint the dining room) so it may be every so slightly exaggerated.

But, none of this actually answers the question of WTF is this game/pastime/obsession anyway?

If you know, please, do tell.