CafeChatNoir

OK, the post that was originally here is not anymore.  I have no idea where it went.

But the jist of it was that I met Dicky Betts of the Allman Brothers Band.

Having a Tom in town can be hazardous to your health. We had a painful amount of fun last evening and today I am definitely feeling it. But hey, I only see the guy every couple of years.  And as a result of his presence, there is a case of Mountain Dew in the fridge.  I haven’t had that in years - damn, that stuff is good.

Hillary coming in 3rd last evening in Iowa really surprised me. I knew Obama would give her a run for her money, but I certainly didn’t see Edwards beating her. And on the republican side - Huckabee? Huh? Perhaps it’s time to move to New Zealand - Tom says it’s pretty nice.

Think very smart thoughts for my bartender buddy Wes tomorrow - he’s got an important exam and we can always use all the help we can get in these things. :)

Also, why is it that thoughts that will drive you to giggles only seem to happen when you really can’t laugh? I went up to the pub for a beer and some west coast baseball tonight to shut my brain off. I am contentedly sitting there watching the Yankees get crushed by the Angels, and I glance over at the guy to my left and all I can think is, “Dude, where is Snowy??” Had he been further down the bar, I could have burst into hysterical laughter, but nooooooooooo… Even worse when I realized that there was probably NO ONE in the place that would have had any idea what I was referring to - being the oldster sucks some days.

A little fashion and etiquette advice:

First, there is really nowhere outside a gym or 1986 where a muscle shirt is acceptable. Second, wandering around the pub and flexing and hovering around the women gets you absolutely nowhere - as a matter of fact, it quickly makes you the subject of ridicule. Third, when you take a seat at the bar and someone tells you that someone is in fact sitting there and you will need to vacate the seat, vacate the damn seat already and don’t try and walk off with someone else’s beer.

Following these easy tips can make the evening at the pub enjoyable for all. Not following these tips could very well result in someone taking a swing at you, or at minimum declaring, “Dude, you suck.”

Watching the President totally hose floor trading at the NYSE at the moment. The White House had repeatedly denied that he would be visiting the NYSE after his speech across the street at Federal Hall, but there you go. The Secret Service folks do not seem pleased with this turn of events. (I hope they are at least grateful that the NYSE floor is an exceptionally secure area to start with.)

I’ve got a friend that could be making a mistake and I’ve done my best to give warning. (Not “you’re an idiot” mistake but a “you’ve got bad information, PLEASE double check it” mistake.) I’ve done what I can and now all I can do is hope that things turn out OK. Frustrating to say the least.

Entry migration is still coming along. Everything that has been brought over so far has been tagged and checked for security. Once everything is in, then there will be some minor cleanup still to do, as anything without a subject is automatically assigned a # for the subject and that has to go. Minor, but mildly annoying. Need to figure out how to convert the archive list to a dropdown cause it’s just too long, and there will likely be some category cleanups as well.

It’s been really interested re-reading everything as I’ve been importing it. I’ve found that when things are going badly, I write a lot more. It’s a little disturbing how things are so different for me now than they were just two years ago. Never in a million years would I have thought I’d be where I am today. Even with all the changes, there are a lot of good reminders of “don’t make that mistake again, dumbass” in the older entries.

…what is it with me, 7-11’s and cops? Honestly, every other time I hit the 7-11 near my gym, there is a cop there. When I was much younger, and out doing the underaged drinking thing (bad, bad, bad) my friend who was driving took me to 7-11 for coffee before pouring me on my front porch. Yup, cops there too, and there I was, under 21 and nicely toasted. So, what did I do? Talk to them, of course! Fortunately, my friend was behind me and mouthing over my shoulder, “She’s not driving” and by sheer luck they basically patted me on the head and left me alone, apparently figuring the hangover and having to deal with my parents would be punishment enough.

So, tonight I walk into 7-11 and not one, but two Fairfax County officers there… One is getting coffee, the other is checking out and there is a girl behind him and I get in line behind her. Officer checking out is getting some scratcher tickets along with his stuff (and I am quite sure didn’t realize anyone was behind him), coffee officer looks up and says, “Dude, you are totally holding up the ladies here!”

Well, me being me, I can’t be quiet. My response to this? “Y’all have guns, you take as much time as you want.”

I have to say, they did seem pleased that there are folks in the world smart enough to not want to piss off someone with a sidearm.

Good News: Randy was moved to Fairfax Hospital, had surgery this morning to remove blood clots(??) and will probably be able to go home on Friday. Merry Christmas!

6 hours into Grandma’s visit, and it’s going…well…as well as could be expected I suppose.

First some things I have convinced myself I should not be concerned with, even though maybe I should. When she’s stressed about a particular issue, she repeats herself. At first glance, it kinda freaked me out, but then I realized the couple things she was repeating were things that were freaking her out. The more frazzled I get about any issue, the more I tend to obsessively focus on it. Second, poor Snoopy cat is going to be only known as the “pretty black kitty” cause she’s said she can’t remember his name to save her life. She remembers Mox and Target, but Snoopy is screwed, cause she says she keeps thinking it should be some elegant name cause he’s got such an elegant look about him - and he is so NOT elegant in real life, and well, Snoopy isn’t the name you think of for a cat anyway.

She’s got friends who want her to move to the Forum (assisted living) and she doesn’t want to. She likes where she is. I did manage to get her to promise that if she starts to feel uncomfortable on her own, she’d consider it. (This is a woman that gave up her license voluntarily, so I am not too worried.)

She had a crappy day starting with her cab to the airport showing up over 45 minutes late, which I can understand throwing her into a tizzy from the get-go. She made the plane, and while picking her up I near had to punch out a US Air rep who kept saying, “I need this wheelchair” as I tried to take over. (She always gets a chair at the airport cause hoofin’ it all over National when you have a cane and have been sitting on a plane all day is NOT FUN OR EASY.) I pointed out to the rep that a) it’s not like it would fit in my car and b) she’d have to wait until we were damn well good and done with it, meaning through baggage check and until the car came around. She finally relented and let me take over when she realized I was dead serious and if necessary I would body check her skinny ass into a wall and go along my merry way.

Apparently last year some things were stolen from her house (she assumes while she was here) - haven’t been able to get out of her if it was someone who had access to the house or someone quietly picked the lock knowing she was gone… The things that were taken were things she doesn’t use regularly so she didn’t even know things were gone until much later. If I ever find out who did it, there is going to be such a fucking beatdown. She drives me up a wall, but you don’t fuck with my family.

She is NOT happy that my brother hasn’t secured work yet. She has absolutely no concept of what it is like to be completely burned out from a job - he’s needed this time off, and I certainly don’t begrudge him of it. She’s still convinced that he can’t possibly afford to be out of work for a while.

Despite this, I went ahead and told her I am going back to school. She wanted to know how long it would take and when I would be working again… I pulled 2 years out of my ass. (Cause I didn’t see the question coming, cause I am an idiot.) I pointed out that the proceeds from my townhouse would more than cover my expenses for multiple years, but I don’t think she believed me. I also pointed out that one of my coworkers had a freakin’ HEART ATTACK and maybe it wasn’t the healthiest place to be.

The next two weeks will likely contain a lot of “you don’t not have to worry about us financially” reassurances. We let her know that the bulk of the estate, though in our names, is with our broker, who is a good friend of the family and honestly feels a level of responsibility towards us (he’s sort of the good uncle who is also a broker) so if we need money, we have to go through him and he’s not gonna let us do anything stupid. (I did not mention that I am separately saving for a condo at the beach. My one smart move of the evening.)

The lamppost came up again. At least we could say the wiring is fixed (and at 1/2 the price of the estimate!) - we just have to find a replacement lamp fixture for the top and hook it up. (I honestly thought I could get it from the electrician the way I buy replacement stuff from the plumber…)

Almost every request this evening has been directed at - seriously, as if I didn’t even exist. I caugh two - 1) “Can I open the linen closet door?” (This stems from it being the same style door as the broken entry hall closet door - yes, but one half swings out at you, which it shouldn’t) and b) washcloths…of course all the ones I have are in the laundry. Guess who is doing a load of whites tomorrow? (Hell, all the bar towels are in the laundry and I need those more anyway.)

The chair I happen to be sitting in had a wine box next to it… One that I brought home w/ 5 bottles of wine some time ago from Il Vino. I was quite sure that I’d taken all the bottles out and the box was empty and just happened to be sitting there and we’d not gotten it out to the trash. Nope, 3 bottles in it! So, took them out and was putting them on the counter and said, “So, this one is for Thursday, this one for Friday, and this one for Saturday?”

The notebook that has my brains in it has disappeared. This is not good. This is SO not good.

Grandma is totally panicking about Christmas. She wants to get me a sweater, and I know the shop she wants to get it from. It will be fine, but frankly, I’d rather have another thermal top or even better, an Icebreaker top… So…do I let her get me what she wants to get me (with me driving to said shop and checking sizes) and keep the tags/receipt, or have run interference and go to REI for her/me and lie about the cost? (Amazing how when and I do shopping on her behalf, she gets some freakin’ amazing deals on things… We figure the white lie is way better than the sticker shock of what some things cost - we tend to stick with circa 1990 dollars…)

The “D’OH!!!!” moment of the night. (Well, one of many…) When the new 4 door Wranglers came out, I was ready to go jump on one IMMEDIATELY. But - how do you explain to Grandma that the color of your car has changed? (I wouldn’t necessarily expect her to remember the exact style.) Well, as we were waiting for to bring the car around she turned to me and said, “You know, I can’t remember what color your car was.” Dammit!!! I could have pulled it off!!!!! Maybe next year.

I just got a call from a former coworker - my best bud Randy at Deltek had a heart attack at work this afternoon. Nothing else known besides he was taken to the “nearest hospital” and nothing on his condition.

Shit.

Last week, our bartender Jess had a birthday, and there were lots of cameras all over the place. She was sweet enough to get me a copy of this one. :)

Me & my guy.

Stan!!!!!!! I got the book - IT’S BEAUTIFUL! You do wonderful work! Thank you!!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, - may Missoula’s next best police officer have a fantastic day!!!!!!!

First, Dave’s place is absolutely beautiful. It’s about 3 blocks from where we stay every year, on the other side of 12 (the separator road) and is just truly lovely. It’s not a huge McMansion, and he doesn’t have much in the way of furniture yet, but damn, the kitchen setup makes me drool, and he didn’t skimp on tiling - it is amazing what a different upgrading tile designs makes.

Saltwater fishing. Cool as shit. This is the first time I’ve ever done that. My background is pretty much all bass fishing. Very, very different from surfcasting. Bass fishing, you bait up, cast out, troll, wait a bit, troll, wait a bit, etc, etc, until you’ve pulled in your line and it’s time to cast again. Surfcasting, you cast, set your line and then crack a beer, kick back and watch the lines. Seriously, after we cast the first set of lines and set them in the racks, I was sitting there thinking, “What, we just leave them there? Why aren’t we trolling?! WTF??!?” Then I cracked a beer, kicked back and watched the lines & moonlight, and decided it was a fantastic way to fish. The phrase “fish or cut bait” doesn’t apply to surfcasting - you can easily do both, rather than one or the other.

Did the night fishing when we rolled in - got in about 2AM, had a near full moon and full tide at 3-something, so fishing it was until the sun came up. Very, very fun. Then hit the surf again early Wednesday evening, still no bites, but totally fun.

Later Wednesday evening, we got an introduction with the Southern Shores PD, who were exceptionally cool, and honestly, really didn’t have to be, and the widows & orphans fund or benevolent society or whatever equivalent they have will get a couple nice donations this year. They could have hit us with drunk in public & open fire citations, but didn’t. Seems that you can’t even do beach fires in the off-season… Dave was next to the dune steps looking through a woodpile, muttering to himself (this after we’d already started off a decent little fire, and I was waiting for him), and looked up and saw two folks in uniform standing on the steps… Fortunately, he’s not an idiot and looked up and said, “Gentlemen…” I think our luck with the police officers was a combination of a) off-season and b) not being jackasses. Apparently as they escorted him down to where I was with the fire, he was super, super polite, and they asked him the name of his lady friend (cue Cops scene here, “Um…um…her name is Crystal…Crystal Chandelier…I think…maybe…but really, I’ve known her for years…) I’m at the fire, getting nice and warmed up and I hear, “Cindy, we have company” and I look up and see that the “company” has mag-lights and there is a damn good chance that they don’t have beer considering the tone of his voice…

So, I stand up, dust off the sand as best as I can, and pray they don’t confiscate what we’ve brought along with us to the beach, and go with handshakes all around. (Cause you can’t really go wrong with a truly polite introduction.) Granted, we don’t have the kickass double casked single malt scotch* I brought along, but the tail end of the Glenlivet single, two rock glasses and what would have been a lovely beach fire. So, they ask us to please put out the fire (easily done with simultaneous apologies all around), then freak out when they realize I am dousing the fire with sand while in a pair of Tevas (I was careful, I kick sand well, there are no burns on my feet - Girl Scout training in action.) and one of the officers wouldn’t let me do the final stomping, even as I gently protested saying, “It’s OK, it’s our fire, we’ll put it out, you don’t have to.”

Yes, we had been drinking, I won’t even begin to deny that - (booze on the beach is not illegal) we drove sober the block and a half to the beach, and then broke out the scotch and the two ice filled glasses ready to go. (Bad, bad, bad, but we were going to stumble back to the house at the end of the evening anyway cause it was so close, and he has a parking permit that wouldn’t get the car towed.) The police officer for whom I sort of became his charge kept asking if I was OK, not in the “is the scotch going to make you puke on me” kind of way, but more of the “are you really with this guy and he’s not giving you ruphies”** kind of way and I reassured them several times that yes, I was honestly with him and it was all good, to the point where I could give his address and everything, which I think finally reassured him that I was indeed there of my own free will. Of course, once the fire was doused, he told me I could pick up our things (namely the open container of single malt and 2 glasses) and that was the moment where that one little brain cell in the back of my head fired off perfectly and I looked at him and said, “OK, if I touch this bottle, I’m not going to get in trouble for something else, am I?” I could just see an open container citation for touching it (even though it’s technically OK.) He laughed and said, “I swear, you can take your stuff with you, it’s really OK, you just have to walk home and not drive.” So not a problem.

I *do* appreciate the fact that they were looking out for me to be sure, but it was also kinda funny, mainly because we really *were* there together and of my own volition, but apparently looked underage when they got to me… My name and address is now apparently on file with the SSPD, cause they asked if I had ID on me, which of course was back at the house, cause who takes their pocketbook for some time on the beach? Told them, “I can give you everything except my actual drivers license number cause Virginia tossed the SSN as identifier and all I can tell you off the top of my head is that it starts with a ‘B’” - they were very cool and said it was OK. That and I appreciated the full on double take when I gave out my DoB. :) Dave still thinks they were just blown away by the fact that he had a pretty girl with him that actually drinks single malt scotch. Hell, I can live with that, too.

Dave is eventually going to have a firepit in his backyard. I have suggested that when it is good to go, to have a barbecue and invite the local PD for a legal fire.

The kayaking the next day was downright anticlimactic considering that the CG didn’t show up while we were out on the water.

Not that having a run in with the cops is necessarily a “great” thing by any means, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been out and just been bad. Not that a beach fire in the off season is cutting edge dangerous by any means, but just doing that little bit of tossing caution to the wind (which granted would have been $100 in fines, tops, and we weren’t endangering anyone else, and if we were, we wouldn’t have done it) is a ton of fun. I hope isn’t reading this and thinking, “I am SO forwarding your name to the Fairfax County cops as someone to keep an eye out for.” ;) To be honest, “What would Kit do?” (WWKD) did go through my head as we met our new friends. I think we would have gotten the fire citation, and a friendly, yet stern reminder to not be dumbasses in the future, and been told to walk our asses home.

* Balvenie 12 year Doublewood.
**Dave said later if the “OK, we’re dumbasses and really sorry” defense didn’t work he was going to go with, “Look, I’m trying to nail this chick down there, help a guy out” approach, LOL.

On so, so many levels.

I have the time and energy for real cooking. It’s hard to really describe how much that means to me. I’ve been on an Asian kick this week (chili shrimp, satay, tonkatsu and great sticky rice), who knows what next week will bring. Though tonight was Hot Italian Grinders (pretty simple, but it was something Mom always made and I never really *watched* her making them, so I was winging it completely from memory - the way back machine served me well.)

Dave* has gotten some good intel on what appears to be be a kickass German restaurant down in Triangle. We’re definitely going at some point - he’s in charge of ordering. I saw the menu, and it all looks fantastic - couldn’t even imagine picking one thing. Funny thing, just last week we were both bemoaning the lack of good German restaurants in the area.

I have good wine. Called the wine shop yesterday to see if they were getting the wine in I was looking for - after I told him the name, the owner exclaimed, “Aaahh, signora!! I remember! You liked it!” They just got a customer for life there. Went over there this evening, the truck didn’t show today - he felt horrible, but has my number and will call me when it gets in, and I have yet another wine to try out in the meantime. When I left, he went for the handshake. Screw that, he’s Italian (or from Jersey and puts on one hell of an act) - he got the hug and kiss.

As an aside, why the hell don’t we do that here more often?! Granted, I’ll fully admit I am a hug & smooches kinda gal to start with - but really, why does it seem that we’re so averse to a hug and a peck on the cheek here in the states? It’s so much warmer than just a handshake.

I also found a nice Grenache, another good Monferrato (Monferratos are the closest thing to a Bardolino I’ve found, and Bards apparently just don’t get imported much) and “Chilean devil wine” at Wegman’s. (Well, the Chilean wine is called Casillero del Diablo - if you want to check it out, it’s up at the main kitchen area at the moment. A good spicy winter red - Carmenere - perfect for coming in from a snowstorm.)

I have a lot of good people in my life, a kickass little brother, and one especially spiffy guy. Who really likes it when I stop by where he works for a coffee break. :) Who also appreciates the fact that I cook and make sure he gets fed. (Full time job with screwy hours + some stress = crap eating. Been there, done that - I will do whatever I can to prevent it in others when I can.) His quote, “You are a badass cook.” Can’t even begin to tell you how much that means from someone who gets paid to cook good things for folks. And unquestioningly helped me on my quest for a decent Bardolino, and understands the sentimental attachments to a particular type of wine**.

In other completely unrelated news, the fall fashion buzzword is apparently “butt ugly”. Been looking around this week for some long sleeved shirts & medium weight sweaters. Found some nice classically designed twinsets at Old Navy - snagged two tanks and a good universal black cardigan, and a nice V-neck sweater & some camis at American Eagle. Hit Ann Taylor Loft - usually pretty good - oh dear lord, I can’t even begin to describe the crap they’re trying to sell right now. Managed to find couple more sweater tanks & 2 long sleeved jerseys (one of which I had to make them take off the display cause it was the last one in my size), but passed on the matching cardigans cause they were freakin’ hideous. (Note to designers: Belted cardigans are NOT COOL OR FLATTERING.) Dave nudged me in the direction of REI, and I’m glad he made me think of it. Now have 2 nice mid-weight sweaters of a very simple design that will be perfect over my multiple black tanks & t-shirts, and a black zip front fleece, which will be “universal cardigan #2.” REI is very dangerous for me - but I was good and hauled ass before I decided I needed a snowboard or something along those lines.

Yes, life is good. I am so thankful I have all these things and the ability to appreciate them. I am so insanely lucky in so many ways.

*Dave = spiffy
**First place I had a Bardolino was London, in a great hole in the wall Italian restaurant, where I was able to get across to the waiter, in my very fractured Italian, that we wanted a good table wine, but I was not made of money…and we got a wonderful wine.

OK, so it’s Tuesday. I wish it were Wednesday… I’m tired of waiting. Now I’m wishing I’d just been bad and gone down to the beach. 2 days of peace & quiet, at the beach no less, with someone that digs you? Good grief, in many ways I am an idiot. Maybe there will be another opportunity.

*sigh*

I just want to see him again.

I like the beginning stages. It’s fun.

I like thinking about him, and wondering how his day is going, and when the next time I get to see him is. When do I get to kiss him again?

I want tomorrow to get here. I want to hear about the beach. I want to sit next to him and have him put his head on my shoulder again. I liked it.

Heavens, I sure hope that in 2 weeks I’m not sitting here lamenting the fact that I am an idiot or something.

As of this moment, 26 hours.

So, we’ve basically had 2 encounters. Both have been nice. Damn, I want to smooch that boy again.

It’s been 4 days since I saw him. Wow, I am a dork that I just sat down and figured that out.

So, Tim’s getting married. Thing is - I really don’t care.

I’d say I am successfully over him.

Lane is home! They still have no freaking clue what it was, but he’s home and that’s the important thing.

Got some GOOD news on Lane today! Thank god.

He’s eating, off the morphine and only taking Tylenol for pain, the rash that came with this adventure is fading, and he’s being a real smartass. Looks like he’ll get to go home soon.

At one point on Friday the docs apparently weren’t really sure he was going to make it. I can understand that. 5 days of extreme, unexplainable pain and no answers. At that point it becomes a mental battle to try to stick it out and believe that you really will get better.

They still have no idea what caused it, but I’m still thinking it sounds for all the world like a case of the shingles.

I know no one here knows Lane, but I feel better being able to talk about it.

He still feels like total shit and they have no idea why. MRI & CAT came back with nothing, his white counts are normal.

Dale is going to visit this weekend with another one of Lane’s old friends (they had been roommates way back when) and will be printing off all Lane’s blog comments and reading them to him, hopefully that will perk him up at least a little bit.

I know he’s really down - who wouldn’t be - you’re in a ton of pain and no one can tell you why or how to fix it? How long can you put up with that before you give in? That’s what I’m really concerned about - if they can’t give him an answer here soon, how long can he stick it out?

I was going to make a road trip to Nashville in September to surprise him at a race. I may be booking a flight to Memphis at the beginning of next week.

If we can put a man on the moon, why can’t we figure out what hell is wrong with Lane?

They still don’t know what’s going on, except that he’s hurting, and has a fever. I talked to him briefly this afternoon, and they were getting ready to take him for an MRI. His Mom is thinking it may be time to change hospitals and get him up to Vanderbilt up in Nashville.

He sounded tired as hell, but his sense of humor is still at least a little intact - he’d had a running bet w/his friend Dale (the one who has been the main POC on this) on some weight loss - he’s now insisting that he’s won. (He hasn’t eaten in 4 days.) Told him if he’d really wanted a rest day from training, all he had to do was take one, no need to go to these lengths.

When Dale checked in this evening, they’d given him some Demerol and he was finally sleeping, which is good - he SO needs the rest to fight whatever this is.

I’m very worried and scared for him.

Well, my evening of being cutoff resulted in absolutely nothing critical being missed and some peace & quiet. :)

Having a much better day today already, with only one downer. My friend Lane down in Memphis is in the hospital - they don’t know what’s wrong with him but he went from training for Ironman Florida to not being able to get out of bed on Monday. His first thought was tick bite, but there is no firm answer yet. He’s probably going to be there for at least a few more days, I’ve sent off a couple books (thank you Amazon for cheap next day shipping, that prime membership thing just made itself worth it), figure you can only watch so much CNN and Oprah. Not much you can do from 900 miles away.

I’m worried sick about Lane.

OK, Florida peeps - needs your help - one of her dogs is missing - please help if you can!

is winging his way back home after what I hope was a successful “escape from Pascagoula” weekend. If nothing else, he should have good Cinco de Mayo stories to tell. DC didn’t disappoint, two events going on when we got down there, neither had been on any list I’d looked at of things going on this weekend - that is what I love about summer here, there is always something going on.

Training doc is essentially done, just down to the formatting now…

Movie thing - not sure I really agree about some of these being in the top 100, but hey, I don’t sit around and watch movies all day, so I suppose I don’t qualify as an expert.

There’s a in my house… Should I call an exterminator?

Today has turned into one of “those” days. Aka, massive suckage on all fronts. I’ve got 22 pages of documentation written for this damn training class, most of which I’ve already told these folks MULTIPLE times, and there is just no way we’re going to be able to get into the depth that these twits want - sorry, you should have paid attention the first three times you were told something and actually learned. And the documentation is not even halfway there. It’s not easy trying to get every freaking thing you know down on paper. It’s a twofold difficulty - first, it’s just hard to do. Second, it’s hard to be exceptionally motivated to help people who just took it for granted that you’d always be there and never bothered to learn on their own. (Bastard ingrates are gonna be in a world of hurt, and I don’t give a damn.)

Also a fair amount of “just not getting it” (, this truly does not apply to you - I’ve been laughing my ass off at your repeatedly putting your foot in your mouth this evening. Do not worry, you’re still very, very much in my good graces. And today, that’s seriously saying something.)

Damn, the weekend cannot get here fast enough.