Messing with the natural order

Over the last several months (actually, probably over the last few years), local news stations have highlighted stories of the increased presence of wild animals in the suburbs of greater Boston.  Some of you out there are aware of my completely justifiable fear of bears in the suburbs.  Hey, they have been spotted in several towns and they break into people’s homes, as do deer and moose.  And not just homes, either, but banks, travel agencies, and various other businesses.  There has been a rash of deer and moose crashing through the front windows of businesses, running amok inside, leaping over desks, and then fleeing through the broken window.  Apparently, they mistake their reflection for a foe and leap at it, then they spend a hot minute seeking out this dastardly beast before giving up.  Many of these have been caught on tape.  I guess it’s New England’s answer to Los Angeles’ high-speed car chases. 

A more visible and prevalent threat, however, is the coyote.  They’re spotted more and more every day and by most accounts, they are little bastards.  They’re bold, they’re hungry, and they get what they want.  Just the other night, a Boston news broadcast showed a cute elderly couple who’s beloved dog, Shadow, was attacked and killed by a coyote in broad daylight.  Not only did they have no children, but they adopted this older dog from a woman who died from cancer.  So, they were good, caring people.  The husband was more visably upset than his wife, as he mentioned how Shadow kept him company.  The wife explained how you wouldn’t even know Shadow was there, that’s how quiet and well-behaved he was. 

This couple adored their dog.  A portrait of Shadow hung in a place of honor in their parlor, with several photographs arranged on tables throughout.  You don’t necessarily have to be a dog lover or dog owner to be empathetic.  If you have grandparents, that’ll do it. 

In the two-minute story, a state wildlife official mentioned how “they are encroaching in our areas.”  Excuse me?  Aren’t we (the humans) the ones who are usurping they’re (the wild animals) areas?  There are houses now located in areas that wild animals used to have to themselves.  It’s no wonder bears, deer, and coyotes are bumping into humans and pets more often.  They aren’t moving into our neighborhoods.  Rather, we are moving into their homes.

After Shadow’s unfortunate demise, state wildlife officials shot and killed at least two coyotes.  That seems rather unfair and severe, considering the coyote was in his/her natural habitat and just doing what a coyote does.  Seems we’re messing with the natural order here.


It’s about time. It’s finally becoming more seasonable (read: Damn Global Warming). After departing the Northeast, I was eager to enjoy the warm californian winters while the Northeast froze.. but it wasn’t until recently that the mercury has begun to fall in New York & Boston while maintaining a balmy 60 degrees here in the Silicon Valley.

Most of the New York and Boston areas enjoyed lovely weather right up until the last week of January or so, when winter has finally set in. There were points in December & January where it was even warmer back home than it was in lovely California. Some folks out here have been pretty disappointed in the crummy winter we’ve had. I mean, it’s dipped into the 30’s three times now.

So, while it’s true that it has been a little colder than normal in the Golden State, it’s definitely a nice change. Especially when I typically galavant around in just a fleece or a hooded sweatshirt. I’m also starting to develop that “Boy, I’m glad I’m not in Boston” mentality, when I look at my Google Homepage.

That being said, if you’re looking for a break in the winter weather.. you know you’ve always got a place in CA to visit.

Montgomery’s.. It’s Just Like…

I’ve been a little obsessed with lately, if you couldn’t tell. Actually, I can’t take credit for finding this one, but I did partake in the hilariaty that ensued after-the-fact.

Either way, this guy is fantastic. Apparently, this is in Montgomery, AL, but I want to do all of my shopping here! Maybe this will be where I get our new couch. He even has a contest to create re-mixes of his song and post them up on YouTube.. I give the guy credit for being Viral.

So, without further ado.. you can catch the actual YouTube Video after the Jump. Enjoy!

Continue reading Montgomery’s.. It’s Just Like…

One happy family

I don’t like my neighbors.  On one side of me is a married couple a little older than Swedish Girl and me.  On the other side of me is a man?  A woman?  One of each?  I have no idea, as their shades and blinds are always closed and I don’t think I’ve ever seen them.  They/he/she is (are?) quiet, so that’s good.  The pricks on the floor above me are loud.  I swear on one Sunday morning a few weeks ago, it sounded as if they had some friends over and were bowling with both bowling balls and each other.  These neighbors were kind enough to rip up their wall-to-wall carpeting some time ago, so we can hear every footstep, every dropped beer bottle, and every bowled ball or human.  The old lady across the hall is quiet, but I get the feeling she’s keeping an eye on my comings and goings through her peep hole.

It’s mostly the married couple next door that bug me.  Just this morning, they were leaving their apartment just as I was leaving mine.  The wife went out of her way to ignore me.  The husband and I exchanged cordial good mornings, but then he let the outer door slam on me moments later.  Lovely.  His wife apparently thinks I’m a serial rapist or something, because other times that I’ve held the door for her, she’s dashed through with nary a ‘thank you’ or a nod.  I have come to the conclusion that, contrary to the typical fiber of my being, I’m going to turn up the faux charm and really kill that couple with kindness. 

There is one really friendly neighbor with whom I wish I shared a wall.  I call him Detergent Guy because one late night as Swedish Girl and I were watching TV in our pajamas, he loudly knocked on our door.  It was such a forceful knock, that we thought the RA was coming to bust us for something.  Turns out, he was drunk and doing some laundry, but he couldn’t carry everything and spilled laundry detergent on our door and floor mat.  Since then, he’s been cool with us.  I hope that event (and subsequent hallway exchanges of pleasantries) helped erase the image in his mind of Cool Jesus as slayer of old ladies. 

But that’s a tale for tomorrow…

Your Last Meal

Okay, you have to pick your last meal.  It can be anything you want, however many courses you want, and comes with any beverage (alcoholic or not) you want.  What will it be?

As for me, I have very little idea.  I’ve had discussions with friends about what our favorite foods are and I’ve never really been able to nail anything down.  I know I’ve had some dishes that have knocked my socks off, but I’ll be darned if I can remember them all.  In a pinch, I might go with clam chowder, fried clams with tartar sauce, cole slaw, french fries, chocolate mousse cake, and enough champagne to choke a horse.

What about you?  What’ll you have?

My Dream House

Someone in my office was so kind to forward this to me. This is probably my dream house.. maybe when Miss Possible and I buy our $5 Million Dollar home here in California, we’ll be able to have a set-up like this…

Considering The Captain’s latest purchase, I’d imagine that he’d have similar aspirations.

He’s Right Here!

Let me start off by saying that Bogart does not sleep in our bed. Yes, he does come to visit every once in a while — but only under watchful supervision. We have a notoriously high bed which can prevent even some adults from being able to get onto our bed. The thought of him falling off scares the bejesus out of us, which probably explains what I’m about to tell you.

Since the one of the first days that we brought little Bogart home, Miss Possible has had a tough time sleeping. We’re all aware that Miss Possible has a tendency to talk in her sleep, but this is something new. It started a few weeks back when Miss Possible, in the midst of a deep sleep, sat straight up and exclaimed “HE’S RIGHT THERE!!”

I was startled. “Who’s right where?,” I asked, thinking that someone broke into our house. “Careful! He’s right there,” she says pointing to the area in the covers between us. “Who?! What are you talking about?” I asked again. “Bogart, Bogart, he’s right there, don’t you see him.” “No, actually, I don’t.. he’s in his cage, go back to sleep!” And she did.

But this was by far the last time this would happen. At least a few times a week, she would wake up thinking that Bogart somehow got into our bed in the middle of the night. The exact phrase has varied, though the most common is “HE’S RIGHT HERE!” I think my personal favorite is the time she yelped “WHAT’S HE DOING UP HERE” pointing to the remote control hiding in the covers between us.

Despite recanting these stories to Miss Possible each morning, she refused to believe me. Until one night when she woke up and asked me “What’s he doing up here?” and I said “He’s not,” with a chuckle. She snapped out of it, and realized what she asked me and started laughing. She’s since become a believer of her late night musings.

It is a good thing that our bed is so high, though.. if he was to ever actually get up on the bed in the middle of the night, she’d freak out for sure.