Curiosity…

I was drifting off to sleep last night and was stirred by the strangest noise. There was thrashing and a weird kind of cellophane crunching. I rolled over just in time to see Alice the Cat struggling and banging against the door.

She had come across an empty lunch-sized bag of Lay’s potato chips and had decided to try to get herself a taste. The bag got stuck on her head. My girly girl nearly suffocated herself last night.

She is not long for this world. Her kidney enzymes and a new, persistent limp suggest cancer. Whatever the malady, I do not have the funds to diagnose and treat her properly. So, I watch every day for signs of discomfort or changes in her spirit. She continues to be interested in snuggling, eating, and purring. The minute that changes, she will be off to the vet for a compassionate end.

But that would have been a very stupid way for her to go.

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Tilting At The Shack Out Back

When she visits the Big House, Maddy Pryor has an amazingly specific ritual.

First, she has to explore the house. She walks into the dining room, the kitchen, then downstairs to my space. Then, I have to encourage her outside for a “strictly business” trip. Then, she’s back inside to do a bit more exploring and to collect a biscuit from me.

Soon, she gives me that snort that tells me she wants to go outside again. I have come to expect this trip, the one in which she must go tilting.

I open the door, and she takes off, direct in her purpose. She runs directly to the white shack in the far back right of the yard and growls and barks ferouciously at it. In a moment, she is apparently satisfied that she has appropriately terrified the building, and she wanders the yard for a bit, sniffing. Then, she returns to me.

She only does this once per visit.

Dogs are amazing.

Hey, Gordon…

Aren’t you glad now, Gordon?

Aren’t you glad I dragged your drunken ass out of bed that first night of bachelor party weekend and made you get out on the Quarter with me?

You poor bastard, you were bumped into bunking with me. And we started boozing at the airport and had hit the Quarter by 3 p.m., eating and drinking and were all in bed by 8. I woke up a few hours later, pissed that we were wasting precious moonlight.

“C’mon, get up!” me said. “We’re in New Orleans! We’re in New Orleans!”

You’d lived in New Orleans before, so you knew it, knew how it smelled and what a carnival it’d probably be to a kid like me. So we rolled on down and got drinks t’go and spent a little time in a titty bar.

Then on to Cafe Du Monde, then wandering back to pass out exhausted in our room.

Now that it’s drowning, aren’t you glad I bought you a few more hours awake and alive in New Orleans?

I sure am.

I got to go back, you know, this year, on business. Took a whole afternoon and walked around the Quarter and tried to remember where we’d been, you and me and the crew. And that week, I spent a lot of time at the Ernest N. Morial Convention Center, which is funny because that’s exactly where all those people are trying to stay safe, and some failing at it.

These are sad and weird times; you can’t count on a place as beautiful as New Orleans staying alive. You can’t count on something as tall as the World Trade Center standing. I am utterly sad because New Orleans will never be the same again, not just for the buildings but for the culture and the food and the magic. Within the next decade, developers will recreate it as a Vegas East, mark my word. That magic is gone, it got done flooded out. It has been regentrified overnight, and I cannot help but wonder if that was part of the plan.

When The Levee Breaks

I’ve spent today thankful to have gotten to visit New Orleans this year, even if I spent most of it holed up in a convention center. I did get to spend an afternoon wandering around the Quarter, so it was useful, especially since some say the place might not be the same after today. I saw a picture of the quarter on the wire today, and it made me a little sad. That’s a special place, and I’d hate to see it ruined like that.

Anyway. Did anyone else see season finale of The 4400? Oh. Mah. Gah.


SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS AHEAD! DON’T READ ANY FURTHER IF YOU TIVO’D IT AND HAVEN’T WATCHED!

The doc is shooting himself up some magic powers. Richard, whose only previously discernible 4400 power was “scoring with white chicks,” now has the Force, man! Isabelle was all about the instant puberty, and, WAH? Rip Van Winkle? No, it’s Jordan Collier, baby!

A few questions: Can Kyle actually GO to prison now? Or, can he go, but get time off since his victim was supernaturally revived? And, will the returned Jordan be good or EEEEE-VILL? Hell, I don’t know what I’m looking forward to television-wise more, this or Los Sopranos.


I like pie.

I. Am. NERD!

Today, I recorded two hours of XM radio at home to MP3 format while I was at work, then had it automatically uploaded to an FTP account so I could download it at work and install it to my iPod just in time for the commute home.

Just getting ready for Sept. 1, when XM radio starts broadcasting Randi Rhodes from 3 – 7 p.m. (presently, XM bastardizes her sweet, sweet broadcast in the first two hours with that lunkhead Ed Schultz). I’ve set this up because I cannot count on the AAR stream to be up and running and therefore can’t record it at my desk each and every day. And, because, I’m a nerd who wants Randi on his home commute no matter what.

Civil Service

The Arlington County Fair is an interesting event. It is held at my gym, the Thomas Jefferson Center, or rather, the gym I intend to join again that’s on this side of the river as soon as it’s open again in September. My other gym is the National Press Club.

Last night, Ms. Jessica and I headed to the fair. I wanted to meet the folks at the Board of Elections booth because I was going to be volunteering there tonight, and I also wanted to pick up my t-shirt. We walked the inside floor and then headed outside for the attraction she was most interested in: The petting zoo. I had as much fun watching her enjoy the aminals, which included a myriad pack of llamas, goats, alpacas, ducks, and piggies, as I did watching them. I especially enjoyed this little black piggie they had set off in a cage who wagged his tail. Almost makes me feel bad about the bacon I had with breakfast. Almost.

So today at five-ish, I donned my “register to vote” t-shirt and drove up to the garage, where there’s a shuttle, and took the shuttle to the fair. Parking there’s a bitch, so taking the free shuttle just makes sense even though it’s ten minutes from the Big House. And so, I joined a lovely group of volunteers and spent three hours demonstrating the voting machines to people. It reminded me of my job in a way because it’s like standing for seveal hours on the exhibition floor. It’s exhausting. But I had an experience to draw from. And, it was gratifying to know that we signed up at least a half dozen folks to vote in November. In fact, I was this close to signing up to work the polls, but I realized I would be out of town or just returning on Nov. 8. I might just have to put in an absentee ballot, which would be a first for me. It is a gubernatorial election, after all.

I like the idea of helping out at the board of elections. I often wonder, when I go vote, all the people who person the polls are old and stuff, and who will do their jobs when they can’t anymore? I know that’s not the most progressive of thinking, but I also have always had a great respect for the office that actually administers the elections, having spent several long nights in board of elections offices waiting for voting returns as a news reporter. It’s just plain cool, and I like it.