Invisible Fence

There are some tasks that you KNOW are going to be worth a blog post…or ten. Installing Molly’s invisible fence is just such an example. I mean seriously…Maeve + Rita’s house + electroshock = Tina Fey territory.

See, Molly is from the “real America” of Tennessee, where you engage in unprovoked attacks on dogs who aren’t even in your yard you never shy away from a fight. Which proves rather disconcerting to our elderly neighbors out walking their shitzhu. So Molly needs a little HELP in…ummmm…”making sure that 4068 Hilldale does NOT become known for its redneck dog and its redneck owner” – just sayin’. [Well, at least it can help with the dog part of that issue].

Once I opened the box for my new wireless invisible fence, I realized the transponder for this thing is the size of a beach ball. I can stream the content of the world wide web on a phone the size of a credit card, but delivering a simple electro-shock requires an addition to the house? I don’t want to lobomotize the dog – just keep her in the yard. (Guantanamo indeed).

The first task in this fool’s folly is determining the settings for the appropriate “boundary line” in the yard. I thought this would be a breeze…measure the distance from the Chevy-sized transponder to the edge of the yard (the radius, if you will), set the appropriate distance knobbie and call it a day.

Let me just say…my ability to map a perfect circle was apparently lost in 9th grade. Who knew this effort was going to require a brush-up on geometry?? I have been waiting 18 years to use that damn hypotenuse theorem and today is the day??? “Radii of given circles are congruent” my ass. I just needed a 14 foot compass for this task and I’d be all set.

Which means I had to resort to the old fashioned method of using the beeping shock collar to identify the “boundary line”….

Which should make for an interesting post tomorrow.

Just one more...

...Sarah Palin post. (I can't help it)


She DOES realize that if she calls John McCain “Maverick” one more time, it makes her “Goose” (and we all know what happened to Goose)

Given its success with regards to Russia, Sarah Palin is off to Arizona - sharing airspace with Mexico and getting a better handle on the risk that soccer poses to our pro-American way of life.

She can’t believe an administration would "out" Valerie Plame. She would just tolerate her.

She thinks the Saturday Night Massacre was Tina Fey’s first SNL skit.

She now finds the Joe Sixpack nomenclature sexist and would prefer you call her Wendy Winebox.

You thought I was going to say something about her $150,000 shopping spree, didn’t you? Well…those with glass expense reports shouldn’t throw stones.

The Healing Power...

Flying into or out of San Diego always makes for interesting travel companions. I’m not saying there’s a lot of hippies on those flights…I’m just saying they don’t look very “pro-American”. On my way to Baltimore on Sunday, they must have been running the misfit express because no sooner had I settled into my comfy seat in the exit row than a disheveled, eccentric looking fellow came sauntering down the aisle and sat down beside me (and I thought they had already caught the unabomber).

Lucky me…this guy is reading “The Secret Worlds of Dungeons and Dragons”. And if that wasn’t enough, he kept trying to cover the thing like he was reading the National Intelligence Briefing or something. Did he think I was going to steal his super-secret orc strategy?

It was only after 500 miles I realized that the dust cover for “The Secret Worlds of Dungeons and Dragons” was a decoy and the REAL title of the book was…"The Healing Power of Cannabis". I love it. This guy totally goes to the trouble of putting an entirely new dust cover so (non-nosy) people won’t see what he’s reading.

I couldn’t help but think of a couple things:

• No WONDER he tried to grab 7 items from the snack-pack buffet…and NO you can’t order a pizza from row 16.
• Given that this was a Southwest flight, what are the odds that my seatmate could even READ?
• Well now THAT would guarantee a strip search at the ol’ TSA station, wouldn’t it?
• Was “The Secret Worlds of Dungeons and Dragons” his attempt at normalcy…dude, we gotta talk.
• Does that particular decoy mean the last non-Cannabis book you read is from 1983?
• The “Healing Power”??? Apparently not for B.O. or paranoia. Just sayin’
• Let me get this straight…I can’t bring a bottle of shampoo on this flight…but Mr. Kaczynski here can bring a pan of brownies?
• Nice Obama shirt

Molly in da house

The first week settling in to SD was a little Molly-centric. Mother of the year, I ain’t. The past week was replete with proud pet ownership moments.

• I made a very Nicolaesque gesture and took Molly to the local vet for an introductory meeting. Once there, however, I couldn’t answer a single question after “what’s your pet’s name?”:
  “Is she on heartworm medicine?”
  “When is she due for her next flea & tick treatment?”
  “What brand of prescription dog food was it?”
  Geez – who does the vet think she is…Katie Couric? Can I use a lifeline?? She finally just said…”You aren’t the primary care-giver, are you?” what does that make me…Molly’s dad??
• Rita has like 18 sets of doors in her house… french doors, garage doors, screen doors. I can’t be expected to lock them ALL. [uh, WAIT….this just in…ummm – I CAN…clearly can…be expected to lock them all]. But on my second night “home” – I headed out to meet friends for dinner when I [shockingly] forgot to bring the good cheap wine. Upon turning back up the driveway, I was greeted by Molly trotting around the side of the house - having ingeniously escaped from the wide open French doors. Not only forgot to lock the door…straight out forgot to close it. [mother of the year]
• Ooooohh Molly…I forgot to tell you about those early morning sprinklers, eh?
• Wow…know what tears up a $7,000 rug? A rousing game of fetch.

=)

My official report

Just to prove that the neo-cons were not finished with their Katrina-fication of the U.S. government…they nominate Sarah Palin for Vice President. Now I know that much of this blog the coverage has been a little vitriolic about Sarah Palin… but I have GOT to throw my two cents in vis a vis Troopergate. In case you missed it, the Alaska legislature released a report two Friday’s ago indicating that Sarah Palin had abused power in seeking the dismissal of her state-trooper ex-brother-in-law. But the best part of the WHOLE thing was that on the eve of the real report’s release, Governor Palin’s campaign released their OWN “official” report …clearing Governor Palin of all wrong-doing.

I absolutely LOVE it. This preemptive self-adjudication got me thinking about a whole RANGE of applications:

• Shortly before Rita arrived home from her three day business trip…I released my own official report exonerating Molly of all rug-compromising transgressions – finding that she has acted solely with integrity, restraint and puppy-like fervor.
• The pseudo-report clearly indicated that the “real” report was just one big ol’ shout-out to the Palin clan. No worries.
• A faux-report of complete exoneration – and you say this person isn’t qualified to succeed Dick Cheney!
• The faux-report went on to include an anticipatory exoneration of Vice President Palin’s entire first term.
• The faux report also took the opportunity to clarify remarks made to Katie Couric…i.e., Kramer vs. Kramer NOT being the Supreme Court’s worst decision. Bad? Yes. But not the worst.
• The CEOs of AIG, Fannie Mae and Lehman Brothers did not know that self-reporting was an available option. They would like to trade their recently received subpoena’s for a very legal-looking, Kinko’s-bound report entitled “If Everyone Else Jumped Off A Credit-Defaulted Bridge….(The View From Under the Bridge)” Their report explained their inability to mitigate obvious risks, while bringing extraordinary severance-justifying value to the organization.

Tom & Jerry

In yesterday’s blog…I alluded to the fact that my Nashville to LAX flight included a Tom & Jerry marathon courtesy of the 3 year old sitting in front of me. A T&J marathon is good for a myriad of observations:

• There’s precious little in life that can’t be solved with a couple of matches to the shoe. I think I am going to recommend it to Henry Paulson.
• Thirty years on and I still don’t know which one is Tom and which one is Jerry.
• The things you can do with a banana peel…
• You know what’s more disappointing to a 3 year old than not being allowed to play peek-a-boo any more? Catching your peek-a-boo partner reading a book on Winston Churchill when they should be watching the T&J marathon.
• That Technicolor is cra-zee, man.
• I don’t care how often you see a cartoon kitty in tuxedo tails…that shit is funny.
• Between the milkman and the paper dolls, these cartoons are anachronism central. Hey Jerry, the 1920’s called…they’d like their zoot suit back.

Peek-a-WHO?

You know the problem with starting a game of peek-a-boo with the 3 year old sitting in front of you on your flight to LAX? The game lasts for 2,000 miles. Honestly...YOU try to quit a game of peek-a-boo with a 3 yr old and let me know how that works out.

You know the OTHER problem with playing peek-a-boo with a 3 yr old during an interminable journey from Nashville to LAX? The game can only escalate. Seriously… peek-a-boo is only good enough for about 3 minutes. Then we go directly to peek-a-boo with heights by bobbing up OVER the seatback. THEN the props are introduced…a 747 safety card makes an EXCELLENT pirate hat. And the 3 year old was getting into it too.

During this entire escalating game, the poor father is in an awkward position…his son is finally occupied…but it’s with a total stranger that is sitting directly behind him and out of his line of sight. That’s when HE started playing peek-a-boo, trying to casually figure out who the hell his son was starting to play full-contact airplane games with.

And dad looked around just in time to see the apple core + 2 drink straws became a starship. I mean…how bad can someone be if they can make a starship out of a left-over apple?!? That’s about the time the DVD player came out – but don’t worry – I could see it just fine over the top of my NY Times. (Oh Tom & Jerry…do you NEVER get old?)

But the good news is that if it hadn’t been for a 2,000 mile game of peek-a-boo…you would’ve gotten 11 more posts about Molly’s cross-country trip. =)

Molly's excellent adventure (2 of 2)

We pick up the story as I am trying to check my precious puppy in at the American Airlines counter like she is a piece of Samsonite luggage. Now I didn’t HAVE to check Molly. I had about 12 people offer to cart her across the country, but I just had visions of someone pulling a Mitt Romney on me, so check her I did. [you guys are just going to have to google Romney dog vacation, now aren’t you?]

One of my friends told me to cover the front gate of Molly’s crate with a towel so Molly couldn’t look around and get all freaked out. I thought it was a great idea – so I took borrowed a yellow pillow-case from Nicola’s house and covered the front gate with it. I have to confess – it didn’t so much look comforting as it looked like someone couldn’t be bothered getting window treatments. I think I just pimped Molly’s ride. [mother of the year]

When you are checking your dog in…they go through about 67 different rules with you…water within 4 hours…a trip to the vet within the last three days …twist ties on the front gate. And I can’t HELP but think…every single last rule was identified the hard way (i.e., trial.and.error). I wonder who owned the dog that identified the “clearly-mark-which-way-is-up” rule…yikes.

As I checked my bag…I mean my child…I saw ANOTHER dog in their crate going to LAX. Now, “Fi-fi” looked like she had made this.trip.before: the interior decorator had obviously stopped by the doggie “condo”. She was comfortably nibbling on her gourmet treat buffet and enjoying an honest-to-god doggie water bottle. Molly? She was gnawing on a stale carrot and trying to peer around her ghetto-ized window-sheet. And while I tried to engender baggage handler kindness by writing all these cute sayings on my dog’s crate…”I’m all bark and no bite.” [smiley face!] and “buy union”, Fi-fi just had half a $500 bill taped to the side of her crate. I think that about said it all. I later met met Fi-fi’s owner…gay man.

But the trip was truly uneventful…and now Molly is loose in Chez Rita.

Molly's excellent adventure

Sorry to not post yesterday. It was Molly’s big trip from Nashville to San Diego…so I was otherwise engaged.

I managed to find a direct flight from Nashville to LAX in order to minimize the transit time for Molly Magoo. But the flight didn’t leave until 5:30 p.m. Molly was fine…I was a hot mess. My strategy was to keep Molly awake all day so she would sleep on the plane. Poor thing…everytime she started falling asleep she got another walk. But word to the wise…any time Maeve gives you 5 walks in a week day…you are either getting neutered or locked in a cage for 2,000 miles. By the time we left for the airport, the poor little thing was exhausted from sleep deprivation. She wasn’t so much worried about being sent to San Diego as she was to Guantanamo Bay. But the good news is that with all the bathroom breaks, Molly shouldn’t mess on Rita’s rugs until at least Thursday. [Rita Reminder - no buyer’s remorse!]

As I started to unload the car at the Nashville airport…I couldn’t help but think…you know what would have been REALLY cool to bring with me…Molly’s leash. [mother of the year]

Checking your dog in at the airline counter is an interesting experience. First of all, your dog does NOT understand that other people have just as much right to be there as we do. A little something I like to call counter-etiquette. But she DID 1) get weighed on the baggage scale 13 times 2) attack the dangerous TSA man and 3) come dangerously close to “marking” some Hollywood housewife’s Louis Vuitton luggage (THIS flight almost got a lot more expensive).

While Molly was checking her weight…I asked the American Airline’s waitress how I picked Molly up on the other end. “Oh she comes out on baggage claim.” What?!?! She is subjected to a 2,000 mile trauma only to spit out on the other end like a set of golf clubs?? Or even worse….come spinning around the baggage carousel like a Tim Conway skit? Oh…I am just mother of the freakin’ year. It’s a good thing Nicola can’t challenge for custody. [Right!?!?]

As I mentioned, Molly Magoo had a direct flight to LAX…and ummm, did anyone ELSE catch the news yesterday? Wild fires in LA. Oh, that’s just great. What’s a life-altering event for Maeve without a little natural disaster? Molly lands in LAX and is greeted by the flames of hell. Lovely. [mother of the year]

Select?

If the Hampton Inn isn’t a window into America…I don’t know what is.

Thursday night in Marlborough Mass, two groups of pee-wee hockey teams were in the lobby trying to check in. 45 little guys running around the Hampton Inn with hockey sticks that were easily a foot taller than they were. Then they were each dragging coffin-sized roller-bags of gear behind them. Something about a 53 lb little guy toting 93 lbs of expensive gear that just screams “Jonbenet” to me…but I digress.

And since they are staying at a hotel before a tournament…this is obviously a “select” traveling team. How do you get to be a “select” hockey player at 7 years old??? In kindergarten, you excelled at coloring and monkey bars?? I may be mistaken, but I think when I was 7 years old, I was “select” at not wetting the bed (well, mostly). [These kids better be careful or they are going to end up as “elites”.]

How much fun can it be to chaperone 45 seven year old boys? These skinny little Capri-wearing moms and their ex-hockey playing husbands were frantically trying to count this swarm of boys…ummm, good luck with that. How many times can one harried mother say “boys, c’mere…boys, over here…over here boys”. Yeahhhh…is it okay if I DON’T hold the elevator for you guys? And in a scene that just about captured it all…one of the fathers is sheepishly pushing a luggage cart through the lobby loaded down with one twelve-pack of sprite, a case of bud light and two cases of Smirnoff Raspberry Ice. And you know it’s not the fathers that are drinking that Smirnoff Ice.

The Best Laid Plans

Well, The Move is over. Everything, more or less, has arrived in Cali (even as I am sitting here in Massachusetts). But it sure was an interesting experience. There is something about entrusting every material possession you own to a couple of guys in a jalopy truck who barely speak English that is a little disconcerting. Or just like when my father moved me to college. Here are some random ruminations from the unpacking:

• The couch came out with the same fine layer of white Molly dog hair that it always has. What does that say about future cleanability when a 2,000 mile trek doesn’t even shake the dog hair loose? (if that mean old cleaning lady hurts my dog…)
• Those moving guys were REAL comedians…if the one that speaks English says he “sold my television for gas money” ONE MORE TIME…
• Holy crap – unloading the truck occurred from 1 p.m. til 1:15. I’ve had UPS deliveries that take more time.
• Hopefully you read the post about the blue-tape packing method. Ummm…only problem… it didn’t work. First...three-quarters of the boxes had tape on them. Well done. Second…I am happy to report that the Bunn coffee pot was CLEARLY marked with blue tape. Know what wasn’t? The Bunn coffee carafe and coffee filter basket. So now...half a coffee pot just sits in the garage – taunting me.
• I know my movers barely spoke English – but I think I recognized “high maintenance bitch” in Slavic.
• Apparently, the good kitchen knife is really NOT intended to slice open taped boxes. Sorry Rita – no buyer’s remorse =)

Home Alone

Rita is on a business trip and I am spending my first two days on my own in my new digs. It’s kind of weird being in the house without Rita…but I have been taking full advantage of the situation. Here’s a recap of what I’ve been up to the last two days:

• Walking around with every light in the house blazing. I am not kidding – even the closet lights. It looks like a damn runway strip in here. I love it =) =)
• Forgetting that a cat lives here. Seriously, has anyone seen Madison in the last 48 hours?
• Running the starbucks-like espresso machine at max capacity
• Trying to figure out what it means when said-espresso maker keeps beeping at you with the illuminated message CLEAN RIGHT NOW. [I bet I get an email about that pretty soon.]
• Four words: unsupervised wine room visits (I’ve picked out everyone’s xmas present!)
• Ducking the scary cleaning lady
• Watching the Tina Fey as Sarah Palin montage again
• Trying not to think about what my team in Massachusetts is blogging about with me not THERE
• Working on new recipes for a turkey sandwich (I don’t know how to make any of the other food in this house)
• NOT recycling the cat food tins, that’s for damn sure. Ick.
• Winning the “what-will-we-Tivo-at-8 p.m.” battle. Hello Jon Stewart…goodbye Iron Chef.

Settlin' In

Sorry to be so blogsé (get it?!!) in September, but i am back on-line! Actually, I have been blogging every day, but my 19 Sarah Palin posts were a little "vitriolic" so I didn't post them.

Of course, The Move cut into blogging time, while also providing a bonanza of material. But I am in San Diego now (even as I type this) and ready to report on the...

Top 10 signs Rita’s house has really gone downhill since I moved in:

• There is a 90 foot blue ethernet cable stretched from one corner of the house to the other. Which seems unusual to one of us. [it’s a long story…there’ll be a separate post]
• Due to the large influx of Blue Moon lager, there is no longer any room in the fridge for wine. Someone keeps drinking all the beer.
• There is basically a bachelorized dorm room in what used to be the wonderfully appointed spare bedroom.
• The alarm clock goes off everyday at 7 a.m…. Eastern Standard Time. =) (smiley face?)
• One whole closet is dedicated to ball caps
• Random people keep showing up at 10 a.m. on Sunday mornings for “Titans Brunch” [they look friendly]
• We can no longer find…in no particular order…the extra set of keys, the garage door opener, 3 really good bottles of wine, nary a single beach towel that Rita had previously owned or any reason why every light in the house has to be on =)
• The San Diego chapter of Barackstars now has a regular Saturday morning meeting place. [Barackstars being the ESPECIALLY special Obama backers]
• And the dog isn’t even here yet.