Hot Cranky People

Last night as I was in the express lane at the grocery store, I couldn’t help but giggle at what the woman in front of me was buying.

2 bags of Indulgence chocolate caramels, plastic champagne flutes, and a can of whipped cream.

I was buying cat food.

I think she was planning on a more exciting evening than I was.

Yes, I admit I love reality TV. I also love cooking shows.

So when I found out some friends of mine are contestants on a reality cooking show I was ecstatic.

Be sure to check out my friends Dan and Steve as they compete to win their own cooking show on The Next Food Network Star They have a thriving catering business in Chicago called The Hearty Boys.

They kicked ass in the first two episodes, and I am getting such a kick out of seeing them on TV.

I leave you with a photo of me in a sassy blonde wig and Steve in a festive fake mustache.

My friend Alfie let me know that Comments weren’t working. I fixed it. I think.

Too bad I haven’t written anything in weeks.

Flying back home from New York today. Will update soon! No, really!!

Baby chic!

Testing posting using Mars Edit

(Via My moblog.)

It was so nice outside this evening that we opened all our windows and enjoyed the air while watching a movie.

And then a skunk outside sprayed.

Eew. Eew. Eew.

“Up on Mount Soledad, Janet Andrews is reporting it rained shrimp on April 28. She and others found masses of baby shrimp on the tennis courts of the Summit residential development.”

Apparently a wind funnel formed over the water, picked up a zillion shrimp, carried them away, and dropped them.

Words cannot describe the horror I would feel if it started raining shrimp on me.

via Boing Boing

AHA!!!

I’ve been sitting in my kitchen for the last hour, near the front window. I heard a suspicious sound a minute ago and peeked through the closed shades to SEE THE TRASH CAN BANDIT moving my can. He had a different hat on today, a big fancy straw one. And sunglasses. Because, you know, he’s cool.

So I paused for a moment, then without really thinking I tiptoed out the front door to follow him. Mind you, I’m not wearing any shoes, I’m wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt I’ve been gardening in, no bra, and my hair is unwashed and crazy. In other words, I’m a total disaster, and would never go out in public like this.

But I had to.

Of course, I was immediately busted by the mailman who was across the street, and waved to me.

I headed stealthily to the left out my front door, looked down the street, and there was no sign of him.

Suddenly, I heard the rumbling of another trash can being moved!

And then it hit me. He’s not walking down my street at all.

My house is on a corner, but the cross street doesn’t line up directly on both sides of my street. Across the street it’s scooted over about the length of one house, mine.

I realized he’s coming down the street across from my house, cutting over, and then going down the street on the side of my house. It just happens that my house is the only one on my street on his “route”

So I tiptoed across my (wet) front lawn, still barefoot, ducked behind the edge of my corner fence, and peeked around the side. I can’t even begin to imagine what the mailman thought of the whole thing. But there was the bandit, at the house behind mine, moving their can! And then he went across the street and moved the can at THAT house!

So the mystery is solved. I’m not special at all. He does it for everyone on his route.

Although it’s still odd.

Two weeks in a row.

I think he may be back for good.

It’s about time.

I’ve had several requests for an update to the Trash Can Bandit situation. Catch up on the original story here and here.

I am sad to report that since the day I caught the guy on the webcam, the can has not been moved. I was starting to worry that perhaps the fellow had gotten wind of his internet celebrity and I was feeling a little guilty that maybe I hurt his feelings. I mean, I didn’t *mind* that he was moving the can, I just wondered who it was and why. And frankly, the “why” became less important after I saw the “who”.

So I felt bad. I was thinking of posting an entry here called “Come back, trash can-movin’ old guy”.

Until yesterday.

We left the house at 3pm and the can was still in the street. We returned at 4:30pm…

…and the can was in the driveway.

Welcome back, Trash Can Bandit. I kind of missed you.

I have discussed here in the past my fascination with the fact that you can grow fruit in your back yard in California.

Last week I finally got around to fixing up the yard a little bit, and I purchased a dwarf Meyer Lemon tree. I named him Henry, and he’s adorable. He even has TEENY BABY LEMONS already. I’m far more excited about it than I should be. Let’s hope Henry fares better than Horatio the Festive, who shriveled up and died before he did anything fancy.

I also have three tomato plants, but frankly, we had those in Chicago and they aren’t nearly as exciting as TEENY BABY LEMONS.

But wait.

While poking around in the yard, I found a plant that had been dormant since we moved in last October had busted out some foliage. What is it? Hey, what are those??

Upon closer investigation, I found TEENY BABY GRAPES.

I have a grapevine. Who knew?

Make your reservations now for Stompfest 2005.

April has been filled with visitors.

The first was my dear friend QueenBee, from Michigan. She’d never been to California before and ran me ragged trying to give in to her demand for “the whole San Francisco experience”. We did about a year’s worth of stuff in 5 days.

It was awesome.

Clam chowder in a bread bowl and crazy barking sea lions at Fisherman’s Wharf. An afternoon at San Gregorio State Beach. A day in the redwoods of Muir Woods. Watching mom seals push their baby seals in from the sea and haul themselves onto the beach to nurse at Point Lobos. A trip to Fry’s (hey, she’s a geek like me and they don’t have Fry’s in Michigan).

But the best thing?

Taking a tour of San Francisco…

…on Segways.

Not only were the Segways a total blast to ride, but we got to wear these incredibly fashionable vests and helmets. I haven’t had that much neon on since 1983.

Click here to watch me rocking out under the dome of the Palace of Fine Arts.

I’ve been engulfed by an endless stream of visitors from out of town and have had no time to blog.

Bear with me.

I needed some t-shirts and casual spring pants, so I did a little shopping at Mervyn’s today.

I found a lot of good stuff, including some sassy sandals and sunglasses. I took a huge pile of clothes to the dressing room. I tried on a t-shirt I liked, then on my way to the checkout counter I went back to the display and picked up a few more in different colors.

I made my way to the register, where I was greeted by Mr. Super Friendly Mervyn’s Guy. He was very chatty and wanted to be sure my shopping experience today had been A-OK. I gave him my credit card and he asked for ID.

“Can I see a driver’s license, Mrs. Davis….or is it Miss?”

“It’s Miss.”

He shot me sort of a strange look, which I didn’t think anything about until a few minutes later when I was walking out with my stuff, and I glanced down at the receipt he had handed me.

T-shirt
Women’s Casual
T-shirt
T-shirt
Sportswear
Maternity
Women’s Shoes
Sportswear

Hold the phone.

MATERNITY???

Who buys maternity clothes by mistake? I wasn’t even in the maternity department. I mean, what, had I accidentally picked up some overalls with a HUGE GAPING SPACE FOR A GIANT BASKETBALL BELLY and not noticed?

When I got home I realized one of the t-shirts I grabbed off the rack was, in fact, a maternity shirt. It was in the wrong place, and it looked enough like the others on the rack that I hadn’t noticed. Oops.

Mervyn’s Saga, Part 2 began when I got home and found Mr. Super Friendly Mervyn’s Guy hadn’t taken the security device thingys off one of the pairs of pants. I was tempted to rip it off myself but the label says”WARNING. Tampering will release ink and glass” and that’s, well, bad, so now I have to go back there to get them to de-anti-theft my stupid $9.99 yoga pants.

I love shopping.