Friday Night's For Fighting

By the second night, life without power was beginning to get old, mostly because I was so freaking cold! It was then that we realized we had a gas fireplace in our bedroom that probably would work with a match. I can't remember the last time we used it. It's very close to the bed so I'm always afraid we'll catch fire. Besides, I usually sleep with a fan blowing on me even in the dead of winter.

We opened up the glass doors that we had wedged shut with a piece of wood to stop the rattling on windy nights, and got rid of the ancient spider webs. We tried using a match but it wouldn't light. We could hear the sound of gas coming out, but I guess we couldn't find the right point to ignite it. My husband said he would work on it some more once he got the generator up and running again. I asked him to run an extension into our bedroom so I could watch tv from bed. I had faith in him that he would get the fireplace working and planned to have the kids sleep on an air mattress on the floor in our room. Their rooms are always cold to begin with, and after stepping into them that night I realized I probably could have kept my milk colder in there instead of having it buried outside in the snow.

My husband started the generator up and then had the bright idea of running an extension cord to the refrigerator in the sun room. What would be the worst that could happen? It wasn't like we would blow a fuse or anything. We hadn't seen any action outside all day; the tree, the pole and the wires were still there and I was starting to think this power outage might go on for days. Once again, the only things that moved were the orange cones.

You can't believe how stupid some people can be when they see orange cones. Rather than think, "Hmmm, there must be a reason they're here blocking the road" they prefer to either a) get out of their car and move them, b) go around them, or c) go through them.

While my husband set out to perform the task of trying to make things cold in the refrigerator and hot in the bedroom, I threw on my mega bathrobe and slippers and snuck outside to grab a smoke. I watched one pick-up truck come all the way up to one set of the cones and just sit there pondering what to do. He decided to go around them and went right up to the tree and then just sat there. What did he think, if he put it in four wheel drive he might make it over??? I just laughed to myself as he finally backed up down the block.

Then I heard something even more absurd, the whirring of wheels coming up the hill. I saw the lights first and called to my husband, "You're not going to believe this, but some moron is trying to make it past the cones and up the hill!" He replied, "This is how we weed out the herd." After the wheels stopped spinning, I assumed they had gotten free and went back down the hill. As I was about to go inside I saw an elderly woman just standing in the middle of the chaos of wires, and then get down on her hands and knees. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, but I ran to the street anyway.

I noticed it was an elderly neighbor of mine who lived a couple of houses away. We had spoken about 15 years ago when we were adversaries. I stopped a cell phone tower from being put up on her church's property which was next to the elementary school. After that we nodded to each other in the past, and she always compliments my husband on his Christmas lights, but that's been about it. When I reached her she seemed disoriented, and was carrying a bag from Food Lion and her pocketbook. I told her to stop what she was doing and to give me her hand. I pointed to the wires which she was about to get entangled in. She hadn't seen them. I asked her what she was doing out there and she told me she went to the store. I asked her didn't she know that a tree has been down two days here? She said she forgot. It was then I saw a car sideways in the road lodged up against the root ball of the tree.

"Is that your car?" I asked. She replied yes. "Didn't you see the cones and tape blocking the road?" She said there weren't any. There were. She just had plowed through them. I took her bags from her and told her to hold my hand while we navigated through the wires and tree limbs and up the icy road. Slippers do not do well on ice. When we got to her house she couldn't find her keys in the darkened driveway. I had my mini flashlight with me and held it for her while he searched her pocketbook until she found them. We went inside and I told her to put the lights on. She then told me she had no power. I was surprised because I had heard that side of the street was fine.

She thanked me and said she could find her way inside as she knew every inch of her house even in the dark. I wouldn't let her go in by herself and asked her where her flashlights were. She said they were in the bag I was carrying. When I looked in the bag the only thing there was a gallon of ice cream. I showed her and she asked me, "Where is my flashlight?" I suggested it might still be in the car. That's when she remembered about the car. "What am I going to do about my car? I have to call the police." I used my mini flashlight to help her find candles. She found one and we lit it with my lighter. Her house was very cold too.

She asked what the number for 911 was and after I told her she dialed it on her yellow rotary phone. Haven't seen one of those in years! As she was explaining to the dispatcher the situation, she kept saying she didn't know about the tree, and the dispatcher is trying to tell her that they can't personally inform every person. They were going back and forth until I finally asked her to hand me the phone so I could explain the situation better. As I suspected, the police couldn't do anything about her car. If they sent a wrecker it would cost her a couple of hundred dollars, and until it was moved no restoration work could begin. I told the dispatcher that I would handle this.

The neighbor was quite distraught at this point. She didn't know what to do. I told her to sit down and let me call my husband. As soon as he picked up the phone he started yelling at me, "Where the hell are you? I've been calling your name up and down the streets! I thought you were lying in a ditch somewhere. You're in your robe and slippers." I told him to calm down and briefly filled him in. I then asked if he could please try to get her car out of the ditch and off the road. We went back to my house.

I handed my husband the keys and he told me he got the fireplace working. Thank God! My feet were wet and freezing. I couldn't wait to get into my pajamas and go to bed. We stood there and watched as my husband expertly rocked the car out of danger and onto the road. He slid down the hill and drove the car around the corner and into her driveway. As he was getting out of the car, I see another car pull up behind him and yell to him, "Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing with that car?" Oh shit, here we go. My husband gets out and says, "Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" Oh shit, here we go. I turn to the neighbor and ask her, "Do you know that guy?" "That's my son," she says. I scream, "It's her son, it's her son!" before anything could happen. Mr. Pleasant turns and sees me hobbling in a bathrobe down the road with his mother on my arm.

"Your mom got stuck and my husband helped her get unstuck," I say. He looked like he wanted to beat the shit out of his mom. "Mom, what are you doing out driving?" "I didn't know the road was blocked." "Yes, you did! You told me this morning!!!" I didn't want to get in the middle of this so I start to make my exit, telling him, "everything is fine, she's okay, there's no damage to the car, take it easy," and head back to my house.

Ah yes, the fireplace is blazing! I took off my wet slippers and placed them near the flames. Before I could even change into warm dry clothes my husband comes in and says, "She's spending the night with us." "What?" "I told her she could sleep here tonight." "I thought her son was here to take her to his house." "No, she asked him if she could sleep at his house and he said, and I quote, "No Mom, I'm not prepared for that. I don't have an extra bed." "Are you fucking kidding me?" "No, I'm not. We can't let her stay in that house tonight. We got the fireplace going. She could stay in here."

For a brief second I was pissed at my husband, not because he did the right thing by inviting her over, but because he didn't turn to her son and say something like, "How can you not let your mother stay in your home where you have power, heat, and food? If you don't want her sleeping on your couch, how dare you not at least offer a hotel room for her instead of handing her off to total strangers?" Did he not get a look at the psycho wearing slippers and a bathrobe traipsing down the icy, slushy road?

The whole situation had me stressed out, and when the pain started heading up from my jaw to the top of my head I realized I was probably clenching my teeth too hard. Serenity now...serenity now! Mr. Pleasant walked his mom almost to our door then bee-lined out of there. She thanked us for letting her stay, and I told her it was no problem. I asked if she was hungry and she said she was. I hadn't planned on cooking, but things change and I couldn't very well serve her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, so I took out a package of shrimps that were almost defrosted anyway, along with some hash browns and whipped up something quickly. It was horrible but she said she liked it and even asked for seconds. I gave her cold apple pie and offered her a glass of wine, which she really seemed to be most thankful for. "My friends don't drink, but I like to have wine." When she asked for a second one, my husband was quick to pour, but I was worried if maybe she was on some sort of medicine or something that would interact with the wine. She said she wasn't. She asked for the name of the wine and when I offered to write it down she said she would remember it. She couldn't remember a tree had fallen across the road but the name of the wine she would remember?

I wanted to find our more why her son wouldn't let her stay in his warm house so I asked her a couple of questions. I thought maybe he was married and the wife didn't like her. No, he was divorced and lived by himself in a large condo that wasn't affected by the storm. I didn't want her to feel bad so didn't ask anything else about him. She said she was tired and just wanted to lay down. I couldn't imagine her lying on the floor of a blow up mattress so instead we moved a chaise lounge from the sun room into our bedroom. It was a little larger than the doorway so we ripped off a chunk of wood as we tried to make it fit. I positioned it far enough from the flames so she wouldn't fall off of it and into the fire. I gave her a couple of pillows and blankets and off to the land of nod she went.

So much for watching tv from bed that night. I called my son and suggested he stay at a friend's house after work. His room was an icicle. When my daughter got home I told her she was sleeping with us in our room. It took a lot of convincing, but after she got a Charley horse in her frost-filled room she agreed. The look on her face as she passed a sleeping stranger on a chaise in my bedroom was priceless.

My bones have never ached more than that night. I always thought the cold didn't affect RA but after the pain I felt, I think it does. The fireplace was great and it wasn't long before I was able to move my legs and hands again. Bella jumped into bed with the three of us and it was quite cozy and warm. In fact, at one point I had kicked the covers off because I was too warm, and if we hadn't had a house guest, I would have probably shut the fireplace off. I hoped my snoring wouldn't scare our guest!

BOOM! and Then Blackness

On Thursday I had just taken three pans out of the oven when I noticed my cell-phone had one bar. As the kids sat down for dinner I said, "Check your phones. Make sure you have enough bars. I better charge mine because I think we're going to lose power." The moment I finished saying that we heard a large "BOOM!" and then blackness. Another large crackling sound immediately followed causing my son to say, "That's a gunshot." So what does he do? He runs outside to see what's going on. This is what he found...

To give you a better daylight view, this was the scene the following morning:

One of the large pine trees in the park across the street fell down taking the power lines, the electric pole in my yard, which snapped like a toothpick, and dislodged, bent and broke my rooftop pole, along with it.

The wires were hanging on my house and spread across the driveway, and up and down the street. As soon as my son reported the dangling wires, the first thing I did was navigate down the darkened basement stairs with my tiny flashlight and switch off the main electricity from the fuse box. Even though we had no power I just felt like this was something I should do that. I don't know why.

Now, it's dark when this happening, and as you can see from the first shot, there is ice and snow on the road and it's still coming down. Well, at the very moment this snapping of the wires occurs, a car is trying to make it up my hill. If I had a penny for every vehicle who tries to get up that hill in a storm and wipes out, I'd be rich! Not only does this vehicle wipe out, but the wires fall on top of her car.

My son sees the woman come out of her car and goes over to help her, but she totally ignores him. She's crying on her cellphone, as she tries to walk up the hill through the wires, and won't even acknowledge that the boy is standing out there with no coat on offering her his arm to help her navigate the wires that she doesn't see! He makes sure she clears the danger zone before coming back in the house.

She was the first of many who made us realize sometimes the worst comes out in people during a crisis.

To be continued...I've got a lot of laundry to do.

Cut 'Em Out!

The lack of common sense, and lack of loyalty of some of our customers continues to astound me. Apparently some of them think my husband is their Yankee whipping boy and mistake his kindness for stupidity. Those same customers are lucky I'm not at the shop, or answering the phone, when they pull their crap. I tell my husband to "Cut 'em out!" and although he has replied in the past, "If I cut everyone out that you wanted me to too, we'd have no customers left" he's finally realizing I may be right...once again.

What has me riled up this morning is a call my husband received yesterday from a "customer." This woman called to tell him she needed to bring her car in today...to be vacuumed. Vacuumed? Yes, vacuumed. Ummm, my husband doesn't even vacuum my car so I asked him what she was talking about. Apparently, as a service to her because she's "elderly," the last two times my husband changed her oil (which with the prices we have to pay are a lose-lose situation for us so if it was up to me we wouldn't even offer oil changes any more) she asked him to vacuum out her car. He did. I told him that was a mistake because I've found if you give an inch, too many people want a foot. Well, the "damage" was done so he asked what time she would be arriving for an oil change. This was her response..."Oh I don't need my oil changed, I got that done at Speedee. I just need you to vacuum out my car." Excuse me??? Ummmm, did I mention we're not a car detailing shop, or a car wash? Ummmm, did I mention that this "elderly" woman, like most of our customers, would never even consider tipping my husband a lousy buck?

My husband was stunned yet said she should call him tomorrow. I was furious and wanted him to call her back and tell her not to bother to call, ever again. We left the shop for a little while and when we came back there was this message on the machine from her...."I want to come at 3:30. I'm sick as a dog. This flu is killing me so I want to get home quickly so leave 3:30 open so you could vacuum my car right away."

Ok, now I am livid! Not only does she expect my husband to drop everything to vacuum her car, for free, but she wants him to get into the flu-infested vehicle to do it while she sits in our waiting room hacking her germs all over the place. Yeah, just what my immune-comprised system needs. "Call her back and tell her not to come!" She must have been out spreading her germs on the handles of shopping carts or something because she wasn't home so he left a message telling her, not to come and to call after she gets well. He's too kind.

How much do you want to bet this inconsiderate, clueless woman still comes to the shop today. I hope I'm there when she arrives...

Additions to the Greenway

When I was jogging along the very low Roanoke River in Salem last week,



at one point I became out of breath. I wished there was a bench I could rest my bones on for just a minute or two. The following morning, Poof! There it was...



So shiny and red. There are three of them along the greenway. The same day I wished for the bench I also noticed that inconsiderate people were leaving their bottles of water, cans of soda, disposable cups and other trash in the grass and on the fences. I said to myself, "They really need to put a garbage pail along the way." The following morning, Poof! There it was...



So shiny and red. Nearby the trash cans cement was being poured so that picnic tables could be placed. I was tempted to carve my initials in it before it set, as I always am whenever I see wet cement. Naturally I didn't. Unfortunately sometime during the night others could not control their urges and left their mark...



Even worse were other additions I spotted along the greenway...







Perverted graffiti, how lovely. Just what the many children I encounter along the way need to see. It looks like they scraped their art into the path with a rock or something. They must be really stupid too because they signed their names to their masterpieces. I can only hope they get caught. Idiots...

Metal Climbing Domes or Dumbs?

When I was a kid the parks in Brooklyn were much different than the ones my kids played on here in Roanoke. I loved climbing the monkey bars, and although dreaded being tossed from the see saw by a heavy friend onto a concrete surface, I couldn't get enough of them. My mother would tell me to wash the blood off my scraped knees in the water spout that usually was in the center of many parks. If I got hit in the head from one of the heavy metal swings it was my own fault for being stupid enough to walk in front of, or behind one, when some kid was attempting to reach the moon.

My kids have never climbed on monkey bars, gotten tossed off a see-saw, got hit in the head by or slipped off a metal swing, nor slid down a hot slide burning their butts. The biggest threat they faced was getting splinters from a wooden play set or mulch in their shoes.

When I was in Brooklyn recently I was reading about a state-of-the-art park that had recently opened near the Brooklyn Bridge, aptly called Brooklyn Bridge Park. Since my kids are teens now that wasn't on my must do list.

I was fascinated by one of the new features placed in it...metal climbing domes which are just that -- shiny, smooth, metal domes. According to this article, not many parents were thrilled with the domes..."because the metal domes get so hot on sunny days that kids cry when they touch them. "Within five minutes of being here, [my daughter] burned her leg," said Jennifer Bollard, 37, a mom from New Jersey who traveled to check out the much-hyped park with her kids, Julie, 3, and Jonathan, 7."

Yeah, that'll happen when the sun bakes hot metal. Keep in mind this was in April...imagine what it would be like in July or August! Not to worry, the powers that be came up with a solution by placing shade umbrellas over them. The problem with that is that the sun moves so within an hour or two the dome was hot again. Well, duh!



According to NY 1, they've come up with a better solution..."The new Brooklyn Bridge Park playground is back open for business after being closed for repairs due to safety concerns. Parents have complained that the park's metal climbing domes heat up in the sun, burning their children. Last week, the park was closed for two days to repair some holes in the playground surface. Workers also put tents up over the domes to keep them in the shade. Parents are pleased with the changes, but say they'll be cautious when allowing their kids on the domes."

Besides the opportunity to get scorched I wondered what "fun" a child would have on a metal dome. It's not like they really could climb anywhere, or slide down it, so what would be the point of installing them? What am I missing? Anyway, if the heat wasn't enough to want to keep your kids off these climbing domes maybe the picture of this little girl is...



According to the Daily News article, she broke her nose and lost a tooth playing on the domes. Maybe they should be called metal climbing dumbs. And they say monkey bars aren't safe.

It Must Really Suck to Be Rich

On Wednesday evening my husband and I watched Artie Lange's stand up special, "It's the Whiskey Talking" which I had found used for five bucks and stuffed in my husband's Christmas stocking. I fell asleep halfway through it and when I awoke I uttered, "I can't believe this guy is even still alive." What I meant was that it was clear he was spinning out of control with his drinking and drugging and I assumed he would have pulled a Belushi by now and OD'd.

So it was really freaky to read this headline from the New York Post yesterday, "Artie Lange Stabbed Himself 9 Times"...

"Troubled comic Artie Lange landed in the hospital after stabbing himself nine times in an apparent suicide attempt, sources told The Post. Lange's frantic mom called 911 Saturday morning after she entered his Hoboken apartment and found the bloodied funnyman, a law-enforcement source said. Lange sustained six "hesitation wounds" and three deep plunges."

If someone didn't know who Lange is they would probably think this sounds like total bullshit, but those of us who are familiar with his self-destructive behavior know it's probably not. In case you don't know who Lange is, he's Howard Stern's sidekick (but apparently hasn't been on the show for a couple of weeks), a stand-up comedian, an actor who had a gig on Mad TV until he screwed that up, an author who came out with a book last year, his memoir "Too Fat to Fish" which was pretty good and I think did pretty well since it landed on the NY Times bestseller list.



He also starred in a couple of B movies, most notably as Santa in "Elf" with Will Farrel. I remember him saying how much money he had made just from that one scene from the residuals every time it played. I think it was on 24 hour rotation on some channel this holiday season so Lange must've scored big. I guess all those royalty checks pouring in were the last straw.

It must really suck to be rich and famous, even if you're only semi-famous. It must suck so much that some rich people think about getting a knife and stabbing themselves nine freaking times to just end it all. It must suck so mega much that taking pills, or jumping in front of a train is not even an option to be thought of when thinking about killing one's self, and that the only way to end the miserable existence of being a millionaire/drug addict/comic/actor/best-selling author has to be to take a blade and shove it inside your fleshy body numerous times, unsuccessfully, so that your mother could find you bleeding to death when she brings food over to feed your pathetic fat face. Nice son.

Yup, it must really suck to be as rich and famous as Artie. I wouldn't know as obviously I'm nowhere as rich, famous, nor miserable, as he is. Since he failed in his stabbing suicide attempt, I'm guessing his next book will be titled, "Too Fat to Filet."

My son said I'm taking this suicide attempt too personal. And I guess I am. I'm pissed. I've always liked Artie. He was the one bright spot on the Stern show. I could relate to his upbringing (not the drug part) but the tight Italian family part, especially his relationship with his mother, who he always spoke so lovingly about. How could he do this to her and to his sister? I feel for her more than him. I know from reading his memoir that he harbored some guilt (waaaaaa! what Italian child doesn't?) for his father's accident, but I think he's used that as an excuse for way too long. I could never get into his mind and know all the real reasons he did what he did, but to me it's just plain cowardly and selfish. If he couldn't take living up in the New Jersey/New York area he should have done what I did 15 years ago, move to Virginia, or anywhere else. His mother would have preferred visiting him there rather than the hospital and/or his grave. I hope Mrs. Lange finds peace and Artie finds his mind. Good luck you dope.