You ever notice

that ruby red grapefruits smell like pot? The next time you are perusing your local produce department, pick one up and give it a whiff.

Here's what I don't get:

Those abandoned cars you see on the sides of the highway. I'm not talking about the ones that appear as if their owners are probably on foot looking for the nearest gas station. No, no. I'm referring to those with multiple orange tickets stuck to them. Even one sticker suggests that the car has been there for a while. What gives? People just say, "Eh, fuck it," I guess. How can you sever ties with your car so abruptly?

I was going to make soap tonight, but I am too exhausted. My morning commute was complicated by a Mack truck at the tolls (from 495 to I90) that, because of its inability to allow me to cross over, forced me to take the wrong on-ramp to the Mass Pike, thus causing me to drive 22 miles on the wrong side of the highway. I was an hour late for work. ONE HOUR LATE. Mercifully, my client was running late, too. I didn't miss our conference call. Did I mention the torrential downpours? The fact that I was nearly out of gas? I almost became one of the people I described up there.

My day just slid off the cutting board after that. Ugh. I am glad to be home, but my Joan Jett soap will have to wait until tomorrow.

Jim 'Zaga Lives

I set up an online memorial for my dad. It's pretty neat - you can post stories and pictures and you can light candles. Why didn't I do this a long time ago?

Eri Yoshida

Check this out!

I think I am going to cry. Please make note of her idol in the article. Can you even stand it? Still trying to figure out what a sidearm knuckleball pitch looks like.

Also, from JapanToday.com:

With a side-armed knuckleball in the core of her arsenal of pitches, Yoshida took part in a tryout held earlier this month and passed with flying colors. The right-hander held male batters hitless for one inning in the final tryout and her successful outing helped her become one of the 33 players picked in the draft. The four-team Kansai independent league also features the Osaka Gold Villicanes, Akashi Red Soldiers and Kishu Rangers.

I think I'm going to start a fan club right now!

Cheaters

Every city has a strip club. I think there might be more than one here in Providence, but the one I see off the highway all the time is Cheaters.

First off: What a lame name. No one puts any real thought into strip club names, do they? When I lived in Nashville, there was a strip club called, Deja Vu, which isn't very exciting, but the tag line is "1000's of beautiful girls and 3 Ugly Ones." Now, that's using some creativity! Cheaters sounds like a 10-year-old came up with it. I'm sure an adult with the same amount of education actually did. Come on people, you can do better than this!

Secondly: Why does it need to be in plain view like that? I'm no prude, but when I pass it by, all I can think about is the sweaty, smelly (whether it be B.O. or tons of cologne), yucky clientèle this place attracts and what they all must be doing in there. Come on, I can't be the only one who thinks about this stuff? Gross!

You know what would be funny? If there was a club that combined stripping with comedy. People whose naked bodies should never be seen in public could strip ala Chris Farley in the Chippendale's sketch. A big car full of clowns could strip to circus music, but leave some things on like the big shoes and the plastic noses. Men and women could strip on the same stage! At the end of the night, the strippers could all get together and pick people from the audience who have to strip while the strippers watch from their seats. One of the strippers could come out with a bag on their head like the "Unknown Comic" and tell really bad jokes while they take their clothes off. People with oddities could strip! The possibilities are endless!

Electricity. EEEEE-lectricity.

So, we had a pretty eventful week here in Washington Park. First and foremost, we (the community at large) helped make history on Tuesday. My voting experience was lovely. As I am used to crammed makeshift booths at the Department of Public Works or the local fire station, you can imagine my delight when I was informed that I would be casting my ballot at the Botanical Gardens in Roger Williams Park. I got there pretty late in the day, so I had no line to wait in. I passed by several folks on my way in and we all grinned widely at one another - like we knew. The path I walked on leading up to the building was softly lit and a few pine needles were strewn about. Wafts of lush florals gently greeted me at the threshold and I was immediately ushered into a large, glass room with trees lining the parameter. I voted, the machine sucked my ballot in and Jere and I went home and watched CNN until our new president-elect was announced. It was glorious!

This was all in the midst of a minor electrical crisis here at the homestead. On Saturday night, I cuddled up on the couch with a nice bowl of pasta, grabbed the remote to turn on the television when *zap* the television and everything else plugged into that receptacle went out. I noticed a little later that the ceiling fan and light in our bedroom had also been affected. All the breakers in the basement were fine, so I concluded that the receptacle needed to be replaced. My step dad gave me a quick tutorial in changing receptacles and I thought we were on our way. Nope. So, I figured - no problem, we'll get an electrician on Monday.

On Sunday evening, the heat stopped working.

Jere contacted an electrician on Monday morning and called me with updates throughout the course of the day. After searching the whole house (including the attic), he located the area where there was faulty wiring. He pulled it out of the wall (a large ball of wires that was warm to the touch) and told Jere that personally, he wouldn't be able to sleep at night had he done this. He claimed that it was a fire waiting to happen. Nice. He fixed the wiring.

They went into the basement to try to assess the heating problem. Jere and I forgot that you are supposed to fill the gas heater with water once a month. The electrician saw the lever and said, why is this up? He pulled it down and water rushed into the heater, causing the heat to turn on right away.

Except, he forgot to pull the lever back up. Jere called me at one point during the day and said, "You're not going to believe this ..." and went on to explain that the basement was covered in a half inch of water (soaps and everything are fine - thank heavens) and that one of the radiators upstairs had overflowed, forcing water down into the basement. I heard the "vrroooooooom" of the electrician's wet-vac in the background.

Long story, short, everything is okay. He came back the next day and replaced our circuit panel entirely (which we knew we had to do anyway) and put lightening rods in the ground outside to protect the meter. And now, Jere and I are safe and sound and that much wiser.

If only the pipes would stop knocking ....

Voting Day

Today is going to be one of those "difficult to concentrate at work" days, as we will all be watching the polling results. I won't be able to vote until after work due to the killer commute + crazy lines. I'd prefer to cast my ballot when there's no pressure on me to be somewhere afterward. I am really hoping that history is made today.

We are having a bit of new homeowner excitement. It's somewhat of a long story, so I will try to blog about it during my lunch break today.