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Logan's new hang-out is the top of the ledge surrounding our kitchen. I searched the whole house for 15 minutes before I realized he was serenely perched watching me the whole time. Ah, cats. When he finally came down, he was covered in dust from slinking through every nook and cranny up there.
For a week we had noticed he smelled kind of perfumey, like a beauty salon -- a fragrance quite incongruous with his scrappy tomcat appearance. We eventually figured out it was because he was dragging his big tomcat tail through the incense diffuser oil and wafting it around as he walked.
This cat is a feather duster and an air freshener in one, making him twice as useful as most of the other creatures in this house, including the humans.
~*~
This is Tery's last weekend in the hoosgow (from the Spanish juzgado, as I learned when she made me look it up). The first weekend she was terrified. She wept almost the whole way there. I told her not to cry or they'd know she was fresh meat. I reassured her it was only fear of the unknown; once she knew what to expect it wouldn't be nearly as bad. I was right.
Her hard time started 8 am Saturday morning and ended 4 pm Sunday evening. She was in a pod system with 6 other women, some of whom were also "weekenders," others who were actual full-time inmates. The full-timers had a lot of resentment and contempt towards the weekenders, until Tery, bored out of her mind, picked up a broom to tidy up, earning their respect and friendship.
As you'd expect, the most punitive aspect of jail, unless you're in the general population, isn't the fear of getting shanked or avoiding daily riots, but pure boredom. Cell phones and personal books aren't allowed. They provide reading material, mostly of the popular culture, Danielle Steele variety. In fact, one woman brought in a self-help book which was confiscated. No bettering yourself in here! You're being punished!
That and the food. From her description I'd probably go hungry for two days. I'm a picky eater when the food is edible. The worst was corn bread that bizarrely seemed to revert back to raw dough as she chewed it.
The part I would be the most afraid of, the toilet arrangements, was actually a cubicle with a privacy curtain. We were both picturing a toilet seat stuck in the middle of the room for everyone to watch. Not so bad, except for pooping. But since I wouldn't be eating, that wouldn't be an issue either.
But her punishment has been my reward. The first weekend was hell because when I got home from the hospital after the animals had been alone all night, they were were wide awake and in full melee cage match mode. These past two weekends I wasn't needed on Saturday, giving me a luxurious night/morning all to myself at home (and much calmer animals).
This Saturday night wasn't quite so luxurious though, because after nearly two months of more or less behaving, Tracey's dogs made their unwelcome nighttime reappearance until 3:00 in the a.m. (Oh, I might not have mentioned: She finally had a hearing with the City, where presumably they explained to her about noise laws and how most people like to sleep at night, and how we weren't just being harpy bitches. We had hoped this would solve the problem forever. Nothing's forever, Virginia.)
I spent all that time composing my complaint to the HOA. Unbeknownst to me, someone else was even more upset. That someone for some reason came ringing MY doorbell at about 3:10 a.m.
"Is this Tracey that lives next to you?" she asked me. I had no idea how she knew her name but I'm not my sharpest at 3 a.m. so I didn't ask.
"Yes it is. As well as her dogs," I said slightly louder, as they were barking ferociously on the other side of the door at that moment.
"Can I come in and use your phone to call the police?" I explained it wouldn't do her any good, they wouldn't come (I've called before. They say it's a matter for Animal Control, who won't do anything until Monday morning). She didn't care though. "I'll go back and use my cell phone. I'm calling the police and telling them she's got a meth lab!" this last was said very loudly directly at Tracey's door.
Highly suspiciously, the dogs had gone silent, and in fact I didn't hear another peep for the rest of the night. This strongly suggests to me she was in there listening to our exchange, though why she let the dogs run rampant for so long into the night is anyone's guess. MY guess is either a.) she just didn't care or b.) she was doped up and passed out. Neither option makes me very happy.
Not helping her case is the fact we've noticed she now parks across the street in the strip plaza and hoofs it back and forth. Hard to imagine a reason for this other than she's trying to conceal her comings and goings. It's all verrrrrrry shifty.
~*~
Apparently someone else who is shifty is all of Tery's employees (I love me a good segue).
An elderly woman who Tery described as "a little unstable" (and not in the ambulatory sense of the word) brought her dog in. The dog was elderly too and needed significant assistance from staff to get it downstairs.
The problem started after she left. Her husband had died the month before, leaving her two pendants set with black opals or some other semi-precious, not terribly valuable stone. She had attached one of them to the dog's collar and after her visit noticed the stone was missing. She was inconsolable to Tery on the phone, threatening to bring in the police, etc, etc.
Let me tell you, if my husband had left me something of such high sentimental value, you know the last thing I would do with it? Stick it on a goddamn dog collar.
Tery, being the excellent manager she is, talked her down and promised to search for it. She spent the whole afternoon combing the parking lot, which unfortunately is lined with a lot of black gravel. She called the woman back with the news. She was a little more reasonable, but ended the conversation with a warning to Tery to keep a closer eye on her employees.
There are about five people downstairs at any given time, and believe me, it's not such a big place that someone prying loose a piece of costume jewelry is going to go unnoticed. Unless they were all in it and planned to split the profits. I made Tery laugh by imagining that scene: "Here's what we'll do -- we've got this sweet rock and we're gonna sell it, see? Then we'll allllll be rich and we can leave this joint once and for all, see?" (We amuse each other highly by talking like old-time gangsters from black and white films. We get bonus points if we manage to incorporate the phrase "get-away sticks" which we once heard someone call their legs.)
Now if the woman had jewelry made of cheeseburgers and donuts, I'd say she might have a case.
~*~
Lastly, some very quick and nonspoilery movie reviews:
Observe and Report: Makes Paul Blart: Mall Cop look like an Oscar contender. In fact, I started out afraid it was going to be a direct rip-off of Blart. I finished wishing it were more like Blart. Paul Blart with F-bombs and Seth Rogen's voice which annoys the hell out of me. Although Patton Oswalt as a tyrannical little restaurant manager was kind of funny.
I Tivo'ed these next two movies and ended up liking the exact opposite of what I expected.
What Happens in Vegas had a very promising premise: Cameron Diaz and Ashton Kutcher have a wild drunken night in Vegas, wake up married and realize they hate each other. Just as they storm off for a divorce, her slot machine (dirty) hits the jackpot of 3 millllllion dollars. Judge Dennis Miller sentences them to make the marriage work (in a highly overdue speech about how the sanctity of marriage isn't threatened by gays nearly as much as by Vegas fly-by-night weddings, loved it). The challenge becomes who can drive the other off first by being more intolerable. Unfortunately it goes down the road of predictable and banal: they end up falling in love for real (evidently after just one weekend work retreat), yeah, totz didn't see THAT coming.
On the other hand, Yes Man was a hit. Jim Carrey obeys life guru Terence Stamp and starts saying yes to everything. Wackiness ensues. But not the usual "Jim Carrey throwing himself against a wall for a laugh" wackiness, which is why I liked it. That and lovable Murray from "Flight of the Conchords" was his boss, which was a huge check in the plus column. Carrey's love interest was vacant-eyed Zoey Deschanel which would normally be a negative, but she wasn't that bad. And for once, a case where I can't say necessarily the book was better -- it was based on it (loosely) but of course more filmic and cohesive. The fact it had a Harry Potter theme party didn't influence my opinion in the slightest.
For a week we had noticed he smelled kind of perfumey, like a beauty salon -- a fragrance quite incongruous with his scrappy tomcat appearance. We eventually figured out it was because he was dragging his big tomcat tail through the incense diffuser oil and wafting it around as he walked.
This cat is a feather duster and an air freshener in one, making him twice as useful as most of the other creatures in this house, including the humans.
~*~
This is Tery's last weekend in the hoosgow (from the Spanish juzgado, as I learned when she made me look it up). The first weekend she was terrified. She wept almost the whole way there. I told her not to cry or they'd know she was fresh meat. I reassured her it was only fear of the unknown; once she knew what to expect it wouldn't be nearly as bad. I was right.
Her hard time started 8 am Saturday morning and ended 4 pm Sunday evening. She was in a pod system with 6 other women, some of whom were also "weekenders," others who were actual full-time inmates. The full-timers had a lot of resentment and contempt towards the weekenders, until Tery, bored out of her mind, picked up a broom to tidy up, earning their respect and friendship.
As you'd expect, the most punitive aspect of jail, unless you're in the general population, isn't the fear of getting shanked or avoiding daily riots, but pure boredom. Cell phones and personal books aren't allowed. They provide reading material, mostly of the popular culture, Danielle Steele variety. In fact, one woman brought in a self-help book which was confiscated. No bettering yourself in here! You're being punished!
That and the food. From her description I'd probably go hungry for two days. I'm a picky eater when the food is edible. The worst was corn bread that bizarrely seemed to revert back to raw dough as she chewed it.
The part I would be the most afraid of, the toilet arrangements, was actually a cubicle with a privacy curtain. We were both picturing a toilet seat stuck in the middle of the room for everyone to watch. Not so bad, except for pooping. But since I wouldn't be eating, that wouldn't be an issue either.
But her punishment has been my reward. The first weekend was hell because when I got home from the hospital after the animals had been alone all night, they were were wide awake and in full melee cage match mode. These past two weekends I wasn't needed on Saturday, giving me a luxurious night/morning all to myself at home (and much calmer animals).
This Saturday night wasn't quite so luxurious though, because after nearly two months of more or less behaving, Tracey's dogs made their unwelcome nighttime reappearance until 3:00 in the a.m. (Oh, I might not have mentioned: She finally had a hearing with the City, where presumably they explained to her about noise laws and how most people like to sleep at night, and how we weren't just being harpy bitches. We had hoped this would solve the problem forever. Nothing's forever, Virginia.)
I spent all that time composing my complaint to the HOA. Unbeknownst to me, someone else was even more upset. That someone for some reason came ringing MY doorbell at about 3:10 a.m.
"Is this Tracey that lives next to you?" she asked me. I had no idea how she knew her name but I'm not my sharpest at 3 a.m. so I didn't ask.
"Yes it is. As well as her dogs," I said slightly louder, as they were barking ferociously on the other side of the door at that moment.
"Can I come in and use your phone to call the police?" I explained it wouldn't do her any good, they wouldn't come (I've called before. They say it's a matter for Animal Control, who won't do anything until Monday morning). She didn't care though. "I'll go back and use my cell phone. I'm calling the police and telling them she's got a meth lab!" this last was said very loudly directly at Tracey's door.
Highly suspiciously, the dogs had gone silent, and in fact I didn't hear another peep for the rest of the night. This strongly suggests to me she was in there listening to our exchange, though why she let the dogs run rampant for so long into the night is anyone's guess. MY guess is either a.) she just didn't care or b.) she was doped up and passed out. Neither option makes me very happy.
Not helping her case is the fact we've noticed she now parks across the street in the strip plaza and hoofs it back and forth. Hard to imagine a reason for this other than she's trying to conceal her comings and goings. It's all verrrrrrry shifty.
~*~
Apparently someone else who is shifty is all of Tery's employees (I love me a good segue).
An elderly woman who Tery described as "a little unstable" (and not in the ambulatory sense of the word) brought her dog in. The dog was elderly too and needed significant assistance from staff to get it downstairs.
The problem started after she left. Her husband had died the month before, leaving her two pendants set with black opals or some other semi-precious, not terribly valuable stone. She had attached one of them to the dog's collar and after her visit noticed the stone was missing. She was inconsolable to Tery on the phone, threatening to bring in the police, etc, etc.
Let me tell you, if my husband had left me something of such high sentimental value, you know the last thing I would do with it? Stick it on a goddamn dog collar.
Tery, being the excellent manager she is, talked her down and promised to search for it. She spent the whole afternoon combing the parking lot, which unfortunately is lined with a lot of black gravel. She called the woman back with the news. She was a little more reasonable, but ended the conversation with a warning to Tery to keep a closer eye on her employees.
There are about five people downstairs at any given time, and believe me, it's not such a big place that someone prying loose a piece of costume jewelry is going to go unnoticed. Unless they were all in it and planned to split the profits. I made Tery laugh by imagining that scene: "Here's what we'll do -- we've got this sweet rock and we're gonna sell it, see? Then we'll allllll be rich and we can leave this joint once and for all, see?" (We amuse each other highly by talking like old-time gangsters from black and white films. We get bonus points if we manage to incorporate the phrase "get-away sticks" which we once heard someone call their legs.)
Now if the woman had jewelry made of cheeseburgers and donuts, I'd say she might have a case.
~*~
Lastly, some very quick and nonspoilery movie reviews:
Observe and Report: Makes Paul Blart: Mall Cop look like an Oscar contender. In fact, I started out afraid it was going to be a direct rip-off of Blart. I finished wishing it were more like Blart. Paul Blart with F-bombs and Seth Rogen's voice which annoys the hell out of me. Although Patton Oswalt as a tyrannical little restaurant manager was kind of funny.
I Tivo'ed these next two movies and ended up liking the exact opposite of what I expected.
What Happens in Vegas had a very promising premise: Cameron Diaz and Ashton Kutcher have a wild drunken night in Vegas, wake up married and realize they hate each other. Just as they storm off for a divorce, her slot machine (dirty) hits the jackpot of 3 millllllion dollars. Judge Dennis Miller sentences them to make the marriage work (in a highly overdue speech about how the sanctity of marriage isn't threatened by gays nearly as much as by Vegas fly-by-night weddings, loved it). The challenge becomes who can drive the other off first by being more intolerable. Unfortunately it goes down the road of predictable and banal: they end up falling in love for real (evidently after just one weekend work retreat), yeah, totz didn't see THAT coming.
On the other hand, Yes Man was a hit. Jim Carrey obeys life guru Terence Stamp and starts saying yes to everything. Wackiness ensues. But not the usual "Jim Carrey throwing himself against a wall for a laugh" wackiness, which is why I liked it. That and lovable Murray from "Flight of the Conchords" was his boss, which was a huge check in the plus column. Carrey's love interest was vacant-eyed Zoey Deschanel which would normally be a negative, but she wasn't that bad. And for once, a case where I can't say necessarily the book was better -- it was based on it (loosely) but of course more filmic and cohesive. The fact it had a Harry Potter theme party didn't influence my opinion in the slightest.
