Anniversary

Today marks one year since Babcia died. In her honor, a story: Babcia loved strawberries, which appeared in her neck of the woods in June, also the month in of her birth. She planted them for a time in the garden just outside the kitchen, not three feet from the house, so she could walk out the door, bend over and start snacking. As she went everywhere barefoot, during one of her hospital visits PolackPappy was scolded about the state of feet. But then Babcia chimed in about her podiatric predilection. She preferred to feel the dirt between her toes.

I bought some local strawberries yesterday in honor of Babcia. I did not, as she often did, eat so many that I broke out in hives, but as I popped each one into my mouth, I thought of her.

I miss you, lady.

Slightly cheerier

I felt a little better today when, after I bent down and picked up the pack of TP that had fallen out some guy's shopping cart, he grinned and had more gold teeth than regular teeth.

Great

I am so stressed out right now. I got a lot of work in for this weekend, which is fantastic! But the finances thing sucks. I got notification via e-mail that an electronic payment of 250 bucks had gone through; come to find out a month later it never did and I have to repay it. Plus I had to buy a new air conditioner. Plus Daphs has her yearly checkup, I didn't get my mail-in prescription form filled out in time and I have to pay full price, I haven't had my teeth cleaned in a long while, and groceries and gas are wicked expensive.

It's fucking exhausting to be broke and I'm not even close to what people who are really in trouble face.

I've had the blues for a week now, compounded by having to listen to my neighbors across the way argue about whether or not they are equally sharing their injectable and smokable drugs properly. Seriously. I always hear this awful hacking and their shades are drawn and the place is just sketchy, but last night confirmed what I suspected: drug use, hard stuff, lots of it. They do work, from what I could tell. But it's no fun to get home and hear "What the F am I supposed to think when I come in and you're passed out on the sofa with a belt next to you?"

I thought this stuff only happened on the east side of town.

Hot Set

Still no video but here's a shot of last night's show. I am a BIG fan of the Channel 3 logo, which to me has a touch of SBTB to it.

Shout Out!

...to L and my German friend and Carmen and Nick. All of whom did a FABULOUS job as contestants on F or B! Thanks, guys!

I tried to unhook Adam's fruit-filled bra with one hand at the end of the show but failed. I think I'd make a terrible lesbian.

Funk.

I'm still in one. Not working as hard as I should. Working on replacing "should" with "prefer." Anyhoo tomorrow we're doing the game show thing on F or B and I am meeting a few people for tasty cheap Mexican food beforehand. Then on Sunday I'm meeting a friend in Lexington to have a picnic and see the sights. I've shifted off of transcribing the schizoid bipole to a workshop for textbook authors on dealing with writer's block.

Showed McM and PP the BG article and the response was underwhelming. "It's short," they said. That it is.

Two things...

...each lovely in their own way.

Thing One

and

Thing Two

God doesn't use glue traps

Eh. I worked/had PMS/worried all weekend and now I have MS and work and worry. So I'm feeling a bit dull. Mostly it's the what the f-all am I doing with my life blues. Not an unfamiliar feeling at all. It's not helped by a transcription project sent to the agency by what seems to be a bona fide lunatic (he mentions taking multiple bipolar/schizophrenia meds). He thinks he's God and that's he is supposed to win the lotto five times.

Supposedly there was a mouse infestation in the house He was living in and so He went to the queen of all mouses and said you guys have got to go. And she said but there's so much food! And He said too bad, your turds (His word choice, not mine) are unclean. And the mouse queen said is it OK if we move next door? And He said sure.

There's also breathy talk about massages and erections. Aye yi yi.

Neat post

When I go to 4:00 Mass I sit with a journalist friend, half of a journalist couple with one child. Yesterday I let him know who my uncle was and he said "You're royalty!"

And I begged to differ. Then I Googled my uncle and found this nifty post and it did make me feel that old special way I did when I was little, like I came from something. I still feel like I came from something now, but the definition of that something is markedly different. Still it's pretty neat to come from a long, long line of people who work with words.

(For some reason I can't embed the link in my blog, which is annoying! You have to cut and paste: cowhampshire.blogharbor.com/blog/_archives/2007/10/2/2968188.html to see it.)

Here's to 10 more years...

...with my kitty Daphne-Moon who as I type is sitting person-style on her bum, legs splayed, while she licks her big soft belly, a belly she rolls over and lets me scratch every morning. She's 10 years old now. I remember the day PolackPappy brought her home from Babcia's, from one of Fred's litters. (Pp is not so good at sexing cats.) She hid behind the fridge. To this day she enjoys snuggling in next to you and then proceeding to take a bath. She has extra toes on all four of her fuzzy feet. She's horribly spoiled but what can I say? She's been by my side since she was a baby and although I am sometimes embarrassed for myself by how much I love her, I think the companionship animals provide is an important job, and she is a wonderful companion.

Happy birthday, sweet girl.

Happy Summer!

From me and Jack Horkheimer (who I have loved since I was 14).

The details

After I wrote the post last night I realized there weren't, in fact, that many things left to say about the caller. He had a bit of a Mass accent and said he was 32. After asking what he had to do to get the beautiful blonde to go to dinner with him, cohost Adam told him to leave his contact info on the ForB Web site.

Then he hung up and we went on to chat about all manner of interesting things, including the fact that while I do not judge others for having casual sex I do not have it myself and get irritated that people who are promiscuous judge people who are not. Whatever floats your boat, I say. And my boat is sailing the seas of monogamous intercourse.

Anyhoo, the guy has yet to leave his information.

Oh my Jesus

Well I just got asked out on live TV. Also I talked about how I hadn't kissed a man in four years, never mind slept with one. Oh my God!

Anyhoo details tomorrow...and possibly a post of the last two shows sooner than I thought thanks to L's brother-in-law who called in to let me know he was taping it and also to tell me I should "think long and hard" about going out on that date.

I'm actually freaking out a little bit right now about how much I run my mouth off. I don't know how to turn off the self-revelatory side of me and I think if I tried to tone it down I'd just end up sucking.

OK. Deep breath. I am enjoying myself and this is a good thing.

Peace out.

Pitchas

Dr. Moo called me out for not posting the few photos we ended up taking of our hike. So here you go!

Moo and I at Galehead, before the steep pitch up North Twin

Me on North Twin before the abominable snow


View from where Twinway intersects with Bondcliff, post-abominable snow

Moo's bf (we borrowed his camera) with the cow barn kitten Moo gave him for his birthday.

Hello readers...

...it's been a busy day. And one utterly devoid of interesting stories. Well I was horrified to see my former BFF Gwynnie P on the cover of Harper's Bazaar missing her trousers but other than that it's been work, work, work.

Let's get it on

Oh my.

Oh my, my, my, my. So I call PolackPappy this morning and ask him how his pet chinchilla Harry is doing. Pp normally spends a half an hour or so of quality time with Harry in the downstairs bathroom, reading a book while H exercises. And by exercise I mean he jumps straight up, runs up walls and flies into the air, and hops into the bathtub. H also takes occasional breaks during which he will give you a look that on first glance seems one of care concern until you look down and see he's deposited a turd at your feet.

H also likes to nibble on things and Pp usually wears sneakers (sneakers he bought himself, sneakers which belong on a skateboarder and not on a 66-year-old)for him to chew. One night Pp was wearing thick wool socks instead. I'll let him describe what happened next:

"Well your sister thought this was disgusting but Harry bit my toe, grabbed ahold of my foot and started humping it."

Lookee here...

...it's the best piece of news you'll read all day.

RIP, Tim Russert

Even though I wouldn't call myself a journalist now, I studied to be one in college. Which sounds oddly to me like I'm not only the hair club president, I'm also a client, but I digress.

I was sad to hear of Tim Russert's passing and here is one reason why, from the New York Times:

Mr. Russert was the one who proposed that the Newseum, the new news museum in Washington, carry a giant copy of the First Amendment on its façade, according to Mr. Williams.

Boob tube

Fruit or Breast was fantastic! I felt more Kelly Ripa, which is how I think of myself, than Ed McMahon, which is what Dr. Moo keeps calling me. The former cohost came with her adorable doggie and a friend and Carmen showed up with a friend as well. So there was a studio audience! And I know for sure that L, her sister, and her brother-in-law were watching at home and enjoyed the program. I was, well, my usual self, which is of course the only way for anyone to be if they want to have true success in this world.

I had a preshow wardrobe malfunction. As I was walking to the studio, after parking thisclose to some asshole's Lexus that was trying to take up two spaces but was no match for my bitchin' Honda Civic, I noticed a guy on a cell phone really ogling me. "I must look extra cute tonight," I thought to myself. Turns out the zipper on my sundress was broken, exposing my back right on down to the top of my underpants. Which, thank goodness, were one of my more decent pairs, worn for extra confidence.

Film at 11:00

And by 11:00 I mean July. I spoke with the founder and cohost of FOB and he said the guy who puts the stuff online is on vacation. So you will all have to wait a little while to see me on camera. But that means the experience will only be sweeter, now, doesn't it?

In other McPolack news...well there really isn't any. I'm having a mini-HS reunion this weekend and by mini I mean three people. And after two days of drought it's pouring rain with work. Yippee!

Unappealing

Apologies for the groan-worthy pun title but my feet continue to molt and I wish they would get it over with. Right now I am soaking them in an apple cider vinegar bath. Apparently Fergalicious drinks shots of apple cider vinegar to flush out her fat. I'm not quite sure how that works, unless she's doing shots while hooked up to a lipo machine.



It's this kind of deeply felt, poetic blog posting that's going to win me a book deal.

Well I've done it.

I went and saw the SATC movie alone today at 4:15 clad in really old shorts purchased from a Goodwill so long ago that I can't remember the year. They have an elastic waist. My feet were shod in the Manolos of the Mountain: Tevas. I did however swap the shirt I was wearing out for a fetching Calvin Klein number at the last minute, giving me the fashion equivalent of a mullet: Chic on top and trashy down below.

I was similarly poorly dressed for a Saturday visit to Neiman Marcus with L, whose coworker was DJing there. Though, truth be told, I don't know what the right outfit for Neiman Marcus is. I can tell you what it's not, though: Shorts from Target and a ribbed blue tank top from H&M that you sweated through earlier in the day.

Anyhoo. The movie.

It wasn't that great. But I did spend only five dollars to see it at a matinee, in a relatively empty theater. There was just one mildly annoying lady who laughed a little too loudly and some girls who were quite dolled up and looked great. They also appeared to think my outfit was fabulous. If you're quiet and confident people can think you're up to something important.

The outfits in the movie were wacky but wonderful. My ovaries passed tissues back and forth as they wept over that damn wedding dress montage and I would totally have gone with the Vivienne Westwood number, too. My God! It was so incredibly fantastic. I secretly long to walk down the aisle in something like that. And hate that I have to hide it sometimes! Which brings me to this point: I think it's mean of the press to crap all over how much women were looking forward to this flick. To me it says something about us females: Despite all our modernity, we still want to settle down with one person and build a life together. There's nothing wrong with that.

Well now I feel a rant coming on but I'm not going to pay any attention to it. You're welcome!

The mountains are still hungry...

It looks like the bellies of northern New Hampshire's mountains are still not full. I must say, part of what kept me going on my own marathon hike was the thought of how embarrassed I'd be to appear in the paper if I had to be carried out on a stretcher.

I cannot overstate this: You need to be very prepared to hike in NH! More prepared than you think. Dr. Moo had a date a few summers back with some dairy royalty. She asked him beforehand if he was an experienced hiker as she was planning a winter trip up Lafayette; he assured her he was. And then he showed up in jeans. She told him she couldn't go hiking with him because he was a liability. Hee hee! He was also a douchebag.

Kneed

Well I am pretty much recovered from last week's hike. The lost sleep affected me more than anything. Well that and the inside of my left knee. I didn't exercise first thing yesterday since I had yoga in the afternoon and, weirdly, it was hurting all day before yoga. I went to yoga anyway because it's just the thing to do when you're injured. The teacher was fantastic; I sweated a lot and moved ever closer to looping my legs up over my shoulders. I did Bird of Paradise. OK I almost did it. I'm still working on straightening out my leg.

Anyhoo I had a good productive day. Today I'm hoping for the same but I'm doing this ADD thing right now where I can't make a decision. I need to go grocery shopping but I have a love/hate relationship with grocery shopping because I have to drive through a crapload of construction and then I end up at the craziest Market Basket in the world where I often end up navigating a sea of cranky, slow-moving, self-involved immigrants.

But there's more to do! I need to figure out how to use the digital foot pedal. I need to do laundry, which won't dry well (I have no dryer) since it's wet out. And I need to do some work on another project. Hopefully I will just do, rather than think. I'm getting better at nipping these think-a-thons in the bud.

Great News!

I am the new cohost of Fruit or Breast on Somerville cable access.

Yay me!!!

Casualty of War

It's going to be hot on Saturday. Sunday and Monday, too.

I HATE when it's hot out because in the Northeast, it means humidity. In the city, the sidewalks soak it up and it never seems to dissipate. And my apartment just becomes this horrible oven, holding onto the heat and not letting it go. (Which is great in winter, I must admit.)

Anyhoo I just installed my bedroom A/C and was preparing to install the one in my living room, feeling proud of myself for doing it before the heat comes when I looked down and discovered I'd put a hole in my favorite pair of jeans.

Motherfucker.

B to the O

One indication of my level of exhaustion and sisterly love is that as she was changing our clothes in the tent, my sister used her dirty underwear to wipe something off, then I grabbed them to clean my glasses. Which I'm sure is grossing you all out! But I used the side of the undies, and she'd just worn them overnight. We're really into changing our panties in this family.

Anyhoo, surprisingly, Dr. Moo and I did not smell that bad at the start of day two. Moo did not even bother to brush her teeth. BO did not come on for me until I was well down the trail, and that was only because I forgot to reapply deodorant. I honestly thought I was going to get away stink-free. But then I got back to the McPolack homestead and stripped down to take a shower and...well I was smelly but it wasn't that bad! Do you want to know why?

Because I am a lady.

Eats

One of the benefits of a good long hike is that you can eat a lot of tasty treats. I'd packed a few for Moo and I's trip but unfortunately, due to time and budgetary constraints, not as many as I'd liked. We brought:

peanut-butter filled pretzels
cheddar cheese
crackers
pb & honey sandwiches
beans and rice
trail mix
dried fruit
energy bars
chocolate
homemade cookies
instant coffee
canned coffee
oatmeal

I had such dreams of a warm dinner followed by a warm breakfast cooked on Moo's fancypants stove.

Those dreams went unrealized. We took nary a meal break, save half an hour at the hut where we ate cheese and Moo bought a postcard. Mostly it was five to ten to 15 minute stops here and there to adjust our packs, shove some trail mix in our mouths, swig some water, and move on. It was interesting to see how fast you burned through the fuel; I was reminded of a documentary I watched on a couple who followed some migrating caribou. They ended up losing weight because it was impossible for them to carry enough food to compensate for calories burned.

But never fear, dear readers! This was not the case with me. I began the all-important calorie replacement process 15 minutes after I walked out of the woods, tossing back a glazed doughnut and six McNuggets.

Bruise Count

14 total, including a gigunda one on my shin, from aforementioned postholing.

Wild animal spottings: 0 for me, but 2! for Moo, who saw a deer, and the not-so-often-seen spruce grouse. The spruce grouse is also known as a fools hen, and Moo's run-in illustrates why. The bird bungled onto the trail after I'd passed by, making a gobbly noise. Then he woobled his way into a low branch right next to the trail and continued making gobbly noises and Moo was all, "Uh, I can totally see you."

On an unrelated to the hike note, Moo recently had to milk an alpaca, and found it is kind of like milking a Ken doll in that instead of nipples, alpacas have these weird flat nubbin-y things.

Anyhoo I have a lot of work to do so will post yet another tale tomorrow!

i'm tired

This is probably obvious to most people, but in case it isn't, hiking 22.5 miles in a little over 26 hours while carrying 45 pounds on your back is TOO MUCH. Especially, especially, especially when the last part of the first day's hike is .8 steep miles followed by 2.8 miles of deep and unstable snow followed by .2 wobbly, painful miles down a wet slope only to be greeted at the bottom by an idiot college student who tells you there is no tent space available.

Thankfully she was wrong.

OK so THEN follow that with an exhausted tent pitching at 9:00 PM, a twin giggling pee with your sister over the edge of the tent platform after announcing you were going to show everyone Oprah's vajayjay, no dinner save a handful of trail mix, and fitful dozing until waking up at 4 AM to the sounds of pouring rain. And then packing up camp a little after 6 AM, sucking down a can of espresso, and facing several more miles of alternating steep slick slope, dangerous foggy wet exposed ledge, and, yes, more horrid unstable snow. All while dealing with a knee injury caused when you postholed the night before and bashed your shin into the ice.

Of course I chose to do this and I knew on some level it was going to be a learning experience -- and boy was it. I will say this: Dr. Moo and I got along really well and she is a fantastic hiking partner, someone I would want with me in any sh*tty situation. Also I would totally, totally go backpacking again. I'd just do some things a leetle differently.

More tales tomorrow.