I also run on Dunkin'.

Hey, so, did you know? It's, like, summer out there these days.

One of the best things about living in the Northeast is watching the seasons change, and not just because it's funny to say "leaf peepers" in the fall (giggle... it's also funny to refer to the soothing sounds of peepers peeping away around here after the spring thaw).

Of course, my favorite herald of spring is the resurfacing of the gross and weird expandable shark that Claire buried in the snowbank outside my front door:

I'm not sure that this photo accurately conveys the grossness of the expandable shark. After a month or so buried in an icy snowbank, it had expanded in some places and not in others. Eeeew.

But, as I said, the shark heralded the coming of warmer climes... and then, true to New England form, we had a big ass snowstorm, and a whole bunch of rain and now... NOW the season has changed from Mud to Black Fly.

This means driving with the windows down and, if you live in New England, stopping ever hundred yards or so to purchase a swimming pool filled with iced coffee at Dunkin' Donuts.

It's been quite some time since I last lived and drove around my native New Hampshire and you really cannot swing a dead cat around here without hitting a Dunkin' Donuts. Yes, I know that many other places have them, too, but here in N'Hampshah and Taxachusetts, the chain's ubiquity is quite remarkable. And thank gawd, because I really don't feel right unless I've consumed at least 8 gallons of the stuff each day. The hot coffee is passable, mind. I'll drink it happily. It's not the same as the black gold that comes out of my mom's Jura Happy Coffee Miracle Machine from Switzerland, but it'll get my eyes open and brain functioning in a pinch. But the iced coffee... that's a different story entirely. It is liquid joy. I think that with my next iced coffee cistern purchase, I should be offered stock options. And possibly also a bunch of balloons. That'd be nice.

Happy Spring-Summer (thanks, global warming!), all.

It's the little things, really.

Remember my affinity for the minutiae of daily life? Well, the love affair continues, and I'm going to subject y'all to it...again.

Many of my friends and associates are off gallivanting in various exciting places like Turkey, Jamaica, and the dirty South. Others, like Tobs and Bridget, are accomplishing things like master's theses. Hayley's getting into college and turning 18 (you lascivious 20-something wolves in my acquaintance can just wipe the smirks off your faces...I will cut you.).

But what, pray, have I been doing with my time lately?

Sunday, I enjoyed the company of three of my favorite people during a family outing to Boston's MFA. Hayley and I commiserated on always being ravenously hungry while perusing the MFA, which makes enjoying those still life paintings of fruit and whatnot really, um, visceral. Luckily, after taking in some cultchah, we concluded the day at Legal Seafoods. Blue Point oysters were consumed, among many other Legal delights.

Monday is when things really got bananas, though. I tend bar on Monday nights and for some reason, eleventy billion kegs needed to be changed during this week's shift. Unfortunately, of the eleventy billion, one was full (really fucking heavy) and another was half full (still pretty damned heavy). I enlisted the help of a coworker with the former, and managed to drop the latter on my foot later in the night. Not my toes, thank God, but the top of the foot, where that bone sticks out. This wasn't fun, mind, though I did happen to let loose a restorative string of expletives shortly after I hauled the damned thing off my poor foot. Then I limped around the beer refrigerator, cursing the person who sent back their unfiltered IPA for being "too cloudy." Granted, I don't think a beer should look like orange juice, but dammit we had a half keg left!!

The night wasn't a total loss, though, because I had a Monday NY Times and a few quiet spots in the shift to work on the crossword puzzle. I like Monday's NYT puzzle because I can finish it more often than not. This week was special, though, because I started and finished it... in INK. This was a pretty big deal, as I'm a mechanical pencil devotee. You might say the experience knocked me dead. I felt pretty grown up. I really should have saved and scanned the puzzle in question so everyone can get the full force of my triumph, but I used the page to wrap a birthday gift and it's now long gone.

I'm not quite ready to join the ranks of Jon Stewart, Bill Clinton, and Ken Burns and use ink daily, but it'll do in a pinch on a Monday. I still have yet to finish a Wednesday on my own (someday I'll do it.. and it'll be awesome). And I doubt I'll ever time myself, as this person does (in part because I can't do them that fast).

Who says continuing on as usual (while other people do fun or productive things) isn't awesome?
Oh, I know. It's a nonstop thrill ride.

INK, people. Ink.

______
Those who don't want to pay for the Times puzzle and need the occasional fix should try out The Onion's puzzle. It's punny, full of pop culture references mixed in with the highbrow—an all-around winner. My thanks to Carl for bringing me around on it. I have survived many a slow afternoon in the office as a result.

Is it spring yet?

We might also call this post "Staving off the Stir-Crazies," because, while it is now March, there is still snow on the ground and I still have to wear a coat (that is a magnet for dog hair...oh what a Sisyphean task it is to roll the sticky lint thingy over it before I leave the house) when I go outside. I mean, sure, sledding with your pals in the front pasture is a rockin' good time, but now we're in the dirty-snow phase of winter. But, oh, wait. We're supposed to get a fresh 3-5 tonight.

So, in an effort to not go out of my mind, I'm enjoying the little things. For instance, it is currently February vacation 'round these parts, so there is a blissful dearth of rush-hour traffic. For Gil, it's a good parking space, for me it's a commute at more than .05 mph. Normally, this would be another sign of growing up, but before I got on the road this morning, I was awoken by my mother (it's not a normal thing... I had forgotten to set my alarm). There I was, in pink flannel jammies and retainer, blinking groggily as she opened shades and threatened to sing "Rise and Shine." This was actually kind of fun in a "whoa-I-just-woke-up-in-the-wayback-machine" sort of way.

And the other small pleasure that I find sustaining is the ability to find pretty much anything on YouTube. I'm just a few search terms away from reliving the glories of the World Cup, which can do wonders to banish the cold. But today's big YouTube score is the following short film called Foutaises, by Jean-Pierre Jeunet. Its English title is Things I Like, Things I Hate, and it features Jeunet's cult actor Dominique Pinon (brief sidebar: I once saw Pinon at Zuerich airport. He is very short and, um, distinct-looking). It's all about small things that one hates and likes, a theme that found its way into Jeunet's Amelie and A Very Long Engagement.



It's only about seven minutes long. Enjoy. I'm off to pop some bubble wrap.

Nothing says "I love you" like a dead rodent.

Today, I received the best valentine ever. His Gusness killed a mouse and laid it at my feet. It was very romantical. I plied him with Greenies, and he spent the rest of the afternoon lolling on his favorite perch looking pleased with himself.

I'm pleased that Gus is taking another crucial step towards becoming a real cat. We'll be working on the outdoors business more when it gets warm again. There's no convincing him to go out in the cold, much less the snow.

Oh yeah, we've had a metric shit-ton of snow. I don't know if anyone heard any excitement over the mystifying appearance of winter weather in February. It came, saw, and bitch-slapped us around a little. The snow is all light and feathery, which makes for easier clearing, but it's been falling fast pretty much all day.


Even more exciting than the first proper blizzard of the winter, is the first Brooklyn-New Hampshire visit of 2007. Carson has dusted off his best black turtleneck sweater in anticipation. I expect there'll be a fair amount of eating, drinking, lounging... and perhaps a little romping in the snow?

And I think I speak for everyone when I say that we'll wish Toby were her.

That's right. All of the tea.

Jeez. It's pretty chilly out there. Am I right?

I have to say, I hate being a slave to the car, but it sure makes the recent frigid temperatures a little easier to take.

Anyway, you should all congratulate me on surving my bout with the Norwalk Virus, or as we of Harlow's have come to call it, "The Double Dragon" (I'll allow you to explore the possible genesis of that name on your own). It was pretty fucking horrible. Hayley nicknamed me "Corpsey," and everyone in my family offered sympathy and bottles of Coke, all whilst vocally hoping to avoid infection themselves (thanks Mohans!).

"But wait Sheena," you say, "Isn't Norwalk Virus that terrible gastrovomititus thingy that people get on cruises?"

Yes. Yes it is.
"But you're in New Hampshire, right?"

That is correct.

"WTF?"

Well, children. New Hampshire is a lot like a cruise ship. Except fewer people, warmer clothing, and fewer Broadway medley stageshows. Also our soundtrack isn't Iggy Pop.... Yeah, I don't know why Norovirus is running rampant through Southwestern New Hampshire. I expect that I got it because the dirty dirty public comes into the restaurant and spews their diseases all over innocent little me. And then they leave me a lousy tip for my trouble. My handwashing vigilance has increased hundred-fold in the aftermath, let me tell you.

After spending several days weak as a kitten and exhausting all of the HBO OnDemand offerings, I was back in action in time to bowl very badly at our staff holiday gathering (late because we serve the rest of y'all at your staff holiday gatherings) and drink several very restorative Molsons. Between frames, I watched those Pats lose spectacularly in an almost Red Soxly fashion. I hear some people in New England were upset for a few minutes, but now we're mostly all over it. It's my understanding that many of the Patriots were suffering from the Double Dragon whilst preparing for the game against the Colts. If that's true, I must say I feel sorry for them. It was a Herculean labor not to weep like a child when faced with climbing a flight of stairs, so I can't imagine attempting to play that there "American football."

In other news that matters just to me, my iPod has recovered from the iNorwalk iVirus or some such. The cure? Bridget hit it. A lot. And then it came back to life. Huzzah!

Stay with me and next week you'll find a long-overdue post of the instructional variety.

Ground Control to Major Tom

Tomorrow I leave the newly-blue state of New Hampshire for the delights of Brooklyn. Though I'm sad I didn't have my shit together to get down there to coordinate with Toby's visit, I'm excited to visit with all y'all New York folks.

I will have presents, an oil-changed car, bells on, etc. I will NOT have a working ipod or a New York Driver's License.

Yes, there have been changes afoot up here. First off, you may have heard, the Democrats have taken full control of New Hampshire. House, Senate, Governor. This is the first time the Dems have been in charge across the board since likely before the Civil War in this state. Crazy, no?

Oh, and then there's the thing about Democrats taking control in Congress. That's pretty cool, too.

In more inane news, I'm now a registered NH voter, licensed NH driver, and I have a notarized document indicating that I'm a legal resident of New Boston, which my dad had to sign at the Town Clerk's office. New Hampshire needed to be absolutely sure that I'm not a terrorist. Today I waited in line for forty-five minutes to swap my NYS license. I started to get pissed off about the wait and then remembered that I had to wait over three hours to swap my old NH license at the Herald Square DMV.

So, tomorrow afternoon it'll be me, Ginger, and good old I-84.