Good times

The new bed is phenomenal and Rooster is fanastic. He and Banjo were running around like maniacs earlier—they’re already as thick as thieves. It’s a whole new era of comfort and clownery in our household. What could be better?

I love being right

I’ll admit I’m a bit of a bleeding heart. Well, OK. It may be worse than that. It’s not unusual for me to cry during the news, and I’m often outraged about the injustice of this, that, or the other thing. And granted, there is a lot to be outraged about in this day and age. But one thing I’m generally not is a sucker. I’ve spent enough time in big cities, and I’m enough of a skeptic (even with my sympathetic tendencies) that I can usually smell a con a mile away.

Despite all of this, I did something when we were in San Francisco a few months ago that Jim was CONVINCED was suckertastic. We were walking through North Beach after dinner one night when we noticed a woman pleading with a hostess outside of a restaurant. She briefly tried to get our attention with an “excuse me” but since Jim and I were chatting I didn’t notice until we had almost passed by. That’s when I heard the woman say “See? No one will listen to me!” and I promptly turned on my heel and asked “What is going on?” The woman was clearly distressed. She was holding her cell phone in one hand and some kind of ID badge in the other. She said that she was in town for a conference, and had gotten out of cab and accidentally left her purse and wallet behind. She called the cab company and the driver was going to deliver the purse to her hotel, but she had no money and thus no way to get back to her hotel. She was totally unfamiliar with San Francisco, and was completely freaked out because no one would believe her story.

At this point, even though Jim was standing behind me I could tell he was rolling his eyes. And sure, tales like this are a common way for cons to prey on unsuspecting or kind-hearted people. But there was something different about this woman. She was genuinely upset, and almost on the verge of tears. And she was shaking. I also thought it was interesting that she had approached hostess at a restaurant, because I doubted someone who “worked” the area would do something like that. They would more likely target people who looked like tourists or suckers. And maybe we looked like both, but the hostess didn’t.

And then I though, “What if this were my mom?”. What if my mom were in an unfamiliar city and she left her purse in a cab, and no one would help her? I can imagine it happening. That’s when I pulled open my wallet. I only had a five and a twenty, so I gave her the twenty and told her it should get her back to her hotel. She thanked me profusely and asked for my business card so that she could pay me back. I actually ended up writing my home address on a card because I had already quit my job. I wished her good luck, and we headed down the street she thanked me again and called me an “angel”.

As soon as we were out of earshot, Jim said “I cannot BELIEVE you just did that! Look—she just passed by a cab!” We turned around and watched her walk towards a bar. I responded with “Well, maybe she’s going to ask for directions or something?” But doubt crept in. Jim kept on, saying, “Sorry, but you just got taken. She’s off to get drunk on your dime”. And I started to believe that he was right. And I felt kind of sick because I really do trust my feelings and I’m almost never wrong. How could I be such an idiot? But some part of me still felt like I did the right thing. There were too many signs that pointed to the woman being genuinely in a tough spot.

After we got home a few weeks went by and Jim said “I think we can rest assured that you’ll never see that twenty dollars again”. And I thought he was probably right. Even more annyoing than the loss of twenty smackers was the fact that my instincts must have failed me. How disillusioning.

Well guess what arrived in the mail last week? A letter from the woman in San Francisco. It was postmarked in Oregon. She explained that after her trip to SF she unfortunately lost her job. But she wanted to write and thank me for helping her during a tough time. She said she’ll never forget her “angel”, and that she’s hoping to have a permanent address by the time I receive her Christmas card. I ran outside to the side yard where Jim was working on a landscaping project and yelled “You’re never going to believe this!” And he didn’t. He was amazed.

I’m so glad I trusted my gut and helped that woman out. Even if she never repays me, I’ll know I did a good deed. And I’ll have the satisfaction of being right. Again. Not that I’ll rub it in or anything.

Plush-a-rific

This little beauty will be arriving at our house on Saturday. Which is, coincidentally, the same day that a certain Rooster is going to join the fold.

It’s called the Vail Pillow Top and it is deeeeeelightful. Said pillow top is composed of four layers of latex. Which sounds weird, right? And kind of kinky? I mean, I had not heard of a latex bed until last week when Jim informed me that his brother and sister-in-law have one. An image of something black and shiny immediately popped into my head. But it’s nothing like that. Apparently they just did a story on NPR about how they are the latest thing. The feel is similar to the memory foam, but softer. And all-natural. And the most comfortable freaking thing you’ve ever experienced. We hadn’t planned on spending as much as we did, but after I tried out the Vail, there was no turning back. How could I be expected to accept a mere Durango mattress after I had experienced the Vail?

It took a little convincing. And pleading. There was no disagreement about the level of plushness, but Jim isn’t one to part easily with money. After much eye batting and rationalizing on my part, he finally gave in and agreed that we could go for the gold. Whoo-hoo!

Oh, and did I mention that we’re upgrading to a King? AND that we just got new bedroom furniture? I seriously won’t know what to do with myself in such a comfortable and coordinated setting. I feel like a genuine grown-up.

Deck the walls

A fun wall sticker design competition on a German site. Love the gorillas.

Give me an “R”!

Banjo has been acting a little “off” since sweet little Maggie passed on over a month ago. He’s extra clingy and completely demolishes his crate bedding when we leave him. So we decided it might be time to add a new member to our household. Meet Rooster.

His description says: This little guy is an absolute expert at lap sitting and snuggling! He loves everyone, is not skittish, and rarely barks.

Perfect, right? He is available for adoption through the same organization that rescued Banjo. In fact, he has the same foster parents. They are sending us an application tonight, so I’m thinking that if all goes well, he could be joining us as soon as this weekend. I am beside myself with glee!

International backgammon

Here’s a fun fact: Jim has a slight addiction to online backgammon. Or I should say, Jim has a slight addiction to improving his RANKING on a particular online backgammon site. He refuses to play anyone with a lower standing, and he gets really ticked when he loses. In fact, he’ll keep playing the same person until he wins. I’ve never been a big backgammon fan, so I don’t understand the appeal. I know there is skill involved, but luck plays a big role too. The only interesting part about it to me is the fact that most of the players on the site are from the middle east. I know this because each user name is associated with a flag from their home country. Anyway, I guess the high percentage of middle eastern players makes sense because that’s where backgammon originated. But it’s odd to think you’re playing a game with someone half-way around the world in say, Israel.

I was recently waiting for Jim to finish a game so that we could go run some errands. I plopped down next to him on the couch, and watched as the game progressed on his laptop. He happened to be playing some guy from Turkey. Some guy with a real attitude. There’s a small chat screen at the bottom of the game, but most players don’t bother to use it. Well, this punk was full of comments. Insults, mostly, like “Are you an amateur?” or “False!” which we assumed meant he thought a particular move was ill-advised. After a little while he quipped, “Americans don’t know how to play this game”. That’s when I started to get irritated. I mean, I know we have a bit of an PR problem overseas, but generalizations annoy the hell out of me.

I pointed out that the guy was being an real ass because Jim was, for the most part, ignoring the stream of comments. He responded “whatever” and continued playing. Then a query popped up. “How old are you? I’m 42.” And I told Jim he HAD to respond, preferably with something ridiculous. “Tell him you’re 77!” So he did. And then the guy asked, “Man or woman?” And I yelled, “Oh, you HAVE to tell him you’re a woman! A 77 year old woman!” So he did. And we started cackling. Because we were sure this guy thought he was playing some 25 year-old American punk, and we had just turned the tables on him.

Then Jim felt the need to follow up with “You don’t have many nice things to say. In American, people respect their elders”. I almost fell off the couch, I was laughing so hard. And the best part? The guy did a complete 180. He started saying things like “I like Americans, I just don’t like George Bush.” After that he was sweet as pie. Saying “Oooohh!” when Jim got a lucky role, and generally being pleasant and encouraging. Right up until the end when he won. But it WAS close.

So if anyone is ever bugging you online, just tell them you’re a 77 year old woman. It makes them feel guilty about talking smack, and the backpedaling is a delight to behold.

Gangsta lean

With his mind on his money and his money on his mind . . .