Castaway, Boston version: I've gone native

When it's the closest thing you've seen to a stick in months...

Remember Tom Hanks in Castaway? After he crashes, we see his first clumsy attempts at survival. Then, we next see him amazingly buff and skilled, in the way that one becomes when one is, let's face it, stuck in some situation in which there is nothing to do but make the best of it.  

Well, it appears that I've finally accepted the fact that Mom and Dad are never going to retire and move to Florida...which means I've become a true New Englander.

So pass me another icicle, and this time make it a big one.

... the instinct is to chomp.

Get me out of here! Or, good reasons to love winter

Time's up for winter.

One thing about those hardy New Englanders: they love to complain about the weather.

With good reason, I might add.

They'll talk about moving to Florida or some other completely improbably place, sure, but they won't do it.

Because in the next breath, which they might hold until our first really warm day, in, say, July, they'll say: "I love the change of seasons." Unless they only mean the one day that mud season (spring to most of you) changes to summer, I can't think of a more disingenuous statement.

All I can say is: being a South Carolinian by birth, saved from certain tragedy by being shipped up to the lovely Commonwealth of Massachusetts and most particularly, my seemingly never-ending selection of choice sleeping spots, you've gotta take the bad with the good.

Right now, I'm going to betake myself up into guest bedroom #1, then slither down into my cozy armchair in the living room before being served my next meal. Bulking up on calories is one way to get through winter, and I'm doing my part.

This is just to say II

I highly recommend Great Hill Blue--and Mom's quiches.

That I have saved you the trouble
of making those quiches
about which you were so anxious

the folks at Great Hill Blue
would be pleased
I enjoyed their cheese

forgive me
I was hungry
and you were careless.

Super Bowl commercials: a dark and scary night

If only I had slept through the Super Bowl, I wouldn't
be having nightmares now.

Really! Does almost every commercial have to be so frightening and dark? I was happy to see that the adorable puppy-Clydesdale bromance return, but it turned into a nightmare! That early spot turned out to apparently set a trend for terrifying, dark, disturbing ads.

Here's how warped things have gotten:
Budweiser vp Brian Perkins told People magazine:
"Lost Dog" is a heartwarming tale about how true friends always have your back."
Heartwarming? A puppy becomes lost and is threatened by a terrifying wolf? But wait, there's more. Perkins also said: "It's a storyline that people of all walks of life can relate to." 
Hmm.. let's see. Anytime I'm frightened, a bunch of burly Clydesdales, or facsimiles thereof, will come to my rescue? Or maybe a evil-eyed lion surrounded by a tribe of completely scary silver-clad robot chesspeople? Oh, wait. That was the halftime show.
Used to be, the only harm these ads did was to make you groan with how stupid they were. Now, you need body armor, not to mention earplugs and a blindfold.

Better yet, I should have slept through the whole thing.

Wellesley thief nabbed in purse-snatching

Mine!

Ok, so I nabbed a purse from a two-year-old. It wasn't my first heist, and I can tell you, it won't be my last.

I'm big, but I'm quiet. Stealthy, you might say, and you'd be right.

Once I snuck up behind an unsuspecting little girl walking with her dad on the boardwalk at Wellesley College. She was holding a cattail, just walking along, having a super day. Well, I snatched that cattail right out of her hand, before she or Mom or anyone else even knew it was happening.

I tried to make my getaway by jumping off the boardwalk. I forgot, however, that I was on leash as always, and Mom was not interested in plunging into the marshes.

The important thing, in both robberies, was that nobody got hurt, nobody cried and no damage was done to either object. I'm a gentleman robber, no doubt about that.

This is just to say

Every kitchen needs a recipe tester.

That the gingerbread
which you had baked for the neighbors
and worried was not good enough
was a little dry.

Forgive me
but it could have used
some
whipped cream.

Bruiser looking for a fight attacks Sleepwalker's dog

"Stray Dog" hits the streets of Manhattan.
Photo: Supertouchart.com

Look, the guy couldn't have been too smart. When I saw the Tony Matelli dog sculpture at Wellesley College, I sniffed it just to be sure, then moved on, and never was fooled again.

But a giant pit bull terrier mix at Broadway and 73rd in New York City was fooled. Mom and Dad, in town to support their beloved Boston College Eagles in the Pinstripe Bowl, recognized Matelli's "Stray Dog" by the subway stop. The beast, bent on picking a fight, rammed his square snout at top speed into the dog. He bounced off, bruised and shaken. Passerby laughed, and lots of them petted the fake pup.

The city rejected Matelli's "Sleepwalker" piece as part of a public art display and went for the dog instead, apparently put off by the ruckus caused by the sculpture of a paunchy, balding guy in his skivvies.

About the installations, the Times noted: "Parks Department officials thought better of putting Tony Matelli’s “Sleepwalker,” a realistic sculpture of a nearly naked man...which recently caused a debate on the Wellesley campus in Massachusetts, where students protested it as stalkerlike."

Despite the terrier's best efforts, "Stray Dog" hasn't been vandalized. Mom and Dad reported that lots of people petted the fake pup. And it turns out that "Sleepwalker" is on display, just not stalking subway riders. He's safe on a rooftop at Marlborough Chelsea on W. 25th, where artsy types don't seem bothered by him at all.