flood warning

I already thought it was odd that people here water their lawns until they are muddy bogs, but I thought that perhaps it was just an extreme overprotective measure taken to defend lawns against the perpetual Californian drought.

Apparently not.

It has been raining on and off almost every day for the past two weeks, sometimes torrentially, and enough so that even the pelicans have had enough, which is more rain than I've seen since moving here. Even so, the lawn watering continues. The other night, I took my dog out for what I thought was a well-timed walk, just as the rain let up. As we went to the back of my building, there was no water coming from above, but the sprinklers turned on, spraying him from below.

Really? Really?? The last two weeks of rain weren't enough for the grass? The big mud slicks (lawns, whatever) need more water?

been there, done that

We drove to and from Vegas, a total of 1,109 miles.

Being in Vegas was like being on a human safari. Who are these people, these people who bleach their big hair and wear rhinestones and hooker boots, who wheel their strollers full of squalling children through crowds of scantily-clad cocktail waitresses and boozy gamblers at midnight in a smoke-filled casino? Who are these people who budget only 70 minutes to get through a four course (plus amuse-bouches and petits fours) dinner at a Michelin two-star restaurant, including the time it takes to get seated, order, and pay the bill? Who are these people who spend ten minutes poring over their tab at an upscale bar and still do the math wrong? Who, when asked by their dinner companions what truffles are, respond, "They are really expensive, and pigs dig them out of the dirt"? These are the people who go to the Bodies exhibition, an attraction that you would think would have more appeal for a slightly more learned and scientifically-oriented crowd, and yet they fill the guest book with comments from "Annoymis" (we assume they meant "Anonymous") about how the dissected cadavers are proof that man did not create man, but God created man (did anyone ever argue that we were created by humans?), and who fill two pages with non sequiturs about gymnastics (there was nothing in the exhibit about gymnastics).

These are also the people who, according to the billboards and publicity we saw, voted Carrot Top "Entertainer of the Year" and "Comedian of the Year." He plays in the same hotel as "Menopause: The Musical."

As I said, Vegas is a strange, strange place full of strange, strange people. Only in America would you find a place like Vegas, and so much of Vegas makes you think, "Only in Vegas..."

The drive to and from Vegas was long, but punctuated with some notable sights. Although we didn't make it to see the largest can of fruit cocktail, the biggest building shaped like a bulldozer, the Cowboy Museum and Library (which has what may be the world's largest collection of branding irons), we did make it to see:

The world's biggest shoe, which was surrounded by what appeared to be the world's largest concentration of check cashing shops, bail bond operations, and liquor stores. We didn't stay long.

The world's tallest thermometer -- that was a bonus that we spotted on the road. We also saw exits for Zzyzx Road and Twenty Mule Team Road. And there was a town called Boron. Small things become exciting after nine hours on the road.

The world's biggest Swedish coffeepot didn't seem all that Swedish, although there were Swedish-themed bars and gift shops nearby, in a town that is vaguely Swedish-ish, so we think that it just wanted to fit in. We barely made it in time to see the world's largest box of raisins before it got dark. There are no raisins in it anymore. So it's really just the world's biggest raisin box now. It's at the headquarters of Sun-Maid. There was a gift shop. It sold raisins, but it also sold things like penguin decorations and scented candles. I'm not sure if they thought there was some kind of raisin-kitsch synergy that they would be tapping into in their gift shop. It didn't work on us, but maybe there's a big raisins-and-doodads market out there, and if so, it would have to be another case of "Only in America."

oh, the places we'll go

Last year around this time, I went on a little road trip around Northern California, and saw things that made me think, "Only in America..." A museum dedicated to hand fans, an alley covered in gum, a "castle" made out of junk.

This year, we had more ambitious plans, and were hoping to go to Rangiroa for some diving, but alas, it was not meant to be.

We are making more modest plans to take a road trip to Las Vegas (which is an "Only in America" kind of place by itself), with some stops along the way.

Some of the things we might see (all of which are in California, by the way):

• The world's biggest shoe
• The world's biggest Swedish coffeepot (I like that it's narrowed down to a particular kind of coffeepot)
• The world's biggest box of raisins
• The world's biggest can of fruit cocktail
• The world's biggest building that looks like a bulldozer
• The Cowboy Memorial and Library

My parents went to Costa Rica, and my sister is in Mexico, but we all know that my holiday plans are the ones everyone will be jealous of, right?

Happy holidays, and may the last days of your year be safe, healthy, and filled with large boxes of raisins.

fa la la la la

I haven't been Christmas shopping in a brick-and-mortar store in the States for at least six years. This year and last year, I was living in the States, but my extreme dislike of annoying crowds and my paralyzing laziness add up to me doing almost all of my Christmas shopping on Amazon, and now that I live in the suburbs, I don't really wander into random stores the way I used to when I was living in New York or Boston. For the four years prior to that, I was living outside of the country, and did my shopping online or in Switzerland (and yes, if I bought it in Switzerland, I schlepped it all back in my luggage).

I think that my lack of in-store shopping is the reason that I really haven't heard Christmas carols in years. They pop into my head now and then, but I haven't been immersed in, bombarded with, and assaulted by Muzak, pop, or classical renditions of all those classic and not-so-classic hallmarks of the holiday season.

So much the better. Thinking back, it seems like the only three songs I ever heard while out and about in November and December were "Jingle Bell Rock," "Jingle Bells," and "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree."

Upon further reflection, however, this makes no sense at all. Do you realize just how many Christmas carols and Christmas songs there are? I've been annoying my boyfriend like crazy by singing as many as I can remember, as they come to me, and off the top of my head (and this is after at least six years of not hearing them, so there must be even more that I'm forgetting), these are the songs I can think of:

• Jingle Bells
• Jingle Bell Rock
• Hark the Herald Angels Sing
• O Holy Night
• Silent Night
• Away in a Manger (American version)
• Away in a Manger (British version -- yes there are two entirely different tunes for the same set of lyrics; this is true for several carols that I know of, and probably many more that I don't, and the first time I found out about it, it was like I had suddenly discovered a parallel universe that I had thought was the same as mine, but was only very similar, with strange but subtle differences, like Christmas carols with the same words but different melodies, and sweaters, apartments, and elevators that are called jumpers, flats, and lifts)
• O Little Town of Bethlehem (American version)
• O Little Town of Bethlehem (British version)
• It Came Upon a Midnight Clear (American version)
• It Came Upon a Midnight Clear (British version)
• Deck the Halls
• Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
• Little Drummer Boy
• Frosty the Snowman
• The Christmas Song ("Chestnuts roasting...")
• I'll Be Home for Christmas
• Blue Christmas
• O Come All Ye Faithful
• Angels We Have Heard on High
• God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen
• Twelve Days of Christmas
• Good King Wenceslas
• The First Noel
• Carol of the Bells ("Hark how the bells...")
• Ding Dong Merrily on High
• Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree
• Do You Hear What I Hear
• O Christmas Tree
• We Wish You a Merry Christmas
• Christmas is Coming ("Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat...")
• Silver Bells
• Let It Snow
• Here Comes Santa Claus
• What Child Is This
• Here We Come A-Wassailing

So that's well over 30 songs that I was able to come up with off the top of my head at least six years after hearing them. So why do stores only ever play three of them?? Or have they gotten better about this? If they played more songs and got rid of some of the crowds, I would perhaps do less of my shopping online, but I'm guessing that it's still the same...

careful what you wish for

After living in New York, where no student apartment is big enough to hold a washer and dryer, and Zurich, where you're lucky if your laundry day isn't scheduled a year in advance, I was very excited to move into an apartment with what I thought was the Holy Grail of real estate -- "W/D in unit."

It is convenient, except that my washer sounds like it is violently assaulting my dryer every time it goes into spin cycle. Repeatedly. For long periods of time. My dog is so scared of it that he won't eat when the washer is in spin cycle, and my dog would probably eat during Armageddon.

I also can't do laundry when anyone comes over to hang out, because it gets kind of uncomfortable, sort of in the same way that watching a rental movie with your parents when the main characters start making out is uncomfortable. All awkwarded up, and nowhere to go.

I really hope that my downstairs neighbors, who complain when we play Rock Band with the volume pretty low, know to blame it on my crazy washing machine.

a year and a half later

So it's been almost a year and a half since I posted this and this. I've had a garbage disposal in my kitchen sink for that entire time, and I use it, I do, but I am still highly suspicious of it.

For a while, I thought this suspicion was something to work on and get rid of, but upon further reflection, I realized that I think I will always be suspicious of garbage disposals, the same way I would be suspicious if they started building wood chippers, chainsaws, or rabid pit bulls into sinks.

Yes, it might be a quick way to get rid of food waste, but that doesn't mean that I won't get a little nervous each time I turn it on and it devours food scraps while making that hideous noise, or worry that it will mysteriously activate and eat my hand when I have to reach into the blackness and gingerly fish around for a rogue spoon that has disappeared into its maw.

indian summer, california style

It's late September, and the weather forecast for tomorrow says high of 99 F (37 C). I love the warm, sunny weather we get here, it's probably my favorite thing about California, but that's a bit extreme, especially for September.

The weather seems confused this month.

It rained last week. Water fell from the sky. I hadn't seen rain in months, and was so dumbfounded that it didn't even occur to me that I could stay dry by getting an umbrella. I just walked through the rain and wondered why it was raining in September.

It only took me a year of living here to forget about the five years in Boston, four years in New York, and four years in Zurich (a combined thirteen years, not to mention the nine years in Delaware before that, plus the seven years in Houston and Denver in my earliest, mostly unremembered years), when rain could come at any time of year.

the perfect life

If I could cut-and-paste my life into the perfect patchwork existence, I would take the pieces as follows:

• The responsibilities (or lack thereof) of Denver and Houston (oh, to be four years old again)
• The real estate prices (or just prices in general) and tax-free shopping of Delaware
• The winter snowstorms and unlimited sleep schedule (ah, college...) of Cambridge
• The food, bars, culture, convenience, energy, randomness, stores, people (I love New Yorkers), population density (I like the cozy anonymity of crowds), and 24-hour availability of public transportation of New York
• The public transportation (the infrastructure, not the hours), cleanliness, stress-free lifestyle, travel opportunities, dog-friendliness, gummy candy, cheese, chocolate, and walking-distance proximity to friends of Zurich
• The job, weather, fresh produce, and proximity to family of Mountain View

typical bay area experience

Dear Comcast,

My rate went up, and I called to cancel -- I would never pay $110 a month for something I could get for half the price somewhere else. I was offered a new rate. The new rate is higher than the old rate, but low enough to make me too lazy to switch.

I am getting the same services for a higher price. My bill, however, is higher than either price, because it was pro-rated according to the unacceptable $110 rate. I asked the supremely unhelpful Carolina (employee #0531) and her equally unhelpful, ruder supervisor Randy (#0641) to change the statement amount or to give me a credit on the next statement to make up for the difference. They unhelpfully noted that the amount is higher because it's prorated. I KNOW, BUT IT'S PRORATED ACCORDING TO AN UNACCEPTABLE RATE THAT I TRIED TO CANCEL.

I am getting the same service.

When the rate went up to $110, I tried to cancel.

I was offered a new rate.

For this bill, I should pay the old rate or the new rate, NOT the rate that would have made me cancel. "It's pro-rated" makes no difference. If I won't pay $110 per month, why would I pay the same amount on a daily basis?

You claim to be Comcastic. What does that mean? Have Randy and Carolina ever made anyone feel Comcastic? I'm guessing no. I suppose they were more memorable than other CSRs, because they were so unhelpful. Is that what Comcastic means? Memorably unhelpful?

In the past, I have written glowing emails and letters to companies whose products and service I loved. Comcast is not one of them. It's pretty astounding how many disgruntled customers you have. Please add me to the list, unless you have a better idea.

mountain view wins on this one

I've recently become a big fan of the Mountain View farmer's market, which is open every Sunday, all year, only two blocks from my apartment. The downside is that it is only open until 1 p.m., which requires that I wake up and leave the house in time to get there before it closes (which, if you know me, is not that easy). I complained about this a little bit until I remembered that the stores aren't even open on Sundays in Zurich, and that the farmer's market in New York was not within walking distance of my apartment.

One thing I like about the farmer's market is that you can sample most of the produce before you buy it. It's all local stuff, and probably picked only a few hours before you taste it. I'm a big fan of "try before you buy."

The other thing I like is the produce itself. It's all delicious, because it's all in season, and all picked only once it's ripe. They have everything -- lettuce for my BLTs, fresh eggs, blueberries, cheese, bread, pretty much anything that is currently ripe in northern California is laid out on tables, ready to be chosen, taken home, and eaten. The white peaches are amazing, and somehow impossibly sweeter than canned peaches. The strawberries are enticingly red and shiny.

But two things in particular make me love the Mountain View farmer's market more than any old market or supermarket.

Pluots and heirloom tomatoes. Sun-ripened, juicy, and delicious enough to warrant less sleep on Sunday morning.

Sorry, Zurich, you may have my favorite airport, excellent lake access, and the most efficient public transportation system, but you never gave me pluots. New York, I miss your convenient delivery services and infinite possibilities, but heirloom tomatoes never appeared on my doorstep or at a museum or bar while I was there. Do you have any idea what you're missing out on? Maybe it's best if you don't, because it would be pretty hard to know about such things and live without them.