Visit

My mother doesn't notice when I switch channels on the TV. I'm flipping back and forth between CNN, that she insists on watching all night ("The Iranian president is about to talk soon!"), and Animal Planet, where they're showing 'Animal Cops Houston'.

The fact that she doesn't notice me switching channels right in front of her eyes has nothing to do with age or absent mindedness. Nope, though she's retired, she's really not that type of a senior.

It's simply because she's not used to American TV. Tons of commercials, fast paced editing, different shots and angles, and short-short-short news segments. Not exactly like TV in the old country, Sweden, where there are no interruptions and where the news anchors don't smile.

Anyway, this enables me to check out Animal Planet without protest. Flip to Animal Planet - Texan cops picking up abandoned dogs from parking lots - flip to CNN - Anderson Cooper reporting on new terror threats - flip back - Texan cops raiding a trailer park with roosters used for fighting - flip -Anderson Cooper talking about dangerous prescription drugs on the market - flip - Texan cops saving emaciated horses on a farm - flip - Anderson Cooper telling us that the Iranian president canceled his scheduled appearance on CNN. Huh? No interview after all this?

My mother concludes: "American news is really stupid."

She's flying back to Sweden in a couple of days which gives us a few more nights of CNN / Animal Planet.

Shield

Finally!! After months of paper work and other official red tape crap, I've been cleared to do ambulance work in New York City - EMT (Emergency Medical Technician).

I'm going to work with a medical unit uptown, upper west side and Harlem. I'm picking up my dark/navy blue uniform this week, and boots. I'm getting a badge also. How incredibly cool to have a badge. I can't wait.

Actually, the VP of Operations for this unit advised us not to get a badge just yet. Apparently there's some controversy over some EMTs that were mistakenly taken for cops when they flashed their badges. What kind of bullshit is that?

"Just wait until this controversy is over," the VPO said. Is he on crack?? We've done all this training and taken all kinds of abuse from the medic instructors and now he tells us we can't get our badges to show for it?? Screw him. That's all I have to say. I'm getting my badge. With my name and EMT number written all over it.

Kompis

The flashlights we used when we were running around late at night in the park looking for an escaped Bentley (our new cat) , we now use to look for his toy mice that he places under the couch. I'm flat on my belly with my nose on the floor reaching for these stupid things at least 20-30 times a day. Bentley does the same, crouches and sticks his arms under the couch, but he does not have the same reach as I do. So ultimately I'm responsible for rescuing the toy mice from the dark quarters under the couch. And Ben continues to play.

We decided Bentley needs a friend. Not some random friend that we abduct from the park (see prior post "Ben"), but a real friend that we acquire legally, a cat friend, an adopted cat friend. So we adopted a buddy for him, a rescue cat. He's here now. Amazingly, they get along great. Our two boys party all night and sleep all day.

Ben's new friend's name is Kompis.

Fine

People or friends will occasionally greet me with a "What's wrong?? You look upset..." and usually nothing is wrong. That's just my regular face. I really can't help it if my eye-brows and forehead signal a message of constant worry, those are just my features. I won't smile just to smile. A smile is what happens before you start laughing at somebody.

"Nothing's wrong, I'm fine, really" I'm forced to say, defensively.
"Woah, someone is grumpy...." or "someone didn't have their morning coffee...."
"I'm NOT grumpy!" I say, although at this point, I am.
But it's true. If I'm not ok, you will hear about it. I'm a talkative worrier. There will be no silence when I'm rocked out of equilibrium. Or if I'm hungry.

I'm not alone in having a deceptive face. Quite often I hear boyfriends ask girlfriends "Are you mad at me?" But then again, they probably are. Oh, and one time a friend of mine in college feigned illness, hoping she would get an extension on her term paper - "Yeah, you look awful, go home and rest" the professor responded. Why this tactlessness? Respect people, respect.

Pinot?

Drinking Merlot is no longer in my repertoire. I had to dump Merlot after watching "Sideways." Not that Merlot was ever my favorite wine. In bars and restaurants I go with Pinot, usually.

I have a great method of picking out wine at our local store. First of all, you have to consider the season. Not the year or season of the wine, but the season we're in right now. White wine goes with summer, and red wine goes with fall and winter.

The other most important thing to watch for is simply - what do other people buy? If I look at all the racks in the store and I see that one type of wine is almost out then, hey, that's gotta be a good one. I always go with that one. Maybe not so original, but safe. You really should never play around with drinks or food.

Price of course, cannot be ignored. I stick to the $10-dollar range, although an $8-dollar bottle makes me nervous (can't taste good) and a $13-dollar bottle pisses me off, especially after they add taxes and suddenly the bottle is $14.75. An $11-dollar bottle of wine is perfect, with a cool label, of course. It's got to have a nice label.

Butta'

There's a makeshift shrine commemorating the shooting victim from yesterday, on my sister's neighbor's stoop. Viveka is worried that the candles might accidentally cause a fire. And rightfully so. This is not an unreasonable source of worry, nor is it insensitive thinking. I'm talking from experience.

A few years back, when I rented a studio in Prospect Heights, people in the neighborhood lit candles outside the local firehouse. I believe this was around Sept. 11th in 2002, so it was a particularly emotional and sad anniversary. Sean and I were on our way to Buttafly, a bar on Washington Avenue, when we saw commotion and lots of smoke and flames at the firehouse. The candles from the shrine had put the firehouse on fire.

A bunch of neighborhood teenagers were trying to put the fire out.
"Fuck! What do we do??" one of them yelled as she moved towards the flames.
Another kid ran over to the entrance door and tried to open it, unsuccessfully.
"OPEN UP, OPEN UP!! THERE'S A FIRE!!!!" he yelled while banging his fists against the door. No response. "Shit they're not here!"
"Quick! We gotta call 911!" the girl yelled.
"What the fuck are we gonna say?!?!?! Yo, your firehouse is on fire?!?!?"

Then, the firetruck pulled up around the corner and the firefighters rushed out with their water hoses and put the fire out.

They nodded a silent 'thank you' to the kids and walked inside.

Sean and I defrosted from our deers-in-headlights-pose and continued our walk towards Buttafly.

Guns

Shooting on Clifton Place, Brooklyn.

I was studying molecular Biology around noon today when I suddenly heard a couple of helicopters fly by. That's a little odd, I thought to myself, usually they only come by if there's a crazy traffic-jam (like during the black-out) or something like that. Or at night, scanning for fugitives with those big head-lights. But I don't think I've ever seen that in this neighborhood, at least not on this side of the park or this time of day. Then, Viveka (my sister, she lives about ten blocks down) called.

Viveka: "There was a shooting on my street! In the building next door!!"
Me: "No way!! What happened?"
Viveka: "We just heard about seven shots and saw a guy run into the building that's being renovated next door, cops are here and the ambulance took out a guy who got shot from that building.... and then we heard shots again and all the cops ducked and took cover behind their cars, but the shots were from another block...."
Me: "Woah, you sooo can't tell mom about this"
Viveka: "I'll tear down the yellow crime-scene tape if it's still up by the time she comes over."

This story in the news: "Man Gunned Down In Front of Neighbors"

Ben

After I told Sean that I want a tattoo of Katzu (my old cat) all over my upper arm, like a sleeve, he suggested that maybe we should just get a couple of kittens.

And so, the very next evening we were the proud owners of a 6-month old oci-cat. Beautiful, silver-chocolate color, and with spots. He was a little shy, but he started exploring the apartment with great alacrity.

His previous owners came over to drop him off, two spunky Brooklyn-Russian girls in their twenties, one of them a student at Hunter, like me. They talked so much and so excitingly about the cat that neither Sean nor I could make any sense of what was being said. Except the thing about allergies, or something. Anywho, the kitten was cute and the Russian chicks liked us, so they left him here with us and said goodbye to their little boy.

Sean and I decided to let the kitten get comfortable on his own so I went out for drinks with my friend Jeannine while Sean stayed at home on the couch.

*** Here's where the drama begins ***
As I leave the bar a couple of hours later I see that I have 9 missed calls, and a text message. The text message is from Sean - "come back cat missing" Shiiiiiit!! I run home, Sean's not home but I see two huge flashlights on the table. I call Sean.

Me: "What happened???"
Sean: "He must have run out through that hole next to the air conditioner, I bought flashlights, go look for him outside!"
Me: "I'm already out looking, where are you?"
Sean: "I'm at Kinko's printing out 'missing' signs, I can't believe this."
Me: "Oh God, what are we going to do... I'll call Viveka to have her help us too."
Sean: "Ok, I'll be back soon also."

***The Chase***
I walk towards the deli on Dekalb so that I can ask the deli guys if they've seen a scared cat run by, and then..... on the other side of the street, next to the big tree, there he is!! He's just sitting there. I approach him slowly. He starts walking around the tree and into a little hole in the tree. We make eye contact. I reach my hand out to grab him... and off he goes, running at gepard speed down Dekalb. I dart after him in my flip-flops - the fastest I've ever run in any type of shoes - flipflopflipflopflipflopflipflop. A man sees us run by and he shouts "It ran into the park over there!!" I yell back "Thanks!" and duck into the park as well. At this point I can't see kitty anymore. I'm going through bushes and wild life. No cat. It's dark out and I'm hoping his eyes will reveal him if I hit them with the beam of my flashlight.

***The Capture***
I see Viveka and Sean entering the park, carrying flashlights, from the northeast corner. Back-up has arrived. We're combing through the area as if we're looking for a dead body in the Midwest.

What if we can't find him? What if we can't catch him? He runs so fast. And what will we tell the spunky Russians when they call to see how he's doing? We will have to lie. No way we can tell them we lost him.

"I GOT HIM!!!" Sean yells from the big lawn. He had thrown the flashlight to the ground as he made the capture and Viveka was running towards him. I only see their silhouettes in the dark - Sean with something in his arms and Viveka picking up the flashlight. I start running back to our apartment - "I'm gonna make sure everything is closed and safe!!!" I yell, flipflopflipflopflipflop.

***Great Relief***
The poor kitten is scared and looks traumatized, he's hiding in the corner by the bookshelf. "Poor little guy, it will probably take him some time to calm down." We put water, food and cat candy next to him. Maybe this will make him feel more at home.
Me: "I can't believe we caught him, what are the chances????"
Sean: "I need a glass of whiskey."
Me: "I'm sooooo relieved..!"
Sean, exhaling: "Me too..."

***The Twist***
We're sitting on the couch in complete post-trauma-whiskey mode, discussing what had just gone down. And how lucky we are in the end. Viveka insists that our new kitten looks like her cat a lot, and we remind her that our kitty is a pure breed an oci-cat, and hers is not.
Sean says he's ready to hit the sack "what a stressful evening, and I spent $40 at Kinko's for nothing."

I say, "maybe I should double check all the windows again...." and I pull back the curtain to give the window a push and a shake. There's kitty resting and stretching comfortably behind the curtain.

Me: "When did he move over here?"
Viveka: "What do you mean? He's still over here."
Me: "No, he's not, he's right here, look!"

Kitty jumps down from his spot on the window sill behind the curtain and walks over to the traumatized kitty by the book case. The cats start sniffing each other.

This is when we realize we've made a huge mistake. Why are there two cats in our apartment??

***And in the end...***
Well, turns out that our cat had never escaped at all. He had been in our apartment the whole time. Meanwhile, we spent hours in the dark park looking for him and at Kinko's, printing out signs.

But what's even worse, we had abducted some random cat from the park. Who was this little guy? We let this fellow back out, he probably lives with some of our neighbors. (Note: For those of you who are concerned about the abducted cat, he does live with a neighbor)

We named our cute pure-breed Bentley.

9/11

This year September 11th falls on a Tuesday, like it did in 2001. It was raining earlier and now it's cloudy, which makes this morning different from 2001. I'm working in lower Manhattan now, close to the trade center, hopefully today won't be too strange.

Scared

I'm trapped in the apartment because a big water-bug is roaming around outside in the hallway. What if it tries to enter our place?? I will die. Die, die, die. I threw three different books at it, but none hit the target. I don't know what to do, other than not go out there.

Roller

The other day I went biking next to Sean as he was running the lap around Prospect Park for exercise. It was pleasant to roll along effortlessly on my bike. Trees were green, kids were happy, dogs were cute.

As we neared the 9th street entrance, where all the bbq-ing usually takes place, a fiery woman on roller-blades headed right at us. She motioned with her arms and hands for me to move out of her way, and I followed her directions and swerved slightly to the left. "Pay the FUCK ATTENTION!!!!" she screamed at me as she swooshed by, legs kicking to the sides, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh.

Ok... that didn't go along with the perfect scenery I was taking in. But anyhow, I wasn't that bothered by it. Not to sound arrogant or anything, but I think if it came down to it, I could probably beat up any living girl on this planet in a fist fight. Except for maybe professional athletes, but if I practiced I could. It helps to think this way.