Anyone know if there's such a thing as a 24-inch BMX bike?

If there is, would that be a good gift for a 13 year old boy, or would it be better to buy a 24-inch All-Terrain (classified as mountain) bike?

Update: Ten Mile pointed me toward Providence Cycles where I found this explanation:

BMX: True BMX bikes started it all, back in the late sixties. They were knockoffs of motocross motorcycles and were designed for racing over jumps and around berms in the dirt. Pretty soon kids everywhere had them, racers or not. BMX bikes are still designed for racing, although you don't have to race to enjoy the light weight, speed and dirt worthiness of these machines. They usually have 20-inch wheels (24-inch-wheel "cruisers" are the exception), knobby tires, upright handlebars with crossbars, small saddles, long cranks and rear hand brakes. The frames are light and sturdy, and the higher the price, the lighter they get.

I guess that means I should have bought the Mongoose XR-75 I had my hands on last night. I may have to go throw some elbows, because there were very few 24-inch bikes at any of the stores I went to last night!

Do you realize juSt how many timeS a perSon uSeS the letter S in the average email or blog poSt? I don't have exact numberS, but I aSSure you it'S a helluva lot. Why am I fixated on thiS fine letter? Well, becauSe my laptop iS off being Serviced and I am uSing Soul Mate'S backup Dell. It juSt happenS to be miSSing an S key. That'S a gigantic pain in the aSS, let me tell you.

I don't think it would be aS bad for a pecker like Soul Mate. No, I'm not calling him a dick or an aSShole. I'm talking about how he typeS. He juSt uSeS two fingerS and peckS away. I am uSed to typing the way they teach you in typing claSS: with your fingerS planted on the A,S,D,F J,K,L,; keyS. I can't properly place the fingerS on my left hand becauSe of the little black nobby thingy Sticking up. That really meSSeS up my rhythm.

The problem waS worSe. In an effort to reattach the S key, Soul Mate popped off the Z and X keyS. Soul Mate conSulted Dr. Google and found thiS. He made a valiant effort, but he determined hiS fingerS were too fat for the job. Here'S a little glimpSe at what it requireS.











If you can't tell from the lovely illuStrationS, it would be difficult for anyone over the age of five to do thiS without the proper equipment. So I took the Sad little thing to a Non-Geek Squad Dude at Some factory direct computer Store in town. NGSD got out a little knife and went to town. He got the Z and X back on, but he diScovered a teeny, tiny little piece of the teeny, tiny white piece waS broken off, So it couldn't be reattached with it'S current thingamabob. NGSD went to the back of the Store to their "boneyard" and pulled a black thingamabob off another Dell S key. It didn't fit.

So now, I'm without my laptop, and I'm working on my huSband'S S-leSS backup laptop. Talk about bad karma? I'm apparently the kiSS of death for computerS right now. Keep yourS aS far away from me aS poSSible.

**By the way, I counted 89 SeS, not including thoSe two and the one in that THOSE and thiS one, too.

**IlluStrationS from wikihow.com.

Labels: Computers, Technology

My child is a morning person, a real live smile-ear-to-ear, peppy voiced, jump up and down, skip around the room morning person. I am not. My body doesn't really function at all until 9 or 10am. Some days, it takes my brain even longer than that.

Until he was two-ish, My Little Sunshine slept until 8am or later on a fairly regular basis. Some time after that, he could no longer contain his "energies," and he started waking up with the chickens.

When he wakes up at 6am, I typically take him to the bathroom and then carry him back to his bed. In my mind, if I let his feet hit the floor, his blood will start pumping and he won't sit down again until bedtime. So, after I put him back in his bed, I tell him he can't get up until the sunshine wakes up. That works most days, but on days like today, it's a miserable failure.

Today, the kiddo started getting his "energies" at 5:30ish when it was still quite dark outside. I took him to pee, carried him back to bed, tucked him in, and gave him the sunshine speech. It worked for about half an hour, and then My Little Sunshine was wide awake, ready to greet the day, and the actual sunshine, with all his might. I was defeated, and I knew it.

In reality, I had defeated myself for this morning some time around 10pm Friday night. It was like a snowball, rolling down hill, picking up mass and speed. I stayed up until 4am Saturday morning and got up at 7 with Sunshine. I took an extended nap Saturday afternoon because I could no longer keep my eyes open. That made it impossible to go to bed at a reasonable hour Saturday night. Plus, the Missouri Tigers actually have a football team this season that happened to BEAT KANSAS this weekend. You expect me to go right to sleep after that? No way.

Sigh.

I just realized after telling my son it's Library Day that it's actually not. It's Sunday, not Monday. I guess I now have license to lay on the couch all day and watch more football. Rrriiight.

Labels: My Little Sunshine

I had a real Desperate Housewives moment this weekend that just might result in me getting plowed down by a bus. If that happens, I probably deserve it. Send some love to my husband and son. It’s not their fault I’m a heartless bitch.

I was on a fun little outing with one of my friends and our kids. We were playing and chatting and have a great time. Somehow, we got to talking about a particular person and her children. I was in one of my classic Mama Rant moments, and if our children weren’t around, the F Bombs would have been flying.

This particular woman who was the subject of my rant is also a Desperate Housewife who allegedly does some sort of work from home. She has a boy and a girl who aren’t in school yet. The kids are always outside, mostly unattended. The children are rarely fully clothed, and if they are, they are usually in their PJs late into the afternoon. The younger one is often only in a diaper. They are almost never wearing shoes or coats, even on the rare days that have been in the 30s or 40s. Several times I have encountered these children, and I have asked about their parents. Each time, the children told me their parents were sleeping. It was the middle of the day.

So, here I was chatting with my friend, talking about this woman. I was not being nice. I was not mincing words. I was not considering anyone’s feelings. Next thing I know, I look up, and I see the little boy in the store, wearing the same clothes he had been wearing the day before. Just to his right is his little sister. The panic rises. I look around for mama. She’s not within earshot, but she sure as shit is there. They were apparently attending a birthday party in the same place at the same time that my friend and I were there with our kids. I have no idea if she heard me. When I pointed her out to my friend, she told me that the woman was not in the room when I was naming her the Parent of the Year. Still, it would be rather awkward if she had heard me, especially since our kids really like each other.

I fixed my eyes on a spot on the table and prayed she had neither seen nor heard me. She never looked my way, so I hoped I was in the clear. I encountered her later in the day, and she didn’t punch me in the face, so I’m assuming all is well.

I promise I’m not a total bitch. Sure, I’m bitchy enough to talk about her behind her back, but I don’t want to have a Wysteria Lane showdown or anything, and I certainly don’t want to feel awkward every time I walk out my front door. I’m also not willing to completely give up on the possibility that we could be friends. Maybe she’s going through a rough time, and she needs some help. Maybe she doesn’t spend every waking moment worrying about all the bad things that could happen to her kids, and, therefore, doesn’t see the need to watch over them like a hawk. Maybe my guilty conscience is forcing me to give her the benefit of the doubt.

It’s really unfortunate. This woman and her husband could be our kind of people. They like music, camping, and gambling. They’re about our age, maybe a few years younger. The fact is, though, when you become a parent, you often have to base your family-friend choices on parenting styles. If you’re going to hang out with people in family groups, and one set of parents lets their children run wild and the other set of parents is hyper-vigilant about everything, it doesn’t really work. You end up driving each other crazy.

The bottom line is I was being mean, and maybe-almost-sorta getting busted has made me feel badly about it. Had she not been there, I wouldn’t have given my meanness another thought. I would have relished in my meanness, and that has to earn me some bad karma points. I know it will happen, so I’m bracing myself. I need to go find some one-legged orphan with cancer to help or something. Maybe that will help balance the karma scales.

Labels: Parenting styles, Stupid Stuff I Do

My tampon rant will have to take a back seat to my technology rant for now. My laptop, which was my Christmas gift last year, appears to be in a coma. Until my husband returned with his backup laptop, I was parked in the HOV lane of the information super highway. I felt like I was getting rear-ended by every person illegally using the carpool lane on I-85 through Atlanta during rush-hour. My ass is sore today.

Soul Mate bought me my cute little Acer laptop shiny and new eleven months ago. It's served me well until recently. I started having keyboard problems a couple of weeks ago, but I thought it was because I wasn't shutting it down often enough.

Last night, I was catching up on my Bloglines reading when my son started yelling for me from his bedroom. I gently placed my laptop down on the couch and ran upstairs. I was there for no more than three minutes. When I returned, my laptop screen was black. Hmmmm. Control-Alt-Delete, Control-Alt-Delete, Control-Alt-Delete. Nothing. Power button off. Power button on. Nothing. Try all function keys that might reset something, anything. Nothing. Left side under the keyboard, flaming hot. Flaming. Strange green light on solid. Screen still black. Unplug. Re-plug. Nothing. Hold down power button for 12 seconds. Fan turns off. Nothing really becomes nothing. Turn power back on. Something revs up, but nothing really happens. Ugh. Wait 15 minutes. Try all this and more again. Nothing. Fuck.

Soul Mate gets home after midnight. Hi, honey. I love you. Smooch. My computer's dead. No, really. It's dead. Fuck. Husband tries all of the above plus repeatedly removing the battery. Eventually, some blue screen with a lot of blah, blah, blah comes up. Still nothing. I go to bed. He continues working on it.

Hours of internet research told Soul Mate that a shit ton of people have had this same problem with Acer laptops, but Acer won't admit it's a defect. That apparently means we're on our own trying to figure out how the fuck to fix this. I hate it when things don't work. Soul Mate loses his ever-loving mind. We're in a bad way right now.

I will be really sad if my little friend doesn't wake up from its coma. I have lots of pictures and writing that my dumb ass never made the time to back up. I know, I'm an idiot. I thought I would always have tomorrow. Now, if tomorrow never comes, I hope the little guy knows how much I'll miss him and all my shit he took with him. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Labels: Computers, Soul Mate, Technology

Dude warning: The following contains a frank and detailed criticism of feminine hygiene products. If such things make you squeamish, I suggest you stop reading now. Seriously, stop reading now.

Dear Tampax Incorporated,

I've been a loyal user of your product for about twenty years now, and up until a couple months ago, I have been very pleased with the results. Now, I am seriously torn about how to proceed with my feminine protection needs in the future.

I was particularly excited when some genius at your company decided to start producing the Tampax Multi-pak. If you haven't already done so, please provide that person with a raise and a healthy bonus. This particular packaging strategy has served two masters. I appreciate it that you've considered that we all have different flow days. You likely appreciate it that women like me have to buy a new box before we've used all the previous box. That's because my flow needs are more geared toward the Super size. I probably have a million of those little Lites to pass along to the women of some third world country if you'd like to start a new charity. With that said, I do use some of them, and they're nice to have around in cases of emergency. In other words, the leftovers have not discouraged me from purchasing the Multi-pak month after month.

I started having problems with your product a couple of months ago. The problems resulted in several of my favorite pairs of underwear ending up in the trash. This is very disheartening. I am sure the women in your company understand the attachment some of us feel toward our undergarments. After the second time this happened, I took a closer look at my tools, so to speak. It seems that someone at your company decided to go changing things without asking.

First, instead of the tightly compacted wad of cotton that used to work just fine, I found some silly mesh bullshit. While I'm sure this in some way saves you money in production, I doubt it will save you money in the long-run. You see, this shit simply doesn't work. Let me assure you that there's nothing Super about your Super tampons anymore.

I also noticed that your product is now shorter than it used to be. While I don't like to discriminate against anything short, I have to be discriminating about my feminine protection. I'm sure someone told you that this size change would be a good idea, but let me be a dissenting voice: it ain't working for me, folks.

I accidentally purchased the CVS tampons multi-pak that says "compare to Tampax" on the box. That accident has saved me from several, well, accidents, if you know what I mean. Those CVS delights in a cardboard applicator are exactly what I've been missing. It's what you used to give me before you went off the deep end with your little corporate experimentation.

I consulted your web site for further explanation of what the hell was going on with you. I hoped for some bullshit about how screwing with a good thing would help save our planet or something. No. That's not what you gave me. You gave me some silliness that tells me that you actually believe this thing works better. That's how I know you need to spend some time in rehab.

Here is what your web site told me about the changes:

"Tampax Cardboard tampons now have 3-way leak protection which helps protect you better than before. The new tampons have a shorter, wider tampon shape, a new Built-in BackupTM skirt, and a new Anti-Slip GripTM for easy insertion and precise placement.

Tampax tampons have been redesigned to fit your unique shape. The tampon now expands width-wise to help prevent leaks even better than before.

The new absorbent Built-in BackupTM skirt is a thin absorbent layer of material that helps pull fluid into the tampon, to help stop leaks before they happen."

Here's what I have to say about the new wider shape that's supposed to "help prevent leaks even better than before": BULLSHIT.

Here's what I have to say about whether the new Built-in Backup skirt (huh?) actually works: BULLSHIT.

Here's what I have to say about the new Anti-Slip Grip "for easy insertion and precise placement": BULLSHIT.

I hope I have stated myself clearly, because I do not want to provide you with incomplete or inaccurate feedback. I am a loyal customer, so I really want to continue buying your products. The problem is that I have learned I can get my "necessities" the way I like them from CVS, and they're cheaper. If you would like to continue to receive my business, I would like to urge you to dispense with this squatty, meshy, completely ineffective product and go back to the tried and true formula. If it ain't broke, you know what they say, right?

Sincerely,
Student of Life

Labels: Tampax, Women

My tour of Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, and South Carolina took more than nine hours with a kid and a dog. I lost track of the number of times my little man had to pee. He is his father's son, so this is to be expected I guess.

The trip also reminded me of why I never, ever want to live in Atlanta. I thought making it there by 3pm would mean I had avoided the nightmare that is the traffic of the Atlanta metro area. Wrong. Apparently rush hour is rush three hours.

Too tired to think now. Just glad to be home.

I may never come back to Jackson, Mississippi. Ever. Although I have some fond feelings for my parents' house here, I hate this fucking city. Hate it. It is a hell hole of the first order. After they move, I'll have no real reason to come back here, and I probably won't.

My mom is working part of today, so I am trying to find ways to kill time until she gets off. I went to the trouble of Googling "things to do in Jackson, Mississippi," and the things that came up didn't exactly jump off the page. I had to do something. I mean, you try to keep a three-year-old boy and a dog locked up in a house that has to be "show-ready" at any moment and see what happens. When everything HAS to be perfect, the dog WILL piss on the carpet (and did), the kid WILL spill an entire cup of milk on the floor (and did), and the toilet WILL overflow (yep, that also happened). I decided this morning I couldn't take the gamble of something getting royally fucked, so I put the dog in the garage and left.

I hate shopping. I get absolutely no pleasure out of spending money. I rarely see anything that I just have to have. Plus, it's a pretty tough task with a three year old in tow. He wants to touch everything he sees. Everything. However, I decided that going to the mall right down the street was a much better idea than trying to find something else to do in this god forsaken place. It was as torturous as I knew it would be.

Yesterday, I took my kid to the park where I used to make out with my boyfriend in high school. Back then, it was a patch of dirt with a couple swings. Now it has a bunch of nice playground equipment. I was surprised that I felt nothing as I walked from the parking lot to the area where we used to hang out. I didn't breathe in any warm air of nostalgia. I didn't see a younger me on the swingset, pumping my legs until my toes touched the trees. I didn't feel the beads of sweat pooling on the back of my neck from a hot Mississippi summer night. I was totally numb. Dead almost. I felt stifled. I felt the need to run away. Just like I did twelve years ago.

As I walked around today, I looked at people's faces. I was searching for some sort of recognition that they were, in fact, in hell on earth. No one but me seemed cagey, though. No one but me seemed desperate to escape this place. No one but me looked like they were about to cry at the thought of spending one more day here. I felt that way when I moved here with my family, and I felt that way the day I left here for good. I've felt that way every time I've been back since. This town has never been my home.

I am still searching for my Walden. I'm pretty close to it right now, but something's missing. Maybe it is the fact that we moved so much when I was growing up, or maybe I just don't bond very deeply with physical places. I'm not sure what it is. I've done it enough to know that you can always start over; you're never trapped anywhere. Some people choose to stay where they are simply because they don't know where else they would go. I'm not that person. I want to feel at home somewhere. I want to feel a part of a community. I believe there is a place in this world for everyone. I don't know where my place is, but I know I'll feel it when I'm there. Sometimes you just have to look around a little to find it.

Labels: Home, Jackson

My family and I took My Little Sunshine to his first college football game. Sunshine was in awe of just about everything (the game, the cheerleaders, the band, the people) until just before half-time, when he nearly collapsed he was so tired.

We left just before the big play of the game (an interception in the end zone that resulted in a touchdown), but it was still an awesome experience.



Sunshine's Poppy (my dad), made sure that he had a proper souvenier for his first live college sporting event. He went home with a Bulldog football. He liked it so much, he snuggled with it during nap time. I love that he's at the if-you-love-it-so-much-why-don't-you-marry-it phase. It's so freaking cute.

Labels: My Little Sunshine Memorable Moments

This is a follow-up to my previous post about the latest toy recall of a product made in China that can morph into GHB if ingested.

My friend D sent me some links that might be helpful for parents who are trying to figure out what the hell to buy their kids for Christmas this year. Eighty-percent of the world's toys are manufactured in China, which seems to have a love for lead paint that can kill your kids. That doesn't leave a lot of choices for those of us who don't like the "take-our-word-for-it,-our-shit-is-safe" philosophy of companies (yo, Mattel!) that have had numerous recalls for millions of toys and expect consumers to believe them when they say they promise to do better. Sorry, dudes. You lost my trust and my money.

Anyhoo, my friend and I aren't saying that American companies that produce all or most of their toys in the U.S. are 100% above reproach. We are simply saying that we have a little more faith that they won't contain lead paint, specifically. That distinction alone is enough for me right now.

Two companies in particular are taking advantage of the obvious marketing gold mine of Mattel's marketing nightmare. It's pretty easy to make China the bad guy and capitalize on the "Made in the U.S.A." label. Unless I learn otherwise, I'm buying, folks. I am looking for this label and sending my money in that direction. Perhaps I should have been doing this all along.

Here are the web sites:

First: Little Tikes has a nice little Made in the U.S.A. section with a whole lot of choices. You can search by category or age range.



Also, Step 2 does not claim to produce ALL its products in the U.S., but it has a handy little guide to help read the labels. They have three categories: Made in U.S.A.; Made in U.S.A. of U.S. and Imported Parts; and Made in (country of origin). The Step 2 web site has a description of each of these labels.

Again, I'm not endorsing these products; I'm just saying I am going to look there first when I start my Christmas shopping some time around December 15th or so. I am, afterall, the Queen of Procrastination Nation.

Labels: China, Made in U.S.A., Toy recall

I have to take My Little Sunshine to school in a few minutes, but I feel obligated to pass this along. Thanks to Chilly for reminding me about it!



The Consumer Product Safety Commission has announced yet another recall of yet another toy produced in China. This time, it's Aqua Dots, a product that has been pimped all over the globe. Aqua Dots have made it on many "Must Have" toy lists, and, as it turns out, they could kill your kids.

If your child puts this stuff in his mouth, it changes into GHB, the so-called date rape drug. G-freakin-H-B, people!!! Ingesting Aqua Dots can cause drowsiness, seizures, coma, and death. In the United States, two children who ate Aqua Dots went into unresponsive comas, according to the CPSC. Three Australian kids have also gotten sick.

CNN.com interviewed a New York-based toy consultant. Chris Byrne said, "This is something that they (Spin Master) could not have foreseen. This is an extremely hot toy. ... It's a little scary." SCARY?!? Understatement of the universe. Secondly, THEY COULD NOT HAVE FORESEEN THIS? If you're making products that are marketed to children, shouldn't they be tested first? Any dumbass who's ever been near a child knows that EVERYTHING goes in their mouths. EVERYTHING. It's how they explore their world. This is beyond ridiculous.

That same CNN.com article briefly mentions another recall of 405,000 toys made in China and sold in the U.S. Your best bet is to go check out the CPSC's latest recall releases.

I was considering taking a small break from my Mattel/Fisher-Price boycott to buy my kid something called a SmartCycle for Christmas. It's a really bad ass concept, and I have been debating this for weeks, privately, of course. Several people have seen this toy and told me it would be perfect for My Little Sunshine. I agree, but I'm not buying it. They will not get any more of my money. (I realize they're not involved in this latest recall...it's just gotten me all fired up again.)

Aqua Dots picture courtesy CPSC

Labels: Aqua Dots, China, Toy recall

After a two-and-a-half month investigation, the Greenville County Sheriff's Office has arrested a woman who told them a bushy-haired stranger killed her son. Tonight, investigators say there was no bushy-haired stranger, only a mother who strangled her child with her own hands. The father of seven year old Devon Epps says he always knew God would have his revenge on his son's killer.



My husband and I have been following this story obsessively. It is one of a few cases that have made us wish we were back in a TV newsroom. We wanted to be in the newsroom to fight for this story, since very few local media outlets were covering it at all. In the end, it appears members of the local media were right in their suspicions that Amanda Smith made up the story. However, I would still argue that there's always a chance they could have been wrong, and that is reason enough to cover the story.

Even though he is not "officially" a crime and courts reporter anymore, my husband is continuing to cover the story. He plans to continue to do so as this case moves through the legal system. Go check him out if you want to know more.

I won't try to cover the story that extensively here, but I will throw in some final thoughts. We now know from the arrest warrant that investigators believe Smith strangled her son. That means they believe she used her own hands and squeezed the life out of her little boy. She watched him die and felt the life leave his body. In the hours that followed, investigators believe she made up a story to cover up what she did, continued drinking and partying, and constantly updated her MySpace page. She reportedly even took down her original page and created a secret MySpace page when she realized many people, including investigators, were watching her activity on her old page. She was apparently using that new page to drum up some more sympathy and meet new drinking buddies.



I cannot even fathom doing anything this young woman has done since August 12, 2007. Even if you can understand how someone could accidentally kill someone they love, can you understand the complete lack of remorse she displayed in the aftermath? Can you understand how she continued to drink and party after she allegedly killed her kid? Even if someone else killed her kid, how could she even get out of bed, let alone go out and party like it never happened? Can you understand how, in the hours after her son died and investigators were searching for "the man" who killed him, Smith was playing on the computer, updating her social networking site?

I'm just out of words. I can't even fathom what happened here. I can only hope this arrest brings some peace to the people who loved little Devon Epps.

Note: Smith's mugshot from greenvilleonline.com

Previous Epps entries:
Epps Case and the Media
Young Lives Lost

Labels: Amanda Reagan Smith, American Justice System, Crime, Devon Epps

I'm back in G-Vegas after spending three-and-a-half lovely days in Boston. The trip was fantastic and full of countless happy accidents.

Although I was really looking forward to spending quality time with some great friends on this trip, I was also looking forward to playing City Girl by myself for a couple of hours before I met up with everyone. It has been years since I've done anything like this, and I felt very free being able to set my own agenda. These days, a three year old is pretty much in charge of my schedule, so being able to do whatever the hell I wanted whenever the hell I wanted was a freedom that tasted pretty good.

When I got off the plane at Logan, I headed straight for the cab stand. The ladies in front of me were Asian tourists. The cab stand attendant started pointing them to their vehicle, and the ladies balked and started chuckling, speaking in a foreign tongue, and refusing to get in. One of them asked the guy a question in English, and he very dramatically yelled, "No! It's not going a furniture store! This is your cab! It will take you where you want to go." There happened to be an ad for a furniture store on top of the cab, and the language and/or cultural gap caused a little confusion. This made me laugh, but it made Cab Stand Dude mad. He marched over to me, and I thought I was going to catch some wrath for clearly looking like a tourist. Instead, he bent over toward me and said just above the acceptable level, "Can you believe that? I mean, how stupid can you be? A furniture store?!? Are you freaking kidding me?" Welcome to Boston, ladies.

As I approached my cab, I had in my hand an email Uncle Ted had sent me the night before. I had not yet read the email, but I was instantly thankful for it. He was apparently so concerned about me getting around without him in the big city that he wrote me a script for the cabbie: "Charlestown, please...Park and Warren." My dear friend is so cute, I tell ya. So cute. The email went on to say that some cabbies might respond, "Huh," and that I should be prepared to give them directions. My cabbie didn't say "Huh," but that's what he meant. Uncle Ted's detailed directions were necessary and perfect. As we approached Park and Warren, the cabbie said, "You and me? We make a good team" in a very thick Middle Easten accent. I told him he would make a great team with my Uncle Ted, since I had no idea where the hell I was going or what the hell I was doing.

The first thing I saw there at Park and Warren was something I had seen before in Uncle Ted's pictures. It was the Ironside Grill, and I decided that was where I would have lunch after I found Uncle Ted's and dropped my stuff off at his house.



Uncle Ted's email also contained walking directions to his house from that intersection. Unfortunately, I was quite caught up in the cuteness of things, and I walked right past his house. I eventually figured out where I was, though, and I ventured inside. I was immediately greeted by my old pal, Running Dog, and he made me feel at home by dropping his slobbery fire hydrant toy at my feet. That's a warm welcome.



Uncle Ted's place in Charlestown is fantastic. It's an historic home, divided into three separate living spaces. His rent is more than twice my monthly mortgage, but I guess it's pretty good for Boston. It's a wicked cool old house with lots of very old wood and bricks. It has a really awesome shower with wood walls (like a sauna) and a super-secret room that's accessed through a door sort of hidden under the stairs. I also felt at home, because I recognized a lot of the same furniture that I spent a good bit of time lounging on in G-Vegas. He even still has Sweater Blanket, which makes me very happy.

I played a little fetch with Running Dog and then headed out the door. Unfortunately, Ironside Grill has some of the weirdest hours in the history of eating establishments, so it wasn't open for lunch on Thursday. That was my first happy accident, because it encouraged me to explore Charlestown instead of sticking to a place close to Uncle Ted's house.

The air was crisp and the wind was light as I walked down Warren Street in search of something, or nothing, depending on how you look at it. I was immediately struck by the architecture. The houses made me wonder if Charleston, South Carolina was modeled after this city. I vowed to find out later. I've since discovered on Wikipedia that Charleston, South Carolina was founded in 1670 as Charlestown or Charles Town; and Charlestown, Massachusetts was founded in 1628. It does not appear that the South Cackalacki city was modeled after the Massachusetts city. They probably just look similar because each town is really old and has made it a point to preserve its history, especially the architecture.

During my walk, I saw St. Mary's Catholic Church, which according to the cornerstone, was established in 1887.





I also found the Charlestown Five Cents Savings Bank, which was incorporated in 1834. Although the vault is apparently still there, it's no longer a bank. It houses, among other things, Uncle Ted's dentist and a barber shop.





Then, my next happy accident happened when I found Zume's Coffee House. I decided to be cliche' and order the clam chowder and the special sandwich, which was a mozarella/red pepper pesto concoction and iced tea. Surprisingly, they offered the "sweet" option, which I chose to decline, figuring a city above the Mason-Dixon line would surely screw that one up. The food was quick and fantastic, but it was the scene I dug the most.



I sat at a counter along the front window, facing the street. This was a Thursday afternoon, but this street was more alive than streets in my town on the weekends. There were people standing outside the store drinking their coffee and chatting. Nearly everyone who passed stopped to talk or pet one of the dogs that was tied to the tree outside the coffee shop. Some people even had dog treats. There was a very palpable sense of community here, and it was beautiful to watch. I also witnessed some horrendous driving looking out that window, but apparently that's just part of the scene, too.

After lunch, I called my friend Susannah to see if she and her little man had time for a visit. I was very excited as I set out on the next part of my journey, which would lead to my first Dumb Tourist Mistake. I referred back to my Trusty Uncle Ted Email to figure out how to get to Su's. He had, again, given me perfect directions, including walking to the T, and navigating the T.

I proudly purchased my CharlieCard, which would allow me to move freely through Boston's public transportation system. Then, I looked for the sign that I thought would lead me to Su. I almost immediately realized I was going the wrong way, but I stayed on for an extra stop just to be sure. I had clearly not read the portion of Uncle Ted's email that said "INBOUND." The capital letters were his and not put there by me for emphasis. There's a reason for that, I learned. You have more than one choice once you pick the line you want. Stupid SUV-driving mommy from a southern suburb! It's funny that the T signs also say INBOUND or OUTBOUND in all caps. I guess a lot of people need the emphasis.





I spent a wonderful afternoon catching up with Susannah in their beautiful home and playing with little Jack, who I have been stalking on the internet long before he was even born. That little guy has been through a lot in his young life, but he sure is tough. He has very strong legs and a curious nature. He can already give kisses on command, and he has a contagious smile. That little family has been through a lot in the past year, but you'd never know it if you met them on the street. That little guy is a happy baby, living proof of the resilience of the human body and spirit. It was awesome finally getting to meet him after spending so much time thinking about him. I also got to give my friends the hugs I've been virtually giving them on the internet. Real hugs are much cooler.

After Su's husband Jay got off work, we headed over to one of their favorite places to chill, The Dogwood Cafe. I had this really crazy beer with a million blueberries floating in it. It was pretty awesome and so was the food. Jay and Jack made an early departure, but it was still cool to get to hang out with my former G-Vegas pals in their new home 'hoods.



After the Dogwood, Uncle Ted and I went to pick up my weekend travel partner, Same Name. She and I ended up having an awesome weekend together. I'll pick up that part of the story later in Happy Accidents, Part Two.

Dogwood Cafe picture is from dogwoodcafe.com.

Note: this post will be updated with more pictures. Blogger is having trouble uploading some of my picture files. I'll work on that later this afternoon or evening.

Labels: Boston, Friendship, Reillys, Same Name, Uncle Ted, Vacation

I'm home with my boys again. I had a blast in Boston. I'll try to post a full trip report tomorrow. I'm simply too exhausted right now. So instead of stories, you get pictures.

Labels: Boston, Vacation

We're getting ready to head out and explore some more, but here are some random pictures of my walk through Chuck-Town yesterday.

Labels: Vacation