Today, the Idiot in question is me.

So. Sitting in the living room this morning watching the weather with Greg. We suddenly hear a loud scratching noise. Yes, I knew that leaving the flour on the counter was tempting fate. This time, Fate took me up on the offer. Mouse. And while Greg and I differ on this: I really think it was a pet. It was larger than the standard apartment mouse and it was also much lighter in color. No, it was not a rat.

I do think this is day one of the infestation however, because there were no droppings when we went to bed last night. Now the draw has been removed--hopefully the mouse will remain gone as well.

However. Yuck.

PS. It went for the white flour, totally ignoring the corn and whole wheat. What does it think it is, human?

Attila the HUH?!!!

Have you ever been at dinner with someone who, kinda out of the blue, brought up the reasons why her grandparents joined the Nazi party? That was last night with Greg's scene partner from Gregor & Olga.

To throw in another set of oddities from the past 72 hours: 1) I did really well on the math section of the GREs and totally bombed the verbal--this makes no sense whatsoever. 2) One of the clients at my work meeting this morning drew a parallel between getting trial software and a first free snort of cocaine.

I'm just living in freakishly surreal world. If I weren't so tired, I'd be sure I was dreaming.

Beelzebub's Oral Fixation

Last night I thought I'd prepare a little high vitamin grilled repast for the boy and myself before we were off to rehearse and study respectively.

The keynote event was the sicilian peppers I grew on the deck. Lipstick red, round, the size of golf balls, they don't look particulary hot. I stuffed them with little balls of mozzarella as is evidently traditional and threw them on the grill.

Well they may look innocuous, but the Italian name for the variety is baci de Satana (Satan's Kiss). I should have paid heed to the colorful name. My first was no big deal--I think it was on the greener side--a minor demon gave me a peck. The second was unbelievable. It felt like the Satan himself had not just kissed me thoroughly, but then had stuck his tongue down my throat. I swear blisters rose on my esophagus. I can't imagine that I would ever eat them again.

But I can't wait to try these on the boys at our next grilling...

Bronx Bombshell...

Okay, so there's one thing I LOVE about going to the Bronx. Walking down Pelham Parkway (strip of park that's about 1/2 a block wide and a mile long) is great for the self-esteem. If it's a warm day, it's almost a sure bet that I'll be ogled by old immigrant men. This past Sunday was truely the piece de resistance: two ancient formerly Yugoslavian men actually stopped mid-sentence and dead in their tracks to look at me and respectfully congratulate Greg on his good fortune, while I demurely lowered my eyes. Of course, had I been walking alone, their reaction would have probably been a bit scary--it's all just a matter of circumstance.

But given the circumstances as they stood, while MY reaction to it is not terribly feminist, I really don't give a damn, 'cause it did loads for the ego. As good as girls night out at an Italian restaurant staffed by actual Italians.

Old Money's not what it used to be.

On my way past Gramercy Park this morning, I saw an older woman dressed elegantly in white and tan: white ducks and ballet neck 3/4-length sleeve shirt, straw hat with a white silk scarf tied on it and tan espadrilles. She was walking a total of six puffy little dogs, Bichons or perhaps just a hardier version of the miniture poodle: 5 white and one charcoal gray. As I passed, she bent down, and congratulated the gray on "a very respectable poo-poo".

Welcome to the Zoo

Amy H. was just telling me that NPR makes NYC sound like it's a police state at the moment. In response, well, it kinda is, but it's not bad during the day...at night, it's a bit freaky with the sirens and the streets closed, so we're stayin' in--no dance class, nothing that takes us to a different neighborhood and can end up with us stranded. So it sounds kind of bad, but unlike Letterman's monologue claim, there's no tear gas in the air either--NYPD does not use tear gas, the area is too densely populated. Pepper spray, but no tear gas.

The thing is, you really can't blame the cops, and I don't think many residents do. They've tried to be nice and allowed a protest without a permit go through and one of their guys got his face kicked in--no more exceptions. Throw in the fact that they're working without a contract, a situation that could be directly linked to the administration not coming through with the rebuilding funds promised after 9/11...and God knows they're not paying for the extra security the convention is requiring. They're unhappy and nervous, we're unhappy and nervous, there's lots of tension...it's just not good. Nervous people do things calm people wouldn't. I know if I had a billyclub at the moment, I'd be swinging it at the next person who screamed in my face.

On the funny side, I met up with Jen on Tuesday night for drinks. Two guys came in to the bar saying they had just been let out of a dragnet--literally, a big orange dragnet--'cause as they were walking down the street, they were caught up in a flash protest. They immediately found a cop on the back edge, explained and the guy gave them the benefit of the doubt. After this news, I mention that I've gotta eat something, we leave, walk to 3rd Ave (away from the action) and there are cop cars with sirens every minute or so. Jen's looking jumpy. At the point that a helicopter is called out...Jen bails, she needs to go home 'cause this is too much--sensory overload if you will. Oh, how the tables have turned...I used to be the nervous visitor and now I'm thinkin' it's not half so bad as Friday, we should pick a restaurant, have dinner and by the time we're done, things will have died down. But she needed to go home and I can't blame her.

It's pretty safe to say that I'll be doing a jig when they all leave tomorrow--Republicans and protestors alike--maybe we can finally have groceries delivered again.