Candy Crush Saga, or Winter Boots

It all looked like candy; shades of grape, cherry, lemon, and sour apple. They were shiny bites of sweetness sure to get stuck in your teeth, or under foot.

My daughter was all over it.

"I want this one. And this one. I like that one."

She was a kid in a shoe store.

"Sweetie," I said. "Those are rain boots. You have rain boots. You need snow boots."

My wife held up a pair of Uggs.

Ugg, it's insane to buy Uggs for a four year old. But I was prepared. And really, I should have mentioned it earlier. I just didn't know they made Uggs that small.

"We can't," I said. "I've read too many bad things about Uggs."

"They're supposed to be really warm."

"Yes, but they treat their animals bad."

"Really?"

"Like really bad."

"Bad bad?"

"Bad bad."

My wife held up an Uggs boot with sequins. I shook my head and took out my phone.

"I can send you a link."

"No, I trust you. They're so cute, though."

Meanwhile, my daughter was on a double stitched welt high.

"These ones!"

She was a holding an Uggs leopard pink boot with a thick purple sole; something a tween astronaut would wear.

"No, sweetie. That's not a good one."

"But I like it."

"I know. How about this one?"

I held up something mostly black with pink accents. It looked tough, yet girlish.

"I don't like it."

A salesperson came over.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes," said my wife. "We need a winter boot that's warm, easy to take off and on. And pink."

"Or purple," my daughter chimed in.

"Or purple," said my wife.

The salesperson pointed out the different boots that were available. The 'cool' boots didn't come in my daughter's size. She was too little. And what was available they didn't have in her size.

Sigh...

"I like these ones. They have a kitty."

"Those are rain boots, sweetie."

Right next to the rain boots was a rack of rain accessories. My daughter reached for an umbrella just her size.

"I want this," she said. "It's just my size."

Double sigh.

My wife and I did a quick huddle.

"We know her size," I said. "Let's just order online."

Done.

I've been a Zappos customer for more than a decade. I have a comfortable shoe fetish that goes beyond whatever brands are available in a local shoe store. Yes, I know it's important to support small businesses, but the tiny lizard part of my brain demands I get something I haven't seen before, and that it sounds European (or Hawaiian) and include the word ergonomic somewhere in the description.

Further, I'm a VIP customer. I've actually received a hand written note from their customer service dept. I think it had something to do with the fact that at the turn of the century, I was the very first person in my office to purchase shoes online. Everyone said, 'That's crazy. Why would you buy shoes online? No one buys shoes online.' Now on any given day, it's commonplace to see a Zappos box up at the front desk.

When I get my daughter dressed, I can't present one pair of socks for her to wear. She will ALWAYS want a different pair. So I take out TWO, and she picks ONE.

Sunday night my wife and I ordered three pairs of boots. They each looked like a wad of chewing gum with a hook and loop closure or adjustable collar drawstring, but the reviews said they are warm, and easy to take off and on. They will arrive Tuesday.

UPDATE.

My daughter went with the Khombu Kids Juniper.






Peta video with Pink about sheep - http://youtu.be/KSw9XE5skj4

Cold Cycle, or Ice Ice Baby

I rode my bike yesterday. It was cold. Somewhere over the bridge where the wind whistles loudest, I think I got an ice cream headache.

It snowed off and on while I worked. I watched it blow sideways from the 25th floor. I also watched it snow up. I think it has something to do with, well, I don't know what it has do with.

Thermal dynamic updraft something blah blah blah...

Hello?

Science?

By the time I was ready to go home, it was late. Traffic had died down. No mad rush of cars.

I put on my helmet and gloves before going outside. The guy at the desk came up next to me, said it was below 32 earlier, but it warmed up so it was probably ok.

He and I never really talk. We just nod or do the half wave. Sometimes we say 'night.

"Thanks for the heads up," I said.

When I rode home, I was thankful the snow hadn't really stuck. Just some stuff on the curbs and sidewalks. As I got closer, I took the side streets. The surface looked slick.

Maybe it's just wet.

I took a wide turn a block from home. No problem.

But damn, it looks so glassy.

I breathed out a plume of steam.

I got to my street and squeezed the brake to slow down. But that was the thing. I didn't slow down. I just kept going. And then I was lying on my side, my bike on top of me.

Two things learned;

1) A frozen rode has no give

2) I could feel my hip bone.

A guy on the far corner yelled out, "You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks."

He watched me get up before he walked away.

"Thanks," I said again.

It's nice when strangers do the exact thing I would do.

I walked my bike the rest of the way home and locked it up. It was nice to be home.

Orange Is The New Beige

UPDATE 6.30.14

Finished watching season 2 last night and here's my revelation: OITNB does not entirely suck. You just need to get past season 1. Once you do, you'll enjoy ep 1 of season 2. Ep 2 will bring you back to season 1 - suckage (dumb, not funny). But then once you make it to ep 3 of season 2, it moves along at a pretty good clip. Not sure if they changed writers or what happened, but once it stops trying to be funny and all hardcore Oz, it's pretty good.

As far as OITNB as a whole, my friend Niki brilliantly put it like this:

If you watch OITNB backwards, it's about a bitter, hardened criminal who goes to prison, finds she has a softer side, and learns to love Jason Biggs.

--------------------------------------------------

ORIGINAL POST 11.12.13:

My wife and I started watching OITNB because we finished House of Cards - which was AWESOME. I had some hesitations about OITNB because I'd loved Weeds - until Season 5. Up until then, I loved it. It was fun, funny, and charming. I cared about the different characters. Brill!

But then Season 5 - 8 sucked AND blew. It's like Jenji Kohan just texted in her scripts. They were thin and self absorbed. They were pointless and stupid. A waste of everyone's time.

So I was trepidatious...

SPOILERS AHEAD.

Head back now. Click away.

Ok?

Ok.

In the first episode of OINTB - there's a lot of explaining. I understand. It's a pilot. We need to know what's going on. But is the premise that Piper carried drug money once ten years ago?

I mean, seriously, that's it?

It's like one of those things that pops up in your Facebook feed from Huffington Post that gets a lot of people's panties all bunched:

That's bullshit!
Totally sucks to be her!
It's Obama's/the Republican's fault!
Won't someone think of the children?!

Ok, fine. She's a fish out of water, let's go with it.

But we're also going to keep cutting back and forth in time like a student film? Really? This is the best you can do?

Ok, fine. All my friends seem to like this show. I'll watch the next episode.

Well, I won't hash out the plot - I'm only four episodes in. I don't hate the show. I'm entertained - mostly. But I know where everything is going already. That is, I doubt we're ever going to see any blood (unless it's in a tampon, and/or in spite the weighted importance of the missing screwdriver/dildo) - just hair pulling and scratching. The guard (John) and inmate (Dayarana) will fall in love and boy howdy that'll be complicated. Red is tough, but she cares. Miss Claudette was just getting revenge because men are terrible. Pornstache will get his comeuppance, or maybe he'll grow a heart. Blah blah blah.

I don't know. Maybe there will be some clever 'twists' coming up.

I hope there will be some clever twists coming up.

I haven't figured out OINTB's tone yet. It seems like it's sorta trying to be Lost with its character flashbacks. Or maybe it's trying to be like Oz with its HBO prison tough talk - which is mostly laughable/cringeworthy - "Shelly had been growing out her nails, mauled that girl like tiger" - makes me hunch my shoulders as I write it.

Or maybe it's trying to cash in on early Weeds with its smartypants whimsy and humor.

Actually, now that I think about it, I don't like the show. Its characters are caricatures. Seriously, ALL the men are this DUMB and MEAN? Are we really going to hit ALL the lesbian tropes - fat butch, girl school, waif, stud, lipstick, AND hasbian? Are we in a prison or are we in a women's dorm with a couple of mean-spirited RA's? The guy that runs the tool dept - is that really a part? I mean, he's not just a gaffer who steps in to say a few lines sometimes?

Wait, let's go back to the lesbian thing. Is OITNB trying to be edgy? Is that even a thing anymore? The late 90s called and wants its edge back. Maybe there be a Christian values character introduced in an upcoming episode who witnesses some 'lesbianism', and then the script will get all didactic/preachy?

Please tell me no.

Nooooooooooooooo!

Sigh... I like some of the characters, especially Sophia and Miss Claudette. And like I said, I'm only four episodes in - I'm intrigued to see where it goes. But Jenji Kohan is no Aaron Sorkin - not by a long shot, not by a concisely written piece of wordy dialogue.

{{{ UPDATE }}}

More spoilers...

Ok?

Ok.

We finally finished the season. It was NOT appointment tv. It was casual show up tv.

We wanted to see how things panned out; which was more or less what we expected. Except for the end when Piper breaks bad and seemingly murders Pennsatucky - which meant the screwdriver/dildo had a purpose.

But seriously?

For real?

That's where you're going to go? Piper's a murderer?

Well, that's interesting. I'll give you that. It's interesting. Regardless, we're not planning to stream season 2.

Well, maybe to see where it goes, but... a guilty unpleasure.

Orange is the New Beige is being too kind. Orange is the New Blah. I'm sure this will be on some Best of 2013 lists. But I won't know why.

Haiyan, or Yolanda

my wife, our three year old,
and two month old
went to whole foods this weekend
braving traffic
but the construction on north ave
by the highway
was done,
which meant it wasn't so bad

the parking lot was full
of self entitled drivers
circling like sharks
so we parked on the roof
i like it there better anyway

inside it was packed
lots of shoppers plodding along
slowly pushing carts
clogging up the aisles
taking their time
tasting free guacamole
tiny cubes of aged cheese
and chunks of chocolate chunk cookies

the checkout lines spilled
into the sample stations
we were four carts back easy

back on the roof we loaded the car
and buckled the kids
the sky was mostly clear
some scattered clouds
a bright yellow white sun
hung slightly to the west
i probably didn't need the coat i was wearing
even though it was unzipped

at a stoplight
the two month old started to cry
which made the three year old cry
which made my wife upset
which made me tense

i gripped the wheel tightly
and hoped the light would change soon
and all the busses and cars
would disappear
so we could get home
and get everyone
fed
and napped
and i could sit alone
downstairs
to watch football
drink in one hand
remote in the other...

an hour or so later
my wife and two month old are sleeping
my three year old is sleeping
i'm sitting in my chair
watching football
drink in one hand
remote in the other
i check my phone for other scores
and see something about haiyan
and how more than ten thousand people
are dead
i scroll down, and
i see pictures of ships
lying on their sides
their rusting hulls exposed
like rotting whale carcasses
homes turned inside out
and flattened
into kindling
cars tossed like toys
i see pictures of women
and men
holding children
above rushing rising smoke colored waters
i press to watch a video
of the devastation
unfortunately
or ironically
it's sponsored by target
there are people shopping
seasonal abundance
with their new red card
i press another link
and read
how entire islands have disappeared
i read it again
there
are
islands
that
have
disappeared
and i am forced to imagine
mothers and fathers
holding on to their children
wet and cold and scared
crying and screaming
gasping for air
with waters roiling,
and wind whipping things wildly
through the air
i can see
corpses floating in the ocean
like driftwood

outside it's getting dark
i see a jogger go by
the bears are losing to the lions
and tonight there's a new episode of walking dead
i should take out the recycling
before everyone wakes up


From the NY Times:

Typhoon Haiyan, which cut a destructive path across the Philippines on Friday, is believed by some climatologists to be the strongest storm to ever make landfall.

Photos of the typhoon’s wrath: http://nyti.ms/1cjASbO

Maps of the storm surge and destruction: http://nyti.ms/1gFZKAa

Video of the typhoon's devastation: http://nyti.ms/1hCMvl1

How you can help victims in the Philippines: http://nyti.ms/1dlwf21


Other links:

http://www.redcross.org.ph/
http://google.org/crisismap/a/gmail.com/TyphoonYolanda
http://world.time.com/2013/11/10/how-to-help-typhoon-victims/
http://mashable.com/2013/11/10/help-victims-typhoon-haiyan/
http://worldnews.nbcnews.com/_news/2013/11/09/21386694-how-to-help-organizations-offering-relief-to-typhoon-haiyan-survivors
http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/foreigners/2013/11/how_to_help_typhoon_haiyan_survivors_in_the_philippines_the_only_donation.html
http://www.cnn.com/2013/11/11/world/asia/typhoon-haiyan/
http://worldnews.nbcnews.com/_news/2013/11/10/21389125-it-was-like-a-tsunami-philippines-stunned-by-typhoon-haiyans-devastation
http://www.weather.com/news/weather-hurricanes/super-typhoon-haiyan-latest-news-20131108
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-24894529

The Parcel String Letters

I do the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Challenge from time to time. What follows is my assignment/story.

Group 10
Genre: Drama
Location: Thrift Store
Object: Stamp
1000 words (988)

Title: The Parcel String Letters

Synopsis: No one messes with Sissy Tye.



In Dunwoody on the corner of Carver and Maple is a thrift store. Tye Thrift. It’s very average, nothing special. Clothes, shoes, dishes, kitchen appliances, chairs. Jewelry is kept under glass near the register. DVDs and video games are on the shelves behind the counter. A Star Wars toy has shown up in original packaging from time to time, but what keeps Tye Thrift in business is the senior center on Tilly Mill Road.

The Mill Pointe Arms, specifically the cleaning crew - even more specifically Samuel Rumson – has an arrangement with Tye Thrift concerning the leftover effects of any resident’s sudden departure. Tye Thrift will take whatever he’s got.

Sissy Tye, heiress and proprietor of Tye Thrift sat on her stool behind the counter and took the large cardboard box from Samuel. “Thank you, sweetheart. Anything else?”

“Just this.” He handed Sissy a shoebox. It was hinged in back, and there were thin worn leather straps that hung over the front. It said Field and Flint on the side. “Bunch a old letters. Some ain’t ever been sent.”

“Hmmm,” said Sissy looking them over matter of factly. “Might as well take those, too.”

Samuel nodded and opened the door to leave. “217C won’t last the week.”

“You know where to find us,” said Sissy looking through the shoebox.

The bell rang as Samuel shut the door.

There were at least a hundred letters. They were old, and looked like parchment. Some had water damage, some looked like they might turn to powder if a breeze came along, and true enough, some were never sent. Parcel string was tied around these. Lost in thought Sissy hadn’t noticed the bell when the door opened.

“Excuse me,” said the man.

Sissy looked up startled. She didn’t know how long the man had been standing at the counter. He was in his early fifties, lean, kept his head shaved. His leather jacket looked baby lamb soft. His fingers were long and his nails were perfect. Sissy slowly closed the shoebox as she held his eyes in hers. Well, her good eye, anyway.

Sissy Tye wore an eye patch like a pirate. When she was six years old, her older brother Tyrone - who was ten at the time, hit her on the side of her head with a baseball bat and knocked her eye right out of its socket. It landed on the living room rug like a hardboiled egg. While it’s true Sissy was brought to the hospital that afternoon, it was Tyrone who spent an extra two days in the ER.

“Can I help you?” Sissy asked the man.

“Well, I’m from New York, do a little some business in Atlanta. I take the scenic route because, well, I like to stop by stores such as yours. Sometimes you can find such treasures. See, I’m a collector, you know, like ashtrays and-“

“You smoke?”

“Well, no, actually. I-“

“Ashtrays are by the bowls.” Sissy pointed over the man’s shoulder.

The man looked behind him. Then back down at the shoebox.

“Field and Flint,” he said. “Used to be Packard.”

Sissy didn’t say anything.

“That’s a very old shoebox,” continued the man.

Sissy placed it on the counter behind her. In her hand were the parcel string letters.

“Some old letters in that box?”

Sissy shrugged her shoulders. “Hasn’t been checked in yet. New arrival.”

“Tell you what,” said the man taking out his wallet. “I’ll take that old shoebox off your hands right now. You take credit cards?”

“Don’t even know the price. And like I said, it hasn’t been checked in yet.”

The man looked around the store.

“C’mon,” he said, “it’s just an old shoebox. You don’t need to-”

A large man lumbered over to the counter. He wore overalls, bright white hi-tops, and had a long deep scar across his left temple. His nametag said Tyrone. He stood next to the man.

“Everything ok, Sissy?”

“I got this, Ty Ty. Actually, can you tell me what do we do with new merch?”

“Check it in.”

“Thank you. This man is interested in ashtrays. Can you show him over to the bowls?”

“That’s okay,” said the man. “May I see those?” He pointed to the parcel string letters in Sissy’s hand.

Sissy waved off Tyrone.

“Here,” said Sissy handing the man the letters. “Keep ‘em tied.”

The man looked at the envelopes closely. On each letter he rubbed his thumb over the rose-colored two-cent stamp and its profile of George Washington.

“Well,” he said, “I bet these are some interesting old letters. My wife actually loves old letters like these. I know you have to check them in, but what if I gave you five hundred dollars cash right here right now for these and whatever’s in that old box.”

The man smiled wide.

“You want to take a second and think on that?”

Sissy put her hand out for the letters.

“I don’t need that kind of time.”

“A thousand,” said the man.

“I think you’ve taken my outstretched arm as a gesture of good will,” said Sissy her one eye trained and unblinking. “I assure you it’s not.”

The man handed the letters to Sissy.

“Two thousand,” he said.

Sissy flipped through the letters and watched the stamps flash by.

“It’s like a little movie,” she said leaning back in her chair. “Now I’m no philatelist, but I bet just one of these is about fifteen hundred. There are fourteen. That’s about twenty one thousand dollars. That math seem right?”

“How about my car?” asked the man. “Car for the letters?”

“What kind of car you got?”

“Lexus.”

“Ty Ty, what car you see outside?”

Tyrone looked out the door.

“Green Lexus.”

“LS or GS?”

“ES, I think.”

“ES?” Sissy asked the man.

The man nodded.

“I gotta take a second and think on that,” said Sissy. “I bet it’s got a lot of miles.”