Where There's Smoke There's Fire

I'm not a scientific sort at all, but I suspect there may be some crafty people out there who read this blog, or at least people who read this blog and have connections to crafty people, so the idea is yours for the taking. I simply ask that when you're a gazillionaire and David Letterman is interviewing you about the invention that changed the world, mention that you got the idea from Swankette.

Would somebody, please, pretty please, with sugar and a cherry on top, invent a smoke detector that can distinguish from "my house is burning down and I need to get outside NOW" smoke and "I'm pan frying pork chops in the kitchen for dinner" smoke? I'm pretty confident it would save lives.

In the former apartment I used to routinely take the batteries out of the smoke detectors and forget to put them back in for weeks at a time. Tonight it took Sweetie and I a few minutes to figure out where the sound was coming from. Because apparently the smoke detector in the kitchen isn't functioning at the moment, and the smoke detector back by the bedroom sounds like a dying cow.

In the meantime, I'll be replacing batteries and/or detectors momentarily. The kitchen detector really should be functional, at least when I deem it's OK for it to have batteries in it. And if there really were a fire in the middle of the night, and the smoke detector outside the bedroom were my chance at safety, I fear I would have dreams about freakish cows rather than wake up and get out of the house.

All Sports All The Time

On April 15, 2000, I started working for a minor league baseball team. It was a standing joke in my circle of friends at the time. Swankette, working for a sports team!?! Who'da thunk it? I've always enjoyed sports, but sometime shortly after the turn of the millenium I went from a passive enjoyer of sports to an active sports fan.

As in, my recent past and immediate future is consumed with sports. Just take a look:

• Fantasy baseball, which is always there. I'm actually kinda trying to not think about this, as The House of Swank SUCKS this year. But I can't get mad at Roy Halladay for breaking his ankle. (Yet I can get mad at Curt Schilling for sucking this year. The logic difficult to explain in this regard, but Curt got cut at the All-Star supplemental, and Roy will hopefully still be a keeper for next season.)
• Went to the Mariners game last Friday with Sweetie. All twelve innings of it. And got a wee bit jealous when I realized that I wouldn't get to see Felix Hernandez vs. Randy Johnson this Wednesday at Safeco and Sweetie would. (Taking his nephew in an annual tradition for said nephew's birthday present)
• Went to the Storm game last Thusday with Sweetie.
• Going to the Storm Playoff game this Friday with Sweetie and some friends.
• Going to a Portland Beavers game this Saturday with Portland friends and family. (If you're interested in attending and haven't gotten the e-mails let me know pronto. Doesn't even matter if we've never met before. And if you have gotten the e-mails, still need to know what the group name should be if we make it to the magic number of 15, or I get to decide all on my own).
• Participating in a Fantasy Football League for the first time EVER this year.
• Going to Vegas for NFL opening weekend, for said fantasy draft AND just to watch the football. And this year I actually plan on hanging out in the sports book and watching the games, not playing the nickel slots all day like I did last time we were in Vegas for the big day.
• And when sitting at home, which obviously doesn't happen very often, it seems there's always a baseball game on thanks to MLB Extra Innings.

But please, even though I suppose I am a Green Bay Packers fan, if I ever even SUGGEST wearing a wedge of cheese on my head, please have me committed.

The Amazing Race 8: Predictions

We are less than a month from the next Season of The Amazing Race. CBS has the new teams up on the website, so that means it's time for predictions for who I will be rooting for this coming season.

This time around they've added a twist, and instead of teams of two they are having "families" of four participate. In the promos they seemed to encourage non-traditional families, so I'm a bit dissapointed that they didn't seem to go that far outside of the box in defining a family. All of the teams are either a parent/child combination of some variety, or a straight sibling alliance. The most "non-traditional" team is a father competing with his three sons-in-law. There are a billion different iterations of family relationships I can come up with staying within those boxes, and then you can start to extend to cousins and aunts and granparents, and what about truly non-traditional families? The 1980's had Kate and Allie, why can't The Amazing Race?

That said, I'm going for the most non-traditional family of the bunch, the Aiello's, which is the father with his three sons-in-law. They've got great breadth and depth (a cop and a public relations negotiator), are all grown-ups (a couple of teams have pre-teens on their roster), and are just removed enough from each other family-wise, that I think they have less dysfunction and drama to overcome than the other families do. As an added bonus, they aren't wearing matching outfits on the website, which is always a pet peeve of mine.

I'm intrigued as to how this season will play out, as things like road blocks will have to be reworked, and can the really make the race fair when you have teams of all adults competing against teams with teens and pre-teens among them.

The drama factor should be high this summer, as there are a LOT of cute teenagers in full hormonal throes participating, and I suspect some of those kids may be more interested in hooking up with race-mates than in the million dollars that I'm sure Mom and Dad are planning to use for their college fund.

So mark your calendars, Tuesday, September 27, the new race begins.

Guilty Pleasure

For quite some time I've been wishing that someone would bring back the show Battle of the Network Stars. With 5-million cable channels and the competition between networks nowadays it didn't seem realistic, but a girl can dream.

And sometimes dreams become reality, even if they get a bit twisted in the process. Bravo has a show runnning now called Battle of the Network Reality Stars. Same concept as the original battle: several teams compete in various athletic-ish competitions (obstacle course, flag football, simon says, swimming...), for the chance to be named the winner. But now, instead of Scott Baio and Farrah Fawcett we get former reality TV participants.

Sweetie and I stumbled across this while we were in Boston last weekend, and have deemed it our new guilty pleasure. I'm in love. I do, however, have a couple of complaints:

1. There are certain reality shows that attempt to select someone for a future career. The Apprentice is for folks who want to succeed in business, Project Runway for future fashion designers. If you've appeared on one of these shows, especially if you made it fairly far into the competition, I consider it REALLY BAD form to appear on shows created simply to extend your fifteen minutes of fame. You've got talent in your chosen area, do not become a television ho. (America's Next Top Model and American Idol contestants are exempt from this, as their goal is to become a magazine and television ho)

2. Part of the joy of the original Battle was the competition between the networks. What is the best network? Why, the one that wins the competition, of course. There was a cohesiveness to the team. This time around, the teams are completely random, there are Survivors and Amazing Racers and Real Worlders on all the teams. It would be better if they were grouped in some sort of fashion: by network, by type of show, by how long the show's been around, just pick something that qualifies the teams as a cohesive unit.

But don't worry, I've gotten over my concerns, and the TiVo's set for the rest of the season.

The Presence of History

While in Boston this weekend to celebrate a Swank Wedding we did spend a wee bit of time sightseeing with friends. Saturday afternoon was spent with Sweetie, GrigorPDX, Belly Dancin' Mama, and her son, Patrick. In a (failed) quest to see the USS Constitution we came across the New England Holocaust Memorial.

Words and photos cannot begin to touch on the impact of this memorial. Until you are standing there, surrounded by MILLIONS of teeny-tiny numbers etched on glass, looking through to the fence surrounding the memorial that resembles barbed wire you cannot understand it. Even with all of it there it's a bit difficult to understand.

Sweetie and GrigorPDX had somehow separated from us, which left me with Belly Dancin' Mama and Patrick walking through the memorial. Being a curious 8 year old Patrick asked what this was all about. Belly Dancin' Mama was a bit vaclempt, which left me to try to explain it to him.

HOW THE HELL DOES SOMEONE EXPLAIN THE HOLOCAUST TO AN 8 YEAR OLD?!?!?!

It ended up being something along the lines of, "Once upon a time there was a very evil man who decided he didn't like Jewish people and wanted to get rid of them all, so he tried to kill them all. He also killed gypsies and homosexuals, and basically anyone he didn't like. Thankfully, the United States, Great Britain, France and Russia banded together and got rid of him."

Patrick seemed perplexed by the fact that someone so evil could exist, which gave me hope. And to some extent, even if not consciously, he understood the gravity of it all, as he was calm and quiet and respectful the entire time we were within the memorial. But the second we crossed the threshold of the memorial he was his exuberant, whiny, 8-year-old self again.

But for those few, small moments it felt like I was truly passing something along.

Off We Go Into The Wild Blue Yonder

Tomorrow night Sweetie and I are leaving on a jet plane to go celebrate the wedding of Kaphine and RealSuperGirl. As we prepare for our first post-honeymoon travel together Sweetie and I are both eternally thankful that we found someone with matching travel philosophy. It wouldn't have been a deal breaker if we didn't match, but it's nice to know that wanting to confirm the flight ten times over and show up at the airport two days early isn't going to cause any tension in the relationship.

But, having watched several episodes of Airline over the last year we're starting to rethink our philosophies, so here are the travel tips we may start to follow, as inspired by the show:

1. Arrive at the airport at your flight's scheduled departure time. Bonus points if you arrive drunk.
2. Leave your tickets at home. Barring that, have the ticket be for yesterday. Then refuse to purchase a new ticket, even though you are guaranteed a refund of the ticket you left at home once you get home and return it to them.
3. Overpack your bags to the point where Andre the Giant couldn't lift them. It especially helps if you're packing things like excess quantities of booze or gasoline that the airline can't transport to begin with.
4. Instead of checking in at your gate, go directly to the airport bar and start drinking in excess. When they page your name for your flight, ignore them.
5. Arrive at your gate 5 minutes after the scheduled departure time, and since you can still see the plane out the window insist that they pull it back to the gate so you can get on.
6. Bonus points for all of the above if you claim a dead relative at the other end of the flight, even though you're just heading on your annual vacation.

Everyone play nice while we're gone. We're back late Monday night, so you can expect to hear from me again on Tuesday.

The Gift That Keeps on Giving

Thanks to Pesky Apostrophe for pointing me to the First Amendment Project Auction. First Amendment Project is "a nonprofit organization dedicated to protecting and promoting freedom of information, expression and petition."

Sixteen authors are donating a chance for you to bid to appear in an upcoming book of theirs. If you're looking to get me something, here are the ones I think you should bid on for me (and why):

Peter Straub: "The name of a minor character who will appear in my next full-length work of fiction, which will probably be published in 2007. Bidders are asked to submit their own names only, preferably without middle name or initial, and should be advised that the fictional person who winds up bearing his or her name may be of dubious moral character."

-- Never heard of the guy, but I like the idea that I could be immortalized in a novel as a person of dubious moral character.

Stephen King: "One (and only one) character name in a novel called CELL, which is now in work and which will appear in either 2006 or 2007. Buyer should be aware that CELL is a violent piece of work, which comes complete with zombies set in motion by bad cell phone signals that destroy the human brain. Like cheap whiskey, it's very nasty and extremely satisfying. Character can be male or female, but a buyer who wants to die must in this case be female. In any case, I'll require physical description of auction winner, including any nickname (can be made up, I don't give a rip)."

-- One, Stephen King. Two, zombies set in motion by bad cell phone signals that destroy the human brain. Three, he's asking for a nickname. I've got a nickname, and if you allow me to appear in Stephen King's book as Sammy I promise I'll tell the whole internet the whole story!

Dave Eggers: "The winner will be featured in a strange illustrated story I'm working on called The Journey of the Fishes Overland. The winner, or someone of her/his choosing, will be encountered by the traveling fish in question, as they travel over land. It could also be a family, a house, an address, whatever. I get to decide why the fishes see this person/place, and what's said by/to or done by/to the person/place. This story will be finished and published in the fall. The name/s have to be tasteful and be undisruptive to the narrative. I reserve the right to refuse using a name I find offensive."

-- Which is more cool, getting killed by zombies or encountered by traveling fish? I really can't decide.

Would make a fabulous early Christmas present! Although I'm sure the prices will get quite high, so perhaps you all should pool your funds.

Simple Pleasures

We booked the airplane and rental car for the honeymoon through a travel agent - Sweetie insisted, as he wanted a live person to know that we would be on our honeymoon on the off chance that we would get upgraded as a result. That didn't pan out, but we did get a little bonus out of the deal.

She sent all of our confirmation information to us in a letter-envelope sized plastic sleeve. I added our condo information to the sleeve, and it became logistics-central for the trip. No spending five minutes rifling through the bag for the particular confirmation or boarding pass or whatever it is you need. Small enough to easily fit in the bag, large enough to be easily found as you're wandering.

We leave Thursday night for Boston to celebrate the wedding of Kaphine and RealSuperGirl and I've already started planning what all needs to make it into the sleeve. Flight and hotel confirmations, the schedule and map provided to us by the brides-to-be, information on the Friday night activities that have been planned for us, contact information for GrigorPDX and Belly Dancin' Mama who will also be in attendance and with whom we plan on hanging out Friday afternoon before the formal festivities begin...

Man, it doesn't take much to impress me. :)

As American as Apple Pie

There is something special about watching a minor league baseball game, especially at the low levels, in the presence of one of the player's family.

The year I was with the Dust Devils TJ Bird's mom came to town for a few games. She was a laugh riot.

Tonight Sweetie and I went to see the Everett Aquasox (with freebie tickets we got as a result of the rehearsal dinner), and were sitting next to Brandon Burgess' grandparents. Our little corner of the Stadium didn't sacrifice voting for our home team, but we did simultaneously root for Brandon.

He went 1-4 for the night, but that one hit was a two-run homer that tied the game in the top of the third. Everett's got high fences, so normally homers are pretty rare here, but tonight there were five, including back-to-back homers by Everett in the bottom of the second.

Mr. Burgess' most impressive moment of the evening was while he was playing left field, and he made a diving catch for the last out of the inning that would qualify for Sportscenter's top plays of the day if the game were covered by ESPN.

I'm glad Everett won, but I'm also glad Brandon had a good performance. He's been waylaid a bit by a supposed knee-injury last season (they diagnosed him with a bum knee when everything was fine) and a broken arm in spring training this year.

Good luck, Brandon! I hope to see you in the majors some day!

Do You Know What the Queers Are Doing To the Soil?

While on the way to Portland Friday night I had this urge to sing Dead Milkmen songs at the top of my lungs while driving in my car. I was hoping to find a Greatest Hits type CD while in Portland, but came up dry the three stores I looked at, so ended up purchasing Beelzebubba because I had to have either Punk Rock Girl or Bleach Boys to sing at the top of my lungs, and that was the only way to make that happen. (It's a bit redundant, since I already own it on tape, but what's a CD collection without a little Dead Milkmen?)

While cruising the open road with the windows down and the radio cranked I came to the realization that if someone were to take the song Stuart and turn it into a movie it would be, quite possibly, the best b-movie ever made. We've got:

• A trailer park
• A dumb kid with a burrow owl
• A decapitated head over by the snocone concessions, and
• A conspiracy theory involving gay aliens

Write it so the rest of the album can be background music (a la Repo Man) and you've got yourself a kick-ass movie. Personally, I think Erik Per Sullivan should play Stuart.

Anyone wanna' help me write a screenplay?

Ease On Down The Road

I have made the drive from Seattle to Portland and back again approximately a billion times in my life. When I lived in Seattle the first go-round a co-worker was also from the Portland area, and we had an unofficial competition going on who could make the trip the fastest. One morning he came into the office, "Two and a half hours, got pulled over in Centralia, didn't get a ticket." Given that the distance from the northern border of Portland to the exit I took to get to my apartment at the time was 172 miles I withdrew from the competition at that moment.

Anymore, I'm lucky if I can make the trip in three and a half hours. Part of it may be the fact that I no longer drive a car that makes cool turbo noises at 105 miles an hour (I've never had Zeb anywhere near 105 miles an hour, but also never drove Red that fast on I-5, beause that would be stupid), but even more at fault is the horrible, miserable traffic.

I think it is time we talk about some common courtesy while out on the open road:

• See that sign, "Keep Right Except To Pass?" Perhaps you should read it and follow it's directions.
• If car A is traveling 60 miles an hour and you are traveling 61 miles an hour you do not get to consider yourself as "passing" car A if I am directly behind you and traveling 70 miles an hour. Get over and let me around!
• When a car is a mile ahead of you on the road you are NOT passing it, so get over. Get over to the right lane and when you get closer THEN pull over to pass.
• When you are at the point where it is appropriate to pull over and pass the car in front of you LOOK and see who is in the left lane. If there is a car there, especially if that car is traveling significantly faster than you, do NOT cut in front of them. Wait until there is a break in the traffic and THEN pull over to pass.
• When I've been following the above rules, and finally find a break in the traffic to pull around you it is HORRIBLY rude to then speed up to the exact same speed that I am traveling.

Yeah, following the above rules might cost you one minute now, but it will all save us hours of time later because traffic is flowing smoothly.

Last Night's Dream

I rarely remember my dreams, but last night's was too freakin' cool that it needs to go down in the record books.

I was at a party at someone's house, the sort of which we all attended at some point in college or our twenties with several dozen people just wandering around a house and drinking. But this party was special, as it had a band that would be playing. Specifically, the Violent Femmes (who are, for those keeping score at home, my favorite band of all time) were playing.

And it was, without a doubt, the most unique performance I have ever seen. They weren't playing their instruments, they were more playing the house. The CD was playing in the background, and they were singing over the top of it, in addition to performing on the infrastructure. I don't recall all of what they played during their performance, but I know that while they were setting up Victor De Lorenzo (the drummer) was banging on a pipe that extended from floor to ceiling, trying to find the right spot to hit to get the correct tones. Even cooler, Brian Ritchie (bassist extrordinaire) was tuning the water. Yep, you read that right, the water. There was a faucet that he turned on full blast, and he was doing that trick where you put something in to interrupt the stream of water, and it makes the sound of the water coming out of the faucet sound different. And since it was imaginary water coming out of the faucet in my dream it sounded really darn cool.

Because they were basically singing over the CD it meant that during instrumental songs (of which zero exist in real life, but at least one existed in my dream) they could wander into the other room to socialize with people and drink some beers. Except then when the next song came on which involved singing we'd have to scream at them to get their butts back in here and keep the performance going.

I have no idea what the dream means, and don't really care, but how cool would that be if something like that could happen in real life?

Hold Your Tongue!

If you know me it should come as no big surprise to you that I have a potty mouth. I can clean up the language when necessary (when at my parents or kids are around, for example. Mom - you may want to cover your eyes right about now), but when it's just grown-ups you shouldn't be too surprised to hear an f-bomb come out of my mouth.

My job is basically pushing other people to get stuff done all day long. Sometimes, when they don't do it, I have to hang up the phone and call them a stupid fucking jerk. Or talk to one of my co-workers about how their head is shoved up their ass. Or what shit they're making us wade through to get this done. And this is perfectly acceptable in my place of work.

To the point where there is frequently the moment when a new co-worker accidentally swears in front of me (because I'm a girl, so you're not supposed to defame my delicate ears like that. My common response to that is, "How fucking dare you fucking swear in front of me, you fucker." That usually breaks the ice quite well.

But when there's a five year old in your office you can't talk like that. MAN it was torture today! He was a totally adorable kid, but this was a day in which f-bombs really needed to be flying. At one point I was talking to a co-worker on the phone about some sort of bullshit that was going on, but having to be all NICE about it. I could hear the confusion in my co-workers voice - he didn't know that I was red in the face with anger at the situation, as usually the angrier I am the faster the profanity flows. Then I mentioned the young one in my office, and it all clicked into place.

Note to self: If you ever have a daughter, call in sick on take your daughter to work day.

Something good did come out of today, though: I figured out my new signature. I wasn't liking the way the first initial of the new last name was coming out, but it figured out today. There's still some fine-tuning to do, but I've got myself a new signature now.

Yummy for my Tummy

I cannot remember the last time I actually cooked a meal. A couple of weeks before the wedding I just gave up. The wedding bomb that had exploded in the house had finally seeped its way into the kitchen, so the already limited space was at even more of a premium than usual. And there just wasn't enough TIME to do everything, so I spent my time working on wedding stuff and let Red Robin and Acapulco Fresh do the cooking for me.

The wedding bomb detritus is slowly dissapearing. Come Monday I don't think we'll be able to use it as an excuse anymore. Friday I'm taking everything white and poofy down to Portland for disposal. We've already got two humans and a cat in just under 1,000 square feet, we don't have room for ONE poofy white thing, let alone two (the dress and the slip).

Once I return from Portland I shall tackle the kitchen and the gifts simultaneously. In order to accomodate the gifts the kitchen requires a wee bit of reorganization (swapping a couple of cabinets around), so that shall be the remainder of the kitchen.

But in the meantime, I think tomorrow night shall be my first home-cooked meal as a married woman. I'll probably keep it simple - pork chops (which are one of my favorite foods ever), and whatever vegetables and starch strike my fancy at Whole Foods tomorrow. But I'm open to suggestions.

Plus, soon I shall have all sorts of opportunities to go gourmet. I've got a pressure cooker, a new slow cooker (with removable insert), Kitchen Aid, ice crem maker, and other various kitchen implements to break in.

Let the fun begin! Requests and suggestions are always appreciated.

The Final Word on the Daniel's Saga

Friends were going to do a little renegade justice and photojournalism when they were out here for the wedding, but we kept 'em too busy, so we'll just have to settle for the props...


``

Thanks Tom, Elizabeth, Joe and Alison!

Sign on the Dotted Line

The vernacular of married life is more of a challenge than I expected it to be.

Problem the first: I've got myself a HUSBAND now. I just finally got down the part that he's a fiance, and then the vocabulary goes and changes on me.

Problem the second: I'm changing my name from Swankette to SwankPoet. That means I've got to remember to refer to myself as SwankPoet. When I'm making reservations at restaurants, when I'm introducing myself to people, when I'm logging into my computer at work. Takes some getting used to. Which leads me to;

Problem the third: You can't snap your fingers and just have your name be changed. I haven't gone through any of the legal mumbo jumbo yet. Once that gets started there's the bank accounts and bills and other random paperwork that all needs to change things around. And e-mail addresses and other stuff like that I've tied into the name Swankette. But in the meantime, at work I was SwankPoet when I walked in the door on Monday. So I'm living a split personality now: Some of the time I'm Swankette, and some of the time I'm SwankPoet, and I have to remember which is which.

Problem the fifth: My Swankette signature is so ingrained that I don't even need to think about it. To the point that today, while working (where I wear the SwankPoet cape) I almost signed some stuff Swankette today. After actually remembering to put the name SwankPoet on it. I actually stopped the fax machine today, because I realize that the fax I was trying to send had three different locations where my name was listed as SwankPoet, but the signature was that of Swankette. HOLY NAME CHANGE BATMAN! I had to sign my new name! I didn't like the new signature I came up with. I'm seriously considering sitting down with a piece of paper and a pen and playing around until I find a signature I'm comfortable with before I start dealing with any of the legal mumbo jumbo.

Why does no one clue you in on any of this stuff before the big day? It's all a big conspiracy, isn't it?

New Blogger on the Block - Part 3

I promise to get back to writing real blog posts soon (although there is some final activity occurring over on the wedding blog for those who are interested), but I am thankful that friends are coming out of the woodwork starting blogs, to give me something to post in the interim.

And this story is, perhaps, the bestest of all. Everyone welcome Bud to the blogosphere! Bud is one of my most favoritest people in the world, and definitely wins the prize for most unique introduction ever.

In 1987 we were both attendees at the Episcopal Youth Event held at Trinity University in San Antonio, Texas (which, for those keeping score at home, is also one of the four institutions of higher education I have attended). He and some of his friends had met up with my roommate and some of my friends at some point (have no idea where I was at this point of the story), and at some point they all ended up in our dorm room. My electric razor was sitting out, and Bud was curious as to what it was like to have shaved legs. So he helped himself.

My friends informed me that a person they had recently met had tried out my electric razor, so as to explain the long hairs left behind, and I met Bud a day or two later. I believe one of the first things I said to him was along the lines of, "Oh, so you're the guy who shaved his legs with my razor!" And the rest, as they say, is history.

Bud definitely wins prize for most drama involved in getting to the wedding (and the MOH and her partner got stranded in Phoenix for the night thanks to America West, so that's saying something), you can read the story over on his blog.

But here's the most coolest part of all: so Sweetie and I had this little wedding a week ago, perhaps you've heard about it? And one of our goals in the wedding was to bring all the people we know and love together to meet because they should all know and love each other as well. And it was thanks to GrigorPDX (who met Bud at the wedding) that I learned Bud has a blog!

So welcome, Bud, and thanks, GrigorPDX!