I'm leaving the old intro here, but adding this- it appears the doves have taken over my blog for their fiction. Just as well, I was doing a piss poor job of updating. They're doing much better.

This blog is infrequently updated, full of incorrect spellings, misused words, and general bad grammar. It started when I was trying to use google+ (which I've since given up on) and discovered there was no character limit for posts. If you've known me a long time, a lot of these stories will be old hat. If you plan to know me for a long time, you'll no doubt hear many of them in person. But, folks seemed to enjoy them, so here they are.

Friday, December 16, 2011

The Thirty Third Story

Another Christmas Story: I love the concept of the christmas tree. The first year I had my own apartment, in Oberlin, I went out and got one as soon as they went on sale. I brought it home. I leaned it against a wall. I called my Dad. The only words I said were "Dad, I have a problem" without pause, he responded "Five gallon bucket, gravel from the drive way" I said thanks and hung up. I swear to god, I hadn't even told him I was getting a tree.

The Thirty Second Story

Been a while, so, another story. This one is set in Union Square, Somerville, right before Christmas, probably the second year I was in business (though maybe the first). My friend Irka had been helping me out with some of my fairs when I overbooked myself. That day, I just had one small fair, and I had to drop off work for the Massart Winter Sale. I went over to Union square and got myself all set up before remembering about the dropoff. I couldn't leave my work there, it was 11 oclock in the morning, dropoff was only till noon, the fair was already open- so I called up Irka. "where are you, um, right now?" "in Union square, getting brunch" "Great! That's perfect! That's where i am, too, and I need you!" "Um, can I finish my waffles?" "Well, as long as you're quick about it". A few minutes later, I saw her, and with her the fellow who was clearly her date for morning brunch. I felt, suddenly, quite awful, but it being rather too late to avoid interrupting things, I went and did my drop off. I did make them both dinner, later, as an apology.

Friday, December 2, 2011

The thirty first story

Today: A story from when my parents were dating- this one has been independently verified by both parties, and they're very differently styled storytellers, so I believe that this story is true in all its details.
My Dad is Jewish. My Mom is... not. Who knows what she is- she was raised some branch of protestant, and believes in santa claus, but not in god. Regardless, she loves Christmas. For a long time during their courtship, my Dad worked for the army and lived in a shack in the Arizona desert. Mom wasn't a desert person, but she would visit regularly. One of these times she arrived very very late on christmas eve. Dad didn't have a tree. Mom was upset. I get different ideas of how upset from each of them- Dad says she was reasonable, she says she was not. Regardless, the end result was Dad, breaking into the base to steal a christmas tree from the lot, tossing it back out over the barbed wire topped fence.