Heh, that's funny: "what a rack it was."

Tommy would never tolerate having such uncouth material in his shop.

I would like to just say that I have said nice things about John before the house--just never so he knew. I didnt want that large Mastandrea head any larger or I would be married to an Easter Island Head.

I must report 2 very ridiculous items that I have witnessed since coming here. The first happened the other day when I ventured out of my building at lunch for the first time since beginning work here. (I work in the building that houses Jones, Day--the largest law firm in Cleveland and so as to keep their associates virtual prisoners they make sure the building has every amenity so there is no reason to ever leave the building when you start work.) I was wandering around a food court in one of the buildings near my office when I saw a man in a wheel chair. Normally this would not even register. However, the man was wearing a suit coat and had a beard, but from the waist down he was dressed in a skirt, pantyhose and pumps.

The second happened when I took the monsters to have their haircut. I just randomly picked a barber shop that had a man cutting hair in it. (Tommy the barber in Bronxville has warned against ever letting a woman cut the boys hair.) I walked in and sat down and looked over at the magazine rack, and what a rack it was. It actually had Playboy magazines on it. Luckily the boys were busy with the gumball machine because I really did not want to have to explain that reading material.

So I talked to Jo Maha yesterday and he is still on for the trek cross states to Spumoni. Excellent! We will be waiting in anticipation. Perhaps he will stop in Ohio and pick up Johnny Vermouth. Anything is possible. Hopefully no damage will come from the burning of bills and staements accrued over the last 20 yrs. Perhhaps you will cause snow flurries over Tuckahoe. I was thinking the maybe John should create his own comic book featuring the adventures of mojo and furious. Every so often you and alane be featured but you have to have superhero names. You know something like the incredibles. Only scented differently and in different costumes. John Vermouth with the ability to spoil milk with just a glance. You can have like soppresatta nunchucks. i dont know just drifting.
anyway
I am currently taking the a 4hr driving course online due to a traffic violation. This is almost as boring as awaiting the ticket in your car while other cars speed by you. The website will not allow me to move on till i spent the minimum time alotted.
I was trying to get off the highway to get gas. I was below "E" and saw nothing but red lights ahead. Gosh I love I95. There was 2 exit lanes and 6 cars ahead of me. This trooper stops his car and gets out. Walks up to each car and gave us all tickets for driving in a service lane. Thats 4 points. Wow but the guy next me towing another car with chains at 50 mph is okay. The dump truck dropping dirt and debris all over doesnt get a ticket. The pick up with 26 people in back gets to go on. But i get a ticket. Steve once got a ticket for driving with his hazard lights on because he had a donut spare on his car. How do they decide on who gets a ticket. Must be the color green.
In the immortal words of Jack Burton," (I guess i was) not put on this earth to GET IT! Now this really pisses me off to no end!

So i have 18 more minutes to kill. 40 minute module took me 16 minutes. I have to sit and stare till its over and pay for it.

I'm on a roll now. I pulled about three tons of Pez paraphernalia from the upper shelf of the closet this afternoon, only to uncover a mysterious box. In it was a treasure trove: a long-lost coin collection, a nose-and-glasses set, my sam-brown belt from my high school military uniform, a fully operational steam engine (no shit, really), and most importantly, my Uncle Floyd button.

Okay, so today's document-burn was postponed due to rain. Guido says we'll roast the paperwork next week -- and drink the bottle of lumbrusco that we bought yesterday. I look look forward to it.

In the meantime, I will try to get my Kobler V-Matic shaver to work. Guido mail ordered it from a surplus outlet back in the 1980s. They were ancient even then -- probably manufactured in the 1950s or 60s. He bought one for me and one for himself. I used mine a few times, but not very often -- it had a tendency to tear fiercely at the top few layers of facial skin. Guido was here just now when I unearthed it from the bottom of the mystery box. We both stood in awe of the precision Swiss beard-cutting gear. We plugged it in, switched it on and got -- nothing.

Oh well. It shall live on, if nowhere else, here in the Macaroni Dish.

Okay, cleaning can be fun -- not only am I finding documentary evidence of interesting and ancient purchases (my first hard drive, a spacious 20MB, bought in 1988 for a mere $238), but also evidence of trips I'd long forgotten, meals at restaurants I would never remember visiting, and long-ago-closed bank accounts at financial institutions that are themselves long-ago-closed.

I'll keep a few choice souvenirs... but all the rest is headed for fiery oblivion.

My schedule has gone way off. I woke up a few hours ago, having fallen asleep on the couch sometime before 6 p.m. I'd been out shopping with Guido. We stopped at his place to play with the new kittens Pastina and Farina. Then back here to drink sake. When he left, I ate. And drank more sake. Then it was 1:30 a.m.

I tried to get back to sleep -- no luck. So i got up, unsure where I should drink the rest of the sake or make a pot of coffee and start the day. I opted for the latter.

So now I'm back to sorting through paperwork -- filling the box of old documents that will be torched, hopefully tomorrow. After all, do I really need 20-year-old credit card receipts?

Wow. I am definitley going to bookmark that random lyrics page. I think it should be my backgroung each day at work. Words to live by. So i returned to work after a 3 week hiatus and its has been quite tedious. I apologize for slacking in my entries because Steve is correct. I think it may be Florida though. There really is no end to stupidity. I could blog twice a day about my drive to work. So where did you get that name from?Barea Rose? please not from sabrina kaufman...........

for the record Fat Joe sprayed Passion By Elizabeth Taylor all over his ass. I remember because i just bought the big bottle with no sprayer on it and he poured it everywhere.
Marisa Circle had a wrestling federation. We met a grants house every saturday morning. He had the ring in his front yard when his dad fenced it in.

Mortadella and peanut butter is a little odd but once again you have chosen to spend your life with a mastandrea so it all fits in. My parents had all of our house on marisa circle wallpapered. I noticed that my dad changed all the light switches and was using a ohm /voltage meter to check it. I picked it up one day, i was 12 at the time, and stuck it in the light switch. I accidently touched positive to the metal box in the wall and shorted out the entire house. As geekette described the entire area around the wallplate was blackened. The wallpaper was white and peach with seafoam green stripping. The tester burned up and melted as well. Tomorrow ill tell you how i acci=dently hit my dad in the head with a hammer. I was wondering if you and Jo-maha could email me your address and phone #. I have not chatted with Joe in a while and i had a voicemail from him when we were in the hospital but i did not get the number. Hopefully i may see you guys some time this year.
I am hoping to visit Ohio when the Breae Rose is ready.

Ellexa is growing i wish she would sleep more but we are getting there

Got lunch just now from Empanada Mama on 9th Avenue. I normally don't venture that far to get lunch (I often work through lunch entirely), but I was curious to try this place. I liked the name. I ordered one beef and one chicken, made with corn flour. As I waited I gazed out the shop window to see that this particular stretch of 9th Avenue, up through the 50s, really hasn't changed much over the years. Directly across the street was Afghan Kebab House. I vaguely recalled our law school days when Alane and I walked south from Lincoln Center one evening to get a kebab dinner at a place that was either Afghani or Uzbeki -- I don't recall.

The memory is murky: though it couldn't be more than 10 or 12 years since we did that, and so much of that old Hell's Kitchen neighborhood is frozen in time, it all seems like so many lifetimes ago.

The empanadas were good.

Alane writes (in an e-mail blast that wasn't much of a blast, given that she doesn't keep a very extensive list of people's e-mail addresses -- so at her request I republish it here)

Hey Everyone--

Sorry for the group call out. I will eventually get settled enough to write or e-mail everyone individually. Do know that I have thought of all you for different reasons since the move.

The boys have settled into school nicely. They both just got report cards. John Paul's declared he was "an outstanding kindergarten citizen" (sounds a little Orwellian to me but hey). Joseph's said it seemed like he had been in the class all year and he fit right in. I know John Paul is much happier with school: not once has he told me it's too long. He even told Joseph that he should have Mrs. Talarczyk for kindergarten. Joseph will soon be having an art show and concert with his class. The art show raises money for the Ronald McDonald house, so I will be able to purchase some of his artwork, if no one outbids me.

Amazingly John and I have found a house. I fell in love with it when I walked in. I have to give John much credit, he really wanted new construction, but was willing to go with this house. It's in a beautiful neighborhood and centrally located. I absolutely cannot wait to move in.

My mom and dad have been amazing. They have really been very helpful. Joseph is their little sidekick because he only has pre-school part of the day. I don't know what I would do without all their help. I have been staying with them and they have been so kind. It's so cool because my mom does the laundry -- she's the best. I wonder if I can continue that deal when we move to the new house...

The job is going well. I thought it would be tough getting back to work, but I guess you never forget that. It's busy and the day flies. Best part is I can start as early as 6:00 am and leave pretty much 8 and 1/2 hours after whatever my starting time was. I sometimes am home by 4:00.

I have met some nice people here already. Our realtor has invited herself over to the house when we move in to make toffee with me. I've never made toffee, but she said she would bring all the stuff so why not?

I'm feeling truly blessed right now. I have a great husband, great kids, great parents and a new home. The only thing missing is my brothers -- but I know they are looking down giving me a cheer.

Wish you well--
Alane

Yes, yes, lots of life-altering stuff in there, and every bit of it is true. But did you notice? Alane actually said something nice about me. In the 20+ years that she's known me, she finally said something nice about me.

That house is worth every dime!

Further proof that mundane everyday life is absurd for Mastandreas: you all did get my address correct, and yet all my December mail was returned to sender. During December my mail key chose to cease working, so I turned in a maintenance report to my Housing Association that I would need a new key and lock cylinder for my mailbox. In retrospect, its funny that I believed this would work when they still haven't replaced the window that was blown in October, but I submitted it...and waited for a week. The following week I started gettting a bit concerned so I left a note on my box for my mailman with my cell number asking if he can kindly call me so that I can meet him there, after all I work during his delivery hours and during December early January, every Saturday seemed occupied. I got no response. So another week goes by and I leave a second note more desperate than the last...to "PLEASE HELP ME, Im paying all my bills over the phone and I didn't get a single Christmas card this year." So now I get my neighbors in on the action, as they wait for him to come and accost him. He says "tell the resident I'm going to take care of it for him...he just needs to go to the Post Office to pick up his mail." Indeed, I went to the Post Office the following Saturday, waited on a line to Spain, and of course they tell me the mail carrier issued a request for 290 Cypress Point to "return to sender". I would like to choke that spiteful bastard...although it would be funny if any of those cards passed through Uncle Vito's hands twice. However the situation is officially corrected, I apologize for those who thought I left town for good. Mark my words: I will have my revenge on the USPS of Palm Beach Gardens.