The reason Bazzukajoe's conversation always culminates in poop-talk is because his thought patterns mirror the digestive process. I'm not saying he thinks with his colon... More that his brain pushes ideas along in a sort of mental peristalsis. Listen to him grunt when he has an idea; then listen at the bathroom door.

Can the similarity be coincidental? I think not.

I had an amusing moment today. I often wonder what the child is thinking, a question I am sure John & Alane ask daily. I was off today so i took the baby out for a walk. She is quite content with the outdoors. We walked down the street around the back of our complex and she was quiet the entire time. Behind our apartment is a canal that feeds the water hazards for the golf community behind us. It goes for miles and has fish and wildlife residing around it. Its nice. They are currently cleaning up the banks and the water of any debris and beautifuing the edges. As we walk past i see an entire family of ducks all walking in a row down into the water and i can see a big turtle with its head above the water. IN my head i thought damn i wish i had a carriage with off road wheels so we could walk down there. At the same exact time Ellexa lets out a yell followed by some garbled sounds and a coo. I though " Me too." I know exactly what she was thinking. And so it has begun, That Mastandrea thing where no words are needed. Just facial expressions and sighs.

Now I ask has anyone ever senn this much Broccoli Rabe in one place? And they wonder why the Meat Pipe has caused them so much grief. I can only imagine the environmental destruction consuming this quantity would create. WOW! Ever seen this in Omaha? Maybe you can start a pile and just keep stacking it. I am sure that aunt cristina and uncle philly would send you some too. It could be like a tourist stop like that giant ball of twine. okay , I wonder if anyone has ever filled a water bed with broccoli rabe and slept in it?

I have one last question i need help with. Does every conversation and statement i have end with a reference to poop? I have been told it is an ongoing problem i will have to deal with. I responded that it will soon be 2 problems that she has to deal with as soon as she starts talking.
I had to put this one in. Its a cool picture. This is at Briahna's Birthday at Disney, Alice's Tea Party. I didnt want to ruin it but Ellexa was the attention getter. Even the characters wanted to play with her. This Ellexa and her Granpa. I think she may be droppin a deuce. My dad has that effect on her apparently. We had 2 1/2 hour drive and she was actually very good. It almost worries us.

Today is the third anniversary of my brother Joe passing. For some reason on this day I always wake up and try to imagine what his day was like. I mean, he got up, went to work. Said he wasn't feeling so well at work and went home. He then took his beloved truck out to the car wash with a six pack of beer (he must not have been feeling that bad). Waited for Anne to come home went running and never came back. I always wonder, did he have any idea? Like with my brother Brian, he knew his liver was failing the doctor told him. He was always waiting, but Joe...no reason to think you are gonna get up and its gonna be your last day on earth. Just like John's friend. Kinda makes you think. I'll be taking the boys to Whipps ledge's this weekend to hike. It was one of my brother's favorite places when we were kids. I'm sure they will love it too. The glaciers went through and left giant rock formations.

Okay Merl, that was one of the strangest agglomerations of insanity that I've seen on this blog in some time (and that includes Bazzukajoe's unique brand of stream-of-consciousness).

Bread soda?

If you had put a gun to my head and commanded me to think up unlikely flavors for disgusting soft drinks, I never would have come up with that. I've had coffee soda. And chocolate soda. And the bodega on 15th Avenue and Dahill Road used to sell that El Sol malta crap. But bread soda? Why not broccoli soda? Or pizzaiola margarita mix (speaking of salty beverages).

And what of salty beverages?

While I tend to agree with Merl's general proposition on salty beverages, I can't help but have evil thoughts. Like "Clamato." Which I have never tried. And never will. And may or not be salty. But is definitely wrong.

And "Pleasure Island"?

That name is too image-rich for me. It puts me in the mind of the Pink Pussycat Boutique on West 4th Street in the Village (which I will not link to -- this is a family show!). While a high school student at Xavier, I would occasionally trek over to West 4th to browse the intriguing wares. Or journey uptown to the Erotic Bakery. Got some neat-o his/hers lollipops there once. Andre got a cake there too for a much-desired friend of ours: a giant chocolate phallus. Creme-filled (of course). Inscribed: "Maria's Cure." Beset with flu, wearing a Santa suit, Andre personally delivered it to her birthday party. She reportedly screamed and tossed the offending torte into the bathroom (only to allegedly stick her finger into it and lick the creme later that evening).

Merl, you've done it to me again.

And I thank you.

Lastnight Jenia and I went to Pleasure Island, we had a great time, naturally. We contemplated going to Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville, but went to The Rock 'N Roll Beachclub instead. A friend was playing there in a band he just joined, called The Leonard Brothers. There we had a bartender who looked just like Alan Alda only with a gray mustache, his name was Clinta. Maybe next time we'll go to Margaritaville, my only problem is that I firmly believe that beverages should never ever be salty. It's just not refreshing or pleasant. Jenia probably loves salty drinks, one of his favorite treats is Kvas. ( aka: bread soda.) Somehow when you reverse the name you get a delicious cake, but the other way around, you get Russian syrup sewage with bits of marinated yeast parts. It's exactly like spit with remains of Tab in it. His parents used to travel all the way to Miami to to buy it, a 2L for about $7. I guess Russians think it's silly of us to pay $7 for Locatelli Cheese, after all it is just dried sheep's milk. Hmmm, points to ponder, countries not to visit.

Part of me is glad you heard his voice, for some type of closure, but part of me is sad for you because I don't want it to haunt or taunt you. It's very bittersweet. This one's for you up there. (I'm toasting Green Tea with Ginseng and Honey).

It was years ago at a Xavier event that I ran into Chris and I probably hadn't seen him prior to that since graduation in 1984. I was with the Law Journal at the time, he was at Bloomberg. By all indications he was doing quite well -- I pumped him for industry tips because I was considering my career options at the time. I took his card and always meant to call him for more, but our only occasions for conversation after that were fund-raisers for the school. He was a regular contributor, a strong one. I had a lot of respect for him, especially on the latter point.

He was at a breakfast meeting at Windows on the World on September 11, 2001 and there was no way out of that. And even though there were literally thousands of people lost that day, my mind always finds its way back to him when the subject of that day comes up.

They played his voice on the radio just now -- one of the emergency tapes just released to families. It took me by surprise, hearing his name and then hearing him. On the inside pages of the Post I had just been reading about the ongoing arguments over what to build at the World Trade Center site: a wacky Freedom Tower, a sunken-waterfall memorial that looks like a trough urinal. Business as usual. It'll be many years before anything happens. And now I need to finish my coffee and get dressed for another day of business as usual, getting my affairs in order so I can get myself the hell out of New York.

Hey Guys, I'm back! (Kinda like smallpox, it's here, then it's gone, it's here...ahh)
So, at school this week, we are teaching the children about the letter U, most of them confuse it with the letter A. We were giving examples of words, when one of the teachers (of Spanish descent, but still...) pointed to her ankle, and all the kids said "Ankle!"
Also, while stumbling across the word unicorn, another teacher was trying to explain the creature to the kids and said it has a big horn coming out of its nose. And she hand signaled a long snout. After that she drew a picture of it, and said, "Something's wrong with the unicorn I just drew, I'm a really bad artist."

A post so good it appeared twice!

I'm back from class four hours west of here with my brand-new State Advanced Certification. Unfortunately it won't get me a raise or anything. But at least it explains why Joey only got to leave a voice mail message when he called on Sunday night

Speaking of Sunday night, they did make that "Finnery reunion" work on the Sopranos. I usually hate dream sequences, and by extension I was annoyed by the similar "altered state of consciousness" sequence they've used the last couple of episodes. But it did go better than I expected and this season is a drastic improvement over the most recent season so far.

The snow is melting and they're discussing the possiblity for sever weather around here on Thursday. How time flies.

I'm watching Sopranos now; just finished watching last week's. The ICU scenes don't seem realistic without a provolone hanging over the bed.

Back in Tuckahoe, the trains pass much closer. I got the boys crew-cuts yesterday -- they look good. Cookie even got some amorous across-the-aisle attention from a female classmate at Mass yesterday evening. And Mojo -- that kid is shot. He gives me a hard time when I tell him we're sleeping at the new house instead of his grandparents' -- and yet within the last week he threatened to trade both of them away:

First, to pay for a hypothetical speeding ticket, he offered to turn in his grandmother.

Next, at dinner last night, he declared that he needed he needed a new grandpa -- one that could throw fire.

That kid is shot.

I'm watching Sopranos now; just finished watching last week's. The ICU scenes don't seem realistic without a provolone hanging over the bed.

Back in Tuckahoe, the trains pass much closer. I got the boys crew-cuts yesterday -- they look good. Cookie even got some amorous across-the-aisle attention from a female classmate at Mass yesterday evening. And Mojo -- that kid is shot. He gives me a hard time when I tell him we're sleeping at the new house instead of his grandparents' -- and yet within the last week he threatened to trade both of them away:

First, to pay for a hypothetical speeding ticket, he offered to turn in his grandmother.

Next, at dinner last night, he declared that he needed he needed a new grandpa -- one that could throw fire.

That kid is shot.

There are active rail lines not far from Berea-Rose, and periodically throughout the night we can hear train whistles. It's distant enough to not be obtrusive, and I suppose I only notice it because it gets so quiet at night -- much different from living right across the street from the Metro North Railroad, with commuter trains that roared past, "so often you won't even notice it."

Being that spring arrived earlier this week, the snow here in Berea is very light. I got the heat cranked up inside -- I can already see that I have a few summer projects ahead of me, sealing windows and adding insulation.

Frylock reported to me this morning the joy in Bazzukajoe's eyes when he located that photo of the shit-chute.

It's the little things in life, I suppose.

Last week I had to take Mojo to his kindergarten screening. Unlike every mother there, I had not prepped my child. Indeed, I don't think I could--the poor kid has like three addresses. But I hadn't even really mentioned it to Mojo until the day before the screening, at which time he told me--I"M NOT GOING. Well, yes he was, however, I asked why. Response: John Paul has to do too much work. I do not want to be in kindergarten. I like pre-school. Then to make sure I knew just how unready he was for this and how he had every intention of throwing the entrance test, "Mommy...I don't even remember how to spell my name..." (He could have at least said he didn't even know the alphabet, because that for the most part is true). So I come home from work to take him. He thinks he is going to pre-school so jumps in the car easily enough. However, upon realizing our destination and where we had stopped--he refused to get out. I had to carry him into his screening. Luckily, they had a folder he needed to carry and a fish badge to wear around his neck and some of his friends for school were there, so he did go in without too much of a hassle. Lord only knows what he answered....

I tried.

I hear that the heart of the old London operation has been moved to the obscure town of Watford. Oakley is taking to it as one would expect.

Once again, the Macaroni Dish spans the widest possible gamut of subject matter -- going from bad-water to beautiful-baby and touching upon every imaginable topic in between, all in just a few short posts. A sink-hole to swallow Joe-maha on his mower? What an image! Brown gravy spreading across the french-fries of Spumoni lawn? Striking! Grown men making the "eh!" face for the camera? Just plain bizarre (but we seem to make that face often).

Anyway, I'm sure getting lots of stuff done lately. Phone is on at the new house, along with the security system. Cable is on order. Got the car re-registered. Taking off the NY plates felt almost like a surrender ceremony -- as if I was running down an old flag to hoist that of a new conqueror.

But seeing as to how I'm sleeping in my own bed in my own house tonight, I'll just declare myself the victor. The NY plates are on their way back to DMV. And my insurance is way cheaper out here.

John and Ellexa

Mama mia. Those must have been spicy meatballs!

I've never been so thankful for sewer pipes and lift stations. And thankful that the only comparable problem I've had here was "the hole in the lawn that took two dump truck loads of dirt to fill." Falling into a large hole while mowing isn't the same as "the brown tide" but it also makes you want to stay inside. It's also possible that the hole originiated as an abandoned septic system.

Thanks for posting "the chins picture." It will always remind me what a good time we had, how much sun I got in such a short period of time, and what great shirt collections you have!

So it only took 5 guys to move an armoire into my home. It is the perfect addition to our new living room. Now if Uncle lenny and Vito Sr. were here they would have had it up in 15 minutes but hey we cannot have a Barese moving party often, we must choose our times. When does the signal go out for the full move to Berea? I am a phone call away.....

First I must say that a mastandrea should never leavesthe house without a camera. We all know that we are somehow magnetic to all the bizarre occurences of the world and we must always share them.

This is a picture of the now infamous MeatPipe. It resides behind the foliage in front of the house. This is the pipe used to empty the septic system once a year. We lived in this house 5 years and were unaware of the impending inundation we were about to experience. I came home from work around 6pm and the house smelled foul. I looked at my dad and he just said" Yeah I know! and don't use the bathroom. Someone is coming to check it out." So i walk around the house and take note that the 3 showers are filling from the drains with brown mud that is awful smelling. The toilets are all to to the brim with brown water. My mom is running around the house with a gallon of bleach attempting to sanitize the bowls of shit. So I walk outside because i know thaere has to be a relesae valve or something. Outside is better than inside right? So i find this pipe and i slowly take off the cover. What you see is what began to bubble out. A steady stream of paper and other unmentionables. It oozed over and began creeping across the lawn like the blob approaching its next victim. I realize this is not good and try to replace it but that was a joke. Ever try to put a sprayer on a hose thats running? Nasty. I go back inside to tell my dad what mess i just created and my mom is doing a dance that the shit is going down. I try not to say much but i bring Merle over to the window and shine a flashlight on the lawn. Looking out she trys to focus on what it is. So i say meatballs, they are all over the lawn. She stares at me than out the window. So i say... not so much going down as going out. Its all over the lawn. Merle got all twisted and was wretching. My dad was pissed off. Mom was happy. He would rather we suffer and no one finds out than us create a health hazard and be able to sleep tonight. So i promised john i would tell that story when i found this picture.

Does any one need this picture?



Oh yeah. Ellie if you like that water slide check out Wet and Wild in Orlando. They have something called Der Stuka. Its excellent. Even uncle joe tried it.

I corrected my most recent post. Today is St Joseph's Day

My card was signed "Mom and Dad" so I got the right one. I had no idea that so many ferocious infections circulated the Great Lakes. I hope that you're all feeling better soon.

I woke up at 7 AM, looked at the clock, and figured I could sleep later on my first day off of the month. When I awoke (again) at 11 I noticed a couple of inches of snow outside. We're supposed to get a couple more tonight and a few more tomorrow. We're in a drought so we need the moisture.

I hope that someone enjoys a St. Joseph's Day pastry for me. No bakery seems to make them around here.

Thanks for sharing Vito's link. "Abbaia e caca!"

Since Steve has mentioned the St. Joseph's day card, I must inquire--did any of the Joseph's receive a grandma and grandpa card. I believe we received Bazooka Joe's card as it was signed Aunt Helen and Uncle Vito. So I thought one of the other Joe's got MoJo's.

This has been a nasty week for the Great Lakes Mastandrea Clan. Strep has swept the house. Mojo got it first then last Saturday--Cookie fell prey. I thought I was being on the ball and took him to a DOCS in A BOX and started his treatment. Unfortunately they gave him Augmentin, which I really don't think they should prescribe to humans. First, you have to eat it with food and even if you do, you get the runs and upset stomach. Needless to say Cookie took one dose and spit it at me. So it was back to the real doctor on Monday where Cookie so traumatized by the Augmentin fiasco, agreed to a shot of penicillin rather than take any medicine. This made the poor kid limp for about two days as the nurse shot him in the thigh. That night, in a matter of about an hour, Cookie managed to pee the bed twice and then throw up. He was unable to attend school for the entire week as he was running a fever. Finally after Castaway Bay on Friday, I took him back to the doctor who pronounced that Cookie now had an infected ear and sinuses. So Cookie had to take medicine-but at least this wasnt nearly as nasty. I then had to work on Saturday from 6:00 am to noon. From there, I went to Docs in the Box where it was found that I too suffered from an ear infection and sinus infection. Anyway...all is under control.

I was thinking of the Balderdash occasion and if I'm thinking right, Cookie was still cooking in me and Mojo wasn't even a reality. Wow.

Woke up, looked at my watch, and decided that six o'clock wasn't too early to get up. So I brushed my teeth, came downstairs and started making coffee. On the computer, I saw that Vito IM'ed me this link last night -- and yes, the linked material lives up to Vito's scrupulous standards of humor. A dog that barks and craps... and sings! In Italian! About crap!

Anyway, I'm not sure when I first noticed that it wasn't really six o'clock. I had misread the time by an hour. So now I'm sitting here in a dark and mostly empty living room, drinking coffee and singing to myself: "Abbaia e caca!" While the town sleeps.

What is it about water parks? Not long ago, Ellie reported taking the plunge. And yesterday, we took the chimps to Castaway Bay, an indoor water park not too far west of Berea-Rose. We got a room for the night, squeezed in some playtime last night and then some more this morning before heading home.

Cookie is still feeling the effects of the flu so he was only operating at half speed, but Mojo and I hit the water-slides with gusto. Mojo was too short for the indoor/outdoor tube slides (I did one of them last night but didn't get back to it this morning); but he wasn't too short for the indoor water slides. And he did some high ones... repeatedly. And he loved the wave machine (which may explain why he slept so soundly in the car on the way home).

Anyway, it's Alane's turn with the cold now.

Things I associate with St. Joseph:

1. The childrens chewable aspirin.
2. Taking the Simms and Josh to Tuckahoe, playing a mean game of Balderdash (which culminated with the infamous Bacon Tomato and Jarlsberg incident)....and oh yes eating many St. Joseph pastries.
3. That every year since 1972 my brother has received just a single St. Joseph card in the mail....from the Helen.
4. Feeling proud to be Catholic knowing that Joe the Baker made such good pastries they Church him a Saint....maybe one day we will celebrate St. Marie's Day with St. Maries Orange Soup.

Early "Happy St. Joseph's Day"

The course went well in North Dakota and they held a snowstorm in honor of the return trip. In fact, the party spread to South Dakota to make the return more interesting.

No doubt Mother Nature thought she had to pay me back for the great view that I had of the badlands on Tuesday afternoon. I've never seen the Grand Canyon but the view from one of the I-94 overlooks could only be called, "Breathtaking." In true Mastandrea fashion I couldn't miss the bison poop piles. Everywhere. On the grass. On the road. Everywhere. Big piles! For the second time in two months I regret not having a camera to record it all for posterity.

I'm glad that the southern contingent enjoyed the remains of the lemoncello and orangecello. I don't canoe, either, although I don't think Ive ever been close enough to "garbage water" to make that decision. Unless you count the time in college when we had a few beers too many before playing through the water hazard at putt-putt golf. Do people name canoes? You could name that canoe "The Crusher." Or paint a couple of balls on the side with an 'x' through each in the tradition of flying aces and their conquests

Do those new mutandes include the option for protection in case you decide to take on a pitching machine?

Cookie woke up early so now he's watching the animated classic "The Gary Coleman Show" on Adult Swim. I have implored him to allow me to change the channel but he refuses.

What John's ailments need are some good old fashioned Italian home remedies . I believe for a head cold it is best to put roasted red peppers on your forehead before you lay down, to break a fever simply rub locatelli cheese and olive oil into your armpits. Finally, for a sore throat soak your underwear and socks in anchovie juice.

Anyway, somehow this past Saturday I ended up in Jupiter Farms paddling in a canoe with Ree, Marlena, Jenia and Stefanie. I'm still not sure exactly how they convinced me this was a good idea.... but I do know the night before we polished off all the lemongello and orangello bottles generously left by Airport Guy.

But I did indeed go. Let me describe this so called Jupiter Farms" river" we paddled along. First of all, I've seen deeper water at the bottom of a dixie cup....and it smelled like garbage juice. We weren't very good canoers...Ree lost a shoe, I lost the map...and we all lost our minds. Especially when we came to "The Dam". Now the dam is set up with a docking area with an up ramp and down ramp so that canoers pull the boat out of the water then back in. We had some older local couple watch us pull our canoes perfectly onto the ramp, disboard, take a few pictures and then prepare to push back in...but the husband insisted he be the good samaritan who helps these city hopeless city kids. Needless to say, the wet downramp was a perfect recipe for a man falling flat on his back, losing his breath...and in trying to break his fall pull the canoe straight into his balls. We all jumped to his rescue which he proudly...and painfully brushed off. And yes I did refrain from asking if that was the proper way to launch a canoe? But it managed to keep us laughing the entire remainder of the trip.

Last I heard from Jupiter, Bazzukajoe was organizing the furniture invasion of his apartment. So far, I have not received the hernia report. I trust all went well.

I dragged my slowly-recovering ass to the office today -- fever's gone, but the energy level is still dismal. At least the weather was mild.

Tonight I'll lie about, watch TV, maybe go ot sleep early... pretty much the same as I've done the last few days. No basketball yet: I don't think XU plays until Thursday. I did catch them playing against Fordham on Friday. Gene tipped me off that the game was on -- sent me an e-mail saying he's invited to a Final Four party and has to wear his school colors. He was depressed, owning no clothing that is either heliotrope or puce.

Which reminds me: I want to order myself a new pair of mutandes. I wonder what colors they come in?

North Dakota. . .windy and cold. . .Tarka loves it. . .I find myself humming, "Away out here they have a name for wind, rain and fire. The rain is Tess, the fire's Joe, and they call the wind Mariah. . . ."

It has been fun for me while Joe is working and I have to say even more than fun. . .today I went down a two-plus storey tornado water slide. It was exhilarating and got my adrenalin pumping. I was scared the first time and just as scared the second time I went down it, too. . .but I can't do things at a younger age and I am not going to let a little thing like terror do me in . . .ha ha ha. . .

As the picture shows, the slide starts at the window level of the third floor and actually leaves the building and re-enters at the top of the first floor and continues to circle to the floor level. Wow and wow again. . .

Tonight we are heading out the Rattlesnake Bar and Grill for dinner. If they serve rattlesnake I am eating it. Okay, I have had rattlesnake before when I was at the Wall Drug in South Dakota, but I still want to have it again to refresh my memory. . .or my bragging rights or something.

Tarka and I had lunch at the Wurst Shop in Dickinson. I hope we have time to stop there on the way home and take home some elk and bison (I refuse to call it "Buffalo" since it isn't.), as well as a roll of Italian Sausage to try out. I might pick up some head cheese to fry up for breakfast and some smoked hocks for red beans and rice, but I think I will skip the blood sausage this trip.

The owner and I chatted for a few minutes while I picked out a kuchen to share with Tarka. He was quite hospitable and not as full of baloney as he advertizes. we chatted about canning sausage which is something our grandparents used to do and not many do anymore.

I supose I should have posted all of this to the Table along with the fact that we found artisan bread at Albertson's grocery store. ..and guess what style it was? Pugliese. Is that not cool, or what?

Still can't shake this flu; temperature still three digits. So I slept most of the day. And now I've settled in by the television to treat myself to two straight hours of Cops -- one hour on Court TV and another hour on Fox.

That ought to get my mind off my ill health.

Less congested in the Dakotas? Maybe I should bring my sinuses there. I made it to the docotr yesterday afternoon and the strp test came up negative. He said to me, "You just have a flu bug, you big jerk."

Well, he didn't actually say the last three words. For some reason I always infer an additional three words to my doctor's advice. Like when he was telling me about the various things I'd need to do to control my hypertension he sternly warned me to, "Lose weight, you fat bastard." Again, he didn't actually say the last part, but I heard it.

I've been asleep since about 6 p.m., so I may be awake for a while. (And sleeping with a fever I have the craziest dreams -- too disjointed to even report.)

I hate to blog with "hat in hand" (so to speak) but I'm calling for photos.

During the festivities at Spumoni South we posed for some photos with the Lemoncello and Orancello shotglass-equivalents. We also did "chins" versions of those shots, too. I don't remember seeing any of them. Thanks in advance if they turn up.

I've been busy working days and last night and will try to tie up loose ends before leaving to teach in North Dakota next week. As Nebraska is an order of magnitude less congested than the east coast, so North Dakota is an order of magnitude less congested than Nebraska. Hopefully it will be a nice change of pace. Tarka will appreciate the cooler temperatures.

When I left Ohio on Tuesday, Mojo was suffering from strep. Now I think it's my turn: fever, head pressure, aches. Maybe it's just a flu virus, but in any event I'm going to the doctor later. Right now I'm under two blankets and I still feel cold.

I have to say I agree with your sentiment there, John. I purchased Via Voice from IBM several years ago with the intention of talking to my computer whenever a bright idea struck, because they don't stick. Unfortunately, my Ozark accent confused the program and it totally fouled up anything I tried to say. Supposedly VISTA will be much more voice oriented and more browser objects will be aural in the future, but IBM told me they didn't think that they could ever get a machine to orient to a southern or hillbilly voice. . .*sigh* They offered me my money back, so I can at least say they were fair.

I am a frenetic multi-tasker. That's one of the (many) reasons the long drive on I-80 is so difficult for me. Someone needs to develop a way to blog and drive at the same time -- all the good conversation ideas hit you while you're on the open road. Especially when there's no one with you to actually reality-test the brilliance of your original insight. So there I was today, tooling across the wide and vapid expanse of Pennsylvania, the Jeep's rear speakers blasting Led Zeppelin, my jaws slowly gnawing a giant wad of beef jerky, my mind wandering on every imaginable subject.

I had lots of great ideas for blog posts.

And now that I'm home, I've forgotten all of them.

It was definitely a rule violation. Mojo and I had spent a busy morning shopping at Target and fussing at the house. I thought we'd get some lunch before heading back to Strongsville to watch the Mets and Indians on ESPN play a spring training game.

Mojo made me drive past the McDonalds because it had no playground. So I drove to the next cluster of shops. There were several fast food options here: a Breugger's Bagels, a Quiznos, a Panera. Surely Mojo would like something. There was even a small pizzeria which I considered a last resort -- foraging as I was in one of the many strip malls that leaven the pasty flavorless heart of Wonder-Bread America, I considered it a meta-physical certainty that the pizza there would be mediocre at best and likely much worse.

But of course, Mojo didn't want a sandwich. So I walked dejectedly into Capri Pizza. The lunch special was two slices and a drink. Perfect. I would feed Mojo while fighting down a slice of my own.

But a strange thing happened when we got the food to the table. The pizza was good. Not Ohio good; Brooklyn good. I couldn't believe it. I got another slice -- sicilian. Good stuff. I congratulated the guy behind the counter on a job well done. I took a menu. Because we will be back.

I had broken the Ohio Pizza Rule (which is itself authorized by an increasingly destabilized constitution of NYC-snobbery). And for it I was rewarded handsomely.

Funny you should mention the roll of yellow tape, I almost pulled one out today. After this weekend's conference a fellow attendee and I were driving east on I-80 when he announced over the radio that he needed to take the next exit to "cut the cord," a local euphamism for brunz activity. I parked upwind of the gas station rest room "just in case." His lengthy visit caused me to consider pulling out the aforementioned roll of yellow "Do Not Enter" tape to distinguish the hot zone but in the end (no pun intended) it was safer in the car. After he was done, and we were both driving again, he got on the radio and suggested that the toilet might have stretch marks, immediately reminding me of a similar conversation a little over a week ago. Indeed, I couldn't resist asking if he had taken a photo of the prodigious log for submission to Rate My Poo but he was unprepared for his date with infamy.

Thanks to Ellie for reminding me that I hadn't shared all of the electronic photos shared with me in Spumoin South. We found some photos that we hadn't seen of Joe and Jessica's wedding, and a photo of the elusive Frylock with the Wonderdog. Looks like we're going to have to get a photo-quality printer. Thanks again to everyone for sharing your photos.

The sauce bottle to the left of this post is a special one. Spontaneous Combustion Hot Sauce is one of the early first hot sauces that we enjoyed. In fact, was the first bottle of many habanero sauces of many that our merry band finished in a recently favored bar-b-q restaraunt. Unfortunately, as a group we've seen that restaraunt, as well as far too many of our favorite bar-b-q restaraunts, close. We-b-smokin', Smoke Pitt and Buster's we shall miss you.

I don't know a thing about garbage disposals except what I read online since I never had one. While researching your sprayer problem I found tips on maintaining your garbage disposal half way down this page. Although I suspect mineral deposit buildup on the spring in your spray head that opinion might only prove why I'm not a plumber. I hope that you're ready to visit hardware stores more than once a day as I've noticed that as soon as you fix one thing something else breaks. Your worst-case scenario, a replacement, should be relatively quick and cheap. Be glad you don't live here, a very old and formerly small house that had one small addition after another. There are water pipes, sewer pipes, and electrical condiut everywhere. I expect to find water or sewer pipes connected to electrical conduit some day.

It was just a matter of time. Not a question of if, but when.

A little earlier I was cleaning some of the stuff we've been using in the kitchen. I pulled out the spray hose thing from the sink faucet to squirt some water on some things I was washing. I depressed the little lever, the main faucet cut off and the spritz action began.

So far so good.

Then I released the little lever. It kept spritzing. I tried to pull backward on the little lever. No change. I slapped it. banged it on the side of the sink. Still spritzing. Turned the water off and on. Spritz.

I turned off the water. Unwilling to be defeated (as in, "unwilling to be mildly defeated") I extended the hose and unscrewed the cap to the little shower head. It came off easily along with the little lever from the back. As I caught the two loose pieces in each palm a third component announced itself -- a white cylindrical piece of plastic that forms the inside of the nozzle. It slipped out smartly and rolled directly down the throat of, hey what's this, the garbage disposal.

I never had a garbage disposal before (wasn't even aware I had one now). Therefore I never had anything useful/valuable fall into one. Yet somehow, I knew better than to shove my hand in after it. So I got out the spaghetti-tongs and after a few minutes of playing "Operation" (as in, "removing my own funny bone") I retrieved the wayward hardware.

But the faucet is still stuck in spritzer mode. With the lever removed I can see all too well the little rounded button the activates the spray head. Maybe if I get some needle-nose pliers I can back it out -- if I can get a grip on the damned thing.

It didn't take long, but there I stood, like Uncle Vinny at the ladder-head tangled in half-lit Christmas lights, quietly muttering to myself: sonofabeetch.

If Airport Guy decides to use that hot sauce, they're going to have to put yellow warning tape around his ass the next morning.

Still need vidoes of fiery cataclysm? Set up a toilet cam -- you'll at least catch the smoldering aftermath.

Emergency response indeed -- I suspect it was a habanero pepper that first caused a desperate responder to bark out: secure the perimeter!

Guido and I used to bombard each other with hot sauce gifts (another reason I normally trek to Kosters -- though it doesn't seem quite the same under new management). While I was still at the Law Journal (wha? about 10 years ago?) I had a bottle of Smack My Ass and Call Me Sally sauce that I kept on my desk. A few sprinkles of that stuff could make a typical deli gyro into something extraordinary.

BTW, I'm sitting here in my front window taking in our new view of our new street. I'm drinking coffee from a mug with a volcano image on the side. The volcano is dormant until you add hot liquid -- then the ash cloud fades and a lava explosion is revealed. Take it as another hot sauce warning.

(Oh, and there's a dinosaur in the scene as well; when the cup gets hot, the eyes turn red. Way cool.)

I want to make clear that I am not posting this because I want to know exactly how many bottles of hot sauce are in the refrigerator. The topic is hot sauce because I'm quite partial to a variety of habanero and chipotle sauces. That variety (maybe two dozen bottles) awaits me in the fridge any time I want to add a splash of heat. Besides the opened bottles in the fridge there are also unopened bottles in the cupboard. In summary, it doesn't make sense forme to buy hot sauce for a while. Why, then, am I staring at a bottle of "HAZMAT Hot Sauce?" Because it was the first prize in HAZMAT Jeapordy at the conference I'm attending this week.

The label featues great twists on classic warning symbols, an inside joke for us mop-n-glow types, and the phrase, "Keep away from children, pets, and the medically challenged." Yum!

As rejuvenating as instructing is for me, conferences like the one I'm attending remind me how carefree being a student can be. And how much fun it can be trading videos with other instructors. I have three new video clips of fires, explosions and their aftermaths which is a great trade for the one PowerPoint presentation that I gave him.

This week the blog is approaching the conversation density of the table at Spumoni South. It is great to have so many conversations going here, and I'm sorry that I've worked days and nights this week. Here's my attempt at catching up.

I'm amazed that John didn't say anything about Alane calling him a kook. At least she said that kooks are attracted to her. As for the kooks at the monster trucks, you might want to take a carbon monoxide detector the next time you go, just in case it comes from breathing in the exhaust-filled auditorium.

We're aware that the next trip will need to be longer, Joe, although we didn't need to go to the Improv to laugh. We laughed plenty at Spumoni, Universal, and at the Fatones. It could be dangerous - how many Mastandrea hecklers can a comic take? Were your parents wearing helmets while they did laps around the house? That would explain the stop watch on the scooter.

Hindsight is 20/20. I wish that the sign I made for the trip to Palm Beach International had said "Floyd Vivino." It was still a great gag. Steve, I'm glad I got to visit Blackouts.

To Phyllis' suggestion of scents for the new house, I add the scent of bracciole.

I blog from our sparse and huddled campsite in an upstairs bedroom of Berea-Rose. The boys are fumbling with their sleeping bags in a tent that has been pitched about two feet from our inflatable mattress. We got here just a little while ago, set up some basic stuff in the kitchen, drank some port from demit-tasse mugs, and now it's time for little monkeys to get some sleep.

(Drove 500 miles today with four bicycles lashed to the back hitch -- and it was crazy windy today, making the bicycle load into a sort of suicide tail-rudder... made it okay all the same.)

I would like to congratulate Jessica on a truly amazing feat--being married to a Mastandrea and having a child that resembles her instead of the Mastandreas. Ellexa is a beautiful little girl and looks amazingly like Jessica.

I am so excited about the new house. I'm waiting for John to get in tonight so we can all go over together for the first time. I have many decorating ideas in mind--unfortunately I think they will have to stay there for a while.

I was so sorry and jealous to have missed the Mastandrea get together in Spumoni South. It sounds like it was awesome. We did not have nearly as much fun here. Although we did see monster trucks again and go on the arena floor. We were waiting in line by the Manson family. This was exactly the type of crowd I expected for monster trucks.

We did go to the Science museum too and the boys were quite intrigued. Many gadgets to play with, and a truly disgusting display about body odor where you sniffed and had to guess what body odor it was. One choice was labeled anus and man it was...The boys liked being poop on the giant stomach playground.

I have had several truly insane conversations recently. I was checking out at the super market and the cashier (a 40 something guy) asked if I wanted to donate $ 1 for the hunger campaign. I said sure and it launched this man into a nutso tirade about how this wouldnt help people and what they needed was jobs. I said it wouldnt do much good if they were all starved when the jobs did show up. He then proceeded to tell me what trouble we were gonna be in when the UN took control of the country....YIKES--kooks are attracted to me.

Scarier still was at work when a bunch of guys (who seemed to be normal enough) were discussing the Great Lakes Consortium. This a group of states that surround the great lakes and are unifying to make sure water rights aren't being sold to other states for fresh water. This wasnt kooky but then they started to discuss how it would put Ohio in a great position when the inevitable civil war for fresh water occurred...

Well the boys are being horrid cuz they know I am occupied so I'll sign off for now. Glad to hear everyone had a good time. I'm still jealous....

I haven't done anything but shop for the last two days and boy does it get old fast! I still have one more trip to go to pick up 'incidentals' --- all the things I left off the list on the last three trips and discovered when I got home. When the first Friday of the month coincides with the third day of the month, Katie-bar-the-door, the stores are packed with government, military, seniors and the disabled. I thought about going at three this morning when there was a chance that the lines would be shorter, but it was raining and icy out so I went back to bed.

Tarka is loving the cold snap though. She has been out in the cold rain for half an hour and shows no signs of wanting in. "Brrrrr chilly," is all I can say. But then, Sterling our cat has been outside all along, too. I thought cats weren't supposed to like rain, but he wants to be wherever Tarka is. I don't know if he thinks he is a dog or if Tarka thinks she is a cat. Probably a bit of both since Sterling is the wildest cat I have ever had that wasn't strickly a barn cat. He has decided that he can't use the litter box anymore and is now using my houseplants. I threw out four more yesterday but caught him this morning and gave him a shot of cold water from the squirt gun. It didn't phase him. I picked him up and took him to the litterbox and stood there until he gave in to my demands. I rewarded him with a dab of butter. Not good enough. He only wants butter when he can steal it off the counter, it seems.

I have said it before. . .having pets is like having perpetual two-year-olds in the house who shed.

I haven't done very much food shopping in the last two months. And that's not very good. That doesn't mean I'm not eating -- there's plenty to eat. But none of it is very straightforward food -- I'm trying to deplete the stockpile of canned, frozen and dry-packaged items. We've got years worth of the stuff, and I'm finally clearing some shelves. But getting there has not always been easy.

I really have to start marking canned foods, with at least the year of purchase. Same with frozen food -- I've eaten some chicken in the last few weeks that tasted like refrigerator mildew.

And I'm running out of rice already.

I had a blast. . .I admit, the only times in my life when there was that much noise going on in my house, it was a knock-down-drag-out-to-the-death-of-dignity-and-beyond fight. But I got used to it very easily. . .a few time outs with the dog outside and I was ready for all the family I could absorb. It was marvelous and yes, I am tearing up thinking about it. Joe and I had our humanity restored.

I have to admit that I miss it. With Joe gone from dawn until ten at night freguently, it gets really quiet in the house. I am making a pest of myself to Joe-maha by sending him links to all of the job openings in Florida in his field. He leaves again in a few minutes and won't be back until Sunday night.

At least this trip he gets to play Hazmat Jeopardy. . .don't ask, it's an EM thing!

Wow.
Congratulations on the new homestead. Awesome.
Four bedrooms of Willy Wonka style creations that are built around the house. Excellent. When we do make our trip alert the men that i will bring my legos, erector set and power tools. You will have to build an extension after that. Maybe we can install a pipe next to your kitchen table that reaches 900 degrees. I wonder if we can build a couch that has 800 square feet of storage beneath it? hmmmm . Funny my dad has a closet in his bedroom like that. I can not way to see it john.

I think i will be making a shirt with Furkake on it. Come to think of it sometime my cat gets furcaki ....on her tail. I do not think i want it on my rice.

Convergence is a good word. Thanks Joe and Ellie for making the journey. Thanks to Joe i have at least a month of commuting music to entertain me. Next trip we must go to the improv. It was a most memorable visit, hope it was for you. I know Vin was very happy to see you guys. Funny Steve refers to the initiation of being at the table. I always have to warn the new people that there is much activity and conversation around the dinner table but no one is ever ready for it. The word overstimulated comes to mind.

Why is Love shack always on? Does the whole shack really shimmy? Are there really 700 cds to choose from?

Hey aunt phyllis tell uncle pat that was way too much information. Last week we came by my moms house and my mother is sitting on my dads lap in his wheelchair and they are doing laps around the house and donuts in the kitchen. Ughh. Very Disturbing
Wish you could have stayed a little longer but im glad you made it.
we'll see stef sunday. Snowing huh? Its nice here for once. 70's lately.
Should hook aida up with tom tuttle, that would be great haha oh isnt she married though? i dont think i said more than hello to her. There much yelling on her cell phone. i didnt want to interupt the verbal tirade you know its hard to get that flow going again.

Wow, this blog is a hotbed of family conversation....I love it. This is the first opportunity I've had to post on that amazing Mastandrea Convergence on Spumoni South last week. Thank you to Joe, Ellie and John for sharing your time, energy and love...we truly thrive on it down here. As expected the laughter was the only thing more plentiful than the food...and I can't wait until we get to do it again. I knew the visit was going perfect when I found myself at Palm Beach International Airport holding a sign reading "OTTO ARENA". I want to extend special thanks to Ellie for accepting our family so wholeheartedly...its wonderful to have you a part of it. You gave an olympic worthy performance at the stove, and more importantly at the table. You know we forget how difficult the first time at the Mastandrea dinner table can be for the uninitiated: trying to eat and keep track of all fourteen conversations occurring simultaneously while "Love Shack" plays at top volume...but Ellie was one of us. Anyway, It was my pleasure to care for Tarka, not only did I adore her company I'm pretty sure her presence increased sales at the store by about 20% that day. I'd like to thank Joe and John for taking the Vin-man and visiting me at the store, I know it was a bit hectic and hard to talk, but it really meant a lot to me. I have friends in Jupiter who have never bothered to see the little dog and pony show I call Blackouts Inc....your thoughtfulness seems to have no limits. I was kinda thinking to myself as we watched Clearwater Aquarium video, "What Would Vito say?" as he watched us tamper with the exhibits, mock the aquarium staff...and then refer to the place as a sewage plant with fish? I think he'd say "you wanna see shit-hole full of filthy animals? Come to my job..." Anyway, I gotta get my silly-ass on the road. To those in NY and Connecticut enjoy the snow today....its about 80 here today.

In all the conversation we had in Florida last week (and there was a lot), there was at least one important conclusion that we drew and it bears repeating here: everything is funny; you just have to take the time to notice. And so it was that I sat down this morning to my dog's breakfast of Kashi cereal with soy milk (look at me, former doughnut-eating champion... how the mighty have fallen) and the phone rang. It was the Cottle School in Tuckahoe. Did I know that due to today's snow there would be early dismissal? Well, no, I did not know that.... Thanks for the info... but my kid hasn't been enrolled in that place for months.

While Cookie attended Cottle we were often unhappy with the school's failure to share what we considered important information. I'm glad to see the situation has improved -- perhaps removing one's child is a bureaucratic pre-requisite to parental contact?

I sneaked in my morning jog before the start of the snow; the first flakes fell on Tuckahoe as I walked out for the train station. And by the time I was crossing Seventh Avenue to get to my office, the ice crystals were being whipped by the wind across my shivering jowls. That part wasn't funny.

Four bedrooms? Think of all the contraptions Cookie and Mojo can build. Congratulations

Thanks for posting that photo from way back when in Brooklyn, Joe. Talk about a stroll down amnesia lane!