So!  Hey!  On Saturday night I rescued my neighbor’s dog from her burning apartment and was praised by Denis Leary!

(RE: The Above:  All lies)

(RE: The Above:  Well, more like severe exaggerations than all-out lies)

Let me explain.

I was getting ready to head out the door early on Saturday evening to meet a friend for dinner when I heard an alarm going off.  After a few minutes it didn’t stop, so I went downstairs and asked my roommate if she knew what it was.  We kinda stood in the living room with our heads tilted staring off into space for a bit, then she said “is that a fire alarm?”  We went out on our front porch, where it was much louder,  and could tell that it was definitely coming from our neighbor.  I live in a townhouse, so by “our neighbor” I actually mean “OMFG THE HOUSE THAT SHARES A WALL WITH MY BEDROOM WHERE ALL MY BOOKS ARE”  and in a millisecond pictured my bookshelves bursting into immediate flame and consuming everything.   Molly and I just stared at each other with eyebrows raised for a moment before she said “I’m going to call the police.”  She did.

To further set the scene, their dog was going fucking apeshit this entire time.  It was simultaneously irritating and scary. 

It is also important to remember that it about 9 degrees at the time (no, seriously-  that is not exaggeration) and we were both in our pjs (yes, at 6 PM- shut up).  

Molly:  Damn!  It is very cold out here.  I guess if we’re going to wait for the police we should put on some real clothes.

Me:  What if they send FIREMEN!?  I need to go put on mascara! 

Twenty minutes later, fully dressed and suitably bundled, the police hadn’t shown up yet, though we had seen a police car drive by our street a couple of times and never stop.  By this point, the alarm had started to holler “EVACUATE EVACUATE EVACUATE” which was creepy.  So far we hadn’t seen any smoke, and we had looked in all the windows we could, so we were still pretty nonchalant. 

Then the dog stopped barking.  I immediately pulled out my phone and called 911 again- this time asking for fire specifically.  Also, about this time, I got my first whiff of smoke.  I wouldn’t say I was frantic on the phone, but I will say they were there in a couple of minutes.    When they pulled up in front of our house, this guy got out:

No joke.  The resemblance was so uncanny that my jaw dropped.  If I hadn’t been A) frozen to death and B) freaked the hell out I would have said something to him.  Instead I just laughed one loud, ridiculous  “HAR!” and waited for the questions to start.

How long has it been going off?  Uhhh…20ish minutes?

Have you seen any fire or smoke?  Nope, but we could smell it a bit.

Do you have their contact info?  No…and isn’t that bizarre?  They are our next door neighbors!  What is this world coming to, etc., etc., etc.?

They peeked in the front windows and then sorta nodded at each other with furrowed brows and one of  them said “I’m going to head out back and see if I can get in that way.”  Two of them went around the back and the other three chatted with each other in the front yard and then the one of them came back around the house and started pulling out the big hose.

Molly and I looked at each other, panicked, and our eyebrows shot up.  “Oh, SHIT” I said, “I didn’t ACTUALLY think the house was on fire!”  We went around the back just in time to see them bust out the window of the back door.  Denis Leary reached his hand into the broken window, unlocked the door, and opened it up.  Black, awful-smelling smoke absolutely POURED out of the door.  “SERIOUSLY!   Holy SHIT” I said again.  “How is our house not burned down?”

I heard one of them yell “the stove!” and Denis ran in, only to reappear moments later holding a small saucepan, from which the smoke was emanating.  The firemen shook their heads with frustration as Molly and I gaped at each other.  Really?  That caused all of this?  A burner left on?

At that point one of the other firemen came out of the house and said “Do you know the dog’s name?”  “No!  Is he OK?!”  “I guess so- he’s just laying on the couch looking at me without a care in the world.  Do you want to come get him?  It probably isn’t good for him to be breathing all this smoke.”  Molly went and got a leash from our house and took him out to the front yard where he proceeded to be as nervous and scared and heartbreaking as you can possible imagine.  I think seeing the firemen going in and out of his house and having the big, flashing truck scared him, so we brought him into our house where he proceeded to roll around on the rug in the living room and turn Molly’s cat into a LOLCat (full on puffed up tail, arched back, trying to run away so fast that his little claws couldn’t get purchase on the floor and he just ran in place- it was HILARIOUS).

As the firemen were packing up their fans and leaving a note on the door (Sorry we broke your window, dumbass!  Don’t leave the stove on!”), I apologized to Denis for spending god knows how many tax dollars on a smoking pan. 

“Nope.  That’s fine.  That’s how house fires start.  (except he said it like “Dat’s how house fiyahs staht.”)  You did the right thing.”

And the damn policed never even showed!

So for the last, I don’t know, like two years or something, I’ve been a little remiss in my blog posting thing.  (Don’t worry.  This isn’t one of those posts where I’m going to be all:  “you guuuuysss, I’m so sorry!  I’ve been busy and there has been work and stuff but I promise I’ll get to posting soon, love ya!  Thanx 4 the support!”  I hope you’ve all realized that when I say that it is utter bullshit.  If I was a man beating his girlfriend I would say:  “Baby, I’m going to keep on hitting you in the face.  I’m not going to change.  But you’ll stay with me because I’m rich and the sex is good.”  Except that I am not rich.  And the sex isn’t there.)  (ahhh…it feels good to have another tangent enclosed in parentheses!)

So, like three months ago I though to myself.  Hey!  I know!  I’ll participate in NaBloPoMo when it rolls around again!  That’ll kick my ass in gear!  And do you know what I realized today as I was scanning my google reader? (Which I just got to under 1000 news posts for the first time in ages!  Hurrah!)  That November is NaBloPoMo.  Why, that is THIS month!  Whoopsie again!

So, in honor of the forgotten NaBloPoMo, I present you with a post.  A brief and pointless one, which is a huge digression from my typical EPIC and pointless ones!  For me, I feel like this is a pretty damn impressive accomplishment.

This was the first time I had been back in just a shade over two years, and it did me a lot of good.

It was 52 degrees when I left here on Friday morning.  I took the train in, at prime commuting time, with all the commuters.  I marveled for a while at how happy I was that I didn’t have to do that anymore- that awful, crowded, hour + commute on a train full of suits with dead eyes.  It was nice not to be one of them anymore.  Not that I ever wore a suit, but I definitely had dead eyes.

I got off the plane in Charleston in the afternoon and Leezle (y’all remember Leezle, right?  My lesbian?  My old roommate?) came to pick me up.  We walked towards the door of the airport and I could see the Palmetto trees swaying.  Leezle was wearing shorts and a t-shirt.  As we walked to the door, I asked her if it was hot.  She looked at me like I was crazy and said “do you see all these sweating people?  Charleston has provided for your homecoming by giving us a heatwave, damn you.”

So we walked outside and it hit me- 87 degrees and breezy.  I just stopped right there on the sidewalk and let it rush over me.  It felt like getting a hug from your favorite person in the world (as long as that person is made of 87 degree breezes).  It’s hard to explain, but something about that warmth after it’s been so cold here for weeks was healing.  I felt like I grew two inches and my hair turned shiny.

The rest of the weekend was a flurry of food (Melvin’s BBQ, shrimp and grits, biscuits and gravy,  grits again…), sweet tea (it must have been a few gallons worth, I’m sure), and dear, dear friends who I have missed terribly.  All weekend I heard “We miss you!  When are you coming back?  Please, please come back!”

I don’t care who you are- that’s a good thing to hear.

We went to a beautiful wedding.  No really:

That’s Dan and Kinsey riding off in a pedi-cab surrounded by sparklers.  One of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.  Also, there was an open bar, which resulted in this status update on Facebook the next day:

Taylor Autumn Shelby Nothing cures a gin and tonic hangover like a big plate of shrimp and grits

And truly, nothing does.

I spent a wonderful afternoon drinking hot tea (it’s fine when you’re in a coffee shop with a KILLER AC) and playing scrabble with Leezle and Mike.  Hell yes, I won.

I got a private tour of the slave cabins at Magnolia Plantation, a project that I worked on (archival research) when it was in its infancy.

I went on a Confederate Ghost Walk at Magnolia Cemetery, that was so outrageous and ridiculous I could write a who ‘nother blog post.  For any of y’all that think the war is over, y’all go on this next year.  It was especially telling to watch U.S. Senator Glenn McConnel (oh yes, he was part of it), call Federal soldiers criminals.  You know, Federal Soldiers.  The ones that fought for the United States.  You know, the country that he represents as a US SENATOR.  And that was only the 1st vignette.  There were 11 more.   It was painfully hilarious.  And I think I might have legitimately hurt myself by trying to hold in the laughter.

The only bad thing about the whole weekend was when an ex-boyfriend, who I broke up three years ago (almost to the day, in fact), drank too much whisky and told me that he was still in love with me.  How his current girlfriend WHO HE LIVES WITH feels about that, I can’t say.  I felt horrified and awkward.  It was like something that happened on TV, especially when a mutual friend walked by and gave me an evil laugh while I desperately mouthed “SAVE ME” to him.  He did not.  Fucker.

So I just did that nice smile and say “oh…thank you…I’m so flattered” thing and then avoided him for the rest of the night while I drank more gin.

I did end up seeing him the next day, when a bunch of us went out to dinner, and he was cool.  So, whew.

It was one of the best weekends I’ve had in a LONG time.  And goddamn did it make me realize where I’m supposed to be.  There are good things about New England, but this place isn’t home.

To my beautiful, beloved city that I’ve missed somethin’ fierce.

It will be warm and sultry and full of people that I love.

I can’t wait.

If you can’t tell by that, they are a pretty unique and interesting couple,  and in the spirit of their relationship, they’ve decided to have an unusual honeymoon.  They’ve just moved to Vermont, where they are planning on cramming every bit of their state into the next 6 months, as an extended honeymoon.   And, fabulously, they’ve turned it into a website.  So:

www.vermontorbust.com

I hope you’ll take a look at it.  Not only are they two of the most wonderful, kind, warm people I’ve ever met.  They are also both brilliant and hilarious, so I’m sure the blog will be nothing less.

Congrats, Aaron and Laura!  I can’t wait to follow your adventures!

It’s not quite like that up here.  Fall means one thing:  OH MY GOD WINTER IS ALMOST HERE. PLEASE EXCUSE ME WHILE I BURST INTO TEARS OVER HERE.

Ok, that’s a ridiculous exagerrations.  Fall also means:

1. Foliage- Listen, they aren’t messing around when they talk about the beauty of the Fall trees in New England.  That shit is magical.  The most impressive thing is how quickly it happens.  One day you drive by a perfectly serviceable green tree and the next day it is a riot of red and gold and orange bright enough to make you almost lose control of your car.  This place is beautiful right now.

2.  Candy Corn- My #1 all-time favorite candy.  This morning I walked into work and a co-worker of mine had a bowl on her desk.  I’m trying to figure out how to get her out of her office so I can dump it into my purse.   I want to find the person that invented it and kiss them on the mouth.  The quickest way to my heart is through candy corn.  (And don’t even think of bringing me those unholy pumpkins that masquerade around as a version of candy corn.  I am not fooled, and Jesus is watching you commit those sins, Brachs.)

3.  Winter clothing- Boots!  Scarves!  Hats!  I love winter clothing, and have managed to cultivate a pretty damn impressive collection of coats and jackets in my short tenure here* and I find it delightful to trot them out on occasion (and by “on occasion” I mean every day from now until May). 

4.  My birthday- It was last Saturday!  I turned 27 years old.  My September birthday is the reason that my middle name is Autumn.   

5.  And finally, but most importantly, football.  I love football. It is my favorite sport above all others.  It makes me so happy.    It especially makes me happy when my beloved team is doing extremely well.  Despite what those fucking polls say.  Ah well, what’s a good Auburn football season without getting screwed by the BCS standings and bitching about the AP Poll?  I have only this to say:  War Damn Eagle.   I’m also pleased that I have found friends up here who are excited to sit around all day on Sunday and watch football (of course, my preference would be to sit around all day on SATURDAY to watch football, but I’ll take what I can get).  They at least tolerate me talking about what happened to all the teams I love and loathe on the previous day,  so that’s good enough for me.

*If you’re keeping track, I also just passed my two-year anniversary of being in Massachusetts.   I do not know how I feel about that, so don’t even ask.

The onset of cool weather gives me a certain sense of dread, these days.  It just seems too soon to be worrying about snow and coats and dark-at-4:00, especially since our summer was so brief and quick.  I don’t think we even had a single day that was over 92 or so.   Summer up here is so very different than it is in the south. 

Here are some of the things I miss:

• Old men in Seersucker Suits – very, very common in Charleston, especially where business or society forced you into something nice when it was 110 degrees outside.  I found them so charming.
• Giant, cheap watermelons- You can buy them here.  In the grocery store.  Shipped from Mexico.  They cost far too much money and aren’t very good.  In Alabama, you can buy them for pennies and they taste like manna from  heaven.  Or they were free, if I snatched one out of my parent’s garden.
• HEAT- Dear god, I actually miss roasting in the heat of the south.  On many occasions, I have gotten into my car when I leave work, after it sat in the sun for 8 hours, and left the windows rolled up and not turned on the air conditioner, just so I could feel some honest-to-god heat.  I can’t believe that I miss being so hot I feel like I’m going to pass out, but I legitimately do.  When I tell people that, they look at me like I have crazy eyes (as I’m sure you are doing while you are reading this), but I’m unapologetic.  It relaxes me like nothing else can.
• Sweet tea- OK, the stuff they have at Starbucks is actually pretty good, but it’s too expensive and I’m not around one very frequently.  I’ve had to deal with getting unsweetened iced tea from Dunkin Donuts and putting a few packs of splenda in it (because if you ask for it sweetened with sugar, they just dump a bunch into the ice-cold liquid, producing a sugar slurry at the bottom that doesn’t dissolve.  Cue fury!).  How do you get through a summer without sweet tea?

I used to get the BEST spam names in my gmail folder.  Periodically, I would just go through them because the made me laugh and laugh, and occasionally one stood out enough for me to put into a blog post that I was going to eventually make…in 2007.  Literally, the last time I edited this before today was March 17th, 2007.  So, here it is in it’s unfinished glory.  I assume they were all to have stories, but alas, we are left to ponder the mystery!   All I can say is thank god that Eon D. Cupcakes was released from the bowels of my Drafts folder!

________

Norse T. Eyebrows -

Englebart Curry - I actually went to high school with a Curry.  I wonder if he is related?

Gerardo MacMullen – I’ve invented some elaborate story about how his father, a burly bekilted Scotsman, left the craggy highlands near Loch Lommond in search of a cure for his beloved sheep, MacFluffah, who had a terrible case of wool crimp (in which the wool grows crinkled instead of curled. MacFluffah was constantly made fun of by the other sheep for having sub-par wool growth, and had to seek company with the goats and with Daddy McMullen, who kept him as a pet). He sought the cure all over the world, eventually ending up in the mountains of Patagonia, having heard from a blind soothsayer he met in a tango bar in Sao Paulo that the natives of that area have invented such a cure for the Alapacas who are raised in that area. While there, he did in fact find a cure for MacFluffah, as well as a cure for his lonely Scottish heart in the form of a daughter of Spanish missionaries- Esmerelda. Gerardo is their only son.

Ola Crowwell - I’m pretty sure I have a great great grandmother with this same name.

Tempos L. Doormat

Dag Black – This is one of those “Max Power” sorts of names.  It sounds like the sports reporter on a local CBS affiliate who was crazy hot in the 80s but now just looks over-tanned and sad.  Like: “Wow, Dag Black really looks rough these days.  Remember that time that Mitzy made out with him in the bathroom of that TGI Friday’s?”

Carpetbagging E. Stromboli (seriously!) – That GODDAMN Stromboli!  Coming down here with his ideas of equality and freedom!  We oughtta take ‘em down by the crick and tan his hide!

Wiggling D. Seminarian – Personally, I prefer my seminarians with extra wiggle.
Brashness O. Ruffling, in the meantime, wrote me an email with this intriguing title: “on marshmellow on auditorium” which I chose to read as “On Marshmellow! On Auditorium!” like I was calling out to my faithful reindeer to mush on, so that I could deliver presents to all of the good children of the world.

Gobnata Leclaire – Doesn’t this sound like a name in Harry Potter?  Like an evil cousin of the Malfoys?  Maybe that is where JK Rowling comes up with her creative names.

Eon D. Cupcake

[4 months ago]

 My friend with the pregnant wife:  Hey!  A bunch of people who you’ve never met and only heard of twice my friends are going to drive down to Baltimore to see that team that you are completely indifferent tothe Sox play at Camden Yards.  Wanna come?

Me:  Not even a little bit!  But thanks for asking!

[1 month ago]

My friend with the baby (Baby Dan, in case you weren’t following):  Hey!  Remember that trip that I planned a long time ago when you didn’t know anyone and now you’ve met a lot of my friends and some of them are now your friends and you learned that I pick the absolute greatest people in the world to hang out with?  You know, to see that team that you used to not care about and now you watch most of their games and know their players and are actually starting to enjoy?  At that beautiful stadium that is so famous? Someone dropped out and we have an extra ticket.  Wanna come?

Me:  OH MY GOD!  I was so angry at myself for being silly and unadventurous and I was never going to forgive myself for missing what is going to be such a fun time because I was a wuss and worried about not knowing anyone! Yes!  A lot!  Thanks for asking!

[Saturday]

[7 AM]

Me:  WOOO!  Road trip!

Swing Dan (Yeah, the guy I’m taking swing with!):  Woooo!  Can we get some coffee now?

Me: …you have a 75 oz. cup of ice coffee in your hand right now?

Swing Dan:  Yeah, I’ll need more.  Can we get some coffee now?

Friend 1: Wooo!  Road Trip!

Friend 2:  *snores*

[7:45 AM]

Me:  Woo!  Rhode Island!

[7:47 AM]

Me:  Wooo!  Connecticut!  (You see what I did there?  How I made fun of Rhode Island for being small?  I am funny.)

[9:45 AM, still in Connecticut]

Text Message from Baby Dan, who is in another vehicle with most of the other people:  OK!  We’re leaving.

Swing Dan:  WTF?  How are they just now leaving?

Friend 1:  Dude, they are going to be late.

Swing Dan:  Cutting it close, for sure.

Me, texting furiously:  Do you have the tickets with you?

Baby Dan:  Yes.

Most of the car:  *is horrified*

Friend 2:  *snores*

[10: 30 AM]

Sign:  Welcome to New York!  The Empire State! 

Me:  Wooo!  New York!

New York Traffic:  *Grinds to halt*

New York Traffic:  [Haha!  Fuck you, anyone trying to get anywhere in this goddamn state!  I'll show you traffic]

My brake lights:  [Jesus Christ!  What did I ever do to you?]

Friend 2:  *wakes up* 

Friend 2:  Yankees Suck!  

Friend 2:  *goes back to sleep*

[Nineteen THOUSAND hours later]

Swing Dan:  Alright!  We’ve been 14 miles!

Me:  I can’t muster up a “wooo” right now.

[1 PM]

Me:  Wooo!  New Jersey!

New Jersey on I-95: [Please enjoy my scenic smoke stacks and industrial complexes!  And look, here are some beautiful strip malls!  Lovely!  Also, I'm not going to label any of my exits with town names, so good luck trying to figure out where you are!  Thank you for visiting the "Garden State."  Aren't we hilarious?]

*insert 900 jokes about how much Jersey sucks*

Swing Dan:  At least the traffic isn’t bad!

New Jersey Traffic:  *grinds to a halt*

Swing Dan:  Fuck.

[2:28 PM]

Friend 1, looking through an atlas for entertainment:  Here’s a place called Fortescue!

Me:  *makes reference to obscure Harry Potter character Florean Fortescue*

Friend 1:  *gets it*

Me:  *mind is blown*

Me:  I think we need to be better friends.

[3:45]

New Jersey Turnpike Toll Booth:  [Thank you for visiting New Jersey!  Now bend over and spread 'em]

All of us:  Ow!  Our Rectums!

[3:47]

Me:  Wooo!  Delaware!

Toll Booth 1:  [Still smarting from Jersey?  Don't worry, this won't hurt as much!]

Toll Booth 2, 6 miles later:  [That's right!  Another one!  We know you're only here for 11 miles, but we have no sales tax, so you're fucked]

Friend 1:  I’m glad that we’ve spent more in tolls than we did for the actual tickets.

[4:15 PM]

Me:  Wooooo!  Maryland!  We’re almost there!

Friend 1:  So, does anyone know where we’re going when we get to Baltimore?

All of us:  *Looking around inquisitively*

The car:  *crickets*

Swing Dan:  Look!  A friendly Maryland Welcome Center.  Lets stop, shall we?  Perhaps they can tell us WHERE THE HELL WE ARE GOING.

Maryland Welcome Center:  *Is helpful!  Here are some maps!  Good luck in Baltimore, Morons!*

[5:30 PM]

Me:  Woooo!  Baltimore, here we are!

30,000 Red Sox Fans milling around Camden Yards:  Woooo!  Go Sox!  Woooooo!

7 Orioles Fans fighting through the crowd:  Goddamn Sox.  This sucks.

Parking Garage 2 blocks from the Stadium:  [Parking!  1o dollars!  Flat rate!  Yeah, that's right- 2 blocks from the stadium!  How much does that cost you in Boston?  40 Bucks?  How ya like Baltimore now?]

All of us:  Baltimore is awesome!

[6:00 PM]

Friends from Maryland who we met down there, on phone:  Come meet us right by the stadium!  Cheap beer!

[6:05 PM]

Beer guy:  Two beers for 5 bucks!  Right here! 

Me:  Holy Shit!  2 for 5 bucks!  And it’s good beer!  Yuengling!  Blue Moon!  Carlsbad!

All of us:  Dude.  Baltimore is really awesome!

Every single person within 100 feet of me:  Woooo!  Go Sox!

Swing Dan:  Are there any Orioles fans even here?

Camden Yards:  [Now do you get why they call me Fenway South?]

Me:  *is glad I bought that Red Sox tshirt last night*

[6:45 PM]

Baby Dan, via Text:  Yeah, we’re going to be late.  But not by much!

Me, increasingly drunk:  GET YO ASS HERE RIGHT NOW.

[7:05 PM]

Baseball Game:  *starts*

Swing Dan:  OK!  I’m on the phone with Baby Dan!  They are here!  Quick!  This way!

[7:08 PM]

Camden Yards:  *CRACK*

Camden Yards:  *Errupts with cheers*

All of us, making the same lame and obvious joke:  Heh.  I guess the Sox did something good.  Nyuck, nyuck, nyuck.

(Shut up.  Did you read that earlier part about 2 for 5 beers?)

[7:10 PM]

Everyone:  There they are!  *rejoicing ensues*

Our Seats:  *are great*

Camden Yards: *is beautiful*

The Sox:  *win that shit*

[fin.]

So we had a wonderful time.   We ended up crashing in Maryland that night with some friends then drove home the next day, via an alternate route through Western Pennsylvania and north of NYC on the Tappan Zee bridge.  It took quite a bit longer- about 10 hours with stops for lunch and such- but it was incredibly beautiful.  It was really a lovely drive.

So a good weekend.  Great, in fact.