Doggie danger zone

I've long theorized that my parents' house is toxic but now the true danger is starting to manifest itself.

About two weeks ago our sweet chocolate lab, Buddy, an otherwise healthy dog if you ignore his allergies, skin problems, thyroid issues, and lyme disease, underwent what we believe was his first seizure.

Then over the weekend my brother's dog, Snoopy, was visiting Buddy and he had a seizure too. Snoopy's was worse than Buddy's, I'm told, and my parents really thought that was it for the little guy.

The only thing the two dogs have in common is the fact that they were at my parents' house. They have different diets and they're different breeds so I don't think it's genetic or something they ate. Yet, like I have experienced myself, the sheer fact of being at my parents' house sends them into a tizzy.

We had Buddy at the vet after his seizure where we began the process of ruling out potential causes. If we can't link it to anything else, we go with the default diagnosis which is canine epilepsy.

I'm starting to learn about canine epilepsy and it scares the crap out of me. There's really not much you can do for the dog while he's having a seizure. Some theorize that putting an ice pack on the dog's back will shorten the seizure but other people say to just let the dog alone and wait for the seizure to end.

Of course we don't even know if either dog will have another seizure. It could happen again today, a year from now, or never. You just don't know. All I know is that I watched Alex, the best dog ever, die during some sort of seizure and I never want to witness anything like that again.

At any rate, I'm convinced that the seizures Buddy and Snoopy had are due to some environmental cause. Lead is a possible toxin but my parents say there couldn't possibly be any lead in the house. Their house was built in the 1980s so I'm inclined to agree.

Still, I think there is enough junk in my parents' house to make anybody sick. Just look at my parents. Clearly there's something wrong there.

I think this health scare is the perfect opportunity for my parents to step up and clean their house, top to bottom, so that we can rule out any environmental causes. Buddy and Snoopy deserve that.

Plus, it would make visiting much nicer.

Hey Baltimore County: Don't mess with my grandparents

See that cute elderly couple to the left? Those are my grandparents. And Baltimore County is trying to make them miserable.

Earlier this week, my 91-year-old grandparents were very upset to receive a citation from the county stating that they must move their car from their driveway by Dec. 26, 2006 because it is not currently licensed. The vehicle is, however, fully operable and on their own property.

Failure to move the car by the specified date will result in a $200 per day fine.

The primary reason my grandparents keep their car, even though they don't drive it, is for safety. They believe that having a car outside is a signal that someone is home and will deter criminals from breaking in. I can't say whether this is actually a true crime deterrentt but if it makes my grandparents happy, then I'm all for it.

In addition, we use the trunk of the vehicle for storage of a wheelchair and walker. Because we no longer permit my grandparents to drive, it is incumbent upon the children and grandchildren to transport them to doctor's appointments. Keeping their medical aids in the car eases the process significantly.

None of this seems to matter to the people at Baltimore County code enforcement who received a complaint and found my grandparents in violation of Section 428:

Section 428, Outside Storage of Unlicensed or Inoperative Motor Vehicles on Residential Property [Bill No. 135-1986]

A. An inoperative motor vehicle may not be stored outside on a residential lot.

B. An unlicensed motor vehicle may not be stored outside on a residential lot except under the following conditions:

1. Outside storage (i.e., not within a fully enclosed structure) for a period not exceeding 15 days, unless extended by the Zoning Commissioner, in any calendar year is permitted for no more than one such vehicle per dwelling unit per year.

2. The vehicle may not be stored in a front or side yard unless placed in a driveway or other off-street parking area, and the vehicle may not be stored in a rear yard unless placed at least 8 feet from any property line.

3. The owner of the vehicle must reside on the lot upon which the vehicle is stored.

4. The vehicle may not be used or dismantled for parts.

C. Nothing contained in Subsection B shall be construed to prohibit the outside storage of unlicensed but operative farm tractors or farm equipment actually and regularly used on a farm, farmette or satellite farm.

I'm not entirely sure where to channel my anger. I know I'm annoyed with the County Council which, 20 years ago, passed the legislation telling people what they can and can't do on their own private property. I know I'm mad at whoever it was that reported my grandparents to the county. I suppose I really can't blame the inspector who issued the citation because he was just doing his job.

The good news is that I convinced the aforementioned inspector to grant a 30-day extension so at least my grandparents don't have to rush to do something in the next few days. I asked him about what it takes for the zoning commission to issue a special exception and he said no exception has ever been granted.

I just can't forgive anyone who gives my grandparents a hard time. It's their car and their property. Why does the county get to tell them they can't keep something there that gives them a sense of security?

Perhaps in the alternative, Baltimore County would be willing to put a marked police car on the driveway 24/7. Too expensive? Then let my grandparents keep their car. They're 91 and never done a thing wrong in their lives. They've earned it.

It's my birthday... still

I've recently been chastised for not providing a timely account of my birthday for readers of my blog. Please note that the reason I have not yet given such a summary is that I don't actually consider my birthday to be over yet.

Still, to appease the masses, I hereby present a quick run-down of how my birthday season has gone so far.

The birthday season has thus far included three Broadway shows (Les Miserables, RENT, and Dirty Rotten Scoundrels) as well as the great Baltimore area gastro-entertainment tour, featuring Sotto Sopra, Copra, Cazbar, Baldwin's Station (for both brunch and dinner), Artful Gourmet Bistro, Liberatore's, Don Pablo's, and Fuddruckers.

I am also pleased to once again share my birthday month with Hanukkah and Christmas, which generally serve to increase the dessert available. Over the weekend we dined on latkes at Rich's dad and stepmom's place and then glorious rainbow cake at my aunt and uncle's house.

Starting this year, I now share my birthday month with my cousin's son, Gabriel, who was born last Sunday. As long as the little guy doesn't try to move in on my birthday turf, I think things should be okay. Due to the birth of the aforementioned child, we also attended a bris with spectacular bris food. If you haven't had bris food, you don't know what you're missing. I would highly recommend befriending a nearby pregnant Jewish woman in the immediate future so as to increase your chances of a bris invite. If you cannot locate one on your own, just head over to Park Heights Avenue and you're sure to find one ready to pop. Happy bagels, lox, and whitefish!

The rest of my birthday month shall showcase a trip to Hershey, PA and a short jaunt to Atlantic City, with the month culminating in a New Year's Eve celebration that will certainly include multiple forms of dessert.

By the time I finally awake from my food-induced coma we'll be safely into January and that can only mean one thing -- it's Weight Watchers time baby!

Um, when did I become Cathy?

Or maybe more appropriately, when did Cathy become me?

I know I'm married and chubby too but it's really scaring me that I relate more and more to Cathy each day.

If she starts hoarding JCPenney snowglobes, just shoot me.

It's just a stupid sandwich

Annapolis is all abuzz this week with talk of what kind of sandwich Gov-elect Martin O'Malley will select to bear his name at the venerable Chick and Ruth's Delly.

Will he honor his Irish roots and choose corned beef or will he kowtow (or cow-tow, perhaps) to the vegetarian lobby and select something without meat?

Or most importantly, does it matter? It didn't matter four years ago when Gov. Bob Ehrlich went against recommendations and chose a turkey sandwich and this time around is no different.

The local media can't seem to get enough of this story and yet I can't seem to care. The tv stations talk about it every chance they get and The Sun has already given more ink to sandwichgate than to O'Malley's selections for his deputy chiefs of staff. Pardon me if I'm more concerned with the governor-to-be's decisions on taxes, slots, and the death penalty, than I am with his lunch choices.

All of this hullabaloo takes me back to an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm where Larry David is honored with a sandwich at Leo's Delicatessen. In typical Larry David fashion, he's not happy -- he doesn't like the sandwich selected for him (whitefish, sable, onions, capers and cream cheese) and wants to switch with his friend Ted Danson (the turkey, cole slaw and Russian dressing.) Hilarity, of course, ensues.

Now life imitates art and I have to tell you, I like the art version better. I'm certainly not against a little levity in politics, but this is a damn sandwich. If we're talking about something more relevant like cookies, it might be a different story.

And for the record, I think I like Attorney General Joe Curran's sandwich pick the best. His is the pizza bagel. He catered to the Italians and the Jews all at once. Can't go wrong with that.

One entrance, 13 snowglobes: Black Friday 2006

It's almost as if JCPenney doesn't trust us.

Every year the store gives out free snowglobes (formerly ornaments) to the shoppers willing to brave Black Friday. And every year, we're right there front and center, ready to stake our claim.

(If you're new to this blog or the AlisaBS family, please see my Black Friday 2005 entry to better understand the significance of this annual event.)

But rather than distribute the snowglobes at each of the store's four entrances, this year the Owings Mills Mall location only gave them out at one. It's almost like they were afraid people would try to get more than one by going in another entrance. Silly retailer. It takes a lot more than limiting the point of distribution to stop my family.

Or at least it takes more than that for most of my family. My husband shirked his duties this year, managing only one snowglobe for the greater good. He whined about there only being one entrance and tried to rest on his previous year's success. Not good enough. I expect a better showing next year, mister.

Thankfully my father and one brother (Matt, the good twin) stepped up this year, nabbing four each. I yoinked four as well. So 13 in total isn't bad, especially considering the roadblock thrown up at us.

I was also pleased with our shopping haul on the holiest of shopping days, despite the lackluster bargains across-the-board. As we poured over the ads, nothing really jumped out at us as a must-have. I have no need or desire for a PlayStation 3 (not that there are any to be had anyway) and I wouldn't know what to do with a TMX Elmo if I tripped over it and squeezed out its very last annoying giggle.

I did, however, get some $8 iPod speakers (quality, I'm sure) as well as a good deal on Apples to Apples and the Scene It TV edition at Boscov's. I also bought an all-in-one printer and Rich got a bargain on some new luggage. I get all tingly thinking about the dollars whose lives were spared by extra percentage-off coupons!

Here's wishing you a season of price cuts, clearance merchandise, and closeouts!

Insert your own clever "change a lightbulb" joke here

I'll admit it. I've been known to make a negative comment about the Baltimore subway every now and then. But with the recent eruption of violence at various subway and light rail stops, I trusted that the MTA would be on top of things and make something as simple as parking lot lighting a priority. Not so.

Since daylight savings time kicked in a few weeks back, the parking lot at the Owings Mills metro station has been very dark from 5 p.m. on. At least half of the lights seem to be out and even the ones that were on didn't exactly cast off much light.

The parking lot there has also been under construction for a full year now, meaning that in addition to a dark lot, I also get to take a circuitous muddy route twice each day.

My husband and I took it upon ourselves to contact the MTA to let them know about the lights that were out. This was far more of a challenge than it should have been.

Rich called the MTA last Monday night to report the outages and the woman who answered said that wasn't her department and she couldn't forward the message. He said something to the effect of "I thought you might want to know considering the crime that's being going on lately at the stations" and the woman said "There's no crime there," and she hung up on him.

When we tried calling back, he was put on hold for a while and then disconnected. Eventually I called back on the cell phone and they said I could call the MTA comment line between 8 and 6 to report it. He called back the next day.

A week later, I arrived back to another dark parking lot. This time I'd programmed the MTA comment line into my cell phone and seeing as how it was only 5:40 p.m., figured it was the perfect time to call. But, after being on hold for 20 minutes, the comment line closed and kicked me over to a looped recording. It told me to press 1-6 to leave a comment. I pressed 1-6 and then I got the same message again. When I got home, I went to the MTA website to post a complaint.

My husband's actions yesterday, however, proved to be far more effective. Fed up with being unable to get through to anyone on any of the various phone lines set up for rider comments, he starting contacting some news organizations and politicians about the lights. Then, last night, on Channel 11's 11 p.m. newscast, success! They had a reporter out there showing the lights being changed.

It's disgusting that it took so much time and effort to get a few lightbulbs changed. The MTA claims it only became aware of the light situation yesterday, so to me that basically says they haven't had any MTA police or staff even glance at the parking lot in nearly a month. Pardon me for not feeling exactly, um, safe.

But what's today's lesson? Don't piss us off. Eventually we're going to get our way so let's just make it easy, okay?

So yay for Rich and as my dad proudly noted, "Keep complaining."

No I.D.? No problem!

With my first stint as an election judge now complete, I'm glad to say that everything went relatively smoothly and without incident.

It was certainly a long day. I arrived at 6 a.m. and didn't make it home until close to 11 p.m. But, we had close to a 50 percent turnout at my precinct with nearly 1300 voters coming through, so it all seemed worth it.

While we did have long lines at times, most people didn't seem overly bothered by the wait. Interestingly enough, the only real issue that upset voters was that they didn't have to show any I.D. in order to vote. No license, no utility bill, no nothing. As an election judge in Maryland, we are only allowed to ask for I.D. from a first-time voter who registered through the mail or if someone challenges the potential voter's identity.

Apparently some argue that voters may feel disenfranchised or intimidated if they're asked to prove who they really are. The American Civil Liberties Union, for example, regularly challenges attempts to require I.D. at the polls, saying it is akin to a poll tax and may discourage minorities or poor people from voting.

But from my vantage point, the real feelings of disenfranchisement came from voters who realized that anyone could have shown up and voted under their name.

Working as a check-in judge the whole day, I can tell you that at least 80 percent of the people who came in handed me a driver's license or a voter identification card as soon as they walked up. This included minorities, newly naturalized citizens, senior citizens, and people from all walks of life. They were proud to be able to vote and eager to exercise that right.

And just about every single person showed surprise and/or outrage that I didn't need to see their I.D.

One particular gentleman came up to me and asked what would stop him from giving his neighbor's name and voting as him. The answer? Absolutely nothing.

It's not like this in every state. According to the Election Reform Information Project, a non-partisan forum for election reform, 21 states currently require voters to show some form of I.D. Clearly Maryland isn't one of them but I think it should be.

The electronic age makes voter fraud even easier than before. Thanks to the National Center for the Study of Elections at UMBC, any person with internet access can easily go to a website and find out a person's polling place and party affiliation, as long as you have their name, date of birth, and zip code. Then they can show up at the polling place, give that name, and voila, instant voter fraud!

To top things off, the voter rolls still contain the names of people who have died, unless the family of the deceased has specifically notified the local board of elections. This means that a quick glance at the death notices in the newspaper can arm a person with all the information they need to vote under a dead person's name.

I have no desire to discourage anyone from voting. I was proud that as an election judge, we gave every single person an opportunity to cast a ballot, whether on the electronic voting machines or by a paper provisional ballot.

But in an era where trust is a thing of the past, it's time for Maryland's voting laws to catch up. Voting is one of the most sacred rights we hold as citizens and it angers me to no end that people are willing to jeopardize the security of an election so people don't get their feelings hurt.

Halloween candy may save your life

Just a few weeks ago stores were pulling spinach off the shelves following an outbreak of nearly 200 cases of E coli tied to the sneaky vegetable.

Now, for the second time in just a few weeks, we're being warned that other so-called produce may be harmful to our health. This time lettuce is the culprit and salmonella is its disease of choice.

I hate to say I told you so but c'mon, I totally told you so. All of this healthful eating had to catch up with you at some point.

I've long held the theory that things like fruits and vegetables can be harmful. Thankfully my parents were mindful of that and never exposed me to such dangers growing up. I never had to worry about happening upon carrots or broccoli when dining at such fine establishments as McDonalds and 7-Eleven.

Rewind to Thanksgiving 2002. Rich challenged me to eat broccoli, enticing me with promises of an enhanced Hanukkah gift. And what happened a year later? Yep, I got cancer. Before broccoli: No cancer. After broccoli: Cancer.

I'm no doctor but you can't argue with that kind of scientific logic.

So today, for your health's sake, please gorge yourself on Halloween treats. Skittles and cupcakes have never steered me wrong before.

Breast cancer envy

As everyone knows by now, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. The pink ribbons are everywhere. Even the packaging for Campbell's Soup has gone pink for the month.

Now this is a really delicate issue so I'm going to try to be as careful as I can in what I have to say, but I do believe breast cancer has gone a bit too commercial.

Pink ribbons and clothing have become a fashion statement as opposed to a real statement. My mom was even able to buy a Breast Cancer Awareness labradoodle at Macy's last week. The stuffed animal, representing the epitome of trendiness in canines, came complete with a pink bandana and a pink ribbon stamped on its paw. Sure it's cute, but what does it really mean?

Cancer is not about ribbons, cute pieces of jewelry, or pink shoelaces. It's certainly not about stuffed animals. It's a serious, life-changing disease, and I can only hope that the corporations who purport to promote awareness understand that.

I have to ask myself whether I would feel the same way if I saw this commercialism happening to Colorectal Cancer, which, by the way, has its awareness month in March. Maybe I'm just jealous. Maybe I just wish that colon cancer could have the appeal of breast cancer. Would I get a kick out of seeing my very own disease go pop culture? I just don't know.

Please understand that I mean no offense to anyone who has suffered through breast cancer, either personally or through a loved one. As I hope everyone knows, I'm as sympathetic as they come when we're talking cancer. But I'm not so sympathetic when important causes lose their meaning when processed for mass consumption.

To be fair, I do wear a yellow Livestrong bracelet which some people see as cancer-gone-trendy. It reminds me of what I've been through. If the breast cancer merchandise has a similar meaning for those who purchase and/or wear it, then I have no complaints. But if it's adorned because that's what the cool kids are wearing, it's a whole different story.

Alisa meets Sin City

While I've been requested to provide a Las Vegas wrap-up edition of the Recovering Journalist, I'm finding it somewhat difficult to do so. As one of the last people in the world to visit Sin City, it's not exactly easy to make any unique or insightful comments.

Whatever I have to say has likely been said before. You've all taken the same pictures that I took, been harassed by the same porn peddlers on the Strip, and breathed the same secondhand smoke. You took the same gondola ride at the Venetian, saw the same water shows in front of the Bellagio, and dined at the same buffets.

That's because everything in Vegas is perfectly scripted and designed to grab your attention and preferably, your cash. It's total sensory overload times 100.

I do have to admit that I was taken aback by the fact that everything in Vegas is artificial -- every tree, every body of water, and pretty much all of the women too.

Over on the east coast our trees are naturally occurring for the most part. Vegas has trees too but they've all been put there in recent years and spaced just-so.

In a town where everyone is on vacation, the city's promotions office has done a nice job of convincing you to suspend any sense of reality (read: fiscal responsibility) and let loose. I tend not to be very good at that but I tried.

I enjoyed a $22 alcoholic concotion in a large purple tube. We ordered room service. I used two Vegas ATMs, with service charges of $4 a pop. This is from the girl who has been known to comparison shop before buying a pack of gum. So how's that for suspending reality?

To be honest, we had a really good time and will likely be planning a trip back, as long as I can be guaranteed a plasma tv in my bathroom again.

I've become one of them

I took a step this week in joining the 21st century. I finally bought an Ipod.

I figured it was time. I mean hell, even the Luddite Society made mock of me in its most recent podcast.

And in addition to that (which didn't really happen), I have a five-hour plane ride to Las Vegas this weekend aboard Southwest Air, where they offer cheerful flight attendants in lieu of in-flight entertainment. You all know I don't do cheerful.

(Side note: Don't even think of robbing my house while I'm gone this week. We have a top-notch security system complete with sensors and alarms and crap. Even more threatening is that my dad will be there, in his underwear, trying to figure out how to work the Tivo.)

Anyway, Apple recently released its new generation of Ipods so I decided I'd finally cave. They claim there are all kinds of new and improved features on this generation of Ipods. I opted to keep it simple and went for the 4GB Ipod Nano. It's silver and very cute.

As much as I'd like to write more right now, I need to go load more music onto my Ipod. So far I just have a bunch of Barenaked Ladies stuff and several Broadway musical soundtracks and I will not have Billy Joel feeling left out.

This is what I'm talking about

It's finally happened. The election is finally getting interesting. And it's all thanks to Michael Steele's puppy commercials.

Before I go any further, please read these important disclaimers:
1. I'm a sucker for anything with puppies, and
2. This evaluation is simply my personal assessment and should not be construed as an endorsement of either Michael Steele or Ben Cardin. (I actually can't relate to either of them.)

That said, if the senatorial race was based on originality alone, Steele would be the clear winner. Think about some of the ads you've seen on TV lately. They're all pretty much the same. You can insert Mr. Interchangeable Generic Candidate into any of them and not really notice a difference.

The following quotations come from the websites of the two candidates for governor.

"We need to focus on giving students, teachers and parents the resources they need to succeed."

"Maryland needs to share information at all levels -- federal, state and local -- to prevent disaster before it can claim more lives. We need to look to the future, with comprehensive plans, statewide drills, and interoperable communications technology, in order to protect our people and communities."

"[M]y campaign will continue to use this overwhelming expression of support to further my vision for better schools, safer neighborhoods and a healthier environment."

"Maryland must be an economic center based on first-rate education, technology, manufacturing and entrepreneurship."

Okay now tell me which quotations go with which candidate. (No Googling allowed.) Yeah, I can't do it either. Seriously... you would expect to hear any of those comments coming from either of the two candidates.

And that's why this ad campaign is different and whoever came up with it should be feeling pretty good right about now. Did you know who Michael Steele was five years ago? Do you know who he is now? Exactly.

Aside from attacting nationwide attention to the race, it's also forcing Cardin to respond. To Cardin's credit, he's done an impressive job of responding. He turned Steele's clever ad into a discussion of the issues. He reminds voters that while Steele likes puppies, he loves President Bush. For most Marylanders, that thought is far more terrifying than Steele's "scary music" any day.

Still, Steele has people talking. Even if they're not all fans of the puppy ads, people are talking about these commercials. A few crazies are calling Steele out for using a dog that wasn't his own in the ad. (Steele has a cute Husky, for those of you keeping track.) Others insist that Steele is using the commercial as a diversion from the real issues. Either way, he's getting attention and name recognition and that's the lifeblood of politics.

So thank you to the ad wizards who are making what could be an otherwise bland race a little more exciting. The voting public (or at least this member of the voting public) thanks you bunches.

Oh yeah... no offense to the inexcusable glitches preventing people from voting in the primary election. I found that really interesting too. It's just that like most Americans, TV tends to keep me interested longer that oh, say, things like constitutional rights. (Really, I'm kidding. Maybe.)

I'm still laughing

I got the below picture in an e-mail from my college roommate and it's one of the funniest things I've ever seen. For those of you unfamiliar with good old St. Mary's County (home of St. Mary's College of Maryland), Rose's Place II is a redneck strip club frequented by townies and the occasional drunk college student. I don't know if this photo was staged or what but I don't really care.

The best day of the year

Regular readers of this blog (yes, both of you) are probably expecting to find some sort of Election Day wrap-up here today. Perhaps you're looking for some comments on the Willie Don's defeat or some insight into the voting snafus we've come to know and grudgingly expect? Well sorry. Not here. Not today.

There was another event that managed to steal my attention away from poll results yesterday. It's a little something called the Baltimore County Humane Society's Doggie Paddle. It's an annual fundraiser held at the pool by my house and it's the canine event of the year.

Buddy (the 120-lb. beast of a lab pictured above) and Snoopy (who's the one who really wears the pants in that relationship) were both very brave considering neither has ever been swimming before. (I did attend the event last year with Buddy but because he'd recently had stitches, there were no aquatic activities for him.)

Neither dog was overly thrilled at the site of the adult pool but they warmed up a little after getting their sea legs in the kiddie pool. Unfortunately once out near the adult pool, Buddy and Snoopy had to remain leashed. (One of them, and I'm not naming labs, oops, I mean names, found his way to the refreshments table and almost had himself a nice pizza dinner.)

Words cannot possibly convey the colloquy of cuteness witnessed yesterday. I'll just let the pictures speak for themselves. All together now... Aawwwwww!

This is a random cockapoo that I thought was just too adorable not to include. Like Bud and Snoop, he wasn't entirely sure what to make of the water-laced outing.







A group of dogs showing Snoopy and Buddy how it's done.







Danny and Snoopy get their feet wet. (Notice that one of them seems slightly reluctant. Of course I'm not one to talk. Snoopy has now been to my pool more often than I've been to my pool.)








Buddy needs a little convincing. Maybe next year, Buddy. Maybe next year.

I'm such a bad political science major

On Election Day 1996, I officially declared myself as a political science major and boy was I excited. I guess I wanted it be to some sort of symbolic move to submit the paperwork that day.

A decade later, as we approach Election Day 2006, I'm not feeling quite so symbolic. I am, however, a bit more jaded.

It's not that I've lost interest in politics or have stopped following the mud-slinging, gossip, and in-fighting; I love that stuff. I'm just ready for the election to be over. Or, in the alternative, I would accept some form of outrageous scandal or development. Either way is fine with me.

This year I'm just bored. I'm bored by all candidate commercials that say nothing. I'm tired of all the huge signs littering the streets near where I live. I would put up my own big and obnoxious sign up saying "End clutter: Vote out the incumbents" but then I'd just be adding to the mess.

I'm particularly fed up with the candidates who stand with a group of supporters at busy intersections waving to drivers as if they're in touch with the common man. Listen, if they truly believe that their visibility is more important than me getting to work on time, they're probably not the best candidate for me.

Of course every once in a while a candidate will do something that makes me enjoy the election season. Michael Steele has kept things interesting with his little off-the-record or maybe not interview. I also got a little charge when Ben Cardin promised to cure cancer within ten years. (While I too find myself firmly in the anti-cancer camp, I'm thinking Ben might want to leave the disease curing to the experts.) Every once in a while non-entities like Parris Glendenning will throw an endorsement out there to see if someone is watching. (We're not. I only turned to that page to read the second-in-a-series profile on Attorney General candidates.)

I can only hope things get more interesting. I need a big scandal or some hint of impropriety to keep me interested. C'mon guys, you know it's out there. We just don't know about it yet. You want something that an apathetic populace? Make it happen.

We have a history of some wild politics in Maryland. Don't let go so easily. The citizens of the state who gave the nation Spiro Agnew deserve better.

I've got breaking news, people.

This morning I wrote about how glad I was to have all this Hunt Valley nonsense behind me. (See "Check and check, below.) That was until we got the letter today that accompanied our $90 refund check. You may wish to read my entry below first.

Please note that I have posted the letter exactly as written... bad grammar and all. I resisted adding my own comments, thinking it would be better to let Mr. Royston's words speak for themselves.

Here is the letter:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. S*****,

Enclosed is a refund check for $90.00 for the New York trip of June 18, 2006. I don't believe you should expect a refund or even a portion of a refund for your trip to New York on Friday June 16. There was no problem with that trip, so your 40% analogy makes no sense. I understand your frustration over the events of June 18. Contrary to what you may believe, you were not the only passengers who were put out. Fortunately the majority of our customers, both frequent and first time, were more understanding. Of course, standing in New York City, in the heat, it never came to mind what we went through to accommodate and solve this problem. From the moment we were made aware of the situation, at least two people were on the phone trying to find a local motor coach to get you home as fast as possible. We also had a bus leave Hunt Valley immediately, in case we couldn't find help. It happened to be the final round of the U.S. Open golf tournament at Winged Foot in New York, so finding a bus was not easy.

We have contacts all over in the event of a breakdown. What more emergency procedure would you recommend? We found a bus as soon as we could and got it to the location. As far as your "hero" cop is concerned, it was the police who had the bus moved to the overpass and would not allow it to be moved again until another bus arrived. For as many good trips to New York you have made on our buses, it is a shame that you complain so adamantly and judge our service on the "one" bad experience. Perhaps it is a good thing that you have started traveling to New York with someone else. We work hard to keep our buses in the best condition that we can, and to suggest that we are not concerned about you and every customer's business and enjoyable experience is ridiculous. It is only a matter of time before you have a bad experience on another motor coach. I believe that you will find by comparison, we do a great job.
Ed Royston, President
Hunt Valley Motor Coach

So, there you have it. That's how Mr. Royston treats good customers. I'm glad I learned that relatively easily. It would have been a real pain to be stuck on the side of a road in a snowstorm. Darn, there I go thinking about myself again.

Check and check

Finally the Hunt Valley Motor Coach saga comes to a close. The Consumer Protection Division in the Attorney General's Office came through for us. Thanks to our dedicated and tenacious volunteer mediator, we should be receiving a check for $90 in the mail today.

A brief recap for those of you who haven't been following our bus drama: On the way back from New York City several weeks ago, the Hunt Valley bus caught fire and left us stranded for hours on an overpass somewhere in New Jersey. The bus company was less than accommodating when we asked for compensation, offering a mere $20 per person for our trouble.

When our two letters to the company's owner went unanswered, we filed a complaint with the AG's office for mediation. A mediator began working on the case yesterday morning and within an hour, had a faxed copy of a check made out to us in his hands.

I'm glad Hunt Valley agreed to mediate with the AG's office and obviously I'm pleased they decided to refund us the $90 we requested, but I don't know how soon we'll travel aboard Hunt Valley in the future. Rich has an upcoming jaunt to Atlantic City where he will be taking Superior Tours and I think we're going to give Gunther a try as well. We took Golden Ring last time around.

So what lessons can we learn from this experience? First, if you run a business, respond to your customers' concerns, especially if they're good customers. Had Hunt Valley refunded our money up-front, we could have avoided all of this hostility and probably booked another trip without thinking. Now, who knows?

Next, the mediators in the Consumer Protection Division may just be volunteers, but they're still dedicated public servants who really give a damn.

And finally, the most important lesson of all -- Don't piss me off. (But you already knew that.)

A medley of updates

I have all kinds of things to write about but nothing really warrants its own posting. As such, please enjoy the following "where are they now" edition of my blog.

*First, we celebrated Rich's birthday last week. Above you'll see the picture I commissioned for his gift. (Yes, that's supposed to be us sitting there on the Simpsons' couch.) Former show animator Gary Yap is responsible for the amazing work of art you see. Other highlights of Rich's birthday week included dinner and a show at Toby's Dinner Theatre, an overnight trip to Atlantic City, and a show at the Kennedy Center.

*Next, I need to update you all on my furniture situation. All is well in bureau land. I have my new bureau, as discussed in my last entry, and I have to say that I couldn't be happier with it. It's quite the sturdy piece of furniture (yay for dovetail joints!) and matches Rich's dresser very well. My brothers were kind enough to carry it up three flights of stairs to our bedroom.

Due to the success of my search, I have found that I am slowly breaking my Craigslist addiction. I have, however, managed to pass this addiction onto other people. My husband is fervently searching for an armoire to help solve our lack-of-closet-space problem on the first floor. We wish him well in his endeavor and I promise to lend my assistance and know-how as necessary.

*Many people have been asking about where things stand with Hunt Valley Motor Coach. Unfortunately I really don't have much of an update. The company's owner has chosen to ignore our letter. Because of this, I will be sending a follow-up letter and also filing a complaint with the Maryland Attorney General's Consumer Protection Division. Thankfully we've identified other local bus companies that will fulfill our travel needs.

*I would be remiss if I didn't mention some exciting news I learned this week. I talk a lot about the Artful Gourmet Bistro, one of my favorite restaurants, but it seems like other people will soon be talking about it too. ESPN will be profiling NFL players and their favorite restaurants. Ravens safety Ed Reed apparently shares my taste in food because he's selected the bistro as his favorite place to dine. So congratulations to restaurant owners Paolo and Julie. You deserve this kind of publicity. But if it makes it hard for us to get a table, I'm going to be pretty pissed.

*In closing, I want to wish my grandfather a very happy birthday. He celebrates #91 tomorrow and I hope he and my grandmother enjoy a wonderful day. Considering the family tendency towards celebratory cake, I believe all will be well. Happy Birthday Grandpa!

Will you be my bureau?

Weird and quirky obsessions are nothing new for me. After all, I did have a subscription to the Limbaugh Letter at one point in time. But in the past few weeks I've developed a somewhat new addiction and I just can't seem to shake it. I'm addicted to Craigslist.com, particularly the furniture for sale section.

I am on the search for the perfect dresser.

It all started when my brothers were looking for stuff for their house, otherwise known as the dorm room that threw up. I kept finding things I like (and therefore, think they should like) and I e-mailed them the listings. Now that I'm looking for a new dresser for our bedroom I check the stupid thing a thousand times a day.

It's gotten so bad that I don't just limit myself to the Baltimore Craigslist. No, now when I'm checking for new listings, I'm looking at the ones for D.C., Lancaster, Harrisburg, and Delaware. When Craigslist can't fulfill my addiction, I turn to Postaroo.com. It's a sickness.

My husband has been as patient as he can with my quest. He patiently looks at all of the pictures I e-mail him, and then reminds me that no, Northern Virginia isn't really that close and didn't I want to spend less than that anyway?

So let's talk dressers -- or more accurately, chests of drawers. You see, in this search I've learned that chest of drawers is the appropriate term for the tall, narrow piece of furniture I desire. The term dresser is better reserved for the shorter, longer pieces of bedroom delight. Bureau, I believe, can be applied to either.

Anyway, I want something older and of good quality. It needs to match the French Country dresser/mirror that we already have in our bedroom. And it needs to be cheap. Let me repeat that. It needs to be cheap.

I've checked antique stores, sought out furniture auctions, and browsed my grandparents' basement. But no luck.

Througout this process I'm learning words like dovetail joints and highboy. I know to avoid any posting that includes works like Malm or Aspelund other dreaded Ikea styles. (Please note that I'm not anti-Ikea. It serves a good place in life and I even own a few Ikea pieces that I like, including a great shelving unit in my den. I'm just ready to move beyond the world of assemble-it-yourself laminate and have something made a real wood.)

And it's finally possible that my search is coming to an end. Today I located a nice looking chest of drawers near the Maryland-Delaware line. If all goes well, I'll have it in my house this weekend. (It could take another several weeks to actually move it up to our fourth floor bedroom.)

I shouldn't get too excited yet. I've been here before. Two weeks ago I loved and lost. I thought I found the perfect piece, only to find that someone else grabbed it first. I hope he and his new dresser are happy because frankly, I'm still hurting.

Once I finally have my beloved dresser, I suppose I will have to turn to a new hobby to round out my obsessive compulsive, anal retentive, perfectionist-type personality. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them. Otherwise I'll be forced to shop for furniture for you. Just ask my brothers.

It's up to you Hunt Valley, Hunt Valley

Let me begin by saying that we had an absolutely wonderful time in New York City last weekend. It was just the ride back that wasn't quite so nice.

As brilliantly depicted, at left, in an original Uncle Louis rendition, um, well, the Hunt Valley Motor Coach tour bus we were riding caught fire.

It happened soon after we pulled out of the Lincoln Tunnel, heading home. A bunch of drivers around us starting honking and pointing at the underside of the bus. The driver pulled over by the first off-ramp and said everybody had to get off because the bus was on fire. We could smell the smoke.

This is where the fun started. We were towards the back of the bus and a bunch of people ahead of us starting making a big deal about getting all of their shopping bags out. So we're standing there, the bus on fire, while a few women tried to get their Macy's bags together. I eventually convinced them to move their asses.

(There was one guy, by the way, who refused to get off the bus. He sat there until the police made him get off.)

So we stood on the side of the road while the fire department put out the fire. Then they loaded us back onto the bus and towed us to an overpass where we waited in the hot sun for another two hours until they could get another bus for us. One of the Secaucus police officers was kind enough to buy a case of water for the parched passengers. We eventually made it home sometime after 1 a.m.

But perhaps more upsetting than the actual incident is Hunt Valley's poor customer service in dealing with it. In short, they were nonplussed, offering a mere $20 in compensation per passenger. They acted as if it happens all the time.

Only a few days later did I learn that, apparently, it does happen all of the time. Three days after our trip, another illustrious piece of the Hunt Valley fleet, this one leaving St. Louis, caught fire.

My phone calls to Hunt Valley have gone unreturned and a letter is on its way to the bus company's owner. Being the frequent customers that we are, you'd think they'd want us to be happy.

So what will Hunt Valley do? Will the company do the right thing and offer each person a free trip? Will they pay back the kind police officer who bought us bottled water? Time will tell. And when it does, I'll tell you too.

A dollar here, a caffeine pill there

In a little more than three weeks, I, along with my family and friends, will stay up and walk all night in an effort to raise money for the American Cancer Society. For my sleep apnea-ridden self, it should be quite interesting to see how awake I manage to stay.

I've never actually pulled an all-nighter, not even in college. I stayed up late many Sunday nights as we tried to meet our deadline for the college newspaper, but I never made it the whole entire night.

So in preparation for Relay for Life, I've got the caffeine pills and Diet Coke all ready to go. I do, however, need something else -- specifically, a few more donations. See I'm not just doing this walk for the free pizza at midnight.

I'm doing this to raise as much money as possible for cancer research. Is this a little selfish of me? Sure. As a two-time cancer survivor, I have a vested interest in making sure that cancer research and other important program are well-financed. But I'm not the only one who will benefit from the fundraising so I suppose I can consider myself slightly benevolent. Slightly.

My team, the Semicolons, has done an awesome job of fundraising so far. As of this moment, we've raised a total of $4,137.40. Pretty impressive, don't you think? But we still have a few weeks left and we might as well raise more money.

So, you want to donate? Great! That's exactly what I wanted to hear. Luckily for you, making a donation is incredibly easy. Just click here and enter my name. You can make a donation right there online using your credit card.

If you're not so comfortable with online stuff, you can make a check out to the American Cancer Society and mail it to me. I'll make sure it gets turned in by the May 31 deadline.

To all of you who have already donated, I thank you very much. Your contributions will help those who weren't as lucky as I was.

And now, as I get ready for the night of June 10-11, I think I will go take a nap. I'm going to need all the sleep I can get in preparation for the big all-nighter.

Sign, signs, everywhere signs (but not for long)

My father has always had a lot of causes, but chief among them would be the annoying roadside signs that pop up all over the community. By default, this is one of my pet peeves as well.

These annoying signs started littering the area in the late 80s and early 90s when there was a lot of new home construction. Each developer tried to outdo the next with a larger, more fluorescent sign, leading potential buyers toward its development and promises of a free bonus room.

More recently, it's not the developer signs that have become an issue but rather the "work at home," "meet singles in your area," and "need a mortgage" signs that proliferate every corner. Oh, and of course the "100 signs for $100" sign is all over the place.

Over the years my father has made it his personal mission to remove these signs at any opportunity. They're not just an eyesore, you see, but also a traffic hazard. In addition to making it distracting and difficult to see around busy intersections, the signs also fall into disrepair and cars can pop a tire by accidentally hitting a warped wood post or metal insert laying in the street. (Yes, I've actually done this.)

The signs themselves, located in the public right-of-way, have actually been illegal for quite a while. By county code, each sign is subject to a $500 per day fine. The problem is that the code only allowed a county inspector to remove the signs and as you might have guessed, they didn't exactly do that.

It's this long history of fighting the illegally-placed signs that makes a recent action by the Baltimore County Council all the more sweet. Finally, the council has taken a non-developer oriented stance and will allow citizens to legally remove these illegally placed signs.

So watch out illegal signs: Your days are numbered. And I can see the back of my father's van filling up very quickly these days.

The best five dollars he ever spent

Today my grandparents celebrate 68 years of wedded bliss.

For those of you keeping track, that translates into four children, nine grandchildren, three great grandchildren, a jewelry store, a hardware store, and an optical lab.
And they're still just as much in love today as they were back on their wedding day... probably even moreso.

"There is nothing in this world that I wouldn't do for him, and nothing he wouldn't do for me," my grandmother says.

I can listen to the story of how my grandparents met over and over again. My grandmother, on the advice of her sisters, got all dolled up and went to a practice for a local musical arts group where my grandfather, a saxophone player, performed with the orchestra. Despite the warnings of her father to stay away from those musician types, my grandmother thought my grandfather was cute and kept going back to see him.

As the only one of the group with a car, my grandfather got stuck driving everybody else home. At the beginning he would drop off my grandmother first because she lived the farthest from him. But after a few nights, he dropped everyone else off and would take her home last so he could have some time alone with her.

Grandpa jokes that he knew they were getting married when his father bought them a bedroom set. Adorably enough, it's the same bedroom set that they still use, complete with the double bed they've shared for all of these years. (How they managed to sleep in a double bed together all these years is beyond me. My husband and I have a king size bed and if I can even see him over on the other side, he's too close.)

My grandfather often jokes that he got off really easy when it came to paying for the wedding because his only expense was the marriage license. "It was the best five dollars I ever spent," he said.

My grandmother's wedding band, the same one I wore for my wedding, is the very first piece of jewelry my grandfather designed and crafted. (In addition to his talents as a musician, my grandfather is also an amazing artist and jewelry designer.)

So what's the secret to such a long and happy marriage? Grandma says the key is to always be willing to go more than halfway. She claims they've never had a fight in all of these years but Grandpa says she just has bad hearing and a short memory.

While I'm hardly the sentimental type, I can't help but share a few comments that my grandmother made during a visit a few months back. (My brother was smart enough to take notes.) Seriously, how can this not be the cutest thing ever?

"Marriage is forever. When you say I do, you are making that promise for life."

"Everything in a relationship is give and take. Sometimes you give more, and sometimes you get more. In the end it all balances out."

"Love your children equally, but all for different reasons. That way when another child comes into your life, you can love them just as much without taking anything from the others."

"The key to a great marriage is happiness. Strive to make your partner happy, and you will be happy."

Happy Anniversary, Grandma & Grandpa!

An open letter to my fellow subway riders

The New York City government recently took a drastic step and decided to legislate something that many citizens lack: Common sense.

According to the New York Times, the city will soon start fining people whose cell phone goes off in a theater, those whose car alarms go off for more than three minutes, and my favorite, the selfish subway riders who put their feet up and take more than one seat.

Now I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea of legislating manners. In fact, I'm not comfortable with it at all. So instead, I think I'll just write a friendly letter to the patrons whom I share the Baltimore subway with on a daily basis.

Hey subway people,

It's me -- you know, the girl that keeps her head buried in a book or newspaper at all times and tries to pretend she's not on the subway? Oh, come on... you know me. I'm the one who showers every single day and doesn't have one of those annoying Nextel phones that alternates beeping and static. That has to narrow it down to three or four people. Still not sure? I always wear headphones when I'm listening to music. Oh, and I'd be the one who has never elbowed an elderly person out of the way in an attempt to grab one of the seats reserved for the handicapped.

Anyway, I just wanted to make a few suggestions on how to make the daily subway ride a little more pleasant for those around you. The first topic I would like to discuss is hygiene.

While I certainly encourage good hygiene, and heaven knows several of you have a long way to go, the subway isn't really the place for your primping. Now I'm okay with an occasional make-up check or running a brush through your hair, but I'd really appreciate it if you'd save your nail clipping for later. It's one of those things you really shouldn't do in public. The same goes for those of you who like to apply or remove nail polish on the train. The smell is, well, nauseating at best. An unventilated train isn't the best place for your manicure.

The next set of people I'd like to address are the seat hogs. These come in a few different forms. There are the ones who get on when the train is empty and spread out across two seats but then don't adjust when the train soon becomes crowded. I don't care if you spread out when there's no one else around, but when people are falling over one another and packed in like sardines, it wouldn't hurt for you to move your leg.

Similarly, if you're an able-bodied person, it would be nice if you would offer your seat to someone who isn't quite as lucky. That means when you see someone get on who might be elderly, uses a cane, or for some other reason, may need a seat that day, you can stand up and see if they might want to sit down. They may say no so you may get off easy. And if you're in the seats reserved for the elderly/handicapped, just move your ass please.

I also have a special message to the five young gentleman on the subway yesterday afternoon who thought it was a riot to pry the doors open while the subway was in motion. Do you really have that much confidence in the construction and maintenance of the Baltimore subway system? If so, you're far more optimistic than I am. You know the same people who can't keep the escalators running for more than 13 minutes at a time? They're the same ones working on the trains. If you want to be sucked out of a moving subway car that's fine, but please wait until I get off. I'd rather read about it in tomorrow's paper.

Well guys, I don't want this to run too long because I know you're eager to get off and smoke that cigarette, but if you could wait until you actually leave the train station before lighting up, those of us who don't enjoy a face full of smoke on the escalator would be forever grateful.

Actually, now that we're talking escalators, I do need to add a few more things. I'm thinking that whole walk-left/stand-right thing really may need to be legislated because for some reason, some of you just aren't getting it. And you're the same people who get annoyed when someone says "excuse me" and tries to squeeze past you.

Another escalator-related issue comes when a train arrives and everyone tries to get on the escalator immediately. Perfectly understandable, considering we're all in a hurry these days. But did you notice that line of people waiting patiently to board? Just out of curiosity, why is it that they should wait in line while you just push your way in? I'm sure you have someplace to be but I was just thinking that if you're that important, you might be an interesting person to talk to on one of our daily treks.

Well, that's it for now. I know this ran a little long but hey, with all the train delays, you should have plenty of time for reading!

Thanks everybody, and I'll see you on the subway!

Politely yours,
AlisaBS

The Lady Terps, aka "Overtime is our time"

I have to admit it. I was happy to wake up this morning to reports of small-scale rioting and fires in College Park. I was actually hoping the students at the University of Maryland would show some support, even drunken revelry, for their national champion Lady Terps.

Now I don't typically advocate this sort of thing, but I think it's important for the school to show its excitement as it would had the men's basketball team won.

It takes a lot for me to sit through more than a few minutes of a basketball game but last night's NCAA Women's Basketball championship game between Duke and Maryland kept me riveted. Usually I'm of the belief that a basketball game should last no more than five minutes because it's only the last few minutes that make a difference in most games. Last night's overtime win over the Blue Devils showed that. Of course the Lady Terps also came from 13 points behind earlier in the game so my theory might be somewhat flawed.

(As a side note, I'm also of the belief that basketball should only be played by short people. If you're 6 foot something, you should be a good basketball player. You should be able to dunk. I want to see people my height playing the game, a la Muggsy Bogues. Midget basketball is good basketball.)

But back to the Lady Terps who deserve today's focus. They played a great game, coming from behind to force the game into overtime. They looked thoroughly excited to have won and they should. Not only did they make it to the NCAA tournament, which their counterparts on the men's team could not do, they tore through the bracket and beat Duke. Every victory is sweeter when it's against Duke.

So celebrate your win today ladies, but please, whatever you do, don't turn into arrogant players like the men's team has. You're better than that.

Who I am, according to Baltimore Magazine

I need a really expensive house and a bunch of plastic surgery. Baltimore Magazine told me so.

Okay, so technically that's what Baltimore Magazine's advertisers are telling me, but you get the point.

I'm pretty sure I fall into the 99-year-old magazine's intended demographics. I'm a married, late 20-something professional, who dines out regularly, goes to the theater, and, in theory (only in theory, I might add), I have disposable income because I'm childless. Now I don't live within the city limits, but I think Baltimore Magazine still hopes to attract suburbanites like myself. With all of the lavish houses out in the Valley advertised for sale at a mere $7 million, apparently county or country living isn't all bad.

It's actually quite interesting to flip through an issue of the magazine and learn just who it is that's supposed to be living in Baltimore. I have to be honest: When I think of Baltimore, ritzy socialites don't come to mind. I picture a high murder rate. I picture an out-of-control drug culture, filled with violence, absentee parents, and illiteracy. I picture the Baltimore I see on the subway everyday.

While I do acknowledge the success of some revitalization efforts, you're still not going to see me walking around the outside of the Hippodrome at night. I ride the subway everyday to and from work and I can tell you that Baltimore is not as high-brow, upper-crust, and hoity-toity as advertisers may want to believe.

But Baltimore Magazine thinks that's the real Baltimore, or at least its readership. According to its website, "Baltimore magazine readers are educated, affluent professionals with an average investment portfolio worth almost $200,000. They use credit cards almost twice as often as the national average. Eight out of ten readers read every issue and nine out of ten use the magazine to make buying decisions."

Of course I'm in no position to tell the advertisers what does and doesn't work. Obviously they're seeing some sort of return if they continue to run high-priced ads in the glossy monthly. Someone out there must be reading it and agree that, yes, cosmetic dentistry is a must, and I really do need to trade in that 05 Mercedes/Lexus/Hummer/Bentley for a newer model.

I don't begrudge those who can spend with reckless abandon. I simply doubt they're as prevalent as the magazine indicates. Is there a small sub-culture of the cultured (and filthy rich) living among us that I just don't know about? If so, where do I sign up? I'm ready for my $148 umbrella that's pictured on page 94 of the April issue. The broken ones littering the streets of downtown on rainy days just bring me down.

Beware the Terps of March

It's a rough time for Maryland basketball fans. It's gotten so that rioting and setting fires just isn't fun anymore.

Just a few short years ago Terps fans watched as their team, led by the likes of Juan Dixon and Steve Blake, plowed through the big dance and emerged victorious.

Oh how the snotty have fallen.

As if a lackluster season wasn't bad enough, Maryland's men's basketball team apparently felt the need to make sure they went out on an equally sour note, losing to Manhattan in the first round of the NIT.

Originally Coach Gary Williams said his team didn't want to play in the NIT. Well guess what, Gary. It showed.

Senior forward Nik Caner-Medley summed up the team's feelings by saying they just weren't into it.

"This whole year is embarrassing," Caner-Medley told The Baltimore Sun following the game. "Not making the NCAA tournament is embarrassing. Obviously we wanted to be in the NCAA tournament, and I think we probably would've played better if we were [there]."

I feel for you, Nik. I really do. You see I can only pretend to know what you must be going through. You've had nearly four years of a free college education now and all you'll have to show for it is a degree a lot of national exposure. That must be tough. I, on the other hand, have nearly $50,000 in student loans to show for my education.

I guess when it comes to spoiled demagogues like Caner-Medley, it takes more exciting things to get hyped up... exciting things like his July 2004 arrest for disorderly conduct following a drunken brawl.

Then there's senior Chris McCray, the player deemed academically ineligible in January when his GPA fell below a 2.0. (Incidentally, McCray officially withdrew from classes just a few days ago, obviously crippled by the concept that some professors expected him to attend class every once in a while.) His parents must be so proud. Afterall, this comes on the heels of his August 2005 arrest in College Park after refusing to leave the scene of a fight.

Okay, so let's see what we have here. There's a coach who makes millions of dollars a year who feels that playing in anything other than the NCAA tourney is beneath him. Then there's a few holier-than-thou college athletes who have been given a free ride yet can't seem to appreciate it. Oh, and let's not forget the multi-million dollar state-of-the-art Comcast Center where the pampered players can work and play.

Gosh, how could things have gone so wrong? Something tells me the results might have been a bit better if all that money and attention went into the school's academics instead of thuggery training. Of course the parties after a mock trial competition just aren't as cool.

Circus, Circus, and yes, Circus

It's probably bad for my image to admit this but I will anyway: My husband and I are circus geeks. Most people would find it more than adequate to go to the circus once a year. Not us. Once again, we'll be attending the Ringling Brothers circus three times this year.

Before you scoff, you have to understand something: There's not just one circus. There are actually three Ringling Brothers Circuses (Circi?) currently traveling the country. There's the Red Tour (which stars Bello, the best clown ever), the Gold Tour, and the all new Blue Tour.

This year we will attend two performances of the Red Tour (one in Baltimore and one in D.C.) and then finish out the circus season with the all new Blue Tour in Hershey, Pa. (For the past two years we've traveled to New York for our third show.)

I'm particularly excited to see the all new Blue Tour this year which promises to revolutionize the circus-going experience. No more three ring circus, they say. Instead, it's supposed to be more Cirque de Soleil and less cirque de kids screaming.

Of course I'm also looking forward to the two Blue Tour performances where Bello is the star. He's not just a clown, you see. He's an acrobat, athlete, and death-defying stunt performer. Take that stupid French clown David Larible. (In the interest of full disclosure, Larible is technically Italian, but you have to admit that "stupid French clown" sounds much better.)

But it's not all about the clowns. The other performers and all of the amazing animals quite a treat. Rich loves Crazy Wilson and the wheel of death. I love the way the elephants all line up and take the tail of the one in front of them. And please, you can't not get a rush when you see Mark Oliver Gebel, son of the famed lion tamer Gunther Gebel Williams, work with the giant pachyderms or dance with the big cats.

Surprisingly my experiences with the greatest show on earth didn't start out so great. I had a terrible case of the flu for my very first circus visit, around the time I was six years old. At my urging, my father decided to take me anyway. My only memory of that circus visit is that a canon went off somewhere and I vomited soon thereafter.

I'm glad to say my recent circus memories are far happier ones... except for the $17 cotton candy. Two years ago, Bello came right up to the seat in front of us and sat down for a picture. Maybe this year will be even better and Rich will finally get a turn on the wheel of death.

This is probably only interesting to me

Recently I dined at The Waterfront Hotel, a Fells Point restaurant best known for its role as the bar on Homicide. While the good food and great view of the water are enough to attract most people to the year-old establishment, this restaurant has special significance to me as it was where my great-grandmother grew up. While there, I couldn't help but look around and try to imagine what life must have been life for her in late 19th and early 20th century Baltimore.

The Waterfront's website provides a little information about the building's history (like the fact that it built as a private residence in 1771 or that it's the second oldest brick building in Baltimore) but I still wanted to know more. The only thing I could remember was that my great-grandmother, Mom-mom, lived in the house during the Baltimore fire of 1904. When I was young, she told me about how they waited for the fire to move from east to west across the city and wondered whether it would make it to them.

For more information, I checked with my father who said he didn't really know much about the time my great-grandmother lived there but reminded me of a family history written by my great-grandmother before her death. Sure enough, in checking this family history, I found out a few interesting details that I will now share with you.

One of eight children, Mom-mom estimates that her family moved to the house at 1710 Thames Street around 1900. (She would have been around 8 years old at the time.) Her father had been running a men's clothing store around the corner on Bond Street and the family lived above it. The landlord, though, who also happened to be a cousin, was upset because the location did so well. The cousin decided he wanted to set up his own shop there and my great-grandmother's family had to move. "As soon as they moved, the cousins moved into the corner store, and that was the beginning of a feud that was worse than the Hatfields and the McCoys," my great-grandmother recalled.

So back to the Thames Street house. Mom-mom said that in its day, the place must have been a mansion because it was so big. "The rooms were enormous, with plaster cornices," she said. "There was a wide hallway with a magnificent stairway and balustrade running to the third floor." (By the way, if anyone knows what a balustrade is, let me know. I was too lazy to Google it.)

The store was on the ground level of the house. Mom-mom went on to say that the first floor had a dining room and kitchen, the second floor was the living room and her parents' bedroom, and then the other bedrooms were on the third floor. Her father built a three-story extension on to the house that they rented out, mostly to other Polish immigrants. The house itself had no heat and relied on three stoves. Her brothers brought coal up from the cellar every morning so her mother could make the fires. Then there was the bathroom: "We had an outhouse with three holes and you had to be careful where you stepped," she said.

Incidentally, as a side note, I should mention that Mom-mom's brothers are a story all their own. Two of them, Ben and Herman, started Channel 13 (now known as WJZ) in Baltimore in 1948 and went on to buy Pimlico Race Track in 1952. It's nice to know that my ancestors had a part in Baltimore's history.

Mom-mom said that during the Baltimore fire in 1904, people from other neighborhoods sought refuge at their house because they were so close to the water. In preparation for the fire, her father hired a wagon and loaded the store's merchandise on it to save it. "The only problem was that he neglected to get horses to pull the wagon," Mom-mom noted.

It isn't entirely clear how long the family stayed on Thames Street. Looking through the family history, it appears that Mom-mom's father closed the store and the family moved to Clarksburg at some point. But after another business venture went bad in 1915, the family moved to 1207 North Broadway and her father opened the store again back at 1710 Thames. He sold men's clothing and items catering to sailors. In 1920, the family moved to Reisterstown Road.

I plan to return to the Waterfront in the near future. This time I want to explore a little more though. Now that I have a little more knowledge, I want to try to imagine what went where back in the early 1900s. Oh yeah, and the food is really good, too.

Broadway in Baltimore, as it belongs

I woke up this morning to a very pleasant surprise. The list of shows for next year's Broadway in Baltimore series at the Hippodrome is out and for the first time, I'm actually excited about every single show. My Playbill holder runneth over!

Typically there are one or two shows each season (usually a play) that don't really pique my interest, but not this time. While musicals are still my favorite, I'm even looking forward to the plays (Twelve Angry Men and Doubt) that are on the schedule. I honestly believe the only way it could be better is if Les Miserables was included. And, considering the fact that Les Mis is no longer touring, I think we really lucked out.

In case you haven't seen it yet, here's the lineup:
The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee (Sept. 19-Oct. 1)
Twelve Angry Men (Oct. 24-Nov. 5)
Dirty Rotten Scoundrels (Nov. 21-Dec. 3)
Wicked (Jan. 24-Feb. 18)
Monty Python's Spamalot (March 6-18)
Sweet Charity (with Molly Ringwald)
Doubt (May 1-13)

In addition, there are three non-subscription shows also included:
Mamma Mia! (Aug. 29-Sept. 10, 2006); Altar Boyz (Nov. 7-12); and Annie (Dec. 12-17). We'll definitely go to Mamma Mia! (for the upmteenth time... I love it!) and Annie is a possibility as well.

So while I'm talking about great theater, here's my list of my favorite Broadway shows of all time.

1. Les Miserables (This story is timeless and I can listen to the music over and over. It really doesn't get any better than this.)
2. Mamma Mia! (While people complain that the plot is thin, I think the writers did a remarkable job creating a story out of a series of songs. I only wish Movin' Out had been done so well.)
3. The Life (This was a short-lived Broadway musical focused on Times Square prostitutes in the 1980s. The soundtrack is incredible.)
4. Fiddler on the Roof (This is the first Broadway musical I ever saw. From then on, I was hooked.)

Honorable mentions go to Hairspray, Oklahoma, Little Shop of Horrors, The Lion King, Evita, and Chicago, and to a lesser extent, The Producers, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, the Sound of Music, Phanton of the Opera, and Music Man.

Feel free to respond and tell me your favorites.

Obligatory Valentine's Day tribute to the man I love

For the first 23 years of my life I was always alone on Valentine's Day. Because of this, I determined that the so-called holiday was nothing more than a stupid Hallmark invention. After all, if people are in love, they should tell one another all the time and not allow the greeting card industry to dictate when and how they share those feelings of love. Sounds plausible enough, right?

Ah, but therein lies the rub. While this functions quite well as a theory, I haven't done so well with it in practice. Saying that Rich is the most amazing person to come into my life is a vast understatement. So understated in fact, that I usually don't say it at all.

I've never been the lovey-dovey, touchy-feeling type. I don't cry at sappy movies (unless there is a cute animal that somehow meets harm) and I don't get misty-eyed at weddings. In other words, it doesn't hurt that once a year society forces me to tell my husband how much I love him.

I don't think it makes me a bad person to need something every once in a while to remind me how much I love my husband. Sometimes it's a story about those who have loved and lost and other times it's a silly holiday filled with heart-shaped chocolates.

So anyway, here goes:

I love you, Rich. I love how you laugh at all my silly little quirks (or at least don't make me feel like I'm that strange for having so many.) I love how you're always there for me and you treat me like a royalty. You know the stupid little things that make me happy and avoid the ridiculous things that annoy me. Simply put, I love you. Happy Valentine's Day!

Let's get ready to Relay (for Life)

As most of you know, I am a two-time cancer survivor. Now that I've nearly reached the two-year mark of being cancer-free, I've decided it's time to do something to help raise money for cancer research and outreach. To that end, I'm putting together a team for this year's Relay for Life at Owings Mills High School on June 10.

Relay for Life is an overnight walk to raise money for the American Cancer Society. Team members take turns walking throughout the night and one team member must be walking at all times.

I am looking for people who are willing to sign up as team members and/or donate to the effort. If you might be interested or would like more information, please let me know.

Or, if you've already made up you're mind and you're ready to go, you can sign up and/or donate here.

Thanks in advance for your support!

Happy Birthday, Dorks

Today my twin brothers achieve a birthday milestone. They're hitting the quarter century mark. The big 2-5.

It's actually pretty hard for me to believe that my baby brothers have gotten so old. It seems like just yesterday they were skinny little punks who made mommy and daddy do everything for them. (Okay, so maybe it was just yesterday.)

At any rate, I really struggle with the fact that my brothers are, technically, adults. I often forget that when I was 25, I got married and bought a house... both adult things to do. And I do realize that my brothers both hold down full-time jobs and make car payments and do other mature things. They're even house-hunting. But they're still my little brothers.

The guys were born two months premature and my parents didn't know they were even having twins until maybe two weeks before the little alien babies were born. They had to stay in the hospital for a whole month because they were so tiny... only 5 lbs. together.

Danny came first. He's always been the impatient one. Matt came along about 12 minutes later, but only after the doctors went in after him. He's never liked being rushed.

I had just turned two and I remember the first time my grandparents took me to the hospital to visit the boys. My dad held one of them, my mom held the other, and the doctors said I had to stand just beyond the doorframe if I wanted to see them. I moved a little closer to see them (they were so little, afterall) but the doctor shut the door in my face.

Over the years, I've been a so-so big sister. When they were little I was actually pretty mean to them, probably out of jealousy. I'd like to think that I've gotten nicer over the years. Apparently my favorite game early-on was watching my mom give each of the boys a bottle. When she would put the bottle down next to her, I would pick it up and take it over to the other side of the room. Then when she put the baby down and got up to go get it, I would say "Well as long as you're up, can you get me..." What a darling child I must have been.

Lucky for me, it took my brothers quite a while to realize that if they only joined forces, they could overtake me. And now that they're bigger than I am, we actually get along for the most part.

So anyway, happy birthday guys. Enjoy your birthday season!

The Best and Worst of Music in 2005 (courtesy of guest blogger Adrian)

Meet Adrian. He is my best guy friend from college and he's almost ready to take the plunge and start his own blog. Almost. To help ready him, I've agreed to post his evaluation of the best and worst music of 2005. Adrian is really a musical genius. He has the Billboard charts memorized. You can name a song or artist and he can tell you how far up the charts they went and when.

So please help encourage this future blogger and give him tons of encouragement so he'll finally start his own blog. And remember, seeing as though I'm not cool enough to even recognize a quarter of these artists and/or albums, I take no responsibility for the opinions expressed below.

The 10 Worst Singles of the Year:
Beverly Hills - Weezer
Candy Shop (if only cause it bites from Magic Stick) - 50 Cent
Have a Nice Day - Bon Jovi
Just the Girl - Click Five
Laffy Taffy! - D4L
Listen to Your Heart (was it really necessary?) - DHT
My Humps (or actually anything by the Black Eyed Peas incl. "Don't PhunkWith My Heart" and "Don't Lie")
Photograph ("What the hell was on Joey's head?" That's gotta qualify as worst lyric of the year, though, again, the Black Eyed Peas gave them a run for their money). - Nickelback
Scars - Papa Roach
Soul Survivor - Young Jeezy

The 10 Best Singles of the Year (Okay, 18... I cheated)
All These Things That I've Done - The Killers
Cool - Gwen Stefani
Dakota (You Made Me Feel Like the One) - Stereophonics
Do You Want To - Franz Ferdinand
Feel Good Inc. - Gorillaz
Gold Digger - Kanye West
I Don't Feel Like Loving You Today - Gretchen Wilson
Lighters Up - Lil' Kim
Making Memories of Us - Keith Urban
Mr. Brightside - The Killers
Rich Girl - Gwen Stefani
Since U Been Gone - Kelly Clarkson
Sugar, We're Going Down - FallOut Boy
These Words - Natasha Bedingfield
Wait (The Whisper Song) - Ying Yang Twins
Wake Me Up When Sept. Ends - Green Day
The Widow - Mars Volta
You and Me - Lifehouse

Albums! Ooh, now this was tough.
Anniemal - Annie (Ah, Swedish pop... you gotta love it)
All Jacked Up - Gretchen Wilson (didn't get too many props from critics, but it really is a good album, if only for "Skoal Ring" and "I Don't Feel Like Loving You Today")
Confessions on a Dancefloor - Madonna (Classic Madonna. No more of that artsy crap that the world has come to hate. It's about time Esther learned to stop taking herself so seriously, and it pays off.)
Hot Fuss - The Killers (Pop? Rock? Unbelievably catchy? All of the above.)
Kerosene - Miranda Lambert (Reminds me of Gretchen Wilson's debut. The girl got famous from a TV show - Nashville Star - but her lyrical ability and vocal talent are amazing. And props for keepin' it country! And I think she's legal now.)
Late Registration - Kanye West (This almost didn't make the list because I hate how freakin' arrogant he is. Then again, he reminded the world that George Bush hates black people, so that redeems him. Oh - plus it's a great album, as he'd tell you.)
The Naked Truth - Lil' Kim (Another phenomenal rap album. I was never a big Kim fan, but she comes up with some killer lines on this one. My fave? "Star Jones don't like me/she's cheap and I like the best/Damn - Must feel good to Payless!")
There's More Where That Came From - Lee Ann Womack (Very retro country. And while she's really imitating Dolly Parton, she's got one heck of a voice.)
Tough All Over - Gary Allan (Warning: Do not listen to this album if you are remotely depressed or want to be happy. You cannot enjoy this if you're happy. And conversely, you should not listen to this if you're sad. It was recorded shortly after his wife shot herself. And while that makes for hard listening, it's great listening.)

Now, some critics may tell you that Fiona Apple's "Extraordinary Machine" and MIA's "Arular" should also be included in this list. They are wrong. Sorry - that was too harsh. They are both great albums, but not Top-10-of-the-Year-great.