So when it snows in Seattle, everything shuts down and anyone with any sense holes up and enjoys a day or two off.  It is, arguably, the most aggravating time to live in this part of the world, and you have to treat a snow day in Seattle as you would an anthrax attack, or a zombie apocalypse; you don’t go out.

People from east of the Cascades refuse to believe this reality, and as a rule try to go out and live their same non-snow lives, and as a result  they all lose their shit, which the local news media loves, because it helps them fill their 24-hour winter weather coverage.  They always manage to blame Seattlites for their own dumbassery.

This was yesterday’s quote, it was on local and national news:

man in a car:  It’s because people in Seattle don’t know how to drive.  I’m from Chicago, they get more snow than this but everyone knows how to drive.

reporter:  so what’s the problem?

man in a car:  My car can’t make it up the hill.

How, as a Seattle driver, did I cause that man’s car not to go up the hill?  Oh right, he’s a jackass.

Today it was a guy who had run his car into a median:

“all of a sudden, the car in front of me decides to start sliding, what could I do?”

Here’s what you do, chief:  you go back in time and make a decision to not frakking tailgate.  They flashed his name on the screen, and I had a hunch… so I looked him up on facebook and yes, he was from Florida.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but all those people that they put on the news who are so frustrated because of traffic problems… they are never from here.  You never hear them exclaiming “I’m from Tacoma!” or “I grew up in Magnolia!”  Of course, we locals get frustrated, too.  But we, in contrast, handle it by chaining up, driving slow, avoiding hills… or better yet, staying off the roads.  In 24 hours, it will all have melted away anyway.

So here’s how the week went…

Saturday:  started snowing.  It looked bad enough that I didn’t want to meet my friends on the Eastside, bad enough that they didn’t want to meet me at the Gate.

Monday:  Dr. King’s birthday, no school.  Slushy snow on the ground.  The call to cancel school on Tuesday came in the early afternoon.

Tuesday:  Doomsday forecast; meteorologists were predicting a storm of glaciers would form and bulldoze our sorry hamlet halfway to San Francisco.  The only problem:  there was zero snow on the ground everywhere south of Downtown Seattle.  My friends and I actually went on a happy hour crawl through Downtown and South Lake Union.  Would they call a snow day when there was no snow on the ground?  Admin finally made the call around 8pm:  no school Wednesday.

Wednesday:  woke up to snow on the ground.  The big storm?  Didn’t happen.  Instead we had a minor snow event, the white and fluffies falling through the morning, and then tapering off through the afternoon.  Tomorrow, said the weather folks, is ice storm.  Admin finally made the call around 7pm:  no school Thursday.

Thursday (today): Oh, there was an ice storm.  North Seattle got more snow, but South Seattle, where I am, got snow, freezing rain, freezing temperatures, and solid sheets of ice on every surface.  In Olympia, my hometown, the ice was building up on trees, which would then snap under the weight of the ice.  It crushed cars, houses… people said that they’d hear gunfire; the sound of a tree snapping every 30 seconds, it sounded like a sniper battle was going on.  There was one fatality in south King County; a tree split and fell on a man who was backing out his ATV.

The weather folks had been saying that the rains would start tonight, so I was counting on the big melt. I was hoping that I could go out of Indonesian food.  Well, it didn’t happen; they’re saying now that the big melt won’t start until midday tomorrow.  Most public schools have already called off classes for Friday, my school is holding out.

I wasn’t scheduled to go into work tomorrow, but it was my plan since last week that I’d spend tomorrow at work, grading papers.  Now it seems like even that will be impossible, and with all the snowdays, the two weekends, and Dr. King, we will have had nine consecutive days off of school.

I’ve been really lucky not to have lost electricity–frozen branches are taking out powerlines everywhere, I heard 200,000 households are blacked out, and it will be 3 to 4 days for full restoration.  I’ve also been lucky that my heat hasn’t quit, since my heater tends to freeze up and die when I need it the most.  Not this time, anyway; knock on wood.

So the big melt happens tomorrow, and by this time tomorrow night everyone will be driving to their little hearts’ content.

UPDATE:  They called it, 8pm.  No school tomorrow.

When I lived in China, I lived behind the Great Firewall, and experienced all kinds of internet censorship first hand.  Not only did they make some sites inaccessible, but they also slowed service to certain sites, and they had the ability and authority to monitor my communications.

For me, this is an issue of speech and commerce, both of which are protected by the US Constitution.  If the goal of the legislation is to stop online piracy, they should find a solution that does not infringe on the rights of Americans.

Both Google and Wikipedia provide more info about the campaign against SOPA and PIPA, as well as ways to contact our representatives in the federal government

"I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear." Dr. King

There has been plenty to blog about lately, but not a lot of will to blog it.  I’ve had adventures here in Seattle, and in Las Vegas… my friend Tristan’s e-book has dropped… just all kinds of blog-worthy things that I haven’t sat down to blog.

Anyway, here are three shorts from the last couple days.  Happy New Year to all my friends and readers!  Sure hope the 2012 apocalypse doesn’t cramp anybody’s style.  ______

Walis!

So my cowsin I and his family came over for dinner last night.  I made mussels with sausage and beer; they brought crawfish.  So we had an awesome messy seafood dinner.

As soon as I got in, cowsin C asked me if my little nephew L could play with the broom.  Sure, I said, and then little nephew L started SWEEPING MY FLOORS.  The kid’s not even 2 years old, but damn that kid loves to clean.  Later I gave him a dry washcloth, and he went to town on my coffee table.  ”Oh, he loves to vacuum,” says his mom.

Awesome!  I kept asking him to walis (sweep) the house.  The kid could have been named “Wallace.”  _______

Deen vs. Minnelli

It was not a fever dream, as some of my skeptical facebook friends suggested.  It was real, it was real, it was reaaaaaal:  Liza Minnelli was a guest on the Paula Deen show.

Inevitably there was a too-much-butter moment.  There was plenty of fake cooking show chemistry, where they embarrassingly act like they’ve been best friends for years and years.  And, no surprise, there’s the moment of ecstasy when they taste the German chocolate cake with too much butter.

At least we have butter over here, sorry Tommy… actually, not sorry at all.

Anyway, Paula and Liza sliced their cake, picked it up and ate it with their hands, goozing with foodgasm ecstasy.  Then they kissed.

I won’t make too much of them kissing, sometimes people gotta kiss.  The amazing part was when they took their freshly baked German chocolate cake with too much butter out to the chicken coop and FED IT TO THE CHICKENS.  Here are the comments that we made.

“Oh my God, they’re feeding the cake to the chickens.”  ”Whaaaaaaat?”

“You know there’s eggs in that cake.”

“That seems disrespectful.”

I feel like some poor people would have enjoyed that cake.  Not to say that Paula Deen’s well-fed chickens did not… _______

My New Bed

The day after I got back from Vegas, I gave myself a mission:  to buy a queen-sized bed.  I had one before, but then I sold it to a newlywed couple when I was leaving for China.  When I finally moved back to Seattle, I pulled out the xl twin which I had stashed away in my storage unit, and slept on it for over a year.  I had meant to buy a new one all this time, but my money had other priorities, including travel, electronics… mortgage payments, etc.

So finally I got my December paycheck, and it was finally time for Operation Bed Time.

• Step I:  Mattress.  I went to the mattress store and picked out a mattress and box spring that I liked.  Got it all done before 11am.  Bam.  Delivery scheduled for the next day.  Great start to the mission.
• Step II:  Frame.  I broke my “no new Ikea” rule for the second time for this… simply because beds are cheap there and they look solid enough.  I picked out the Nyvoll in dark brown and scheduled it for same day delivery.  Bam, check it off the list.
• Step III:  Wait for delivery.  I treated myself to some kalbi and kimchi at Toshio’s, came home, cleaned my kitchen, moved some furniture around, prepared myself mentally to put together my new bed.   I’m all over this.
• Step IV:  Receive delivery.  Ikea delivery arrives late, after 9pm.  Boxes are soaked on the ends to the point where the cardboard falls off.  The wood has absorbed some water, and is a little warped on the ends.  Guh.  I sign for it. Disappointing, but still on schedule.
• Step V:  Assembly.  I put dutifully follow all the instructions and assemble the bed over the next few hours.  By then end, my hand start hurting from all the screwdriver action, as there are several screws that go straight into wood, without a pre-drilled hole.  I don’t have a drill, or the Scandinavian ice-pick-looking tool the assembly illustration booklet wanted me to punch screw holes with, so I had to do it animal style.  Rowr!  Still on schedule.
• Step VI:  Mystery packet.  What is this business?  I found a plastic packet, separate from the other instructions, with it’s own set of illustrations, exhorting me to add these extra metal braces on the inside corners of my bed.  Again, screws were going straight into wood.  My hands hurt too much from all the animal style screwing with my little screwdriver, and it was nearly 2am… But I’m almost done!  So I screw the brace in, only to realize I had the wrong corner.  Guh.  I puled the brace out… animal style, and started screwing it into the correct place.  Ouch, my hand hurts, my hip hurts from sitting on the ground all night, and it’s late.  Go to bed, leave it for the morning.
• Step VII:  Borrow a drill. The next morning my neighbor came over with his power drill and screwed the braces into the proper corners for me. I am a winner.
• Step VIII:  Slats.  The bed is assembled.  Lay down the slats; mattress and box spring arrive in an hour.  Soooo, I lay down the slats, and they’re the WRONG SIZE.  It takes me a moment to realize that I had a queen sized mattress on the way, but a fully assembled full-sized Nyvoll.  Dammit.
• Step IX:  Mattress Arrives.  Delivery guys confirm, yep, you built the wrong sized bed.  Why didn’t I check the size on the boxes?  Oh yah, because they label had been soaked off in the delivery truck, remember that detail?  Dammit.  I feel like weeping.
• Step X:  Plan B.  Call Ikea Customer Service.  ”Bring it back,” they say.  How do I do this?  I call U-Hall and rent a cargo van; it will be ready in six hours.  I am heart broken.
• Step XI:  Disassembly.  I take the full-sized bed apart, animal style.  Now my hands really hurt, and my hip joint which gets sore when I sit on the floor is now clicking when I walk.
• Step XII:  Cargo Van.  So I pick up my rental cargo van and park it in my alley.  The bed is now in several big parts, which I load into the cargo van by myself in the dark alley.  It’s raining hard as I drive back to Ikea.
• Step XIII: Exchange.  I get down to Ikea and park in the loading zone.  Unload my bed in parts, and wheel it over to the exchange counter, take a number.  As I’m waiting, by boy B texts me, wanting to get a drink.  Grrrr.  Can’t do it.
• Step XIV:  Home again.  I park in the ally again, unload my new bed in flat-packed boxes, return the damn rental van, and come back home.  It’s 9pm.  I’m tired.  I veg on the couch for 2 hours.
• Step XV:  Final Assembly.  I rally during the 11 o’clock news and start building my new bed, this time I’m sure it’s the right size.  Too late to call the neighbor for the drill, so it’s all animal-style, sitting on the floor and crawling around on my knees just like the night before.  I finish it before the end of Last Call with Carson Daly, and drop in the box spring and mattress.  I stretched the fitted sheet over the mattress and got out my comforter, updated my facebook status, and slept in my new bed for the first time.

So sleeping in my new bed is exquisite.  It’s a “firm” mattress, but the top is soft, and it feels like I’m sleeping on money; money that cares very deeply for me.  When I wake up in the morning, I feel like I fell asleep in an expensive spa or some kind of rainy northwestern all-inclusive resort.  My new bed makes me want to live longer, so I can spend more time in it.  I’ve never felt this way about a bed before.

• H and I landed at McCarran the other day in the early afternoon.  It was just as cold here as it was in Seattle, but the air was dry and the sun was shining bright.
• We had reserved a rental car, ended up with an Elantra.  Not bad.
• So far there has been bibimbab, mool naeng myun, crawfish,  And a lot of food at home.  For Noche buena my sister and I stopped off a the Argentinian deli and came back with some jamón serrano and queso manchego.  My parents came back with a roast chicken and a roast duck.
• I got bored during Sound of Music, so I instigated an early gift-opening at around 9pm.  Hey, it’s midnight somewhere… and Christmas morning somewhere else.  I got a crab-cracking brick and tool, a stainless-steel insulated French press pot, a cocktail shaker, an oven mitt….
• My folks’ house is filled with booze, which they don’t drink, but they get for free…. there’s free booze all over Vegas.  My sister and I chilled a bottle of champagne; mama says it’s from the Hard Rock.  We’re drinking it in pajamas and watching Mass at St. Peter’s.  They’re still singing the Gloria, but I’m gonna go hit the rack.

Happy Christmas to all my dear friends and readers all over the world.

It did turn out, however, to be a great weekend of catching up with New York friends.  I stayed with Fancy S and Belgie, who are awesome, lest I don’t say it enough.

So I own a sock-monkey hat, which people are very impressed with.  I remember watching Harry Potter and seeing Luna Lovegood’s enchanted lion hat.  What is the point, I thought, of NOT owning a goofy animal hat?

Seriously?  Are there drawbacks?  Head:  warm.  ears:  warm.  Onlookers:  impressed.

Fancy S agreed, to the extent that she bought herself a sock monkey hat at a booth on St. Mark’s.  She was happy!  And warm!  And halfway down the street, a little black girl walking with her mama tells Fancy S, “I like your hat!”

I didn’t have too many food objectives when I went to New York, but I did want to get a lox bagel from Pick-a-Bagel.  Here’s a photo from my memory…  So I made my way down to Battery Park City, past the WTC (Freedom Tower is going up nicely, finally) and got to Pick-a-Bagel, and it was CLOSED FOR RENOVATION.  Guh.

Now by this time my left knee was stiff; all that New York walking.  And to compensate for the left knee, my right ankle was getting all stiff as well.  So I was moving slow.

Add to that, hungry, and disappointed that my favorite bagel place was closed.  My phone told me that Shake Shake was around the corner, in the old Lili’s Noodle spot.  So I got myself a shack burger with cheesy fries, cheese on the side.  It was ok.

I walked by the Whiskey Tavern on Saturday, but it was packed with dozens of slutty and douchey Santas.  Apparently Saturday was Santacon, which is a shit show.  Sunday, however, was Santa-free, and when I walked into the Whiskey Tavern, Rob immediately greeted me from behind the bar.  A few minutes later, another bartender was finishing a conversation he was having with another customer, exclaiming, “I almost made out with that guy!” indicating Rob.  I looked him in the eye and said, “yah, I can see the appeal.”  The other customer laughed into his beer.

Then the bartender shook his head, despondent, saying “the other day I saw him with his shirt off….”  Rob was nowhere in sight, so this performance was for our benefit.

Next thing I know, Rob is sitting next to me, shaking my hand, commiserating with me about SantaCon.  Even when I was living in Manhattan, I was only an occasional customer over a span of about four months (March Madness until I moved away in June).  Then I was gone for a year and a half, and here’s Rob, shaking my hand, remembering my name.

Rob came by a little later, to say goodbye, asked if I’d be around when he came back from his errand.  I doubt it, I said, but it was great to see you again.  I finished my drink, chatted with the other bartenders… and there was a moment when we were all throwing ice cubes into another customer’s cleavage.  I ordered a pickleback for old times’ sake, and it was delicious.  When I went to settle my tab, they told me nope, the pickleback was on Rob.

This man keeps buying me a drinks!  Is he trying to get me into bed?  It’s probably not going to work…  probably…  I’d definitely help him move, or pick him up from the airport.  I told another bartender, a younger guy, about the man-crush I was developing for Rob, and he said, “yah, get in line!” shaking his head in frustration.

The next day, I couldn’t resist, I went back for another pickleback before my flight.  Rob teased me about showing up two days in a row, and about my sore leg, saying I was out of New York shape.  He was impressed by my thank-you gifts for Fancy S and the Belgie… I had bought some asian pears, persimmons, and a dragon fruit on Bowery.

The asian pears were bigger than my fists, and so were the persimmons.  I was practicing my Chinese with the vendor:  four persimmons, four pears, and a dragon fruit.  Four of these?  he asked… and four of these?  And four dragon fruit?

No no, I said, one dragon fruit.

Oh, he said, oh good.  I was gonna say, four dragon fruit is pretty 厉害。  ”厉害” (lìhai) is a funny word, it means something like “intense, hard-core,” or as my kiwi friends would say “full-on.” It made me wonder if dragon fruit had some kind of erotic properties.  In any case, I only bought them one.

There are other stories to tell about my weekend in Manhattan, and some to keep to myself.  I’m not sure when I’ll make it back, but I hope it’s soon.  I’m definitely a Seattlite, and even if my career takes off and I can live the jetsetting lifestyle I’ve always dreamed of having, I’m sure I will stay in the 206.  But I sure would love to spend some more time in New York.

7am:  I get dressed and ready to leave for work.  I check out the chat stream… as expected, it is baffling and delightful.  Kiwi J had chatted a few lines in Chinese that I don’t understand… so I activate my Chinese expert network (an American, a Canadian, and an Aussie).  None of them understand it either, but it does feel good to touch base with them, even just with a quick question.

10:30am:  Advent Mass in the gym.  I screwed up all the new responses, especially “And with your spirit.”  Blech.  The archbishop celebrated, and before the final blessing he stopped to remind us:  1) God loves you, 2) pray, 3) he (the archbishop) will be happy to pray for you if there’s something on your mind.  I decided I really like this new archbishop.

11:50am:  “Gratia.”  Free food! So one day a month, the parents do a big potluck lunch for the faculty. It is AWESOME.  In fact, when I was in China, my friend C once busted his leg, running to one of these potlucks.  This one was put on the the moms of the freshman football team, and I think they were trying to outdo each other, because the food was all bomb.com.

2:40pm:  ”Thunder”  More free food!  The development office, communications, and HR decided to have a reception for the faculty and staff.  They hosted it at the Eastlake Bar and Grill.  And when I say “hosted,” I mean that they reserved a section and then paid for everybody’s food and drinks.  My favorite was the smokey cheesy waffle fries.

7:00pm:  Free movie, and even more free food!  The World Market decided to treat it’s loyalty card customers to the new Tintin movie.  When I showed up, they put a party band around my wrist, gave me my 3d glasses and a $10 gift card for concessions… and also a $10 off coupon for the store!  With my gift card I got a vitamin water zero and a hot dog, and then went in to the screening.  I kept waiting for some marketing or some survey or something, but no, they just plain treated us to this movie, and asked for nothing in return.  There weren’t even any commercials or previews!

9:30pm:  I come home and check my mail box, and I got a package from my boy D in Alaska… two cans of his own smoked wild salmon!  … and one can of mints.  Think he’s trying to tell me something?

Finally I got a goofy reply from S, who is either in Charleston or Brooklyn. Hearing from him always brings me back to great memories of samba and pandeiro practice.

Ok, one last night of grading, and one more day of school tomorrow, and it’s Christmas Break.

I actually could have caught an earlier shuttle, but I stopped to help a Japanese super model find the Air Train. I told her to get off at Federal Circle and find the Comfort Inn shuttle. I asked if she understood… a white dude chuckled and said “just smile and nod.”

Sucker. She belongs to him how.

On the way to Grand Central now.