my little refugee dogs

My mother called me three days before I left for New Jersey.

"Have you ever heard of the Nazis?" she asked.

"Yes Mom," I replied, rolling my eyes. I'd majored in Nazi German history in college. "Why do you ask?"

"Our dogs are like the Jews during Nazi Germany," she said, laughing. "Every time we want to take them out, we need to sneak them ou of the house covered in blankets."

My parents finally sold their (1 of 3) house in Somerset, and moved to my childhood home in Edison, NJ. We didn't know this when I was younger, but apparently the townhouse complex that we now live in don't allow pets. We're just waiting for the letter to come when the babies get kicked out.

Until then, the dogs have been hiding in the house. All of our blinds are drawn, we don't let them bark, and we wrap towels and bags around them when we take them into the car whenever we have to drive them somewhere for a walk.

Thankfully, the parents usually go to their place in Blandon, PA on the weekends, where the dogs get to roam free...


My babies take in the sun at Blandon

fare thee well, kimmie and ilan

Today was the last day of two of my favorite co-workers, Ilan and Kim. *Sniffle* We had a picnic to commemorate it, in the park across from Safeway. There were tubs of fried chicken, potato salad, chips, and fruit. And like 3 beers for the entire group.


Da food


David, Bill, Jay and Matias


Frisbee action shot


Daniil, Jane, John and Frederic


Crutch


Kim and Matias dodge a malicious frisbee


Tim and his manly hot dog eating pose


Battle of the Short Timers


Group Pic


Manager Hug #1


Manager Hug #2


Me, Kim and Beer (the beer is not mine)


I told you Ilan and I were about the same height (Ilan is 6'3")


James plays soccer with a volleyball


Jamie, Mark and me


Jamie and the fabulous hair


The HiPer 1.0 team

Too bad we didn't have some of these pics for the scrapbook... some of these are pretty good. On two tangential notes, after the fried chicken, I decided that I want to be back on my diet - I look puffy in these pics again (even though I weigh 123). Oh, and I LOVE my new camera!

playing with camera

I've decided that I've rather had it with cute-and-high-end purchases, like my car and my old Casio Exilim camera. Yeah, they're both adorable, but they're also essentially POS. So I ordered a camera from eBay for only $150 - the Kodak V530. Its tiny, its cute, its functional, and it works.

I've decided to call this series Caro and Thingo In Action.

extortion for dummies

I drove my car in today b/c I have to run it to the shop during lunchtime. Since I was only parking for 3 hours, I thought it made more sense to park at the meters, rather than pay for a garage.

Little did I know that the City of San Francisco was now in the business of extortion, vis a vis the outrageous parking meter fees. It is now ONE QUARTER for every FIVE MINUTES!!! That comes out to $3.00 an hour - and, in any case, who the hell carries that much change with them?

Not only that, but I was literally 2 minutes late to feed my meter again (30 min limit) and I already got a $50 ticket!

I am going to write a letter to every single Supervisor and the Mayor complaining. Seriously. The increased meter charges will give the parking lots more leeway to raise their daily/hourly fees, which is already expensive as it is. I've always been of the belief that the city makes most of its revenue off of DPT - and this only confirms it.

I don't particularly like driving to work, but once in a while it has to be done. If they are going to punish the drivers, then they should at the very least stop raising public transpo costs as well.

Thoughts?

digging a ditch and other news

For those of you who've been wondering where I've been, the answer is: in massive amounts of pain!

On Thursday, some colleagues and I volunteered for Habitat for Humanity, as part of our Employees in Action Week. I've done H4H before twice, but both times involved painting or nailing or something indoors. Which is why I totally wasn't expecting to be handed a shovel upon my arrival, and instructed to dig a ditch. And a trench.

Considering that the last time I used a shovel, it involved a sand pail and a bikini (read: I was 5), it should come as no surprise that I was sore/in pain for 3 days afterwards. The 3 1/2 hour dance rehearsal on Saturday did NOT help.

Now I wish I'd paid more attention during O Brother, Where Art Thou?. I could have sang some of the chain gang songs...













My sexy protective glasses


Huddling on the "sidewalk" for pizza


Bob busts out the pick ax


Digging a ditch (not a trench)


The BEA Group Pic

*~*~*~*
On Sunday, Sara and I met over brunch at Town's End. For those of you who don't know, Sara is one of my very awesome WW buddies that I met online through ExP. We've been blogging and corresponding back and forth for months. Since she lives in Daly City, it made sense to finally meet up.

It was a wonderful, and relatively guilt-free brunch, although I did splurge on the carrot-potato cakes. I dropped her off at Stonestown, ran some errands, and then... DISASTER.

And Disaster, Thy Name is Mini.

I've decided that my little car is like one of those hot-but-asshole boyfriends. As I told Kim today, he's totally good for nothing, causes tons of emotional trauma, and is more effort than its worth. Yet you don't want to break up with him because he's do damn cute. And yes, my car is definitely male.

A mere month (?) after finally getting my car back, some fuse decides to short out in the middle of the pouring rain. The engine ran fine. But my wipers, power windows, power locks, a/c, defrosters, headlines and hazards ALL didn't work. Which made driving in the rain completely impossible, and I was on the highway!

I pulled over to the nearest parking lot I could find, and called Mini Roadside Assistance. Why, oh why, did I expect them to be emotionally available in a time of crisis? All they could say is, "I'm sorry, we can tow you to the dealer, but we'll have to charge you b/c its out of warranty" despite the fact that its clearly a manufacturing problem. I refused to pay for it; I hardly wanted it in the hands of the outrageously overpriced dealership anyway. So they kept suggesting that I call 911 and the police.

So I did. And after being put on hold for TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES, the 911 dispatcher informs me that its not an emergency and hangs up on me. Ok, rude - but I understand that the line needs to be kept open for real emergencies. But why was I directed there? And what if I was in a house with a murderer and only have 24.5 minutes until he found me and killed me?? Good to know that we're safe in times of danger thanks to automation.

To make a long and frustrating story short(er), after I calmed down somewhat, I called AAA, signed up, and had them come and tow me. Luckily, about 10 minutes later, it stopped raining so I was able to cancel the tow truck and drive it home without incident.

Fernando headed over shortly afterwards - I had called him during my hysteria, only to find him drunk from Bay to Breakers. He was supposed to come and get me right away, but he ended up going home and passing out for an hour! To make matters worse, he brought over chicken mcnuggets (clearly I succumbed to emotional eating), but without the fries! I didn't even realize it was legal to buy nuggets without fries at McDonald's!

We ended up zoning out in front of the tv, finally watching Serenity, and then the Desperate Housewives finale. Oh well, I'm using this as good motivation to deal with the remaining repairs for my car once and for all.