Media-crity

Michael Jackson has, as most everyone knows, died at the age of 50. I’ve been trying to come up with some pithy way of summing it up for Facebook and Twitter. Is this what has become of my love of writing? Nevertheless, I failed. Thus, my dusty blog.

I really have no opinion on him either way. He has some catchy tunes, and you can’t deny his influence on pop music, but I wouldn’t call myself a fan.

Really, stuff like this just makes me think about mortality and here today, gone tomorrow. He’s been such an institution in the media and in entertainment, for better or for worse, so knowing that he’s gone is unsettling somehow.

Now, back to my NCIS marathon. Two days in a row, USA! You must really love me.

Last night I inadvertently broke back into my very first gmail address, which I set up 5 years ago and pretty much never used again.

It seems 3 or 4 people have been handing it out as their own since then and I have 91 personal emails in that inbox.

Things I have learned in sorting through the 1000 emails in the inbox to find the personal ones.

1. When you add a number to the end of your email address (such as jsmith2), half the time people will forget it.
2. Talbots sends a shitload of emails. 50% of the emails were from Talbots.
3. ALWAYS CHECK THE EMAIL ADDRESS BEFORE SENDING NAKED PICTURES FROM YOUR CELLPHONE.

You’re welcome.

My finger’s been bugging me– swelling up, hurts to touch, etc. So after a week of this, I headed to the urgent care clinic in Kenmore to make sure I didn’t have spider eggs or a fracture or anything.

They sent me for x-rays and I, because I’m 12, took the x-rays into the bathroom on my way back to the clinic so I could take this picture:

It’s apparently tendonitis, which I think is the go-to “get out of my office, crazy hypochondriac.” However, it was ALL worth it to get that x-ray. I wish I could have kept it.

At the very least I’ve been selected to save the world from evil.

First, when I turned my TV on Wednesday night, I found this image frozen on the screen for no discernable reason:

Then, last week I was in the mailroom ripping open a box of dental insurance booklets to distribute. This guy walked in while I was struggling with it and asked if he could help. At that moment, I wrestled it open and said “Nope, looks like I got it!” and then he said “Of course you did, you’re very powerful.” and smiled.

I have no idea who this guy was.

So I’m pretty sure I’m either starring in my own supernatural thriller, or I’m a prophet/superhero/savior. I’m still figuring out the details, but I think the island– that is, the world– communicates with me via the TV. I just hope I didn’t fail my first test by not going to find that creepy child and prevent her from sucking out her parents’ brains or something.

On the one hand, it’s good to finally have everything confirmed. The endless speculation and covering up was making me dizzy.

On the other, it really, really sucks to be right. Jerry Remy taking an indefinite leave of absence to recover from cancer surgery.

Looks like Eck will continue through the homestand, ending the 8th, then the greatest man ever, Dave Roberts, will join Don for the west coast road trip, with no plans being announced beyond that yet.

Can I get my vote in now for more Roberts/Eck/Don action? It would help ease the pain.

Thank you.

There are so many reasons to love Surviving Grady. Many, many reasons.

This is but one of them.

Trying to get a post explaining the Legend of the Diet Coke up before tonight’s game but I’m not sure if it’ll happen.

It’s nearing midnight and I’m sitting here shotgunning a fresh can of diet coke. I have to be up in just over 6 hours.

Yup. Just another game night.

AND IT PAYS OFF WITH A 2-RUN HOMER FROM BAY! Bay has been most receptive to my help this season.

Soon I should chronicle the history of the diet coke and why I spend baseball season in a caffeinated haze.

Jacoby Ellsbury.

Oh. My. GOD. I want that clip uploaded to my brain so I can watch it over and over and over and over.

Hope Girardi’s been networking. He’s gonna need something to do after September.

I just … DAMN.

When the season started, I was still working on a case of cherry DDP, so I had no diet coke with games.

And we got off to a lousy start.

So when my case was finished, I got a case of Diet Coke, more for the tradition than because I actually thought it would turn things around.

BUT IT DID.

FACT: I bought that first case about two weeks ago, when the losing spiral snapped.

FACT: On Friday, I cracked one open five minutes before Bay’s tying homer in the 9th, when all looked to be lost.

FACT: Yesterday I was running around, making a cake for a friend’s birthday, getting stuff done around the house. I checked the score and saw the Yankees were up 6-0. I had reached a lull in cake-baking (cake was cooling, icing was made and dyed and waiting) so I decided to sit down and concentrate and try to give them a shot in the arm. I turned it on, cracked a DC, boom! Bay hits a bases-loaded single, one run in.

Alright, sez I, not bad.

Then.

BOOM!

TEK GRAND SLAM.

Never doubt the power of the Diet Coke. Never.

Today I have been catching up on the <a href=”http://www.survivinggrady.com/”>Surviving Grady</a> archives I’ve missed since I stopped checking Google Reader when I started my job in January and it took over my life.

Which, coincidentally, is about the last time I posted in my blog. Ahem. Sorry about that. Things are winding down, though, so maybe I’ll come back.

Now, though, the Fenway Franks are cooking and I have a caffeine addiction/gameday ritual to indulge.

If only it weren’t on ESPN. My kingdom for Remy and Don sitting at my dining room table so I could mute these jokers.

It was a bad, bad week. I was in the hospital, we had a death in the family, then a layoff. I’m tired.

I’ve already talked about the hospital, not sure if I’m ready to talk about the death, and legally can’t talk about the layoff. That leaves …

…banging my head against the wall catching up on last week’s arrest of Hartford’s mayor Eddie Perez. Well. Who couldn’t have seen that coming? Aside from the majority of Hartford’s residents who voted for the bastard.

Aunt Eileen, you touched a lot of lives, as evidenced by the dozens of cars in the procession Saturday. I know the last years were rough and I hope you’ve found peace. We won’t be the same without you.

This is horribly disjointed but so is my mind this week. Hope all of you out there are doing well.

Wound up in the hospital in DKA again this weekend. I definitively identified the cause last night when I removed what I suspected to be a bad pump site:

Yeah. That’s supposed to be straight. It’s what puts the insulin into my system. No good.

I was released yesterday and am taking today to recover as well because I’m still just worn out. It’s hard to get any decent, quality, restorative rest when you’re being woken up every hour for fingersticks, injections, vitals, blood draws, potassium pills …

As hospitals go, the one I was at wasn’t bad. I had a private room, which was nice, and awesome friends who came to visit and watch a bit of the Superbowl with me.

Now, for some breakfast and quality couch time. I’m tired.

I have some 2008 wrap-up meme thingies planned, but first I’m breaking my silence to say RIP, Mayor Mike.

In my time at the historical society, I dealt with Mayor Mike as part of an auction item he donated– a lunch with him, obviously– which is something that has stuck with me since. In a good way. Not like the time I met John Rowland and he invited me to come trick-or-treating at his house. Ahem.

Incidentally, last night I dreamt that I accidentally took a clinical rotation in Hartford.

Today we got home and Nate’s hands were full with some things he’d ordered off Amazon, so he let me grab the mail for once (we’re nerds and fight over who gets the mail, plus we have a rule that, if it’s your birthmonth, you get the mail, so this was huge). I pulled out the stack and started flipping through it, as our mail carrier frequently gives us mail for our downstairs neighbors. In separating ours from theirs, I noticed an odd-sized envelope bearing the MGHIHP logo. Bigger than a standard business-sized, and thick with more than one sheet of paper. My hands began to shake. I quickly stuffed the misdirected mail into the other box and forced my legs to move into the house.

As soon as I got through the door, I began picking at the envelope, hardly noticing as the snow in the treads turned my boots into ice skates across the linoleum. I didn’t say anything to anyone, even turned it to hide the logo. I wanted my own moment to open it and process before anyone knew it had even arrived. The glue was extra-strong and there was nowhere to safely just tear it open, the pages running snug from one end of the envelope to the other.

I tossed the rest of the mail onto the counter, giving a grunt when Nate asked if he had any birthday cards. I stood in front of the window, facing the other counter, finally tearing the pages free. I opened the folded page, my eyes flitting from one word to another, all over, no regard for paragraphs or sentences, scanning for one that would give me the answer. Yes or no. Big envelope.

Finally, I found one I could hold on to, an anchor, a confirmation. Congratulations.

“I got in,” I croaked.

8-10″, you say? Who cares? I get to wear jeans to work tomorrow!

Thanks, snow!

Also, added the french toast alert system to my widgets *gestures to the right*. ‘Tis the season!

Stay warm, stay safe, don’t eat each other.

This week’s cookies have a LOT going on. But all of it good! Here’s the recipe I cobbled together from several internet sources:

INGREDIENTS:
1 cup softened butter
2 cups light brown sugar
2 large eggs
2 tablespoons milk
1 teaspoon orange zest
1.5 tablespoons Triple Sec (cause it was the only orange liquid I had handy)
1/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon almond extract (because why not?)
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 cups rolled oats
1 6oz bag dried cranberries (about 1 1/3 cups)
2/3 cup white chocolate chips

DIRECTIONS:
1. Preheat oven to 350°F. (note to self: in current oven, 350F on convection)

2. Cream together butter and brown sugar in a large bowl. Beat in eggs one at a time until well mixed. Add milk, zest and extracts/liquor and mix well.

3. In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda and salt. Stir in oats, then add to butter mixture and mix well.

4. Fold in cranberries and chocolate chips. Drop by the teaspoonful 2 inches apart on ungreased cookie sheets (I lined mine with parchment paper, so sue me). Bake for 10-12 minutes, or until the edges just start to turn golden brown. (note to self: that is 8 minutes in your quirky oven)

5. Let the cookies cool on the sheets for 4 minutes, then remove to wire racks to finish cooling. Store in an airtight container or freeze.

I sure enjoyed them, hopefully my coworkers will too!