The cat came back...

You may have been wondering what happened to the cat in my mother's story. Well, within a day, my mom had a response. Due to the violent nature of this story, reader discretion is advised.

And now I present the prequel to "The Coffin in the Backyard," titled "The Tragic Tail of the Cat."

The white, obese cat sat like a statue on the lid of the next door neighbor's trash can, sniffing the air. Aromas of fish, rotting lunch meat, and other wonderful goodies floated up into the cat's nostrils. Willow often visited the neighbors for a morning snack in the trash. He wasn't supposed to be out on his own, but Betty had forgotten to slam the back screen door shut all the way. Instead, poor Betty stood at the front door watching her husband, Jack, pile up his suitcases.

"Don't look for me, Betty. You won't find me. I'm leaving you and this miserable life behind. You'll be hearing from my lawyer, and I'll want the house."

Betty said nothing, not a word as her husband carried his heavy suitcases outside to the car. Betty went inside to find the cat for comfort. At the same time, the garage door of the neighbor began to go up. The cat, looking for more adventures, darted quickly inside running over the foot of the woman, Debbie, next door.

"Stupid cat," she muttered. "Get out of my garage or I'll make gloves out of you." She kicked at the cat, but it jumped on top of the car, out of her reach for the moment. Jack appeared at her side and hugged her.

"Ready to go? Where are your suitcases?" he asked.

"In the kitchen. Help me carry them, honey. Did you get the money?"

"We'll stop by the bank on the way to the airport. How about you? "

She shook her head. "Ron doesn't have a clue. Drained all the accounts. He won't know what hit him."

Debbie walked up the steps and opened the garage door leading into to the kitchen. "Hello," Ron said as Debbie stepped through the threshold. "Going somewhere?" In a quick motion, Ron buried a long knife in Debbie's chest. She crumbled like paper to the floor, a red stain spreading over her silk blouse. Jack almost tripped over her, his shoes splattered with blood.

"What the hell?" he managed to utter, backing out the door. He missed a step down and fell hard onto the hard cement floor, scraping the car bumper on his way down. The cat landed on his chest, hissed, and dug its claws into his jacket. Jack grabbed frantically at the cat to shake it off of him, but it held tight. Cat hair in his face, Jack couldn't see. He turned over, cat hanging from his chest, and tried to get to his feet. As he leaned on the car, he felt Ron's knife cut through his spinal cord with such force that the cat was impaled on his chest. Neither had a thought after that. They both fell in a heap at Ron's feet.

Outside Betty was combing the backyard, yelling, "Willow, Willow, come home now. I have your favorite kibbles!" She was thinking it was odd that Jack's car was still in the driveway. Why was the trunk open? She'd look into that as soon as she found the cat.

Ron shook his head sadly. Betty was going to miss that cat. He walked around the car and lowered the garage door. The street was empty and all was quiet in the neighborhood. Then he turned to the old freezer he had recently cleaned out and plugged back in. It was a good thing he didn't let Debbie sell it. Now it was going to be a godsend. He reached for the garbage bags on the shelf. After he wrapped and stored the bodies, he would have some cleaning to do.

Later he found the Home Depot card his wife had given him for Christmas and ordered some wood planks to be delivered. He knew it would be the first place anyone would look, but he would bury them in the backyard. Then he would redeposit the money he had found in Debbie's pocketbook. Overall, his day off had been very productive. 

Too bad about the cat.

Story Time!

My mother, Donna, is a member of a writers club, and part of this club includes writing short stories given a prompt. For example, one prompted started with "My mother never..." and my mom ended up writing a great story about a woman who ends up on death row.

So one night, I was walking by a neighbor's yard, and in the back I noticed a man building a large, wooden box. It looked just like a coffin, and for some reason, the prompt came into my head, "I knew the coffin he was building was for me." Yesterday, I told my mom about my prompt idea and she definitely ran with it.

Now I would like to present her short story:

After Jack left me, I had a lot of time to think. I got used to sitting in the dark in my purple lawn chair with a glass of red wine, contemplating the woes of the world and my own personal hell. Jack, my husband for fifteen years, had decided to start a new life with "the other woman" two weeks ago, packed his clothes, and drove away to some meeting point. "The Other Woman" must have been rich because he hadn't deleted our joint bank account, drained the savings, or cashed in our 401K. I wasn't left to struggle with gambling bills, mounting debts, or a foreclosure like Mrs. Yancy down the street. No, Jack had been kind. I missed him, but things could have been worse.

Friday night, all dressed up and no where to go, I was relaxing in a wine stupor in my favorite lawn chair when I was brought back to consciousness by a pounding noise. As I lifted my head up, I realized my neighbor was building something in his yard behind my six foot wood fence. I got up and moved to the fence. Light was coming through the seams and leaned over the hedge where I could see Ron, my neighbor, pounding on some pine boards. He was over by his shed, a portable light hooked up with an extension cord. A pile of pine planks were by his side as well as his hound dog Fred. The front of the shed was flung open and I could see his table saw had been pulled out. Wood shavings littered the yard. Ron was busy nailing a large box together, pulling nails he stored in his mouth to pound into the lumber.

Odd, I thought. It looked like a coffin. Ron, I knew, was a postman. He left before I did, dressed in his blue uniform and hat. This box. Was he shipping something big? I hadn't realize that Ron had been so handy at carpentry. Bang. Bang. The pounding continued as the box took the shape of a long rectangle. Then, as if he realized someone was watching, he glanced up. I felt his eyes meet mine and I pulled back. Quickly I retreated to my screen door. As I locked it behind me, I still thought the box looked like a coffin. Maybe it was the wine talking. Why would he be doing that?

The next night as I took out my new bottle of Pinot Noir and settled in my usual lawn chair on the patio, I watched the sun set. As the darkness came, I noticed that my neighbor had on his back porch lights. The pounding was done. Curious about his project, I crept up to the fence again and peered between the panels. The box was gone, but I saw a blue tarp beside the shed covering a lump. Yes, the box was finished.

Suddenly my eye caught movement in the yard. I strained across the hedge to catch a glimpse of Ron digging a hole in his yard. He was now up to his waist, shovel working at a fevered pace. Again Fred stood like a silent soldier at the edge of the hole watching as the dirt flew over him and landed in a neat pile beside him.

I went back to my lawn chair and opened the wine. Sipping the first glass, I realized Ron was going to bury something in his back yard. Something large. Maybe in that coffin of his. After the second glass, I remembered his wife Debbie. I wondered what she thought about his project in the back yard. I had often seen her out washing her car in her red bikini, walking Fred in her skimpy pjs, and waving goodbye to me from her kitchen window when I left for work. I hadn't seen her lately but I couldn't imagine that Ron and Debbie had problems. She seemed so perfect, so cute, so happy. She was always volunteering to fed my cat when I was gone on a business trip. Jack hated my cat. I'm pretty sure he killed it when he left because it was also missing.

After I finished the bottle, I gave up any lucid thought and went back into the house. I left Ron to his hole.

Sunday night came. Fortified by two glasses of Australian merlot, I again slipped up to the fence. Ron was throwing grass seed from a Lowe's bag over the fresh dirt that now covered the hole. The tarp was gone, the wood put away, and the yard freshly mowed. Fred was rolling a ball around on the ground, hoping his master would soon come play with him. After all, the work was all done.

I gasped and Ron looked up.

"Betty, you there?" he asked, rolling the now empty bag up in his arms.

"Yeah," I answered meekly.

"You saw?"

"I saw," I acknowledged.

"Jack's in there too," he said calmly. "They're both in there. Thought you should know. You can call the police if you want. I would understand."

"Jack and Debbie?" I asked.

"Yes,"

"Thanks Ron."

"You're welcome."

I went back to my lawn chair in the dark and my open bottle. It was going to be a good year after all.

Let me know what you think! You can check out her blog too.

A Little Bit Closer...

Today a friend sent me a link to an interview with one of the Apple founders, Steve Wozniak. He went to see Mike Daisey's "The Agony and the Ecstasy of Steve Jobs" at the Berkeley Repertory Theatre, and he said "I will never be the same after seeing that show."

It was great to hear that someone in within the Apple corporation was also significantly affected by Daisey's performance. We can only hope that the others like the COO and acting CEO Tim Cook will not dismiss the suffering of Chinese workers for the company's gain. As Wozniak aptly put it, "The emotions and understanding and moral feelings that Mike brings out are very strong and could be a threat to Apple's future, even though they are only simmering now."

Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak (with the beard)

Galoshes

The weather in Berkeley was beautiful (near the 70s!) until last Wednesday when it started to rain cats and dogs. Whenever it rains in Berkeley, there's a very good chance that it is snowing in Tahoe, the home of fantastic mountains for skiing and snowboarding. My friends, who have passes to the ski resorts, were ready for the snow, and oh my goodness did it snow. One friend told me that he and his seven friends shoveled the drive way to their cabin for almost two hours and got about 3 feet of snow in one night. Many of the slopes received 5 to 7 feet of snow. A little much for me, but I'm not an avid skier.

Instead of heading for the mountains, my boyfriend and I headed for San Francisco for our belated Valentine's Day celebrations. It was still raining, so I decided against a dress and traded it for skinny jeans and galoshes. We headed to the BART station and were merrily on our way when we got to the MacArthur station. Our train attendant said over the intercom, "There are NO trains going to San Francisco at this time. If you are heading to San Francisco, get off this train now. Go downstairs and the BART employees will tell you how to get to the city."

This was at 6:30 pm on a Friday night - i.e., the train was not empty. Tons of people rushed downstairs to the exit to find out what to do. One guy told us that buses were coming to pick us all up and take us to Embarcadero. Another woman said to get on the Emeryville Go-Round and get off at 41st to take the F bus across the bay. And another guy had no idea what was going on. Thank god this wasn't a real emergency because those people were clueless. The Go-Round buses were stopping at the station, but it happened to be about the time the buses stopped running. So many people were trying to get on a bus but most of the bus drivers kept yelling at people to get off and that they were out of service. So much for communication between BART and the Go-Round service. Finally one driver was willing to take as many people as he could to 41st, so we crammed onto the bus.

When we arrive at 41st, an F was waiting for us! But it was packed with the people who beat us there. And how often does the F run? Every half hour. That's right. And it was cold and raining. So we waited, and about 5 minutes before the F arrived, a woman at the stop heard from her friend that the BART was running again. Yeah, I was not happy and I couldn't feel my toes.

The F finally came, and we rode it over the Bay Bridge to the Embarcadero. The restaurant, Cafe Claude, was great! It was quite a romantic spot - dim lighting and live jazz in the background. And I made a great decision wearing my galoshes.

Hunter Wellies

Zetta Tall Rain Boots from Target

Did I make a good purchasing decision though? Well, when I looked into it, I found out that my galoshes were made in China. BUT they were only $25 (they were free for me because my parents bought them for me for Christmas). If I had lots of money, I would have bought a pair of Hunters, which are $125, because I thought they were made in the US or UK. Turns out though, after a little online research, that Hunter felt economic pressure in the last 5 years and had to move its production to China.

So my boots may not have the Hunter logo on them but they were a fifth of the price. If only I knew the manufacturing conditions of the galoshes factory... probably smells very strongly of rubber.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Valentine's Day is one of my favorite days of the year. A day to celebrate love is never a bad thing.


Last night, as with most nights, I had a really bizarre dream. My dreams are often extremely vivid, and I can actually feel the things that are happening. For example, a month ago I dreamed I had a pet bird that sat on my finger, and I could feel the bird's claws wrapped around my finger.

But I digress.

So last night, I dreamed that I was in lab, and suddenly an alarm rang indicating that we were under attack by large machines that smashed any buildings in their way. I knew my boyfriend was in another building, but I couldn't get to him because the machines were coming and would destroy our building at any minute. I got in the elevator (never a good idea in an emergency, but this was a dream), and a girl in the elevator told me I needed to go to the bottom floor and walk out the door very calmly. I didn't want to draw attention to myself so I did as she told me. And as I walked out the door, I saw a machine bust up the building that my boyfriend was in. I was devastated, but I knew there was nothing I could do. I went to "safe" building and waited for other survivors to arrive. While waiting, I saw some people from my lab that worked in the same building as my boyfriend walk down the hallway. And then I saw him. He was alive!

When I woke up this morning, I told my boyfriend about my dream and how real it felt. I was so thankful that it was just a dream, and he just laughed. But to me, it was a great start to Valentine's Day.

A few of my favorite things...

Today as I was getting ready for the Super Bowl, I realized I have a few things that I really like: bacon, football, and artichoke dip. So the most logical thing to do was combine them into an awesome dip for the Super Bowl. That's right, artichoke dip with bits of bacon blended in and the Packers vs. the Steelers. I had no trouble choosing a team to root for: the Packers, of course! While I didn't have any real reason to cheer for them, I decided that since the Packers beat the Bears, then the Packers better go all the way. 

To make my artichoke dip, I need freshly grated Parmesan cheese. For Christmas, my mom gave me a Microplane grater, which works really, really well. As I was using it today, I realized I didn't know where it came from. I just figured that it came from China, but I wanted to be sure. The internet informed me that it's made in the USA - huzzah! Now I can grate away with no qualms about using my Microplane. 

I wonder where footballs are made...

Chinese Democracy

Yesterday, a few friends and I watched "Please Vote for Me," a documentary that follows a third-grade class in China during the vote for a new class monitor. It's the first democratic election the kids have ever witnessed, and yet they use the same political tactics we see here. For example, one kid promises his classmates that if they vote for him, they will be part of his special committee. Another kid takes the entire class on a field trip through town on the monorail, thanks to his father's connections. It was just hysterical. It's available for instant play on Netflix, and I highly recommend it. If you want to hear a short interview with the director, check out the This American Life episode, "Kid Politics." 

Also, happy Chinese New Year!