Joe, the Trumpet Guy

Every night around 10 o'clock a man walks by our house and yells "Genghis" as loud as he can. The man is very punctual--you can almost set your clocks by him. He continues to yell until he gets a response.

Genghis is our neighbor's dog. He is a small terrier mix, cute as a button. He used to be a hairly little dude, but due to a mishap at the doggy care he attends, he has been closely shaved. When Genghis hears the man shout his name, he drops whatever he is doing and runs over to the window barking.

The man is Joe. We used to call him the Trumpet Guy. That was before we knew his name. When we first moved into the neighborhood, Joe had a trumpet. He did not really know how to play it, but he was really good at using it to make loud high pitched noises around 2 am. Last summer the noises abruptly stopped, and we started seeing Joe riding a bike around the neighborhood. I don't know what happened, but I speculate that a kind soul traded his bike in for Joe's trumpet.

Joe loves dogs. Unfortunately the feelings are not always reciprocated, because Joe often smells of alcohol which dogs tend to dislike. Yet Joe is persistent--he tries sharing his food with his canine friends. Often Joe leaves his leftovers by our building's door--they are for Genghis.

Despite acting strangely most of the time, Joe is a really nice guy. I do not really know his story, but a rumor says that he gets occasional help from Social Services in his continuous fight with drug and alcohol addiction. We wish him all the best.

The Car Has Been Recovered

Minus its entire interior and a few other small things such as side mirrors, rear spoiler, radio antenna (what would you do with a broken off antenna?), wheels and tires (the ones you see here are not mine).

The thieves were nice enough to leave us the club, our road atlas, all of my registeration documents and about a pound of pennies.

Apparently the key to turning the steering wheel of a car locked with a club is cutting the steering wheel. The dark arts of disabling the alarm and jump starting the car are still a mystery to me.

A Driver's Lament

My car has not been recovered yet. "Yet" is a deceptive concept in this case. Will it ever be recovered? Statistically, if a stolen vehicle is not recovered in the first 2 or 3 days, chances of it being recovered rapidly approach zero with every passing day.

Of course I would like to stay optimistic, but reality is starting to set in. Who would take a locked, alarmed, 11 year old car with a club on its wheel? Someone did tell me that a manual transmission car is easier to jump start then an automatic transmission one. Yet I am still guessing it would have to be professionals. The model is among the top ten most stolen vehicles--stolen for parts.

Is my car in parts? Has my car been painted, its VIN reetched, and shipped to another country? Sad. As I stare out at cars going by on Mass Pike as I ride the train, I find myself looking for my car. Even if I could never have it back, I still wish I knew what happened.

What would my grandpa say about all this car stealing business?

Sewing Craze: Bags

Today the result of my most current craze, sewing bags, is making its world debut. This large flowery tote is perfect for summer time. Attractive, sturdy and functional, it includes an inner pocket. The outer shell and the lining are 100% cotton.

Back to reality: "Wonderful" as it is, this bag is the "beta release". Many small issues remain, such as poor finish of the handles and sporadic uneven stitching. I am also aspiring to make the next one with a zipper!

If you would like to participate in this most singular beta program, and help identify those ideal traits that make up a perfect tote/bag, please let me know!

Where Is My Car?

It is Friday, the 13th, and today is definitely not my lucky day.

As you might know I take the train to work, while my car spends most of its time socializing with pigeons in the safety of a garage in the suburbs.

I brought the car home on Tuesday so that I could drive to work from my dentist appointment this morning. Why Tuesday and not Thursday night, you might ask? To avoid driving the car home without a purpose, I decided to go skating, and the ice time schedule dictated that I go skating on Tuesday night.

This morning, when I walked over to where I parked on Tuesday night, my car was not there. Not only was I about to miss my dentist appointment (a hard-to-come-by "commodity" indeed), but I was also carrying two gigantic plastic bags full of clothes for donation.

I called Nick to the rescue, and he ran down to meet me and free me from the bags. I grabbed a taxi to the dentist. Dad was very nice and let me borrow his car so that I could still get to work on time for a meeting.

Then the calls began: Boston Tow line, state police, two more tow companies, state police again, etc. No sign of my car anywhere. After work I went to the police station. Again they went through the lists of towed vehicles. Nothing.

My car is now officially declared to be a "stolen vehicle". We are still hopeful though. I believe that my car will fit into the category recovered stolen vehicles (62% according to some statistic). Nick believes that the car might still turn up in towing company's lot. We will see.

Eber Raul Lara Garcia

In December we, together with our friends and family, have started sponsoring the education of a little boy. Eber is a 9 year old boy who lives in Tegucigalpa, Honduras at El Hogar de Amor y Esperanza, the Home of Love and Hope. He has entered El Hogar in February, 2006, after his grandmother who has been caring for him so far could look after him no longer. He has been begging on the streets for money. Now he is safe and in the first grade.

The photo below was taken in March, 2007. Eber is on the right, with his friends, Marlon and Rigoberto.

White Geese on the Charles

Canadian geese are everywhere. There is no denial of that. Just try walking across Back Bay Fens. You only think that if you stick to a paved pathway, you are safe, but of course, you are not. Once I tried eating a donut while sitting on a bench at the Public Gardens. I only had time for about two bites before I was literally attacked by three very much donut deprived but far from starving Canadian geese.

We are used to seeing Canadian geese. But what about white geese. I think of white geese as farm animals. Nice clean fat white geese should be happily walking around the farm. Yet, if you ever go by the river along Memorial drive, there is a particular spot near the BU bridge. There, among the trees and bushes, there is always a flock of snow white geese. They seem to live there. Year around! How did they get there? How do they survive? I have never seen them anywhere else along the Charles. Every time I go by them, I am fascinated.

Today the mystery is no more. Having googled the subject, I have discovered a website, and a blog dedicated to these white geese. Apparently white geese have been living in Cambridge parks for at least 25 years. A group of them ended up by BU bridge because sometime in the early 1980s a worker from a nearby pumping station brought them there to serve as guard animals when the guard dog died. They must have lived there ever since.

Dogs, Not Cake Today

I openly admit to surfing cuteoverload.com and other dog photo websites quite often. If you do not do so already, I highly recommend this activity. On the left here is the dog of the month. I am guessing it is a labradoodle of some kind, and according to the poster of the photo on cuteoverload he's "got issues."