Another Russo Thanksgiving

     My Holiday season started off with a bang. A big bang as my pop’s fell off a shopping cart in a parking lot, the day before Thanksgiving and broke his elbow. So you’re wondering how does a fifty something, NYPD Detective manage this amazing feat. Well, I’ll tell ya…

     It all started a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, when my mom really starts to pressure family about who’s coming to dinner. Nona and mom live for these big holiday feasts. Even though we have them every Sunday, for some reason, she really gets all crazy about the big food fest over the holidays. She started putting pressure on all the relatives, which is most of Jersey, to give her confirmation of doing some sort of drive-by on Thanksgiving. This year my brother and his new wife, (who likes to avoid us especially after the wedding fiasco) is coming for dinner. The newbie's family is getting the hell out of dodge. I think to avoid the Russo’s over the holiday. Mom put the screws to them about Thanksgiving. Something I'm sure they're not use too. I'm fairly certain she scared the hell out of them. So brother can’t imagine him and newbie eating alone. But there was a stipulation, the newbie is a vegetarian, but occasionally will eat meat, but only if it’s organic.  Mom and Pop were so happy newbie agreed to come, they ordered a range feed organic turkey from Pennsylvania. The happiness was short lived about making newbie and brother happy when they saw the price tag. Since those babies aren’t frozen, we had to pick up the expensive sucker the day before Thanksgiving. Which we did, but not without a adventure, of course.

     The day before Thanksgiving Pop’s, I and the grandkids went to the store to pick up the gold plated sucker, who had a privileged life before he met with death and the Russo’s. We got the turkey out of the store without incident, a feat in itself. But that’s where it ends. Pop’s is in the parking lot, showing off to the grandkids by jumping on the back of the shopping cart and riding it down a slight slope in the parking lot, at the kids delight. The cart couldn’t hold Pop’s weight, (he’s a big guy) and it popped a wheelie, throwing Pop’s off the back, he stumbled fell backwards, catching himself on the pavement shattering his elbow.

     It doesn’t end there. The cart shot out from under him like a bullet on a mission towards the street, taking the curve like a pro, with the turkey and Nona’s flour for raviolis with it. It almost looked like the turkey was driving the cart to escape, holding flour and cranberries hostage. It was amazing how high the cart went when it took flight over the curve and bounced off a fire hydrant landing right in front of a oncoming oil truck, and well, committed suicide. The truck t-boned that baby and ran right over the cart. The turkey was decimated in a puff of white from the flour. For a second the truck passed through its own little fog bank thanks to Nona’s future raviolis. And-kept on going, crushing the turkey flat as a pancake, which squished up through the cart. It was pretty nasty, which my nephew proceeded to express when we just had to go and look as the ambulance took Pop’s to the hospital.

      Thanksgiving still happened, sort of. My pop’s had turkey dinner in the hospital after surgery on his elbow, which was better than what the rest of the Russo’s were eating. For the rest of us, including the newbie, we ate out of my cousin's fusion Italian-Mexican food truck he pulled up in front of our house. We had Thanksgiving dinner served through a window in containers. The food was pretty scary. The spaghetti tacos were something of a hit and the cheapest items on the menu. We’ll see what Christmas brings. Maybe Nona will get run over by a reindeer. Now there’s a story.

I think I was hijacked!

     Okay, life has a way of taking control and hijacking one’s space. It did for me. First an earthquake, then a hurricane, that flooded my apartment. Just as I was ready to move back in, my computer crashed as we were hit by a snowstorm. One does not have anything to do with the other, but it happened on the same day. With ice on the lines, they snapped sending an arcing live wire right into Mrs. Gore, my neighbor who was smoking out back while still attached to her oxygen tank. You can only imagine what happened next. She became a jet engine, on full throttle. Mrs. Gore was blasted back indoors which ignited the downstairs hall. The only reason any of us, survived was because of Dimples her dog, who has more sense than his owner. Little Dimples alerted everyone to the fire, and Mrs. Gore's unconscious body, laying near the front door. Yep, she was thrown right down the hall to land in a heap at the front door, leaving a blaze of glory behind.  We all got out, and Mrs. Gore, still attached to her little small jet engine tank, was dragged outside to lie in the snow and smolder. When the alarms screamed, I was putting away my clothes because I had just MOVED back in. I grabbed James T. Parakett, and hit the stairs as the sprinkler system malfunctioned and drenched everything, including me. Once outside, I stood freezing, literally, because I was all wet and in my slippers. Who should pull up, but Officer cute-as-a-button, Javier, and put me and James T. Parakeet in the backseat of his unit. At least I could stop shaking and thaw a bit. I watched the flames blow out the windows of my apartment that took my Kindle, clothes and crashed computer. When I was able to get back inside the next day, I found one very cute CL wedge and my pink and black polka-dot bra the only things I could salvage, which is why I haven’t written anything in almost two months, no computer. My computer, (if it could be fixed) was a melted mess of plastic and whatever else computers are made of, no chance of a fix now.  Dio mi punisce, lo so appena.

     Oh, but that’s not where it ends.  I was laid-off from my job the next week, because I guess not as many people can afford over priced attorneys, who fret over paper more than their clients. So I’m now unemployed and homeless, sort-of. I had my parents, Nona and Henry, so I did have a roof over my head, and more food then I knew what to do with. You know Italians, where there's a disaster, every type of pasta known to man and Italy comes out. Not good for the thighs.  

     Things do get better. I had renters insurance. It gave me enough money to replace some of my clothes and my computer. Henry’s latest boyfriend gave me his old Kindle, because he was getting the newer one. So at least I’m back in business.  I’m moved into Henry’s guestroom for as long as I need to be. He knew Nona and my parents would drive me crazy. Now I have a posh Manhattan address, with a cellie who is in the fashion industry.  Samples here I come. I even have a new job. It doesn’t pay well, but at least it pays my bills. I wasn’t the only victim of the lack of law suits, so was P.I Sean. So he decided to start his own P.I service, or stop doing it on the sly, and open an office in the back of a Chinese restaurant, because he can’t afford a big space. He hired me to answer phones, do research and take cases. The drawback I smell like Chinese food when I get home at night that's not far from my the new 'office'. No more commuting. So I guess things happen for a reason and smelling like pork chow mien isn't so bad. 

    Now I’m back in business, sort-of.  Oh, and Mrs. Gore survived, just fine, with only a bump on her head. Her daughter, didn’t see it that way, and now she lives with her, and had to give up Dimples. So guess who has him? Me and Henry. He’s the best dressed dog in Manhattan. 

Vederla sul retro

Cari 

The Sky is falling! Really ya think!

     Okay there is a satellite crashing to earth the size of a bus. There is a 1 in 3,200 chance it will hit you, me or Nona. With my current streak of luck it will be me. Really I have the number 3,200 stuck to my back at this moment waiting for a chunk of space junk to crash through my roof and hit me. It could happen. In the past month I went through a earthquake, hurricane, flood, and couch surfing between cousin Henry in Manhattan, and Nona in Jersey, until I can get back into my apartment, which I’m still paying rent on, even though I don’t live there right now, thank you very much…Ouch. So with that why not get hit by space junk, it would be the perfect end to a perfect month. I see it coming now, in all its blazing glory right into my lap

     Nona is convinced it will hit her. She checked her homeowners insurance and she freaked out. She’s not covered for space junk. I don’t think I am either. When I was a baby my mom insured all us kids, but I don’t think the policy is specific about space junk. Unless a piece of crap falling from the sky the size of a bus qualifies as an actual bus. We’re there ever people on it? If so and it traveled around earth to deliver those space cadets to the stoop of the space station. Well then maybe I’m covered under the bus section that says if I’m hit by a bus they will be money to be made. I wonder if it’s specific on the location. Like if I’m sitting on Nona’s couch (which since I was evacuated out of my apartment, I’ve done a lot of that) and that bus size piece of space junk hits and obliterates Nona’s house, couch and me sitting on the couch going deaf because of the supersize television, my pop and uncle bought her, that is way too big for the room is all covered. Oh, Gees! Mi domando che varrei dei morti dal rifiuto spaziale sul divano del Nona?

      Nona would get a new roof out of the whole mess, that’s for certain. Stay tune, I’ll let you know if I get hit, or maybe not. It will be on world news. I’d be famous but very much not among the living anymore. I can see it now memorialized as the girl done in not by a mugger, but space junk.Well, Nona is convinced she'll be the one hit. If she's in the house with her television blasting and I'm there, I can guarantee she'll hit by something. The good thing, it will take out the super sized television that I'm think of having Tony the Squid take care of. He can pinch it. I'll leave the front door unlocked.

Vederla sul retro

Cari

Will be back next week..

Thanks everyone for all the e-mails...I'm good. I was evacuated from my apartment after the storm. The downstairs flooded. So I spend the week with my cousin Henry and weekends in Jersey with my family. It's kind of crazy right now.
Another thing, when September hits, I go dark, as does my family, as we still grieve for the loss of family and friends in 911. This years was particularly tough..
Now that the anniversary has passed. I'll be back again...Thanks for all the good thoughts..

Earthquakes and Hurricanes

       I don't have a book review, because I'm too busy recovering from the scare a earthquake put into me. Unless you live under a rock, and haven't heard, the east coast had a nice little earthquake that sent everyone in NYC screaming hysterically up and down Broadway, including me. I wasn't running up and down Broadway screaming, but I tore out of the Federal Courthouse, where I was with my boss, trying not to scream hysterically. I didn't need to, my boss managed do enough hysteria for us both. Oh per l'amore di tutto che è santo, ho pensato intendevo morire.

      It wasn't the earthquake that terrorized everyone, especially in the courthouse, but what we thought it was, another attack, of 911 proportions. Since I was in the courthouse, listening to my boss argue his case, and keeping his notes and him straight on just what was going on when the quake hit. I just knew we were under attack, because hey, it's the Federal Courthouse, and a lot of folks besides terrorist in planes would like to see it leveled. It's ironic to see a fit man in his forties who works out EVERYDAY, and lectures his staff constantly on the benefits of a healthy diet, whenever we have a pizza party, run screaming like a girl out the door, with his cell phone, trying to call his wife, to say good-bye, mowing down his ever faithful paralegal, in the process. He knocked me flat on my ass, and was the first out the door, past spectators and the judge. I deserve a raise! Good thing I was wearing my court suit, the one I save for special occasions like earthquakes and hysterical bosses, where I'll end up looking at the ceiling. Odio il mio capo.

       P.I Sean was in the court room. Like a first grader he had handed me a note, which said, "Can we try again?" When the quake hit. Maybe God was trying to tell me something, ya think? Anyhoo, P.I Sean helped me up and out the door. When we got to the steps, he announced it was a earthquake. I don't how he could tell the difference. Everything was rattling and shaking, I guess that was a good indicator. He said he grew up in L.A, and he could tell. L.A really? I didn't know that...I guess on our little short date, we never got past office gossip to that he was from California.

        Just then fire rolls up, someone was having chest pains. And who should jump off the truck first, but-what for it, drum roll, with Beethoven roaring in the background, Firemen Frank. He asked me if I was okay, very sweet. Then whispered to me, he wanted to talk to me soon. Okay, I whispered back about what? Well of course he had to save a life and not whisper anymore to me, so he said we'd talk. Okay, about what? 

       Regardless of Firemen Frank's weird behavior, I felt kind a special, with two guys looking out for me as my crazy boss ran down the street, confessing all his sins to his wife. I wonder how dinner was that night, when he realized he was very much alive and well. To be a fly on the wall for that one!  

     I'm still recovering from the shock it was mother-nature and not some crazed terrorist bent on wiping out NYC. So no book this week.. And I wonder what Firemen Frank wanted, as P.I Sean watched us. I still have the note, and thinking about it. La pazzia di tutto. 

       On the way back to the office with my consistently hysterical boss, now more worried about his confessions, then the possibility of a attack, who was probably hoping for some disaster so he wouldn't have go home, I had a message from Nona, who wanted me and the family to gather at her house tonight, to prepare for disaster. I could see her sitting on her front stoop with her aircraft artillery ready, decked out like Rambo, planning out how we'll hunker down for the hurricane coming our way. Farà Dio ogni fermata che punisce me?

Vederla sul retro

Cari

      

Another disastrous date or maybe not

     Okay, my friend decided after my last disastrous date with P.I Sean, that I was on a streak of bad luck with men. Oh really, ya think?  Oh, l'umanità di tutto!

     Soooo, her little brave soul decided I needed to meet her brother’s friend. I said no blind dates. The last was with Clark. No self respecting Italian mother names her kid, Clark! And the date was as stupid as his name. This time, I wanted e-mails. Yes, I was going, the let’s get to know each other on-line, where we can really lie through our teeth, because we can’t see each other, and use model pictures to cover up the lack of exercise for months, no let’s say years, route.

     Girlfriend assured me, he wouldn’t lie to me and he was in great shape. Uno può sperare solo! Oh, yeah, prove it. How well do you know this guy? Or did you meet him at your parents when he dropped by to watch football with said brother, who is a big loser. Still, with all this, it didn’t detour me from wanting to have a computer between us on the first official meet. I had heard all about computer dating, or meeting and decided it was time to experience it. As long as it didn’t include a police report, I was there.  

     So our communication went on for a couple weeks, until, computer-guy asked me to meet for drinks after work. Again at an Italian restaurant! What’s with these guys taking an Italian to Italian restaurants!? Come on, it’s NYC! I think there are a couple other types of eateries. Really, just a few, I’m sure we can find something, that doesn’t serve what I eat every Sunday.

    But I digress, I meet him at the same place P.I Sean dragged me out of, to chase a cheating husband he was paid to catch cheating!  The place does get great reviews. I was hoping to actually be able to taste my mushroom ravioli’s this time.

    We met, and hey, he looked just like his picture. I prodigi di volontà mai fermano!  Really, just like it. A bit of a exaggeration on his height. I'm taller then him. A little frumpy around the edges. He's a computer geek, so it comes with the job title. But not bad. I still think we're off to a good start. We do the air kiss thingy, and shake hands, and exchange  DNA in that instant, because he was dripping wet, with sweat. Yep, he’s just a bit nervous. Just a bit, I keep telling myself. It’s hot outside, its stuffy in the bar, but not like we’re sweltering in Texas.  

    I get a table for us, because the bar is crowded. I had gone to the restroom which passes the kitchen, and dropped in to say a few things to the chef. We conversed in Italian. Ka Bow, we get a table. Computer-guy is impressed.  I really needed to be able to hear computer-guy talk, since he wouldn’t look at me. I think I had a giant hair growing out of my forehead or wart on my nose. So yes, I cheated to jump ahead on the wait list. Sorry, but not really.

    But-that’s where it ends. I try everything to get computer-guy out of his shell. I tell him about the tire incident, the battery incident, Nona and my brother’s wedding, chasing the dog down the street with knife incident. I decided to leave out my ex left me for a man, situation, TMI at that point. He’s pushing his campanili around on his plate, and nodding and smiling. Okay, I’m laughing, by myself. Not working, I'm rapidly running out of incidents and police reports.  

    We end the date, more air kisses. He puts me in a cab. He's pretty impressed with the address I gave the cabbie. I do have to remind computer-guy, I'm from Jersey, like that would make a difference on the outcome of the date. Anyhoo, I go to Henry’s down a bottle of wine, and whine about computer-guy and men in general. The wine was a bad idea, had to go to work the next day. 

     Since then I get regular e-mails from computer-guy. It’s kind of cool. I can meet up with him, without make-up, in my pj’s, eating my left over mushroom ravioli, typing with my mouth full, there is no exchange of DNA. And just think no man-dribbles on my toilet seat because he didn’t lift it! Amare esso!!

Vederla sul retro

Cari

The Inventor, by Morgan Karpiel

      I’m getting addicted to .99cents reads from Amazon. It really stretches my book budget, and The Inventor never disappointed. It introduced me to Steampunk, something I had never heard of before. Just in case you don't know what it is, it's a combination of Victorian setting, with modern science. Think Jules Verne. I bought it the day I was going to take my niece and nephew to the movies. The keyword here is, ‘was’.

      I’m still carless, and decided to take the kids off my mom’s hands for a few hours. Their visiting from upstate New York. I thought the movies would be a great adventure, at least for me. As life would have it, I had that adventure.

     Anyhoo, I borrowed Zio Serpico’s piece of junk to get the kiddies to the movies. I thought, it’s okay, we’re not going far. Well, we’re bumping along, only a couple of blocks from my parents house, and I felt a jerk coming from the rear, then a thud, as suddenly it felt lopsided, and then my nephew says, “Zia (aunt in Italian), a tire just pasted us.”  

      Oh kids and their imagination, I’m tell’n ya. Or I thought when suddenly a tire passes right in front of me. I feel the car slow, with a loud scrapping sound. The tire continued on its course, bouncing along in front of me, going at least 10mph faster. My niece is yelling, “Look Zia, there it goes.”

     "Ya, sweetie I see it," I said with a very sick feeling about all the noise coming from the rear. I look in the mirror, and see sparks flying from under the car. The tire is continuing to move down the street bouncing like a crazed chocolate doughnut on a mission of destruction, missing cars, people, a dog, makes a sudden right into a yard, right up the stoop's front steps, and crashed not just into the screen door, but threw it. Lots of screaming commences from the occupants of the house, which is where my high school prom date's parents live. He’s now in Riker’s for robbery, because of me. So this doesn’t look very good. I can’t stop the car, apparently the brakes failed, ran it up in the yard, and hit a little fountain, at which time water was spraying everywhere, including threw the floor board full of holes.

     The kids were thrilled. The only reason Alphonso’s mother didn’t whack me with a rolling pin, was because there would be witnesses in the form of my two fledgling cops in the backseat, describing everything in great detail to the responding officer, who happens to cutie Officer Javier, who hasn’t called me back since the dog incident. And once again, there is a police report with my name on it. Add it to the collection. I'm just praying Zio Serpico, has his insurance paid up. 

     Oh, but I digress, this is the first time I’ve ever read Steampunk. I didn’t even know what it was until I googled it after reading the reviews. It was a cool read, interesting and intelligent, with the way Ms. Karpiel, blended history with a more modern way of the looking at things. I’m not much of a history buff, but I was enthralled in this short read. I’m a fan now. For once I hit a series right, this is the first book, instead of my usual going backwards.

     Leda, Countess of Caithmore, is dumped by her husband. I can relate to that, accused of being overly fridge. So she looks for a cure in a friendship with a famous inventor, Ian Anderson. Who she hires to build a machine that will prove everyone wrong about her. And she really is a hottie inside and out. But there are some bad guys watching, and wanting to know what the inventor is up too. It adds a lot of suspense to the story. I loved it, and had a hard time putting it down. Leda, was a strong woman during a period where women were seen and most of the time not heard. I’m looking forward to the next one in the series. I think I’m hooked on Steampunk. It was a great read on a afternoon, when I needed a little steampunk, to help out.

I give this a #9, since I finished on the subway on my way to work on Monday.