If you can't trust your neighbors, who can you trust?

I was talking to my mom on the phone a week or two ago and asking what she was up to. She told me she was getting rid of the bed frame in my brother Cody's old room and moving in a new one.

Well, what are you going to do with the old one? I asked, like any self-respecting twenty-something would do. And she kindly said that if we wanted it she would send it up to us.

Since we moved in together about 4 years ago we have never had a bed frame. Our bed has always sat, sadly, directly on the floor. It was fine for a time but when I heard we could have our very own frame I felt like I had just moved up in the world.

We talked it through and once the items had been shipped my mom notified me and I told her how very excited I was. There were three boxes - two of them were mailed via UPS and they contained the wood boards for underneath the bed, the legs and the accessories (screws, etc.) The other box held the head board and base board and was substantially larger. Around 80 pounds. It was so large that it needed to be sent via freight.

In the meantime I started fantasizing about how cool our room could be if we built this bed frame and worked a little of our crafty-DIY mojo to have the room have an actual "flow" or "plan". Maybe I'll do one large stencil of something on the wall, or maybe it just needed some flowers and plants to lighten it up, who knows - the sky is the limit really. No doubt the bed would be rearranged and the dressers would live in different corners. It was almost like we were moving.

My mom and I emailed each other during the week saying "it's on its way" and "I can't wait." etc etc. On Friday I emailed her and said that I hadn't received the first two boxes the day before, like I had thought, but maybe all three would come today? I asked. She wrote back and said that she received emails saying both packages had been delivered. I knew for sure we hadn't received them. After about 15 minutes of discussions it became clear that my mom, bless her heart, got my address wrong by one number and sent the package to 425 instead of 325. The packages had been signed for and accepted, so who knew if we'd ever get them back - but at least we knew where to track them down. I called Jon and asked him to head over to 425 before the third and final package arrived.

"Call me back afterward" I said.

When Jon called me back he said. "Dude. You know who lives at 425? It's that Santa dude. you know, the crazy guy?"

Of course I knew who he was talking about.

"Well I am freaked out by him and so is the neighbor" he said.

Now, let me back up for a hot second by saying that one time Jon and I were walking our dogs passed this guy's house and we somehow got to talking to him. He was hard to understand and when I finally caught on I realized that he was OUT OF HIS FUCKING MIND. Just a really strange, really crazy, really random dude. We caught glimpses into his back windows and porch as we talked and I got the feeling that he was the kind of guy that drove around in his big red truck picking items up off of the side of the street and selling them later at garage sales - if not putting them somewhere in his overly crammed house. Eventually the man started talking about how in China, they eat dogs that look a lot like our dogs. He was the kind of guy that you felt could certainly be capable of having someone chained up in his bathroom for months. He is very round and has a very large and unkempt beard.

In short: my bed frame packages could not have ended up at a worse location in one of America's largest housing complexes.



When Jon called me back he said that a young Asian girl answered the door and after looking around sort of suspiciously she said that if a package was there she would need to talk to her landlord before it was returned.

We couldn't figure out what she meant by "landlord" unless someone was subletting their place, which as far as we knew was against our renters agreement. I thought, maybe she is a foreign exchange student...and then I felt really sorry for her having ended up at psycho Santa's place.

I spent the afternoon just stewing about it - my mom did the same at her work. I told all my coworkers about it, shocked by the outrage that they wouldn't just return my package. I started thinking of all of the things that I would say and do if the crazy guy tried to give me the run around.

"Sir, I KNOW that you have my package"
"I WILL call the police if you don't return it".
"I'll sit out here all day everyday until you give me my packages"
"I think it's illegal to have people sub-letting your place, shall we call complex security? Hmmm???"

I checked in with Jon a little bit later, frustrated by the lack of progress. "Dude, Jon, I'm just going to march over there the second I get home and demand my package" and he said "Dude. Allie. You are not going over there alone."

Eventually, while I was still at work, he got a phone call saying that he could go and pick up the packages. RELIEF washed over me.

When he called to say that the boxes were safely at home he added that while he was creeped out before, he was now OFFICIALLY very creeped out. While he picked up the box, three other young Asian girls crowded around the door, saying hello and waving to him.

"What?!?! You mean they have Santa, his old strange wife and FOUR young Asian girls living in that one place??"

"I guess so dude, it was so weird man, I'm glad to be done." He said.

We spent the next few days talking about why on Earth the crazy guy had at least 4 young Asian women crammed in his two bedroom townhouse. It not only creeped us out but got us genuinely concerned for whatever was going on at 425 which, after all, is just a block or two down from our place.

A few days after the bed had finally been put together and after we had had several nights of truly amazing sleep, we were taking our next door neighbor's dog for a walk (a story in it's own right that will come later this week). We were walking by crazy Santa's place and we said "Man, it's still just so weird".

But wait a minute, I thought. Santa lives at Four-Twenty-THREE. Not 425. "Jon what the hell??"

Turns out that the crazy guy NEVER had our bed frame and that the young Asian girls were probably, the four of them, roommates - because come to think of it, it is kind of a college community that we live in.

I'd like to blame Jon (sweet boy) for the simple misunderstanding that led me and in turn my mother and ALL of my coworkers to worry about the townhouse-brothel of Daly City. But I think the bigger point here is that over-reacting is never cool and what's more, when you make assumptions, you make an ASS out of U and ME.

Snot!Snot! This is Booger.

I love Jon for the stories he tells. I love a long and detailed story wrought with small tangents and life lessons, humor and humility. Some people are born with the gift of telling their life's stories in an entertaining way - without even thinking about. Other people have just done a lot of cool stuff. Jon is a little bit of both.

From the first day we hung out, at Subway (yes, the sandwich restaurant) he has regaled me with stories that are sometimes so entertaining I wonder how they could possibly be true. From the river rafting trip in Utah that turned Lord of the Flies, to being refused at the metaphorical gates of Space Camp, to the time his family was robbed in France and his experiences as an American exchange student in Mexico who did poorly in school because, well, he didn't speak espanish. His stories are unique in that they all represent him perfectly and when he tells me things about when he was a kid I feel like I get a glimpse into what he was like when he was a little booger...



So one of cool things Jon did was with the boy scouts. He went on a sailing trip in and around the Florida Keys. The way he tells it, time at sea can get long, and monotonous. It's not like they were fishing Opilio crab...They were most likely cruising at a leisurely pace and taking in the immensity of the calm ocean. Jon, naturally, grew bored.

He sat in the cabin and noticed the cb radio. He knew it connected with the other sailboats in his troop, but as to whether or not he knew that it also connected to the rest of the sailing world, I'm not sure.

So in the most trucker like voice he could muster he grabbed the hand held part of the radio and said: "Snot, Snot. This is Booger, come in."

There was a long pause and then the kid on the other end replied with a simple "Uhh. Dude. I don't think we should talk on these things."

Feeling indifferent, Jon said Whatever, and moved on.

Three months later he was at a community sporting event of some sort and the dad that was the troop leader for the sailing trip caught up with Jon and said, "You know I had to pay $250.00 for a phony call out on the cb radio. And I saw the transcription of what the message said. Snot!Snot! This is Booger."

Jon was paralyzed as any kid is when an adult calls them out on their shit and he probably said "sorry" in one way or another. I can relate to this story in a way, though my story involves unintentional vandalism - but maybe that's why I find it so funny.

Even though there was little resolution between the two men (beyond the dad ponying up 250 bucks) the story is so quintessentially Jon Rose that I can't help but appreciate him and laugh each and every time I hear it.

Home Cookin'

Jon and I are working on being more conscientious consumers. We've finally accepted that one grocery store trip a week is both more time and cost efficient than hitting up the store every single night. It seems like a simple revelation but people I tell you it's a long time coming - It goes against our simple but mutual need to procrastinate. But we make a list and we go to the good grocery store and all in all it is kind of fun.

One grocery trip these days and there is no hour-long discussion about what we'll have for dinner when I get home from work.("I don't know, what do you want?")

As it turns out, planning ahead and buying good ingredients can lead to even more delicious meals. Like deep dish pizza:



And homemade Chicken cordon bleu - tenderized chicken breast wrapped around slices of ham and swiss cheese, then covered in Panko. Pan fried for a hot second and then baked at about 325 for 20 minutes or so...steamed zucchini and summer squash and PERFECT rice (a-roni)...



As for my work lunches - where I was previously stepping out each day at noon to purchase some delicious deli sandwich or a plate full of delicious taco truck tacos I am now holding down a home packed lunch.

I'm embracing what you might call a "tapas approach".

It's not that I am opposed to having large meals, its just that I am opposed to preparing them. And I've never really loved leftovers so my only choice is a small shmorgy of snacks.

So one day I might have some delicious costwold cheese and some water crackers - a side of fruit, preferably a berry of some sort, but green apples and members of the citrus family are welcome as well. Another day I might have a chicken cup 'o noodles and a snickers bar - essentially the idea is that I eat things that I like so that I'm not constantly reminded that packing my lunch completely blows in comparison to buying it.

As of right now I give the new lunch routine 2 more weeks. TOPS.

Unless you have any suggestions?

Ya Like Dags??

The first 5 rows of dogs live at Campana Farm in Auburn. The bottom two are our dogs, Zephyr & Lucy.

Roots

I met Jon in Auburn because on Friday he had to get a root canal. I know what you're thinking and the answer is no; Root canals are not life or death situations. But the Schuman-Rose's do not allow for rites of passage to go by unrecognized. And this is Jon's loss of dental innocence. He has gone from a boy with cavities, to a man with a root canal and what will soon be a gold crown. Someone had to bare witness to this episode that has, in our minds, aged him at least 5 years.

We sat outside the night before the procedure and star-gazed - an activity that Auburn is great for. If we sit long enough we can keep a running count of shooting stars. The night before Jon's root canal we looked up and saw a satellite moving at a steady but quick pace over the night sky.

It's Spring on the farm and there are baby horses and baby goats and families of baby Canadian Geese to prove it. The frog population seems to be booming out of control because at night the chorus of ribbits was loud enough that we had to consciously talk over it. We stood outside talking about this and that the night before Jon's root canal and I kept saying that I couldn't believe the noise they were making and then all of the sudden, as though it had been planned in advance, every single frog stopped and it was dead silent. We were quiet for a moment while we pondered how large and small life can be in one single second. Not fifty seconds later the first frog started up again and the chorus returned, but it was sweet to experience the froggy moment of Zen.

We got a lot of photos while we were there - a lot of which are of the 7 Australian Shepherds that were present at the time so that I could do a cool collage of dog photos, which I am going to work on today.







This particular set of goats felt the need to argue over Jon and my attention.



Remember the cats that Pat rescued from our neighbors? Chloe and Sammy joined the farm on Bell Rd. but seeing as there was already one Chloe - pictured here:



Chloe of "Chloe and Sammy" fame, became a Snowy...



Now as it turns out, Sammy had some rare and potentially deadly tooth disease that, in order to survive, Sammy had to have almost all of his teeth pulled out...All but his k-9s...



On Friday night I was feeling like my normal overly-confident self and whilst bickering about who knows what with Jon I challenged his ass to a foot race. I wasn't positive that I would lose...as a toddler my dad nicknamed me Laser Bomb and in elementary school I won several ribbons in the school-wide track meet so it's not that I felt like a Slowsky or anything.

I jogged to the guest house where my tennis shoes were to loosen up a bit. Jon and I rendezvous'd at the top of the driveway where his mom and step dad graciously observed our ridiculousness. I assured him that he was going down and he was going down hard. The Schuman's don't ask for a race they can't beat. We walked down the long driveway until we felt like it would be a long enough race to determine a definite winner. "Dude, Allie. Just don't go crazy and fall or anything, okay?"

I paused to think about how well the man knows me and then I promised not to fall. Shortly thereafter I began searching for any and every way I could get a head start. Should I cross right in front of him? Would his parents look down on me if I tripped him? Yes. Probably so.

Ready....Set....GO!!!

We both took off and after about 6 steps he was clearly in the lead. It was at that moment that I assured myself that I did not want to be dating a man that I could beat in a foot race. I would never look at him the same again. When we crossed the finish line, several steps apart I told Jon this in an effort to soften the blow and he said "yeah. I guess I'm the only one that had anything riding on that. But dude, I had a root canal today."

Rocking

Personal Policy:

Rockband wipes the floor with Guitar Hero.

Not so much a personal policy as it is a fucking fact.

Exercising Control

I really try hard not to question my instincts. Life, I ascertain, is like a scantron test- your first reaction is usually the best and most accurate and it goes by way too quick to analyze and second guess your natural instincts. I have made mistakes in my life so far and there are of course things that I have done that I am not proud of (Like that time I was walking back over the US/Mexico border, shit faced drunk, yelling DRUUUUGGGSSS!! I HAVE DRUGSSS!!!!!). But when I find myself saying "why did I do that?" or "I wish I would have made a better choice" I automatically remind myself that I could spend a lifetime wondering those things and that my limited time on the planet is much better served just being myself.

But I am still human and therefore my decisions are still made and based within the realm of social acceptance - so I avoid the following things, though occasionally it takes a great deal of effort.

1. Dressing my dogs up in clothing. Ok, so I have done it once and got a great deal of satisfaction from it, but generally speaking that is an activity better suited for small dogs.

2. Running in to the elevator and hitting "DOOR CLOSE" so that the woman walking right behind me has no chance of making it. In the mornings at work I like to spend my elevator time assessing my outfit and adjusting makeup if necessary and if someone joins me on the ride up, it makes it sort of difficult.

3. Internet stalking the Olsen Twins. (Why are they so fab?)

4. Using Facebook to express my drama - here is an example from a "friend" on my Facebook who I don't really know:

im happy to get rid of drama craving, attention seeking, emotionally crazy ppl in my life and will stop trying to find the good in ppl from now on. cheap, fake, emo ppl can now get the fuck outta my life and stop butting into my business.

On the one hand I totally support the drama craving people getting the fuck out her life, but on the other this is the PERFECT example of point #4.

5. Reading the Harry Potter books over and over and over and over...(nerd alert)

6. Laughing when I ask the guy at the deli for three pounds of "pork butt".

7. Laughing when the person in the next bathroom stall over farts.

8. Driving on the shoulder of the freeway in a dead stand still of traffic. It seems like an obvious Plan B.

9. Ordering an IV of Coca-Cola to my jugular vein, as opposed to a regular old glass.

Examiner

Friends, today marks my first post on a website called Examiner.com. Well, I submitted it today - I had to get it reviewed the first time to make sure I wasn't completely illiterate...I'm not sure when it will be posted, so I'm going to post it here instead and when my column is up and running I'll put a button on the right side of this site. As the San Francisco Arts & Crafts Examiner, I started off with a very (theoretically) simple project that involved nothing other than stencils, rocks, glue and magnets. It took me 3 days. 3 days to make even a handful of good looking magnets that I was willing to share with my fans. I might be able to think and execute a cute ass project but what I neglected to mention on my application to Examiner.com is that said project is consistently wrought with hours of incorrect measurements, smudged paint and uneven hems. But all the better to teach you, my dears.

I give you my first article... with never before seen photos at the end. Contain yourselves.

Rock magnets are a fun and cheap way to stick stuff to your fridge.

Level of Difficulty: Easy

Cost: $

Materials:

-Water based paint

-Stipple brush and/or sponge

-Stencils

-Smooth/round/flat rocks

-Super Strong ceramic magnets (at most craft stores)

-Glue gun

---

Gather at least ten flat, round and smooth stones that aren't too heavy. I collected mine at Fort Funston, an awesome San Francisco beach that I take my dogs to several times a week. I went during low tide and there were plenty of rocks, I filled a grocery bag in less than ten minutes.

Depending on your nearest large body of water, you could use lake or river rocks as well – the main thing is to make sure they are flat, that they are large enough to hold whatever stencils you plan to use and most importantly, that they are not too heavy to stay up on the fridge. Overestimate the number of rocks you'll need. Pick up ones you know you won’t use as well to practice with – There is nothing worse than picking out your prize rock only to find out that your stencil or your paint won’t work and your "canvas" is ruined.

When you get home wipe the rocks with a dry towel and set the good ones aside from the testers. If you’re using a stencil with several different designs on it, use masking tape to block the other objects. Some people recommend using a spray adhesive to hold your stencil in place while you paint over it, but for this project, either a steady hand or a small bit of masking tape will hold it in place. Use a stipple brush and avoid paint that is runny or oil based as it can seep underneath the stencil and ruin your design. If you are quick enough you can wipe off water-based paint with a damp towel when you make a mistake. If you have trouble with the brush, try a small sponge.

Once the paint is dry, use a medium sized test rock and glue a magnet on the back-top portion with a glue-gun. Once it’s dry put it up on your fridge and see if it sticks – if it doesn’t stick, plan on using two magnets on your actual rocks- if it does stick, you are good to go. If you have to use more than one magnet on the back of your rock, make sure you place them evenly, if you don’t the rock won’t benefit from the second magnet and will continue to slide down your fridge.

If you’re doing this project with children, depending on their age, you may want to do away with the stencils all together. If you do use them, make sure the stencils are small enough that they will lay flat on the rock without the help of any adhesive, but large enough for the children to manage. Have the children use a small sponge as opposed to a stipple brush. Use washable paint.

For more info, more photos, and more about my experience : Visit http://Schumanator.blogspot.com

Freeloader

Personal policy:
Company provided soft drinks? I'll take three.

Prelude to a Project

What blows my mind about when we take the dogs to the beach is that the smallest thing is a signal to Lucy that we are going. The prospect of getting in the car, if you are just tuning in, induces a genuinely excited panic in my dogs. She notices the minute differences - Have I sat down on the couch yet? Am I changing into my jeans? Am I putting tennis shoes on? Did I open the closet? Are Jon and I saying the words "go" and "car" a lot? If the answer is Yes to any of the above questions than it means that our 4 year old dog is losing it and our 12 year old dog is wrapped up in the insanity of it all.

So we took them to the beach again today because I have a project that I want to do for a special purpose that cannot, at the moment, be named. Trust me, it's fun. The project involved collecting a series of simple and similar rocks - tumbled and smoothed by the ocean's tides. Despite the gale-force winds the trip was lovely...We were only pelted with bullet-like sand two or three times. By the time we reached the actual coastline the weather was calm. The dogs fetched (poorly, often leaving the frisbee in the ocean)while I took photos and collected rocks. It was a glorious Tuesday afternoon.







More details on my project later in the week, but a sneak peek for now:

A Day for Moms

Happy Mother's Day to all of the moms in my life!

Leader

Personal Policy:
If a morning commuter tries to ignore the every-other-car rule while merging, it is my civic duty to let them know that that shit is not okay.

Current Events

I had a very domestic weekend of jam making...



Cookie baking...



and photo taking...



It was utterly delicious in every way.