On Blocks

So last night / this morning someone stole the right two wheels off of my car.

You read that right.

I came home at 2am, parked. Nothing out of the ordinary. I woke up around noon and looked out to check the weather; I noticed that the nose of my car was leaning forward more than usual and figured maybe I ran over a bolt or something. When I grabbed my laundry and attempted to leave around 5pm, I checked the tire to see if it was flat…and both were gone. Instead, the right side of the car is chocked up on top of a granite block. Even the lug nuts were gone.

Shock, despair, anger.

Called the cops, made my report, got a case number. They dispatched an officer to dust for prints. There were no prints. However, a neighbor saw that I was at the car with a cop, and came over to offer an eyewitness account. Apparently, at 7:30 to 8am, she had her apartment door open to let in the breeze. She stepped out onto the balcony and noticed a man at the car; he saw her, looked nervous, and then carried a tire in each hand to his car and drove off. She thought he was my car’s owner and didn’t think anything of it. The description she offered was rather generic: light-skinned black male, bald, medium height and stocky build. She got no description of the car.

I have no hope of getting my wheels back. By my estimate, it’s $150 out of my pocket to replace them. The wheels were nothing special: cheap stock rims, cheap tires that were nearing a replacement. Why my car was targeted, I don’t know. If it was at 7:30am, then yeah, I don’t know. If it was during the night, then the lighting in the lot, the shadow on the right side of the car, the right side facing the street and away from the apartment building, would all make sense.

I’ll need a ride to pick up some spare lug nuts, get a set of locking lug nuts, and top off the air in my full-sized spare and my donut spare so I can limp around tomorrow to get new wheels. Until then, I’m stranded, deflated, defeated.

Snap, Crackle, Pop

It’s funny to me that I was raving about Kasbah and how neat it is a month and a half ago. Funny that. I mean, it is a nifty place, and it has its charm. Yet as much as I was a regular there, it just didn’t have any staying power with me. I felt home there for a brief spell, but the little “inconveniences” built up. Funny how shifting prices, bathroom keys, cruddy wireless, crowded and spartan porch seating, and slow service can change attitudes. Funny, that.

So I discovered something a few weeks ago. For the past few months, my knees have been popping every time I climb the stairs to my apartment or step up onto something. This is the same thing they did the last time I rode my bicycle – every step on the pedal would cause a knee (at that time, my left) to pop loudly; the next few days, I was sore.

Well, so here’s my knees doing the popping thing. A few weeks ago, I went to Eeyore’s Birthday down at Pease Park; the whole day was spent just kinda drifting and walking lazily, sitting for a while, walking some more, meeting friends, people-watching, walking some more. Typical Eeyore’s stuff.

Two days later, after a little soreness, I came home from work and ascended the stairs to my apartment — no popping. I stopped halfway up and tried to figure if I was going deaf. No deafness. I stepped. Nothing. Went the rest of the way up. Nothing. And it was then that I learned something: the popping goes away with exercise, something I’ve known, but it’s now brought home to me. Walking will lubricate cartilage, make it supple, and remove any little spurs on the bone ends.

Consider me schooled.

Return to Health, Return to Same

Several days later, I’m doing better. My stomach is still a bit in-and-out, but overall, I’m better. I’m starting to think less that I got a stomach virus, and thinking more that maybe I’m producing too much stomach acid, or I’m getting an ulcer. I do know that my recent love for drinking coffee couldn’t be helping. So I dunno; I’m just taking care of myself and getting better.

So Kasbah is open. It’s the new Moroccan-themed coffeeshop/teahouse that opened up in the old Mojo’s Daily Grind building. I’m still not too sure about this place. The decor is extremely different than what I was accustomed to, but it could be tolerable. Obviously, there’s a heavy Moroccan feel to the place. The main sitting room is divided up into three spaces, and each space has some chairs, some tables, low-slung couches, stained glass lamps and rugs. The sections are seperated by tapestries, curtains and freestanding screens. There’s more furniture and wall panels being shipped from Morocco; the owners also own a Moroccan import/antique shop which they will be moving into the second floor of this building, so they have connections on furniture.

For once, the tea isn’t horrible; they know how to brew it without making it cloudy. Finally, a place that can do iced tea passably well. The wireless is OK, but will be improved in the future. Also, and this is a major winning point (and key to my first visit tonight), is that this place is 24/7. So, combined with the future prospect of Epoch opening up within a few months near my house, which will be 24/7, it will be nice to have some kind of choice for late-night entertainment.

I’m even running into some of the old Mojo’s crowd, which is just strange, strange. It’s funny how we didn’t waste any time coming back.

Gastritis, Bad Nightis

If you have a weak stomach, stop reading. Thanks.

I’m not too sure about it, but I think I’m sick. Got a little nauseous last night, but settled my stomach. Today, got nauseated at work, and it kinda settled in for the long haul. One of my coworkers was out with it today, and will likely be out tomorrow. Another one got over it earlier this week. So I know where it came from.

Right now, I’m both growlingly hungry and unnervingly nauseated. Between a one and a five (five being throwing up) I’m oscillating between one and two. If I can stay there overnight or go back to a zero, it’ll be great. I’m starting to get a little thirsty, though I’m afraid to start sipping on anything; the water I was drinking earlier today was churning my stomach. So, I have some Gatorade, and I’ll see where that takes me.

Vomiting is one of those things I just do not abide by. We do not get along. I’d rather have it go the other way than up by any means necessary. I have a brand new bottle of Emetrol to help me out – this stuff is incredible. Sucrose, fructose, phosphoric acid. Think “Coca Cola” without the cola flavor or carbonated water. Stuff that diabetics can’t take, the sugar content is so high. It’s there if I need it.

I was supposed to have dinner tonight with my roomate; his first night off in 10, and he was going to take me to Chinese buffet for birthday dinner. After I came home and he woke up, I gave him the news. I apologized, and I hope he understands; this buildup and then “I’m sick.” If I’m better tomorrow, we might eat then.

But until then, I’m just hanging out at the house. Trying to not lose my mind nor my lunch.

Blowing Out the Candle

So it’s the end of my 34th birthday, and I’m reflecting on some pivotal moments. Today is my birthday. One week ago, my four-year anniversary at work, a rolling record for me. Three weeks ago I had a hot date. A month ago I marked the close of my second nonsmoking year. A week before that, an incredible visit from an old friend.

Biff. Bam. Boom.

I’m looking forward, and I think I’m nearing the end of my current spate of epochal events; little to look forward to except for my required trip home for easter. I might go to Burning Flipside during Memorial Day weekend in May; that’s pending the money status thing and how well I could be motivated to go by those in the know. “Epoch”, a new coffeeshop founded by some of the old guard at Mojo’s, is currently being remodeled and will open within a few months; it’ll be nice to have a 24-hour coffeeshop again in this snoozy town. The new Moroccan teahouse going in where Mojo’s used to exist will open at the end of this month – I’m just not sure if I’ll visit given what I know about the formation of the place.

Today, a friend of mine invited me over to his duplex for grilled burgers in honor of my birthday. A basket on his patio, which holds crushed and spent soda cans, was attracting bees like crazy, so he spiked a tiki torch into the ground near it and lit it, hoping to dispel the bees. Well, the effort mostly failed, and he decided to haul the basket off to the edge of the yard.

The burgers are ready, and we’re eating. His mother was over; she was tending the grill for him as he went inside for the tray. As he walked onto the patio to go in, he discovered that the torch had fallen into the back wall of the house and was still burning. I was inside eating when I saw him start freaking out on the back wall. My initial thought was that he found a beehive, but I soon grasped the gravity of the situation and ran out to help. He got a water hose and I started dousing the wall as he pulled more boards. Someone in our group called 911, and the firefighters were there in mere minutes, by which time most of the smoldering that had happened was quenched, but the wall was still warm on their infrared camera.

There was a channel in the wall that went from the foundation up to the attic; it’s my assumption that it’s part of the architectural design of the place, where three walls meet. The wick of the torch landed about a foot above the bottom of this channel and burned in the crack between two siding boards, so the hot gasses and extra fuel the torch created went straight up the channel. The firefighters noticed that there was charring halfway up and got the chainsaw to remove the boards all the way up. There was still charring, but the firefighter in the attic couldn’t see damage or heat, so after clearing most of the insulation and dousing what was left, there was no further sign of fire. Disaster averted.

The firefighters hung plastic sheeting over the wet mess to help weatherize the wall until the contractor could come in to repair it. They got details from my friend and his neighbor next door. Surprisingly, the neighbor had nothing but pleasant exchanges with my friend the whole time, not panicky, not accusatory. Technically, it was their first time talking in the month they’ve been living there. Even the leasing management agent, who my friend called to notify what happened, seemed relaxed about the whole thing. We’ll see how the fallout happens.

I think, perhaps, the most surreal thing about the whole event was that after it was over, we went back inside to finish our food and laugh about the whole thing. That’s just…weird. What else was there to do? Replace the wall ourselves? Overanalyze what happened? That’s what journals and insurance agents are for.

As the party wound down, his mother came to me on her way out and hugged me, said, “Well, happy birthday. At least you got to blow out a candle.” Battlefield humor at its finest.