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The entire state of Connecticut is closed. Or so it seems. There's no one on the roads, and the city police just called every resident, via automated message, to advise everyone to stay off the roads. Our governor told everyone the same thing, and he's already had his fourth or fifth press conference about the storm today.
My neighbors are comparing this to the blizzard of '78. I was two years old at the time, so obviously, I have no memory of it.
But there are at least two feet of snow outside. The snowbanks from the plows and snowblowers come up to at least my waist.
I'm taking a temporary break from digging my car out of its parking space. I need to defrost a bit.
And then I'll go outside again...because, in all likelihood, I've gotta go back to work tomorrow.
And on a random note...is that Eric Roberts on The Young and the Restless? (I don't ever watch soaps, but I haven't had the chance to change the channel from the local noontime news yet).
Showing posts with label our fair state of Connecticut. Show all posts
Showing posts with label our fair state of Connecticut. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Monday, February 1, 2010
And now, a check of the weather...
Here in the Nutmeg State, it's easy to get excited over a pending snowstorm. Especially if you happen to work as a TV weatherman.
Regardless of what state you live in, though, have any of you kittens noticed that no two meteorologists make the same predictions?
Take for example, the weathermen here in our fair state of Connecticut. We have one weatherman who gets excited whenever a FLAKE of snow hits the ground. It doesn't matter that there's a prospect of a flurry or six inches, the storm gets HYPED. The other weathermen seem to be more realistic and relaxed over their predictions. But the one who hypes it up most gets the most attention from the viewers--even if his forecasts aren't exactly accurate.
But the day before the storm hits, it's a different story. Maps are plastered all over local newscasts, dividing the state into three tiers. The northern third of the state is usually highlighted in white, which indicates that they're going to get the most snow. The central tier is highlighted in light grey, indicating that they're going to get a moderate amount of snow, and the final tier, the shoreline, is highlighted pink or green. Typically, the shoreline area gets either mixed precipitation or straight out rain.
And then there's the actual day of the storm...oh boy.
Local newscasts start at 4 AM. As soon as one school calls in a delay or a closing, the crawl immediately starts at the bottom of the screen. Reporters are outside, in different areas of the state, describing the condition of the roads, the texture of the snow, and insisting that if you don't need to go anywhere, stay inside.
And it doesn't matter if it's an inch or two feet. This happens EVERY FRAKKIN' TIME we have a snow storm.
Now, as I write this on the eve of Groundhog Day, I realize that the weather-predicting rodents are no different than their human counterparts. Punxsutawney Phil and his brethren have been predicting the possibility of spring's arrival for many years now. However, no two predictions are the same. Phil is like the weatherman who gets excited whenever one flake of snow falls to the ground. His cousins are like the other more realistic weathermen: laid back, whatever happens, happens.
And Phil is the one who gets all the attention.
Even if his predictions aren't 100% accurate.
So who shall I be listening to tomorrow for my weather predictions? Will it be Punxsutawney Phil, Chuckles, or Sir Walter Willy? I think I'm gonna go with Staten Island Chuck. For me, nothing symbolizes the arrival of spring than the prediction of a city-dwelling rodent living in one of the outer boroughs.
Good luck Chuck!
Regardless of what state you live in, though, have any of you kittens noticed that no two meteorologists make the same predictions?
Take for example, the weathermen here in our fair state of Connecticut. We have one weatherman who gets excited whenever a FLAKE of snow hits the ground. It doesn't matter that there's a prospect of a flurry or six inches, the storm gets HYPED. The other weathermen seem to be more realistic and relaxed over their predictions. But the one who hypes it up most gets the most attention from the viewers--even if his forecasts aren't exactly accurate.
But the day before the storm hits, it's a different story. Maps are plastered all over local newscasts, dividing the state into three tiers. The northern third of the state is usually highlighted in white, which indicates that they're going to get the most snow. The central tier is highlighted in light grey, indicating that they're going to get a moderate amount of snow, and the final tier, the shoreline, is highlighted pink or green. Typically, the shoreline area gets either mixed precipitation or straight out rain.
And then there's the actual day of the storm...oh boy.
Local newscasts start at 4 AM. As soon as one school calls in a delay or a closing, the crawl immediately starts at the bottom of the screen. Reporters are outside, in different areas of the state, describing the condition of the roads, the texture of the snow, and insisting that if you don't need to go anywhere, stay inside.
And it doesn't matter if it's an inch or two feet. This happens EVERY FRAKKIN' TIME we have a snow storm.
Now, as I write this on the eve of Groundhog Day, I realize that the weather-predicting rodents are no different than their human counterparts. Punxsutawney Phil and his brethren have been predicting the possibility of spring's arrival for many years now. However, no two predictions are the same. Phil is like the weatherman who gets excited whenever one flake of snow falls to the ground. His cousins are like the other more realistic weathermen: laid back, whatever happens, happens.
And Phil is the one who gets all the attention.
Even if his predictions aren't 100% accurate.
So who shall I be listening to tomorrow for my weather predictions? Will it be Punxsutawney Phil, Chuckles, or Sir Walter Willy? I think I'm gonna go with Staten Island Chuck. For me, nothing symbolizes the arrival of spring than the prediction of a city-dwelling rodent living in one of the outer boroughs.
Good luck Chuck!
Monday, January 25, 2010
Half New Yorker, half New Jerseyan, 100% Nutmegger
I'm a member of the New England Bloggers, and this week, they're celebrating their first anniversary. Elizabeth, our founder, has asked us to write posts that have something to do with New England.
Well, this is rawther tough for me...for I really don't identify myself as a New Englander. You see, while I grew up here in Connecticut, I wasn't born here. I spent the first four years of my life in South Salem, New York.
My family lived in a house atop a huge hill, with several hairpin turns. It was a LOT of fun to shovel in the days before snowblowers. Did I mention that the driveway was also 800 feet long?
We lived by a lake. During the summers all of the neighbors would gather round and go swimming, followed by barbecues at each others' houses. During the winters all the neighbors would gather round and go skating, followed by hot chocolates at each others' houses.
We moved March 3, 1980. My fourth birthday. My mother cried all the way to Connecticut. My father worked for Aetna, and his job got transferred to the company headquarters in Hartford.
My mother, when we moved, had never lived in any other state. She had never lived twenty minutes away from her family. My father had never lived an hour away from his. So the move was tough for both of them for that reason.
Add to this the fact that they both grew up in the New York metropolitan area. My mother lived in a small town called Millwood. She is still in touch with her best friends from elementary school. It was the kind of town where you could walk wherever you wanted to, leave your doors unlocked all the time, and not have to worry about your kids' whereabouts. Yet it was close enough to New York City that there was a lot of diversity, cultural opportunities, and public transportation.
My father grew up in Linden, New Jersey, just outside of Newark. He lived with my grandparents and my uncle in the bottom apartment of a two-family house. My grandfather owned the house and rented out the VERY small one-bedroom apartment on the top floor. The bottom floor was a two-bedroom apartment--that is, if you could consider my dad and uncle's room to be a bedroom. They slept on a fold-out couch and shared a closet.
I mention my parents' background because, when we first moved to Connecticut, the culture shock they experienced was enormous. My father, about a month after we moved here, suggested to one of our neighbors that they go to a local high school football game. My neighbor laughed; our town did not have a high school football team. They ordered a pizza, opened the box, and were shocked to see that the slices weren't cut into triangles. They still complain about the dearth of good slices in the Nutmeg State (although we have managed to find much better pizza; you just have to look very carefully).
But my point is this: When you take two people who are used to growing up in urban areas, and transplant them into a tiny, quiet, rural Connecticut town, cultural differences WILL ensue. And people WILL notice.
I have very vague memories of South Salem; my sister, however, does not. She was nine months old when she moved. I was pretty much raised with New York sensibilities. I grew up rooting for the Mets when everyone else cheered for the Red Sox. I knew what it was like to have the Italian relatives who cooked endless mountains of pasta for you. My friends couldn't understand why people would have plastic slipcovers on their couches, as my grandmother did.
So basically, what I'm trying to say is this: I've never really identified myself as a pure New Englander. Growing up, especially during my high school and college years, I focused on all of the negative things about Connecticut--Hartford, especially. If some colleges are considered to be "suitcase schools" because the majority of their on-campus residents go home for the weekend, then Hartford is a "suitcase city." My sister and I went to see a Theaterworks production one Sunday afternoon, and I felt LESS safe walking through an empty Hartford downtown than we did during the busy, bustling downtown of the work week.
As a kid I grew up in a neighborhood full of people my age, and for some reason, my house was always the focal gathering point. We spent a lot of time outside. We made up our own games. We chased each other often. We all walked to school together. But these are more innocent childhood memories than they are strictly New England ones.
I now live in a mid-sized Connecticut city. I really enjoy living where I do right now. There are lots of good places to eat, Wesleyan University's nearby, and New Haven's not that far away, so I can hop on the Metro North and go to the city whenever I want.
As I have gotten older, I've found new things to appreciate about our fair state, and my hometown in particular. But even though I tell people that I'm from Connecticut, I don't consider myself a New Englander. Probably because I don't know what really constitutes one.
P.S. Even though I've lived here 30 years now, I've only been to Boston three times. One time per decade. And as much as I enjoy it, I still prefer New York.
Well, this is rawther tough for me...for I really don't identify myself as a New Englander. You see, while I grew up here in Connecticut, I wasn't born here. I spent the first four years of my life in South Salem, New York.
My family lived in a house atop a huge hill, with several hairpin turns. It was a LOT of fun to shovel in the days before snowblowers. Did I mention that the driveway was also 800 feet long?
We lived by a lake. During the summers all of the neighbors would gather round and go swimming, followed by barbecues at each others' houses. During the winters all the neighbors would gather round and go skating, followed by hot chocolates at each others' houses.
We moved March 3, 1980. My fourth birthday. My mother cried all the way to Connecticut. My father worked for Aetna, and his job got transferred to the company headquarters in Hartford.
My mother, when we moved, had never lived in any other state. She had never lived twenty minutes away from her family. My father had never lived an hour away from his. So the move was tough for both of them for that reason.
Add to this the fact that they both grew up in the New York metropolitan area. My mother lived in a small town called Millwood. She is still in touch with her best friends from elementary school. It was the kind of town where you could walk wherever you wanted to, leave your doors unlocked all the time, and not have to worry about your kids' whereabouts. Yet it was close enough to New York City that there was a lot of diversity, cultural opportunities, and public transportation.
My father grew up in Linden, New Jersey, just outside of Newark. He lived with my grandparents and my uncle in the bottom apartment of a two-family house. My grandfather owned the house and rented out the VERY small one-bedroom apartment on the top floor. The bottom floor was a two-bedroom apartment--that is, if you could consider my dad and uncle's room to be a bedroom. They slept on a fold-out couch and shared a closet.
I mention my parents' background because, when we first moved to Connecticut, the culture shock they experienced was enormous. My father, about a month after we moved here, suggested to one of our neighbors that they go to a local high school football game. My neighbor laughed; our town did not have a high school football team. They ordered a pizza, opened the box, and were shocked to see that the slices weren't cut into triangles. They still complain about the dearth of good slices in the Nutmeg State (although we have managed to find much better pizza; you just have to look very carefully).
But my point is this: When you take two people who are used to growing up in urban areas, and transplant them into a tiny, quiet, rural Connecticut town, cultural differences WILL ensue. And people WILL notice.
I have very vague memories of South Salem; my sister, however, does not. She was nine months old when she moved. I was pretty much raised with New York sensibilities. I grew up rooting for the Mets when everyone else cheered for the Red Sox. I knew what it was like to have the Italian relatives who cooked endless mountains of pasta for you. My friends couldn't understand why people would have plastic slipcovers on their couches, as my grandmother did.
So basically, what I'm trying to say is this: I've never really identified myself as a pure New Englander. Growing up, especially during my high school and college years, I focused on all of the negative things about Connecticut--Hartford, especially. If some colleges are considered to be "suitcase schools" because the majority of their on-campus residents go home for the weekend, then Hartford is a "suitcase city." My sister and I went to see a Theaterworks production one Sunday afternoon, and I felt LESS safe walking through an empty Hartford downtown than we did during the busy, bustling downtown of the work week.
As a kid I grew up in a neighborhood full of people my age, and for some reason, my house was always the focal gathering point. We spent a lot of time outside. We made up our own games. We chased each other often. We all walked to school together. But these are more innocent childhood memories than they are strictly New England ones.
I now live in a mid-sized Connecticut city. I really enjoy living where I do right now. There are lots of good places to eat, Wesleyan University's nearby, and New Haven's not that far away, so I can hop on the Metro North and go to the city whenever I want.
As I have gotten older, I've found new things to appreciate about our fair state, and my hometown in particular. But even though I tell people that I'm from Connecticut, I don't consider myself a New Englander. Probably because I don't know what really constitutes one.
P.S. Even though I've lived here 30 years now, I've only been to Boston three times. One time per decade. And as much as I enjoy it, I still prefer New York.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Where we live
I grew up in small-town America.
My town was very rural--well, rural and growing to the point where it was about to become a real suburb. My town had traffic lights, and two small, locally-owned grocery stores, a homegrown hardware store, a locally-owned video store, and lots and lots of family-owned pizza parlors.
We were the town where the marching band was the pride and joy of our high school. We didn't even have a football team. We were the town where everyone knew each other, where people would leave their doors unlocked at night and have no fear of their kids going to the library by themselves or walking to school on their own.
This is where I grew up.
And the older I got, the more I wanted out.
In fact, that became my main post-college goal: I didn't care where I landed a job, I just wanted out of my parents' house and be outta my small town.
It didn't help that my parents did not grow up in small-town America, and that, even after 29 years of living in the same town, they still have moments of culture shock. Both Mama and Papa Cat grew up in the greater New York metro area, and were used to city life--or living nearby a vibrant, active city. Hartford, sadly, is not exactly the most vibrant of metropolitan areas.
They complain, for instance, about the lack of good pizza and bagels in their neck of the woods. They were overjoyed when I decided to attend college in Fairfield County, and Sister Kitten in upstate New York, if only for the bread goods. (Well, that's an exaggeration, but you get the idea of how much my rents love their bagels).
Getting the Sunday New York papers was a mini-dose of joy in our household growing up. After church, Papa Cat would stop by the local, mom-and-pop pharmacy, greet our pharmacist, who knew my family--and the other families in town--very well, and purchase the Daily News and the New York Post. Mama and Papa Cat would then sit in their respective Archie-and-Edith chairs and read their papers, sighing over the Mets' latest disaster and wishing that Steinbrenner would just sell the Yankees already.
We were also unusual because we were one of the few families in town that didn't have generations of members living in the same area for decades. We weren't related to anyone else in town. We were the only members of our extended family living in Connecticut.
So what did this mean for me growing up? I knew that there was a world beyond my small-town bubble, and I couldn't wait to pierce it and escape.
And, in July of 2001, I did.
I moved to a small city with a waterfront and a mall within a five-minute driving distance. I could purchase my groceries at Stop and Shop and grab a quick bite to eat at McDonald's. I had my prescriptions filled at Rite Aid, and bought my coffee at the local Dunkin Donuts every morning on my way to work. I banked at Bank of America, and got my car serviced at Jiffy Lube.
This, to me, was paradise. No longer did I have to drive half an hour to get to the mall. No longer did I have to go twenty miles out of town to shop at Target. No longer did I have to go out of my way to get to the nearest Borders.
And shortly after I moved, things started to change--both within my hometown, and myself.
Before I moved, the old Chevy dealership on the south end of town had been torn down and was being replaced by a Stop and Shop. Mama Cat would flip the bird in protest every time she drove by. I asked her why.
"It's putting the local businesses out of business!"
I didn't get it then.
A year later, a CVS opened in town. Once again, Mama Cat refused to go there, and chose to have her prescriptions filled at the same mom-and-pop establishment where she had been going for years. I asked her why she didn't make the switch, since CVS also had more inventory than her old place.
"It'll put Mike out of business!"
I still didn't get it.
But one day, I finally did.
Sadly, it took the current state of our economy to realize just how important mom-and-pop businesses are, not just to the welfare of our communities, but more importantly, to our psyche.
I can't tell you how many local businesses in my current city of residence have closed down because people are going to their larger, chain counterparts. And when you hear stories about how these local businesses have given so much to the community, it really makes you want to weep. I love to read about the local high school, community-sponsored graduation parties, and see which businesses have contributed. Nine times out of ten, the sponsors are the locally-owned, mom-and-pop businesses.
I now go back to my hometown and feel a sense of longing for what once was. The local pharmacy is still there, and is doing a decent business, but the CVS still looms large. We now have a Starbucks and an TJ Maxx, in addition to a Dunkin Donuts and a McDonald's.
My small town has now been commercialized.
Which leads me to wonder, does true small-town America still exist?
Yes...and no.
I'm currently housesitting for a friend of mine who lives in small-town America. The "center" of town is just a stone's throw away from her house. There aren't any chain stores, but two very nice, locally-owned gourmet food stores. There's a small, locally-owned used bookstore, as well as a bakery. The other day, I was in one of the food stores, and two little girls were in there with their mom, buying candy to eat later in the day. When they left, the mother went to run errands, and the little girls sat in front of the store, eating their gummy worms, watching the world go by.
This past weekend I went to a memorial service for the father of a friend of mine. There were people there who knew her father from when they were back in high school--fifty years ago. They still lived in the same small town where they grew up.
In spite of these little girls, and the men in mourning for their friend, there is an aspect of small-town America that will never come round again. We all lock our doors at night, have car alarms, and have ADT and Brinks Home Security on call in case anything should happen.
Lately I've found myself missing my small town--in more ways than one. I still like my mid-sized American city, though. You can't beat the convenience of having a movie theater, a hospital, and three major shopping centers all within a ten-minute radius.
And it's nice to know that there are two small towns bordering mine.
It's good to know that I can return to small-town America--if only for a couple of hours at a time.
Or even in my imagination.
My town was very rural--well, rural and growing to the point where it was about to become a real suburb. My town had traffic lights, and two small, locally-owned grocery stores, a homegrown hardware store, a locally-owned video store, and lots and lots of family-owned pizza parlors.
We were the town where the marching band was the pride and joy of our high school. We didn't even have a football team. We were the town where everyone knew each other, where people would leave their doors unlocked at night and have no fear of their kids going to the library by themselves or walking to school on their own.
This is where I grew up.
And the older I got, the more I wanted out.
In fact, that became my main post-college goal: I didn't care where I landed a job, I just wanted out of my parents' house and be outta my small town.
It didn't help that my parents did not grow up in small-town America, and that, even after 29 years of living in the same town, they still have moments of culture shock. Both Mama and Papa Cat grew up in the greater New York metro area, and were used to city life--or living nearby a vibrant, active city. Hartford, sadly, is not exactly the most vibrant of metropolitan areas.
They complain, for instance, about the lack of good pizza and bagels in their neck of the woods. They were overjoyed when I decided to attend college in Fairfield County, and Sister Kitten in upstate New York, if only for the bread goods. (Well, that's an exaggeration, but you get the idea of how much my rents love their bagels).
Getting the Sunday New York papers was a mini-dose of joy in our household growing up. After church, Papa Cat would stop by the local, mom-and-pop pharmacy, greet our pharmacist, who knew my family--and the other families in town--very well, and purchase the Daily News and the New York Post. Mama and Papa Cat would then sit in their respective Archie-and-Edith chairs and read their papers, sighing over the Mets' latest disaster and wishing that Steinbrenner would just sell the Yankees already.
We were also unusual because we were one of the few families in town that didn't have generations of members living in the same area for decades. We weren't related to anyone else in town. We were the only members of our extended family living in Connecticut.
So what did this mean for me growing up? I knew that there was a world beyond my small-town bubble, and I couldn't wait to pierce it and escape.
And, in July of 2001, I did.
I moved to a small city with a waterfront and a mall within a five-minute driving distance. I could purchase my groceries at Stop and Shop and grab a quick bite to eat at McDonald's. I had my prescriptions filled at Rite Aid, and bought my coffee at the local Dunkin Donuts every morning on my way to work. I banked at Bank of America, and got my car serviced at Jiffy Lube.
This, to me, was paradise. No longer did I have to drive half an hour to get to the mall. No longer did I have to go twenty miles out of town to shop at Target. No longer did I have to go out of my way to get to the nearest Borders.
And shortly after I moved, things started to change--both within my hometown, and myself.
Before I moved, the old Chevy dealership on the south end of town had been torn down and was being replaced by a Stop and Shop. Mama Cat would flip the bird in protest every time she drove by. I asked her why.
"It's putting the local businesses out of business!"
I didn't get it then.
A year later, a CVS opened in town. Once again, Mama Cat refused to go there, and chose to have her prescriptions filled at the same mom-and-pop establishment where she had been going for years. I asked her why she didn't make the switch, since CVS also had more inventory than her old place.
"It'll put Mike out of business!"
I still didn't get it.
But one day, I finally did.
Sadly, it took the current state of our economy to realize just how important mom-and-pop businesses are, not just to the welfare of our communities, but more importantly, to our psyche.
I can't tell you how many local businesses in my current city of residence have closed down because people are going to their larger, chain counterparts. And when you hear stories about how these local businesses have given so much to the community, it really makes you want to weep. I love to read about the local high school, community-sponsored graduation parties, and see which businesses have contributed. Nine times out of ten, the sponsors are the locally-owned, mom-and-pop businesses.
I now go back to my hometown and feel a sense of longing for what once was. The local pharmacy is still there, and is doing a decent business, but the CVS still looms large. We now have a Starbucks and an TJ Maxx, in addition to a Dunkin Donuts and a McDonald's.
My small town has now been commercialized.
Which leads me to wonder, does true small-town America still exist?
Yes...and no.
I'm currently housesitting for a friend of mine who lives in small-town America. The "center" of town is just a stone's throw away from her house. There aren't any chain stores, but two very nice, locally-owned gourmet food stores. There's a small, locally-owned used bookstore, as well as a bakery. The other day, I was in one of the food stores, and two little girls were in there with their mom, buying candy to eat later in the day. When they left, the mother went to run errands, and the little girls sat in front of the store, eating their gummy worms, watching the world go by.
This past weekend I went to a memorial service for the father of a friend of mine. There were people there who knew her father from when they were back in high school--fifty years ago. They still lived in the same small town where they grew up.
In spite of these little girls, and the men in mourning for their friend, there is an aspect of small-town America that will never come round again. We all lock our doors at night, have car alarms, and have ADT and Brinks Home Security on call in case anything should happen.
Lately I've found myself missing my small town--in more ways than one. I still like my mid-sized American city, though. You can't beat the convenience of having a movie theater, a hospital, and three major shopping centers all within a ten-minute radius.
And it's nice to know that there are two small towns bordering mine.
It's good to know that I can return to small-town America--if only for a couple of hours at a time.
Or even in my imagination.
Monday, April 6, 2009
We're the Nutmeg State...so where's the nutmeg?
I recently left a comment over at Janna Bee's about tonight's title game between the Spartans and the Tar Heels. I said something to the effect of, "I'll be drinking Cherrywine and eating Mackinac Island Fudge during the game."
Cherrywine is a popular carbonated cherry-tasting drink down south.
Mackinac Island fudge is a popular candy in Michigan, named for the island near the Upper Peninsula where it is made.
That got me to thinking...tomorrow the Lady Huskies are playing Louisville for the national title. I could either have a shot of Kentucky bourbon if things don't go our way (which they won't), or I could have a Connecticut...uh...uh...uh...
...what foodstuffs are we known for in Connecticut?
Think about it. We have maple syrup, but that's more of a Vermont thing. We've got tobacco, but I don't smoke, and it's bad for you. Pepperidge Farm was a real farm in Fairfield County, but I don't think they manufacture their products here anymore.
I can't think of a food product or cuisine that we're famous for.
Can you?
Cherrywine is a popular carbonated cherry-tasting drink down south.
Mackinac Island fudge is a popular candy in Michigan, named for the island near the Upper Peninsula where it is made.
That got me to thinking...tomorrow the Lady Huskies are playing Louisville for the national title. I could either have a shot of Kentucky bourbon if things don't go our way (which they won't), or I could have a Connecticut...uh...uh...uh...
...what foodstuffs are we known for in Connecticut?
Think about it. We have maple syrup, but that's more of a Vermont thing. We've got tobacco, but I don't smoke, and it's bad for you. Pepperidge Farm was a real farm in Fairfield County, but I don't think they manufacture their products here anymore.
I can't think of a food product or cuisine that we're famous for.
Can you?
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
CONnecticut politics revisited
This time, it's Hartford's mayor, Eddie Perez, who is in trouble.
Yesterday, Perez turned himself in to police, and was arrested on charges of bribery, falsifying evidence, and conspiring to falsify evidence. According to investigators, Perez never did pay the $20,000 for renovations to his kitchen--renovations done by a city contractor named Carlos Costa.
You can read the Courant's version of the story here.
Yesterday, Perez turned himself in to police, and was arrested on charges of bribery, falsifying evidence, and conspiring to falsify evidence. According to investigators, Perez never did pay the $20,000 for renovations to his kitchen--renovations done by a city contractor named Carlos Costa.
You can read the Courant's version of the story here.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
And now, a public service message...
Never go grocery shopping on the cusp of a big storm.
We here in the Nutmeg State have another f---ing snowstorm hitting us today and tomorrow. Some areas are supposed to get 6 to 8 inches of the white stuff. I had a busy week, and didn't have time to go shopping after work, so I decided to do it this morning.
I left the house at 12:30 and arrived at Price Rite 10 minutes later. There was not a single parking space in the lot. Eventually, though, I managed to find one, and navigated slowly through my way of kids running around the store, moms trying to keep their kids from running around the store, and elderly folks who stand either in the middle or at the end of the aisle, oblivious to the traffic gathering behind them.
I didn't get everything I needed at Price Rite, so I had to make a trip to Stop & Shop to pick up the rest of my list. The parking situation at Stop and Shop was worse, but that wasn't the only thing...
...there were no shopping carts in the store.
Three other people were behind me, shrugging their shoulders, as if to say, "Ya gotta be kidding me!" Fortunately for me, I didn't have that many items to buy, so I just carried around my little bag and put my groceries in there.
The last time I had ever seen a supermarket that crowded was New Year's Eve, 1999, when people were freaking out about Y2K.
People in Connecticut will freak out whenever there's an impending storm. If one flake falls to the ground people will crowd up the stores and stockpile milk, bread, and canned goods, even if it's a storm like the one we're about to have, which is mild compared to blizzard conditions.
If it's a hurricane, though, I can understand. We've been fortunate not to have a major hurricane hit since 1991, but I would be one of the first people at the grocery store to buy gallons of water in addition to bread, milk, and canned goods.
But I can handle a snowstorm. I don't drive in one when the snow's coming down at the rate of two inches an hour; I'm not crazy. When Jodi Rell tells me to stay home, I don't complain.
Digging out, however, is a bitch.
I got home a while ago, and it was flurrying when I walked through the door. I unlocked the door, brought my bags in, and the cats greeted me.
That's when I realized I forgot one very important item.
Purina Cat Chow.
I decided not to go out again, though; they've got enough food for the next two days. Besides, I don't want to deal with the elderly blocking my way again.
We here in the Nutmeg State have another f---ing snowstorm hitting us today and tomorrow. Some areas are supposed to get 6 to 8 inches of the white stuff. I had a busy week, and didn't have time to go shopping after work, so I decided to do it this morning.
I left the house at 12:30 and arrived at Price Rite 10 minutes later. There was not a single parking space in the lot. Eventually, though, I managed to find one, and navigated slowly through my way of kids running around the store, moms trying to keep their kids from running around the store, and elderly folks who stand either in the middle or at the end of the aisle, oblivious to the traffic gathering behind them.
I didn't get everything I needed at Price Rite, so I had to make a trip to Stop & Shop to pick up the rest of my list. The parking situation at Stop and Shop was worse, but that wasn't the only thing...
...there were no shopping carts in the store.
Three other people were behind me, shrugging their shoulders, as if to say, "Ya gotta be kidding me!" Fortunately for me, I didn't have that many items to buy, so I just carried around my little bag and put my groceries in there.
The last time I had ever seen a supermarket that crowded was New Year's Eve, 1999, when people were freaking out about Y2K.
People in Connecticut will freak out whenever there's an impending storm. If one flake falls to the ground people will crowd up the stores and stockpile milk, bread, and canned goods, even if it's a storm like the one we're about to have, which is mild compared to blizzard conditions.
If it's a hurricane, though, I can understand. We've been fortunate not to have a major hurricane hit since 1991, but I would be one of the first people at the grocery store to buy gallons of water in addition to bread, milk, and canned goods.
But I can handle a snowstorm. I don't drive in one when the snow's coming down at the rate of two inches an hour; I'm not crazy. When Jodi Rell tells me to stay home, I don't complain.
Digging out, however, is a bitch.
I got home a while ago, and it was flurrying when I walked through the door. I unlocked the door, brought my bags in, and the cats greeted me.
That's when I realized I forgot one very important item.
Purina Cat Chow.
I decided not to go out again, though; they've got enough food for the next two days. Besides, I don't want to deal with the elderly blocking my way again.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
R.I.P.: Mayor Mike
Those of you who don't live in Connecticut will have no idea who I'm talking about when you initially read the heading. Once you finish, however, you will know.
Mayor Mike was Mike Peters, who was mayor of Hartford, our capital city, from 1993 until 2001. He was an extremely popular mayor, truly a man of the people. He wasn't one of those stuffy, fuddy-duddy, serious politicians. He was approachable, and always took time to listen to anyone who wanted to talk to him. Mayor Mike had a real casual, yet affective, way of approaching city politics. Here was a man who, as many media outlets have said in the days following his death, was more comfortable talking politics on a barstool than in a boardroom.
I remember a CBS News reporter once called Hartford "the forgotten city between New York and Boston." How right he was about that! This is a city that has long been overshadowed by our bigger siblings to the south and north, a city that many think is unremarkable, a city that becomes a ghost town Monday through Friday at 5 PM, when all of the commuters go to their home in the suburbs.
Mayor Mike, however, believed in his city. I mean, really believed in it. He loved Hartford. He wanted to see it become, as the advertising slogan says, "New England's Rising Star." He tore down drug-riddled housing projects and rebuilt them, so they would be safer. He helped build up after school programs. He tried to get the Patriots to move down here, and they were seriously considering it!
Many hockey fans, however, will remember Mayor Mike because, under his term, the Whalers moved down south in 1997, where they eventually became the Carolina Hurricanes. (NOTE: as you'll see in this Wikipedia article, it wasn't Mayor Mike's fault that the Whalers left!) Their Stanley Cup win several years back was a very bitter pill for many Whaler fans to swallow.
Mayor Mike opened up a restaurant in Hartford in 2004 and named it--what else?--Mayor Mike's. He wasn't involved in politics, but he still frequented his establishment to talk to the people.
He had been in declining health for several years, having disclosed several months back that he had cirrosis of the liver. He received a liver transplant, and was feeling better, even contemplating running for Hartford mayor again in 2011. However, he developed kidney problems as a result of the transplant, and his health declined very quickly after that. He was 60 when he died; far, far, far too young.
I saw Mayor Mike on TV not long ago, and he looked awful. He was really gaunt, with thinning hair and a higher voice. He still had his upbeat enthusiasm and stamina, though; that could never be dimmed.
Mayor Mike was not into corrupt politics or scandal. He was a man who wanted to help his city, his people, his state. He didn't care about party lines; Democrats were none too thrilled that he endorsed Governor Rowland in the 2002 gubernatorial election (but remember what happened there).
Voters responded; he won by landslide victories in 1995, 1997, and 1999.
Ironically, though, even though he was much beloved, he wasn't very powerful as a mayor. Under the Hartford city charter at the time, the City Council held more powers than the mayor did. You'll find out more about it in the link I'm about to give you in a minute. This inbalance of power helped contribute to Mayor Mike's decision not to run again for mayor in 2001.
Read more about Mayor Mike Peters and his accomplishments here. The Courant did a great job on this one.
Mayor Mike was Mike Peters, who was mayor of Hartford, our capital city, from 1993 until 2001. He was an extremely popular mayor, truly a man of the people. He wasn't one of those stuffy, fuddy-duddy, serious politicians. He was approachable, and always took time to listen to anyone who wanted to talk to him. Mayor Mike had a real casual, yet affective, way of approaching city politics. Here was a man who, as many media outlets have said in the days following his death, was more comfortable talking politics on a barstool than in a boardroom.
I remember a CBS News reporter once called Hartford "the forgotten city between New York and Boston." How right he was about that! This is a city that has long been overshadowed by our bigger siblings to the south and north, a city that many think is unremarkable, a city that becomes a ghost town Monday through Friday at 5 PM, when all of the commuters go to their home in the suburbs.
Mayor Mike, however, believed in his city. I mean, really believed in it. He loved Hartford. He wanted to see it become, as the advertising slogan says, "New England's Rising Star." He tore down drug-riddled housing projects and rebuilt them, so they would be safer. He helped build up after school programs. He tried to get the Patriots to move down here, and they were seriously considering it!
Many hockey fans, however, will remember Mayor Mike because, under his term, the Whalers moved down south in 1997, where they eventually became the Carolina Hurricanes. (NOTE: as you'll see in this Wikipedia article, it wasn't Mayor Mike's fault that the Whalers left!) Their Stanley Cup win several years back was a very bitter pill for many Whaler fans to swallow.
Mayor Mike opened up a restaurant in Hartford in 2004 and named it--what else?--Mayor Mike's. He wasn't involved in politics, but he still frequented his establishment to talk to the people.
He had been in declining health for several years, having disclosed several months back that he had cirrosis of the liver. He received a liver transplant, and was feeling better, even contemplating running for Hartford mayor again in 2011. However, he developed kidney problems as a result of the transplant, and his health declined very quickly after that. He was 60 when he died; far, far, far too young.
I saw Mayor Mike on TV not long ago, and he looked awful. He was really gaunt, with thinning hair and a higher voice. He still had his upbeat enthusiasm and stamina, though; that could never be dimmed.
Mayor Mike was not into corrupt politics or scandal. He was a man who wanted to help his city, his people, his state. He didn't care about party lines; Democrats were none too thrilled that he endorsed Governor Rowland in the 2002 gubernatorial election (but remember what happened there).
Voters responded; he won by landslide victories in 1995, 1997, and 1999.
Ironically, though, even though he was much beloved, he wasn't very powerful as a mayor. Under the Hartford city charter at the time, the City Council held more powers than the mayor did. You'll find out more about it in the link I'm about to give you in a minute. This inbalance of power helped contribute to Mayor Mike's decision not to run again for mayor in 2001.
Read more about Mayor Mike Peters and his accomplishments here. The Courant did a great job on this one.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Happy Solstice, everyone!
Well, I just got word that the Revels services at church were canceled due to the weather. It's not snowing too badly right now, but the weathermen are all saying that it'll change to a mix of sleet and freezing rain by noontime. Yuck. I hate freezing rain! I can deal with snow, but anything that has to do with ice just creeps me out!
I'm ok with that decision, thought. One, I'd rather be safe than sorry. Two, last night's church social salvaged my Christmas spirit before I would turn into the female equivalent of Ebenezer Scrooge. So today, after much procrastination, I am finally going to festoon my tree. Pics to follow.
Of course, I still promised you pics of the first storm of the season. Those will come, too.
In the meantime, Kittens, enjoy the winter solstice! I'm psyched it's finally here! That means the days are going to get longer from here on out. More sunshine--yeah!
I'm ok with that decision, thought. One, I'd rather be safe than sorry. Two, last night's church social salvaged my Christmas spirit before I would turn into the female equivalent of Ebenezer Scrooge. So today, after much procrastination, I am finally going to festoon my tree. Pics to follow.
Of course, I still promised you pics of the first storm of the season. Those will come, too.
In the meantime, Kittens, enjoy the winter solstice! I'm psyched it's finally here! That means the days are going to get longer from here on out. More sunshine--yeah!
Friday, December 19, 2008
Snow day!
It's a little after 6:30 in the morning, and it's a Friday, and I'm still in my PJs! Reason? I HAVE A SNOW DAY TODAY! I get just as excited, if not more so, about snow days as an adult than I did when I was a child. I think it's because I have more responsibilities now as an adult, but I am not fully sure why.
Anyway, I didn't get the official call until 6 AM, when I was up and at 'em, so I'm not entirely sure if I'm going to go back to bed. I just did the e-mail and Facebook thing, caught up on my blogs, and had breakfast.
The snow isn't supposed to start till around noontime, but getting the kids home on the buses can be tricky--especially since they're predicting a snowfall rate of 1-2 inches an hour.
I've got my camera at the ready and will post pictures for y'all! If the weathermen are right about this (and you know how right they usually are), then it's gonna be a gullywhumper!*
*Gullywhumper is a term that a former meterologist for WFSB, Hilton Kaderli, used to describe big storms. Hilton Kaderli was originally from Oklahoma and became a television legend here in Connecticut. He retired from the airwaves in 1998. He lived for days like this!
Anyway, I didn't get the official call until 6 AM, when I was up and at 'em, so I'm not entirely sure if I'm going to go back to bed. I just did the e-mail and Facebook thing, caught up on my blogs, and had breakfast.
The snow isn't supposed to start till around noontime, but getting the kids home on the buses can be tricky--especially since they're predicting a snowfall rate of 1-2 inches an hour.
I've got my camera at the ready and will post pictures for y'all! If the weathermen are right about this (and you know how right they usually are), then it's gonna be a gullywhumper!*
*Gullywhumper is a term that a former meterologist for WFSB, Hilton Kaderli, used to describe big storms. Hilton Kaderli was originally from Oklahoma and became a television legend here in Connecticut. He retired from the airwaves in 1998. He lived for days like this!
Thursday, December 11, 2008
"Driving On Roads On A Rainy Evening"
This poem was inspired by my drive home tonight from my school's winter concert. Route 9 in Connecticut, the highway I took to go home, bisects the center of the state and runs parallel to the Connecticut River. There is no lighting on the side of the highway until you cross over the Middletown city line. The drive home was complicated by a moderate to heavy rainstorm, and lots of wind.
My apologies to Robert Frost.
"Driving On Roads On A Rainy Evening"
by Kitten, December 11, 2008
Whose roads these are I think I know.
My house is in the city though;
I hope I won't be stopping here
Since I am driving nice and slow.
My little car must think it queer
To stop without a station near
Between my house and rain-filled path
The darkest evening of the year.
My car's small black wheels get a bath
As she continues through this wrath
The only other sound's the splash
Of puddles forming on the path.
Off back to my house I must dash,
I cannot blink a single lash,
Or in the woods my car will crash,
Or in the woods my car will crash.
My apologies to Robert Frost.
"Driving On Roads On A Rainy Evening"
by Kitten, December 11, 2008
Whose roads these are I think I know.
My house is in the city though;
I hope I won't be stopping here
Since I am driving nice and slow.
My little car must think it queer
To stop without a station near
Between my house and rain-filled path
The darkest evening of the year.
My car's small black wheels get a bath
As she continues through this wrath
The only other sound's the splash
Of puddles forming on the path.
Off back to my house I must dash,
I cannot blink a single lash,
Or in the woods my car will crash,
Or in the woods my car will crash.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
CONnecticut Politics: A Primer
The Rod Blagojevich scandal has reminded many Connecticut residents of their state's own political scandals over the past fifteen years. For those of you who are not familiar with the political doings of the Nutmeg State, here's a crash course in some of our corrupt politicians:
Joseph Ganim, Mayor of Bridgeport: When Joe Ganim first became mayor of Connecticut's largest city, he was praised by critics and citizens alike. He brought Bridgeport out of bankruptcy, got them a minor league baseball team, and was at one point under consideration to run for the Democratic nomination for governor in the 2002 election. However, in 2001, he was indicted on a 24-count federal charge that included racketeering, mail fraud, extortion, and tax evasion. He was later removed from office, and in 2003, was found guilty on 16 federal corruption charges and is currently serving a nine-year prison sentence.
John Fabrizi, Mayor of Bridgeport: Joe Ganim's successor, in 2006, Mayor Fabrizi admitted to using cocaine in office, after an FBI report alleged that a drug dealer had a videotape of him using the drug. He sought help, but did not seek re-election.
Philip Giordano, Mayor of Waterbury: Mayor Giordano was arrested in 2001 for having sex with an 8-year-old and a 10-year-old girl, in addition to having relations with an adult prostitute. In 2003, he was convicted of charges of using a cell phone to arrange sexual contact with children. He is currently serving a 37-year prison sentence.
John Rowland, Governor of Connecticut: John Rowland accomplished a lot for our fair state. He got us budget surpluses, preserved lots of open space, and helped spur the urban revival movement in Hartford, Stamford, and New London, among other cities. The Republican Party at one point looked at him as a potential vice-presidential candidate. However, as Rowland began his third term in office, rumors started circulating about him. Among them:
Joseph Ganim, Mayor of Bridgeport: When Joe Ganim first became mayor of Connecticut's largest city, he was praised by critics and citizens alike. He brought Bridgeport out of bankruptcy, got them a minor league baseball team, and was at one point under consideration to run for the Democratic nomination for governor in the 2002 election. However, in 2001, he was indicted on a 24-count federal charge that included racketeering, mail fraud, extortion, and tax evasion. He was later removed from office, and in 2003, was found guilty on 16 federal corruption charges and is currently serving a nine-year prison sentence.
John Fabrizi, Mayor of Bridgeport: Joe Ganim's successor, in 2006, Mayor Fabrizi admitted to using cocaine in office, after an FBI report alleged that a drug dealer had a videotape of him using the drug. He sought help, but did not seek re-election.
Philip Giordano, Mayor of Waterbury: Mayor Giordano was arrested in 2001 for having sex with an 8-year-old and a 10-year-old girl, in addition to having relations with an adult prostitute. In 2003, he was convicted of charges of using a cell phone to arrange sexual contact with children. He is currently serving a 37-year prison sentence.
John Rowland, Governor of Connecticut: John Rowland accomplished a lot for our fair state. He got us budget surpluses, preserved lots of open space, and helped spur the urban revival movement in Hartford, Stamford, and New London, among other cities. The Republican Party at one point looked at him as a potential vice-presidential candidate. However, as Rowland began his third term in office, rumors started circulating about him. Among them:
- state contractors made improvements to Rowland's weekend cottage in the Litchfield hills, and Rowland did not pay for the improvements himself;
- he took gifts from subordinates in state government;
- he took partial ownership in some businesses that were eventually awarded state contracts
At first, Rowland denied all of the charges, but then admitted that state contractors did do work at his weekend cottage, but that he paid the contractors in full. Long story short, following this admission, an official investigation began, which resulted in the indictment of some of Rowland's aides. As the investigation continued, and things started looking really bad for Rowland, he resigned from office on June 24, 2004, as the investigation looked into bringing impeachment charges against him.
Later that year, Rowland pleaded guilty to "depriving the public of honest public service", and was sentenced to serve a year and a day in prison. He is currently working as an economic adviser for the city of Waterbury.
So that's a brief recent history on some of the corruption that's occurred here in Connecticut. I did research some other websites in order to get some of the information here; I did a Google search on Joseph Ganim and found some abstracts from the New York Time and the Hartford Courant about him. Wikipedia also had some good information on John Fabrizi, Philip Giordano, and John Rowland. I am not a font of knowledge of every single detail of what went on in the corruption trials (even though they all practically got 24/7 coverage here), but I did my best to condense the information for you. I am not a professional reporter, just a blogger who wants to help out her fellow bloggers and readers.
Connecticut, home of trees, insurance, and Joe Lieberman.
Oy, Joe Lieberman....
That's another post for another time.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Clip of the Week: My Town's on Food Network!
O'Rourke's Diner has been a popular, some say legendary, hangout in Middletown since 1931. As you'll see in this clip, it's not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, greasy spoon diner. Brian O'Rourke's creations will make you drool.
After five years of living in Middletown, I'm sad to say that I haven't been to O'Rourke's yet. Someday, though...and soon!
The First Snow of the Season
I had heard all day that there was going to be a chance of snow, and kept looking out the window for it. Of course, I didn't see anything.
Until shortly after 11 last night.
I saw one flake slowly fall to the ground. And then another. And another.
By the time I went to bed, half an hour later, it was snowing steadily, but not too heavily.
I awoke to the sounds of shovels on the sidewalk.
We got about an inch or two. It really looks very pretty outside.
Of course, I left my ice scraper in the trunk of the car, and I'm leaving for church services soon.
The calendar may not officially say so, but winter is here.
Until shortly after 11 last night.
I saw one flake slowly fall to the ground. And then another. And another.
By the time I went to bed, half an hour later, it was snowing steadily, but not too heavily.
I awoke to the sounds of shovels on the sidewalk.
We got about an inch or two. It really looks very pretty outside.
Of course, I left my ice scraper in the trunk of the car, and I'm leaving for church services soon.
The calendar may not officially say so, but winter is here.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Monsoons in Connecticut
I just logged onto my Yahoo! mail, and according to my weather box, it's 66 degrees outside. I had to do a double take; we are in mid-November now, are we not? Because isn't it supposed to be colder? Isn't my heat supposed to come on right about now?
I've only had the heat on a couple of times so far this fall. I have to be thankful for that!
Today it rained...and rained...and rained some more. It messed up my sinuses something awful. I took three Sudafed this afternoon (I know, more than I should take), but I was desperate. Our church choir had a concert tonight, and I needed the meds to help me sing.
The meds didn't help. At all. I sniffled through the whole proceedings.
And the weather's only going to get weirder. According to WFSB, a tornado watch is in effect for most of the state until 2 AM. Temps are supposed to dip into the lower 30s for Monday and Tuesday, with a chance of snow showers both days.
Welcome to New England, Kittens.
I've only had the heat on a couple of times so far this fall. I have to be thankful for that!
Today it rained...and rained...and rained some more. It messed up my sinuses something awful. I took three Sudafed this afternoon (I know, more than I should take), but I was desperate. Our church choir had a concert tonight, and I needed the meds to help me sing.
The meds didn't help. At all. I sniffled through the whole proceedings.
And the weather's only going to get weirder. According to WFSB, a tornado watch is in effect for most of the state until 2 AM. Temps are supposed to dip into the lower 30s for Monday and Tuesday, with a chance of snow showers both days.
Welcome to New England, Kittens.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
THANK YOU, CONNECTICUT!!!!
With only 34% of precincts reporting, Connecticut voters have decided, 60% to 40%, to vote no on question one, that is, whether or not the state should have a constitutional convention. This is great news!
And my congresswoman, Rosa DeLauro, was re-elected! Yay Rosa!
And Connecticut voters have voted to let 17-year-olds vote as well.
Most importantly, WE'RE A BLUE STATE! Granted, we have only a handful of electoral votes, but it still makes me feel pretty damn good!
So that's the update on the homefront. Now back to surfing the net and the TV for the latest scoop.
And my congresswoman, Rosa DeLauro, was re-elected! Yay Rosa!
And Connecticut voters have voted to let 17-year-olds vote as well.
Most importantly, WE'RE A BLUE STATE! Granted, we have only a handful of electoral votes, but it still makes me feel pretty damn good!
So that's the update on the homefront. Now back to surfing the net and the TV for the latest scoop.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Sidewalk Sermons
One of our local residents, David Schultz, likes to have fun with campaign signs. Click here to see all of his sidewalk sermons, courtesy of our unofficial city blog, The Middletown Eye.
Enjoy!
Enjoy!
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Today's Mail
I only received two items in today's mail. Both were little fliers, printed on cardstock, that encouraged me to re-elect my state representatives.
With all of this talk about going green, don't you think it's time for our lawmakers to follow suit?
I have a lot of respect for my state reps, but please, STOP CLUTTERING MY MAILBOX!
With all of this talk about going green, don't you think it's time for our lawmakers to follow suit?
I have a lot of respect for my state reps, but please, STOP CLUTTERING MY MAILBOX!
Sunday, September 7, 2008
The Ike and Hanna Revue, Act 2
I went to bed at 1:00 this morning. Kittens, don't ever download Mah Jong Quest from Yahoo! Games. It's too damn addictive, and each round can last for hours. As I went to bed, ready for some delicious, precious zzzzz's. I was so tired I didn't need to fall asleep to any television, just the sound of rain falling against the siding of my condo.
That's when the wind picked up. A lot.
I started to freak out. Keep in mind that Connecticut has not seen a major hurricane since Hurricane Bob in 1991. I completely forgot what it's like to be in a major wind storm. And there are trees behind my condo complex. I started wondering if my homeowner's policy was up to date. I immediately thought of Jane Redmont, who had a tree fall on her house only a week ago. As a result of the intermittent wind, rain, and worry, my sleep was not restful. My alarm went off at 6:45, and I got up and reset it for another 45 minutes.
(One word about my alarm clock: I've had it since high school, and I purposely broke the snooze button a long time ago so I wouldn't be tempted to keep pushing it whenever the alarm went off. I am not a morning person. I also put the alarm clock across from my bed, the theory being that if I had to get up out of bed and walk across the room to turn it off, I would be forced to start the day. Neither theory has been able to prevent me from sneaking in an extra fifteen minutes of snoozing in the morning).
Well, knowing I had to be at church at 9:30 for choir practice, as well as organizing coffee hour, I forced myself to rise at 7:30. When I walked to my car, I noticed...well, not much of anything. I was expecting to see twigs and branches on the ground, as well as huge puddles. But there wasn't anything. However, one area did get a soaking--the front seat of my car. I left the windows open, and the driver's seat was soaked when I got open. I didn't have time to change, so my jeans were drenched by the time I arrived at church.
At church, the storm showed its effects. It affected something electrical with the fire alarm, and it was going off when a fellow choir member arrived. Five minutes after I got there, the fire department arrived. Firemen were in the building for ten minutes, then we got the all clear. We don't know why the alarm went off, nor do we know why our security system didn't automatically call the fire department to notify them that the alarm went off. Fortunately, that was just a minor blip in the Homecoming service for the year. The service was great, and coffee hour was a hit. My friend baked danish, turnovers, and biscotti, and also brought veggies, hummus, and ranch dip. I brought fresh apples, peanut butter, and two kinds of fruit juice. This is what you get when you get two Italian girls to do coffee hour. We love teaming up to do stuff like this.
Meanwhile, in other parts of the Nutmeg State, Hanna made her presence known. Bethel had nearly seven inches of rain during the storm. Trees crashed through homes in Old Saybrook and Haddam, and many homes throughout the state were without power. If you want to read more about it, you can go here and read the account from our local CBS affiliate, WFSB Channel 3.
So Hanna is now gone and is history, but now the United States has Ike to worry about. He's now a Category 4 storm and has prompted evacuation of the Florida Keys. According to the National Hurricane Center, Ike's currently at the eastern tip of Cuba and is tracked to hit the Gulf Region soon. Satellite pictures of Ike show a well-defined eye; that's always an indicator, at least for me, that this is not a storm to mess with. It's already done some damage in Haiti. Ray Nagin, mayor of New Orleans, is worried, because he feels that not as many people will leave for Ike the way they left for Gustav.
And that's just the Atlantic hurricane zone. The Pacific is a different story. Right now the Pacific hurricane zone has Tropical Storm Lowell. Why don't we hear as much about Pacific hurricanes as Atlantic ones? Why isn't southern California as affected by them as much as Mexico is? Can someone answer these questions for me?
And so, this concludes the Ike and Hanna revue. Ike's going solo now; Hanna has now left.
(I know that's a cheesy way to end a post, but I couldn't think of anything else).
That's when the wind picked up. A lot.
I started to freak out. Keep in mind that Connecticut has not seen a major hurricane since Hurricane Bob in 1991. I completely forgot what it's like to be in a major wind storm. And there are trees behind my condo complex. I started wondering if my homeowner's policy was up to date. I immediately thought of Jane Redmont, who had a tree fall on her house only a week ago. As a result of the intermittent wind, rain, and worry, my sleep was not restful. My alarm went off at 6:45, and I got up and reset it for another 45 minutes.
(One word about my alarm clock: I've had it since high school, and I purposely broke the snooze button a long time ago so I wouldn't be tempted to keep pushing it whenever the alarm went off. I am not a morning person. I also put the alarm clock across from my bed, the theory being that if I had to get up out of bed and walk across the room to turn it off, I would be forced to start the day. Neither theory has been able to prevent me from sneaking in an extra fifteen minutes of snoozing in the morning).
Well, knowing I had to be at church at 9:30 for choir practice, as well as organizing coffee hour, I forced myself to rise at 7:30. When I walked to my car, I noticed...well, not much of anything. I was expecting to see twigs and branches on the ground, as well as huge puddles. But there wasn't anything. However, one area did get a soaking--the front seat of my car. I left the windows open, and the driver's seat was soaked when I got open. I didn't have time to change, so my jeans were drenched by the time I arrived at church.
At church, the storm showed its effects. It affected something electrical with the fire alarm, and it was going off when a fellow choir member arrived. Five minutes after I got there, the fire department arrived. Firemen were in the building for ten minutes, then we got the all clear. We don't know why the alarm went off, nor do we know why our security system didn't automatically call the fire department to notify them that the alarm went off. Fortunately, that was just a minor blip in the Homecoming service for the year. The service was great, and coffee hour was a hit. My friend baked danish, turnovers, and biscotti, and also brought veggies, hummus, and ranch dip. I brought fresh apples, peanut butter, and two kinds of fruit juice. This is what you get when you get two Italian girls to do coffee hour. We love teaming up to do stuff like this.
Meanwhile, in other parts of the Nutmeg State, Hanna made her presence known. Bethel had nearly seven inches of rain during the storm. Trees crashed through homes in Old Saybrook and Haddam, and many homes throughout the state were without power. If you want to read more about it, you can go here and read the account from our local CBS affiliate, WFSB Channel 3.
So Hanna is now gone and is history, but now the United States has Ike to worry about. He's now a Category 4 storm and has prompted evacuation of the Florida Keys. According to the National Hurricane Center, Ike's currently at the eastern tip of Cuba and is tracked to hit the Gulf Region soon. Satellite pictures of Ike show a well-defined eye; that's always an indicator, at least for me, that this is not a storm to mess with. It's already done some damage in Haiti. Ray Nagin, mayor of New Orleans, is worried, because he feels that not as many people will leave for Ike the way they left for Gustav.
And that's just the Atlantic hurricane zone. The Pacific is a different story. Right now the Pacific hurricane zone has Tropical Storm Lowell. Why don't we hear as much about Pacific hurricanes as Atlantic ones? Why isn't southern California as affected by them as much as Mexico is? Can someone answer these questions for me?
And so, this concludes the Ike and Hanna revue. Ike's going solo now; Hanna has now left.
(I know that's a cheesy way to end a post, but I couldn't think of anything else).
Saturday, September 6, 2008
The Ike and Hanna Revue
Tropical Storm Hanna has arrived. So far we in central Connecticut have had some steady, at times heavy, rain, but some folks in the Danbury area currently are under a tornado warning. Wind isn't scheduled to arrive till midnight.
The Zyrtec I took this morning did nothing for my allergies. Usually when there's a storm like this no amount of meds will do. As a result, I took a long nap around 5:30 ish and woke up about an hour ago. I'm feeling a little better, but am still wary.
The rain's picking up now. There's a little bowl outside, on my deck, that I placed there for collecting my water for tomorrow's Water Ingathering. I'll pick it up tomorrow morning and put some of it into a little container, then bring it to church.
I wonder how many churchgoers will steal my idea. Heh heh heh.
Meanwhile, Hurricane Ike is now heading to Cuba and is anticipated to make landfall in the Gulf Region by the end of next week. Sigh...they can't catch a break down there. I just hope the levees hold up again, the way they did for Gustav.
I've heard we have a levee in Middletown near the Connecticut River, but I have never seen evidence of it. I've never seen a levee on the Portland side of the river, or maybe I've never really paid attention. I'll have to check it out next time I'm on Route 9.
I'm really surprised people haven't prepared more for this tropical storm, save for those who live directly on the shoreline. I was at the A&P today, half expecting a run on bread and milk, and the shelves were fully stocked. The store was slightly more crowded today than usual, though, but I don't think it had anything to do with the impeding weather.
The TV stations didn't seem too panicked at first. This afternoon, while watching rain delay coverage of the US Open, there was no small radar screen in the upper right hand corner on WFSB, as is custom for bad weather. Nor was there anything on WVIT or WTNH. By 8:00, however, WVIT had a reporter in Stonington, and Brad Field was broadcasting the latest from the studio.
Meanwhile, on the cable news stations, Ike was the main focus. I'm surprised no one has made the quip, "We don't like Ike." Or any other quips for that matter. (I myself am proud of the clever title I gave this post).
I'll be back tomorrow with an account of Hanna's aftermath. I just hope not to lose power!
The Zyrtec I took this morning did nothing for my allergies. Usually when there's a storm like this no amount of meds will do. As a result, I took a long nap around 5:30 ish and woke up about an hour ago. I'm feeling a little better, but am still wary.
The rain's picking up now. There's a little bowl outside, on my deck, that I placed there for collecting my water for tomorrow's Water Ingathering. I'll pick it up tomorrow morning and put some of it into a little container, then bring it to church.
I wonder how many churchgoers will steal my idea. Heh heh heh.
Meanwhile, Hurricane Ike is now heading to Cuba and is anticipated to make landfall in the Gulf Region by the end of next week. Sigh...they can't catch a break down there. I just hope the levees hold up again, the way they did for Gustav.
I've heard we have a levee in Middletown near the Connecticut River, but I have never seen evidence of it. I've never seen a levee on the Portland side of the river, or maybe I've never really paid attention. I'll have to check it out next time I'm on Route 9.
I'm really surprised people haven't prepared more for this tropical storm, save for those who live directly on the shoreline. I was at the A&P today, half expecting a run on bread and milk, and the shelves were fully stocked. The store was slightly more crowded today than usual, though, but I don't think it had anything to do with the impeding weather.
The TV stations didn't seem too panicked at first. This afternoon, while watching rain delay coverage of the US Open, there was no small radar screen in the upper right hand corner on WFSB, as is custom for bad weather. Nor was there anything on WVIT or WTNH. By 8:00, however, WVIT had a reporter in Stonington, and Brad Field was broadcasting the latest from the studio.
Meanwhile, on the cable news stations, Ike was the main focus. I'm surprised no one has made the quip, "We don't like Ike." Or any other quips for that matter. (I myself am proud of the clever title I gave this post).
I'll be back tomorrow with an account of Hanna's aftermath. I just hope not to lose power!
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