Some people wonder how, since marrying a Jewish woman, how can I adapt to not being able to eat pork at home? My typical answer is something about how we eat out so often I don’t miss it. But that’s only part of the truth, really. How could I complain when Chris Rachael can decide she wants to try a new cajun-ish crockpot chicken dish and she invents something like this?

I can’t. I love it. It’s bliss.

There’s something extra surreal about watching a house fire from the start. At first, it looked like they were burning something in the chimney. The first firetruck seemed like an overreaction. Then smoke started seeping from other parts of the roof. A second and third firetruck arrived. By then, thick black smoke poured from the upstairs windows. It only took about ten minutes for flames to lick up the side of the building. I’m still amazed how quickly it transformed from a place the firemen could walk into in their shirtsleeves to a billowing inferno. Soon there were four firetrucks, a dozen firemen, and near total silence but for the sound of windows shattering under heavy axes.

Rain poured down the whole time. A good thing, too, or else the house only six feet away would’ve doubtless been lost as well. Flames shot out from the second story windows, scorching the house next door. For awhile, I was sure it would catch.

No one had any idea what caused the blaze. Some said the owner was in jail, others said he was merely not home at the time. Regardless, no one was inside. I’m sure my feelings on the whole thing would be radically diferent if any lives had actually been at stake. As it is, it’d be easy to spin a satisfying suburban conspiracy theory, but it was probably something mundane - perhaps a space heater left on overnight, a smouldering cigarette butt, or a bad electrical outlet.

I couldn’t pull myself away. One minute it was an ordinary house. An hour later, it was a dangerous husk of a building in desperate need of being torn down. There’s something engrossing about watching that change.

That’s right. It’s time for my quarterly pilgrimage to see my favorite band of all time. Sadly, it appears Kevin and I can’t be at the same performance without some kind of horrific fan overload occurring. The chain reaction might cause brownouts in four states. Shannon, on the other hand, is a soothing influence upon the bouncy masses. This was her fourth TMBG concert in six months.  She can be present with me or Kevin, but not even her influence can counter us both.

My crowd-fu remains strong.  Before, I’ve been 3 - 5 people back, but this time I elbowed my way all the way up to the stage. Often, Flansburg or Dan-the-incredible-guitarist were only three feet away. I could’ve reached out and touched one of them, but since I don’t like being thrown out of bars in strange cities, I narrowly restrained myself. That didn’t stop me from nearly tackling Shannon to the ground in order to snag one of the foam stadium fingers tossed to the audience. Chaz got one too. Then, in a moment of sympathy for the teeming masses standing packed like cattle behind us, we politely put them on the stage instead of waving them in the air. This had absolutely nothing to do with our desire to dance.

For once, I really wish I’d brought a camera. They were three feet away! No obstructions, great lighting, and THREE FEET AWAY.  There were several times when I tried mentally writing an image directly into my brain because darnit, that would’ve been a great photo.  I know if I bring a camera to a concert, I’ll probably spend the entire time staring at a tiny 2 inch screen instead of the live people singing for my entertainment, but just this once, I wish I’d made an exception. It was a great show.

Mind you, I’ve never been to a bad TMBG concert. I have over 340 of their songs on  my iPod. That doesn’t include all of their children’s albums or bonus material. Every single concert is a different experience. I’ve never heard them repeat a set list. You really can’t say that for most bands. While I loved being there, I can guarantee the Police concert I saw last summer was the exact same concert I would’ve seen anywhere from Atlanta to Sydney.

I’m not greedy. Thrice in half a year is enough. They can go back to Brooklyn now and work on a new album. I’ll be ready for the next tour.

 I’ve read Blood Music. I know when some part of my body starts to unexpectedly transform, bad things are about to happen.  What do you know, I’m now the proud host of a thriving Staph infection. They’re partying on the back of my thigh, in the meaty part you actually sit on when using such common household furnishings as a chair. It will get much, much worse before it gets better.
 
At first I thought it was a spider bite. Four days later, I thought it might be a necrotic spider bite. When it grew larger than a baseball, it was time to see a doctor. Now, I’m on two kinds of antibiotics and have been informed that if those and the home remedy treatments don’t clear it up in a week, I get to go to the hospital. “But,” I asked the doctor, “Don’t hospitals breed antibiotic resistant strains of Staph?”
 
“Ironic, isn’t it? Do it anyway. It’s probably fine, but if it’s not, it could kill you.” 

 Thanks, doc. That’s just the reassurance I needed. If my leg does not erupt in a massive and painful burst of pus in a week, I may need intraveinous antibiotics. What part of that sentence isn’t supposed to freak me out?
 
I wish it was a necrotic spider bite. At least then I could fantasize my body was slowly developing superpowers.

My email today included a sad, desperate message from Friendster begging me to take them back. You’ve had your flings with LiveJournal, MySpace, and Facebook, but we’re the ones who really love you baby. They promised your first social network will always have a special place in your heart.

Alas, my black heart is fickle. LiveJournal is so limited, MySpace burns my eyes, and Facebook’s use of people’s personal information feels skeevy. You can’t have me back, Friendster, but I am ready and willing to give my love to a new social network.

Tonight’s LSFRG went really well. We had three new members - all of them women. One of the new ladies even wondered where we hid all the single men. After all, this is a SF club.

I’m pleased. I like big racus parties, but it’s also nice to have quiet, laid back time with people. I don’t get enough of that these days. The discussion of the book itself went pretty quickly (everyone liked it. Discussions only get heated when people hate the books.) Everyone lingered on the way out, which is always a nice sign of people enjoying themselves and getting along.

Cheezy as it may sound, I want to pick up a thank-you card for our anniversary of meeting at Barnes and Noble. It’s hard to find any location willing to host a club. Hawley Cooke turned me down quite harshly. The Summit Barnes and Noble and the Borders on Hurstbourne were polite, but still quite firm that the only clubs allowed to meet on their space were ones they sponsored themselves, led by their own employees. Our Barnes and Noble doesn’t just tolerate us. They actively promote us and tell random callers that yes, we’re a big group and look like we always have fun.

It’s all because we have women. I’m telling you, it’s my secret to success. Women like women. Men like women. The more women you have, the more people come to your clubs. Tonight, we had 7 women to only 4 men. It was one of our best meetings in awhile.

I’m feeling the love.

Chris Rachael and Chaz’s Domestic Tranquility spent four years on Blogger. When we started, it had a dirt simple five minute setup and some of the most user friendly features on the web. When it was bought by google, we expected even better things.

 We love google. We both have gmail accounts, use google calendars daily, and swap information via google docs. In this case, though, they messed up. Over the last six months, blogger has become increasingly unusable. The last few posts were crazy struggles. I can’t tell you what a relief it is for blogging to be easy again. I expect you’ll hear a lot more from us in the near future.

 We’re gradually migrating the rest of our blogs over to WordPress. Stay tuned for more linky goodness.