C'est la vie...

Finally back...
It's been a while. Well, it's always a while because I wait so long to make an entry, so having been a while is self-explanatory.


As you all may know, I have ceased to be employed anywhere outside of my home. Hmph. I could go way into that but let's not, we just don't have time. In any case, I get to think a lot so I thought I might as well think here. So let's see what have I done lately... saw TAPS Jay & Grant with fellow GhostHunter fan extraordinaire Pat. It was aawwweeesome!!! Then I got to see my FAVORITE pyschic-medium Chip Coffey...it was aaaaaawweeeesome!!! Bruce took me to that, supporting my weird hobbies. Oh yeah, that's another new thing...I used to put sort of pseudonyms for my family and whoever else I may mention, to protect the innocent, but no more! Naw...too lazy. Your name is just gonna show up here if I am going to talk about you, so speak now or forever hold your peace....ok done! I didn't hear any objections so good-o. Elayne and I went to see Maureen Hancock. Took the kids to see the Kajillion Bubbles show and The Nutcracker, and on The Polar Express. Fun!
But staying home isn't fun. I have no idea how stay-at-home moms do it. I am stunned by that. I still have to pay for daycare because it's impossible to job hunt or take screening or interview calls with the kids in the house. It's lonely. It's downright depressing, frankly. I talk to myself a LOT; like there's a second person in the room. Or to the dogs like they're human and will answer me. I spend a lot of time on the computer constantly refreshing email and Facebook to see if anyone sends me a message or comments on a post, or has a post I can comment on, or if my phone is lighting up because I got a text. I don't make too many calls to talk to anyone because what if someone calls me about a job, I can't be on the phone. I frequently forget the important things I should be doing. I've missed 3 appointments with my therapist in the last 2 months. I haven't ever done that in almost 9 years. Like right now I just remembered some phone calls I need to make...hang on. Ok - 2 things down.
Anyway, I had big plans for what I'd do while I was home. The first week I dived into cooking. I made so much food that the last large meal that week I did not even realize until I was done, that I would almost not fit the leftovers back in the fridge. I honestly didn't know what I'd do until I moved and repackaged and moved food over and over like a tetris game until I shut the doors like a bursting closet and everything might fall out if you're not prepared when you open it again.
I promised myself I was going to totally dive into super healthy eating and working out during the day because I really never had time before and could only work out sporadically. Yeahhhh...nope. Half the time I don't eat a scrap all day long. If I do, I'll eat the worst, most convenient stuff in the house. Work out? What for? Who's going to see me now? I don't really get dressed. Kinda crappy clothes most of the time. Sometimes even all day and to bed; who knows about it? I'll change in the morning. What's the point of pajamas when you wear sweats and stuff all day.
Oh, my house was going to be spotless too. Nope. That didn't happen either. I did find at first that I was just as busy not working as when I was. There were times that I'd run errands and not be home all day long. Well that was easy - Connor's birthday, Halloween, trip to Kentucky, Thanksgiving, Christmas, the girls' birthdays. Now there's nothing really that that's over. And cleaning the house is also impossible and pointless. I can clear a two-foot-square space and 5 minutes later someone will say "oh hey here's some room! I'll put some random stuff there!" I don't invite people over - it's such a disaster and I really don't want visitors to see that. Sigh.
So every day something new, a new list, a new list that doesn't get followed through. It's overwhelming honestly. Most days I just spontaneously cry. I do try very hard to stay busy and I think I am, but thinking is half my problem. Thoughts and thoughts and thoughts, end up being a bunch of useless noise.
I think this whole unemployment thing is a process like grief in a sense. For me, it's a death of who I've been since...geesh...as long as I can remember - I've always worked someway somehow since I was 15 and half and could work at the local park's summer program. First denial - I can't believe this happened. Why? How? No problem - I'll have a job to start 2 days after my last day, no doubt. uh unh. Then anger - how could someone do this to me? WTF? Bargaining - what if I had tried harder? What if I had pushed harder? I knew the inevitable but maybe I could have stopped it. Then depression - I already have clinical depression so this ain't helping. How did I fail like this? I failed. I failed my family. I look at my kids' sweetly sleeping faces and think "I'm sorry." I look at Bruce and think "I'm sorry - I didn't mean to create so much pressure for you." And now hitting the unemployment line...oh that's just joyous. Now I REALLY worry. Incessantly. I don't sleep. I have frequent anxiety attacks. Sometimes I just can't breathe. And I put on a happy face...the kids can't know this. They can't know I worry. They can't think for a minute about this. They hear the most frightening things on the news: people, children with no homes, no food, no heat. It's my job that they don't worry about that for one nanosecond. So I reserve panic for bedtime and when I'm alone during the day.
So crap, why am I writing this pity party? It's easy. It's the internet. You can write all you want and send it into the ether and maybe no one will read it, right? How safe is that for pouring your guts out? Clicking the "publish" button is the scariest part because then you truly have put it out there. All the typing before that is all in theory that you might and then you have to decide if you actually will. If someone does read this, I certainly don't want to hear a single "it'll get better. You're not the only one. So many people have it worse." Well, duh. But this is me and my family, so that's it. Maybe someone will read this and hear themselves in it and feel better that they're not alone. And maybe someone will just say "oh shut up you friggin' whiner". I don't care. Right now all I can do is decide whether or not to click that "publish". ........click.

ooooo-eeeeeee-ooooo part 2

so I've discovered I have two more followers: Miguel and Bruce - thanks Miguel! Bruce kind of had no choice. Hey - and Marilyn! Welcome to this most exclusive club!

...and welcome back to my anomalies...

The first incident where we realized something wasn't normal was the "lost glasses". My Honey lost his glasses. Every night, since he didn't need his old prescription glasses to read, he'd pick up his book, take his glasses off, and put them on the arm of the couch. One night, he picked up his book, put his glasses down as usual, and when he was done reading and going to bed, went to pick them back up, they were gone. We could not find them to save our lives. No where, no how. Now those of you who have ever visited me, mostly the 'rentals these days, know that my house is hardly organized or clutter-free on any given day. I'm busy doing stuff like, hey, typing all this stuff. But we pulled things apart, and looked EVERYWHERE. No stone left unturned. The night his glasses went missing, the entire population consisted of: PiC (Partner in Crime, aka Significant Other or SO or My Honey or MH), me, Doo-boy sleeping on the couch next to me, and two sleeping dogs. These things have disappeared into some black hole. Then about 3 months later, we are in the living room, PiC in his spot with his new glasses ON (he says they're "progressive lenses" but I don't care they're bifocals) which he doesn't need to take off to read, I'm in my spot crocheting, baby and dogs sleeping. And what to my wondering eyes should appear but Oh My God, the glasses, right were he left them, on the arm of the couch. Needless to say we both just stared for a solid 20 seconds (sounds like nothing but just time 20 seconds to yourself and see how long that is when you're just staring at something), and then laughed. One of those uncomfortable, heh heh?, kind of laughs. And then just let it go as something weird, figuring the kids fooled us somehow.

A few months after that, my birthday, I sat in my big armchair and opened a few little gifts from my parents and the kids. My mom gave me some stuff in a little pink bag, and I set it on miniature set of movie theatre doll seats next to the chair I was in. The kids were playing in the middle of the room, and I went to stand up and pick up the bag and it wasn't there. Huh? I looked everywhere in and around this chair, and the all over the rest of the house. I did this for weeks and gave up. And then one day about 2 months later, I went to clean that area around the chair, and there, sitting right where I left it, the same way I left it, was that bag. With all its contents and tissue paper, etc. I just stood there looking at it, showed it to PiC/SO/MH and we just laughed. Maybe it was the kids? Don't know. But read on....

Puddin' was making Xmas presents (and heck she still is) and so we had (have) yards and yards of fleece to cut to length and width, and to do that I used a Sharpie, to mark where I needed to make the cuts. (God I hope I'm not supposed to use some fake name because I don't have rights to say Sharpie - shit I did it again! It's a Charpie, ok?!) In the kitchen there's me, Doodley-bug and Puddin', and I measure the next piece, go to make my mark and....PiC comes upstairs and standing in basement doorway, says something to me, I look up at him, look back down, and in all of 1 second, marker/Charpie (ha! not using the brand-name) is gone. Literally just gone from on top of the piece of fabric. I was a foot away, and the girls were not in reach, and PiC was easily 10 feet away. The girls looked under the table, and I was spreading my hands all over the fabric trying to feel the marker, surely underneath, unfolding the layers, absolutely everything to find it. PiC says "what are you doing?" I said "looking for my marker I left right here!" and I pointed to the spot...and there it was, on top of the fabric, in the exact position left it...as if it never moved. Puddin' actually pointed and gasped "Oh my God!". Doodle and I just stood there and stared. PiC walked over, and looked at me, and I started laughing. What the???? And there's more...

As I was saying, it's Christmas, and I'm in the room with the tree, about 2 feet away from it, facing sort of kitty-corner; I can see it pretty well in my peripheral vision. Kids are no where near and PiC sitting at kitchen table about 6 feet away from me, and I can see him the whole time. If someone or even the dog wanted to walk between me and the tree, they'd either have to ask me to move, brush up against me to get by, or walk into the tree. And then I see it: the bottom branch spring up, like a recoil from being pushed down. The ornament that was hanging there had a bell on it and started ringing. The dogs are in the other room and are too big to go past there without being seen. The cats "live" upstairs and never come down. If one of them had, a barking dog or two would have chased them. I stood there again and just looked. I asked PiC, "did you see that?". Response: "yep". And watched as the branch continued to stop bouncing. This was the first sort of visual interaction we had seen. I didn't laugh this time, but it sure made us think. And sure, there's still more...

PiC sitting at one end of the kitchen table, I'm at the other end. There's a small sliver of wood about 3-4" long, on the floor next to him, probably carried over by the dogs, from us bringing in firewood and kindling. He leans over and picks it up, puts in on the table in front of him to toss out when he gets up. And while he's sitting there, right while he's sitting there, this piece of wood moves, right while he's looking, from his left over to his right. He saw it. He saw it up and move, and couldn't stop talking about it. Couldn't believe what he saw. And I just giggled. I mean, really, what is going on?! And once again, more....

Only PiC and I are in the house (which doesn't happen very often, really not). I'm in the kitchen, again, standing at the kitchen table. I'm going through my purse, and in the process take my huge set of keys, mostly huge not due to keys but keychains, and I put in on the corner of the table right at my right hand, not 3 inches away. This time he's about 12' away at the living room, and I say I'll go get the kids. I turn to pick up my keys... not there... Now I'm mad. What the hell happened to my keys?! He doesn't move. I turn around and say to him "where the heck are my keys?! I left them right he..." When I turn and point back at the corner of the table, there they are. Right where I left them. I never moved from the spot I was in, and neither did he.

Next witness, the X. Puddin' was pretty sick with a stomach virus. Really, terribly sick, poor thing. He took a half-day from work, and it was really too late for me to head in to work, so he hung around with me, taking care of Pud', and playing on the computer. Puddin' was feeling a bit better in the afternoon so X said he'd take her home to his place and stay home with her the next day. All of a sudden he said "hey- you should have a little baggie with some black ear buds" and I said yeah right here on the counter "I took them out and put the on the edge, and he went in the living room to get the Puddin' and we both got distracted packing up her medecine and what not. So as he was opening the basement door, he said "oh, those ear buds"... I said "oh yeah" and went to the counter to get them. Nope, not there. I turned and said "are you sure you didn't grab them?" reply: "nope, no way". Once again, turning back "I swear they were right here..." and there they were in the exact spot I left them. I said "did you see that?" His reply "yep". I said "Was that weird or what? This keeps happening." He just stood there and said "I dunno...no clue..." shaking his head. So now I can't be nuts, right? People are seeing this and in the case of my daughter and my X, they had never heard me talk about it.

I think there were a couple of other incidents but at this point I don't remember because they had been frequent enough that they would really make me laugh. Like seriously laugh - it was just funny. Not once was I afraid of whatever this was playing games with us.

After winter was over these things seemed to subside. As if whatever this was had had enough of being indoors and thought they'd get out now and again. Except for something I've kind of always seen but never paid any attention to, but now, hmmm ... maybe I should...

Mostly every night I'm sitting on our loveseat, crocheting, watching TV with PiC, peripheral view right through the hall, to the now begone library of my dreams, to coverted playroom - site of the Christmas tree incident. I should say that all these things mischievous things seem to happen downstairs, never up. Upstairs my only experience was the comforting presence when the kids were infants. For a very very long time, ever since that was MY seat, I've seen out of the corner of my eye a shadow about 5' high dash across the doorway. It's obvious enough to make me turn my head and look. I never have ever thought anything of it. Now I wonder. Lately what happends a LOT is this very obvious "something" peeking around the corner of the wall at the staircase, around 2 stair steps or so up, and then when I look, boom - sneaks back. For a long time I though it was one of the girls, only to get up and find that they're sleeping very soundly in their beds, with no way to get up the stairs that fast, and definitely not without being heard. Lately, it has sort of had a goldish tint, and I'm positive it's one of the girls sneaking down, except I hear nothing. One of the stairs has a very distinctive creak, and whenever they do sneak down, as quiet as they try to be, I hear them every time. This is not away in my peripheral vision, it's diagonal to my line of sight and it's not less than 4-5' away. A couple of times I've mentioned out loud that I see movement in that direction and the doorway across the hall. One time I got a look like "Boy...ok that's weird..." but no other reaction really. I don't do the stereotypical girl thing with the dreamy eyed "what are you thinking?" so I just let it go, and don't really want to know what dearie is thinking. He's probably just thinking about Ice Road Truckers, frankly. But again - it doesn't scare me.

I should say I am NOT inviting this thing to scare me, I'm not talking to it, not engaging it, not trying to do EVPs or night time ghost hunts. I have a feeling that this thing is so sneaky that if you tried to get evidence of it on purpose, it wouldn't play your game. I am curious sometimes to do the flashlight trick made popular by our own local TAPS, but I'm not that confident. I'd rather have my favorite medium Chip Coffey come over and see what he finds, and then I'd like to be his best friend, not just because I think he's cool, but also because I haven't had a good Gay friend in my life in a long time, and sometimes they're better to have then girlfriends, but that's a different post entirely. But Chip doesn't have time for me. I will make my attempt to endear him when I meet him and do a tour of a haunted hotel in October. Although I am his friend on FB.

So that's my tale of the strange and unusual, my own private Twilight Zone without the surprise twist ending. Just the Zone. I know a lot of people don't believe these things, but I always have. I do find what's going on here unexplainable. And unless someone can debunk it. I did try, and couldn't. I mentioned how far away people were to the actual location of events because some have hypothesized that it's obviously someone doing this. I say "but how" no one is physically near these things enough to touch the objects, never mind use them. Things seen out of the corner of your eye? That can be a vision phenomenon I suppose. There's quite a good explanation of that here:
http://www.assap.org/newsite/articles/Corner%20eye%20phenomena.html
So I buy that, except I've been seeing the EXACT SAME THING for so long.

Make what you want of it all and I'd love to hear anyone's explanation of these things. In the meantime, I'll wait and see what happens.

Until next time, please find a recording of Tubular Bells, which is the theme song of the Exorcist, and play that while slowly closing this window for extra spooky factor....

P.S. I apologize for any typos or annoying grammatical errors because I am tired of proofreading this, and yes I realize this just killed the spooky factor. I apologize for that too.

ooooo-eeeee-ooooo

Hello hello and welcome faithful fans, all two of you! Big shout out to Dave and Elayne! My two fans - you rock!

ok - if you make the spooky sound that is described in the title (if you've seen iCarly Season 1 Halloween espisode, you know what I'm talking about - sort of G - E flat - C ish... hey, I have kids, it's my only frame of reference) you will now be entering the world of the paranormal. That's right, you heard me: PARANORMAL. Why? Because that's what's going on in my humble abode. I do believe there is something here besides me and the fam, and so do they.

Now anyone who knows me well, knows that I do believe in the spirit world. There are things that have happened to me that I've talked to a few people about, not many, because then people just think you're nutso (which I am, but that's beside the point). I am convinced, however, that there's something following me around. And whether it's something or some things, and whether it's following or just individual occurrences that are independent of each other, I don't know. But I know it's there.

Let me give you a little history.

I first noticed "something" at my parents' , my childhood home, in my late teens/early twenties. Specifically, it was the distinct feeling that someone just sat on my bed. It wasn't scary, but sort of comforting, and frankly it was just a sensation that I didn't even really give any credence to, a sort it thing that happens when you're falling asleep and half-dreaming. And it would happen at any time of the day - if I was going to bed at night, or taking a nap in the afternoon. When my sister moved out, and my bed was moved to where hers was, it stopped. And then over time I'd notice things that I never told anyone, because not everyone buys into this stuff, and I figured everyone would think I'm nuts, which really isn't that out of the realm of possibility. Here's where things start to get freaky, and I feel really dubious about even putting this here (Chip Coffey deliver me). When my Ex and I were dating, I'd stay at his apartment frequently, even if he was away, because of a short-lived hobby of cake decorating. In a nutshell, for each week's class I needed to bake a cake, make tons of frosting and do some tedious decorating to bring back for critique, and I needed to not do this at my own (parents') house for various reasons, so to the apartment I went. More than once I was there without him there, and just stayed overnight because I'd be late and it was halfway to work. So on two occassions I saw something that made me jump and I wasn't frightened but I sure ended up rubbing my eyes and wondering if I saw what I thought I saw, even though I can clearly see this in my memory even today. Both times, when I was completely alone, Ex was out of town, once when I was changing, once when I was taking a (very rare) bath, I saw the exact same thing in my peripheral vision: an 8-ish year old, dark-haired boy peek around the corner of the door at me and then duck his head back. It only happened twice and I've never seen him again (at least I think not) but it was enough to make me suck in my breath and hold it for a second. Once of those things you know you saw, and then it's gone. And I may even delete this paragraph later because it's weirding me out that I even wrote it.

So the next bit of oddities when the kids are born. Always, whenever laying in my bed, usually napping with a wee infant, I'd feel someone sit down on the end of the bed. Always, there was no one there. And again I don't think much of it. Until Doo-boy was born. He was the one I insisted upon having an epidural for. I wanted one for the others, only they decided they weren't going to wait for me to get one. So with the last baby boy, I demanded and I got it. Ah blissful numbness...and itchiness. I don't know how people go to sleep with one, I was itchy up to my nose where curiously it stopped, but no matter, fabulous. First time I am in labor with a baby and comfortable. And......fabulosity over...the battery in the pump dies....fabulosity over.... battery gets replaced...dead again...now I have a feeling like a knife in the left side of my stomach and I'm ready to die and no one has a clue as to why these batteries are dying in the blink of an eye. Third battery in but I'm ready to go, and I decide I'm going to push ridiculously hard to get this kid out, dammit, because this hurts! Turns out Connor's got an umbilical cord wrapped around his neck two times and comes out a very not-lovely shade of bluish-grey. Thankfully two (there was a nurse in "training" there) wonderful nurses rubbed him with a towel like a newborn puppy, oxygenated him, and now here's a beauteous boy asleep on the couch next to me with chocolate on his face and sweaty moppy hair. After thatin the hospital - two more things, both when I was completely alone. I was in the bathroom, no one in the room but Doo-boy, and no sooner did I shut the bathroom door, then I heard my name in a loud whisper as if someone was on the other side asking if I was in there. I opened the door immediately and no one was there. Only Doo-boy in his bassinet slumbering sweetly. Okaaayyyyy. The next time, I heard Connor's name, same loud whisper, very clearly about 11pm. I was wide-awake, my room door was closed, curtain around door wide open so I have a clear view of the door, all lights on, and not a soul came in. I joked around later saying my room was haunted, but besides "thinking" I heard my name, there was the coincidence of the epidural pump not working and the drug wearing off so that I could have this baby sooner that I care to think about, if it had taken too long. But then I get home...and the last thing that I can say is...same scenario as before, laying in bed trying to nap a little with the baby, and I feel an entire hand on my head. I mean a whole hand on the side toward the back of my head, but not scary, kind of comforting and loving. I don't know what that was but even now, I remember exactly what that felt like. I was quite awake, only laying there with my eyes closed. And I sure didn't open them, but there was no one else in the house.

So fast forward, to now. Here we go again. Only this time I'm NOT the only crazy one. No no no, this time a few other people have witnessed the strange and unusual in my house. Something or someone is playing games here and I'm not the only one who has witnessed this. Stay tuned....

Loaf of white bread, or Oh Dear, This Can't Be Good

I've done it, just as promised (for those of you who remember, or frankly even care) - I started with my first recipe today from Julia's Baking Book. The first being a very basic loaf of white bread. Easy peasy, right? I've made it before in fact, and it worked out swimmingly. Nothing like a nice fresh loaf of bread. And off we go!



I had almost all the ingredients but for yeast. Used to have a jar of it in the fridge but threw it out a while ago - you can't keep it forever. No problem - went to the grocery and...hey! What the...? My Fleischman's yeast is gone - no jar (which I wanted), no packets or cakes...only this "New Product!" Red Star in packets, with a lady's face promising you that you will be most happy with this product or she'll take full responsibility. Her name is Carol Stevens and she guarantees your satisfaction. Yay! Whatever, I'll take it.



Sunday, got started a bit late. It'll be ok. Recipe makes 2 loaves but where fresh bread doesn't have such a great shelf life, I'm going to make one. Quantities are pretty straightforward so I should have no issue halving. Here we go - need 1/2T yeast. Ok 1/2 T is 2t, great, same for sugar and salt. Mixing, mixing, adding flour. Time for 1st rise. Julia says turn out on lightly floured surface and form into a ball to put into your lightly oiled bowl. Yeah...only this thing is a glutenous mess. What is going on? I try kneading, maybe it just wasn't kneaded enough. Only this is getting worse. It's sticking to everything and consuming my hand. It's like the Blob. My Doodleybug is standing there at the ready with hair tied back and clean hands asking "can I touch it?". My answer is a terrified "No! Stand back! " and yelling into the living room, " Hooneeeeeyyyyy! I need flour now!" Football game in full swing = uninterested, "yeah, ok". NO! I am standing here with a yeast blob that will shortly take my arm! Alright, alright.... phew! More flour seemed to help. Dough ball in bowl, let the first rise begin!



45 minutes later...

Julia said the dough will double in bulk. So exciting! I look in the bowl and that ball is still sitting there. Doesn't look any bigger to me. I check my recipe. And then I think...I convinced myself that 1/2T = 2t, mostly because I think I'm that good of a baker, and also beause I was too lazy to look it up. So I look it up now: ummm yeah, 1/2T = 3t. I am missing 1/3 of 3 ingredients. I look at my Honey and say "this can't be good". He thinks I'm talking about the dog barking. Huh? But wait! Julia does say that rising could take 45 min to ONE HOUR. There ya go! Adding 15 min.



15 min. later...

Nuttin'. Maybe a skosh bigger. Maybe it wasn't warm enough. There's a humidifier running in the kitchen so I decide to perch my bowl precariously on top and wait another 15min. In the meantime I need to get my pork roast going. Geesh this isn't going as well as I thought.

ANOTHER 15 min. later...
Ohhhhh poofier...directions say that if I touch the top, and it is fully risen, the impression of my finger will stay. So I gingerly touch it. Hmmm... I guess my finger impression stays...it kinda sinks a little bit but maybe that's right. Doodle comes over and puts her finger in it. Pffffttttt... like a balloon that's just popped. Maybe I should call Carol Stevens and complain about the yeast she so promised would leaven my baked goods beyond my wildest dreams. No matter, I can't wait any longer to put it in the oven!

Into the oven it goes! Just in time to miss dinner! Eh. So the bread bakes for its allotted time...smells fabulous...and....not done. So another 10 min, and another and another and another..FINALLY...Bing! It's done! And not pretty. This can't be good. It's flat on top, not really golden. And I have to wait until it's cooled COMPLETELY (Julia stresses this! Dammit!) before slicing. We waited with bated breath until Monday to slice. I was disappointed: it was dense, not like say, a potato bread, which is dense but still kind of malleable. Nah, this was just like a loaf of lead. But God Bless my kids, who begged for slices, toasted and buttered and declared it good. Redemption.

I still have a half of lead loaf on the counter, and only one person has asked for a second slice, so I'd still say that it was not a raving success. So, I will not move on to the next recipe (which I won't anyway for reasons I will save for later), but redo this one. And use the appropriate measurements. And cross my fingers that it will rise and bake in a timely manner, I'd like to have fresh bread the same day it's made, ergo "fresh", even if it is a subjective term . Wish me luck. It's gotta be good the second time around. Right?

For New Englanders

You don't have to live in Boston, just New England...it's all so very true (except the part about Harvard Bridge - I haven't verified that one)

The geographical center of Boston is in Roxbury. Due north of the center we find the South End. This is not to be confused with South Boston which lies directly east from the South End. North of the South End is East Boston and southwest of East Boston is the North End.

Harvard Bridge
The bridge connecting Boston and Cambridge via Massachusetts Avenue is commonly known as the Harvard Bridge. When it was built, the state offered to name the bridge for the Cambridge school that could present the best claim for the honor. Harvard submitted an essay detailing its contributions to education in America, concluding that it deserved the honor of having a bridge leading into Cambridge named for the institution. MIT did a structural analysis of the bridge and found it so full of defects that they agreed that it should be named for Harvard.This is all true

Information on Boston and the Surrounding Areas:
There is no school on School Street, no court on Court Street, no dock on Dock Square, and no water on Water Street. Back Bay Boston streets are in alphabetical awddah: Arlington , Berkeley, Clarendon, Dartmouth, etc. So are South Boston streets: A, B, C, D, etc. If the streets are named after trees (e.g. Walnut, Chestnut, Cedar), you are on Beacon Hill. If they are named after poets, you are in Wellesley.

Massachusetts Avenue is Mass Ave. Commonwealth Avenue is Comm Ave. South Boston is Southie. The South End is the South End. East Boston is Eastie. The North End is east of the former West End. The West End and Scully Square are no more; a guy named Rappaport got rid of them one night. Roxbury is The Burree, Jamaica Plain is J.P.

How to say these Massachusetts city names correctly (Say it wrong and be shunned).
Worcester : Wuhsta (or Wistah)
Gloucester : Glawsta
Leicester: Lesta
Woburn: Woobun
Dedham : Dead-um
Revere: Re -vee-ah
Quincy: Quinzee
Tewksbury : Tooks ber ry
Leominster : Le-min-sta
Peabody: Pee-ba-dee
Waltham : Walth-ham
Chatham: Chaddum
Samoset: Sam-oh-set or Sum-aw-set, but nevah Summerset!

Definitions:
Frappes are made with ice cream; milkshakes are not.
If it is carbonated and flavored, it is tonic.
Soda means CLUB SODA.
Pop refers to DAD.
When we want Tonic WATER, we will ask for TONIC WATER.
The smallest beer is a pint.
Scrod is whatever they tell you it is, usually fish. If you paid more than $7/pound, you got scrod.
It is not a water fountain; it is a bubblah.
It is not a trashcan; it is a barrel.
It is not a spucky, a hero, or a grinder; it is a sub.
It is not a shopping caht; it is a carriage.
It is not a purse; it is a pockabook.
They are not franks; they are haht dahgs; franks are money used Switzahland.

Police do not drive patrol units or black and whites; they drive a crewza.
If you take the bus, your on the looza crooza.
It is not a rubber band; it is an elastic.
It is not a traffic circle, it is a rotary.
"Going to the islands" means going to Martha's Vineyard or Nantucket.
The Sox = The Red Sox
The Cs = The CelticsThe Bs = The BruinsThe Pats =The Patriots

Things not to do:
Do not pahk your cah in Hahvid Yahd. They will tow it to Meffa (Medford ) or Summahville (Somerville) .
Do not sleep on the Common. (Boston Common)
Do not wear orange in Southie on St. Patrick's Day.

Things you should know:
There are two State Houses, two City Halls, two courthouses, and two Hancock buildings (one is very old; one is relatively new).
The colored lights on top the old Hancock tell the weatha:
"Solid blue, clear view."
"Flashing blue, clouds due."
"Solid red, rain ahead."
"Flashing red, snow instead." (except in summer, flashing red means the Red Sox game was rained out!
Most people live here all their life and still do not know what the hell is going on with this one: Route 128 South is I-95 south. It is also I-93 north.
The underground train is not a subway. It is the T, and it does not run all night (fah chrysakes, this ain't Noo Yawk).
Order the cold tea in China Town after 2:00 am; you will get a kettle full of beer.

Bostonians: think that it is their God-given right to cut off someone in traffic.
Bostonians: think that there are only 25 letters in the alphabet (no Rs, except in idear.
Bostonians: think that three straight days of 90+ temperatures is a heat wave.
Bostonians: refer to six inches of snow as a dusting.
Bostonians: always bang a left as soon as the light turns green, and oncoming traffic always expects it..
Bostonians: believe that using your turn signal is a sign of weakness.
Bostonians: think that 63 degree ocean water is warm.
Bostonians: think Rhode Island accents are annoying.

Send this to your friends who do not live in Boston (and also the ones who do!)