July 1st, 2005

food, Bascove peaches

(no subject)

Apparently Goat Hill Pizza's Potrero Hill location has all-you-can-eat Monday nights. Sounds almost good enough to get me to cross the Bay Bridge. :-)

Speaking of pizza, I've wanted to try Zante Pizza & Indian Cuisine for a while now. "Indian pizza -- a classic crisp, thin crust layered with spinach as well as sauce, mozzarella, and the toppings of your choice, such as tandoori chicken, lamb, cauliflower, eggplant, and prawns." And they seem to be reasonably close to BART, which makes it that much more appealing to this Oaklander who hates driving in SF.
Lexi in the woods

there are things I hate about living in Oakland

Like the way that although the Fourth of July isn't until Monday, we've been listening to fireworks go off a block away for weeks now.

And now they've stepped up to the ones that make a BOOM!!!! loud enough to set off the nearby car alarms.

And the way that calling the Oakland Police Department over this is utterly useless. Unless you're also reporting gunshots, don't bother.

When spiritualmonkey and I first got the apartment we're in now, we were desperate to get out of our old apartment. Things had been getting less and less tolerable there until we realized we had to move. When we got accepted at the place we live now, we moved ourselves over first before we moved any of our stuff. Just us, the Therm-a-rest inflatable camping mattress, the sleeping bags, and the cats.

What we didn't realize at the time was that it was Fourth of July weekend. We took the cats from the apartment they'd lived in for 7 years, in a quiet, moderately well-to-do neighborhood (maybe a quarter mile on the Oakland side of the Oakland/Piedmont border), with all of our furniture to hide under and behind, and moved them to a brand new space, in a neighborhood that can be described as lower working class/upper ghetto (read: loud car stereos going by, shrieking children playing next door, and a halfway house over the back fence whose residents sometimes live life at the top of their lungs), with a high proportion of Asian residents (many of whom seem to share the cultural love for firecrackers and fireworks), and no furniture at all. On the Fourth of July.

Wow, was that a bad choice.

The poor things hid under the sleeping bags for 48 hours. Not an exaggeration. And, at least once, they didn't even venture out long enough to use the litter box. Luckily there's a laundromat a block away and we were able to wash the sleeping bags before bedtime that night.

I've come to dislike the Fourth of July. Crowds, bright lights, and loud noises - pretty much the definition of "not for Lexi". None too fond of the lunar new year, either.