I Have to Wash My Hair that Night...

A late addition to this week's favorite quotes.

Zvi: What're you doing for Jesus's bris?

The Friday lunch crew, we are trying out new nicknames for each other.  Zvi has two awesome ones to choose from.  It's actually a bit unfair how good his are.  Killer (short for Christ Killer) or Stealth Eater (probably just Stealth for short).  Preferences?

Favorite Quotes of the Short Work Week

Best "dear God, is this really the cubicle you've assigned me to?" Phone Overheard:
  No, you cannot have a pet tarantula.  -Co-worker, on the phone.

Best Reason to End that Love Affair with Turkey:
  Rather than making you never want to eat chicken again, it simply makes you angry.  It makes you hold a grudge.   You'll eat chicken again, by God, and you'll chew really, really hard.  -David Rakoff, from his book Fraud.

Best Threat, Ever:
  I'm going to club you like a baby seal.  -Some guy being interviewed on This American Life.

Best Evaluative Praise (methinks?):
  Your cynicism will serve you well.  -Nice Doc.

Spare Time/Change

Dear Man that Sometimes Stands by the Corner 7-11,
  Are you panhandling or just hanging out?  I can never tell if that's a cup of coffee in your hands or a cup of change, whether that man gave you a few dollar bills to pay you back for something, or so you'd have something to eat.  And when you look at me, are you saying, "Hi, how's it going?" or "hi, how's it going would you like to spare some change?"  I don't know.  I have change to give.  I don't care what you spend the money on.  And I'd like to serve you if I could.  But you're so ambiguous that I just don't know.  Either way, happy Friday.

peace, and

Jingling, Jangling, Wishing, and Wondering.

Rant on Rave

Today's Globe had a feature called "Twenty Raves" in which a quartet of Globe staff members raved about the best in food in 2007- this included the eating local trend, Ratatouille, fancy food items like cheeses, sushi, and liquor, and to top it all off- Market Basket.

I don't know whether to be amused, insulted, or pleased by their inclusion of the New England based grocery chain known among moms in the area as the chain for cheap produce. And cheap lots of other things, too. (Often with deals better than Costco!) Reminds me of that NYTimes article raving about Costco as the new go-to catering source among Washington dignitary circles. It's all more than slightly patronizing the way they write of how these new discoveries- cheap things aren't terrible, but actually sort of affordable and not half bad- who knew!?

Jen: What's next? An article on coupons?

I wouldn't be surprised, Jen. Those guilt-ridden dumpster diving kids browsing through thrift stores don't fall far from the tree. Their parents are slumming it at Market Basket, buying 99-cent loaves of bread and marveling at the culture experience of shopping alongside the middle class.

Going, Going...

Dear Self:
  In the future, please remember to refer to the person that delivers your mail as the "mail carrier."  I think that's the term they prefer, and have written on the Christmas cards for years, over "postal worker"- a term that sounds just as nice, but doesn't seem to be embraced by the mail carrier population as much.  I just realized that today.  That for years I wrote cards to postal workers and for years they wrote back signing as mail carriers.  I'm sure it's not a big deal, but whatever, self.  Let's aim for being perfect next time.  You already are in every other way.

Yours sincerely,

A Making Carriers Merrier Me

I Have Nothing to Say to You

Dear Blog:
This week could not be more different than the last. The snow is melting, the sun is shining, and work? There is no work. No intense doctors have replied to any emails at 3:15 in the morning. They all seem to have finally chillaxed and I have, too. I have food in the fridge, errands completed, friends to be with, movies to watch, and time to enjoy everything. I'm usually not a fan of Christmas, but I must say, it's growing on me just a little bit this year. I can't wait to go to the Christmas Eve service tonight.
Merry Christmas.


PS. What's a Sunday-after entry without a quote from Pastor Paul, the eminently quotable preacher? The Sunday service was full of songs and performances, including the hilarious vocal styling of 50 off-tune children, and thus a bit delayed as usual. But Pastor Paul took to the pulpit and announced, "We have a special treat for you today. Since so many of you missed last week's sermon [due to a huge snow storm], I'm preaching two messages today." Then he laughed heartily. And we all chuckled uncomfortably and squirmed. Because we knew he was capable of preaching two sermons. Turns out though, it really was just a joke. People shouldn't be allowed to joke around like that.

Listener's Delight

Is it wrong that of all the lyrics that could get stuck in my head, the refrain that's been playing all day is "hotel, motel, holiday inn?"  There isn't even any melody, but those are the lyrics running through my mind right now.

Three Impressions

Have you ever walked out on a guy as he was taking a shower?  Because I live far away and Mac doesn't, I've crashed at his apartment on a couple of occasions when the weather was bad or I was just too tired to make the trek home.  Usually, both of us leave together in the morning while his roommate TimmyCakes is in the shower, because we care about going into work early more than Tim cares about personal hygiene.  Mac wasn't around last night, so it was just me Wednesday morning, thanking TimmyCakes for the bed, eating his breakfast, and then sneaking out once he stepped into the shower.  

Moi: I feel bad I'm just going to be leaving and I won't be calling.

TimmyCakes: It's OK.  It happens a lot.

---

Earlier this week was our division holiday party (or choliday party, thanks to our pre-dominantly Jewish and heathen demographics).  We all had a lovely time chatting and cooing over babies.  No one spilled.  No one behaved inappropriately.  And no one made out with me by the coat racks.  Needless to say- all very disappointing.  What's worse, I'm afraid some spouses have incorrect impressions of me.

Whitecastle (introduces us all to wife by name, we all shake hands with her):  They are the research assistants.  They are all great, except for one (points at me).

Moi: Hey, what?

Whitecastle: That's Peace and Joy.

Wife: Ah.  (nods knowingly while I look confused by her understanding look)

Whitecastle: (to me) You don't know what that means, but we do.

---

So one of the other doctors I sometimes work with, other than Whitecastle and Query, is World's Nicest Doctor.  He's not the funniest and he's not nice enough to actually knit you sweaters, but he does gives you the impression that he's very genial and he can make you smile.  Not too bad traits to have.  He also has a fondness for salami and crackers, something I discovered (and he discovered of me) when the both of us kept bumping into each other in the kitchenette area.  It was a coincidence the first time.  Funny the second time.  Weird the third time.  And just uncomfortable after that.  But whoever brought in that tray of cheese, crackers, and salami- may you and your offsprings be blessed for generations to come.  Anyway, World's Nicest Doctor is trying to outdo my email sign off.  As you imagine, it's very difficult to outdo such a good thing, but he's trying.  Which makes me want to help me/beat him to it before he thinks of something on his own.  The name is Will- suggestions, anyone? 

Best Overheard Comment du Jour

So you peeled your skin off and named it?

Sweet and Snow Down

I wrote this on the train this morning.

I overslept this morning when I really couldn't afford to, and when I opened the garage door, I found snow- falling fast from the sky and plush on my driveway. I was not expecting snow either above or below. But there it was. Apparently, the plow trucks were also surprised by the snow as they were nowhere to be found. My car saved my life on at least two occasions this morning with its brainy tires, brakes, and technology. I ended up missing my usual train but didn't mind. Laid-back, out-of-school me is like that. Yes, I still relish in being early and arrive at work almost the same time daily, but it wrecks nothing when my routine changes. I just grabbed a coffee and donut and watched the snow. And the snow was beautiful. Without classes, assignments, and exams, I can afford not to care, to be blase, and say things like que serra, serra. As I was eating my French cruller (out-of-school me is surprisingly European and pretentious), I saw by the big tooth mark indent that I had taken a bite of the wax paper bag, but after a few seconds of chewing and deciding that I couldn't taste the bag, I took a gulp of coffee and just swallowed. C'est la vie. It's true that in a few weeks, I should start studying and once again become an intense kid so I may be prepared to take some big tests, go through applications, and go back to school again. But for now, life is good. The snow is falling, the train is rolling slowly, and I'm nodding off for my morning nap (caffeine doesn't really do it for me); let me weekly raise my small coffee to you and say L'chaim!

Stay Away from the Beans

Like I've said before, for one of our studies, we're giving drugs to people who have had heart attacks.  It is my job to look at databases and randomly assign numbers to numbers.

Moi: I'm all set.  There were less people with heart attacks this time.

Whitecastle: Oh, there will be more.

Moi: Are we rooting for heart attacks?

Whitecastle: Well, it's kind of screwing with our study if they don't have them.  We don't want people to die, just to have that initial heart attack.

Moi: Of course.  So no more exercising?

Whitecastle: And eat lots of MacDonalds.

And that's your health tip of the day, brought to you by socially conscious researchers who are changing the face of medicine.  Seriously, he's among the good folks in this.

Damn the Toros in the Atmosphere

Whoever said that you don't miss a great thing until it's gone is an idiot. Because you can't miss things if they're still around. I cannot, for example, lament how I long to be with my left arm because I'm too busy using it. One thing I did have time to miss today, however, was my heat. Woke up this morning and found the house to be a brisk 53 degrees. Looked around all the windows and didn't notice any anomalies, but decided to ignore it anyway. I had errands to run and a pastor to meet-- that's an interesting thing about having a pastor for a dad and going to a church where the pastor knows your dad-- he just might go up to you and say, "Let's get coffee sometimes." And over coffee and a long chat, he just might ask you to do a personality test. And you do it and have him analyze you right then and there because Pastor Paul isn't someone you say no to. And because he has an awesome dog that he brings to work with him.

I digress. After a morning of errands, I realized that it wasn't just a morning thing but that the house was still unseasonably cold when I returned. It remained so for many, many, hours. I guess it was shivering under two blankets, a sweater, and two long sleeves while sipping soup that first tipped me off that I should call for help. And I did. The Dahls came immediately. It was unfortunate that they could not fix the problem, but only keep me company. The heating company, on the other hand, took their slow time getting here. Which explains why I still cannot feel my toes, even with the heat now fixed, the hiking socks, slippers, and blanket draped over me. But whining and possible frostbite and amputation aside, in the end, the heat people delivered. My heater now works. And I delivered a $215 check for their ten-minute repair. With one hour to go, I really can't wait for the next week to come. From here on out, there's no place to go but up.

Snowed Out

Talking with my Bo' buddies at lunch today (now a favorite part of my week, I see Lisa and Zvi the Jew for lunch every Friday), we compared notes on how we spent our early release snow day.

Zvi: Walked home, went to the movies, went home to watch DVDs, then went out to a bar with friends.

Lisa: Drove home in an hour, went to the movies, picked up groceries, watched TV, baked holiday treats.

Moi: Got home in three and a half hours, crashed on the couch, ate leftover dregs, watched a DVD, tried to doze in front of the TV and nurse a cold, shoveled for a really long time.

Apparently, life goes on after the snow when you live in the city. Crazy.

Snow Blown

As many of you know, I have one of the world's longest commutes. The subway trolley ride is usually twenty five minutes long. Today it was forty five minutes. The commuter rail ride is usually fifteen minutes long. On the way home today, it was an hour and twenty minutes long. And the car ride from the station to my house is usually twenty minutes at the most, usually fifteen on a smooth ride. It took an hour this afternoon. When you add that up, it took about three hours to get home tonight. And how long did it take to shovel the seven inches off of my side of the driveway? With a snow blower, it should have taken about a half hour to blow and shovel and scrape. Luckily for me, the blower decided to give out about two thirds of the way through. Do you know how heavy snow blowers are when they're not moving by themselves? Especially when you're going up hill? Anyway, the whole ordeal took an hour and a half. And that's how I spent most of my day today. Yet I am so grateful that I got to spend ninety minutes fighting my driveway, because all over the local news are horror stories of people who got on the road just an hour or so after me and spent four hours driving, people who had to abandon their cars 'cause they ran out of gas or because they got stuck, and plow trucks who couldn't plow because highways were littered were cars. And now I don't want to go to bed. Because once I do, I'll fall asleep and only to wake up too soon (got to get up early to re-inspect the snow damage, though it should mostly be good) and there's no doubt that I'll be dog tired and sore when I do get up. C'est la vie, je suppose. How'd you spend your day?

Possibilities

Some days, I wake up and want to do nothing else but grab some salty snacks, dips, and bread, and watch trash TV for hours on end.  Some days, I wish I could spend the day sipping chai and reading.  And some days I just want a bunch of friends over so we can carbo load on pasta together.  This morning felt like a soup morning.  And I would give so many things (though probably neither my arm nor leg) to be able to do nothing but sit on the couch, sip endless soup, listen to carols, and just doze off.  

Snow, you better not come until I start heading home in an hour and a half.

Wonderful World

Last night, the T was packed per usual.  An older lady had gotten on and was smushed in the middle of the train, surrounded by people on all sides but without anything to hold on to.  All was well for awhile until the train jerked for a turn.  She lost her balance slightly and fell onto another older guy.  She apologized to everyone around her and everyone told her that it was OK and she did not need to apologize.  The next time the train jerked, this big arm held out to her and said, "Here, this is the only thing you'll need to hold on to."  And she did.  She gripped the arm tightly and the arm held steady for her.  And that was it.  We all got to our stops OK and I really enjoyed the ride.  No one was upset that the train was crowded and everyone got along swimmingly.  Then I got American fare at a German restaurant and celebrated my (belated) birthday with Bo' friends.  American food at German restaurant with Bo' folks-- that's pretty much the only way there is to celebrate momentous occasions. 

The Girl Who Cried Smart

Moi: Do you have a minute?  I have two questions for you.

Whitecastle: Just questions, no comment this time?

Moi: Huh?  No, just two questions.

Whitecastle: No smart remarks?  No wise cracks?

Moi: Oh.  No.  I don't know what you're talking about.  I work very hard and never make smart comments... Why are you laughing?  Could you please stop laughing?  I have real questions!


Walking back from Stop & Shop today, lunch in hand, I see one of our fellows in the hallway.  We don't really know each other and exchange curt greetings.  But a few seconds after we pass each other, I hear him stop, turn around, and exclaim, "Wait, were those Jamaican meat pies?"  By then, we had walked too far apart for me to respond.  But it was my favorite moment of the day.  And they sure were Jamaican meat pies.  Patties are my lunch of choice when I'm too lazy to bring anything and too cheap to buy real food.  It's unfortunate that the Stop & Shop kind falls quite short of others I've tasted, but hey, at least they try.  (I think the problem is that they make their own instead of ship them sketchily up from Jamaica the way Ada's does.)

Unfortunate Name of the Day

Dr. T. Graboys. 

Seriously? 

Acting Our Age

Moi: I think I've found where to find the answers to our Medicare questions. (hand Doc a packet of federal regulations) and how companies are dealing with it.(and doc slightly smaller packet of similarly small font and hard-to-read releases).

Whitecastle: Good. What does it say?

Moi: Well-

Whitecastle: (sighs) Do I look like I have time to read this? Do I look like a lawyer?

Moi: Isn't your brother a lawyer?

(Jess: He does look like a lawyer.)

Whitecastle: Just tell me what the answer is.

Moi: Do I look like a lawyer? I just know the general gist-

Whitecastle: See, you are a research assistant. You are to assist me in research. This is research. Now tell me the answers.

(Uncomfortable silence)

(Aaaaand, scene! Whitecastle finally laughs, takes the packets, and says he'll read it. I am relieved that it is all over and that I am not fired for yet another day. Acts are fun when I'm not being fired.)

PS- The second battle of Scrabble War is nearing an end and things aren't looking so sunny for our boys. Keep them in your prayers, everyone. Query/Evil isn't as easy to conquer as we had hoped. Or maybe my brilliance is just not shining as bright in this dark hour.

Running on Empty

What kind of drug store runs out of cold medication?  A drug store next to a world-class teaching hospital during flu season, apparently.  A drug store without drugs is as ridiculous as a grocery store without groceries.  Oh, wait, we've seen that happen, too.  Honestly, people, does capitalism mean nothing to you?  Are you trying to lose money?  We're not in Soviet Russia anymore, you know.  Or China.  Or Cuba.  Especially not Cuba.  They don't even have to stand in line for stuff.  They have a great state-run healthcare system.  

I like to buy the sort of cold medication that's behind the counter, because illicit drugs are fun and pseudoephrine works wonders.  When I didn't see any generic version of the multi-symptom cold medication I wanted (generics are just as good, always go with generics, down with big pharma!), I opted for Tylenol, picked up the card, and went to the counter.

Counter Lady: I'm sorry, we're out of this.

Moi: Do you have the generic Drug Store Not to Be Named kind?

Counter Lady: (searches around) What are your symptoms?

Moi: I just have a cold.  

Counter Lady: (impatient) What are your symptoms?

Moi: Nasal congestion, and-

Counter Lady: (runs away before I could finish, picks up a generic allergy med, consults with co-worker if it's right for me, decides against it, and comes back to me with Sudafed)  You don't need the other one.  Here's Sudafed.

Moi: But-

Counter Lady: (look of death)

And thus I reluctantly bought the Sudafed that only covered one third of my symptoms.  Then took some of my own painkillers to cover the rest, forgetting there was also caffeine in them.  Now my chest feels funny. 

Tumble-Down, Work-a-Day

For months, working life was a breeze. I went to the office. Did some menial tasks. Got home at a reasonable hour. Worked out. Cooked dinner and lunch. Watched TV or hung out with friends. Rinse and repeat.

In recent weeks, however, things have been turned upside down. Work is kicking my butt. The weather is, too. Family things keep coming up. And I've pretty much packed on all the holiday weight that I would ever need for the next decade or so. I know that things come in waves and this, too, shall pass. But it's been a hectic few weeks and things don't look like they'll let up. I've even started working late and bringing stuff home. (Turns out, I have a work ethic- who knew?)

But I don't mind being beat up because I sort of like work. Last week, Doc Whitecastle shared that for one of the studies I'm minimally helping him on (we're giving some people free medication after they have heart attacks, how awesome is that!?), two patients have called in tears to thank the study. That's pretty cool. I don't mind giving up celebrity gossip and facebook stalking for that. Of course, when the work dies down again, I wouldn't mind going back to stalking and gossip, either. And I'll be right back here to tell you all about it. G'night.

Knee Jerk

Church ran a little long this morning. An old lady miraculously recovering from cancer had went on a little too long sharing about her experiences so the pastor's sermon started about twenty minutes late. But Pastor Paul is not one to skimp on messages. He just told us to sit tight for he had important things to share. And when he caught one couple sneaking out, he made sure that they'd never make the same mistake again. He called them out in the middle of the sermon.

Pastor: Hey Kenny, where're you going?! The Patriots don't play until four.

Kenny, upon hearing his name, immediately drops to his knees and crawls the rest of the way out of the sanctuary.

Awesome (though also scary) moment. Awesome reaction. Though I just might have nightmares about church tonight.

Best Week Ever

OK, this week was not the best week ever. But it was a pretty solid one. I made a good point in an important meeting at work. I served food to the homeless. And I got to see/hear from some great friends. And I lived another year. Of the fifty two out of the year, it definitely makes the top twenty. Here are some of the week’s highlights.

Best Pot Meet Kettle Comment

Doc Whitecastle: [Even though you have it on the computer], I’ll just print it out for you.

Moi: Yeah, just kill trees, whatever.

Doc Whitecastle: Killing trees, but saving lives.

Moi: Yes. Once you’ve seen one tree, you’ve pretty much seen them all anyway, right? (I know I just referenced that early this week. Get used to it. I say this stupid line a lot.)

Doc: Right. Like Chinese people.

This from an Indian man?

Best ‘Dear God, Is He Still Speaking?’ Look

Given by Doc Query during the division meeting. Not one for subtlety, Query sighed and widened his eyes with such a look of disdain I couldn’t help but break out laughing, which once again, did not make a great impression.

Best Multiple Level Discomfort Joke

Moi: (telling my family lush myth story) So at my grandfather’s banquet, I had one beer-

Mrs. Cho: Then got up on the table and started dancing?

Jim: Happy birthday, Mr. President--

Moi: Haha! (Pause to reflect) Wait, what? Ew! That’s so wrong. That’s my grandfather!

Jim: He was not Catholic!

Best Dating of Oneself While Trying to Act Cool

Supervisor, explaining my 'Go Shorty' reference to the Chief, a reference she had to ask to clear up herself just moments earlier...

Supervisor (sounding all confident and knowledgeable): You see, it's the first line of a pop song.


Best New Friend I've Always Known

Often when I meet new Boston Project staff, folks like Dwighters forget to introduce them to me because they just assume that we have known each other for years. And most of the time, an hour into hanging out and working together, it feels like it too. It was that way again today when I met Liz, worked with her, grew to like her very quickly, and after the workday was over, hung out with her with a few of our mutual BP friends. Moments like that make me marvel again at how awesome BP is and how it's impacted my life. And oh, Dusty, we all eagerly await your arrival in March.

Generation Over

I have not used AIM in years.  Like all good kids of my generation, I spent much of my adolescent in front of a screen checking away messages and talking with friends online even as I gossip about them with someone else.  And in college, IM'ing made comparing chem answers with Mac much easier than actually picking up the phone or walking down two flights of stairs.  But somewhere around the end of sophomore year, I started using AIM less and less.  GChat, I found, was much easier.  There were less people to deal with (I don't know if you know this, but I have an ardent crowd of fans on AIM) and I didn't have to sign on and off.  Thus was life for the past few years, blissfully Gchatting.  Until yesterday.  The Corporation that Never Ceases Hungering unveiled that AIM was now available in google chat.  And so, I loaded up my buddy list again after many, many moons away.  Here was my first conversation:

Kid from Long Ago: amy?

Moi: No.  Andy?  Jeff?

Kid from Long Ago: No.  Geoff.

Moi: Oh.  

And suddenly, it dawned on me.  Dear God, I really am growing old.  My mind is just not as agile as it used to be.  My brain can't retain all those screen names of years past.  And very soon, I'll turn twenty three.

Yet the Sides are Two

Last night, on the T ride home, the train took a longer stop than usual and after several minutes of shutting the train on and off, the conductor asked everyone to move to the left side of the train.  We've all heard conductors stop to wait for passengers to move to the back, but to the left? 

Here, is what he said next, "Ladies and gentlemen, we need all the passengers to please move to the left side of the train.  The door on the right is stuck and we're trying to close it.  Thank you for your patience, we will be moving once the door closes." 

It took awhile longer for the door to close.  I guess it was stuck on the curb.  But next time you're asked to tilt to one side of the train, you'll know why.

When You're Sitting on the Lawn

Do you know the diarrhea song(s)?  Did you sing them growing up?  I know that you don't like to comment, but please tell me one way or another.  I simply need to know.

Up until a month ago, I thought they were the type of songs that everyone grew up singing, like Twinkle Twinkle (hee), but I have recently discovered that that is simply not true.  Most people I have asked about the diarrhea songs give me a blank look at best and a repulsed shake at worst.  I learned the songs from my brother.  Who says that he learned them in middle school.  The songs are a real and legit part of American culture because there's a wikipedia entry out there on it and they were even mentioned in a Steve Martin movie. Yet most of my contemporaries not knowing them.  So I wonder- is it geographic?  Is it generational?  Is it intellect (those who know, of course, being those who possess higher intellect)?  What makes it so that my brother, his middle school, and I learned this popular cultural phenomenon and none of my high school/college friends did? 

Example of diarrhea song:

When you're sitting on the lawn
and you see something brown
diarrhea~  diarrhea~

Can you add more?

What the World Needs Now

New things are exciting.  Take my life, for instance, new work place, new responsibilities, new face, and non-stop thrills.  Sometimes though, it's good to feel comfortable and know everyone's name.  Yesterday, I was walking down the hallway (outside of our division but inside of our building) with my supervisor.  My supervisor has worked in the division much longer than I have and is much higher up than I am so natch, she knows more people than I do.  I can name everyone in our division but step outside the confines of our office and I'm generally clueless about the ways of the greater Brigham world, but I'm learning.  And after six months, when you see a face enough times, it makes an impression.  We walked past a petite little lady who looked very excited to see me and exchanged greetings.

(Once the lady is out of earshot)

Supervisor: Do you know her?

Moi: No.

Supervisor: Does she work in the dental office?

Moi: I don't know.  Maybe. 

Supervisor: I've never seen her before in my life.

Moi: That's impossible.  I see her all the time-  I call her Unusually Friendly Lady.  Jen and I, we love Unusually Friendly Lady.  She's so- friendly.

We could really use more unusually friendly ladies in the world (not to be confused with easy ladies-- we don't need those).  Sometimes though, we also need more people to understand sarcasm.  I made the same stupid crack I always make this morning about how "once you've seen one tree, you've seen them all."  And instead of saying, "that's not funny, moron" the lady I was working with just looked really, really sad.  Then quietly said, with a resigned voice, that she tries to recycle.  Which made me feel sad, too.  And I wanted to cry with her.

Miss You like a Missing Child

I'll be impressed if you know the title song, though I have a feeling I've used it before.

In many ways, snow is like children.  Much more enjoyable from a distance, but very messy up close (except for Nora, of course!  Hello, Nora's Mother).  This morning, I got up a little before the ungodly hour of 5am to rid my long and hilly driveway of snow.  It was freezing outside, so I donned a black fleece face mask that I found, much akin to the ninja masks I used to wear in old country (I moonlighted as a ninja because the assassin industry, unlike textiles was unregulated and rife with fortunes).  I'm not sure what the neighbors thought of me when they peered out of their windows to check out the loud rumbling and saw a little ninja with a bright red jacket, fighting the snow so, so, so early in the morning.  I know what I thought of them: Lazy bastards.  None of them had even stepped outside to check out the snow by the time I drove off at 6:20am.  It was my first time clearing the snow by myself via snowblower and doing it so early in the morning to then drive in the snow and then head off to work, so I may have overestimated the amount of time I needed by just a little.  But still, my neighbors are lazy bastards.  

(Let's all pause to reflect and cheer on the fact that snow blower did not mangle my limbs and I did not die in a fiery car crash en route to work.)

Speaking of sleep deprivation, I've been dozing off on the T lately.  I normally nap on the commuter, but doing so on the subway is much more tricky and risky.  There are stops and people to pay attention to and you miss much more when you fall asleep.  On Friday, the subway car came to a stop for a minute and I nodded off right way.  During that period of sleep, something important apparently happened because when I woke up, it was almost my stop and the conductor was apologizing (again) for the delay and reassuring passengers that connecting trains will be held for them.  They've never assured us that connecting trains will be held for us before.  But I guess what the delay was all about will just have to be one of those mysteries of life I'll ever find out.  Unless you know what it was about.  Then you could tell me and I wouldn't have to be in the dark.

Chuck Norris Hearts Huckabee

I saw presidential hopeful (but maybe not too hopeful) Mike Huckabee this morning. He spoke at the new church I go to and was very good at playing the down-to-earth game. Going to church in New Hampshire means that politicians occasionally stop by and hope to make a good impression, though Huckabee is the highest level candidate I've seen so far. The church does not side with a specific political party (refreshing difference from the crushing right-wind politics of the churches I went to up at the Bo') and has always been careful to support those placed in authority no matter their affiliations. This morning, for example, the pastor thanked God that all was safe and well with the Clinton campaign even as Huckabee was in the audience. With that said, I think most of the church will be supporting Huckabee now.

He was told not to talk politics but to just preach (he used to be a Baptist minister). And I'm impressed by how shrewd he was. I guess it makes sense that preaching helps you to become a convincing political speaker and a political speaker an engaging preacher. Technically, yes, Huckabee stuck to the Bible, generally steered clear of politics, and made no promises of what he was going to do if he ever became elected. But he subtly made references to his trip(s?) to Iraq, his respect and gratitude to American soldiers, and his commitment to the poor, tooting his own horn in offhand ways, mixing the medicine of his campaign in with his message. He was self-deprecating, full of jokes, and incredibly charming. He even joined in with the praise band for an impromptu jam, playing a little bit of bass. The worship leader made a crack about how Huckabee was the only person to ever wear a tie in the praise band, which prompted Huckabee, in a suit and far sharply dressed than the rest of the casual-clad congregation, to rip off his tie on the spot. This then led the pastor, who had only put on a tie for the occasion, to gladly rip his off as well.

Reading up on him, I realize now that he's not as awful as I had expected him to be and that his politics exhibits some real nice differences from the other Republicans in contention (which explains why the party conservatives are still complaining about the Mormon Romney and divorced Giuliani instead of jumping on-board behind the Baptist minister). It's too bad that I still think he's wrong on health care, foreign policy, national security, etc, etc (you know, the details), because I liked what I read, appreciated his charismatic and restrained performance this morning, and thinks that if he ought to run for something, maybe he should try being governor again. And while I would never vote or endorse him, if you have to vote for his party, go Huckabee. We could do (have seen/are seeing) a lot worse.