Old man Winter

So A few months ago I saw Old Man Winter on the train. I kid you not. There I was minding my own business quietly eves-dropping on the couple in front of me arguing about his "obvious" social faux pas. On aside, it was not really his fault. How was he to know it is not appropriate to discuss her very smelly feet at a cocktail party? He is not a mathmagician!
Anyway I felt a slow bitter cold presence pour over me like steam over the side of a boiling pot. I shivered and pulled my coat and scarf more securely around my muscularly bodice. But the teeth chattering, nostril burning feeling would not subside. And then I saw him, standing near the door!
He is very thin and tall. His hair is pure white and hangs down to the middle of his back. His beard is the same dove white and matches the length of his hair. His mouth is not visible beneath the alpine facial grooming. After gazing into his crystal blue eyes that are devoid of pupils I can tell he is grinning. He is very pleased with the shivering subway car he has created. And he is even more amused with the intruding aggressive chill he has produced outside. Before I can react he departs the train at the next stop. I think it was Arlington (never get off at Arlington FYI). The remainder of the week was amazingly cold! I knew it was my fault. If I had not froze, pun intended, I could have choked the bastard and saved Boston! After a week it warmed up. Old Man Winter must have left. I think he went to New Hampshire.

This morning as I walked home from the hospital I was sure I had frost bite on my ears. They had gotten so cold they hurt, and then they stopped hurting, so I was sure they fell off. This afternoon it all made sense. George text me and said he was on the train with Old Man Winter! I told George to capture him, and have not heard from him since. But it’s still really cold, so George most likely did not make it out alive. A moment of silence...

If you see Old Man Winter creeping around in your neighborhood, do us all a favor; take him to a steam room, a hot tub, or for hot coco. Whatever you do don't let him get away!

Anti-depressants

Recently I have had a few weeks where I was feeling low. I could not place my finger on it, but for some reason I was sad. Some possibilities I came up with are:
1-winter, long, cold, grey
2-I can't juggle
3-I have been working 60+ hour weeks
4-I lost a sock doing laundry
5-I miss being close to my family
6-I realized I most likely will not grow up to be a dinosaur
7-roomates keep our apartment in constant disarray
8-I can't fit my fist in my mouth
9-most of my recreational activities involve drinking
10-I came in second at a "Mike look alike contest"

So I decided quick action was required. I started with a healthier lifestyle. Eating better, cutting drinking down to one night a week. I also started running 5 times a week and joined the local gym. And I have actually been going regularly. Slowly, and steadily my outlook became much brighter, and my smile returned. I noticed that when I am in a good mood, other people seem to be in a good mood too. Maybe happy people gravitate to each other, and the same for gloomy folks. Turns out exercise and a healthy body are my anti-depressants. I am going to re-enter that "look alike" contest now and see if I can beat the girl that won the first round!

SNOW daze!

This Blog is devoted to all the kids back in the SLC, 801! So for the entire week all people have been talking about is this HUGE storm we are suppose to get Friday (today). People planned ahead, stocking up on food, water, condoms, whatever. Schools closed, the mayor (a ditz) ordered all "non-essential" staff to go home. Basically people are just freaking out. Well it's Friday. It's all happening. I am looking out the window of my office and it is the kind of snow we would call light, flurry, snow flakes the size of pepper flakes. The "STORM" was forecasted to start early this morning and "dump" all day. Total accumulation so far...get ready... better sit down... do you have enough food and condoms... 3 inches! OH SNACKS! I better get out of here and down into the bomb shelter (which we actually do have, it breaks the ice during orientation, here’s the cafeteria, the locker room, and the bomb shelter) before the roof collapses and I am crushed!

During my short time here, they have had 5! Snow days. Ok, those in the SLC, raise your hand if you remember 5 snow days in one year. No one? Ok, raise your hand if you remember 5 snow days total. Fine, raise your hand if you even remember a snow day. That’s what I thought. New England if full of high-strung-stress-cases. Back when I was your age, we used ta hav ta go ta skool thru ten foot a snow e'vry day! Once I had a legitimate snow day. I told my dad. He made me walk to school anyway, which was closed. But every kid in the "hood" was there anyway sledding. Even when we don't have to go to school we went. Why? Because that is what Jesus would do!
I'M DONE.

Boston, Big name- little city.

Boston is a big place. I am not sure how many people live here, but do know there are 300,000 college students alone. The great thing about Boston is how small it is despite its size. I think there are two reasons for this. One, different parts of Boston have their own names and attitudes. For instance I live in Brookline Village, or just "the village". Its mostly Jewish upper middle class. We have tons of restaurants and small shops. Some other places are Washington Square (heavy Russian influence) Back Bay ($$$) The North End (little Italy) Cambridge (Harvard and MIT, what more do I need to say) Roxbury (don't go there) Jamaica Plain (Artists, big houses) South End (Irish) and so on. People take pride in where they live, which promotes solidarity. And the second reason there is an intimate feeling is that people are forced to be near each other. If you commute, you see the same faces on the train. It becomes rude after seeing the same face everyday not to say hi. Having laundry in your building is a luxury. So again you see the same people week after week (or month after month in my case) washing their drawers. And what’s more intimate than washing your undies with your neighbors. Because most people walk, they use places that are convenient. Same grocers, same banks, same delis, same coffee shops.

The catalyst for this rant is that I actually ran into the same girl three times yesterday, in three different places. First she was in the laundry mat, then in the coffee shop, and finally in the restaurant where I had dinner. But I don't live in Wyoming or some other tiny place. I live in Boston. And yet I run into the same people all the time. Sometimes its old friends but often it’s a familiar face, who becomes a new friend. If you approach someone friendly they are very likely to reciprocate. So the next time you find yourself stuck in line try saying hello to someone.

Brass is made of copper and what metal?

Well here we are, Monday, again. And once again I have a fun packed weekend to write about.
Friday was a relief after working a 60 hour work week. I left my lab early and hurried home to start the craziness that would be the weekend. I was super excited when my buddy Bret (The Amtrekker) surprised us by bursting through the door to stay with us for a while. He just finished #6 on his list by walking to the top of the empire state building! We took the lazy road and walked to our local bar (Matt Murphy's). Its always a sure shot as they have live music every night. The band was large and mostly salsa music. The place is always so packed that dancing is impossible however.
Saturday Bret and I made our way to Harvard for the wrestling match. We met up with Daria, who despite my excellent offer to let her cheat would not wrestle me. Harvard actually won the match! And this is where things go the way of out of control. Jessica picked us up in Harvard square and drove us to meet George and his Nerd crew from the museum. The plan was to go play laser tag. I know some of you picture laser tag as immature or an activity that should be left to young prepubescent middle school kids. But what you may not realize is that these young kids are easy pickings for a superior and dominate sniper like myself. I will admit I felt a little sleazy being at least ten years older than any one in the place I did not come with. But after beating Bret three times in dance-dance-revolution I lost my inhibitions. The squeaky voiced acne ridden curfew abiding mob was no match for me. I was pleased to take THIRD place! No matter that the kid who won was 14. It’s still early when we get back to Brookline so we hit a bar. The bar was a dive so we decide to move on. We are walking down the street when we notice a group of people having a great time and decide we should check it out. Turns out we follow them into a water-polo party for Boston College students. We instantly blend in and make friends. I even spent a while serving keg beer to the hormone driven crowd. After witnessing several scenes of way too affectionate public displays, its time to leave. The night ends with some well fought foosball.
Sunday George and I decide the state of our apartment requires serious action. We must either burn the place to the ground, or clean like our parents are about to visit. We decide neither of us should go back to jail, and commit to a deep cleaning. After hours of intense scrubbing, I was again comfortable and pleased with my living quarters. We quickly clean up and put on our best suits to meet Aaron for his work party at the very swanky Harvard Club. We do our best to mingle with the elite of the Boston social scene but in the end move to a place we are more comfortable. Most Sundays we play trivia at a place in the Back Bay called Crossroads. Bar trivia is great! A proctor asks random questions and everyone works in teams to answer them in hopes of proving our intellectual eminence to the MIT students that typically win. My team did quite well. If it weren't for one question where our team was divided and ultimately chose the wrong answer, we would have won. The second place prize is a clear plastic Jenga game. More Foosball gets me to bed and now we are all up to date. Back to work, but my personal approach to life is once again validated, ITS FUN TO HAVE FUN!

6 word Memoir

An interesting idea I heard recently was to write a six word memoir for yourself. Try and fit as much of yourself and your life into six words to encompass your entire life and personal perspective. Something that might fit on your head stone. I came up with a few for me, tell me what you think. And write one for yourself. Have fun!

Socially gifted, goal reaching, wilderness seeking.

Big hair, Big heart, Big party.

Affable leader, gentle engager, good douchebag.

Boston brewing male seeks daily happiness.

Tom-Foolery

Hello all. Or the five people that read this. I am sure everyone is one the edge of their seat curious what I have been up to. Being a sleep specialist I feel I must update you so you can stop loosing sleep over it. It can be summarized by basic "tom-foolery".
My week days are typically the same. I wake up, sometimes by soggy items being placed on my chest by my generous cat (Frank). I go to work. I help little cute kids sleep more better, and then I save a few lives on my way home. Not very exciting, But I make up for it on the weekends. Some of you spend the weekends with me, and can verify this.
This weekend started with a quiet movie with 5 friends. The names of these friends will be left anonymous for their protection. There is a great theater by my place called the Coolidge Corner Theater
It is a historic independent theater with tons of character. A bunch of us had free passes. We won them several months ago by participating in a "truffle shuffle" contest at a screening of the Goonies. I should have won the contest, I didn't have enough belly fat to properly replicate, but that is a tangent. We watched Juno. It is a very funny film. It was enhanced by some adult "tea" we brought from home. If any of the employees inquired of my beverage my plan was to explain that I needed to drink it to control a kidney disorder. I did not get a chance to tell anyone my story. Feeling especially euphoric after the movie we decided the night was still young and a stop at the local tavern was in order. The Washington Tavern is a unique type of bar. It is managed by some Irish guy who hires his staff for personal reasons that don't necessarily include good customer service. I have witnessed the bar tender ask a group of girls to leave because the were taking too long with their drink order. They also will simply refuse to make any drink they do not approve of. Don't order anything with a garnish, or if fruit juice is required. They are more than happy to pour anyone a whiskey. We all had one and that if pretty much where my night ended.
Saturday I woke early and went for a run. There is a great pond near us called the Jamaican Pond. It is about a mile to run around and is a very nice green place in the middle of the city. I think this is where I will do most of my running. Feeling great after doing something healthy, I went back up to Cambridge to watch Harvard vs. Boston University wrestling match. The teams were more evenly matched than the previous weeks and it ended with a tie. I explored Cambridge a bit more having lunch at a really colorful burger place. To acquire a burger there are several steps. It is a process that locals are very efficient with, and tourists (which I consider myself) fumble and fail. It starts with waiting outside in a line. A lady hands you a menu. I thought, how nice, now I have time to read everything and make a good choice. Nope. The line moves forward and there is an old guy sitting on a stool taking orders. So of course when it is my turn I just point to a burger (turns out it is the Condoleezza Rice, which has bacon, cheese, and a gap) add a ginger ale, my menu is taken, the order disappears and I remain in line. After several minutes I am at the front of the line. Some places keep track of different orders by taking a name. Not this place. Here you are identified based on your drink order. This girl asks "are you the ginger ale?" I think she is making a joke about my hair. She guides me into the restaurant which is super crowed with a wide variety of people looking very happy with their burgers. The seating is ideal for people like me, who like to talk to everyone. The tables are long and run the entire length of the place. The hostess points to an open seat between an older gentleman and a young couple. Not only does this place serve very tasty burgers named after infamous people, it is a great place to make friends. By the time I left I knew that the older guy (Richard) was a venture capitalist, and the young couple had met at Harvard and were recently married. We all had ordered a different variety of fries, which become communal. Saturday ends with me making Marsala sauce for ten people and Sunday is the super bowl. I just realized how long I have been rambling so I will wrap it up with a cliff hanger and follow up later. If you add 2 cups of corn starch to sauce it makes sauce Jell-O. Cheers!