This is where I've chosen to spend my long weekend

Can I call 'em or what?

Hippie state native

As usual, I've been letting my bottles and cans pile up beneath the sink, and on Sunday I finally hauled them out to the car and headed to the supermarket.

So I wandered around Wegmans for a good 10 minutes the other day looking for the bottle and can return machines. I started near the main entrance. No dice. Then I went down a level to the wine section. Nope. I went back up to the main level and went outside to the loading dock area. Nada.

I finally went to the customer service desk and got a blank look from the woman there before she told me, a puzzled tone in her voice, "We don't have one of those at this store."

And then it hit me: They don't have bottle and can deposits down here, ergo no bottle and can return centers at supermarkets. I guess after 30 years of living in states where they do charge deposits that it's a hard habit to break. Until Sunday, I hadn't even noticed that I hadn't been paying the extra 60 cents on a 12-pack of soda. (It also dawned on me that I haven't seen homeless people picking through the trash for refundable cans.)

But it is nice to know I can just dump the things out with the rest of the curbside recycling. But living in crunchy states has had another effect on me, as I'm constantly annoyed that several of my neighbors don't seem to have a problem with dumping trash into the recycling bins. Sigh.

Handyman

My mom liked to tease us kids about our hands. She'd grab one with both of her hands and say, "So soft. Never seen a hard day's work."

This is a woman who'd been in the kitchen since she was a child and had a longtime cook's ability to reach into a hot oven without a mitt and grab a pan without so much as batting an eyelid. "Asbestos Hands," my sister dubbed her.

I was reminded of this the other night when I was slaving over my new desk from Ikea. "Gustav" is its name. (And, by the way, having finally made my first trip to an Ikea -- awesome! I realize I'm well behind the times here, but I don't care. Also, I'd like to know how many people Ikea employs to not only figure out how to deconstruct furniture so an idiot like me can put it together, but also how to get all those pieces to fit snugly together in a tiny, tiny box.)

Anyhow, the assembly of my bookcase ("Billy") went smoothly. But Gustav came with many, many screws and required a good deal of, um, screwing. And all those times I've been at Lowe's and thought, "Gee, I really should pick up a cordless drill" but did nothing about it came back to haunt me.

And as I watched a fat blister grow on my middle finger, I thought about how my mom would have scoffed at me. (And how she'd probably have scoffed at furniture made of pressed wood and held together with screws, nails and dowels, as opposed to the hardwood with finely crafted dovetails she always sought out.)

But damn if I didn't still feel some sense of accomplishment, even if it was packaged and sold to me by a bunch of Swedes.

Shiny new laptop, Part II

You might remember that my previous employer incorrectly believed I would enjoy being able to work from outside the office.

It turns out my current employer is of the same school of thought, so they whisked away my desktop computer yesterday and handed me a laptop. This is all being done in the name of "business continuity," so that if, for instance, a snowstorm prevents us from getting to the office we can still work. Because who'd want a snow day? Not me!

Aside: The weather scenario was actually how they explained the decision to us, though it was totally obvious someone in a corner office somewhere was really thinking: "TERRORISTS!!! What if someone decides to take out our strategically important office park with a dirty bomb???" Living in the nation's capital is fun.

I think I'm actually OK with getting the laptop, which is a decent machine and comes with the bonus of company-paid access to WiFi pretty much anywhere, meaning I can use it a Starbucks or at a hotel without paying whatever outrageous fee they charge.

But the carrying case they gave me for this laptop is the most god-awful thing I've ever seen. It is proof that when you try to please everybody, you please nobody. Whoever designed this bag decided it would be grand if you could: 1. Carry it like a briefcase. 2. Wear it like a backback. 3. Sling it over your shoulder like a messenger bag. So, this thing probably has more straps and belts than your average dominatrix dungeon (not that I would know anything about what such a place would contain.)

I guess you could tout that as a safety feature -- it's so ugly no one in their right mind would steal it.

Go ahead, push the buttons for every floor

To go up two floors from the parking garage to my desk at work, I have to take one elevator, walk across the lobby, and then take another elevator. It probably takes a little over a minute, or, as I learned on Gizmodo, nearly twice as long as it takes the elevators at Taipei 101 to go from the fifth floor to the 89th.

I was in the Taipei 101 building in January, but after the observation deck had closed. So we wandered around the shopping mall at the base of the tower -- which is pretty darn impressive in itself, with various levels dedicated to Asian luxury shops, European luxury shops and U.S. luxury shops. (I had the most fun, though, checking out a supermarket obviously aimed at U.S. and Canadian customers, with various goodies from home.)

There also was the requisite food court and a section of upscale dining, where we had, a bit surprisingly, somewhat mediocre Chinese food (Shanghai cuisine, I believe.) Moral of the story: Fine dining and shopping malls don't mix anywhere in the world.

Hey, two posts in one day!

Washington's Chinatown, which consists of such authentic eateries as Chipotle, McDonald's, Legal Sea Foods, Ruby Tuesday and so on, along with quaint shops including CVS, Urban Outfitters and Bed, Bath & Beyond, has been much more accurately described as Chinablock. And even that might be a bit of a stretch.

Thus, it's nice to go to New York's Chinatown, even if the traditional neighborhood -- like its counterparts in Toronto, San Francisco and Vancouver -- is a shadow of its former self, with much of the population gone to the outer boroughs and the suburbs.

Before I headed up to New York, I found what looked to be a gem on Chowhound. The camera phone shot doesn't do it justice, but this steamed pork bun was about 50% larger than what you'd get at your standard dim sum place. Plus it was filled a pretty impressive portion of barbecue pork, and not the bright-red variety found in most buns.

The absolute best part? The buggers cost 70 cents each, so I had two. (Interesting side note: There is, sigh, a Starbucks down Canal Street from this place, so I decided to brave the tourists and go in there to sit and snack on my buns. This Starbucks does not attempt to make a nod to its Chinatown location -- I don't think the one in D.C.'s Chinablock does, either -- but I did note that one large bank in Chinatown has broken from its corporate color scheme and put up a giant red sign, red being the color symbolizing good fortune in Chinese culture. Someone in marketing is up for a bonus, methinks.)

Anyway, as part of my trip to New York I had decided to cram as much food down my throat as possible, so I hit up a burger joint in the West Village I've read a lot about and been dying to try since it opened last fall. For fancy-pants burgers, I have long been partial to this one in Portland, which had the bonus of being available across the street from the office. The Pinesburger also is hard to beat. I really, really like BLT Burger a lot. The burger I had could have used a touch more seasoning, and the bun is a bit wimpy. But damn, the meat is good. Plus, the bar snack is this ridiculously amazing spicy, cheesy popcorn, which the bartender said they make in-house. Toss in a couple of Brooklyn Lagers, and I was quite content.

But that didn't mean I didn't grab a slice of pepperoni before hopping on the train home.

Road warrior

It occurred to me last night on the train from New York to D.C. that I've racked up a decent number of travel miles this year. Maybe not so much for someone who travels regularly for work, but quite a few for the average person. Yesterday's trip falls into the Somewhat Silly category -- as opposed to personal or work -- as it struck me that I'd spent about six hours on the train and a few hundred dollars to go to the bank.

(Long story short: It was a transaction that had to take place in person, and this particular bank's closest location was in New York.)

So -- not that you're terribly interested, but more for my amusement and personal informal recordkeeping -- is what I've been up to this year:

JANUARY

• In Ithaca for New Year's
• In Taiwan to visit family
• In Ithaca to visit friends

FEBRUARY

• In Portland for an Oscars party (this being the other trip that falls into the Slightly Silly category)

MARCH

• Job interview in D.C.
• Visiting Ithaca again
  

APRIL

• Another job interview in D.C.
• Conference in Miami

MAY

• Vacation in Portland
• Catching up with friends in New York
• Move from Connecticut to D.C.
  

JUNE

• Teaching in South Dakota
• Vacation in Ithaca

AUGUST

• Consulting trip to Florida (And, yes, it was a surprise to me anyone thought I had something interesting to say.)

SEPTEMBER

• In Ithaca yet again

OCTOBER

• Vacation in San Francisco and Portland

NOVEMBER

• Banking in NYC

So, if you're keeping score, that's about 40,000 air miles and a few thousand by car.

No wonder I'm tired.

I can't believe I missed this

Yesterday, while the rest of you were celebrating or ignoring Columbus Day (and I was enduring a bomb-scare delay at the Oakland airport), we totally missed out on National Kick Butt Day.

Now that I think about it, it's too bad they didn't arrest anyone at the airport, because how awesome would it be to take down an actual bomb-toting terrorist on National Kick Butt Day?

"Look kids ... Big Ben ... Parliament"

Because they let some French dude design this city, there are traffic circles all over the place.

Remarkably, they work pretty well at keeping things moving considering they were designed with slower modes of transportation in mind.

And I'm sure I'll eventually get tired of the European Vacation dialogue that runs through my head every time I get stuck in one of these circles, but for now it's an appreciated moment of levity.

Our combustible subway system, however, is a different matter altogether.

0-for-3

To the right you see a plate of shrimp scampi with linguine, which is what I wanted for dinner tonight. I ordered it at a Maryland outpost of a restaurant I have liked for many years. I did not get to enjoy a plate of shrimp scampi tonight, however.

Instead, I was first served a plate of chicken with linguine, which the bartender (I was eating at the bar) immediately recognized as incorrect and whisked away.

Several minutes later, someone I did not see (I was watching TV) put a plate of fettucine alfredo with shrimp in front of me. I hadn't eaten anything all day, and it was hot and tasty, so I dug in. A few bites in, the bartender wandered past and, noticing I was eating the wrong dish, insisted on taking the plate away, ignoring my (somewhat feeble) protest that it was fine.

A few more minutes (and one free pint) later, he returned triumphantly and set a third dish in front of me with a flourish. It was shrimp fra diavolo with spaghetti. But at this point I wasn't going to give any indication that anything was off, and I just ate my food.

I should note that everything was very good, just not what I ordered. And the bartender certainly gets at least a B for effort. The kitchen, on the other hand, might need a wee bit of a refresher.

Party time at work

My company is celebrating its 25th anniversary this week, and as part of the festivities today was Free Alcohol Day. (It was marketed as a reception that followed the monthly staff meeting. Whatev.)

The decent beer went pretty quickly, so I was stuck drinking Corona. And, yes, I am the type to criticize free beer. But there were a couple of things worth noting:

1. It's nice to have your boss stop by your desk to make sure you've had a chance to have a beer with your work.

2. While we were offered popcorn with our Free Alcohol, the corporate types who work on the other side of the building had actual food with their Free Alcohol. Boo.

3. As I pointed out to some co-workers, we really should be allowed to booze at work every day, considering they sell beer and wine in the lobby gift shop. Or maybe that's supposed to be for the drive home.

I may have inadvertantly solicited something I did not mean to solicit

I have flown through the Minneapolis airport many times.

I have used a restroom at MSP many times.

I do the following every time I use an aiport restroom: place my roller bag directly in front of the stall door, because I have been in far too many stalls where the lock does not work, and I'd like my privacy while I take care of business.

So, I was quite surprised when I read this passage in a story on Idaho Sen. Larry Craig by The Associated Press:

After a man in the adjacent stall left, Craig entered it and put his roller bag against the front of the stall door, "which Sgt. Karsnia's experience has indicated is used to attempt to conceal sexual conduct by blocking the view from the front of the stall," said the complaint.

The complaint said Craig then tapped his right foot several times and moved it closer to Karsnia's stall and then moved it to where it touched Karsnia's foot. Karsnia recognized that "as a signal often used by persons communicating a desire to engage in sexual conduct," the complaint said.

Ergo, I will remember to never, ever tap my foot in a public restroom.

Random update

August in Washington is slow enough that when I called the VW dealership recently to make a service appointment, they asked me if I could come in as soon as possible. (They wound up keeping my car for two days and extracted an obscene amount of money from my wallet, but that's another story.)

Anyway, the politicians and their staff, lobbyists, hookers, etc. are out of town for the time being, and we're even getting some sorely needed rain. I would have appreciated it a bit more if I hadn't had to drive home the other night in one of the biggest downpours I've ever seen.

Plus, I had one of those everything-starts-to-move-in-slo-mo moments when some d-bag, who had been stopped at a red light, decided he couldn't wait a second longer and began to pull into the intersection at the exact moment I was cruising through at about 35 mph. After taking evasive action -- and avoiding, in hindsight, what would have been a pretty gnarly collision -- I was dumbfounded enough that I just kept driving.

On the other hand, I've been looking for an excuse to get a different car. On the other other hand, I could probably do without the lengthy hospital stay.

More toilet humor

The manufacturer of those high-tech toilets I was so enamored of earlier this year has a marketing campaign aimed at U.S. consumers.

If you can make it past the flash intro -- in which the implied, though probably unintentional, message is, "Hey, these people are talking out of their asses!" -- the site is oddly engaging, considering it's all about toilets.

And I know that's two posts in a row referencing the toilets. Sorry, but that's the most interesting thing going on in my life at the moment.

RIP

I have been a little -- how shall I say it? -- lax about cooking for the past month or so, so I discovered just yesterday that my poor rice cooker got all smashed in during my latest move.

It was a model I had owned for quite some time -- the only rice cooker I've owned, actually, and my mom ordered it from Taiwan for my first summer away from home, I believe, after my junior year of college.

It's the only brand I ever saw in my parents' house, and pretty much everybody in Taiwan has a rice cooker made by Tatung, which is one of those Asian conglomerates that manufactures a wide, seemingly haphazard line of products. Their massive headquarters is not far from one of my cousins' houses, so I saw the building quite a bit when I was in Taipei earlier this year.

Anyway, when I went online to look for a replacement rice cooker, I found several models, but the one I wanted seemed to be available only -- oddly enough -- through a site that sells primarily computer equipment. And they were out of stock. So, since I still had some credit at Amazon, I went there and, after some very thoughtful research (read: looked at a couple of pictures and read one oh-so-helpful user review), I settled on a Panasonic, a decision my mother would certainly Not Approve Of if she was here. And if buying a Japanese rice cooker was not bad enough, she would Doubly Not Approve Of my selection of an electronic model.

But if I'm going to break from tradition, I might as well go all the way, right?

I just hope my experience with this thing is better than the one I had with those high-tech toilets.

They're media professionals

Whenever you move to a new city, you kinda hope the local TV news will be better than it was where you moved from. But it's not. In fact, it's pretty much the same everywhere. The graphics are just prettier and the wardrobes fancier.

But the local NBC affiliate came up with a gem the other night (via Break)


News Anchor Cant Stop Laughing At Model - Watch more free videos

What be this demon contraption?

It has been 20 years since I've worn glasses, so I was a bit lost when I went to the mall yesterday to finally fill the prescription the eye doctor gave me last month. I had been planning to wait until September, when my vision benefits at my new job kick in, but I decided I wanted to be able to see instead.

Anyhow, it seems there have been some vast improvements in glasses technology since the last time I was bespectacled. For one, these things don't weigh anything. Especially not compared to the paperweights I remember wearing, or even the sunglasses I currently have. Also, it seems like high-end designers have taken over the manufacturing of eyewear. Or at least they've all licensed their names to whoever actually makes glasses.

I generally don't shop at stores where everything has Prada, Burberry, and Ferragamo labels, but that's where I found myself yesterday. (Maybe I went to the wrong place? It was LensCrafters, which I always figured was your generic mall eyewear store. I'm so confused by this new world.)

My sister recently told me that when my brother-in-law started wearing glasses several years back, his first observation was that Philadelphia was an extremely dirty city. My revelation wasn't quite at that level, but I did find out that, hey, the type on the news scrolls at the bottom of your TV screen is actually pretty sharp. Who knew?

Not quick enough on the draw

Twice in the past two days I have cursed myself for keeping my cell phone in my pants pocket while I'm driving.

Yesterday, there was a perfect opportunity to illustrate the point that if you're a business, you have to be a teeny bit careful of who you decide to blow off as a customer. There used to be a saying about picking a fight with someone who ran a newspaper, because you didn't want to get into it with someone who bought ink by the barrel.

I guess the updated version of that is: Don't go toe-to-toe with someone who owns one of those instant-sign franchises. I was driving down the main drag in a suburb just outside D.C. when a bright green sign in a storefront caught my eye. "[Name of humongous national bank here] is a ripoff," it read. "Close your account now!"

I'm not sure that people make their banking decisions based on large signs in storefronts, but dude certainly gets the message across that way.

Then, today, I was behind your standard redneck pickup, appropriately festooned with American flag, NRA, country music, NASCAR, etc. stickers. However, it also had prominently displayed one of those 01.20.09 bumperstickers. Which leads one to wonder: Just who's in that 29%, anyway?

My new business: Food at Local Restaurant

My hometown has one big indoor shopping mall. Actually, it has zero since the mall was built outside city limits. This loss of tax revenue has been a sore spot with some in the community for decades, and methinks it's part of the reason the city relented a few years back and let the likes of Wal-Mart and Lowes build stores in town after years of resisting that type of development. They've also allowed some lovely strip malls -- the kind anchored by a Barnes & Noble with a Chili's on a pad in the middle of the parking lot -- to appear.

It's progress, I guess, and makes life a tad more convenient for folks, but it's sad to see that my town is becoming indistinguishable from your garden-variety suburb.

Anyway, the Pyramid Mall -- so named because the name of the parent company was Pyramid, and not because it was some Vegas-type theme shopping center -- was sold a few years back, so it's no surprise new management has finally gotten around to changing the name of the place.

From The Ithaca Journal (Here's the full story, in which the reporter writing about retail does not know how to spell J.C. Penney. And, yes, of course I blame the writer and not his editors.):

New signs going up in coming weeks will read “Shops at Ithaca Mall” as the management team at the mall attempts to build a stronger attitude of community.

It could be worse, I suppose. They could have gone with "Shoppes at Ithaca Mall." Come to think of it, that would be better, as it would read more like the name of a shopping center and less like a Jeopardy! clue: ANSWER: What a bored Ithaca teenager does on a Saturday afternoon. QUESTION: What is "Shops at Ithaca Mall?"

Now *that's* customer service

Because people I know continue to insist on reproducing, I've been spending a fair amount of time in toy stores and baby clothing shops. Today, I discovered a wonderful toy store in Georgetown while out with a friend.

It was so wonderful, in fact, that we kept the poor clerk there a half-hour past closing time. He was too polite to say anything until we headed for the exit, at which time we also realized the woman in the store who had been offering suggestions probably was his wife/girlfriend/whatever who was trying to move things along, and not just a chatty fellow shopper.

Anyway, the store was filled with those awesome, high-quality toys from Germany and France, and let me tell you, they're not afraid to include that quality in the price tag. There was a toy car that had an actual working hydrogen cell in it, and the box proudly proclaimed it to be the world's smallest hydrogen-powered car. The clerk noted that most people who bought that particular item were middle-aged men, and it wasn't likely those cars were going to any kids.

I did find a couple of interesting items from one toy company, though. Well, not exactly the toys themselves, but the packaging.



As far as I could tell, this is made by a Thai company. I just found the description "Ethnic Family" amusing.


This one, however, caused me to do a double-take EVERY SINGLE TIME I saw the box. Maybe it's just me. But at a quick glance, what does it look like is going on to you? No? OK, it's just me.

Carry on.

Life in a warehouse

Some of my things were delivered to my condo yesterday. I say "some" because there was no way to wedge all of my belongings into this place. So now I get to pay to store a bunch of stuff that, in reality, I don't really want anyway.

The lesson: Get rid of your big, bulky stuff before you move. I should have done that before I moved down here, but I decided to go on vacation to the West Coast instead. Oh well. At least these movers didn't box and ship actual garbage to me, as the movers who hauled my stuff from Portland to Connecticut did.

In any event, I'll be spending the next several days getting my life unboxed. And rather than make small piles of boxes throughout the two rooms of my condo, the movers apparently decided it would be better (or funnier) to make a few really tall stacks of boxes in one room. So if you don't hear from in the next, say, six or seven days, please look into it, as I'm probably dead under a heap of my own assorted crap.

Oh. My. God.

I spent most of today going two July 4 gatherings -- brunch followed pretty much immediately by an out-of-this-world barbecue. (To top it off, the cafeteria at work was serving barbecue, too, so I had another helping of ribs for dinner.)

So the last thing I want to think about right now is more food, so of course I stumbled across (via the latest "Top Chef" recap at Television Without Pity) the MEAT CAKE.

Happy Fourth!

Not even a pot to do something or other in

The moving company that took my stuff from Connecticut to Virginia claims it is swamped right now and is having trouble setting up a delivery time. So, as of this afternoon, I will be waiting until next Monday to be reunited with my things.

Lucky for me, the place I bought was being shown as a model, and I opted to buy some of the furniture. So I've been sleeping on a couch that isn't really meant for sleeping but is reasonably comfortable. It's also a good thing it's summertime, as I have no sheets.

The bigger problem turns out to be eating, as I don't want to go out and buy a bunch of dishes, silverware, etc. because I like the stuff I have just fine. So I've been making do with two plates and a frying pan, though I did break down and buy silverware service for 4 because I was too lazy to go find a place that sold it by the piece. But I have been reduced to drinking only from bottles and cans as a result of having no glasses.

I tell ya, it's amazing how much you miss something as mundane as a cereal bowl or saucepot.

Everything's falling apart

So I had a wonderful weekend in my hometown over the weekend, where I went for an early 30th birthday party. Some friends put together a barbecue, and a swell time was had by all.

On Monday, the actual anniversary of my birth, I came down with a sore throat. Earlier today, it morphed into a full-blown cold, which is lovely in the 95-degree heat and high humidity we're having this week.

Also today, I went to the DMV to attempt to get a driver's license. I say "attempt," because my application was denied when the clerk declared me blind. (OK, not really, but I was failed on the vision test after I couldn't read one group of letters.) I contend something was off with the machine, but I dutifully went off to the eye doctor to get certification that I can, in fact, see.

I did learn, though, that I need glasses, which is a nice belated birthday present. The doctor was nice enough to say I probably can hold off for a month or two until my vision plan at work kicks in.

So now that my body has decided to completely shut down in the couple of days after my 30th, I expect that by this time next week I'll be dealing with incontinence, hypertension and osteoporosis. As this relates to you, the reader, you might want to start sucking up now so I'll include you in my will.

Not one thin dime more!

I rejoined the ranks of the home owners Monday, closing on a sparkling new (albeit itty-bitty) condo in D.C.

As it turned out, the amount I was asked to bring to the closing was less than the amount on the final settlement documents. So, this led to an interesting scene in which the parties attempted to find out how this happened. (Turns out, it was a change in rounding.) Which led to an amusing scene in which the parties each offered to make up the difference out of their own pockets.

This all was resolved when the lawyer said her firm would make up the difference. (Which, no doubt, will endear her to the firm's accountant at some point down the road.)

So, I managed to get an even better deal than the one I already had negotiated. (Suck it, seller!)

Oh, the difference?

Ten cents.

It is, indeed, a buyer's market.

+2 for me

I got a bonus state this weekend. And with a little effort, I could've added a third one.


Also, I should note that I showed some remarkable restraint today. We took the students to a water park, and at one point I went on the bumper boats ride. I was planning to just float around and maybe bump a few folks, but this little bastard decided he had it in for me and was just laying into me with his water cannon for a good minute or two.

So the bad news is I got a lot more soaked then I was planning to. The good news is it was a hot day, so I dried off quickly. That, and I'm not in prison on homicide charges.

A series of unfortunate decisions

I was a bit sad when I returned to the East Coast and had to deal with humidity again.

So then I moved to Washington.

I was pleased to get out of the humidity in Washington for a few days.

And I went to visit the humidity in South Dakota.

Conclusion: Six-plus years in the Northwest pretty much seals your fate as a weather wuss for your remaining time on this planet.

Initial impressions

* Driving in South Dakota is easy. You make a couple of turns out of the airport to get onto the interstate, and then you drive in a straight line for X miles until you reach your destination. The speed limits are 75 on the interstate and 70 on state highways, but it's a big state.

* Even here, a college town is a college town. The cafe where I had lunch today offered a full slate of vegetarian meals and had several varieties of oolong tea available in bulk.

* Working with a group of sharp, motivated college students does a lot to restore your faith in the world. (Also, I do surprisingly well in front of a class on one hour of sleep.)

Out of sight, out of mind

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Presentation leaves a lot to be desired

I've always thought that even at their best, a lot of fast-food ads don't do much to make sure their food looks, you know, appetizing in TV ads. Examples: Carls Jr., KFC's bowl thingy.

Now there's a site that proves these meals look even worse when you order them.

As an aside, I went to a highly touted local burger joint yesterday and was once again disappointed because it suffered from thin-patty syndrome. You know, the burgers that are the thickness you might find at a fast-food joint or in one of those packs of 20 in the supermarket freezer.

The burger tasted decent enough (it was "Virginia Kobe," whatever that is), but I was reminded of a similarly exalted place back in Portland that suffered from the same problem. I guess some people enjoy their burgers on that scale, but I prefer the ones that you almost need a fork and knife to eat. (But you must NEVER actually use utensils to eat a burger.) Actually, I have a whole thing on burger rules that I really need to get to one of these days, but I won't bore you with that right now.

Inappropriate picture

As mentioned below, the lacrosse games I went to on Saturday drew 52,000.

Naturally, I all I have is a picture of thousands of empty seats. It was taken between games of the doubleheader. During the games, most of the lower two bowls were filled, as were the lower rows of the upper decks along the sidelines. I was 25 rows up in the upper deck, but I like to sit high at sports events. Since it was a 70,000-seat NFL stadium, I was waaay up there, but the bonus was a nice breeze on a hot and humid day.

I discovered in Portland that my digital camera seems to be on its last legs, so I didn't bother to bring it to the game. But my phone does an OK job of taking pictures, and it's really much more convenient. I just need to take more appropriate shots.

Not pictured is the young girl who was sitting directly in front of me. If you've never been to a lacrosse game, it's common for youngsters to bring sticks to games and play catch in the parking lot. Why they bring them into the stadium, I've never figured out. Anyhow, the girl had a stick and decided to wave it around whenever the teams she was rooting for (Johns Hopkins in the first game and Cornell in the second game) did something good. (And for about 2 quarters of the Cornell game, she wasn't doing too much waving, sadly.)

She usually would just hold the stick straight up in the air and twirl it, which was fine. But she'd also swing it forward and backward, leaving me anticipating a bloody nose for much of the afternoon. But she never did whack me, so I guess I should point out to her youth coach that she appears to have decent stickhandling skills.

Notes from the road

I generally try to avoid Interstate 95 at all costs, but as I headed south on Friday afternoon, I noticed traffic wasn't all that bad. In fact, the worst part of my trip was on I-84 from Connecticut to Newberg Newburgh, N.Y; it took me nearly 2 hours to get that far, almost an hour longer than usual. I did decide to give New York City a wide berth, and I hooked up with 95 just south of the city in New Jersey. I mention this only because I spent a good portion of Friday pestering people about driving from Connecticut to D.C. So, now you know how I got here.

A few observations:

* Having lived in states without tolls for the past 8 years, I forgot that going any distance on 95 can be costly. I also resolved to get myself an EZ-Pass tag ASAP. I also thought that tolls in New York were bad, but I learned that Delaware is king here. In the 15 minutes it takes to get across the state on 95, there are 2 toll plazas that will set you back a total of $6. I'm guessing that since Delaware is a wee state, these tolls make up a significant portion of the highway budget. Either that, or they just want to make people actually stop in the state for a minute or two, instead of just breezing through.

* Also, I had not eaten at a highway service plaza for the better part of a decade. When I was a lad and the family took a trip to Washington, we stopped at a service plaza with a Roy Rogers. I remember this because not long after we departed the restaurant, we had to pull the car over to the side of the highway so I could vomit out the door.

So of course when I saw a plaza with a Roy Rogers on the Jersey Turnpike, I had to stop and grab dinner. (It also was getting close to 8 p.m. and I hadn't eaten all day, so maybe the trip wasn't 100 percent motivated by nostalgia.) In any event, I observed that the people who stop to eat at fast-food joints in highway service plazas probably shouldn't be eating anything resembling fast food. It was a pretty compelling illustration of U.S. obesity statistics. So, I had 2 pieces of fried chicken, a biscuit and a Coke, figuring I've still got 70 or 80 pounds to play with.

* My temporary housing is quite nice -- and it should be, given what the company is shelling out for this place. If anyone wanted to save large corporations money, they should tell them to pay market rate for stuff like this. It's not quite the military spending $500 on a hammer, but it's close.

* After driving for nearly 8 hours Friday, I decided the wise thing to do Saturday was to get right back in the car and take the 100-mile round trip to Baltimore to see the NCAA men's lacrosse semifinals. They set an attendance record with 52,000. My alma mater came up short, albeit in thrilling fashion.

* I moaned about the severe lack in dining options in Connecticut, but I'm off to a flying start in Virginia. On my way to Baltimore, I noticed a banh mi shop in a strip mall near my apartment. On the way home, I stopped in. The sandwiches were $2.50 each on the menu, so I decided to order 2 just in case they were on the small side. They weren't, so I got 2 meals for $5. There's also a pho place in this mall, so I'll have to try that place, too.

That's all for now; more to come, I'm sure...

Family planning

If you're not a parent and are looking for an excuse to remain not a parent, I recommend spending a week in a house whose residents include a 2-month-old boy and his older brother, who is just shy of 3.

My two nephews are great, but I have very little envy for my sister and brother-in-law at this point. I realized earlier tonight that I've been up before 9 a.m. for seven days straight, something that probably hasn't happened in at least 10 years. (Those of you who have normal jobs will scoff at that, but I'm used to working nights.)

In any event, I've had a lovely week hanging out in my old stomping grounds in Portland, and in a few hours I'll be headed back to Connecticut for the very last time (yay!). The movers come Friday, so I'll have a couple of frantic days of throwing stuff into the dumpster and scrubbing the bathroom before I go.

Stale blog alert!

In a few days, I'll be headed West for a week to meet my new nephew before I make the big move to D.C.

So apologies in advance if this blog is spotty for the next couple of weeks; I promise to get back on a regular basis once I'm settled.

100% drop in bling coming

One of my town's most famous residents is, sadly, leaving the neighborhood. I've never seen him, but I've heard reports that 50 Cent frequents the upscale grocery store across the street from my place.

The mansion used to be owned by Mike Tyson, and it seems that Mr. Cent has done quite a bit of work on the residence after buying it in 2003 for $4.1 million.

If you're interested, the house has 18 bedrooms, 37 bathrooms, a full gym, two billiard rooms, racquetball courts and a disco.

According to one real estate agent, 50 Cent has "put a lot into it, and it's all very tasteful, except the stripper poles."

But in fairness to the rapper, I doubt the agent knows there are stripper poles, and then there are stripper poles.

Moving on

It's a good thing I never really bothered to fully unpack from my last move, because it should save me a fair amount of time over the next couple of weeks. (Although I'm going to try as hard as I can to downsize, so some of these boxes may go straight into the trash.)

But after all the moaning I've done about where I live, I actually did something about it and will be moving to D.C. shortly. As a couple of people have already noted, I didn't really do myself any favors seeing as it's about to become summer down there. But I moved to Connecticut right as winter started, so my track record on these sorts of things isn't so stellar.

Anyhow, stay tuned for all the fun that moving entails. (Or, "entrails," if you happened to catch the most recent episode of "The Sopranos.")

Burning sensation

If you read my post from Taiwan on high-tech toilets, you'll recall that I wondered if there was a "toast" setting on the heated seat.

As it turns out, I wasn't so far off. The toilets officially are a fire hazard.

Last one...

Got back from Miami yesterday, but this is a shot from Saturday night. On the bright side, the weather in the Northeast has improved considerably since I left for Florida.

The view from the pool

I get Miami now.

Don't hate me

Just for fun, this is the view from my hotel room balcony around 7:30 a.m. today:

Hope it's nice where you are.

pleasepleasepleaseohplease

At the risk of jinxing anything, I am hopeful I am close to being able to leave Connecticut for good.

I have a few opportunities brewing, and the timing could not be better. Until this past week, I hadn't had any problems with my boss. Then, he decided to very publicly question a decision I made without bothering to ask me about it first. Right before he went on vacation, no less.

I'm totally over this place.

Oh, and for those of you who care, I am happy to say I will be adding to my Not In Connecticut (tm) tally this week. On the heels of this icky weather in the Northeast (we just got a lot of rain, and only minor flooding where I am, so I can't complain too much), I'm headed to Miami. Forecast is 80s and sunny, and I'm totally psyched about eating the food down there. It'll be good to catch up with some folks as well.

Oh, there's some workshop I'm supposed to give, too, but, who has time to worry about that?

Folks in too big of a rush

If you've ever ignored a street musician, read this article that I happened across when I picked up The Washington Post this past Sunday.

This isn't some guy wheezing away on a saxaphone or playing guitar through a blown-out amp. This is a world-class performer giving a free concert. Outside a subway station.

A wonderful read, made even better by the extras on the Post's Web site.

Wow ... just wow

I always feel a little bad when I complain that I'm "busy," because I'm usually not. In fact, I have a decent amount of free time, though I do devote a lot of it to sleep.

But these two guys have a ton of free time, as evidenced by their "Seven Minute Sopranos."

The New York Times has the backstory.

I'm so embarrassed

I just discovered a pile of old writing, some of which I did during an internship and some of which is from a college creative writing class. (And a good lot of the latter is thinly veiled college student angst, so you can imagine what that looks like.)

I'm totally mortified, and I can't believe I actually submitted this stuff to be graded. (And, come to think of it, the professor was probably very generous. He's a poet I have a lot of respect for, and one he might have been the only professor whose office hours I attended.)

On the bright side, I also discovered the Windows installation disk I've been searching for for the past couple of months, so there's your silver lining.

Random thought of the day

You would think cinnamon-flavored toothpaste would be not so good, but I have found I enjoy it.

In fact, I am thinking of permanently switching from my beloved Fresh Mint.

Discuss.

Stop making the rest of us look sane

Considering that I haven't been to the gym since mumble, mumble, I probably shouldn't be critiquing other people's exercise habits.

But I drive home from work a little after 3 in the morning, and just about every night I pass the same jogger. He's decked out in a reflective vest and has a blinking light on one shoulder. So, he's done his part to keep himself safe, but as someone recently pointed out to me, if something does happen to him (drunk driver, heart attack, whatever), it's still 3 in the morning. Maybe he carries a cell phone.

Anyway, is anyone's schedule really that crowded? That they have to jog at 3 in the morning?

And it's not helping that you're making me feel bad about my lazy ass.

A touch of authenticity

Washington has one of those Chinatowns where they try to create atmosphere by having the signs in English and Chinese. The local businesses are on board, too.

But Chinatown happens to be next to the convention center and the arena, and the whole area has become a bit gentrified. So, after walking a few blocks earlier tonight, I'm dying to know what the Chinese translations of "Bed, Bath & Beyond," "Chipotle" and "Legal Seafoods" are.

I hope they're doing a better job than they are in Beijing.

There's also a multiplex in the neighborhood. Now, if they really wanted to be authentic, they'd have a guy out front selling bootleg copies of "300."

Marketing run amok

Question: When was it decided that snowstorms needed names?

It seems the fun blast of snow 'n' ice we got in the Northeast on Friday was officially known as "Brendan." When we were growing up -- and yes, we are sooo going there and using the royal we throughout this post -- we had our own name for this kind of weather. It was "winter."

We really hope this is not just something one of the local TV stations cooked up as a marketing idea, because then we would really have to move. Immediately. (Not that we needed any additional motivation to do so.) But as we said to someone earlier tonight, naming a snowstorm is like naming a thunderstorm. And if they are naming snowstorms, why didn't that storm that pummeled upstate New York earlier in the winter get a name? (Something like Winter Storm "Anal Rapist" might have been appropriate.)

Another question: While we were at work this evening, we watched a line of trucks carting snow off company property. This didn't strike us as odd until we left for home, at which point we wondered: Where are they taking it all? We assume there's an field somewhere where they're piling the snow, but maybe it's all going on some schmuck's driveway.

Anyway, we will have to ponder this further.

Finally, we are taking a quick jaunt down to D.C. later today, so if we stumble across anything interesting we will post from the road.

Aren't you all tingly with anticipation?

Grumpy

I'm not terribly excited about the NCAA Tournament starting today, so I know something is off.

(Feel free to stop reading right now, because I'm just venting here. It's not really interesting stuff, so I apologize in advance. Thanks, and come again.)

My attitude about my job has swung squarely back into Negative, after a few months in Ambivalence. It's a shame I like (for the most part) the people I work with, because then I could just be down on the whole damn thing and say, "Screw it." But I was talking the other day with a relatively new hire in a different division, and we agreed that the corporate culture here is a major source of frustration.

Granted, this culture is a lot better than the one I came from -- we're paid and given raises based on merit (imagine that!). Of course, if you're a deadbeat that just means they give you a slightly smaller raise. But back to my point, which is that the corporate culture here seems to reward those who talk loudest and most often, even if they're just repeating what someone has just said.

I'm usually dinged on my evaluations for not "communicating" well and not exhibiting "leadership skills" (that is, not verbally expressing every single thought that enters my head.) This is mostly because I am trying to, you know, do my job, instead of constantly talking, butting in on every conversation, and celebrating the completion of any task that requires an above-average amount of effort as though I'd just cured cancer.

Maybe this is just a side effect of me not being used to being one of the most experienced people in my department. Or maybe it's just that this isn't the right work environment for me. At the least, I have a sliver of hope ahead, but I can't talk about it right now.

Help needed

I still have a significant amount of money left on a couple of iTunes gift cards I got for Christmas.

I spent some money catching up on a TV show, but I'm pretty much stumped when it comes to buying music these days. It wasn't long ago that I'd pick up 2 or 3 CDs a week, with money earned from laboring in a dusty bookstore warehouse. Now that I can afford to buy as many CDs as I want, I've become a curmudgeon.

So, any tips greatly appreciated.

C-c-c-c-c-old

So after temperatures in December and January were among the warmest on record, it's been among the coldest Marches in several decades in my part of the world.

When I left Central New York this morning, it was 7 degrees, with a wind chill approaching 20 below. Connecticut, on the other hand, was a relatively balmy 18 degrees when I got back late in the afternoon, with the wind chill merely around 0. (Right now, at 7 p.m., it's 10 degrees with a wind chill at 7 below.)

It looks like we have a few more days of this, but starting Saturday it's supposed to climb into the 40s and 50s for at least several days.

This, by the way, reminds me that I used to think the bright side of this kind of weather was that it would be too cold to snow. But that's not true. Another childhood belief unceremoniously debunked.

Rearranging the furniture

Since I was forced to upgrade my Blogger settings, I'm going to be a tinkering with the site for a bit. If you hate it, you can leave a comment which I probably will ignore. But the look will change until I: 1.) Find a look I like, or 2.) Get tired of fiddling and leave the site with whatever bizarre settings are in place at the moment.

If you're a betting person, I'd put the odds on option 2 at 3-2.

Infernal machines

If Y2K had gone down as some feared, I pretty much would have been screwed. Didn't buy any bottled water. Didn't stock up on batteries. Didn't have much in the way of non-perishable food. Lucky for me, my prediction that things would go smoothly came out fine.

On the other hand, this year's change in Daylight Saving Time is starting to worry me. We've been getting ominous messages at work that Outlook may explode. Several times a week, it takes forever to shut down the computers because that's when they install the updates. (Aside: At 3 a.m., I just want to go home, so instead of waiting for the updating to complete and putting my laptop into that unlocked drawer, I slyly perch my keyboard over the computer to hide it. Although the laptop police have backed off a lot lately.)

Also, the time stamps in one key program have been switched to GMT in an apparent, half-assed attempt to temporarily get around the DST problem. This has the side effect of many bewildered cries of, "Wait, when did that get updated?" throughout the day.

On a side note, the technology woes at my office also have affected the men's room, where the toilets and urinals have automatic flush systems. But the sensor in one of the urinals keeps breaking, so it doesn't flush. No one ever bothers to post a note saying the urinal is broken, so people keep using it. Toward the end of the day, it smells lovely in there. I can't prove the DST issue has anything to do with this, but I bet it does.

So I'm not predicting Armageddon or anything, but I won't be surprised one bit if we wake up on March 11 and find robot armies marching down the streets of our major cities. Not one bit.

I just want beer vending machines

The good people of Minneapolis were, indeed, able to keep their airport running smoothly, so I arrived in Portland with little trouble. And I kinda figured if you had to pick an airport to go through right after a blizzard, it'd probably be MSP.

This picture didn't turn out as good as I hoped it would, but I guess that's what you sacrifice when you make your phone your primary camera. It's the first time I've seen an iPod vending machine, so maybe I'll try to get a better shot when I go through MSP again Tuesday.

The machine accepts only credit cards, and you can buy iPods as well as accessories. One row of Nanos was sold out, so I guess they do a pretty decent business. (Or at least they make it appear as though they do good business.) I saw two of these vending machines, and that was on just one concourse. If I remember to, I'll look to see how much they actually charge for an iPod.

As far as I can tell, these are not owned by Apple, but the natural thing, to me, would be to install an iTunes kiosk right next to the vending machine. So, Steve Jobs, feel free to send me a commission check.

As I predicted ...

At 1:12 a.m. EST, here is what the FAA's flight delays page lists for the Minneapolis airport:

General Arrival Delays: Due to WX:SNOW/ICE, arrival traffic is experiencing airborne delay between 16 minutes and 30 minutes and increasing.

I have just over six hours until my flight to Portland, via Minneapolis, so I may, indeed, be spending my Sunday in an airport lounge in a futile attempt to fly across the country.

My one glimmer of hope is my faith in Minnesotans' ability to remove large amounts of snow. So don't let me down, folks.

Wish me luck

I generally have pretty good luck when it comes to flying. I've only been stranded for a ridiculous amount of time a couple of times, and since I usually travel alone, I've had more than my share of good luck.

(And, yes, I've bored many of you with these stories before, so let me get them out there on the Internets and be forever done with them.)

Case #1: I was flying from Central New York to Philadelphia, and at the time there were no direct flights to Philly from my hometown on Sundays. So, when I got to the ticket counter and the agent noticed I was booked to Philadelphia via Pittsburgh -- just about tripling the usual travel time -- she took pity on me and rebooked me in first class.

Case #2: I was flying home to New York from Portland when I was in college, and my connection was at O'Hare. Upon check-in, passengers were told the Midwest was getting hammered by a blizzard and the flight probably would be delayed for many hours, if not canceled. This led most people to go home or try a different route. Having nowhere to go, I went to the gate.

About 15 minutes before the originally scheduled departure time, an agent came to the gate and said, "There's a break in the weather. We're leaving right now." So the seven of us who had had nothing better to do than wait at an aiport gate for an indeterminate amount of time got on a flight that not only departed early, but also provided us personal flight attendants. (For the record, we still weren't allowed to sit in first class.)

Case #3: I was headed to my high school reunion a couple of years ago, and thanks to some nasty weather somewhere in the country, planes were having difficulty getting to the Delta hub in Cincinnati. This, in turn, scuttled many departures out of Cincinnati. With my flight to Syracuse canceled and no room on flights to nearby airports, it looked more and more like I'd be spending the night at the airport.

I put my name on the standby list for the last flight of the night to Syracuse, but was told there were a dozen people ahead of me. When it came time for standbys to get their seats, we were told there was one seat left. But I, being the lone solo traveler on the standby list, got the seat. The lesson here: There are a lot of people out there who are nicer than me and wouldn't ditch their travel companions to make a flight.

Disclaimer: This isn't to say I haven't had bad flying experiences before. The one that springs to mind immediately is a trip to Pennsylvania last winter in which it took me eight hours to cover the approximately 65 minutes of flying time from Connecticut to Philadelphia, then Philly to central Pennsylvania.

The point: This is just a really roundabout way of saying that although I'm not seeing any potential weather problems for my flight to Portland this weekend -- which, if you'll recall, is solely for the purpose of attending an Oscar party -- I have visions in my head of watching the broadcast from a very depressing lounge at the Minneapolis airport.

That might, however, make for some interesting live-blogging material.

Best Picture? Your guess is as good as mine

Not only am I going to my first Oscar party this month ...

Not only am I going to be going cross-country for said party ...

But I have seen exactly zero of the movies nominated in the major categories.

Until I moved back East, I actually had been seeing movies -- in theaters, even -- on a regular basis. We had a nice little Movie Day group and everything. But then about three-quarters of the group got fed up with our employer and got the heck out of town.

Anyway, this party I'm going to is being hosted by the TV Goddess, who managed to sucker persuade me to go to her party with a lovely invitation.

(A couple of notes: 1. I should apologize on behalf of my cohorts for ditching the TV Goddess' Movie Day group. 2. Hey, TV Goddess, why am I going to an Oscar party at your place and not an Emmy party? Huh? Huh!?!)

So it looks like I have some work to do in the next nine days or so. Either that, or I could see none of them and then have a nice chuckle when I win the Oscar pool.

Let the payback begin

We're expecting our first significant storm of the winter in my neck of the woods tonight. It looks like it won't be too bad here; the latest forecast is predicting less than a foot of snow by the time all is said and done. Oswego County, this won't be.

But I broke down and had my snow tires put on today. As usual, I'm pretty confident in my ability to handle snowy roads; it's all the other morons out there who have me concerned. But the greatest thing? For the first time in all my years living in the Northeast, I don't have to worry about snow removal!

Last winter, my lease required me to shovel my own driveway -- and I didn't have covered parking, so that added to the hassle. So when I moved in the spring, I made sure to find a place that had covered parking AND snow removal. (Bonus: I don't have to pay for heat at this place, either.)

My bigger concern was finding my boots, which I mounted an unsuccessful search for a couple of weeks ago when we had a very minor storm. I resumed the quest last night and this morning, tearing through a couple of boxes and closets. I finally remembered that the probably were in my car's trunk, where I had stashed them with a couple of other last-minute items from my last move.

(Yes, that was in May. And yes, that's how infrequently I have a need to go into my trunk. I usually put the groceries in the back seat.)

Urf

I've always wanted to have a dog, but for various reasons -- small apartments, house with no yard, odd working hours -- have never been able to bring myself to go and get one.

Anyway, it's Westminster Dog Show time again, which means it's time for everyone to trot out their dog-related features. And, actually, there have been some good ones this year:

* Why we love dogs. [Slate]

* The case of the missing show dog, with a really fun animated package. [ESPN]

* An inside look at Westminster. [Deadspin]

* There's also a good story from a couple of weeks ago on designer dogs. But it's not free. [The New York Times]

But my favorite thing about Westminster (that is, other than immature giggling at hearing "bitch" used frequently on the telecast)? I can watch it in HD.

Career advice

You might recall that I recently broke my car with an amazing feat of strength.

Well, I got it fixed yesterday, and received further evidence that while having doctors, lawyers, etc. in your family sounds impressive, it's much more useful to have plumbers, carpenters and car mechanics.

Case in point: The part that needed to be replaced cost $24. Labor to install said part? $90.

I shouldn't have discarded those brochures I received from mechanic schools when I was applying to colleges.

Pardon me while I scream

My PC's hard drive died this morning. It was just over 3 years old. Those who knew the hard drive said it had been dying a slow death over the past year, and that it probably was happy to be out of its misery.

I had managed to pull most of the important files off the hard drive before today, but there's still some stuff on the drive that I would like to have. Before I beat the PC with a heavy object, I may try to fire it up again, but I'm not optimistic.

Fortunately, my new laptop arrived this afternoon, so I've been spending the past few hours getting it up and running. Also, it's been many, many years since I've used a Mac regularly (the last one had a whopping 40 MB hard drive), so any tips and/or suggestions are welcome.

Hope you're not hungry

Seeing as nothing interesting happens here -- well, we did get actual snow last night, though it wasn't much -- I figured I'd keep posting about my trip until I ran out of material.

Anyway, the biggest letdown upon returning was definitely coming back to the lackluster dining options around here. Pretty much every meal I had in Taiwan was excellent, and it's kind of ironic that the most expensive dinner I had also was the least satisfying. (Though it wasn't bad ... just not nearly as good as I had hoped.)

I had some amazing meals in, of all places, the gigantic food court in the basement of a vast medical complex. People in Taipei fill most of their leisure time with eating (or shopping), so there were plenty of choices. I have pictures a couple of meals, because in most cases I immediately stated eating when I got the food.

Also, the "fast food" meals are cheap. And I don't mean "inexpensive" or "reasonable" like travel guides might declare. I mean cheap. The pictured meals each cost less than $3 U.S.

As you can see, it's not high cuisine, but it's pretty damn good home-style cooking. And during my trip, that's pretty much what I was looking for.

There's also some pretty amazing stuff to be had from street vendors, but I didn't get shots of any of that stuff, either. Sorry, I'm a lousy travel blogger.

(If you're wondering, the first dish is noodle soup with lamb, and the second dish is beef and rice.)

Missed opportunity

I mentioned earlier that Taipei seems to have a 7-Eleven every 3 blocks, but that there's another store even more common. On just about every block, there's a small storefront or shack that sells what some people call "Taiwan chewing gum." It's actually a betel nut product that acts as a stimulant.

Anyway, I was going to visit one of these places and write about how the usual sales tactic is to employ attractive women to sit on a stool in the window. I say "usual" because I noticed that the people who work during off hours or at less-desirable locations are often neither attractive nor female. So maybe the product just sells itself.

So I don't have much of a post here, regrettably, but I did notice this sales tactic seems be be creeping its way into an equally competitive sales arena, the espresso market in Seattle. It seems stimulants and sex go together well everywhere.

On the juice, it seems

In a somewhat mysterious feat of strength, I managed to rip the handle off the inside of the driver's door of my car on Saturday night. The car door had gotten hung up on the sidewalk, and I pulled a little too hard.

Although my friends Grande and C. found this rather amusing, I did not. (OK, it was a little funny.)

Even though I am trying not to think about how much this is going to cost to fix, I am reminded every time I hop into the car and, without thinking, yank the handle right off again as I try to close the door.

(For you astute readers out there: Yes, I did decide the logical thing to do a mere 17 hours after getting off a flight from Asia was to drive 4 1/2 hours to my hometown.)

***

Update (1/30/07): I went to the VW dealer yesterday. My show of strength is going to cost me $126 to repair. Yay.

Back

So, I'm back in the U.S., and let me tell you, two 24-hour travel days in a week is not a fun thing. Remarkably, though, I'm in pretty good shape and have had almost no jet lag. (Famous last words?)

In any event, I have some more stories to tell, so stay tuned.

Toilet humor

It took me a few days to get used to the high-tech toilets that are common here.

(I will note that what is not common is toilet paper, which can present problems when you're a tourist using a toilet not of the high-tech variety. Luckily, I was warned about this and arrived in Taiwan prepared.)

In any event, my first surprise was the heated toilet seat. Not only to these things get toasty, I'm pretty sure they get hot enough that there's an actual "toast" setting. Although I'll probably miss this when I get home, as I gather winter finally has arrived in the Northeast.

It took me a bit to figure out how to flush these things. For all the buttons and such, the toilets still employ a traditional flush lever -- located nowhere near the touchpad.

Now, the fun part: The toilets have a biday function. I was able to discern which button to push thanks to the icon of a fountain of water pleasantly gurgling under someone's rear end. I guess there's no graceful way to illustrate that. The first time I pushed this button, I figured the water would shut off automatically after an appropriate amount of time. So after I had sat there for a bit with water shooting up my ass, I began to panic. Although I hear there are some people who will pay a significant amount of money for this experience. I did eventually locate the stop button but did wind up with soggy boxers after failing to dry myself properly.

I did puzzle for some time over the button with the picture of a woman's head on it. I am proud to report I figured it out without having to push the button.

So maybe there is a graceful way to illustrate the ass-cleaning function.

* * * * * *

Observation #1: It doesn't take long to get annoyed by people asking if I'd like to eat at McDonald's. No, I wouldn't, and I won't take you to Panda Express when you come to the States.

Observation #2: Taipei seems intent on leading the world in 7-Eleven infiltration. The number of 7-Elevens here makes it look like Portland and Seattle are facing a dire shortage of Starbucks. You can't walk more than 3 blocks here without stumbling across a 7-Eleven. Maybe they're putting something in the Slurpees. That said, there is another type of store even more abundant. I have to do more research, but I will report back on this, as it's rather interesting.

Amusing story: I was playing pingpong last night with my aunt when she invited a 10-year-old boy to take her spot for a bit. I was fine with this at first, and then extremely panicked as visions of an epic ass-whipping danced in my head. Lucky for me, he turned out to be your average 10-year-old and not some pingpong prodigy.

Traveler's tip: If you have a moment when you're walking down the sidewalk in Taipei to stop looking around to make sure you're not going to get run down by someone on a scooter or flattened by a reckless driver, I suggest you walk with your head down. Not to avoid making eye contact, as one might in New York, but to make sure you don't trip and break your neck. The convenience of even sidewalks is not a priority here, nor has anyone bothered to require that elevation changes be marked with warning signs.

Far, far from Connecticut

I was afraid I'd be a raving lunatic -- or something pretty close -- after nearly 23 consecutive hours of travel, but I survived the ordeal in relatively good shape.

(The travel breakdown, by the way: 2 hours from Connecticut to Detroit, 13 1/2 hours from Detroit to Osaka, and 3 hours from Osaka to Taipei. Add two hours for each layover, and there you go.)

The people here like to welcome long-lost relatives by telling them they've come home, so here I am in the motherland. As expected, the food is wonderful and amazing, and I've been happily filling myself at every opporunity. I have a lot more on this topic, but we'll get to that in a future post.

The striking thing here is the traffic -- think driving in Manhattan, then throw in a couple hundred thousand extra people on scooters, and you pretty much get the idea. Right off the bat I noticed something different here, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. They drive on the same side of the road; the traffic signs look almost identical. The drivers are a little crazy, but it's not as outrageous as I had heard. But after thinking for a bit, I realized that no one here has a pickup truck.

(There are SUVs, though, most of them of the high-end Lexus and BMW variety. A decent number of minivans, too.)

Most of the cars are Japanese; with the Europeans represented by mostly BMWs and Mercedes. (Mercedeses?) A few VWs and Volvos thrown in, too. Ford is pretty much the only U.S. make represented.

I don't know why I'm telling you this. Perhaps because I've been in the car so much lately. But I have more interesting tales ahead. Promise. But now you know where I am, so that's taken care of.

I shall return

I probably was about 10 the last time I went fishing. We'd occasionally go to a pond at some park in my hometown and haul out a few sunfish. Not very exciting stuff, even for a kid.

Now, I have no plans to go fishing anytime soon. I just wanted to let you know I'll be out of pocket -- and odd phrase, I know, but one that is popular in my office for some reason -- for about a week or so.

And those "Gone Fishin' " signs are the first thing that popped into my head. So there you go.

I'm not sure how much Internet access I'll have while I'm away, but you may get a post from somewhere interesting if I get the chance. That's assuming I make it through the plane ride. I've never been on a flight longer than 5 hours, so if anyone has tips for surviving a long-haul flight, I'd be ever so grateful.

We'll pay for this in March

Just because I could, I drove around this afternoon with my sunroof open, which is something I figured I'd never be able to do while living in Connecticut.

My car reported a temperature of 70 (!) for most of the drive, and it ticked up to 71 for a minute before falling into the upper 60s. We have yet to see a flake of snow this winter, and I think there might have been one week with temperatures as low as the 20s -- and that was only overnight. This is happening all over the Northeast, probably thanks to El Nino.

And after putting up with the torrential downpours that El Nino causes in the Northwest, I'm more than happy to reap the benefits now that I'm back in the Northeast.