Happy Patriot’s Day!

Y’know, the shot heard round the world and all that? Celebrated in Our Fair City of Cambridge, as well as the whole Commonwealth of MA (as well as a couple of other states) on the third Monday of April, but historically occouring on the 19th.

Unfortunately this year’s weekend celebrations – and there were a lot planned – were toast. Rather soggy toast at that: we had a huge rainy northeaster over most of the weekend, drowning out the majority of the reenactments and parades scheduled. It was quite sad, both from my perspective and that of all the visitors who came early on the local school vacation week to see the events. Doubly so since I was laid up with a bad back for most of the weekend.

(Apologies to astute feed readers who note this post was backdated: I really was out of it for most of the week either sick or on a business trip.)

The irony of melting snow

Actually, this was supposed to be a very different post, but the original eloquence has eluded me; hence you get this poor paltry approximation.

Have you ever had the brilliant flashes of insight when just waking up, in the shower, or when driving?  Not just the great ideas of how to do something – those usually work sooner or later.  No, I mean the ideas, concepts, or writing you come up with that seems so profound and appropriate that you just can’t wait to write it down.

But of course, you’re just waking up, or are in the car, so you can’t write it down just now.  (You can tell where this is going, right?)  So you resolve that as soon as you sit down at your computer you’re going to blog it, and say something really witty on the internet, and get a slice of your 15 seconds of fame.  But of course, you don’t.

By the time you finish your shower, or get to work, you’ve mostly forgotten about the idea.  Then you have to do expense reports, or answer questions, or something mundane, which leads to some other productive work, which leads to lunchtime.  Ah-ha!  There was something else to do – I thought of a great idea.  But then the harsh light of day – and the cafeteria – makes your profound thoughts, which you just barely remember, seem so mundane.  And so you forget about it, except in that creative bag in the back of your mind that nags about missed opportunities.

Anyway: I was going to blog about this one last pointless snowstorm the Boston area got last weekend.  Pointless, because while it dumped 8 inches, and made commuting that Friday afternoon very messy, it promptly rained that same night and turned the beautiful powdery whiteness into an icy mess.  What’s the point of snow if you can’t enjoy it?  The icy covering has a certain glitter in the day, but that’s about it – much worse for snowballs, snowpeople, and sledding than a good covering of powder.

The double irony – not of spring snow, most of which never lasts anyway – is that this one last blast ruined our chances of setting a record.  The last least snowy winter as measured in Boston was in the 1930’s!  But our 8 inches more than doubled the amount for this winter, pushing it firmly into the boring category.  Ah, well.

The mad knitter what knits on the subway

How does it feel to be slashdotted in the real world?  Ask Colleen Meahger, who appears in today’s Boston Globe with a warm idea: mittens with a pocket for your Charlie Card.  That’s one of those RFID cards that the T (our subway, y’know) uses as it’s new fare card.  There have been a number of local blogspots with various stories of how to best pass or wave your card as you go through the turnstyle, er, gates these days. 

I say Colleen’s got it all sewn up!

(with apologies to The Tick for trying to rip off the Mad Bomber’s speak)


… in global warming! At least the past week or so in the Boston area certainly makes you think about it. I mean, I fully expect a 60 degF day here in Boston in January: it’s a tradition. If you’re lucky, you can play hooky from work long enough to both enjoy an after-lunch walk, and quickly wash your car in your own driveway.

But after no snow for the Christmas holiday, we just had nearly a week of over 50’s temps, and two record highs including one of 68! Plus no snow in any of the local forecasts. Something is wrong here, and you think about all those SUV’s that aren’t being driven to NH or VT because it’s not worth paying to ski yet…

Oh my gods.

Oh. My. Gods.

I know what it is. We’re being punished.

Remember the Curse (Bambino, not Pearl or Rabbit)? All the things we said about it? Like H**L would freeze over when that happened?

Well, the devil may have taken his time about it, but instead of letting H**L freeze over, he’s decided to make it come to Boston. Expect higher temperatures daily until we’ve paid our penance for that Series flag…

Someone else remembers Major Mudd!

OK, Google shows that a fair number of people also remember the good Major, so I suppose it’s no surprise.  But it’s still one of those names that made me laugh out loud when I read it in the “Pierced” column of the weekly Globe magazine this week.  I don’t even know clearly what the full memory of the old Muddster was, but it was a happy one, one of those childhood essences of the golden old days.

Several sites have general info (disappointingly not as detailed as I’d like to see) on the whole raft of shows from that era, ones that I every now and then mention to my friends, most of whom go “Huh?” at me.  At least all of those who didn’t grow up around here.  It’s kind of like my standby question to see how long someone’s actually lived in eastern MA.  “Where do you get if you turn left on Spitbrook, right on Daniel Webster?”

If you know the answer, then congratulations, you used to live in MA (or NH) a loooong time ago, just like me.

Charlie’s at Lechmere!

This is worth a laugh – the Charlie card, a new automated fare system, recently had a new installation at the end of the Green line.  But not on the rest of the Green line yet!  The irony of the old song coming true – with Charlie’s own name on it – is wonderful.

Even better: someone points out that Charlie actually may have gotten off that train by now.  See, he got on the train back in the 1940s, presumably as a young man.  In the intervening years, he’s gotten older, just like all of us.  So by now he’s eligible for the senior citizen discount, meaning he can finally get off the train with his original dime fare paid.  Hello, Charlie!

Children’s Museum today!

Although our timing for the trip wasn’t quite right, it was still a good day. Roxanne fell asleep in the car on the way there, so we drove around the South Boston waterfront for a while to give her enough of a nap. Once you’re in South Boston, it’s really easy to get to Fort Point! Cool park.

The Children’s Museum was… mostly the second floor, where we ended up spending all our time. She was happy enough to play in the little kids playspace for quite a while – long enough for the adults to get bored. I felt terribly stereotypical when I picked up a random copy of the Journal that was lying on a bench and started reading.

It was actually odd, in a nice way. The back of the Playspace is a separate ‘break’ room with tables (big-kid and little-kid), a fridge, sink, coffeemaker, and a couple of computers. It’s like a private club for parents: come down every Friday and bring the kids to run around, while the parents hobnob in the back room (big window to watch the kids) and have coffee and surf parenting sites.

We only had time (before we all ran out of calories from breakfast) to do a couple of exhibits, but Roxanne loved getting wet in the channel exhibit and was very happy to shop in the bodega and pick out the plastic fruit to bring to the cash register.

Thanks Susan!