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So I intended grand things in home improvement this weekend.  Saturday I had to go to work, because when you have to shut down major computer clusters, you do it on the weekend in order to not disturb folks.  So I went in, and started to copy a terabyte of data from a storage array I was reconfiguring; this takes a couple of hours so I went to lunch.  And then on the steps in the lobby, I slipped and fell, spraining my right ankle and badly bruising my left calf.

Way to go, swifto.

I hobbled my way to the foodcourt for lunch anyway, and went back to finish the downtime work.  That was fine, but then I realized that my swelling ankle meant that I was not going to drive myself home.  I thought cab at first but then realized my car would be towed by the time I managed to retrieve it, so I started calling around for a driver volunteer.  Pete was around, but had a lot of work.  So I called around more, and it turns out my friends actually have plans on Saturday nights, so Pete it was.

One of the stranger aspects of Pete is that he really likes country music.  The only other country music fan I know is my mother.  But anyway, he was close to saying I was SOL at one point since he had a pressing deadline, but right about then he was listening to a song that was all about how you know who your friends are when you’re in need and so forth.

Long story short, he came, and drafted Bergman, who I’d met once before, to follow us in his car.  So he’s my hero of the weekend, and I owe the both of them dinner.  And it enforce immobility for the weekend, which is funny.  I finished two books: American Trade Politics, and the Golden Compass, which I’ve read about in theological contexts enough to interest me.  The next two books are on their way now.

The ankle is swelling is down now, and I spent a lazy day away from the keyboard.  That’s all very healthy.  Then i responded to league email.  Less healthy, but necessary sometimes.  Tomorrow, Monday.  We’ll see how that works.

100% grass fed beef really does taste a lot better than the ordinary, unhealthy cornfed variety.  Props to Ian and King Corn for that revelation.

Holidays are nice and restful usually, which is the point after all.  But then I went and threw a seven person dinner party today with no corn in the meal.  As the movie will teach you, that’s very difficult to do; almost everything we eat has corn in it, from the beef and the dairy they produce, to artificial sweeteners derived from corn, to the eggs and butter in baked goods, and so on.  So I managed it, with difficulty, but it all tasted good in the end.  And sometimes arbitrary restrictions like that encourage greater creativity.

Most of the folks didn’t know each other, or that well, but that was part of the point; to try to forge links among the people I know and like.  There was a paper reason for everyone there, and I could have invited a few more folks, but I wanted there to be a link between everyone there so we had at least some built in excuses for conversation.  And that worked out all right; it wasn’t raucous like old friends would have been, but new friends?  Perhaps.

And we didn’t talk except for maybe ten minutes about forensics.

The eves are better than the days themselves. The holidays are full of mandatory things, and mandatory things are only sometimes pleasant. They often boil down to a meal and a conversation and an ending, and that’s about it. It’s grown even more stilted now, as the family has grown unstable and we’re pulled in many different directions. We’ll never again have a real Thanksgiving, with everyone there. Perhaps we never did, but it feels less complete, now that the house is sold, and that little private world is gone.

But the night before a holiday is a lovely time; a quiet anticipation. I let myself not worry about the things I have to do, and just relax into the ritual of a day off; not just a day off, though, but a day set aside, a day that cannot be productive. On an ordinary day off I might be writing new things, or doing laundry, or tabbing a tournament. But a holiday is set aside for boredom, yes, but also for rest.

And the night before; it’s a good night to curl up and watch a movie (which I did. Troy. it was bad. I didn’t care). or read a book. or just sit on the sunporch and watch the fog roll in again. Last year I went to the Marconi club and drank my aunt under the table. These things all work all right, and we’re better for them.

The best Halloween costume for 2007 was an 11 year old boy dressed up as Alex Rodriguez in a Red Sox uniform.

“It was the scariest thing I could think of.”