A big Noreaster came through today, canceling a certain person’s flight in for the Mystery Hunt and keeping the majority of my office at home. (Apparently the suburbs had it the worst as my boss called in to let everyone know that they have no electricity and thus he won’t be on e-mail all day.) But a handful of us were able to brave the white stuff, and we came prepared after making a plan yesterday. Bethany brought the sled, I brought the extra gloves and the camera, and everyone came dressed for some outdoor fun.

Our little lunch break adventure was broken up when an MGH police officer came over and told us that taking pictures is not allowed on hospital property due to patient confidentiality. (That does make me wonder about the person who took the picture on page 2 of the December 24 MGH Hotline without my permission.) The cop didn’t have a problem with us sledding nor did he seem to notice the doctor we spotted taking a picture of us from inside. But we left anyway for a bigger hill over on the Common.
Er, I mean, we totally went back to the office and were productive.

As I’m sure you’re aware if you’re living in the Boston area, though perhaps not if you live elsewhere, a water main break in Weston, MA has disrupted the flow of drinkable water to Boston and surrounding areas (but not Cambridge). While many are complaining about the inconvenience of having to boil water before drinking it (or brushing teeth or cooking or…), Lance has a better idea. Quoting:

Restore the balance of drinkable water to the world. For every day my city has to go without drinkable water, I hereby pledge $1 to a charity that helps bring drinkable water to the actual Third World — minimum of $10, in case Deval Patrick’s “Days Not Weeks” comment is accuracy and not just wishful thinking/crowd control. (I might bump that up to a minimum of $20; I’m unemployed, but even so.) According to The Water Project, “every $10 donated provides 1 person with clean water for 10 years”, and that seems like a fair tradeoff, doesn’t it? I’m still researching likely charities; Water For People also looks likely.
Join me. Make our “tragedy”, by which I mean “minor inconvenience for a week”, into someone else’s life-saving opportunity. Boost the signal. Pass it on.

I’m in.

I meant to post this yesterday, but got distracted by work…
Every week day morning for over a year now, I walk to the Davis Square T stop to head in to work. On the vast majority of those days, I’ve taken a copy of the Metro from the same woman who stands at the end of the escalator. (As I have mentioned before, the Metro is not a great paper. But it is free and it has a crossword puzzle.)
When I first started getting the paper from this woman, she never made eye contact and never smiled. She just held out the paper and waited for people to come back and take them from her. When someone did, she’d hold out another paper for the next person… or the person after that if the next person ignored her. It was the same thing everyday, with no sign of personality from her.
I figured she must be bored or shy or both and decided to make it my mission to get her to at least smile. Thus, every morning when I took the paper from her, I would say a cheery good morning. After about a month, she started to look up and smile when I said it. Eventually, she started recognizing me and smiling before I said anything. A few months ago she started holding the paper back from me until I said “Good morning,” at which she always responded with a very quiet “Good morning” back.
But yesterday was a big turning point. We did our usual “Good morning” exchange and I took the paper from her. But she wouldn’t let go. Instead, she looked me in the eye and said, “Happy Thanksgiving.” I wished her the same, and took the paper and headed off to the T.
So, on this turkey day 2009, I am thankful for the Metro lady at the Davis Square T stop and our small little bond. And for Google for sponsoring the free wifi at Logan which is allowing me to post this while I wait for me 6 am flight.

Today at work we were visited by a guest. After our morning meeting we noticed him (her?) just hanging out by one of the research assistant cubicles. He seemed just as interested in checking us out as we were in checking him out. When I moved the cereal box that was blocking our view of him, he was particularly interested in where I put it. Ultimately, I broke eye contact with him and attempted to take a picture of his backside which either made him lose interest or frightened because he took off from the ledge into the city.

In other news, my phone takes reasonable pictures and can connect to my work computer over bluetooth.

The official word from MGH Police:
“As you may have heard in the media, there was an incident this afternoon at 50 Staniford St. involving an assault on an employee. An off duty security guard, not associated with MGH, shot the suspect and the suspect has died. The employee is being treated for injuries and is in stable condition. The building is safe and has been secured. The Boston Police Department is processing the scene.”
Today was a fun day in the office, what with being in a temporary lockdown and all. But I am fine as is everyone I work with. (The incident happened on the 5th floor, I work on the 9th floor.)

Sitting at my kitchen table with Chrissy Hynde crooning “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” coming out of the stereo, some fabulous hot chocolate with vanilla marshmallows, courtesy of Martine, looking out at what appears to be 3 or 4 inches of snow with much more to come. And at 4 pm on a Friday — I’d like to thank my boss for letting us go at 1:30 when the flurries began for making this happen.
Deciding that today qualified as a nice day (and I know I am one of the few people who thinks a blizzard is a “nice day”), I got off at the Harvard T Stop today and walked 1.7 miles home. If it’s snowing out, it can’t be that cold. The precipitation freezes and doesn’t come down when temperatures are below zero. Nothing like the stinging of snow as a blizzard picks up steam and then coming home and dumping the wet boots, coat, hat, and gloves into the bathroom to dry to remind me of home.

For the first time in my life (save for productions of The Vagina Monologues), I am working in a group that is overwhelmingly female, although the lead doctor is male. The gender politics are also reversed from what I am used to. For example, there was this exchange in yesterday’s group meeting:
Lead Doctor: So you’re saying {specific drug} affects women differently than men?
Female Doctor 1: Yes.
LD: It must be estrogen related.
*Cadre of women in the room start laughing*
{The following dialogue was all overlapping chatter.}
Female Doctor 2: Oh, it’s *always* estrogen.
Female Doctor 3: Why is it every time I’m a little bit crabby men attribute it to PMS?
FD1: Just because women have periods…
FD2: I know, right? Sometimes I’m crabby just because I’m in a bad mood.
FD1: Men are always so quick to attribute everything to hormones.
FD3: My husband does that too!
etc, etc…
Meanwhile, at the other end of the table…
LD (sheepishly): All I said was estrogen.

I just saw Steven Tyler in the elevator — he was getting off as I was getting on. Everyone that got on the elevator with me did the exact same double take as soon as the door shut. “Was that… ?”
Yes, his mouth really is that big.

I know morning commutes are crowded and people are often in awkward positions grasping for the nearest railing to hold onto, most of which are above their heads. Thus, while annoying, I don’t fault the young man who decided to thrust his armpit in my face for most of this morning’s commute. But please, please, if you are going to do that, wear deodorant.