The Good Life... a weblog about life, technology, and the Opera web browser

Can you hear me now? Good.

My car was napkined Saturday night. With Starbucks napkins, to boot. The nerve.

It smells like snow. We're expecting between 3 and 6 inches. I'm nice and toasty in my sister's Boston duplex. It's gorgeous. I want it. I'd need a new car, though. Big cars don't do well in Boston. Sorry, Belle.

I had to take my boots off at the airport. An unlucky security guard had to wand my feet. I met Meredith, a junior at Gettysburg College (You know, the Battle of Gettysburg? Yeah. I just wanted to make sure it was in Pennsylvania, OK?), who was quite chatty, despite her prescribed bed rest and enlarged spleen (read: she has mono).

I couldn't have imagined today working out more perfectly. I was able to drop my car off at the mechanic, Jeremy and I got to chat on the way to the airport, and a random young woman said I was sweet (for carrying her bag). Sweet, as in a character trait. She said she talked too much. I should have said she had a lot to say. Err, anyway.

My baggage decided to skip the connecting shuttle from New York to Boston, so I was courteous enough to wait around until it made it on the next shuttle. That extra hour made it easy to meet my sister and her roommate at a subway station on their trip home from work (saving me $25 in taxi fare), after which we enjoyed a delectable dinner at Charlestown's Figs, including a Chocolate Tart with Raspberry sauce.

Did you know that the fluid that allows your joints to move has one of the lowest coefficients of friction of any known liquid? I did some Physics homework today, too. And how!

I'm a big baby when I'm sick.

Foxtrot comic originally published October 31, 2002. Copyright Bill Amend.

A friend from high school told me today that someone from our school committed suicide over the weekend. When I called someone at LC from home to tell her, she told me that someone else had overdosed on Saturday. Add to that fears of a serial killer and pending war with Iraq and all of a sudden I was having trouble understanding the things happening to our world.

In the past couple of months, I've found too many ways to waste time, leaving little time for the things I need to do, let alone the things I enjoy doing. Slowly, I'm beginning to realize that the mundane tasks of life are here to stay and I might as well find some way to enjoy them. I can't count on good moods to get me through hard times. I can't continue neglecting the tasks given to me and expect to miraculously find success in the Real World.

Sometimes I feel silly mentioning all these insignificant trials, considering the horrible state of the world. I can't imagine the worthlessness necessary to push a person to suicide nor the desperation necessary to lead to drug use/misuse/overdose. I have hope. The reason I make it through the minor trials is because I know there is something better in my future. That reason is Jesus Christ.

We struggle every day to be significant, to make a difference, and to find our place in society. But significance can't be found in fame, money, or glamour; it's found in relationships. It's found in the things we do every day, successes obtainable by everyone.

When I was trying to figure out how to handle all the craziness of this world, I prayed to God for clarity of thought and reassured hope. Later, I prayed with a friend (thanks, Betsy) about the things on my heart. I truly believe that by praying, I'm doing what I can to help God win the spiritual battle raging all around us. The weight of this world lifted off my shoulders and my hope for this world was restored.

If you have the secret to the good life, you'd share it with others, right? That's why I write things like this. I want to share the good life. I'm sorry that no one could reach the two young women that died this weekend. May they rest in peace and may others learn the importance of friends and family and personal significance before it's too late.

This weekend was the first time I've driven home from school to my parent's new home. After living at our old house for eight years and getting used to judging times and distances based on its location, this new place is going to take some getting used to. Of course, it's only about 5 houses from the house I grew up in, but that's not the point.

I crossed the Chespeake Bay Bridge four times in the past two days. My parents have an E-Zpass, which is supposed to make paying tolls much easier by making an electronic transaction while you slowly pass through an unmanned booth. Unfortunately, the first time I went through the toll, the E-Zpass didn't work and I had no choice but to drive away without paying the toll.

If you've ever run a toll, you're probably familiar with the hockey buzzer sound, letting everyone within a half mile know "THIS GUY RAN THE TOLL WITHOUT PAYING!!!" Fear of embarrassment was enough to deter me from using the E-Zpass lane the next time I crossed the bridge. Of course, some cavernous corner of my pocket managed to hide one dime, forcing me to unwittingly short the toll booth lady ten cents.

Thankfully, the following two trips across the bridge proved uneventful.

My hall smells like tuna fish.

Driving along the Capital Beltway (perhaps I should say, Captial Parking Lot) tonight, I noticed flames spewing from underneath a Jeep Wagoneer. I saw the vehicle pull over and--without thinking-- I steered to the side of the rode in front of the Jeep, stopped, grabbed my flashlight, and walked to the flaming vehicle. I was somewhat surprised when I noticed the driver continued sitting in the car, oblivious to the fire just below him. As I approached the car, the driver stepped out to greet me. Not knowing what to do, I simply said Sir, your car is on fire. Not registering with the driver, I repeated, Sir, your car is on FIRE.

The driver quickly put the flames out with a rolled up flannel jacket and a bottle of Gatorade. After several unsuccessful attempts to restart his car, he collected his things and asked for a ride home. Again, without much serious thought, I agreed. After dropping him off, I continued home. When I told my parents about the evening's events, my step-mother said I would have killed you if you had died doing something like that. Indeed.

Our new house came furnished with an in-ground pool. The first one in after a long day's work isn't the aching humans. No, it's the insubordinate Chocolate Lab (AKA Mandy). I've learned two things from Mandy: 1) the real way to make puppy-dog eyes, and 2) how to doggy paddle.

Shortly before I left home last week to return to school, my beloved cat, Mia, passed away. She went quickly and unexpectedly. Behind our pool, our property includes several hundred feet of woods. Mia found her final resting place amongst the trees, out in the wild where she belongs.

I never realized you could love a pet so deeply until her death. She was a wonderful cat and I had looked forward to including her in my search for a place of my own. In any case, she's better off were she is now.