Signs

Today was a day that started out with a bunch of signs all telling me that I should have stayed in bed. It all began with a seemingly never ending nightmare about the world ending. Everyone had to evacuate in airplanes and I got separated from everyone but my little brother who forgot his ID and was not going to be let on the plane. It was one of those dreams that you can wake up from and go back to sleep and still be stuck in. It was terrible. I left the apartment late and went to my metro station. At the bottom of the escalator, I came across a baby bird with its wing caught in the bottom step. It was cheeping desperately and could not get out. I panicked and tried to get the Metro employees to help me rescue the bird to no avail. Finally, and I still feel guilty about this, I walked away and got on the train.

Then, when I got off the train, I called my mom while walking the 15 minutes to work. She answered the phone sobbing and told me she couldn't talk. THEN, I got to work, reached into my bag to get my badge so I could open the door and my key cut my finger, which started gushing blood all over everything, including my iPod.

It was at this point that I realized I should have gone home. I should have just turned around and returned to bed. I did not. Instead, I suffered through the rest of Tuesday and while it was not a great day, luckily it didn't get any worse.

Swamp

I live in a swamp. I knew what I was getting into when I moved here, but how could I really know? I take two to three showers a day. I am not proud of this fact. I do not like to waste water and dry out my skin and hair, but the swampy air clings to me and I feel disgusting.

Yesterday, Neil and I walked to Union Station in the middle of the afternoon. It's probably ten blocks from our apartment, maybe fewer, but I thought I was going to die. The heat was relentless. In addition to nearly melting into the pavement, we had the privilege of seeing at least one drug deal, one rat, several half-naked people and smelling all the smells of the city that somehow go dormant in the freeze of winter.

In spite of the smoldering, clinging, cloying heat, on most days, I am very glad to live here. But yesterday, as I dragged myself through the air toward air conditioning, I couldn't help fixating on the foothills of the Rockies.

Bad

Things are bad. Israel is at war with Lebanon. North Korea is making nuclear weapons. Hamas and Hezbolah are joining forces. The war in Iraq continues. Crime in D.C. is on the rise -- including the murder of an old friend of Neil's. Oh, and we're emitting too much carbon and causing global warming which is killing animals, creating worse storm patterns and moving us toward total destruction.

I realize I am being pesimistic, but sometimes there does not seem to be much hope in the world.

On the other hand, things in my little life go on as usual. Dinner out with a friend. Watched You, Me and Dupree (hilarious). I just can't help feeling a little bit guilty about letting things be normal.

A Fever

"My life- as an artist, at least - can be charted as precisely as a fever: the highs and lows, the very definite cycles. I started writing when I was eight - out of the blue, uninspired by any example. I'd never known anyone who wrote; indeed, I knew few people who read. But the fact was, the only four things that interested me were: reading books, going to the movies, tap dancing and drawing pictures. Then one day I started writing, not knowing that I had chained myself for life to a noble but merciless master. When God hands you a gift, he also hands you a whip; and the whip is intended solely for self-flagellation."
- Truman Capote
(From the preface of MUSIC FOR CHAMELEONS)

To The Guy Who Stood In Front of the Fan at the Gym Tonight

Dear Guy,
I know you live across the hall from me and I am supposed to be a good neighbor. In fact, I would much rather like my neighbors than not. However, ever since I learned that you stood my friend up on a Friday night and then DIDN'T EVEN CALL her to apologize, but instead sent a lame e-mail, I have been having my doubts about you.

This evening, when I saw you at the gym, I decided to take the high road and smile. You smiled and waved back. The gym was at least 85 degrees and the air conditioning is apparently broken since the door was propped open with a large dumbbell and there was a big industrial-strength fan whirring in the corner. I tried not to be annoyed that you were listening to an iPod and had the volume on the TV very loud. I tried not to be bothered that you seemed to have hidden the remote and I could not turn the TV by my machine on. But when you stood directly between me and the fan when you could have stood at any other point in the fan's path and you blocked every bit of cool air that was heading in my direction for more than 20 minutes of my 30-minute workout, I began to strongly dislike you. I spent at least 15 minutes trying to come up with a not-too-bitchy way to explain to you that it was a tad toasty in my corner. Then I began to embrace the heat thinking that I'd at least sweat out all my water weight while burning my 270 calories. Occasionally, you would turn around while taking a break from your weight-lifting and grunting. I wondered when you saw me completely soaked in sweat and as red as a tomato, why it wouldn't click in your brain that I might be HOT! But apparently it did not. You even stood there for a time while not working out, lifting your shirt to feel the cold air on your skin. I wanted to puke! When you left the gym, I had a little celebration on my precor.

Are you the most inconsiderate person on the planet or are you just completely clueless?

Signed,
Your Sweaty Neighbor

Alive

I am alive. Sean told me I need to update my blog, which is obviously true, so here I am. Hopefully I didn't scare away all five of my readers with my long absence.

I don't really have an excuse for not updating, except that once in a while I don't feel like sharing, or I let life get in my way...I'm not really sure.

Currently I am in a seriously introspective state. It's that time of year when I find myself questioning everything. Am I doing the right things to make myself happy and successful? Am I living a quality life? Who am I? Really, it's all exhausting. I have been listening to lots of whiny emo music on my iPod in the mornings and moping a little bit. I'm not proud of this, but it's the truth.

Then last night, Neil and I walked home from happy hour on Capitol Hill. We had to cross in front of the Capitol building and it was early twilight. The Capitol lawn was covered in a shimmering blanket of lightning bugs and it looked completely magical. There was an Army band playing convincing cover songs on the Capitol steps and a sizeable crowd had gathered to listen. As we walked by, I had a moment of clarity, providing hope that I will eventually emerge from this fog of introspection. Wish me luck.

Also on the way home we saw (and I nearly stepped on) a cockroach and then we crossed paths with a large rat. Ahh city living in the summer...

Week of Weakness
To be sick is to be weak. Or something like that. All week I have been basically feeling like crap. It's beautiful outside, the kind of weather that makes you want to wear a skirt and tank top, that calls you outdoors -- and I have been ill. I spent Monday in bed but the rest of the week, I worked long hours, kept social engagements, got very little sleep and felt like I was in battle the entire time. It is so completely frustrating to be physically weak, to be unable to keep up with the pace of life. I am really glad my week of weakness is finally over.

In other news, go see Over The Hedge.

Public Apology to the Nice-Seeming Girl On The Metro Who I Cut Off When The Door Chime Chimed
I only did it because I was afraid of being stuck on the train. I really appreciated you moving your hand to another pole in order to make room for my hand. I am sorry I did not afford you a similar courtesy and instead yelled out "are you kidding me?" to noone in particular when the driver chimed the door closing chime 20 seconds after the doors opened. I am also sorry that I then pushed ahead of you and out the metro door, not looking back until I was safely on my way up the escalator. It did look like you got off, though. So that's good. But I'm still sorry.

Singing in the Rain

Today, due to a series of unforeseen circumstances, Neil and I ended up walking at least 30 blocks in the pouring rain. It was awesome. So what if I am now chilled to the bone, so what if our clothes were soaked, it was great. It made me want to sing (in fact I did sing). There's something about getting soaked that is cleansing and not just because I got all wet. No, I wasn't in the mountains in New Mexico (my preferred location for getting completely soaked by a downpour) but the streets of DC were just fine. Neil thought I was slightly crazy for being so excited when the rain started pelting us, but I think he eventually came to see my position on the issue. Thank you rain.

In other news, only a little more than an hour before Desperate Housewives and Grey's Anatomy come on. I am an addict. I confess. But Sunday night TV rocks. What does not rock is the fact that the season ends in another week and I will be stuck with a cliffhanger ending and nothing to watch. But maybe I will do something more useful with my Sunday evenings?

Something I have been meaning to blog about since mid-April:
Growing up in New Mexico, one becomes very familiar with a certain lawyer who not only advertises on television, but also has had a billboard on the I-25 corridor with his face on it for at least the past 20 years. In addition to knowing the words to Sesame Street and the 321 Contact theme song as a child, I could also recite -- with all the right inflection -- "I'm Ron Bell and I sue drunk drivers." I could also tell you that to reach Ron Bell, one only needed to dial 898-BELL. Finally, If I ran into him on the street -- not that I ever did -- I would have been able to recognize the short, curly-haired man in a heartbeat.

Flash forward 20 years. When we moved to Albuquerque, Neil also became familiar with Mr. Bell. Only, the tagline had changed to "Ron Bell: Truck Accident Attorney". The phone number was the same, the face also the same. I suspected plastic surgery, but then again, men do age more gracefully than woman.

In mid-April, while walking through the Chicago Midway airport on our way back to D.C. a woman Neil worked with in New Mexico came screaming across the wide aisle of the terminal, "NEEEEEIIIILLLLLLL!!!" Some hugging and catching up ensued. I was introduced and then, a small curly-haired man popped out from behind the woman, extended his hand and said, "Hi! I'm Ron Bell!" At this moment I desperately wanted to say, "I know. You sue drunk drivers. Nice to meet you." Similarly, Neil had a yen to say "Truck accident attorney?" We both managed to control ourselves and simply say, "Nice meeting you." Which was really a gift because Ron went on to tell us about having just come from a relative's briss in Schaumberg and how nice his new girlfriend (Neil's friend) was to come along to such an occasion. Now, how often to you get to hear a local celebrity ramble about a relative's briss?

Of course, after the encounter, Neil and I came up with many other great responses to poor Ron's initial introduction. What I wonder is, why not just say, "Hi I'm Ron."? If I ever meet him again, I think I will make that recommendation. If he only used the first name, people would still know who he was, but may not be so compelled to follow his introduction with one of his ubiquitous tag lines. Of course any man who plasters his face on a billboard for nearly two decades, would probably be thrilled to see that his marketing dollars have not gone to waste. I have his freaking phone number memorized. Maybe I should not have pretended not to know who he was. Perhaps I should have just come out with it. "And you sue drunk drivers. 898-BELL right?"

Delinquent Blogger

Oh my goodness, what happened to me???

This month:
Patty P. visited for the Cherry Blossom Festival during which we saw the most amazing flowers ever and toured the White House gardens.

Neil's aunt Bella visited and so did his cousins and we went to the White House and cherry blossoms with them, too.

We went to New Mexico where we saw my crazy family and it was actually really great. We got to breathe in mountain air, sleep with the window open, see stars in the sky, hang out with good friends over my dad's expertly made margaritas, spend quality time with family, eat green chile, walk on the plaza and basically, I got to feel my feet on the ground where I have roots, recharge my battery and get back on the airplane feeling happy to be going home even if a small part of me also felt like I was leaving home. Of course, we didn't even stop in Albuquerque and we didn't get to visit our old neighborhood or our old offices and co-workers etc. but there's always time to do that when we go back in Sept. for the as-yet-unplanned 10-year high school reunion...augh.

When we returned from NM, our dogs had basically stopped eating and now we have to sit with them for at least 20 minutes at meal time in order to get them to eat. I also returned to massive amounts of stress at work, but what's new. The good part is that the weather has been amazing. When there is blue sky in the morning and I don't have to wear a heavy winter coat, it feels as if the world is full of possibilities.

Right now, Neil's dad is in town and his cousin and her baby are also in town (separate from his dad). So the weekend will be busy with visitors. On Sunday, I am going to the Save Darfur Rally on the Mall. If you don't know about the genocide taking place in Darfur, educate yourself about it.

And finally, a thought from my long walk home from work today. iPods are awesome and amazing, but are they also a way of supressing the human urge to sing along? When people in the 80's carried boom boxes on their shoulders, singing to the music was the norm. But there is something about singing to a song nobody else can hear that is a tad disconcerting -- so most people do not do it. When you are accompanied by background music, you always sound better than when you try to go it alone. So I wonder is suppressing my urge to bust out singing on my daily commute is also making me less likely to sing at other times?

Clearly, I need to think less and get more sleep.
Ciao.

Border

I have been thinking about the border, about Mexico, about immigration since I moved to El Paso in the summer of 2000. Long before there was Sept. 11, before George W. Bush moved into the White House, before there was a national debate about "illegals", I began to ponder what a border really means.

In El Paso, there is a place called Monument One where the border between the U.S. and Mexico stops being a river and turns into a line in the sand marked by white obelisk that span for miles and miles. In some places there are fences, but in other places, the border is literally a line drawn in the sand. Living in a border city, it becomes apparent that the border is not a permanent line, an impermeable wall, something uncrossable like an ocean, it is porous, it is alive and it is filled with ambiguity. I fell in love with the border culture, with El Paso and Juarez and the people who inhabit the strange place where two nations meet. I even fell in love with the ambiguity of living on the border. I met people whose families struggled to make sure they were born in America and could have a better life. I met students who crossed the bridge and passed through customs daily in order to attend an American university. I met an engineer from the University of Michigan who crossed into Mexico daily to work in an auto plant and be around coworkers who spoke the language she loved.

I have two things to say about the immigration debate raging in Congress right now. First of all, why do the people in power suddenly care about this? We have millions of people living in our country and working in jobs that pay too low to attract American citizens. This is not a situation that cropped up overnight. This is systemic. Secondly, how on earth can this great nation of immigrants even consider not letting our neighbors stay? "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free..." Our country is about freedom, it is about immigrants. Sure, the people who are illegally in our country should go through a process of immigration. And the immigration system should be fixed so that people don't feel the need to risk their lives in order to cross a line in the desert sand. Yes, we have national security issues to worry about, but we cannot build a bubble around the United States. Anyone who has lived on the border will tell you that there isn't a way to make us completely safe. It is never black and white. Laws may make improvements (if they are the right laws), but they cannot change the nature of our borders -- borders in general. Lawmakers need to really think about what they are doing and about what our borders mean and what they are - what our country means and what we stand for.

Lately

I haven't been around the internet lately. I am at work for so many hours and it's so intense that when I get home, I avoid a few things: the computer, the phone, reading, talking in general, thinking. This basically leaves me to watch TV or workout. Sure, I am exaggerating... but just a little.

Today has been a strange day. I had only a couple sips of coffee this morning because it tasted terrible. I suspect it was made incorrectly, that or the cream I put in had gone bad. Mmm. So anyways, I have been in a caffeine-less haze for most of the day. I accomplished a few things at work and was feeling pretty good for a few hours, but now I am experiencing the inevitable post-lunch crash. I had a taco salad (yum) which is pretty healthy and not too heavy, but it is still making me sleepy.

I finished reading the book Saturday by Ian McEwan last night (actually this morning...) I thought I didn't like the book while I was reading, but it turns out I really love it. The writing is really quite amazing and moving.

My friend Johnny has a cool new blog that is worth checking out. I am not sure why he is so anti-goat. Personally, I'm pro-goat. They are cute. They make tasty cheese. Johnny is the friend whose pants-burning New Years Eve party I attended -- he is completely wacky in all of the good ways.

In mid-April, I will be leaving D.C. for the first time since arriving here last November. It is about time for a short trip home to NM to see the family, breathe the mountain air, eat green chile and feel grounded for a moment. I am like a rechargable battery, always needing to return to my home base to gain the strength I need to carry on. Not the prettiest simile, but it works.

Clearly, I need some caffeine. For some reason, I am pleasantly reassured by my addiction to the stimulant. But I really have become dependent on it. Waiting until this late in the day to get my fill is completely crazy. Here's to a more caffeinated post next time.

Whelmed

I keep having all kinds of good ideas for blogging, but I am usually in a tunnel underground, walking someplace or in the shower when the ideas strike... never near a computer. I have been absent from this space lately not because nothing is happening, just because it's never convenient to write about it and when I can, I don't feel inspired. I think part of this might be the fact that I am so busy doing social/external things that my intellectual/private life has been ignored a bit. I am reading a lot still and I do have my daily walk during which I think and listen to music, but I am missing the restorative stillness that I used to incorporate in my days. I am not quite sure how to get that back.

On the other hand, I am having a blast. Work is hard, but I'm finally playing hard too. We go out on weeknights. We have plans. There are things to do. It's really nice.

Last weekend there was a warm spell that allowed Neil and I to spend Saturday rollerblading and getting slight sunburns. I got to wear sandals and sleveless shirts. It was amazing.

A couple of weekends ago my parents came to visit. Much fun was had. We went to a play, Fanny's First Play, which was very entertaining, we toured Mt. Vernon, we ate at amazing restaurants and just had a good time. It's nice to see family, especially being so far away from home.

Some things I have wanted to blog about but haven't had the chance:

*How deeply I love Grey's Anatomy (so much that I like to watch episodes over and over again)
*How being swamped at work is a major social problem
*My need to travel
*New music loves: Idan Raichal Project, Belle and Sebastian's Life Pursuit, Brandi Carlisle
*Strange encounters with DC people who want me to give them one of my dogs

Movie trivia bonus points to the reader that can tell me (in my comments section) which movie the title of this post comes from.

Things I Like on a Morning Commute

1. When I walk in the station, down the escalator unimpeded by fellow commuters and right onto a train.

2. Finding an open front corner seat.

3. Finding any open seat.

4. The absence of inclement weather.

5. The absence of shoving and angry glares.

6. The smiley metro employee who chats with me when he's working.

7. A cheerful/friendly -- even funny -- metro announcer.

8. The absence of delays.

9. When friendly drivers stop to let me cross the street (even when I am not using a crosswalk.)

10. When the iPod plays good music.

11. When people smile at me.

12. When I get to work on time.

Speaking of Human Elements

I have been thinking lately about people and connections and how we take a piece of everyone we know with us always. Even people I don't know anymore are with me every day -- whether they introduced me to a favorite song, or a new musician, a way of thinking, a phrase, a saying or mannerism -- I am always collecting parts of people.

It is the parts of people that I have loved the most that are the most easily identifiable. Maybe the longer you spend with a person, the more of them you carry with you? And what if the longer the length of time between when you last left each other, the more the parts of them you've collected become a part of you -- indistinguishable -- unattributed to their original source?

The sad part is that I miss all of the people I carry with me. I miss them all in varying degrees. From my fifth grade teacher to the boyfriend that I never kissed, to the kid I tutored after school, to the coworker who encouraged me not to cry during the first week of work when I was accosted by a creepy homeless man, and the first boy that I loved. I am always missing people. It's not the kind of missing that ruins my days. It's the sweet ache of absence and I feel it for all of my family and current friends who are spread all over the world -- and for the people I have lost along the way.

I have been listening to a song on repeat that made me think of all this: Skeleton on Display by Now It's Overhead. Of course, this song is about some love affair or another, but it touches me:

"Stepping out of skin we grew together in this life we're ending."

Don't we all grow skin together in our various relationships? We forge commonality, create bonds, sometimes we create our own language...

"I will always miss you
I will always miss you
I will always."

And the chorus makes me long for my grandfather, my best friend from freshman year of college and past loves all at once.

"I am a skeleton on display."

I suppose this is true about myself. I am the old heart on my sleeve cliche. I make myself vulnerable by allowing myself to miss people in the way that I do...but I think it's worth it

Good Little Communists

Lately, Neil and I have been using Zipcar to run errands like grocery shopping and taking the dogs to the groomer. All we have to do is go online, reserve a car and then walk a couple blocks where we use a card to open the doors and the keys are in the ignition. The system depends on the goodness of people. Each renter must pull out of the Zipcar spot, stop, get out of the car and put down an orange cone stored in the back seat to reserve the space. Any renter who drives until there is only 1/4 of a tank left is responsible for taking the gas card out of the glove box and filling up the tank of gas. All Zipcars have XM radio and renters need not worry about insurance -- like gas, it is covered by the hourly rate.

So yes, Zipcar is a bit like communism, but it works. Part of what makes us care about leaving the car clean and full of gas and returning it on time is knowing that other people like us might be picking the car up and the next time slot. It's all about the human element. If we took the car back to the rental shop and knew they'd be cleaning it and inspecting it, we would not care nearly as much -- it would be corporate -- not human. But Zipcar, with its cleverly named cars (Matrix Maddy), introduced the human element into their business and it makes me proud to participate in their communist-reminiscent car rental system... (of course, it's only the friendly customers who are communist... Zipcar is making bank.)

All Fall Down

Since moving to D.C. I have become the world's biggest klutz. I fell on the sidewalk in good weather two times. Completely fell. I blamed it on carrying too many things in my arms and being off balance -- which is probably true -- but still doesn't justify a complete wipeout... On Monday, there was snow and ice covering the sidewalk on the way to work. In spite of the fact that I was wearing snow boots AND being careful, I slipped on some black ice and fell smack on my tailbone. I like to think that I gracefully bounced back to my feet, but it's more likely that I looked hilarious and ridiculous with my big messenger bag and my snow boots and my work clothes all splayed on the sidewalk. This falling has become so commonplace that I have to laugh at it now. I mean, it's sad, sure... but it's also really funny.

I was thinking that I rarely, if ever, fall while skiing or ice skating or rollerblading. I can't remember the last time I fell skiing. I take major risks, ski way too fast, fly over jumps and bumps and still do not fall. Why then, do I so regularly come crashing down when just trying to walk along the sidewalk? I'm trying not to read anything into it.

New Hobby

I think that Dick Cheney should consider taking up a new hobby.

The fact that our vice president shot somebody in the face is completely mind boggling. I just do not even know what to say. Isn't there an entire battery of jokes about stupid hunting accidents?

White House

We had a tour of the White House at 7:30 Saturday morning. It was one of the tours you can get by sending a request to your senator or congressman and waiting a few months. So this past Saturday was our day. They had pre-cleared us by running our social security numbers through whatever government database necessary so getting in was relatively easy.. one id check, one metal detector and we were walking in the halls of the East Wing. The very first thing we saw upon entering was a photo of the State of the Union Address with the president in the middle and Neil right above his head in the press area. It was blown up and Neil' face was recognizable. So, for another couple of weeks, Neil will be on the walls of the White House, which, even if it is the Bush White House, is pretty cool.

The rest of the tour was interesting. Really, the White House is smaller than I thought. We only got to see the first floor, but the rooms aren't as humongous as you might imagine. Of course, they're beautifully decorated and every object in them is dripping in history... but my idealized image of the place was cooler than the actual place.

Noreaster

And finally, Washington D.C. was hit by a noreaster today. Really, we only got 6 inches of snow and most of it has already melted.. but it made for a beautiful, sparkly morning and an excuse to finally wear my snow boots.

American

Why is football so "American"? I am an American and yet, I don't really feel moved by football. I only recently learned to understand the game and to me, it still seems less exciting than most other sports. But tonight, millions of Americans are gathered around their TVs watching football and I am among them. But I am not sure why this tradition defines us. A bunch of big guys running into each other while trying to get a slippery football into the endzone...what's American about that? Everything, I guess...

***

I have bronchitis and have been sick since last Thursday. Not the most fun way to spend the weekend. Not much exciting has happened to me this past week as a result. I watched way too much TV and slept. Oh, and I had a nebulizer treatment at the doctor's office to open up my lungs. Thrilling...

Here's to more exciting things in the week to come.

Bummer

Today is kind of a bummer. For starters it's rainy and dreary outside and that's often enough to make me feel bummed. But then there's the news today: a shooting in a postal facility in CA in which 7 people died, the death of Coretta Scott King and now this: Senate Confirms Alito to the Supreme Court which is not at all unexpected, but still a big bummer. Still the kind of thing that makes my heart sink.

Neil has a pass to watch the State of the Union in person tonight... which is really cool, regardless of who the president is, but I don't think I could attend even if I had the chance. Last year, even though I was alone on my couch, I remember swearing at my tv and being incredibly angry the entire time. I think I even switched away from the speech for a big portion in the middle because I found watching it so maddening.

In other news, I think I have mentioned here before the fact that about 10 years ago, a former version of myself volunteered to plan the 10 year high school reunion for my class. And here we are, 10 years later and I am trying to get things going with the planning. The first step has been tracking people down that I've been out of touch with. With the help of Julia (the other class agent who foolishly volunteered 10 years ago) I am nearly finished with the tracking down. It's been really cool to reconnect with people and find out what everyone is doing. People are getting married, have babies etc. This process has also been a little sad because it's made me miss Carl, my freshman year boyfriend who died of brain cancer when we were seniors in college. And in a more abstract sense, it has made me miss myself. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I miss feeling invincible, I miss the heady friendships and the late nights and the crushes that were all-consuming and so incredibly important.

To add to all the nostalgia, I also happen to be reading Prep by Curtis Steinfeld at the moment. Britten recommended it to me a while ago and I suppose the timing could not be more perfect. The book is all about high school and while I did not attend boarding school, I did attend a prep school and some of the things in the book are so dead on with my experience that it's spooky.

I am sure there is more to say on this topic. Why do we make such a big deal in our society about events as they grow distant from us in ten year increments? Is it to remind us of who we were and where we came from, or simply to make us feel old and less accomplished than we'd hoped to be? Is it about reconnecting? And once we all reconnect, will we stay in contact or just wait until someone (probably me) sends out an e-mail in another 10 years and we start over again? Since when did I become so cynical?