I recall hanging out on Friday nights

A-squared: Mazel tov and bon voyage!!

Sorry to be AWOL from blogging and thus becoming my own pet peeve: people who start a blog and then stop posting. Getting slammed with five projects in three states simultaneously at work and then having your coworker leave and dump still more on you, while your preschooler is going through intense separation anxiety, you're making extensive and complicated sartorial preparations to be in a friend's wedding, and you're still dumb enough to plan and host a party at home for over 50 people, will eliminate most of one's spare time. So the wedding is over (it was great), the party is over (also great), and the work overload and separation anxiety go on.

So I finally got to return to my former hometown of 6-ish years last week while doing research in DC. I've been back twice before to visit friends and hit a restaurant or two, but never by myself (or with enough lack of chaos to ponder how it feels). DH, saint that he is, scored me probably the only hotel room under $150 west of Connecticut Avenue. I must admit it was delightful but rather surreal staying in Bethesda as a visitor instead of as a resident. Things haven't changed a whole lot in 3 years, but experiencing it as a visitor was a new twist. At first I was having trouble fighting the speed demons on the Beltway and remembering where things were (although spending 9 straight hours at Archives II with little food or drink probably didn't help). But once I set foot on the Metro escalator the next morning, eager for a reunion with my favorite mass-transit system of all time, I was back to local mode, mentally contemptuous of anyone who wasn't standing to the right or walking to the left or otherwise getting out of my way.

I do have a snarky bone to pick with Metro. First of all, changing the platform-floor lights in certain stations from white to red clashes SO badly with the terra-cotta floor tile, I almost wish I was red-green color-blind. Secondly, they got rid of the familar "Doors closing! (ding-dong)" announcement in favor of a more hostile "Step back! Doors are closing!" The woman's voice sounds like she's scolding someone for trying to grope her. No fondling the doors, you stupid tourists!

It was fun but I don't want to move back. For one thing, the humidity was hellacious, way worse than I remembered. For another, the traffic is still beyond ridiculous. Pennsylvania is definitely a kinder, gentler place in both regards, as long as you avoid the Schuylkill. I mean, people up here actually let you merge!

Moving on to my usual lack of tasteful subject matter: I was so excited the other day to browse through the mail and find a magazine with a cover teaser for something like “the ultimate guide to burping.” Finally! Even those of us with demonstrated belching skills could always use a little brush-up, especially if such skills have lain largely dormant due to 1. lack of the proper carbonated beverage, 2. being surrounded almost entirely by people who either don’t find burping funny or people for whom you don’t want to set a bad example, and 3. having to be, like, ya know, grownup and professional in most company.

Then I looked a little closer at the magazine. It was Parents magazine. With a fake Shrek-themed ogre cover spread advertisement flap, covering the real cover with its usual cutesy styling. No burping article! And even if there had been a burping article, it would have been pertinent only to coaxing one out of your infant, not yourself. Dang those advertising people!