The Weeder Course: Are You Serious about Living In Boston?

I have a friend who heartily dislikes February.  I congratulated her when she survived it this year, mostly because I was also congratulating myself for surviving it.

The hardest thing about February wasn't the snow or the shoveling or the long commutes or even the long walks when the public transportation wasn't running - it was the exhaustion from dealing with all of these things and then getting up the next day and facing it all over again.  

Here are some of the month's highlights:

(1) Sledding in the park and walking across a frozen solid pond.
(2) Having some nice people on the subway make room for me.  (One nice lady even pulled me onto the subway with her after we had waited through three previously full trains)
(3) Visiting the Longfellow House in honor of George Washington's Birthday (the Longfellow House was GW's war headquarters when he was in Boston)
(4) Visiting the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum (for free) and deciding that :
      (a) I kind of wish Isabella and I could have been friends
      (b) I want her house
      (c) I am very upset that someone stole a lot of artwork from there in 1990
      (d) I want Ally Carter to write a fictional story in the Heist Society series solving the heist.
(5) Shoveling snow one weekend for 8 hours and then rejoicing by jumping around in the snow
(6) Finding a good doughnut shop near my house
(7) Walking in the snow back from the temple
(8) Going to Dallas (for work training) and finding boots for Boston.  (Since Boston is sold out and back-ordered until June)

No Man is an Island

I was riding the green line back towards the red line, the line that would take me home.  My mind was on the book I was reading, the bread and eggs and milk I would be buying, on the wonderful weekend I would be spending in my house, doing lazy snow day activities for the first time since the snow hit.
When I went to switch trains, I noticed a cop was standing guard over the inbound train entrance, his arms outstretched.  "No one is allowed down here"  and he turned and looked over his shoulder with a glance that told me not everything was normal.

When I got to my train entrance, there were three security guard standing entrance and another couple guards directing everyone outside, quickly and brusquely with little to no explanation beyond, "Shuttle buses will be coming."  The red line train was down...again.  I sighed.  With all this snow in Boston, the red line seems to be shut down more often than it's operating normally.  This didn't seem like a disabled train but no one looked stricken or in shock.

I followed the group of people outside but paused when I noticed a few cops questioning people in the entryway, "Did you touch her?  Did you try to stop her?"

I looked at the passengers being questioned.  Again, no shock.

With a heave the doors were flung open as I followed the masses out the doors, past the interrogations and into the outside where we blinked in shock to see the entire street in front of the station blocked with at least a dozen emergency vehicles and sirens announcing the arrival of more.

Annoyance at being left in the cold, high and dry without a way home; those were the emotions I heard and saw expressed.  Did anyone around me know what was happening?

My mind spun through worst-case scenarios and I prayed that none of those were true.

Curiosity wanted to know what the incident was that shut down the entire red line and stopped up all downtown  traffic.  Another part was too afraid to face the reality that perhaps someone(s) had died.  I turned around and walked away.

It took me and hour and a half to walk through Boston, over to Cambridge and then on to Harvard Square. As I stumbled, slid through the snowy streets, the snow covering my hat and coat, I continued to pray for those involved. As I passed red line stops, I wondered if the people milling outside, calling friends and family to pick them up, realized that an accident rather the weather had caused the confusion.  I wondered if it would be on the news, on the national news.  "An already overtaxed and weary subway line halted by another kind of emergency"  I could see the headlines, even if I didn't know the details.  
However...

No one around me in the grocery store said a thing.  No one on Facebook mentions it.  So I state it here: Something tragic and sad happened today on the red line.

"Ask not for whom the bell tolls.  It tolls for thee."

January

Things I've done this month:

Read eleven books
Become a member of the Museum of Fine Arts
Hiked around Arnold Arboretum
Had Boston Cream Pie from the place it originated
Survived and shoveled through my first blizzard (nor'easter)
Given a 10 minute talk in Chinese
Set a goal for the year


Things I haven't done:
Written any stories
Played an Instrument
Studied Chinese or Japanese
Opened a textbook


I'm not sure where that puts me.  But I'm not regretting it.

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

My roommates and I started a quote wall and it seems I run circles around my roommates when it comes to saying funny things.  Except, rereading them all, I'm realizing, I'm not funny so much as I am awkward and kind of ditzy-sounding.  

"My facebook doesn't know who I am"

"I need to get all my geese in a row" 

I try to tell stories and it's like I'm a stand-up comedian but I don't get my own jokes.