Reason #306: Since I had cleared my weekend (besides Passover seder with the family last night) for the possibility I might have to spend much of it hustling around Brooklyn looking for a one bedroom apartment that I could afford and didn't make me ill with the thought of living in it, I instead got a little more sleep than I would have otherwise, had a nice, relaxed dinner with my friend Brandyne (even managed to stay kosher for Passover at a Mexican restaurant!), now have a slightly cleaner apartment, and also caught up on my Friends page for the first time in months.

So on Wednesday, after a lovely evening at the Power of Film Gala (about which more later), I stayed up the rest of the night and then took an early Thursday morning flight from Newark to Denver for the 2008 Frozen Four. Everything went smoothly on the trip out - well, almost everything. I was on line to check my suitcase when I suddenly remembered I couldn't bring my toiletry bag (which included a can of shaving cream) in my carry-on, and I quickly reached in to move it to my suitcase... grabbing it, unfortunately, by the head of my razor, and cutting my finger open. It bled pretty copiously for such a small cut (I later realized I'd actually taken a good chunk off, not just cut it), but with some Continental Airlines staff help we got it under control before I boarded.

When you have to fly for several hours, very few things beat being able to do it for free (or for miles, anyway), in the aisle seat of an exit row, with nobody in the middle seat, with a power outlet underneath you. On my laptop I watched "Across the Universe," which was really wonderful (I started with "Michael Clayton," which froze 59 seconds in - thanks, Netflix!), and finally started reading Limitations, a Scott Turow novel that the New York Times Magazine had serialized a couple of years ago, and which Mom had saved for me.

A quick trip to my hotel later, I napped for a few hours, then went to see some hockey.

The early game, #2 North Dakota vs. #3 Boston College, was supposed to have been the more competitive of the semifinals, but somebody must have forgotten to tell them, because it didn't work out that way. North Dakota clearly had the better of the physical game, and a crisp, clean power play, but that didn't last long or get them very far. Defensive breakdowns quickly led to Boston College breakaways and 2-on-1s and short-handed goals, and Sioux goalie (and Hobey Baker candidate) Jean-Philippe Lamoureux got hung out to dry.

Six times.

North Dakota finally put one on the board with close to nine minutes left in the game, but it wasn't nearly enough; the Eagles had too much of a step on them. Final, 6-1.

After the first semi, most of the Cornell contingent present (or at least most of the ELynah Forum contingent) met to coordinate nighttime plans and put faces to names:



The second semifinal, in which #1 Michigan was heavily favored over #4 Notre Dame, turned out to be far more entertaining - though for a while, Notre Dame seemed to be doing its best Boston College impression, and was up 3-0 fairly quickly. But the Wolverines fought back to a 3-3 tie, and then after the Fighting Irish made it 4-3, also tied it up at 4. We went to sudden-death overtime, in which the Irish just clearly had more steam left, and finally capitalized with their fifth and winning goal to end the game.

Saturday evening, it seemed, would feature the first all-Jesuit Frozen Four championship game in history.

A different subset of the Cornell contingent went out for legal beverages and food across the river(s) from downtown at the charming and friendly My Brother's Bar, whose most notable feature seems to be that they retail Girl Scout Cookies. My J.C.B. - Jalapeño and Cream Cheese Burger - was quite yummy, as was my locally-brewed Great Divide Denver Pale Ale.



After a long walk back to the hotel, I settled in for a good night's sleep.

Largely due to my training schedule for El Tour de Tucson (which is in five days, by the way!!), I haven't really taken a weekend entirely for myself in a few months. Since my bike was already on its way to Arizona, this weekend I took a roadtrip.

I stopped off in Dobbs Ferry to pick up Dad's car, and dropped off a piece of my birthday cake for him in return... then after a long, traffic-filled drive to New Haven, I saw the Cornell men's hockey team defeat Yale 2-1 in a hard-fought, exciting game that would've been a shut-out for Ben Scrivens but for Yale's goal with 5.7 seconds left. At the game, I saw my distant cousin David and met some of his friends, and hung out with my friends Anne, Jeff (and his son Brian, who already wants to go to Cornell's School of Hotel Administration when it's time for college in ten years), Kevin, and Arik.

A snack and a quick, traffic-free drive to Providence later, I was sleeping on the couch of my friends John & Micaela. Despite their best efforts, their adorable toddler Maggie woke me bright and early, and we all went out for a relaxed breakfast. I drove down to Cranston for lunch with my fraternity brother Pete, who's now the rabbi for Temple Sinai, a Reform congregation covering Cranston and Warwick; we hadn't really sat down and talked in many years, and it was great to catch up with him.

Then while John, Micaela, and Maggie went to a party for a friend of Maggie's, I napped... rather briefly, because their babysitter showed up an hour early and kept calling. Finally John and Micaela and I went off to Meehan Auditorium, where we saw a hard-working Cornell team and another good night from Ben Scrivens in net overcome a larger, faster Brown team to defeat them 4-1. At the game I also had the pleasure of finally meeting Al, a frequent poster on the eLynah Forum and a fan of Cornell hockey for nearly fifty years. (John commented on how unusual it is for him to introduce me to anybody...!)

Afterwards, Rich joined John, Micaela and me for dinner, drinks, and dessert to celebrate Micaela's birthday at restaurant/bar/nightclub Paragon (motto: "We'll keep turning up the music until you get the hell out, unhip non-clubbing hockey people"). While I stayed up digesting, I suddenly remembered my friends Phillip and Lauren had moved to Providence earlier in the year, and dropped them an e-mail. They called first thing in the morning (after Maggie had woken me up a couple of times), and we made plans for lunch. After my goodbyes to Hayes family, I drove the 3/4 mile from their house to the Karlssons', got the grand tour of the house that used to be Phillip's parents', and hung out with them and lunched with them and their two year old daughter Ebba and 7 month old son Ronin, who alas is getting over the croupe.

When I got home last night I e-mailed contact information for Phillip and Lauren to John & Micaela and vice versa, as they had all commented on the coincidence of two sets of my friends with toddlers (and several Cornell degrees) living in fairly close proximity. Then I had a light dinner while watching "Flags of Our Fathers" (not bad; nice to see Jesse Bradford getting work again), went to bed early, and got a delicious night's sleep.

Now I have an abbreviated work week before flying off to Arizona on Thursday morning. Yay!

My birthday's on a Saturday this year. That already happens seldom enough that I like to take advantage of it. For instance, I was lucky enough to turn 21 on a Saturday, so mhaithaca and I were able to go drinking in Collegetown without worrying about classes the next day. Plus, my parents were able to come up for the weekend to surprise me, and the celebration started with dinner out and a Cornell hockey game (which Cornell won, but it was an exhibition game and I can't remember who the opponent was).

Five years ago, the last time my birthday was on a Saturday, I went out with a couple dozen friends for sangria, tapas, and general debauchery at Xunta in the East Village. A much smaller group of us ended up at Link near Union Square, where the debauchery continued. Since I didn't actually start this journal until several days later, I didn't blog about that evening until it became necessary to provide context for another entry.

Plus, for the second year in a row, my parents will be out of town for my birthday, so there won't be an invitation to dinner and a show or anything like that. There's no spouse or significant other to make plans for the evening as a treat. And, to top it off, my apartment is in shambles, and I love to throw parties just to force myself to clean the place up properly. So this sounds like an ideal opportunity.

So what's the catch? Well, if you've been following my other blog, tucsonorbust, you know that I'm training pretty hard for a 109-mile bike ride in Tucson on November 17. On November 9, we'll be putting our bikes on a truck for the trip to Arizona. So our last serious training ride - likely to be upwards of 80 or 90 miles - is going to be on November 3.

The day I turn 38.

I could wait until the following weekend, when I don't have a training ride (see "truck," above), but I'm planning to spend that in New Haven and Providence with friends, watching Cornell hockey games. And since I won't get to many games this year, I'm reluctant to give that up.

So I still think I want to throw a party on November 3. I'm convinced that I could do all the cleaning, shopping, and preparation during the preceeding few evenings after work. I even think I'll have the energy and stamina for partying as long as I get back from the training ride at a reasonable enough time to nap for a few hours before people are scheduled to arrive (and I can always pick a slightly later start time to give myself a longer nap window). This despite the fact that I didn't make it to someone else's party this past Saturday after a sixty-two mile training ride (though I can forgive myself that, since that party was in Carroll Gardens, a hefty subway ride away, instead of in my own living room).

What do you think? Am I barkers? Raving loony? A few sprockets short of a triple crank? Seriously, I wanna know.

Yesterday afternoon and evening, I had a few phone calls with one of the sales reps from the agency that had sent me on my last contract job, about a new job that will last two or three weeks, starting next Tuesday. This time the client of the law firm has actually insisted upon no overtime, so it should work out perfectly for me since I have commitments the next few weekends. The rep told me my interview would be at 11:30 this morning, and that I should call in at about 9 this morning for interview prep; they'd tell me a little about the firm, the interviewer, and what I should expect.

I was awakened by a call at 8:20 this morning. I checked my voicemail, to learn that the call had been from a sales rep of this agency calling me to do interview prep for my 11am interview.

I'm about to call in, as it is now actually about the time I was told to call in. But given the flexibility that not working all the time gives me with my hours, I am really rather annoyed at having lost, yes, even one half hour of sleep. If you tell me to call in at 9, don't call me at 8:20. And I certainly hope they got the interview time right the first time, because I'm in no mood to rush because of their mistake.