6:58 – Wake up. Look at watch. Roll over and pretend that I’m actually going to fall back asleep.

7:00 – Alarm goes off.

7:00:30 – Turn alarm off. Check ground for mice. Jump out of bed.

7:48 – Walk out door.

7:59 – Arrive Green Street Station.

8:03 – Get on train.

8:09 – Arrive Mass. Ave. Station.

8:09:25 – Arrive Mass Ave. CT1 bus stop. Take out book. Open book.

8:17 – Get on CT1 southbound.

8:17:15 – Re-open book. Read.

8:17:53 – Continue southbound. Ignore inane chatter. Continue reading.

8:18:14 – Chatter loudens. Ignore chatter. Turn page.

8:18:15 – Chatter loudens further. Look up. Observe people looking out window.

8:18:16 – Look out window. See bear. Look back at book.

8:18:16 – Look out window. See brown bear. Bus stops for light.

8:18:17 – Continue to look out window. Man in brown bear costume waves.

8:18:19 – Pinch self. Consider giving up caffeine. Man in bear costume moves to front of stopped bus.

8:18:22 – Man in bear costume dances. Attempts to elicit high-five from passing civilian. Bear moonwalks.  Seems to attempt electric slide.

8:19:48 – Light green. Bus moving again. Look out window. Bear waving.

8:24 – Arrive Newton Pavilion, Boston Medical Center. Proceed to [Diet] Coke machine.

It’s moments like these which make me wonder if the world is trying to tell me something…

After almost 3 months of living in Boston, it’s starting to feel pretty old hat. I’m at the point where I no longer think to myself “look, the Boston Public Library” every time I pass Copley Square, I no longer have go to certain T-stops just because that’s the only way I know how to get somewhere without getting lost, I don’t even have to look at the little signs in the stations to see which side of the track is inbound/outbound at most of the stations that I use. It seems the new environment feeling has pretty much worn off, and I’ve stopped noticing that “I’m in Boston.” That said, it’s fun to get reminders every once in awhile.

Yesterday, I went to Downtown Crossing to shop for full size sheets for the new bed I get to pick up on saturday when I move into my new apartment (yay!). After a successful excursion to Filene’s Basement ($25 for a very swanky sheet set–sweet!) I popped into Wendy’s to use their restroom. While slinking out the door (I always feel a little guilty when I haven’t actually bought anything) I walked into something slightly large and squishy. When I looked up it turned out to be Paul Revere. Really. Well…someone in revolutionary war garb, anyway, tri-cornered hat, britches, coat with tails, even those little glasses like the ones Benjamin Franklin wore. I said “excuse me” and watched him walk back to his table, where his wife and two children, all in similar attire, were all scarfing down burgers, fries, and frosties.

Yep, I’m still in Boston.

All right folks, I need some help here.  Here's the deal:

 So far my new employment situation has been utterly smooth sailing–nice intelligent people, fascinating project, about the right level of challenge–with one minor but bothersome hitch: nobody can agree about what to call me.

I made something of a mistake of not making it explicitly clear when interviewing that I was to be called Lisa (in my defense, my name was only used once that I can recall, and it seemed silly to make a deal of it before I was even hired) but thought I had cleared everything up when I wrote a note expressing my desire to be called by my familiar name.   Fine.  Good.  Right.  Bye.

The only problem is, there's another Lisa who's been there two years longer.  It may not have been an issue in such a large lab with a number of different projects and 20+ employees, except this Lisa happens to work at least some of the time on the same subproject within the group.  

Now here's where you come in.  It's become clear that having two people who go by Lisa is very confusing.  And, as the new arrival it's only fair I should be the one to adopt a new title.  So I implore you to put your elite liberal arts educations to work and help me out by providing some suggestions! 

I'd like to mention that Jen has already put forth "Crap Bag" as a possible candidate, and while I appreciate her brainstorming efforts, I really don't think it captures the image I'd like to put forth.  Also, I think that having 5 prenoms might just be a bit much.  Therefore, let the rechristening commence!

Interesting discovery of the day:

JP seems to have a neighborhood, friendly, old guy who walks up and down the street yelling profanities to no one in particular (and the mothers of no one in particular, I might add).  That. in and of itself, isn't particularly noteworthy.  Most urban areas have their fair share of mentally disturbed people, many of whom are elderly.

The interesting thing about this particular individual, though, was his striking resemblance to Santa Clause.  The combination of his portly stature, white fluffy beard and moustache, and even his attire (red sweater and red stocking cap) made him a perfect candidate for the role.  If it weren't for the constant stream of vulgar curses eminating from his mouth I might have looked around for the elves.  

Seems like there's never a dull moment when you live in the city! 

And on the eleventh day comcast installed wireless internet and Lisa created the weblog. And all of the online readership saw that it was good.

A week and a half and four tech support calls later, I finally have a blog! Don’t think it came easily, though…among other things the wonder that is Doorknob Ankle Blog came at the price of getting locked out of the apartment at 11:15 this morning in my pjs and climbing onto the third floor porch, only to find I had locked the back door as well, and finally having the cable guy manage to unlock the door using his screwdriver–and wow, did that make me feel confident about the security of my apartment.

Regardless, here sits the blog in all of it’s newly-formed glory, awaiting only some inspired content from its owner. Rest assured, the inspiration is coming.

My plan for the blog is a mixture of Overheard in New York-like vignettes (which I will start to write down in a notebook expressly for that purpose soon), a continuation of the interesting word theme, and any generally interesting articles/thought which may crop up.

Thought for the day: Ping bells everywhere!!!

I have noticed an over-abundence of ping bells in my life of late. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, after all I love ping bells and for my part have even added to the profusion of ping bells. In the past month or so I have noticed ping bells: at the women’s exchange in Williamstown, MA; at the Boston Public Library; in the Boston University School of Medicine payroll office; and most notably, while rummaging through a drawer of experimental testing materials in my office at work.

Whoa, ping.

The abundance of ping bells in my life of late leads me to wonder: is this the world’s way of telling me that it is time to shut the fuck up?