Coming up on tonight's Mannix

Various people, some who actually read this thing, keep asking if I'm getting excited, etc. about the trip. Well, yeah, but it generally doesn't change from day to day. Not content with just being the above's prime offender, the esteemed probate judge asks at least once a week if I'm packed. We're still three weeks out, mind. This line of questioning from her started, oh, about two minutes after I announced everything bringing her inquiry total to somewhere near 228. In fairness, she's already packed for a trip that has yet to planned. Just in case, you know. I guess trip questions are better than the other one she asks me frequently: Well, do you hear wedding bells? Erm...moving on.

While I'm not quite as giddy as a school boy (eh, Chris), there is some level of anticipation for the trip. If 10 is Disney World and 1 is the dentist, I guess I'm about a 3. Maybe 3.5. OK, fine. 4. I keed.

Since I'm an optimistic pessimist, maybe even a pessimistic optimist on good days, I tend to dwell on the facts. The facts be thus: I've got three more weeks before being thrown to a French populace, numbed with an ennui that even the exploits of Sarkozy's wife cannot trump, all to ready to laugh at my feeble Americanisms. Urgh.

Therefore, I have gone into overdrive, swerving my mental moped onto the linguistic autobahn. Cultural mixed metaphors be damned.

Previously, I've either been ripping my record collection to my ipod or Rosetta Stone-ing. Generally a couple of hours on both daily. Fun. This would probably suck if I had much of a life. I don't. As Marisol (the fake name of my real gf) can attest. Now, whilst ipod ripping, I have my head buried in my old French textbook and notes or, thanks to MB, have the Learn French By Podcast, um, podcast going on in my headphones. Equally fun.

Regarding the latter, the gulp factor has been quite high i.e., gulp, they sure do talk fast. Having tossed delusions of fluency long ago, I'm stoked if I can pick up enough words to get the gist of a sentence. Details such as whether one loves/hates one's subject are irrelevant to me. I'm sure they are to the speaker as well. As for the former, it's been quite comforting to know that I can remember the exact circumstances 15 years ago under which an insignificant doodle in the margin of my notebook was created. Less comforting, however, is that these memories have taken the space of real, actual, useful French grammar in my brain. Figures.

Tomorrow brings a warm-up of sorts for my transatlantic flight; we'll be heading to Boston for the Tech game. Fortunately so will TS Hannah. While my fear of flying is not so great as to prohibit me from doing it, I much prefer the railway. Alas, the magnificence of several tons of metal snaking through a picturesque countryside was defeated by speed, convenience and economics. Hard to rationalize paying more to get there slower.

Unless you're the U.S. government.

C'est la vie.