On NPR on Saturday mornings, there's a series of shows that effectively takes the place of the cartoons I used to watch when I was a kid. A whole morning of entertainment. The 10:30-11:00 slot is filled by Says You, a geeky game show featuring wordplay puzzles: things like word origins, literary trivia, and bad puns. Most importantly, every show features two bluffing rounds, which are effectively like the old board game Balderdash. A word is given, and one team reads the real definition together with made-up ones in an attempt to fool the other team.

Why is this a parent-related story? Well, you'll never guess what the word was in today's first bluffing round. That's right, dad, it was mimp.

A long time ago, when Balderdash first came out, my family played it on a semi-regular basis. One time, the word mimp came up, and my dad offered the definition "the award given annually to the Most Improved Monopoly Player". Now, I can't remember if we laughed uproariously at the time; I'm sure we found it pretty funny. What's important is that this event is permanently lodged in my dad's memory, forever. He still brings it up every now and then, which I guess is okay, since it's an amusing story.

Incidentally, from what I can tell, mimp means "to purse one's lips, as in refusing food". I suppose that can make a fitting addendum to my dad's recollection of the original event. If he tells the story, he can also offer the true definition, providing the listener with an entertaining and educational experience.

Earlier this week, I went to the bank with a heavy heart, and closed out my savings account. Times are hard, and I just couldn't let that money sit unused in the account. I took the balance in cash, and left the bank to seek my fortune.

Actually, I opened the savings account at the same time as the chequing account, and stuck fifty dollars in it. I hadn't touched the account in years. In my most recent statement, I noticed that they had finally started charging me a maintenance fee on the inactive account, so I went in and closed it. Most of the remaining forty-five dollars was already gone by the end of dinner last night.

Here's an excerpt from the poem Forgetfulness, by American Poet Laureate Billy Collins.

The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you never read, never even heard of

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones

I love this poem, and most of the other stuff I've read from Billy Collins. I particularly like Forgetfulness, and these first two stanzas. Yes, they are a poignant and ironic view on the Human Condition. But, really, the best part is that they describe my mother exactly. I don't know how many times she has experienced this precise phenomenon with a book or a movie.

Look at it on the bright side, though. My mom can enjoy a book, a movie, or a joke over and over again and have it be fresh and new each time.

Look at it on the bright side, though. My mom can enjoy a book, a movie, or a joke over and over again and have it be fresh and new each time.

I have been, and will continue to be, very busy for another month. Then, with luck, I will ride a wave of business and stay busy for a few months after that. Then I will have accomplished everything I was planning to accomplish as a graduate student, and I'll be done. But the time between Thanksgiving and, say, Epiphany, is by far the busiest time of year in my field. This year I have foresworn holidays in order to get as much as possible done.

Most of my time has been taken up these days with preparing applications for faculty positions. As of today, I received positive feedback on my application materials from enough people that I'm confident sending them out, so I'll be getting to that next week. I'm nervous about the prospect of being a professor, but the more I prepare for it by writing applications and researching schools, the more excited I get. I take that as a good sign.

I'm taking a small break from a strict regiment of work and freecell to write some thingos. Expect limited thingo service until January 10th at the earliest.

My home internet connection is via cable modem. This week, the guys at the other end of the cable, Excite@Home, went bankrupt. Early this morning, they cut the lines. No service. I'm at school, composing this entry just in case my thingo output drops dramatically until service is restored. Then I'm going to print out a bunch of material that I need to get my work done, and take it home.

In a nutshell, the problem is that they're morons. The only service I ever wanted from these guys is a big fat wire to plug into my computer. But that wasn't good enough. They had to try to cram portals and email addresses and web sites and content down my throat. They built upon a simple, reliable service with an expensive investment in worthless garbage, and eventually it caught up with them. And all this at the same time that people were beating a path to their door for cable internet connections. Sheesh.

Anyway, let's hope that AT&T (who owns the wires themselves) can get set up quickly enough to restore service soon, as Rogers managed to do in Canada.

[update: 04 December at 11:27]: It looks as if the Apocalypse was short-lived. Service was restored midday on Sunday, less than 36 hours after the disruption. It took a little fiddling to get my system reconnected to the world, but everything's working now. I suppose that's as nice a birthday present as I could ask for from AT&T.