Are you ready for some football?!

For whatever reason, I still don't really blog on the weekends. I don't know if I consider it work, and therefore it cannot be done over the weekend, or if I'm just that lazy. Who knows? But I always seem to find myself sitting in front of the computer, fat fingering away some experiences from the past two days. I should set a goal for myself, a little self-help from the cubicle, to blog at least once over the coming weekend. Yeah, that's it. Set small goals, baby steps. It worked for Bill Murray, but it drove poor Richard Dreyfus crazy. I'm hoping I turn out more like Bob then Leo.

So, yeah, the weekend. Saturday was jam-packed with good stuff. First off, my photography class, which I love inspite of the flower-snapping grandma and the guy who let us all know the model and serial numbers of every camera he has ever purchased. Last week we were given the assignment to take a fresh look at one of our own photos and try to experience it critically, like someone looking at it for the first time, and then explain why we find it visually compelling. It's a great exercise, but the scary part is that we had to share our work with the class. I'm perfectly comfortable sharing my thoughts with the class, but my pictures? I've never submitted my photos for any type of critical review. In fact, I haven't submitted anything for artistic critical review since that poem I wrote in the ninth grade. I have a theory that we all go through a poetic phase that we look back upon it years later with the clarity that we never had any business putting words to verse. Anyway, so needless to say, I was a bit nervous. Before class I was already plotting where I would hide the body of the gearhead, who would inevitably ask me what shutter speed and model of camera I used to snap the pic. Luckily when the instructor tried to fire up his scanner to grab everyone's prints, that darn Mac just plan refused. So my fears are set aside for another week, but next week we also have to show more of our own work. Trust me, they'll never find the body.

After class I drove down to Dan's house in Old Orchard Beach. He had invited me to join a game of Diplomacy, which was apparently a favorite of Kennedy and Kissinger. OOB in the winter is a complete waste on the scale of Virginia Beach or Ocean City, but Dan assures me that OOB is the best beach in Maine. I'll let you know come summer.

Diplomacy reminded me of Risk, but with a twist. There is no way to win the game without negotiating with the other players. In fact, negotiation, lying, eavesdropping, and manipulation are all key components of the game itself. And it may shock you to know that I am not the most out-going person in these parts, so this game seemed like it might be my own personal hell. To make a long story a little shorter, I ended up having a great time, and I wasn't as bad at the game as I had originally feared. I'm still not sure it's my kind of game, but I think Tom would lo-o-o-o-ve it.

The game ended around 6, and I went home to pick up Lizzi, who had been studying all day. We changed and then Dan and Steph picked us up to go the Lava Lounge, where Suzanne was having her birthday party. For a bar, the place was cozy, but for a lounge it left quite a bit to be desired -- like a place to sit down. There were a couple of chairs and tables scattered about, but when I think of a lounge, I think of comfy, swallow-you-whole couches and armchairs and plenty of throw pillows that don't totally match the rest of the decor. Of course, like every other non-brewpub in Portland it was trying to be something it wasn't. The music was too loud for talking, the martinis were awful. But if you were in the right corner and ordered the right drink, it could be a lot of fun. Suzanne's friends from Boston were in town, and I think she was having a great time with them. Unfortunately, Lizzi and I had to bow out early, so Lizzi could grab 40 winks and study some more.

In comparison to Saturday, Sunday was just another mundane, lazy day. But it made it feel like the weekend. Lizzi was up with the rooster, steadily plugging away at the books, while I slept in. I caught up on Tivo and played around on the web. We made breakfast, and I went grocery shopping. Jessica and Mike came over that night to watch Gilmore Girls. Lizzi made grinders and I contributed chex mix in honor of the Superbowl. Overall, a super chill night.