I decided not to get up at dawn on Saturday to witness the Groundhog Day ceremonies, but I understand that Phil did his job and proclaimed six more weeks of winter.
"On Gobbler's Knob this momentous Groundhog Day, 02-02-02, Punxsutawney Phil, King of the groundhogs, Seer of Seers, Pontiff of all the tribes of Marmota Monax has eagerly responded to Groundhog Club President Bill Cooper's summons. He was greeted by his friend and handler Bill Deeley who held him high so he could greet the huge crowd of Faithful Followers."
He had 40,000 people there to witness the sighting of the shadow. Amazing. Apparently the weather fronts were listening, because it was dang cold both days this weekend. I went bicycling in Fairmount Park on Saturday - fine going one direction, but I had to turn into the wind to get home and Boy Howdy it was ripping. Stuck to in-line skating on Sunday - I don't move as fast on the skates, so my face wasn't the cheery shade of winter-blasted red that it was on Saturday.
From the Brain Cramp files - I received an e-mail last week from John K, who noted that he thought that "Eric" rules and likely has a promising career in reinsurance. I read it and thought: Eric? Who's Eric? It took me FOUR DAYS to figure out that he meant Eric of Eric Conveys An Emotion - one of my links. DOH! John has even submitted an emotion for Eric to convey: jejune. I'll keep an eye out for it.
I love Donald Rumsfeld. Especially when he toys with the Washington Press Corps. When asked if the United States planned any response to Iran's actions, Rumsfeld said, "We don't announce things we're going to do before we do them." Duh! I would have loved to have him address the protesters at the World Economic Forum in New York, although both the number and the voracity of protesters has diminished since September 11th. My favorite was a disgusted twenty-something named Randel Manthei who was upset at the lack of outrage and people exhibiting righteous indignation at globalization. His sign read, "Protesting the lack of protesters."
Last night I spent some time going through my large stack of unread magazines. I found a blurb in House Beautiful about a company that traffics in private islands. They were showing an island in French Polynesia called Mai Moana in the Bora Bora Lagoon. The island, including a small luxury hotel was for sale for $850,000. Unfortunately, that one was already taken, but as I perused some of their other properties, I saw a listing for a private island in Michigan. It says:
"This buildable 1 acre plus private paradise in southern Michigan offers beautiful sand beaches and mature oak trees. Chain of 7 lakes. $140,000. Also lakefront access lot and custom island delivery
boat . . ."
[But my favorite part:]
"Located in Hell, Michigan."