scene from an airport (part one: rochester)

posts about my trip to new york/connecticut are coming in spurts.

things started off on an interesting note when the following was overheard in the airport (where, incidentally, i was not delayed for 6 hours, unlike a previous trip to the city):

"i remember feeling sorry for kids at school who had ugly mothers."

this compassionate insight was relayed from a youngish woman to an older man, whom i presumed was her father. sadly, his response to this gem was lost as their conversation was drowned out by my internal gutteral screams at humanity. once i recovered, i was able to discern the following about them:

• she was unable to digest any type of oil
• he often cooked using said culinary lubricant
• she wouldn't eat anything that he cooked except for pasta
• he rarely cooked pasta
• apparently she was starving
• he offered her some broccoli

it's just now ocurring to me that had i gotten delayed at the airport with these two, i likely would have tried to force feed her some bertoli, straight from the bottle. just to test her theory.

it was no match for the traffic

...just a preview into what my weekend entailed.

"You can't join Mathletes. It's social suicide."

Happy Birthday to my favorite Mathlete.

to be filed in: my belly

TALD

As you can see, I'm still not ready to replace the fancy shoes as SOTD.
I am wearing the above silver flip-flops today, but that's not why this picture is important.
No, the reason for this picture is simple:
My feet are tan.

A decent majority of my body is tan, actually. And that NEVER happens.

Also: I recently became old. Maybe there's some sort of correlation there. Tan and Old. TALD?