One Life. Six Words. What's Yours?

When Hemingway famously wrote, "For Sale: baby shoes, never worn," he proved an entire story could be told using a half dozen words. When the online storytelling magazine SMITH asked readers to submit six-word memoirs, they proved a whole, real life can be told this way too.

So I picked up the deceptively simple and surprising addictive Not Quite What I Was Expecting and am quite enamored with it. It truly is a thousand glimpses of humanity—six words at a time. So I began wracking my brain, thinking what mine might be...and realized Foo and I had it all along: Life is an Adventure; Live it.

"Meet my new friends, Mama!"

Foo's got new friends: Subterranean termites.

However, Foo's new friends are mighty hungry; eating non-stop—24 hours a day, seven days a week. Their hard, saw-toothed jaws help them to efficiently plow through lumber, wallpaper, plastics and plant fibers—to the tune of $2 billion of damages per year.

Mama Foo was kind of hoping Bunny would befriend a cute little puppy named Doodie instead.

Fun Fact: The total weight of all of the termites in the world is greater than the weight of all the humans in the world.

Next up: tenting and fumigating fun.

Under Attack

Ok, so it's not my computer under attack, it's my body. Welcome to cold and flu season.

A good majority of my coworkers have been sick; coughing their deep, bottomless coughs and sneezing their afflictions on every square inch of our tiny space. I can feel my cube teeming with viral wildlife, just waiting for my immune system to buckle under the barrage of germs.

But I'm not giving up without a fight.

I've been swilling Airborne, washing my hands rigorously (if not compulsively), logging quality Zzzs and drinking enough tea to stimulate the economy. I cough into my armpit and avoid sticking fingers into itchy eyes.

Yet, here I am—teetering ever-so-close to the edge of a full blown cold.

So my plea to you, if you should be one of those aforementioned individuals with a menagerie of germs swirling 'bout your head like a halo: stay home. Please.

Bust a Move

Get your patriotism on—it's Presidents Day!

Although Presidents Day isn't officially celebrated until the third Monday of February (this year, the 18th), you can enjoy big savings all weekend long on gas-guzzling trucks and sweater sets; not to mention a wide array of soups and sugary cereals—all in honor of Presidents past.

Thanks, Abe and George. I dedicate my Sugar Smacks to you.

Heart Attack

Mama Foo brings it home in 38:52

(...only to get spanked by a 9-year old kid in the final sprint)

Deep Thoughts

Weekend adventure: 12th Annual Juana Run

8:30AM, Saturday morning: The Juana Run (ensconced in its 12th year) is a fun little 8K jog that zig zags through the streets of Palo Alto. The run benefits two worthy causes: the Terman PTA & Gunn Sports Boosters. It's a good excuse to get in a tempo run—even if you don't own any offspring.

Race results and action photos to be posted later this week.

Hoppy Chinese New Year

Congratulations and be Prosperous!

For Good Luck, do this today:

1. Open your windows and doors (to let the good luck in)
2. Switch on the night light (it will scare away the ghosts and spirits of misfortune)
3. Eat treats (to ensure a sweet year)
4. Clean house from top to bottom before New Year's Day
5. Buy a lottery ticket (what happens on new years day reflects the year to come)
6. Sport a new pair of slippers bought before the new year (to step on the people who gossip about you)
7. Bathe in pomelo leaves (to ensure a healthy year)

For Bad Luck, do this today:

1. Buy a pair of shoes (the word "shoes" is a homophone for the word for "rough" in Cantonese—or "evil" in Mandarin)
2. Buy a pair of pants (the word "pants"(kù) is a homophone for the word for "bitter"(kŭ) in Cantonese
3. Wash your hair (you'll wash away your own luck—although Foo thinks modern hygienic concerns should trump tradition)
4. Sweep the floor (it will sweep away your good fortune and luck for the new year)
5. Talk about death (it's inauspicious and frankly, a little creepy)
6. Buy books (the word "book" is a homonym to the word "lose")
7. Wear black or white (black is a symbol of bad luck; white, a traditional funeral color)
   

2008—Year of the Rat

Bee yourself

Giants upset Patriots to win Superbowl

The play (according to Foo): David Tyree of the New York Giants catches a 32-yard pass from Eli Manning as Rodney Harrison of the New England Patriots attempts to knock it out in the fourth quarter of Super Bowl XLII. Tyree's circus grab catch set up the Giants' game-winning touchdown in a 17-14 win over the Patriots.

Well done, boys. Well done.

Foo predicts: Giants win!

The Superbowl. Otherwise defined as 30-second clips of men running in between commercials. This will be the 3rd time that the Giants and the Patriots have met this season. Sure, the Giants fell to the Patriots—the last time the Patriots defeating the Giants 38 -35 in the final regular season game. But you can't be much of an underdog if you're always winning.

With a handful of pep talks from Peyton at the ready, I'm sure Eli will do just fine. Regardless of what happens, those flames on the side of your minivan are going to look sweet.

February—at long last.

I don't know about you, but Bunny and I are not terribly fond of January. After the excitement of writing '08 on our checks wears off, we're left with a dreadful little month riddled with all sorts of problems. First, the aftermath of Christmas lingers long after the 25th has come and gone (e.g. dismantling holiday cheer from tree and mantle, gift exchanges/returns, annoying girth round the middle). Second, the challenge of recapturing the acuity and enthusiasm you had as an employee prior to the holidays. And third: 31 days of inclement weather.

So you can see why the first of February shines like a beacon in the night (which I might add are notably longest in January due to the Earth's pesky position in relation to the sun. But I digress).

Not that February 1 is horribly significant in the scheme of things (no offense to Presidents past nor lovebirds present)—but it's progress. February serves as the bridge from Winter to Spring to my mind, regardless of what the Groundhog's shadow predicts. As of today, I have hope that I can cast my ugly fleece-lined plastic shoes aside in exchange for my well worn flip-flops.

So join me in celebrating the month that is February (Fevrier if you should happen to be in Paris). Me and Foo shall start off the celebration by dusting off our flip-flops as we watch the Giants slaughter the Pats over a nice cup of chili with extra cheese.