The Real Charlie

MBTA Complaints

I have generally avoided being one of those bloggers who always is kvetching about the T. As old readers know, I was once well-known (well, at least on Universal Hub, and thanks to that once in the Globe) as a spotter of speed traps and dumb driving in Chestnut Hill. But once I stopped driving to work regularly, I stopped blogging about my commute. Part of that is because my life as a commuter rail rider (Worcester-Framingham line) has been generally easy, and often on or close to schedule.

But today was pushing it. The train was about five minutes late this morning, not too bad. Right outside of Boston, in the CSX yards, it came to a screeching (literally) halt and the power went out. After ten minutes sitting dead still, getting colder and colder, motion resumed and heat returned, and we limped into South Station, twenty minutes late. This afternoon the train was pretty much on time, but with blasting heat and filthy dirty.

I could blame financial woes or the winter or what have you, but I have no point, just the grouse that my commute is making me cranky. So I'm warning the world, I may be about to become one of those annoying T bloggers with a litany of complaints. But it might get me writing on here more often, and would that be so awful? Don't answer that...

Did Mordechai Ever Eat Burritos?

I sat down to watch a little bit of golf this afternoon while Roxanne and Stella were having dinner and while Abby was cooking. I told Abby that it looked nice and warm and sunny at the tournament (it was cold and snowy here), and she asked where it was taking place. I told her, "Marana, outside Tucson." "Tucson," shouted Roxanne, "that's where Queen Esther lived!"

"Um, no Rox, " I responded, while Abby stifled her hysterics with a dish rag, "that would be Shushan, as in Persia, not Tucson, as in Arizona."

And Stella still conflates the words "misty" and "dusk" into a single term, so asking her at 5 Pm "what time of day is it?" brings a quick response of "Whiskey! This is the time of day I call whiskey!" How can I not smile when stuff like this happens around my house on a regular basis?