Dumb Luck

Hello World, And now the time has well and truly come, when people would be saying, "Beware the Ides of March," and they're not just whistling Dixie, by golly. These are indeed times that we all need to look sharp and be on our toes, and not just let any old thing sneak up on us unawares. For instance, the ill-fated return of nefarious Daylight Saving Time last weekend, which not only robs us of an hour's sleep, but ushers in the Time Wasting Days of resetting clocks on everything around the house, the office, at church, and even in the car, thanks not. (Like I have time for THIS!) Speaking of time, it came to pass that I finally started to get over my cold, and feeling a little better bit by bit, reverting to a creature with many human-like qualities, rather than a bug-infested zombie. When I pointed out to a colleague that everyone seemed to be sick at once, she was quick to lay the blame right at the doorstep of the Russians, who she unflinchingly accused of practicing germ warfare on a grand scale. Perhaps it was my drug-addled state at the time, but I found her logic hard to argue with, comrade. Although I will admit that I found my cold pills made me so groggy, that when a coworker advised me to play dumb on a controversial matter, I assured him that I wasn't playing. These days, I don't really have to play dumb anymore, it just comes naturally. In other local news, in spite of the vigorous efforts of the gardeners, roofers and snow plows, tramping and chewing up all around our property, we have the jolly vista of crocus popping up all over the yard and along the driveway, and a more welcome sight would be hard to come by, believe me. Slowly but surely, the drab winter landscape gives way to the unfolding glories to come, and we can all hope for better days ahead. Unfortunately for our street's seasonal decor, our neighbors across the way took down their centuries-old stately chestnut tree, and we will all surely miss its heavenly cascades of creamy blossoms later in the spring, alas. On the other hand, it will be them answering to the juvenile delinquent squirrels on the prowl for their chestnut fix, and they can't blame this one on me, try as they might. I've long since come to expect their picket signs and protest songs, but if they ask me to sign their petition, I'm planning to play dumb. Of course, it's still the middle of Lent for billions of Christians the world over, giving the rest of the global population reason to be on their guard against chocolate-deprived pilgrims who may be taking out their self-sacrificing frustrations on innocent bystanders and unwary strangers alike. (Personally, I think churches should be required to issue "The Chocolate Patch" prophylactically to their afflicted members, as a public spirited way to protect the rest of us.) Now, I'm thinking that the middle of Lent would be no time for the Pope to suddenly decide to retire, rather than waiting until after Easter at least, especially if this is the first time in history that anyone has ever come up with this idea, when as they say, they usually die in harness instead. So farewell and best wishes to the outgoing Pope Benedict, returning to the peace and quiet of civilian life, and unlike a certain disgruntled Vice President who once famously announced: "You don't have Nixon to kick around anymore," you can be sure that His (former) Eminence really means it, by all the saints. Even more surprising, once the conclave was underway in Rome, it took practically no time at all to elect a successor, unlike many previous occasions, where the process was adversarial and drawn out over a prolonged period - sort of like the annual wrangling over the St. Patrick's Day parade, without all the green beer. (One hopes!) Now we have Pope Francis to look forward to, the first Jesuit and first Latin American to achieve this exalted position, and a popular choice by all accounts. (Although true to form, he is still a white Catholic male, unlike my pope costume for Halloween 2005, when I observed that frumpy Protestant women were woefully under-represented in the annals of popes throughout history, in my opinion.) I would be less than candid if I didn't say that for sheer entertainment value, they could do no better than the colorful Cardinal Dolan of New York, who when asked if he thought he might have a shot at the job, cheerfully replied that he had a better chance of replacing Alex Rodriguez at third base for the Yankees, than being elected Pope. Holy cow, Phil Rizzuto! Meanwhile at work, we broke out the fireworks and confetti, and bid a "hasty lumbago" to the consultants in our midst at long last, as they packed up and flew the coop last week, leaving us in blissful solitude and uncluttered at their departure. They had descended upon us in 2010 like the proverbial plague of locusts, and even though we had long since gotten used to having consultants underfoot at the hospital, these were particularly pernicious and hard to cope with. For starters, they decided to re-arrange all of our furniture for no apparent reason, even throwing out several of our file cabinets in their misguided zeal, along with the files in them, making it impossible to find anything when we needed it - and this was after decades of being the one department that was so well organized that you could count on everything being exactly where it was supposed to be. They even ransacked my hidden stash downstairs in the alcove by the emergency exit, thanks not, and I have no idea how they even found their way down there, since it's well off the beaten track, even for us old timers. It got so bad that I had to hide anything I wanted to keep, secreting things away in my office, which was soon stuffed to the rafters (actually my closet doesn't have rafters) with papers, folders, reports, binders, boxes and assorted whatnot. I can tell you that it's been challenging to work under those conditions, perhaps more for me than my coworkers, and so it was with unbridled euphoria that I wished them a hearty "good riddance," and couldn't break out the champagne and party hats fast enough, not to mention, the locust repellent. Now I can finally relocate all of my stuff back to where it belongs, and start to get the place back to normal once again, after what feels like living in a refugee camp all this time, under hostile occupation forces to boot. Even better, I can also put up the time-honored Christmas tree again, and all of our traditional decorations in their regular places, after 3 years without them, and no more outside interference, bah humbug. Of course, this may just be a temporary reprieve from the consultant-infested workplace we've come to know and loathe, and people may consider me naive for celebrating it with giddy abandon, as if it's going to stay this way from now on, but I'm determined to make the most of it while it lasts, and we all know what they say about how ignorance is bliss. And don't forget, when it comes to dumb, I'm not just playing. Elle