Today is cleanup day.

Which means I’m tackling the box of President’s Choice Greek Style Hors d’Oeuvres© which has enjoyed luxurious accomodations in my freezer since 2005.

Dan, if you’re reading this: Yes, this was your box of President’s Choice Greek Style Hor d’Oeuvres©.

Deal.

In other news, my hiatus is set to begin sometime in the next couple of days.

I’m hoping to write at least a few more entries though, so you’ll get your fix — especially if you’ve been looking forward to the followup of my Mathematics of Attraction post, which I’ve been promising since December.

I’m thinking about shutting down Phil’s Proof.

Temporarily.

Days? Weeks? A month?

I think I need this. I think we all need this.

This is from the deepest and darkest depths of my mailbag — nearly six months ago.

But it still makes me laugh.

You’re going to have to first read my e-mail to the Girl Crossing the Street.

To: Phil
From: Girl crossing the street
Date: July 23, 2006
Subject: Re: Your Message

Dear Phil,

Thank you for your interest in my personal problems. In the future, please keep your eyes on the road and away from my firm ass.

Transportation safety is far too important. Only YOU can prevent accidents.

Sincerely,
Girl

I know it was just one of you jokers.

But I still got a guilty shucks-ya-caught-me look in my eyes after reading it.

So today, this tall and rather pretty Russian girl plops herself down next to me while I have my head buried deep within a mess of articles and scribblings.

“So you’re in math,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Sure,” I say.

“Tell me what a math person does,” she demands.

Hoo boy.

And so I found myself explaining various topics to a girl who had never before taken a Physics class and who — to be truthful — didn’t seem all that interested in math (though she did ask, so sue me).

I talked about:
1. Solitons and the Edinburgh Canal.
2. How light can be interpreted as both a wave and a particle.
3. Fiber optics and the future of high speed communications.
4. Famous Russian and German mathematicians.
5. What I do and why math is so beautiful a subject.

She talked about:
1. How Russian women are encouraged to marry rich men.
2. Her former 6 foot long pet snake.
3. Her two jobs as a cocktail waitress and restaurant waitress.
4. How she wanted to be an artist, but had to study Commerce because she was afraid of not finding a job.

She stands up to leave, grabs my pencil, and scribbles her phone number on the (very important) document strewned out before me.

“If you ever have time, and you want to give me another math lesson…”, she mumbles.

Then she walks away, leaving me to my thoughts.

Not that it matters, but she wasn’t my type. And unless you haven’t figured it out already, I have a pretty grim No-Dating-Rule, at least until I get my shit all sorted out.

But I don’t often meet impulsive women with this sort of bravado. I guess I’m used to the reserved type that shyly giggles while I prattle on about math.

Certainly not any tall leggy Russian ones.

It’s rather refreshing.

Sorry, can’t talk.

Need to help Jack Bauer save the world.

(Again)