dominoes, a pack of cards a picture of the queen a dress to wear on sundays and a handle for the door a letter that i'd sent for you a note you'd left for me a wave, a pack of cigarettes a pocket full of beads you didn't leave me anything that i can understand

Last weekend was spent in the mountains for a retreat with my Stanford Radiation Physics faculty. The drive up on Friday afternoon was a bit of a pain as everyone and their mother were heading east to take advantage of the bountiful snow and wonderful weather. I travelled with just my iPod, arriving at the Stanford Alpine Chalet around 7pm for dinner. This Stanford-owned facility is a traditional ski lodge, with a large common room where the tenants congregate before or after a day on the slopes. Our meeting was held the next day in an employee meeting room at the adjacent Alpine Meadows ski resort. As i discovered Friday evening, the plan was to meet in the early morning and late afternoon so as to facilitate skiing in the interim. Not having been on skis in 12 years, i was a bit apprehensive ... but the thought of spending six hours doing nothing at the lodge convinced me to try my luck on the snow. I rented skis, boots, and poles and bought a hat and some gloves. I decided against paying $120 for snow pants, wagering that i would be able to avoid falling repeatedly and soaking my jeans. This was the prime reason i decided against trying out snowboarding, as then i would be guaranteed of spending most of the day on my butt. My gamble paid off as my skiing skills returned after a trial run down the bunny slope. I advanced to the intermediate runs and gradually remembered most of the balance tricks i had developed while in high school. The weather was perfect, i ended up not even wearing my new hat. Maybe i'll end up getting some snow pants and giving snowboarding a try with my board-adept sister Hilary.

The business end of the retreat went fairly well, concluding after a Sunday morning meeting at which i threw out a couple of apparently fruitful ideas. I headed home at 10am, arriving in plenty of time for the Super Bowl. However, my interest in the game waned during the first half. I tuned in for most of the 4th quarter, but just wasn't as enthusiastic as in previous years. I think this may be the first SB in 6 years that i haven't watched in its entirety. At any rate, i was pleased that the Patriots again proved the power of the team and the genius of coaches Bellichick, Weis, and Crennel. But perhaps the bigger story was the horrible clock management of Donovan McNabb and the Eagles in the 4th quarter. Faced with 45 seconds on the clock, no timeouts, and ~60 yards to get into range to attempt a tying field goal, McNabb and co. start throwing short passes over the middle and walking back to the line of scrimmage after the play. Guys, it's called a "hurry up" offense for a reason. After partaking in the end of the game, Naomi and Geoff came over for dinner and video games. Our Halo 2 skills are continually improving, as evidenced by the gradual rise of DrTed2001 and guest up the post-match statistics tables.

I'm still trying to wrap up Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, but Jesus H. Christ that game is friggin huge. I'm in the Las Vegas replica of "Las Venturas" at the moment, learning to fly planes and helicopters and planning a bank heist. Detractors can always point out the less than impressive graphics and curious game flow, but there is no doubt that the GTA series excels at drawing you into its totally immersive environment. After GTASA has been put to rest, i'm going to spend some more time with new acquisition Winning Eleven 8 International. This is the first incarnation of the series on the Xbox, and from initial observations it doesn't fail to deliver.

Naturally, just when the media at large had pronounced Chelsea to be effectively unbeatable, we go and draw with Manchester City (squandering our chance to exact revenge on the one English team that had defeated us this season). Worse yet, budding star Arjen Robben breaks two bones in his foot and is out for six weeks, with the Carling Cup final against Liverpool and the first leg of our mammoth Champions League showdown with Barcelona included in that span. Perhaps these events will rightly quiet talk of Chelsea winning the quadruple and allow us to prioritize our season. Paramount on our list must be maintaining (if not padding) our nine point lead in the Premiership over Manchester United, who lately have taken every interview opportunity to cast doubt on the Blues' ability to close out the season. Keep singing, Neville, Keane, and Fergie, you have yet to defeat us this season.

As one of the British biology postdocs commented to me yesterday, it's much more stressful when your team is winning than when they're losing. Everything to lose. I'm toying with the idea of flying over to London at the beginning of May and trying to get into Chelsea's final home match of the season, which will hopefully also be their Premiership title celebration. God knows what that would cost. Hrm ... maybe i should avoid making plans that assume a certain outcome to Chelsea's season. No jinxing from me.