Into the metaphorical fire

My training has begun for the new SF job, thankfully in the Boston area this week. For this week and next, I'm working jobs 1-17 more or less simultaneously. I'm definitely eating a lot of granola bars in the car as meals.

Thankfully, M-N thought to buy some wine, so those non-BN, post-tutoring, after training, once the boy is in bed or at least towards dinner nights can have some degree of relaxation. She'll be a great yogi/doula/general-calming-influence.

Here's something unrelated: I was on my way to Waltham this morning, home of several hotels often used for meetings and conferences. The way I usually go (Rt. 1) was backed up, so I ducked over to I-95. That was a mistake. Apparently, there was some huge back-up on 93, which extended back past the 128/93 split, down 95 well past the ramp I entered on. I just needed to get to 128 (where the traffic was light, somehow). But then I saw a car with some Quaker stickers on it. And it was a friend (also, a Friend) from our meeting. I was going to beep, but knowing MA drivers, the size of that jam, the likelihood of violent reprisals from non-Friends in other cars, and my own timid nature, I didn't.

But still, it was cool to see a friend amidst the hordes of angry drivers.