Happy 2007

Walking down the hill to work in the center city this morning was surreal. The smog and ice was all blurred into the kind of frozen landscape usually seen inside a snow ball. There was not a car on the road or another pedestrian and the streets and sidewalks and snowbanks inbetween were strew with cigarette butts and the skeletal remains of blown-up rockets. Which explains the New Year's Eve soundtrack.

Beginning around 9 p.m. it felt like the hill was under attack. The sound of firecrackers exploding and rockets whistling through the air had the dog and cats shivering under blankets on the bed. More eery was the sound of the heavenly choir -- or more exactly the music and celebratory braying from hundreds of parties that wafted up the hill in a weird mix. It reminded me of that scene in the Grinch who Stole Christmas when he wakes up Christmas morning and the inexplicable sound of the Whos rises up from the valley and he realizes that people are happy and it has nothing to do with him unless he wants it to.