this week i

published the latest drug and private medicare plan statistics for the upcoming year.

spotted rupak down the station corridor.  traveling but not to pune for work, nih paid for our dinner, and unsettling good fortune on the atlas arts center sidewalk covered our drinks, dessert.  always been a professor in my eyes, now columbia university agrees.

put our names on the waitlist at six, drank in the evening breeze until the phone buzzed at seven thirty.  john ordered dry cider, we volleyed ideas through seven courses of northern thai served by mennonite hipsters.  our supplies limited to his elastic lights and carpentry goggles. surprisingly no facepaint at halloween season cvs, so bought two rolls of store-brand aluminum foil then rented bikes to glide downhill toward the white house.  docked across from the eisenhower building and started wrapping one another into silver mummies on the 17th and pennsylvania sidewalk, plainly stating to passersby, "we're daft punk."  on the steps of the corcoran gallery, the ticket-takers laughed with us.  "budget daft punk."  john's idea.  "student, alumni, or faculty?" "alumni" and i showed her the expired i.d. from my one week of phd enrollment, crashed in.  a confined noisy party, the display galleries cordoned off, the alcohol choices white wine or to split a corona, we stood for a few photos then shed our skins next to the recycling bin, and walked out, and north.  cold rain started near the connecticut lion bridge at the lower left entrance of rock creek park, not enough to pierce east coast broadleaves.  we clicked on our camping headlamps, walked toward the light.  john spoke about building trades and belize, i was happy to listen.  crossed the maryland boundary stone around two, and we said "see you later, don't know when" for the first time since darjeeling.