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Erin and I saw Harry Potter and Cursed Child at the Lyric Theatre on Broadway last weekend. I did not anticipate the depth and detail of any component of that experience, and I left more fully appreciating what can make high-end theater so incredible. First, there’s the environment. While I theoretically knew that a show would take over a single theater for the duration of its run, I did not play that out to its conclusion. Everything about the Lyric—the lobby decor, concessions, how people dressed, how they talked to you, the merchandise—was created knowing that they had a Harry Potter show. No corner was left untouched by this knowledge, and in hindsight, that’s obvious. I bought Butterbeer, and our in-seat delivery order during intermission included a complimentary chocolate frog. All of that was a significant first step towards immersion. ...

It comes down to extra innings and squandered opportunities, a year of firsts and not quite enough. Series were earned and given away, and the emotional pendulums of games were like rocket-propelled swing sets. ...

NaNoWriMo, the organization, is on the ropes, or perhaps entirely dead, after a change in focus and an AI-related public relations snafu. None of that affects my plan for participating in the core of the event: writing at least 50,000 words in a month. I initially wrote this post with the intention of delaying NaNoWriMo until February. This November will be hectic: I’m transitioning roles at work, we have visitors for two long weekends, followed immediately by a trip home for Thanksgiving. The likelihood that I will write 50,000 cohesive words in November is slim. ...

This month’s expedition took Erin and me to Boston for a conference she was attending. While the highlight of the trip was getting to spend time with our friends from San Francisco, that’s what we call out of scope. I’ll focus on what I loved while roaming around the city. ...

I read three other books between the day I began Sophie’s Choice and when I completed it. It was among the strangest books I’ve read: it had moments of pure drudgery, of self-indulgence, of compelling storytelling, of discomfort, of confusion, of literary triumph. When I reached the moment of the titular choice, all my struggles through the purple prose and plodding details felt worthwhile. But at that moment of completion, I had no words to describe my experience. Only a few months later did my feelings, and this post’s title, coalesce. ...

While reading through the Springfield Daily Republican to investigate early baseball games, I found an opinion piece discussing naturalized citizenship in the United States. This paragraph stuck with me in light of the current administration. The emphasis partway through is mine. The truth is that Mr. Cass and his party have receded from the doctrine always hitherto held by our government. The right of voluntary expatriation has always been the American doctrine. It is the true doctrine, for if there is any universally acknowledged civil right it is the right of each human being to choose his place of residence on the globe. This right is as unlimited as is the corresponding duty of each man to submit to the government and laws under which he has placed himself. When a foreigner becomes a citizen he is not admitted to half citizenship, but is wholly a citizen, endowed with all the rights, subject to all the liabilities and entitled to all the protection of a native born citizen. The constitution and laws make no distinction between the two classes, with the single exception that the president of the United States must be native born." ...

While the modern iteration of Amherst College’s baseball team is approaching three decades of minimal success in NCAA Division III, its origins date back over 165 years. That’s before John Smoltz was regularly announcing how much he hates baseball on national baseball broadcasts, before Nolan Ryan demonstrated the thrilling force of old man strength, before the Shot Heard Round the World, before the Iron Horse, before the Red Sox were cursed or Mordecai Brown lost the end of his index finger. The team began before rules were consistent.1 Starting at 11 in the morning on the “cool, clear, and bracing”2 day of July 1, 1859, Amherst faced Williams in the first recorded “Base Ball” game between two colleges. ...

My several-year-long nerd snipe has comprised inspecting the inspection certificate in every elevator I enter. Who watches the watchers? I do. I focused on Connecticut legislation throughout this, though I expect the broad strokes are similar in many states. ...

This has been a hectic month, and I need more time to finish some planned posts. So, I’ll fall back on that old crutch of using this blog as a limited journal of a few notable events. Pizza Erin and I participated in New Haven’s record-breaking pizza party. We were two of the proud 4,525 people who ate two (small) slices of pizza and drank eight ounces of water in the generous span of fifteen minutes. We then walked around and enjoyed the festival: I tried Sally’s for the first time, had a cannoli, drank some local beer, and received a promotional 10" pizza box for the effort. ...

We spent a long weekend in Toronto, and much like our trip to New Mexico, I’m not sure that I’m capable of fully sharing that experience in words. Unlike the trip to New Mexico, I’m going to give it a shot. ...