I hate it when Notre Dame loses and I can't watch SportsCenter.

But I love it when I get to watch highlights of a big ND win over and over again on SportsCenter.

I hate drivers who knowingly go straight through a left- or right-turn-only lane just to cut in front of three cars in traffic.

I love driving on deserted, tree-lined roads on a warm, sunny afternoon.

I hate people who badmouth or turn their back on America.

I love how America was built by men who spoke their minds and weren't afraid to speak out, how they established this country so that people would have the freedom to speak their minds.

I hate how we're supposed to be a republic (under the label of a "democracy") yet we're being led by a man acting like a dictator.

I love how there's less than two years until the election.

I hate how people are talking about donuts right now and I don't have any.

I love how I have cheese doodles in my desk drawer.

I hate how I can fill myself up with a bagel and cereal in the morning and can't eat anymore at 9 a.m., but by 11:30 I'm hungry again.

I love having cheese doodles in my desk drawer.

Eh, I've lost interest in that little exercise.

So yesterday was Casey's birthday and we left work in the afternoon for Jamba Juices at Whole Foods and on the drive back along River Road, where the Hudson and New York are visible through the bare trees, I looked over at her gazing out the window and slowly sucking on her straw like a six-year-old in the back of the car. She was cute, and sweet.

Then she whined, "Don't take me back to work" and I replied, chuckling, "Then you should've driven."

Her mom sent an e-mail saying "I hope the sun shines today and Dan makes you nachos!! I know you'd like something better ... but we have to be realistic for a birthday that falls

during the week!" And I made us nachos and we polished off a bottle of champagne left over from New Year's and I did four loads of laundry (wash and dry) and there are still some socks left draped on one of the couches because they were still a little damp at the top. Her dad called while we were fixing dinner (she helped a little) to complain about Notre Dame losing at the half to Syracuse, which he needed to lose so Pitt could have the top seed in the Big East West, and then he said he was disappointed that I didn't do more for Casey on her birthday. "But we did some nice things over the weekend," I countered.

"Yeah, but you need to do more. You need to surprise her," he said, not remembering that this is the daughter who hates surprises. I also cleaned around the house � dusting the blinds, Swiffering the floors, cleaning the bathroom � not because it was her birthday, but because it needed to be done, and she likes it clean, and it's just nice to do the little things before being urged, proded or asked. Before anyone comments that they need to be done.

So it's Ash Wednesday, which has something to do with Catholics. And other religions, of course, but I know we Methodists never did anything special for this day. Were I going to the city tonight (especially if it were a Notre Dame club function), I know I'd see people walking around with ashes on their foreheads.

For the past several years, since senior year I think, I've given up a few things during Lent, which starts today and ends on Easter. I try to stop biting my fingernails, but I think I only made it the full 40 days once, and then I think I chewed them all off on Easter Sunday. I've had more success giving up fast food, and each year since then (though I may have given myself a reprieve during spring break) I've sworn off it for the full six weeks. But in the last year, even more, I've been so good about not eating fast food in general. Where I once used to go a couple times a month, what with working nights and being out covering sporting events and the ease of it all, I now stop in once a month or once every six weeks, if that. Sometimes it's not a complete, unhealthy "meal" but a drive-through to appease my McDonald's fries jones. Or it's Friday night in Hoboken and I didn't have dinner because I was at work until 8:30 and we want to get to the bar to see people and not stay late, and the bar doesn't serve food so I walk to McDonald's and buy the Super Size Fries and eat them on the walk back.

One year, Mom said she was giving up worrying for Lent. We all laughed at that one. It was either worrying or nagging; in any case, she failed within days. And last year, I met Nate at a bar after work before heading over to the Notre Dame-St. John's game. Beer in hand, I asked him if he wanted a drink. "No thanks," he said, "I gave up alcohol for Lent. It's my yearly check on myself."

I said I needed to get something to eat before going into the Garden, with its overpriced and bad food.

"I don't need anything," he said. "I had McDonald's after work."

I laughed and told him how I gave up fast food. And then I got pizza on the corner.

So I'm not sure what I'm giving up this year.

Not that it matters.

OK, I'm going to get my soda out of the fridge and eat my sandwich and more cheese doodles. I'll deal with potential hunger at 3 p.m. when the time comes.