Field Lines

Mentoring

2009-12-08T20:44:00.002-05:00

One of the things we are encouraged to do at the lab where I work is volunteer. There are several local community programs which have been approved for employee participation. While we of course do not need approval to volunteer our time, these specific programs allow for up to 2 hours a week paid leave for employees wishing to participate and I have been told that public outreach is highly regarded by management when it comes time to decide which postdocs get to stay for good.

I have enjoyed volunteering in the past, but needless to say, there really aren’t any approved opportunities for federally employed scientists to sterilize feral cats. The next best thing is working with kids. There is a program that my group leader heads which hosts scientific workshops for elementary kids once a week. The scientists involved take turns lecturing, demonstrating and then guiding students through that week’s science experiments. To be quite honest, this didn’t appeal to me at all. While I like kids, I am still a physicist and my ability to connect with audiences is lacking. I have never liked doing demos and if I liked lecturing I would have stayed on the academic path. And while I’m being brutally honest, the fact that these workshops take place early on Saturday mornings was less than appealing.

I felt bad turning down the woman who approached me to join this program and I’m thankful it was her and not my boss, who is careful not to pressure me into anything. I will gladly work 12 hour days in the name of research, but my Saturday mornings are for stumbling out of bed just as Deano returns from the bakery with bagels, coffee, and the paper, thank you. I told the woman to please keep me in mind for other opportunities, and I meant it. So I was very happy when several weeks ago this same woman put me in touch with the local branch leader
of the American Association of University Women. The Gaithersburg AAUW runs a program that pairs local career-oriented women with eighth grade girls from a local middle school. The program’s main objective is to provide mentoring to girls with academic potential who are perhaps lacking in one or more of the tools necessary to succeed in high school, college, and beyond. Furthermore, studies show that girls growing up in homes where neither parent went to college are at a disadvantage for attending college themselves. By introducing these girls to college graduates, their chances for success immediately improve. Since this is a one-on-one atmosphere, I felt more confident in my ability to connect and provide meaningful insight to a young girl who is looking for a role model. So I joined, and I am happy I did.

Our first session was just for mentors and it was a presentation by the AAUW branch leader explaining what a mentor is and what we can do for the lives of young women who are reaching adolescence in an age unlike any other, where college educations are absolutely critical and careers must be chosen with care. Our second session was Parent’s Night in which the mentors got to meet the girls they were paired with as well as the girl’s parents. I really hit it off with the girl I was assigned to. I know that the woman running the program asks the girls about what they want to do when they grow up and tries to pair them with mentors of similar careers. My girl doesn’t want to be a scientist per se (she wants to be a doctor), but she likes science and most importantly, I see a lot of myself in her which gives me a strong desire to reach out and help her get through this confusing time.

That isn’t to say the program is perfect. We spend two weeks exploring career options, several weeks talking about what to expect in high school, what to expect in college as well as discussions on peer pressure, bullying and substance abuse. I think this is great, but I really think there is too much emphasis placed on careers. If I could tell 13-year old me that I was going to be a physicist I would have never believed it. My career path was highly circuitous. In high school I was clueless and in college I tried a number of classes and majors. It took me an extra year to graduate, but I can guarantee I am happier than many of my classmates who knew what they wanted and pursued it essentially wearing blinders. I have not wanted to scare my mentee, but I have been trying to convey to her that many people don’t end up doing what they thought they wanted, not because they couldn’t achieve their goals, but because along the way they found something they liked better, maybe something they didn’t even know existed. The career quizzes seem to cover a lot of ground, suggesting some pretty unusual careers (adventure therapist? snowboard designer? tattoo artist?), but still I would stress that these girls are not yet completely who they are going to be. I am relieved that as of now she has chosen a career that will always be in demand and seems to have interests that would lead her towards a recession-proof profession. But most of all I am excited for what is to come and hope I can help this girl find her way.

Crisis of Camera

2009-11-20T18:19:00.008-05:00

Awhile back someone suggested that if I can’t post very often perhaps I could post some pictures of the kitties, the apartment or the area. Great idea! One of the first things I wanted to take pictures of and write a very short post about was the new Drinkwell Water Fountain we bought for the kitties a few weeks ago. I wanted to give my ringing endorsement for this product and show each of the kitties using it (either for drinking, bathing, or splashing each other). So I got out the camera to discover that the battery was dead. I removed the battery and set it aside while I looked for the charger, which I thought was in my “pile”. I never found it. I searched high and low for this thing. I never found it. So I broke down and ordered a new charger from Amazon. That took a good week to get here. When it finally came, I went to insert the battery and I couldn’t find it. The stupidest thing is that I know I set it someplace thinking specifically that it would be a safe place where I wouldn’t lose it. I looked everywhere for the battery. I checked under every piece of furniture that we have (in case the kitties got to it – I recently found an entire roll of stamps Dean thought he lost for good, it was under the bed…). I didn’t order a new one, but I think I am going to have to. In the meantime, I thought I would share some picture that my mom and stepdad took while they were here a couple of weeks ago. We had a fantastic time. I got to show them our new town, our new apartment, and all our new furniture. Plus, they got to see Washington, DC for the first time.

To my disappointment, I couldn’t be with them the first day they got to see DC. They came in on a Wednesday afternoon, and I had to work Thursday but I took off Friday. So I gave them directions to ride the metro into downtown themselves. To their surprise, they happened to go downtown by themselves on the same day as the Michele Bachmann tea party rally. It is ironic that they all come from the same state though my mom and Tom would stress that they do not subscribe to her bizarre ideology. Nevertheless, they did a lot of gawking.

Friday I had the day off and we went back downtown since the weather was beautiful. We saw the rest of the monuments that Mom and Tom didn’t visit on Thursday, which was good because I hadn’t yet seen the Jefferson Monument, the FDR Monument or the Vietnam Veterans’ Memorial. We had a couple extra hours to spare so we checked out a couple exhibits at the National Museum of Natural History. I love that the Smithsonian museums are free, because they are perfect for just such an occasion. You can spend days there, but I prefer to choose one or two exhibits at a time so that I don’t become over saturated with information.

Saturday we decided to get away from the city a bit and visit some Civil War sites. We first visited Harpers Ferry, a town that changed hands during the Civil War eight times due to its strategic placement and the armory it housed. We first got lost in the actual town which was a bit of a frightening place. Think mountain town with lots of trailers, abandoned furniture and angry looking dogs. What we didn’t realize that we wanted to see was the Harpers Ferry National Park and the Historic District. Once we found them, the park was gorgeous though the Historic District was a bit of a tourist trap.

After that we drove the 30 or so minutes to Antietam National Battlefield, the site of the bloodiest single day in the Civil War. Approximately 23,000 Americans died there on September 17, 1862. I'm not a big believer in ghosts or spirits, but the old farm that served as the site of the standoff between the Union and the
Confederacy had such a palpable feeling of sadness and loss. To walk the ground that had one time been soaked with the blood of American pitted against American was something I just could not wrap my mind around. We later visited Antietam National Cemetery, where many of the Union Soldiers that died in that battle were buried. Interestingly, the cemetery remained a national cemetery until the ‘50s so there were soldiers from both World Wars buried there as well.

Sunday we again took the metro downtown and went to the Wizards game. It was so much fun. My Mom and Tom are huge basketball fans (they must be to be Timberwolves season ticket holders, right?) and picked out some really nice seats for us. Dean and I treated them to a round of beers and while we were waiting in line on the concourse we saw Wolf Blitzer. The whole game was great (even though we lost) and we are going back next Saturday.

Oh, and here is the only picture of our apartment currently in existence. I only wish our awesome coffee tables were in the shot, but maybe next time.

So hopefully that will tide you over until my camera crisis is resolved. But with my luck, once I finally get the battery, my whole dang camera will be lost.

Hi.

2009-10-13T20:45:00.000-04:00

My name is Natalie, aka magnetbabe. Once upon a time I used to blog here, and at times quite regularly. While I have tried to gradually lower expectations for regular updates, I have become aware that my lack of posting has made some of you worried, frustrated, or even confused. I apologize for that and while I can always try to do better, that doesn’t always mean I will do better. The biggest impediment to my regular updates is that fact that I absolutely cannot blog at work. I don’t think it’s a big secret where I work, or for whom, but it has been made clear to us that social networking via blogger, twitter, facebook, etc. is forbidden on government time. It is not forbidden to have a blog or have a facebook page (though it is strongly encouraged that all privacy settings be enabled) but suspicious traffic to those sites using government computers is monitored. While I totally understand where they are coming from with this (in theory none of us should be blogging at work and taxpayers would be understandably upset to see federal employees spending their days taking facebook quizzes) it does hamper my online activities considerably. I will justify this statement by saying that research in general is laden with downtime. You heat something up, cool something down, let something react, press a button that cycles and entire experiment and all these things involve waiting. This isn’t news to any of us in science which is why internet activity is considered just part of the routine. But as I have learned over the past four and a half weeks, public service does require some sacrifices and from what I have experienced in my short time here, those sacrifices are well worth the rewards of a challenging, meaningful career.

So. Why don’t I just write up a blog post when I get home? Or on the weekend? Welll…. Easier said than done. By evening I am usually exhausted from working and preparing dinner and the last thing I want to do is get back on the computer after hours of reading papers online or staring at data. Plus, how can Deano and I catch up on our days when one of us is glued to the computer? So that leaves the weekend. Have I mentioned that Washingon DC is a totally over stimulating place to live? Free museums, festivals, demonstrations, ceremonies, two baseball teams, and excellent food combine to make my weekends even more tiring than my work weeks. We’ll see how things go in the few weeks. Baseball season is effectively over – if I can’t see a team in person (like the Nats or the O’s) or root for them in good conscience (like the Twins) it might as well be over. And I could just like to say that I was incredibly proud of the Twins winning the division, and then horribly, terrifically embarrassed by their performance against the Yankees. My intramural physics department softball team from USF could have scored more runs than that. And the weather should be cooling down a bit. We only have a few more weekends to do the outdoor things downtown that we really want to do, most notably going on the Monuments by Moonlight trolley tour.

Dean started his new job this week. He is working for a large car insurance company outside of Baltimore. He seems to like it, it is a position that he had held in Tampa for a different company. Even though he complains about the actual duties, he excels at it and of course everyone loves him. I have a feeling he won’t be so adamant about packing our weekend full of activities once he has a few 40 hour week weeks under his belt. But maybe that’s just the cynic in me.

Don’t get me wrong, I have plenty to say. I would like to sit down and write a post about what my actual job is, despite the fact that the description would probably put half of you to sleep. And the ever-present rant on the level of political discourse occurring in our society is always front and center in my mind. I definitely want to post some pictures. Our new “grown up” jobs have given us some financial freedom to replace our couch, loveseat and coffee table with a new set a few weeks ago. I ordered a TV stand this week that I’m very excited about, and Dean’s talking about that big flat screen he’s been dreaming about since Florida. I keep saying once it all comes together, then I’ll send pictures. Embarrassingly, we still have quite a few boxes sitting around.

But I miss you guys. I knew most of you aren’t posting as often as before. Is life just busier or has blogging run its natural course? I hope not. I don’t find tweets or facebook status updates nearly as informative, or frankly, as intimate. But that’s just me. I feel like it’s been 18 months since I’ve had a real routine where I felt comfortable and that I had time for everything I want to do. Even though I miss them dearly I couldn’t ever imagine caring for a colony and doing TNR and fostering on top of what I’m doing now, which makes me a little sad because I had hoped to volunteer. I wanted to join a reading group, but I’ve only read 100 pages since the move. But the upside is that my days are filled with more satisfying business than before and my mental and physical health in general is strong. Anyway, I hope you all don’t give up on me. I’m still around, just more sporadically. For now.

MB Goes to Washington

2009-09-15T20:21:00.003-04:00

Hi Folks! I just wanted to check in and let you all know things are going great. I apologize for not getting up and running sooner, likewise about the absence from your blogs. It's all been a little overwhelming.

We left Providence on September 4th. The movers came that morning. It was a very surreal feeling, waking up in our apartment with everything in its place and then three strangers came and packed and loaded our stuff on the truck in a matter of hours.

Because I have anxiety in general with driving and specifically on the interstate, we decided to drive the cars down to Maryland overnight. After the movers left, we cleaned the apartment and went out to dinner. We we got back, we loaded up the cars, loaded up the kitties and got the hell out of town. This past year has been tough for a number of reasons. Even though I was so nervous to drive for 7 hours, it felt so cathartic to just leave it all behind and start over. I still can't believe it.

Needless to say it was a very long day and night. We were exhausted by the time we pulled into the Waffle House in Frederick. That was our initial destination since we knew we would be quite a bit earlier than the apartment complex would open. We had a delicious breakfast while watching the sun rise. After our final dose of caffeine for our long journey, we drove the last 25 miles into Gaithersburg. We were still a little early so we walked around the apartment complex and the neighborhood for awhile.

We got into our apartment okay once we met with the manager and proceeded to pass out on the living room floor for awhile. It took us a few days to recover from the whole ordeal. But now were are getting used to everything and have found our groove.

Our first week in Gaithersburg was awesome. I am ashamed to say it, but I am really enjoying the suburbs right now. I have never not lived in a city. That isn't to say I am done living in the city, but for where we are in life, this is perfect. And I'm very close to the lab. We went to Washington twice (we live close to the metro), both times going to Nats games. The second time we also went to the National Museum of American History which was very cool. We've also been furniture shopping but we promised ourselves we wouldn't make any decisions for one week to prevent impulse buying. We are very happy with the apartment. We are getting a little tired of renting, but this place is very comfortable. The bedrooms are huge and we each have our own bathroom which is nice. The balcony is huge and faces the woods which is makes me (and the kitties) very happy.

I started my new job yesterday. It's been mostly paperwork and training so I haven't done any experiments yet. But from what I've learned about the lab and the people I've met I have a feeling I'll be very happy here. The facilities are amazing and the Institute is deeply committed to research excellence as well as public service. I am already proud to be a part of it.

Dean is still looking for a job. He's had two unsuccessful interviews and is feeling a little discouraged. I don't blame him, but really it hasn't been a very long time and our savings along with my new salary is more than enough for us to live comfortably for quite some time. I really want him to take his time and find something that makes him happy. Not so secretly, I want him to follow my lead and look for federal employment. There is a lot out there right now. In the meantime, there is still lots of unpacking to keep him busy. I really can't believe how much stuff we have. I promise to post pictures one we get the new furniture and this place gets put together. Right now, things are still a little chaotic. But I'll try to be around more. Outside of government hours, of course.

Signing Off

2009-09-03T16:14:00.003-04:00

Thanks guys for all the compliments and well wishes. The movers will be here at 8:30 tomorrow morning. We called to set up a cable/internet account at the new place and were stunned to learn that they have to install it in person and the soonest they could come is September 13th! I'm VERY upset that I have to be off line for 9 days with the possible exception of an internet cafe if we can find one. Dean pointed out there was actually several years that we were alive before the invention of the internet. I don't remember that at all. I'll check in as visit you all just as soon as we get hooked up in our new place.

Transition

2009-08-29T16:34:00.004-04:00

I think when I look back on this past year, I will most associate it with transition. Indeed the position of postdoc is transitory in nature, designed to help scientists bridge the gap between grad school and their permanent careers. As someone who naturally experiences anxiety, it hasn't been great for my psyche. But it has been great for forcing me to figure out who I am and for Dean and I to realize what we want out of our life together. Turns out we really want air conditioning and a few nearby chain restaurants. Who knew?

Yesterday was my last day at Brown. In one year I went from a relatively new Ph.D. eager to experience scientific life outside that lab I "grew up" in. I came away with a firm resolve with how science should be done, how I can contribute to that with my own skills and how I can cultivate scientific relationships to help me succeed in my goals while helping others achieve the same. This is no small feat in such a large community with such a wide range of styles and attitudes.

I am still digesting many of my experiences and I think many of the benefits of this past year have yet to be revealed. For now, I'd like to put a little distance between myself and this year before I try to describe my feelings on it any more.

Right now, we're looking to the future and it is coming at us like a freight train. The movers are coming Friday to both pack us up and load our things onto the truck. Friday night we'll drive to Maryland. Before then, we are taking a couple days of much needed rest before getting things in order. There isn't too much to do, mostly getting the cars serviced, getting organized and cleaning up. We'll have a week in Maryland before my new job starts, which will consist of hopefully getting new furniture and getting unpacked. We're ridiculously excited. I'm not sure how much writing I'll do before we leave, but per Jenn's request, I'll definitely take some pictures when we get there and as we're settling in. Before then, I'll just share my impulsive haircut I got yesterday. I thought I had turning 30 out of my system, but the 20s-to-30s transition coupled with my impending grown up job made me decide to cut 5 inches off my hair and get serious about looking professional. What do you think?

Impulsive Buying for Geeks

2009-08-18T16:03:00.003-04:00

One thing we have been doing a lot this past year is going to baseball card shows. I know, WAY nerdy. It started in the winter time. If I say nothing else about Red Sox fans, it is this: they know their baseball, and they love their baseball memorabilia. So during the long winter, there are frequently baseball card shows within an hour drive of us or so. We usually do it on Sunday mornings, there is no traffic and we breakfast at a diner we find along the way. It gets us out of the house and there is some superb people watching. Dean isn't a huge baseball card guy per se, he likes autographs so he usually gets a ball, a photo or a card signed by the old retired Red Sox player the show hires to come sign. Then we giggle over the crazy Sox fans and the big fat card collectors that probably live in their mother's basement. Plus, I get an ego boost being one of the only women there and likely the best looking. I'm not usually vain or self-promoting, so the fact that I can state that with confidence is an indication of the clientele.

My biggest complaint about these shows it that all the stuff is Red Sox stuff. I mean ALL of it. I knew I probably wouldn't find any cards of obscure Twins players from the "dark years" (mid- to late-90s), but I expected to see some Mauer stuff or some Rays stuff. They were, afterall, the AL champs. Nope. Nada. But they do occasionally have non-sports related memorabilia, and after I become saturated with Sox stuff, I gravitate to those tables.

Last weekend we knew would be our last show in Massachusetts. As I said before, Dean always gets the autograph of the headliner. He occasionally also finds some cards he wants like some cheap sets from the 80s. (He likes to mail them to retired players' homes to sign and send back, but that is a different blog post.) But I have never bought anything for myself. I'm not opposed to some self-indulgence and I know the sports collectors circuit has been hit hard by the economy. I just haven't found anything I wanted. Until Sunday. My one memorabilia purchase from a Massachusetts collector show:

A rare Bobby Kennedy presidential campaign button. This particular one was only produced for one campaign stop (I actually believe the guy because he seemed super nerdy like me and was thrilled to talk about political memorabilia in a sea of Sox talk). I thought that with my recent obsession with New England history, politics, and all things Kennedy, it was perfect. I have no idea what I'm going to do with it. But I'll probably display it along with my rare Kucinich for President button, which was eventually replaced by my not-so-rare Obama button.

Because it's Friday

2009-08-14T13:19:00.002-04:00

Supper time in the MB house. One of the only times you will see peace and tolerance. I'm soooo going to miss my gigantic kitchen. Dean has heard just about enough of my worrying over where the feeding spot will be in the new apartment. A cat mom has to have priorities.

Bewitched

2009-08-04T13:53:00.006-04:00

My life right now is a broken record. Excited to move, feeling restless at work, blah blah blah. So that's why I'm going to write another book review. But rather than recommending this book or not, I think I'll write a little more about what I learned from it in hopes the topic, more so than the specific book, may grab your interest.

I bought Salem Possessed: The Social Origins of Witchcraft by Paul Boyer and Stephen Nissenbaum while visiting Salem, Massachusetts in April with my mom and step dad. The town as it is now is rather disappointing, having over time opted for kitch over actual historical significance. We did visit the Salem Witch Museum, where we were shown some mannequins re-enacting some key events of 1692 but overall the lack of artifacts and access to historical sites made it difficult to fully grasp this strange piece of American history. So at the Salem Welcome Center, I decided to buy a book to help me better understand the Salem witch trials, and decided on Salem Possessed because I thought that not only would it explain what happened there in 1692, but also shed some light on the reasons why it happened.

Most everyone is aware that between 1692 and 1693 nineteen Massachusetts women and men were executed for witchcraft. While allegations of witchcraft were not terribly unusual in colonial New England, the scope of the epidemic that began in Salem and spread radially across several towns clearly remains an aberration in our history. However, it is still unclear exactly what caused the initial outburst to gather momentum and become a full-fledged phenomenon. What made Salem different?

It turns out there were a lot of things that made Salem different from your average New England town in the late seventeenth century, which is the premise of this book. Now, from what (admittedly little) else I have read on this topic, the common consensus is that a perfect storm of political, religious, and socio-economical factors combined in Salem in the 1680s and '90s and continued to gather strength until it erupted in a flurry of accusations (over a hundred total), convictions and ultimately executions.

It is widely believed that the first witchcraft accusations made by a group of young girls was likely due to the overall lack of intellectual stimulation afforded to adolescent Puritan girls of the time. While adolescent boys were allowed to hunt, fish, and play games, young girls were taught to sit around and act pure until they found a husband. It is thought that it was likely sheer boredom which brought about the strange behavior-either as a manifestation of neurosis or simply out of some desire for attention from the elders. Alternatively, it has been speculated that the girls themselves were the ones dabbling in witchcraft by attempting to tell each others' futures (who they were going to marry and how much money they'd end up with) and interpreted their visions as them being bewitched. This is still highly speculative.

If this theory is true, then why did grown men and women chime in and start making accusations? Because Salem itself was a town deeply divided during this time. Salem started out as a small town which eventually grew and naturally split into two factions. "Salem Town" remained where the town center was including all the businesses, the meetinghouse, the church and the port where goods were imported and exported between the colonies and Europe. Meanwhile, as families grew, they began to buy farmland further out (to the Northwest) so as to add both land and the crops they sowed to their own incomes. Pretty soon, "Salem Village" wanted its own church because they were tired of riding their horses 15 miles into town on Sunday mornings. Then they wanted their own representatives in the meetinghouse to negotiate their taxes so they didn't have to pay city taxes for services they didn't regularly use. The request for a church was granted, and the people of "Salem Village" suddenly had a geographical place to gather, and a leader (Samuel Parris) around whom to rally so that they could fight for their rights as a distinct faction. As an aside, which is still very important, the governor might have stepped in at this point to try to diffuse the growing factional tension and try to come to a fair resolution to this problem. However, he was busy being overthrown at the time as a result of the dethroning of King James II, effectively leaving New England with no central government for a period of time.

This is the context for the witch trials laid out in Salem Possessed. And Boyer and Nissenbaum's central thesis is that the rampant accusations of 1692 and 1693 can be explained as a result of the tensions between the two factions. Interestingly, in 1695, a petition was circulated to oust Samuel Parris as reverend of the Salem Village church, and from this petition, they put together two "camps", the pro-Parris and anti-Parris camps, comprised of people whose names show up in several other Salem documents. With the petition as well as the other historical documents from Salem at the time (tax records, marriage records, land deeds, etc), they convincingly piece together a story in which the people in Salem Village feel frustrated, threatened and cheated by those in Salem Town. The evidence? Nearly all of the "accusers" resided in Salem Village. Some of them were people who were cheated out of their inheritance by step parents and an increasing average family size. They all belonged to the same tax bracket, namely they didn't make a whole of of money and were upset about what their taxes were being spent on. And they all went to the Salem Village Church where Samuel Parris preached sermons that began as suggestions of injustice towards the village and crescendoed to incendiary accusations of betrayal and witchcraft. In fact, it was much easier for Boyer and Nissenbaum to build a generic profile of a witchcraft accuser than of the accused.

Who were the accused? This is much more difficult to pinpoint. The "witches" lived in various towns around Salem, and in Salem Town as well as Salem Village. But for the most part, they lived in Salem Town. While they were mostly women, there were some men. You had your usual "witch" suspects for the time: the spinsters, the promiscuous, the social outcasts. But you also had rich people, powerful people, and very poor people. They infrequently bore any direct relation to the accusers at all. This is where Boyer and Nissambaum's thesis gets interesting. They found two patterns for the accusers and the accused:

The accuser felt some personal wrong in their lives and in many cases the wrongdoer was readily identified, but not accused. The accusers, in general seeing Salem Town as their "oppressors" would project that personal wrong onto an analogous member of Salem Town. A classic example would be a person living in Salem Village who was written out of their father's will under the influence of their stepmother. Instead of confronting their stepmother, they claimed to be bewitched by some older woman in Salem Town who had likewise married into wealth. Whether this behavior was conscious or subconscious was not ascertained, though their was patterns of evidence to back up this hypothesis.

The accused witches were all "threats to the social order." That is, their social position at the time of accusation was different from that where they started or where society would traditionally have them. Those that were rich had married into money or had come across it luckily. Those that were poor were fallen, not born poor. There were women who had married socially beneath them that were accused and one extremely "lucky" man who in reality was amazingly shrewd and rose to the ranks of one of the richest men in Salem Town through smart business dealings. In this day and age, we are used to the notion that we bring about our own destiny. But that wasn't always so, and the average colonial American died in the same place in the social hierarchy in which he was born. America, evidently, had not yet whetted its appetite for capitalism.

Overall, I walked away with a couple impressions about the book. One, I wished it had contained more explanation about the the witch trials and the events leading up to it using a broader brush stroke. I knew the basic story and there is a time line in the front. And towards the end, they outlined a few of the cases I alluded to above. But perhaps one chapter where it gave a typical text book description of the accusations and the trials before delving into the analysis would have helped tremendously. I actually found myself going to Wikipedia on occasion to revisit the outline and reconstruct a fluid story into which all the facts and figures could fit.

Second, it was actually a little dry. I am happy I read this book or I never would have thought of the witch trials in terms of socio-economic upheaval and village factionalism. I am happy for the knowledge I gained, I just didn't always enjoy getting there. I love data as much as the next geek, but I can only stand to look at so many tax tables cross-referenced with town petitions before even my eyes begin to cross.

I have really been getting into American history lately. Perhaps it has been this past year of living in the oldest part of the country, where history is all around me and so accessible. What parts of American history, big or small, most interest you?

The Group: Smart Chick Lit

2009-07-26T12:15:00.000-04:00

I wasn't sure what to make of Mary McCarthy's The Group when my mom picked it up at a used book store and handed it to me saying, "Here, I think you should get this." I looked at it puzzled for minute, shrugged, and added it to my respectable stack. Why didn't I tell her to get the book herself if she thought it looked good? Because after 30 years and multiple advanced degrees, "I think you should get that" still means, "don't even try paying for that if I'm around." So it sat in my "to read" pile for over a year. At almost 500 pages, I didn't think I could concentrate on a story for that long with so many other distractions in my life right now.

Interestingly, I picked it up just to reread the back - like I do with so many books when making the important decision of what to read next - shortly after my visit to the JFK Presidential Museum. I noticed that the book was about a group of Vassar graduates, the same college Jackie Kennedy graduated from. Intrigued, and struck by the coincidence, I decided to read it. Rarely do I read a book that I enthusiastically recommend just because reading a book is a commitment and people have such different tastes. I was so pleasantly surprised by this book that I just had to write up a review and recommend this book to those of you, who like me, may have never been exposed to it.

The Group is chick lit before chick lit as we know it existed, let alone became the homogenized retelling of the same story and marketed for beach goers and only the most casual readers. It is about eight friends who, after growing up privileged, graduate from Vassar college in 1933 and find themselves in a whole different world, namely New York City at the height of the depression. It was written in 1963, an odd time from my perspective. Not only is this book sort of "old" but it was written itself about an older period. Maybe this is why it escaped my attention, though just a little bit of internet searching revealed Mary McCarthy to be a literary force in the 1960s. If the story line as I'm describing it is failing to grab you, don't feel bad. I wasn't taken in immediately either. But once I started reading it, I was hooked.

The book drifts in and out of the lives of these eight woman, who after graduation all choose different paths that span between immediately marrying, going abroad, and aggressively pursuing careers. And let me just tell you that for the 1930s, I found their lives much more full of intrigue than I had ever expected (e.g. you learn a great deal about 1930s birth control than you could ever hope to). The way life unfolds for each of these girls is fascinating. But what I really loved about this book was that the characters actually had depth and dimension, something you don't find in female-oriented novels these days. While it would have been easy to allow one girl to be the prude, one the ditz, one the slut, one the brainiac and so on, each girl was complex, facing her own set of problems and making decisions that then re-shaped her character as she aged.

One caveat - I'm not sure if you guys out there would like this book very much. It is, after all, about women with female protagonists, and well, male antagonists. There's the roaming husband, the egotistical doctor husband, and the bachelor seducer. I forgive Mary McCarthy for this, because she managed to portray the educated woman as such a complex creature. Plenty of books out there do the same for men.

And lest you think this book is only about women and relationships, there is still the back drop of the depression including life during the implementation of the New Deal. The characters are constantly engaged with each other over the state of a country nursing its wounds after being brought back from the brink of collapse and how the foreign concepts of the New Deal will shape their lives. Sound familiar? It's nearly uncanny, the only difference being that the two sides actually converse and exchange ideas rather than carry out two divergent monologues.

If you are looking for a book with a great story line, told by an interesting literary voice that challenges you while entertains you, I highly recommend this book.

Happy One-Year Anniversary to McLovin, the Three-Legged Wonderkitty

2009-07-17T17:24:00.001-04:00

I can't believe it's been a full year since we acquired McLovin. I know I filled you in shortly after we rescued him and I let you know when we decided to keep him (even though you knew already). One year later, McLovin is such a joy and so big and healthy I marvel at him after remembering the beginning. Since that was such a stressful and hectic time, I don't think I ever really conveyed to you what a heap of a mess he was. For awhile I honestly didn't think he was going to make it.

I remember so clearly the night I first met McLovin. It was mid-July and we were in a particularly rainy spell. The kitties weren't regularly coming out for feedings and on that night I was feeding at a later time after working late. The food from that morning was still sitting out and soaked through to the point of becoming a soup. I went back there and he was sitting all by himself eating. My first thought was "shit, how many are there and who can I talk into taking them?" I was puzzled because he seemed about 12 weeks (yes, I got that good at it) and I had never not seen kittens before around aged 4 to 5 weeks. How could he have escaped my attention? So my second thought was perhaps he was dumped. I was hoping he was dumped because that would mean he was not scared of people and I'd have a much easier time getting him into foster. No one I knew of at the time would even consider take a 12 week old feral. So I slowly approached him and saw the classic signs of feral kittens. He watched me closely with ears reared all the way back and ran away just as I got within arm's reach. And not only that, he hopped away, dragging his front foreleg. Double shit. I also knew from experience that leg dragging is about the worst sign you can see in an injured animal. Functional injured legs - twists, sprains - the animal limps or lifts it above the ground. Dragging means a break, a dislocation or paralysis. I freaked out and called a friend who sent her boyfriend over with a net. We tried for two hours in the pouring rain to lure him out and catch him but didn't see him again.

For three more days I looked for him at regular feeding times and anytime in between. I'd wake up at 6:30 in the morning and right away go look. On my way home from work. Late at night. One night I woke up around 2 am and couldn't get back to sleep so I went out and looked. I asked all the maintenance men if they had seen him and they told me the same thing, yeah they'd seen him but not for a few days. I was distraught, certain a raccoon had gotten at him. Or he'd been hit by a car. Or worse, had wandered far from the colony and was starving to death.

That weekend, Dean had booked a night for us right by Tropicana field so we could enjoy the game and the after concert without driving the hour home as my birthday present. Being the patient, wonderful husband he is, he gave me the out so I could stay home and obsess over the kitten, which was what I had wanted to do. But my friend encouraged me to go. She and her boyfriend had Saturday free and were going to sit outside and wait for him. "If he's still out there, we'll get him," she promised me.

That night at the game, which in itself was one of the best games I've ever been to, I got a text message from her that simply said, "Got him!" I was thrilled. I had no idea what came next and for the moment I didn't care. But I did know I was going to do everything I could to find him the perfect home, even if it was ours.

Since he wasn't in obvious pain, we decided that rather than taking him to the emergency vet that night or even the next day (Sunday) she'd keep him in a holding cage in her house and I'd take him to the vet associated with one of the local rescue groups. They had offered to pick up the medical expenses if we dealt with the foster and adoption on our end. I remember on Monday morning I got up early to take him in. I was encouraged by how he behaved. Again, typical of feral kittens, he shied away from my outstretched hand, but let me grab him out of his cage when he saw there was no place else to go. I gently wrapped him in a towel and put him in my lap. He began purring immediately.

He was totally disgusting. Mud and probably poop all over that limp little paw that had been dragged all over God knows where. Mud on his face. I could see the fleas jumping on him and the dark paste in his ears that was certainly mites. But of course it was that leg I was worried about, though it didn't really seem to bother him.

I brought him all the way across town to the special vet and was completely terrified. The nurses of course snuggled him gently (despite his filthy appearance) and took his blood to test for FIV and feline leukemia. The doctor came in and started examining him, his ears, his teeth, his heart beat and finally his leg. He moved it around in its socket (it wasn't dislocated) and verified all the tendons were in place and said he couldn't find a break. Then he took the kitten's little paw between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed as hard as could. Then he murmured to the nurse, "no sensory response." He told me it was likely nerve damage but couldn't be sure. What he didn't know was if the problem was in his leg or in his head. That freaked me the hell out and I almost began to cry. He left the room with the nurse for a few minutes and I sat there just looking at the poor pathetic kitten purring in my lap. I imagined him having some awful degenerative disease and needing to decide to euthanize him immediately or watch him progressively get worse. Then the nurse came back in took him from me and put him on the floor. She said she wanted to see how he moved and if he could walk in a straight line. I thought he did okay, but I was still badly shaken.

Next the doctor came in and said he was satisfied that the injury was localized and due to trauma, not disease. But we were still waiting on the blood tests. In the meantime, the nurses had taken several "samples" from him and the doctor informed me that he had 5 types of stomach parasites, ear mites, fleas and an infected cut in his mouth. He said he didn't want to give him his first set of shots until after he had done a course of antibiotics. After about another eternity of anxiety, the blood tests came back negative so he was ready to go home.

Because of the deal they had with the rescue group, I had to go to them for the medicine. I went to the rescue lady's house and she had a look at the kitten. She gave him his first dose of de-wormer and gave me enough for him and my other three kitties to have three months worth of doses (giving Wrigley de-wormed is NOT a fun experience, by the way). She also gave me flea medicine, antibiotics, pro-biotics (to promote stomach health while on the antibiotics) and Pepto-Bismol to counter the diarrhea he'd get from the antibiotics. She also suggested that before I apply the flea medicine I should try giving him a bath. The baby shampoo would wash off most of the adult fleas, it would clean up his muddy paw and it might "stun" him into socializing a little easier. But she warned me socializing him would be tough and at 12 weeks he could go either way. She said there was a small market for people who wanted to adopt special needs pets but being feral wasn't going to help his case.

This is where you came in. After he had been nursed back to health, bathed, doted upon and taken into the fold with our other kitties, "Ray" felt like part of the family.

Here's what I never confessed to you: After a couple of weeks of hard work getting him patched up, my same friend who trapped him said that she had a friend who might be interested in adopting him. She had recently adopted another tuxedo kitten and was looking for a playmate for him and since she worked with animals, the little bit of leftover feral tendencies wouldn't bother her a bit. This sent me into an absolute tizzy because I realized at that point I just couldn't give him up. She said she would ask her friend about taking him after the weekend.

That weekend, I didn't tell Dean that I had potentially found a home for Ray. But after weeks of beating around the bush I asked him outright if he thought we could give him up at this point. He could see in my face that I didn't think I could and I didn't think he could either. And then he told me something I'll never forget, one of the best things he has ever told me. He said, "These past couple years I've seen you do a lot of things I never thought you could do. When you brought the first kitten into this house I thought we were doomed. But you did what was best for it and for us and you gave it up. And you did it so many times without ever putting me in the position to tell you no. I know this is almost over and I know you love this kitten. He's your reward for all you've done for those cats." I started crying and hugging him I was so happy. And then he said, "All I ask is that we change his name from Ray to McLovin." Well, all his records are still in the name Ray, because it is admittedly a little strange. But I thought it was a fair trade off.

The next day I emailed my friend and told her we were keeping Ray, her friend couldn't have him. I never told Dean that someone might have been interested. It turns out this friend was a vet tech at the clinic that ended up doing his amputation. Seeing the feral tuxedo kitten with the bum arm, she asked if this was the kitten she had heard about from our mutual friend. I confirmed and we had a good laugh over it. She spent two days with him while he was in recovery before I came and got him. When I picked him up, she made a point to send him off and told me, "You know, I definitely would have taken him."

You all followed his amputation and recovery and know that it stressed me out. Every step of the way with him I have talked myself into the certainty that he won't make it. That I'll have my heart broken. Even now I know his one year checkup is coming up and I am a little more anxious about taking him in (after we move and settle) than I would be for the rest. But for the most part, after his surgery, his healing, and his maturation into a big (!) healthy, happy adult cat I have learned to accept that I have myself a survivor.

Birthday at the Cape

2009-07-14T11:35:00.004-04:00

Dean and I celebrated my 30th birthday in style at Cape Cod, as opposed to wallowing in self pity and despair as was my initial plan.

Dean made all the arrangements, and we stayed at a wonderful bed and breakfast on the beach.

The owner said a lot of people won't advertise for her because they don't want all the rooms to be taken when they come to visit. Since we probably are not going to make it back anytime soon, I'll gladly let you know that if you want to stay at a great place close to the water and lots of fun restaurants, the Inn at Lewis Bay is perfect. Thanks, Janet!

We chilled at the beach, watched the sailboats in the bay and the kids building sand castles. Once I got past my initial snobbery that the beach wasn't anything like the white sand and green water of the gulf, it was quite nice. This is the type of beach everyone else is used to going to, and probably close to what we'll be by in Maryland.

Like everything else in New England, Cape Cod is crowded, compact and expensive. But beautiful, and full of rich history. We were only a short ways away from where the Kennedys stayed when they vacationed frequently in Hyannis. And we watched another piece of tradition, Cape Cod league baseball. I didn't know much about it, and was surprised to learn that so many people turn out to go to a high school baseball field to watch the top college players (and certainly soon-to-be top draft picks) play some pretty good ball. They come from all over the country and stay with volunteer host families for the summer, often times taking on daytime jobs for spending money for their summer at the Cape. The owner of the B&B said that she had friends that routinely took in players and said that despite a couple bad apples, they are usually gracious and polite. Plus it gives the host family a player to watch for their whole career.

We also had some amazing food and we even snuck out late for a midnight picnic (bottle of wine) at the beach under the stars. We are not usually an overly romantic couple, but that was picturesque, complete with people shooting off fireworks, and watching the lighthouses light up over the bay.

And I was delighted by my souvenir, a t-shirt from Cape Cat!

But most of all, it provided a much needed couple of days away from the stress of putting together another move, Dean trying to find another job and me trying to still excel at this one to keep up my contacts and reputation. It's going to get very busy over the next several weeks, best to face it all with a clear mind and a fully charged battery.

The Big Three-Oh

2009-07-08T06:11:00.000-04:00

It's here. My thirtieth birthday. I am handling it in my patented mixture of grace and anxiety with which I handle most of life's events. Yes, like everyone who has come before me, I'll admit it snuck up on me. For awhile I was experiencing the existential crisis that many 30 year old women in my position experience. The feeling that I should have kids by now. I should own my home by now. I should be driving a car that is less than ten years old. Okay, some of these goals haven't been met. Some are barely on the horizon. Sure, ten years ago this definitely is not what I had in mind for myself. But in a lot of ways, this is better than what I had in mind. So instead of dwelling on what I don't have today, I'm going to put together a short list of all the things I've experienced that I would never have imagined doing by the time I was 30.

Eloping in Vegas.

Getting a Ph.D. In Physics.

Going to Europe. By myself.

Living in 3 different states, just a few weeks shy of moving to my 4th.

Seeing baseball games at Wrigley Field, Fenway Park, Miller Park, Nationals Stadium, Pro Player Stadium, Tropicana Field, and the Metrodome.

Publishing 15 papers in academic journals and one book chapter.

Eating beignets at Cafe du Monde.

Looking out over the Grand Canyon, hiking in the French Alps and the Great Smokey Mountains.

Walking along the shores of the Pacific Ocean, the Atlantic Ocean, the Gulf of Mexico, and Lake Superior.

Listening to jazz music at the Village Vanguard.

Sterilizing over 30 cats and placing about 15 cats and kittens in loving homes (including Dixie, Sauvi, and McLovin).

Teaching Girl Scouts about Astronomy and how to find the North Star.

Seeing Canada and Mexico.

Giving talks to magnetism experts in Los Angeles, Denver, New Orleans, Baltimore, Boston, and Montreal.

Meeting a Munchkin.

Bombing a job interview.

Owning a three-legged cat.

Having a little sister.

Seeing two presidents speak in person.

Eating lunch with a Nobel Laureate.

Climbing the steps to the Bell Tower at Notre Dame.

Now it's your turn. What were you proud experiencing when you turned 30? For those youngsters, what do you hope to experience by the time you're my age?

Being a grown up can be so boring

2009-06-25T14:08:00.000-04:00

The actual text messaging conversation I just had with Deano.

Him: What's 4 dinner 2nite?

Me: Veggie soup.

Him: What's 4 dinner 2morrow nite?

Me: Pulled pork sammies.

Him: Can we move up the pulled pork to 2nite? I'm excited 4 the draft and soup isn't really a good draft food. Maybe if it was chilli.

Me: No, I don't have the pork yet. I was gonna cook it overnite.

Me: Do u wanna order pizza?

Him: No, I want 2 go 2 Big Cheese on Saturday. Or maybe Mexican. We are in a tough spot now. What do you think?

Me: I have frozen chilli too. I can swap it out for soup.

Him: Keep the soup but maybe pick up some snacks.

Me: But it's ice cream night.

Him: What kind of ice cream do we have?

And so it continues...

130, Bitches

2009-06-22T15:21:00.000-04:00

Lifted from Pole Hill:

Your IQ Is 130

Your Logical Intelligence is Genius

Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius

Your Mathematical Intelligence is Genius

Your General Knowledge is Above Average

A Quick and Dirty IQ Test

That last one is a little embarrassing. I can no longer think of myself as quite the well-rounded person as I once did.

Cat Bomb

2009-06-16T17:12:00.002-04:00

As most of you know, Dean and I have a problem child named Wrigley. This is a picture of him as a kitten that I found in my archives. See that absolutely demonic, possessed look he has on his face? 5 years later he still gets that look on his face. Every morning at 2 a.m. to be precise.

I reassured Deano that he would "grow out of it", and as a full grown adult, he has more energy and gumption than our not-yet one-year old. He was totally insane as a kitten, I'm shocked he survived to see 5 years old and his first few months with us were filled with jokes of why he might have been abandoned by his previous owners. No, I realize pet abandoning is not funny. But sometimes humor is all you have when you are sleep deprived because an eight pound creature is terrorizing you at all hours of the night.

After we returned from our trip to D.C., he was out of control for three nights. His chosen method of distraction was sitting on my pillow alternately howling (while loudly purring) and slapping my face. I had tried gently tossing him off the bed and squirting him with a water bottle, both tactics making him even more aggressive. Finally, too dysfunctional to work last Wednesday morning, I googled "cat behavior" and clicked on an article entitled Midnight Meowers. Perfect.

I actually learned quite a bit about cat behavior and why my naughty boy-kitty does what he does. Apparently it's not all that uncommon, and could have been predicted by us working long hours and just returning home from a long weekend. He wants attention and his body is tuned to be at its highest energy in the wee hours of the morning. One of the things the article advised was to have an intense play-session with your cat just before bed to tire him out so that he'll sleep through the night. Right. Like I needed one more thing to do nightly before I can finally hit the sack, but I was desperate.

So we dragged out his favorite piece of string, which attracted McLovin. Wrigley just sat watching while McLovin went nuts over the string. I brought out some catnip filled stuffed toys and Nellie promptly started attacking them and raking at them with her hind feet. Then we started throwing bouncy balls and rolling plastic balls filled with bells and beads. Allison chased all of them, Wrigley chased none of them. It was like a circus in there with three of the cats running around like crazy, Deano and me clapping our hands and chasing them in hopes Wrigley's interest would be piqued by the commotion. Finally, we brought out the piece de resistance: the nylon spring tube. We usually keep it coiled up and bring it out only on rare occasions. Wrigley's favorite mode of play is stalk and pounce so he finally got up after seeing the tube as a hiding place. He proceeded to hide in there and pounce out, attacking whomever walked past. Finally, success. After about an hour things started winding down and Deano and I felt like we could sleep through anything. We sat down on the couch and studied our surroundings, which consisted of the floor littered with strings, toys, and plastic balls. Empty soda cans were knocked over and papers strewn all over as Wrigley had skidded on them chasing the other kitties. According to Dean, it looked like a bomb had gone off in the apartment. A cat bomb.

But by God it worked! We do the routine now every night after we're done cleaning up dinner. I don't know how long it will last, but for the summer it is okay to watch the baseball game in the periphery while giving Wrigley his nightly dose of "running the crazies out". Not to mention it gets the others some much needed exercise as well. And the best part is Wrigley sleeps through the night, spooning against me and just as sweet as can be.

The Home Stretch

2009-06-10T16:50:00.002-04:00

We got back on Sunday after spending a long weekend in the DC area looking for apartments and meeting my new research group.

The weather was bad Thursday and Friday, but we had a wonderful time sightseeing in downtown DC on Saturday and at the Nats game Saturday night. Dean, by nature a little pessimistic, was nearly distraught about the rain all day Thursday and Friday. Even though he was dead on his feet Thursday, having flown back from Minneapolis the previous night, he had wanted to go to a minor league game in Frederick that was rained out. I, the eternal optimist, pointed out that the more perfect and picturesque the trip was, the more difficult the two and a half months before we actually got to move would be.

I took a bunch of pictures, but didn't load them onto my computer yet. Besides, how often can you look at someone else's pictures of the White House and the Lincoln Memorial? So we'll see if I post them at all. The bad news is that apartments in suburban Washington, DC are f-ing expensive as hell. The good news is that we can afford it now. But that doesn't necessarily mean I want to spend that kind of money on rent. However, I do believe in getting what one pays for. I love our apartment now, it is cute and old and quirky and the rent is cheap because we live in a run-down neighborhood. Apartments by my new work are spacious, luxurious with modern appliances and amenities, and in a safe neighborhood minutes from the metro.

Speaking of the metro...ohmygod I love it. It's so easy and gets you so close to where ever you want to go. And it's clean with normal people who ride it, unlike some of the other public transportation I've been on.

Nationals Stadium is literally a half a block from the metro stop, which also was incredible. I love Fenway park, but my disdain for the Red Sox has made it impossible for me to feel like anything but an outsider there. Even though I don't follow the Nats religiously, I feel like I could go to several games there and fit right in. Plus, like Tampa, the DC area is full of transplants and we sensed there much more tolerance for people with other team allegiances. Not to mention the ballpark, in only its second season, was beautiful, clean and GREEN!

My research group seems pretty cool, even though I already new my future boss and the group leader from conferences and networking. But everyone else seemed nice and a tour of the facilities revealed a cornucopia of exciting toys and state of the art measurement systems including a one of a kind ultra high precision magnetometer and a top of the line high field magnet sporting a serial number 9, out of 12 currently in existence. To put it mildly, I was totally geeking out. I also saw an old friend who has been working there (in a different department) for a year. We competed for the same grant to work at the lab. Initilaly he got it and I didn't. I'm really looking forward to spending more time with him, and Dean was thrilled to see a familiar face from Tampa. I think he will thrive there as well, he seemed to hit it off with my co-workers and prety much everyone in the town we'll be living in is either a scientist or relocated there because they are married to one.

I don't have much else to share about the trip. We are still deciding between two apartments and will start the application process for one or the other in the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, it's back to work and counting down until the next big move. One of these days, we'll stay put.

Portland

2009-06-03T09:47:00.001-04:00

This might be the single strangest statue I have ever seen. And we saw it outside the Seadogs' stadium in Portland, Maine. Before I tell you how awesome Portland is, let me just draw your attention to exactly how bizarre this statue is. First, the mom. Her attire is completely inappropriate for a ball game. Her dress looks like how I might imagine a Mormon prostitute and she appears to be wearing bedroom slippers. And she clearly is not wearing a bra. Not to mention, the little girl hanging from her hip is wearing an identical outfit. And don't get me started on the scary calf muscles. But the dad is even stranger. He seems to have sewn a patch of the American flag onto his polo shirt. But the weird part: he appears to be scalping their tickets. He is holding them up suggestively while the poor son looks distraught and protesting. I suppose the cynic in me might say that this motley crew bears a strong resemblance to many dysfunctional families I've witnessed at a minor league ball game. But to make a sculpture of it? Can any Portlanders help me out on this one? Very odd.

Anyway, Portland, Maine was freaking awesome. THAT was how I pictured New England - fun shops, excellent food, fun, small, family-owned pubs and the friendliest people ever. The vibe reminded me of the area around my parents' lake home if it wasn't quite so remote and the people were more outgoing. We went to check out the minor league baseball team (because that's what we do) and we ended up having a half-serious discussion on whether or not we should just cut our losses and stay there for good. Have the kitties shipped up, of course. But in the end we compromised that we'd try to make it back once more this summer and if we ever decide to retire in a harsh environment, it'll be in Maine.

Next stop - DC/Maryland tomorrow for apartment hunting. And a Nationals game, of course.

Peace of Mind

2009-05-21T10:21:00.000-04:00

A rare glimpse of our problem child, Wrigley, at rest.

I am feeling good these days. Being able to say that at this stage in my life under these economic conditions is a triumph. Sure, I am busier than ever working, traveling, getting ready for the next move but I have peace of mind which is absolutely invaluable.

I don't think I was ever officially clinically depressed this past year, but I think if I hadn't used the tools I acquired recovering from my previous bouts it could have happened. A little over a year ago, I got my Ph.D. with no job offer in hand. This was discouraging since I had heard so many stories from professors about how easy it was to find a job once they graduated, how in demand physics Ph.D.'s were. I applied for a fellowship for my dream job in D.C. and got turned down for it almost exactly a year ago. I was disappointed, but never truly believed I could get it since it was only awarded to a handful of people each year.

The weeks without an impending job turned into months and I became distraught and withdrawn. I went on a couple interviews and the fit wasn't right. I tried not to take it personally, my advisor said I was too specialized. But nevertheless, I didn't want to talk about it with anyone except Deano, whose future was on the line as well as my own. That's partly why the blogging decreased. Talking to friends and family decreased too.

I accepted this current position knowing it was temporary, it would be tough, and the pay would suck. The result? I put my head down and worked my ass off, planning to stick it out one maybe two years and hopefully my time here would pay off career wise. So as you may imagine, this regimen still did not make me very happy. Sure I had Deano and the kitties. We spend every other weekend together as a happy family, while on alternate weekends he is scheduled to work and I rely on discipline to be extra productive especially in my competitive workplace. In this I found a little joy and a stronger bond with Deano via the age old "we're in this together" perspective. Our brief time together is spent not only traveling to minor leage ball parks (his passion) and awesome New England diners (mine), but also conspiratorially whispering about how weird it is here and what crazy things the Rhode Islanders do. But my overall feeling was that how things were going, the place I was in careerwise and geographically was making me miserable. And I didn't want to talk about it. I just wanted to get past it and close this chapter in my life.

I am trying hard not to build up my new job too much. But things have changed for us so much since the offer. At first, I wasn't sure if I was going to take it. Of course my first thought was that becuase the position was created from the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act, I had been called to service in my own little way by a president who was finally taking science funding seriously. But I had already started the application process for a permanent position on the periphery of science because I was so fed up with the hierarchy of the scientific community, especially academia. That's a whole other post that will have to wait until the frustration is a little farther off in the rear view mirror. But when Deano told me to take it without even thinking twice and my new group was so helpful and supportive I knew I made the right decision, the first one I can be sure of in a long time. I am sleeping better, I have a better temperment, less anxiety, and something to really be excited about. I feel more confident in my abilities after months of doubting myself. Sometimes I even tell Deano that I'm glad I didn't get the job the first time around. Living a consistently charmed life leaves you with less of a sense of appreciation. He doesn't necessarily agree.

MB's Guide to New England Travel

2009-05-12T09:58:00.009-04:00

Life has gotten busy. I know this has been happening ever since we left Tampa and really ever since I graduated over a year ago now. There is so much I always want to say, but I am severely lacking the time to sit down and say it. But I am trying my best. Since my book blogging idea seemed to have gone over like a lead balloon, I'll probably scrap that idea from now on, blogging about the books I especially like since the feedback on my review was good and it some seemed to have found it interesting and helpful.

It also seems like since I accepted the new position, there is all of a sudden an urgency in getting the things done that we want to do in the four months we still have in New England. Don't get me wrong, I'd rather have a busy spring and summer enjoying New England while we can if the alternative is fighting out another winter here! But what you've heard is true. The spring here is amazing, and much appreciated after a long, snowy winter season.

So for now, I'm going to group all the fun things we've done over the last month into one post. I don't really like doing that since I know I as a reader prefer short, frequent posts on other people's blogs to long, infrequent ones. But hey, sometimes you've just gotta take a few minutes to write when you can get them.

Last month my mom and step dad flew to Providence to visit us over the long Easter weekend. I knew it would be great to see them. Forever I had wanted them to see our apartment, and meet McLovin, our latest addition. Finding out about my new job just a couple weeks earlier had eliminated much of the underlying stress I had been experiencing since accepting this job, knowing it was only temporary. All this made for a fantastic time together.

My amazing husband was able to get us all tickets to the Red Sox - Rays game at Fenway on that Thursday afternoon. The weather was absolutely perfect and I'm happy my parents could see a little bit of Boston, where they hadn't ever visited. I hadn't yet been to Fenway, and I loved it. The running joke since then is a comment I made to Deano afterwards: "I LOVE Fenway! I just wish the Red Sox didn't play there." Sorry, Sox fans. But I'll never come around. For the most part, my Evan Longoria jersey t-shirt was ignored, until he hit a double, then a home run, then a single. After that I put my jacket on. Afterall, I'm still a non-confrontational midwesterner at heart.

While my parents were here we finally made it to Newport too. It was so much fun. We got there late because we took the long way (which pretty much took us through ALL of Rhode Island) and putzed around the downtown area (I have restaurant recommendations if anyone is going...) before finally taking Ocean Drive to the mansions on Bellevue Avenue. To be frank, I had no idea Rhode Island could be so beautiful. We live in a rather run down neighborhood on the border of Providence with another blue-collar suburb. And while it's functional, it isn't much to look at. But the coast line and the mansions were so amazing, we went back two days later when we found out the mansion tours operated on Easter (unlike many other local tourist attractions).

We really got into the mansion tours and even into learning about society life in New England during the late 1800s to early 1900s. I'd highly recommend spending time in Newport if you are in New England. And it's one of those places that are as cheap or expensive to visit as you want. There are very good, reasonable sandwich shops downtown and it costs nothing to just drive along the coast sightseeing. But there are also excellent restaurants and informative tours for a little extra.

The day in between the two days we spent in Newport, we went to Salem, someplace I had been wanting to see since learning we'd be moving to the area. I'm going to be frank. Salem is a total tourist trap. We had fun and learned about the history of the town and the Salem Witch Trials (and I bought an informative book on the subject). But the town seems awfully eager to exploit a rather dark part of American history and despite the Salem Witch Museum's message of the benign nature of "true witches" there was plenty of campy images of pointy hats, black cats and warts. Just a litte disappointing. We also visited their pirate museum which consisted of a bunch of mannequins dressed like pirates enacting out various "scenes" and a smarmy twenty something dressed as a pirate giving a tour. In predicabale fashion, he left us towards the end so we could conclude with a self-guided tour, only to have the bejesus scared out of us by a live pirate jumping out as us at the end. I wouldn't have expected less. But the real history of piracy in New England is very interesting (not to mention timely), and I'm glad I know more. Even if I do feel like a tourist. I do have to concede that we went there when it was raining and we were limited to indoor activities like museums and gift shops. I really would have liked to walk around more, even though the brochure seemed to indicate there wasn't a whole lot from the 1660's left in Salem to look at.

All in all it was such a fun trip. It was great to see my parents and see what they thought of this new place for us (it's a little different from Florida). The only disappointment was I really wanted them to get to know McLovin. It turns out he's still feral. The sad part is we NEVER have house guests, so we didn't know how he'd react to visitors. Here we thought we had done such an amazing job socializing him since he just acts like the other three around us. But he was still really shy around my parents. He came around a little towards the end.

Since then, Dean and I have taken two weekend trips to Connecticut. The first was to New Britain. If New Britain sounds familiar to you Minnesotans, it is because it is the home of the New Britain Rock Cats, AA affiliate of the Twins. The town itself wasn't terribly impressive (though if you find yourself there, you HAVE to go to Miss Washington's diner. Oh. My. God.) . But the stadium was nice and the game was a lot of fun. I got a Justin Morneau Rock Cats jersey tee and we stayed for fireworks after the game. I hadn't seen a fireworks display in a looooong time, but this one was really impressive. Plus, it was nice to be in a town where there were legitimate Twins fans. We are so saturated by Boston sports (hence the pushback on our part) that we forgot what it was like to be amonst our own people. And the people of New Britain know their Twins baseball.

We also went to Norwich for a Connecticut Defenders game. They are the AA affiliate of the San Francisco Giants. That was pretty fun too, though I must admit their gift shop was a disappointment. The stadium food there more than made up for it. Hnads down the best selection of high quality food I've sesen at a minor league stadium. Again the weather was nice. Instead of Twins fans, there were Giants fans. I was again reminded of how little I follow West Coast baseball, but oh well.

That's my travel log for now. I'm not sure where we're off to in the near future, but we are all booked up for a trip to Maryland next month to look at apartments. Courtesy of my new job. Eek!

Book Blogging Discussion: Rabbit, Run

2009-04-30T11:33:00.004-04:00

In Rabbit, Run, John Updike answers one of society’s great questions: What happens to the high school jock when he wakes up one day and realizes he has drifted into mediocrity? Answer: he runs. From everything. Harry “Rabbit” Angstrom decides on his way to pick up his young son from his parents’ house that instead he will just leave his life behind. This after a moment of clarity in which he becomes disdainful of his pregnant wife and the life they share. He leaves her, their son, and a job selling vegetable peelers and hits the road, Jack Kerouac-style. For a night. And then decides to head back to their suburban Pennsylvanian town and shack up with a prostitute introduced to him by his old high school coach until his wife goes into labor.

In my old book group, our mediator never failed to ask one question about a book: Is it character-driven or plot-driven? In other words, is the point of reading it to find out what happens to the characters or to see how they develop and respond to the plot unfolding around them? Your average page-turner is plot-driven. Most books are difficult to classify as one or the other and generally fall in between. This book is one that is easily identifiable as character-driven. This book was all about Rabbit, his choices, how his character influences those choices, how others respond to him and how he himself becomes changed by his circumstances. To me, it is unusual to find such a character-driven book where the main character is so emotionally immature. Catcher in the Rye immediately comes to mind, but not much else. Yet despite his faults - narcissism, immaturity, impulsiveness, short-sightedness, possessiveness – I found it really difficult to dislike Rabbit. There was something tragic about him (besides the sad turn his life takes at the end) that made me feel like wasn’t a bad person per se, he just didn’t get it. And I often feel sorry for characters who cannot just enjoy life for what it is but must instead always be looking at the greener grass on the other side. Did he finally get it at the end? There is evidence for both answers. He honestly felt grief for what happened and grasped the finality of the events. But the outburst at the funeral blaming Janice in front of everybody definitely suggests otherwise.

Since this book is all about Rabbit and recounts a rather odd period in his life, I am still not sure I like the twist that the plot took, throwing a tragic wrench into things. Sure, it was good to see the consequences of Rabbit’s neglect of his marriage and his selfishness in regards to his own needs, but I also thought that to stay true to the point of the book it might have been better if the banality of the plot continued while the fascinating character insights remained the main focus. I’m interested to see if any of you agree or disagree.

I found myself feeling very torn about almost every character. Rabbit most of all, of course. I found Janice almost insufferable, but had to feel bad for her as the victim. I also had to keep reminding myself of the time period of the book. She had to take him back – she was soon to be a mother of two and probably had no work skills whatsoever. But I kept thinking she didn’t have to be so eager to do so. I saw Eccles as well-meaning, but in the context of today’s thinking, I’d say he had a man crush on Rabbit and wanted badly to live vicariously through the ex-basketball star. I think I liked Ruth most of all. I liked that she was confident but struggled with her weight. Unfortunately her independence brought out a mean streak in Rabbit and I think she understood why that relationship wasn’t going to work. And yet faced with the prospect of raising a child without a father without help from her parents she handled it much better than Janice.

But what I liked the best about the book was definitely the prose. I was so intrigued by the dichotomy of describing an average person and an average place with unbelievably beautiful language. And it wasn’t just Updike’s acute sense of detail. He doesn’t just describe what’s in Rabbit and Janice’s apartment, he makes you feel claustrophobic and frustrated by returning several times to the fact that the closet door when opened bumps up against the TV set. And he also describes feelings everyone experiences but in a way I’ve never thought of before. I am still struck by a particular passage where Rabbit wakes up in the bed of his old coach during a poker game. At first, while he is disoriented, his senses are fuzzy. He can’t understand what people are saying, he can only register the noise. And then the noises “crystallize into words” as he becomes fully aware of his surroundings. As a scientist, the metaphor of your surroundings undergoing a phase transformation from amorphous to crystalline as you wake up from sleep delighted me to no end and made me ashamed I never thought of it that way before. The book is full of passages like that. Several parts I read over again just to try to digest the language.

As I wrote before, this is an experiment. I’m not sure if I’ll get much discussion or not. I enjoyed reading the book and putting down my thoughts. I’ll probably continue to do so no matter how much response I get but whether it heads more as a book review feature or a discussion is up to you.

Apology, Teeny Tiny Update and Reminder: Book Blogging

2009-04-24T18:02:00.005-04:00

Sorry peeps. I didn't mean to leave you for so long, but things have been insane. What else is new, right? Just when you think life stabilizes, it tosses you a curveball. And then you write about it in mixed metaphors.

Here's the short version: We're moving again. I told real-life family and friends about this a few weeks ago, but didn't feel comfortable posting about it until things were finalized. I was offered another postdoc position. Even though being a postdoc kinda sucks, this one pays much better (and includes moving expenses!), involves doing something that I absolutely love, and comes with the possibility of a permanent position at the end. It is in a suburb of Washington, DC so if it turns out not to lead to a permanent position, there are still plenty of opportunities for me without necessarily having to ask Dean to quit his job and pack up all our belongings again. We are not moving until September which gives us a little time to enjoy New England when it isn't cold as hell which we have already started to do. I fully plan to write about our recent exploring (including a visit from my mom and stepdad) AND the back story behind my new job very shortly.

But first, I haven't forgotten about our book blogging experiment. I am still reading Rabbit, Run in between dodging job offers, apartment hunting and baseball games. I told you I would write about it next week. I'm not sure yet whether it will be early or late in the week depending on when I finish the book. But I am already formulating my thoughts and hope some of you can contribute to the discussion.

Name Game

2009-04-05T21:21:00.001-04:00

Lifted from Dianne's place. She posted it a couple weeks ago, but I'm just getting around to it now. The gangsta name doesn't make much sense for me (even though it's funny) and I've never heard of Minneapolis for a last name. But this is still pretty fun. Post it to your blog or put a funny name in the comments section.

1.Your rock star name (first pet, current car) - Cocoa del Sol

2.Your gangsta name (favorite ice cream flavor, favorite type of shoe) – Neopolitan Wedge

3.Your Native American name (favorite color, favorite animal) – Purple Cat

4.Your soap opera name (middle name, city where you were born) – Anne Minneapolis

5.Your Star Wars name (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 of your first name) - Hulna

6.Superhero name (2nd favorite color, favorite drink) – Blue Cape Cod

7.NASCAR name (the first names of your grandfathers) – Kenny Ruben

8.Dancer name (the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent, favorite candy) - Lilac Truffle

9.TV weather anchor name (your 5th grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter) - Simonson San Diego

10.Spy name (your favorite season/holiday, flower) – Summer Peony

11.Cartoon name:(favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now) – Mango Sweater

12.Hippie name (what you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree) – Granola Oak

13.Movie (or porn) star name (first pet, first street where you lived) – Cocoa Logan

New Field Lines Feature: Book Blogging

2009-03-26T13:03:00.004-04:00

In response to this post, my longtime blog friend spants agreed to participate in a stress-free, low commitment, minimally structured, very low-key book club. I mentioned that I missed my book club in Tampa. I missed reading books I might not normally read and I especially missed exchanging thoughts and opinions of books. spants is an avid reader herself and agreed to read anything that wasn't "chick lit" and preferably something that "doesn't suck". So here goes.

In honor of the recently deceased John Updike, we have chosen Rabbit, Run, one of his most critically acclaimed novels and first in the Rabbit series. I will be posting my thoughts on the book sometime during the last week of April. I'm note sure if spants will be making her own post for it, or just posting her opinions here. Either way, it should prove to be an interesting experiment. Fellow bloggers, feel free to post your own opinions of the book on your own blog or here if you feel moved to do so. Readers and lurkers are encouraged to participate as well to whatever extent they are comfortable. I'm excited to read this book, but more excited to have a lively discussion in about a month!

Getting Off Easy

2009-03-24T09:59:00.005-04:00

Ahem. Now that I have your attention, I'd like to talk about the dentist.

When I was little, I went to the dentist as often as I was supposed to. I was terrified of getting cavities, though I ended up with a few here and there. I had braces for eighth grade and though we weren't poor, my parents made it clear that with the money being spent on my teeth, they should be a source of pride for me and something to take good care of. But as I got deeper into my studies in college, I started going to the dentist less often than I should. I'm not sure when the last time I went to my childhood dentist in Minnesota was, but after I moved to Florida, things got a lot worse.

As a grad student I didn't have dental insurance. I never brought it up, but I'm sure if I had wanted to go, my parents would be more than happy to help with the cost. When Dean and I got married and I was put on his insurance, dental was covered. But by that time, my anxiety had gotten the best of me. It had been several years since I had been in for an exam. My friends were experiencing similar issues, after graduating going to the dentist for a deserved tongue-lashing and ending up needing root canals, deep cleanings, tissue grafts, you name it. A couple times my parents asked me if I'd seen a dentist lately and I blew them off. Even though I now had dental insurance, I was imagining still needing thousands of dollars of work to make up for at least seven or eight years of lapsed cleanings and check ups. I didn't exactly neglect my teeth, I still flossed several times a week and brushed at least twice a day. But my sweet tooth is worrisome, to say the least.

The more time went on, the more dentist anxiety I got. When I started the job I have now, I opted for dental insurance swearing I'd use it to get caught up on dental work, but I just kept finding excuses not to make an appointment. Then about six weeks ago I bit into an apple and my permanent retainer that went across the inside of my bottom teeth popped off, leaving behind shards of cement that grazed my tongue almost constantly. Great. Not only did I need to see a dentist, but my orthodonture was out of whack and I couldn't tell by peering in my mouth if my tooth actually chipped when the cement was yanked off. I was a mess.

So I contacted the only person native to Providence that I trust. My landlord. Okay, I know that's a little sad, but as I mentioned most grad students don't see dentists regularly, and my landlord also works for my University so I knew we had the same insurance. I told her I needed the name of a good, friendly dentist that would go easy on me. She told me about Dr. A, whose motto is "We cater to cowards". It sounded good enough, but when I went on the website, quite honestly, the guy looked like a total tool. The website showed him with his family and they all had super white teeth and were wearing all white clothes and looked like they should have been in a Mormon cult. But I trusted my landlady and she is the type to follow up on this sort of stuff and I didn't want to explain that I didn't see her dentist because he looked like a Mormon.

Turns out I was completely wrong. The toolish looking family on the internet were just models and the dentist himself is an older gentleman who seemed genuinely interested in me, my life, Dean's life and my sordid dental history. He even asked me about my feelings on the Minnesota Senate race and whole-heartedly respected my opinion despite the fact the waiting room was showing Fox News. Regarding my teeth, I blatantly lied and told him it had been approximately five years since my last exam, set of x-rays, and cleaning. He told me my teeth looked fantastic for five years (recall it's probably been closer to eight years), offered to scrape off the cement on my front teeth and found one lonely cavity. Otherwise everything is normal.

So what is the take home message from this long, rambling post about my teeth? The point is that once it had been a little while since I was due for a cleaning, I freaked out and waited an addition 6-7 years to go to a dentist. And all that worry was for nothing. And with good dental insurance, all I paid for during the whole ordeal was the upgrade from silver to tooth-colored filling. That upgrade was my own personal reward to myself for brushing and flossing enough to only have one cavity in eight years. And if anyone needs a dentist in the Providence area, I have a recommendation for you.

Deano and the Dirty Thirty

2009-03-19T08:17:00.001-04:00

Deano turns 30 today. Just between you and me, he is not handling it gracefully. But since I am not far behind, I will not comment on behavior lest I match him or one-up him in a few months.

One of the things that has been a wonderful outcome of the move is that we have grown even closer. I didn't really think it was possible until we were deep in the trenches of job hunting and the very real prospect of giving up hopes and dreams. Putting our money where our mouth is when it comes to standing by those we love. Even when it means leaving behind your job, friends, and tropical weather.

So for those reasons, I am reminded all the more of Dean's 21st birthday - his first birthday with me as a girlfriend. On Deano's 21st birthday, I met his family for the first time. They drove onto campus to take him out to lunch and to meet his girlfriend (me), which was getting serious enough to warrant parental meetings. His parents were outgoing and friendly, as usual. His brother, then only ten years old was scared out of his normal rambunctiousness and was rather subdued. I can imagine him thinking, "so she is the reason Deano doesn't come home so often on the weekends." Little did he know I'd also be the reason Dean moved away from Minnesota. I've always felt pretty bad about this. But I also anxiously await the day Kent falls in love and all of this instantly makes sense. After lunch, we all went back to Dean's apartment where I got to witness my first display of Dean watching college basketball with his dad. If that didn't scare me away, nothing would.

It was long after the family left, over a sack of White Castles and his first legal six pack of Miller Lites that I gave Deano his birthday presents. I honestly don't remember what any of them were but one. After the presents were opened and we had snuggled back in on the couch, I told him I loved him for the very first time. I had my head against his chest and could her his heart speed up as I said it. I waited a few moments and looked up at him and he was staring at me, a little shocked. And then he told me he loved me too.

I've told him I love him every single day since then, even far away of only by text message or email. When love is new, it never feels like it can get any better, but it does. It grows more full-bodied, more complex like an aged wine. And definitely more delicious. Happy birthday, darling.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

2009-03-17T15:43:00.002-04:00

"Beware of people who dislike cats"
~Irish Proverb

Now go drink some green beer and adopt some kittehs!

Attention Deficit Blogging or Bloggy Bits in Bullet Form

2009-03-07T16:19:00.004-05:00

See? I couldn't even decide on a post title. I have not been able to concentrate in bloggy land lately. I think I have a post to write, then I lose it, or I don't have time to sit and type it. But mostly, they just never develop. They are like little blog tadpoles that swim around in my head but fail to get up on land and crawl. Here's a small sampling of what I've been thinking about.

I've lived nearly 30 years and just noticed recently after writing a mail to my boss that typing too fast or slipping on the keys MAY result in me typing my name Nastalie. I think that's awesome and am considering going by Dr. Nastalie next time I need a moniker for something.

Speaking of needing a moniker for one more thing, I sorta want to start twittering but don't want to jump on a huge bandwagon AFTER super lame people like Newt Gingrich have started. Now it's resistance based on principle but am not sure how long I can hold out.

Providence. I don't even know where to start with that one.

I am having an unhealthy love affair with Chinese food, which is threatening to erase the 30 pounds I lost over the last year and a half. I doesn't help that I work with mostly Chinese people who bring Chinese food for lunch everyday and the owner of a local Chinese restaurant parks a food truck thirty feet outside my office every single day at noon.

I feel like I should be dressing more like a grown up and wearing makeup but my job really doesn't let me. I bought a bunch of new clothes several weeks back and haven't worn any to work because I'm scared to ruin them with chemicals. And I don't wear them around the house, which pretty much leaves Saturday nights or running errands. Lame. I really hope I'm not reduced to still dressing like a college student 5 years from now.

I wish I could be BFF with Rachel Maddow.

Does anyone want to read the same book as me and discuss it? Just kidding. Sort of. I really miss my book club. I can't find one here and besides it took me four months to finish the last book I read.

Why can't I just get it together and blog regularly and keep in contact with family and friends? Why can't I concentrate on one thing?

Anyway, that's what's been on my mind. A whole lot of nothing. For those of you who tune in for the cat stuff (and those of you who barely tolerate it) here's another picture. These two having been palling around lately, they share an obsession for food, and strangely, the humidifier.

Some Things Never Change

2009-02-13T14:34:00.003-05:00

We may get a little older. A little thicker around the middle. We may have to move across the country (against our will). We even might have to accept into our lives those that are younger, bolder, and with looks rivaling our own, even in our heyday. But who we are, what we love most, our passions - and yes our vices - those don't ever change.

Nellie, circa 2002

Nellie, February 2009

Field Lines Does Cooking

2009-02-08T15:42:00.002-05:00

One thing I'm discovering is that all the warnings that life as a postdoc would leave me no free time is 100% true. I work 50-60 hours a week. It's one of those things that is not absolutely required, but the postdoc doesn't ever want to be the last person to arrive and the first to leave. Experiments usually take 5-6 hours, and it's a good feeling to be able to squeeze two in in a day. Otherwise I feel less productive. Plus, working long days in the lab in the winter gives me political capital in the spring when we want to take a long weekend to visit New York (2 hours away), Boston (45 minutes away), or DC (6 hours away). Dean calculated there are 6 major league ball parks within 6 hours of here and countless minor league parks. So while I've been working hard to earn political capital, Dean's been working overtime to earn the financial capital to fund these adventures.

As you can imagine, this schedule does not lend itself well to preparing nightly meals. I used to have a lot more time to cook as a grad student when my commute was zilch and I could work from home after dinner. So this winter I've gotten in to the habit of cooking a few large meals on the weekend, popping them in the freezer and re-heating them during the week. I still have one or two nights where I have to cook, but I usually just throw together some pasta or tacos. Among my freezer standards has been vegetable beef soup (a hybrid recipe that has morphed from my grandma's original, into my dad's which I've further modified to fit Dean's taste and to stretch into a couple more meals), turkey chili, and beef stroganoff. I've fallen back in love with my slow cooker, especially during my first real winter in six years where it has not only been used to easily cook large batches of food, but to fill the house with comforting food smells.

One recipe that I came across has been a so convenient and so tasty I thought I'd share it with you. Once a month or so I cook up a batch of pulled pork in the slow cooker and it is phenomenal. I've already shared this recipe with my dad, and one of my friends who also reads this asked me a couple weeks ago for it. I didn't get around to emailing her, so I thought instead I'd post it in hopes of spreading the deliciousness around the blogosphere. Don't laugh, but I just got it off of the Good Houskeeping website. That's what I love most about slow cooker recipes, they are often so simple, but the flavors cook together so long that you end up with nearly the same depth of flavor as a meal you've slaved over for hours. I especially like this particulr recipe because it calls for you to make your own sauce. If you don't just have this stuff laying around, it's a pain to get it all at the grocery store the first time. But buy them in large bottles and all you need to pick up the next time you make a batch is the meat and the buns. Plus, you can change any of the amounts to suit your tastes - spicy, sweet, tangy, however you want it. I really don't like sweet barbeque sauce so I go light on the brown sugar. I also substitute spicy smoked paprika to give it an extra smoky taste. I divide up the final product into 4-5 tupperware containers to put in the freezer. It isn't exactly a diet-conscience recipe and as you know, Dean and I are always trying to cut corners with fat and calories. Once you freeze the meat and retrive it to reheat, it's very easy to skim off the solidified fat to make it a little healthier. I serve the re-heated meat on kaiser rolls with reduced fat Cape Cod patato chips (you can't tell the difference) and a side Caesaer salad. We have it usually once a week and Dean has yet to get tired of it.

If you try this recipe, let me know how you like it and what you did differently!

Slow Cooker Pulled Pork

Sauce
1 medium onion, chopped
1/4 c tomato paste
1/2 c ketchup
1/3 c apple cider vinegar
1/4 c brown suger
2 tablespoons each of:
paprika
yellow mustard
Wochestershire sauce
1 & 1/2 tsp salf
1 & 1/4 tsp pepper

4 lbs boneless pork shoulder roast (or 4.5 -5 lbs bone-in works fine too)

Mix sauce ingredients together in mixing bowl. Pour in slow cooker. Cut meat into 3-4 large chunks and place on top of sauce. Cover and cook on low setting 10-12 hours. Remove meat from slow cooker using tongs* and increase to high setting for 15 minutes or so to thicken sauce. While sauce is thickening, pull pork apart with forks and then return to slow cooker.

I've found that if you leave it the full 12 hours, you don't even need to remove the meat, just the bone if it was a bone-in roast. I just stand over the slow cooker picking at the meat using tongs and it just falls apart because it's so tender. Also, if you are freezing it, you don't necessarily need to thicken the sauce until you reheat it. That helps make this recipe easy to just throw together and forget about for a few hours, until the wonderful aroma sneaks up on you like those cartoon fingers...

One Word Meme

2009-02-03T14:38:00.005-05:00

I've seen a variant of this on other people's blogs and it came to me from hot4teacha in email form last week. For number 25, she put me! Feeling so much love from hot4teacha right now, she has been an awesome friend and blog supporter, just wanted to give her a shoutout. You rock, girl! I just thought I'd post my answers to brighten the mood a little bit...

1. Where is your cell phone? desk

2. Your significant other? Massachusetts

3. Your job? scientist

4. Shoes you're wearing? Docs

5. Your father? Chris

6. Your favorite thing? books

7. Your dream last night? teeth

8. Your favorite drink? wine

9. Your dream/goal? security

10. The room you're in? 309

11. Your fear? loneliness

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? parenthood

13. Where were you last night? home

14. What you're not? superficial

15. Muffins? fattening

16. One of your wish list items? sedan

17. Where did you grow up? Minneapols

18. The last thing you did? centrifuged

19. What are you wearing? glasses

20. Your TV? CRT :(

21. Your pet? felines

22. Your computer? Dell

23. Your life? busy

24. Your mood? weary

25. Missing someone? EVERYONE

26. Your car? Honda^2

27. Something you're not wearing? makeup

28. Favorite Store? Macy's

29. Your summer? memorable

30. Your favorite color? maroon

31. Last time you laughed? 1:00

32. Last time you cried? January

Three Years

2009-01-29T15:47:00.002-05:00

Randy died three years ago today. I'm not quite sure what to do with that information today. Three years ago I was inconsolable. Two years ago I couldn't bring myself to do much but mention it. Last year, I was able to reflect about that day and the days since in a relatively calm manner. Today, I feel like it is something I want to acknowledge but don't know how.

This year, I don't work with or socialize with the same people that knew Randy (except Deano, of course). I don't even work with anyone that I would feel comfortable with just saying, "Hey, my friend died on this day three years ago." But yet, I feel the need to do let it be known.

I know I've written a few times about how much I think Randy would have love helping me when I was doing cat rescue. I really think he would have ended up a cat owner even though he swore up and down he didn't want one, he just wanted to enjoy other people's kitties. But somehow, I suspect that he would have left my apartment one day with a scared little feral. They were a ragtag bunch - those kittens - something he and I (and frankly our whole group of friends at the time) could relate to. Some days when I think of Randy and I'm at home, I look at McLovin, the fiesty three-legged dumpster refugee, and think about just how much Randy would have gotten a kick out of him.

I've been playing his piano a lot lately. For awhile I wasn't playing very much at all. I went through a very long stretch of not playing where it seemed like a long uphill road to climb to regain my former skills and I'd look at it feeling sort of guilty wondering what he would think of his piano just sitting there gathering dust. But since we moved to Providence it has once again become a part of everyday life. It sounds good with the hardwood floors and open floor plan. And I'm slowly working myself back up to the more complicated pieces. Some songs I just shake my head at when I listen to them on my iPod while reading the sheet music. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to get there, but it's the exercise of trying that makes you better. And of course Allie still enjoys the music, espeically the trills and the higher registers. She ends up either sitting next to me on the bench or rolling on her back behind the music stand.

I know that as the years pass, January 29th will more and more be just another day. For a few more years it will be like today. A little off, a little raw. A little like I just wish it were tomorrow.

Decisions

2009-01-26T11:23:00.006-05:00

I want to thank all of you for weighing in on the crossroads I am facing with this blog. I took all of your advice and your thoughts very seriously and carefully examined my options. It seems that many of you less-than-anonymous fellow bloggers also at times wish you could be anonymous to get stuff out that you don't feel safe getting out now. That gave me lots of comfort.

Basically, I started this blog a few years back not for any readers I might attract but for myself and myself only. The reason I decided (after some struggle then, too) to let my family read it was because at my core I am an open person. I might not volunteer much information in person and I firmly believe in boundaries. But there is rarely a question I find too personal or information I am absolutely unwilling to share. It is precisely because of the close relationship I have with my family that I felt comfortable enough to let them read it. Honestly, even the stupid silly stuff I post is usually given a test drive with my parents and I have always discussed the bigger issues with them first.

But lately I have not really wanted to talk about the frustration I've felt with my job, the area, and the inevitability of re-entering the job market in the not-distant-enough future. I think my parents have given me a little bit of space and as always my friends operate on a "reveal only on your own terms" basis. I express these feeling in fits and starts, and for now that's good enough. But the fact that my willingness to open up about this in person and on my online journal has declined is an indication that maybe things have taken a turn and I need to straighten out to stay on course. I need to be more candid here and at the same time I need to feel like I can be more candid here.

There have been times here where I have really let my vulnerable side show. When we lost Randy. When I decided to let it be known that I have had chronic struggles with clinical depression and I don't regret those things at all. In fact, I was very encouraged by the responses I got in the comment section and in real life. So why should this be different?

I don't want to go anonymous. I really don't see how I could do so without shutting out both my family and some of my favorite people, my fellow bloggers. And what would I gain? As fermi put it, maybe a little restraint is a good thing. If you have a place where you just vent, that place can come back to bite you. I know that as spants said, she maintains some anonymity while letting some in on the secret. I don't feel like I could exclude my family in that kind of scenario. And besides, I get the feeling she still doesn't write anything online that she wouldn't say in person if pressed. Me, I'm still a little too scared of confrontation should I be found out. Plus, as I wrote earlier, I barely have time to keep up this one like I should.

So here's the revised pact I want to make with you. I want to open up more than I have been recently. There is a lot of discomfort with where I am in this stage of my life. But really, who isn't feeling this? Our country is not in a good place and I don't know a single person who hasn't been affected personally by it. We're no exception and Dean has been reassuring me endlessly we are still better off than many. That is cold comfort, but better than none. I have to trust you, readers. As my dad put it yesterday on the phone, I need to give my readers the credit due that they will see me as the complex person I am, not the one-dimension persona I've been putting forth recently. But to help me get back on track, you need to trust me too. Those of you who know me in real life have to respect this space for exactly what it is intended to be - an online journal. A peak into my mind and emotions. I am not one to keep things bottled up, and there might be times this is the only place I feel like getting it out. Don't take offense or see it as an affront. See it as me using one of the many channels available to me to work things through. When I wrote my depression posts, it took me days to write each one. Turning things over in my mind, finding exactly the right expressions. That might happen here too.

Anyway, enough rambling on about myself. How was your weekend?

Regrouping

2009-01-21T17:18:00.003-05:00

The past several days have felt like a period of regrouping for me.

First of all, our country is regrouping. Yesterday was...indescribable. I loved every part of it. The ceremony was cathartic - the ritual of saying good bye to a leader and ushering in a new one. No matter how you felt about George W. Bush, the contrast of what we were letting go and what we were welcoming in was striking. And I can't even speculate as to what African Americans were thinking while some were old enough to remember segregation. I know this was special to them and those of all races and ethnicities who fought to end those deep injustices. But the thing I like about this man is that he doesn't belong to just one bloodline, everyone who voted for him can lay some sort of claim to his success. Young, old, black, white, hispanic, asian, old young, educated, blue-collar, we put him where he is. I don't kid myself that things will turn around overnight, but for once I don't feel like the president is only out for his own interests or the interests of the wealthy and those who graduated from the same class at Yale.

But I honestly wasn't thinking about the historic implications of Obama's presidency as he put his right hand up and recited the oath of office. What I was thinking with tears running down my face was "thank God we got this right." Like many of my fellow American's, I've watched the last eight years unfold in terror as our administration waged a poorly planned war against a country whose culture they never did understand all the while lying to us about why and accusing those who asked questions of heresy. These same people appointed their friends to important jobs, friends who proved completely inept while one of our greatest cities drowned. And then gave themselves a hearty pat on the back for doing a heckuva job. And lastly, these same people, who claimed to have abhorred goverment, robbed its own treasury to give to those going out of business because they thought rules and regulations were useless. In my opinion, these last eight years should have never happened. But they did and we'll be living with the fallout for a very long time. But the fact that this man will be sitting in the oval office manning the ship from here on out gives me hope.

Now, on to administrative business. I need to regroup my blog. I've been really unhappy with it lately and I'm not sure how to explain it to you in a way that will make sense. This blog is supposed to be my voice. And increasingly I've felt like it isn't. This isn't the real me. The past six months or so I've been blogging in one voice and living in another. When I went back and reread my New Year's post I noticed two things about the tone. One was that it was so sugary and upbeat that if I hadn't written it, I'd likely want to strangle the person who did. The second was that not once in that post, nor several others that I've written in the past several months, have I come out and said what I'm really thinking. Here's what I'm really thinking: I feel vulnerable. I feel scared. And a lot of the time I feel very unhappy. I don't think this is a bout of my previous struggles with depression, aside from the general blanket of depression and anxiety that has been draped over this country since the layoffs, the unemployment numbers, and the plummeting stocks. I know I have a lot to be thankful for. But some days those things are harder to think of than others. I don't know how to express these feelings and how much detail to go into. Some things I feel like I need to work through myself. I will be honest - there are lots of times I wish I were anonymous like many of my blogs friends. I envy you, keepers of anonymous blogs, for being able to share such deeply personal feelings and experiences. Please know that I have them too. I have thought about starting a second, anonymous blog but who the hell am I kidding? I can barely keep up with this one. So in sum, I'm not sure which direction this blog will take. I just know it can't continue in the same vein it is now. Any thoughts? Suggestions? I care what you think and any ideas are better than none.

A Healthy Dose of Fear

2009-01-09T12:37:00.001-05:00

Generally, I can be described as mild-mannered. Even-keeled. Reasonable. There are times I can definitely be described as a pushover. Living 22 years of my life in Minnesota, I tend to handle unsettling situations in a passive aggressive manner. You know, with a kind note hinting at why I am correct or justified in my actions and why someone who might feel the way the other feels might possibly be considered wrong or unreasonable. This is the way things are done in the Midwest. Indeed, it takes very much to piss me off to the point of direct confrontation and a special kind of anger to get me to raise my voice.

I am afraid the Northeast is changing me. If there is one very foreign thing I've learned about the Northeast it's that people here like confrontation. Good and bad. I've been asked at the grocery store where I found the garlic bread and then sought out and corrected when I "told them the wrong aisle" (in quotes because I told them the correct aisle, they went to the wrong one and then yelled at me about it). Dean has been hollered at by other customers for accidentally standing in the express lane with too many items. We've also had several complete strangers make fervent menu recommendations at restaurants and then ask why we didn't follow through on their suggestions. This type of style forces one to engage. And after a while it rubs off. I haven't yet done any of the aforementioned things, but I've noticed it takes less effort and less general pissing off for me to speak up. Where before I would endure an awkward situation to avoid dealing with people, I am starting to see the value in making your feelings known loud and clear.

For example, last week at work I noticed a piece of equipment in my workspace had been taken and replaced with a defective one. Unfortunately, I didn't notice this until after I ran the experiment with the faulty piece of equipment and got bad results, essentially wasting a good part of my day. Since I share my workspace with a grad student, I asked him about the defective equipment and he pointed out the fact that ours had been swapped out because all the equipment in our workspace has his initials on it to distinguish it in just such an instance. By this time it was late in the day and most everyone had left. So I poked around other peoples' workspaces until I saw the equipment with my partner's initials on it, plugged in and working beautifully. Turns out the guy who took it is already not one of my favorite people for some questionable work ethic he showed upon his arrival to our group. So I decided the next day I would confront him about it. Not in a mean way, just ask him why he thought replacing someone's equipment with defective equipment without notification was the appropriate course of action.

Well, the next morning when I asked him about it he got quite defensive. He admitted to taking my equipment without asking and giving me a defective one without telling me. I told him I had ruined an experiment because of this and he retorted that he actually replaced it awhile back and I hadn't noticed so I must not have needed it. I explained that that wasn't the point, he had no way of knowing whether I would be needing it or not and taking people's stuff without asking isn't cool. By this time, by voice was above my normal speaking voice and edging towards yelling. We are thankfully one of the better funded university labs that I know of. I have had to work in a lab where too many people are sharing equipment, where we have to fix our own stuff that isn't working, and make ends meet to the detriment of our productivity. That isn't the case here at all. If a $100 piece of equipment breaks, you buy a new one with your grant money. You don't need to ask Boss, you just place the order and a new one will show up a couple days later. If someone's equipment broke and they wanted to borrow mine for a couple days before the one on order arrived because I wasn't using it, that's fine. I'd be glad to help. But to me, taking without asking and failing to attempt to replace either of ours was simply unacceptable.

Unfortunately, either due to language barrier or culture clash, this never sank in with him no matter how much I hollered or how red I got in the face. But it did sink in with everyone else, who by that time had grown quiet to watch the spectacle. Ever since I have been treated...differently. A couple people have appeared slightly frightened to ask me for something. One girl, who I have always thought of as rather brash and bossy, has actually been sucking up to me a little. I have been as nice as possible, but in their eyes I see my shitfit replayed. And you know what? I think I'm okay with that. This is a temporary (1-2 year) appointment. I'm not looking to make lifelong friends with these people. I'm just trying to not have my workplace stripped for parts like a tourist parked in the ghetto. The Northeast me kicks butts and takes names.

2008 Wrap-Up

2008-12-31T20:55:00.003-05:00

I don't think anyone would argue that 2008 has been a year to remember, for good and for bad. For the most part, I feel more than ready to kiss this year good bye and see what is waiting for me in 2009. It's been a big year with big moments, big stress and big emotions. While in general the feelings I'll associate with this year of my life cannot be pinned on particular moments, I was trying to think of the best and worst of 2008. I'll spare you the anxiety and frustration I have felt this year in the form of the worst days and give you instead my best five days of 2008. In chronological order.

April 4 - The day three little letters were tacked onto my name. Granted, the first few hours of the day found me more nervous than I think I've ever been before. But the rest of the day, starting with the minute I started my defense presentation, were amazing. I enjoyed my defense, that time-honored ritual in which you walk into a room a lowly grad student and emerge a Ph.D. I loved having my mom and step dad there to cheer me on as well as to take us out for a celebratory dinner and some much needed letting loose.

April 19 - My surprise Girl's Night (+Deano) on the town. Di and then-pregnant Geb flew to Tampa to surprise me as a congratulatory gift for graduating. Di and I realized pregnant women make the best designated drivers but have the appetite of someone who's been drinking heavily. And it was awesome that Deano could be there. It used to be no guys allowed but that became impractical when we started marrying off. But usually it's Paul (Mr. Geb) that gets to witness the spectacle. This time, Dean got to be an honorary "Girl" for the night and he had a blast.

July 19 - Our weekend getaway. My birthday present from Deano: a hotel room in downtown St. Pete along with tickets to the Rays game and the MC Hammer concert afterward. It was an all around perfect day, you can read all the details here. But what wasn't in the original post was something else that happened that day. I got a text message while at the game that my two cat friends had finally trapped the limping wounded kitten I had found two days earlier. McLovin would turn out to be my best birthday present and definitely one of the best things to happen in 2008.

September 7 - My last full day in Paris. At the start of 2008 I would have never guessed I would have spent a weekend alone in Paris. But we never know what life is going to throw at us. And even though I was terrified I'm so glad I did it. That Sunday I felt like I belonged in Paris. I went to the little bakery next door to my hotel for un pain du chocolat (a chocolate croissant) for breakfast. I took the ferry to Musee d'Orsay. I went to la Tour Eiffel and l'Arc de Triomphe. Yes, I felt like a tourist at these places, but my little bit of French, and my increasing confidence at using it, left me feeling like more than the average American floundering among the French. And my dinner! Not only was the braised lamb and mashed potatoes to die for, but the cute, flirty waiter and his willingness to speak French with me while resorting to English with the other tourist patrons was a major coup.

November 4 - Of course. Totally predictable, but I would be seriously remiss to leave it out. Now that the euphoria of that day has passed, I will confess. I almost voted for John McCain. Dean, another ardent Obama supporter begged me to vote for McCain. Shocked? Well, until November 4th 2008, every single candidate for major office that I had voted for had lost. Like any devoted baseball fan I was willing to take one for the team. But in the moment it counted, I went with reason instead of superstition. Hope instead of fear. That day in the lab we had the cable news feeds on the internets, listening to interviews of voters and their experiences and how they felt casting the most important votes of their lifetimes. I was so proud to be an American that day. We were both crying after the announcement. This unlikely candidate, who we both followed from the beginning, had won it all. I put my voice out there, and it wasn't always comfortable. But it was all worth it. Truth be told, I'm still giddy. And our next president is a big reason I feel good about 2009.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Merry Christmas from the Crazy Cat Lady and her Elves

2008-12-23T16:40:00.004-05:00

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Perhaps the alternate title should be, She's Finally Gone off the Deep End.

Either way, Happy Holidays!

Friday Catblogging - Indignity

2008-12-19T11:37:00.005-05:00

Sometimes if I have a funny cat picture, I share it on Fridays in solidarity with fermi's Friday Catblogging events. But I won't commit.

Last Friday, Deano noticed that Nellie's tail had a mysterious wound on it that looked bad. It was about the size of a dime, and was matted with fur. Despite the fact that I am nearly thirty, I did what I always do when I am unsure of how to proceed. I called my mom. Of course, I was expecting Mom to tell me to keep an eye on it and if it gets much worse think about taking her in. Instead my mom said, "I think you need to take her in." Because I didn't know where this wound came from, and because Nellie is eight years old and overweight, my mom was concerned about feline diabetes. In people, an early warning sign of diabetes can be sudden abscesses, wounds incurred by loss of feeling in the extremities (e.g. the tail, my initial thought was Nellie accidently burned herself sleeping too close to the radiator), and wounds that are slow-healing or not healing at all. Of course I panicked. But I decided to keep a close eye on her over the weekend and avoid taking her to an emergency vet unless things looked really bad.

Luckily, one of my first days in Providence I met another cat lady who has four cats and two are special needs so I asked her to recommend a regular vet and an after hours/emergency vet. She recommended a cat only clinic downtown that she warned "wasn't cheap." Despite the warning, I went with them anyway. For six years I went to a low-cost vet for routine procedures, but three different vets at that clinic had mis-diagnosed Allison's eye goop for herpes virus. Only the fourth got it right (blocked tear duct from infection as a kitten on the streets). For McLovin's amputation I went to a cat only clinic and despite the cost, he received exceptional care, and I enjoyed fantastic customer service.

I kept an eye on Nellie over the weekend and made an appointment for Tuesday since Monday was going to be awful at work. The vet there was outstanding. She was very friendly and not at all judgmental about Nellie's weight (I've also experienced the occasional chewing-out for not keeping her slimmer), but admitted she was "on the chubby side", which was always a challenge in a multiple-cat home. She said she thought the wound looked like an infected bite and that a diabetes screening wasn't a bad idea at all, especially since Nellie has never had any blood work done. Then her and the vet tech took Nellie into the other room to get her "all fixed up". When they brought her back to me, her tail was shaved and she had been fitted with a cone!!! The vet said that after getting a closer look at the wound, it definitely looked like a bite and that she'd call me in the morning with the diabetes results. In the meantime, she was put on a course of antibiotics. Poor thing - it wasn't even her fault and she has to suffer this indignity. Someone is in trouble, but it's tough to say who it was.

When the bill came I was in utter sticker shock. First, I thought they would simply do a blood glucose test like Patti LaBelle does. Instead, they did a full work up. But based on the pre-surgery blood work they did in Tampa for McLovin, the bill was still twice as much as I was anticipating. And I thought I was estimating liberally. Dean had a shitfit over the phone when I got Nellie home. But said it was worth it when he saw our poor girl with a lampshade and a shaved tail. And given the light tone of this post, you probably deduced that there were no signs of diabetes. ALL her blood work looked great.

Last night, I was snuggling our wounded one, scratching all her spots since she can't do it herself while she purred wildly, I remarked with mock bitterness that Nellie's blood work would just have to be my Christmas present this year. Immediately, Deano shot back, "watching her wear that damn cone is mine."

A Different Kind of Christmas

2008-12-16T14:58:00.006-05:00

For the first time in my life I am not spending Christmas with my parents. I'm not going to Minneapolis at all for the holidays. There were many reasons I made this decision. I will tell you the biggest reason. In years past, Dean's dad flew to Florida for Christmas, so I didn't feel so bad that while Dean didn't get more than a couple days off around the holidays (he never built up the seniority to take the time required to make a trip North worthwhile), I was a grad student and could take off for at least a week without batting an eye. This year I would have had to leave Dean by himself for Christmas. He swore to me that it was okay and that I should go to Minneapolis to be with family. He quit his job in Florida and took a lesser job here so that I could have this opportunity. It hasn't been easy here for us these past three months. But the whole time, Dean has been amazing and reminded me that we are in this together. And he's absolutely right, we are. Which is why I won't leave him for Christmas.

Sure, it's just a day. But every year on that day, I go to visit family and friends and think about that fact that after being together nearly nine years, Dean and I have spent exactly one Christmas together. It was our second Christmas, when Dean came with me to my grandparents' house. I can't imagine how foreign it must have felt for him to spend Christmas with people other than his own family. I still haven't even spent Christmas with his family. So this year, I'm excited to spend it with him. I'm not sure how it is going to go, we don't have a tree*, we're not going to exchange gifts**, and there probably won't be much open if we want to get out of the house. I'm not sure if I'm going to cook a fancy meal or if we'll do Chinese takeout and a movie with the Jews. But I know I'm not going to sweat it. There WILL be eggnog and it WILL contain brandy. Maybe we'll make our own crazy Christmas tradition, or maybe I'll book my tickets to Minneapolis 364 days early. But I owe this Christmas to Deano and I can't imagine anywhere else I'd rather be.

* We have attempted to have a Christmas tree only once. Our first year as cat owners, when we had only Nellie, I bought a 3 foot tall fake tree. Nellie not only managed to knock it over, but while we were sleeping dragged it into the hallway, dropped it outside our bedroom door and began howling, much like she does when she "hunts" the stuffed socks Dean's mom makes for her. I can only imagine things going downhill from there.

** We decided on this when we realized there was absolutely nothing either of us wanted or needed. Dean is notoriously difficult to shop for, and I gladly sacrificed a gift from him to me in exchange for not having to think of something nice to get him. Don't feel bad, trust me, it's much better this way.

Maybe I'll Get One for Hanukkah

2008-12-08T11:24:00.003-05:00

My job has been keeping me sufficiently busy that Dean has felt compelled to help me in the kitchen lately. He's usually very good about keeping the living room picked up and doing the laundry. Thus far he has also been in charge of putting the dishes away but lately he also wants to help with other kitchen tasks which has forced me to loosen my death grip of control over all things kitchen. Which is probably a good thing.

Last night, after I made a huge pot of vegetable beef soup, I put Dean in charge of ladling the soup into single serving tupperware containers for freezer storage so the soup can be used for a couple quick dinners and lunches over the next two weeks.

Deano, parceling out soup: "Ugh, this takes so long."

Me, washing the dishes: "I know, but there isn't much of a way around it. Besides it saves so much time to be able to grab them out of the freezer when we want one or two."

Deano: "This would go a lot faster if you had a bigger dreidel."

Oy. He's still learning.

8 Days in Bed, 3 Days in Boston

2008-12-04T10:53:00.003-05:00

Another post that begins with my apologies for being MIA. I had written my last post earlier and posted it when I had a rare moment of lucidity last week. But I haven't really visited or kept up with the rest of you for several days. I had a pretty good excuse, I think.

Last Saturday (the one BEFORE Thanksgiving), I came down with the flu. And it wasn't the flu where you think you have a flu but is probably a bad cold that is still miserable but a cold nonetheless. I spent the majority of 8 days in bed with a fever of 103. I don't know about you, but when I feel like I'm coming down with something, I always look at the small silver lining that maybe if I have to stay home from work I can surf the internets all day, or finish whatever novel I haven't spent nearly enough time reading. But this. THIS was 8 days of teeth-chattering chills to the bone alternating with cold sweats and not really being able to do much else but think about how completely awful I felt. I couldn't go to work at all Thanksgiving week, and we of course didn't leave the house for Thanksgiving. And the evening after that, Deano and I had to miss a social gathering at my new boss's house. We were most upset at the last part, me because I'm still trying to make a good impression and Deano because he was desperate for more social interaction than a deleriously feverish wife, four cats and the landlady upstairs.

Sadly, we had planned on actually doing something fun for Thanksgiving weekend. At first we talked about going to New York City for the Macy's parade and Christmas shopping but planning for a weekend in New York is more than a little daunting and it didn't quite get done. In retrospect maybe it's a good thing that we didn't have to try to cancel an exhorbitantly-priced hotel room in the Big Apple. When we failed to make those plans we discussed a day trip to Salem or Newport. But neither of those could happen because I couldn't even make the transition from sweatpants to slacks let alone climb into a car. So instead, my doting husband waited on me hand and foot, ran errands, and assumed all cat duties for the week. Whatta guy. As for Thanksgiving dinner? McDonald's. And my lack of appetite caused me to opt for a Happy Meal.

On Friday I was very tempted to force myself to go to Boss's house for the dinner, but Deano had me on lockdown because the whole time I was sick in bed, the prospect of giving a talk in Boston this Tuesday was looming large over my head. That's right, the only thing worse than being immobilized by a nasty virus is experiencing it while knowing you abosutely must be somewhere to do something important in a short period of time. Ugh.

Luckily, just when I was beginning to believe that God DOES exist and was punishing me for my agnostic post a few weeks ago, things turned around for me on Sunday. By Monday I was able to attend the start of the conference in Boston, I gave my talk on Tuesday despite a hoarse, pre-pubescent-male-sounding voice and yesterday I rounded out the conference with a marathon day of sessions and beer/wine socials that kept me from getting home until midnight. The Providence to Boston commuter train, while awesome for shopping and sporting events, is an evil nightmare when it's 10:30 and you just want to be with your family. I'm beat and actually chose to forgo the last two days of the conference in favor of getting back in the lab. Usually these things are mostly good for trying to get jobs anyway. I've got one of those.

Lastly, the one good thing that came out of my 8 days in bed and 3 days in Boston was a deeply grateful feeling that I am still in academia. My boss was genuinely worried about me and my health. My lab mate gave an account of the group meeting I had to miss where Boss gravely announced I was very ill and went on to describe his own experiences moving to New England from a warm climate. Everyone sent emails checking in on me. And, well, conferences always have the effect of bringing co-workers closer together. My labmates that attended the conference all came to my talk and cheered me on. I haven't disliked my first two months here, but after this past week I finally feel like one of the group.

Old Love, New Challenges

2008-11-26T16:01:00.002-05:00

Next month, Dean and I will celebrate nine years together. I know to some of you marathon-marrieds it seems like the blink of an eye, but by modern relationship standards it's pretty respectable. I just can't believe it's been that long - sometimes it feels like we're still dating. In these nine years, our love has survived two cross-country moves, grad school, four cats (and countless rescued transients), seven Christmases apart, and three apartments.

But here's the true test: Can our relationship withstand our very first joint bank account? Even after marriage we never saw a need to combine finances since both of us were making decent money and we knew we'd have to close our account anyway once the inevitable exodus from Florida occurred. He looked the other way on my mean feral cat habit and I did the same for his baseball ~~junk~~ collectibles. The cats are mostly out of the picture (except for a small stipend towards the new feeder as a gesture of appreciation and support) and I don't think his baseball spending will put us out on the streets. But I am already feeling much more accountable for my expenses and let's face it, women do most of the spending between groceries, odds and ends (what I call "Target stuff"), and our personal upkeep does tend to require a little more. Maybe in these tough economic times it's good to be occasionally questioned about the massive amounts of money being spent on Pretzel Chips and Skinny Cow Sundae Cones. I'm clearly not the only one eating it (the last bag of Pretzel Chips disappeared before I ate a single chip!). Perhaps we will both evaluate our habits for awhile until we decide that accountability about our eating habits is like lifting up a rock and watching all your nasty vices scurry away to find more darkness and we'll go back to the original plan of looking the other way.

A President Like Me?

2008-11-17T13:27:00.002-05:00

No, I don't mean a woman. I mean an agnostic. During all the arguing over whether the country was ready for a female president or a black president, I was arguing that we would elect both before we would knowingly elect an atheist* or agnostic president. My point was made nauseatingly clear during the spectacle of the Faith Forum at Saddleback Church.

After reading The Audacity of Hope close to two years ago now, I formulated a hypothesis that President-Elect Obama (then barely Senator Obama) isn't technically a Christian but an agnostic. I have kept this theory a secret because I really wanted him to get elected, and apparently even the whisper of someone not being a Christian can be the end-all of a campaign. But now that he's elected and it's too late for all of those who really care about what religion your president is, I'm going to tell you why he is agnostic.

In his earlier writing, he uses words that are very ambivalent about Christianity. He freely admits his parents were agnostics and while knowledgeable about world religions did not subscribe to any organized religion. He talks about the importance of the teachings of Jesus (the golden rule, the whole "what you do unto the lesser of these, you do unto me" bit) which I - and most freethinkers - have always argued are simply ethical codes that do not require the existence of a higher being to be true or important. He never coughs up the big Christian tenet that Jesus is the son of God who died for our sins and was resurrected.

Also in his earlier days he discussed the importance of Church and his decision to join one for the important role it plays in community and that he felt his neighbors were almost suspicious of him unless he joined "the church". That a lot of important business as a community organizer is done on Sunday mornings when everyone gathers to worship in one place.

It wasn't until he made a serious run at the White House that all of a sudden his identity as a well-defined practicing Christian took hold. But us doubters could still see the signs. He still seemed very uncomfortable discussing his faith. I hadn't yet vocalized my hypothesis to Deano, but during the Faith Forum he turned to me and said, "He doesn't believe any of this. He's just paying lip service." Immediately I agreed, "Yup."

I've always thought that this hypothesized core disbelief in the more supernatural aspects of Christianity explained well his bewilderment at the public's opinion of Jeremiah Wright. Not only do I believe this issue exposed the disconnect between white and black Christians and how they perceived the role of the Sunday sermon, but the whole time the Rev. Wright controversy was raging, Senator Obama had this attitude as if he didn't understand the depth of offensiveness to true believers. His deer-in-the-headlights look betrayed the fact that he never took the sermons seriously to begin with. And I think he was caught off guard in is ignorance at the fact that yes, people do take their preachers very seriously. I've experienced this confusion many a times when attempting to empathize with my more Christian-leaning friends and family.

After getting to know the subtly free-thinking Senator Obama from his books and interviews, I was a little disappointed when he all of a sudden he decided faith played such a big role in his life. I can't really blame him, I stand by my assertion that the average voter wouldn't vote for someone who questions the existence of God. But I think most of you know my opinion that such a candidate would make an inherently more qualified leader. But a God-questioning, half-black "elite" named Barack Hussein Obama wouldn't have a metaphorical snowball's chance in hell of getting elected UNLESS he was clearly and undeniably a practicing, worshipping card-carrying Christian. I think even if you do believe him to be so, you would not argue that above all the man is an incredibly shrewd and talented politician.

I don't know if I'm right. Like any scientist I formulated a hypothesis based on the evidence presented, though perhaps the human side of me was internally rooting for an outcome. But the other day while surfing the nets, I came across a just-released interview with then State Senator Obama from 2004. Granted, he still asserts himself a Christian (he was a politician in 2004 afterall), but the language was even more nebulous than in The Audacity of Hope. This passgage is a perfect illustration:

...I retain from my childhood and my experiences growing up a suspicion of dogma. And I'm not somebody who is always comfortable with language that implies I've got a monopoly on the truth, or that my faith is automatically transferable to others. I'm a big believer in tolerance. I think that religion at it's best comes with a big dose of doubt.

Read the interview in its entirety here.

*A couple quick definitions for those of you less familiar with the language of doubters.

Atheist: Someone who does not believe in the existence of a God(s).
Agnostic: Someone who is undecided about the existence of God. They generally come in two flavors - (1) Those who think God's existence is unprovable and therefor do not feel a conclusion can ever be drawn or (2) Those who are simply unconvinced by any theological argument of which they are aware but reserve the right the be persuaded either way.
Freethinker: Someone with defined spiritual beliefs that do not fit within the framework of an existing organized religion.

Interesting tidbit: 93% of scientists can be classified into one of these three categories. On the continuum of doubt, I fall in between agnostic and freethinking.

Because I Haven't Blogged About Cats for Awhile

2008-11-11T14:23:00.005-05:00

In the hubbub of moving, starting a new job, and electing an (awesome) new president, I realized it’s been awhile since I wrote about the kitties. They did great with the move and seem to be adjusting to the new apartment. They love love love the ungodly amount of windows we have. I think the verdict is still out about the hardwood floors, but Dean and I find great amusement watching them tear around corners kicking out their back legs like the road runner.

Our apartment is very old with a layout I still find unusual. I’m pretty sure it’s common for the style of house we live in, but we’re definitely still getting used to it. There are no hallways whatsoever. The living room and dining room are connected though separated by wood columns. From the dining room on the right side there is a door to the front bedroom. Straight ahead is the kitchen. If you go into the front bedroom, there is a door to the back bedroom. The back bedroom is connected on the other side to the kitchen. There are two additional small rooms (the pantry and the bathroom) both coming off our gi-normous kitchen. So if you’re picturing this correctly, you’ve realized that it is possible for one kitty to chase another kitty in a complete circle through the dining room, kitchen, both bedrooms, and back into the dining room. And any combination of kitties is doing this at any given time. It’s like an in-home race track.

As a side note, this unusual layout has presented some difficulties with home décor. Whereas we used to have book shelves lining almost every wall, so much wall space in this new place is just unavailable. I love all the windows almost as much as the kitties do, but that’s a lot of wall space where not much can go. Similarly, with both bedrooms having two doors, plus closet doors, there just isn’t a lot of room for bookshelves and dressers. This problem seems to be worst in the back bedroom since both open doors are along the same wall. Since this is our bedroom, there aren’t a lot of options. But we picked the back room because in the front bedroom the streetlight and the window are at a conspiratorial angle so that the first night we slept in the apartment (in the front bedroom) we were nearly blinded every time the streetlight came on. Plus with no hallways, we feel like the bedroom would be too exposed coming right off the dining room. Strange indeed.

Anyway, as multiple cat owners can guess, the instigator for the majority of the circular chasing is the baby. Well, McLovin isn’t as much of a baby as he was when we first got him in July, but technically he is still a kitten. A kitten who spent the first part of his life in more pain and discomfort than most kittens and is making up for it now. He is completely nuts. And the funniest thing about watching him chase the big kitties is the way he runs. He kind of hops like a rabbit - first jutting out his front leg and then pulling in his back two together.

The best part about a new pet is watching the type of personality they develop. I know that we humans tend to anthropomorphize our pets a little too much and that most cats don’t have any recollection of last week let alone their beginnings. But McLovin’s personality has emerged as a kitty who is truly grateful for where he is and seems aware that he could have just as easily met a horrific end on the streets. Despite being hyper and attacking anything that crosses his path, he can also be extremely docile and purrs immediately on contact with Dean or me. Putting out my hand to try to pet him, he always meets me halfway with his head. At mealtimes, he is the first in line, weaving through my legs purring loudly. He doesn’t turn his nose up at anything, as if remembering that everything I serve to my house cats is a giant step up from what I used to serve out by the dumpster. Except on soup days when I’d bring out bones or trimmings. He seemed to remember that too as he was the only one begging Sunday night when I trimmed the fat from the roast. He’s generally pretty quiet except for right before dinner when anticipation gets the best of him and he lets out a couple pathetic squeaks.

Anyway, since he was a little scary the last time you saw him, here is a recent picture of McLovin the Three-Legged Wonderkitty. He is sitting in the most coveted spot in the house – the kitchen window right above the radiator with the wood board across it. Oh, yeah.

For all the other cat lovers, I came across this great post about adopting tripod kitties. Get your hankies ready.

Dear Evan,

2008-11-06T13:10:00.003-05:00

Welcome to the world! I won't get to meet you for a little while, which makes me very sad. Your mom and I have been friends for over 10 years. We've been through a lot together, along with our other girlfriends, and maybe sometime I can tell you about the crazier stuff we've done. But that's still many years away. Frankly, I'm still a little shell shocked that one of us actually managed to procreate, but for now I'm still thankful it was your mommy and not me. Hopefully someday your auntie magnetbabe and uncle Deano will give you a cousin, but for now you'll have to make due with your very excited immediate family.

We've all been on pins and needles waiting for you, Evan. You were, um, a little past due. It's okay, I don't think poor punctuality right out of the gates will be a trait that sticks. You did, however, miss a very important event. Two days before you were born, everyone in the world was watching America to see if we could make history. And we did. So it turns out you weren't quite born yet when President Obama was elected. November 4th was an awesome day to be an American. We were all laughing and crying and amazed at what we were able to accomplish. But you chose to come into a world that was very different than it was two days ago. A better, more hopeful world that has already shown it can leave its own past behind and do what was once considered impossible. And it was because we care so much about who was yet to be born that we did it. Your grandma and grandpa (who already love you so much!) weren't born in America. Neither was your mommy. But you were, and from your very first day you can be truly proud. No matter what your world view turns out to be, you were born after Americans showed the world that collectively, our better angels win out over the dark demons of our past.

I'm so exited to see who you turn out to be. With your mom and dad and big brother and grandparents there to raise you, I'm certain you'll be a smart, funny, caring, wonderful person. Not to mention if you were lucky to get some of your daddy and grandpa's genes, you'll be easy on the eyes as well. And if you spend enough time with your new aunties, you'll be just wild enough to have fun yet stay irresistibly endearing.

Love,
auntie magnetbabe

The Political Post

2008-10-24T11:31:00.004-04:00

Those of you who know me personally and through some of your own blogs know that I am passionate about politics. I’ve kept a close eye on this election from the very first candidate to throw her hat in the ring down to the final two in the dwindling days of the campaign. I’ve been a complete political junkie, constantly reading the newspapers, blogs, and polling sites, checking fivethirtyeight.com sometimes several times a day. Frankly, I don’t know how I’m going to spend my downtime (or my stolen minutes at work here and there) once this election is over.

But I have largely refrained from blogging about politics this campaign season. The biggest reason is probably because the most exciting parts of this election have coincided with some very big events in our lives (me traveling overseas, us picking up and moving, starting new jobs, etc) but almost as much, I didn’t want to be just another liberal blogger talking about how much I love Barack Obama and how distressed I am at the prospect of another 4 years of Republican policies. Really, there are plenty of them out there, and most of them do a much better job than I could do. I didn’t want to feel like I was shouting into the abyss.

But this post is a little different. You see, four years ago I voted for John Kerry. I quietly did my civic duty, went in the booth and chose who I thought was the right man for the job. And he lost. And I was really really upset for awhile that we had to live through four more years of having a stubborn, ignorant, close-minded, inept man making every wrong decision he possibly could for this country. And I was more than ready to blame everyone who pulled the lever in his favor. What I didn’t realize was I had a teeny tiny part in Bush getting a second term as well. Because there was plenty I could have done, but didn’t do. I didn’t tell Dean why he should go out and vote for John Kerry. Dean’s former political philosophy boiled down to the cynical opinion that voters do absolutely nothing and lobbyists and the very wealthy are the ones truly running this country. Of course, that is a self-fulfilling prophecy and one I found unacceptable this election cycle.

Chaos theory seeks to describe dynamical systems whose behavior depends sensitively on initial conditions. The old cliché that the flap of a butterfly’s wings can affect a global event. This butterfly should have flapped her wings four years ago. But instead, she is doing it now. I believe taking care of our country means making sure we ALL do what is best. Whether we like it or not, Republicans, Democrats, Libertarians, Independents, Christians, Muslims, Agnostics, Jews, we all have to live here and we are all in this thing together.

If you are not planning to vote this year, please reconsider. If you have not tuned in to the debates, picked up a newspaper, or are counting on 30 second attack ads to get you informed on the most important election of our lives, please take some time and read where the candidates really stand. It is my strong opinion, based on spending countless hours since February 2007 watching speeches on youtube (and in person!), reading proposed policies, keeping track of facts and yes, a little bit of listening to my heart, that Barack Obama is absolutely the right person to lead this country in these tough times.

At first, I felt like I was taking a bit of a gamble on him. I had read The Audacity of Hope and knew him to be fresh, intelligent, communicative, reasonable and willing to work with even with those with which he doesn’t agree. But I was a little worried he wasn’t quite ready. After watching his campaign pull together and inspire so many people, watching him win against the most established Democrat our party could have put forward (still feeling love for Hillary, don’t get me wrong), seeing him choose Joe Biden, another man of profound character and intelligence to help him on this journey, and seeing him put forth a proposal for us as a nation to put this country back together, I am confident he is what we need right now.

People have questioned his patriotism because he dares to point out what is wrong with America right now. If you love someone, you tell them when they are on the wrong path and headed for a train wreck. People have called him elite because he holds degrees from Columbia and Harvard. I want to know when having an education is a bad qualification for presiding over a nation. And people have called him “exotic”. He is half Black and has lived overseas. And to be honest, I love that about him. I love the idea of showing the World, the majority of which is some shade of brown, that we can trust this man with our fragile country less than 50 years after segregation and less than 150 after slavery. People have said that he is naïve because he believes in communication and diplomacy over the pre-emptive war and “if I don’t listen you must not exist” foreign policy of this administration. Lastly, people have called him a socialist because he wants to restore the middle class, the workhorse of this nation and the embodiment of the American dream for millions of immigrants. The middle class is where I live, and where most of you live, and the past eight years have been an uphill climb for us.

Please, if you don’t know him yet, do yourself a favor by just seeing what he stands for. If you are for Obama but think this race is tied up and that you can afford to stay home on election day, THERE IS NO ROOM FOR ERROR. There is only way we can really screw this up and that is with complacency. If you are allowed to vote early DO SO. You never know what can happen, and this weekend is a perfect time to get it done. It could be snowing November 4^th, you could have car trouble, there could be trouble with the machines (I’m looking at YOU Floridians!!!), vote early and as soon as you can. Dean and I decided that Florida needs our vote so we didn’t register in RI and requested absentee ballots from Hillsborough County. We have marked our ballots, photocopied them and sent them registered mail. I can feel good about my vote, and now I can feel good flapping my wings, because you never know who will feel it.

Changes

2008-10-19T18:42:00.003-04:00

So... some things have changed a bit since I last posted. The Rays are still playing baseball (ahem, dr. sardonicus) though probably not past tonight. Despite their epic collapse Thursday and subsequent choking, I'm still proud of them.

No, I'm referring to pretty much every other aspect of our lives. We did the unthinkable and moved out of paradise and into the Northeast. Obviously we are still adjusting a little. I mean, it's freezing here and people talk funny.

I know it's been awhile and I have a lot of ground to cover. Unfortunately, I can't do most of it tonight. We just got the internet this weekend and the computer hasn't left Deano's lap. That's fine because I get it at work and can do a little blog checking. But I will not post to my own blog at work. Too risky. Not that I have anything to hide and I am really enjoying my job. But the comfort level that comes with people knowing I have a blog and weaseling the URL out of me just isn't there.

Anyway, the move went really well. Surprisingly I didn't have a complete breakdown leaving Florida, our apartment of six years, my job of six years or the dumpster kitties. I handled all that beautifully, though I do have a healthy dose of melancholy for my old life occasionally. But the exodus went smoothly. There were three people (Deano, his mom and myself), four cats and two tiny cars. I used my incredible packing skills to fit a ton of crap in the trunks and the kitties hung out behind the seats in carriers after being doped up on tranquilizers. And thank God for those because Allie and Wrigley were still trying hard to complain through their grogginess. Dean's mom did the driving in my car due to by interstate phobia which worked well because I could navigate which wasn't easy in certain parts of the country, namely DC and New York City. In fact Dean and I have decided that if we ever move to a place requiring us to take I-95 South through those parts again, we'd sell the cars, take a plane and start over once we get there.

Anyway, we love our apartment. I'll post pictures once we are a little more settled but basically we live on the bottom floor of a Victorian triplex still in the city but a little on the outskirts where things aren't quite as crowded. We are having a helluva time trying to figure this town out. Both its layout and its culture. But we're getting there.

More dispatches from the Northeast soon, I promise.

9=8

2008-09-21T15:05:00.004-04:00

That's been Joe Maddon's motto all year. It takes everyone on the team to make it to the final 8 standing in October. And yesterday, the Rays proved that they could make it by following this mantra.

Every game has seen a different hero. Starters, bench players, bullpen, rookies, everyone contributed and I'm so proud of all of them. We were at the game Thursday and yesterday. We had gotten great tickets months ago for the Twins series and both games we had a lot of fun. But I have a confession to make. Both games I rooted against my Twins, for the first time in the 22 years I've been watching baseball.

The Twins were supposed to have a rebuilding season this year after losing Santana and purging the rest of their starting rotation. Instead, they have put together a winning season and late in September are still in contention for the central division pennant. That's very admirable of them, and I am thoroughly impressed. But if they happen to eke past Chicago, even I wouldn't be stupid enough to bet on them making it past the first round. The majority of the starting rotation has never pitched into September, let along October in a playoff atmosphere. The Twins have choked in the first round of the playoffs in three of their last four appearances. And I stand by my assertion that if they couldn't get the job done with Santana, Mauer and Morneau all having career seasons (still dwelling on 2006), then they need a miracle.

This is the Rays' year. It is their story that in 11 seasons they haven't had a winning season, and this year they will win 90+ games. I see so much in them what I saw in the 2002 Twins, with one of the lowest payrolls in baseball, when they took everyone by surprise and made it to the playoffs. The little guys finally won, and frankly, the Twins aren't the little guys anymore. I rooted for the Rays because for 5 years we watched shitty baseball, and our last season here we got redemption. We went to so many games where the visiting team drew more fans than the home team. And the Rays forgave Tampa Bay because after clinching a playoff spot yesterday, they didn't disappear into the clubhouse to celebrate, they brought the champagne out to the fans. They all trotted around the perimeter of the field giving high-5's and hugs.

I cannot describe how excited I am for playoff baseball this year. It takes the edge off of moving, switching jobs, and facing the cold weather.

But today, on the last game of the Rays-Twins series, after the Rays have secured their place in history, I'm rooting for the Twins. Joe Mauer is in the batting title race, afterall.

France and Frankenkitty

2008-09-13T13:14:00.012-04:00

I got in from France very late Monday night and honestly meant to write sooner, but this pesky thing called life keeps getting in the way.

France was pretty much perfect. After nearly 30 hours of flights, layovers, and trains, I could barely stay awake until I saw the French Alps and realized it was totally worth it. Worth having to give up my cushy aisle seat for a middle seat on an 8 hour international flight to appease a family with screaming children. Worth the 6 hours I had to spend guarding my suitcase at Gare de Lyon train station rather than walking around Paris for an afternoon. And worth the nauseating car ride 5 km winding up the side of a mountain once the train from Paris arrived in the Alps. Because when I finally dropped my suitcase in my room and opened the sliding door to the balcony, this is what I saw:

The conference center was on the outskirts of a small ski resort town in the Alps. The center itself was built specifically for French scientists and can be used either as a conference center or a vacation spot for the scientists and their families. The rooms were small, but since my assigned roommate didn't show, it was fine for just me.

Everyone told me that this particular conference (one of a series on a diverse set of topics) would be entirely different than any I had been to. I am used to going to large conferences with thousands of physicists where there are multiple presentation sessions going on for 12 hours a day. This conference consisted of 102 physicists, all with the same research interests. It was the first year that grad students and post docs were especially encouraged to go, which was why I got the funding and was able to go. There was only 1 session at a time, and only held in the mornings and evenings. The afternoons were free for us to socialize and network. We were
especially encouraged to go hiking in the mountains and visit the small down down the hill.

The first full morning of the conference, I met a French woman who is just finishing her Ph.D. in Switzerland. We hit it off amazingly well and spent the whole week hiking and learning about each other's cultures. The conference was mostly Europeans, so I got a very eye-opening lesson as to what fascinating research is being done overseas and how oblivious American scientists can be at times. The frustration they felt about their lack of recognition in America was palpable and led to a little tension at times. But it was a lesson I am grateful to have learned, and these bigger truths were in a sense far more important than the details of the research presentations.

After and exhausting 5 days hiking in the Alps and listening to presentations, I took the train back to Paris and stayed there for 3 days. Despite my fatigue, I was bound and determined to make the absolute most of my short time in Paris. So after a four-hour train ride and dumping my bags in my hotel room, I set out on foot for le Louvre.

Honestly, visiting le Louvre wasn't initially on my list of things to do, but it was Friday evening and not much else in Paris is open, except restaurants. I overheard someone on the train saying it was open until 10 pm so I thought I'd go see what all the fuss was about. I spent several hours wandering aimlessly through the museum trying to make sense of the layout. And my tour book said they had made substantial improvements in general navigation around le Louvre. But I did see the Mona Lisa and the Venus de Milo along with miles of other paintings, sculptures and artifacts.

The next day was "Catholic Day" as I visited Notre Dame and Sainte-Chapelle. These were my favorite places I visited. I am embarrassed to say that I had no idea Notre Dame was still in use as a church and was surprised to see a mass going on and tons of religious pilgrims flocking to this holy site. In between tours of the cathedral, I took the tour of the towers which consisted of climbing the approximately four hundred stairs of one tower and walking outside along the perimeter of Notre Dame to the bell tower on the other side. This is where I saw the infamous gargoyles that guard Notre Dame and watch over the city of Paris. The view from the towers was absolutely amazing.

But the gargolyes were my favorite.

In the bell tower, you could actually go see the bell that was made famous by Vicor Hugo's Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Next, I went to Sainte-Chappelle, a holy chapel that was build in the confines of the palace of Louis IX. It was built to house holy relics (among them supposedly the crown of thorns) which were only on display to the public on Good Friday. The chapel itself was absolutely stunning, the second floor walls (the main part of the chapel) were mosly made of stained glass. I have never seen anything like it. While the size was nothing like Notre Dame, the beauty and intricacy of the stained glass was just as humbling.

The third day I took the shuttle boat up and down la Seine where I first visited Musee d'Orsay, which houses just about every impressionist painting you can think of. And thousands more you didn't know existed. I also walked along le Champs-Elysees from la Seine to l'Arc du Triomphe, which was pretty cool. I saw some filthy rich people shopping, more people gawking (such as myself) and several beautiful women who were probably models. Lastly I went le Tour Eiffel. It was getting too late for me to go to the top, which was just as good. It was packed.

Unfortunately, since I was a woman travelling alone I was too scared to do much at night. I mostly tried to finish up my sightseeing right around dusk and then ate dinner in the evening pretty close to the hotel. It's not that I felt particularly unsafe in Paris at night, but the streets were so tangly and the stores all closed early and I was really scared I'd get irretrievably lost.

All in all, it was a fantastic trip. I was scared to death to go and wished Dean could have come with but it was worth all the time and stress leading up to it. I am trying to get the rest of my approximately 3 million photos loaded to share with anyone who wants to see. While I recognize this shouldn't be difficult, I expect it to take a little time and it's not currently at the top of the list so it might have to wait awhile.

Lastly, McLovin had his surgery on Wednesday. His incision is a little scary (we have dubbed him Frankenkitty) but he is already moving better than he was when he still had the bad arm. His posture has improved dramatically and he has made the transition to full-fledged tripod without incident. I can't seem to get a really good picture of him, but I got a pretty close one of the surgery site because it's so freaky. Because he's still so little, they had to practically shave him bald and the incision seems to take up his whole right side. I think he'll look a lot better once the fur grows back. But for now, he's definitely comfortable. The vet said to ease her own mind she opened up the arm during surgery and confirmed there was very little blood flow and the tissue looked unhealthy. Despite my initial reservations, this was definitely the right thing to do.

Au Revoir

2008-08-29T21:03:00.002-04:00

Sorry to once again be missing from the blogosphere. As anticipated, things have gotten very crazy very fast. The move is slowly coming together. We put in our notice, arranged for the movers, and Dean's mom is flying down to help with the drive and the kitty-moving. The only thing missing is a place to go. We've narrowed it down to two apartments and we are waiting on some additional photos. Hopefully one of these will work out, but if not it doesn't seem too difficult to find housing, especially through the University affiliated housing exchange where I found the two current prospects. Mostly the people that post there own duplexes they are trying to rent out half of, which will be very comfortable for us. And the prices are much more reasonable than going through a commercial rental property.

Some troubling news to share: McLovin needs to have his arm amputated. I took him to a different vet than the one the rescue group was paying for to get him evaluated for neutering. Given his paralysis, I was nervous about putting him under anasthesia and wanted a second opinion. The rescue group would have paid for neutering through a high-volume, low-cost clinic but I didn't feel comfortable with that in this particular situation. However, to pay full price at the rescue vet was going to be quite expensive. So I took him to a reasonably-priced cat specialist who looked closely at his arm and determined he wasn't getting proper circulation in his arm and he'd be all around better off losing what literally is just dead weight. She showed me the red flags, and ultimately I agree that the arm should be amputated, and she's right, he'll get around much better without dragging it. But I'm very nervous about the surgery, it is quite involved. And it's one more thing that needs to happen in just the next couple of weeks. But I'm grateful she caught it and I can't imagine what I'd do if I hadn't taken him in and his health started deteriorating due to circulation issues.

Anyway, I'm off to France tomorrow morning. I know I haven't made the rounds in a little while, and I likely won't be able to until I get back a week from Monday. I'm really excited and scared all at once. I'm all packed and my arrangements are in place. I'm of course bringing my camera and will share thoughts and pictures when I return. Wish me bon voyage!

Lottery Meme

2008-08-21T15:38:00.002-04:00

I found this meme over at Jeni's and I really liked it. I think it is very revealing, and let's face it, who doesn't fantasize about having a never-ending stream of moolah.

You just won the mega powerball jackpot to the tune of 150 million dollars...

1. What would be the very first thing you would do?

Pay off my credit cards. Then I'd pack us up and move us out of the ghetto.

2. Where would you choose to live?

I'd choose to be a snowbird and live the summers in Minneapolis and the winters in Florida, on one of the Sarasota beaches.

3. What kind of house would you live in?

In Minneapolis, I'd buy a big old house in the middle of the city with an open floor plan, lots of windows and a huge screened-in porch for the kitties (sounds a lot like my dad's house...). In Sarasota, I'd buy something newer, Spanish style with high ceiling and lots of stone tile. Both houses must have a library and a large basement (or some extra space) for Dean's "man room".

4. What kind of car would you buy?

A Toyota Highlander hybrid. Not too luxurious, but energy efficient and roomy enough to cart the cats back and forth from Minneapolis and Sarasota. ;)

5. Where would you vacation?

I don't know about vacation. To me, vacation equals relaxing so my favorite place to vacation is just at home or the beach. But I would love to travel more. Two places I would absolutely love to see are Alaska and India. Alaska only during the summer time, I'd take one of those cruises that go from Seattle up around Canada to Alaska. And I've always been intrigued by India - the culture, the food. And in general (I hate to stereotype, but it's unavoidable here), in general Indian people are so hospitable.

6. Would you have anything on your body fixed?

Liposuction. And electrolysis. Have I mentioned I'm a brunette of Eastern European descent?

7. What kind of hobbies would you engage in?

I'd buy a boat. Like the one my mom and Tom have at the lake, just big enough to cruise around in without coming off as pretentious. Since presumably, Dean and I would be sharing this money, we'd probably end up investing in more sports memorabilia. Separate from vacation, I'd like to tour the country and visit all the ballparks since watching baseball is already a hobby of mine.

8. What charities would you donate to?

Definitely the MS Society and the American Cancer Society. The big national animal charities, SPCA, Humane Society as well as Alley Cat Allies. I'd also make big donations to the local animal rescues that have helped me out in the past - Cat Call and St. Francis.

9. Would you give money to your relatives?

Yes, I'd for sure pay for my sister's college and help the rest of my family out in any way I could.

10.Would you run away from your current life?

No, but I'd make some changes. I love my life but like everyone in this economy money would make a lot of things easier. I'd definitely hire a maid!

11. Would you continue to work?

I would work half time. Not working at all would drive me crazy, but as things are now I don't have time to do what I afford to do, let alone what I could do with a fortune.

12. Would the money change you in any way?

It would make me more accessible. I could see my family and friends a lot more. But it definitely wouldn't change my values. I'd still be a democrat!

What would you do if you had that kind of money?

Multimedia Catblogging

2008-08-16T13:59:00.000-04:00

I'm going to try to post a kitten video so that you guys can see Ray/McLovin. I took a video with my camera because I assumed my parents and in-laws would want to see how he can walk. But the video is 50MB and this was the only way I could think of to share it. Fermi - try to top this for catblogging!

Breathe

2008-08-15T14:14:00.005-04:00

Sorry guys, I knew it had been at least a week since I last posted, I didn't realize it had been closer to two. Big goings on here.

On top of trying to plan a move to Providence, I am also planning a last minute trip to France. Yep, nothing like a little international travel ALL BY MYSELF to put my nerves at ease. Funny story... a female professor who happens to be good friends with my advisor, is co-chairing a big magnetism conference in Aussois, France at the end of the month. She suggested I apply for a travel stipend to go since there were special funds set aside for women and minority post docs. So I submitted a general abstract which was accepted. Dr. Hari then told me IF I got the funding, he would help out a little but not all. He suggested that I go to our department chair and see if the department could help out as well, and then I would likely only have to pay a couple hundred dollars out of pocket, which isn't bad for a trip to France.

Anyway, I really doubted I would get the conference travel stipend. And even if I did, I figured with budgets being so tight there was no way the department chair would go for it. Well, guess what. I got the stipend. And the conference chair totally went for it. And now I am off to France at the end of the month.

Don't get me wrong, this is so exciting! But it is a lot of work. This from a girl who planned her wedding in an evening over a six pack of beers. I definitely can't handle planning a trip to the French countryside. Dr. Hari suggested I tack on a couple of days in Paris to the end of the conference and even thinking about Paris is giving me an ulcer. Paris itself sounds wonderful. But all by myself sounds downright scary.

Anyway, I will try to keep you posted about everything.

Decisions

2008-08-04T16:57:00.007-04:00

Some decisions are easy to make. Like whether or not to keep a three-legged, beer-drinking kitten. No, I don't exactly let him drink it from a saucer, I just can't help it if Ray wants to lick my lips after I've had a sip of beer. From what I gathered from the comments on my last post, you all knew Ray would be staying. Yes, the timing is bad but sometimes practicality must be forgone in favor of what you feel in your heart. I tried for two weeks to convince Dean that keeping Ray was right for us. His mom and dad tried as well to convince him not to let anyone else take him, that we knew his needs and what was best for him. But I think that in the end, it was Nellie, Wrigley, and Allison that tipped the scale in favor of making Dean (and I) believe this is exactly where he belongs. The "big kitties" love him so much and play so gently with him, it almost makes me proud of them. While I knew saying good bye to him would be hard, I'd would have understood why it was necessary. Ray's "cat parents" can't reason in that way, and it became increasingly clear that we just couldn't bear to separate them.

My mother-in-law, God bless her heart, has agreed to sew up some improvised socks for his gimp leg by cutting the fingers off of knitted winter gloves and sewing around the edges to prevent them from unraveling. I'm certain she thought by this point she'd be sewing booties for a different occasion, but we cannot help the twists and turns our lives take and we'll get there eventually.

There were a couple of terms to the negotiation that Dean and I settled upon. One, Dean got to choose a new name for Ray because he didn't like the name I picked out. So Ray is now McLovin*. But he will still be Ray on his vet records and in appropriate social situations where I feel that people might not see the humor in a cat named McLovin. Anyway, it's a different sort of name for a different sort of cat and believe it or not, it fits him. Yes, he is still the sweet kitty I described to you, but as time goes on and he becomes more comfortable he has proven to be a bit of a spazz. Second, Ray/McLovin isn't really "our cat" for as long as we live in apartment, but instead a "permanent foster". Because apparently four cats in an apartment is absurd. Once we get settled in a house, his status will be upgraded from "permanent foster" to "full house cat" accordingly, though the promotion is in title only. He is currently loved every bit as much as all the others. Below is one of my favorite pictures so far. But beware, he is laying in my laundry basket. I have blurred out the undies.

Some decisions are more difficult to make. Like whether or not to take the job I was offered last week.

I have not talked very much about the job search because it has been terribly stressful and the job market has been so depressing that I had no idea if I'd simply end up flipping burgers. Which is more than some people can do right now. My first choice for a job was to get a National Research Council Fellowship to work in a national lab of my choice for two years at an awesome salary. As it turned out, I got sickeningly close to achieving this, and I've been told that under average funding circumstances (as opposed to the completely anemic science funding that has scarred research the past several years), I would have definitely gotten it. I am still a little bitter about this.

Because I got so close, I was told I'd automatically be reconsidered for a fellowship during the next review cycle. I wouldn't have to resubmit transcripts and letters of recommendation. Only to strengthen my research proposal, which I think I did. However, these decisions aren't made until January, and I can't afford to wait until then. The good news is that if I do get it this time around, I can defer it for up to a year.

None of this would be as important if it weren't for the fact that I didn't get my second choice job (despite being invited for an on-site interview). And my third choice type of job, getting a permanent position in industry, is not going well. The company where I did my internship doesn't generally hire new Ph.D.'s, they prefer post-doctoral experience. I've applied anyway, without much success because I am competing with people much more qualified than I.

So it seemed like a logical choice to take an academic postdoc position. Those typically last a year and the contract can be renewed for a second year. That way, if during my first year I get the job I really want, I can leave after gaining a year more experience, doing research, publishing papers, etc. If once again I am passed over for this fellowship, I have an additional year to really look hard for a job in industry, and hopefully gain ground on some of the people I am competing with now.

This isn't ideal, but it seems like it might be necessary. It is while keeping in mind that I didn't really want to do an academic postdoc that I tell you I got an offer for an academic postdoc at a very good institution. Not the best, but a huge step up from where I am now (sorry, I still love you USF!). Someone planning to stay in academia would be thrilled, but sometimes I can't help but see it as treading water for yet another year. I know this isn't true - this is a place where I can build up a name for myself and work under someone I've admired for a long time. Someone with strong ties to the magnetic recording industry and two of the national labs where I've been wanting to work.

So it's a tough choice. But it's in a great area (New England), someplace we'd like to spend a little bit of time. And of course Deano is being is wonderful, loving, supporting self and is happy to follow me where ever I want to go. Anyway, enough rambling. I'll let you know when this decision is final.

*For those of you who haven't seen Superbad, here is some background.

UPDATE: I took the job. :)

I Can Explain.

2008-07-30T22:15:00.000-04:00

Two weeks ago, I was out feeding the dumpster kitties and I just caught sight of this little guy running away from the food. I had startled him. I could tell right away he wasn't moving quite right. Rather than running away, he sort of hopped like a rabbit. I have only one fertile female left (Dixie's mom) and I keep a close eye on her reproductive cycle. So I have no idea when or how he showed up.

When I went to feed I was on my way to pick up some take-out, so when I came home I swung by and sure enough, he was out there eating again. I moved very slowly towards him and got pretty close. Close enough to see that he was dragging his right front paw limply on the ground. My heart sank. He seemed to be a little old to be certain he could be socialized and adoptable. Usually 5-6 weeks its pretty certain, but I pegged him at about 12. It would definitely be a gamble. Not to mention when I saw his poor paw I envisioned dropping huge sums of money to fix him up. But there was absolutely no way I was leaving him to fend for himself out there.

I called a couple of my cat friends, and for three nights we tried to trap him. Finally while Dean and I were at the Rays game last Saturday I got a text message that simply said "Got him!" He stayed at their house until Monday since we didn't want to move him more than once if he was in pain. Dean and I already knew we would probably have to foster since we didn't know how feral he was or even if anyone was willing to take him.

I did get word that St. Francis was going to help me out with the vet bills, which I was expecting to be significant, so I was very grateful to them. Monday morning, I picked him up from my friends along with a large cage and we headed to the vet supplied by the rescue group. After much poking and prodding, it was determined that this little guy has a paralyzed right front paw and arm. It is unclear if it was an "old" injury or he was born that way, but there were no indications of broken bones, all ligaments are in place, but he is devoid of any sensory response in that limb. The vet didn't recommend amputation unless the paw became infected or too much of a burden. There was no point doing an x-ray. But he did recommend a sock or bootie to protect it and stop it from getting scraped up.

So it seems this guy (who I've temporarily named Ray) will live his life as a tripod kitty, with only three viable legs. I guess technically that makes him "special needs", though I have yet to see how he acts any different. The only weakness I've seen in him is that he isn't very good at washing his whole body, which is completely understandable. Unfortunately, since he can't bathe completely and he came to us with diarrhea and fleas, I did the unthinkable and gave him a bath (hence the picture above). That was a first for me!

The very good news is that if he ever was feral (which I am beginning to doubt), he is no longer. He is the sweetest kitten I've ever met, and therefore very adoptable indeed. We are fostering him until he finds the right home. As I said before, he really doesn't need anything special, but since he himself is special I want to make sure the home is perfect. However, I'm not sure how long we can foster before taking him off the market. I am head over heels for this guy, and Dean is getting very close to feeling the same way. He sleeps with us, loves the other cats (he has been taken in as "one of the pack") and generally acts like he belongs here, with us. We know this definitely isn't the right time to take in a new kitty, we are in transition. But I have never been one to believe that you can choose a cat, it is more common that they choose you. We will see what the next couple weeks bring.

Weekend Getaway

2008-07-22T11:13:00.005-04:00

Dean and I had a wonderful weekend in St. Pete. Dean booked a hotel room downtown as part of a baseball package through the Hilton for a belated birthday present (my actual birthday was during the Rays' road trip of sucktitude). The package included a room, $20 in coupons for the concession stands (to be used on anything, not specified), a bucket full of snacks and drinks, hats, free transportation to and from Tropicana field, and two free tickets to the breakfast buffet the following morning. Ironically, the actual Rays game tickets were not included, but it was still a hell of a deal. The trip was not perfect, but what it lacked in perfection it completely made up for in humor. And in OUR household, humor, not perfection, is close to Godliness.

We got there around noon and were allowed to check in early. The hotel was quite swanky, more reminiscent of the conferences I go to than the casual overnight trips we usually take. I was giddy over the Crabtree & Evelyn toiletries provided. We walked over to Midtown, our favorite sports bar in downtown St. Pete and had a big lunch. Then we headed back over to the hotel to grab some pina coladas and a dip in the pool. It was only when we were slightly buzzed and still completely stuffed from lunch that Dean announced his wedding ring had slipped off in the pool. He had been treading water in the deep end. So, we mustered all our might and took turns spotting the damn thing and trying to dive under six feet of water to grab it. I haven't opened my eyes under water in a chlorine pool in probably ten years. I think we both tried about four times before Dean emerged, coughing and spitting, victoriously holding the gold ring in the air. I, being more pragmatic and less sentimental, was ready to give up and go buy another. But I'm glad he got it. "All the swimming lessons of diving for quarters finally paid off," he said laughing. There was another couple in the pool and after we caught our breath and wisely headed over to the shallow end, they correctly guessed what we were up to. I'm really proud Deano has lost weight (30 pounds so far!) but I think it's time to get the ring resized.

We freshened up and headed to the game. It was 90s night, which was really sad because at first we didn't realize it, and thought it they were just playing our favorite music. We felt old. We got there early to get autographs, I got Longoria on the program from the last game we attended. I was a little bummed out at the lack of eye contact he made while signing. I always get a smile from C.C. Oh well.

Seeing as though it was Halladay versus Garza, we settled in for a long pitchers duel. By the bottom of the 5th, it was still 0-0 and we were getting hungry again. We got some mini pizzas and as I headed back to our seats (in left field) Dean spotted a high top table and asked if we could stand and eat instead of being squashed into our seats. We started in on a serious discussion on whether or not pizza is ball park food (I am for it, he is against it) when we heard the roar of the stadium. I strained my head to watch the closest TV where I saw the replay of Evan Longoria hitting his first major league grand slam. I told Dean and both of us were quite bummed out we missed it. Not as bummed out as the drunk girl cussing out her friends for having missed "her boyfriend's" first granny, but disappointed nonetheless. And again they played it and I saw it went to left field! I back handed Deano playfully on the chest. We returned to our seats where everyone was anxious to tell us what we missed, as if we weren't aware. AND, it landed in our row. Granted, I would have been freaked out and too scared to go for it, but still.

After the game (Rays won 6-4, the 4 Jays runs coming in the top of the 9th), we geared up for the MC Hammer concert. I made my error of the evening my suggesting we go to the second level to watch, since half of the first level (including our seats) were behind the stage, and the other half was getting crowded. We forgot that the second level is mostly suites and we sat uncomfortably among the older, richer people who were not getting in to the concert at all. We eventually moved to be around funner people. We saw MC Hammer in concert pretty much the only way you would want to, drunk and free of charge. In that respect, it was fun and of course he did his best known songs in between long monologues which we speculated were in place so he could catch his breath. The guy is 46, but he can still move.

After words, we used our free ride back to the hotel, where once again we walked to Midtown for some nachos and a night cap. We were almost the only ones at the bar and we watched the grand slam on SportsCenter. Turns out we could just make out our empty seats on ESPN.

The next morning we enjoyed our breakfast buffet (it was delicious!) and headed home, moving a little slow. All in all it was a fantastic time, a much needed break from everyday life.

2 Legit 2 Quit

2008-07-12T12:09:00.004-04:00

The Rays are legit. Despite their 5-game skid, they are for real and whether or not they win the AL East pennant, they will be playing October Baseball. Here's why.

The casual baseball fan last year saw the Devil Rays as the perennial last place team that in its 10-year history hadn't had a winning season. For those of us that watched many games (not all, as we were still baseball package subscribers last year) , we saw something else. We saw the teams that had more 1- and 2-run losses than any other team. It was obvious there were just a couple piece of the puzzle that were missing. And despite a lack of big name trades, the Rays had the most productive off season in baseball.

Since they also had an embarrassing amount of blown saves due to a horrific bullpen and shallow starters, they went out and got a veteran closer in Troy Percival, who has the confidence and experience to save key games. They also took a chance on a couple of relief pitchers who have since shown their worth.

The Minnesota trade was key and the Rays got the better end of the deal for a few reasons. Matt Garza is doing an incredible job. As a Twins fan as well, I don't blame them for trading Garza. He looked like someone who may or may not have blossomed and could have just needed a different team or pitching coach to fit his needs (not to undercut Rick Anderson AT ALL - Johan Santana has Rick Anderson to thank for his 2 Cy Youngs). But Garza has found his stride in Tampa and is a perfect fit in our rotation. Jason Bartlett, while still anemic at the plate, has tightened up our defense. And getting rid of Delmon Young has had a positive impact on team chemistry. Personally, I haven't heard of any problems he's causing in the Twins locker room, which makes me hopeful he has learned his lesson and his cognizant of his place in the baseball pecking order.

Offensively, the Rays have not improved much, but everyone is contributing. The enthusiasm and clutch hitting from rookie Evan Longoria (also excellent on defense) is palpable. He still has growing to do and is going to be a legitimate star in a few years time. He is already an all-star, home run derby participant, and makes habitual web gem plays.

Even though the Rays are not a team of sluggers (only one player hitting above .300), they have more than made up in the defensive changes and solid starting rotation able to go deep into games. While Scott Kazmir, who is often thought of as the Rays ace, got a late start after being on the DL for a month, Andy Sonnanstine (the number FOUR pitcher) has quietly raked up 10 wins.

Lastly, Dioner Navarro. Named to the all-star team, our catcher has been the most improved player from last year to this year. Last year he straddled the Mendoza line, but this year has the best average on the team (.306). He has also stepped up defensively by calling some fantastic games and proving his leadership, notably by knocking Garza down a peg. Garza's start after the verbal beat down - when decided to finally stop shaking Navy off - was a one hit complete game.

This year the Rays found the pieces to the puzzle. And the best part? No one is going anywhere. They are all thrilled to finally be part of a winning team. Those people who say the Rays are too young and inexperienced to make it to the post season or even win a playoff series could be right even though I don't buy that. But next year, that excuse won't work.

As for the post title. One thing the Rays organization did this year to try to attract fans (even though we have the best record in baseball, the attendance is still a little pathetic) was their summer concert series. Every Saturday home game is followed by a free concert for fans. Next Saturday, after Dean and I watch the Rays play the Jays, we get to stick around for MC Hammer. It doesn't get much better than being a Rays fan right now.

Vote Longoria

2008-07-06T17:34:00.001-04:00

This year, Rays rookie Even Longoria is a nominee for the all-star final vote. Show your support for the best team in baseball for voting for him. He's awesome offensively, defensively and pretty easy on the eyes. Go Longo!

Quiet

2008-06-15T19:54:00.002-04:00

Soooo.... I've been a little quiet lately. I don't really have a good excuse. Mostly, I've just been feeling introspective, trying to make sense of things. Trying to find meaning in my current situation and understand the consequences of some of my decisions. No, there is nothing big going on. No crises. I'm just sorting some things out. I know how good it is to keep posting, to bounce ideas and opinions off of you. But I also have to do what feels right. And right now, keeping things in my own head or letting Dean help me get through things feels like the right thing. I'm still around, reading you guys and I'll continue to write when I feel like it. I'm just putting out a warning that I haven't really felt like it much lately. But, like all things good and bad, this too shall pass.

Adopt a (BLACK) Cat Month

2008-06-01T11:00:00.000-04:00

June is "adopt a cat month" and while I do not condone the impulsive adoption of a pet (despite doing it ourselves), perhaps I can plant a little seed in your mind that will start with you pondering if you are able to open your homes to a first or additional kitty. Dean and I are in agreement that taking in another kitty while renting an apartment is not a good idea, especially while our lives are in transition. But we are also in agreement that once we own a home, our furry family will grow bigger still.

In case you still weren't convinced that the anemic economy affects literally every aspect of our world, let me assure you that our four-legged friends are feeling the pinch of our pocketbooks as well. The shelters are full and there is a long turnaround time. I have spoken with several rescue groups and no one is taking in new cats for adoption because cats and kittens are not being successfully adopted from shelters. The Humane Society of Tampa Bay alone has a waiting list of 300 cats that will continue to roam the streets until the cats that are already in that shelter start getting homes. With gas prices prohibitively high and grocery prices seemingly following a similar trend, taking on the financial commitment of caring for an animal is the last thing on people's minds. And, as witnessed by feral cat feeders, some people who can no longer afford the pets they have are abandoning them at feeding sites.

So are you thinking about whether or not you can give a loving home to a needy animal? May I suggest a black cat?

My first two cats as a child were black cats, which until I learned more about cats I thought was a coincidence. Both times they were the only kittens left for adoption. It was no coincidence, it seems that black cats statistically have a tougher time finding homes. First, the black pigmentation is a dominant trait among cats and was genetically selected for due to the camouflage it allows while hunting. As I have mentioned before, a good fraction of the dumpster kitties are black, including my favorite one:

I don't usually pick favorites, but this one actually lets me pet her on occasion and will eat from my hands. So not only do more black cats end up needing homes, but fewer actually end up in homes. People generally aren't as excited about adopting black cats and kittens, so they actually get adopted at a slower rate than cats with other types of markings. I'm not really sure why that is, maybe their plain coloring just doesn't grab the attention of perspective adopters. I don't imagine people are still superstitious about black cats, but who knows. And if things weren't tough enough for the black ones, even if you wanted to open your home to a black cat, you likely can't do it if it is October, because most shelters will not allow black cat adoptions close to Halloween (you can thank the cat-torturing psychos for that).

It seems that black cats have three strikes against them, which is why I am having such a hard time finding a place for Oscar. Oscar is a kitty who was dumped at my feeding site. He is all black and extremely affectionate. The kids in my complex named him Oscar and love him because he joins them on the playground everyday after school. But he still deserves a real home with a real family and his own food that isn't served behind a dumpster. That's how I know so many shelters are full. One group I contacted - they are run straight out of people's homes so can always take animals they feel are needy enough - were willing to listen to Oscar's story but promptly rejected him after asking about his coloring. I was so frustrated that I shrill-ly told the lady that animals should be afforded the same rights from discrimination that are afforded to people. She hung up on me.

So, to sum up: The economy sucks. People are not adopting pets. Now is an especially good time to go to petfinder.com and adopt a black cat, so says Allie.

Cleaning Up

2008-05-29T15:41:00.003-04:00

In the absence of anything useful or interesting to say, I thought I would point out the obvious. That is, I made some changes. I will likely add some more stuff but got tired of working on it today. I couldn't get rid of my header though, Nellie's eyes are just too hypnotic.

Rally Girl

2008-05-22T11:36:00.005-04:00

For those of you who were wondering, the rally yesterday was effing awesome. It was the third political rally I have ever attended and for me it was the best experience of the three.

The first one I ever attended was a rally for Paul Wellstone, who was running for re-election when I was a senior in high school. I was still too young to vote, but our high school let us take the day off and provided buses to the Target Center because that day President Clinton (also running for reelection) was campaigning along with Senator Wellstone. That was likewise a very memorable experience if for no other reason than I got to listen to President Clinton, who was (and still is) a person whose presence was palpable, a remarkably charismatic man. The interesting thing about seeing Senator Wellstone was in the context of my own political experiences. I knew what I believed but I wasn't necessarily in tune with the greater political atmosphere then and comparing what he was speaking about to the direction in which we ended up heading as a nation is stunning. What Senator Wellstone spoke about seemed perfectly reasonable to me and completely aligned with my core values and beliefs. It was only in later years, after becoming more politically savvy, did I realize that people saw Senator Wellstone's views as progressive and somewhat radical. To me, they were what I expected and hoped for from my government. It wasn't until his death that I realized exactly who Minnesotans and the Senate had lost, and what it meant that Norm Coleman, the newly-minted neocon had won Wellstone's seat in the aftermath.

The second rally I went to was a John Kerry rally, which had all the desperation one might expect from a Democratic campaign in the fear-laden climate that was post-9/11 America. He didn't fill up the Sundome and I think everyone there knew he was doomed. Granted, Florida Democrats, I've noticed, generally have a much more defeated air about them than Minnesota Dems. What I enjoyed about the rally, that I didn't get around my school mates eight years earlier, was the sense that I was with among people with which I had so much in common, without ever having to open my mouth. I felt self-conscience going by myself (many of my lab mates are apolitical because they are international students and unable to vote anyway). My embarrassment was quickly alleviated when strangers started talking to me out of blue because we already knew what we could talk about, a phenomenon that rarely occurs in public outings. In social situations one learns to veer away from politics, unless a rogue bumper sticker or refrigerator magnet gives away one's leanings. Political rallies, where you can make profound assumptions about the core beliefs of the people surrounding you, are a lot like how I imagine church might be if I actually bought what organized religion was trying to sell.

That is why I felt no qualms about going to the Obama rally by myself yesterday. Since it was at noon on a Wednesday, Dean had to work and I didn't even ask many of my friends who have real jobs. Besides, as I alluded before, rallies can be quite, well, political and I didn't want to cause any later awkwardness for dragging someone along who may not be on board. As I expected, I talked with people in line around me and enjoyed seeing the plethora of creative Obama t-shirts ("Obama - he had me at common sense" was my favorite). The rally was extremely well-organized. We were let in nearly an hour before gates were supposed to open due to the lines and the approaching heat of the day. There was not really anything different in his speech from what I had been seeing snippets of on CNN. But it didn't matter. I was roughly 12 rows up and simply seeing him in person was awesome. We just exploded when he came on stage, and it was several minutes before he could speak through all the commotion. He even had to urge us to sit down so we could actually listen to what he wanted to tell us. The arena had this electric feel, like we all knew we were a part of something big happening. This connection with voters is what has fueled his campaign and that feeling was what made the event special. The feeling that I am participating in a political process where so much is at stake and where I feel like the people have a real shot at starting to take back our country.

Tampa has a very large African-American population, and if I wasn't in the minority at the event, it was close. Of course I've been listening to pundits and pollsters break down the black vote, the white vote, the female vote, the educated vote etc. etc., but it wasn't until I saw all the elderly African-Americans at the rally who had obviously lived through segregation and the civil rights movement that I was rendered speechless by the magnitude of Obama's candidacy in the African-American community. I support Obama because I feel that even though he is inexperienced, he has sound judgment, fresh ideas, fair approaches and brings a different type of politics into the race. I feel he understands the plight of the average American and can reach out to new voters, independents, and Republicans to unite our ailing country. I know that politics will change him, that I am being idealistic, that what he will actually achieve will fall short of the promises. But heck, sometimes it feels good to put your faith in someone, and I feel good about the guy I'm backing.

Leftovers

2008-05-19T13:26:00.003-04:00

Sorry guys, pretty boring over here. Nothing going on and not feeling motivated enough to write something thought-provoking. Instead, I'll post this little meme from fridaysfeast.com. I'll be back in a couple of days, if nothing else to tell you about the Obama rally I'm going to on Wednesday!

Appetizer

What is the nearest big city to your home?

Tampa

Soup

On a scale of 1-10 with 10 being highest, how well do you keep secrets?

8 I'd like to do better, but I have a tough time. I tell Dean everything and I assume people tell me stuff knowing I'll tell him. Does that count?

Salad

Describe your hair (color, texture, length).

Dark brunette (almost black) , wavy/curly, getting pretty long

Main Course

What kind of driver are you? Courteous? Aggressive? Slow?

Anxious. I'm too nervous to drive on the freeway and my general level of discomfort on the city streets is getting worse. Otherwise, courteous. I let everyone in!

Dessert

When was the last time you had a really bad week?

Last week. Emotional roller coaster with the job search. Enough said.

Heavy Issues

2008-05-12T16:46:00.001-04:00

Hope you all had a great Mother's Day. Mine was a let down compared to last year, when I actually got to spend it with my mom. These are things you take for granted living so far away. That and snow at the end of April. No, instead I spent Mother's Day sobbing and sniffling after dropping the kittens off at their next destination in life. They were spayed/neutered, de-fleaed, de-wormed, vaccinated and are now "adoptable", especially after I spent 12 days socializing (read: becoming extremely attached to) them. After a couple days recovery at the clinic, they will then be on display at PetSmart so the whole world can bear witness to their adorableness, and hopefully someone will smart enough to take one or both of them home. The only thing I didn't like about the particular group that took my kittens is what a clean break it was, simply dropping them off without knowing how they fared the procedures and I likely won't hear when they get adopted. I understand it is better and that people more used to fostering kittens are used to this, but the only other kittens I've taken in for more than a day now live with people I know or at least feel comfortable asking after.

But that's not what I chose to write about today. I decided to write about weight. You see, way back in another life when Dean and I were just starting to "get comfortable" (i.e. "let ourselves go a little") and I had to be put on antidepressants, the numbers on the scale started creeping up and up until the whole thing gave me such a complex I couldn't stand to watch anymore. But I couldn't stop eating eating either. I tried several times to lose weight the normal way, you know yo-yo dieting and overextending myself at the gym until I could no longer keep up that lifestyle.

Then I tried to go the more resigned, slow route of buying an exercise bike, and making proper dietary changes so that at least if I was going to be "plump" I would be healthy. Even riding the bike on a regular basis wasn't enough to lose the weight, but I think it stopped me from gaining any more. My frustration was so deep that it was actually a big reason I decided to go off the antidepressants because even my doctor confirmed that they were definitely impeding weight loss.

But no sooner had I gotten off the drugs than I spent the summer in Minnesota, where I vowed to walk around the lakes to shed the pounds. Unfortunately, Minnesota also has its fair share of excellent restaurants and food became even more a part of my social life and personal reward system than it is here. Not to mention that my dad and stepmom are phenomenal cooks who were more than happy to show off their culinary prowess while I was in town. Needless to say, I didn't lose any weight in Minnesota (if anything I packed on more) and I didn't even have the meds to blame.

Before Dean and I got together and before the medication, I never ever had weight issues. I've never been skinny, I've always had curves but the curves that got looks (and got Deano!) and I've always preferred to be voluptuous rather than stick-like. Unfortunately, its us curvaceous women who are often betrayed by our metabolism. That's why I felt like I had gotten slapped in the face when during my rounds at the doctor's offices in November I was told how extremely healthy I was, but that I could "stand to lose a little weight". Ouch.

After that when I was starting to think about writing my dissertation, I had a heart-to-heart with myself. The goal was "damage control", not gain any more weight before graduating. I thought it would be impossible to actually lose weight while writing my dissertation. I had less time to exercise and we'd in all likelihood be eating out a lot. The guidelines I made for myself:

(1) No excuses, get on the bike at least 5 times a week. I might not have as much time on my hands, but the mental clarity exercising brings is worth the time set aside to do so. Instead of the "breaks" that I would certainly allow myself while working from home, the mid-morning break was reserved for the bike. It became a routine for me to get up, drink a cup of coffee and work on my dissertation for two hours. Exercise for 30-35 minutes, shower, return to work. This actually made it a lot easier to look forward to getting on the bike (a "break" where I got to listen to podcasts for 30 minutes to clear my brain) and easier to return to work when finished.

(2) Since I was going to be eating out a lot, every meal had to still have a veggie, at the expense of one starch. I could still have a hamburger or chicken wings, but had to have a salad or steamed broccoli instead of fries. I did this more to keep my immune system strong. I don't even like french fries that much anymore.

(3) No more alcohol. Since I often worked late into the night, I drank iced tea with Splenda instead of beer or wine at restaurants. Once every few weeks I'd splurge and get tipsy at a ball game. But the "new tipsy" happened after far fewer beers than the "old tipsy". I was a cheaper date, too.

So the result? I was too scared to weigh myself when I started with this new plan. But after my pants felt a tad looser, I bit the bullet and tracked my progress for fun. I've lost somewhere between 20-25 pounds since November. I'm down two pants sizes and the great part is I've kept up my rules and have no intention of stopping. The only change I've made is to work out in the early morning because these days I actually go into the lab again. But possibly the best part is that Deano has watched me make these small changes, seen the results and about six weeks ago decided to make changes of his own. He has lost 15 pounds (I know, guys' ability to drop weight makes me sick as well) and is still satisfied with his eating and work out regimen. It's funny how when you stop thinking so hard about both weight AND food, the results start to show up. About a month ago I had lunch with a friend of mine who I hadn't seen in a while. Her first comment was, "Wow, stress agrees with you." That's the upshot.

Distractions

2008-05-06T11:11:00.001-04:00

I managed to have a little fun this weekend. I got to hang out with blogbuddy (and now "real life" friend!) Anne from over at e.b.'s world on Saturday. We just sat at one of the lovely outdoor restaurant in Ybor City, had a couple of brews and talked about everything and nothing.

Saturday evening Dean and I went to the Clearwater Thresher's game, where we laughed at the group date where the girls wore too much makeup and the boys too much cologne. We didn't pay too much attention to the game, just enjoyed the weather and the minor league atmosphere. The reason for our trip to Clearwater wasn't the game, it was to try the new Clearwater Famous Dave's. As we are both fans of Famous Dave's, this was a big development for us. We anticipate many more Clearwater trips before leaving the region. Each Famous Dave's has a different theme - the one in Uptown Minneapolis is like a St. Louis blues bar, the one near the University of Minnesota Campus is decorated like an old time gas station, and the one at Mall of America is like a rustic Northern Minnesota cabin. Fittingly, the Clearwater location is decorated like a beach house with old time life jackets and water skis. Very cute. And the food was just as good as I remember.

And lastly, we have spent the last several evenings caring for and being entertained by these guys:

They are the offspring of my last fertile female, and they are Dixie's half-siblings so it is no surprise that they are utter maniacs. When I first caught them they were pretty freaked out

But now they are playing and enjoy being handled. They are about 5 weeks old and into absolutely everything. They spend most of their time in a cage on the balcony but for a few hours each night I lock up our cats and let the babies run around in the living room. There is one boy and one girl. They have nearly identical markings. However, like most solid-colored cats, as babies they have faint tabby markings under their top coat. The boy has stripes, and the girl has swirls. They will grow out of their "tabbiness" though and be beautiful tuxedo cats in only a couple of months.

On Sunday they are going to the Animal Coalition of Tampa as part of their "Street Kitties" program. ACT will spay/neuter them, along with de-fleaing, de-worming and first round of vaccinations. Then they will go to PetSmart where I'm certain they will be adopted by the first person who lays eyes on them because really, who could resist?

Defection

2008-04-28T13:05:00.001-04:00

I'm a bad Twins fan. My longtime readers will notice a distinct lack of baseball postings this season. I think you are all aware that my usual Spring Training activities were slightly hindered by my dissertation, though I did make it to a couple games. We also usually order the baseball package on digital cable, but just couldn't bring ourselves to cough up the money when we are currently unsure where we will be living in a couple months time and whether or not the package is transferable to our new home.

Turns out we aren't missing much. The Twins are currently sitting at an underwhelming 11-14 for the season. As for the couple of games I have been able to catch, it is clear they are suffering from the exact same anemic offense as last year, only most of the faces are different. In one game against the Rays (televised down here of course) I watched no less that 4 lead-off base runners be erased by double plays. The Twins earned their reputation as a small-ball team that manufactured runs. They are not known for home runs, but this year (as in the last couple of years) manufacturing runs is a struggle.

To compound the problem, they lost 3 starting pitchers this year, including, of course, Santana. I was surprisingly indifferent about the Johan trade (unlike my poor mother who was inconsolable for days afterwards). I wanted to have one more year with him, especially with Liriano getting back in the rotation this year. But I think most Twins fans would agree with me that after the 2006 season, which produced the AL Cy Young winner (Santana), Batting Title winner (Mauer), MVP (Morneau) and a Golden Glove winner (perennial recipient Hunter), they were doomed to be a team that couldn't quite seal the deal. And it was clear that with Santana, we were sitting on a gold-mine. It made sense to gain prospects from a trade before losing him forever to free-agency, where the Twins would quickly be out of the running. With the Santana trade and the near team-swapping that occurred with Tampa Bay, the entire Twins team was transformed.

It was clear that the Twins wanted to rebuild the team around Mauer and Morneau, and as long as the little kids could still wear their #7 jersey tees and there was a stadium being built, the fans would stay loyal. But unfortunately, the problems from last year seem to be plaguing the Twins once again, and they don't have strong enough pitching to turn only a couple of runs into a win.

So, unrecognizable Twins club that can't gain offensive traction + poor starting pitching + no baseball package = downgrade from Twins fanatic to casual fan who can barely go out of her way to check the online stats. I will baulk at the term "fair weather fan" simply because I can assure you all with confidence that I would definitely be fixed to the television watching the 2008 train wreck if we had the baseball package, just how I watched the 2007 train wreck from ground zero.

HOWEVER. This year, as predicted by my own personal baseball god Peter Gammons along with many other commentators and speculators, it has been really fun to watch the Rays. Their young team (Carl Crawford, at 25 years old and cute as a button, is the veteran) is enthusiastic and the chemistry is undeniable. For once, Rays fans are starting to out number the visitors' fans at the Trop. They added Matt Garza (one of the starters the Twins lost) as well as Eric Hinske and recently brought up phenom Evan Longoria. They are currently in a 3-way tie for the top of the East after sweeping the Jays and the Bosox back to back. The weekend series against Boston was huge and we found ourselves glued to all three games. Saturday's dramatic finish where Akinori Iwamura hit a 2-run homer in the bottom of the 8th ("I make myself happy" he reported in his post-game interview) and James Shields' complete game shutout against Josh Beckett yesterday was a loud and clear indicator that the Rays are finally ready for prime time, just as we are about to pick up and move. But perhaps just as I wore my Twins gear with pride when I moved to Florida, I will now wear my new Carl Crawford jersey tee to our next destination.

Girls Night: Tampa Edition

2008-04-21T12:23:00.000-04:00

For Friday night, my lab planned a dinner in honor of my successful defense a couple of weeks back and we all agreed to meet at a local Thai restaurant. I was completely shocked (and hopelessly confused) to go to the restaurant with Deano and find Geb and Di, two of my best girlfriends from Minnesota. You know the weird things that go through your mind when you see someone totally out of context? Here's what I thought when we walked in and saw those two sitting at the table:

Wow, those two girls look just like Geb and Di. And they're staring at me like I know them. Oh my God, that is Geb and Di! They came to Tampa and didn't tell me, and happened to come to the same restaurant as us. This is going to be awkward when they try to explain why they are here without telling me. Oh wait! They came for ME! They came to hang out with ME!

Ridiculous, right? Needless to say they got me good. They had been in touch with Deano, my parents, even my lab mates to pull off this feat. And the predictable subsequent collision of worlds ensued how you might imagine with the girls telling my lab mates and Dr. Hari about the wild college days when my reputation as a robust drinker preceded my intellectual prowess. And so, being reminded of those days, and since I am still the same person after all, I decided it was perfectly reasonable to drink the way I did in college. Never mind the fact that age and an adult lifestyle have seriously eroded my tolerance, not the mention my ability to bounce back from a wild night.

I blame the girls. They force me to party every single damn time. Except this time Geb is preggo, which is totally awesome because not only do I get to be an honorary auntie in a few months, we also got a designated driver for the weekend.

Dinner at the Thai restaurant was excellent and I had a lot of fun watching my girlfriends and my co-workers mingle. Especially when one of my lab mates tried out her best Minne-sooo-tan accent on my friends. After an extended dinner and a couple of cocktails, half the lab went home to their spouses and families. The party continued (with Dr. Hari!) at the bar next door for a little while where we shared some pitchers and listened to Dr. Hari reminisce a little about his own college days.

Later, Deano, the girls, and I hit the neighborhood bar at the end of our street where things got out of hand very fast. We ran into some fellow grad students (a couple of "lifers") who took it upon themselves to hit on my friends. We also played a rather mean game of "who has the best drinking story". I got pretty emotional as it is a rarity to have my husband and my best friends with me (usually the husbands tend to step back a little in the wake of the force that is us girls) but I know they wanted him to hang out with us since they hadn't seen him in a few years.

Things got blurry after several rounds and the last clear memory I have is the clock reading 2:00. After that there are fragments of the remainder of the night including a not-so-great toilet-hugging session, but it was worth it to have an evening with my friends in my neck of the woods. Girls night in Tampa was a success.

Saturday we went to Clearwater. We ate lunch at Frenchy's and then headed to the beach where we recovered from our hangovers under a cabana among the sounds of the waves and seagulls, the smell of the saltwater and the beach eye candy that we realized for the first time was way too young for any of us. But it didn't stop us from looking. Or commenting.

In the evening, we just watched sappy chick flicks with candy and more junk food, reminisced some more and said our good byes until the next time we meet up, when Geb will either be big as a house or even a mom and I'll likely call some place else home. They flew back yesterday morning, and I resumed life as normal.

Thanks, ladies, for planning your trip down to Florida in a completely covert fashion, surprising the bejesus out of me and showing me a fantastic time, as usual. After 10 years, we still know how to have a totally kickass time.

Got Pot?

2008-04-18T15:04:00.004-04:00

I am still having sinus problems. For several months now I've lived with sporadic sinus pressure and almost constant post nasal drip. Just what you wanted to know, right? I recall my general physician telling me that if my sinus issues didn't improve, I should go see an ENT so he could "tweak" my allergy medications. I am skeptical. First of all, the term "tweaking" to me implies a long, systematic exploration of various medications which I do not have the patience for. Second, my mom and stepdad (who I've already mentioned both work in a pharmacy) have explained to me that most allergy medicines are nearly the same and switching medications usually involves finding one your body isn't used to yet, using it for a year or two until you are completely acclimated to that one and moving on to the next. That sounds even less appealing as far as a long term strategy for coping with sinus issues. I don't really want to be dependent on medications for anything and one of my goals is to be drug-free when we start trying for a baby (NOT YET NOT YET NOT YET).

Awhile back, my stepmom suggested trying a Neti pot. This completely terrifies me, but I'm starting to feel persuaded. Over the last couple of days I've done a lot of reading up on sinus irrigation and it seems like an all-natural, yet medically proven, successful treatment for chronic sinus sufferers. So why don't more people do it? Like I said, it looks pretty strange (you should watch the video) but after the last six months of feeling like I'm drowning in my own mucus, I am willing to try pretty much anything. I've asked a couple of people about it. No one I know has actually tried it, but everyone seems to "know someone" who "swears by it". What do you you guys think? Anyone own one? Tried one? Got any hilarious shoving-liquid-up-your-nose stories?

UPDATE: I bought one yesterday (Sunday). It felt kinda funny the first time, like getting water up your nose when swimming. But now it actually feels pretty refreshing. The only difference I've noticed with my sinuses (which as I mentioned don't always feel congested) is that the post nasal drip feels thinner and not quite as thick and gross. I don't know if it is supposed to take awhile to reach its maximum effectiveness, but I think I'll continue using it either way. Even if it keeps me from getting sick and/or developing another sinus infection it will be worth it. Plus as fermi mentioned it will help keep allergens and dust from accumulating which is another bonus. Will update after it's been a little longer.

ANOTHER UPDATE: I just wanted to clarify something. After poking around the internets it has come to my attention that Oprah had this product on her show awhile back. This is not, I repeat IS NOT why I bought the Neti pot. I think I mentioned before that my step mom suggested it for me several months back. I don't think she watches Oprah either.

See ya, Buddy

2008-04-15T17:11:00.000-04:00

I realize that Buddy is not an original name for a cat or any other sort of animal, but "Hey, Buddy!" was my involuntary response each day when I found him waiting for me. Buddy was one of the "originals", I believe he and his siblings were the second litter to be born. All the kittens of that litter (there were four) were black and white tuxedos, but Buddy's coloring was more smoky, like his mom, whereas his two sisters and brother were completely black and white.

His twin sisters were terribly shy, always staying in the brush until it was clear I was leaving. His brother, who I referred to for a long time as "A-hole", but whose moniker has since been relaxed to "Bully", hisses constantly at me but refuses to back away in the presence of food. Buddy used to be there everyday waiting for me and underfoot the entire time I was feeding. He never let me pet him, but I had such a tender spot for him with his expressive face and unique coloring.

He managed to get caught nearly every time I went trapping. I even trapped him twice in one evening, such was his excitement for the spoonful of tuna sitting on the lever. (The picture above was taken the last time I went trapping and caught the cow kitten. I had decided to bring my camera to try to catch some of my ferals on film before moving away. As usual he was front and center in the process and I had to shoo him away from the trap several times.) He would pick at the sides of the trap, trying to scoop out the food through the bars until his impatience took over and he ran into the trap. The last few times I was so familiar with his routine that I managed to chase him away before the trap sprung, avoiding scaring him and all the others.

A month or so before I went away for the summer, Buddy stopped showing up for dinner. I had assumed he either wandered away to another feeding site or was killed. Disappearances always leave me uneasy (it has happened more times that I care to think about) but I try to understand that it's a tough world. I can only keep watch over them for a small fraction of the time, and they are wild animals after all. Then, several weeks after returning from my internship, Buddy came limping back like a feline Lazarus, a little rough around the edges and looking more like a true alley cat than ever. He was back nearly every night since then, again a fixture and always up for a good trapping.

Friday afternoon one my cat friends called me to let me know that she had found one of my kitties hit by a car. Judging from her description, it was Buddy. Even though I have been gearing myself up for some time to say good bye to these guys forever, this was a tough blow given my affection for some some of the older originals. She told me she had buried him under a tree near the edge of the woods by my complex and said a couple words. When I went to feed that night, I wandered several of yards away and easily found the disturbed earth where he had been laid to rest that afternoon. "See ya, Buddy," was all I could choke out.

What Now?

2008-04-11T12:03:00.001-04:00

For the last couple of days I've been trying to figure out how to write this post. What have I been up to these past couple of months? How has this experience changed me? What now?

I guess I'll start at the beginning. I spent every waking moment from the middle of January until a week ago working on my dissertation, which, for the record, was officially submitted and approved today (it is 9 chapters, 82 figures, 7 tables, and 174 pages). Well, that's not entirely true. I made it to a couple of spring training games, but believe me when I say I didn't stop thinking about my dissertation for more than approximately five minutes. As usual, Dean took a couple of weeks off of work to go to games and practices, and we spent a few days in Orlando and Ft. Myers. He went to practices and I stayed in the hotel room to work in a new environment without the distraction of kitties or my material possessions. Surprisingly, the chapters written in hotel rooms actually turned out the best.

10 days before my defense, bound copies of my finished thesis had to be distributed to my committee members so they could read it beforehand. Most people have on their committee their major professor, 3 departmental professors and a chairperson from a different department. For two years I have been fortunate enough to have a national interdisciplinary fellowship which paid roughly one and a half times what a teaching or research assistant would make. For my defense, it was time to pay the piper because on top of the 5 people mentioned above, I had to have two additional committee members from the College of Medicine. Turns out that all this didn't matter because not a single committee member actually read my dissertation. That's pretty normal though.

Anyway, three days before my dissertation was to be distributed I was still writing vigorously, and I had to leave town for a job interview. The interview, for an assistant professor position at a liberal arts college, was two days worth of interviewing, teaching, giving a seminar and touring the campus. I did the interview both days on about 3 hours of sleep as there literally weren't enough hours in the day to finish all I had to do. Needless to say, it didn't go well and I was made keenly aware of my own limitations as far as multi-tasking and performing under intense pressure. The silver lining was the experience I got interviewing and the ability to scratch teaching at a liberal arts college off of my "possible career choices" list.

My point with all this is that returning home from the dreadful interview only to have more writing to do on top of being terribly sleep-deprived marked one of my lowest moods in my entire life. Add to that the fact that I still didn't have a job lined up and all I wanted was to go hide under a rock. Dean, whose future basically depends on my ability to find work, wasn't about to let that happen. I am so grateful that he has been the supportive, loving husband he is.

But what I learned from that low point is that going through the last stages of your time as a Ph.D. student, in my opinion, makes you just as deserving of the degree as the 5 previous years I spent doing research. Whatever pride I take in this accomplishment is a result of being almost completely torn down only to emerge a stronger, more confident individual.

My mom and stepdad flew in for my defense. I want to thank them right now for putting up with me the evening before and the morning of. I was an absolute wreck and I'm positive I wasn't very much fun to be around. In fact, there were lots of times I wasn't fun to be around and again I have to give credit to Deano who endured the brunt of the "crazy eruptions." To show my appreciation I dedicated my thesis to him, something I thought was lame when other people did it, but now I see why it is completely appropriate.

When I started speaking, I was unbelievably nervous. Dr. Hari had told me time and again that I know this stuff better than anyone and I had no reason to be nervous, but I couldn't help it. I eventually calmed down, and from what I've been told actually did a very good job. My presentation was about 1 hour and 20 minutes, followed by about another half hour of questions from my committee members. Most of the questions were easy, and the ones I didn't know I didn't try to bullshit, I speculated on the answer while admitting I was only guessing. Then everyone had to leave the room except for the committee (did I mention there was an audience too?!) for them to deliberate. It turns out that instead of deliberating, the committee scarfed down the cookies I brought, which they were too polite to eat during the presentation.

Mom and stepdad and Dean and I had a wonderful celebratory dinner, I took calls from well-wishers and then had a lovely, relaxing weekend before they left. We went to a couple of state parks, and did something I've wanted to do ever since moving down here - went to Big Cat Rescue. We went drinking one night and accidentally wound up in a gay bar. (We thought there just a lot of lesbians there, but it turned out the good-looking gentlemen in suits sitting at the bar were lesbians too. In fact, everyone was a lesbian except for the four of us, but we were too happy and buzzed to care.)

So what's next? That's the million dollar question right now. I don't have a job lined up for certain. The good news is that a couple days before my defense I found out I made it past the first round of reviews for a national postdoctoral fellowship I applied for. The bad news is that I still have to wait 4-6 weeks to find out if I actually have the job. I think I have an excellent shot and the first round of cuts was the biggest. But not having a job is still scary as hell. Dean is working his job and Dr. Hari said he'd pay me until I found something, but who knows how long that could be - I am entering to most volatile job market in decades.

I will still continue to write, but I'm afraid things may have to get much more vague. When I have a real job to protect (hopefully one at a government-funded lab) I'm going to have to be really careful and the rules may have to change a little.

I'm slowly getting back into reading blogs. Unfortunately, I'm horribly obsessive compulsive when it comes to reading, which requires me to actually go through and read what I've missed. If I haven't visited you yet, don't worry, I'll get there eventually. And thanks to all of you for stopping by and leaving encouraging words. It helped me more than I can say.

Magnetbabe, Ph.D.

2008-04-03T19:08:00.000-04:00

It's over. I am now the proud owner of a Doctorate of Philosophy in Physics.

More later. Now, I have to go have a drink.

Please Stand By

2008-02-18T10:47:00.002-05:00

Hello readers! So lately I've been sucking at blogging and while I've been meaning to write a quick note to update you all, it hardly seems worth it as the update would consist of: writing writing writing. And more writing. Writing a Ph.D. dissertation pretty much sucks as bad as people say it does. Right now I am just trying to get my rough draft done. I've been handing chapters in to Dr. Hari as I finish them and it seems corrections should be relatively minimal, so once the additional iterations begin I should have some more time to pay to you. I miss you, friends. Not only do I feel spatially isolated (sitting at my dining room table ALL DAY) but feel mentally isolated as well. However I notice that every time I go on the internets, hours of my precious time seem to be sucked into a black hole which I can never recover. So I've been limiting blog visits and posting until I get over the hump that is four more chapters. Hang in there with me, gang and hopefully things will get way more interesting soon enough.

Finally, A Happy Post

2008-02-10T18:48:00.000-05:00

Almost exactly a year ago, I wrote a post about a white kitty that had been abandoned in my apartment complex. Her family moved away and left her outside to scavenge for her own food. Where one day this kitty had a home and guaranteed meals, the next day the door was cruelly shut on her. Unfortunately for me (and fortunately for my kitties) she didn't like other cats or else she would be living her with me now, that's how sweet, gentle and beautiful she was.

To refresh your memory, I had fed this kitty for a few days until a foster situation and eventually a home could be found for this kitty. With management's permission I fed her outside her old apartment so that she wouldn't have to stray too far for food while management was dealing with the legal ramifications of a bunch of assholes breaking a lease, leaving an apartment full of their crap and of course abandoning their pet. For a couple days, I would just leave food and later see that it had been eaten. After a couple days, she poked her head around a corner, and starved for attention rubbed up on me. I was sad to see her beautiful white fur full of dirt, grime and crust which I thought was scabies at the time, but turned out to be her poor sunburned skin. The next day I took a photo:

When Heather first decided to foster her, she had to have a room to herself becuase she hated other kitties. It is very difficult in cat circles to find foster homes and even permanent homes for cats who don't like other cats. People without cats who want them usually don't know to go to rescue organizations or else they want a perfect little pet store kitten. So Heather kept "the white kitty" for a couple months and named her Madonna. Initially there were a couple of people who wanted to adopt her, but nothing panned out.

Six months ago, Madonna was adopted by a single mom with a preteen daughter. Heather had a bad feeling about the situation from the start, but disregarded her gut feeling so badly did she want this to work out. The woman turned out to be irresponsible and let Madonna out onto her second story open balcony. Heather later got a call that Madonna had jumped off the balcony and was missing. After Madonna was found, the woman was frazzled about the incident and rather than promising to do better with Madonna, asked to give her back to Heather and start over with a kitten. Heather took Madonna back, but didn't give the woman a kitten.

So for awhile longer Madonna lived excluded from other kitties in a foster home in the garage of a retired couple. Until two weeks ago.

My dad, stepmom and sister were the perfect family for Madonna. Both my dad and stepmom were experienced cat owners who happened to be cat-less at this time in their lives. They heard Madonna's story, fell in love with her picture and had to have her. My stepmom felt a special connection with this vagabond kitty and after traveling halfway across the globe to adopt my sister from China, she had absolutely no qualms about hauling a cat home from Florida. So two weekends ago when the whole family came down to visit, they left with Madonna, who has since been renamed "Sauvie".

She couldn't be happier and neither could dad, stepmom, sis, or me. I truly love this kitty and couldn't imagine this turning out any better. And you thought I was all gloom and doom.

RIP BH

2008-02-05T22:32:00.000-05:00

My friend and fellow blogger brainhell passed away this week after a long and courageous battle with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. He is now free from the confines of his withered body and his soul can be at peace.

I first met BH about two and half years ago, after his diagnosis but while he still owned his life. I found him extremely clever and smart. He took it upon himself to read medical journals and be his own advocate for the health care he received. I loved his blog because you never knew what you were going to find there, but it was always captivating. Shortly after he quit his job to stay home and enjoy his family, he had so much time and energy to be mischievous. I recall one post where he described getting junk mail, cutting up music CDs he didn't want and shoving them in the return envelopes of the junk mail and sending them back. He had a fantastic sense of humor about himself and was a terrible flirt with the ladies. We often called his place BH's harem. Once he posted a picture of his torso to make a point about losing muscle mass and covered his nipples with hot pink stars. I think one of the women was still giving him a hard time about that pretty recently. I always felt flattered that he was so bright but would often email me with scientific questions. He even asked me for some of my journal articles and a copy of my master's thesis. He then admitted he didn't get very far and I didn't blame him.

One of the things I will always be grateful for is that he helped plant the idea for doing TNR on my feral kitties. I needed the extra push from local animal groups, but he followed their story and strongly advocated spaying and neutering programs. Towards the end when he had stopped visiting other people's blogs and just read his own, I sometimes updated him on the kitties, and told him they all had him to thank for their health and new quality of life.

When I started reading BH, he had a small community of blogger friends much like me: smart, nerdy, liberal, silly. Then as his illness progressed, his blog understandably became more and more about ALS. He then steadily amassed a huge following of ALS suffers and caregivers as well as health care professionals and everyday people filled with compassion who stumbled upon his story and returned day after day. I always felt bad, but I started to back off after that. Rather than commenting everyday, I commented less because rather than speaking to a small group of people who's names and opinions I was familiar with I was suddenly a drop in a bigger bucket and I felt too intimidated to speak. Once, Kurt Schilling even stopped by to say keep fighting the good fight. Brainy thought it was me who told Kurt about his blog but it wasn't. It was another one of the core readers who was with brainy early on. But brainy, I never stopped reading and I think you knew that. Once in awhile I would comment simply to say thinking of you. Hoping you are comfortable.

There were a lot of people on BH's blog this week. He left his farewell post a week ago (it has received 189 comments so far) and after that his friend in real life started his own blog to keep BH's readers updated. His family updated BH's blog on Saturday tell us BH had passed. They also posted a picture of BH's face for the very first time and he is as handsome as I had always pictured him in my mind. Since then there have been a slew of people linking their own tributes to BH and what his blog meant to them. I'm too embarrassed to do that. But what his blog meant to me was that it is possible to look death in the face with strength and courage . He never once changed his convictions, his personality or his sense of humor. And he was honest about his fears, his regrets, his physical condition, his moods and discomfort. I deeply admire this honesty and he left as a legacy a heartbreaking but very real account of what it is like to die of ALS. Despite the tremendous sadness this brings, I think it will be invaluable to the ALS community. He also touched so very many lives and the hole he left in the blogosphere can already be felt.

Brainy, now that you are gone, I have a confession to make. You made the assumption once that because I am smart I am good at chess. I am not. You challenged your blog friends once to play chess against you online and singled me out as someone you would like to play. I never told you that I didn't play with you because I knew you'd kick my ass.

It's been fun being your blog friend, BH. I'll never ever forget you.

Yes We Can

2008-02-04T16:21:00.000-05:00

minnesotablue sent me this video via email. Whether you a fan of the O-Man or not, the inspirational message is infectious.

Pass it along.

It's Really Happening

2008-02-01T08:26:00.000-05:00

I'm really moving towards the finish line. Despite Dr. Hari's please for me to stick around one more semester (he has several new students who need training on various equipment), he's letting me graduate. Yesterday I submitted my sample dissertation pages to the graduate college for a format check. I had the lovely privilege of giving them $150 to measure my margins for me and promise to put my dissertation on microfilm. (What's that?) It's non refundable so if I don't finish this semester, I have to pay it again next semester. That's incentive enough for me put my nose to the grindstone.

Today I submitted an application packet for a National Research Council postdoctoral fellowship. If I get it, I would go to work in a national lab in Washington, DC. The guy who I would work for has been in contact with me daily helping me with my application and 15-page research proposal. He's an incredibly brilliant, nice guy who has been so helpful. I would love to work for him, but he doesn't get to decide. The research council does. I think I have a shot at getting it. The fellowships are pretty competitive. My undergraduate transcripts are nothing to write home about, but I pulled myself together in grad school, my proposal is strong and I chose impressive people for my references. Hopefully they all said nice things about me!

Of course I'm not putting all my eggs in one basket and am applying for several more jobs. None of the application processes are as involved as the NRC fellowship though, thank goodness or I'd be screwed.

Also due today was my application for degree. I had to decide whether or not to walk in the commencement ceremony and get "hooded" by my professor. This was a tough one but I decided against it. I didn't tell Dr. Hari but he didn't ask. The gown you wear for your Ph.D. commencement ceremony costs $400 to own and $200 to rent. Since I'm not going into academia, there is no need for me to own one. It's not that we don't have the money, I just feel weird about spending it on something I'll rent for one day. Maybe if my parents were going to be there I'd do it for them, but my mom is coming for my defense (more important) and my dad was just here. Lastly there is the distinct possibility I won't even be in Tampa for my graduation ceremony. The final copy of my dissertation is due April 11 and the ceremony isn't until early May. I have to start a new job whenever someone can take me. I just hope I don't regret this decision. Mostly I'm just angry I had to commit to an answer so soon.

But the prospect of leaving graduate school felt the most real to me yesterday in our lab meeting, where I was officially relieved of the title "Helium Girl", and passed the torch onto Moe. I know she will do a fantastic job of sweet-talking Kirby, our liquid Helium supplier, and ruling the equipment time with an iron fist. I've been Helium Girl for over two years and it is stressful but it made me feel indispensable.

So that's what I've been up to. Your blogs have been my reward for hard work - I work a few hours and then go read one or two or five. I'm sure they will be a big part of what gets me through to the other side.

Dear Randy,

2008-01-29T07:16:00.000-05:00

Two years ago today, I had to say good bye to you forever. There are some times when that day seems like a lifetime away, so much has happened since then. Other times, it feels like a giant wound that just keeps getting reopened. I don't remember everything thing about the 30 days you spent in the hospital. I don't remember every single visit, every step forward or set of steps back. But I remember every single wretched thing about the day you died.

On Thursday, January 26th, 2006 you had a great day. The following day, you began the downward spiral. By Saturday, your mother had requested all treatment be stopped except for a morphine drip. On Sunday, January 29th, I picked myself up and went to the hospital with the purpose of saying good bye to you. You were unresponsive and I knew that you would not have wanted me to put myself through the wringer every single day until you passed. So I drove the mile and a half from my home to Moffitt Cancer Center. I wore a maroon Polo shirt, blue jeans and brown leather sandals. Isn't it ridiculous that I remember that? I remember seeing you so small, so weak and so different from the man I knew. You were tossing and turning, but not aware of your surroundings. I held your hand, and said your name loudly. You turned and our eyes locked for the last time. I couldn't make out any recognition in them as I said "good bye" with tears running down my face. I went and sat down on the chair in the corner of that awful room to collect myself. I could see the nurses at the station across the hall trying not to stare, but I could feel their sympathy. I remember wondering how many times a day they saw this type of thing and how they kept their sanity.

After I managed to pull myself together, I drove home and tried to have a day. I didn't know how long we'd have to deal with you being partly here but mostly gone. That afternoon, Jill came over to teach me how to use my new sewing machine. We sewed pillows for my couch, which I had just bought new slipcovers for. We sat at my table, avoiding the obvious and just talked about nothing. Later we ordered a pizza and garlic bread, my treat for her helping. I asked Jill if she wanted to sleep over. I thought she might not want to go home to an empty house, but she surprised me and said she wanted to just be by herself.

Dean and I watched TV for awhile and then went to bed. I couldn't sleep but could hear Dean's steady deep breathing as my mind wandered to the inevitable. At 11:18 pm, the phone rang and I just knew. I answered it with a knot in my stomach to hear Jill say in the tiniest voice I've ever heard, "He's gone, Natalie."

Do you want to know the dumbest thing? It took me one and a half years to step foot in the Moffitt Cancer Center, even though passing through it while on campus is often much more convenient than avoiding it. When I finally stepped through the door the familiar scent from that day left me nearly paralyzed. But I went in and have done it several times since. I still think I see you sometimes when someone with your shape enters my peripheral vision. I dream of you often, sometimes in them I know you are dead, other times it's as if nothing has changed and I'm upset to wake up and remember the truth. Then there are moments that take me utterly by surprise because your memory catches me off guard.

One such moment happened when I was cleaning out the medicine drawer. When Allie was a kitten, she had a runny eye. The vet said it was herpes and that I should crush up a half of an l-lysine tablet and mix it in some wet food twice a day. I quickly learned that if I didn't crush the pill up well enough, she ate around the bigger pieces and left them. Since crushing the pills to a fine powder two times a day was difficult and time consuming, one day I took the bottle with me to the lab, planning to crush a few with the mortar and pestle and then use a small scoop to measure out what I needed from the powder. When you caught wind of my idea, You became excited about it because you used a mortar and pestle everyday and "developed just the right technique" for such a job. I remember watching you that day, your huge hands diligently crushing up pills for a sick little kitten and my heart was warmed. You loved my kitties (and everyone else's!) so very much. When I stopped just feeding the ferals and started doing TNR and kitten rescue, I couldn't help but think what a kick you would have gotten out of snuggling the babies. Maybe you would have even kept one for yourself.

So just a couple of days ago when I came across that bottle of l-lysine with some powder still in it, well I just couldn't bring myself to throw it away. Maybe in a couple more years I'll be ready. But right now I'm still taking my time.

High School

2008-01-22T14:05:00.000-05:00

I hated high school. HATED. IT. Not in a "Phew, glad that's over!" kind of way, but in an absolute detesting it, dreading every day of it kind of way. It wasn't like I was ridiculed daily, or bullied. I had a few close friends, one of them I still keep in contact with. I tried hanging out with a couple different crowds but I wasn't athletic, wasn't into drinking or drugs and the brainiacs seemed too immature for me.

One of my closest friends my first couple years of high school, Carrie, gradually got in with the cool crowd and was one of the most popular girls in school by the time we graduated. We still hung out senior year, but she always wanted to invite people from the in crowd and didn't understand why this made me uncomfortable. I didn't know how to talk to them, how to relate to them. She always said that they thought I was really nice, but that didn't make me feel like I belonged. Carrie would always tell me that the popular gang was receptive and if I just sat with them at lunch they would start talking to me, I could just show up at their parties and no one would blink an eye. But injecting myself into a group of people with which I had nothing in common didn't seem like it would satisfy a need within me to connect. So much to her dismay, I never did. I think this made her mad, like she had to choose between them and me. There were more of them, and I certainly couldn't get her a date so I don't blame her for spending most of her time with them. In hindsight, I'm a little impressed she stuck with me at all.

So basically, as a high schooler I was hyper-aware that I didn't fit in. Some of my friends didn't care that they were on the outskirts, others never seemed to notice. But I always felt angry that high school had to be so much about being normal. Normal as in sterile, boring, conformist. I felt reminded everyday that your worth in high school was based on your athletic ability, which guys are interested in you, how many people signed your yearbook. So when it came time to graduate, I wasn't really able to look back with good nature and simply think that high school kinda sucked. I really just wanted to forget it all. Put it behind me and start life as a student of the University of Minnesota, where there were 50,000 people. I had to fit in somewhere. And I did. I made great friends there.

But I still feel like there is a chasm between what I feel about those days and what others feel. So many people keep in touch with their high school clique, and it always reminds me that I didn't really have that. As much as I try to pretend those years didn't exist, I'm reminded that for some people, those days were really good. And I get a little jealous.

I have one friend from high school that I still keep in touch with, Jessica. We were close in high school, and both went to the U of MN. We talk much more about the college days than the high school days. She didn't fit in well either, but didn't care. She still likes to keep up with the gossip from the popular crowd and tells me who got married, who got divorced, who has children, who's in jail.

This past summer was our 10 year reunion. Jessica desperately wanted to go, even though she lives in California. Ironically, I had no intention of going even though I happened to spend the whole summer in Minneapolis. But Jessica scoured the online newspapers, had her parents look for announcements in the mail and checked the high school website often. Nothing. It seems we weren't having a reunion.

I bring all this up because out of the blue Carrie emailed me a couple months back. She hunted for me on the internets (I'm not too hard to find) and wanted to know what I was up to. I haven't spoken with her since freshman year of college. And rather than looking back nostalgically recognizing the awkwardness of that time period, I still wanted nothing to do with it. I wrote her a short note back telling her I was married, a physicist, living in Florida. She told me what was going on with her, how she still kept in touch with the popular crowd (not surprising) and was disappointed not to see me at the reunion, which was apparently by invitation only. Not announced publicly. Reading this brought back all the feelings of exclusion. And anger for poor Jessica who went out of her way to find a reunion, only to not be invited. I never returned Carrie's second email.

So if you could stand to read this much of my whining about something that happened ten years ago, give me your input. How did you feel about high school, and do you still carry those feelings with you? I recently both read Prep and listened to an episode of This American Life where people were still pissed off about high school and I felt like I related a little too well. But in both these stories, it is stressed that so much of those feelings are perspective, not necessarily reality. Carrie is probably right, if I would have just tried to fit in, my experience might have been better. Do you agree?

Baby Steps

2008-01-17T21:25:00.000-05:00

In line with my New Year's Resolution to be more environmentally conscious, I bought a couple of reusable bags from Publix. I figured with these and maybe one or two more we can do most of our grocery shopping without plastic bags. Fermicat brought up the common cat owner conundrum. Aren't those plastic bags good for the litter box? (That's what Wrigley seems to be thinking!) We have so many right now that even cutting back by 60-75% we'll have more than enough to last us until we move. And there is no way I'm packing plastic bags and moving them to our next destination. So getting these reusable ones seems like the best option for now. When we move, we'll have to replenish our stockpile.

Memeology

2008-01-14T20:57:00.000-05:00

I swiped this from Fermicat. Because it's time for a new post, and I can't think of anything better.

MOUTHOLOGY

Q. What is your salad dressing of choice?
A. The Silver Palate Lemon Garlic Herb.

Q. What is your favorite fast food restaurant?
A. Panera.

Q. What is your favorite sit down restaurant?
A. Lee Roy Selmon's.

Q. On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant?
A. >20%

Q. What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of?
A. Vietnamese pho soup and spring rolls.

Q. What are your pizza toppings of choice?
A. Green peppers and olives.

Q. What do you like to put on your toast?
A. Butter, cinnamon, and sugar.

TECHNOLOGY

Q. What is your wallpaper on your computer?
A. A picture I took of the lobby ceiling at the Bellagio in Las Vegas on our wedding day.

Q. How many televisions are in your house?
A. One.

BIOLOGY

Q. Are you right-handed or left-handed?
A. Right.

Q. Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
A. Two boils and my wisdom teeth.

Q. When was the last time you had a cavity?
A. Maybe ten years ago. I honestly don't remember.

Q. What is the last heavy item you lifted?
A. Cat food.

Q. Have you ever been knocked unconscious?
A. No.

BULLCRAPOLOGY

Q. If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
A. Yes. I hate surprises.

Q. If you could change your name, what would you change it to?
A. I like Lakshmi, but it doesn't really fit me. I hang out with too many Indians.

Q. What color do you think looks best on you?
A. Periwinkle.

Q. Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake?
A. Bugs, lint, etc.

Q. Have you ever saved someone’s life?
A. Do kitties count?

Q. Has someone ever saved yours?
A. No.

DAREOLOGY

Q. Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100?
A. I've done it for free.

Q. Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000?
A. Ick. No.

Q. Would you never blog again for $50,000?
A. Yep, sorry guys.

Q. Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000?
A. If they'd take me!

Q. Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000?
A. Yes.

Q. Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000?
A. No way.

DUMBOLOGY

Q. What is in your left pocket?
A. Nothin. I'm wearing jammies.

Q. Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie?
A. Heck, yeah!

Q. Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house?
A. Carpet. Yuck.

Q. Do you sit or stand in the shower?
A. Stand.

Q. Would you live with roommates?
A. No, I'm too old and set in my ways.

Q. How many pairs of flip flops do you own?
A. About 6.

Q. Last time you had a run-in with the cops?
A. Septmeber 2007 for public drinking in Chicago. *blush*

Q. Who is number 1 on your Top 8?
A. I don't know what this means, but I'll say Deano.

LASTOLOGY

Q: Last Friend you talked to?
A: Crazy cat friend.

Q: Last person who called you?
A: My boss (I know, sad).

Q: Last person you hugged?
A: Deano.

Q: Last person to stick their foot in your face?
A: Wrigley. On my forehead.

FAVORITOLOGY

Q: Number?
A: 3

Q: Season?
A: Spring

CURRENTOLOGY

Q: Missing someone?
A: Everyone in MN.

Q: Mood?
A: Up and down.

Q: Listening to?
A: Dean laughing.

Q: Watching?
A: Colbert Report.

Q: Worrying about?
A: Dissertation, job hunt, you name it.

RANDOMOLOGY

Q: First place you went this morning?
A: Post office.

Q: What can you not wait to do?
A: Graduate!

Q: What's the last movie you saw in theater?
A: The Departed (I think, it's been awhile...)

Q: Do you smile often?
A: Yes.

Q: Are you a friendly person?
A: I think I'm friendly but not outgoing.

Making the Mature Decision Really Sucks

2008-01-09T21:37:00.000-05:00

A little over a month ago, I found a litter of three kittens. The mom of these kittens is the same one responsible for many litters and has evaded all attempts at trapping. Luckily, she lives within eyesight of their feeding place and I found these babies when they were still young enough. After finding this litter, I started making phone calls to see who could take them and foster them until they are tame enough and get them good homes. All the organizations that have taken kittens from me before were up to their eyeballs in kittens and I was turned down by all of them. As a last ditch resort, I posted a message on my university's list server and I got a bite. A really nice woman whose fiance just got her into doing cat rescue after growing up in a kitty foster home. The couple is very nice and they agreed to take the three kittens and try to socialize them. If they were too old to be socialized, they could live as ferals in their large back yard. It seems like whenever I feel I am at the end of the rope with this cat thing, more caring, generous people come forward and help.

It was during one of the first attempts at trapping these kittens that we found Dixie and her sibling. Dixie went easily into the trap. I've seen her sibling only twice since, and Dean has seen it once. Unfortunately, I have little hope at this point of getting to it in time for it to be properly socialized. After trapping Dixie I was freaking out not knowing what to do with her. I explained the new situation to the foster lady who still agreed to take her. As you all know by now, in the meantime my mom and step dad decided they couldn't live without her, and subsequently Dixie spent two and a half weeks at our home. After successfully (I think, mom may disagree!) socializing her and becoming very attached to her, I flew her up with me to Minneapolis for Christmas and handed her over. It was a perfect situation, I got to stay with her (and my parents) while adjustments were made, and I'm ecstatic knowing I get to see her often and watch her grow. And she is doing fantastic. But still, it was tough.

In the meantime, about a week into fostering Dixie we trapped the first of the three. She is hard to describe so I will show a picture:

A friend of a friend was interested in taking one of my kittens, so I called him and we tried to work something out. The good news was that he had experience with ferals and was willing to take her and tame her himself, which would have been necessary since I was about to leave for the holidays. The bad news was his girlfriend wasn't quite ready for a kitty. In the meantime, this little one stayed with us a couple days before I drove her across town to her foster home. She is doing great. But giving her up kinda sucked.

The night before leaving for Minneapolis, we caught the second of the three. A brown tabby (he looked just like Wrigley as a baby) but I was in too much of a hurry to take a photo of him. I dropped him off at the same foster home late that night. He currently has a home waiting for him after he gets just a little more people-friendly. I'm very happy about that, no mixed feelings.

There was still one more kitten out there which Heather and her boyfriend tried trapping several times while I was away. I was concerned he was getting a little too old to be socialized, but I remembered the foster couple's willingness to try hard and keep them if they didn't warm up. Dean and I kept a close eye on him while feeding and over the weeks I was gone and after I got back. Dean fell in love with this little one's spunkiness, watching it run around in the wilderness and attacking unsuspecting adult cats. I have to admit the little bugger grew on me too. I tried trapping it Friday and Saturday. Sunday I finally trapped him, a little "cow kitty":

I called the foster couple anticipating bringing him over Sunday night. They didn't return my call. I didn't know if I had upset them or if they didn't want to give me bad news about the other kittens. I was about out of my mind. In the meantime, we kept the kitty in the bathroom, and subsequently socialized him a little. By yesterday he was sitting in my lab, rubbing up against my face and eager to play with our grown up cats. Unfortunately, they didn't like him very much so we had to keep the poor little guy separated. Yesterday we had resigned ourselves to keeping him since he was too old for other rescue groups and the foster people were seemingly avoiding me. It was literally while we were picking out names for him that we got the call that the foster couple could take him.

That was rough. I asked Dean if he wanted to tell them no and keep the kitten anyway. It wasn't a matter of wanting to, it was making a mature decision. We knew we could have taken on another kitty, one that needed a home and was all out of options. But it was clear, this one was going to do just fine. The foster couple would love him, and I am confident if they are willing to give him up, someone will adopt him in no time.

Alas, ours is the home for wayward cats. We adopted Nellie because she was dumped either right before or right after having a litter of kittens. People adopted her cute little babies, but moms don't go as fast. Wrigley came to us before the Tampa Bay Humane Society changed their policy to no-kill for space. We couldn't roll the dice on him and didn't know about the other great rescue organizations here. And Allison was a black cat (typically the toughest to adopt out) in another unfriendly shelter. So we'll stay that way, and be here when needed. But in the meantime, let me just summarize. In the last month we've taken in this:

and this:

and this:

They came. They stayed. They moved on. And our hearts broke just a little.

I've Still Got It

2008-01-06T11:48:00.000-05:00

A lot of days I feel old. Many of you may laugh at this considering I am still (just barely) under 30, but hear me out. I work on a university campus in Florida where the average age is about 19 and the year round attire consists of mini skirts, halter tops and strappy sandals. I am several years (and sizes) removed from this wardrobe and my job mostly requires I dress for functionality and comfort. And honestly I can't help feeling a pang of envy at the younger girls strutting around campus, all too aware that all male eyes are on them.

That is why it made my day yesterday when the guy working at Chipotle (rated an "A" by the Better World Shopper, I might add) checked me out. He was embarrassingly young, heavily tattooed and pierced, and totally hot. I was digging through my wallet for a $20 bill and when I pulled it out and handed it to him, I saw that he was looking at me in a way that cannot be confused with anything else but interest. He didn't check me out the way older guys occasionally do, with their peripheral vision while doing something else like conversing or eating. He checked me out in the confident and completely unapologetic way that young guys do. When I made eye contact with him, giving him a teasing "I caught you" look, he just grinned. And I left a dollar in the tip jar.

Resolution 2008: Be More Like My Mom

2008-01-02T16:32:00.000-05:00

I remember writing last year about all the twist and turns my life took in 2006. As far as 2007 went, there isn't too much to report. Besides spending more than three months away from Deano which understandably left me a little changed there wasn't a specific "things will never be the same" moment. I see that as a good thing, because whether I'm ready or not, 2008 will be a big year for us. By this time next year, I will be a Ph.D. living in a different city. And almost everything else I can think of will be completely different.

I usually don't do New Year's Resolutions. But when I was in Minneapolis for Christmas, I came to a conclusion I'm guessing few 28-year-old women come to: I need to be more like my mother. Several months ago, my mom and stepdad vowed to change the way they live, giving up their favorite products and amenities in favor of environmental and social responsibility. First, they stopped drinking bottled water to reduce plastic bottle waste and instead began to bring large acrylic bottles filled with tap water to work. Then they took another step by refusing plastic bags at the grocery stores and bought several canvas bags. They bought bags both specific to the grocery stores they frequent and general ones for all other stores. This sounds pretty simple in theory, but in practice it proved difficult because many stores are firmly set in their ways and not very open to being handed a handful of canvas bags. But they stayed firm in their resolution and have not collected more than a few bags over the following months.

Lastly, they have done research mostly using the Better World Shopping Guide to find out which companies deal in fair trade, treat their employees well, minimize waste and pollution, give back to their local communities and don't participate in unnecessary animal testing. This required major changes from giving up favorite hair products (Biolage), snacks (Nabisco) , beer (Miller) and candy (Nestle) in favor of more conscientious brands. It is currently prohibitively expensive and time consuming to only buy from the top companies because they are generally all-natural, organic and the companies themselves extremely small and not widely distributed. But my mom and stepdad have vowed to keep all their products at "C" grade or above and always choose the better of two similar products.

This year, I am also vowing to cut out the worst offenders, buy more from the "good guys" and generally be more aware of the practices of businesses that want my money. The Better World Shopper likens such shopping to "voting with your checkbook". I'm not idealistic enough to think that I alone can make a difference, but my money is hard-earned and I should be more careful who gets it.

One more thing. I should mention that my mom and stepdad have always been environmentally aware. They have always driven fuel-efficient cars and are advocates for nature conservation in Northern Minnesota where they own a lake home. But, like the best of those among us, they felt that they could afford to put some time and money into bettering themselves and this year I am trying to do the same.

One of These Days...

2007-12-20T08:28:00.000-05:00

...I'll be a grown up and start doing mature things like sending out Christmas cards. Like I mentioned last year, I love getting them in the mail but just can't bring myself to fill them out and send them. This year amid finals, research deadlines, dissertation-writing and clinic visits I got the added bonus of trying to catch two litters of kittens and find foster homes for them (or in the case of Dixie, a permanent home!). So here is my Christmas card once again, sending you all holiday greeting and wishing you safe travels. This is an old picture, taken over the two day span once when we had a Christmas tree, before it was dragged all over the house by our ferocious hunter.

I'm leaving for Minneapolis today. Due to the crazies threatening to erupt over the prospect of my dissertation and job hunt, Dean and I have made the executive decision that I need to just leave my computer at home and have a real vacation. So I will visit you all and check email as time and opportunity permit, but be warned they may both be infrequent. In the meantime:

Merry Christmas!
from Deano, Natalie and the Monsters

I am Unremarkable

2007-12-14T22:22:00.001-05:00

There doesn't seem to be anything seriously wrong with me. It seems one of my nasal passages is slightly obstructed by an enlarged bulla, but nothing impressive. Interestingly, I make thicker mucus on my left side than my right. I had never stopped to contemplate any deviation from complete mucus homogeneity, but now that is something else I know about myself. So my options are to keep taking the nasal inhaler the doctor gave me for awhile and see if it helps or consult an ENT about tuning my allergy medications more. I think I'll wait a little bit and see if I get better. If things are still the same after the holidays, I will call the ENT. Thankfully, I have awesome grown up insurance.

Check out the results (click to enlarge). I especially love the highlighted part.

Update from the Land of Chaos

2007-12-09T15:54:00.000-05:00

I don't have anything particularly interesting or important to share, I just wanted to let you all know what is going on in my hectic world.

Well, you may (correctly) guess that caring for a 2 1/2 month old kitten adds a certain element of chaos and stress to one's life. Yes, we've done this before taking in one adult cat and two kittens in the past five years. But Dixie has been a little different. At first I was completely stressed out that she wasn't ever going to be a "normal" kitten. I read several pages on the internet about socializing kittens and it seems that any kittens older that 6-8 weeks may or may not be socialized. I followed all the suggestions - unfortunately one suggestion is to keep them separated from siblings which we've done by being thus far unable to trap her sibling who is still somewhere out there. I kept her in the bathroom with a covered, warm bed and the radio on tuned to a talk station. I gradually let our kitties in to let her see how socialized cats behave and my kitties were embarrassingly misbehaved around her. For days she wouldn't come out of hiding unless dragged out. She'd enjoy being held but then run right back to her hiding spot once she was set down. I knew my mom would still take her and love her if she turned out to be socially dysfunctional (she kept me and loved me after all, haha!). But seeing her frightened and away from her mom and litter mate was distressing no matter how much in the long run she is better off. Then Friday night she did a complete 180 and just exploded, running all over the apartment, playing, pouncing, being a typical rambunctious kitten. And then this morning she found a hiding spot so tiny and so diabolical as to leave Dean and certain she was gone forever. I spent part of the morning in hysterics over the prospect of not finding her and having to explain to my mom how I lost her kitten. Then, over course she appeared innocent, curious and impossibly cute. I think in the past week this 1.5 pound critter has taken 10 years off of Dean's life and mine. Good luck, mom and Tom!

Speaking of cats, I'm getting a CT scan done tomorrow of my sinuses. Remember this whole episode? Well, I'm still not better. I've never been a sinus sufferer and my doctor is worried there is a blockage leading to reinfections after my last two rounds of antibiotics. Really, very fun stuff. I can't wait to hear if I have to have a "procedure" or just "stick it out." Neither prospect seems appealing.

This week will mark my very last final EVER. I'm so excited, you'd think I already took it! But I haven't. Fortunately it is to be taken online on my own time and can be repeated up to three times. It doesn't get much more reasonable, which is about all I can handle right now.

Oh yeah, and there's this thing called MY JOB which consists of a rapidly mounting pile of data that needs analyzing and my dissertation that isn't exactly writing itself right now. But fortunately I'll be able to devote more time to it this week, after my final is done and my nervous rest up a little bit.

Dixie

2007-12-04T22:31:00.001-05:00

This is Dixie. She is nine weeks old and I'm working hard to socialize her. And in two and a half weeks I'll be bringing her to Minnesota with me so she can live with my mom and step dad. Turns out my mom was so utterly, completely in love with her picture that the only option was to keep her around. Which is just fine with me because she is a sweetheart. (See, Jeni, it doesn't matter if you're hundreds of miles away...) Unfortunately Dixie still has a sibling somewhere out there that we are trying to trap and get into foster. Worse still, we found Dixie and her sibling while trying to trap another litter of kittens. We are fairly certain there are only two unspayed females living back there, and they will both be targets for next weekend's Spay Day. There is a lot of work to do in the immediate future, but there is light at the end of the tunnel. And no matter what, thanks to little Dixie I'll be reminded of my efforts for many years to come.

The Cuteness is Unbearable

2007-12-03T12:16:00.000-05:00

Not mine. He's a rescue from this weekend that I'll be taking to foster either today or tomorrow. The whole story to follow once the kitten storm passes.

Restaurant Chicken

2007-11-28T10:14:00.000-05:00

On Saturday Dean announced that we were going to Whistle Junction for dinner. Whistle Junction is a buffet-style restaurant just a couple miles from our home. Dean had been making noise about trying it, more for the redneck ambiance than the actual quality of food. With me graduating within six months (hopefully) we are on a quest to experience All Things Florida, which means the good, the bad and the ugly. But while we love "good" food (gourmet, authentic ethnic, etc) here's the dirty little secret: we also love bad food (White Castle, Waffle House, greasy pub food). So I wasn't completely opposed to a comfort food buffet, likely reminiscent of Old Country Buffet.

What I didn't realize after agreeing was that Dean didn't really want to go. He wanted to appear to want to go and try Whistle Junction, but he was scared to put his money where his mouth was, and was counting on me to veto the decision. What he didn't realize was that the adventurer in me was willing to try it, and was sick of vetoing suggestions just to hear about how mean and unfair I am. So what actually ensued was a game of restaurant chicken that played out to the grisly end.

We pulled into the parking lot of Whistle Junction to find it largely empty save for a handful of minivans taking up all the handicapped spaces and those closest to the entrance. I am not one to make fun of the truly disabled, but it became apparent that most of the patrons' "disabilities" were obesity induced, likely exacerbated by frequent trips to buffets like Whistle Junction.

"Well, here we are!" I said enthusiastically.

"Yep, he we are," said Dean with a hint of terror in his voice.

The inside of the restaurant smelled a lot like I remember our junior high cafeteria smelling. A distressing combination of canned vegetables simmering to the point of disintegration and grease. We bought our "tickets" at the "station" and tried to dig in.

Now I am tolerant to all sorts of questionable food from hospital cafeterias to airplane food, when they actually used to serve it, but this was too gross even for me. I found very little edible at the salad bar - the lettuce was brown, the cherry tomatoes were pockmarked, the cucumbers dried out (*shiver*). The main course tables consisted of unidentifiable meat, potatoes of various sorts and vegetables that were little more than bits floating in cloudy water. There was an intriguing "ethnic" table which consisted of pizza, fried rice, petrified stir fry and tacos. But, like so many of our experiences together, we took it in stride with a healthy sense of humor. I settled on some fried chicken (difficult to mess up too badly), and some mashed potatoes.

What amazed us were that handful of people there were eating this stuff up like it was their last meal. There was a birthday party in progress, another gathering of what appeared to be a large extended family and a few couples on "dates" like Dean and I. There were lots of cowboy hats and belt buckles. The guy sitting behind us was a particular gem, he complained about being able to play baseball with the biscuits. When the waitress apologized and suggested the rolls instead, he replied "I'm a hillbilly, we eat biscuits, not rolls." Priceless.

What I think amazed me most about the whole experience was that as awful as the food was, it wasn't cheap. It was $10.50 per person, not counting drinks and a small tip. Didn't these people know that you could get a much better meal almost anywhere for less money? It had to have been the lure of a buffet. But still, a place like Denny's has a large menu, is inexpensive and if it's quantity of food you're looking for, I believe they have several "grand slam" type meals for still way under $10.

It was while I was pondering how a place like Whistle Junction got away with charging an arm and a leg that I witnessed something that helped to explain the combination of clientèle and buffet asking price. The unpleasant gentlemen that had previously complained about the biscuits called the waitress over once again and threw an absolute hissy about the fact that he had seen a small child take a cookie from the dessert table with her bare hands rather than using the cookie tongs. I realize that the buffet is an unspoken honor system in which patrons silently agree to use tongs whenever possible and any breach can be a little unappetizing. However, the skeptic in me sensed an ulterior motive and I was right when the man got his full money back over the incident. Recall, this was a incident witnessed over the dessert table, so he had already had his half dozen plates full of food.

So you may be wondering what, if any, is the redeeming part of this experience? When, technically Deano got what he asked for, we were entertained by the absurdity of the whole experience, and I get to choose next week's restaurant!

Two More Very Long Years

2007-11-23T15:47:00.000-05:00

Two years ago, I told the story of how Wrigley found us the day after Thanksgiving. Well, it's now two years later and and Wrigley's fourth anniversary with us. It is commonly thought that at four years of age, a cat is completely grown and mature. Which means we're screwed. For years I had made excuses about Wrigley's behavior, that he was still a kitten and that he had yet to "grow" out of his misbehaving. Now there are no more excuses, we are just stuck with a wild, biting, howling, hyperactive cat. But I still adore him.

Let me go back once again to the beginning, namely the day he came to our door. This is him that very day (and yes, that is my thumb across his chest, I am holding him in my left hand at arm's length and snapping the picture with my right):

I hadn't had a kitten since my early childhood (we adopted Nellie full grown) so everyone (Nellie included) was taken aback by Wrigley's energy. I have a theory that the unbearable cuteness of kittens evolved simply to allow them to survive into adulthood. Nellie was a really good sport at first, taking him under her wing and tolerating his playfulness. And he followed her around relentlessly.

As the months went on and Wrigley got a little older, he sure didn't seem to be slowing down. AT. ALL. He exhausted all of us and was constantly underfoot and anywhere he wasn't supposed to be.

I often joke about how we adopted Allison under the influence. Despite the fact that we desperately wanted to save her from the shelter she was in, it wasn't lost on us that another kitten around the house could occupy Wrigley enough to let Dean, Nellie and myself relax a little. Another kitten was the only thing that could possibly match up to him energy wise. And even though Allie is the sweetest (and best behaved!) cat we have, she does her job perfectly and wears Wrigley out whenever she can.

But Wrigely is very much enamored with humans and still gives us a very tough time. He sleeps about half of what you would expect from a cat, wanders around howling when he is bored and bites you if you are sleeping and he thinks you shouldn't be. He is absolutely infuriating at times, yet completely irresistable. And we've finally accepted the fact that he will be so for as long as he's with us.

Top Ten Things I am Thankful For*

2007-11-21T18:57:00.000-05:00

Not an original exercise, but one worth doing nonetheless.

I am thankful that I have an amazing, loving husband who surprises me each day with his devotion and commitment to me and our life together. Not a day goes by without him both warming my heart and making me laugh.

I am thankful all of my parents are still healthy and incredibly happy.

I am thankful for my sanity (on most days).

I am thankful my term paper was pushed back an extra week so I don't have to do it this weekend.

I am thankful that even though I gripe about being a poor graduate student, I have health insurance, money to pay bills, and I can put food on the table and still treat myself once in awhile.

I am thankful for the opportunities that have led me to where I am today.

I am thankful that I drive a reliable car.

I am thankful for my friends and their willing acceptance of my shortcomings.

I am thankful I have two well-behaved kitties and one very entertaining one.

I am thankful that I am a human and not a turkey.

Happy Thanksgiving, and safe travels this weekend!

*I know it should be "Top Ten Things for Which I am Thankful", but that just doesn't have the same ring.

You're Welcome

2007-11-18T19:41:00.000-05:00

To date, I have sterilized 25 cats. They don't all live in my colony, some of them were adopted out and some unfortunately have disappeared. Only two I know of have actually died and some I presume have wandered on to other feeding spots, much as new ones occasionally have wandered into mine. There are several feeding spots within a mile radius of mine, and most feeders don't mind new ones, especially if the new one has a clipped ear. A clipped left ear is the symbol of a sterilized feral cat.

Because black coloring is a dominant trait, roughly half of the cats I've spayed have been black (this is no doubt exacerbated by a small gene pool). The black ones are a little hard to tell apart, but I'm certain that like the others a few have wandered off.

I had noticed a couple of months ago a black cat sitting in the window along the sidewalk I take to the dumpster. I always get a warm spot when I see a black cat because I have always adored them. And this cat always seems engaging, walking along the window sill and wagging her tail when I walk by.

It was last week when I was watching her flirtatiousness that I took a closer look at her. Was I surprised when I noticed she had a clipped ear! Yes, folks, I spayed somebody's house cat. And after thinking some time, I think I remember doing it too. I believe she was a part of the first batch I did, who were all black. I supposed there is a chance that person took in one of the dumpster cats, but they are generally too feral even for the most devoted animal lovers. I'm fairly certain someone's unsuspecting indoor/outdoor cat got trapped with the others and was sterilized and vaccinated. If she was already spayed, they didn't tell me and each cat comes back with notes on their health. So, in short, you're welcome fellow apartment complex resident, for spaying your cat (even though she is now missing part of her ear).

Overwhelmed

2007-11-13T14:51:00.000-05:00

I figured I had better write something before you all give up on me and leave me for dead. The conference last week had some ups and downs but all in all was productive and I am pleased with the job leads I got. Since I am still lacking in free time, let me just give you some of my thoughts about the last week or so.

My left middle toe is still numb from having to wear heels for 5 consecutive days. I swear to God I don't know how some of you ladies do it. My two female lab mates and I were literally hobbling by Friday afternoon. No more heels. Until the March American Physical Society Meeting.

This meeting was pretty important for me as far as trying to figure out what I want to do after graduating in the spring. My best networking was done at my poster presentations. My worst was done at the designated "networking events". Can I just add that I hate hate hate networking?

The first networking event was a session chair's dinner that I attended with Dr. Hari, who was a session chair and his wife was working so I got to be his guest. The "dinner" consisted of finger food, very little of which I found edible. A lot of seafood stuff which I don't like. There were these little beef tenderloin pieces on toasted baguette slices with horseradish sauce that was quite good. I had about four of those, which wasn't enough to counter all the free wine I drank.

The free wine (and empty stomach) coupled with the guy I saw wearing a skin-tight (likely intended for women) Hooter's football jersey led to an out of control giggling fit later that night at the key note address. Not my fault, that is a totally inappropriate garment for a magnetism conference. Just saying.

The Women in Magnetism networking dinner was lame. Last year there were about 25 women and a couple men from industry who were looking at specifically hiring women to diversify their groups, which I found to be alright. This year there were about 50 women (which was good) but also lots of male graduate students. I'm sorry, but the Women in Magnetism dinner was supposed to be a place where we didn't need to compete with men for networking opportunities. Although I strongly believe the problem of women being under represented in physics needs to be addressed through communication between the sexes, a forum seems to be the better place to accomplish that. Include men in the Women in Magnetism networking dinner, and you just have a regular old networking dinner that doesn't specifically help women in the least. On top of that, there were a few people I wanted to speak with, but the conversation they were having was dominated by an overbearing professor from a university I had no intention of applying to who proceeded to grill me about my teaching experience. I stayed for appetizers and wine, then headed to Tijuana Flats with my lab mates.

I met e.b.'s friend. That rocked. She approached me, introduced herself and cryptically announced that we shared a mutual friend. The world truly is a small place.

Festivities went on until Friday night. Saturday I dozed all day and had to trap kitties for Sunday's Spay Day. I took a break last month after the shooting incident. I'm still troubled enough by it that I had a hard time with recovering the kitties since the one I lost was one I had just finished recovering. Turns out I trapped her brother who was just as docile as she was.

This week I am resuming experiments, following up with contacts I made at the conference and digging into the daunting task of beginning to write. Yep, it's the big one.