Deano and the Dirty Thirty

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.

Maybe I'll Get One for Hanukkah

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.

Weekend Getaway

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.

Update from the Land of Chaos

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.

Restaurant Chicken

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!

I Heart Joel

A few months ago, Dean started hanging out with a guy from work named Joel. Due to various circumstances, I was always unable to join them. Either Joel had only one extra ticket to an event or I was too busy with work stuff. What I found hilarious though was the man-crush Dean had developed for Joel. Every time Dean would come home from one of their "dates", he'd rave about what a cool guy Joel is. Through Dean, I learned all about him and his wife. That he is a Cuban immigrant to the States via Spain, that he is a cyclist and that he and his wife at one time owned a small gym.

Dean and Joel finally planned an evening out with me and Joel's wife, who Dean had never met either. All four of us had to drive separately to the restaurant and unfortunately Joel's wife never made it due to prohibitive traffic, so it was just the three of us. Over dinner, I'm pretty sure I developed my own crush on Joel. He just has a way about him that makes him literally one of the most likable people I have ever met. He is extremely conscientious. The first thing he asked Dean when we sat down was how his day went. He asked me all sorts of questions about my work and then proceeded to tell me how great Dean is and how much he admires him. Not that I don't completely agree, but it's a pleasantly unusual thing to say. Then he told us about how he had his wife had dated for ten years before finally getting hitched in Vegas. Sound familiar? And since his wife was adopted, the two of them want to adopt children of their own because they understand that a loving family is the best gift you can give to a child who doesn't have one. I know, sounds almost sickening, but I assure you this man was completely genuine and I found myself in the same position as Dean - totally enamored. AND he does the Tampa-Orlando MS bike tour. We already have plans to meet Mrs. Joel and it couldn't come soon enough, though I'm pretty sure Dean and I are both a little jealous of her.

It's Going to be a Loooong Marriage

The witness that finally went to management about the kitty shooter wasn't who I thought it was. This is actually good, because that means that there are even more dumpster kitty advocates than I previously thought. I have even had open communication with management the last few days and much to my surprise, they are incredibly appreciative of what I've gotten done with them.

They guy who I originally thought was the witness was the guy I refer to as Grillman because I don't know his name and he always gives scraps from his grill to the kitties. I've found steaks, pork chops, shrimp, anything you can put on the grill. Saturday, Grillman outdid himself. He filleted a large fish and gave the carcass to the kitties. The sight of it scared the crap out of me when I went to feed. A few of my most feral kitties really enjoyed it. Surprisingly, my more tame ones stayed away. I think they are a little coddled. Anyway, last night I went to feed and brought Dean with me since it was dusk and I'm still a little on edge. I brought a garbage bag with me in case the fish was still there. It was and Dean was thoroughly grossed out.

"I think I should toss the fish in the dumpster. Otherwise it's gonna stink."

"Natalie, leave the fish. Don't touch it, it's gross."

"Dean, I brought a garbage bag. It's okay, I'll put it over my hands, pick up the fish and toss it out. No big deal."

"Please don't touch the fish. Seriously, I'm about to gag. Let maintenance deal with it."

I figured either maintenance would have to throw it away and then be irritated with the cats or they wouldn't pick it up and I'd have to deal with it at a later stage of decay. I put the garbage bag over my arm and walked towards the fish. Dean began to scream. In the parking lot.

"Natalie! I'm warning you! I will never have sex with you again if you touch that dead fish!"

I looked back and forth from him to the fish.

"Don't try me! I'll won't touch you if you touch the fish!" I tried to reason with him. Someone was going to get stuck with this fish. I walked up the the fish and crouched down.

"She's doing it!" Dean yelled from the parking lot. "She's giving up sex for the rest of her life! To touch a dead fish! I can't believe it!"

I'm sure people were staring but I didn't care. I was laughing too hard. I picked up the fish and hadn't realized how heavy it would be. I held onto the head through the garbage bag and let the body flop around. I couldn't drop the whole thing into the bag, it was just too heavy. Dean was yelping like a little girl. I ran full speed holding the fish head around the corner to the front of the dumpster.

"Oh God! Oh my God! That's so gross!" We were both alternately gagging and laughing. The kitties were watching from by their still empty food bowl. The next fifty years might be dull in the sack. But there is never a dull moment in the ghetto.

"Hey Chicago, What do you Say?

The Cubs are gonna win to-day!"

We had a really fun time in Chicago. It's Dean's favorite town, having grown up visiting it frequently and I've thoroughly enjoyed it both times I've gone. The first time we went was six and a half years ago, we had been together a little over a year and it was our first trip together. I remember it being a magical time for us. This time, things were a little different since we didn't go alone. But it was still a blast.

Dean's best friend, "Skinny" and his wife went along with her two brothers. Skinny's brothers-in-law know Dean well. They all hung out some in college and since Dean was the best man at Skinny's wedding, there was much male-type bonding during the bachelor party which consisted of a weekend long trip to Kansas City.

Looking back it seems obvious that when you travel with your spouse AND other people, it can get strange. I'm used to traveling with my labmates and I'm used to traveling with Dean. Of course Dean and I have a certain way of doing things but traveling with others requires you to be flexible or be miserable. I think there were definitely some things Dean and I would have done differently but the trade off for not doing those things was basically being at a four day long party. Dean and I are all about eating when we travel. As my mother-in-law aptly pointed out, we like to take in the local cuisine, try the nice restaurants, and discover the hidden hole-in-the-wall joints. Unfortunately our traveling companions had more of a utilitarian style of eating, so were confined to whatever was close, cheap and convenient. Of course saving money on food meant more cash for beer. There was certainly plenty of that.

One place we did end up eating was the original Billy Goat Tavern. You may guess by the name that it was somehow involved in the curse of the billy goat. It was the owner of the Billy Goat Tavern that cursed the Cubs after his goat was turned away for game four of the 1945 World Series. The Cubs lost the series (despite their 2-1 series lead over the Tigers) and haven't been back to the World Series since. Interestingly, the restaurant has another place in history: it was the basis of the Saturday Night Live "Cheeseburger! Cheeseburger! No Pepsi, Coke!" skits. Yes, they really do talk that way even though I'm sure it was a put on. It was a convincing one though. It was very entertaining, the burgers were amazing (the double really is the best!) and still very inexpensive. I would recommend even non-sports fans visiting if you get the chance for both the food and the atmosphere.

We also had cocktails at the top of the John Hancock building, 96 floors up. The view of the city was stunning. From where we sat we could see Navy Pier and Soldier Field lit up. It was late when we pulled ourselves away from the view and wandered over to Pizzeria Due (sister to Pizzeria Uno, the original "Uno Chicago Grill").

Wrigley Field left me in awe. I have always felt like kind of an unworthy baseball fan since I prefer watching Twins games on TV rather than at the Metrodome. Now I know that it's just because the Metrodome is a steaming pile of shit, and baseball games should be watched in places like Wrigley field. Places like that are where tradition and pride is born. The Cubs haven't won a championship in 99 years, but the place is always packed because it is truly a great place to go and watch a game. Dean had been to Wrigley several times, but this was the first time I ever went. For my first Wrigley experience, we were in the bleachers- which turns out to be nearly equal in roughness to the south side of Chicago. There were fights, profanity, beer all over everything, not to mention constant harassment of the visiting team, and even harassment of Carlos Zambrano who looked less than stellar Tuesday night. Both nights, we stood in line to get seats in left field. During batting practice, Dean and both discovered that we are much too cowardly to actually try to catch the ball and much prefer scavenging, though even that tactic didn't get us anywhere. At Monday night's game we drank an obscene amount of beer. I tried a Chicago-style hot dog which nearly burned a hole through my intestines. We also discovered that in complete contrast to our original impressions, Alfonso Soriano is an awesome guy. He was always interacting with the fans, getting us riled up, throwing balls in the stands to whoever screamed loudest (or had the cutest kid which is understandable). Monday night was awesome because the Cubs had a dramatic bottom of the ninth win. The crowd was out of control, screaming, singing, chanting out onto the streets. We hit the bars around the stadium (notably the famous Cubby Bear, and Sluggers which combined a bar and batting cages- a brilliant money-making venture). The was even more drinking, and celebrating into the wee hours of the morning.

Needless to say, Tuesday we were moving a little slow. We got up and out late and spent the afternoon wandering around Boystown. We were curious to see Chicago's gay area mostly because Tampa doesn't have one and we didn't actually know what might be in a gay neighborhood. We window shopped a little (the bars weren't open), admired the rainbow flags hanging from every street light and even saw a Green Machine, which means that Dean will probably never drive ours again lest his sexuality be brought into question.

The game Tuesday wasn't quite as good even though the side show entertainment was still impressive. Most notably being reprimanded by the Chicago PD for public drinking while waiting in line to get in (oops) and the shirtless, chest painted C-U-B-S guys who violently threw back onto the field even the batting practice home runs they caught from the Reds. They even had the Reds outfielders laughing at their colorful insults making me feel relieved that no one brought their kids into the bleacher seats. The Cubbies lost though and the mood wasn't quite as electric as the night before. And to address lefty's comments, we did see some hating on the Cardinals (mostly her beloved "El Hombre"), but not nearly as much as on the White Sox. I really don't understand that rivalry though. The Cubs and Cardinals have routinely played each other since the early days of the National League, whereas until interleague play, the Cubs and White Sox hadn't played an official game since the 1906 World Series. Maybe a Chicagoan can explain it to me.

So there you have it. Four days of beer and baseball and good company with old friends. I couldn't have asked for a much better time.

Windy City

Dean and I are going to Chicago tomorrow until Wednesday. We are going with Dean's best friend and his wife for the occasion of his (the friend's, not Dean's) thirtieth birthday. We are also using it as an excuse to belatedly celebrate our anniversary.

I'm a little nervous. I've known this couple for nine years now (since before Dean and I were a couple!), so that's not a problem. I feel weird because Dean and I aren't really one of "those couples". You know what I mean, the couple that vacations with other couples. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that, it's just that, well, we sort of keep to ourselves. I hope we can pull this off.

Anyway, we'll be going to two Cubs games. I've never been to Wrigley field despite it being my cat's namesake. We'll be eating indulgently fatty Chicago food and probably spending too much money on Michigan Ave. I'll tell you all about it when I return.

Readjusting

I am back in a life I am a little more used to. For fifteen weeks I thought everyday of sleeping next to my husband, snuggling my kitties, going to work with people who felt more like siblings than coworkers. And yet, now that I have these things once again I still feel unsettled. It could just be my tentative nature. But as much as I recognize how wonderful it is to be home, I still feel like something is not quite right. There’s a little knot in my tummy and my sleeping has not been sound. The sleeping thing is exacerbated by the fact that I actually got used to sleeping alone. Suddenly sharing a bed with another person AND three not-so-small cats isn’t a natural feeling. Add to it that one of the cats likes to bite in the middle of the night and that quiet bed in my dad’s basement doesn’t seem so bad.

Oddly enough, part of my brewing anxiety comes from still not having seen all of my dumpster kitties. Their schedule was pretty upended the last days I was gone with one of my friends catching a couple litters of kittens that had popped up just recently. As a result, I think they are keeping scarce and their feeding schedule has been thrown off by all the trapping. I'll be happier when the dinner attendance is a little more consistent.

My last week at my internship was good. I presented my main results to the group and it was a success. I met with my manager the last day. He complimented me and seemed to understand everything that I couldn’t say. After three months of feeling like no one was communicating with me, he said he thought I did a great job. He said he didn’t know what the group would be like when I was ready to graduate, or even if I was would be interested, but that he would be more than happy to write me an excellent recommendation letter to any other research group in the company if I wanted. This seems like the perfect solution and all indications I received throughout the summer were that my manager was a guy who would be listened to.

Yesterday I got back into the lab and it felt good to be out of the cubes and into an open space. Unfortunately all my pens and post-it notes are missing but like I said, we’re basically a family. What’s mine is yours, whether I like it or not. Now I have to get my paperwork in order, re-establish contact with collaborators (and friends), and try to figure out exactly what I was doing before I left.

I just wanted to check in and let you all know I arrived safely and am back in the lab. More later when I find my groove.

Bittersweet Weekend

I still have one more topic to write about from my suggestion bin. It’s really a good one and I can’t wait to get to it. For today though, I thought I’d fill you in on my weekend with Dean.
The emotional issues aren’t quite as extreme as they have been in the past. Either (a) we are getting used to this arrangement or (b) I am so excited at the prospect of going back to Florida in just three weeks that I’m determined not to let anything bother me. I prefer to think it’s the latter.

Dean flew in late Thursday night. And since I’m a peon with no vacation time, I had to work Friday so his parents got him all to themselves. After work though, we met up at the Mall of America to take the light rail to the Twins game. We usually do this because his parents’ house is close to the mall and we’d prefer to park there rather than downtown and deal with parking and traffic. In light of recent events, that was probably the smartest thing to do, and it seems every other Minneapolitan going to the game agreed because the light rail was packed.

The game was unremarkable. For somebody who as of late enjoys running his mouth to the media, Santana has not looked like a reigning Cy Young award winner. Both Matt Garza and Scott Baker have out-shined him in their most recent starts. Granted, as usual our offense didn’t give him much run support. But if you are going to blast the Twins organization in the paper, at least keep the ball in the ballpark for one start. We did have amazing seats however. Thirty-one rows back directly behind home plate. We could have been in Hammond Stadium rather than the Metrodome. We only snacked at the game and afterwards we walked over to Seven Corners, one of our old haunts from our days at the U of MN.

To get there from the Dome, you walk up Washington Avenue, across the 35W overpass. Even south of Washington Avenue, 35W was closed off. We were thoroughly creeped out at the sight of an empty 35W, the only freeway running North-South through Minneapolis. We couldn’t see the bridge from the overpass, but we were very close to where it used to begin. The overpass also approached the back side of the Metrodome Holiday Inn, where the media and the victims’ families have been staying. The back lot was full of vans- CNN, FOX News, MSNBC, etc. That was a strange sight as well. Our initial thought was to walk up to the 10^th Ave Bridge, the bridge directly to the east (and the other one in all the pictures). We were surprised to see that it was closed because it would have definitely been the most logical 35W detour. We were unaware of the extent to which city officials were going to keep onlookers away from the site. Instead, we stood in the parking lot of the Seven Corners apartment building and were able to see just a little bit. We saw the doubled over south side of the bridge and all the twisted metal. We were able to infer how the road was plunged into the river, but we couldn’t see any further than about half way down. The deformed metal blocked the view to the north side of the road, but we could see the very top where some of the cars were still stranded. It was an eerie sight indeed and brought tears to my eyes.

I was sad of course because of the magnitude of this tragedy that our city is facing. I was sad that all the news people are here and making a circus of the situation, and making our city into a poster child for poor infrastructure. But selfishly, more than this I was sad because Dean and I were standing so close to where some of the best times of our lives took place. We hadn’t been back to the East Bank of the U since we moved to Florida. It’s not that far, we just never had time or reason to. We regularly walked across the 10^th Ave Bridge, which was now closed off with police cars. Our old home was just on the other side, but out of reach. When we packed up and moved away (and yes drove across the bridge) five years ago, we never ever expected that the next time we looked out across the Mississippi we would see a disaster. In fact, on my list of things to do while here, I had planned on going to the old neighborhood, perhaps taking a nostalgic trip past my two old apartments and eating at the fantastic restaurants in Dinkytown. Probably not likely at this point.

The rest of the weekend was uneventful, just enjoying each other and family time. I missed Dean but thought it was important for him to spend time with his brother before he goes away to college in just a few weeks. I am proud to report there were no tears at the airport, just a promise to see him in three weeks and not leave his side for a very long time.

In the Beginning

e.b. suggested that I write a post about my first date with Deano. While our first date was memorable, in my opinion it is worth it to preface the date with just how we got there…

Dean and I met in August of 1998 when we were both sophomores at the University of Minnesota. I had just moved in to my first apartment in Dinkytown with three other girls. I had met up with Amanda in freshman composition class and we are still very close almost ten years later. She needed a roommate and we seemed to really hit it off. As for the other two we picked up along they, that’s a different post entirely. Similarly, Dean had just moved into a large house with eight other guys. My roommates already knew Dean from the dorms, where they all shared the same circle of friends (in fact Amanda was dating one of the guys in the house). As a group, us girls would often go to the house and hang out with the guys. You could count on it to get rowdy and out of control and still some of my favorite memories are of those times. In general, I look back so fondly on my college days (much more so than high school), but unfortunately I don’t have time to address everything today. For some reason, I always gravitated towards Dean at those get togethers; he was always so sweet and funny. He never brought any girls over, and despite my sporadic and failed relationships, I rarely mixed the guys I saw with the boys I liked to just hang out with. Maybe because I felt more comfortable with those guys than any of the guys that would try to be my boyfriends. And the few times I did, I received unbearable flack from my “protectors”. So on the evenings when we would all just hang out, towards the end of the night when people would pair off, Dean and I would sit and flirt and drink and talk about baseball and music and life.

This casual friendship continued for well over a year. Things changed in December of 1999. I clearly remember having all the guys over to our apartment for the Vikings-Packers game and getting a phone call from the guy I was sort of dating at the time. I was sitting in my room talking to him on the phone with my door open so I wouldn’t miss any of the game or any of the social action. (In retrospect, it was pretty obvious I wasn’t into this guy.) But as the phone call continued I was paying more attention to Dean and Amanda, who were deep in conversation. I was feeling a little indignant because Dean usually had these introspective conversations with me. Not her. But they kept looking in my direction I can’t even tell you what my then-suitor and I were talking about, I just remember the looks on Amanda’s and Dean’s faces while they were talking.

Later, Amanda pulled me aside and told me what she and Dean had been discussing. She told me that Dean had confessed to her that he had feelings for me, but he worried I didn’t feel the same way. Very honestly, the thought had occurred to me, but I was frightened I would break his heart. I was very unsure of exactly what I wanted out of anyone and Dean wasn’t someone whose feelings I could take lightly.

I spent the next several days agonizing over that conversation with Amanda. I ditched the boy on the phone that night. And I decided I wanted to kiss Dean at midnight, during Amanda’s New Years Eve party. Her parents had everyone over for a celebration and at 11:54, I asked Dean if he would kiss me for New Years. And at midnight, he did. While everyone else celebrated the new year, we pondered what this meant for us. A couple minutes into 2000, he asked me on a date. And I said yes.

So after that story, our first actual date doesn’t seem quite as romantic, but I owe it to e.b. to share what it was. On January 5^th, we went to the Gopher basketball game. I was alone in the apartment on winter break and it had snowed all day long. Neither of us had a car on campus, so he picked me up on foot in a parka and together we trudged through the six or so inches of snow through Dinkytown to Taste of Manhattan pizza on Washington Avenue. We had slices of pizza and each shared memories of when we had been to New York. I was wearing a dark blue v-neck sweater and jeans. He wore his trademark button down plaid shirt and khakis. Then we walked up 4^th Street to the Barn and watched the Gophers beat the Wolverines. Even then we knew it was much more than a first date, we knew it was the start of a long journey together. I don’t think either of us could have predicted where it would take us, just that we wanted to do it together.

Now almost eight years later I was happy to think about the early days of our relationship again. There are so many things that we do that just kind of blend in with the other ordinary memories but it’s amazing how we remember the most monumental moments of our lives, the ones we knew would change everything.

Electronic Spouse

The iPod I had ordered last week arrived yesterday. I am in love with it. It took me quite awhile to jump on the iPod bandwagon, but when I found that my eleven year old sister had one and not me, well it was time to take action. I didn't want all the music in my library to be put on it, so I spent a couple of hours scrolling through my songs and only putting on the ones I like. So far I'm up to 516. According to the specs I only have space for about 6,814 more so I had better be discriminating with my choices. I also plan to download some of the episodes that I've missed of my favorite NPR shows since I haven't quite memorized what time they come on in Minnesota.

It was late last night while Stepdad and I were playing with my new toy when I remembered that I hadn't talked to Deano yet and my phone was on silent from work still. By the time I checked it, I had two missed calls and a text message that read, "R U alive?" I felt horrible. I called Dean back and explained that my iPod came and I'd been playing with it.

"I've been replaced by an iPod," Dean said sounding very pathetic and dejected. In my own defense, I began telling him about all the neat stuff it can do, how it can sort, shuffle, play music and videos, and store pictures. My husband, the technically challenged,was unimpressed. "Well, after tonight you had better hope it can vibrate, too."

Back to Reality

Well, I’m back to work today after a lovely five days in Tampa visiting my husband and furry children. For the most part it was blissful. The days Dean had to work I slept late with the cats sprawled out on the bed, read, watched the Twins give the White Sox a serious beating twice in one day, and basically just reveled in again being with my own “stuff”. I also cried. A lot. So much that I was beginning to worry about the state of my emotional health. But when I thought about it some, I realized I was crying not so much out of despair and anguish but for release.

For the first time in eight weeks, I was all alone with the one person I can really truly be myself around. I just let it all go. I let go of all the frustration of this summer not being what I thought it would. I dropped the façade that I didn’t realize I had put on for everyone- even myself. I cried out of relief that Dean and I were on the same page about this time away making our relationship stronger and what endless possibilities awaited my return. I cried out of joy that my kitties chose not to ignore me the whole time but resumed life as if nothing had happened and I cried that I have to leave them again for almost the same amount of time.

I also cried because I turned 28 yesterday. And more than turning 28, I was upset that I had to spend the day on an airplane, saying good-bye again and that like everything else, our annual Birthday Beach Trip was put on hold until the end of August. Every year Dean takes me to a different beach for a weekend getaway of sunning, swimming, relaxing and drinking. This year, I opted to spend my precious time at home with the cats and defer my Birthday Beach Trip to "after I’m back" - that nebulous, seemingly unachievable destination. So even though Dean brought me breakfast in bed with a tear-jerking card (anything would have done it at this point) and some chocolates (because I wouldn't be able to enjoy the usual bouquet of flowers), my birthday was bound to suck.

I had booked an early afternoon flight back to Minneapolis (depart Tampa 2pm, arrive 4 pm) so that we could have a leisurely (if not melancholy) morning and I could still have a nice supper with Dad, Stepmom and Stepsis. The Minneapolis weather had other plans, and shortly before our final decent into the Twin Cities a storm swept through and forced us to redirect into Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Sitting on the ground, in the plane with (understandably) impatient children for four hours was not how I anticipated spending yesterday. I knew my birthday wouldn’t be as good as some years, but I had no idea it could be quite so sucky. When the Twin Cities airport finally resumed accepting flights, it took forever to get luggage and the place was a madhouse so I didn’t get back to Dad’s until after 9. Thankfully, dinner was made and I did get to enjoy my fried chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, sautéed green beans and made-from-scratch cornbread. But afterwards it was straight to bed to recover and get back to reality. So that’s where I sit. Once again, counting days (24) until Dean’s next visit, and weeks (7) until I get to go home for good.

If Cheese Curds are Wrong, then I don't Want to be Right

Dean was in town this past weekend. He left this morning, and just now I have been able to pull myself together and tell you all what a fun weekend we had. Wednesday night of last week, I went down to the in-laws to stay with them and so I could be around when we went and picked Dean up from the airport. He didn’t come in until very late, and despite my attempts to nap before we even left to go the airport, I was wound up all night and got very little sleep. Friday, after practically requiring a coffee IV drip, I went to work and gave my first presentation since starting. It was basically just a summary of what I have gotten done so far which turned out to be very well received. It gave me a little boost.

Friday night Dean and his family went to Dean’s brother’s HIGH SCHOOL GRADUATION. Yes, we had some geriatric moments this weekend seeing Kent and all his friends graduate when they were supposed to still be playing little league. Darn. I had to work too late, so I beat them home and watched while the Twins get spanked by the Nats. Yes, I worded that correctly.

Saturday, I helped Sylvia around the house while she was trying to get Kent’s graduation party in order. After coming frighteningly close to going postal over some deviled eggs, Dean whisked me away for a date at the Twins game. Now, despite the fact that it was Joe Mauer Batting Title Bobblehead Night, we did not wait in line. We are both adults with good paying jobs whose time is worth more than sitting in line and cringing every time the people in back of us tell someone about how their niece’s best friend’s sister was little Joe’s babysitter, don’t cha know. That’s exactly what ebay is for, thank you. Around 2:30pm we drove to the Mall of America and jumped on the light rail to avoid downtown traffic and parking. That got us to the ‘Dome about a half an hour before gates opened. The lines for the bobblehead were so long that they all just wrapped around the stadium and nobody could tell which line was going where. For a fraction of a second we thought about getting in line on the off chance we weren’t too late. However, it was strolling hand in hand down the plaza that the unmistakable aroma of deep-fried concessions seduced our noses just like the nebulous finger-under-the-nose from the cartoons. We each got a corn dog and then split the heavenliest of all the fried foods: cheese curds. It was while I was chewing one of these perfect little nuggets, my mouth wide open to dissipate the heat from the fryer and grease running down my arm that I commented, “This is SO wrong.” My loving husband’s reply: “If cheese curds are wrong, I don’t want to be right.” Truer words have never been spoken.

After we annihilated the cheese curds, we grabbed beers and got in line just as the gates were to be opened. We figured it would be awhile before we actually made it to the door. It turned out we were only about 25 people away from getting in when they ran out of bobbleheads. We were a little bummed because if we were going to miss it, we wanted it to be by a lot. But as a consolation, we got two raffle tickets for the second chance bobbleheads, which would give me something to do between innings. We still didn’t regret our choice: they don’t sell deep fried cheese curds on ebay.

The game was fun, Johan had his stuff even though he got the loss due to our ridiculous looking offense. We sat in front of a nearly-albino family from Fargo whose lack of baseball knowledge was making Dean visibly uneasy. To keep from being too upset by the Twins’ dismal outing, I kept drinking beer and watching the second chance bobblehead raffle. It paid off too because I won one! Admittedly, the beer made it seem like winning a Joe Mauer bobblehead was the highlight of my life (we already have several), but in retrospect it gave the evening more of a surreal glow, collecting my prize with a noticeable beer buzz and a feeling the night would never have to end.

After the game we met up with a friend of Dean’s where I took it upon myself to switch from beer to mixed drinks, because hell, winning a bobblehead makes you impervious to hangovers, right?

The night got quite blurry when Dean had to pour me back into the light rail, amongst the other downtown party goers and late shift workers. He had sobered up well before he needed to take us home from the mall, but he still had sympathy-drunk pangs and stopped for Taco Bell. Unfortunately, going home drunk didn’t mean going back to our ghetto apartment and spilling cat food all over the floor because it is way past dinner. It meant going back to the in-laws' house the night before Kent’s graduation party. Dean’s charming, lovely, perfect wife woke up the household, including a much-bemused new graduate. I’m sure Sylvia hadn’t gotten to sleep much before that but I definitely woke her up with my flailing and insistence that yes, I most definitely ordered hard-shelled tacos; the employee must have had it out for me.

So I was moving a little slow on Sunday for the party but I didn’t let it stop me from enjoying the beautiful weather, the fantastic food and the company of family and friends. It was nice to catch up with people I hadn’t seen in awhile and meet new people I’d heard stories about for years. And when it ended seemingly just moments after it began, Dean’s parents and brother got to enjoy having him around for his last couple of days. But for me, going back to work on Monday was like pulling teeth. I was inconsolable all day despite the fact that Dean hadn’t even left yet. It was the anticipation of saying good bye for three more weeks that caused the waterworks to come on full blast. And even though we had a fun time last night, there was a thick “good bye” rain cloud looming over us the whole time. So today although the worst of the storm has passed, isolated showers have occurred and are bound to persist until I see him again on the fourth of July.

Floodgates

I have been conspicuously absent from the blogging world lately, doing the obligatory weekly check in and picking a few e-friends to visit every couple of days. There have even been a couple wanderers over here from other blogs and under normal circumstances I would happily explore their space as well and see how much this stranger may have in common with me. If you are new and visiting again, have patience. I’ll seek you out eventually. But alas, these aren’t normal circumstances. There are a few good reasons I’ve been scarce, like:

1. My schedule is jam-packed. I work full days and when I get home I usually go for a walk to get some fresh air and exercise. I’m used to being very active in the lab and this desk job is driving me stir-crazy. Then I have a late dinner and if I’m lucky I watch/listen to a bit of the Twins game before washing up, reading about ten pages of my book and then passing out at the premature hour of 10:30 or so.
2. If I were to use the little free time during the week that I have for blogging, I would never complete a post to my satisfaction. Weekends are spent with family and friends (sort of like when I come up for the holidays).
3. In Tampa I’d post a lot and read blogs while in the lab because the work pace is “hurry up and wait” rather than this work which is more like a slow draining of my sanity stretched out continuously over nine hours. Today my two superiors are away and I’m determined to sneak some blog time in.
4. There is so much swimming through my head right now that I’m overwhelmed with where to begin. Since writing these posts is like my own form of therapy, I’m going to try and lay it all for you. Let’s see what advice you may have to offer.

I started off this job knowing that having done it would look very good on my resume. I was also hoping and somewhat anticipating the fit would be so good that I could expect a full time position waiting for me when I graduated. I had allowed myself to fantasize about a life where Dean and I would move back up to Minneapolis, where I’d have a great job with kick ass pay, we’d buy a cute house in the city, and start a family soon after. We’d have all of our friends and family just short car rides away and we’d all get together much more often than twice a year. Everything just perfect and wonderful. Well I’ve been working here now for close to three weeks and I can see a couple of different situations emerging from this experience. I know it’s still early, but I’m getting nervous because it’s really not that early.

Situation A. Things could turn around, and the fantasy life I had envisioned would be possible. Dealing with this situation is a no-brainer.

Situation B. I could end the summer with a clear idea that the group I’m working for doesn’t think this is a good fit. I’ve heard rumors from a couple of new full time hires that this group is difficult to get hired into. One new Ph.D. told me that his dissertation was based exactly on this group’s work but he couldn’t join after graduation because the group wasn’t hiring. He had to settle for doing something completely different but he was willing to do that because he liked the company and the Twin Cities area. Dealing with this situation would be difficult because I would be faced with the decision to start over someplace else or go for a job at this facility like the new Ph.D. did. That would be hard to do because this group is the only group at this facility that does more physics-based research rather than straight engineering. Starting over someplace else could involve starting with a fresh company or national lab or else checking out the same company at a different campus (they have facilities all over the world). I’ve heard that interning at one facility gives you an edge for full time positions at any other. In summary, this situation would force me to choose between materials physics, or stay in Minneapolis. Seeing as though I’m not qualified for much else at this point, it’s likely I’d go someplace else.

Situation C. Things could not turn around and I could feel exactly the same way about this job as I do now, but they could want to hire me. And quite honestly, I don’t love what I’m doing right now. But they are paying me a butt load just for an internship. That situation would make me choose between living near family and friends, making good money, doing some sort of magnetic physics or else just walking away because it isn’t like what I’m doing in the lab. And I love what I’m doing in the lab.

Situation B worries me a little, but I’ve talked to Dean about it, and he has the type of easygoing attitude that I need for him to have. Some days he’d like to live here again, some days the adventurer in him comes out and he goes on the internet to learn about different cities and ask me if there are jobs for me in them. It’s situation C that really has me concerned. What do I “settle” for? And is it settling if it’s a job everyone covets but me? Would things be different if I were in the quiet cubicle across the aisle with a permanent nameplate? The good news is I ask myself these questions every day, and the feelings get a little better. But the scientific culture shock is still very much there.

I knew going into this that there would be lot riding on this summer. I knew that my career, and thus our future could take shape without even having my husband here for every en-or-discouraging sign no matter how small. But anticipating it and living it are two very different things. So there. Now I’ve opened the floodgates of my mind. Any suggestions?

Eight Random Facts About Me

Damn it, Scott! I can always count on you to give me a tough assignment. It’s difficult for me to come up with 8 random facts that don’t intersect with my 100 juicy details on the sidebar, so my apologies in advance if my random facts are things you may have seen before…

1. I am a physicist. Most of you know this by now. What you don’t know is that in high school I took advanced placement physics and advanced placement calculus classes for one trimester my senior year. I hated them and dropped them both. I just didn’t understand the physics course and I hated the math teacher. She was a total bitch. I took health and painting instead. I have always felt like not liking math and science in high school made me “not a real physicist” and a lot of my successes I attribute to overcompensating for those feelings. In college my undergraduate advisor recommended I take a calculus class to “keep my options open” since I was completely undecided. I loved the college math classes and became a math major. Then after taking the required physics courses to complete the major, I ended up in the physics and astrophysics programs. I settled for just a minor in math.
2. In high school I worked at Bachman’s, a flower and garden center. I still know a lot about gardening and can identify most annuals, perennials, and shrubs. I started as a cashier but by the time I left as a sophomore in college I did stock, carryout, sales, customer service and even spent a few days working the help desk.
3. I classify myself as an “anxious meat eater”. One day I would love to be a vegetarian, but with a completely carnivorous husband and a weakness for good cuts of meat it isn’t meant to be right now. I go through fits of ultra-conscientiousness and avoid it altogether but an intense craving for a steak or fried chicken inevitably ends these fits. To find a temporary balance I decided to cut my meat consumption completely in half. In practice, that means that I almost always have meat with only one meal a day (usually dinner). This seems to make me feel like I’m doing something about my “meat issues” without taking the oh-so-difficult plunge. Real vegetarians might look down on me for it, but it’s a solution that works for me.
4. As a junior in high school I tried out for cheerleading with a friend of mine. I don’t know why I did it, it wasn’t my kind of thing at all. That’s the power of friendship in your teens. She made the varsity squad and I made the junior varsity squad. I declined the offer and went back to being shy and awkward.
5. I’ve kept all the ticket stubs from everything Dean and I have ever done together. This includes sporting events, movies, visits to museums, and boarding passes from flights on vacations. I have two shoe boxes full in my closet. I have another shoe box in my closet full of pressed flowers from bouquets he has given me. I have been meaning to shellac them onto a picture frame for one of our wedding photos. Maybe someday when life slows down. (yeah, right)
6. I have never broken any bones, nor had any surgery except for the removal of my wisdom teeth.
7. When I was in elementary school, I was in an after school program until my mom could come and get me after work. In hindsight it was a good program- we had healthy snacks and played games, watched educational TV, etc. I remember my mom was supposed to pick me up at a specific time each day, and about a half an hour before she was due to arrive I would get terrible panic attacks and cry because I thought something had happened to her. When someone finally got exasperated and asked me why I was always convinced she wasn’t coming for me well before her expected arrival, they learned that I couldn’t tell time properly and in my little world she was late everyday. Things improved after this correction was in place.
8. I am very self-conscious about my feet. Growing up I hated being barefoot and I never even used to wear sandals. I didn't like people seeing my feet and I didn't want them to get dirty. Even now, I don't usually go barefoot unless I'm in my own apartment or someplace I am VERY comfortable. I will wear sandals but only if my toes are painted and not at all chipped. If I feel like my feet are getting too dirty I will put socks on.
   

The meme goes that you are supposed to tag eight people. Pretty much all my blog friends that are willing to do these have done this one so I’m out of ideas. If you haven’t dons this and you want to, consider yourself tagged by yours truly. If you don’t have a blog but want to share eight random things about yourself, feel free to do so in the comments!

Loose Ends

Today I met with Dr. Hari for the last time before I leave. This whole week has been a week of “last times” which is only adding to my wrecked nerves. In the lab I’ve been explaining to my lab mates where I left off on measurements so they can resume smoothly after I’m gone. At home I’ve been training Dean to be a feral cat caregiver. I’ll think he’ll make a good crazy cat lady. The mood in the lab has been exhaustion mixed with excitement as I struggle to tie up loose ends and get ready for a grown up job. At home, the mood has been melancholy, wistfulness and sentimental. This isn’t going to be easy.

At the meeting today we discussed the status of my (several) projects. Dr. Hari wants to know if there are any updates to give collaborators. We went down a rather extensive list and got to a collaborator whose sample is giving us trouble. The data we get is intricate, the curves display four distinct features- I am used to interpreting two, at most three features and this one has me stumped. When Dr. Hari and I met with him in Denver to go over it, we all agreed the data was interesting but that we would need to be careful trying to explain what is happening. Afterwards, Dr. Hari told me that we had already spent an exhaustive amount of time on this sample and since we didn’t know what was going on with it, we should think about not pursuing it any further. After that, I made a couple other graphs and notes to bring to the project to completion to a level where I was satisfied putting it away for awhile.

It was wrapping up our meeting when I off-handedly asked Dr. Hari if he wanted to take a look at my final thoughts and attempts at interpreting this data. He shrugged and opened the entire PowerPoint file we had presented to the collaborator with my final slide added to the end.

He looked at the entire file as if he had never seen it before, marveling at how nice the data looked and expressed a lot of interest in rekindling our collaboration. I reminded him about our difficulty about interpretation, when he started listing off various possibilities and said he was immediately going to start reading up on the material. He was going to personally call our collaborator and talk about how to proceed. It was like I was presenting this data to a completely different person. When he got to the final slide I added to the end, he started talking about presenting it at the magnetism conference in November.

Why am I telling you this? It sounds great, right? Well he then yelled at me for “sitting on” the data too long without doing anything about it.

He told me two months ago not to pursue this project.

Being a grad student sometimes involves nodding your head and taking heat when you know to be in the right. I think this is a good lesson for the real world.

The Long Road Ahead

Dean has a favorite dumpster kitty, although technically he isn’t a dumpster kitty per se. I never actually saw him back there, we always just saw him prowling around the complex, sleeping up against the buildings or on the bank of the pond in the sunshine. Dean calls him his “other black kitty” and he has been here as long as we have, putting him at least at the ripe old stray-cat age of five years old.

Yesterday morning while I was on the exercise bike, Dean came running in after leaving for work a couple of minutes before.

“My black kitty is hurt! Please come! Please help!”

My heart sank as I went downstairs to find a woman with a dog on a leash. The dog was up in the black kitty’s face barking at it. At that moment, I wanted to absolutely strangle her for doing that. I didn’t think her dog had been the one to hurt the kitty, but seriously, who does that?! What kind of heartless bitch lets her dog antagonize a hurt animal? I had never felt so enraged towards a stranger before. She’d better hope I don’t run into her around the complex. Anyway, the black kitty was badly hurt. He didn’t want anyone close to him, and when I went to inspect him he hissed and spit at me and tried to run away dragging his totally lifeless back leg. Dean was hysterical and wanted to call in sick to work. I told him to just go. I could be late to work if needed and I promised to get his kitty some help, knowing full well that sometimes the best, most loving thing you can do for a kitty is to end it’s painful life.

I contacted Heather knowing she would have traps or anything else needed to actually capture this kitty because even though he was lame, he still moved quickly and I didn’t want him moving too much. She was at work but she often left her back porch unlocked for just this reason. Rather than let me try to handle a scared, injured cat she sent her boyfriend over to help me. He brought a regular trap and a drop trap but it was apparent neither trap would work since the cat had no interest in eating. I had given him a can of food while I was waiting in case he was really hungry. Nothing. So Don ran back to Heather’s for a net. It went a lot better than I was expecting. He laid the net over the cat and even though the cat was quite agitated, Don picked him up by the scruff and laid him in a cat carrier which I held upright. Don then took him to the vet for me saying there was no point for me to go. They knew him there, knew the cat would be a feral and special care needed to be taken, plus they might be willing to drop the price knowing Don and knowing that people can’t put a lot of money into caring for a stray. At this point, admittedly, I did start thinking about money. Were Dean and I going to have to make a decision about this cat’s life based on how much money we could spend on it? I hoped that wouldn’t be the case. I couldn’t wipe out my bank account, but how could I live with myself if I had to end his life because of money?

I went to work where I distractedly got some paperwork done waiting for word from Don. It wasn’t good. The kitty had some broken bones. He also tested positive for FIV. FIV is not itself a death sentence, but it puts a wrench into a lot of options for a hurt cat. And it again brought into question the reality of me putting money into helping this cat. And what if I did help him? I wouldn’t feel right about releasing him back into the complex around my 20 other disease-free dumpster kitties. I was distraught. I started bawling. Donald said he was going to have the vet take another x-ray and see if his internal organs were damaged. That might make the decision easier. In the meantime Dean was calling me, Heather was calling me. It was a mess. Finally I got in the car and drove to the vet to discuss the cat’s limited options in person.

By the time I got there, Don had left and I was on my own. The vet showed me the x-rays where it was actually the cat’s pelvis that was broken, not his leg. Most certainly the result of being hit by a car. She said she couldn’t perform surgery though she did know a specialist that could put a plate in his hip. When I heard the words “specialist” and “plate” I knew money would likely be the limiting factor in this option. She said the bones could heal to a good extent on their own but it would be inhumane to put him back outside to hunt and fend for himself as he would always be slow. He could still live a good, long, pain-free life as an indoor cat. Again, being FIV positive would be a problem. He certainly couldn’t live with us, or with anyone who has healthy kitties. But, the fact that in her opinion he could heal on his own and be okay made me think that I shouldn’t decide immediately to end his life. She said regardless of where he ends up, he would have to be secluded for several weeks out of contact with other cats, disease-free or not. This was to give his hips time to heal without getting agitated. She asked if she should neuter him while he was still sedated and I gave her the go ahead. I conveyed the information to Heather, who promised to find a solution.

As a crazy cat lady, I live a lot of my life angry at people. I realize this isn’t healthy. But until people realize the impact their existence has on the natural world, I will side with nature. I kept thinking of the bastard that hit Dean’s black kitty, most likely driving through the parking lot way too fast (not to mention we have children here, too!!). My mind kept going back to the lady with the dog that morning and my blood pressure rose. But every time I get disgusted with humanity because someone has done something deplorable, someone else steps up and shows exactly what the human spirit is capable of. Awhile after Heather had advised me to exhaust all our options with this cat as long as his quality of life stayed tolerable, she called again finally with some good news.

There is a woman who runs a feral cat sanctuary exactly for situations like these. She lives for the cats that otherwise would be sentenced to death. She has several large, enclosed outdoor areas devoted to handicapped feral cats who shouldn’t fend for themselves but wouldn’t do well indoors either. She has a large enclosure devoted to FIV cats and said that she’d put Dean’s cat on her waiting list. She is currently upgrading her facility, building a bigger enclosure that might be ready by the time our cat can be on his own a little. If Dean’s cat heals up okay, he will go there and be able to still enjoy outdoor life while being cared for. The perfect option for this poor injured kitty.

In my opinion things are still touch and go but I heard from Don this morning while he was at the hospital visiting. Right now the cat is comfortable, resting on a heating pad and looking even better than expected. We’re keeping him in the hospital at least over the weekend to make sure he is hydrated and his bodily functions work alright. Meanwhile, Heather is going to bring a large cage over here to put on our balcony so the kitty can stay with us during his healing. Plus, per Dean’s request, we will visit him frequently in his knew home once he is ready to leave.

Spring Training Report (or: The Longest Post in the History of the World)

My mom and step dad were here last week for a whirlwind Spring Training tour. They flew in Wednesday morning, and right off the bat we had a game Wednesday night. They left Monday morning, but that didn’t stop me from continuing on my manic baseball spree. I have been to seven games in seven days, a feat I don’t think I have ever accomplished. Here’s a (not so) brief rundown of this magical week.

Wednesday

Game: Twins vs. Yankees
Location: Legends Field, Tampa
Highlights:

• Seeing Biff Henderson filming a segment for the Late Show.
• My mom and Dean making fun of the grown man sitting in front of us obviously there with his parents sending text messages the entire game rather than watching it. He also had on a pink polo shirt with a popped collar. He was asking for it.
• Seeing the New Yorkers with their gelled hair, chains, stogies and accents. It never gets old.
• Seeing Joe Mauer face off with Derek Jeter after Mauer beat Jeter for the batting title.

Thursday

Game: Orioles vs. Twins
Location: Hammond Stadium, Ft. Myers
Highlights:

• The guy who screamed “You got Neshek-ed!” after Pat Neshek’s two stikeouts (he threw 8 pitches the entire inning).
• Being amongst “my people” (i.e. Twins fans).
• My step dad obsessing over not getting the last batting practice hat at the gift store and then questioning if he even wanted one in the first place. (Sorry to tease!)
• And, as always, the playing of the old school “We’re gonna win, Twins!” song over the loud speaker.

Friday

Game: Phillies vs. Tigers
Location: Joker Marchant Stadium, Lakeland
Highlights:

• A 12” Little Caesar’s pizza for $8.
• Seats only a few rows up from the first base line.
• The “Detroit Superfan” sitting a couple rows ahead of us wearing a Tigers hat, world series jersey, ticket lanyard, beads, wrist bands, watch, a towel tucked into his shorts for waving when runs scored, and the piece de resistance: prescription glasses just like Nate Robertson’s. The guy was out of control and he was there with his wife, baby and in-laws who were obviously a little embarrassed. And he looked like Dwight Schrute from the Office.
• Oooh, and after the game we went to the “lake” behind the stadium and saw about an 8 foot long alligator sunbathing on the bank. I’d never seen one without a fence separating us, he was absolutely breathtaking. And a little scary. I ran like a maniac when he roused a little from his sleep and lifted his head.

Saturday

Game: Twins vs. Pirates
Location: McKechnie Field, Bradenton
Highlights:

• The St. Patrick’s Day street party before the game in Bradenton. There was free food, pop, iced coffee, free picture postcards of fans, beads, and a dressed up Pirate singing karaoke of Unchained Melody.
• The St. Patrick’s Day Pirates pin giveaway (I collect Spring Training pins, so this was very cool).
• I got Torii Hunter to sign my favorite Twins hat. It made me happy even if he probably won’t be with us next year. All Dean had was a blue Sharpie, and I wasn’t sure how it was going to look on my pink hat. It actually turned out purplish, which looks VERY cool.
• We moved from our expensive seats to the bleachers to get some sun because it was chilly out, and the bleachers were next to the visitor’s clubhouse so we could switch between watching the game and watching the starters hangout in the clubhouse after they were done for the day. Boof played around with some of the young fans and flirted with some of the older ladies. He seems like a good guy, I hope spending more time in the big leagues doesn’t screw with him.

Sunday

Game: Dodgers vs. Indians
Location: Chain of Lakes Park, Winter Haven
Highlights:

• Being comparatively tall and slender compared to most Cleveland fans (sorry, Clevelanders…).
• Watching my lover Grady Sizemore take batting practice up close at the practice fields.
• Driving one car ahead of Bob Feller out of the stadium parking lot (he waved us ahead from his gigantic Buick).

Monday

Game: Reds vs. Tigers
Location: Joker Marchant Stadium, Lakeland
Highlights:

• Dean’s birthday (28!!) and his choice for a birthday activity. He has the week off of work and is traveling the state right now with his dad.
• Dean being mortified at my conversation with a woman who worked in the gift shop. She noticed my handbag (with cats on it) and we got to talking about taking in strays which led to my explaining the TNR process. Apparently not appropriate conversation at the ball park.
• Arroyo versus Rogers was a fun match up even though Arroyo didn’t look great. Rogers was in classic form already.
• Pudge and Maggs both played, two of my favorite non-Twins players.
• The guys that rake the field mid-game at that stadium do a funny YMCA dance. They rake for awhile and when the chorus starts they do the classic moves. Then during the bridge they break it down which is hilarious because they are all pretty big guys.

Tuesday

Game: Twins vs. Red Sox
Location: City of Palms Park, Ft. Myers

Highlights: I hadn’t planned on going to this game at all. I went back to work yesterday and late in the morning I got a call from Anonymous Blog Buddy reminding me she and her girlfriend were going to the Sox Twins game in Ft. Myers and assuming Dean and I were going as well. When I told her that no, we weren’t going and by the way I hated her for getting to go, she said she had an extra ticket. They were leaving at 3 with their roommate to tailgate. The ticket was mine if I wanted it. I consulted Dean, who couldn’t have gone anyway, and he agreed I should absolutely go since I had never seen the Red Sox facility at it SHOULD HAVE been a good game. Even though they were at a visiting park, they were in their home city so all the starters would be in. I snuck out of work early, gambling on the fact that I had already met with Dr. Hari and he wouldn’t come looking for me again. We drove to Ft. Myers, grilled burgers and hot dogs outside the stadium and included a stray Red Sox fan who came by himself and asked where the nearest sports bar was. He was grateful for a beer and a burger and asked questions like “So where were you all in ’04?” I had to laugh to myself as I was reminded what Red Sox fans were like. I had a fantastic time catching up with Anon whom I hadn’t spoken to in weeks, talking baseball with Girlfriend and meeting Roommate. Anon and Girlfriend went onto the concourse for more beer and Girlfriend recognized Torii Hunter signing autographs. She ripped the tag from her new shirt she had with her, and had Torii sign it (the tag, not the shirt) and then gave it to me. She was obviously high from meeting a ballplayer, and recognizing him as one of my favorites. It was too cute.

*****

What I realize is apparent with the highlights is that very little has to do with the game. I don’t even remember who won many of the games; it is the whole experience which makes Spring Training unlike anything else. The starters get taken out after 4 or 5 innings and your attention begins to wonder. You see the little towns who thrive on this time of year for their economy and how they turn into Little Cleveland or Little Pittsburgh because people vacation or even retire there just for Spring Training. The real baseball know-it-alls pay close attention to the prospects (which I do occasionally), the fanatics scope out autographs (Deano) and the vacationers soak up the precious Florida sun before going back to the snow.

My mom and step dad took pictures of most of these things. They did it the old fashion way, you know, with film? So maybe if I’m not too lazy and I get some pictures from them I’ll scan a couple in and post them. But I’m not making any promises. You’ll just have to take my word that all this stuff really happened.