U2 Concert Review

It was U2. Of course it was freakin’ awesome!

Although, I’m not sure what to say about the giant caterpillar that was crouching over the stage. It was even green with little yellow spots on it. A little bit of Alice in Wonderland? It even lit up at certain points during the show, in different colors. Which was kind of neat. Maybe it looked even better (or perhaps more frightening) if you were on mood-enhancers (which I wasn’t, so I’ll never know).

Bono has got my props though, for lasting 2+ hours through B-more heat in humidity in all black and a jacket (although there may have been fans aimed at the stage, and I mean the electric kind, there were still all those lights and a fog machine constantly going). And what with all the hopping around… He does dance like a white boy though. Which is okay, because he is one. I will now admit to a new respect for “Sexy Boots” and a nice drumming part for “I’ll Go Crazy If I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight.” It was interesting to note that, while there was a bongo being played at the beginning of the song, it kept playing when the drummer switched to the drum kit (and vice versa). Hmmm. Still, the drums were amazing on the song, even if they weren’t “real.”

I also enjoyed the lights (it goes without saying that the sound kicked butt. So we’ll skip that for the most part, except to note that there was feedback on one song. But for 5 hours of music, we’ll let it pass. It was one particular note that didn’t seem to like the stadium. Every time it was hit – feedback. Ah, live sound). Anyway, lights. So, the stage looked like two caterpillars standing next to each other on their tiptoes, with a stick in between them, with a disco-ball cherry on top of the stick. And on each of the four caterpillar legs were at least four manned spotlights that guys had to climb up and rappel down to get to. It was so neat to watch (even though, once up, they pretty much stayed there the whole show). There was another vertical truss behind us, one the ground level, which held another spotlight that was manned during the show, with another on the other side of the sound booth in the back as well. I didn’t see anyone in that one though. They were up high! And the lights were plenty, but not overdone. They were simplistic, but elusively so; the kind of simple that you know costs money to achieve. At one point the disco ball on the stick was rotating, and there was another one lower down rotating in an opposite direction, and it made an effect that looked almost like someone was blowing beautiful bubbles around the stadium.

Yeah, it was a good night.

Things people write that I have to read

Okay, so apparently it doesn’t take very much skill in the written word to obtain and maintain a job in the “real world.” Here’s some proof of things that I’ve actually had to read (and respond to) at work:

“Dear ____, Please be advised of my intention to request a hearing regarding the $10,000 penalty assessed in the above captioned case. I respectively request reconsideration of the assed penalty based briefly on the following facts…” (no, there are no typos in that)

And a Work Plan that was submitted for review, proposing the following, “Borings would be advanced to below the water table, with all soil samples being field screened for the presence of VOCs. Any elevated field readings would be sampled and sent to the laboratory for analysis for VOCs and fuel oxygenates. Temporary piezometers (wells) would be installed in the boring locations, and groundwater samples obtained and analyzed for the same parameters.”
So, could you be any more vague about this? How many borings? Where? What parameters are you analyzing for, and by what method?

Recently, I received a groundwater sampling report. Now, I like my commas, but this was a little much. “Historic groundwater analytical data is, also, summarized on the attached Table. A copy of the complete laboratory report is, also, attached.” Hmm, thanks.

Finally, I once attended a meeting, where we were handed a meeting agenda. Last on the agenda (I really, really am not making this up, because honestly, I had to read it six times to figure it out), “Dynamic vs. Static Work Plans: Maximize the Reduction of Uncertainty.”

Thanks to all those out there for providing me countless hours of entertaining reading.

My dog has nicer manners than your honors student

So it’s probably not news that my dog thinks he’s my second child. If my daughter is in my lap, he wants to be in my lap too. And both of them just barely fit. Especially when the cat joins in. I mean, Mommy’s lap is only so big, and that side of the couch can only hold so much weight. Really, is there something wrong with the other side of the couch? And let’s not talk about when I go to use the restroom… Sometimes I go to work just to be alone. It’s nice. And quiet.

But anyway. I feed the dog twice a day, once in the morning, and once at night. And apparently, he can’t eat if no one else is eating. I don’t eat breakfast at home in the morning (no time), but my daughter does. And he will wait until she’s eating breakfast to start eating. If she’s not there in the morning, he will leave the bowl full of food until I get home and have a snack before dinner to eat it. When I fill the bowl at dinner time, he waits until we are eating dinner at the table to eat. If he’s outside, he somehow knows when we are eating, and barks to come in. I used to think he could hear the timer on the microwave or the oven, and would use that “bell” to come in (my daughter wants his middle name to be ‘lunchbox’ and I want it to be ‘Pavlov.’ Seeing as he’s my dog, you would think I would win this argument, but my husband is on her side). But some nights I don’t use any timers, and he still knows when to come in and “eat” with us.

Of course, there's his disgusting habit of letting me know when he's eaten - he comes over to me, wherever I am, and burps at me (his bowl is in the kitchen, and we eat in the dining room). Then he rolls around on the floor on his back to help the food digest, or something. Yup, who would want to miss that twice a day, every day?

Slogans and Such

Living in PA and working in MD, I do a lot of driving. Which means I see a lot of “Keep our state beautiful” signs (MD and PA both use these signs, although Marylanders appear to be more proud of their state’s natural resources in most places, if you were to judge by the sides of the highways). Recently I was on a trip to Washington, the Evergreen State. Now, if my license plate can’t read “Live Free or Die” I think “The Evergreen State” isn’t a bad second choice. However, I think they’ve got the best ‘don’t litter’ sign campaign I’ve ever seen. Everywhere you go, there are signs that read, “If you litter, IT WILL HURT.” Now, while that is probably referring to the devastation of the natural resources, it conjures up pictures of an angry NFL-type bouncer following people around to make sure that they don’t litter, and if they do, punching them to ensure that they don’t ever, ever do it again. Sometimes it’s great to work in government.

In my life, I have also managed to come up with a few lines of my own which I think would make great t-shirts. I think they would be marketable.

“I’m not fat, I’m Italian”
This is particularly applicable to one side of my family, where my relatives are known for feeding people. One Thanksgiving in particular, whenever one type of food would run out (whipped cream, meatballs, cheese topping for the pasta….) my grandmother could be quoted as saying, “Don’t worry, I’ve got more.”

“If you hit on me, I will hit back”
I imagine this would appeal more to the feminine side of the population, but perhaps more ironic males would wear it. Last month, I was walking into a retail store, and carrying the trash bag from my vehicle so I could throw it out. A male, about my age, was walking in the opposite direction. I was concentrating on what I was doing, thinking about work, minding my own business. The male looks at me and says, “You dropped something back there,” pointing behind me. Thinking some trash had fallen out of my bag, and not wanting to litter, I looked back, concerned. “I did?” I said. “Your smile,” he says cheesily, and then smiles at me, also cheesily, and expectantly. My mind went completely blank for a second. Then I thought several things: Is he trying to hit on me? Creepy! Did he really just say that?! What kind of response do you give that? Astutely, I said, “Oh.” And proceeded to stand there stupidly for a minute before continuing on my way. Now, if I had been wearing the above shirt, I feel that I may have been justified in hitting him (although not, perhaps, during work hours). Not that I am necessarily a fan of violence, but if men are warned off beforehand, they should know to keep their mouths shut. And if they are warned and don’t, then they deserve what’s coming, because, hey, they were warned.

In Which I Decide I Would Like A Career In Advertising

Dear Sir Or Madam:

I would like to apply for the position of Advertising Associate I saw advertised on Craigslist. Although for the past five years I have been working in the Environmental field, organizing and maintaining approximately one hundred petroleum remediation cases and ensuring compliance with regulatory statutes, I feel that I could make a worthwhile contribution to the field of advertising, particularly to your company. I am also a graduate of College with a Master of Science in Biology and a minor in Psychology. Throughout the past several years I have seen many of the advertising promotions produced by your firm, and I feel that even in a drunken state I could have created better campaigns. In fact, the seven goats in my back yards could probably have done better with a fire and smoke signals.

In my current position, I have assisted my company in reviewing and revitalizing cases over twenty years old, setting them on a tracking system, analyzing large amounts sampling data for these historical cases, and making decisions on future remedial actions, all while keeping public health and the environment in mind. Meanwhile, I have noticed that two of your clients, (shall we call them Wally World, and a really, really large gasoline chain), have had extensive advertising campaigns, both of which involved convincing the world that they are not evil, and that, instead, they are out to do the world good. As far as I’m concerned, if a company has to continually strive to convince the public that they are not evil, or out to harm the environment, then something is seriously wrong with their public image and probably how they conduct business.

I was, however, very intrigued by the advertising slogan put forth from a local oil company (I knew your company was involved when I heard the tagline at the end of the radio advertisement), touting oil as the one true “clean energy.” Clean as compared to what? Coming from a position in which I have seen that a long-term small heating oil leak can cause long-term damage which may take years to remediate, and even contamination to supply wells, I find this hard to believe. And compared to a heat pump, propane, or even wood heat, I am at a loss to see what is ‘cleaner’ about oil. Do they mean cleaner than coal? Because that’s about all I can come up with.

I did enjoy the advertising wit of the local crab dealer (kudos to your office for this one, which I’m assuming somebody who’s on some nice meds came up with. Either that or a really lonely person), “Nice males, 3 for $99.” If only it were that easy.

While amused at the slogan of a doctor’s office I was at for work, I also found it troubling: “You’re real sick. We’re real doctors.” Is that supposed to be funny? Or scary? And I’m letting these people take my blood?

I am very interested in becoming part of your company, as I feel that it will require minimal work on my part for maximum results on your part, as long as the public is willing to be convinced. Apparently, as long as pretty people and pictures are involved, they are. I believe that my ability to analyze, multi-task with minimal supervision, while maintaining a high degree of accuracy, organization, and efficiency in my work, would benefit your company. I may be reached at the address and phone number provided. I look forward to hearing from you.

A six-year weekend project

So my daughter is six, and a few times a year I will sew outfits for her (usually a Christmas dress and an Easter dress, pajamas, etc.). Over the years I've saved the material from those outfits, and some of the clothing she couldn't bear to let go, as well as from projects that we've done together. One year for Christmas we made people fleece blankets. We've made some latch-hook pillows. So, Last year I bought a book, "Easy Weekend Quilted Projects" or something (I know "easy" and "weekend" were definitely in the title) so I could make a quilt for her bed. Now, a year and a half later, I've finished it. As a side note, Chickie did also help me cut out some of the pieces for the quilt at the beginning, and do some of the pinning during the sewing. I think it turned out pretty well. But it will be a long time before I make another quilt again.

Life Without Cable

Living in the middle of nowhere, I don’t even think we can get cable. And satellite is expensive, so we don’t have that either. Or internet. Or even a landline phone. And we have to make cell phone calls pretty much on the front porch. Or standing on one leg in the kitchen, leaning as far into the windows as possible (what? WHAT?!). Yup, but we’ve got goats, and deer and foxes. And about six channels on our rabbit ears. There’s the two news channels (one for MD and one for PA), neither of them worth watching once they get past the weather report (sorry, I’m not much for listening to people whine about stuff. I spend enough time at work doing that). And then the weather-all-the-time channel (and not the real weather channel either. That would be too exciting). And then the two Christian-let’s-convert-you channels. And then, there’s THIS network. The channel that plays the movies with famous people in them before they were famous. Here’s a little sampling:

1. William Shatner and Patty Duke in the The Babysitter: Shatner was the father of a young, lonely girl. I’m still not sure if it was a horror-movie wannabe, or just creepy. (1980)

2. Charlton Heston in Call of the Wild: Actually, I think I saw this when I was younger (don’t think less of me, I had a Jack London thing).

3. Sean Connery in Cuba: He was so young, I only recognized him because of his voice. Although this one was actually kind of good. (1979)

4. Richard Gere in Breathless: Kind of like Grease meats the Outsiders without the catchy music. (1983)

Some comments on “The Obesity Epidemic”

Okay, so I started my diet again. I went to the doctors last week after a 7-day migraine headache (not fun) and didn’t like the weight on the scale. Keep in mind, I have managed to maintain my weight (after losing 45 pounds) for two years. Apparently, this is no easy feat. However, I never lost the final weight, having tired of dieting. I am active, exercise intensely 3-5 times a week, and eat healthy. But I cannot lose weight, even when limiting my junk food/dessert to only once per week. Which kind of sucks. So now I’m dieting. And I’ve noticed a few things.
1. I did an on-line BMI calculator. I am short. Even though I lost 45 pounds previously and if I had to stay this weight for the rest of my life I think I could live with it, I am still considered “morbidly obese.” So I entered my goal weight. I only managed to get down to “obese.” I took off 10 more pounds. Still “severely overweight.” Another 10 pounds. Now just “slightly overweight.” Another 10 pounds. Now I was “on target.” So I am 50 pounds overweight? I have never in my life been that weight. And I have been this height since 5th grade. Even then I weighed more than my ‘target’ weight. Sheesh. Apparently I’ve been an obese person pretty much my whole life. It’s amazing I’ve made it this far. I wonder what it would have said if I had put in my original weight. “Warning: you are an obese elephant who may keel over at any time. Seek immediate medical attention!”
2. Supermarkets suck. I went to the grocery store to buy supplies for this week’s diet. All the checkout lines are full of candy and chocolate. And now that I’m dieting, I’m hungry ALL the time. So I am tempted the entire half hour that I have to wait to put my groceries on the belt to pay. And it’s only 50 cents. And 150 calories. And 8 grams of fat. And I’m soooo hungry….
3. I have several common medical conditions. Most people don’t have quite as many of them as I have, but still. And almost all of them require medication. I have tried to handle my medical conditions ‘naturally’ and it doesn’t work. Of the eight medications that I take on a regular basis, seven of them have “weight gain” as a side effect. Guess what, my body takes that as a personal reason to keep me chubby. Seriously. I had one medication (that I am no longer on thank goodness) in which I gained 15 pounds in 1 month, while increasing my exercise to over 1 hour (of intense exercise) five times a week. It is the only time I’ve actually been able to convince a doctor that I needed to change medications. Of course, it took me years to get rid of the 15 pounds. How much other weight is from medication (a pound here, a pound there, two pounds for this one, three for another) I don’t know. But I stopped taking one medication last week due to side effects, and lost two pounds in one week. Before I even started dieting. Nothing else changed. What does that tell you?
Well, good luck to me.

The Land of Ice and Snow

So, last Tuesday I got to leave work early to pick up my daughter at daycare due to the impending blizzard (is this number 3? I forget already). We had already received 2 feet of snow the previous weekend, and were due for more. The next morning we woke up and there was already a foot on the ground. We received another foot before it was over, giving us something like 4 feet of snow in our yard, five or so where it was drifting (my father-in-law called to tell us he saw Fawn Grove on the news- they said we were going to be one of the places that got the most snow. I mean, really? There’s not much going on in Fawn grove. We don’t even have a stop light.).

And nobody was even going to try to plow our road until Friday (we discovered) because the winds were so bad they couldn’t keep the main roads open. Or something like that. So we were stuck there for 4 days. With a 5-year-old. Apparently, when a child has nothing to do but play in the snow, they actually get tired of it. Who new? I learned a few things too, about myself. Like, if you watch the Wiggles enough, you start to think to yourself, “You know, I bet this would make a really good exercise program. I bet that’s how they stay in shape.” You also start to think about which Wiggle is the hottest one (I’m going with the blue one, and no, I haven’t watched it enough to keep their names straight yet.) Also, we watched the Doodlebops (it’s Canadian, for those of you uninitiated. But I think they got bought out by Disney.) And when you watch that long enough, you start to wonder what they really look like under all that makeup and stuff.

So, we did actually spend a lot of time in the snow. We made an igloo (how many times do you get to do that in southern PA?) And then, a few days later, the dog discovered he could make his way to the top of the igloo and bark his version of, “I’m king of the world!” Of course, he then had to find a way to get down. Today, we get to try to get my state truck out (king cab, 8-foot bed and no four-wheel drive. In what universe does that make any sense? Oh, wait, one where it doesn’t snow.

Beware: Angsty Rant

Okay, so recently I’ve moved. And now that unpacking is no longer my only form of exercise (try doing it for a weekend – 12 hours at a time – for two and half days – and you will see what I mean), I am back to reading while I ride the exercise bike. My new library has, nicely, labeled all the Christian fiction with these little ‘inspirational’ stickers, so I can avoid reading those. Not that I am opposed to Christians writing (or reading) fiction. I just find that, in general, they are not very good at writing it. Keep in mind, this is coming from someone who was only allowed to read people like Jeanette Oke and Laura Snelling growing up. So I know what I’m talking about. George MacDonald is one of my exceptions, but I didn’t come across him until college, and he’s hard to find (in the original), except on Project Gutenberg, and I’ve gone through most of those already.

So, I’ve recently come across this genre, which I think I will call pseudo-scientific fiction. An author decides to write a novel and include lots of science in it. Being a scientist, this appeals to me. What doesn’t appeal to me is that they botch the science and get away with it, and get lots of great reviews. Also, they seem to have a tendency to bash science while they’re at it. Why do I still have high levels of expectation? Maybe I have been reading too much Polkinghorne? Or Krakauer. I don’t know.

So two of my latest reads which made me pedal so hard the bike almost went through the window (good for calories; bad for blood pressure): The Family Tree (Carole Cadwalladr) and The Canopy (Angela Hunt). Let’s start with The Family Tree. Basically you old Nature vs. Nurture argument. Enter 30-something woman (Rebecca) married to brilliant geneticist. Woman has a problematic past, which includes parents that fought, strange siblings, and grandparents that were first cousins. Okay, so who doesn’t have that (well, maybe not the first-cousin grandparents)? Apparently, her husband, who is set up as her foil with the ‘perfect’ nuclear family, nice parents, and scientific background, believes that we are only the sum of our genes. The husband believes only nature, while Rebecca wants only to believe nurture. The author spouts out lots of science, including diagrams and graphs to make it seem more real (although the diagrams are not helpful, but distracting, and are not actually scientific diagrams from any actual text). Furthermore, she gets several points wrong concerning the science, including one which is crucial to the plot. According to her scientific world, blue-eyed parents can produce a brown-eyed child if there is a brown-eyed grandparent. Rebecca, working through her past with her cousined-grandparents, is surprised to learn that her maternal grandmother loved someone else. Someone else with brown eyes. She thinks that her mother is from a different father than her aunt, because of her sister’s brown eyes. In her mind, all her grandparents have blue eyes, although one of them has brown eyes. Both of her parents have blue eyes. Here’s the thing though: in the world we live in, blue-eyed parents only very rarely have a brown-eyed child. But this is never ever discussed in all the genetic verbage of the book. It’s just assumed that we know nothing about this and neither do any of the other people in the book (including the geneticist).

This is the thing about eyes: eye color alleles are additive (for more information, I suggest looking at this websites: The Genetics of Eye Color and Eye Colors) Dominant and recessive are only part of it (AaBb, all that). The more dominant (capital letters) you have, the more brownish your eyes get. The more lowercase letters you get, the more blue your eyes are. Most people have a mix. Which is where we get dark blue, green, light brown, etc. It’s a spectrum. So: aabbccdd is the lightest blue, while AABBCCDD is the darkest brown. But AaBbccdd is also blue, just a little darker. And aAbbCcdd is also blue. Etc. And if two people with blue eyes have children, their children can usually only have blue eyes. They don’t have enough capital letters, no matter how you mix them, to make a brown-eyed child. At most, they could make a child with green eyes. Maybe, if they both had really dark blue eyes (but usually this happens when a brown-eyed and blue-eyed person have kids).

There’s something else that bother’s me about this book. The author/Rebecca defines the Scientific Method as this:

1. Observe. Examine the details. Note the facts. Detail. Scrutinize.
2. Hypothesize. What theory could account for the fact?
3. Experiment. Test your hypothesis.
4. Evaluate the results.

Now, that’s somewhat accurate. But no hypothesis is called a theory until after years and years of evaluation. Futhermore, in the novel, Rebecca insinuates that the scientific method is a bit cyclical, in that scientists use it to test what they already know, so that they can confirm what they already know. But she, Rebecca, does not need this, because she obtains “knowledge from experience alone.” But what she is missing is that the scientific method should also be used for predicting future actions/events, etc. If the hypothesis works, it should not only be able to explain what happened, but predict what future events (for what it’s explaining) will be like. Otherwise it’s not very useful.

Okay, I guess I’m done ranting about it now. But if you’re going to write a good novel and include science, at least get your facts straight. I don’t even have time to go into the other novel here, except to say that it’s a Christian fiction book with an agenda (evolution = evil). If you want a wonderful scientific (and story) to read, let me suggest Kingbird Highway by Kenn Kaufman.

Things I have to Admit (Part I)

So, having listened to 21st Century Breakdown (Greenday), I feel that I am obligated to admit this: when my (younger) cousin first played the first Greenday album for me 'back in the day, I never ever thought they would last. Never mind that they would actually create an album that was worth listening too.

I am happy to be wrong.

My ideas on why children feel the need to be up your butt while you are trying to do things like wash the dishes or talk on the phone

Okay, so basically there are two types of offspring: precocial and altricial. There are gradiations in between that are recognized too, especially in bird species, but we're not going to discuss them here.

Precocial young are relatively advanced when they are born, able to move on their own, can eat solid food, and already have some behavior patterns developed. Mallard ducks are an example. For instance, the mother, while incubating the eggs, emits vocalizations (which are similar to the ones she will use to call the babies into the nest later). So she thereby imprints her young to her voice before they hatch. Soon after hatching, the young are ready to leave the nest, but recognize the mother's voice and return to the nest when they hear it (Drickamer et al. 2002).

Altricial young are very helpless at birth, requiring lots of care and maintenance from the parent(s). They usually cannot move or eat on their own, and usually cannot even eat solid food. Songbirds and parrots fall into this category. Obviously, so do humans.

Now, evolutionarily, parents want to have as many offspring as possible to pass on their genes. However, each offspring requires an investment on the part of the parent (which will be different depending on the gender of the parent, their degree of involvement in incubation, nuturing, etc.) Parental investment includes any investment by the parent in an individual offspring that increases that offspring's chance of surviving (i.e. reproducing) at the cost of that parent's ability to invest in other offspring (Drickamer et al. 2002). Usually females have a higher reproductive cost. (But we women already knew this; it takes the men to reason it out and write it down to realize it I guess). Parents will invest more time in fewer individual young for several reasons: when their own chances of surviving decrease; when food is hard to obtain; when they are sure that the offspring is their own (and they want to make sure the genes get passed on. However, the parents should not invest too much care in just one offspring, unless that's the only chance they have. From the offspring/child's perspective, they want want lots and lots of care, because this will help their own survival and ability to reproduce later on.

What this means is that, from an evolutionary standpoint, children do not see activities such as washing dishes and talking on the phone as contributing to their overall survival, so they try to force you to pay attention them instead. This also shows up as sibling rilvalry. Of course, at some point, they should realize that it is safer for them in the long run to let Mommy finish doing the dishes before they harass her to play games, because otherwise they will end up helping.

Save a Squirrel????

This morning it was brought to my attention that the British have begun to practice a sort of biological control of their own: eating the overinvasive grey squirrel population.

The American grey squirrel managed to invade England, and was originally believed only to compete with the British red squirrel for habitat and resources. However, it has recently been discovered that the grey squirrel has an immunological advantage as well: the squirrel poxvirus. Grey squirrels are carriers of the virus, and not affected by it. Red squirrels, once exposed, develop sores and ulcers, and eventually die, usually within two weeks. There is no vaccine for this virus, so researchers proposed strategies for heading off the disease at identified 'grey squirrel gateway' points within the country. Large culling of the grey squirrel population would be effective, but time consuming and impractical.

There are those who are willing to do their part, however. Grey squirrel removal has been done in stages, focused in small areas, and studied throughout so that time series data on both grey and red populations can be obtained. Unfortunately, it only takes a few infected greys to spread squirrel poxvirus to the reds and kill them off.

Of course, all that meat should not go to waste. And it is not, apparently. You can now get squirrel and hazelnut pâté, available at patchwork-pate.co.uk.

And now I have a confession to make. This fall I tasted my first squirrel. It was cooked in a pan, and looked like it had just been shot out of the tree, with all its limbs splayed out (no head). There were lots of small bones. There was more meat than I expected, but there were still a lot of bones. And it did not taste like chicken. It just tasted like meat. With carrots and potatoes, it wasn't too bad. I'm not sure how it would be with hazelnuts. But then, I never really was a fan of pâté; it looks too much like cat food. Seems a fitting end for a squirrel though. What would be even better is if the dog could somehow get in on it too...

No More Mice!

I have now been rodent-free for almost a week. And it's soooo great. I can cook and not have to worry about the rodents having marched all over my cookie sheets before me. I can leave dishes in the drainer to dry, like normal people do. I can wake up in the morning, walk into my kitchen, and not see rodent turds scattered everywhere.

It's so great.

In celebration, I have purchased a small brown stuffed mouse from IKEA, which either my daughter or my dog is giving me for Christmas. (Originally I was trying to convince my daughter to give it to me. But she doesn't want to. She's okay with wrapping it, but would rather that the present were from the dog. Okay, fine.)

I figure I can always use it as a little vodoo mouse if they come back.

Rodent Update

Round XXIVICIVIXIII of the mouse infestation, and the rodents are winning. By a lot. So here's what we've got so far:
1) Wooden traps with peanut butter
2) Wooden traps with peanut butter and sesame seeds (to give them something to nibble on, keep them there long enough to get smacked)
3) Poison bait
4) Glue traps
5) Exterminator (who apprently seems to only have left a different kind of bait. Is it a different flavor? I don't know. So, the mice ignored it for a few days, and then made off with it. But did not die from exposure, because a week later, they were still there, but the bait was gone.)
6) Wooden traps with smashed up bits of dog biscuit (they really seem to like these things, having bitten a hole in the bag and dragged an entire dog biscuit behind the oven, just to leave it there)
7) Another exterminator visit, more of bait type #2. So far the bait is still there, and so are the mice. The more cleaning I do, the more mouse scat I find. I mean, it's on the window sill in my bedroom. But that's the only place in my bedroom that I can find it. Not the floor, the closet (which has been thoroughly cleaned due to pending holiday), the dresser, under the bed, behind the bookshelf, under the dresser/desk, etc. Also, I live on the second floor. Of a brick apartment building. So, do these mice have rapelling equipment that they have used to infiltrate my particular apartment? Also, how did they get in through my window without it being open? Or, did they come in through the central heat/AC ducts in the ceiling (again: rapelling equipment). And: Who is making mouse-size rapelling equipment?! Someone should really look into that, because I wouldn't think there would be much of a market.

So now I'm really looking into option W: rent-a-cat (or borrow, really). Several of my co-workers have offered to let me borrow their cats' for a week. This saves me the trouble of getting one myself (my dog chases cats, which raises an initial problem with the borrow-a-cat for a week situation. But I could find someone to watch him for a week. Especially if it solves the rodent issue. But the more pressing matter of getting my own cat, besides the constant dog-chasing-cat cacophany that I would not want to deal with, is the pet care and maintenance required when one actually owns the cat. On top of already owning a dog. In an apartment). This solution makes the most sense to me, in the biological area. It's the biological solution. No need for nasty traps that you can get your fingers stuck in, or that fly across the kitchen as you are trying to set them, spraying peanut butter and dog biscuits everywhere. No need for glue traps that your kids constantly want to play with. No need for rodent poison that you're worried the dog may eat. It's a biological solution. I see an open market waiting to be tapped: rent-a-cat. Seriously. I mean, apparently Japan is a bit ahead of us on this, companion-pet-wise, but I am thinking biological-control-wise. Some pest company should look into this. It would give the cat ladies of the world something a little more useful to do.

I have also learned two things about mice I thought worth sharing. First, they only eat rice cakes when all other resources have been exhausted. Secondly, no matter how hungry they are, they will not eat peeps. I guess they don't recognize them as food. I had left an open box of peeps out on the dog crate, and they just didn't go for them. Even when I tried to use them to lure them to the glue traps. I wonder if that should tell us something. I wonder if you could even train a mouse to want to eat a peep. Or if that would be considered animal cruelty. Hmmmm.

Anyway, if you've got a cat you'd like to lend me, let me know.

Mix Lists

I've been inspired, so here are my mix lists, after quite some time of thought. Well, not so much with Chickie's. Mostly they are songs on my cds that she likes listening to. But my list is for any guy out there who is thinking of writing a me a love song someday (Chris Martin, are you reading this?). Mush all these songs together and make something beautiful out of them please.

Chickie Mix
1. Mocean Worker – Chick A Boom Boom
2. T.A.T.U. – Malchik Gei (AKA “My Chickie”)
3. Mike Doughty – Put It Down
4. Ting Tings – Great DJ
5. Ozomatli – Love and Hope
6. Cat Empire – Fishies
7. Mike Doughty – More Bacon than the Pan Can Handle
8. Ting Tings – That’s Not My Name
9. Ozomatli – Saturday Night

If Someone Wanted to Write Me a Love Song…
1. Cat Empire – Lullaby
2. Rocco deLuca – Colorful
3. Coldplay – Yellow
4. Savage Garden – Truly Madly Deeply
5. Killers – Read My Mind
6. Mike Doughty – Wednesday (No se Apoye)
7. Five O’Clock People – Sorry
8. Block Party – Sunday
9. Rilo Kiley – I Never
10. Coldplay – Strawberry Swing
11. Snow Patrol – Hands Open
12. New Pornographers – Adventures in Solitude

Elefun with a 4-year-old

So if you got that title, you either have kids or play with them regularly. As many of us are aware, small children are very literal people. When I asked my daughter what she wanted to get Toby (our Corgi) for Christmas, she immediately answered, as if she had been considering this for months and months and was only waiting for someone to ask her, "Reindeer antlers and a sweater."

My immediate response, upon imagining the poor animal in a sweater (I am against dressing up non-stuffed animals. Period), was to tell her, "We can't put Toby in a sweater."

"Oh, that's ok. We can get him a vest."

So, while I'm impressed at her knowledge of fashion (I mean, who wears vests these days?), I realize that she is taking me literally, and that I am still left to explain that we are not putting any clothes on the dog. Reindeer antlers being the exception. Also, he is allowed to eat them afterwards, should he so choose.

So, using this to my advantage, I have convinced my daughter that there are elephants living upstairs. As you may have guessed, the people up there are a little noisy. She, being nosy, is always wanting to know what every single noise is. So, one night I just told her that they had let their elephants out to exercise. And then she wanted to know how many they had, and what they were doing, etc.

So this is what we have speculated:
1) They have somewhere between 2 and 16 elephants.
2) Their kitchen is located over our bathroom.
3) Elephants need a lot of exercise.
4) Elephants eat grass. Maybe.

Yesterday morning, as we were eating breakfast, she asked me if maybe, possibly, there actually were not elephants up there. I asked why she thought that. And she said that we hadn't heard any "rooing" sounds coming from their trunks. (Pretty good logic for a 4-year-old). So, I applauded her reasoning skills. Then I also gave her some more information, since I happen to know a little about this.

Elephants can make noises so low that people can't actually hear them. We didn't know they were making these noises until we recorded them, sped up the recordings, and then listened to them.

Elephants also communicate with their feet. This is usually used for long-distance communication. They 'stamp' and those receiving the signals have special mechanoreceptors (Pacinian corpuscles) in their feet which allow them to receive the signals. This has been especially studied in the Asian elephants (Elephas maximus).

She actually seemed to absorb most of what I was saying about the elephant communication. And now we're back to figuring out how many elephants there are upstairs. I just hope she doesn't decide to try to invite them over some night to visit.

The Rodent Revolution will Not be Televised

or will it?



I believe that I have warned before about the coming Rodentia Revolution. We have done so many experiments on those animals (just type in "rodent" in Google scholar and see what you get). Here is a sample:

Leptin levels in human and rodent: Measurement of plasma leptin and ob RNA in obese and weight-reduced subjects

Evidence for higher rates of nucleotide substitution in rodents than in man

Too many rodent carcinogens: mitogenesis increases mutagenesis

And that was just the first page.

It seems that they may be starting their revolution in my kitchen. A few weeks ago (four) I noticed their little turds on my counter one morning. And found that they were inhabiting under my kitchen sink. So I did what any sane person would do - I cleaned every available counter space, cleaning anything they could have possibly touched, and put mouse traps under the sink with peanut butter on them. That night I caught one - and only one - mouse.

Apparently that was the stupid one.

Since then, I have resorted to
1) More traps.
2) More peanut butter. (They have been eating the p.b. off the traps. Keep in mind, I can barely put these traps in there, because the mere movement of putting the trap down sets them off. I am beginning to think that these rodents have the ability to levitate).
3) Poison.
4) Glue traps.
5) All of the above.

So far, all I have gotten is less peanut butter and more turds. This is very frustrating on my part. Apparently, they have evolved the ability to thwart mouse traps (plural! They poop next to the traps) and also the ability to annoy me into cursing. Also, they are obviously inviting friends over for parties on top of (and I said on top of) my dog's crate (which is large enough that I can fit into it. Now how do they get on top of it? By climbing up the wall with their suction cup feet?).

Are these X-men-type mice I'm dealing with? Maybe I need a video camera.

But be warned you rodents. The exterminator comes Friday. Then we shall see who wins.

Excavation

Recently, archaeologists found a ~1,800-year-old bronze-coated chariot in a Thracian tomb in Bulgaria. The chariot is painted with figures from Thracian mythology, including a jumping panther and an animal that contains a panther's body and a dolphin's tail. Horse remains were located near the chariot. Incidentally, I know nothing about the Thracians, but the article mentions that, "Thracians were an Indo-European nomadic people who settled in the central Balkans around 5,000 years ago." (Toshkov 2008). Wikipedia also provides some information on Thracians and references, for some quick information. Numerous archaeological digs have discovered tombs from these people; however, looters often find the tombs before scientists, and leave little behind.

A few months ago I went to the Maryland Science Center with my daughter and some friends. Their "feature" exhibit is "Dinosaur Mysteries," which is aimed towards children, in which one is allowed to excavate dinosaurs, create your own dinosaur (and email it to someone), pretend to be a baby dinosaur in a nest, put together dinosaur bones in a large 'puzzle', etc. The dinosaur excavation was reminiscent of a child's sandbox, with volunteers covering 'bones' (plastic molded bones in a pre-formed area) with sand, and the children uncovering them with large brushes. You could do it as many times as you wanted, and they would continue to re-cover it with sand as many times as you wanted. I guess there's always the really small children who still don't recognize that a toy still exists if you can't see it under the blanket (and are so happy when it comes out from under that blanket). I forget the scientific name for that though.

I also took a class once on 'Art of the Ancient Americas' during my undergraduate. One of our activities was to conduct a mock archaeological dig. This is tedious work. From what I remember, we had to first find an area of likely 'remains,' mark it off, and then 'dig' very slowly and tediously. Any finds were then excavated at toothbrush speed, with tools that much resembled toothbrushes. It is not surprising that looters often raid areas before scientists, but it is sad. It is surprising that, in this age of high-tech, high-speed, get-back-to-me-on-your-fax-mobile-blackberry-car phone-email we have not found faster means to uncover these relics than slow manual labor. I guess there's just not a market for that? It is unfortunate that mankind may be losing historical artifacts and genealogical data (especially in an age when we have so much scientific analysis available to us) due to simple theft. Maybe one day it will matter more. But then will it be too late?

Review of Smashing Pumpkins Concert

The week of Halloween, I won tickets to go see the Smashing Pumpkins in concert at Constitution Hall in DC. The concert was on Veterans Day, 11/11/08 (they played two shows down there, so if you by some chance saw the other one, which may have been different, maybe what I’m going to say doesn’t apply). Let me just say right off that I’m not a huge fan of the Pumpkins. I have respect for them as musicians, which is why I am willing to see them. But I hate Billy Corgan’s voice, which is why I will never actually pay to go see them. My free seats were pretty good. I was on the floor, but not so far back that I couldn’t see the stage, and not so close that I was wishing I wasn’t.

So we all know that the man is weird. He started the show wearing something that made me think he was trying to be an Egyptian. This long white skirt thing (which he wore for the rest of the concert as far as I could tell) and a gold sun headdress. The thing had to be the size of my 30-lb Corgi, and heavy. He wore it for a few songs, and then took it off. I imagine it’s hard to headbang with something like that on. But when he did take it off, he reminded me a bit of Moby. A little bigger version of Moby. Skinny and bald. I really did expect him to be bigger than that.

The sound was done very well. You could hear each instrument. And it wasn’t all guitars and drums either. There was a trumpet, a trombone, and a flute player. And the flute player was hot. Also, he held the flute like people were going to make fun of him for playing it (I think there may be some issues he has to work out there, but hey, he can do it, he made it this far). The drummer was also hot, but he was usually behind the huge drum kit (which, incidentally, was very well micced. I would love to know what kind and how they used their microphones on that puppy). He came out a few times from behind it – to play the tambourine – and also, apparently, to show off his muscley arms.

The lights – not so much. They seemed to have been prepared for a much larger, maybe outdoors-type, facility. The lights were loud, bright, and colorful. But also, there was this repetitive, colorful, strobe-light-the-audience effect that I did not appreciate. A lot of the time I had to keep my eyes shut to prevent a migraine; I can only imagine if I were prone to seizures what could have happened. It was nice though, that there was no smoke machine. As a person with asthma, those things can cause me to have to actually leave.

The musicians were all very good (BC’s voice notwithstanding). I have learned to live with the voice. And he didn’t sing the whole time. Sometimes he actually played for 10 straight minutes - and you thought this is nice - and then he would sing again. What was strange to me though, because I have never, ever, experienced this before in any concert that I’ve been to, is that he played for the first hour and a half. I mean played. No talking, no break, just played. It was like a feat of stamina. I don’t even know if he took a break for water (which he definitely did afterwards). It was weird. There were the people in the audience, those people who annoy the crap out of me, that act like they are the only ones at the show, who know every line to every song, and dance and jump, and pump their fist like they are the only ones there (that’s what mosh pits are for people!). And after 1.5 hours of music, BC was still hopping around stage, and they were tired. That was cool to see, but other than that it was just plain weird.

After the 1.5 hours there was a few minute intermission (water break) and something I can only assume was vocal/mouth exercises. BC was 1)beatboxing and 2)making the popping sound that you practice as a teenager to impress your friends, only he did it up on stage in front of everyone. And then he passed it off as a song he made up, right there on the spot, just for us. Which just goes to show you that he is just as weird in a normal way as the rest of us, but not afraid to share the normal weirdness either. Which I find reassuring.

But what followed that was this ten minute screechy-screechy thing (evolution? Is that one of their songs?) that was so awful I about left in the middle of it. When they were done angsting, things softened out and I was glad that I had stayed. I do appreciate the range of their musical ability. I mean, the fact that they can get up there and do what they do, and have that many people pay them for it has to say something.

And now, I have to confess that I only lasted for 2 hours. I have no idea how long the concert went. But they’re job is to be up there on that stage, and I got there for free, so I feel like I got what I paid for. I am glad that I went to see them. And although I may never love the Pumpkins, I can appreciate them and I definitely respect them as musicians.