over at daysunmeasurable.blogspot.com
Because I'm not on sabbatical any more...
Monday, September 7, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
Science Safari, and the end of the blog.
Back from the big teacher trip around Utah. 12 teachers participated, and we went to the Delta Coal-Fired Power plant, looked at oil and gas drilling sites, visited with bio-remediation specialists, talked to the Governor's Energy Advisor and a rep. from Utah Physicians for a Healthy Environment. We built stuff and made stuff and learned stuff and looked at stuff and figured stuff out. Then I came home and slept for approximately 48 straight hours, with occasional breaks to eat or go ride my horse. These trips need two leaders. I've done the experiment now, and am certain of it.
My gut (!) tells me that it was a very successful trip. All the teachers were engaged, and active in the process, asking good questions and getting involved. I overheard several conversations about how they would use this information in their classrooms, and how cool their students would find it that they got to stick their heads (almost) inside the 3,000 degree boiler at Delta.
Today, I am delighted to find myself back at work with my friends---going to lunch, and catching up on all I've missed. It's good to be back. But it means the end of this blog! Maybe I'll start another one somewhere else. I'll let you know. Maybe it will be 'professor grrrl'. ; )
My gut (!) tells me that it was a very successful trip. All the teachers were engaged, and active in the process, asking good questions and getting involved. I overheard several conversations about how they would use this information in their classrooms, and how cool their students would find it that they got to stick their heads (almost) inside the 3,000 degree boiler at Delta.
Today, I am delighted to find myself back at work with my friends---going to lunch, and catching up on all I've missed. It's good to be back. But it means the end of this blog! Maybe I'll start another one somewhere else. I'll let you know. Maybe it will be 'professor grrrl'. ; )
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Science Unwrapped
So, up in Logan, they are doing something pretty fun. Once per month, on the last Friday, they have a public lecture by a 'local' scientist, followed by an activity for the public. They call it Science Unwrapped.
I was invited to give a talk about 'The Lives of the Stars'... no, not THOSE stars. ; ) The kind that fuse hydrogen into helium. Shane and I put our heads together, and came up with what I thought was a really fun activity. We modified the stellar evolution flowchart to be a little simpler (leaving out some of the intricacies about which element gets fused when), and then turned it into a scavenger hunt! They could walk around the quad, and fill in the flowchart as they followed the branch points to figure out the answers. Shane put the whole thing 'to scale' in time, so that people could really get a sense that stuff happens at the beginning and the end, but in the middle, there's just not much going on for a REALLY long time. He made up some spiffy posters and handouts---apparently, his copy center charges much less than ours. At the middle of the main sequence part of the lifetime, there was lemonade and cookies, which fits in with the current age of the Sun, and the fact that now, for this tiny smitch of time, lemonade and cookies exist in the Universe.
Anyway. A rousing success.
Today, I'm getting final details taken care of for this teacher thing next week. Hooray for Kinko's!
I was invited to give a talk about 'The Lives of the Stars'... no, not THOSE stars. ; ) The kind that fuse hydrogen into helium. Shane and I put our heads together, and came up with what I thought was a really fun activity. We modified the stellar evolution flowchart to be a little simpler (leaving out some of the intricacies about which element gets fused when), and then turned it into a scavenger hunt! They could walk around the quad, and fill in the flowchart as they followed the branch points to figure out the answers. Shane put the whole thing 'to scale' in time, so that people could really get a sense that stuff happens at the beginning and the end, but in the middle, there's just not much going on for a REALLY long time. He made up some spiffy posters and handouts---apparently, his copy center charges much less than ours. At the middle of the main sequence part of the lifetime, there was lemonade and cookies, which fits in with the current age of the Sun, and the fact that now, for this tiny smitch of time, lemonade and cookies exist in the Universe.
Anyway. A rousing success.
Today, I'm getting final details taken care of for this teacher thing next week. Hooray for Kinko's!
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Yellowstone
I just spent the weekend in Yellowstone, where I gave two talks, and spent all day Saturday driving 'the loop', and stopping to see all the things. We saw a wolf! And so many bison. And a bunch of elk. And cranes and pelicans and too many wildflowers to count. We had a wonderful time. But here's what I learned about the talks...
First talk: science talk about the lives of stars. more or less a week of intro astronomy lecture compressed into an hour. I committed my usual nonsense, of making them 'Class, repeat after me.' and also participate in more meaningful ways, designed to help them remember that there are multiple ways for a star to die, and one of them is fast and 'loud' and one is slow and 'quiet', and a third is nothing really happening at all, just a fading away. This was very well received, and our friend Melanie, who has the ___fortune to be married to a dedicated amateur astronomer, claims she will even invite all her friends to come if I come back next year. Given that she is a potter, who has no interest whatsoever in astronomy, and hates to go to star parties, this seems like success. And that was all fine, and many people thought it was great. But I knew something different was coming. I could feel it percolating along under my conscious thoughts. Many people came back the second day, for:
Second talk: constellation stories. Ok. This is performance art, and not really science. I was really, really nervous about this. I've never done it without stars, so if it was cloudy, I didn't know what I was going to do. I've never done it in front of ~400 people, and I'd never done it in this type of venue, with mostly members of the general public, only a few of whom knew me and most of whom would be tired from a long day in the sun. But it went great. Better than great. It was inspired. I know, because I was there, being inspired by the venue, and the lighting, and the kids I kept dragging up on stage to help me act out the parts.
Before it was really dark, I started with a part about the tides, and had the kids up there 'dancing' the solar system, and figuring out why 'neap' comes from 'neafte' which is Saxon for scarcity. And some poor teenager was bored being the sun, and the moon and the earth had lots to do. Well, it's not always best to be the biggest and the brightest. Sometimes that means you have to just stand there and hold the solar system together.
Then I told the story of the Seven Wives Who Ate Onions. But I had no stars, because it was cloudy. I asked, and there were many fans of the Pleiades and the Hyades, but most people didn't know what I was talking about. So I brought three kids up, to be Orion, Taurus and the Pleiades, all in their line in the night sky. Orion struck his hunter pose, and Taurus used his fingers as horns, and the girl did her best to be multiple personality-ed. And so. It was hysterical, and everyone laughed and applauded and the kids were great, and then I told the story in my usual way, with all the waddling around hugely pregnant, and the men all confused, and all the drama of terrible winters waiting oh so impatiently for the miracle of a green shoot coming out of the ground. And there was lots of laughter and applause.
And then I told the story of Ursa Major, and the long tail on the bear (during which it occured to me to wonder if we ask the question wrong-way-round, and should be wondering why modern bears have short tails). And I wound up with two kids up there, one of whom was Callisto, and one was Zeus. In the middle, I just about panicked, because I realized that these two little kids were supposed to fall in love and have a child, but the boy saved it all, and was a trooper, and it worked out great. Because when I said that 'Zeus had a secret, he ALREADY HAD A WIFE!' the little kid said 'This is getting better for me all the time', which was a laugh line I couldn't have made up myself. And there was more laughter and nuttiness. And Zeus, despite the fact that he winds up looking like a nimrod, was really happy to play the part, and will probably talk about it all the rest of his days.
And then I closed with the Clash of the Titans, which is my favorite story to tell, but I added in this new thing, where half the audience was the sea monster, saying 'roar', and the other half was Andromeda, saying 'Help me, help me, help me' in this tiny little voice. And it was probably the best performance of this story in 1,000 years. Because you don't get a better setting than right in front of National Park Mountain, and you don't get a better audience than people on vacation, and you don't get better lighting than a campfire off to one side, and you don't get a better background set of noises than those made by elk settling down for the night next to the river. And it was magical and wonderful, and I was on fire, and I hope I get to do it again, because if there's one thing in life that I really love, it's telling stories that have been told for thousands and thousands of years; since even before we knew how to write them down. And it's better than television, and different than a play, because it's different when it's live, and when it's a single person's take on a single story and what it has to tell you about who we are. Every day, I'm a different person, and so I tell the story a different way, and it means something different to the people who take the time to listen. We make something brand new out of the past, and fold it into our common experience, and carry it, like a child, held inside us, close under our hearts.
First talk: science talk about the lives of stars. more or less a week of intro astronomy lecture compressed into an hour. I committed my usual nonsense, of making them 'Class, repeat after me.' and also participate in more meaningful ways, designed to help them remember that there are multiple ways for a star to die, and one of them is fast and 'loud' and one is slow and 'quiet', and a third is nothing really happening at all, just a fading away. This was very well received, and our friend Melanie, who has the ___fortune to be married to a dedicated amateur astronomer, claims she will even invite all her friends to come if I come back next year. Given that she is a potter, who has no interest whatsoever in astronomy, and hates to go to star parties, this seems like success. And that was all fine, and many people thought it was great. But I knew something different was coming. I could feel it percolating along under my conscious thoughts. Many people came back the second day, for:
Second talk: constellation stories. Ok. This is performance art, and not really science. I was really, really nervous about this. I've never done it without stars, so if it was cloudy, I didn't know what I was going to do. I've never done it in front of ~400 people, and I'd never done it in this type of venue, with mostly members of the general public, only a few of whom knew me and most of whom would be tired from a long day in the sun. But it went great. Better than great. It was inspired. I know, because I was there, being inspired by the venue, and the lighting, and the kids I kept dragging up on stage to help me act out the parts.
Before it was really dark, I started with a part about the tides, and had the kids up there 'dancing' the solar system, and figuring out why 'neap' comes from 'neafte' which is Saxon for scarcity. And some poor teenager was bored being the sun, and the moon and the earth had lots to do. Well, it's not always best to be the biggest and the brightest. Sometimes that means you have to just stand there and hold the solar system together.
Then I told the story of the Seven Wives Who Ate Onions. But I had no stars, because it was cloudy. I asked, and there were many fans of the Pleiades and the Hyades, but most people didn't know what I was talking about. So I brought three kids up, to be Orion, Taurus and the Pleiades, all in their line in the night sky. Orion struck his hunter pose, and Taurus used his fingers as horns, and the girl did her best to be multiple personality-ed. And so. It was hysterical, and everyone laughed and applauded and the kids were great, and then I told the story in my usual way, with all the waddling around hugely pregnant, and the men all confused, and all the drama of terrible winters waiting oh so impatiently for the miracle of a green shoot coming out of the ground. And there was lots of laughter and applause.
And then I told the story of Ursa Major, and the long tail on the bear (during which it occured to me to wonder if we ask the question wrong-way-round, and should be wondering why modern bears have short tails). And I wound up with two kids up there, one of whom was Callisto, and one was Zeus. In the middle, I just about panicked, because I realized that these two little kids were supposed to fall in love and have a child, but the boy saved it all, and was a trooper, and it worked out great. Because when I said that 'Zeus had a secret, he ALREADY HAD A WIFE!' the little kid said 'This is getting better for me all the time', which was a laugh line I couldn't have made up myself. And there was more laughter and nuttiness. And Zeus, despite the fact that he winds up looking like a nimrod, was really happy to play the part, and will probably talk about it all the rest of his days.
And then I closed with the Clash of the Titans, which is my favorite story to tell, but I added in this new thing, where half the audience was the sea monster, saying 'roar', and the other half was Andromeda, saying 'Help me, help me, help me' in this tiny little voice. And it was probably the best performance of this story in 1,000 years. Because you don't get a better setting than right in front of National Park Mountain, and you don't get a better audience than people on vacation, and you don't get better lighting than a campfire off to one side, and you don't get a better background set of noises than those made by elk settling down for the night next to the river. And it was magical and wonderful, and I was on fire, and I hope I get to do it again, because if there's one thing in life that I really love, it's telling stories that have been told for thousands and thousands of years; since even before we knew how to write them down. And it's better than television, and different than a play, because it's different when it's live, and when it's a single person's take on a single story and what it has to tell you about who we are. Every day, I'm a different person, and so I tell the story a different way, and it means something different to the people who take the time to listen. We make something brand new out of the past, and fold it into our common experience, and carry it, like a child, held inside us, close under our hearts.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Bummer.
But not really. Er, only sort of.
So they were really pleased with the work I did. They called it 'creative' and 'clever' and 'well-written'. The editor said that the end-of-chapter pieces were particularly nice, and made him actually want to find out the answers.
However. The reason it took so long for them to get back to me is that they were unable to hammer out a compromise about the future of the book with the prior authors (not specifically related to me in any way, apparently). So the entire project is canceled. Which, if you think about it, means I dodged a bullet. They must be impossible to work with, if they couldn't even keep the project alive!
The editor is finding other work for me to do, because he wants me to keep some space in my schedule until their other astronomy textbook needs a new author (probably next year). Which is kudos for me.
So I'm bummed, but not as bummed as I could be... and at least it opens up the area in my head that I had been reserving for that project!
So they were really pleased with the work I did. They called it 'creative' and 'clever' and 'well-written'. The editor said that the end-of-chapter pieces were particularly nice, and made him actually want to find out the answers.
However. The reason it took so long for them to get back to me is that they were unable to hammer out a compromise about the future of the book with the prior authors (not specifically related to me in any way, apparently). So the entire project is canceled. Which, if you think about it, means I dodged a bullet. They must be impossible to work with, if they couldn't even keep the project alive!
The editor is finding other work for me to do, because he wants me to keep some space in my schedule until their other astronomy textbook needs a new author (probably next year). Which is kudos for me.
So I'm bummed, but not as bummed as I could be... and at least it opens up the area in my head that I had been reserving for that project!
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Still Waiting...
to hear from New York. This is two weeks past THEIR deadline.
8P
But in the meantime, we have family in town, and that's keeping us pretty busy!
8P
But in the meantime, we have family in town, and that's keeping us pretty busy!
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Deadline? What deadline?
I eat deadlines for breakfast. and lunch. and dinner. and midnight snack. and the next day's breakfast...
I've been working more or less straight through since Wednesday to get this chapter finished up for the intro astronomy text. It took for flippin' ever (and much longer than expected) to straighten out all the details, like making sure the figure numbers were actually, you know, sequential. That's probably kind of important. And that the reference went to the correct figure. And so on.
But it's done. And I think it's really improved. Certainly, it's more fun and interesting. And the problems are much improved. I love writing problems. No, really. I do. I like to write problems that say 'Ok, now we've told you how it is. How would things be if it wasn't that way? What if I moved you over THERE? What if I change this one thing---how would the universe be different?' Maybe I read too much science fiction, but I just love figuring out how to get people to stretch beyond reality so they can look back and see how cool it is.
Keep your fingers crossed, because in spite of the stress of SO MANY details, I really had a blast working on it, and would like to get the contract.
I've been working more or less straight through since Wednesday to get this chapter finished up for the intro astronomy text. It took for flippin' ever (and much longer than expected) to straighten out all the details, like making sure the figure numbers were actually, you know, sequential. That's probably kind of important. And that the reference went to the correct figure. And so on.
But it's done. And I think it's really improved. Certainly, it's more fun and interesting. And the problems are much improved. I love writing problems. No, really. I do. I like to write problems that say 'Ok, now we've told you how it is. How would things be if it wasn't that way? What if I moved you over THERE? What if I change this one thing---how would the universe be different?' Maybe I read too much science fiction, but I just love figuring out how to get people to stretch beyond reality so they can look back and see how cool it is.
Keep your fingers crossed, because in spite of the stress of SO MANY details, I really had a blast working on it, and would like to get the contract.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Good Dogs!
An update about doggie boot camp, now that Smokey is well, and can actually leave the property... Dinner last night and breakfast this morning were not delivered until they were polite. Such a shock! Their little faces when I kept putting their dinner back in the pantry as soon as they broke their 'wait' were hilarious. This is not the way they expect things to go...
This morning, I walked the two-headed monster down to the pond and back. By the end of the walk, I had TWO slack leashes, and could just look around at the birds and the sunshine. Our "meet and greets" need practice, though. Poor Smokey is just so interested in people! He breaks his "sit, wait" as soon as they speak to him. But, given that we are now convinced that he was only about 7 months old when we got him, I am pleased with his progress. He only jumps up in front of people about half the time now (and rarely actually on them).
They are back to only being allowed out in the backyard one at a time, unless I'm right there with nothing to do but pay attention to them! While on the one hand, their running around kills some energy, on the other hand, they just get more hyped up. Not to mention completely filthy. Good thing we have a porch we can close them into!
I'm pondering some agility training for both of them. They could use a job where they can learn to work together... at something besides stealing my sandwiches off of the counter!
This morning, I walked the two-headed monster down to the pond and back. By the end of the walk, I had TWO slack leashes, and could just look around at the birds and the sunshine. Our "meet and greets" need practice, though. Poor Smokey is just so interested in people! He breaks his "sit, wait" as soon as they speak to him. But, given that we are now convinced that he was only about 7 months old when we got him, I am pleased with his progress. He only jumps up in front of people about half the time now (and rarely actually on them).
They are back to only being allowed out in the backyard one at a time, unless I'm right there with nothing to do but pay attention to them! While on the one hand, their running around kills some energy, on the other hand, they just get more hyped up. Not to mention completely filthy. Good thing we have a porch we can close them into!
I'm pondering some agility training for both of them. They could use a job where they can learn to work together... at something besides stealing my sandwiches off of the counter!
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Perfecting New Mexico Green Chile
So here's what we've learned so far...
Anaheim peppers ARE the correct variety.
They grow just fine here in Utah, and they are always available at Carlos'.
Once you've got some in your hand, here's what you do:
Fire up the grill, as hot as you can make it.
Layer the chiles on the lowest rack.
Close the grill, and wait patiently.
Turn them when they start to blacken and blister.
Then turn them again.
Keep doing that, until they are totally black and blistered all over. It will look like you did it wrong, and you'll be nervous.
Dump the hot chiles into a heavy paper or plastic bag, and close it up tight.
Then leave them there. Once they are cool, you can put them in the fridge, but don't peel them yet.
Wait a couple of days. (This is very hard, because you want to eat them right away. But they need time for the roasted flavor to get into the 'meat' of the chile.)
Open 'em up and slip off the peel, which should just fall right off, practically.
Enjoy deeeeee-licious NMGC goodness, layered into everything humans can consume. Especially green chile-goat cheese-breakfast burritos. And cheeseburgers. And ham sandwiches. Who'm I kidding? I'd just about eat the plastic bag, and call it a sandwich!
Oh, BTW, don't let the dog get them off the counter while your back is turned. BAD DOG.
Anaheim peppers ARE the correct variety.
They grow just fine here in Utah, and they are always available at Carlos'.
Once you've got some in your hand, here's what you do:
Fire up the grill, as hot as you can make it.
Layer the chiles on the lowest rack.
Close the grill, and wait patiently.
Turn them when they start to blacken and blister.
Then turn them again.
Keep doing that, until they are totally black and blistered all over. It will look like you did it wrong, and you'll be nervous.
Dump the hot chiles into a heavy paper or plastic bag, and close it up tight.
Then leave them there. Once they are cool, you can put them in the fridge, but don't peel them yet.
Wait a couple of days. (This is very hard, because you want to eat them right away. But they need time for the roasted flavor to get into the 'meat' of the chile.)
Open 'em up and slip off the peel, which should just fall right off, practically.
Enjoy deeeeee-licious NMGC goodness, layered into everything humans can consume. Especially green chile-goat cheese-breakfast burritos. And cheeseburgers. And ham sandwiches. Who'm I kidding? I'd just about eat the plastic bag, and call it a sandwich!
Oh, BTW, don't let the dog get them off the counter while your back is turned. BAD DOG.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Sorry!
Sorry, all, that I left you with that last, discouraged post! I'm feeling much more upbeat now, mostly because I've been busy playing outside in the bright Utah sunshine.
The new garden is in (almost 150 square feet!), the dog has recovered from his pneumonia, I've been building things, and making things, and learning things, and starting new projects (including, possibly, a new textbook project).
And our boy Barack has been busy making me proud. The new fuel efficiency standards are just a kick in the pants. And I can't believe he goes and watches his girls play soccer. The leader of the free world makes time for his children. It almost makes me want to have some. Almost. ; )
It probably helps that I've limited my NPR consumption in recent weeks. It's all very informative, but I'm feeling a little jaded about having too much information that you can't do anything about.
The new garden is in (almost 150 square feet!), the dog has recovered from his pneumonia, I've been building things, and making things, and learning things, and starting new projects (including, possibly, a new textbook project).
And our boy Barack has been busy making me proud. The new fuel efficiency standards are just a kick in the pants. And I can't believe he goes and watches his girls play soccer. The leader of the free world makes time for his children. It almost makes me want to have some. Almost. ; )
It probably helps that I've limited my NPR consumption in recent weeks. It's all very informative, but I'm feeling a little jaded about having too much information that you can't do anything about.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Discouraged
Today, I met with a group of teachers that I'm taking on my summer road trip about Energy Issues along the Wasatch Front. (That was not the discouraging thing!) But while I was talking about my own biases, in the interests of full disclosure, I explained that as a scientist, I believe that data trump everything. And I believe this so strongly, it's such a deep part of my being, that I don't seem to be able to even imagine seeing the world any other way. So I had this in my head, and I was trying to imagine what it would be like to not believe in graphs.
And then, in the car, NPR had American Routes on, and sometimes I don't like to listen to that. So I flipped around the channels, and ran into KSL. Where some lunatic was talking about global warming and climate change, and how they don't exist. And he was saying that 15 years ago, everyone was predicting an ice age (which is false), and then he trotted out this thing that George Will said in his column, that there has been no warming in the last 12 years. But that's been shown to be false, and George Will just got his facts wrong, and the Washington Post just refused to correct it, even though they admitted it was incorrect. But here's this guy, carrying along this false idea because George Will said it. And the interviewer was just eagerly lapping it all up. Probably because the truth is so desperate?
And I was suddenly not only raging, but seriously discouraged. Because getting to work on this problem (and the related King Rat of all the other appalling problems facing us today) is so imperative, so crucial, and so obvious to me, that I can't even comprehend how someone could fail to see it, much less argue against it.
So I went and bought stuff to make home-brew beer and I came home. And I puttered around with my vegetable starts and checked on the asparagus bed. And I picked my dog's nose (poor Smokey and his pneumonia). And I turned on the radio, and it was the 'plague report' about the swine flu in Mexico. So I turned that off, and listened to DMB instead. But then it was the dodo song, and so I turned that off too. And I went out back and checked on my chickens. And then I came back in and I made a big chart on a big piece of newsprint of all the things I'm afraid of, and then I shredded it and put it in the chicken coop for them to shit on.
And now I feel better.
A little.
And then, in the car, NPR had American Routes on, and sometimes I don't like to listen to that. So I flipped around the channels, and ran into KSL. Where some lunatic was talking about global warming and climate change, and how they don't exist. And he was saying that 15 years ago, everyone was predicting an ice age (which is false), and then he trotted out this thing that George Will said in his column, that there has been no warming in the last 12 years. But that's been shown to be false, and George Will just got his facts wrong, and the Washington Post just refused to correct it, even though they admitted it was incorrect. But here's this guy, carrying along this false idea because George Will said it. And the interviewer was just eagerly lapping it all up. Probably because the truth is so desperate?
And I was suddenly not only raging, but seriously discouraged. Because getting to work on this problem (and the related King Rat of all the other appalling problems facing us today) is so imperative, so crucial, and so obvious to me, that I can't even comprehend how someone could fail to see it, much less argue against it.
So I went and bought stuff to make home-brew beer and I came home. And I puttered around with my vegetable starts and checked on the asparagus bed. And I picked my dog's nose (poor Smokey and his pneumonia). And I turned on the radio, and it was the 'plague report' about the swine flu in Mexico. So I turned that off, and listened to DMB instead. But then it was the dodo song, and so I turned that off too. And I went out back and checked on my chickens. And then I came back in and I made a big chart on a big piece of newsprint of all the things I'm afraid of, and then I shredded it and put it in the chicken coop for them to shit on.
And now I feel better.
A little.
Monday, April 20, 2009
What I've been up to...
just to catch up, a little...
I've given a couple of talks---at USU, at ATK, and am getting ready to meet with the teachers for the summer class. This means I spend a lot of time on hold with the power company in Brigham City, among other things. ; )
I'm organizing lessons again. Which is not as much of a drag as it sounds, now that I've made everyone else responsible for themselves.
Our new pup has pneumonia. Poor little tyke. I got him an emergency roast beef sandwich today, because he was so pathetic. We've been working on him for the last ten days, and now have pulled out the big guns, antibiotically speaking. I just wish he would be able to breathe through his nose.
Trinkie and I are sneaking up on a reliable canter pirouette. If only all our tests consisted primarily of collected canter... we'd clean up.
We have a new fence to keep the dogs and the chickens separate.
We have newly re-upholstered chairs.
We have starts for the garden. Lots and lots of starts for the garden. Pretty soon, J's going to start complaining that I moved his cheese, and put baby tomatoes on it.
We have an asparagus bed! Now THAT is a commitment.
I have shredded years and years of old bills, bank statements, etc. We now have a filing system. With things in their files. With labels.
We have a new chicken coop. I cleaned out the old one. It wasn't nearly as disgusting as you think.
We have turned the compost heap, sorted out the brush pile and the woodpile and the compost pile.
We are about to have a new picnic table.
We have a long-term landscape plan, which includes tearing up the old driveway, and replacing it with plants. Nobody should have more driveway than house.
Phew.
Off to water the asparagus...
I've given a couple of talks---at USU, at ATK, and am getting ready to meet with the teachers for the summer class. This means I spend a lot of time on hold with the power company in Brigham City, among other things. ; )
I'm organizing lessons again. Which is not as much of a drag as it sounds, now that I've made everyone else responsible for themselves.
Our new pup has pneumonia. Poor little tyke. I got him an emergency roast beef sandwich today, because he was so pathetic. We've been working on him for the last ten days, and now have pulled out the big guns, antibiotically speaking. I just wish he would be able to breathe through his nose.
Trinkie and I are sneaking up on a reliable canter pirouette. If only all our tests consisted primarily of collected canter... we'd clean up.
We have a new fence to keep the dogs and the chickens separate.
We have newly re-upholstered chairs.
We have starts for the garden. Lots and lots of starts for the garden. Pretty soon, J's going to start complaining that I moved his cheese, and put baby tomatoes on it.
We have an asparagus bed! Now THAT is a commitment.
I have shredded years and years of old bills, bank statements, etc. We now have a filing system. With things in their files. With labels.
We have a new chicken coop. I cleaned out the old one. It wasn't nearly as disgusting as you think.
We have turned the compost heap, sorted out the brush pile and the woodpile and the compost pile.
We are about to have a new picnic table.
We have a long-term landscape plan, which includes tearing up the old driveway, and replacing it with plants. Nobody should have more driveway than house.
Phew.
Off to water the asparagus...
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Smokey
Mom! Calm down. Lots of people have two dogs. Now we do, too. It's ok! Really.
This is Smokey. I was thinking of a puppy, since I have time at the moment. But then I saw this dog on the internet at the shelter in Park City. And he'd been at another shelter for two weeks. And black dogs, for whatever reason, are nearly unadoptable. And everyone wants a puppy. But maybe nobody wants this dog. Except maybe us. And then he leaned against my legs in that completely endearing way that Aussies do when they want you to take them home. So we did. He's got the twinkly toes. He's got the soulful eyes. He's almost got the eyebrows. He sleeps at my feet while I write in my blog. He's got the softest fur imaginable. And he and Captain think this is the best thing that ever happened to them.
Oh, and he needs to be taught to NOT chase the chickens. But he'll get that figured out. Soon.
Synchronicity
Yesterday, I went to give a talk at a nearby University. While I spent time thinking about it ahead of time, it took me all of an hour to prepare for this talk, and I wasn't nervous at all. In the middle of the talk, someone asked me about astroseismology and whether one of the oscillation modes could be responsible for the phenomenon I was trying to explain. Not that long ago, this would have made me nervous, and worked up. But I just said, 'I'm more or less completely ignorant about astroseismology, but I would guess that...' and it was fun to talk about. And fun to think about. And fun to argue about.
I was thinking about this afterwards, wondering what's different. Then, this morning, I was catching up with fellow bloggers, and find that it takes 10,000 hours to become an expert, and yes, I probably have much more than that invested at this point, and so of course I feel like I can admit ignorance, defend my ideas, discuss new ideas thoughtfully and generally just have a good time giving talks. Even to physicists. Because, apparently, I'm an expert. Huh.
I was thinking about this afterwards, wondering what's different. Then, this morning, I was catching up with fellow bloggers, and find that it takes 10,000 hours to become an expert, and yes, I probably have much more than that invested at this point, and so of course I feel like I can admit ignorance, defend my ideas, discuss new ideas thoughtfully and generally just have a good time giving talks. Even to physicists. Because, apparently, I'm an expert. Huh.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Subtle changes
Before I went to Socorro, I'd developed a bit of a wind phobia. Sometimes the wind here, near the mouth of Strong's Canyon, is pretty extreme. It has been known to blow the Adirondack chairs right off the deck.
But Socorro might also be called Sirocco, because it's really windy all the time there. So much so that people build adobe walls around their houses to keep their stuff from blowing away.
After about three months of cowering at night in my A-frame, I started to get annoyed. The fine desert grit blew right under the door and through the window frames. It got in my food, it got on my toothbrush. It coated the floor and the bathtub and made mud when I showered. Then, after about another month, I stopped noticing it all together.
We've got a bit of wind here at home tonight, the kind that used to make me cower under the covers.
It sounds like the sea.
But Socorro might also be called Sirocco, because it's really windy all the time there. So much so that people build adobe walls around their houses to keep their stuff from blowing away.
After about three months of cowering at night in my A-frame, I started to get annoyed. The fine desert grit blew right under the door and through the window frames. It got in my food, it got on my toothbrush. It coated the floor and the bathtub and made mud when I showered. Then, after about another month, I stopped noticing it all together.
We've got a bit of wind here at home tonight, the kind that used to make me cower under the covers.
It sounds like the sea.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Random Findings...
On Friday, I was cleaning out the furnace room. We store our outdoor gear in there---snowshoes and skis and tents and sleeping bags and, well you get the idea. It occurred to me that some shelves would be helpful. So I was putting them in.
I bumped a shelf into the duct work, and a little metal rectangle, a bit larger than an index card, fell down onto the floor with a loud clatter. I gasped because I thought I'd poked a hole in the duct, and stood on tiptoe to look at the duct work. And I saw this piece of brown paper. Which, naturally, I pulled on. It was a paper bag. Whatever was inside was heavy. As I pulled it toward the edge of the duct, a perfectly ordinary quarter fell on the floor. My brows furrowed and my heart thumped. I pulled the bag out, and held it in my hand for a long moment. A moment fraught with this much sheer, unexpected possibility had to be shared with someone else. So I brought the bag inside and put it on the kitchen table. Then I went out and did a bunch of other things while I waited for J. It was 3:50, and he was supposed to be home at 4. I kept wandering through the kitchen to stare at the bag until 4:40, when he FINALLY came home. At that point, I was coming in from the chicken coop with four eggs in my hand.
I said, "Come on! I've got something to show you! I didn't open it yet, because I wanted you to be here! Four eggs! Look!" which, naturally, made no sense at all to him.
As I was putting the eggs in the fridge, J casually opened the bag. I was telling him all about it, but I don't think he heard me, because I had to tell it again later. Inside the bag? More than $1000 worth of silver coins (according to wikipedia).
I told the story again, dragging J out to the furnace room, where he looked all over for other hidden treasure.
Naturally, the response has been mixed---from disbelief to amazement to envy. But the most interesting one is the response from a friend of a friend, who warned us that we shouldn't talk about it. We should keep it quiet. We shouldn't mention it out loud. Because the old owners might come and want the money back. Or get a court order to tear the house apart looking for more. I think less than charitable things about his view of the world.
Which brings me to another random finding, this one inside my own head. Apparently, I have a sincere faith in the Universe's own peculiar brand of justice. If anyone showed up with a court order to tear my house apart over $1000 in coins, I wouldn't even have to do anything. Likely, the big pine tree in the front yard would fall on their heads, and drive them like a nail down into the sewer line. So I'm just not worried about this. Instead, I'm just childishly excited by the buried treasure that I found, and I'm having fun making up stories of how the money got there. All the sudden, I'm living in Nancy Drew's or Trixie Belden's universe. How fun is that?
I bumped a shelf into the duct work, and a little metal rectangle, a bit larger than an index card, fell down onto the floor with a loud clatter. I gasped because I thought I'd poked a hole in the duct, and stood on tiptoe to look at the duct work. And I saw this piece of brown paper. Which, naturally, I pulled on. It was a paper bag. Whatever was inside was heavy. As I pulled it toward the edge of the duct, a perfectly ordinary quarter fell on the floor. My brows furrowed and my heart thumped. I pulled the bag out, and held it in my hand for a long moment. A moment fraught with this much sheer, unexpected possibility had to be shared with someone else. So I brought the bag inside and put it on the kitchen table. Then I went out and did a bunch of other things while I waited for J. It was 3:50, and he was supposed to be home at 4. I kept wandering through the kitchen to stare at the bag until 4:40, when he FINALLY came home. At that point, I was coming in from the chicken coop with four eggs in my hand.
I said, "Come on! I've got something to show you! I didn't open it yet, because I wanted you to be here! Four eggs! Look!" which, naturally, made no sense at all to him.
As I was putting the eggs in the fridge, J casually opened the bag. I was telling him all about it, but I don't think he heard me, because I had to tell it again later. Inside the bag? More than $1000 worth of silver coins (according to wikipedia).
I told the story again, dragging J out to the furnace room, where he looked all over for other hidden treasure.
Naturally, the response has been mixed---from disbelief to amazement to envy. But the most interesting one is the response from a friend of a friend, who warned us that we shouldn't talk about it. We should keep it quiet. We shouldn't mention it out loud. Because the old owners might come and want the money back. Or get a court order to tear the house apart looking for more. I think less than charitable things about his view of the world.
Which brings me to another random finding, this one inside my own head. Apparently, I have a sincere faith in the Universe's own peculiar brand of justice. If anyone showed up with a court order to tear my house apart over $1000 in coins, I wouldn't even have to do anything. Likely, the big pine tree in the front yard would fall on their heads, and drive them like a nail down into the sewer line. So I'm just not worried about this. Instead, I'm just childishly excited by the buried treasure that I found, and I'm having fun making up stories of how the money got there. All the sudden, I'm living in Nancy Drew's or Trixie Belden's universe. How fun is that?
Monday, March 23, 2009
Is this when to say 'when'?
I find myself in a spot that's unusual for me. I'm uncertain. And because I note that it's unusual, you know I usually just plow ahead, without worrying too much about the consequences. But, at the moment, I find that I'm dragging my feet on a project that I wouldn't usually drag myself to. Instead of getting to work on it, I find myself vacuuming. (!) Washing dishes. Doing laundry. All things that are necessary, and so I can convince myself that they need doing RIGHT NOW.
So here's the thing. I'm looking at this grant proposal, which, if we got it, would be huge. Enormous. Challenging and of national impact. I would more or less devote myself to this effort for the next four years. Everything else would take a backseat, because running this effort would be a full time job, in addition to the half time teaching load that is more or less necessary to keep my actual job. Not to mention committee work. And research with students. Ah. And so there I see the problem, even as I start talking it out, I see what's bothering me. More than 150% time for the next four+ years. Given that 100% time at my job typically means many more than 40 hours per week, 150+% time typically means... well, no time for anything else. Not only that, but I'd be working 150+% time for 130% pay.
Having just done pretty much that for two years, I can tell you that I always felt like I wasn't giving adequate attention to ANYthing I was doing. I always felt a little bit behind. Always not quite ready for class. Always not quite having the homework done before I assigned it. Always having emails piling up, reports slapped together, some purchase or requisition not quite properly tracked or accounted for. Always leaving my tack uncleaned, my clothes unwashed, the dog unwalked, and the bed unmade. Is it too much to ask to have time every day to pull the comforter up? Some days, I didn't have time to take a shower.
And then today, on Radio West, comes this guy: Tom Hodkinson, who wrote 'How to be Idle', and he talked about the Western obsession with work. And he said, 'What if you woke up every morning and thought, 'What shall I do today?'' And I was struck by that. Because here I am on sabbatical, having done some really pretty important work for the last five months. By all rights, I should spend the next five weeks trying to figure out what I would do if I didn't HAVE to do anything. Instead, I'm beating myself up over not really feeling all that gung-ho about taking on a future four years that are going to put me in the same position that made me need the sabbatical so desperately in the first place.
But then, I think about what it would mean to the University and the Department to have this grant come in. It's not everyone here that knows how to do this kind of thing. And I can see it all laid out in steps ahead of me. First, we'd do this, and then we'd do that, and then we'd do this, and then we'd have a finished product that was better than anything that currently exists, and it would really be a big help to teachers everywhere. And I have a big enough ego that I think that maybe we are the only ones who COULD do it. And I have a small enough ego to think that this kind of grant-getting is the most useful thing that I contribute. And I think about what would it mean to have this kind of influx of cash in the current economic climate.
But then I heard this story about someone who got facilities from the University---new space for new offices. But no furniture. Seriously. Not a chair. Not a pencil. Not a stapler. Nothing. And I've been promised that 'we could find the space'. But I never asked about furniture. Because why would I, right? What good are offices without desks? Grant agencies don't pay for furniture. That's supposed to come out of the overhead. That's obvious, right? But in the last grant, I was scavenging furniture from surplus. Do I really want to go through all that sort of thing again?
And maybe I should just worry about keeping the job I already have. I mean, I really, really love my job. Would I love doing this other job as much? Would it be as valuable as being in the classroom? Would I ever find time to walk the dog or ride my pony?
So mostly, I'm just wondering if I've gone completely mad... I guess I feel that applying for the grant means stepping off into a whole other career, in addition (not instead of) the one I already have, and I'm not sure I want to go there. On the other hand, we probably wouldn't get it (those are the odds). But on the other, other hand, if we did, it really would mean a commitment of cosmic proportions, for at least four years. And if I'm not sure I want to make that commitment, should I waste everyone's time by applying?
And isn't this, maybe, one of the whole points of a sabbatical, to step back and try to get some perspective on what you do every day, and what it's good for, and what it's about, and why you do it, and how you could do it better, more authentically? And to try to figure out, maybe just a little, when it's time to say 'when'?
Or maybe I'm just thinking too hard.
So here's the thing. I'm looking at this grant proposal, which, if we got it, would be huge. Enormous. Challenging and of national impact. I would more or less devote myself to this effort for the next four years. Everything else would take a backseat, because running this effort would be a full time job, in addition to the half time teaching load that is more or less necessary to keep my actual job. Not to mention committee work. And research with students. Ah. And so there I see the problem, even as I start talking it out, I see what's bothering me. More than 150% time for the next four+ years. Given that 100% time at my job typically means many more than 40 hours per week, 150+% time typically means... well, no time for anything else. Not only that, but I'd be working 150+% time for 130% pay.
Having just done pretty much that for two years, I can tell you that I always felt like I wasn't giving adequate attention to ANYthing I was doing. I always felt a little bit behind. Always not quite ready for class. Always not quite having the homework done before I assigned it. Always having emails piling up, reports slapped together, some purchase or requisition not quite properly tracked or accounted for. Always leaving my tack uncleaned, my clothes unwashed, the dog unwalked, and the bed unmade. Is it too much to ask to have time every day to pull the comforter up? Some days, I didn't have time to take a shower.
And then today, on Radio West, comes this guy: Tom Hodkinson, who wrote 'How to be Idle', and he talked about the Western obsession with work. And he said, 'What if you woke up every morning and thought, 'What shall I do today?'' And I was struck by that. Because here I am on sabbatical, having done some really pretty important work for the last five months. By all rights, I should spend the next five weeks trying to figure out what I would do if I didn't HAVE to do anything. Instead, I'm beating myself up over not really feeling all that gung-ho about taking on a future four years that are going to put me in the same position that made me need the sabbatical so desperately in the first place.
But then, I think about what it would mean to the University and the Department to have this grant come in. It's not everyone here that knows how to do this kind of thing. And I can see it all laid out in steps ahead of me. First, we'd do this, and then we'd do that, and then we'd do this, and then we'd have a finished product that was better than anything that currently exists, and it would really be a big help to teachers everywhere. And I have a big enough ego that I think that maybe we are the only ones who COULD do it. And I have a small enough ego to think that this kind of grant-getting is the most useful thing that I contribute. And I think about what would it mean to have this kind of influx of cash in the current economic climate.
But then I heard this story about someone who got facilities from the University---new space for new offices. But no furniture. Seriously. Not a chair. Not a pencil. Not a stapler. Nothing. And I've been promised that 'we could find the space'. But I never asked about furniture. Because why would I, right? What good are offices without desks? Grant agencies don't pay for furniture. That's supposed to come out of the overhead. That's obvious, right? But in the last grant, I was scavenging furniture from surplus. Do I really want to go through all that sort of thing again?
And maybe I should just worry about keeping the job I already have. I mean, I really, really love my job. Would I love doing this other job as much? Would it be as valuable as being in the classroom? Would I ever find time to walk the dog or ride my pony?
So mostly, I'm just wondering if I've gone completely mad... I guess I feel that applying for the grant means stepping off into a whole other career, in addition (not instead of) the one I already have, and I'm not sure I want to go there. On the other hand, we probably wouldn't get it (those are the odds). But on the other, other hand, if we did, it really would mean a commitment of cosmic proportions, for at least four years. And if I'm not sure I want to make that commitment, should I waste everyone's time by applying?
And isn't this, maybe, one of the whole points of a sabbatical, to step back and try to get some perspective on what you do every day, and what it's good for, and what it's about, and why you do it, and how you could do it better, more authentically? And to try to figure out, maybe just a little, when it's time to say 'when'?
Or maybe I'm just thinking too hard.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Small things #15:
1) Rolling over in the night and finding J there.
2) Captain, wanting morning pets. And then hopping down to let us sleep in until 8.
3) Being reunited with friends on our deck for a random Friday celebration, and laughing so hard our stomachs hurt. I am so blessed in my friends.
4) Hours-long phone calls to my mom, which likewise make my stomach hurt from laughter.
5) I began drafting the landscape plot of our property today. And I remembered the 'two-arc' method of drawing an irregular quadrilateral, (using only side lengths and diagonals!), from high school geometry. Did I EVER think I'd need to know that? No. It is such a sweet surprise to have a problem and then find in your mind all the pieces that build a solution.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Small things #14:
1) The way my pony calls for me as soon as she hears my voice. I have a special nicker all my own, different from the 'treats' nicker. What an enormous privilege that is.
2) Sore muscles. From having fun outside, not from being locked in the gym.
3) USU Extension, which is teaching me landscape design, for only $100!
4) Toy time with Captain. He's so painfully cute about this.
5) A cleanly swept porch.
2) Sore muscles. From having fun outside, not from being locked in the gym.
3) USU Extension, which is teaching me landscape design, for only $100!
4) Toy time with Captain. He's so painfully cute about this.
5) A cleanly swept porch.
Home
I've been home for a week now, and things are finally starting to settle down a little, so that I have time to check in here. Between going to get the ponies, and getting them settled in, and re-learning how to sit on my re-trained pony, and touching all my stuff, and checking in at work, and calling all the people who need to come and do things, and talking to my mom on the phone for THREE HOURS, and having sore muscles, and losing and finding all the bits of paper that document all my activities, and actually cooking food, and actually going out to not-Mexican restaurants, and taking the dog for walkies, and training him not to pull on the leash or chase chickens, ponies or children, and getting bikes tuned and assembled, and dropping off and picking up dry cleaning, and doing laundry (in the house!), and cleaning floors and washing dishes, and planting seeds, and learning how to live with someone else again, and getting new glasses, and signing up for landscape design classes, and cleaning up after the annual disaster known as winter, all I can say is...
I'm so happy to be home. But I'm not sure how I'll ever have time for a job. How did I ever fit it in?
I'm so happy to be home. But I'm not sure how I'll ever have time for a job. How did I ever fit it in?
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Small things #13:
1) J is coming to get me. Not small, really. Not at all.
2) Seinfeld, which boosted me back up after Religulous dumped me in the doldrums.
3) books on my iPhone. Coraline was great, I look forward to the movie, and Pride and Prejudice is an old standby that I'm visiting again.
4) Stuffed sopaipillas at DJ's. I'm going to miss 'em. I'm going to miss 'em so much I might have mentioned it before...
5) Walter. Who went all the way to Belen at midnight to pick up Adam, when his car broke down. Hooray Walter!
2) Seinfeld, which boosted me back up after Religulous dumped me in the doldrums.
3) books on my iPhone. Coraline was great, I look forward to the movie, and Pride and Prejudice is an old standby that I'm visiting again.
4) Stuffed sopaipillas at DJ's. I'm going to miss 'em. I'm going to miss 'em so much I might have mentioned it before...
5) Walter. Who went all the way to Belen at midnight to pick up Adam, when his car broke down. Hooray Walter!
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Something fast to say...
Much more deliberate thinking about the Republicans and their obstructiveness and despair-mongering has brought me to this thought:
It's not enough to have an opinion. You need to have an idea.
And so I'm now busily exploring my own mind, turning up rocks, looking under logs, pushing aside fronds, staring up into branches, to see how often I have only an opinion, not an idea.
This is the same, I suppose, as saying 'Everyone's a critic', except that's not an idea. It's just an opinion.
It's not enough to have an opinion. You need to have an idea.
And so I'm now busily exploring my own mind, turning up rocks, looking under logs, pushing aside fronds, staring up into branches, to see how often I have only an opinion, not an idea.
This is the same, I suppose, as saying 'Everyone's a critic', except that's not an idea. It's just an opinion.
Small things #12:
1) ...when a plan comes together...
2) Jigsaw puzzles
3) Finding money you forgot you had, stuffed in a pocket.
4) Stephen Briggs reading Terry Pratchett in audiobook. My life is more fun because of it. (How DID I ever get along before the iPod and the audiobook?)
5) gmail.
2) Jigsaw puzzles
3) Finding money you forgot you had, stuffed in a pocket.
4) Stephen Briggs reading Terry Pratchett in audiobook. My life is more fun because of it. (How DID I ever get along before the iPod and the audiobook?)
5) gmail.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Report on the 'Minimalism Project'
A friend just called my Socorro life 'an experiment in minimalism'. I hadn't quite thought of it that way, but I suppose that it was, relatively. I can report that some things I really missed. But mostly, I got along fine. Here's the setup:
1) ~600 sq. ft. cottage, of which only 400 sq. ft actually got used. (I stacked my clothes in plastic bins in a corner of one room, but didn't actually use that room. I just never got around to getting a dresser for the bedroom...)
2) Minimal furniture purchasing:
one sm. computer desk that I used for both desk and kitchen table.
one metal folding chair.
one air mattress with one set of sheets, one blanket, one pillow.
3) Other furniture rented, by the month:
one sofa
one loveseat
one area rug
one coffee table
two endtables
two lamps
4) All kitchen supplies fit in a single box---one of those red-lidded bins from Lowe's.
5) One duffle bag full of clothes.
6) One other red-lidded bin full of random things (a few books, watercolor paints, yarn and knitting needles, bathmat, soap dish, etc.)
7) One laptop.
8) One iPhone. (see why I don't consider it 'minimalism'?)
9) No landline.
10) No tv.
11) No internet connection.
12) No car. (see why my friend DOES consider it 'minimalism'?)
13) For about 6 weeks, I had a vacuum cleaner. But it broke, and I just borrowed one from a friend twice since then.
14) In the kitchen: electric stove and range, fridge, sink. No microwave, no small appliances. Horror has been expressed about my not having a coffee-maker.
15) In the bathroom: shower, a tub I'd never bathe in, toilet, sink. No hairdryer, etc. But I never have those. Again, some react with horror.
16) One five-gallon aquarium, with five fish.
17) One window box with three plants.
18) One sweet bicycle.
19) No washer/dryer. Laundromat 1 mile away.
20) One large backpack.
21) One small backpack
22) One cloth shopping bag.
For the record, I did not feel at all deprived. I felt like I was living pretty swank, actually. I ate out as much as I wanted, visited the library a couple of times per week, went to the grocery store nearly every day, paid for my share of food and beer with friends at BBQ's, and spent more evenings out than in. J came to visit, and seemed to feel that some added swankness was needed, and by the time he left, I'd acquired all kinds of things, like a bath mat and a soap dish and a toilet paper holder. And a whole slew of glasses for wine or martinis. I had a bottle of 18-year Jameson's that I bought specially because I had intended it as my 'tenure whiskey'. It turned into my 'Obama inauguration whiskey', and everyone enjoyed it very much, which was more fun than drinking it all myself. I often had wine in the house, and often took a bottle elsewhere.
For almost the entire time I was here (exclusive of J's visit), I kept track of every single expense. If I spent money, I recorded it in my phone. I wanted to know what this boondoggle was costing.
Monthly costs:
rent: $375
furniture: $130
electric: usually $15, $50 Dec and Jan (electric baseboard heat, oh boy.)
water, etc.: $11 avg.
food, wine and beer: $80
eating out: $60
entertainment: (iTunes, movie rentals, audiobooks, etc.): $30
liquor (not wine and beer): $20 ($90 of this total was my 18-yr Jamesons)
miscellaneous: (laundry, fish food, train fare, magazines, etc.): $15
So. Add it up. For less than $800/month, I was living really comfortably.
What did I miss? John. Captain. Trinket. The gurls. My friends at home. Trees. My garden. Good pots and pans. A knife with room for your fingers under the handle. A 'real' NPR station. Restaurant variety. Windows that close all the way. An outdoor space to inhabit.
Towards the end, I got tired of schlepping my clothes to the laundromat. Mostly because I had left my big backpack at home in January, and had to take two trips every time. Bad enough to walk two miles to do your laundry. Worse to do it twice in one day. If I were staying longer, I would either a) send for the larger backpack, or b) start calling the public transportation van, or c) start borrowing an NRAO van.
Sometimes I got really frustrated by not having the interweb right there at home when I wanted it. But then I'd walk over to someplace that had it, and figure ok, whatev. After a while, I just got used to planning ahead. And then I got used to only being able to check email on my phone. And then I noticed I was a lot more relaxed...
I didn't miss having a car. I listened to a lot of audiobooks, and got a lot of thinking done. After a while, I even stopped using my bike, prefering to take my time and walk wherever I was going, because there was enough time to have a complete thought, but not so much that I bored myself. Once in a while, I felt a little claustrophobic. So I'd take the public transportation van (not a bus. It's complicated.) to the train station, or I'd talk people into a big group hike.
Now, I grant you. I don't live like this at home. Home is lots more luxurious, and has lots more dependents. It's also much colder than here. And anyone can put up with almost anything for five months. That's not the point. The point is... well, I don't know what the point is. I guess the point is that if I had to, I could get by with a lot less. And still be totally good. And that's really comforting, at this particular moment of chaos.
1) ~600 sq. ft. cottage, of which only 400 sq. ft actually got used. (I stacked my clothes in plastic bins in a corner of one room, but didn't actually use that room. I just never got around to getting a dresser for the bedroom...)
2) Minimal furniture purchasing:
one sm. computer desk that I used for both desk and kitchen table.
one metal folding chair.
one air mattress with one set of sheets, one blanket, one pillow.
3) Other furniture rented, by the month:
one sofa
one loveseat
one area rug
one coffee table
two endtables
two lamps
4) All kitchen supplies fit in a single box---one of those red-lidded bins from Lowe's.
5) One duffle bag full of clothes.
6) One other red-lidded bin full of random things (a few books, watercolor paints, yarn and knitting needles, bathmat, soap dish, etc.)
7) One laptop.
8) One iPhone. (see why I don't consider it 'minimalism'?)
9) No landline.
10) No tv.
11) No internet connection.
12) No car. (see why my friend DOES consider it 'minimalism'?)
13) For about 6 weeks, I had a vacuum cleaner. But it broke, and I just borrowed one from a friend twice since then.
14) In the kitchen: electric stove and range, fridge, sink. No microwave, no small appliances. Horror has been expressed about my not having a coffee-maker.
15) In the bathroom: shower, a tub I'd never bathe in, toilet, sink. No hairdryer, etc. But I never have those. Again, some react with horror.
16) One five-gallon aquarium, with five fish.
17) One window box with three plants.
18) One sweet bicycle.
19) No washer/dryer. Laundromat 1 mile away.
20) One large backpack.
21) One small backpack
22) One cloth shopping bag.
For the record, I did not feel at all deprived. I felt like I was living pretty swank, actually. I ate out as much as I wanted, visited the library a couple of times per week, went to the grocery store nearly every day, paid for my share of food and beer with friends at BBQ's, and spent more evenings out than in. J came to visit, and seemed to feel that some added swankness was needed, and by the time he left, I'd acquired all kinds of things, like a bath mat and a soap dish and a toilet paper holder. And a whole slew of glasses for wine or martinis. I had a bottle of 18-year Jameson's that I bought specially because I had intended it as my 'tenure whiskey'. It turned into my 'Obama inauguration whiskey', and everyone enjoyed it very much, which was more fun than drinking it all myself. I often had wine in the house, and often took a bottle elsewhere.
For almost the entire time I was here (exclusive of J's visit), I kept track of every single expense. If I spent money, I recorded it in my phone. I wanted to know what this boondoggle was costing.
Monthly costs:
rent: $375
furniture: $130
electric: usually $15, $50 Dec and Jan (electric baseboard heat, oh boy.)
water, etc.: $11 avg.
food, wine and beer: $80
eating out: $60
entertainment: (iTunes, movie rentals, audiobooks, etc.): $30
liquor (not wine and beer): $20 ($90 of this total was my 18-yr Jamesons)
miscellaneous: (laundry, fish food, train fare, magazines, etc.): $15
So. Add it up. For less than $800/month, I was living really comfortably.
What did I miss? John. Captain. Trinket. The gurls. My friends at home. Trees. My garden. Good pots and pans. A knife with room for your fingers under the handle. A 'real' NPR station. Restaurant variety. Windows that close all the way. An outdoor space to inhabit.
Towards the end, I got tired of schlepping my clothes to the laundromat. Mostly because I had left my big backpack at home in January, and had to take two trips every time. Bad enough to walk two miles to do your laundry. Worse to do it twice in one day. If I were staying longer, I would either a) send for the larger backpack, or b) start calling the public transportation van, or c) start borrowing an NRAO van.
Sometimes I got really frustrated by not having the interweb right there at home when I wanted it. But then I'd walk over to someplace that had it, and figure ok, whatev. After a while, I just got used to planning ahead. And then I got used to only being able to check email on my phone. And then I noticed I was a lot more relaxed...
I didn't miss having a car. I listened to a lot of audiobooks, and got a lot of thinking done. After a while, I even stopped using my bike, prefering to take my time and walk wherever I was going, because there was enough time to have a complete thought, but not so much that I bored myself. Once in a while, I felt a little claustrophobic. So I'd take the public transportation van (not a bus. It's complicated.) to the train station, or I'd talk people into a big group hike.
Now, I grant you. I don't live like this at home. Home is lots more luxurious, and has lots more dependents. It's also much colder than here. And anyone can put up with almost anything for five months. That's not the point. The point is... well, I don't know what the point is. I guess the point is that if I had to, I could get by with a lot less. And still be totally good. And that's really comforting, at this particular moment of chaos.
Small things #11:
1) Unstructured time. The picture above is the first one that comes up on a google image search for 'unstructured time'. Why should spending time always need to be 'profitable'?
2) My air mattress, which did not spring a leak until this weekend. If I fill it before I go to bed, I only have to fill it once in the middle of the night!
3) Thai food. Especially panang red curry with tofu.
4) Recognizing that what you have in your hand might be more valuable to someone else. I got a massage yesterday. The m.t. was telling me how she always wanted to be a marine biologist when she was a kid. But then she had to grow up and let go of her dream. She's always regretted it. I happened to have both a box of notecards AND Earthwatch's 2009 magazine of science volunteer/vacation opportunities in my bag. (What are the chances?!) So I wrote her a note, and left her the magazine. I also tipped her 50%, to get her started. I like to imagine her running with that.
5) Time passing. I also picked up a book about bridge yesterday, published in 1976 by, gasp!, a woman. The introduction is all about how you shouldn't assume that a woman doesn't have the endurance (!) or the intelligence (!) to play bridge, because Dorothy Truscott breaks all the barriers. I am so, so lucky that I didn't even know that there was a bridge barrier for women. You've come a long way, baby.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Small Things #12:
1) Being able to rant on your blog. And then sleep. Better out than in, dads always say. Although not about ranting, really. My apologies for the swearing. But if I kept it in my head, I would have been up all night arguing with people who weren't there.
2) The burrito lady, who has disappeared because the construction people are here, and/or somehow Chartwell's has chased her off. But she introduced me to the best bfb's anywhere. I talked about them for TEN years before I came back to Socorro. And now I know how to make them. Thank you burrito lady! I hope you come back soon.
3) The Navajo store. Which is out of dried berries. Because they won't have any more until more berries have grown and matured and been picked and dried. There's something bizarrely satisfying about being disappointed in my dried berry supply.
4) Friends who take my remarks and turn them into poetry.
5) Bridge. I won an actual hand. ON PURPOSE. I made the contract, on purpose, and understood all the bidding, and argued with my partner to be the one to play it, and then I played it, and made the contract +3 tricks! Wow. I'm so impressed with myself.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Oh. THIS is what hatred feels like.
Bastards. F*@#*$ing Republican bastard sh@#@#theads full of sh#$#$t.
Check this article from the Guardian.
Lemme just pull a few tidbits for you (emphasis added):
"The warnings were the first time Congress had been directly confronted with the growing evidence that the impact of climate change will be far more severe than revealed even in the UN's most recent report, in 2007.
The hearing was also the first time senators had been permitted to hear testimony about the dangers to human health from climate change. In 2007, the Bush administration censored testimony from the Centres for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) on the rise in asthma and other respiratory illnesses, as well as the increasing occurrence of "tropical" parasites."
Ok. So our government has been kept in ignorant darkness by Bush. We knew that already. (Never mind that I feel physically ill (!) at the thought of anyone censoring the CDC, ever, for any reason. Perhaps I'm irrational in my profound respect for the mission of this agency.) But the light of knowledge should be a beacon, right? But then my head exploded:
"Republicans argued that Barack Obama's proposed carbon cap legislation would be costly. "I will certainly oppose raising energy costs on suffering families and workers during an economic crisis when the science says our actions [to combat climate change] will be futile," said Kit Bond, a Republican senator from Missouri." (emphasis added)
f#$*@#%$*ing sh#$#$thead Republicans. Denial to despair in a single month. Exactly how much do they think widespread drought, death and destruction will cost? Hundreds of millions, even billions of people displaced? How can you put a price tag on 'uninhabitable cities'? Do they not know about the dust bowl? Are they really that ignorant? I hate them so much, the quitters. Losers. Whiners. Quitters, quitters, quitters. Who do they think they are? Do they even have a single ethical bone amongst them? Do they have any sense of how to TRY? At all? They should all be locked in a closet so I won't keep having these fearfully satisfying visions about driving an icepick into Boehner's eye. They should all be locked in a closet so they can't hurt us anymore. I howl inarticulately at them. Bastards. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them. Do they have no sense of responsibility at all? How can I ever forgive them for this? How will all the little kids I know ever forgive US for this? WE CAN NOT AFFORD DESPAIR. Republicans, we have no time for you to come to grips with the facts. Catch up on your own. We're not going back for you. We have no time for your despair or your willful ignorance. Get over it or get the hell out.
This may be the first time in history that the dominant party is still in opposition. I hate Republicans more than ever before. I'm even angrier than before. I want to fight them even harder than before. Even though they are rapidly becoming so pathetic that you almost feel sorry for them. (Palin? Jindal? Is that the best they've got? Really?)
Get 'em out. Get 'em all out. They lie. They steal. They cheat. They have no credibility. They have no morals. They have no ideas. They are standing in the way, and they can ALL go. We have work to do.
I've had it. I'm going out to hug a tree.
Check this article from the Guardian.
Lemme just pull a few tidbits for you (emphasis added):
"The warnings were the first time Congress had been directly confronted with the growing evidence that the impact of climate change will be far more severe than revealed even in the UN's most recent report, in 2007.
The hearing was also the first time senators had been permitted to hear testimony about the dangers to human health from climate change. In 2007, the Bush administration censored testimony from the Centres for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) on the rise in asthma and other respiratory illnesses, as well as the increasing occurrence of "tropical" parasites."
Ok. So our government has been kept in ignorant darkness by Bush. We knew that already. (Never mind that I feel physically ill (!) at the thought of anyone censoring the CDC, ever, for any reason. Perhaps I'm irrational in my profound respect for the mission of this agency.) But the light of knowledge should be a beacon, right? But then my head exploded:
"Republicans argued that Barack Obama's proposed carbon cap legislation would be costly. "I will certainly oppose raising energy costs on suffering families and workers during an economic crisis when the science says our actions [to combat climate change] will be futile," said Kit Bond, a Republican senator from Missouri." (emphasis added)
f#$*@#%$*ing sh#$#$thead Republicans. Denial to despair in a single month. Exactly how much do they think widespread drought, death and destruction will cost? Hundreds of millions, even billions of people displaced? How can you put a price tag on 'uninhabitable cities'? Do they not know about the dust bowl? Are they really that ignorant? I hate them so much, the quitters. Losers. Whiners. Quitters, quitters, quitters. Who do they think they are? Do they even have a single ethical bone amongst them? Do they have any sense of how to TRY? At all? They should all be locked in a closet so I won't keep having these fearfully satisfying visions about driving an icepick into Boehner's eye. They should all be locked in a closet so they can't hurt us anymore. I howl inarticulately at them. Bastards. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them. Do they have no sense of responsibility at all? How can I ever forgive them for this? How will all the little kids I know ever forgive US for this? WE CAN NOT AFFORD DESPAIR. Republicans, we have no time for you to come to grips with the facts. Catch up on your own. We're not going back for you. We have no time for your despair or your willful ignorance. Get over it or get the hell out.
This may be the first time in history that the dominant party is still in opposition. I hate Republicans more than ever before. I'm even angrier than before. I want to fight them even harder than before. Even though they are rapidly becoming so pathetic that you almost feel sorry for them. (Palin? Jindal? Is that the best they've got? Really?)
Get 'em out. Get 'em all out. They lie. They steal. They cheat. They have no credibility. They have no morals. They have no ideas. They are standing in the way, and they can ALL go. We have work to do.
I've had it. I'm going out to hug a tree.
Small Things #11:
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1) John Cusack. Igor was funny. But I especially love High Fidelity. Which brings me to
2) Nick Hornby.
3) This word: soupçon, which I recently heard used in actual conversation for the very first time.
4) The vast internet, which gave me a way to type the cedilla (and reminded me what it was called).
5) My kindergarten teacher, who taught me to draw a five by putting on the coat, and then the boots and then the hat. I think of it now, because the cedilla looks like shooz for the 'c'.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Small things #10:
1-5) Watching students go on to graduate school, and totally kick butt. Ok. That's not so small. But it deserves Ben and Jerry's, I think. I raise a spoon in honor of Ang. Nice work.
Small things #9:
1) Closed office doors. On a day when it's 70+ and sunny. Fun is happening.
2) Stretching.
3) My cast iron pan. Which makes the best french fries on the planet.
4) Listening to Obama, eating popcorn, and texting exclamation points back and forth to J.
5) Socorro Transportation, which is going to take me to the train on Monday, so that I can spend the day in Albuquerque. And they'll only charge me $1 each way! Of course, I have to leave at 5:30 am, but that's ok. ;)
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Small things #8:
1) Seeds are arriving at my house. They'll be there when I get back.
2) I had a whole discussion last night about whether or not it was possible to combine a cat and an oven, and make a tumble-dryer for clothes. Net result? Yes, if you didn't care that your clothes were in tiny shreds afterwards. Oh and covered in cat hair. The jury is still out on whether a dryer sheet would fix this problem.
3) Bagels.
4) Asparagus. Now in season around here. And on a related note: The Michigan Asparagus Advisory Board. Oh, and the award-winning Asparagus, The Movie. Who knew?! I need that word again. Wow! People! Wow! I'm crying from laughing over here.
5) The Office.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Ok. Nobody move. I mean it.
This has been a winter of one thing after another, after another, after another. Death and disease in my little circle of friends, and wider collapses of various kinds. Drought and fire and floods and more death and disease. Economic disaster and war and starvation and governments falling in Europe. It's a little overwhelming.
And I find myself with this odd, visceral reaction of wanting everyone to just sit very still. I seem to have an almost superstitious, almost un-articulated, almost belief that if everyone just sits very quietly with their head down, then nothing else bad can happen.
Come to think of it, that makes perfect sense, if it was wolves who were going to eat us. Too bad. I know what to do about wolves. Whack them on their noses with a stick, and then climb a tree. Maybe I'll just go climb a tree. Maybe that will help.
And I find myself with this odd, visceral reaction of wanting everyone to just sit very still. I seem to have an almost superstitious, almost un-articulated, almost belief that if everyone just sits very quietly with their head down, then nothing else bad can happen.
Come to think of it, that makes perfect sense, if it was wolves who were going to eat us. Too bad. I know what to do about wolves. Whack them on their noses with a stick, and then climb a tree. Maybe I'll just go climb a tree. Maybe that will help.
Things I learned from Larry...
1) Take everyone at their own value. Larry Miller was one of the good guys. I met him when I served on the Board of Directors of the Clark Planetarium. He was the Chairman of the Board, and I was the token scientist. (And also the token woman, in a Board of 16. Oh, and token educator, as well. I wore a lot of hats there.) But while the Board was constructed in this way, I never once felt it from him. From the very first meeting, his leadership style was distinguished by an appreciation for what each individual had to bring to the Board. Occasionally, there would be discussions about absent board members, discussing whether they should continue on the Board, because their ability to bring money to the planetarium was inadequate. But Larry never applied this metric to me, instead recognizing that my 'in-kind' contributions were as valuable as any from the business or financial community.
2) Money is just numbers on paper. I'll never forget the day I heard him say this. It was a revelation to me, and caused such a deep and abiding change in my attitude towards money that it was a dividing point in my life. There was 'before' I had this idea, and 'after' I had this idea. It's one thing to hear me (a middle-class professor of physics) say this. It's another thing entirely to hear it from a self-made multi-millionaire, with hundreds of millions of dollars in assets. This was later re-inforced by reading Making Money by Terry Pratchett---'the dream of money'. But it was Larry who helped me get over a lifelong neurosis about earning and spending and debt. Just in time for this recession. For which J thanks him endlessly, no doubt.
3) If you get 'em in the door, the money will follow. He said this all the time, over and over. Probably because it was so different than the way the Director thought about things. He meant that if you got people to come to the IMAX (a low-profit-margin item), they would also go to the snack bar and the store (high-profit-margin items), but they wouldn't come for the popcorn. So don't try to sell them popcorn. Sell them IMAX tickets, and make it easy for them to buy popcorn. Now, this might not seem to apply to my life as a physics professor. But it does. Sell them astronomy, and make it easy for them to buy math.
4) First rule of business: Make it easy for them to give you money. Yes. This has made our little planetarium the success that it is. It's not something that occurs to you at first, when you are spending all your time worrying about the product. But you have to spend as much time worrying about the delivery. Really. You do.
5) A good marketing campaign will cost you $1/head. So you'd better plan for bigger profit margins than that. This is all of a piece with learning about a hundred business principles, which he taught me in this specific context, but which mostly taught me to think about businesses as an objective series of decisions to make. Business is a game. It has rules, but even more than that, it has probabilities. The key to being successful in business is balancing your probabilities. It's like poker that way.
6) Sometimes a single phrase, from the right person, at the right time, can change a person's life.
7) Cry when you are moved to do so, and don't worry about who sees it. Even if you are a man.
8) It's really, really fun to write a check for $250,000 to support work you believe in.
9) Each of us has a responsibility to others. Everyone has something to give. And finding out what that is, and how to give it, is the best work of your life.
Rest in peace, Larry. I hope the heaven you believe in is waiting for you.
2) Money is just numbers on paper. I'll never forget the day I heard him say this. It was a revelation to me, and caused such a deep and abiding change in my attitude towards money that it was a dividing point in my life. There was 'before' I had this idea, and 'after' I had this idea. It's one thing to hear me (a middle-class professor of physics) say this. It's another thing entirely to hear it from a self-made multi-millionaire, with hundreds of millions of dollars in assets. This was later re-inforced by reading Making Money by Terry Pratchett---'the dream of money'. But it was Larry who helped me get over a lifelong neurosis about earning and spending and debt. Just in time for this recession. For which J thanks him endlessly, no doubt.
3) If you get 'em in the door, the money will follow. He said this all the time, over and over. Probably because it was so different than the way the Director thought about things. He meant that if you got people to come to the IMAX (a low-profit-margin item), they would also go to the snack bar and the store (high-profit-margin items), but they wouldn't come for the popcorn. So don't try to sell them popcorn. Sell them IMAX tickets, and make it easy for them to buy popcorn. Now, this might not seem to apply to my life as a physics professor. But it does. Sell them astronomy, and make it easy for them to buy math.
4) First rule of business: Make it easy for them to give you money. Yes. This has made our little planetarium the success that it is. It's not something that occurs to you at first, when you are spending all your time worrying about the product. But you have to spend as much time worrying about the delivery. Really. You do.
5) A good marketing campaign will cost you $1/head. So you'd better plan for bigger profit margins than that. This is all of a piece with learning about a hundred business principles, which he taught me in this specific context, but which mostly taught me to think about businesses as an objective series of decisions to make. Business is a game. It has rules, but even more than that, it has probabilities. The key to being successful in business is balancing your probabilities. It's like poker that way.
6) Sometimes a single phrase, from the right person, at the right time, can change a person's life.
7) Cry when you are moved to do so, and don't worry about who sees it. Even if you are a man.
8) It's really, really fun to write a check for $250,000 to support work you believe in.
9) Each of us has a responsibility to others. Everyone has something to give. And finding out what that is, and how to give it, is the best work of your life.
Rest in peace, Larry. I hope the heaven you believe in is waiting for you.
Small things #7:
1) Sushi with A&K(&A&G), even when I'm not there... ; )
2) Chimineas.
3) The iTunes store.
4) Lucinda Williams.
5) Really nice notebooks with creamy paper and smooth writing pens.
Friday, February 20, 2009
What is the word?
One of the tragedies of modern times is that so many words have fallen out of use. That weakens our ability to think and communicate in detail. My favorite example is 'melancholy', which describes a very specific, non-clinical emotional state. When I am melancholy, no other word will do. But the word is rarely used these days. I'm always on the lookout for feelings or experiences for which I have no word. And then I either make one up, or spend a lot of time looking for the word. And then I try to get other people to use it too. But just now, I'm stumped.
I'm learning to play bridge, and am filled with a sort of awe-struck, joyful laughter at how complicated it is. I can't help but shake my head at people, but not in a mad way, or as though I don't understand, just sort of an incredulous but admiring and good-natured 'Wow! People! Wow!' kind of way. (See how I don't have a word for this!?)
Let me explain a little. To play bridge, you confine yourself to fifteen words (one thru seven, the four suits, and a few extra), and then try to communicate the precise state of your 13 cards to someone else using only those fifteen words. There are entire systems of communication, and you are only allowed to do very specific things in those systems. And people take this VERY SERIOUSLY.
As a physicist, I might say, pompously, 'Well, yes, complication, of course.' But this is not the complication of nature, which is necessarily complicated, and can only be simplified so far before your idea doesn't represent the reality anymore. Bridge is an artificial complication---a system of rules that take years to learn, and decades to master. And it serves no practical purpose! How complicated are the rules? I have just received a summary of the American system. It runs 42 pages.
Wow! People! Wow! I wonder what the word is for this feeling?
I'm learning to play bridge, and am filled with a sort of awe-struck, joyful laughter at how complicated it is. I can't help but shake my head at people, but not in a mad way, or as though I don't understand, just sort of an incredulous but admiring and good-natured 'Wow! People! Wow!' kind of way. (See how I don't have a word for this!?)
Let me explain a little. To play bridge, you confine yourself to fifteen words (one thru seven, the four suits, and a few extra), and then try to communicate the precise state of your 13 cards to someone else using only those fifteen words. There are entire systems of communication, and you are only allowed to do very specific things in those systems. And people take this VERY SERIOUSLY.
As a physicist, I might say, pompously, 'Well, yes, complication, of course.' But this is not the complication of nature, which is necessarily complicated, and can only be simplified so far before your idea doesn't represent the reality anymore. Bridge is an artificial complication---a system of rules that take years to learn, and decades to master. And it serves no practical purpose! How complicated are the rules? I have just received a summary of the American system. It runs 42 pages.
Wow! People! Wow! I wonder what the word is for this feeling?
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
PC or not PC?
I have the pleasure of teaching Honors 1500 in the fall. This is 'Perspectives in Physical Science', which means it can be pretty much anything I want. The last time I taught it, I did cosmology. Sure, I could do that again, but why? Just 'cause it's easier? I SCOFF at the notion.
My first thought was to do the environmental physics class I've been working on, with a slightly more policy-oriented focus, but I think that will just mess up my head for the later course. Besides. This is a chance to bust out and take a risk and do whatever. So then I had this idea: Physics @ Home. Not standard physics experiments in your house, but the physics OF your house. Physics of cooking, physics of cleaning, physics of heating, cooling, electricity, etc.
So, I can't be the only one who's ever had this idea, right? So I went looking to see what's out there in the world of books. Amazon turns up several, the most recent published in 1946. There IS a Science of Cooking book---I have this in my library at home, and have enjoyed it immensely. But nothing about the other topics at this level (although I've pinged my most edu-alert colleague to see what he knows). There's a Physics of Everyday Phenomena, but this is not quite the topical thing that I'm seeking---too many airplanes, not enough vacuum cleaners.
Please note that even GOOGLE (!) turns up zippo on the subject. GOOGLE! Crazy talk. I did a couple of specific searches, some of which turned up valuable info. Most of them did not. There's a physics of the microwave oven, for example. Which seems to mostly consist of lighting things on fire or exploding them. Very little on standing waves...
So this has got me wondering. Is this an idea whose time has come around again? Was the whole idea dropped because no one thought it was interesting? Because physicists traditionally have stay-at-home spouses? Because we've thoroughly divorced our lives from our work, and never the twain shall meet? Or because it seems too girly? Because we stopped teaching home-ec?
But what about the stay-at-home dad? Surely he wants to know why only egg whites beat up into that incredible froth? And why it falls if there's even a teeny bit of yolk? And why is a copper pan better anyway? Right? Or why is it so flippin' hard to get beef juice out of a pan, but not burned on veggies? Or how does low-e glass work? Right? Or why water makes that cool shape coming out of the faucet, almost always with a twist in it---where does the twist come from? And why is the sprayer attachment so much better at getting gunk off the sink? And what's the deal with teflon anyway? And why does the smoke go up the chimney instead of into the house? And why does soap work? And what does a GFCI do, and why do I need one in the bathroom? And why are CFLs loaded with mercury, and how do they actually save energy? And how does the water get up the corn stalk in the garden anyhow? And when I siphon out my fish tank, how does that work? And what's up with water levels?
Oh! Or the physics of beer, hello! I KNOW some people are interested in this topic!
Doesn't everyone want to know these things? I mean, Alton Brown! Right? That's a whole show devoted to this science in the kitchen.
And then I was wondering why we are surprised that there aren't more women in physics. Nobody talks about the physics of your oven. What's up with that? I don't mean to say that it's all women would be interested in, although I realize it sounds that way! But ovens are something everyone should be interested in. Right? Absolute, supreme utility---the oven. I've read studies that show that women are interested in biology because they see the utility. Conversely, they lose interest in physics because they perceive it to be non-utilitarian. Not helpful. Not useful. But all the chicks I know (and lots of men) love Alton Brown. And that makes me wonder.
Oh. I am so excited to go back to the classroom, where anything can happen...
My first thought was to do the environmental physics class I've been working on, with a slightly more policy-oriented focus, but I think that will just mess up my head for the later course. Besides. This is a chance to bust out and take a risk and do whatever. So then I had this idea: Physics @ Home. Not standard physics experiments in your house, but the physics OF your house. Physics of cooking, physics of cleaning, physics of heating, cooling, electricity, etc.
So, I can't be the only one who's ever had this idea, right? So I went looking to see what's out there in the world of books. Amazon turns up several, the most recent published in 1946. There IS a Science of Cooking book---I have this in my library at home, and have enjoyed it immensely. But nothing about the other topics at this level (although I've pinged my most edu-alert colleague to see what he knows). There's a Physics of Everyday Phenomena, but this is not quite the topical thing that I'm seeking---too many airplanes, not enough vacuum cleaners.
Please note that even GOOGLE (!) turns up zippo on the subject. GOOGLE! Crazy talk. I did a couple of specific searches, some of which turned up valuable info. Most of them did not. There's a physics of the microwave oven, for example. Which seems to mostly consist of lighting things on fire or exploding them. Very little on standing waves...
So this has got me wondering. Is this an idea whose time has come around again? Was the whole idea dropped because no one thought it was interesting? Because physicists traditionally have stay-at-home spouses? Because we've thoroughly divorced our lives from our work, and never the twain shall meet? Or because it seems too girly? Because we stopped teaching home-ec?
But what about the stay-at-home dad? Surely he wants to know why only egg whites beat up into that incredible froth? And why it falls if there's even a teeny bit of yolk? And why is a copper pan better anyway? Right? Or why is it so flippin' hard to get beef juice out of a pan, but not burned on veggies? Or how does low-e glass work? Right? Or why water makes that cool shape coming out of the faucet, almost always with a twist in it---where does the twist come from? And why is the sprayer attachment so much better at getting gunk off the sink? And what's the deal with teflon anyway? And why does the smoke go up the chimney instead of into the house? And why does soap work? And what does a GFCI do, and why do I need one in the bathroom? And why are CFLs loaded with mercury, and how do they actually save energy? And how does the water get up the corn stalk in the garden anyhow? And when I siphon out my fish tank, how does that work? And what's up with water levels?
Oh! Or the physics of beer, hello! I KNOW some people are interested in this topic!
Doesn't everyone want to know these things? I mean, Alton Brown! Right? That's a whole show devoted to this science in the kitchen.
And then I was wondering why we are surprised that there aren't more women in physics. Nobody talks about the physics of your oven. What's up with that? I don't mean to say that it's all women would be interested in, although I realize it sounds that way! But ovens are something everyone should be interested in. Right? Absolute, supreme utility---the oven. I've read studies that show that women are interested in biology because they see the utility. Conversely, they lose interest in physics because they perceive it to be non-utilitarian. Not helpful. Not useful. But all the chicks I know (and lots of men) love Alton Brown. And that makes me wonder.
Oh. I am so excited to go back to the classroom, where anything can happen...
Small things #6:
1) Circus Ponies! No, not the fuzzy ones. The software ones.
2) Killing two reports with one stone.
3) Reports. Oh. I get it. They are for ME.
4) Absolutely dreadful talks are good for daydreaming. A little slice of time when you don't get what you want, and can't be distracted by YouTube.
5) Bingham's Cyclery.
2) Killing two reports with one stone.
3) Reports. Oh. I get it. They are for ME.
4) Absolutely dreadful talks are good for daydreaming. A little slice of time when you don't get what you want, and can't be distracted by YouTube.
5) Bingham's Cyclery.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Small things #5:
1) Hiking with friends. Even when they get all manly-man-man and annoying.
2) Emergency snacks.
3) E & M, who gave a new home to Huey, Dewey, Louie, Bill and Ted, and are so excited about it. I will always remember M's face when I set up the aquarium on her counter. She couldn't take her eyes off them.
4) The Seed Savers Exchange---the world's most beautiful catalog.
5) Facebook Scrabble. Which is to real Scrabble as American Guinness is to real Irish Guinness. It is wonderful because it's a pale, ghostly, but accessible reminder of how wonderful the real thing is.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Small Things #4:
Can't be helped. We need another post today.
1) Colin's pictures. This is my favorite. Calcite with the new SEM. It's breath-taking. My colleagues stagger me routinely. And these are just the warm-up pictures. Wow. Colin. Wow. Admiration from afar.
2) ULIRG talk. With pictures. Of the most distant quasars.
3) Today, my friends showed me pictures covering orders of magnitude from ~10^-6 to ~10^29. How do we even hold it in our heads? I'm dizzy.
4) Colloquium today (the ULIRGS) was simultaneously viewed by people in Socorro, Albuquerque and Santiago. Yes. That's Chile. On the other side of the planet (depending on how you draw your sides).
5) And yet, I still get to eat lunch.
Small Things #3:
1) Alternate definitions of 'winning'.
2) Wind that blows so hard it BREAKS THE DOOR. WOW! WOW. Seriously. Wow. I thought we were having a tornado. Turns out I just have wimpy, mostly-already-broken doors. Still. Wow.
3) My morning encounter with Jehovah's Witnesses. They are so cute and roly-poly and earnest. Especially when they show me astronomy pictures on their pamphlets. I sincerely love people. Everyone picks their own favorites from the thousand words a picture represents. Such glorious diversity. So many ways to think.
4) 4.5 billion more years of sunshine. Wealth beyond imagining.
5) University mail rooms---so much more convenient than the post office. They saved me about 3 miles of walking with a heavy package today.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Unexpected surf result
Got me to this article from Michael Pollan:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/20/magazine/20wwln-lede-t.html?pagewanted=1&_r=2
which I document here for purposes of the Environmental Physics class. At some point, a student is going to ask me if there is any hope at all. Maybe not. It's all going wahooney-shaped way faster than anyone predicted. But that's no reason to sit around on your ass and do nothing.
To use a religious metaphor, that compresses this long secular humanist argument into words of (almost) one syllable, 'To despair is to turn your back on God.'
So there.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/20/magazine/20wwln-lede-t.html?pagewanted=1&_r=2
which I document here for purposes of the Environmental Physics class. At some point, a student is going to ask me if there is any hope at all. Maybe not. It's all going wahooney-shaped way faster than anyone predicted. But that's no reason to sit around on your ass and do nothing.
To use a religious metaphor, that compresses this long secular humanist argument into words of (almost) one syllable, 'To despair is to turn your back on God.'
So there.
Small things #2:
1) Libraries. Not our sole redeeming idea, arguably not our best redeeming idea, but redemption, nonetheless.
2) Anne of Green Gables. I never get tired of this story, and the eye-candy that CBC made of it.
3) Darwin and Lincoln, born on the EXACT SAME DAY. A good day for the species.
4) My iPhone, which lets me listen to NPR from all over the country, without an internet connection, even when it's windy and local NPR is down. (NPR deserves it's own post.)
5) A second cup of tea at breakfast.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Small things #1
1) It snowed yesterday, and it's 56 today.
2) Today is pizza lunch, and I get to look at pretty Spitzer pictures.
3) The loading dock guy is so nice and helpful. I will bring him a chocolate bar, in trade for the boxes he is saving for me.
4) Puppies exist!
5) Fresh, organic, in-season beets are now in the grocery store. Mmmmm... roasted beets...
Small things...
I just ran across a series of posts from this blogger:
http://futurehousefarm.blogspot.com/
called 'Grace in Small Things...'
I thought it was a neat idea, and feel like I've been grumpy and disaffected lately.
So, in the spirit of admiration from afar and imitation as the finest form of flattery, I am going to copy them, and start my own listing!
I'll see if I can limit myself to five a day... ; )
http://futurehousefarm.blogspot.com/
called 'Grace in Small Things...'
I thought it was a neat idea, and feel like I've been grumpy and disaffected lately.
So, in the spirit of admiration from afar and imitation as the finest form of flattery, I am going to copy them, and start my own listing!
I'll see if I can limit myself to five a day... ; )
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Creeped out...
So, I was on a web page, where I had to put in some information.
Several hours later, I was at a completely different web page.
But a special deal regarding the first web page's information showed up in the advertising banner at the top of the page.
Sometimes cookies creep me out.
Several hours later, I was at a completely different web page.
But a special deal regarding the first web page's information showed up in the advertising banner at the top of the page.
Sometimes cookies creep me out.
Spring is coming.
The astronomer in me feels that this is true.
But so does the gardener. After some frustration with web order forms, I've ordered all the seeds for this year's vegetable garden. We finally begin to feel we know how to do it. And there are so many things to try! But mostly tomatoes. And potatoes. Hoo boy! Must be the Irish in me that makes it so that I can buy an 80# sack of potatoes in the fall, and eat them ALL before they sprout! Maybe this year, we won't have to buy 'em!
Home... soon!
But so does the gardener. After some frustration with web order forms, I've ordered all the seeds for this year's vegetable garden. We finally begin to feel we know how to do it. And there are so many things to try! But mostly tomatoes. And potatoes. Hoo boy! Must be the Irish in me that makes it so that I can buy an 80# sack of potatoes in the fall, and eat them ALL before they sprout! Maybe this year, we won't have to buy 'em!
Home... soon!
Could I have been...
Tim Reynolds makes me want to learn to play... well, anything really. But maybe drums. It's the only thing I could imagine playing with that kind of intensity.
Dude. The guy's seriously amazing. Every time he comes around on my Pod, I have to stop everything else I'm doing.
Dude. The guy's seriously amazing. Every time he comes around on my Pod, I have to stop everything else I'm doing.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Word of the Day: Generalist
The local NPR affiliate has a terrific radio program called University Focus, in which a chair or director of a program at UNM is interviewed about what's happening in that department. This weekend's guest was the head of the Education School. She delivered a broad overview of what each person in her area was doing, and how it impacted the broader field. She was able to explain all of this cogently, and talk about the interfaces between the sub-fields so that even I was nodding along. At one point, she paused to explain to the interviewer (unapologetically, I might add) that she is a generalist---curious about everything, hyper-aware of the big picture, and the interconnections between sub-fields. And I thought, 'I'm one of those!' Now, here's what's interesting:
1) I didn't have this word before. I had 'specialist', but not 'generalist', and that says something important about the culture I inhabit. I have never heard one of my colleagues call themselves this. They ALWAYS say they 'specialize in' this or that.
2) Because I didn't know the word, I didn't know myself. I get frustrated with people or situations that require me to specialize. I thought this was a character flaw, not a strength. I work primarily with specialists, and have always been troubled that I just don't obsess about the fourth significant digit in the same way they do. I thought there was something wrong with me, partly because my specialist colleagues so often denigrate the big picture. (i.e. 'The first thing we should do with all these E/PO people is take them out in the backyard and shoot them.' Yep, someone actually said this to me, casually, over lunch. Youch. Still having trouble not over-reacting to the casual shooting talk... I probably over-reacted a little. Ok. Maybe a lot.)
3) Because I didn't know the word, I didn't have the idea, and I couldn't plan around my strengths. Here in Socorro, I've been learning that, while I think it's fun to dabble in specialization, it's not because I'm interested in the specific specialization. It's because I'm interested in the idea of specialization and the people who specialize. Other people are MUCH better at chasing down every last detail, and taking 18 months to get the bandpass right. It's not that I don't care, or don't think it's important. It's just not captivating to me. I'm not intrinsically good at it. Oh, I actually would do it. I'd spend days tamping down the noise in an image, or perfecting the gaussian fit to a maser spot. I'd drag myself to it day after day, instead of rushing to it. And the last few years, the dragging feeling for this kind of work has gotten much, much worse. I thought this meant I was lazy, and getting lazier. Lazy? No. Probably not. It's crazy, the things we do to ourselves in our own heads.
4) The word explains a lot of things that have been mysterious to me. It explains my Black Holes talk. It explains why I'm so good at public talks, and teaching, and E/PO. It explains why people tell me that I could probably talk about tax law, and still make it interesting to a general audience. It explains why some other people are not this way, and can not do this. It explains why my advisor and I had such a clash of wills. He was a specialist, and expected me to be one too. It drove him crazy when I'd give broad overview in the first 35 minutes of a talk, and spend 10 minutes delving into the details of my data reduction, and then ask for questions. It explains why I dread talks to specialists about specialties. Oh, I can do it. I can even do it so they love it. But once it's over, I forget it, and I spend no more time thinking about it, refining it, thinking about how I could do it better next time. But I do this for more general talks. They'll keep me up at night, thinking of new, better metaphors, long after the talk is over.
5) When the word showed up in my head, it caused an almost physical sensation of a mental paradigm shift. An appropriate metaphor is that I had a foot stuck in the mud, and a quarter of my attention focused behind me, because that's the direction everyone else was looking. Suddenly, that foot has come free, and my attention is one-hundred percent in the direction I've actually been going. Bigger steps are possible, without that one foot always stapled down someplace I didn't want to be. That's kind of terrifying actually, to recognize that I've not been completely devoted to the things I'm good at. Terrifying for a lot of reasons. It's probably going to terrify a lot of people too, who seem to think they have a stake in what I do. ; )
I think I was just ready to own this word, and the idea it represents. I had to come to Socorro to know for certain that I COULD be a specialist, which makes it much easier not to be one. That sounds odd, but makes a lot of sense for someone like me, who also has issues about being told she can't do things. (Want me to do something? Tell me I can't, especially in the sense of mayn't. Oy. Such an Achilles heel, that.) I am now certain that I don't want to be a specialist of this kind. The research institution's brand of single-minded devotion is something I'm capable of, but it chafes in the long term. That doesn't mean I have a short attention span. It means I have a broad attention span. (to shift the metaphor from time to space...)
It helps a lot that I recently met Richard Sabo in Montana, an extremely distinguished retired surgeon, (once President of the American College of Surgeons---wow) who commented to me off-hand that he wasn't sure he'd want to be a surgeon now, because the field is so specialized. He'd hate to do only gall bladders. All gall bladders, all the time. I knew what he meant, but I didn't have a word for it. Now I do. He's a generalist. Ah. I get it now. I'm one of those.
1) I didn't have this word before. I had 'specialist', but not 'generalist', and that says something important about the culture I inhabit. I have never heard one of my colleagues call themselves this. They ALWAYS say they 'specialize in' this or that.
2) Because I didn't know the word, I didn't know myself. I get frustrated with people or situations that require me to specialize. I thought this was a character flaw, not a strength. I work primarily with specialists, and have always been troubled that I just don't obsess about the fourth significant digit in the same way they do. I thought there was something wrong with me, partly because my specialist colleagues so often denigrate the big picture. (i.e. 'The first thing we should do with all these E/PO people is take them out in the backyard and shoot them.' Yep, someone actually said this to me, casually, over lunch. Youch. Still having trouble not over-reacting to the casual shooting talk... I probably over-reacted a little. Ok. Maybe a lot.)
3) Because I didn't know the word, I didn't have the idea, and I couldn't plan around my strengths. Here in Socorro, I've been learning that, while I think it's fun to dabble in specialization, it's not because I'm interested in the specific specialization. It's because I'm interested in the idea of specialization and the people who specialize. Other people are MUCH better at chasing down every last detail, and taking 18 months to get the bandpass right. It's not that I don't care, or don't think it's important. It's just not captivating to me. I'm not intrinsically good at it. Oh, I actually would do it. I'd spend days tamping down the noise in an image, or perfecting the gaussian fit to a maser spot. I'd drag myself to it day after day, instead of rushing to it. And the last few years, the dragging feeling for this kind of work has gotten much, much worse. I thought this meant I was lazy, and getting lazier. Lazy? No. Probably not. It's crazy, the things we do to ourselves in our own heads.
4) The word explains a lot of things that have been mysterious to me. It explains my Black Holes talk. It explains why I'm so good at public talks, and teaching, and E/PO. It explains why people tell me that I could probably talk about tax law, and still make it interesting to a general audience. It explains why some other people are not this way, and can not do this. It explains why my advisor and I had such a clash of wills. He was a specialist, and expected me to be one too. It drove him crazy when I'd give broad overview in the first 35 minutes of a talk, and spend 10 minutes delving into the details of my data reduction, and then ask for questions. It explains why I dread talks to specialists about specialties. Oh, I can do it. I can even do it so they love it. But once it's over, I forget it, and I spend no more time thinking about it, refining it, thinking about how I could do it better next time. But I do this for more general talks. They'll keep me up at night, thinking of new, better metaphors, long after the talk is over.
5) When the word showed up in my head, it caused an almost physical sensation of a mental paradigm shift. An appropriate metaphor is that I had a foot stuck in the mud, and a quarter of my attention focused behind me, because that's the direction everyone else was looking. Suddenly, that foot has come free, and my attention is one-hundred percent in the direction I've actually been going. Bigger steps are possible, without that one foot always stapled down someplace I didn't want to be. That's kind of terrifying actually, to recognize that I've not been completely devoted to the things I'm good at. Terrifying for a lot of reasons. It's probably going to terrify a lot of people too, who seem to think they have a stake in what I do. ; )
I think I was just ready to own this word, and the idea it represents. I had to come to Socorro to know for certain that I COULD be a specialist, which makes it much easier not to be one. That sounds odd, but makes a lot of sense for someone like me, who also has issues about being told she can't do things. (Want me to do something? Tell me I can't, especially in the sense of mayn't. Oy. Such an Achilles heel, that.) I am now certain that I don't want to be a specialist of this kind. The research institution's brand of single-minded devotion is something I'm capable of, but it chafes in the long term. That doesn't mean I have a short attention span. It means I have a broad attention span. (to shift the metaphor from time to space...)
It helps a lot that I recently met Richard Sabo in Montana, an extremely distinguished retired surgeon, (once President of the American College of Surgeons---wow) who commented to me off-hand that he wasn't sure he'd want to be a surgeon now, because the field is so specialized. He'd hate to do only gall bladders. All gall bladders, all the time. I knew what he meant, but I didn't have a word for it. Now I do. He's a generalist. Ah. I get it now. I'm one of those.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Secret efforts...
So, sometimes you don't really talk about what you are doing, because of a superstitious belief that if you do, you will lose your momentum, or get side-tracked, or talked out of it, or talk yourself out of it. Or maybe you just feel like it's so far from what you are normally doing that you aren't 'supposed' to be doing it, and you might get in trouble.
At any rate. Out of the closet come I. This is a scary moment! Eep! Crack the door... peer around out there... see what it looks like... poke out my toe... go for it!
The first draft of my first novel is done.
The rewrites through chapter 4 are done. I'll continue rewrites this weekend. My A#1 reader tells me he had chills at the end of the prologue. That's good, because that's what I was after.
I'm actually going to finish this one.
Anybody know how to get a novel looked at by a publisher?
At any rate. Out of the closet come I. This is a scary moment! Eep! Crack the door... peer around out there... see what it looks like... poke out my toe... go for it!
The first draft of my first novel is done.
The rewrites through chapter 4 are done. I'll continue rewrites this weekend. My A#1 reader tells me he had chills at the end of the prologue. That's good, because that's what I was after.
I'm actually going to finish this one.
Anybody know how to get a novel looked at by a publisher?
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Catching up...
with the blogs...
And I found a nice post at RealClimate:
http://www.realclimate.org/index.php/archives/2009/02/irreversible-does-not-mean-unstoppable/
Just in case you were getting all depressed about the latest climate reports... I tag it here so I can find it again in the fall.
Oh, and there's a lovely piece from Adam about the joys of being a father. Thanks for sharing, Adam! There's so much love in that house.
I'll catch up with FaceBook later. OMG. What have I gotten myself into? How do people keep up with all this?!
And I found a nice post at RealClimate:
http://www.realclimate.org/index.php/archives/2009/02/irreversible-does-not-mean-unstoppable/
Just in case you were getting all depressed about the latest climate reports... I tag it here so I can find it again in the fall.
Oh, and there's a lovely piece from Adam about the joys of being a father. Thanks for sharing, Adam! There's so much love in that house.
I'll catch up with FaceBook later. OMG. What have I gotten myself into? How do people keep up with all this?!
Montana dreamin'
Just back from Bozeman, Montana (with a brief 32-hour stop at the homestead---including the Superbowl party!). I killed. I say that because I was talking to the public about interferometry and Fourier transforms, and not only did they laugh at my jokes, and ask lots of good questions, but they asked me to come back in July for their big Yellowstone star party. (Picture me blowing on my fingernails and polishing them on my lapels. If I wore lapels.)
Here are a couple of photos of me and my new friends Richard and Melanie at Yellowstone! The most amazing thing is the way the steam condenses on the trees. The shopping bag photo is in front of Old Faithful, and contains a totally sweet jigsaw puzzle of a geologic map, and a book called 'The Mind of the Raven', which is mostly about ravens being smarter than you ever imagined. Gosh. Nature. Wow.
Here are a couple of photos of me and my new friends Richard and Melanie at Yellowstone! The most amazing thing is the way the steam condenses on the trees. The shopping bag photo is in front of Old Faithful, and contains a totally sweet jigsaw puzzle of a geologic map, and a book called 'The Mind of the Raven', which is mostly about ravens being smarter than you ever imagined. Gosh. Nature. Wow.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Heard on NPR...
If you missed it, listen to this hilarious conversation with John Boehner (House Minority Leader) on Morning Edition. The most hilarious part is his argument that NASA (a science agency, with scientific instruments on its satellites) should not get 400 M$ to study climate change, because money has already been allocated to the CIA (a spy agency with spy instruments on its satellites) to study it. WTF? Oh, and he doesn't see how that spending would help the economy. He seems to think that NASA actually puts the money on rockets and launches it into space, instead of employing thousands of scientists, engineers, IT wonks, mechanics and secretaries. Nimrod.
It's so cute. They don't even know what to do with themselves. As witness wossname Cornyn (R-Texas), being a real p.i.t.a. just for spite. Tee-hee.
Funny. I don't remember politics EVER being this interesting before... I can watch Barack roll back Bush policy all day long. That's my boy.
It's so cute. They don't even know what to do with themselves. As witness wossname Cornyn (R-Texas), being a real p.i.t.a. just for spite. Tee-hee.
Funny. I don't remember politics EVER being this interesting before... I can watch Barack roll back Bush policy all day long. That's my boy.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Yum!
So one thing that I'm really, really going to miss when I leave Socorro (besides all the new friends!), is the Berry Good Blend from the Navajo store. This is awesome. I put a handful in my oatmeal every morning. Unsweetened berries of all kinds, all dried up. I don't even need sugar, the berries are so good. It's just mixed berries. Just dried up. Yum. None of the supermarket kinds even come close. It's sad, because I don't think they'll mail them to me. I'll have to learn to make my own, I guess.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
The International Perspective...
12 people came to coffee today. Of these 12, only 1 was American (me); 2 were from India, 2 from Japan, 1 from Australia, 1 from Canada, 1 from Mauritius, 2 from China, 1 from Taiwan, 1 from the Netherlands. This is typical here. Not only am I often the only woman around, but I'm almost always the only American. I get a good cross-section of opinion from lots of different backgrounds around the entire planet. (Sometimes I have to translate, because the clash of accents can be really disorienting!)
The general mood is optimistic and happy, even though most of these people are not citizens. All are very excited to say goodbye to Bush, (who is pretty much despised by all).
There was some mystification about the actual ceremony, and why it comes so long after the election. I think everyone sort of feels that way!
There was a lot of mystification about all the sermons and religious language. Several people asked me about it, and I explained that a lot of this religious stuff is relatively recent, since the Red Scare about the 'godless communists' in the 1950's. This was greeted with disbelief. Most agreed that pretty much the best thing about communism is that it is godless. (I neglected to take note of what the 2 Chinese people thought about this part of the discussion. Too bad, because it would be interesting to know what they think about it.) The general feeling was that they can't see how a supposedly secular government can be filled with all this religious pomp. I have to admit that I agree!
The Canadian was bent about the 'hero-worship' aspect of American politics. But they still have a queen up there, so he doesn't get to tell me 'How we do it in Canada...'. He caught a lot of flack for his criticism.
But all of these people see this day as a turning point, a moment when they no longer have to apologize or explain the politics of their choice of current country to their friends in their home country. The world is watching, from right here in tiny Socorro, NM!
Several are coming to my house this evening to watch (or re-watch) the speech, and lift a glass in celebration. Fun!
The general mood is optimistic and happy, even though most of these people are not citizens. All are very excited to say goodbye to Bush, (who is pretty much despised by all).
There was some mystification about the actual ceremony, and why it comes so long after the election. I think everyone sort of feels that way!
There was a lot of mystification about all the sermons and religious language. Several people asked me about it, and I explained that a lot of this religious stuff is relatively recent, since the Red Scare about the 'godless communists' in the 1950's. This was greeted with disbelief. Most agreed that pretty much the best thing about communism is that it is godless. (I neglected to take note of what the 2 Chinese people thought about this part of the discussion. Too bad, because it would be interesting to know what they think about it.) The general feeling was that they can't see how a supposedly secular government can be filled with all this religious pomp. I have to admit that I agree!
The Canadian was bent about the 'hero-worship' aspect of American politics. But they still have a queen up there, so he doesn't get to tell me 'How we do it in Canada...'. He caught a lot of flack for his criticism.
But all of these people see this day as a turning point, a moment when they no longer have to apologize or explain the politics of their choice of current country to their friends in their home country. The world is watching, from right here in tiny Socorro, NM!
Several are coming to my house this evening to watch (or re-watch) the speech, and lift a glass in celebration. Fun!
The quiet...
was astounding. It feels like the whole world was waiting to hear what this man had to say. A breathless pause. A universal moment of silence. And in that silence, here's what I heard.
We will restore science to its rightful place...
We reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals...
America is a friend to every nation and every man, woman and child...
We are ready to lead once more...
A collective failure to make hard choices.
What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them.
Power grows through prudent use.
...roll back the specter of a warming planet...
Our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness.
People will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy.
The world has changed, and we must change with it.
A new era of responsibility.
I'm all fired up and ready to go!
We will restore science to its rightful place...
We reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals...
America is a friend to every nation and every man, woman and child...
We are ready to lead once more...
A collective failure to make hard choices.
What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them.
Power grows through prudent use.
...roll back the specter of a warming planet...
Our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness.
People will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy.
The world has changed, and we must change with it.
A new era of responsibility.
I'm all fired up and ready to go!
John Williams!
I didn't know that was coming!!! How fun to have new music written by one of America's greatest composers, just for the day, and such super-luminaries to play it!!!! Wow!!! And what a beautiful piece. "Air and simple gifts", it's called, if you missed it.
And it's now 12:01. Power has passed, whether the words have been said or not.
And here comes John Roberts. And Michelle with the Lincoln Bible. And Roberts did it wrong! Tee-hee.
Here's the speech....
And it's now 12:01. Power has passed, whether the words have been said or not.
And here comes John Roberts. And Michelle with the Lincoln Bible. And Roberts did it wrong! Tee-hee.
Here's the speech....
Time to change...
the passwords.
I just realized this morning, as I was logging in to all my computers and applications, that for the last few years, my password set has been based on the first line of A Tale of Two Cities. I will have to now think of a new password set that more accurately reflects my more positive mood.
I hope all of you are enjoying this uniquely American celebration of the peaceful transfer of power. The pictures of the Mall are absolutely astonishing. Millions of people all over D.C. just to be there on this incredible day. Lucky them. What a good day. What a good day. What a good day.
Lots of talk about the racial boundaries being crossed, but almost as important, I think, is the socioeconomic boundary. This is the first time in my life that a person has risen from poverty to the highest office in the land. I think I had assumed (without thinking too much about it) that that could not happen any more.
What a good day.
Here he comes!!!! Back later.
I just realized this morning, as I was logging in to all my computers and applications, that for the last few years, my password set has been based on the first line of A Tale of Two Cities. I will have to now think of a new password set that more accurately reflects my more positive mood.
I hope all of you are enjoying this uniquely American celebration of the peaceful transfer of power. The pictures of the Mall are absolutely astonishing. Millions of people all over D.C. just to be there on this incredible day. Lucky them. What a good day. What a good day. What a good day.
Lots of talk about the racial boundaries being crossed, but almost as important, I think, is the socioeconomic boundary. This is the first time in my life that a person has risen from poverty to the highest office in the land. I think I had assumed (without thinking too much about it) that that could not happen any more.
What a good day.
Here he comes!!!! Back later.
Friday, January 16, 2009
A big weekend...
coming up!
Saturday is a normal weekend day---schlep laundry to the laundromat, go to the grocery store, go to the post office to mail more g.c. to John, clean the house, go to the library. That'll be about 7 miles of walking by the time I get all that done. I might start by taking myself out for pancakes!
Sunday, I'll have time to start rewrites on Altamira. Eep!
Monday is MLK day, an NRAO holiday, so a group of us are going for a 10-mile hike. It's going to be 60 degrees here, so it's perfect weather for a big hike! That'll eat up almost the whole day, by the time we meet up, head out, walk up the mountain, eat lunch, walk down the mountain, head back, etc.
Tuesday is Inauguration Day, so I pretty much plan on the whole day evaporating, and accomplishing nothing but watching all the fun on the interweb. Then the group is coming over in the evening to lift a glass or two in honor of the day! Hooray! Nobel-prize-winning physicists advising our government! (This particular one was an NRAO summer student, it turns out---which is a fun fact...)
Pretty much, I'm planning on a four-day weekend. It's good to be on sabbatical...
Saturday is a normal weekend day---schlep laundry to the laundromat, go to the grocery store, go to the post office to mail more g.c. to John, clean the house, go to the library. That'll be about 7 miles of walking by the time I get all that done. I might start by taking myself out for pancakes!
Sunday, I'll have time to start rewrites on Altamira. Eep!
Monday is MLK day, an NRAO holiday, so a group of us are going for a 10-mile hike. It's going to be 60 degrees here, so it's perfect weather for a big hike! That'll eat up almost the whole day, by the time we meet up, head out, walk up the mountain, eat lunch, walk down the mountain, head back, etc.
Tuesday is Inauguration Day, so I pretty much plan on the whole day evaporating, and accomplishing nothing but watching all the fun on the interweb. Then the group is coming over in the evening to lift a glass or two in honor of the day! Hooray! Nobel-prize-winning physicists advising our government! (This particular one was an NRAO summer student, it turns out---which is a fun fact...)
Pretty much, I'm planning on a four-day weekend. It's good to be on sabbatical...
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Newbie introduction...
For the CASA documentation?
Check.
You almost feel sorry for these people, don't you? Isn't it good that it's not YOUR job to ply me with things to do?
Check.
You almost feel sorry for these people, don't you? Isn't it good that it's not YOUR job to ply me with things to do?
New Assignments
1) write 4-page introductory introduction to CASA. (The current introduction runs 60 pages. It's more of an... overview... than an introduction!)
2) build a few mockups of what a status and forecast page might look like, for all the poor schlubs who are sitting at their home Universities, and starting to be terrified that they won't know what to do with the data coming out of the correlator.
3) a few minor adjustments to the spreadsheet.
Apparently, this is supposed to take me the remaining ~8 weeks of my time here.
So I think I'll write a grant proposal. ; )
One thing I've learned is that spending time at a 4-year, underfunded, teaching University makes you really, really efficient about using your time. And spending time at a research institution encourages you to think about things. That's not meant to be a criticism. It's not bad, it's just different. They have a tendency to overthink, and I have a tendency to slap things together and call it good. It takes all kinds to make the world go 'round...
2) build a few mockups of what a status and forecast page might look like, for all the poor schlubs who are sitting at their home Universities, and starting to be terrified that they won't know what to do with the data coming out of the correlator.
3) a few minor adjustments to the spreadsheet.
Apparently, this is supposed to take me the remaining ~8 weeks of my time here.
So I think I'll write a grant proposal. ; )
One thing I've learned is that spending time at a 4-year, underfunded, teaching University makes you really, really efficient about using your time. And spending time at a research institution encourages you to think about things. That's not meant to be a criticism. It's not bad, it's just different. They have a tendency to overthink, and I have a tendency to slap things together and call it good. It takes all kinds to make the world go 'round...
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Zip... zip...
Arg. Second Wednesday of the month.
Pizza lunch AND cake AND extra coffee. zip.
I can barely type.
But at least I'm not hallucinating!
Pizza lunch AND cake AND extra coffee. zip.
I can barely type.
But at least I'm not hallucinating!
Monday, January 12, 2009
The interim Ta-Da list.
The last post was a list of what I intended to do, and where I was on those projects. But not everything I've done was on the list of things to do. This is where the ta-da list comes in. It's the list of what I've done. If there was a Venn diagram, the two lists would overlap, but not completely. The ta-da list makes room for all the things that you didn't even think of before you started.
a) Organized and evaluated the CASA project. Seriously, this is huge. I'll probably get no publications out of it, but the people running the project just keep telling me how grateful they are that I came here and did this for them. They have a sense of accomplishment and a sense of purpose and a sense that they might someday actually finish the g.d. thing. That was missing when I got here.
b) Re-learned radio astronomy. I still feel pretty novice and tentative, and have days when I'm completely confused, but my confidence grows day by day, and I've remembered what closure errors are and why I care.
c) Analyzed continuum and spectral-line data on about 15 sources. Discovered some weirdnesses, and did some solid science.
d) Figured out what's new in radio astronomy, learned about the upcoming EVLA and it's correlator, become knowledgeable about the new software, and made new contacts and collaborations.
e) Got Barack Obama elected in Socorro County. ; ) (well, not single-handedly, but still!) Learned to canvass, got involved in politics, and met a huge number of people. Knocked on hundreds of doors and made thousands of phone calls. I also made signs. And helped on election day. And spent entirely too much time reading political blogs on the interweb.
f) I learned stuff. General stuff, specific stuff, lots of stuff. I read a lot of books about the economy, about politics, about plague. I understand more about why we are in the mess we are in than I ever would have if I had more distractions available... I learned how to eliminate cockroaches, and learned about New Mexican history, cuisine and culture. I visited a matanza, dia de los muertos, and ruins from the pre- and post-colonial times. I learned to love green chile (not much to learn!), and learned to hate Taco Bell. I made more trips to WalMart than any person would care to admit to, and learned to hate it too. Cheap crap, sold cheap, and then the other stores close, and the cheap crap gets expensive. It's a mean-spirited business model, and I resent it.
g) I gave public talks (2), invited talks(4), colloquium talks (3), lunch talks (1), and chaired sessions (2). I went to meetings (lots) and conferences (2), and colloquia (lots). I learned that some people really, really need to go take a class in public speaking, and some people just need to learn to speak louder. I watched the people watching the people, and learned that approximately half the time, any given person is not thinking about what's happening in front of them. Even if they are interested.
h) I learned a lot about the environment, got a grip on solar cells, wrote worksheets and activities for a class, and thought hard about what the point is.
i) I planned a one-week summer course for teachers.
j) I wrote letters of recommendation (4), letters of support (2), reports (3), and proposals (2). I wrote (all but the last chapter of) a novel.
k) I learned more about Open Office than anyone should need to know, ever.
l) I was reminded that you can move to a new place with two boxes, two duffel bags and a bicycle, and be pretty much content, except for missing all the people and creatures you left behind. 600 square feet is a lot of space if you are one person with no furniture. It's barely too small if you are two people and a good-sized dog. This is useful knowledge just now. It's keeping me from panicking about the economy.
m) I figured out that I hate to write science papers, and why I procrastinate about writing them. And then I figured out what to do about it.
n) I figured out that my presence in committees at WSU is over-rated, and apparently unnecessary. This will bring so much future joy to my life. You have no idea.
o) I learned to live without a car.
p) I learned to like running.
q) I learned to cook a mean spanish rice, acquired an addiction to potato-chile-cheese burritos, and rediscovered the joy of the humble cast iron pan.
r) I learned that the well-funded research institution is a myth. Everybody, everywhere, has the same problem: too few resources for what they are trying to do. Maybe the planet is too small for the dreams of all the people on it.
s) I learned lots of new spanish words. And a lot of spanglish.
There's probably more. But it's time for lunch...
a) Organized and evaluated the CASA project. Seriously, this is huge. I'll probably get no publications out of it, but the people running the project just keep telling me how grateful they are that I came here and did this for them. They have a sense of accomplishment and a sense of purpose and a sense that they might someday actually finish the g.d. thing. That was missing when I got here.
b) Re-learned radio astronomy. I still feel pretty novice and tentative, and have days when I'm completely confused, but my confidence grows day by day, and I've remembered what closure errors are and why I care.
c) Analyzed continuum and spectral-line data on about 15 sources. Discovered some weirdnesses, and did some solid science.
d) Figured out what's new in radio astronomy, learned about the upcoming EVLA and it's correlator, become knowledgeable about the new software, and made new contacts and collaborations.
e) Got Barack Obama elected in Socorro County. ; ) (well, not single-handedly, but still!) Learned to canvass, got involved in politics, and met a huge number of people. Knocked on hundreds of doors and made thousands of phone calls. I also made signs. And helped on election day. And spent entirely too much time reading political blogs on the interweb.
f) I learned stuff. General stuff, specific stuff, lots of stuff. I read a lot of books about the economy, about politics, about plague. I understand more about why we are in the mess we are in than I ever would have if I had more distractions available... I learned how to eliminate cockroaches, and learned about New Mexican history, cuisine and culture. I visited a matanza, dia de los muertos, and ruins from the pre- and post-colonial times. I learned to love green chile (not much to learn!), and learned to hate Taco Bell. I made more trips to WalMart than any person would care to admit to, and learned to hate it too. Cheap crap, sold cheap, and then the other stores close, and the cheap crap gets expensive. It's a mean-spirited business model, and I resent it.
g) I gave public talks (2), invited talks(4), colloquium talks (3), lunch talks (1), and chaired sessions (2). I went to meetings (lots) and conferences (2), and colloquia (lots). I learned that some people really, really need to go take a class in public speaking, and some people just need to learn to speak louder. I watched the people watching the people, and learned that approximately half the time, any given person is not thinking about what's happening in front of them. Even if they are interested.
h) I learned a lot about the environment, got a grip on solar cells, wrote worksheets and activities for a class, and thought hard about what the point is.
i) I planned a one-week summer course for teachers.
j) I wrote letters of recommendation (4), letters of support (2), reports (3), and proposals (2). I wrote (all but the last chapter of) a novel.
k) I learned more about Open Office than anyone should need to know, ever.
l) I was reminded that you can move to a new place with two boxes, two duffel bags and a bicycle, and be pretty much content, except for missing all the people and creatures you left behind. 600 square feet is a lot of space if you are one person with no furniture. It's barely too small if you are two people and a good-sized dog. This is useful knowledge just now. It's keeping me from panicking about the economy.
m) I figured out that I hate to write science papers, and why I procrastinate about writing them. And then I figured out what to do about it.
n) I figured out that my presence in committees at WSU is over-rated, and apparently unnecessary. This will bring so much future joy to my life. You have no idea.
o) I learned to live without a car.
p) I learned to like running.
q) I learned to cook a mean spanish rice, acquired an addiction to potato-chile-cheese burritos, and rediscovered the joy of the humble cast iron pan.
r) I learned that the well-funded research institution is a myth. Everybody, everywhere, has the same problem: too few resources for what they are trying to do. Maybe the planet is too small for the dreams of all the people on it.
s) I learned lots of new spanish words. And a lot of spanglish.
There's probably more. But it's time for lunch...
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