I only wear a lab coat when my boss's boss is around

My friend, a grade six teacher, hates teaching Science. She is a great woman, and undoubtedly a fantastic teacher, but science is not her thing. For this reason alone, I signed up to become a volunteer with the Let’s Talk Science program. The program links up volunteers and teachers so that smarmy kids can learn about the big bad world of Science from a RealLife Scientist. I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty damn excited to be designing and implementing several hands-on activities. The beaut = the program is well-funded enough that I got to order some awesome shit from Ward’s. It was better than shoe shopping! (Brrr…is it cold in here?)

I remember being an excited fifth grader who knew all the names & positions of nine planets off by heart and having a fucking mean twit teacher whose hate for Science was exceeded only be her loathing of us, it seemed. What a let-down. And it’s a damn shame, too, because that age (11-13 yrs) is so crucial in developing an identity - it was for me anyway - and connecting to the things that I still love today. Astronomy. Science Fiction. Science. Geology, anatomy, molecular biology.

So we’ve got a few activity modules planned out. The first will be in astronomy in January. From Ward’s Science I got a few eclipse/solar motion activity sets, as well as an overhead planetarium. (Apparently, there is a ginormous blow-up/crawl-through planetarium available to the school district, but since there is only one and it’s often out for repairs, the back-log of requests is huge. Another reason why the LTS budget is much appreciated by the utterly cash-strapped teachers). In March will be the forensic section. Twelve year olds watch a lot of CSI apparently (young much?), so that module will be a particular hit. Ward’s has some luminol detection & fingerprinting kits for mock crime solving activities. I’m also planning on introducing some anthropological forensic science too, a covert anatomy lesson per se, because that’s how I got interested (Quincy M.E. huzzah). Finally, the diversity of life module will be about good bacteria/bad bacteria, which is, essentially, an excuse to bring in cheese & yogurt to bribe the kids into good behaviour. It’s going to be geek-licious.

Birdbone

So if humans make blood cells in their marrow, and the marrow is in the bone, where do birds make blood cells? Aren't their bones hollow for flight? They have such high metabolic demands, with increase energy and waste production, they must have hardy blood cells. Where is bird blood made?

Update: Kyle, a friend studying cancer (and obviously, more bird biology than me), explains why B-cells are called B-cells.

Level zero

Our lawyer is taking Christmas vacation starting Dec.14th...which forces us to hustle big time if we want to get our first draw from the construction mortgage signed off before she leaves. If that doesn't happen, the two companies we've hired to prepare the foundation of the house will have to be paid after Christmas. Ouch.

So the footings were poured on Monday, which was excellent timing because we got a shitload of snow that night, into the following day and trailing into Wednesday. But luckily, it was done before the snow fell, and Wednesday we had the municipal inspector pass the footings. Yay! I was worried because we had made a substantial change to the height of the basement walls since we first put in our building permit, and the change had to be OK'd before the inspector would pass it. Since it had been less than one week since I submitted the revised plans, it was possible the inspector would have failed it just because the old plans didn't match up with the new set-up. Phew.

Yesterday, the foundation people set up the forms for the five feet of basement wall that will be concrete. We went to check it out last night, and it looked good. It will be a tall house in the end (2.5 stories, with an 8/12 roof pitch) but hey, all better to see the lake view once it's finished. And so hopefully today or Monday the concrete will be poured, and we can get a location certificate, a municipal inspection, and a mortgage inspection (through CMHC) done before Friday, Dec.14th. The municipal inspection won't be a problem, and the location certificate could be done in two days (if the engineer dude ever returns my calls), but the we'll be damn lucky if the CMHC inspector can make it out with less than 1 week notice. Hope, hope, hope (and rely on our mortgage girl to do her thing, again. She is super friendly and so willing to throw the word "urgent" on all our documents!).

Canadiana

Yesterday I was forced to attend a useless biosafety seminar. (Unless you work in a level 4 biosafety hazard lab dealing with ebola infected rats. Oh wait. There's only one of those in Canada and it isn't at this fucking university). I swear, you would be worse off swallowing a mouthful of seawater than if you accidently ingested some of our culture organisms (algae fer chrissakes, they sell the dried up stuff in holistic medicine departments). And yet, I spent six hours learning how to double glove when I'm at the fumehood, and how to import recombinant organisms over the border. Mandatory is overdone.

Anyway, a new lab recruit was sitting near by. He is from Yugoslavia, has spent the last few years in Switzerland, and has been living in Canada for a few months now. CBC recently had on a program describing "Canadian foods". Sounds like a good program, wish I had caught it. He asked if we had ever had poutine, and where he might get some here in town. He described it as french fries, with mozza cheese and gravy. I wanted to get into the minutae of poutine, and how actually it's cheese curds and not just grated mozza as it is sometimes served around here, but held my tongue. I haven't had much luck finding a good poutine spot in town so far. Although, as a public service announcement, I should have pointed out the difference between poutine they serve at KFC & arena canteens:



(Yummy artery-clogging fatty fatty goodness)





and the poutine rapee my grandmother makes with her acadian Catholic church ladies group every Saturday as a fundraiser for the church:



(Gooey grey shredded potato surrounding a lump of salted pork)




Both of French Canadian origin, both potato based, but not at all the same.


He also mentioned pemmican as being a true canadian food. We learned about pemmican in fifth grade, as my school spent the bulk of the social science curriculum devoted to learning how Native Canadians lived. My husband has also wondered what it tastes like, but it's not exactly the thing one can purchase at the grocery store (as I explained to my coworker). So I googled it to see if I could order some over the net. Don't know exactly how that would work, but might be an interesting cyber-adventure.

At this point, the seminar restarted, but I was distracted enough to think about other distinctly Canadian foods. Donairs came to mind, as did garlic fingers. Someone just came into the lab and said he had never even heard of BBQ chicken pizza before moving here. What do these things have in common? Carbs slathered in high-fat/high-sugar sauces. Mmmm...
Have I forgotten anything important? Anybody catch the CBC program?

The opposite of warm

The boiler broke down in our apartment building last night. My husband came to pick me up from work and he informed me of the situation on the way home. There, in our apartment driveway, was this rusting hulk of metal. We both laughed at the fact the thing made it this far. Luckily, we purchased an electric fireplace last year because we missed our old, REAL fireplace and it spits out heat like nobody's business. Well, like electric fireplace maker's business, I guess. I felt slightly guilty at not inviting anyone from other (perhaps less fortunate) apartments to come over and huddle. I wish we could be a super-friendly-community, but, *sigh* we aren't (Evidence of this: nasty notes discouraging obnoxious laundry hours and stealing apartment number one's Saturday newspaper). I also imagined a nice holiday beer/wine meet & greet but, meh, we are leaving soon and moving to a house so why put in the effort? ...I hate city living. The apathy it instills is depressing.

Speaking of the house. We swung by last night after dark to discern, as best we could, the work that had been completed. We were met by a gaping 40 x 40 foot hole, about 4 feet deep. The excavator ran out of gravel surge to fill the hole to make an engineered pad, so that's what they were going to do today. Actually, correction, they misquoted us on how much (a known volume of) gravel would be needed, and so now they are adding about $1500 to the bill on account of "not having enough". Grr... this is why we should get things in writing. I've tried to force the excavators & foundation people to sign, but they always have an excuse. Without hubby backing me up, I get a weak comment like "are you a lawyer or something?" & a shrug. Fine for now, we have the money. Not so good later when we're scrounging for pennies.

Holiday cheer

Started the holiday shopping this weekend. Egged on by the strong Canadian dollar and an utter loathing of crowded places, I've initiated the season by making multiple purchases online. I've tried to limit these purchases to items I would get at large chains anyway, like DVDs or books, while still supporting local shops and artisans for more unique, used or one-of-a-kind items. And being the poor student that I am, I've also contributed to the (small) lot of gifts with my own hand-made stuff, including a pair of socks for my sister:



It's the first pair of socks I've ever knit, and it is taking me forever! I'm so used to dealing with large needles & thick wool because my previous projects were almost all toques that I knit to donate to various charities (including the local "Knitters for Critters"). The picture is from *three* hours of work last night...it may be warm again when she gets them :S

Alternate Universe

In an alternate universe, I ended up being a hardcore cosplayer that journeys all over the world dressing up in immaculate detail as her favorite comic book/nerdy sci-fi character. Evidence for this being:
1. My pre-occupation with clothing/costume.
2. My nearly incapacitating attention to detail.
3. My obsession with fanciful, unnaturally coloured hair.
4. I collected Star Trek figures when I was a kid.

I spent a very long time trying to justify purchasing this wig, by imagining where I could wear it:


(Wig styled by Kate Bair at Petting Zoo Wigs)

...All I could come up with was the bus. Specifically, the one bus that runs near my house, carrying all the university kids to their downtown classes. I have seen, on numerous occasions, gigantic woolen dreads on commuters in great, UV-reactive colours. The bus crew also has a fair share of piercings/tatoos/modifications. An enormous blue wig may blend in more easily here than, say, the supermarket.


On a slightly unrelated note, the bus driver this morning sported a handlebar moustache ...



...And was chewing bubblegum. I thought that was charming.

Foundation, Part Deux

The foundation for the house has still not been poured, one week from the day they were supposed to break ground. And it will be mid-week at least when it is excavated because the weather around here:




Maddening that the foundation hasn't been poured yet. Even more maddening that I can't do a thing to change the weather.

So it still looks like this over at the lot:



(I enjoy that view so much. Can't wait 'til I see it out the kitchen window!)

Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore...

Oh Celine. Celine, Celine, Celine.

We don’t want you here.

Halifax thinks it’s the shit now that it has hosted a concert (in the pouring, miserable, 4ºC rain) at the public space in the middle of the city without pissing off everyone. There was just a few of us, and we don’t matter. But that was the Stones, fer chrissakes. Do you think my mother & grandmother (who went to Vegas to see Celine), would tolerate an outdoor concert in the ankle-high mud, wearing garbage bags to protect their clothing against the wind and rain like the poor suckers did during the Stones concert?? I.Don’t.Think.So.

So some advice to Celine and her manager husband: Go to Moncton. Not only is the weather more tolerable, gas cheaper, healthcare better and real estate more affordable, but they are friendlier there. You could save my grandmother the trip.

Why three chromosomes?

What does it say about my personality that, while being a smart young woman who tries to keep up with the latest in world news and has other, important things to think about (WHY THREE??!!??), I still spend about 5% of my waking hours pondering what I’m going to wear now/tomorrow/in the near future. Example: Tonight I’m going to the movie theatre to watch the film adaptation of Love in the Time of Cholera with a girlfriend of mine. We both read the book, and we both like to dress up. While doing my DNA extractions today, I’ve mentally changed outfits several times already. There’s a fine line between cute and cold when going to the theatre - the AC is inevitably cranked so high that you can nearly see you breath. Flat brown boots? High heel brown boots?

A second topic for pondering while molecular biology-ing: How the frack did I become the personal clean-up attendant for the lab down the hall? We don’t have a centrifuge to do DNA extractions, but the lab down the hall does. We use it for eukaryotes, they use it for E.coli. It currently smells like death because nobody cleans it. Nobody but me. And I only clean it because the smell of rotting E.coli sludge at the bottom of the centrifuge wants to make me hurl. I cannot be the only one. And yet.

New Diggs

Last month, my husband and I became part of an elite group of people called landowners. With a sparkle in our eyes (the same eyes diligently watching the bottom line), we left the land of hustling renters. With plans to stick it to the over-privileged lords of this mini-feudal system we call the “University-town renters market”, we sketched, and called, and estimated for months. About four weeks ago we became legal owners of a small (75’x 160’) lot that backs out onto a small lake, about 20 minutes from downtown.

Part of the reason for starting this blog was to keep track of the arduous journey ahead, bit by bit. We plan to build the house ourselves; contracting out the trades my husband cannot do himself. The house is intended to be somewhat temporary-the real estate in this town is about 3 times more expensive compared to the city we were born in, and we will probably sell this house for a profit in a few years, move elsewhere and start anew. The blog will help me the second time around, I hope. It will also be a place where friends and family can come to check out progress when they aren’t actually visiting/contributing to the manual labour (*cough cough*).

The first week was productive, we had the existing well tested for minerals and coliforms. Looks like we’ll need 2500.00 worth of water filters. Week two/three was spent waiting for the engineer to “swing by”, and finally ended in a tearful phone call with the receptionist when she informed me the price would almost double if we wanted to be made “a priority”. Once I got a grip on myself, I told her to shove it. We found, and then consulted, with a second engineer (at a fraction of the cost, natch) who helped us decide where the house should go in relation to the existing well and septic. Then Thanksgiving. Then I got sick. So it was last week when we had the excavator person and foundation person in to look at the lot. They work as a team, sorta, so that a large gaping rain-accumulating hole is not left for too long on the future spot of our house. Monday was supposed to be the day when site was cleared and footings poured. They ran into a snag, of course; there was stagnant water where they were going to pour the footings. Past experience dictated that this sort of soppy set-up was not going to pass inspection. We could build there anyway, but we would need to get an engineer to design a pad to be placed over the gravel, which would take time we don’t have (hello, frost!) and also money. A second game plan: excavate the entire area which had been filled in with gravel from a previous construction attempt in 2000. Drain the water with a few ditches, and then fill it in with dirt. Place footings as usual. This plan would cost money, but could be done right away. Hmmm…we’ll see this evening how that went.

Open Letter

Sometimes, it just feels better to write it out.



Dear Suburban Queen Bee who picks up her kids at the daycare behind my apartment building in a sparkling white Escalade,

All the other parents park at the end of the driveway and walk up to the door to pick up their kids. You are the *only* one who feels entitled enough to drive all the way up the driveway in your fucking monster of a vehicle. I doubt you could even FEEL the jarring motion of running over a small child in that thing due to the lulling comfort of 5 tons of metal. I often wonder at what velocity I would have to pitch my saliva in order to spit on your car from my balcony. I wish there weren't people like you in the world,

Much too sincerely,

Me

P.S. Get off your fucking cell phone.

Post Secret

I try to remember to check on postsecret.com every week. You would think it would be easy since I have a rotation of about a dozen blogs/celebrity gossip/newscast websites that I check on a daily basis, but I guess the weekly thing really throws off my game. Which is too bad because postsecret is damn good blog-style-enjoyment. Today I was flipping through the images* when I came across this one (1):



(*Apologies if this sort of image stealing is not allowed in blogger-land. I just hope that an academic-style reference will suffice. Oh, and a gigantic shout out to go visit postsecret.com rightnow.)
(1) Post Secret (www.postsecret.com), accessed November 14th, 2007



Anyhoo, it is the first postcard I've ever seen that has resonated very deeply with the idea that "I know this person".

Her name is Amber and she is the manager of a former place of employment. Honestly, the log-in screen is the same as the one we used, and the secret left over the screen capture fits perfectly with what I remember of her management style. Heads up Amber: It ain't a secret, honey.

A trek through the Tupper turns up...

A really annoying advert (lacking alliteration, natch):




Maybe this doesn't bother anyone as much as it does me?? The saccharine smiles and underlying message get on my feminist nerves. "All little girls are expected to attend prom, get a higher degree and marry. Preferably on daddy's dime." Um. No. And just for implying that much I will deliberately choose the longer route so I don't have to stare at the poster on the way to the main floor cafe. I think my heartstrings have withered past the salvage point.

Meh.

One of those people

Didn't post at all in October for a number of reasons. Super busy at work, took an extra job for four weeks to help cover some of the construction costs of the new house we are trying to build, became a teaching assistant for a fourth year molecular biology and got soo sick as a result. Like, coughing up blood sick. Upon seeing my x-ray, Doc commented that I had the lungs of an old bum (PCedit: An elderly homeless person). Nice. Had I been travelling out of the country recently, and come in contact with TB? (No.) Had I gone on a bender recently where I potentially aspirated some vomit while in an alcohol-induced semi-conscious state? (NO?!? Who does that??) I told her straight up: I have no time to for the time-honoured art of inducing semi-consciousness with alcohol; for the entire month of October I worked, slept and ate. That's it. Long story short: I may have gotten an anaerobic lung infection as a complication of my otherwise-flawless wisdom teeth extraction at the end of September. So flawless that they didn't put me on antibiotics, so something could have lodged itself in my lungs, waiting until I was so rundown to make an dramatic entrance. That, or pneumonia. Treatment called for an antibiotic cocktail for two-weeks, then a follow-up chest x-ray. Well, last night, while I was taking my pills, I realized with horror that although both pills were to last me the same amount of time, one bottle was heavier than the other. Reading the label (which I *swear* I did when I first got them), one of the pills was to be taken twice a day, and the other pill just once a day. I was only taking two pills in the evening, essentially halving my dose of antibioticB....
.....NO!!!!!!! I'm one of those people!!! One of those people that don't take their antibiotics in full strength and create resistant superbugs as a result. I know how that works, and I don't like those people. I don't want to be breeding the bestest and fittest anaerobic bacteria in my lungs! I'M SUCH AN IDIOT. Regular treatment for anaerobic infection is six weeks, hopefully I didn't extend the life of my infection because six weeks is already $100 worth of antibiotics on my super-saver-brand insurance I have through the university. Although, I suppose the monetary punishment fits. I should really know better. Argh.

Refinishing a Dresser

Sometimes, I think I’m Martha Stewart. I’ve been known to make my own preserves, and just recently I undertook a project that proved to be a logistical nightmare for someone living in a small city apartment. About a month ago, other tenants were moving out. They threw everything away instead of moving it, it seems; boxes containing pots and pans, bags full of clothing and shoes, entire living room set including sofa and chair, kitchen table – you get the idea. I cannot begin to describe my wrath for people who throw these (useful) items away instead of just calling someone from a local charity to come pick them up. But anyway, in the trove of treasures was a pine-faced dresser that was sitting slightly askew and had stickers all over it. I asked my husband if I could bring it up to our apartment, with the intent of refinishing it. No. Too little room in our apartment. But I pleaded: we’re moving into a home in the foreseeable future. This home will have more room to put furniture, and in particular it will have a guest room where I envision a pretty refinished dresser will go. He ceded. So up it came, and even he warmed up to the idea once I removed the stickers and he straightened the support beam with a simple twist of a loosened screw. “Someone’s gonna be mad they threw this out” he said. Small victories, that’s all I ask for.

Anyway, over the next two weeks, he helped me dismantle it so that I could sand the varnish off the pine drawers, sides and top of the dresser. I used progressively finer sandpaper with a hand sander. Since the dresser was obviously a newer piece (the back and drawer bottoms were made of particle boards) I was not scared of potentially ruining an antique piece. Knotty pine is a bit rustic for me, and I always liked the idea of an all-white guest room so I taped the dresser up and primed with BIN primer (apparently, after some online digging, this is the stuff to use on knotty wood that was once covered in varnish). Two coats of primer, plus two coats of “antique white” latex paint, applied with a foam roller.


Before































After



The stainless steel knobs are an eBay purchase from locks, knobs & hinges ($14, two extra). The primer, paint, and rollers cost 30$ with some left-over, so the whole project was under $50. Can't really beat garbage picking, is all I gotta say.

Arts and Crafts

This is what we call arts and crafts in our lab. It is hilariously fun, because it involves cutting massive amounts of paper towel with really dull scissors. Otherwise, if the paper towel is not cut to size, little elves will come into the lab and eat your DNA at night. Well, no, not really. But what you DO get is a shitty transferred gel, and all real molecular biologists know you’re only as good as the membrane you create during Southerns.

I study evolution using molecular biology techniques. I also hate cutting with dull scissors.