Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Mandatory!

Sheesh, I'm a little shocked that I haven't had any takers for the science fair.  Do you realize this will be a big part of your grade?  I know!

AND, there will be amazing prizes.  Possibly certificates with really cool fonts (has anyone seen the movie, "Helvetica", btw?  Me neither.)  Or a trip.  The winner could go with me to Home Depot to buy more rat traps, which might not sound like a very good prize, but trust me, it will be fun.  Second prize might involve circumnavigating something with me, like a small lake or a donut.  (Do you like how I worked myself into all the prizes?)

So, start thinking about questions you have that only science can answer.

Here are some things we're all wondering about, to get you thinking:

  1. What's the effect of one thing on another?  Like, add a household chemical to something else.  Watch, wait, create graphs.  Take pictures.  For example, you might put an egg in a vat of something.  And as a control, don't put another egg in that same something. 
  2. How can we accelerate growth?  Of trees, vegetables, hair (wanted hair), mold.
  3. How can we retard growth?  Of unwanted hair, mold, weeds.
  4. How can we improve the human brain in effortless ways that involve things like chewing gum, smelling something, or napping?
  5. What's going on with the tiny stuff we can't see in our kitchens, like atoms and bacteria?
  6. What are some home remedies that can be concocted by recombining DNA?   (See this post to get started.)
  7. And so on.  The list is endless. 

Monday, February 25, 2013

The Return of the Science Fair

The other day I got a text that said, “2:00.  Today.” I assumed, as usual, that it was a coded message, and one of my people was in distress.  (Does everyone do that? Believe that any slightly unusual text is being sent from a hostage situation?) It turned out to be an invitation to the science fair, which I attended. It brought to mind this problem with our world, which is that you don’t get to participate in science fairs after a certain age.

If you liked high school English, you can be in a book club.  If you liked math, you can sit home drinking alone and do pre-calculus problems on the internet.  (Oh, is that just me again?  Why did I even have to say "pre" calculus?  Shouldn't I have pretended I was farther along at least?)  Coffee houses across the land have amateur poetry readings.  But there’s no forum for the amateur scientist.

 There are sweet details in the science fair abstract that never appear in professional science.  Like, “I come from a large family, and we drink lots of milk.  So I decided to study milk for my project.”

 And the methods are super sketchy in a charming way.   One project involved determining whether a small detention pond could generate hydroelectric power.  The methods involved, “Each night at 6 pm I looked through the chain link fence with binoculars to see what the water level was.  One night I couldn't do that due to technical problems.”  (I'm still wondering what possible technical problems could occur with that scenario.  Fog on the lens?)  Do you see what I mean?

 There’s also that factor of labeling a person, “the subject” when you know it’s just their little sister, who will pretty much do anything to hang out with the big kids.  Even if it means being “the subject” of an experiment.

But I learned a lot.  For example, if you’re trying to improve your memory and have the choice to chew on a rubber band, peppermint gum, or fruit gum, pick fruit gum.

Anyway, here’s the deal. We’re about to have a science fair right here.  Don’t you have some questions that only science can answer?  About how things grow, or the affect of one thing on another?  I hope you’ll participate. I promise to post all of your projects.   (I hope this isn’t just me again.)

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Confessions and Miracle Retraction

So, it turns out that the egg miracle (see Capricorn) wasn’t a miracle at all. Just one more fraudulent thing on the internet. The sad fact is that even though I’m all about data and not prone to believing in miracles, I really would enjoy a miracle right about now (who wouldn't?), and if it involves eggs, why, so much the better.

 This is what happened. I looked in the refrigerator for a few days, maybe 8, and didn’t really have much good to eat, so kept doing that, “I’ll just have some cheese and crackers, and later I’ll go to the store.” But eventually, it was so stark that I photographed it. (I know. Please don’t comment. Try, if you’re able, not to judge. I am totally aware that I’m that person, the one who imagines miracles where there are none, and photographs the inside of my own refrigerator. I’m reluctant to confess that I also practice saying, “ohm” in front of my ukelele tuner because I like it best if we all do middle C at the beginning of yoga. But since I'm confessing, I won’t hold back.  Yes, I do that too.)
I know, it's blurry, but really, do you see an egg carton?  No, me neither.

But I’ve been losing stuff lately.  I’m losing family and friends and objects and I don’t like any of it.  I tried to make juice one day, which I do most days because it's a good thing to do when what you have in the refrigerator a handful of carrots, one tired chard leaf, a few pieces of kale, and an elderly shriveled apple.  But I couldn’t find most of the parts of the juicer.  Giant plastic parts.  How do you lose stuff like that? 

Or this:  How is it that I lost my pants?  And three days later I find them sitting on the bench at the yoga studio.  Awkward?  Not to mention all the tedious things I can never find, like my car keys and my hat and a clean pair of socks. 

Anyway, Cake Boss & Co. stopped by to work on scrolls, and upon arrival, she opened the refrigerator, which was mildly confusing because she’s eliminated everything good from her diet (coffee, beer, wheat.  What else is there?).  And she discovered a second egg carton with six empty spaces.

I know.  It makes me feel like I’m one of those quacks. The next thing you know, I’ll confess that the horoscopes are made up.  Oh, you knew that.  Stick around for ways to lose belly fat.  Remove unwanted hair and grow wanted.  

But it was a miracle anyway, because some scroll work happened, and science fair projects involving eggs got started.  I spent the afternoon trying to make a picture of the virgin out of egg shells, but suddenly remembered that my life is finite and tossed the whole thing in the compost.

Anyway, back to my facial recognition disorder.  I was sitting in the coffee shop the other day with C., and she moved across the room, maybe because I was talking too much or maybe it was something about her back.  Anyway, this woman arrived and looked familiar, the way everyone does, but she greeted me by name and sat down and started talking.  I had no idea who she was.

She started asking me questions, like, “What are you up to these days?” I wasn't  sure where to begin.  Like, has it been a week or a year or a decade since I’ve seen her?  I said some things, but she seemed to already know  everything, so I tried to turn the tables and learn about her, but that was awkward too because again, I didn't know where to begin. I e-mailed C. across the room:  “Look up.  Who am I talking to?”  But she was writing a book and not even a tiny bit distractible, which was hard for me to fathom, but that’s a different post.  Eventually, the unknown woman left, and I asked the barista who she was, but she had no idea either.

Now, every time I’m a tiny bit bored, I try to figure out who she is.  I was at a party last night, and every few minutes, (mostly when people talked about Star Wars movies, but lots of other times too,) I’d look at C. and say, “I’m thinking about that woman right now, in case you’re wondering.” 

In the town where I live, everyone is connected by about 1.5 degrees of separation, so I looked around the party to see who was from my town, because odds are high that they’ll know her.  So I was explaining the mystery to the few people who might help me figure this out.  (I didn't tell the part about the egg miracle, because I didn’t want to seem too sketchy -- I stuck to the mystery woman part), when the Linguist leaned over and said, “This isn’t a very good story; they’re just listening because they think you’re cute.”

“Is that good news or bad news, do you think?”

He didn’t say anything, but just took a long drink.  Anyway.

But the real take home is this:  during one of the moments when I was actually listening and not busy missing people or trying to figure out who the woman is, I heard people talking about their Internet Service Providers (I know.  And my story isn’t very good?  You see what I mean?).  Someone said, “Hey, I’ve got ten down and one point five up.”  I have no idea what that means, but it definitely seemed like a good thing by the way he said it.  It seemed like something I should be able to say with fluency.  So.  My ISP, in case you're wondering?  Ten down, 1.5 up.  

If anyone knows a woman with brown hair who drank coffee on Friday, let me know.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Random Horoscope-like Stuff



Aries (3/21 – 4/19) I did a little mapping project the other day, and one minute into it, the tape came off the spool, and rather than looking like the first class consultant that I pretend to be, I was that sketchy person crashing around in the bushes in the pouring rain with a wad of plastic tape, doing both ends of the tape, which involves, as you surely know, Aries, attaching one end, crashing along a compass bearing to some distant other end, tugging on the tape, having the first end come unhooked, going back and starting over, with the wad of tape getting increasingly tangled.  This, my friends, is why I can charge such high fees for my important services.  BUT.  The difference between a giant ball of yarn and this tape is that the tape is numbered, and in theory, at least, you can get some direction.  An idea of where to head for the great untangle.  Do the great untangle this week, Aries.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  So, I know, this blog is turning out to be all about one particular customer, but seriously, he's full of material, and I'm not.  Most of it I can't write about, but I will say that although I suppose I have some OCD traits myself, he's so far out of my league that I don't even try to keep up.  Is it wrong that I only answer calls from him about 3 times a day?  And, is it wrong that I say, "I was out in the field," when in in fact I'm just napping?  That's a form of field work, right?  My field is napping.  And is it okay if I lie, or do I have to say, "yes, I turn the ringer off because I'm so tired and you call way too much?"  Taurus, do we have any vacations planned?  Or parties?  I know someone who has those umbrellas for umbrella drinks.  I can hook you up.

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21):  So, David Foster Wallace's widow created a Forgiveness Machine, where you write down what you need to be forgiven for or what you want to forgive, and the paper gets sucked into a vacuum tube, macerated, and voila.  It turns out that people got pretty freaked out by doing that, and Karen (the artist) herself was too chicken to try it.  I imagine I have a million things to be forgiven for, some that I don't even know about.  There's a beauty to the machine idea, like someone out there could just put something together, and poof.

Cancer 6/22 – 7/21:  Need I write about my other almost-customer, the one who was having a delineation emergency (right?) and wanted me to come out with my stupid wad of tape within 2 hours of our first contact, and when I delayed by a day, she ended up canceling because her "significant other"  (Was that the lamest phrase ever to come out of the 80's?) is "apparently moving out."  Apparently?  Okay, funniest movie ever is Down By Law, and there's a part where the woman is in a total rage, throwing her boyfriend's (Tom Waits) stuff, breakable items like an album collection, out the window, screaming about what a loser he is while he sits quietly on the bed looking down and then finally says, "Um, so does this mean we're breaking up?"  That's all I could think about when this woman said her SO was apparently moving out and the project was cancelled.  In 24 hours, she couldn't see that coming?  I don't have a horoscope for you, Cancer.  Maybe watch that movie.  See if it's still funny.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  Each morning I lie in bed and decide what kind of clothes to put on, and then try to use that as a guide to remember wtf I'm supposed to be doing.  "Oh, right, I'm dressed for yoga."  Or, "Oh, I'm dressed for going to the library."  (Right?  That has an actual outfit?  Why yes.)  Today, it turns out I'm dressed for dealing with the compost in my truck.  Looks like I got off track.  Tomorrow for sure.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  I got a text the other day from one of my favorite people, who, by the way, I haven't seen in forever, that said, "Please come over some day 'cause playing together just creates total queers."  I like to think I'm one of those people whom you'd text when you're stuck in a weird hostage situation.  You'd send me a coded message, and I'd solve the riddle and send someone out.  But I was stumped, and had to ask him for the answer, which is that it's a mnemonic for the geo timescale.   It seems like I'm probably not the one to text after all.  How 'bout that beer, though, Virgo?  I was even in Ballard the other day.  Drove right past Gorditos.

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):  This story was recommended by David Plotz, one of my imaginary friends, and as he predicted, it blew me away.  I'm pretty sure you won't be able to stop thinking about it if you do read it, so don't say I didn't warn you.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  Wake me up when the book of William Gaddis letters comes out, will you?  Here's an excerpt: 
Of course the problem is setting the goals in the first place; many enough ‘successful’ men end up drunks for having fulfilled goals the world set for them and then finding they’ve fulfilled nothing in themselves; many enough kids end up junkies for having decided the world’s goals aren’t worth trying for and being unable to set any of their own. A few fortunate combine the two (I don’t mean drink and drugs, but meaning your own and wordly goals), and your education and growing up now are vitally important because learning the world’s goals (even marks in school) gives you the material to form your own—and don’t misunderstand, I don’t mean that by your 16th birthday you should know whether you want to be a poet or an astronaut, but only have a hungry curiosity in all directions for anything that brings you and your mind to life.

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21):  I have four chords now, but still can't play that song, which is the whole point of all this, right?  Bb?  Really?  I need more fingers, but they need to be smaller.  Eight-limbed pose in the hand area, which I suppose I could work on.  But really, it's just about naptime again.  Tomorrow for sure.


The only thing that could improve this miracle is if the egg shell looked like the Virgin of Guadalupe
Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19):  Okay, a small egg miracle just happened:  I had no eggs, and then I bought a dozen.  I made 6 hardboiled eggs, because there's no downside to making lovely units of protein that fit in your pocket.  I ate one while it was still hot.  Not because it smelled good, of course, but because it was so pretty.  I'm absolutely sure that happened because there's a shell and my mildly burned tongue as evidence.  I go to put the remaining eggs back in the carton, thinking I'll use the empty  space to distinguish the hb from the raw, and when I loaded them all up there was no space.  I know.  I'm sitting here, looking at the shell, and looking at the carton, and scratching my head and wondering.  And thinking how lucky I really am.  The mystery of which came first pales in comparison, Capricorn.

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18):  "Cavitation occurs when the tension of water within the xylem of plants is so intense that water vaporizes, and dissolved air fills the vessel elements."  I know.  That happens a lot, I hear, but don't worry, this isn't really the season for that.  Phew.  Aquarius, avoid cavitation when possible.  Instead, just exhale normally.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  So I'm reading Veramo by Cesar Aira, and it reminds me of being in my twenties, you know when you read all that stuff by Milan Kundera and Gunter Grass?  (Oh, just typing the name Gunter Grass conjures that horrible scene with the eels.  Uggh.)  But Veramo is about a typical day in the life of a government worker who does taxidermy in his closet at night.  But he has problems, like getting paid in counterfeit money, and gouging out a fish eye to put in a piece of glass, but making the hole too big, and putting the fish back in water and having it swim around even after it was dead.  Pisces, for some reason that reminded me of you.  Your horoscope?  Don't gouge out the eyes.


PS -- Do these seem even a little bit like real horoscopes?

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