She blinded me with science

She blinded me with science,
And hit me with technology.
--Thomas Dolby

Help wanted: One biologist, preferably with a strong background in microbiology. Knowledge of microscopes (both optical and electron varieties) a must. Experience with microscopic imaging of tissue cultures is required. The person accepting the position of BYE science consultant will be paid in the eternal gratitude of an author of a book now being written. The consultant will be acknowledged in said book and and will receive a signed first edition when published. Apply to the proprietor of this blog.

I found myself wading into the waters of science today. Those waters seemed so tranquil and blue when viewed from afar. They seemed warm and inviting when I first dipped my toes into that tropical sea. Then I got about three steps off the shore and the bottom fell out. Within seconds I was drowning.

Appearances can be deceiving.

I had to fight my way through a mere 685 words of dreadful prose today. I didn't even try to write "pretty" today, I just tried to get enough facts straight to fool a liberal arts graduate into believing I knew what I was talking about. I told myself I could go back later to "fix" the writing.

I won't tell you any more because I don't want to spoil the surprise. I know I don't have a chance of fooling a scientist or engineer, but if I can trick the political science majors out there into suspending their disbelief and going along with me for the ride, I'll be pleased.

I'm writing a murder mystery with a sciency twist. Today I reached the point where I could no longer ignore the science piece of it. After plowing through my old friend Wikipedia along with scholarly journal articles, industry websites and dozens of web pages produced by biology professors, I finally knew just enough to write this brief but key scene so I could move the story along.

Along the way I learned the difference between a nanometer and a micrometer, about Antony van Leeuwenhoek and his animalcules, how the norovirus works, how to put a microscope slide together and a bunch of other things that weren't relevant to my life prior to today.

I know I've got it all wrong, and any biologist who reads what I've written will mock me for my complete lack of understanding. I'm also writing about coroners, police procedures, security systems, government agents, crime labs, SEC football and a bunch of other things I don't know anything about, so this story is likely to turn out to be a giant ball of factual error.

The late Michael Chrichton was the master of writing fiction based on science. He made it look so easy. Trust me, it's not. It's hard to make up believable science without making it boring.

Lucky for me I'll be done with writing the science part of the story in another day or two. I have one more tough science-based scene to get through and fortunately I'll have my cop there for the scientist to talk down to. After that, I'll be back to writing about the lives of people and their various levels of dysfunction. I'm on solid ground there--no chance of drowning.

Friday groovitude

A little groovitude for your Friday viewing pleasure. OK Go rules! I've had this song on my pod for a while, but I had no idea how cool the video was. The video is a single shot (it took 60 takes to get it right) and something like 15 engineers and other geeky types helped the band work out the Rube Goldberg contraption.

Click on the little box on the viewer with the four arrows for a full screen view. Enjoy!

Mother nature strikes

That was quite the little rain event. We had five inches or so of rain the last day here in our little corner of Suburbingham. The little creek/drainage ditch that runs through our back yard has turned into quite a little river.

Yesterday some of the roads in and around our little city of Helena were closed because of flooding. That's about as dramatic as the news ever gets here in Bayberry RFD.

The biggest downer for me from all the rain is that I'm out something like $30, an hour or so of labor and I probably did some kind of irreparable damage to the environment.

On Monday I carefully laid down a bag and a half of some sort of toxic powder that is supposed to magically keep weeds from breaking out. I'm not sure how the stuff works--I suppose the powder somehow frightens the weeds so they remain in hiding in the soil. The idea is that after you spread the poison a gentle rain will dissolve the powder, it will soak into the soil and the weed-preventing magic will happen.

Yesterday's deluge washed away my lawn treatment and and instead of preventing weeds, those expensive and nasty chemicals are now flowing through the streams and rivers of central Alabama. I'm sorry.

Today the sun is shining, the temperature will be in the 70s and I spent a chunk of the morning getting the lawn mower ready for the growing season just ahead. I changed the oil, air filter, blade and spark plug, so I'm good to go for another year. In the last week some of my neighbors have been out prematurely mowing their lawns. I'm not sure why they're doing this since the grass in their yards is still brown and hasn't woken up yet. I think they're just antsy.

I'm going to wait until the grass is actually growing before I begin mowing. I'm the only homeowner in all of Suburbingham who owns a mower that doesn't move on its own. Most everyone around here has a riding mower or at the very least a self-propelled mower. We have a lot of grass to mow and my mower makes me do all of the work myself, so I'm in no rush to crank it up until I see the need to do so.

In the meantime there's plenty to do. I have a couple dozen more bales of pine straw to spread and dozens of bags of cypress mulch to lay down in the back yard. I also have my garden bed to get ready for the coming season.

A couple of weeks ago I planted squash, cucumber and tomato seeds in plastic trays. They've germinated and my plants are growing fast. In the next week or two we'll make a road trip to our favorite nursery to buy several varieties of heirloom tomatoes, eggplants and peppers along with Teri's choice of herbs for the garden.

Then I'll harvest the last of my winter crop of cabbage and collards, "plow" my garden bed and get it ready for this growing season. Early in April, when all danger of frost is past, I'll plant the herbs and veggies. About the same time I'll fertilize my fruit trees and bushes, a pointless exercise since the squirrels steal all of my peaches and blueberries and my plum and pecan trees aren't big enough to bear fruit yet. The stinking squirrels don't like figs for some reason, so at least I'll have those to look forward to. Maybe I'll plant an apple or pear tree this year to add some variety to the diet of our local rodent population.

Our December cruise out of New Orleans is now a Best Year Ever event since six of us have signed up for it and another couple is considering it.

The weather can be spotty in the Caribbean in December, and it's likely to be chilly when we sail out of New Orleans. But by the time we get to Mexico, the sun should be shining. Teri and I have been to the Yucatan a number of times in the second week of December and the weather has always been nice enough to sunbathe.

The price is right for this trip. At just $279 per person for five nights aboard a beautiful ship, I don't care if the seas are rough or it rains the whole time. You're welcome to join us if you want--just ask me for the details. The price has actually dropped $10 per person in the last week, and those of us already signed up got $10 refunds, enough to buy a fruity umbrella drink on board.

Not much stirring

It's been pouring rain since last night and there is street flooding today in Suburbingham, but my mind is focused on an early October morning in Constantinople, Alabama. Sandy is about to tell Eli their marriage is over, and I'm not sure how that scene is going to play out. I feel for Eli. He's having a very bad week, and it's going to get worse for him before it gets better, I'm afraid.

Today's post is going to be very brief. It's one of those days when there's not much on my mind and not much stirring in my soul.

I do want to thank an anonymous citizen of Greece for dropping by today and adding that proud country to the BYE League of Nations. I guess you showed up after I said a couple of things about you in my recent political rant and the Google-monster teleported you here.

I liked Greece when I was there, and I especially enjoyed the people I met. When I visited, it was just prior to the Athens Olympics, and it looked like they wouldn't have the infrastructure needed to host the games ready in time. The Greeks I spoke with were funny and self-deprecating with a laid-back love of life, but you could tell they were determined to pull through somehow. And they did.

I was also in Beijing just prior to their Olympics, and there was no question that China would be ready for the world stage. Athens was a sloppy, overcrowded city and Beijing was an organized overcrowded city. Greece seems focused on its rich history while China is all about the future. I enjoyed my visits to both places, but I liked Athens more.

Signs of spring

Mom is home after her whirlwind tour of Egypt, Dubai and a bunch of other places you'd only go to after you'd already been everywhere else.

Okay, that's just jealousy talking. She sent me her itinerary ahead of time "just in case" and it looked like an amazing trip.

She had a friend over when I called, so we only talked long enough for her to tell me she had a great time and to share her single most memorable impression--that stamps for postcards cost way too much in the Middle East.

She promised to call me back later, and I'm sure other equally helpful travel tips will soon follow.

I went off the diet and had lunch with a World War II veteran today at a terrific Italian joint. It was a treat for me and I hope it was for him as well. I was fascinated by his experiences in France and the Philippines during the war.

I brought a copy of my father's brief autobiography with me to show off to my lunch companion. My father wrote the book and I edited it shortly before he passed away around Thanksgiving of 2004. Dad's autobiography covered the war years in some detail and my father served on the same kind of ship that transported my friend across the Pacific. Who knows, perhaps it was the same one.

I still miss my father and find it hard to believe it has been almost six years now since he died.

I have immense respect for our World War II veterans, and I believe they really were our nation's greatest generation. My father, who served in the navy for 29 years and over the course of three wars (WWII, Korea, Vietnam) said that WWII was "the last good war." Dad wasn't trying to tell me that war was ever good--I know what he meant by his statement, and I believe him.

Every day there are fewer veterans of World War II with us. If you know one, let him (or her) know how much you appreciate what he did for all of us. Soon enough there won't be any left to thank.

Scram, our feral Katrina rescue kitty is back on patrol in the Bayberry Woods. His stitches come out on Friday after two rounds of surgery, but he's well enough and annoying enough that I gave in and let him out yesterday and again today. This worked wonders for the mental health of everyone in the house, because when the Prince of Bayberry is unhappy, he lets everyone know it.

I've been making daily trips to Home Depot and other purveyors of lawn and garden supplies recently, a sure sign that spring has come to Suburbingham. Today I jammed ten more bales of pine straw, four bags of manure and a gallon jug of a toxic chemical soup that's supposed to kill weeds into the Jeep.

I have many more trips to make for mulch and other yard-related items before our yard is ready for warm weather, but I'm officially on the job.

Our mystery tree in the front yard (Teri has identified it as some kind of cherry) is in full bloom today, and it's a spectacular shade of bright pink. The dogwoods will be in bloom soon and then the greenup will begin in earnest.

I hate working in my yard in cold weather, and I waited too long this year to dump pre-emergent weed prevention stuff on my lawn. The other day my next door neighbor Tesley pointed out the price I would pay for my tardiness, and now little patches of green have popped up everywhere on my lawn. The grass is still brown and dormant, but I have an abundant crop of weeds.

Tesley has the best looking, most perfectly manicured, most beautifully landscaped yard in all of Suburbingham, and every weed in my yard stands in mute testimony against me, especially when compared to his ideal standard of perfection.

Tesley is retired but works part time at a golf course and full time on his lawn. He has installed a putting green in his yard that would be the envy of the Augusta National. His yard truly is a work of art and he tends it with the same level of skill and care that Renoir used in his paintings.

Teri's brown rice and veggie "cleansing" diet is having amazing results. She's down 12 pounds in the last few weeks and I've lost a few pounds too, mostly by osmosis. Of course when you substitute fresh veggies and fruit for meat and alcohol, you're almost certain to drop a few pounds along the way. The fact that I include fish sticks and the occasional off the reservation binge in my diet accounts for my more modest success. We've both been hitting the exercise equipment in our basement with a fierce regularity for the last several weeks as well. Yay us.

Limited time offer

I was checking my Facebook page on Saturday, living a virtual life in lieu of a real one, when the chat box popped open. I'm always startled, and usually annoyed, when that happens. I like talking to my friends, but chatting with them via instant message isn't my favorite thing to do.

This time it was an old friend stopping by to say hi. Let's call him Auguste. I won't identify him further so as to protect his privacy for reasons that will become obvious. I wish I could tell you more about Auguste. I have some great stories about this colorful man, and it's killing me to not share at least a few of them here.

I hadn't spoken to my friend in many years (and still haven't, as it happens). Instead of talking, we entered into one of those instant message keyboard conversations. I find these a bit disconcerting since you inevitably end up carrying on discussions on several topics simultaneously as you ask and answer questions on overlapping lines of thought.

My friend, always an interesting person, has gone on to lead a fascinating and accomplished life. He has been places and done things many of us have only dreamed of, and I enjoyed hearing a little of the adventures in his life as we caught up with each other.

It was a gorgeous spring day in Suburbingham, and I knew the weather was just as nice in the city where Auguste lives. At one point in our wide ranging virtual conversation, I pointed out that it was a beautiful day for both of us and how wrong it was that we were spending part of it indoors talking to each other on our computers. Here is part of what followed.

Auguste: I don't get out much these days.

Hank: Why?

Auguste: My health sucks.

Hank: Define "sucks."

Auguste: One doctor who loves challenges cracked his knuckles and said "seven major body systems all in crisis, this will be fun."

A few years ago, I would have dropped the inquiry and changed the subject at "I don't get out much" and definitely at the response "my health sucks." I would have felt like I was prying into something that was none of my business instead of bluntly asking him to explain further. I would have felt trapped into an uncomfortable conversation about something I didn't want to think about.

I'm not sure what about me has changed, but something has. "How are you?" isn't a rhetorical question from me any more. In the past, I didn't want a truthful answer from you to that question. Today I do. I don't know if it's my age or the age we live in that has changed me.

I think part of it is that I have become more aware than ever before of the fragility of life. I see that the opportunities to have new experiences, enjoy good health and feel real joy in being alive are limited. Nothing in life is promised, and none of us should be surprised when the "good times" come to an end.

On Sunday I spoke with someone who had just received an awful medical diagnosis. He has heart problems, and, after his most recent battery of tests his doctors told him there was nothing further they could do. The implications of the diagnosis were unavoidable and were written all over his face. "I guess I'm just worn out," he said in the most dispirited tone of voice imaginable.

I'm powerless to change the life circumstances for either of these men. I can show my concern, but I can't restore their health or improve their lives. I will certainly pray for them and wish them well.

While I can't help them, I can help you and me, Discerning Reader. We need to keep reminding ourselves to live our lives to their fullest and not waste a single moment. Life and good health always come with expiration dates, and we aren't always going to be notified when that limited time offer will be revoked.

I will never forget when the terminally ill Warren Zevon made his final appearance on Letterman and he advised the viewers to "enjoy every sandwich." Life is too short, too uncertain and too precious to squander the good moments that come our way.

As soon as I signed off with Auguste, I found Teri and told her we needed to get out of the house for a while. We walked hand-in-hand through the Bayberry Woods down to the nearby lake on that sunny late afternoon. As we walked, we talked about this and that. Our conversation was about nothing in particular or of real importance, but the walking and talking were the most important and enjoyable thing either of us did that day.

In fact, our walk was the highlight of my week. For that little while, we were both completely alive and taking full advantage of a limited time offer.

Cheeseburgers and paradise

Mexico joined the BYE League of Nations the other day becoming the 34th virtual flag to fly in our little corner of the webiverse. Bienvenido! What took you so long?

I'm kind of surprised that Mexico joined our ranks long after Malaysia, Serbia and a bunch of other lands more distant from BYE headquarters. I've been to Mexico many times, and I love the parts of it I've seen. Teri and I will be heading your way twice later this year.

Most of our time in Mexico has been spent on the island of Cozumel for winter dive vacations, which does skew our perspective of your nation. Cozumel is a Mayan word that has something to do with swallows, I believe, but should be the Mayan word for paradise.

During the day when the cruise ships are in port, the main city on the island (San Miguel) is packed with throngs of overfed cruisers snapping up t-shirts and lining up at Senor Frog's for margaritas. At night after the ships have pulled out to sea, this city of 90,000 becomes more like a tranquil village.

I don't know if it's still true, but Sunday is traditionally the only day of the week when there are no cruise ships in port on the island, and that day is largely given over to religious and family celebrations. On Sunday nights the islanders pack the town square and the local children put on little pageants on the main stage.

Cozumel is the only place I've ever been where people routinely break into song for no reason at all. You see this everywhere on the island if you start to look for it, and it's true of men and women of all ages regardless of their ability to carry a tune. The residents of the island are completely unselfconscious about this. A store clerk will start singing softly while she stocks a shelf or a waiter will begin to sing to himself as business slows at the end of his shift.

It took me a while to notice this phenomenon, but once I did, I saw it everywhere I went on Cozumel. A place where people sing just because they're alive can't be all bad.

When the ships are docked, the storekeepers can be very aggressive about luring in customers, but it's good-natured aggression. If you go in, you're likely to be offered a free shot of tequila or "Mexican Viagra" as they call it.

The touts will stand out on the sidewalks and tell you that their wares are "cheaper than Wal-Mart" or "cheaper than K-Mart" or "almost free". The really aggressive merchants will combine two of these three phrases in some order. One evening, Teri and I were walking downtown and decided we'd keep going until we hit the trifecta. It took a while, but eventually a jewelry merchant completed the quest by saying "my stuff is cheaper than Wal-Mart, cheaper than K-Mart, almost free!" He was startled and stepped away from the loco gringos when Teri and I burst into uncontrollable spasms of laughter.

By contrast, of all the places I've been, the people of Saint Petersburg, Russia looked the saddest to my American eyes. Teri and I were there during the white nights, the time of year near the summer solstice when it never really gets dark that far north. The weather was beautiful, yet the people on the streets walked with their heads down and their shoulders hunched, like they were trying to traverse a blizzard in the depths of winter.

I've learned from experience that it takes a lot to make a Russian smile.

I haven't done shout-outs for a while. Let's say hi to some visitors to this site who hail from places I've never been.

Hello, League City, Texas. You used to be home for the Karankawa Indians, but now you're Houston's aquatic playground.

Howdy, Moody, Maine. I've never been there, but Teri and I drove through once on our way to Round Pond. We stayed in a lovely old Victorian house on the water there. Beautiful country.

Guten tag, Hamburg, Germany. I bet you guys really hate it that our first association with your city is the food purveyed by the likes of McDonald's and Burger King. In reality, the first hamburger on a bun was made in Tulsa in 1891. I've been to Tulsa and I've been to Germany and the two places aren't all that similar.

Out of curiosity, I went to McDonald's German website. I was distressed to discover that the website was in German, but after a little intuitive button clicking and a few false starts, I determined that there are no fewer than 16 McDonald's restaurants in downtown Hamburg (see picture). Does anyone else think that's wrong?

Continuing with our theme, hello to Meriden, Connecticut, the home of the first steamed cheeseburger in history. I'm not sure what a steamed cheeseburger is, but I want one and I want it now. I've given up meat for Lent, so I won't be able to go to Meriden to fulfill my mystery craving for at least another few weeks.

In the interest of full disclosure and because I know Teri will bust me, I haven't been perfect on the non-meat front. On Wednesday evening I broke down and made a run for the border. I devoured a taco and a burrito at Taco Bell. I'm not sure what that brown stuff was inside, but I'm not positive it was meat--so I may still be okay.

Finally, a big shout-out to Nampa, Idaho. Your Wikipedia page brags that you're home to a Costco, Target, Olive Garden, Old Navy, World Market, Sam's Club, McDonalds, and Macy's among other retailers I recognize. I'd drop by for a visit, but, except for your rodeo, you sound just like Suburbingham so I don't see the point.