Danielle Blog

Favorite Fuzzy Friend Friday – part 2

There is a certain someone who is not-so-patiently waiting for me to come live in Minnesota.

Of course, patience has never been her strong suit.

Especially at breakfast time.

“Well, Come on, already!”

*grumble grumble* “Dang stairs!”

*grumble*

“Didn’t have to go down stairs to get to breakfast in the old house.”

*grumble*

“Aren’t you coming?”

“You and that dang camera phone. It really is cramping my schedule.”

“And where is Danie? SHE’s the one who is supposed to feed me breakfast.”

“Oh well, I guess you’ll do.”

*munch munch munch*

*hop up and settle in*

*clean clean clean*

“At least all of the sunlight in this house makes up for all of the stairs.”

“Don’t mind me, I’ll just go back to waiting now.”

All pictures were taken by HB with his fancy schmancy camera phone of unknown model.

Booked

We just booked my flight to go Home to Minnesota!

October 12th
(slight adjustment from what I announced earlier, which was the 9th)

I realized when TexasSeestor asked me in an email yesterday (or the day before?) that I haven’t said much about my experiments lately.

Everything that I had been intending to do is done, analyzed, and statistically significant (i.e. publishable!).

Let’s all take a moment to just let that sink in.

Beautiful.

Gorgeous.

very very happy.

So, what am I doing?

Well, I’m doing 2 add-on/bonus experiments to
1. be a bonus to the work I’ve done for one paper – this is the heart of what I’ve been doing for my thesis work
2. add to another aspect of a second paper

Right now, I really just want to be in MN with HB, and I want to be writing my papers, which are the chapters of my thesis. But I’m almost there. That is the little refrain going through my head everyday.

almost there, almost there.

Let’s do the time warp again

Lately, I’ve noticed that I can’t seem to remember what day it is. I’m finding that the only way I can keep it semi-straight on about 4 of the weekdays is by what TV show was on the night before, or what will be on that night.

Tuesday is NCIS, Thursday is Survivor and all the other days just fall in relation to those two days.

Example: Wednesday morning I think to myself “Well, I know it is Wednesday, because I watched NCIS last night.”

I believe I’ve mentioned to you how terrible I am at keeping the year straight and how long I’ve been married.

Just the other day, I was convinced that I was 33 (I’m 31) and couldn’t figure out why a long lost friend from my year in high school was talking about what it was like turning 30 last year. I kept thinking “Was she always that much younger? Did her parents put her into school early and I just forgot about that? Why wouldn’t I know that? Why do I remember that we all got our driver’s licenses the same year?”

*sigh*

I had another run-in, on 9/22/05 when I specifically went over the calendar to check the date. I wanted to be certain to write down the correct date in my lab notebook and on all of my materials for the day.
But did I write 9.22.05 on everything? Oh NO! I wrote 9.20.05 on everything.
And WHEN did I realize it? When I was on a bus the next morning and there was a digital thing at the front of the bus saying “Today is 9/23/05.”

Doh!

To top it off this whole date thing, HB and I were discussing his multiple weeks of unused vacation time and I told him that he needed to remember to save some for our high school reunion next year.

His email response: You mean our 15 year reunion that will take place in 2007?

Just call me – Chagrined.

I guess I was mixing it up with my 10 year college reunion that is next year. I KNEW there was a reunion next year! Nevermind which one it is.

*sigh*

You know what this means, right? This means that if I’m ever in an accident and the EMTs try to assess my mental state by asking me what day it is, how old I am, or even what YEAR it is, that upon hearing my answers they will immediately conclude
“suffers from neurological damage and dementia.”

Let’s do the time warp again

Lately, I’ve noticed that I can’t seem to remember what day it is. I’m finding that the only way I can keep it semi-straight on about 4 of the weekdays is by what TV show was on the night before, or what will be on that night.

Tuesday is NCIS, Thursday is Survivor and all the other days just fall in relation to those two days.

Example: Wednesday morning I think to myself “Well, I know it is Wednesday, because I watched NCIS last night.”

I believe I’ve mentioned to you how terrible I am at keeping the year straight and how long I’ve been married.

Just the other day, I was convinced that I was 33 (I’m 31) and couldn’t figure out why a long lost friend from my year in high school was talking about what it was like turning 30 last year. I kept thinking “Was she always that much younger? Did her parents put her into school early and I just forgot about that? Why wouldn’t I know that? Why do I remember that we all got our driver’s licenses the same year?”

*sigh*

I had another run-in, on 9/22/05 when I specifically went over the calendar to check the date. I wanted to be certain to write down the correct date in my lab notebook and on all of my materials for the day.
But did I write 9.22.05 on everything? Oh NO! I wrote 9.20.05 on everything.
And WHEN did I realize it? When I was on a bus the next morning and there was a digital thing at the front of the bus saying “Today is 9/23/05.”

Doh!

To top it off this whole date thing, HB and I were discussing his multiple weeks of unused vacation time and I told him that he needed to remember to save some for our high school reunion next year.

His email response: You mean our 15 year reunion that will take place in 2007?

Just call me – Chagrined.

I guess I was mixing it up with my 10 year college reunion that is next year. I KNEW there was a reunion next year! Nevermind which one it is.

*sigh*

You know what this means, right? This means that if I’m ever in an accident and the EMTs try to assess my mental state by asking me what day it is, how old I am, or even what YEAR it is, that upon hearing my answers they will immediately conclude
“suffers from neurological damage and dementia.”

Double take

There is an elevator at our main entrance where people post signs. Most of the signs are currently for various clinical trials revolving food/drinks and their effect on things like cholesterol, muscle mass etc.

Just as the elevator was arriving, this poster caught my eye:

Handsome black male looking for a new home.

?

*blink*

As I get on the elevator, I start thinking “Gee, that’s one way to find a new girlfriend. Or perhaps he is looking for a handsome roomie?”

“Perhaps I should mention this method of finding singles to ScottyGee, who was recently lamenting his singlehood.”

Later, I go to lunch and take the same elevator back into the building.

And that’s when I notice that the sign is for a CAT.

Um, yeah. Perhaps you should’ve put the word CAT in your title, silly.

Of course, it did get my attention. They certainly succeeded in that respect.

*grin*

Arrrr Mateys!

Ahoy there!

Jest in case you lan’ lubbers not be thinkin straight, today iz International Talk Like A Pirate Day!

That means that if yeh don’t skip to my tune, I’ll be makin yeh swab the deck! And if yehr really bad, I might jes make yeh walk the plank!

Feelin’ cleverrrrrrrrrrr?

I’ve got a weeee puzzle fer yeh. This here iz a common phrase among pirates. Lessee if yeh can figure it out, eh?

Yeh need to put a worrrrrrrrd with each picturrrrrrre.

Didja figurrrrrrrrrrre it out?

No lookin ahead, I say!

If yeh didn’t get it, go back and try again.

Here’s a tip on the last picturrrre. I thought about using this one instead of the one I gave yeh.

But I figurrred my dear sweet motherrrr would’ve been the only one who’d know the fellerrrrr.

Well, mehbeeee my pappyyyyyyy too.

Didja figurrrrrrrre it out now?

Well, I can’t say as I have any treasurrrrrre to give yeh as a reward.

I spent all me pieces of eight at the last porrrrrrrrrrt on rummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

And yeh know, I’d neverrrrr tell yeh where I put me burieeeeeed treasurrrrrre. That’s a sekrit.

But in case yeh didn’t get it.

Here’s the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Arrrrrright?

Rummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Me favorite.

Bottoms UP!

In answer to “the question”

Well, I did some O-fficial analysis late yesterday afternoon. Good Stuff, I tell you!

This was the analysis that I did after my advisor took me to Cold Stone Creamery! This would be a trip (walk) that we’d been talking about for several weeks, but never seemed to make time to do. So, we did. Even though it was kind of rainy and not so perfect. We finally decided that waiting for “time between experiments” and “good weather” to coincide was just not worth waiting for anymore. Over ice cream, I broached the topic of buying an airplane ticket to leave, my thoughts on when I wanted to make it for and related issues.

One consideration is that there is a conference that I really want to attend on October 7th, where I can kind of “kill two birds with one stone” by hearing about some work that is closely related to mine and meet with my outside thesis committee member (a.k.a. every thesis committee is required to have one person who is not at your University).

And *drum roll please* October 9th seems to be the target date.

Now, I say this with the caveat that the ticket isn’t purchased yet. But I think it is pretty solid.

3 weeks.

I can do three weeks.

HB can do three weeks.

Earlier this week, I didn’t think I could do three more weeks of being apart. I felt like I was on the verge of tears everytime I had a slow moment to think. So I tried to stop thinking. I built my little brick wall of distraction, and it did help some.

But right now, I’m on a data high, and three weeks sounds like a snap.

Demolition time! Don’t need that brick wall anymore.

Oh, and when I say a data high, I mean a HIGH.

My data yesterday feels like it is off the charts.

I feel like I’m really on a rollllllll.

Everyone now!

Roll out the barrel!
We’ll have a barrel of fun.
Roll out the barrel.
We’ve got the blues on the run.

Zing, boom, ca-rerr-ell,
sing out a song of good cheer!
Now’s the time to roll the barrel,
for the gang’s all here.

(Um, that is from memory, and if any part of it is wrong, well, you know the routine)

In the garden, in the garden, only happy people…

(Oh. The song’s over, you say? huh.)

*grin*

In answer to “the question”

Well, I did some O-fficial analysis late yesterday afternoon. Good Stuff, I tell you!

This was the analysis that I did after my advisor took me to Cold Stone Creamery! This would be a trip (walk) that we’d been talking about for several weeks, but never seemed to make time to do. So, we did. Even though it was kind of rainy and not so perfect. We finally decided that waiting for “time between experiments” and “good weather” to coincide was just not worth waiting for anymore. Over ice cream, I broached the topic of buying an airplane ticket to leave, my thoughts on when I wanted to make it for and related issues.

One consideration is that there is a conference that I really want to attend on October 7th, where I can kind of “kill two birds with one stone” by hearing about some work that is closely related to mine and meet with my outside thesis committee member (a.k.a. every thesis committee is required to have one person who is not at your University).

And *drum roll please* October 9th seems to be the target date.

Now, I say this with the caveat that the ticket isn’t purchased yet. But I think it is pretty solid.

3 weeks.

I can do three weeks.

HB can do three weeks.

Earlier this week, I didn’t think I could do three more weeks of being apart. I felt like I was on the verge of tears everytime I had a slow moment to think. So I tried to stop thinking. I built my little brick wall of distraction, and it did help some.

But right now, I’m on a data high, and three weeks sounds like a snap.

Demolition time! Don’t need that brick wall anymore.

Oh, and when I say a data high, I mean a HIGH.

My data yesterday feels like it is off the charts.

I feel like I’m really on a rollllllll.

Everyone now!

Roll out the barrel!
We’ll have a barrel of fun.
Roll out the barrel.
We’ve got the blues on the run.

Zing, boom, ca-rerr-ell,
sing out a song of good cheer!
Now’s the time to roll the barrel,
for the gang’s all here.

(Um, that is from memory, and if any part of it is wrong, well, you know the routine)

In the garden, in the garden, only happy people…

(Oh. The song’s over, you say? huh.)

*grin*

Favorite Fuzzy Friend Friday

Today’s photos are brought to you via HB’s camera phone. I say this, because in just a second, you will see that the quality of the pics is not quite as nice (to be polite) as I prefer.

However, ho-hum photo quality and all, I can’t even find the words to tell you how happy I am when I see an email in my Inbox with the subject A Picture Share!

It is the Joy! of an unexpected gift. It is the Joy! of seeing a glimpse into HB’s life from waaaaaaaaaaaay across the country when I least expect it. It is the anticipation as I click that maybe it is a pic of the Girlie-Girl! And so often, it has been.

Here is, in chronological order, some of the pics he has sent me of the Girlie-Girl, my Favorite Fuzzy Friend.

First, I had expressed my worry to HB on the phone about how she was dealing with the interim living in the hotel after the long car ride. The first morning, she evidently meowed at him and looked at the chair and the sun coming in the window as if to command “Come here, lowly servant, and move this chair into the sun for me. I demand some vitamin E time.”

“Oh Thank you, you may leave now.”

When I got this one, I knew she was happy and content in the hotel.

Well, at least as long as it was sunny.

On the day the movers were due to arrive at our new house, HB checked out of the hotel and introduced the Girlie to the house.

Immediately, she was drawn to the sunny spot in the way downstairs family room.

And the upstairs living room.

That was, of course, before the movers actually arrived.

Because once they arrived, she had to go back in her New! cage – the one that is intended for dogs the size of Beagles.

Yeah, I don’t think I ever mentioned how at one of the toll booths on the long drive across the country, the toll taker looked in the back seat and asked HB “Is that a cat?”
HB confirmed that it was indeed our cat.
“Wow. That’s a BIG cat!”

HA! As if we weren’t reminded that she is a BEEEEEEEEEEG cat everytime she decides to jump up on us.

“Ooompf. I think I can’t breathe.”
Promptly followed by the gasping request “Lay down, Lay down.”
Followed by the “ooompf!” of relief as 20 lbs of cat is spread over a much larger area than just 4 paws.

But as I was saying, once the movers arrived, she had to go in her cage.

I call this one Unhappiness.

Otherwise known as “pissyness.”

As opposed to after the movers left when she was full of happiness.

As the days of unpacking progressed, there was the day I got the Picture Share! where she clearly was PO’d that HB hadn’t moved the end tables into their correct locations.

You know, Out Of the Way of the Sun, PLEASE.

Really, we just joke about it being her house and our being her servants. She really isn’t angry (well, not often, anyway, or for long) bossy or stuck-up, but it is fun to pretend.

I mean, how can you be stuck-up and dignified when you spend a large portion of your waking hours cleaning? And cleaning your butt of all things?

“Oh, no, no, I’m just cleaning my LEG. Don’t you humans understand? My LEG.”

There are a couple of details about this pic which are interesting (to me) and thus, you get to hear about them too, Lucky You!

1. This is The Green Chair. aka. HER chair.
When we know people are coming to visit, we spend forever vacuuming all of the hair off of it (normally we keep her fleecey blanket on it in an attempt to collect the majority of the hair – not that brown blanket – cause that one is mine – which I pointed out to HB during our very next phone call).
When the guests arrive, someone is bound to sit in The Green Chair, because well, we don’t have all that many places to sit. Eventually, the Girlie-girl will come over and stare at that person. If they have Jeans! on, she is likely to jump in their lap and start padding (um, with her claws out – sorry, that is why we don’t wear Jeans! in the house). If they are not, she might lay on top of them anyway.

“You may pet the dark areas only” she usually informs them. (although, we of course, warn everyone of this the minute they walk in the door)

But anyway, if the person gets up to go to the bathroom or get a drink or something, she’ll jump down to let them stand up. But believe you me, she will jump right back up and hog the whole dang chair the minute their back is turned. The person, of course, comes back and then says “Oh, I guess this is Her Chair, huh?”

“Um, yeah, sorry, here, I’ll just…. umpf … move her… umpf… off… of… the… chair”
*whew!*
*wipes brow at effort of de-ensconcing her from the chair*

Gee. that number 1. took a while, huh. Well, this is what happens when I’m feeling ‘chatty’ as many of you know.

2. Her Sock is next to her. wool. Given to me by my parents for my own feet. But I decided it was easier to give one pair of socks to her in order to save all of my other socks from her claws, than to have all of them with teeny little holes in them.

3. Her Cone is under the chair. This would be the red collar/cone she has to wear when she starts to dig at her eye. This deserves a whole story, just for its own, with pictures to document the pissyness. So, that one will have to wait.

4. This pic was taken the day that I asked HB where she’d been sleeping during the day. And he told me she didn’t really seem to have a place decided upon yet. And I exclaimed “You mean, she hasn’t been sleeping in Her Green Chair?!” To which, his sheepish response was “Well, I haven’t really set it up yet.”
So, that very day, being a good HB, he set up the chair, and the Girlie quickly ensconced herself for a much-needed (I can only imagine) grooming session.

Gotta keep those white parts white, you know.
Note to Ladybug: She still doesn’t fully appreciate the cleansing power of Oxy-Clean.

Here is the other one, taken the VERY DAY after I asked if she’d been getting up on her perch at all.
“No? Well, you DO have it set up, right?”
“Of course! In the bay window and everything.”
“odd.”
“yeah, I know.”

Her ears must’ve been burning.

The one I got this morning, makes me smile, because she Clearly is ready for her supper.
“Six O’Clock! I know it!” she is saying.

And sure enough, the time stamp on the email is 6:08 MN time.

Such a smart fuzzball.

Final note: This look is the only slightly pissy “I know you are wasting time taking my picture when I really just want to be FED. Would you just get my supper already?”

“Gee. What does it take to get good help around here?”

Frozen fingers but not frozen sections

I’m doing an experiment today that involves sectioning tissue into thin slices at a cold temperature, -11 C to be precise, which the thermometer on my desk (don’t ask) tells me is around 6 degrees F.

That is kind of beside the point, the Point is that after sectioning the tissue, I have to place the section on a glass slide and then melt it into place with the ‘heat’ of my finger on the back of the slide.

As you might imagine, finger heat becomes less and less available after doing this work for several hours, which is actually why I’m here typing this entry. Working at my desk for a few minutes gives me a chance to
A) drink water – cause you know it is a big No No to have beverages in the lab
and most importantly
B) run the space heater on the floor to warm up the rest of my body, most importantly, my hands.

Finally, and here is the real Point for this entry, the section has to REFREEZE onto the slide before it can be tucked away in its little slide box along with all of its nearby neighbor sections.

About 45 minutes ago, I finished sectioning one set of tissue, and this stupid slide had been sitting there for, oh, at least 15 minutes and still reFUSED to reFREEZE.

Here is what happened:

“FREEZE! Dang you!”

“Fine, I’ll just prep the next tissue and by then, you’ll be frozen, right?”

*preps next tissue*

*looks to see if section has refrozen*

“No? Oh, you are being recalcitrant, eh? FINE! I’ll just go drink some water in the office and give you time to change your mind.”

*drinks water*

*goes to bathroom*

*checks Squirl’s blog and makes a comment*

*comes back to the tissue, happily thinking about various conversations and comments for Talk Like a Pirate Day*

“NOT FROZEN?! DAMN IT! WOULD YOU JUST FRICKIN’ FREEZE ALREADY?!!?”

*Waits 10 seconds or so*

*tissue freezes*

!

“hrmph. I guess we know who is BOSS around here, don’t we?”

*happily goes back to envisioning comments for Talk Like a Pirate Day*

So, now I’m thinking “Is it BAD that I talk to my sections?”

Um, that’s a rhetorical question.

Note: As you might imagine, sectioning is a bit brainless.