• 11:38 How can one little cat, in the course of the night, come to monopolize such a large proportion of the bed and blankets? #

Courtesy of LoudTwitter.

• 04:31 The purple carrot does not mess around. Its purpleness is seriously hard core, and it could easily purple an entire kitchen. #
• 04:33 But the merely yellowish Chilean carrot is much tastier. In conclusion, it is too bad the Boise farmer's market is so far from Pasadena. #

Courtesy of LoudTwitter.

• 16:44 I probably should have replaced my bearings BEFORE they got so warped that the friction made the axles hot enough to melt my skates a bit. #
• 16:44 Plumber's epoxy to the rescue! #

Courtesy of LoudTwitter.

• 07:54 ORCPRCSTSWA (Operation Replace Cell Phone Ribbon Cable So The Screen Works Again) was a complete success! Next up: motorcycle carburetors. #
• 07:59 Well, "complete" in a non-literal sense, since the phone did end up two screws the poorer. But those should be easy enough to replace. #

Courtesy of LoudTwitter.

So you know that part in a movie where the protagonists, having spent the last few scenes finding their way through a maze of trails/hedges/tunnels, wind up back at the same place they started, just facing another direction?  Yeah, that was me last night.

The whole story:
I wanted to make up for runs missed due to being "under the weather" for the past week, but I didn't have time to run before our 8:30 - noon group meeting (yes, it did, in fact, take all 3.5 hours).  The natural solution was to bring my running clothes to campus and plot a nice 4ish-mile course around the perimeter of the Huntington.  Now, I didn't actually get around to running said course in the daylight, as I'd hoped to, but I found myself with an appropriate block of time come 9:30 p.m.  No matter; at least I'd get the run in, and I could do the route some other time to enjoy the scenery (read: really fancy houses).

Now, it was a little dark, and I hadn't actually factored in the sparsity of street lights and sidewalks that characterize the area.  "That's OK," I thought, there aren't many cars to worry about."  Then I encountered the skunk.  Fortunately, it and I immediately turned and ran away from one another, and nobody had to spray anyone else with foul-smelling liquid.

Shortly thereafter, I turned where I thought I was supposed to . . . and found myself at a dead end.  Back to the previous road I headed, and onward.  Then, just when I thought I was lost, though, I encountered the entrance to Lacy Park, which was my next landmark.  Next, just when I thought I knew where I was going, I found myself at the juncture of Virginia, Rosalind, and Circle.

None of these were names of streets I recognized from my intended route.  I made a judicious choice against Circle, headed up Virginia . . . and a little over a mile later, found myself at the juncture of Virginia, Rosalind, and Circle.  Having arrived via Circle, no less.

This time I tried Rosalind, and pressed on even as I found myself becoming increasingly pessimistic about my choice, as the street narrowed and meandered.  Next was Oak Grove Avenue, which seemed suspiciously familiar, though I wasn't sure it was the same street I'd been on 15 minutes earlier*, given how many Oak-themed street names I was encountering.  I also passed Oak Lane and Oak Grove Place, and I knew that if I ran into Oak Knoll, I'd gone out of my way.  Though at least I'd know my way.**

As it was, I was starting to wonder when, if ever, I'd find my way out of the San Marino Maze.  Since my cell phone was in pieces back at the apartment (waiting to have its ribbon cable replaced), I not only couldn't call Brian to ask him to provide me with navigational or retrieval services, but I also didn't know how much time had passed.  I had visions of wandering the streets until dawn.  Which would, of course, also imply not making it to the boba place before it closed at midnight.

Finally, just when I was beginning to feel like one might feel when scrambling up the side of the Alps in the middle the night in the rainstorm looking for the trail, because I'd accidentally taken us down a mountain goat path instead (circa May 2007) . . . I encountered a street whose name I vaguely recognized.  And shortly thereafter, I was on Wilson Avenue, heading north back to campus.

Having located my husband in his lab, I recounted my harrowing adventures.  He suggested that, had worse come to worse, I could have knocked on the door of one of the fancy houses and asked for directions, or to use their phone, before I just curled up on their front porch like a lost cat.

"Found: one wife," Brian envisioned the poster reading.  "No collar, answers to the name of Eve."

As it turned out, when I reexamined Gmaps Pedometer to see where I'd actually been, I found that I only went about an extra mile and a half.  It's more than I've run since I started doing it regularly four months ago, though, and I did the whole thing in about an hour -- certainly less than I'd expected, what with the stopping to check street signs and attempting to navigate by the overcast heavens.

As with most such experiences, I've learned a few things:
A.) I shouldn't have any trouble running a proper 10k, when I finally decide to try that.
B.) Never stray south of California Blvd without flares, a rudimentary knowledge of how to communicate via smoke signals, or both.

* Turns out I was, just in the opposite direction.
** I have since learned from Google Maps that there's also an Oak View Avenue, but I managed to miss that one, at least.

• 21:43 Not overly impressed with the Reusable Digital Forehead Thermometer Product (featuring the latest in mood ring technology!) we all got through campus mail.#

Courtesy of LoudTwitter.

• 17:01 Reading scientific papers is HARD.</whine> #

Courtesy of LoudTwitter.

• 14:31 Dreaming is unpleasant; I always have the presence of mind to be upset at the lack of sense, but not enough to exert control or wake myself. #

Courtesy of LoudTwitter.

• 00:39 I may be lame, uncool, and a wimp, but I have come to terms with the fact that I cannot stand the assault on my senses that is loud music. #
• 00:43 What I discovered at New Student Orientation yesterday: I have not spent nearly enough of my life infusing olive oil (and consuming it). #

Courtesy of LoudTwitter.

• 10:46 In June, it was "next month." In July, it was "in two weeks." It's now been "next week" for the last month and a half, at least . . . #
• 10:49 The wait remaining until they have prickly pears (tunas) at the farmer's market might just be an infinite series that doesn't converge to 0. #

Courtesy of LoudTwitter.

• 16:34 Irked by the Red Cross lady who insisted I not skate after donating, then messed up needle insertion and only got 460 ccs (of 600 needed). #

Courtesy of LoudTwitter.

• 18:02 An awesome discovery: some teas I find mediocre when drunk hot make delicious iced tea. Yay, hot weather, for thinning my tea collection. #

Courtesy of LoudTwitter.

• 12:09 Triple-digit temperatures and intense Southern California sun were conquered yesterday by a visit to the water park and the power of SPF 50. #
• 13:41 The feeling of freshly applied, non-greasy, sweatproof, waterproof, SPF 50, broad-spectrum sunscreen . . . is the feeling of invincibility. #

Courtesy of LoudTwitter.

• 08:33 "It's like Mordor or something." Brian, looking at the Station Fire last night from where we cross the 210 on our way home. #

Courtesy of LoudTwitter.

• 12:54 I continue to be amazed by how, in just a day of walking, a human being can traverse distances and heights the scale of mountains. #

Courtesy of LoudTwitter.

Every camper knows that tents and food should always be kept well separated. No eating in the tent, no cooking in the tent, and you never, ever keep food in the tent.

But it was around midnight Saturday, and the three of us had been out wandering around Thousand Island Lake until about 11 p.m. with two headlamps and one red keychain LED, trying to figure out where we'd left our campsite.*  By the time we found it, Brian had been the only one persistent enough to make a hot dinner instead of going straight to bed, and after putting everything away for the night he was finally able to join me in the tent, where I had been doing my best to warm up both myself and the sleeping bags.  He snuggled in, checked his blood sugar one last time . . . and found it was just on the low end of "normal."  But the insulin he'd taken with dinner probably hadn't all been used up, and the day's intense exercise would also keep using glucose overnight, so the conclusion was inevitable: he needed a snack before going to sleep.

Now, if I were a more charitable wife, I would have volunteered to accompany him while he went back out to get one.  But it was awfully cold out there.  So Brian bundled up again, went out to the bear canisters (the proper place to keep all of one's edibles, scented toiletries, and so on) . . . and came back with the dried apples.

You can't really blame him.  It was awfully cold to stand out there eating.  And they were just dried apples, rather than, say, a burger and fries that would have left a lingering aroma (not that we had those on us, but you get the idea).  And they were in a plastic bag.  And it isn't as though the bear barrels had served any useful purpose on previous trips besides providing a stool to sit on and adding to the weight of our backpacks.

Within minutes, we heard one of the bear canisters knocked over.  Then the other one.  They were just on the other side of a few small evergreen trees from our tents, probably not more than 20 feet away.

"Maybe it's a raccoon?" Brian suggested.  I was skeptical.  "Are there raccoons at this elevation?" I asked.  He claimed that on one of the Y hikes he'd done, they had visitors of a raccoon or crow variety.  Further noise from the other side of the trees, however, gave the impression of something considerably larger.

I offered to wolf down the remaining apples, but Brian thought there were too many for that to be practical.  He proposed opening the tent door and flinging the apples as far away as possible.  But they we'd blatantly be feeding the bears, which really ought to be avoided at all costs.  So that seemed like an absolutely last resort.

Meanwhile, the entire time this rather urgent discussion is taking place, we have the headlamp trained out into the darkness (conveniently, we had half the rain fly pulled back to facilitate Perseid meteor shower watching), are peering into the space that composed the path from the other side of the trees to the tent, and half expect a furry face to look around the corner, sniff inquiringly a couple times (like the cat does when she's on the job), and pipe up, "Say, you have apples in there!  . . . Dude, don't you know you're not supposed to have food in your tent?"

We eventually decided that the best thing to do would be to return the remaining apples to the bear barrel, if possible.  This time, I was willing to help with the errand.  We put one some additional clothes, still trying to keep the headlamp illuminating the relevant areas, and made our way in the direction of our "kitchen."  As one is supposed to do in these situations, in addition to casting the headlamp around as brightly as possible, we made lots of noise:

"OK bears, we're coming out now!"
"Bad bears!  Shoo!"
"You better get away from our food!"
"You know you're not supposed to be hanging around people!"
"Go away!  Bad bears!  Leave our barrels alone!"

Without seeing any visitors, we made it over to the bear canisters that, sure enough, were knocked over.  Brian looked for tracks but couldn't really make out any in the dark.  Then we noticed that our barrel -- the one we'd rented for the trip from the Caltech Y, as opposed to Eric's, which a bear in the Adirondacks apparently knows how to open -- was wet.  Very wet.  In fact, completely slobbered on.  Brian proposed later that the bear(s) thought it was a huge, multi-flavor jelly bean.

Despite the sliminess, we righted the barrel, put the apples back in, and returned to the tent.  At which point, it occurred to use that maybe the barrels could be a little bit farther away.  So Brian went back out a third time, once again warning the local wildlife to stay away:

"I'm coming back to move the barrels now, you bad, bad bears.  I'm moving the first barrel.  OK, now I'm going back to get the second one.  Moving the second barrel now.  The slobbery one.  OK, now I'm going back to the tent.  But you should still leave our food along.  Bad bears!"

Once we were both back in the sleeping bag (and somewhat warmed up, thanks to the adrenaline), we reflected on the recent events, giggling in relief over the idea of raccoons with overactive salivary glands.  Eric, meanwhile, revealed that he had not, in fact, slept through the entire ordeal.  He had just been keeping quiet over in his apple-free tent.

As we settled in to catch a few more shooting stars before falling asleep, I pointed out, "We didn't get eaten!"
"The night's not over yet," Brian observed.

But we didn't hear any further disturbances, and come morning the bear canisters were still upright in their new location.  The only evidence of the night's excitement were one or two possible bear prints in dry ground and the dried slobber on the side of the barrel.



* We learned from this that if you're going to insist on going far enough on your day hike that you won't to be able to make it back before dark to your off-trail wilderness campsite, you'd better memorize the surrounding area before you go. We were probably within 100 yards of the thing when we started second-guessing ourselves: and so on.  We examined clusters of trees, crossed back and forth across the aforementioned stream, and walked a good distance back around the lake before Brian and Eric were able to successfully retraced the steps by which we found the locations the next before.  (Also in the dark, but that's another story.)

To my mother: Happy Made It Both Though Birthing Your First Child (Even Though She Was Two Weeks Late) AND All The Trouble the Resulting Infant Would Go On To Cause For You Day!

To my friends and relatives: Thank you for the shower of kind wishes!

To Google: Aw, how sweet, you made a logo to celebrate the anniversary of my birth!  Or, at least, to celebrate that the heavens celebrate it.  ;)

To the meteors: Even if we miss some of you at your peak (on account of the waning gibbous moon during prime times), we should have plenty of viewing opportunities while backpacking in the Ansel Adams Wilderness this weekend.  See you soon!

Because apparently LoudTwitter is down, possibly permanently.

Aug 8
One of those defining moments in life: when your advisor introduces, with no prompting from you, the topic of graduating one of these days.
2:04 AM

Maple wine: If there were gods, this would undoubtedly be their nectar.
1:58 AM

Aug 4
I guess I was thirsty this morning. Two cups of milk, 3 glasses of water, and about a half dozen cups of tea later, the day's not half over.
9:37 AM

New Minas, NS, is not L.A. Yesterday's paper had a front page (though not top fold) story about the local cow who gave birth to triplets.
9:37 AM

Aug 2
It is very strange to be one hour ahead of East Coast time instead of the usual three hours behind.
8:34 PM

Aug 1
Spent the evening skating around Wolfville, NS, checking out farm stands and tidal phenomena. Now, to finish up my poster . . .
6:14 PM

Jul 28
In Pasadena for not quite 4 days between whirlwind tour of friends and relatives in OH/MI and SHINE conference in Nova Scotia. Busyness!
10:30 AM

Asked of renelae:
How was the maple bacon latte? Southwest has me curious about bacon old-fashioneds, too: http://www.spiritmag.com/features/article/the_spirit_guide_to_spirits/
9:29 AM

Jul 18
How often does "Just out of curiosity . . ." really mean just that? Wouldn't "curiosity and scheming" often be more accurate?
1:29 PM

Jul 12
Previously, when I needed something from a high kitchen shelf, I got the stepstool. Or summoned Brian with pitiful "can't reach!" whimpers.
In our current place, though, nearly all of the cabinets are too tall for me to reach. My established methods were rendered inefficient.
Now, pretty much anytime I need to get anything down from the cabinets (or put anything up there), kitchen climbing is involved.
7:33 PM onward

Attempt to make my own mochi (filled with blackberry ice cream): Success!
9:36 AM

 pal·imp·sest
(pāl'ĭmp-sěst') 
n.  

1. A manuscript, typically of papyrus or parchment, that has been written on more than once, with the earlier writing incompletely erased and often legible.
2. An object, place, or area that reflects its history: "Spaniards in the sixteenth century . . . saw an ocean moving south . . . through a palimpsest of bayous and distributary streams in forested paludal basins" (John McPhee).

[Latin palimpsēstum, from Greek palimpsēston, neuter of palimpsēstos, scraped again : palin, again; see k^wel-¹ in Indo-European roots + psēn, to scrape.]

"Having survived so many eras, the Grant Study is a palimpsest of the modern history of medicine and psychology, each respective era’s methods and preoccupations inscribed atop the preceding ones."

29 March: Brian and I thew a wedding shindig.

29 April: We visited the Pasadena Courthouse to make the union legal.

29 May: We were backpacking in Zion on our honeymoon/road trip.

Tonight? Just a date at the soda fountain. :)

• 12:28 A little pot of home-brewed Thai tea makes the perfect drink for June Gloom. #

Courtesy of LoudTwitter.

• 12:41 Stupid ankle needs to quit complaining about being sprained and just deal with the fact that it's going to be danced, tumbled, & bounced on. #

Courtesy of LoudTwitter.

• 15:41 This is amazing! I'm actually using quantum mechanics to understand something research-related! #

Courtesy of LoudTwitter.

Back from our 1.5-week honeymoon/camping trip/road trip to Kansas!

miles driven: ~3,044
elevation range: sea level to 12,095'
Southwestern states visited: 8
days it rained/snowed: 7 (and a bit on an 8th)
times struck by lightning: 0
motorcycles transported: 2
national parks visited: 3
backpacking distance: 15.8 miles (10 with packs) round trip
backpacking ascent: 2136' one way
miles mountain-biked: ~9
unprovoked attacks by juniper bushes: only 1

• 16:14 After feeling two earthquakes in the last 48 hours, methinks it might be past time to get our tall furniture properly anchored to the walls. #

Courtesy of LoudTwitter.