Anger

The shooting at Northern Illinois University disturbs me to the core. College should be a safe place. What is happening here? Why are these sick, sick people turning classrooms into places of terror? How do these people end up with arsenals of guns and why do we keep defending their right to have them? And why, why, why if you hate your life so much can't you just kill yourself and leave everyone else out of it?

I don't care what their background story is, I have no sympathy for these shooters...the ones who take guns to classrooms, to shopping malls, to wherever. They are repulsive, selfish, horrible people. I feel very Republican saying that, but it's how I feel. There is no excuse, no reason, no justification. There is right and wrong. And they chose wrong. Very, very, very wrong.

Too Boring for the Paper

Two weeks ago, the financial planner Jeff and I had met with last year (and who sent us $20 movie gift certificates for Christmas---sweet!), sent us an email asking if we’d be willing to be interviewed for a Washington Post article about couples and money. After ascertaining that we wouldn’t need to provide any kind of specific details about our finances but would rather be asked general questions about how we handle money, we agreed and we each were interviewed by phone. The interviews took place while we were at work, and when we both got home from work, we shared what turned out to be the same reaction: We weren’t what the reporter was looking for.

Reporter: So do you and your husband have similar or different views on money?
Me: We’re both savers. We both believe in living within, if not below, our means.
Reporter: And you think that is both of your natural dispositions?
Me: Yes
Reporter: So you both generally agree on how to handle your money?
Me: Yes
Reporter: Oh, okay.

Reporter: Have you ever had any big fights over money?
Me: No, not that I can recall.
Reporter: Nothing? Not even something that seems small now but was a big fight at the time.
Me: Nope, we don’t really fight about money. We have a plan, and we stick to it.
Reporter: Oh, okay.

Reporter (After asking what we both do): So you make more money than your husband?
Me: At this point, yes.
Reporter: Is that an issue for either of you?
Me: No, the money all goes into the same pot at the end of the day.
Reporter: You don’t think he has a problem with you making more money than him?
Me: No, we’re not really into the idea of traditional gender roles. And I’m sure one day he’ll be making more money than I do.
Reporter: And that won’t bother you?
Me: No, it can only benefit both of us.
Reporter: (I think I hear a sigh.)

Reporter: So are you concerned about the possibility of a recession?
Me: No
Reporter: It doesn’t affect your outlook on savings at all? You won’t be tightening your belt?
Me: No, we already put a lot of our money into savings, and we’re so young that we have to look at the big picture. If we were planning to retire soon, we might be worried, but we have many, many more years before that happens.

She continued on to ask similar questions, clearly looking for an area that we disagreed on or which had caused problems in our relationship. Unfortunately, for her (and fortunately for us), there weren’t any big juicy secrets to reveal.

The article was in this weekend’s paper. We’re not in it. A couple who spent $11,000 on dining out while declaring that they were trying to save money was in it. A couple who has separate checking accounts because she bounces checks and he can’t handle it was in it. A couple whose jobs depend of government contracts that might not be renewed due to the current economic situation was in it.

I’m glad we weren’t.

And the Commercial Break Continues

I have been doing a poor job of posting recently. I know. I apologize. But I'm at work on a rather large project right now, and it's sucking away all my free time. I'll be done with it next weekend, and I'll get back to posting then...if not sooner. Please don't go away.

Take that Mr. Presidents

This weekend Jeff and I braved the cold and went into the city. We didn't manage to check anything off our list, but we did make our way to a few interesting exhibits---the Nature's best photos exhibit at Natural Science is really good; the Hopper exhibit at the National Gallery was probably pretty good, but it was so miserably busy that I didn't actually see anything, so I can't comment.

We also stopped in at the Portrait Gallery, which happens to share the same building as American Art, the Smithsonian where I work. As you can see, the Portrait Gallery has a very popular exhibit on America's Presidents. Just look at the crowds waiting to get in the exhibition hall.


Just kidding. American President's was practically empty. The bathroom outside American President's was, however, quite the hotspot, as crowds flocked to see the portrait of Comedy Central pundit Stephen Colbert and have their portrait snapped with it. If you watch the Colbert Report, you probably saw the fairly funny episodes about this. If you didn't, well, I bet you can catch it on You Tube.


I don't know what this says about America. But I'll be interested in seeing museum attendance numbers at the end of the month. I'm pretty sure they'll be much higher than average and I don't think it's the Presidents or any other real exhibit bringing in the crowds.

The Things That Keep Me Up at Night

I'm a little late on this observation since it dates back to the bowl games and the awesome halftime shows I was treated to, but I thought I'd share anyhow.

Why do members of marching bands have to wear such terrible outfits? What rule requires the jumpsuit style ensembles, the hats that sit so low they cover the eyes of the wearer, the fringe, and the feathers? What can't the uniform be jeans and a school t-shirt?

Also, is there a dorkier person in the band than the person who plays the cymbals? I mean, what reason could you have for playing the cymbals besides a deep desire to be in the band? For many other instruments, the band could just be a side activity, the greater goal some bigger musical accomplishment. But the cymbals, um, not so much. And does it really take any talent to crash two large pieces of metal together? I think I could do that. If I wanted to be in the band. If I wanted to wear that awesome outfit.

Why I Don't Care About Experience

Though the media likes to spin it as if it's a fresh story, it's not. Every time elections roll around, the candidates get to talking about experience--how they have it while their competitors don't, how it's the one thing that really matters when it comes down to it. Well, I say phooey. I don't give a rat's ass about experience when it comes to deciding who I'm going to vote for for President, and here's why.

First, and most simply, I don't believe there's a job in the world that can prepare you to be President of the United States of America. No amount of "experience" can condition you for the amount of power and the amount of responsibility that you will wield as President. It is a job like no other, and I don't envy anyone it.

Secondly, and most importantly, I've seen what "experience" does. I've seen what happens when someone slowly climbs their way up the ladder to reach that top rung. What happens is that they get jaded. They begin to believe the company line. They greet any new idea with a "won't happen." They've seen it all. They know it all. And they immediately dismiss anything that doesn't fit with their "experience." I'm not simply referring to the U.S. government here, but to institutions and corporations throughout the country and world. Look at your own boss and think about whether it's true for them.

So tell me, please, how do we progress when we are led by people unwilling to take a risk because they've "been, there, done that, and know it won't work"? We don't. We walk down the same paths over and over, moving in circles, going nowhere, except maybe backwards.

Look around at companies that have really made it big. Look at the Googles of the world. Were they led/created by people with experience? More often than not, no. They were led by people with vision, people with ideas, people who were willing to try something no one else would because they didn't have the "experience" to be convinced it wouldn't work out.

I look around me and see young people who are smart---maybe even brilliant---, hardworking, and innovative. I see people who could do a better job leading their department, company, organization, or whatever than the "experienced" folks at the wheel. But they're told to wait their turn, to watch and learn, to gain the necessary "experience." What for? So their talent can go to waste and they can one day turn into the "experienced" drone who favors stagnation over growth because it's the less risky path?

Phooey, I say again. What inspires me isn't experience. It's the desire to make the world, the country, the company, the organization better. It's the willingness to listen to ideas, to try the unconventional, to believe that different isn't wrong. It's talent. It's intelligence. It's wit. It's daring. It's passion.

A New Article from Yours Truly

Check out my latest article, which appears online at the daily travel magazine, Brave New Traveler. Next year at about this time, I'll let you know if my advice is worth the paper it's not written on.

So That's How We Elect a President

I just spent the past 25 minutes watching live video feed on the Washington Post website of one of the Democratic caucuses in Iowa. All I have to say is weird.

As I understand it, the Iowa caucus works in the following way:
Those interested in supporting a candidate show up at a designated caucus location by 7 p.m. sharp on polling day. Campaign personnel do all they can to get supporters to the caucuses including providing transportation, babysitting, etc. Other personnel are at the site, and their job is to gather as many people as they can to their corner (literally as each candidate is assigned a physical area in which supporters are to group). At a specified time, all caucus-goers have to be in the designated area of their candidate. They are then counted. Candidates who don't receive support from at least 15% of the total number of people in attendance are eliminated in contention. (The 15% is for a precinct that has 4 or more delegates. The % changes if the precinct has less delegates, but the one I was watching had 8 delegates, so we're going to work with that number.) Once a candidate is eliminated, the group is disbanded and the supporters of the candidates still in contention try to recruit the supporters now without a candidate into their camps. (They can also try to recruit from camps that are still in contention.) This process continues until all groups meet minimum requirements. At that point, the delegates are doled out using the following formula:

(number of supporters in the group MULTIPLIED BY the number of delegates)
DIVIDED BY
(total number of caucus participants)

The overall winner is then determined by the percentage of delegates that goes to each candidate.

Apparently, just filling out a ballot and dropping it in a box just isn't fun/easy/interesting (?) enough.

So, what does it look like in real life you ask?

The closest thing I can come up with is a high school pep rally that pits all the different class years against each other. Each group is huddled close together, and a few of the most high-spirited people are leading cheers promoting their group. The "cool kids" are just chatting, out on the edge of whatever group they've claimed, too cool for the cheers or to really pay much attention to what's going on around them. And the "teachers" (aka caucus workers) are banging on the table, shouting into megaphones, and just generally trying desperately to get everyone's attention, but failing miserably.

It's absolutely fascinating. I had no idea that that what's democracy looked like.

Oh, and did I mention the methods for counting people? It's nothing scientific, no dropping something that can't be duplicated in a box, or swiping of a card in some form of computer. No, this is Iowa folks, and there's no need for anything as fancy-pancy as that. Instead, one group used the good ol' "sound off" technique, where one person yelled out 1, then the next person yelled out 2, and so on and so forth. Another group used a technique that involved everyone raising their hand and then lowering their hand as the chosen counter pointed at them and said a number. What kept members of group 1, who were not lined up in any organized manner but were rather arranged in a big amoeba-like blob, from counting themselves again by yelling out a second number I have no idea. And what kept members of group 2--also a messy mass of humanity--from putting their hand right back up and being counted again beats me. I guess that they must know the total number of people present and the numbers from all the groups added together can't exceed that, but it just seems a little bit backwards to me.

At the same time, I'm completely tempted to move to Iowa during an election year so that I can join in the fun that is caucusing.

(In case you were wondering, the precinct I was watching broke down as follows: 3 delegates Obama, 2 delegates Clinton, 2 delegates Edwards, 1 delegate Richardson. )

Why Winter?

According to Wikipedia, the ancient Romans established January 1 as the beginning of the new year in 153 BC. In the following centuries, however, this wasn't adhered to and the date that signified the start of a new year varied, most often to align it with Christian holidays or natural events such as the vernal equinox. The Gregorian calendar, which was created in 1582, listed January as the first month, thus making January 1 the first day of the new year. This wasn't universally accepted, however, and as a matter of fact, Britain and its colonies (which included America at the time) did not begin to recognize January 1 as the new year until 1752.

If you really start thinking about time, it gets confusing, considering the ways we have for measuring it are primarily man-made constructions that have varied over the course of existence of life on Earth. It still varies even today. For example, Ethiopia just celebrated the millennium on what our calendars showed as September 12, 2007. Apparently traveling back in time isn't as difficult as we all think it is. Just hop a flight to Ethiopia, and you'll be in the year 2000.

Anyhow, I've kind of meandered away from the point I originally intended to make, which is who the hell thought it was a good idea to make the new year begin right in the heart of winter? If I had the power to alter the calendar, I'd move the new year to spring. It just makes sense. Spring is about renewal, rebirth, new life. Spring is inspiring. Winter...well, it is dark and depressing.

I feel unmotivated and lazy in the winter. When it's dark and cold outside, there's little I want to do other than curl up on my couch with a blanket and a good book. I don't want to do all the things I resolve to do in the new year. When the temperature is below freezing and the wind is blowing brutally, the last thing I want to do is go outside and exercise. I have no doubt that the reason most people don't keep their New Year's resolutions is that it's just too hard to keep up your motivation in the darkest months of the year. Only the most self-punishing prevail. It's as if we're being set up to fail. Cruel, I tell you.

Additionally, it would be much more fun to celebrate the new year at a time of year when the weather is better. Who really enjoys standing outside to watch fireworks or dropping balls when the mercury is hardly registering in the thermometer? Who wants to put on a cute going-out outfit only to cover it with a heavy coat you have to keep track of all night? Not me, that's for sure. And, having just celebrated Christmas, I'm kind of partied out by the time the calendar flips. Seriously, it's just not the right time of the year for a change.

But I don't think my one woman crusade is going to make any waves, so I guess I might as well wish you a happy 2008. Good luck with those resolutions.

Merry and Bright

While in Louisville for the holidays, I found myself in a couple of situations where I wish I had had my camera. The first was when I drove downtown to purchase the Phantom of the Opera tickets my brothers and I gave my mom for Christmas. It was a dreary day, which made for a fantastic river view, as everything was shrouded in fog except for the very tips of the bridges. Very cool. The second was when my mom and I went to the Mellwood Arts & Entertainment Center to browse the studios. In the courtyard, an ice sculptor was at work on an angel, and there were definitely a couple of opportunities for interesting shots. But alas, I didn't have my camera on me, so the only place those images can be found is in my head.

I did manage to take a few pictures though. The first two of are a holiday display on Jefferson Street in downtown Louisville. I thought it had a nice old-timey feel.



It wouldn't be Christmas at the Dowell house without a picture on the stairs. Since time immemorial, all the kids have squished on the stairs for a picture before running down to the living room to see what Santa brought. We all always look beautiful, as you can see.


And here's what the living room looked like before we ransacked it. When I was little, Santa didn't wrap our presents. We'd rush down the stairs to toys everywhere. It was amazing. Now that we're older and have a better idea of just what it is we're getting, the presents are wrapped to maintain some element of surprise. We each have a set spot where our presents are, so we know exactly where to plop down and start the unwrapping. And when it comes to Christmas morning, we're not the one-person-at-a-time type of family. It's a free for all, with everyone ripping their presents open and exclaiming over their gifts. It's also presents first. There would be serious mutiny if anyone even suggested breakfast before presents.


Though Jeff and Matthew got plenty of big boy presents, they seemed to most enjoy this race track, which was a gift from Santa to the whole family. It's a throwback to one of our favorite toys. We used to spend entire days racing cars down the track (which in the old version had only 2 lanes, I think). Each race was a heat of sorts, with the slower cars eliminated and the faster cars moving on round after round until we were left with one car to crown champion. Obviously, the track hasn't lost its allure.


This year we even managed to take a family picture in which everyone looks good. No closed eyes or goofy expressions. It's a Christmas miracle! The tripod and remote we got for Christmas obviously work quite well.

Where We'll Land Nobody Knows

As Jeff moves into the final* stages of his PhD program, he's starting to think about where to go next. Professionally the next step for him is to take a post-doc position. Since we'll be traveling for a year, he won't move directly on to this step, but will take it on as soon as we return, hopefully. As finding a post-doc position while half a world away in a developing nation with unreliable means of communication could prove difficult (I love to understate things), he's working on making connections and investigating options now. (He's a thinker, I tell you.) Being unemployed and poor is not really something we are aiming for.

So we spend a decent amount of time these days talking about where we want to move, sometimes in a very philosophical if we could move anywhere type of way, but more often in a "there's an interesting program here; what do we think of the place" type of way. Locations that have come up in regards to the second type of conversation have been Memphis (St. Jude's Children's Hospital), Delaware (I can't remember what), and Sacramento (UC Davis program).

I can't say I was doing cartwheels over any of those. In fact, I was almost convinced that Jeff was trying to come up with some pretty bad locations as some sort of psychological tool to make mediocre places seem awesome. I was waiting for him to pull out Fargo, Boise, or Buffalo.

But then I got to thinking. First, a post-doc position usually only lasts 2 or 3 years. Second, I'm willing to travel all over the developing world with nothing but a small backpack, and I'm not willing to relocate with all of my things to any city in one of the most developed nations in the world? Third, is there anything better for a writer than to have a multitude of experiences, to meet all kinds of people, and to observe life in all its different forms?**

So, go ahead and bring it.*** Anchorage or Asheville, Billings or Bermuda, Charleston or Cleveland, Detroit (okay, I do draw the line somewhere) or Dublin....I can handle it.

(And yes, you can go ahead and give me the best wife of the year award.)

*The word "final" should be taken with a grain of salt. Jeff's working hard to finish but a lot of things still have to fall into place and the Neuroscience gods must smile down on us until we can say "absolutely final." We're hoping that's about 6 months from now. It could be 9. It will most certainly happen in 2008.

**What could actually be better for writing, in a weird, messed-up kind of way, is being stuck in a town that really, really sucks. Without anything else to do, there'd be so much more time for writing. And my imagination would really get a work-out.

***This does not mean that I won't come up with all kinds of negative things to say about any proposed place. I will most certainly still whine, moan, and complain. But then I'll buck up and and make the best of it. That's just my style.

Is It Really Almost Christmas?

Hello, anyone still out there?

Sorry I've been neglectful about posting lately. I've been feeling a bit over-committed, and Spargel took the hit.

The holidays are here, and though it doesn't quite feel like it to me (I'm not sure why, but I'm thinking that will change when I head home on Thursday), we've been doing all the typical Christmas things.

Our tree is up. It looks pretty much the same as it does every year.
I must say, however, that I think getting the tree up this year may have been even more difficult than the year I did it myself. We just couldn't find the perfect tree. In past years, we've easily been able to find the right one, but this year, we looked, and looked, and looked, and then finally settled for what seemed best. As you can see, it looks nice.

Unfortunately, however, the tree trunk has scoliosis. It it far from straight. After a bit of struggle, we managed to get it to stand up. But after loading it with ornaments, it was no longer what I would call upright. So we then spent forever trying to adjust, the tree fully decorated with lights and ornaments, and only two set of hands. Jeff would adjust the stand while I held the tree, but we needed a third person to tell us when it was straight. Let's just say there were many, many do-overs, and I was close to throwing the tree on the porch and saying forget it. But I guess we managed to right it well-enough since it has now been standing for one week without any tottering. Woohoo!

In other Christmas news, I spent the weekend doing some holiday baking. I cut back a bit this year, because I was tired and busy, and because, let's face it, we just don't have that many friends around here who we can give our cookies to. So this year we have chocolate chip cookies, oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, macadamia macaroons, cookie dough truffles, s'mores bars, and spiced nuts. All but the s'mores are tried and true, and most are different from the ones my mom, the queen of Christmas cookies, makes. Since we'll be home for about a week and can munch on her cookies then, I figured I'd avoid repeats.

My holiday shopping is pretty much complete, although I have two things I need to pick up once I get to Louisville. I know what they are and where to get them, so it shouldn't be hard although I hate not having them yet. I just love to cross stuff off my lists.

Two more holiday parties this week, and then we are done. I've already had two work-related ones (one for the entire Smithsonian and one for my department), and I have one more on Monday (for my specific museum). Jeff has also already had two (one for grad students and one for his entire lab), and he has one more on Wednesday (for his section of the lab). I can't complain about the free food and drink, but it's starting to be a little much. Couldn't we just consolidate them into one fabulous party instead of many mediocre ones?

Does that sound Grinch-y? I really do love the holidays. It's just that right now I feel like we've been squeezing the holidays in between a zillion other things. It'll be nice to be home and not have all those other things to worry about. I'm ready for a break.

Hermey, Yukon Cornelius, and that Red-Nosed Reindeer

Set your DVRs, VCRs, and Tivos, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer airs tonight at 8 p.m. (Eastern Time) on CBS. Can it be Christmas without at least one viewing of this classic? I don't think so.

A Library Beyond All Libraries

My brother Gregory claims that libraries make him ill, and thus he does his best to avoid them. I think, however, that I found one that he might just like.

While out visiting Jeff's family for Thanksgiving, Jeff and I ventured into Seattle on Saturday and spent the day checking out sites, both new and familiar. One of the sites that was new to both of us was the Central Library of the Seattle Public Library system. The library, designed by architects Rem Koolhaas and Joshua Ramus, opened in 2004 to much acclaim and a couple of dissenting voices. It's hip, modern, and nothing like how you expect a library to appear.

Credit: Seattle Public Library Web site. (It was cold outside and we didn't think to stop and take a photo.)

Inside, the building teems with cool features. The first thing we noticed was a overhead book handling system that was completely high-tech, taking returned books and automatically sorting them based on where in the library they belong. Then we noticed the interesting art installation on the floor--556 lines of raised text in 11 languages found in the library's collection. The text is reversed "to reference both how books are produced and how we learn to read from symbols that are at first unknown to us." Also on Level 1 and rising upward all the way to Level 3 (Level 2 is a staff only floor) is a huge auditorium used for readings, performances, etc.

After peeking around Level 1, we hopped on the escalators, which are a crazy neon green color. Impossible to miss.

Though not a great picture, you can get an idea of the escalator's striking color.

Level 3 houses popular books and two things which seem pretty unique to me, at least as far as libraries go. One is a coffee/sandwich cart. My entire life eating in a library has been a big no-no, but here it's actually encouraged. Although, to be fair, you can't take the food out of this little area. Additionally, there was a gift shop that didn't sell used books but instead featured an eclectic array of items for the book lover that was, for the most part, not at all stuffy or intellectual, but in fact rather lighthearted and humourous.

Now Level 4 is the location of meeting rooms, but we're not talking your typical library meeting room. You know, the dark, dank, and dull meeting rooms common to most libraries and all too often tucked away in the basement. No, this Level's circular corridors are painted bright, bright red. It was very funky and space-agey.

Don't worry. The meeting rooms are painted in neutral colors.

Level 5, for reasons I'm not sure of, is referred to as the mixing chamber. It's really more of a multi-media floor with hundreds and hundreds of computers available for public use. A large librarian's desk is also on this floor and overhead is an electronic installation that shows what's being checked out...kind of a tally of what's being read in Seattle.

The bulk of the library's collection can be found on Levels 6-9. These levels actually spiral upward with each row a tiny bit higher than the row before it. The slope is really gentle, so much so that you don't actually realize you're walking up a ramp, but if you browsed the collection from the beginning of the Dewey Decimal System to the end, you'd actually rise three floors. How cool is that? Also, unlike in other libraries where you have to get up close to each row to see what Dewey Decimal numbered books can be found down it, in this library you can tell from fairly far away thanks to big floor mats at the end of each row with the relevant numbers on them.

The top floor, Level 10, is a reading room with study tables and comfy lounging chairs. It's also the place to go for the best views. Through the glass, you can peer out at the city.




You can also go out on a small landing and peer down at the library below you. It was intensely dizzying (I don't think you'll ever catch me bungee jumping) but really cool.


You could also get a view of the video projection by artist Gary Hill, which is installed on the white atrium wall. Although we were more intrigued by the cool patterns the ceiling projected as the sun played peek-a-boo through the clouds.

In this second image, you can see the video projection, although not very well.

Art-wise, I was much more intrigued by the video sculptures by Tony Oursler, which are in the wall of the escalator between Levels 3 and 5. I was too busy checking it out to take a picture, but here's one I co-opted from the Web.

Credit: Seattle Public Library Web site

I didn't realize the library would be so interesting and something I'd want to write about on my blog, so I didn't take as many pictures as I wish I had. (Plus inside photography is hard.) I encourage you to go the Seattle Public Library website to check out their slideshow of images. And if you're ever in Seattle, be sure to check it out. I can pretty much guarantee that you've never seen a library like this before.

I'll Take the Day After

Thanksgiving. It's never been my favorite holiday.

When I was young, I didn't care much for turkey, stuffing, cranberries, or any of the other traditional food associated with the holiday. I wasn't even much of a mashed potato fan at that point in my life. And what is Thanksgiving about if not eating? It doesn't have the presents and festive decorations of Christmas. It doesn't have the candy and egg hunts of Easter. It was just food and family get togethers, a holiday for grown-ups in my childish eyes.

Then, was I was 16 years old and finally coming around to appreciating the holiday, my grandpa passed away during Thanksgiving week. We spent Thanksgiving at the funeral home in deep mourning of a man I loved dearly. My dislike of the holiday only deepened.

When I went away to college, I quit going home for Thanksgiving and became somewhat of a Turkey Day orphan. I had the usual feasts in Baton Rouge and Galveston. I made do with chicken in Freiburg and Athens. And when Jeff and I got married, I began spending Thanksgiving in Seattle. While I'd be loathe to give up Christmas with my family, I can handle Thanksgiving just about any way you give it to me.

But there is one thing that I especially miss about Thanksgiving at home, but it doesn't actually have anything to do with Thanksgiving day. It's all about the day after: Black Friday.

When I was little, I'd wake up on Black Friday to find my mom gone. I never quite knew where she was, but she'd be gone a good part of the day, "running errands" according to my dad. The year I discovered that Santa Claus wasn't quite who I thought he was, I found out that the "errands" weren't quite of the toilet paper buying type, but instead she was out in search of our Christmas gifts. That year my mom invited me to go along with her.

We were up early. It was still dark outside, the air crisp and clear except for the little clouds of heat made by your breath. My mom had a list and a big stack of ads, a plan for hitting the stores in the right order so as to maximize deals and hit as many stores as we could right after they opened. (And while this was early, back in the day, it wasn't the ridiculous 3 a.m. - 5 a.m. openings that are so common now. We weren't that crazy.) Strategically we'd go after the hot items first, the toys that every other person in town wanted too, and most of the time we'd succeed in nabbing that most wanted item, the number one on one of my brothers' Christmas lists, the toy that they were counting on Santa to bring, the reason they'd shape up right away as soon as they were reminded that Santa was watching. I thought it was great fun, a scavenger hunt of sorts complete with the thrill of victory when you found just what it was you were looking for.

After we'd hit all the openings of the big box stores, we'd head to the mall and go straight for the Cinnabon store for a gooey breakfast treat. Then it was more shopping until our stomachs started grumbling again and we'd sit down for lunch. Not too long after that, we'd head home, our feet tired, the trunk of the car full.

I don't know whether it was the secret nature of the shopping trip or just the fact that I got to spend the whole day with my mom (and not share her with any of my brothers or my dad) that made it such a fun day, but it was. And every year, when I eat my turkey or whatever stand in is at hand wherever I am, I recall those days with a sense of happiness and a tad bit of magical feeling. So you keep your memories of turkey and stuffing, I'll enjoy my memories of shopping and Cinnabon.

To-Do: Nothing

Jeff and I had nothing to do this weekend. It was awesome. It has been forever since both of us were at home with no obligations. I took full advantage and gave myself permission to relax. I didn't get out my planner at all and look at the huge list of things to do that I always seem to have over my head.

I have to admit that the last few weeks I've been a bit overwhelmed. Jeff's been out of town or extra busy working long hours in the lab, so I feel like I've had to handle a bit more of the household things than usual, and on top of that, we've had a bit more household excitement than usual with the installation of new windows and window coverings. I've been taking a class at the Writer's Center, which eats up my Thursday nights (7:30 to 10 p.m.) and involves outside assignments. I've been querying and writing, which although fun has become a bit stressful recently in that I feel like I'm always working, either at the full-time job or at home on the freelance stuff. I've been planning our big trip and working on our blog (new site coming soon...maybe tonight). I've been running and trying to work out. I've been pushing away thoughts of Christmas and all the related gift shopping and listmaking and card writing and cookie baking. I've been attending conferences and weddings. And I've been working that regular, everyday 8:30 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. job.

I must say that this past week all that activity started to get to me, and I found myself a little grumpy. (I don't think the cold and dark are helping either.) As I walked to the Metro one morning, the children's book "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day" popped into my head. That pretty much summed up my mood.

I have a tendency to be hard on myself. I always feel like I should be doing something productive. Just the other night, I was actually thinking to myself that I should find somewhere to volunteer. (Did I mention in my to do list that I also already do volunteer editing for the Holocaust Museum?) Obviously, at this point, that's not a good idea, and I recognize that, but I still can't help thinking it.

And you know what doesn't help? Things like the Smithsonian Magazine Young Innovator's Issue featuring 37 people under age 36 making big noise in the arts and sciences. Or the National Book Foundations "5 Under 35" fiction awards. Reading about these people only makes me feel like I should be doing more, achieving more. It leaves me thinking, why isn't that me? Is it because I'm not talented enough or smart enough or work hard enough? It's stupid, I know. I don't need you to tell me that. And I'm not fishing for compliments here. I'm just revealing how I think, as messed up as it is.

But this weekend, I gave myself permission to relax...without guilt, which is the key. There are plenty of times I've sat down to watch a TV program but not enjoyed one minute of it because the whole time I was thinking that I should be doing something else. Seriously, relaxing is not my forte. But I succeeded this weekend. On Friday, I read, from start to finish, "A Thousand Splendid Suns." (Highly recommended. I didn't intend to read it all in one day but I could not stop. And just as an aside, Khaled Hosseini's first book wasn't published until he was 38, so take that all you Under 35s.) On Saturday, Jeff and I played Super Mario Galaxy on the Wii (I admit I was skeptical, but it was very enjoyable, and Jeff had a great time laughing at me), and we also played a couple of rounds of Hoopla. Today, I made some spiced nuts, caught up on Grey's Anatomy, watched some football, and went out with Jeff for sushi. It was fun.


(But, okay, I admit it, I couldn't just do fun things. I also dusted and ran the vacuum, did 5 loads of laundry, picked up needed items from Target, and went to the stores to check out a few items for our Christmas list. Oh well, it's as close as I think I'll ever get to a purely relaxing weekend. It's just the way I am.)

Different Strokes

At the end of October, Jeff attended a conference for grad students in Stockholm. One of the sessions he attended was about career development, and he came home to tell me that one of the tips from the presenter was to marry another scientist.

Well, guess what, too late. We're already married. I'm not a scientist and I don't plan to convert to being one.

The presenter's reasoning was that only another scientist could truly understand you and the demands of your work. I call bullshit. Sure, I don't always understand the intricacies of what Jeff does. I know he works with proteins and his current focus is Parkinson's disease. I can't tell you all the little details. But I can understand hard work. I can understand the need to put in long hours to get where you want to be. I can maybe not like it so much when he has to go in to the lab on the weekends (he's there right now), but I can understand that it's what he needs to do.

I think Mr. Presenter maybe had a bit of a ego problem, a feeling that science is more important than other fields, bigger, better, more demanding. Does he think it's easy to be a baseball player, a novelist, or an architect? The truth is, in my opinion, that if you want to be good at what you do, if you want to be one of the best at what you do, regardless of what that is, you have to work long and hard. You don't have to be in the science field to understand that. You just have to be someone with passion, someone who also wants to be succeed, someone who understands hard work, commitment, and dedication.

Can you imagine what the world would be like if scientists only married scientists, engineers only engineers, writers only writers, accountants only accountants? Eek, I quiver thinking about what those dinner conversations must be like.

"Oh, honey, you should have seen me at work today. Nobody handles a pipette like I do."
"That's what I love about you, you know. There's nothing hotter than a man in a lab coat and goggles."
"Well you're not half-bad yourself. I wish I could transfer cells as well as you do. Now how do you keep your medium so healthy?"

(Yes, trust me, that is what two scientists sound like when they are together.)

So, anyhow, Jeff and I have very different careers. He couldn't do mine, and I couldn't do his. But we have many common interests, which carry the conversation through dinner. We have other things to talk about besides DJ1 or Color Field painting. But you know what, we also can talk about those things. Because while I'm no expert on science, and he's no expert on writing, editing, or art, we are interested in each other and what each other does.

And because of our differences, I think that we might just actually be more knowledgeable people. If it weren't for me, Jeff wouldn't be reading the New Yorker or going to see plays or attending art openings. And if it weren't for him, I wouldn't have the first clue about cell culture, I'd be much less likely to stay up late watching baseball, and I'd definitely never have been to a party celebrating PINK1.

Watch Out Rudolph

We all know that on Christmas, Santa and his helpers travel by reindeer-pulled sleigh. But have you ever wondered how the North Pole crew gets around the rest of the year? I hadn't thought much about it, but this past Wednesday, as I flew to Louisville, I got the answer. They use Southwest. I had no idea the North Pole was part of the Southwest route, but here's your proof.


When the plane we were to take to Louisville landed, off filed about 25 elves. They were tiny and dressed in green and red velvet. You should have seen all the gaping mouths and stares. Soon enough the elves were swarming the seating area, handing out candy canes, posters, luggage tags, and other goodies, all advertising the movie Fred Claus. Apparently Southwest is the official airline of the Fred Claus Elves Tour.

So the lesson here is that you really better watch out, since you never know where or when you might run into Santa's helpers. You wouldn't want them to catch you being naughty.

Next Year I'm Not Changing My Clock

I do not like the fact that we are no longer saving daylight. I've been a lazy bum tonight, and I am unabashedly blaming it on the fact that it was 100% dark by the time I left work tonight.

Run, Run as Fast as You Can

You know those people who run easily and naturally, the ones who go out for a run intending to just run something like 5 miles but before they've known it they've run 10? Yeah, I don't like those people. That's not me. I don't think I've ever run a distance and estimated it to be less than it was. If anything, I overestimate.

Really, that was only 2 miles; it felt like 10. That's more my experience.

But running is good for you, and it's easy to do in the sense that it doesn't require any special equipment. You don't have to belong to a gym or drive to a specific place in order to do it. Lace up your tennis shoes and walk out your front door, and you're ready to go. So in an effort to be healthy and in shape, I've been running since June.

Actually I've been running for years, but it's always been sporadic. I'd run every day for a week, then quit for two weeks. I'd never get into any kind of rhythm, and I'd never see any type of improvement in either time, distance, or ease. I often made excuses--it's too hot, too cold; I'm too busy, too tired. You know how it goes. I'm a goal-oriented person, but I didn't have any goals for running.

So this summer, I decided to do the Couch to 5K program. Now, I'm not a couch potato. I didn't need to start at zero. But I did anyhow. I followed the program step by step because it gave me a precise goal for each week. And while starting in the summer might not have been the most brilliant idea--heat for one, lots of travel for two--that's what I did. And I managed to make it all the way through the program, 100+ degree days, oppressive humidity, and all. If there's anything I dislike more than things I'm not good at, it's quitting.

As the weeks passed, and I ran farther with each session, I found that running did come a bit easier (mind you, still not easy). But I could feel my legs getting stronger and my breathing becoming less labored. So, when I completed the program, I didn't stop running. Instead I got Jeff in on the act and now we get up 3 days a week and go running. For years, I have sworn that I cannot run in the morning, but I think I may have been wrong. Perhaps running before your brain is fully awake and can realize the ridiculousness of what you're doing is a good idea. I'm only hoping we can keep it up through the cold and the dark of winter. I might not run that fast or that far, but I am, in some sense, a runner. And I like the sense of accomplishment that comes with pacing off a few miles first thing in the morning.