Holidays . . .

I have been baking up a storm. In addition to baking and decorating sugar cookies with the lovely ladies from my program, I also made gingersnaps for a family for whom I tutor (and ridiculously overtipped me for the holidays) and some goodies for my lab. I've also had way too much interaction with the malls in recent days - although I tend to finish my shopping several weeks before Christmas, I get suckered into going with others.

Speaking of the mall, I've realized that:
- Some people really just shouldn't be allowed to have children
- Why do moms with strollers get so excited when you hold the door open for them? Is it really that uncommon? If so, that makes me sad . . .
- I really, really, really dislike Z Gallerie. It's sort of like a disco ball and a flea market had a baby. A not-cute baby.
- All good presents are edible or soft. Seriously - how do you go wrong with goodies from Williams-Sonoma or microplush blankets or slippers? (I bought these for myself)

And on one final note, if you're throwing a Christmas party, it's fine to keep some cultural traditions present, but a noodle dish complete with tongue and intestine is probably not the best choice. Not that I was served that this weekend, or anything ::cough::

Essentials, part two . . .

Several days ago, I saw an article in our local paper about organizations that sponsored families for Christmas. Upon further investigation, I looked up one up that is FABULOUS (provides food, healthcare, job connections . . .) and found that you could "adopt" a family for the holidays. Being a measly graduate student, I can't afford a lot, but I knew I could definitely do two kids.

I got my family assignment yesterday. The children are 4 and 5 (a boy and a girl, respectively), and the boy is developmentally disabled. His requests include Tonka trucks, legos, and shoes, and the little girl's list is a doll, a dress, a lunchbox, and a backpack. The (single) mom asked for blankets, and possibly a "gift card for food."

Suddenly our essentials aren't quite what we thought, no? I plan to go on a massive spending spree at Target this weekend for this family so that they can have a holiday to remember.

Perhaps photos of this endeavor will come as well :)

Essentials

While we all personalize our living environments to suit our individual tastes, there are some things that function in our humble abodes as the little black dress does in our closet. No matter the day, they seem to be the perfect choice, and never go out of style. Style At Home just published a list of the top ten essentials for a home, and I've got to say, the list is somewhat eerie (but maybe that's just because I'm a boring, pearl-wearing scientist).

The full list:
• A leather club chair - when I make a spare room into a study, this is top on the list.
• A decorative throw - Check. It's cashmere.
• An ample sofa - Haha. If you've had the pleasure of watching campy tv at my place, you've been sucked into the giant sofas. Quite possibly, it was difficult for you to get back up again.
• A wool area rug - Check. It's chocolate brown.
• Quality stainless steel flatware - Check. It's Wedgwood, and was purchased for 75% off (oddly enough, because it's a very simple pattern). I have received many, many complements on my silverware.
• A crystal vase - Check. My mother is best described as a Waterford whore.
• A 48-inch round pedestal table - Check. Crate and Barrel. Love it. My favorite thing downstairs.
• Crystal or fine glassware - sort of . . . I have a set of Waterford, but it's at my parents' until I have a real place to live (aka not graduate student housing).
• 500-thread-count cotton bedding - Check. From Costco, naturally.
• White dishware - Check. Pottery Barn, and it holds up like steel. Really. It doesn't even get scratch marks from angry knives.
• A pharmacy lamp - Yup. It's nickel, and I rescued it from the clearance rack of Restoration Hardware. Provides some great light at my desk, which I sadly don't use much because I mostly stay camped out at my desk in my lab.
• Original art - Absolutely. Well . . . they're prints hand-created from seaweed and kelp. They're gorgeous, and I adore them :) And they're much prettier than they sound.

What on this list jumps out at you?

Current Yays and Nays

Thumbs up:
Decluttering your apartment
Bath and Body Works Vanilla Bean Noel handsoap
Homemade gingerbread
Phone calls from the boy who is in D.C.

Thumbs down:
California wildfires (the photo below was taken from my balcony last night)

Alright, alright!

5 things I was doing 10 years ago

1. Learning to drive
2. Taking pre-calc through extention
3. Being really atrocious at soccer
4. Taking piano
5. Was on student government

5 things on my To do list today

1. Unpacking my shipment from Pottery Barn (Christmas decorations!)
2. Make and eat carnitas with Greg
3. Take nap
4. Make list for Target
5. Go to the midnight showing of the new Bond movie!!!

5 things I would do if I were a millionaire

1. Buy a wonderful house outright. Not a McMansion and not a super old house with plumbing problems, but just a great house. Preferably on the beach.
2. Buy a new car. Mine is nice enough, but it does have some issues.
3. Buy Manolos
4. Buy a washer and dryer to go in my house. Damn, that would be nice.
5. Travel Europe

5 places I have lived

1. Santa Barbara, CA
2. Westwood, CA
3. Irvine, CA
4. Nope, that's it
5. I want to move to San Diego after grad school - does that count?

5 jobs I have had

1. Sales Clerk at Trinkets 'N Trims, Hallmark
2. Sales associate at Express
3. Intern in a breast cancer lab
4. Grad student extraordinaire (ok, not really)
5. TA

Confessions

So . . . I hate to admit it, but I like the theater. I love dramatic performance, and I love comparing scripts to original novels, and seeing words play out on the stage. However, this is not to say that I am a huge fan of musicals, by the way.

I dragged my good friend Nick (an investment banker who was petrified of anything Broadway) to see Doubt in New York in the spring of 2006. It has now been made into a film, and I couldn't be more excited to see it, and compare it to the stage version. I sincerely hope that they maintain the sterility of the play (and I mean that in a good way), because it leaves you focusing on the words, and room to play with the intentions of the characters. It's worth noting that we both left the play with very different interpretations of what the actual conflict was (the work revolves around whether a character is guilty or not guilty). I hope that the film doesn't choose sides, but in fact leaves it up to the audience.

What's the best film adaptation of a play or novel you've seen? Why?

Good Intentions

NO REALLY, I have magnificent plans to become a great blogger! Really I do. The problem is, my graduate program is sort of all-consuming, as I am trying to write a paper and hopefully get it submitted before I turn 92 and they kick me out of the program.

But, on a more pleasant note, some people from our department are having a pumpkin carving party on Friday, and I have decided that I want to bring gingerbread. Does anyone have a particularly fantastic gingerbread recipe?

Happy Fall!

Beauty in the Breakdown

I had a conversation with my father the other day regarding the number of forclosures on homes where I live. Too many people felt that even though they didn't have the money for a down payment, even though their credit score was worse than the week-old yeast cultures in my lab, felt that they were owed something - a piece of the American dream, a chance at becoming a homeowner.

Too many people these days have an incredibly sick sense of entitlement. "I deserve to own a home." "I deserve to be married." But in my schaudenfreuden-rich bystander position, I've gotta say, it's rather interesting to watch all of these people who thought they deserved a house, who thought they deserved a marriage after just months of dating have a rather brutal confrontation with reality.

Just because you feel like you want it, like you need it . . . good luck holding on to it. Why are so few people I know actually making sane life choices (*Helen, you are included in the sane group*)?

Gettin' All Twitchy

This weekend, I successfully completed a request for two friends of mine - I swam a mile in the ocean. What I actually did was half-assedly train for 4-5 weeks in order to not drown during the first leg of a relay triathlon (two other grad students on my floor took the bike and run). I was pleasantly surprised to finish the swim leg in 20th place out of 40 swimmers (including the men), and beat my "goal" time for the event. I wasn't aiming for first (after not swimming an intense workout since the age of 17, my cat would sooner begin speaking in complete sentences), and I didn't want to fork over $200 for a swimming wetsuit, but I am pleased.

For those of you who aren't completely up on your exercise biology, here's some useful tidbits. As a 10 year old, I dominated in the 50 meter freestyle. It was also the only event in which I made a not-embarassing time in high school varsity. Described by Olympic broadcasters as a "frenetic splash from one wall to the other," it's the ultimate shake 'n swagger of those boasting a preponderance of short twitch muscle fibers. Muscle is made of bundles of myofibrils (composed of actin and myosin) which together form myosin. These strands of muscle proteins grab onto each other (as if they are rowing), contracting and releasing. Fast-twitch muscle fibers tend to work anaerobically, firing more rapidly for a shorter duration, while slow-twitch muscle fibers help athletes over longer distances, and use oxygen to fuel their motion.

Here's to (temporarily) conquering your genetic destiny of muscle fate and embracing something new! And above, we have unequivocal proof that I did not come in last :)

Yesterday, my friends Jen, Faith, and I threw a shower for Helen. In four weeks, she and her fiance Jon (all of us went to college together) are getting married in what will likely be the most gorgeous wedding EVER (and I'm excited because my bridesmaid dress is actually cute). I did the food with some amazing help from Jen (and also ran around playing photographer) and Faith can be thanked for the beautiful chinese paper lanterns, favors, and flowers. So what's a fabulous shower without photos?






















All photos were taken using a Canon 50mm f/1.8, the new love of my life. Thanks for letting us throw such a fun party, Helen! I was barely functional since I had 2 hours of sleep, due to an excrutiatingly early time point in lab, running to pick up cupcakes, and cooking/assembling the food, but it was all worth it - I think it was lovely!

The boy grad student has been away at a three week training course (where they learn to do such things as insert tubing down the spinal cords of mice), but he came home for the weekend. We decided to be deliciously unproductive, and the highlights of the weekend included seeing Batman (go see it!) and noshing at The Counter. I think I could exist entirely on sweet potato fries . . .

This weekend also began the massive monstrosity that shall be known as Wedding Season '08 (and this doesn't include the wedding we already went to). I picked up a bridesmaid dress, dropped off a wedding gift (yay!) and am driving out of town to attend a shower on Tuesday. The shower is for a dear friend who has been a constant companion since we were two years old, so I am excited.

Things I am Loving

It's officially summer. The air is warm, my cardboard-box apartment is hot, and lab feels like a fabulous air-conditioned retreat (did I really just use the words lab and retreat in the same sentence?). In honor of the early days of summer, I have been obsessed with the following in recent days:

This stuff is worth its weight in gold. You can apply in the morning, forget about it during a whole day of bbqing/baseball game watching/beach volleyball playing, and you realize the sun went down and you didn't get burned. One caveat - it is not exceptionally waterproof, so I still stick to Ocean Potion for surfing.















Yummy, no fake additives, and antioxidants, oh my! The male counterpart to the disillusioned grad student's best friend came to visit for four days recently, and stocked our fridge to the brink with these. I am addicted.















It's pink, with a bit of gold, and it's just fabulous. If you know me (which, of course, are the only 3 readers of this blog), you know that I own about 17 Chanel lipglosses. But I've gotta say, this one's been in heavy rotation since the weather warmed up. It's the anti-scientist lipgloss.

I had a hard time leaving the weekend on such a negative note. On a more pleasant note, cupcakes! For an excellent, all-around great cupcake recipe, I love the vanilla one from The Magnolia Bakery. You've got to take precautions to ensure they don't end up dry (leave one cup empty, and fill it with water to create a moist environment), but they really are fab.



Now go bake, kids.

Yesterday I had two appointments. One was at the University Medical Center, and the other was at a spa (down in the land of rich housewives). During the former, I had an appointment with a surgical oncology nurse - I met her, walked with her to pathology, waited for the attending surgeon to meet us, and watched as they dissected a specimen. I have handled more than one hundred tumors in my "scientific career," and they, along with blood draws, do not bother me. However, this was something different entirely. Here's a warning to the weak . . . it gets graphic.

The nurse unwrapped the surgical gauze and placed the specimen on the counter in the pathology lab. It was a complete masectomy, a full resection - in layman's terms, the entire breast had been removed. While standing with the pathology residents, I nearly fell to the floor, wondering, "Don't they usually just remove the tumor nowadays? Isn't the lumpectomy standard, especially at a leading university hospital?" And then, as the Pathology attending made the first slice, I realized why this case was so different.

The tumor filled the breast in its entirety. The tumor was distinct from the healthy tissue - healthy tissue is soft, pink. There was a hard, beige mass approximately the size of an apple that had invaded this 33 year old girl's body - and there was no escaping staring at the tissue on the surgical slab.

After returning to my lab with my small sample of the tumor in tow, I processed my cells, and set them up for my experiment. After wiping down the hood and my lab bench, I placed my cells in the incubator, and left for my bi-monthly pedicure and eyebrow trip. (I may live in the lab, but I do have some standards)

I'd never really noticed it before, but the place was inundated with signs that proclaim, "Love your body! Celebrate your curves! Your body defines you!" As I looked around, I began to feel sick to my stomach. This anonymous 33 year old girl, whose tumor had somehow managed to evade being detected at an earlier stage, had lost most of what these signs declared defined her. As I thought about it, I realized that what defined her, according to the spa advertisements, was now what was defining me - my career as a research scientist.

I went to sleep with a prayer for the anonymous 33 year old girl, and sending her hope that it is her spirit, her fire, her will to live, that will define her, and not a cancerous mass.

Costco is a dangerous place. One wanders in with aims of being frugal, trying to stick to their list of paper towels and trash bags, and then comes the kitchen appliance aisle. It has sucked me in once before, when I came home with a fabulous new coffee maker, and two days ago, I made the mistake of wandering in again. Now, keep in mind, my super coffee maker is a lovely brushed stainless steel Cuisinart, and matches all of my other brushed stainless appliances, and the first thing I saw upon strolling down that Costco aisle was this ice cream maker. For $49, how bad was this really?

I'd been looking at buying one for a while, especially after seeing lots and lots of my favorite foodie writers describing their home made desserts.

So, in my excitement for my new toy, post your favorite ice cream recipes! I can't wait for the perfect summer weather to enjoy home made ice cream.

Evil Incarnate

I'm going to go right out and say it. I hate Martha Stewart. Possibly it has something to do with the fact that she knows nothing about anything she attempts to do. When she talks or or writes about gardening, she doesn't know the difference between a floribunda and a hybrid tea, or quite frankly bermuda from crabgrass, but in addition, she really hasn't a clue how to cook. If you have ever watched a real chef come on her show, she essentially shoves them out of the way, while the invited guest becomes irate and usually exhibits some fantastic eye-rolling.

Decorno just posted a link to Martha's blog. This honestly made my day, because I had no idea that such a website existed. I was at first entranced by the egregious number of spelling errors, and her general rudeness towards others that is quite obvious in her writings. Then, I noticed what is possibly the worst crime against fashion I have ever witnessed.

Christian Louboutins are the gold standard $700 item that many stylish women hope to someday own. They set trends, and spark envious gazes towards their trademark red soles. The red soles are the signature - not tacky like a Gucci print or a Coach monogram, but understated, and only noticable to those who know where to look.

MARTHA STEWART PAINTS THE SOLES OF HER LOUBOUTINS.. She paints them. And she doesn't take them to a shoe repair place - no, her assistant coats them with a SHARPIE. If I had $700 shoes, I would not take a permenant marker anywhere NEAR them.

::exhales:: Here's to all of us who would kill for Louboutins, and certainly wouldn't attack them with an odorous marker.

In my quest to make my apartment just the way I want it (considering the limited budget of a graduate student, and the fact that you can only do so much with a graduate student apartment that one cannot paint or change fixtures in), I've gotten a few new things. The couches have to stay, because, well, they're comfy, and "some" changes don't equal several thousand dollars. Instead, I've settled for curtains, pillows, possibly a new rug, new kitchen appliances and canisters, and a new breakfast table. A new coffee table may also happen, if I see one I like.

My interior design skills are questionable. I know what I want when I see it, but I can't describe what I want. I will never be super country or super modern, and I don't believe in decorations that are not functional, with the exception of artwork. I started looking for a new table quite some time ago, and wasn't happy with any of the options. And then I saw this.

It's mohogany, stained, and finished. It is dark, but not too dark. It is the perfect size, and it is classic and beautiful. I fell in love with the stand - I know it's not everyone's taste, but it's classic American, and very "Jackie O's vacation home." I love it, and it comes a week from today. Me being the scientist that I am, I spent weeks researching types of wood, their stability and durability, and I think mohogany floats the boat. Hopefully it doesn't scratch badly.

I like having things in my apartment that are very me. Not that were free, that I strongly dislike, or I inherited from an old roommate. They're something that I fell in love with, and I made the decision to add to my home. Here's to redecorating.

Today's poll: What is your favorite piece of furniture in your house?

I was in Bloomingdale's Home yesterday with my good friend Courtney, and we meandered over to the sale section. Every now and then, the home store has fantastic sales, and it's possible to score some amazing deals. They had oodles of All-Clad on sale, but I wisely stayed away from that table. What they DID have on sale, and I had been wanting to buy for quite some time, were the oval Le Creusets. I have several sizes of the round dutch ovens, and they're great for making sauces, chicken dishes, chile verde, you name it. They evenly distribute heat and really do keep flavors in and intensify them (and no, it's not just a marketing gimmick). So what did I discover was 60% off, with an additional 10% off for being the last one with no box? This lovely 5 quart oval in the same blue as my other Le Creuset family. Is it not the perfect size in which to roast a chicken?

What's your favorite roast chicken recipe?

Randoms

I have homework to do, Helen!

The rules:

* link to the person that tagged you
* post the rules on your blog
* share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself
* tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs
* let each random person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog
Here it goes.

1. I was obsessed with gardening and plants as a child. I'm actually quite surprised that I didn't become a plant biologist or a landscaper-to-the-stars (maybe it's because plant biologists make even less than cell biologists . . .). I begged my mom to buy me gardening books, and tried to make bonsai trees (some even worked). Some of my best childhood memories are in the garden with my mom. To this day, I correct narrators on HGTV when they mistakenly call something a perrenial, or an Iceberg rose a Hybrid Tea (it's a floribunda, people).

2. I often look like I'm biting my nails. I'm not - I have never bitten my nails. I bite the skin on the sides of them (I know, icky).

3. If I hear a song I like, I go absolutely nuts until I find out who it is by. I will save lyrics on my phone to google them, run to a computer to check the radio's website, you name it, I will do it. On the plus side, I have discovered many great bands this way, such as the Stereophonics when I was 14 (they are still my favorite band).

4. I collect Crane stationery, and am very OCD about writing thank you notes. I hold grudges against those who do not send them. If I pick out a wedding present for you, the least I expect in return is a two-line note saying that you got your serving platter you registered for. People who thank on AIM need to be put down.
* Note: I have been to 4 weddings in the past year. I have gotten one thank you note. You can logically deduce how I feel about this.

5. Caffeine really does not affect me. I like it, and it keeps me perky, but not Katie Couric perky. I can have a triple shot latte, and take a nap afterwards. In other words, it keeps me awake, but doesn't keep me from falling asleep. I am the polar opposite of the boy (we shall call him disenchanted grad student), who has a Coke at noon and is poking me to watch a movie with him at 3 am.

6. My most treasured posession is a stuffed monkey. My parents gave it to me for my first Christmas, when I was two months old, and I slept with it every night (and took it on every trip I ever went on). To this day, it is the only stuffed animal in my room, and likely will never leave. Very few people know its name, but I named it when I was a year or two old, and its moniker is rather apt. Do you know?

I really don't know who else I can tag :( The only people I know with blogs already did this ::tear::

The Iron Curtain? Steph vs Ikea?

I have this odd love affair with Ikea. While it provides college students, young professionals, and budget-conscious adults with cute home furnishings without breaking the bank, it is often hard to replicate the look you see in the store. How many of you wander around the gorgeous "rooms" and assure yourself that your pad will be just as swanky? And how many of you look bewildered at your beige particleboard table and wonder why it looks so damn, well, Ikea?

My current issue is with the curtains. While fabulous and floaty in store, rendering lightness and softness to the in-store display, they were frustrating and sweat-inducing in graduate student housing. What the heck gives with fabric one must cut themselves, adhere tape, iron down the tape, and hack off approximately two feet (by eye) before hanging? I won't even go into why they include screws, but not the right ones, or my issues with the cordless drill (although this is not the fault of Ikea). Sigh. My downstairs is now fully curtained, and I am fully exhausted.

I, as do most people, enjoy all things warm and fuzzy. I will now take that to a rather literal level.

Warm and fuzzy feelings? Sure. Bunnies? Definitely. Cashmere blankets on clearance? sign me up. This is certainly worth an allocation of my research stipend. Hopefully, at this time next week, I will be swaddled in warm and fuzzies. Literally.

In her unending effort to make me eat less takeout, my mom got me the above Easter present. It is blue, it is heavy, and it is a welcome addition to the Le Creuset family. If all else fails, I can use it to fend off intruders (although, why someone would break in to graduate student housing, I do not know).

Recipe ideas for its devirginification? Is that a word?

I will generally keep this blog to all things light and fluffy, but today I digress.

For the past couple of weeks I've felt like I have been hitting a wall - handling my family, my sick grandpa, being a freaking PhD student, and getting sick. Quite possibly, my biggest pet peeve of recent months is when you try to find an open ear, someone to vent about your mice not having arrived or being turned down for a fellowship, or having to be on your feet all day running wet lab and still do grading, is when that supposed ear begins to complain. I do my best to smash down that self-centered side of me that we all know we have, but when I smell like mouse after doing harvesting for ten hours, am afraid I am being scooped* and have to schedule a haircut two months out, I very well may snap when someone returns with, "yeah, I know, life is so hectic. I got stuck in traffic today on the way to Trader Joe's," "seriously, I have to respond to three emails," or whathaveyou.

I hate complaining, because I love what I do, and I do it because I want to do what I love when I finish, and the pharmacology boy and the little gray cat buy a house in San Diego (or San Francisco) and can be not-Ramen-eating preppy science family with lots of Le Creuset cookware (thanks, Mom). And sometimes I need to vent about what it is that I do, and when people retort that their problem is that their boss brought in blueberry bagels instead of sesame, it makes me rather stabby.

That is all.

* For those who are not scientists: being scooped is commonly known as the the moment you read a paper, or hear a talk, and realize that someone (from another university, usually) has found the answer to your research before you. It can take many forms, from them just finishing first, to plain, straight-out data stealing. And I am beginning to feel it creeping up on me, and pushing its evil hands around neck.

The past few weeks have been filled with science and the desert. Now, it's not that I'm against nature, or physical activity, or both for that matter (this is a girl who has, for many years, considered doing the Alcatraz swim with her father), but hiking for two hours across rocks to go see "wildflowers" (sad little daisies) is highly, highly overrated. I present you with my disdain (standing on a rock and being very, very disappointed)



So, there were a couple of pretty things within the 3 day stretch of awfulness known as the department retreat, that being these:



A two hour hike for 5 flowers? I don't think so. I love science, and I adore its exquisite manifestations, but the desert is not one of them. The Anza Borrega is highly overrated. But you know what's highly underrated? Alaska. For some reason this retreat made me want to go back.

*squeals* Even though I do this several times a year (and just end up with a closet full of expensive clothes I don't wear), this is on its way from the warehouse of JCrew goodies to my house. I am hoping that a) it fits and that b) it does not do horrible things to my shortwaistedness and c) is flexible enough to wear with jeans or a fab pencil skirt. I came to the realization that my idea, in the past few months, of "grabbing a jacket" to duck out to a bar involved a velour hoodie, so I'm trying my hand at being girly.

Pictures to come of last night's chile verde, and possibly an update on my phone (the boy agreed to wash the dishes to thank me for the spicy pork goodness, and the kitten jumped up on the counter to watch, and in the process knocked my cell phone into the dish water. I let it air dry (and blasted it with the ConAir), and it may or may not come back to life . . .

Humans = Mammals. Who knew?

This article, which was kindly linked by ScienceBlogs, offers some rather hilarious news reporting, as well as some general insults to people who call themselves scientists.

Apparently, in addition to global warming, inflation, and non-organic produce, the inhabitants of San Francisco should now be shaking in their faux-leather boots for fear of giant pythons. Their dial-a-scientist insightfully analyzes,
At 20 miles a month, a determined Burmese python from Florida could arrive in San Francisco as early as August 2020.

"It would be exceptional for one animal to be that unidirectional in its movement, but it's mathematically possible," Rodda said.

The snake's cross-country crawl would be made easier by the large population of beavers along the way, Rodda said.

"Beavers would be a very tasty treat for them," Rodda said. "No beaver would be safe from a python."

Beavers? Why beavers? Not housecats or mice, but BEAVERS.

It gets better.

Dial-a-scientist Dr. Rodda (I am currently investigating where he went to school) next points out that one should not attempt to rid their yard of the impending giant pythons.

"A large alligator will eat a small python," Rodda said. "But we are not recommending you import alligators into California. That would not be a good idea."

You would think that nothing could top Rodda's excellent analysis of the immenent python influx. But, yes, fair readers, he really accomplishes this feat towards the end of the article (hopefully you didn't stop reading due to fears of being swallowed alive) - As for other potential prey, human beings - like rodents, beavers and deer - are mammals, government scientists confirmed.

So in addition to spending government money analyzing how pythons will scale the Rockies and Sierras, we have reconfirmed that humans are indeed mammals, the prey of choice for giant pythons.

I don't know about you, but I'm packing my bags for Bermuda.

Edit: No info on where Doc Gordon picked up his degree, but Google does tell me that he sports an attractive beard: as seen in exhibit A.

Happiness in a plastic bag?

It's fairly safe to assume that most of us don't have tons of spare time or extra cash. So, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you my new favorite thing. Unlike Oprah's list, I actually tried this . . . Trader Joe's pizza dough. It's a dollar, and comes in a bag in the fresh aisle. One dollar, people. While you are all well aware of my love affair with my KitchenAid mixer, it takes a lot of time to make pizza dough. It takes much less time to plunk the bag onto the counter.

Marinara sauce, mozzerella, fresh basil, and oodles of goat cheese and twenty minutes later, my apartment smelled like an Italian diner.

Lindsay Lohan has nice cans

She finally did it. Is anyone really surprised? Granted, it's slightly classier than what anyone expected (I was hoping for Penthouse, personally), but hey, we'll take what we can get.

Here's to B-list stars taking off their clothes for attention.

It is assumed that in being a PhD student in the biomedical sciences, biology will find every way possible to creep into your daily life. But, one does like to look for every opportunity to bring the daily life into the biology.

When preparing microscope slides, it is common to seal the edge of the slide with clear nail polish. So, as I will be preparing a rather large number of slides next week, I made a trip to Ulta to peruse the Essie aisle. I don't use Wet 'N Wild on my nails, so I sure as hell won't use it in my lab.

I wasn't entirely innocent on the trip to Ulta, and returned home with something sort of lab-related - gloves, bleach, and handwashing tend to torch my hands, but I'm fairly pleased with this apricot oil so far.

Chemistry and Cupcakes . . .

Today involved me trying to create two recipes. Both are frivolous, but if successful, gorgeous.
A) Antigen retrieval of lymphocyte markers. To sum things up for you non science folk, one can take a portion of tissue and fix it in a waxy substance, then slice it (sort of how one slices deli meat) and attach said slices to a microscope slide. This allows the tissue to stay for long periods of time and not "go bad," so to speak. One may then, by following a protocol (which I am trying to write, having never done this before) to remove the waxy substance and stain for a variety of cell type-specific markers. Even though I am performing another test to determine my cell types, if this works I will have gloriously pretty (and fluorescent) photos of my cells lighting up, as opposed to just boring graphs that say yes, these are indeed [insert cell type here].

B) White cupcakes. I continue to find recipes, but many of them have just a few awful reviews, saying "too sweet," "too dry," so on and so forth. Being a PhD candidate doesn't exactly leave one with lots of spare time (and that time is usually spent watching Dexter), so I am not keen on the idea on trying 5 recipes. Are cupcakes really THAT fantastic? Not really. Are they good for you? Certainly not. But, much like my *hopefully* pretty glowing slides will be for my paper (in 17 years), they will be a lovely addition to my blah week.

After a frustrating day of tutoring and a worthless trip to the Neiman Marcus sale (they had nothing good marked down, and with their "luxury experience" dressing rooms of large size but questionable number, I waited in line for 35 minutes to try on a Diane Von Furstenburg dress that nearly brought me to tears in its unflattering-ness), I came home to make pizza. Seeing as how I was starving and there was a log of goat cheese and a pack of basil in my fridge, the idea of my apartment smelling like an Italian cafe was appealing. But no. No, I had to open the flour to discover weevils. Not ants, weevils.

Wikipedia tells me the following:

A weevil is any beetle from the Curculionoidea superfamily. They are usually small, less than 6 mm (¼ inch), and herbivorous. Due to the shape of their heads, weevils are commonly known as snout beetles. There are over 60,000 species in several families, mostly in the family Curculionidae (the true weevils). Some other beetles, although not closely related, bear the name "weevil", such as the biscuit weevil (Stegobium paniceum), which belongs to the family Anobiidae.

Weevils are often found in dry foods including nuts and seeds, cereal and grain products. In the domestic setting, they are most likely to be observed when opening a bag of flour although they will happily infest most types of grain including oats, barley and breakfast cereals. If ingested, E. coli infection and other various diseases can be contracted from weevils, depending on their diet.

So, according to my internet research, if I had made pizza with this flour (I was deeply considering just removing the top layer and chucking the weevils down with the fishes), I would have gotten E. coli. That sounded swell and all, but I decided In N Out was a better option (animal style, no pickles, and fries well done, naturally).

I blew my week's free cash on these stainless canisters from Sur La Table. Gmail tells me that they will arrive in 7-10 days, and will keep my flour and sugar weevil-free.

I've been on a tremendous cooking spree recently. I think that this was ignited by the gift of a KitchenAid mixer (from my mom) for Christmas, but it was also catalyzed by countless trips to Williams-Sonoma, where I thought, "I should do that." "Should" is apparantly remarkably distinct from "have to," which is relegated to the realms of my research lab, where I "should" be characterizing tumor samples from my mouse model.

So, after my inspirations, I brought back several things from my parents house - things that actually were mine, but I never had any desire to own (my mother likes to purchase items for a life in which I do not live*). These include a full set of Le Creuset cookware in Williams-Sonoma Blue (several dutch ovens, a stock pot, and a grill pan), and other kitchen toys. Then, I proceeded to go on a bender that sent me home with springform pans, truffle oil, approximately 48 spices, and a new whisk.

This may or may not become an expensive hobby. One might think that once you own everything you need, cooking anything you desire should be a breeze. But the problem is, it's always something. It's always something you don't have - dutch process cocoa that apparently you can only purchase from Amazon, or meringue powder that is not sold in normal stores, or the goddamn truffle oil that is $30 a bottle but makes for amazing mac and cheese. I think that applies to life in general - it's always something.

* My mother really does not understand the life of a PhD student in the biomedical sciences. She seems to think that cooking a pan of lasagne, large enough to feed 27, is how I should spend my evenings, and not optimizing a quantitative real-time PCR reaction to amplify a gene that is expressed in my tissue at an excrutiatingly small level. She also thinks that I dress nicely every day, including heels, and get a decent amount of sleep. What she doesn't know is that wearing my Fryes instead of my Rainbows warrants celebration, and that I am hesitant to wear the entirely too expensive J. Crew wardrobe all the time instead of Joe's and a UCLA sweatshirt because odds are, I will spill bleach on it.

So, it seems that I have started a new blog. This is not to say that the old one is shutting down - I think that I will reserve that one for recaps and rants, and use this one for my latest obsessions: sprucing up my very small townhouse within graduate student housing, cooking profusely, and anything else of interest.

Not that anyone will read it . . .