Tales of Domesticity

My husband is so cheap he wants us to be trailer trash. We went blanket shopping on friday, and instead of the nice duvets, he was drawn to these fuzzy blankets whose patterns tended towards safari. Even the plain purple one made me think of the Trailer Park Boys. I convinced him to spend the extra 30 skeck on a duvet. Then looking for a shower curtain, we finally found some cheap ones. But instead of looking through the stack to find a half decent one, James, in his impatience to end the torture of shopping as soon as possible, grabs the one on top that would have only been appropriate if we had pulled up to the shop in a DeLorean. Again, veto power was employed and we agreed on a different pattern (but as a compromise, it was blue).

We have inherited a rather old microwave belonging to the apartment that has been encrusted with years of goo. In fact, the guy we are subletting from hasn’t used it at all; it is the previous tenant's shame. James felt we should clean it and use it. Actually, after a little Chicken elbow grease, it didn’t look too bad. All hail the house-husband!
Unfortunately, the dampness from cleaning made the number pad stop working so we were still up the creek for warming up last night’s leftovers. Blast. An hour later of drying, the top two rows of numbers work. By morning, it should work like a charm.

Amoral Academic Integrity Scumbag (and that is being nice)

You know what I hate? Cheaters.
Today I realized that there are two papers, in two journals, with identical images. It was the photoluminescence that I first noticed. Then I realized that some the TEMs were the same too. And the XRD. I added a few pics for your judgment.

So what are those images really of? I cannot trust anything in either of those papers now. We have all published results that are extensions of previous results, but that should be a mention with a reference, not a re-publication of data and images. As far as I can tell, there is not reference from one paper to the other. Fishy.

I hope you got tenure, or what ever it was that you were going for. This probably will catch up to you one day.

The Poulet has landed

Just so you know, The Chicken made it here safe and sound tonight. Dorks that we are, we happened to be wearing our matching McGill chemistry hoodies. I think we are well on our way to becoming an old couple wearing matching tracksuits and orthodic shoes.

As of this morning, husband training has commenced; I made him go back to the bathroom and hang his towel up on the hook where it belongs. He just giggled and complied. I wonder how long the novelty will wear off?

Chickens can Fly

The Chicken is on his way! The cheapest flight he could find was though the Ukraine, so at this point he is....wait for it.... Chicken Kiev.
Sadly I did not come up with that myself.

Mumsies (aka The Chicken's mum) just emailed me a picture of The Chicken at the airport. He did not look impressed by having his picture taken at all. I have an odd feeling he was being fussed over as there is a ziplock bag in his right hand containing a yoghurt and a snack. I do my best to avoid getting that look, but sometimes it is necessary to get what you want done (See, I didn't post the actual picture so I didn't incur "the look"!). Mumsies has a thick skin when it comes to ignoring James' looks of death. I will have to study and learn from the master.

Yesterday was a mad rush of chemistry and making my way to a far off shopping centre to buy a pillow and stock up on groceries. Our neighbourhood supermarket is absurdly expensive as it caters to/milks rich anglo-saxons, according to Itzik. "What about poor anglo-saxons?" I asked. Apparently there is no such thing in Israel. James and I are pioneers. We, oddly poor anglo-saxons that we are, will be making epic journeys to the cheep supermarket to buy stuff that the shuk doesn't have.

The New Digs (Part 2)

The kitchen, complete with an open package of Tim Tams. Yes, you heard it first here! Your favorite Aussie chocolate bar masquerading as a cookie is available in J-town!

The view from the living room.

I am happy to say, the place is virtually hair and grime free!

The New Digs (Part 1)

Up in the the top left is the bedroom. Do you see the ugly fleece blanket I bought the other day? Turns out it wasn't an ugly blanket but an ugly duvet cover. Sigh. I wish I could read labels.
The view from the kitchen and the foyer, complete with piano for me to annoy the neighbours.

PICTURES!

Thanks to my hero for the day, Yorai, I have a camera-to-computer cable on loan! So here are a few pics for your viewing pleasure:



Classic J-town: The Dome of the Rock in the old city with cranes in the backgroud

Two sheks for a couple of red peppers (60 cents)?
The shuk is the best veggie shop EVER!

The maple shekel is a perceived security threat!

Lessons for the wise: do not wear your hoodie up on a cool night in Jerusalem. Even if it does say "McGill Chemistry" across the front ( i.e., "I am a big geek"). I just got chased down by a yelling security guard on campus as I was heading home. He checked my ID, checked if my student card was fake, asked questions and let me go. Good thing I didn't have my noise canceling earphones in; I could have been tackled to the ground.

The countdown is on to moving into the new digs. I am super exited about having my own space that isn't covered in hair like Captain Kirk's. No kidding, I don't think the man has ever swept. It is gross. I have made my room into a little hair and dirt free haven.

I went out yesterday and bought The Chicken and I an ugly blanket to get us though the first few nights. I almost bought a nice quilt, but I held off. Quilts are something we should decide on together as we begin to play house. Big fluffy down comforters seem to be the thing around here, but The Chicken, ironically, is allergic to feathers. We will have to make do with fleece, poly-fill, woolly socks and and snuggles.

A loooooooong day for Dr. J

Ugh. What a day. Things didn’t start so well as I broke the first piece of glassware I handled this morning. Oh well, there is no point in trying to pretend I am perfect. I ran my first reaction and it got a little out of hand with the work up and characterization. I guess I am a little too gung-ho for my own good. On the equivalent of a Friday night, I finally turned out the light and locked the door at 9:30. I am pooped and very hungry. Must forage in the fridge. Mmmm orange. Mmmm mystery yummy cheese...

I have been thinking about that kingdom far, far away: Edmonton. Today was my convocation, which obviously I didn’t go to. My old lab mate was also convocating and it would have been fun to strut across the stage with him. Oh well. You can’t do it all.

This weekend will be a bit crazy and very painful to the bank account. I have to pay for two months’ rent and a damage deposit. On top of that, I need to venture to Talpiot to buy blankets for when I move to the new digs on Monday. Stack on a few errands, a dinner at the Boss’ a group meeting presentation Sunday, a meeting with the new landlord and repacking to move, it is going to be a busy one.

The Bronfmans and my Giggle Reflex

Not too much goin’ on here. I have a little Arcade Fire in my ears and I am writing you this post. Chemistry is non-existent because my CHEMICALS HAVEN’T COME IN! Sigma-Aldrich, speed me my chemicals.

Did you guys here about the big heist of the Bronfman jewelry? According to the CBC, they are offering a big reward and there is all sorts of comments on the article about the Bronfmans being greedy pigs. I don’t know about that. I seem to remember that McGill had a giant economics building that the family paid for. Here at Hebrew U, there are several Bronfamn buildings on both campuses, paid for by our favorite Montreal liquor barons. In fact, all the buildings on campus have been paid for by someone from somewhere else. This is a university built by Zionist philanthropy. Each building is gloriously decorated with the person’s name, their city and the university department. Well except Florence Dworsky, she got a food kiosk by the gate. Ohhhh, Dis!

I am proud to say that I am getting better at suppressing my giggle reflex. On Sunday, I was at a mini-conference and in one of the afternoon sessions the Boss sat next to me. Although a few talks were interesting stuff, some of them were a little boring, and I wasn’t the only one who thought so. A prof who saw sitting two seats over from the Boss started snoring. The boss leaned over an gave him a shove to wake him up. Twice. I remained professional and stoic, which is rare for me under such laughter inducing circumstances.

Mystery Fruit #1: The Pomelo

On my latest adventure to the shuk, I went a little overboard. So much so that I have a pressure rash on my shoulder from my overfilled bag of vegetable loot. Amongst the recognizable food stuffs, I bought a mysterious green citrus fruit the size of a small cannon ball. Would it be sour like a lemon? Sweet like an orange? The curiosity was killing me! Tonight, I gave in and tried it. First of all, the peal was so thick that I felt like I was digging for buried citrus fruit treasure. YARR! I be finding’ ye loot ye green-skinned scalley-wag! AVAST! The skin be thicker than a scurvy dog's! I be openin' the sections and tastin' the pink pulpy bits. Well I'll be jiggered! She be tastin' like a sweet grapefruit.

Moroccan Chicken

There has been a request for my Moroccan Chicken recipe from Mel. I have been getting a few requests for it lately, so here she goes for everyone's pleasure.

Some chicken (thighs are good and cheep)
big can of diced tomatoes
can of chickpeas (drained and rinsed- they put a lot of salt in canned lentils)
1/2 -1 onion diced
Some raisins (1/2 cup ish)
1 tsp ish chili powder
1 tsp ish of cloves
2 tsp ish of cinnamon
Stew it all up in a big pot for an hourish or a slow cooker would be good.
In the last fifteen minutes, add diced zucchini
Serve with couscous or rice.

Trust me, my chemistry is a little more exacting than my cooking. There is no -ish in my lab book.

DUDE! This recipe can be kosher. I am going to have to remember this one for pot lucks.

Mel, tuna pasta salad is WAY easy. Can o' tuna (drained), salt and pepper, big dollop of light mayo, diced onion and lots diced yummy things from the fridge (peppers, cucumbers mushrooms etc.) Stir it up and throw it on some pasta.

Humility in the form of a Septagenarian

I am humbled. Last night I went to Shabbat dinner at the neighbours’ again who have the most fascinating friends. There was a woman there whose life story makes my adventure here look like a causal picnic. An expert in Slavic languages (and English and Spanish and Portuguese and Hebrew), she has lived in the US, Argentina, Poland, Portugal the Ukraine and Israel. Her time in Poland and the Ukraine was behind the Iron Curtain and she had a US passport which was simply crazy at the time. She has lived under three dictatorships. “Bungy jumping”, she says, “my life was like bungy jumping”. At over seventy years old, she has made Israel her home and she has decided after all the places she has lived, this is the best place to be. Instead of risking life and limb, she now serenades her neighbours with her oboe playing and is looking for a husband. “It will happen at the right time and the right place” she says.

There was also another couple from Delaware and New Jersey who had recently gotten married. Marlene went to McGill and knows, quite well in fact, friends of the Chicken and mine. So we had a very-small-world moment there in the living room. Jakob, tells me that he hopes that the rest of their life will be in Jerusalem. I can’t remember his exact words but being in this most holy city is deeply important to him.

I asked the table what it was like to come from America and the UK where you are a minority to a place where you are in the majority. They say they are minorities here too, but just in different ways: they are English speakers, recent immigrants, orthodox in a predominantly secular country etc. Fair enough, I thought.

A fascinating night all around.

Today I wandered around for a couple of hours and finally broke down and bought a head covering. It is probably not what you are thinking. The Monastery of the Cross is Greek Orthodox and I went in to see what it was all about. I wore a head covering not because I had to, but because it was the most respectful thing to do.

It is a pretty amazing place. The monastery is early Byzantine and was founded either by Constantine’s mom, Helena, or by the Emperor Justinian. Either way, there were mosaics there that were from as early as the 4th century. The chapel had all sorts of mosaics and paintings of saints from the crusader era and lots of hanging lamps. Outside there were all these little rooms where the monks lived over the centuries. Of course the public wasn’t allowed to go where the current resident monks are.

I have just refilled the rocket boosters with a hearty meal of tuna pasta salad à la Janet. Good things to know: fish and eggs are not “meat” instead, they are “parve” which means neutral so I can use any plates I want.

Cleaning Day

I cleaned out “my” fumehood today only to discover that lab policy is that any one of the twenty group members can use it at anytime (and they do), and no one believes in labeling their stuff here. So that means I will be punished with squatters and their mysterious dirty beakers for having a clean hood. I am not impressed to say the least. I miss my old fume hood.

During the cleaning, I got rid of a box of dirty pipettes. Later a student asked where his box of dirty pipettes was. I said I had thrown it out (with all the other glass waste) and he said he had planned to clean them before chucking them out. “It’s not a big deal,” he said “you just polluted the holy land.” Thanks Buddy.

Today is the three week mark of my stay in Jerusalem. The third week is always the worst for me when I move places. I get culture shock even when I move across Canada. Surprisingly, despite my grumpy post, this week hasn't been too bad. I was expecting the worst. Maybe it is that I have something to look forward to. The Chicken arrives in less than two weeks! And my own apartment! And the chicken is arriving! And I will get to cook for real! And the chicken is arriving! WOOO HOOO!

לו, גנת לו פוה

After one and a half weeks of straight reading and one and a half hours of talking to my boss, I have a project! The boss picked my brain on everything that I read, heard my idea, picked it apart, okayed it and then asked for copies of all of the papers I downloaded and read. I just counted and there are 96 of them. And those are just the ones I kept. My brain hurts.

On Saturday, I was working on my Hebrew and memorizing the subject pronouns (I, you, he, she, them or je, te, il, elle…) I read that She is He (היא) and He is Who (הוא) and promptly started swearing. In the last few days I have resigned myself to the confusing linguistic fate, especially now that I have learned a great new phrase.
Say it with me now: Loh, who loh poh.
It means: No, he’s not here.
This fun to say phrase is useful because most of my interactions in Hebrew involve the phone. Tomorrows’ phrase for the day will be “call back later.”

By the way, can you find my name in the title? Hint: the letter that looks like lamda is called gimmel.

Today, Israelis vote in their new mayors. In Jerusalem, it comes down to the incumbent religious (as in Orthodox) mayor whose posters sport a cartoon of himself waving and looking friendly with his white beard and happy smile. The guy with the blue posters in the one all of the non-religious folks seem to be rooting for. And finally, there is the guy with the yellow posters who, according to my labmate, is very rich and is wanted for arms dealing in France. He sounds like and A-1 candidate to me.

I hope everyone sported a poppy today.

Beware: My first potentially offensive post.

Tonight I feel relieved and a bit trepidatious. After a week and two days straight of reading, I think I have finally nailed down my project. But I am not going to tell you what it is. If I told you, I would then have to kill you, and since you are all so far away, that would be difficult. So best to keep my mouth shut.

In a way, science bites the big kahunas as there are absolutely no assurances. I have no idea if my ideas will work. All the reading in the world only gives me a good guess. It could be straight forward, or it could, literally, be impossible and leave me and my post doc career in a puddle of inconclusive results and low self esteem. And let’s not forget another round of me telling my boss I couldn’t do it. I am searching for that fine balance of having some confidence it will work and yet make something really new and different and exciting so I can get it published, ideally in a big journal. Then come the accolades like a high citation count which is like the Oscars of science (“You like my science! You really like my science!”) which, in turn, leads to employment. Employment is good.

On that note, tomorrow I will bravely grab life by the horns and present my idea to the boss and order the chemicals. Semiconductor research, here I come!

Did you hear about the brawl in the Holy Church of the Sepulchre today? It made the BBC and the CBC news (http://www.news.com.au/story/0,27574,24627868-401,00.html) but didn’t even garner a glance by the media here. Apparently, Christians can’t even get along when they are completely surrounded by Jews and Muslims. This church is in the centre of the old city and is where the tomb of Jesus is and where he was resurrected. There is a church every fifty feet around the old city and the Mount of Olives. Yet no one knows for sure exactly where the holy events happened, and to me it doesn’t really matter. Do you think God would have forgotten me if I had never made it to Jerusalem? Aren’t the teachings the most important thing anyway? Apparently not to some, namely the crazies today and not to mention the crusaders.

Hold on, I am waiting for the lightning bolt.

They say Jerusalem makes you way more religious or way less. I’d say it is just making me way more sarcastic. I have to keep my mouth shut around here, so I am using this blog as an outlet.

By the way, I am sorry my posts have gotten boring the last couple of days. My life is working itself into a routine. Hopefully soon I will have something better to write about than work and dirty sponges. At the same time, my scalp has sprouted new grey hairs since I left for Jerusalem, so perhaps a little routine and boringness is in order.

Sunday, yom rishon

I feel much better now that I cleaned the kitchen, which incidentally is Kosher and I have been learning the rules. Captain Kirk is not so clean. I found a bottle of Cif, a.k,a. Vim, at the grocery store and used about 1/3 of it on a tiny kitchen. I got rid of some black sponges, bought two new ones and labeled them M for meat and D for dairy. Yes, being kosher goes that far. Now, I understand the kosher rules to be mostly about hygene, and of course avoiding the cruel and unusual cooking of an animal in its mothers milk. But the black sponges, despite one for meat and one for dairy, were unholy. They had to go. I am with the locals on this one, cleanliness is next to godliness.

The front loading washing machine is right now cleaning my unmentionables and the spin cycle sounds like it is going to lift off. Must go check…
Yep, everything is A-O-K.

Work is going well, I think. I have been reading for a week straight trying to figure out what material I am going to try to make nanosized. Every time I think I am close to a decision, I find more complicating factors which manifests as more hunting through the literature. Basically, I really don’t want to pick the wrong material to work on and a) waste good paper making time b) look like an idiot in front of the boss in one year’s time. Maybe I should just pick one and hope for the best.

A long post for a busy day

Today I fell in love.
I made it to the Shuk which is the key big market in the city famous for its abundance of yummy fresh veggies and fruits at bargoon prices. There were fruit I had never even seen before. Being the vegi-phile that I am, I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. Sadly, I had gone to the grocery in the morning and stocked up on veggies so I refrained. Don't worry, I'll be back. Weekly.

It was Friday (which is the new Saturday) so the place was PACKED before the Sabbath started at dusk. People were shopping and haggling, empty cardboard boxes were flying through the air, guys with trays of bread on their heads were heading through the crowd and men were yelling out their wares. The only phrase I understood was “banana, banana, banana!” I overheard two American women and one said “I can’t buy under this pressure! Too crowded!” I took this as a a challenge. I got cashews and some tasty chocolate filled croissants (7 sheck for eight!) and even a pillow. You can buy anything at the shuk.

This evening, I just went to my first serious Sabbath dinner at the neighbours'. Don’t ask me how I ended up there but it was an education. First of all, I realized as I arrived at the door with some other guests, that I was inappropriately dressed so I ran back to my room to change into dress pants and a suit jacket and heels. Even then, I wish I had a dark skirt. Amongst the religious, women wear dark skirts, white shirts with dark cardigans or a dark shirt. But they didn’t seem to mind my pants; Captain Kirk had warned them that I know nothing of Jewish tradition.

The neighbours and their friends were mostly ex-pats from England, Wales, Persia and even one from Toronto and were all very friendly and nice. Between eating, talking and running after the army of toddlers about, they answered all of my naïve questions. I quickly realized that these folks were intellectuals and knew their Judaism inside and out. Several were studying at what I gather is basically theological college, and one lady taught Jewish studies. One of the guys had studied as a cantor for two years. There was a lot of singing and he demonstrated the difference in music between two traditions of Judaism. One is influenced from the west (clearly in the minor key) and the other from the east (with all the warbles you would expect form middle eastern music) .

The angels were welcomed to the table (by song), we washed our hands, wine was drunk, hallah bread was eaten, the kids were blessed (more singing) and then soup and chicken and potatoes and rice and ice cream and apple crumble (my tummy was singing). Blessing came at the end of the meal (more singing), then we washed our hands again. The dinner discussion was varied but there were theological questions discussed. I asked lots of questions but wisely stayed out of character and kept any of my opinions to myself. Not that I really had time to digest what was going on and being said to have opinions. I now know about a medieval French commentator on the Torah. And why God put “h”s, or rather the letter ה, in Abraham and Sarah’s names. And what succa huts are all about. And why some men wear bug, fuzzy, hockey-puck shaped hats on the Sabbath. Don’t get me wrong, the conversations did not all centre around religion. One girl really wanted to know about electrons jumping around. She had loved chemistry in high school and was fascinated by my research.

Get this. The light was off in the kitchen and I finally figured out why. They forgot to turn it on before the Sabbath started this afternoon and so it has to stay off until tomorrow at dusk. No flicking switches on the Sabbath.

Anyway time to crawl into bed. Nothing will be open tomorrow so I will sleep in and then work on my Hebrew. Good night. Lyla tov.

My Map Stinks

Every newbie to every city has a perpetual look of intense concentration on their face. They are either a) trying to visually memorize everything so they don’t get lost b) trying to figure out where they are c) trying to figure out where to go d) the look is not from confusion, but from indigestion problems resultant from changing diet.

Lucky me, I have not had a problem with d) but have frequently had the look of a, b and c. And I discovered this morning that it is not all my fault. My map sucks.

I bought a map from Chapters before I left. All of the street names are in English (which is fine ‘cause all of the street signs are in Hebrew and English), but the map is only of the very centre of the city. It is missing lots of important stuff, which has been confusing enough, but I have been learning to deal. But this morning, as I was making my way to Captain Kirk’s, I noticed an even bigger problem with my map (and the source of my geographic confusion about the university): IT IS MISSING A FOUR LANE HIGHWAY that runs past the campus. Now, I can forgive the odd typo. But a giant highway? I have attached a pic (courtesy of wikipedia) to emphasize the absurdity.

You may be wondering why the maple shekel has not been posting her own photos. Well, because as some of my stuff was in transit across Canada, some reprobate halfwit pilfered in one of my packages. The handy little cable from camera to computer is now gone along with my computer satchel, USB camera, life jacket, frying pan, and three copies of my transcript. It is all just annoying. When I buy a new cable/card reader there will be more photos, I promise. In the mean time, if you see someone wearing a yellow life jacket, video chatting with a T-fal frying pan, hit them over the head with the frying pan.

Oh and two posts in one day? This one is for you Mel.

To boldy go...to Kiryat Moshe

In a few minutes I am leaving to meet Captain Kirk to see if I can rent a room in his apartment for two weeks while I wait to take possession of my apartment. I wonder if he will speak like he types. You be the judge from his emails:

DEAR JANET... I WONT BE HOME TILL 9 PM THIS EVENING...
PERHAPS IT WILL BE EASIER THURSDAY MORNING BEFORE 10 AM...
I LIVE AT 58/2 SEDEROT HERZL IN KIRYAT MOSHE...

and a later email:

DEAR JANET...
9:30 AM WILL BE FINE... SEE YOU THEN...
BEST WISHES...

GERSHON... SHEMESH

See? I think Gershon Shemesh must be Hebrew for William Shatner.

Food and Housing

The maple shekel has found a place to live! YEA! However, I don’t get to move in for another three weeks. I think I am going to move back to the Austrian Hospice in the old city and hang out with the Nuns for 23 US bucks a night, rather than the 70 I am paying here at the Belgium House/ Faculty Club place.

The chicken and I will be living in Talbieh, on the top floor of a 4 floor apartment building. We have a great view of the city, two balconies, two big rooms and a kitchen, and not to mention a piano. Since I couldn’t be bothered with a TV, I will be spending a good chunk of my time playing the ‘ol black and whites and torturing the neighbours.

On the way back from my meeting with the new landlord I strolled my way through campus to have a four star meal. I carefully chose from the vending machine menu my entré (cookies to go with the plain yoghurt in my fridge). Mood lighting came from the street lights along the campus pathway which did not dull the view of the city from our lofty campus perch on the hill of Gi’vat Ram. The flower arrangements were provided by the two trees with the giant stinky flowers that look like cream coloured trumpet bells pointing to earth. Dinner entertainment was provided by the territorial maneuverings of the highly educated and very abundant campus cats.

How, you might ask, is Janet of the legendary gut sustaining life on such a meager diet? Do not fear, dear reader, for campus food is subsidized! For the cost of Ho-Ho’s special soup, I am chowing down each lunch time on a giant plate meat, veg and carb at the cafeteria with my like minded labmates. If cafeteria food doesn’t keep the weight on, nothing will.

Do fatigues make me look fat? Maybe I ate too many Bamba Crisps.

Israel is a nation of immigrants. Sound familiar? And just like Canadians, most of their favorite foods originated somewhere else. Instead of our culturally hijacked perogies and roast beef, Israelies have taken hummus and falafel as their own. We immigrants don’t steal everything. By our very nature we are enterprising, creative and adventurous folks even when it comes to food. We Canadians can be proud of the Nanaimo bar, butter tarts and everything maple (including, this here blog, the maple shekel!). Recently, I discovered a uniquely Israeli treat: Bamba crisps. Looks like a cheesy but instead is peanut buttered flavoured. Sounds gross? Not so. Those suckers are strangely addictive. I’ll be sure to bring some back for you to try. My lab mate invited me over for a gathering with some friends on Saturday and introduced me to Bamba Crisps and some of the other local chemists and significant others.

I am giving them a cultural education too. After hearing a local correctly use the phrase "your cup of tea," I felt it was necessary to teach them a better phrase: "whatever floats your boat" They were amused by the rhyming.

Going to a new place and meeting new people is, at first, about finding similarities in your experiences. The littlest things can be the beginnings of a conversation (and hopefully, friendship) like milk being sold in bags, the common experience of horrid exams, and great chocolate cake recipes. Today, I unexpectedly discovered that my rather surly labmate, who swears he isn’t a nice guy, loves the Trailer Park Boys.

My lab mates have lead very different lives than my own – far more than the city-country split I have been living with for a decade. Every single one of them has spent at least two years in the army (many more than three) and consequently, they are all at least a few years older than you would expect for their education levels. I am one of the younger people in the lab, and yet I am the post doc. Which goes to show their dedication to getting a graduate degree. Frankly, at 29, I am pretty much done with this living in near poverty and school business. And yet, many of them at my age are at the beginning of gradschool.

No kidding, I was a wordless observer to a nonchalant conversation today amongst my academically inclined colleagues about which weapons are easy to fire. What was I to say? My gun experience is limited to shooting a BB at a margarine container in Ashley’s back yard when I was fifteen.

I can’t imagine being forced into anything, let alone the military (I am not so good with taking commands), but they grow up knowing this is part of life and it seems to be perceived as a rite of passage towards adulthood. In fact, I feel a little left out of the club because I didn’t spend time in the military. Oh well. Maybe it is for the best; the Chicken tells me I don't look good in cammo.