Big Mouth

Well, it pays sometimes to be a big mouth.

Yesterday the Boss invited a veritable god in our field to attend group meeting where we each presented four slides on our research. This guy was in town as a plenary lecturer for the NanoIsrael Conference which started today. I was amazed that he was able to comment intelligently on every project in the group despite his horrible jet lag from California and the mind-numbing three hour length of our group meeting. Although he had some really insightful things to say, I disagreed with his view of one of my labmate's systems.

So I opened my big fat mouth and told him so thinking maybe I had always misunderstood something.

In the entire afternoon, I was the ONLY person in my group to actually be brave enough to engage in discussion with the guy. The guy's cranium is intimidating but isn't that all the more reason to ask questions?

But then as I was laying in bed last night going over the days events, I started to second guess myself. Did I come across as a know-it-all? Or as a jerk? Was I not supposed to say anything?

However, today my fears were put to rest. At the conference mixer, the Nano God escaped the gravitational pull of his ever present orbiting admirers and I suddenly found myself standing next to him after some speeches. I must not have come across as jerk in group meeting because he started chatting me up. My ego is slightly flattered and I was able to ask him about is Nano-Army research group and some science stuff.

But true to the form of science and my luck, pride comes before the fall. Although I got to talk to a nano god, I got not one but two scholarship rejections this week. These were the last ones I could apply for and part of me is glad that this particular type of rejection torture is over. I ask you this, does everyone else's job have rejection like this too? Would my life be more stable if I had gone into something else? I feel like I am constantly in the ringer looking for the approval of others: reference letters, scholarship applications, peer reviews, poster awards, invited talks, even hits to my little blog...
At least the nanoparticles are impartial.

Disappointment in the Lab

I ran the controls this week for that really cool thing I did last thursday. The great result was complete hooey and the neat thing I saw was only from the surfactants that surround the particles (like big down coat).

I had to tell the boss, who like me is disappointed, and I have to tell you as well since I got all of the Maple Shekel readers hyped up. But this is why we do controls NOW rather than later. This way I only have to be humiliated to my friends and the boss, and not the entire scientific community.

This, my friends, is the way science goes and I am officially back to probably-not-that-smart status.

In other news, the Chicken is sick in bed with a bad cold today, so everyone send him warm thoughts. They will waft across the ocean to him like the fumes of Vicks-Vapo Rub off his congested chest.

Magenta

Israeli women don't go grey. They go magenta.

Thirty seconds on a busy street will reward
you with at least a half a dozen fine examples
of this curious aspect of Israeli womanhood.

A New Varriation on Cats Hiding Between the Straw Bales

Last night we went grocery shopping at our favorite discount supermarket and to celebrate my success in the lab, decided to splurge on a cab and a ten dollar bottle of red plonk for tonight's shabbas dinner.

While in the toilet paper section in the back corner of the store, contemplating cost versus chafing, I heard an odd noise for sanitary paper.

Meow.

Hunh? I thought I must be going crazy.

Meow.

Nope it really was there. Deep within Mount T.P. was a cat crying for release from its two-ply prison.

Much to James' embarrassment and amusement, I decided to dig the cat to freedom. Out from between the packages scampered a black kitten, which promptly skidded around the corner and was last seen headed for the canned goods section.

Here is a pic of me rebuilding Mount TP with tears of laughter rolling down my face.

Update: A Very Rare Day

8:26 AM
I crawl out of bed on the first day of the weekend and notice there is an email from the boss which he sent at a quarter past seven this morning.

A Very Rare Day

9 AM
I felt gross on my walk to work with a bit of a tummy ache. I am grumpy and a little out of sorts. Then I came close to tearing a labmate a new one for hoarding chemicals. Beyond that, I am angry at my other labmates for just plain existing. I am doing my best to be a little ray of sunshine on the outside, but on the inside I am as mean as a thistle.

1 PM
I ran an experiment on the cool particles I made(but I can't tell you what they are) to see if they did something (but I can't tell you what that something is). The result was very good news.

I feel excited and very relieved. In November, when I read papers for two straight weeks, I convinced the boss we should work on this one material. On the inside, I had no idea if it was going to work at all. I was terrified that would spend all of this time making the particles only to have them be useless. Today, I got proof that my idea wasn't completely off the mark. Whew, I am not a complete idiot!

3PM
Just put on another experiment that is so gutsy, it will never work.

Two seconds later I got a call from the boss. "Janet, what is going on !?!?!!" That man has spies everywhere. Of course he wants all of the possible experiments done NOW. But just like me, he will have to wait.

5 PM
Holy Horseshoes Batman! The gutsy experiment? IT WORKED. Wait till the boss hears about this one.

5:30 PM
Boss has just left after droping by to see the results. "This is very exciting" he says. And wants a million experiments done NOW.


5:32 PM
Boss comes back in my office 'cause he is "too excited about this" and wants to discuss it a bit more.

5:50 PM
Boss calls from his car on the drive home to talk more.

6:10 PM
An example patent shows up in my email in-box. Guess what I am doing this weekend?

6:45 PM
Boss calls me again to tell me of a control experiment I need to do. I decide to sleep tonight with the ringer on my cell phone turned off.

Irony on the River Jordan

The Sea of Galilee is a big stop for water traveling down the Jordan River on its way to the Dead Sea. A the North end, where the river feeds the Sea we stopped the car on the side of the road and checked it out the river. On the banks were a few fishermen watching the river go by. Several people, mostly Israelis, were getting out to walk the old bridge and road and there was even disheveled ice cream truck. I loved the marshy unruliness of the place. Before I leave I would like a chance to go back and spend my own time watching the river go by.

The south end of the lake, where the river drains the sea was another story. Instead of contemplative fishermen, on the bank was a modern center for full body baptismals to which busses of foreign Christians were flocking. Baptismals, i.e., holy dips in the river, were free but the white smock was not, nor was the kosher restaurant serving vodka as a special. As well there was a glitzy and overpriced gift shop decorated with pictures of baptized people in orgastically religious states. As well you can get video of your baptismal set to Pachabell's cannon in your choice of DVD or VHS. Around the wheelchair accessible baptismal sites were amphitheater like seating areas but you could also enjoy the view from outdoor cafe tables where you sip your four dollar coke or cappuccino.

Curious if I went for a dip? That rite of passage happened for me long ago with plain ol' Muskoka water. Plus there were giant fish swimming in the baptismal areas and a horse corral disturbingly close to the other bank. But don't worry; I am not all cynical about the place. I did fill up my water bottle for my infant niece. When she is older perhaps Vivian will think it a neat thing that she was baptized with water from the Jordan River.

Dumpster Cats and the Odd Duck

I have been doing my best not to nit pick at the hubby too much, but he hit a whole new level of Odd Duckiness this weekend.

The Chicken has an odd obsession with the numerous Dumpster Cats of Jerusalem (his Calendar will be out in time for X-mas). We will be walking to work and then all of a sudden he will disappear. I know now to look behind me and I will see him talking yet another picture of some mangy cat. Admittedly, some strays are an amusing part of our daily lives and consequently, Theo-cat-tra, Cat-tom and Prego-cat will get their own post in the future.

In our photo album, interspersed with great pics of our adventures, are many, many photos of dumpster cats. James went out for a walk today and came back all excited about his latest photo-shoot with the urban wildlife. He takes photos of all aspects of their being: sunning themselves, fighting, eating chicken scraps from the garbage, but today he photographed in a brutally honest close-up and in perfect focus, two cats making kittens.

I am l little disturbed to say the least. He swears it is for educational purposes only and then giggles. I have decided NOT to put the offending photos in this post but if any of you want a biology lesson or know a good shrink, please send an email to James.

The Crowd we Pushed Through with our Groceries

On our walk to the Grocery store, Ulpan or the market, we walk past the Prime Minister’s house. We walk past traffic barricades, watch tower, countless cameras and half a dozen dudes wearing earpieces and carrying assault rifles. I always make an effort to say Shalom to those guys and have been known to wave and smile at the guy in the tower. We also walk past a tent dedicated to Gilad Shalit. There was a substantial crowd by the tent today with a carnival like excitement, complete with a decorated Volkswagen beetle, motorcycles and the media.

A few years ago, stationed near the border with Gaza, Shalit was kidnapped and scuttled across the border. Ever since then, there has been pressure on the Prime Minister to make a deal to get him back. The pressure has been increasing of late, since the government is about to change to a more conservative one and it is reaching the 1000 day mark since his kidnapping.

The latest rumour is that Israel has offered 1000 prisoners in exchange for this kid who wasn’t even anyone important. Just a regular soldier. Probably not long out of high school doing his army service like all of his friends. Although the pressure to have him released is mounting, there is also pressure from the families of fallen soldiers and victims of rocket fire from Gaza not to release any “killers.”

A Hamas big wig had this to say in January: “Shalit may have been wounded, and he may not have been. The subject no longer interests us. We are not interested in his well-being at all, and we are not giving him any special guard since he is as good as a cat or less.” Hamas is really good at talking smack.

So many things about this bother me. What does it say about how these two cultures value life? and martyrdom? How do they value the lives of each other? And then you have to ask the question, where and how did Israel get 1000 Palestinian prisoners? Who are these people? What are their stories? How did they become prisoners?

Is it a smart move for Israel to trade 1000 prisoners for one soldier? I fear this will only endanger soldiers more by setting a precedent for the value of a kidnapped soldier. Only a few weeks ago another cross-border kidnapping attempt was foiled.

I am so glad I was born in Canada and have lived a life without much violence. Of my ancestors who immigrated, we have been lucky that many of their old world conflicts have for the most part fizzled out. Irish Protestants get along with Irish Catholics. French and English bicker rather than brawl. We don’t ever want Canada to be in a situation like this one. I have decided I have something to say to all Canadian immigrants; please leave your baggage at the door. I know this is especially hard to say to someone that has been shot at or even maybe lost a child in a missile strike. But trust me. It is better in the long run.

I don’t know what will happen to Gilad Shalit. But I can tell you this: he is no longer just another unimportant soldier. This story has reacted iconic status.

Procrastinating on Purim

The lab is silent except for the whirring of the glove box pumps and whoosh of the fume hoods. Today is Purim, and most of my lab mates are taking advantage of the mid week holiday to chill out with their kids and/or nurse a hangover.

Purim is the only holiday where Jews and expected to dress up (like Hallowe’en) and get drunk. All week we have been seeing kids dressed up like cowboys and jedis going to Purim parties. If you want to know the religious meaning of the holiday, check out the book of Ester. Basically it is a celebration of avoiding a much earlier biblical Holocaust.

This is the funny thing, in most of Israel, Purim was yesterday but for some strange reason, in walled cities like Jerusalem the holiday lies a day later. So yesterday there were lots of silly hats walking around campus and the odd princess or shepherd costume even though the holiday is officially today. I wonder if there will be more celebrations tonight since today we saw two guys on the street in a fro and a jester’s hat.

All night, music was pumped though our window. And when I say all night, I mean it. At one point I heard the dawn call to prayer and the music was still playing. I was awake because it was on of those awful nights where my mind races about possible catastrophes in the lab caused by me. “Did I unplug the heating mantle? I remember pushing the off button. I think. Maybe I have started a fire. But I would have noticed the smoking mantle before I left. Did I leave the solvent wash bottles near it? Should I walk to work? No, it should be off….”

When I got into work this morning, the heating mantle was unplugged and sitting benignly in the fume hood. Staring at me. Mocking me. I need a nap. Maybe I can take one on my desk since no one is here.

Look up, look waaaaay up!

On our driving explorations of the Northern Golan, we visited the castle, or rather, fortress - not of The Friendly Giant, not of Nimrod of legend, but of Arabs defending trade routes from the Crusaders.

The falsely named "Nimrod's" fortress sits over 1000 m above the Sea of Galilee with a commanding view of the deep, green valley below. Although all of the structures have some level of damage by earthquakes, we happily spent over an hour exploring the complicated floor plans of the remaining standing structures. We even found a two-story circular staircase that seemed to lead into a dark abyss but instead rewarded our tentative and groping decent into the depths with nooks with slit windows for archers. Such was the architecture that I expected someone in full plate armor to come around the corner and I would have to defend my self with only my water-bottle as a sword and my back pack as a shield (The Chicken need not help- I never was the damsel in distress kind). The place was complete with moat even though the natural steepness of the hill would deter any invading army.



Sadly, Jerome the Giraffe did not poke his head though any of the windows to hear me read a story but I will be contented that I explored the castle with The Chicken. Unlike Rusty, James was not half in the bag at the time although we passed Israeli sightseers on the way out who were.

Gone to the Galilee and the Golan

We started our weekend warrior adventure with a two and a half hour bus ride after work to Tiberias on the Sea (lake) of Galilee. This was followed by a night at a cheap-but-clean hostel and a morning heralded by a rooster.

We had planned to bike around the lake but then I vetoed the 67km bike ride in 30 degree heat. So we splurged and rented a car for two days. It was terrrifying at first, the thought of driving with the Israeli nut jobs behind the wheel, but the Chicken did an A1 job.

A tour around the lake is a visit to one biblical spot efter another. FYI, Mary Magdalene? She was a good ol’ small town slut. Magdala still looks to be less than 1000 people. Meh, in a small town like that, she probabably just got caught kissing a boy behind the hockey rink and was forever marked by the town gossips. My favourite spot was the Church of the Multiplication of Loaves and Fishes which had an amazing mosaic floor depicting local birds and flora. The floor has lasted near two thousand years and many conquerings by people who don’t really care. In a close second was the Mount of Beatitudes which had an amazing view of the lake and the plushest Convent I have ever seen. The well manicured gardens and grounds made me think this is exactly what my Mother-in-law would do if she was in charge of a holy site.

The next day we purposefully got lost on the backroads criss-crossing the hills of the Golan in the very north of Israel. We figured as long as we didn’t see a sign that said “Welcome to Syria” we were OK. The hills of the Golan remided James of the hills of the British Isles. Rocks and grass and cows. We were lucky to be there when the wild flowers were out dotting the hills with purple red and yellow. No getting out to prance in the fields and pick them, though. Many areas had barbed wire and orange signs warning of land mines.

Did I mention fruit? The valleys were full of fruit farms for oranges and bananas and the great middle eastern invention: apples. I was tempted to get out and pick bright and beautifully ripe oranges right off the trees, but there were often big fences or even forboding rows of giant prickly cactuses to keep hungry tourists like me out. The Sea of Galilee is the major source of water for much of Israel and irrigation is cheaper and easier the closer you are to the lake.

Everywhere there were signs of people of other times. We explored ruins of towns that were two thousand years old, crusader forts and even Roman temples to Pan, Zeus and some dancing goats.

There are so many things to write about and comment on that I have decided to put them in other posts through the next little while. Be prepared for such fascinating topics as “Irony on the River Jordan” and “Nooky in the Nooks of a Crusader Castle” (G-rated).

Sodium not Postassium, people.

Every chemistry grad student knows a story about a fire started from a solvent still. Every time we hear a story we are reminded just how dangerous stills are, despite their ubiquity in synthetic labs. Until today, I have only known people who have been lucky.

I returned to my office this morning to find James, sitting at my desk waiting for me, totally white in the face. He had just seen a girl come running down the hall in her underwear completely black. She got under the safety shower and then turned red from the first degree burns covering much of her body including her face.

For those of you who have no idea what a still is, imagine about three liters of organic solvent (think gasoline or turpentine) that you have in a funky giant piece of glassware. Often you add chunks of sodium or potassium that react with any trace water in the solvent. Stills to prepare dry solvents are necessary for reactions that are sensitive to even the tiniest amounts of water. In the modern scientific world, this means most synthetic chemistry. Usually the danger is when you are trying to get rid of a still, or “kill” it. Safely reacting away any extra sodium or potassium has to be done with real care since you can easily ignite the liters of solvent.

It seems she had done everything right: killing the still first with isopropyl alcohol, then methanol and finally water. But if you have a potassium based still, the reaction with water is very violent and if there is any left, you will ignite the solvents. This is what happened upstairs today.

Here is the lesson for the day: use sodium, not potassium. The reaction is less vigorous with water. And make sure you toss a big stir bar in and stir all of the white stuff up to make sure there is nothing left before you do the final water step.

This is your safety lecture for today. Play safe.

An Interview and Big Plans for the Weekend

I am going to be famous. I was interviewed by a reporter from the Red Deer Advocate because I am an Albertan living in the Middle East. The questions were all things the town busy body would ask: Are you afraid of Suicide bombers, did you feel unsafe during the recent conflict with Gaza, how was first moving here…
My favorite question was “Do you think Albertans should visit?” to which I answered “Absolutely they should visit. We have an extra bed!” He laughed and said he wouldn’t publish that. Regardless, all of you reading this blog are friends and family (I think) so you should take the hint!

So those of you in Red Deer (Bryan), keep an eye on the paper!

The most exciting thing is the weather forecast, (I know pathetic). After two meteorologically miserable weekends, this weekend is going to have the Israeli version of a Chinook. Hot dry winds coming in from the Sahara will bring the temperature up to 27 C. James and I are headed to Tiberias to bike around the Sea of Galilee, which is really should be called the Lake of Galilee. I plan to show my Muskoka roots and take advantage of the hot weather to go for a swim.

I am very excited to go on another adventure and spend my weekend doing something other than staring at our blank walls.

A day of Breaking Things and Getting them Fixed

We got the window fixed this morning before work. While Uri the glass dude cut the new pane to the right size, his side kick, Mr. Smashy, got rid of the old glass and decorated the floor with all the ancient putty. Fifteen minutes and 190 shek later (no worries-the landlord is paying for it) James and I now have a much less drafty apartment.

By the way, the window blew open because the latch doesn't work. Some idiot painted over it. Any suggestions for getting it working again?

I had my first session on the HR-TEM alone today. All was going well until a couple of hours in when the computer started getting really slow. And then the PC had a conniption fit and completely froze and then I heard the unmistakable sound of the column valves closing. That is TEM speak for the microscope going into the fetal position and sobbing. I was freaking out thinking I had done something wrong and hurt the million dollar thing. I had to tell the formidable Russian HR-TEM lady that something had gone horribly wrong. The way my labmates speak of her, I was expecting a real smack down. Surprisingly, she was OK with it and just got down to the business of rebooting the computer, talking nicely to the microscope and getting it going again. No damage was done but I decided to quit for the day while I was still ahead.

The rest of the day was spent much like yesterday: monopolizing two computers in the nanocentre with papers spread everywhere, moving between different types of data trying to figure out what exactly it was that I have been making. The going is slow since the crystal system is super-dee-duper complicated, but I now have a working hypothesis to take to the boss tomorrow. Yippee!

Just before leaving the nanocentre, while scrubbing my environmentally conscionable tea mug, I dropped it in the sink and broke it. Good thing I stopped working on the TEM when I did.

But don’t worry, my day got made when I checked the mail this evening. Waiting for me was a post card from Tofino from my kayaking buddies. How did they know I had been looking at the trip pics on Facebook and feeling really sad?!!? Thanks guys! Your postcard is proudly displayed on the fridge.