Lugholes #2

The setting: A conference meeting in Zurich on computational models in astrophysics. It's the end of the third day and the discussion section on the presented talks has just started.

Chair: So today's results can be summed up as "Your simulations suck!".

Audience member: Don't you mean, "Our simulations suck!"?

Chair: No, no, I mean your simulations suck!

Audience member: Okay. Just so long as we clarify that.

And so begins a debate on one of the oldest topics in the world; are girls really better than boys? Oh, wait, no, I mean the other longest debate... particle codes or grid codes?

[An hour later]

Chair: So what we're really saying is it's all the observers' fault?

[Mass cheering]

deja vu

Elizabeth: Excuse me, do you sell marzipan?
Supermarket assistant: Um. What exactly is that?

*sigh* I think we've been here before. I didn't attempt icing sugar.

Live and learn

It was the labor day of the undead. Until the early evening, the campus had been eerily quiet, like something out of '28 days later'. Not a soul moved, except at Starbucks which was operating as normal. Now, finally, students were braving the outside, hoping the zombies had all left. Either that, or they'd just rolled out of bed. As I walked across campus, I spotted a figure on a skateboard heading towards me. Since the road he was going down was not on much of a gradient, he was slaloming across its whole width to keep momentum. 'Hmm' (I thought) 'that looks somewhat dangerous. Oh well, I guess you live and learn.' As the student came into clearer focus, however, I noticed his arm was in a plaster caste. So I guess, sometimes, you just don't.

Lugholes

Jonathan:"There's usually one morning of a conference where I'm just too tired to go in."

Elizabeth: "Wait, there's only one day left of this conference and the talks are on galaxies!"

Jonathan: "Well... there's always the bus."

Elizabeth: "I could just take your car."

Jonathan: "You don't have the keys."

Elizabeth: "You'll be unconscious. I'll steal the keys."

Jonathan: "I'm hiding the keys."

Message in a bottle

Genuine question at the star formation conference (asked to Mordecai): "If you could put a message in a bottle and send it back to a star just forming, what would you tell it?". Answers in a bottle.

Homotubiens

Florida... an idyllic spring runs through thick green trees and brush that form a leafy canopy above the cool clear water... at least, it's rumoured to be clear. On Saturday, however, every last square inch was covered by a person in a bright yellow rubber ring ("tubes"). This could well have been due to the radio broadcasts in the preceding week that said "Heat wave! Temperatures due to reach 110 F. IF YOU WANT TO LIVE, SUBMERGE IN WATER!" Well, okay, I'm paraphrasing, but clearly the whole of Florida took the same message as me and headed straight for Ichetucknee Springs. People swimming, people tubing, tubes with 1 person, tubes with 5 and some tubes with no people at all. While there was a distinct lack of turtles and other wildlife, there was still plenty of biology to observe from the Homotubians themselves. Darwinism was seen in action as groups of teenagers dived head first from the overhanging trees into the water. Whether any of them lived to re-emerge is impossible to say... though there is the issue of the empty tubes. Occasional pile-ups had to be avoided as one tube would get stuck on a log causing a crunch of yellow inflatable plastic ending in a few limbs sticking out at odd angles. A photo would have been great, but it probably would have been the last my camera ever took. At the end of the run, tubes were piled onto a cart and the homotubians onto another to be wheeled back to the car park, where yours truly exposed herself to all nearby traffic in an effort to get out of her swimsuit. But really, integrated over (a shockingly short) time it was no worse than half the bikinis I saw.

Stranger in a strange land

So it's been three years since I moved to the US and, largely, I feel I know my way around; traffic comes from the right, to relieve yourself you ask for the restrooms and if someone says they like your pants a "costume malfunction" has not (necessarily) occurred. However, occasionally things still throw me, normally involving activities I don't do often. Like baking a cake. I have a recipe. I have a shopping cart. How hard can it be? Eggs, no problem. Flour, no problem. Caster sugar... ah. No where to be seen. When I ask a friendly shop assistant he looks blank and asks me what exactly that is. Well, really, I don't know! It's called caster sugar and goes into cakes. I know no more. A phone call to a friend results in the question 'isn't it just finally ground sugar?'. It's a better guess than mine and the packet for that had a carrot cake recipe on the back. Near enough. Then we hit 'mixed spices'. These don't exist either, but hey, I've got some nutmeg and cinnamon. I'm sure that'll do. Finally we run up against sultanas and glacier cherries. Are sultanas different from golden raisins? I thought they looked near enough. I then cornered some dried cherries which I'm sure will make do - at the very least, they are the right fruit. The contents of all the above is now in the oven. As for the eating... I'm taking it to a pot luck which is strangely appropriate.

An apple a day...

... is sometimes not enough. So after a week of sheer denial I had to eventually admit that this cough was not going to vanish with a few generous helpings of vicks cough syrup. So feeling irritated that any bacteria would have the audacity to infect me, I walked into the University Health Centre, made a noise resembling a jet engine taking off and casually mentioned that I probably ought to see a doctor. Today. After repeating 3 times that I was a postdoc (I mean, I know I have an accent, but that ain't a difficult word) and them peering suspiciously at the health insurance card that represented the pile of bucks I'd been feeding in that direction every month, they informed me that they didn't care about dying postdocs, only dying students and anyway they didn't accept my university-administered health insurance. I gaped, coughed (very much in their direction) and went out muttering curses about the American health system (needless to say, I've avoided the building ever since). So I returned to lab feeling almost immeasurably sorry for myself and phoned (yes, it was desperate times) my health insurance company who told me I'd never registered with a doctor. Hmm, oops. To be fair to them, they were very pleasant, tried very hard to help and were also very much based in Texus so didn't have a clue where the nearest place I could go to was. They muttered something about Glencoe. I've never even heard of Glencoe. But really, I live on Manhattan island. Statistically, just based on the number of people, this place should be packed with doctors. All with addresses that start street X avenue Y. But according to my health insurance's records, they are in fact all hobos. So I go hunting on the insurance's website, trying to find a doctor that would (a) take new patients (b) take my health insurance and (c) have free appointments that afternoon. Not very likely? No, I didn't think so either. But amazingly, incredibly, I found one. A lady down on 65th street whose secretary really only spoke Spanish, but that was a small barrier to overcome. So down I went, clearing carriages on the subway with the jet engine cough, and staggered into the surgery, coughed again, gave them my insurance card and bless them all, they sorted it all out! The only final surprise was when I went in to see the doctor she was about 70. However, she did a grand job as she held onto me for support while tottering from my right ear to my left one. Muttered 'bronchitis', peered at my weight on the scales and issued me with a weeks course of antibiotics. Now all is well and I even have a doctor, providing she lives. But then, she only has to make it until October. And the moral of this tale is, as my mother pointed out, register with a doctor before you get sick. But really, who'd have guessed that was going to happen....

For the price of a cup of tea

'The Life Pursuit' by Belle and Sebastian has just become my all time new favourite album. It's surprisingly upbeat for B&S, as my friend John commented, it must be all the wads of cash they're making nowadays. Would cheer me up!

...and counting

8 billion, 743[*] job application submitted, 912 still to go.... Am trying to maintain sanity. And eat more vegetables.

[*] figures may be figurative

American birthday

Due to the American format for dates reversing the day and month sections from the British day/month/year design (a far more logical system, incidentally. You increase in size in the UK, days being smaller than months being smaller than years, see?), I'm confident that on at least half my official documents in the USA I've registered my birthday at being the 7th December instead of the middle of July. To celebrate this, I held an 'American birthday' party at my apartment on Saturday. We went with a seasonal Christmas theme that included chestnuts and mulled wine, both of which were treated with suspicion by the natives but then devoured enthusiastically. In the above photo, I'd been informed that 25 candles was far too many to light (!) so we went with 12 1/2. But really, anything that involved cake could only be extremely good. In the early hours of the morning a last rendition of the robot dance was performed to the Beatles 'Lady Madonna' and a swift count of the empty bottles indicated a job well done. Many thanks to Suhdi for the cake and the beautiful earrings, Naomi (pictured above) for holding the cake while I made a wish and giving me chocolates, Emily for reminding me to breath and everyone else for coming and making it a great night!

Hufu...

... the healthy human flesh alternative. All true: http://www.eathufu.com/ . I was kindly shown this website by a friend just as I finished my (until that moment) delicious looking dinner. Not one to begrudge sharing the wealth, I swiftly circulated the site throughout the astrophysics department at Columbia and anyone else who was unfortunate enough to be on IM at the time. In fact, I said I'd be serving Hufu at my party on Saturday. One said friend, Edd, upon being shown the website remarked 'oh yes' in a sufficiently knowing kind of voice to make me determined never to accept any morsel of food from him again.