schaackmobile

Family and Just Like Family

2011-12-28T23:12:00.000-08:00

So, I have been feeling really grateful for being here lately-- perhaps because of the holidays, and the unfamiliar ease with which that meant I got to see family this year. Our traditions have shifted away from presents entirely to annual handmade Christmas cards, of which I am posting a tableau of this year's bounty. It was so great to be in Eugene with them, enjoy a nice meal, and enjoy the acting of giving someone something you've thought about and concentrated on just for them.

In my apartment, the art and photos have started to go up. I realized recently-- I don't have any art for art's sake. Not one piece. All my decorative wall hangings are of sentimental value-- made by friends, painted by family, photos, pieces brought back from far off places. At first, it occurred to me that this might be seen as bad, since I am not putting things up because they are great, I am putting them because they are important to me. Then I thought I about something I heard recently-- that when you own art and put it up, you cease to really look at it. So then I thought my sentimental collection of the decorative arts might not be such a bad thing afterall....

Here's one example: the yearly group photo from South Haven where my family spent the summer each year since before I was born (this one taken in the summer of 1972 predates me-- my mom is in the black scoop necked shirt with my father standing slightly to the right of her). Once I came along, these folks become my aunts and uncles, cousins and friends. I love this picture because it reminds me of those days, and the many of the extended families that have been so important to me in the various places that I have lived since then. So, although I am very, very happy to be near my family family, the many kind people I have met in Portland so far are just as clutch for my happiness-- I am grateful for both.

Like a Phoenix

2011-12-10T20:54:00.000-08:00

Schaackmobile (the blog) triumphantly returns. Schaackmobile (the lifestyle) is still on hiatus, as I slowly spread the tentacles of my existence from the smallest room in my apartment. Schaackmobile (the album), like Wilco (the album), is still just a glint in its mother's eye.

As of late, I have taken over more of the apartment, and even have all the art and photos unpacked and perilously leaning against boxes and walls as I figure out what half of my colorful collection will decorate the homestead and what half will decorate the other homestead: my office. Ahhh, the office. Where have I been this semester? In my office. I decided to trim the hedges in terms of activities so as to optimize the chance of survival this semester, and guess what-- I am giving the final on monday! That means I have survived intact and that blogging, and other highly superfluous activities, might be okay to re-introduce into my daily regimen, one by one.

Back to the inaugural comeback blogpost: I am excited to share the revival of yet another long-dormant pastime: Hwatu! (pronounced like it's spelled)
I threw a party last night, and a colleague in the Chinese department who is actually Korean brought me a gift! A set of cards to play the Korean card game Go-Stop-- a very fun gambling game that I learned from an old friend, Franklin, many years ago in Spain before the abandonment of the peseta for the euro (pesetas were great for very low-stakes gambling as they were worth a fraction of a penny and you could end up with quite the jingle-jangle in your pocket by the end of the night if you played your cards right.) Playing your cards in the game of Hwatu, however, involves animatedly slapping them down on the table and yelling expletives in Korean. Or at least that's what Franklin told us. And so we did! Not having any real idea what we were saying and horrifying Korean-Americans who would overhear our exclamations when we played the game in cafes to pass the time... I am eager to re-learn the rules and host a game soon.... the cards are beautiful (pictured here, with my latest coffee table book) and the fact that I am actually thinking about using the living room means my case of Stockholm's is almost cured. Wanna come play?

Sunshine Feeding Daisies

2011-09-13T21:26:00.001-07:00

Where does time go? Seriously!

Last I wrote, I was settling into Portland life and getting ready for classes to start. Well, they started, and the settling in continues. I moved into my sweet bachelorette pad, only to be struck with a mild case of Stockholm syndrome-- which is to say I lived, with all of my belongings, in the tiny half-bedroom off the bathroom for the first month, rarely venturing into the rest of the apartment. After 3 years of living small, I was in love with it, and spreading out though an entire apartment had little appeal. In the last week, I have convalesced to the point of sleeping in the actual full bedroom, but I still haven't sat on the couch. I suppose it is not a bad thing to have loved trailer life so much, is it?

Classes have started, though I am not teaching until the second third of the semester. While I can, I am writing and finishing grants, preparing to teach, reviewing a paper, meeting students, doing faculty-esque type things, and trying not to let any of my colcollaborators down to terribly badly. I also am having a little fun. I went to Seattle and inherited a ton of Daphnia gear from my relatively-new-but-have-know-him-a-long-time friend Brooks Miner. He lived in Seattle with his wife, Anna Coogan (a very talented singer-songwriter) until last week, hence the need to run up there and get the goods that will launch my new lab.

This past weekend I went to my dear friend Steve's wedding in Council Bluffs, IA-- home of the almost famous squirrel cage jail, which I meant to go see but didn't. Next time I go to Council Bluffs! Steve and his wife, Kelly, are fellow Lake Weekend attendees and the two of them, in addition to their many other wonderful qualities helped make this year the Year of the Human Pyramid Trick! Instead of just your run of the mill double head stand (which we did do, of course-- Rodenbeck on the left, me on the right), we went for the whole kit and caboodle this year and involved a whole crew in the quest for better tricks (Kelly bottom left, Steve on top of her; me bottom, right with Rodenbeck and his Herculean grip keeping the 2 tubes together, Turpin on top of us, and Shane as the flyer). I think we made it look easy. I assure you it was not.
The wedding was very fun, and I came back exhausted. Despite that, I couldn't miss out on a chance to go see John Prine with my family last night in Eugene, so I hustled down I-5 to meet them and catch his show for the first time, and it was SO fantastic-- I cannot recommend it enough. And if you haven't listened to your John Prine albums in a while, dig 'em out. And if you don't have any, email me and I will send you some. He is a charmer. And an old guitar hand from Bloomington who I have seen many times, Jason Wilbur, plays lead guitar for him so it was fun to see a familiar face in a new place. Given that John Prine's songwriting is solidly grounded in the school of 3-chords (maybe 4) that I also adhere to with dedication, it is a special pleasure to listen closely and focus on the lyrics, from which the title of this blogpost was taken. Absolute poetry, and the stories he told in between, mostly about where the songs came to him from, were so funny and interesting. My mom, my sister, and I all loved it and-- to our collective surprise I am sure-- kind of loved seeing it together. Serenaded by John Prine for the evening... can't ask for much more than that.

Last thing-- tonight I went and saw that amazing play, The Method Gun, that I blogged about last year after a quick trip to Austin. It was amazing, again! So much so that, after it was over, and the cast came out for their second bow and then ran off stage, I caught wind of them (ltierally) as they ran behind where I was sitting to go backstage and recover after the performance. I turned and caught two of them-- tapping them on the shoulder (the very handsome ones, just by luck)-- and had the pleasure of paying them this compliment:

I said, "I've gone to two plays in the last 5 years." One of them paused quizzically, and said "...Yeah??" And I said, "And they were both The Method Gun." We high fived, and they continued their trot back stage. See it if you can.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

2011-08-25T19:30:00.000-07:00

Those of you who know me well, know I have kind of a problem with legitimacy. I am just not *that*. I am not boasting. At best, it is a blessing and a curse to be so ill at ease with words and notions like suitable, appropriate, stable, constant, reliable, predictable and expected. This discomfort clashes, of course, with the fact that I now have a "real" job, and very real students (who can easily find this blog if they for some reason want to-- trust me, you don't; it's not that exciting, and I have the distinct feeling that a job as an assistant professor isn't going to make it *more* exciting). Anyway, as a lover of illegitimacy, I don't really know what to do with myself.

I guess I can always catch everyone up on the post-Africa part of the summer! When I landed back in the US, I had the pleasure of hanging out with my dear old friend Jocelyn, her sweetheart Eddie, and their son Xander. During my visit, we went to Eddie's brother's Will's niece's Serenity's birthday party (just about as complicated as it sounds; add to that when Will's brother's Chris's fiance's daughter Joshana met me and asked me how she and I were related! I had to do some figuring, but was very delighted to be so thoroughly included in the family's event.) In addition to the party, which was a blast (thanks for inviting me Eddie!), we also hung out at the beach and on the porch of Jocelyn's Aunt Lynn's house in Marblehead which is full of amazing art made by her Uncle Connie (see photo-- this is one small stain glass in a nook in a stairwell that, with mirrors, appears to be a column of light-induced beauty right in the center of the house). Yes, you heard me. Uncle. Connie. It's a long story. But he was an amazing artist and the visit was absolutely wonderful. Lynn is a bottomless fountain of energy, fighting (in the most positive sense possible) for justice, community, a cleaner environment, education, and empowerment every single day. She is definitely one of my role models, and made a big impression on me when I met her for the first time during college. The conversation with her that first struck me so has been rattling around in my head a lot this year, so remind me to tell it to you devoted reader, the next time I see you. Thank you, Jocelyn-- for your longtime friendship and the tentacles of friendship you've extended from me to your family and vice versa.

After Boston, I went to a conference in Maine (insert work rigmarole here) and then flew to Chicago to visit my favorite extended family members (my Aunt Linda, Uncle Gary and Cousin Bonnie) and my old high school friends (see picture below) and their kiddos. From there, I hitched a ride to Indiana to spend some time at the old homestead. I stayed with my dear friends Claudio and Michelle and their newborn, Sofia and got to get some quality time in with my favorite holdovers in Bloomington. That place is still dear to me, I must admit. I drove from there with a U-haul to Lake Weekend, known to all devoted blog readers from last year, and the year before that.After the glory of Lake Weekend (write me for tracklist or mp3s of this year's awesome lake cd if thou shalt want), I started the long drive west. It included a small fender bender (and fantastic hamburger) in Kansas, a visit with John, April and Zora in Fort Fun, Colorado, and a surprise visit to my old roommate from high school in Logan, UT. Yes, it is amazing the propensity for visiting and nostalgia one can tap into when one is driving with all one's belongings cross-country to start one's legitimate life after one's really fun and variable illegitimate life has resulted in the bounty of awesomeness that one has enjoyed so far. Really, for someone not very sentimental, it was a very sentimental summer.

After all that-- I got home. To Portland, OR. To my new apartment (the bachelorette pad, photos to follow) and my new post at RC (I'll use that code, so as to prevent blogposts here from coming up in the typical google search for the college).
May I present: my office, my digs, my western claim, my attempt at semi-legitimacy, my de facto home. As always, come visit.

The Rest of the Story: Mt. Kenya

2011-08-10T09:43:00.000-07:00

I am an embarrassment to bloggers everywhere. The summer's travel consisted of 7 countries, 8 states (not including the ones I just drove through, some of which were substantial drives-- like Wyoming [the long way]), visits with about 2 dozen friends and lots of their babies, a conference, a swing by Chicago to see the fam, a purge and pack up of the house in Bloomington to end that era, and (believe it or not) a fair amount of work. I arrived back in Portland late last week happy to be home and tired. My friend Dan from Dallas (Dallas, OR) came to help me unload the U-haul into my new.... apartment. Yes, lady and gentleman-- the schaackmobile-as-dwelling era has also come to a close, at least temporarily. I am renting a renovated basement apartment on campus at Reed and will be living a legitimate brick-and-mortar lifestyle for the next few.... well, for a while. What does that mean for the blog??? I feel some kind of moral blogger obligation to change the name if I am not actually living in the trailer anymore. Then again, blogger morals seem highly malleable to me and I am sure there is a way to make this comfortable for everyone. The question I keep getting asked is-- what are you going to do with the travel trailer??? The answer: what most people do with them... I am going to use it for travel. And thus, the schaackmobile will live on as my vacation home. Or mobile lab unit. Or urban retreat. Or guest house. Or all these things. We'll see how it goes, I will keep you posted as its fate emerges. And there you have the workaround-- how better to keep you apprised of the schaackmobile's fate other than to maintain it's self-titled blog? Blogger morals be damned.
Enough rationalizing. After the workshops, Andrew (the student traveling with me) and I went up Mt. Kenya for a last hurrah in equatorial Africa. I tried to climb this beautiful mountain for the first time in 1995, but was thwarted by a variety of circumstances that, at the time seemed amusing, and now looking back seem really unbelievable. Perhaps it suffices to say that during my first attempt, I never actually saw the top of the mountain because it was socked in by clouds and and bad weather. The only picture I have from that trip is me and my 5 compatriots standing by a tarn at about 16,355 while it was snowing. This picture (above) was taken at about the same altitude after our only flirtation with bad weather during the entire four days. The mountain, the ascent, the hiking, the vegetation, the rock, the weather, the company, the gorge, the hyrax, and the thrill of summitting were all awesome. Go if you can.

Me and Jimmy at the peak at sunrise.

Was nicht ist, kann noch werden

2011-06-25T00:34:00.000-07:00

The title of this week's (month's?) blogpost is a quote from a woman I met while in Berlin who was, in turn, quoting an old german saying-- it translates to 'what isn't yet can still become'. It struck me very acutely when she said it, and it has somehow become the unofficial mantra of my summer. (The other unofficial mantra I adopted for the summer, but earlier on, was "It is just going to be fine." Typically applied to disaster or near-disaster conditions.) I love this phrase, and its meaning, and having come back to it often thought it might be nice to share it with my devoted readers. Both of you.
We are halfway through the second workshop and it is going as well as the first, though with twice as big a group there has not been the chance to bond as a group as much as we did in Uganda. At the end of the Uganda workshop, we took a group photo as is customary at scientific meetings and working groups-- though of course in this case we had to take two. One East African style (no smiles, that is the custom for official pictures here; left), and one Western style (smiles all around; right).
Here in Nairobi, the participants are also a wonderful group and working hard. Although we are based in the city, the folks originate from all over the country and it has been fun asking them about where they hail from, how and when they arrived in Nairobi, and how often they get to visit their families. This map I found through the UT-Austin library was made in 1974, but it is cool because it not only shows the major cities in Kenya, but also the tribal majority in each region. At times, tribalism in Kenya has caused major problems because the artificial lines drawn during the colonial era pay no attention to the major differences in culture, language, and way of life that exist between tribes. These days in Kenya, however, things are peaceful. And though the Kikuyu represent the majority in this area, I am still getting to meet and know people from all over the country and continent in this amazing city.Last time I was in Kenya, I moved around the country a lot (I think I have been in every region shown on this map, by ethnic group, except for perhaps two of the smallest ones). This time, however, I mainly am on campus at the University or working from my hotel, so it is cool that the diversity of the place comes to me in the form of the participants who've arrived here from all over for the educational opportunities. It is SO different being here as a scientist rather than as a student, and I am not used to the legitimacy of it all yet. In addition to spending less time hitchhiking (see a few old posts for some of those stories), I give many more talks and take many more showers (so, perhaps not all bad depending on your point of view). As I wrote, I am hoping to get up Mt. Kenya at the end of the trip to fulfill that now ancient goal, but in the mean time I am actually working hard and hoping to create opportunities here that will lead to a sustainable, long lasting exchange with my East African colleagues and friends. This is something I have hoped for for a long time, and it is exciting to think: that which isn't can still become. Napenda sana sehemu ya dunia hiyo, na ninataka kurudi tena na tena kama nikweza. (I love this part of the world and I want to come back again and again if I can). Halafu labda siku moja naweza kukaribishwa wote hapa kunitembelea Afrika ya mashiriki badala schaackmobilini. (Then, maybe one day I can welcome you all here to visit me in East Africa instead of the Schaackmobile). Ni kubwa kuliko kwangu. (It is bigger than my place.)

Participants hard at work in the workshop at the Unviersity of Nairobi.

Round Two

2011-06-19T09:24:00.001-07:00

We are back in Nairobi. The workshop in Kampala was fantastic. The participants were so great, we got so lucky with electricity and internet, and our hosts did such a nice job, that I could not have asked for more on any front. In fact, it far surpassed even my doubly-wide optimistic hopes for how it might go. Part of that was because of how the group emerged from its chrysalis after the 2 weeks—we started off a collection of strangers and ended up a group of friends. Not only did I not know the participants beforehand, most of them did not know each other, and now I think they really feel they have a new battalion of professional and personal resources in Kampala as they pursue their research and career goals. I certainly feel that way, and I am grateful to them for so fully engaging in the workshop and making it a success. Above is a picture of the main building on the Makerere University campus, and on the left is the Dept. of Zoology where we have made our home the last 2 weeks.

The other thing I am grateful for is the fact that motorcycles (called bodabodas in Uganda, and pikipikis in Tanzania and Kenya) are taking over the major cities and towns of East Africa. First of all, I love motorcycles and (of course!) scooters. Second, they make so much sense here. The urban planning initiatives are a bit behind the population growth, so if you want to get anywhere in a reasonable amount of time, you are better off walking or taking a bodaboda (a small glimpse of which is shown here, but you have to imagine them in absolute fleets during rush hour! the Hell's Angels would be proud.) They allow you to enjoy the breeze while swerving in and out of standstill traffic, occasionally chatting with other passengers at intersections-- both of you cheerful because you are going to get where you want to go on time and in style. The women often sit sidesaddle (skirts, you know) and there can easily be 3 passenger and a driver on one vehicle if everyone's comfortable with the arrangement. Of course, they don't just transport people, but charcoal, sacks of fruit, slabs of meat, and all the other things one also sees delicately slung over the backs of bicycles and the heads of men, women, and children when you keep your eyes open. Anyway, bodabodas (and their drivers) made life in Kampala sweet in yet another way the last two weeks, and I am grateful for them too.

We arrived back in Kenya yesterday about midday, and I think it was cool to see Andrew (my teaching assistant and a recent Lewis and Clark graduate) come back to something familiar. I could sense how good it felt to him to land somewhere and feel like he knew the place, and I am happy that our itinerary ended up in a way that had us both start and end in Nairobi. I was sad to leave friends (new and old) in Kampala, but happy to return to a place where KiSwahili is the norm. I had learned basic greetings in Luganda (the unofficial official language in Uganda) and bought a Luganda-English dictionary at the airport on my way out, but it definitely made me realize how much knowing the language is a key part of the intense happiness I feel when I am here. So, it feels good.
As soon as we arrived, I turned around and headed to iHub, a technology innovation center here in Nairobi, where I had arranged to give a talk on the longer term goals I have for bringing bioinformatics and genomics research to East Africa. It is an amazing little hive of activity—they have highspeed wireless internet and provide a place for techies and hackers to program, focusing mainly on mobile phone applications that can help empower, connect, and inform folks in this part of the world. Over my head for sure, but the openness (and emphasis on open-source-ness) made me think that maybe I could inspire some techies to join forces on a bioinformatics and genomics initiative. I was right! A group of about 10 of us got together to talk, listen, and brainstorm yesterday for what turned into over 3 hours. It was fun, and exciting, and (as you have come to expect) I am really optimistic about the possibilities that will come of it, perhaps much more quickly than I had dared hope. The longterm goal is to get a regionally relevant whole genome sequencing project off the ground where the idea, sequencing, annotation, and energy comes from here. The field of bioinformatics and genomics research is quite a democratic one, with a real emphasis on making data and tools free and accessible. Thus, it is an area of science that could and should be doable anywhere, and I want to help make it doable here.

Enough about work! It’s Sunday, and I am enjoying a day of rest after 2 very busy weeks have wrapped up and 2 more very busy weeks are about to start. If that doesn't refresh me, I can always call Dr. Karim, I saw his ad today while out and about....

Kibale National Forest

2011-06-14T05:04:00.000-07:00

We survived week one of the bioinformatics and genomics workshop unscathed. It is a bit of a miracle, but so is the fact that this is my job. How lucky am I? Extremely, extremely lucky.

Let me back up. I left off at a roof top in Arusha. The five days spent in TZ were bliss for me as I love that country and its language very much. I also love my dear friend Abbas, who I had not seen in 5 years and with whom it was just as easy to pick up mid-sentence in KiSwahili as it would have been with an old friend from Florida in English. He is warm and generous and smart and open—like many Tanzanians I have met, and it was so fun to pick up where we left off and even take a day to go out in the bush looking for spiders (it was not unlike some of the other diverse expeditions we have been on together, like the day we went to go looking for a magic boy). We found spiders. Tons of them, actually. And it was really a hoot looking and inciting the curiosity and then assistance of mainly the Maasai in the areas we were looking. The Maasai are generally very thoughtful, and extremely observant; somewhat disappointed, as well, when the many spiders they offered up simply weren’t the right kind. It was kind of fun explaining to them that there are 43,000 species of spiders, and we were looking for one of them—Loxosceles rufescens. While looking, we saw probably 40 other species, plus scorpions, millipedes, beetles, horned grasshoppers, ants, worms, zebras, elephants, baboons, blue monkeys, and tons of birds. But alas… Still fun looking though, and hanging out with Abbasi.
From Tanzania, we flew to Entebbe—a town near Kampala (yellow star on the map), the capital of Uganda, on Lake Victoria and home to Makerere University—the host institution for the first workshop I am running in bioinformatics and genomics here in East Africa as part of my post-doctoral duties at L&C (I know, tough work if you can get it, huh?) Last weekend (before the workshop), I went to see the national football (=soccer) team (the Ugandan Cranes) play soccer in a stadium literally buzzing with the sound of 35,000 vevuzulas. This weekend, I am heading west to where I worked as a graduate student at the Univ of Florida (12 years ago!) when I spent an absolutely amazing summer in Kibale National Forest (see heart on the map) doing my field research. I lived with 3 friends from FL in a house at the station that summer, just down the road from the permanent project houses (my advisor and her husband, working on fish, chimps, and plants and Richard Wrangham’s chimp house; see this older post for more on that). There were so many great things about that summer, I don’t know where to start my description.

Lauren in the papyrus swamps.

First, there was my walk to work: 5 km each way through the most beautiful, dense, luscious forest descending gently deeper and deeper into the park until we arrived at a pair of swamp sites [Njuguta and Rwembaita] where I was collecting data. “We” was a team that included various people day-to-day involved with the fish projects, but which always included myself and my field assistant, James Apuli. James is a treasure of a human being, and our long days together that summer were something I cannot speak of highly enough. He was the best assistant, acrobat, problem solver, conversationalist, data collector, and friend I could have asked for... and I get to see him on Saturday! It has been way too long. What else was great about that summer? Well, there was the day Scot and I spent stalking elephants, there were the frequent dinners spent playing Celebrities and eating cabbage rolls, there was the week long retreat to Lake Nabugabo when the rebels came into the park, there was the party for Tammy when I put in the butt implants, there were homemade cookies from Amy’s private stash of chocolate chips, there was the trip to the village doctor for the mango fly infection, there was Fry Night every sunday, everyone getting and using a traditional Rotoro pet name, sampling at the Crater Lakes, black and white colobus monkeys dripping from the trees outside our house, expected and unexpected visits from friends and colleagues, trips to the market for food, faxes, and supplies, and a really, really fun dance party at the end of the summer, that came up right away in conversation when I met up with Jackson (my old friend from that summer, and now a lecturer in the Dept of Zoology here, my colleague co-hosting the workshop, and fellow Uganda Cranes fan). As you can imagine, although I spent almost no time in Kampala that summer (our one day in town, we headed to nearby Jinja to raft the Nile), it is great to be back in another region where I have such fond memories. Mostly, I am grateful to Lauren, my advisor, for giving me that opportunity, even though I am quite certain I was a huge pain in the butt to mentor or try and keep tame. After completing week one of two of the workshop, this weekend we are off duty and I am heading west to see her, … and the swamps, … and the field station, … and James Apuli. I can’t wait!
[By the time I got a chance to post this, I was already back from Kibale, and therefore able to add pictures from the trip to illustrate my excitement about going there in the first place! ]

Me (Abwoli) and James (Apuli) at the research station after 12 years apart.

Safari Imeanza Mwishoni

2011-06-01T02:18:00.000-07:00

One would think that a trip to multiple continents, myriad countries, with the chance to see umpteen friends would result in mucho blogging—but who has time? The last two weeks (could it be that I was in Portland two weeks ago?!?) has been so full, so rich, so delicious, so nourishing in so many ways, I hardly know what to say about it and have had little time to sit down and try. But here I am, at the rooftop bar at the Kilimanjaro Backpacker’s Hostel in Arusha, Tanzania right where I belong. It is evening, the sun is shining and has burnt off almost every last cloud of the waning rainy season save for a few wisps atop Mt. Meru. The bar has a breeze that, combined with the sunshine, makes this the most perfect weather for any activity that doesn’t involve snow. The busy intersection below me offers plenty to look at when I can’t bear to look at the computer screen and work, and the sounds and smells that emanate even when I am not looking are probably what I missed most while away from this beautiful place. But I am skipping ahead too fast. I left Portland and was delighted to find out I had actually booked a nonstop flight to Europe—lucky me! I arrived in Amsterdam, caught a train to Paris, jumped on the metro, grabbed a second train to Poitiers and met my dear friend Clement in what is going to serve as his new hometown. Quite conveniently, it isn’t that far from his old hometown, the one where he grew up, and several other places that one would be lucky to call their home along the SW coast of France and an island just off the coast called Ile de Re (a view from a cafe in one of the pretty harbor towns). We spent 5 very relaxing days enjoying the good wine and good cheese and good conversation that France has to offer. It was the closest thing to a real vacation I have taken in a while (I even got too much sun and drank champagne) and I am sooooo glad to have had the chance to visit him and forge the beginning of a new chapter of our friendship, not as post-docs in cultural exile (north Texas), but enjoying the more delectable fruits of the new places we have landed. It was my first trip to France for more than a day or two passing through Paris, or dipping down on the French side of the Pyrenees, and I am excited to go back. Delicious.

Another high speed train took me back to Paris, so I could catch a flight to Berlin—a city in a part of Europe that I have never been to and that, to be honest, I knew very little about before arriving. I still don’t know *that* much, but at least now I know how much there is to know and how much I want to know it. Berlin is spectacular—beautiful, also delicious, interesting, intense, and very different from any other city I have been to on the continent. Although my motive for going was mainly to see my dear friend Britt, the coolness of the city was a huge bonus. As was getting to hang out with other friends at the WIKO (pronounced wee-ko) institute where Britt is based for the year (a very cool think tank-like thing where thoughtful people form disparate disciplines get together for a year to exchange ideas. Yup, that’s it in a nutshell. They *have* to eat lunch together and drink lots of wine on Thursdays, and other than that they are just supposed to learn and discuss and think and write. Doesn’t that sound fun? It is! Even just for 5 days!) In addition to the WIKO fun, my other dear friend GP came for the weekend from Liverpool. We didn't do much touristy stuff, but we did go to a few memorials (like this one at a train station where they shipped Jews off to the death camps-- very subtle but each grate shows the train departure date and the number of people shipped so it really gives you a sense of this terrible time).

Like France, the trip was full of too much awesomeness for the short time I was there, but at least I am glad I got to have a glimpse. Britt also is starting a new job in the fall, and GP just started his—so lots of conversations about how we are all going to pull off settling down, being legit, these kinds of things. Any tips on that, welcome.

I flew from Berlin back to Amsterdam and caught my plane to Nairobi. I sat next to a Kenyan woman the first half of the flight, so got to grease the oh-so-rusty wheels of my kiSwahili before landing. I arrived in Nairobi and caught a taxi to the YMCA—the same place I stayed 16 years ago when I was last here. Happy to report—it hasn’t changed a bit! Except for the addition of a small cyber café, the Nairobi Central YMCA appears to be one of the constants in the universe. Nairobi, on the other hand, has changed quite a bit. Many new buildings, many fewer holes in the road, much tamer matatus, lots more kiSwahili being spoken, and EVERYONE with a cell phone in their hand or held to their ear. These were my first impressions and they were good. I was eager to start walking around and soaking things up—my east Africa battery has been running on empty for a long time (last trip was 2006) and it has been hard to wipe the stupidly happy smile off my face since I got here. More on Nairobi and the trip to TZ overland soon!

The view from the roof of the Kilimanjaro Backpacker's Hostel in downtown Arusha.

A Mother's Day Limerick or Two or Three

2011-05-07T22:12:00.000-07:00

Things are starting to get busy as time hurtles by faster and faster until next Friday, when I will enjoy one of the most wonderful feelings I know-- when the plane door closes and you know there is nothing else you can really do for about 2 to 12 hours, depending on where you are going, other than nap and watch movies. It is so freeing, especially after the hectic chaos the precedes almost every one of my trips. On Thursday I had to go get the last of my gigantic battery of vaccines and was caught in traffic just long enough to snap this picture from the interstate-- beautiful mountain views tame road rage like nothing else.

Mt. Hood, keeping watch over the city of Portland.

On Thursday night, I gave another public science talk at the Science Pub series I have been praising the last few months, with which I have been really honored to be affiliated when I think about how great some of the other talks are that I have seen. The last one was a book reading by a Portland-native named Rebecca Skloot from her recent history of HeLa cells and their donor, Henrietta Lacks. HeLa cells are the immortal cell lines now cultured in labs all over the world which were derived from a cervical tumor that killed the woman from which they were biopsied in the 50's. The cells were co-opted for research without her knowledge (or her children's knowledge) and many, many important discoveries have resulted, including things like the polio vaccine (which I just got). I haven't read her book, but what she read out loud was really interesting, so I would recommend checking it out if you are looking for a page-turner summer science read as it really straddles topics ranging from medicine to ethics to race. I was troubled a bit by how demonized scientists (as opposed to, say, biotech companies) were during the Q&A, given that few dorky scientists I know are getting rich off their research, but still a really interesting story and an excellent crucible for many of the interesting issues surrounding human health research and the idea of the greater good. If Henrietta Lacks were still here (and in some ways, she still is), I would want to wish her a hearty Happy Mother's Day given all that her amazing cell line has done to save lives.

My recent Science Pub was in Eugene this time so that I could also visit with my family (see below). When I arrived back in Portland, I made a brief stop at Reed for their annual end of year festivus, Renn Fayre. This celebration started off as an actual renaissance faire, er...fayre, back in the day and marked the big accomplishment all seniors at Reed must achieve, which is the turning in of their final thesis drafts to the college by 3 pm on the Friday before finals. Promptly at 3 o'clock, said seniors burn copies of their thesis in a giant bonfire and a weekend of bacchanalia ensues. Nowadays, the renaissance part doesn't exist-- there is a different theme every year, and the events include many, many varied traditions that have accumulated over the years and seem to involve a healthy dose of nudity interleaved throughout the festivities. Here you can see the seniors congregating to burn their theses as a kick-off to the weekend's events.

Last but not least: You know you've been blogging a long time when you have annual events on your blog, like the now-traditional mother's day limerick post, which I encourage you to participate in if you desire so that perhaps we can convert it to an annual mother's day limerick slam. To celebrate how happy I am about being in the same geographic region, here are a few to get the limerick slam tradition started:

My mom's a great friend on the phone,
Better listeners, few I have known,
But now that I'm here,
It's easier to see her,
'Cause we both call Oregon home.

A generous spirit and heart,
With a gift for jewelry and art,
Not without flaws,
But she paints and she draws,
And, thus, many gifts she imparts.

And finally....

It's been great being so close to my fam,
My mom, as you know, is a ham.
She thought it quite funny,
To dress like a bunny,
But since Easter has been on the lam.

Happy Mother's Day Mom! Keep on keepin' on!

Oneonta Gorge, Luck, and Stupidity

2011-05-02T11:09:00.000-07:00

It is springtime in Oregon folks, and that means lots of erratic weather and as much hiking as possible. Last week I bailed on going to work one morning when I emerged from the trailer to mount my mighty steed (Almira, the pedelec) only to have it start hailing. I sent the lovely lady in the office next to me an email and asked her to post a note on my door to alert folks that I was not going to be in the office til later due to bad weather, and the result was what I would call fine art:
Today, yet again, I am working from a coffeehouse down the hill instead of going up the hill on the bike. But it is not hailing today. Today, I am at the coffeehouse with my feet up because I am stupid. Here is what happened....

My hiking partner Volcano Jim suggested we seize the day yesterday and do a hike called the Rock of Ages on the Oregon side of the Columbia Gorge. It is an amazingly beautiful trail that climbs steeply up a rocky ridge, past a gorgeous natural arch (view of the the Columbia through it, on the left) up onto a forested plateau past literally countless waterfalls. There is some exposure, lots of minor creek crossings, a river cross, and there is still a bunch of snow on the top of the mountain-- in addition to being ~11 mile loop. In other words, not a quickie hike, but perfect for the first 70 degree day of the year. Hiking in snow in a tank top is sublimely refreshing and stretching out in a meadow with mountain breeze and sunshine for lunch is one of life's greatest pleasures. There was clover everywhere-- giant almost mutant looking clover actually, that couldn't help but make one feel just lucky to be there. In short, it was bliss. About 8 miles in, on our descent, we came to the largest river crossing of the day and I decided to hitch my day pack a little higher than normal and take my shoes and socks off to wade across the waist-high stretch of river just above a small waterfall of the Oneonta Creek (the creek is idyllic, and has cut-- albeit slowly-- through the rock to form a really cool, really narrow gorge uniquely named the Oneonta Gorge, below right).

I tied my shoes together and slung them around my neck and stepped into the icy water. 'Wait,' I thought-- 'this is stupid. If I slip and fall, my shoes could strangle me as I go over the falls. I'll just sling them over one shoulder.' And so I did. And then I took another step deeper into the river, leaning forward looking for a foothold for my poles, and my shoes slipped right off my shoulder into the water, over the falls, into the foam, never to be seen again. Also stupid.

Crapper! Walking barefoot is for the young and uninjured. Ever since I shattered my ankle in a tragicly (also stupid) skateboarding accident in 2002, I don't enjoy walking barefoot. Not even indoors. Not even on carpet. I don't know if it is that the ligaments just never really healed right or what, but my foot feels wobblier than normal feet. Regardless of why, my love of a footbed and sole is deeper and wider than the Oneonta Creek. Jim gave me his socks and generously volunteered to hoof it double time down to the trailhead and grab his third string running shoes (size 11) from the car and bring them up to me. But the sun was starting to set, so it made sense for me to also try and get down the trail as far as possible while it was light. I cut off the bottoms of my pants and bound the front of my feet as much as possible and headed down. Luckily, I probably only had to walk a mile or so on the pine-y (yay) then rocky (nay) path before Jim had made it down the 3 miles, and back up the 2 miles to meet me with a pair of shoes. Bless you Jim! Size 11 men's running shoes never felt so good!

We made it down to the car as twilight turned to dark and about 2 hrs later I was cleaned up, cozied up, in the trailer with my feet up. A bit bruised and blistered, but overall not bad. As my friend Greta said, it was a great day to lose one's shoes in the gorge! Lucky me!

Good deed doers, good witches, and good bands

2011-04-12T22:21:00.000-07:00

I don't know if naming my bike after Miss Gulch from the Wizard of Oz just has me thinking about that childhood cinematic favorite of mine or what, but I was struck this weekend by the wonderful number of good deed doers I encounter. Remember when the Wizard (after he gets found out) says, "Back where I come from there are men who do nothing all day but good deeds. They are called phila... er, phila... er, yes, er, Good Deed Doers!" I don't know any philanthropists, per se, but I did encounter 3 good deed doers in about 3 hours on Saturday night.

I had been planning to go see a band called The Rural Alberta Advantage all week. They are FANTASTIC (you can learn about them here)-- so fantastic, in fact, that my assumption that a band from central Canada would be unlikely to sell out in Portland was very wrong. As a result, I found myself outside at 10:20 pm on a chilly night asking everybody who came by if they had an extra ticket. After about 40 minutes of this, the box office attendant (who had been trying unsuccessfully to ignore my pathetic campaign) couldn't stand it anymore and with what can only be described as unfuriated kindness, he let me into the sold out show. I hugged him, against his will I believe. I offered to pay. In another pulse of aggravated kindness he yelled "Just go!" And I hugged him again. Good deed doer #1.

Once in the show, I was ecstatic to be there. The venue is small and good, and the band was just about to come on. I had time to splurge on a cocktail and locate my colleague who had mentioned he'd be there with a friend in front of the soundboard, which he was. The show started and it was GREAT, and my colleague bought me a "thank you" cocktail half way through for some recent teaching favors (as recently blogged, the bourbon sidecar has been my drink of choice when fancy libations are a must). Good deed doer #2.

After the FANTASTIC show (you can listen to them here), I wanted to go buy a concert t-shirt as I often (always?) do, but I didn't have enough cash for the cash only purchase. The nice lady selling merch for the band assured me they would want me to have it anyway, so I gave her what little I had, and went home with concert tee in hand. Good deed doer #3.

Roughly 3 hours, 3 good deeds, plus awesome music = very, very happy me. Which brings me to a second Wizard of Oz quote. When Glinda first meets Dorothy, she asks "Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?" because, in her experience, we are all one or the other. Perhaps true, in which case I want to be a good witch. I need to! In order to shower kindness on all those good deed doers out there.

Speaking of showering kindness-- the night before a student band at L&C knocked my socks off this weekend with their performance as winners of a recent Battle of the Bands at the college. They are called the Dancing Hats and they are absolutely delightful. You can hear them here if you like, but it doesn't do their live show justice at all. They had me (and 700 19-year-olds) in a jubilant fervor with their set. Thank you to them and the many kind strangers and not-so-strangers that made for such a splendid weekend.

Perdition Trail and a Another Flashback to 1995

2011-04-03T10:36:00.000-07:00

Last week's hike took us back to the nearby falls to climb a closed off section called Perdition Trail (if this is eternal damnation, I am all set!) It was raining cats and dogs, so I didn't take pictures, but I did find this one on the internet that I believe was taken by a guy named Scott over 10 years ago (based on the caption on his photo blog) which revealed that, even back then, the trail was closed off. Add 12 years of no maintenance, landslides, and rain, and you might be able to picture what the trail looks like now: these staircases are largely horizontal, and the overgrown vegetation provides loosely anchored handles with which one can pull oneself up the muddy sides of Larch Mountain. It was great! Definitely one of those days where loving hiking trumps all other emotions and good sense.
The rest of the week consisted largely of work, with some occasional sidesteps for play. It is really hard not enjoy the delicious abundance Portland offers up when it comes to food and drink. My neighbors Aasta and Stefan have turned me on to the happy hour possibilites (more for the food than for the drink) all over town which provide a fantastic opportunity to dine out on the cheap. This past week, for example, I went to a late night happy hour at a steak house and ate like a queen for about $7 (including steak!) My friend Esther came to town yesterday unexpectedly and we more or less gnoshed our way around Portland, one appetizer at a time, all evening. It is good that the hiking is so great and close by to offset how great and close by the happy hour specials are too.
In other news, I am starting to prepare for summer travel to Europe and East Africa in earnest. At the moment, this primarily involves daydreaming and chitchats with the travel clinic about vaccinations. I will be in Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania this summer to teach a couple of workshops in bioinformatics and genomics, while collecting spiders and caterpillars on the weekends for research. I cannot wait. It has been 5 years since my last trip there and my Swahili is getting rustier by the day. Those of you who know me well know there are few places I am happier than sub-Saharan Africa, so it will be great to get back. On my hopeful To Do list will be a return to Mt. Kenya-- one of the first mountains I ever attempted to summit (back in 1995). We were a motley crew and I was a very recently inaugurated climber, but somehow more experienced than most of the rest of the party. Towards the top, one guy developed altitude sickness and the consensus was to head down as a group (we *were* Earlham students after all) . Point Lenana (shown here, but not my photo) is the highest accessible peak with only one's feet as equipment, so I will head for there again if I finish everything I need to do and have a few days at the end of the trip to spare. Recently, I got a group email regarding that first trip to East Africa, lo' those many years ago. In response to it, someone sent out a picture that was taken of us at Lake Naivasha in November of that year (yours truly, front row, center) which has been such a fun trigger of memories from that time and a welcome seed for lots of daydreaming about my return trip.

Spring Break... Forever!

2011-03-23T19:20:00.000-07:00

Despite the fact that things are clearly on track to beat the current record (27 days of rain in March in Portland), I have been traveling so much the last 6 or 7 months that I was looking forward to spending spring break right here in Oregon instead of going someplace sunny, warm, or dry. Because of that, and the fact that I am so completely behind on work, I didn't think that if I went anywhere too far afield I would be able to enjoy it all that much anyway. But I did go for the customary weekend hike on Sunday-- this time to a local spot that is very popular with the tourists-- Multnomah Falls. It is about a 20 minute drive up the great Columbia River Gorge and the 2nd highest waterfall in the US-- very impressive and very beautiful in real life, but impossible to do justice to with a phone picture (here is one I took peering over the top looking down, but you can see others that don't do it justice here as well).The best thing about it is that-- despite the fact that there are TONS of people mulling around at the base of this waterfall (complete with gift shop, full parking lot, etc.)-- if you hike approximately 1 mile *passed* the falls, you will see only about 20 people, and if you hike any further than that, you might run into only one or two. Yet there are a bunch of trails up there, many of which are flanked by additional very beautiful waterfalls. One section we climbed, aptly named The Elevator Shaft, was a gigantic, steep rockfall that spanned roughly 1000 ft of elevation. I don't know when it happened, but long enough ago that all the rocks are covered in a think layer of velvety moss (nature's carpeting) which makes for super fun climbing. Once on top of Larch Mountain, there is a lattice of trails and a beautiful recently reconstructed lodge owned by one of the hiking associations in Oregon that, if I become a member, I can stay at and take visitors to! While walking around up there, we kind of let ourselves get a bit lost knowing it would be easy to get found, and stumbled on a stretch of trail where someone had hung christmas ornaments from the tree boughs. The whole day was full of these kind of delights, not the least of which was the 30 minutes of sunshine during our descent along the creek....
After taking Sunday off, I decided I needed to really crank on some work, but that since it was Spring Break, that could be anywhere! I decided to head NW of Portland out to the town of Astoria-- the oldest settlement in America west of the Rocky Mountains, and the site where Lewis and Clark first laid eyes on the Pacific Ocean after their long journey. (Here is my view of what they saw that cold wet day, although the bridge wouldn't be built until about 160 years later). Jefferson had asked them to "to explore the Missouri River, & such principal stream of it as, by its course & communication with the water of the Pacific ocean may offer the most direct & practicable water communication across this continent, for the purposes of commerce." And so they did!
Astoria sits on a cape overlooking the mouth of the Columbia river and the town exudes a terrific, strange charm. I hung out for a two-day work retreat (I cannot, in good conscience, recommend the hostel in town-- better to camp or pony up the dough for a real motel) and had dinner in the evenings with my friend Dan who was teaching a boat safety course there for the week. The town felt familiar, which I now realize might be because Goonies was filmed there, but originally it was mainly built on planks over the water. Signs scattered along the pier frequently refer to people fishing directly through holes in the wooden sidewalk prior to a couple of fires that devastated the town and canneries and forced them to dredge up the river enough to build houses and businesses on more solid ground. Now, like many other places in Oregon where the fishing companies have relocated and the timber industry has become largely automated, the major economic hope is likely tourism. In light of that, I am pretty sure this town of ~10,000 people had more museums per capita than any place I have ever been. I didn't go to any of them, of course, but I had a good excuse-- I was working! But I did thoroughly enjoy exploring the town on an evening walk both days-- long live spring break!!!

Landed Status and Gratitude

2011-03-13T17:31:00.000-07:00

The last few weeks and months have had friends and family, including me, a bit on the edge of their seats. It was not a blogworthy topic, as applying for jobs in my field is a delicate and difficult matter with lots of confidentiality and customs of what is and what is not appropriate to mention during the process. It has been a struggle to keep mum about it, because I love sharing minutia, and especially travel-related minutia, with both of my devoted blog readers (my mom and Ottke). But the moment of truth unfolded this past week and what was originally a temporary perch here in Portland is now going to be (I hope!) long-term: I accepted an offer to join the faculty at Reed College. Of course there is much to tell and discuss and explore about what this means career-wise and I am just as eager as anyone else to see how it unfolds (Reed is a fantastic and unique place, if you want to read more about it go here or here....) Personally, it is pretty simple though-- it means I get to continue being spitting distance from my family which I love and the mountains and rivers of Oregon will continue to be my playground when I am not hanging out with them or in the lab. I am so happy about this life and this work, it is impossible not to get completely engulfed in the cyclone of gratitude I have felt all weekend (part of which was spent cross country skiing yesterday at the base of Mt Hood, only about an hour away!) Between Volcano Jim showing me the routes up all the nearby mountains (pictured here on Dog Mtn after a particularly snowy ascent), my wonderful neighbors with whom I am about to make some undoubtedly delicious homemade pizza, and many of the other generous souls I have met so far in the area, I already feel spoiled rotten. As always, come visit! But now you can come visit anytime...

Rare Joys: Snow in the Valley and Playing Hooky

2011-02-24T18:17:00.000-08:00

I am a snow lover. Although there is a lot of snow up in the mountains here most of the year (as in this picture of Table Mtn I took from the top of Hamilton Mtn last weekend; Mt Adams is in the background off to the right as well), it is a very rare thing for it to actually snow in Portland. But today was a snow day! Since I didn't *have* to be up the hill, I stayed home to enjoy. It made me supremely happy to play hooky, as life has been very, very busy the last few months. When I was a kid, my dad would let me play hooky from school once or twice a year, and we always used that day to go on some kind of epic adventure around the city-- an all day bike ride, or a trip to some far away neighborhood where no one spoke any english. Given the amount of traveling I have been doing, today's adventure was staying home, being cozied up, watching gigantic snowflakes fall on the flowers that have recently started to blossum nearby, venturing out into the eye of the storm to get hot chocolate (as one is contractually obligated to drink hot cocoa when it snows if that is a rare event), and lolling about in a bunch of new ideas about where I might be and what I might do in the not-too-distant future (yes folks, it looks like it is time for me to get a real job). Not what most people think of when you say the word adventure, but a rare joy for me.

Science Pub Next Week

2011-02-09T13:05:00.000-08:00

Although all 3 of my faithful blog readers live outside of Portland, I figured I would mention my debut as part of the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry's Science Pub series next week on the off chance that someone would want to come. Science Pub is a lecture series conducted at bars all over Oregon where scientists from any discipline put together a jargon-free (or at least jargon-light), non-technical talk on their research and present it at a bar to citizens of the world interested in learning about science, while eating, drinking, and relaxing with friends. It is a brilliant idea, and really fun (having attended in the past, I can say this with confidence-- as for next Tuesday's, we'll have to see...) There's trivia at the beginning, and the winners get pint glasses with the Science Pub logo on them. My particular talk will be held at the Mission Theater-- an old religious center converted to a bar/music/theater venue at some point in the past that seats an intimidating number of people at 7 pm-- come if you're in the neighborhood! The title is: Promiscuous DNA: The Invasion, Spread, and Impact of Mobile Genes-- provocative, no? If you can't make mine, no problem-- but I encourage you to check future lectures out if you can. Pictures from the pub, now available here.

Who has Emily's kidney?

2011-02-08T18:24:00.000-08:00

Just back last night from St. Louis, where among many fun and interesting activities, I got to see my friend Emily McFarland. Emily is awesome-- she is hilarious, vivacious, successful, kind, interesting, upbeat, and delightful. She is so high spirited, you would never know from meeting her that she is actually surviving with low to no kidney funciton, has dialysis three times a week (for 4 hrs each time), and has been on the waiting list for a kidney transplant (for the second time) for over three years. Her positive attitude has always been awesome to witness, but some friends of hers have recently decided that positivity wasn't getting the job done. They decided to launch a campaign via social networking media outlets (Facebook and Twitter) for Emily's kidney-- which is currently in one of our bodies, just waiting to be united with the rest of Emily and her three current good-for-nothing kidneys. You can read some about Emily's story and that of other folks on the waiting list for kidneys in the US here, or follow Emily's kidney's charming twitter feed here, or become a friend of Emily's kidney here. But more importantly, if you are interested in being a kidney donor (the one you keep can more than cover the job! read about that here), call the Barnes Transplant Center at 314-362-5365 and they will get you information about screening and sign up. I am going to do it tomorrow. While I am at it, I am going to see if I am a liver match with my uncle. If there is a way to make organ donation trendy in Portland, I want to figure out what it is... maybe if it comes with homemade pickles, some craft microbrew, and artisan cupcakes. If you don't know Emily, that's okay-- but if you know (or have) what could be her future kidney, please call.

The City of Roses

2011-01-30T22:44:00.000-08:00

Life in Portland is sweet. I am so happy to finally be here for awhile and enjoy the fruits of this fine town, both literally and figuratively. As you know, one of the main benefits is being close enough to my family to not miss out on exciting events, like my sister's second art show that took place at the local night club in Cottage Grove, a small art friendly town where my mom lives about 20 miles south of Eugene. The bar is called the Axe and Fiddle and it is the kind of place you are as likely to find someone swilling tea as you are to find someone doing a shot-- people of all ages, surprisingly good bands, and an openness to community events that you just don't find at most bars. Like a young women's edgy art collective having an art opening, which is exactly what happened last Sunday. Because I am allergic to cats, instead of hanging out at my mom's place for the day, we spent the whole day at the bar watching it come to life as all the women hung their pieces in what served as the gallery space that night. Gen and Jerm arrived in time for one more scrabble game before the festivities really got underway, and I was just so proud and happy to be there in support of the event. It has made me smile several times since thinking of it....In addition to seeing the fam, going to shows (excellent effort by Jared Mees and the Grown Children last weekend, check them out if you are looking for something upbeat and fun to sing along with), and climbing small mountains (Friday's summit, Table Mountain, 3379 ft), I have been entertaining. Betsy McCabe (past inductee into the SHoF) came to Portland for her first visit to the City of Roses. She loves it. We went lalaing up and down the avenue looking at art and trying on one-of-a-kind handmade clothing on Saturday and treated ourselves to fancy dinner Saturday night (fear not, the chicken I ate was named Cliff and I was assured he was happy and fulfilled prior to being sacrificed for my dinner). Today we went to a bunch a vineyards SW of the city and (mainly Betsy) tasted wine. It was a beautiful sunny day which is also something to savor here this time of year, and Betsy did a good job of tolerating all the people who love my lemon yellow glasses so much that they ask me where I got them and to try them on (this has happened so much, that we actually ran into someone who I met last week, who loved the glasses, and asked to try them on while we were walking around town). The wineries are interesting and delicious, and after we had our fill, we came back into town so I could get a new raincoat. The sun won't be out forever and a girl has got to be prepared for anything in this town... like accidentally seeing an instrumental rock band with an electric mandolin in place of a lead guitar and a percussionist who can eke out a melody from baby toys (I caught them last Thursday, they're called Sneakin' Out-- very delightful) or stumbling on a painting of a bushbaby that you almost can't live without (by Julia Jasinski). All of this with a near constant threat of rain punctuated with soul-warming bouts of sunshine-- so happy to have you here in my new home Betsy!!!

On the Hunt

2011-01-21T17:33:00.000-08:00

Those of you who know me know that I am a pacificist. I have gotten into several arguments over the years regarding my belief that war fundamentally creates more problems than it solves, and that however inevitable violence may be, life as we know it would be better if no one ever picked up a gun. I think last week's shooting is evidence for that argument, but I also think there is a subtle but gigantic difference between shooting guns to hunt for your food and shooting guns to hurt people. The former is something I have always wanted to try but have never had the chance to do, even while living in Texas. But on Martin Luther King Day I visited my friends Dan and Ariel and got to use Dan's varmit control .22 for the first time in my life. This would be ironic, except that I still want to emphasize, brothers and sisters, that shooting guns for hunting purposes is not inconsistent with my love of peace, compromise, negotiations, and diplomacy. Anyway (can you tell the guilt is eating at me?), Dan showed me the shockingly non-intricate anatomy of the gun, how to look through the telescope (very convenient!) and told me that I should try and hold it steady before firing (excellent advice). I followed his instructions and we moved quickly from a paper target to the much more difficult (and rewarding) goal of shooting beer cans. Not our beer cans, mind you! This was at about 10 am in the morning and we were very safety conscious (in fact, I routinely forgot to take the safety off, I was so safety conscious). I am certain we were really really far away from the beer cans though, so I was extremely happy with myself when I got one... Dang varmit. Now, I feel ready to more fully embrace a) trailer life and b) a subsistence, locavore diet. Okay, maybe hunting for my own food on the streets of Portland is not going to work. But I am ready to play the game Ladd told us about for her going away party-- BeerHunter. Safety first, of course.

Ramblin' (Wo)man... Woah, Man

2011-01-04T13:05:00.000-08:00

I know many of you were just beside yourself waiting to hear how the experiment turned out, weren't you? The answer: fantastico. Very happy to be done though, and despite the fact that it is always a little bit sad to leave Bloomington, by Christmas afternoon I was ready to be done. I flew home to Oregon (I love the sound of that phrase) and drove straight to my sister's house for a little dose of holiday. We exchanged only homemade cards this year, which I loved (and don't really think requires the qualifier 'only'; see picture) and had a lovely couple of days together for Christmas for the first time in many many moons. Our Christmas traditions are basically eating a lot of jewish foods, and this year were followed up by a belated Thanksgiving dinner in early celebration of our birthday (my mom and I were born on the the same day, different years obviously). So-- a lot of holiday festivities all rolled into 48 hours, and one of the many nice things about being close to my family these days....
But then of course I returned to my ambling ways: My friend Katy came up to Portland for a quick, culinary visit, and then I went down to San Francisco with her and spent a very fun New Year's Eve at The Mint (a gay karaoke bar of truly epic proportions; pictured below). I performed my most transformative piece (Try A Little Tenderness by Otis Redding, a previous rendition of which at one point was my YouTube debut) to try and hang with the big boys (some of the more flamboyant performers nailed performances of Ricky Martin and Nina Simone, so I couldn't very well be shy).
Now I am back in Texas for work and a little recuperation-- this constant motion is starting to take its toll a little bit as I have slept in my own bed for less than 4 weeks total since October 1, and slept very little in any bed for that matter. In my tired and tender state, can someone please assure me they get the So I Married An Ax Murderer reference used to title this post? Oh please oh please oh please?

Home Sweet Porch

2010-12-02T15:54:00.000-08:00

What was I thinking? This experiment has completely metastasized and is now taking over my very existence. And the end of the day, it is all I can do to get on the bike and ride home to GP's house, where I have been sleeping on the porch (enclosed, but not heated) in my very cozy sleeping bag in an effort to try and avoid the dense thicket of allergens in his house-- what I now refer to as the catmosphere. This is potentially not going to last for the whole month, as every night I try to sleep inside, but when I lay down, and my lungs start to seize, I invariably end up getting up (still in the sleeping bag , mind you) and shuffling out on to the porch and flopping down on the mattress I moved out there. It was lovely two days ago when I awoke to the first snowfall of the year, but the rest of the time it is mainly just cold. In the morning, I use a homing device planted in me during my PhD to find my way back to the mothership (this is what my old friends Aaron and Nolan used to affectionately call Jordan Hall, the building where all of our labs were/are; pictured below.) Truth be told, it is awesome to be here and I enjoy things I think I took for granted as a student. Today, for example, there is a conference on the evolution of cooperation and genomic conflict where people from all over the world are hanging out one building over basically talking about the evolution of life as we know it-- this is par for the course at IU, but not really the norm at most other places. Plus, I got to have Mother Bear's for lunch-- a once weekly pilgrimage from our lab to the restaurant seems to have gone by the wayside since my departure, but it will be revived for the next three weeks. Lots of other old traditions (MNF) are still going on or have been revived (poker), but the experiment is quickly closing in on any possible free time. Counting Daphnia til the wee hours was and is another major part of being here, and the nighttime house-keeping crew recognized me last night when they came through to do their rounds as that-girl-who-always-used-to-have-all-those-beakers-around-her.... Traditions, I tell you.

My Old Stomping Grounds

2010-11-27T08:13:00.000-08:00

Just a quick post from beautiful southern Indiana... I am back in Bloomington after a couple of years away and it is absolutely lovely. Forget the grey skies, the 30 degree temperatures, the pouring rain-- it feels great to be here. I am going to be at my post in the Daphnia lab (everyone remember Daphnia?) for the next four weeks doing a fitness assay and trying to keep my head above water on things for my upcoming semester back in Portland. I promise vignettes, not updates, later in the weekend.

SoCal

2010-11-11T23:40:00.000-08:00

I just got back from a trip that marks a major milestone in anyone's adult life, although it is usually a milestone experienced at 18, or 22, or maybe 27 for most other people: I just got back from my first job interview. I don't want to go into too many details here because, surprisingly, right after I finished my job talk, a member of the audience came up to say hello and that he enjoyed my talk, and then said "So, if you get the job, is the Schaackmobile comin' to LA?" I was kind of caught off guard, and a little bit terrified that my trailer, and my blog, were colliding with my attempts at professionalism. The answer, of course, is yes! But I am just hoping that the faculty don't hold my unconventional living situation against me in their deliberations. Suffice it to say, the interview was really fun and the school was awesome. I will leave it at that for now, and will keep ye devoted reader updated on any news, probably via regular human interaction and not blogpost.

While in LA, however, I didn't just interview. I also seized the opportunity to meet up with an old friend from grade school-- Joe Daniel. I hadn't seen Joe since the day we graduated from eighth grade, in June 1989 (so more than 21 years ago, when he went by Joey). Although we were good friends, we were only friends at school and never once had visited each other's house or met each other's parents, or hung out outside of school. So when school ended, so did our interaction, until earlier this year when we were united by the wonders of Google (remember? before there was Facebook? You could google people?) Anyway, when I found out I had the interview in LA, I gave Joe a call to see if he wanted to get dinner and see some music, and it turns out that, just like back in grade school, he is still a reliable co-music lover (he gave me Appetite for Destruction on tape, probably sometime in the 7th grade, so he knows good stuff when he hears it). We ended up going to a great, small, old venue in Hollywood called the Hotel Cafe and saw a fantastic performance by a band called Ragnar. (I have to say, I took it as an auspicious sign when I saw a poster for Todd Snider's next show in LA as we were leaving the theatre-- it is always nice to see a familiar face when you are nervous about something and it gave me a great sense of calm before heading home to continue prepping for the big day). Ragnar was charming, and they played all kinds of funny instruments like the chalkboard and a children's Playskool xylophone, in addition to accordion and more mainstream instruments like piano and bass guitar. It was excellent, and made me feel like I was making the most of being in LA, even though I was really not there to explore the city. We talked about our impressions of 3-6th grade before it got late, and I am looking forward to continuing the parade of memories next time we get the chance to hang out (you know, things really start to get cookin' when you hit 7th grade and, frankly, after hearing Guns 'n Roses, life got a lot more interesting...) Great to see you Joe!

October's End

2010-11-01T19:22:00.000-07:00

I realize Halloween has become a big deal, but the end of October has always been special in our family (even before being a 'sexy tollbooth operator' or 'sexy walrus' became all the rage). In our house, the end of October is special because it is my sister's birthday. This year she celebrated the big 2-9 and came up to Portland for the day so I could share some of it with her which was so fantastic. Here is her look of surprise when I finally got my butt down the mountain, back to the state of Oregon, and into the seat in the restaurant booth, next to her, which is where I belonged. It is framed by the Schaackmobile's attempt at Halloween decor, and flanked by a pretty amazing waterfall on Mt. Hamilton that gives you a bit of an idea how much it is actually starting to rain around these parts. Thank you so much for driving up Gen, bringing your peeps, hanging out, and sharing an awesome meal with me to celebrate the day of your birth! It was a great day (that day, and this day!) I love you!The other event that falls around this time of year is Spiderfest-- an annual open house held by the Binford lab here at Lewis and Clark. What began as an innocent "lab warming" party has now turned into a widely anticipated annual event for students and folks from off campus, especially kids, who can come learn about spiders, see spiders milked for their venom, and eat lots of spider-shaped foods. Here you can see Greta at the scope milking one, and the image that appears on the big screen TV in the lab so the throngs of onlookers can all see. Very fun, and a very good idea to de-scare kids early about an amazing group of organisms. Next year's costume-- sexy spider! I jest.

Change of Time

2010-10-27T11:30:00.001-07:00

Today's post title comes from another great Josh Ritter song (you can listen to it here, and actually download it for free, if you would like) and my recent mood... The weather has turned here in Portland and the trees are starting to follow suit. It feels like fall for me for the first time in a couple of years and I love it. The cool weather means I need to bundle up more for my beautiful commute (pictured below-- the first turn into the cemetery with a great view of Mt. Hood in the distance, looking back at the trees and graves as I wind my way down to the river bank, and looking north towards downtown while crossing the Sellwood Bridge over the mighty Willamette to get to the east side....) Almira, my mighty steed, is serving me very well for my daily trek up the hill and for getting around town in general. I pretty much only use my car for far, late night trips or going out of town. Next year's goal, long overdue, is to try and produce only one bag full of garbage. Don't worry future SHoF members! It won't be kept inside. I think if I am just a little bit less lazy, I can recycle and compost my way to this goal. Speaking of the SHoF and next year-- I will be in Indiana for about one month at the end of 2010 and then have another Texas trip in the very beginning of the new year. I will be back in Oregon between Christmas and New Year's and then in Portland for real in mid-January-- hope to host some new inductees then!

Wind Mountain

2010-10-18T18:48:00.000-07:00

Portland has been sunny and awesome since I got back a few days ago and it is hard to be inside. Yesterday, I worked from a local restaurant fast-food chain that serves items made with locally grown ingredients (yes, you read that right) and has wi-fi and today I spent the day working from a coffee-house with awesome views in a pretty neighborhood called Ladd's Addition (I really like that name, perhaps a band name? there must already be one I would guess....) Everything was going great until I ate an artichoke and white bean "savory tartlet" for lunch at about 2:30. By about 5 o'clock, I was at home throwing up in the bathroom--and of course that means someone else's bathroom because I don't have one. Sometimes the joys of minimalism mean one has to do disgusting things one would normally only do in the privacy of one's own home in other people's homes. Not really a drawback, now that I think about it....
Anyway, before suffering at the hand of a savory tartlet, which I am sure has happened to everyone at some point or another (either literally, metaphorically, or in my case, culinarily), I was busy basking in the glow of life in Portland. Happiness does not make for interesting blogging, I realize that, but it is just so fantastic to be living in a place where hiking up a mountain can be done with almost no real effort. At 4 pm yesterday afternoon I drove 20 miles up the Columbia River Gorge (which is a National Scenic Area and deserves to be), crossed over the river on the Bridge of the Gods (which is an apt name for a gorgeous crossing), puttered up through some backroads of rural Washington state, parked my car, and started hoofing it up a beautiful unmarked, unpopulated trail, and wallah-- my first NW summit was in the bag. It was a beautiful little walk and the first of many. Here I am at the top with a self-satisfied grin that can only be gotten from climbing uphill, and here is the vista facing east looking up into the gorge. The gorge was formed, in part, by the Missoula floods, a periodic series of gigantic floods caused by the breakage of a massive 2000 ft tall ice dam towards the end of the last ice age. The floods are of significant interest to historians and geologists because of the rapidity with which the gushing water flowed through the valleys and the major geological formations that resulted rather quickly, at least compared to the rate that most geological change occurs. I will post more as I learn about the area, but for now it is just a geological wink--a small summit, on a beautiful afternoon, with a great view.

Back in the Saddle

2010-10-16T22:38:00.000-07:00

Where to begin? I spent most of the last two weeks back in Arlington, Texas. It was no walk in the park, but the view out of the window from the plane as I left Portland was a wonderful reminder of what I would be coming home to and the end of the trip. It was actually a two part deal-- the first chapter in Texas and the second in Arizona. Texas was, well... texan. As I have blogged before-- a place of contrasts: the sacred and the profane. I got to see some dear friends, hear some good music, and get some work done, so one can't complain all that much. Let's just say, at the end of Chapter 1, I was eager to make my way west. I was invited to give a talk at Northern Arizona University by two old friends from very different chapters of life that both live in Flagstaff, AZ and who happen to work at the same place (kind of). Tal Pearson was my study buddy at Earlham College (friends since ~1993) and John Gillichi was my kindred spirit during my first few years of grad school at IU (circa 2002, although he really came around to being my friend in 2003). I think they met at a party, figured out they both knew me, and...wallah... a seminar invitation was born. This is how dorks take vacations.
Flag, as it is often referred to, was awesome. I stayed two nights with Gillichi and one night with Tal and his beautiful family. The air was dry, the sun was bright, the aspen turning color, and overall I received the warmest reception a girl could hope for-- both from my friends, their kids, partners, colleagues, and bosses. The science going on at NAU/Tgen/MGen (long story) is both interesting and important (far more relevant than my own research, and a relevance that I definitely crave). It was an extremely fun and stimulating visit and made me remember (again) how lucky I am to have this job, be in this field, and be surrounded by these people. Overall, an excellent trip but, like I said, it's good to be home.

The Best Sad Song Compilation Ever

2010-09-28T15:48:00.000-07:00

So, it's a hard moment in the life of Sarah Schaack today. I am trying to keep my chin up, but I really want to hang my head down low. One of my favorite activities, whether I am happy or sad, is to listen to really sad songs, a mix of which my friend Darron gave me a couple of months ago for moments (days, weeks, ...) like this. The Everybodyfields-- a band that made it on the mix, but has since broken up (the couple, and the band) epitomized how I feel when listening to awesomely sad songs with the album art from their last release, Nothing Is Okay.
I feel like it is my duty to share this mix with the world because it is so good. I don't know how to do that legally via this blog, so I am just posting the list. Two of the songs happen to among the selected tracks on one of the artist's webpages (because he's dead; I told you-- this is all sadness, all the time). In that case, I posted the link and since they are arguably two of the best songs on here, you should be happy he is dead so you can hear them. See how sad songs have happiness inextricably woven into them? This, I think, is the key to survival.
The whole mix, however, is so good that I encourage you to track them all down. You can do that in one of two ways: 1) almost any song can be listened to online in its entirety by looking it up on a site called Hypemachine. 2) You can email me, and I would send any interested soul a CD with these 17 songs as my philanthropic contribution to the universe for September 2010. It is my own personal soundtrack, at least for right now.

Your Sweet Voice, Reindeer Section
Goddamn Lonely, Love Drive-By Truckers
Wasted Time, The Everybodyfields
Lost Cause, Beck
Dear Chicago, Ryan Adams
A Good Year For The Roses, Counting Crows
Adelaide, Old 97's
Standing In The Doorway, Bob Dylan
Waco Moon, Todd Snider
Hurricanes & Hand Grenades, Jason Isbel
Write a Letter Home, Jackie Greene
Sauget Wind, Uncle Tupelo
Land Locked Blues, Bright Eyes
Hallelujah, Jeff Buckley
River, Joni Mitchell
Lover, You Should Have Come Over, Jeff Buckley
Life By The Drop, Stevie Ray Vaughn

A Weekend of Gatherings

2010-09-27T19:20:00.000-07:00

My sister, Gen Schaack: painter, writer, and photographer

This past weekend was a mixture of wonderful and difficult. The wonderful included attending my sister's first art opening down in Eugene. It was awesome-- she hung a combination of photos and paintings at a great pub called Sam Bonds and a whole gaggle of people came to see and support her and it made my heart swell to be there. More specifically, to be there and have it be easy (logistically, emotionally, familial-ly). This whole living-close-to-each-other business is new territory for our family and I am so happy to find out it is really, really great. I had hoped it would be really great, but it is another thing entirely to have actually be really great. I am so proud of her for putting on the show and putting her creative endeavors out there for public enjoyment. Here she is in front of some of her catalog (above), and then a painting she made of zombie cats eating a severed leg. The bar was abuzz with the question of the evening: who wouldn't want that in their living room?

On Sunday on my way back to Portland, I stopped in a nearby town of McMinnville to honor a man I had never met. Jack Muldoon was my friend Ariel's father and he passed away two weeks ago unexpectedly. Jack, by trade, was a horticulturist and curator of rare plants. He invented a new grafting technique, ran a business selling plants from all over the world to collector's, and was a prominent figure at the Salem farmer's market and in the lives of his family and friends. I had heard about Jack many times because it sounded as if he was the kind of man you could ask about anything. Building a barn? Ask Jack, he knows how. Raising an orphaned gosling? Jack'll know what to do. Picking which apples to plant? Don't decide anything until you talk to Jack first. I am pretty certain Jack worked out cold fusion in his greenhouse back in the 70's, but since no one asked him how to do it, the trick will continue to elude science for decades to come.... Everything I had ever heard about him suggested he was one of the most knowledgeable, selfless, and hardworking men on earth, but at the memorial I found out exactly to what extent. There were numerous people there who had learned their trade or their passion from Jack Muldoon, and just as many others whose houses and gardens are filled with living reminders of his suggestions and expertise in the form of house plants, arbors, orchards, and attached greenhouses. After all his horticulture friends had their say, other people started to speak up about what they had learned from Jack, despite his taciturn demeanor and very quiet (but excellent) humor. Among them, his former brother-in-law stood up and talked about the time he had bought chickens to raise at his house-- broilers that he had built a little coop for but largely had just running around. He had noticed that the chickens weren't really putting on weight quickly and seemed to not be growing very fast. One day when Jack was over at his house, he invited him outside and asked him if he had any idea what might be wrong. Jack watched the chickens for a few minutes, and picked one up and looked at it and said, "Pete, I think you've got gay chickens." Pete said "What? What do you mean gay chickens?" (Not that Pete wouldn't be happy about having gay chickens, he was just confused as to what exactly that meant). It turned out that, as Jack had suspected, Pete had bought Lay Mash from the feed store-- chicken food loaded with hormones to promote egg-laying in hens and NOT for feeding to broilers. This, of course, explained the unexpected growth patterns and behavior (or as Jack put it, the gay chickens). I would be surprised if a card-carrying animal behaviorist would have picked up on the cause and effect pattern as quickly as Jack Muldoon did that afternoon. Just one of many stories told that revealed the beautiful combination of knowledge, experience, and humor that made this man stand out among men.
Ariel, thanks for letting me join the celebration of Jack's life and all of those in it-- it was an honor to be there and learn about your Pop. To both you and Dan, I am so happy to be his friend once-removed and to be your friend the old fashioned way.

Update from Portlandia

2010-09-20T10:49:00.001-07:00

For the millions of you out there wondering-- did she keep the bike, the answer is YES! I love it. It loves me, I am pretty sure. We can do anything together. And, happily, I will rarely have to drive in Portland again.... I am pretty much open for business now that I have the lay of the land and a way to traverse it. To mark my unofficial resident status, I had my first visitor this weekend! Making her official debut in the Schaackmobile Hall of Fame is none other than Penny Schaack!!! And like other skeptics before her (Betsy), she went quickly graduated from fear to love with regards to sleeping in the T@b and now can barely imagine trying to return to her former life of sleeping in real beds in real houses. Too bourgeois. Anyway, Penny's visit also included some poking around the Saturday market, some delicious Portland cuisine, and a trip to Lewis and Clark (here she is paying homage to Sacagawea). I promise all this and more to any others who make the long trek! I am enjoying this city immensely so far, but I am a bit lonesome-- so come if you can! Speaking of this great city, Carrie Brownstein (the famous music critic that Chris Moore is in love with) and another guy are making a tv show called Portlandia (like the sculpture of the same name, shown here) that may prove to be very funny about life in this town. The first 6 episodes are supposed to air sometime in early 2011. I find it funny, but the newspapers are full of nervous chatter about how Portlanders will be portrayed (too earth conscious? too non-judgmental?) If it is funny, I will point you towards it in the spring. I'd love to be an extra! I can picture it now-- naive midwesterner trying to come to terms with the social, political, and climatological aesthetic of the northwest while clinging to her love of sunshine and blissful ignorance about genetically modified crops-- she traipses around the city in search of a tasty vegan alternative to the Voodoo Donuts maple bacon bar she has come to know and love so dearly.

Miss Almira Gulch

2010-09-10T11:42:00.000-07:00

Today was my maiden voyage with the new bicycle, which I am thinking of naming Miss Almira Gulch if I keep it since I feel just like the Wicked Witch of the West's doppelganger when I cruise around on this thing. Plus, I have lots in common with Almira-- people think I am mean when I am not, I don't particularly like little dogs, and I have a penchant for flying monkeys. Anyway, that's an aside, what you want to know is-- how was the ride??? The answer is-- it was GREAT!!! With typical Schaack optimism, by the time I had ridden through the southeast side of Portland, along the river, and over the bridge, I was thinking-- "I don't think I need an electric bike! This is easy!!!" Then I turned into the cemetery and started the long climb up the mountain. The cemetery is beautiful, quiet, and there are no cars. The road switches back and forth up and up and up, until you are deposited on top of the mountain and right in a neighborhood next to the Lewis and Clark campus. The whole ride took me 48 minutes today, but that was not-really-knowing-where-I-was-going speed. I think it would be easy to shave it down to 40 minutes, and might even be possible to get it down to 30 on the way home because of the downhill. Very exciting!!! So far, I am extremely happy with it!!!! However, I have to admit that I rode it around last night for about an hour right when I first got it, and I can tell you my booty is going to definitely be sore for a while if I stick with this. You would think I would have plenty of natural cushioning, wouldn't you? Alas.

Here is Almira right after she was delivered outside my new digs.

A New Experiment: The Tasman(ian Devil)

2010-09-08T18:35:00.001-07:00

So, here I am in Portland-- I have partaken of many of the required inaugural Portland activities. Drink a microbrew, check. Eat organically grown vegetables, check. Get heavily rained on, check. The only thing that is really left is to buy a bike. Everyone in Portland seems to ride a bike. There are bike lanes everywhere, and everyone commutes by bike if they can. Okay, that is a slight exaggeration-- only 6.4% of the populace commutes (that's one out of 16 for all you stats lovers out there), but that is the highest of any major city in the U.S. so you can imagine that it feels like a lot when you are here. So, given that I found a great place to live (pictures of my posh new driveway and delightful property-mate forthcoming), I have been agonizing all week on how to deal with my commute (photo at right by Steve Nehl illustrates the situation here nicely). When I drive, it is 9 miles and takes about 25 minutes. If I were to bike, I get to take a shortcut, cutting it down to about 7 miles, but unavoidably involving a climb up a very steep hill (I'd call it a mountain, but people here call it a hill) for the last 2 miles. Seven miles (plus hill) is not a trivial commute for someone who doesn't have a shower in their Schaackmobile. And so I am performing an experiment: today I plunked down A LOT of cash for an extremely fancy ebike. Ebikes are a new category of commuter bike gaining popularity in places where bikes are heavily relied upon for transit (Europe, China, Portland). It requires pedaling (so stop laughing at me too too hard), but has a motor to assist with the pedaling to allow you to go faster, especially uphill, and arrive sweat-free (or sweat-minimal) after a cross-town commute. The pros: I can use bike lanes and short cuts not available to cars in order to circumvent Portland traffic, which is kind of bad. Plus, I don't have to pay for gas, or to park, or to upgrade my insurance to reflect a switch from non-commuter to commuter. Plus, I get SOME exercise (but not too much). The cons: It is NOT cheap. The battery isn't immortal, so it continues to not be cheap in the future. And I will get rained on. A lot. What do you think? As with all other important decisions in my life (for example, t-shirt color for the tour), I want to know what everyone else thinks. Since everyone doesn't read my blog, that might be hard, but if you are reading, please feel free to weigh in on this agonizing issue. To run the experiment, I bought one and it will be delivered to my house tomorrow. I have 7 days to make up my mind, after which point I can no longer return it to receive a full refund. I will be blogging about the experience and posting pictures! To start, this is the one I bought... The Tasman by Kalkhoff. Das right. I have one word on the matter-- eeeeeekkkkkk.

Epic Journey Diorama

2010-09-01T17:20:00.001-07:00

I have been in Portland for a few days now and finally have my wits about me. I made a little collage of pictures from the trip (Jesse made me promise not to use any of him, but he is there in spirit) showing a few highlights (including state border crossings, nights spent at the beach, redwoods, and arriving at my sister's place at long last). The trip started off rocky-- it took Jesse and I about 24 hours to drive the first 100 miles (delays in Arlington, a faulty taillight, traffic, a tire blowout, .... you know, the usual). At one point, it seemed like perhaps the metroplex would hold us in its clutches forever. We ended up fixing everything and getting back on the road in earnest Sunday afternoon, and pretty much hauled (averaging about 50 miles per hour with the slow-going and frequent gas stops) for the next two days to get to the west coast. Once we were through LA (which is vast), we slowed down to enjoy the drive up the coast on Hwy 1. We camped at a beach in Santa Barbara and leisurely rolled into San Francisco to unite with Idelle, who was already there visiting Char and Jun (her sister and brother-in-law), all of whom are remarkable and warm and fun and interesting. That night, my old friend Sonia and her gold fleck-filled heart bearing husband Andrew came across the bay to join us for dinner. It was a fleeting stop, so I wasn't able to see ALL my favorite people in the bay area, but it was a lovely glimpse of what is in store living on the west coast. Jesse flew home from Oakland in order to make it back to Arlington to teach the next day, which was extremely sad and marked the failure of Operation Kidnap Jesse despite early hopes it would work. Idelle did her best to buoy my spirits and revitalize the mission northward. We drove from Berkeley up to Eureka via the Avenue of the Giants which was spectacular-- I highly recommend it if you ever have the chance-- and popped out onto the California coast again in order to make our way to Oregon avoiding the mountain passes of I-5. It was beautiful-- no cell phone camera could do it justice. We enjoyed the coastal drive (ocean on the left, forest and mountains on the right) for another day and a half before cutting east to get to the valley where my mom lives. We rolled into Cottage Grove in the mid-afternoon and hung out with my mom before heading up to Eugene to convene with my sister, Britt, Mike, Lin, Julie, and Lee (lots of people, lots of backstories for each one) to go see a Prairie Home Companion performed live. It was bliss! Beautiful night, delicious picnic, good company, great entertainment, and fun cackling after the show. Unfortunately, I was so tired by the time we got home, I stupidly forgot to bring my purse inside the trailer and, surprise, surprise, it was gone in the morning when I woke up. This didn't stop us from looking for it-- oh no, double-wide optimism has its stubborn streak. But after many hours of searching, unpacking, re-packing, and hair-pulling out, we finally gave up and accepted my idiocy as fact. Not great timing to lose one's ID, money, and credit cards, but it could have been worse.

clockwise from upper left: me in Arlington saying goodbye to the patio that served me so well, from the road leaving texas and entering the land of enchantment, idelle picnicking on the beach in OR, mileage posting in AZ with 100+ degree temps testing the limits of humanity, parked in fron of my sister's house in eugene, the rig in the middle of the redwood forest (yes, we sang the song), and our official trip logo

We left Eugene Sunday morning after a delectable and fun brunch with my sister (mental note: must exercise more to offset all the deliciousness out here) and headed up to Dallas, OR to pop in on the farm. My old friends Dan and Ariel have a homestead up in Dallas (couldn't be much further from Dallas, TX in concept) and they were making jam when we arrived-- perfect timing! We had a nice, quick visit (the first of many, now that I live only an hour away) and then finished off the trek to Portland. I went to one of the two spots I had heard about for places to park, and it was perfect, so I just stayed there. And now that's where I am. Still recovering a bit from the 2-week jaunt, but happy overall to have landed someplace so peaceful. I still am trying to figure out how to get to and from school in a reasonable amount of time, without a car, and I haven't gone to the grocery store yet, but I have the lay of the land (on campus, and throughout the city) and I am looking forward to exploring. The more I know, the better host I will be! It's practically my duty to learn about enjoying this city. Future SHoF members, I will not let you down. More soon.......

Safe and Sound

2010-08-30T14:17:00.000-07:00

Writing from my new desk, in my new office, at my new school, in my new town, in my new quadrat of the United States. Strange-y. I have photodocumented the epic journey undertaken by the Schaackmobile and her humble accomplices (me, Jesse, Idelle, and all the nice people we met along the way and one not-so-nice person), but I need to go get a few things fixed on the rig so I can get situated on my new driveway in my new neighborhood. In the mean time, I just wanted to post a sigh of relief that I am here, the trailer is here, the car has not collapsed into a pile of rubble and I am hoping to get everything squared away today so that, as of tomorrow, I will once again be Open for Business. That is to say, back to work and eagerly anticipating visits and visiting my dear pals and family scattered all over, including my most recent dearhearts in Texas, and the all-important task of blogging. More soon....

Helter Swelter

2010-08-13T14:47:00.000-07:00

Not much new this week, just getting ready for the big haul next weekend when I start heading West. I am feeling really sad about leaving Arlington for so many reasons, but one of them isn't how hot it is. Today's high: 105 degrees. I am going to a baseball game tonight, and I am fully prepared to soak through my clothes in sweat. It has been so hot here, for so long, some of the guys in the department got a bee in their bonnet about trying to fry an egg out in the parking lot. It is inhumane. Every day new questions are posed-- did anyone live in this area before air conditioning was invented? how hot does it have to get for 98 degrees to seem cool? how hot was it here before global warming? Someone recently asked me if I really thought I could survive a Portland winter living in the trailer. If surviving a Texan summer is any indication, then yes. I am trying to escape the heat while basking in all the other types of warmth I have come to know here in Arlington.

Science Fair:
This is the egg starting to cook about 20 seconds after it was cracked onto a cast iron pan in the parking lot outside my lab.

Post #101: Lake Weekend 2010

2010-08-10T06:33:00.000-07:00

Over 100 random thoughts seems like kind of a lot for a fairly delinquent blogger, no? Today's post is about this year's Lake Weekend-- a holiday I now anticipate as much as Christmas, and one that has domino-like beneficial effects for my friends because of the hallowed Lake CD exchange. In addition to the all-important music swap, there was the customary tubing, water skiing, grilling, and shooting the breeze-- an entire summer's worth for me, neatly packed into one long weekend. Unlike previous years, there were (I believe) a record number of attendees, the never-before-attempted-double-handstand-on-the-tubes trick, and a spontaneous sing-a-long that would warm the cockles of even the coldest heart. Imagine, if you will, the whole gang out on the deck getting ready for the annual Lake Weekend Picture (which ends up on the wall in the condo alongside all the others from years past while simultaneously serving as log book for all Darron's past girlfriends, Steve's ex-wives, and Rodenbeck's physical feats of tube mastery). Everyone's out there-- 15 adults and 3 kids, one of whom is bawling his eyes out because, well... maybe because he lost at mini-golf or couldn't get up on one ski or something like that, we may never know. Anyway, Mr. Luesse (Darron's dad and the annual Lake Weekend picture-taker) is teetering on a deck chair trying to snap the shot while Sarah Luesse (Darron's wife and the mother of his child) tries to soothe their baby, Jude, so he does not look positively miserable in this picture that is supposed to capture the bliss of Lake Weekend for perpetuity. It's not working, and finally Mr. Luesse just wants the baby to at least look at the camera and he shouts out "Hey Jude!" To which there is only one reasonable follow-up from the group: Don't make it bad. And so the whole group erupted into a spontaneous, gentle lullaby for the baby, continuing the song (Take a sad song and make it better, remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better), then crescendoing (better, Better, BETTER, BETTER!), and then skipping ahead a little bit to the good part (Naaah, Na, Na, Na-na-Na-Naah, Na-na-Na-Naah, Hey Jude) and finishing off somehow still in near-perfect unison despite the new arrangement of the song with (Jude, Jude, Judey, Judey, Judey, Judey, WAAAHH!) All this-- while still holding the pose for the picture! Needless to say, the baby stopped crying during all of this and was looking up and around at all his (essentially) aunts and uncles. I can only guess what he was thinking, but perhaps it was "Wow, these people must have spent a lot of time at the karaoke bar singing this song because it sounds pretty good!" If so, he was right.

Lake Weekend 2010

The Beatles Version

East Texas Piney Woods

2010-07-30T07:27:00.000-07:00

I have been soaking up the good of Texas as much as possible before I head west. Of course, as I do so, time seems to go faster and faster. Last weekend I struck out to the east to hang out at my friend Brian’s parents’ lakehouse over near Sabine National Forest. Public land in Texas, you ask? Well there is a little bit of it here and there, and a fair chunk is sequestered over in the eastern part of the state where a series of dammed rivers form a chain of lakes that act as the boundary between the independent republic and our neighbor Louisiana. East Texas is different than up here and the vast, dry sprawl of West Texas into which I have ventured several times now. East Texas is green-- piney and deciduous. Where we were (to the South), there is quite a bit of Cajun ancestry and culture that has spilled over from even further east. It is hard to imagine living in an area like this given the lack of industry, the small towns, the non-existent cell phone coverage, and the preponderance of Dairy Queens (one per town, regardless of size), but little else in the way of restaurants and businesses. It didn’t really seem like a farming community, although there were many fields of hay. Something is sustaining the folks that live in East Texas, it just wasn’t obvious from looking out the car window what that might be.
Once at the lake house, the task of relaxing was all that laid before us. Brian’s parents were wonderful hosts (and excellent cooks) and the idea was to be as lazy as possible on the porch, on the dock, and in the lake (essentially the antithesis of Darron’s lake weekend—coming right up!) The rocking chairs and ceiling fans on the porch facilitated a great deal of this, as did the array of fishing poles on the dock, and the flocculent-filled, bathwater warm lake at its end. Those of you who know me well know that if there is a lake nearby, I prefer to be in it. And so I was, with occasional nibbles from something sharp amidst the murky waters providing enough of a boost to launch me straight up and out, at least momentarily.

Taking a weekend off from doing felt great. It is a rare thing for me; I remember the last time I relaxed and did nothing for a whole day-- it was in Belize in 1995 while visiting my friend Betsy. We laid on the beach (I had never and have never since been so tan as that day) and ate fish tacos and did nothing for a whole day. It was great, but apparently satiated my desire to completely relax for about 15 years. Now I am rested and ready for Lake Weekend, a trip to south Texas the weekend after that I hope, a westward odyssey, and whatever else is in store....

PS. Some folks have been asking—what is the fate of schaackmobile in Oregon? (the trailer, not the blog) Fear not aspiring hall-of-famers, your days are not numbered. The trailer will remain my primary residence in Oregon until I a) grow up or b) find a non-mobile living situation that is somehow more appealing than my current chelonian (house-on-your-back) lifestyle. Seems unlikely... once you have given up furniture and other domestic trappings (like vacuuming and household chores), it is hard to imagine ever going back. And the moving! Other than the fairly daunting idea of trying to schlep my house with my little car over the Siskyous, there is no easier moving than this. Leave everything right where it is in the house, and just move the house. None of that pesky packing or unpacking. As always, mi casa su casa.

Aquasafari

2010-07-12T10:56:00.001-07:00

Trying to get back into the groove after a few weeks of very fun traveling. About 36 hours after I returned from Oregon, I hopped into the car with Jesse Meik and Christian Cox (both of whom have graced the cyber pages of this blog previously) to head to Mexico. Mexico? you ask. Didn't you just go to Mexico in March? Yes, I did. But there is never too much time spent in Mexico, and that is especially true when it comes to fish tacos and finding rattlesnakes. So we went back to Baja with both goals in mind, and returned victorious on one count. Boy were those fish tacos tasty! In contrast to our March expedition, this trip lacked both near-death experiences and the plethora of snakes we encountered last time. The former was a welcome change of pace, but the latter was somewhat puzzling. It was an unseasonably cold year for Baja, which made it quite comfortable for snake searching, but perhaps more difficult for snake finding. On our way out to the island, however, we had the good luck of stumbling upon a small pod of sperm whales. Yes, sperm whales! Just like the ones in the cartoons of your mind. It was very cool to see them unexpectedly, so when our snake hunting came up empty, Jesse suggested we ask Jose (the man with the boat) to take us into the shallow part of the Bay of LA where there are whale sharks. They are extremely impressive fish-- they are very shark-like in the back, very whale-like in the front, and very huge (weighing 20 tons on average, apparently the largest ever measured was ~40 ft. in length; the three we saw were about half that size). Here is a picture I took of one whale shark which totally does not do it justice, but gives you an idea of how cool it was to peer over the side of the boat and see something like this...In the end, we ended up experiencing quite the aquatic safari and got to spend some time exploring the sand dunes (pictured below) and the mountainous central part of the peninsula (pictured above). All in all-- 7 days, 4000 miles, many habitats, delicious food, and lots of cool new species for me to see and learn about. Perhaps most extraordinarily, for most people this kind of trip is vacation, but for biologists it counts as work! Yet another reason to love this job....

The Oregon Trailer

2010-07-01T13:53:00.000-07:00

The double entendres in this blogpost title are too numerous to go through so I will leave it to you my astute reader(s?) to deduce and create. I just got back from a fantastic trip to Oregon for my sister's wedding. Yes! A wedding in the Schaack family. It has been 38 years since the last one, so we were ready for a party, and my sister knows how to throw a party! It was a joyous event at a beautiful park on top of a small mountain in Eugene with lots of friends and family and flowers and cake and music and toasts. Everyone was thrilled to be there, including Gen and Jerm and a gaggle of their favorite people who came to celebrate. Gen walked down the aisle with her loyal canine escort, Earl to the sound of In Your Eyes blasting from a radio being held over Jeremy's head. It was great, and the party, like Gen and Jerm's lives, was a great big mash up of family and friends. I was honored and excited to be there and my sister looked beautiful, as usual, but fancier.
After the wedding, a subset of the family went out to the coast to explore. We stayed in a yurt at a state park and had a ball "roughing it" in the most luxurious camping accomodations I have ever experienced. The next few days were spent mixing up visits with my family and friends in the area with some work, before heading up to Portland, my future home, for the Evolution meetings. I was not expecting much from the meeting and was trying not to expect too much from Portland, but my expectations were definitely exceeded on both counts. The meeting was fantastic and the city is so great I already feel guilty for living in such a great place and I am not even there yet. I can't do it justice, but imagine a city with terrific public transportation, beautiful topography, and delicious restaurants. Now, add the fact the the train is free in the inner city, the mountains and valleys are overrun with trees, roses, snow-caps and beautiful rivers, and the restaurants are all individually-owned and full of food made from local ingredients. These are examples of the ways in which Portland exceeded my expectations, but there are more. The only way I will be able to relieve my guilt is if everyone comes to visit so they can share in how great it is. In fact, if everyone could just move there with me, that would be great. You will not regret it! Come. Now. Or in September. Whenever works for you.

Totally Superfluous Blogpost

2010-06-09T13:55:00.001-07:00

In today's issue in Nature, there was a funny (not really ha ha) piece on crop circles. You know, the uber-relevant to science issue of why people feel the need to make art in corn fields under the guise of alien messages. I have no idea how the author got them to publish this article (he is from Oregon, by the way), but I guess science news was kind of light and they just decided to go with some quirky, human interest story this week. Then again, it is one of two articles in this week's issue that I actually read, so I am not sure that I have much of a case against it being of interest to "scientists".... Anyway, the photo was great, and worth posting I thought. If you google image search the term crop circle, there are tons of others just as impressive, including this quilt-like photo montage, surely for the discerning dorm room interior decorator (below the jellyfish).

Memorial Day 2010 in Boston, Massachusetts

2010-06-06T10:17:00.000-07:00

Recently back from a joyous weekend in Boston, MA-- a town for which I have long had an extreme fondness, but which I hadn't had the chance to visit in over a decade. Where does the time go, I ask? Not much had changed since my last visit, I am happy to report. It was beautiful weather in general, and all the wonderful things you expect from a city on the water-- breakdancers in front of Faneuil Hall, seafood within 10 yards of where it was caught, a zombie march through the Commons, little white sailboats on the Charles, etc. etc. etc. A very picturesque backdrop to an incredibly fun visit with lots of different old friends.
For the first time in my life, however, Memorial Day weekend wasn't just frolicking and barbecues. While hoofing it around the city, I inadvertently visited several monuments to victims of war and I remembered them. While walking the Freedom Trail in the North End, I saw a garden memorial to soldiers who have died in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the latter having reached over 1000 just recently, after 10 years of war and no end in sight.
Later that day, I walked through the New England Holocaust Memorial. A visually and emotionally striking testament to the 6 million people (jews and non-jews) killed during the Nazi regime in Europe. The glass columns have 6 million numbers etched in them, as well as quotes (like this one I have posted) and facts about the war.
Later in the weekend, I found myself back on the Freedom Trail again. Because Boston is so old, there are historical graveyards around town where many famous historical figures are buried. The Granary, for example, contains the remains of Paul Revere, signers of the Declaration of Independence, and victims of the Boston Massacre, which led to the Revolutionary War.
On Monday, I was walking through the city and again I saw a tribute to Americans who have died in our current wars-- a lawn of american flags in the Boston Commons commemorating each person's passing.
Although the Revolutionary War and World War II seem so clear cut in retrospect (independence, good versus evil), seeing the flags and trying to balance feelings of sadness with larger feelings of frustration made me wonder if, at the time, people may have felt then like I do now about war. Isn't there a better way to solve the problem than having a war? I know it sounds really stupid, but war doesn't just seem barbaric, it seems stupid. Why would anyone think killing someone (no less lots of people) would solve a problem, rather than just create more problems? Granted, I am glad we are free of the tyranny of British rule and lord knows I do not support taxation without representation. Similarly, I can't argue against the statement that Hitler's rise to power was horrible and needed to be stopped. But 6 million people didn't die in WWII. 60 million people died. It is tempting to think there might have been a better way to put an end to the Nazi regime than adding more death. Part of all this reflection stems from my recent decision to become a Civil War buff. I am reading James McPherson's Battle Cry of Freedom right now (which is amazingly well written by the way, I highly recommend it) because I decided that this may well have been the most tragic war I have ever heard of-- literally brother against brother. For some reason, I think I still believe understanding problems is the key to solving them, and my first act towards non-passive pacificism was to get this book. More on this later....

For all you marionette-lovers out there

2010-05-28T08:01:00.000-07:00

For fellow lovers of Being John Malkovich, Team America, and other such inventive endeavors that involve marionettes (not just puppets, but the ones with strings attached and their oh-so-subtle movements)-- I have a treat for you. Josh Ritter, a singer song writer that I have liked for a long time and have probably blogged about before, just released a new album and one of the songs is about a mummy who awakes in his sarcophagus only to fall in love with the archaeologist who found him. It is a lovely song, and the video is way more fun than most videos these days. If you want to check it out, they are streaming it at npr.org. Josh is also on tour in the US in June (and coming to Dallas, so there will be a concert review forthcoming!) If you haven't seen him, he puts on a fantastic show and you should. Here I am with he and my friend Katy at the last show I saw him play, some time in 2008. Very warm to all us fans after the show, in addition to a great performance.

More blog spawn

2010-05-24T16:47:00.000-07:00

I feel like I mentioned this already, but rather than read my own blog and find out (sounds even more self-centered than writing my own blog), I will risk repeating myself.... my blog has produced another spawn! Is there no end? This one is also music-related, but much to everyone's delight, not music that I am involved in making (I can almost hear the collective sigh of relief over the interweb). Coach Moore and I have teamed up to bring you a weekly dose of new music over at Pancho and Lefty's New Music Monday site.
For a while, we have had a weekly phone appointment on Mondays to exchange tips about new bands that we come across-- kind of like insider trading for people who like music. We definitely ripped the name off from a brilliant feature on an average radio station back in Indiana (92.3, WTTS), but if imitation is the greatest form of flattery, then they should be thanking us if they ever find out. The blog was born when Chris came to visit and we realized that we should share these tips with the world (and that we would forget the name of last week's band if we didn't write it down somewhere). I am pretty sure only one person other than Chris (Lefty) and I (Pancho) have read it, and it is fine if that is the way things stay, but if you are interested in something new to listen to, I encourage you to check it out. We put a link where you can stream the band of interest, a short description of the music, and a picture. There is a lot of really good stuff up there already (and we are pretty quick to point out when it isn't that great too), and there should be lots more to come.... hope you enjoy!

Pictured (from left to right): portraits of Pancho and Lefty in pumpkin with candle

Life's Little (and Big) Pleasures

2010-05-17T14:10:00.001-07:00

Just a cool picture to get the juices flowing because I am out of blogging shape.... This photo (posted by kibuyu) recently won 1st place in a photo contest entitled "Translucent" -- pretty cool, eh?

Ok, that was easy enough-- juices flowing! We have a new addition to the SHoF dear friends-- Britt Koskella made her illustrious debut this past weekend while stopping by UTA to give a fantastic seminar on her research (on red queen dynamics in both snails and horse chestnuts) and visiting with her family (who, somehow, thrive in the metroplex! I can't figure out how they do it-- but they are creative, environmentally conscientious, fun, kind people and they happily call Dallas their home! I need to learn more from them....) It was a great weekend, though too fast and too short as always. Speaking of short, time is limited for future inductees who may be out there, hoping to earn a spot in the Texas edition of the SHoF. I recently got an offer to do a post-doc in Portland, OR and will be moving there at the end of August. This, of course, has some wonderful benefits, not the least of which will be the chance to be closer to my family who live out in them thar hills. The other plus is that hopefully I will no longer have to coax people to come visit by inducting them into a illusory cyber hall of fame based on spending the night in a trailer (though that really seemed to work wonders!) If you haven't been to Oregon, you have to come. It is beautiful, and very west coastly but without the hype of California or quite as much rain as Washington. There are mountains, rivers, vineyards, deserts, coastline, forests-- all for the meandering. The state slogan was recently changed to "We Love Dreamers"-- so who wouldn't want to go there? Of course it isn't all just a bed of roses, as I have become quite attached to folks here in Arlington as well. This weekend, my bosses threw a great party as they often do, and it really made me realize how lucky I have been to have this job, in this place, at this time, despite all my pooh-poohing of Texas and its strange laws and customs (did I mention that I got pulled over at a police checkpoint last week? welcome to the independent republic indeed!) In addition to my happiness at work, which really couldn't be greater, I have been welcomed into the hearts of two gentlemen (one big, one small) who make life in the Lonestar state not lonesome at all. The big one played a rockin' show this weekend at my favorite local dive bar (called Caves, and it does pretty much feel like one) with one of his bands, The Future Unlived (to listen to my favorite of their songs, Wage War, click here). The small one entertained us all the way home from a barbecue last night by singing songs he made up on the spot-- music must run in the family. Being serenaded like this? maybe I don't have to consult with Britt's folks about how to make life sweet in the metroplex afterall....

When You Can't Send a Card, Write a Limerick

2010-05-09T13:31:00.000-07:00

A More Than Just Mother's Day Limerick

Of the many on whom we depend,
Wounded hearts and scraped knees to help mend,
In our darkest of hours,
They gather their powers,
And become not just our moms, but our friends.

Happy Mother's Day Mom!!!

A New Addition to the SHoF Can Uncover Hidden Gems

2010-05-04T07:52:00.000-07:00

A quick post from the brink-- I am back in Arlington after the conference in Canada that made me question my whole scientific self. As you know, I study transposable elements, and the meeting was about transposable elements. So, you can imagine, when I was at the meeting and not understanding very much, it called things into question for me. But now I am back in my cluttered office where I have more of handle on how things work and why, and I am trying to get back to the grindstone. The intervening weekend, however, was spent hosting my friend Matt Carrigan from Gainesville, FL, the most recent inductee into the SHoF. Matt and I were in grad school at the same time, way back in the late 90's at the University of Florida. He was in neuroscience, but moonlighted in the biology department when seminars or journal clubs caught his fancy. A few years later, when we crossed paths at the Evolution meetings in CA, he remembered me as the loudmouth biology girl in said classes, but since he didn't know anyone else at the meetings, he figured I was as good a person as any to befriend. I remembered Matt too-- punk-rock haired, ambulance-driving, free-lancing academic rogue who worked on scientific questions that seemed almost like fiction (what were the first molecules that constituted life?) Luckily, his astrobiology conference hosted by NASA (no, I am not making that up) was in Houston this year, so he was able to pop up to Arlington for the weekend so we could recover from our overly technical existences, together. In the process of showing him around, I found out (again) that Arlington isn't as bad as I necessarily think-- especially when we went to a new music venue in the Bishop Arts District of South Dallas on Saturday night to see music (among others, Jacob Metcalfe and his musical troubadours, pictured above on the right) and then on Sunday when we went to play at Dinosour Valley State Park. Nestled just past the Creation Science Museum and the Dinosaur Theme Park, the DVSP is actually a gorgeous piece of public land with a beautiful river, rocky cliffs, and unbelievably awesome, clear dinosaur footprints in the water. Apparently, these kinds of sites are not uncommon in the US, but I had never been to one, and found it to be incredibly cool. I can't wait to go back, perhaps with the next inductee? We shall see....

Oh Canada!

2010-04-27T14:54:00.000-07:00

This post comes from the mothercountry-- I am in Canada this week at a conference on Mobile DNA. I have blogged once before about transposable elements (the things I study) but I promise not to bore you with too much on that this time. Mostly it is just fun to be back in Montreal, were I lived as a child before moving to Chicago. My first memories are all from here, and before the conference started, I went back to the old neighborhood and visited my oldest friend in the world's mom, Angie. It was great to be at her house (same one where I used to hang out 32 years ago) and see old pictures and talk about old stories. Then I came downtown for the conference, but it happens to be about 3 blocks from McGill University, which is where my old advisors (from grad school in Florida) are now, so I got to have a fun picnic with them before really digging into meeting mode (which involves non-stop 15 minute talks, occasionally separated in time by surreal, nearly identical coffee breaks during which you simply clear enough brain space to go back into a heavily carpeted, windowless room and resume being talked at-- all of this for four days straight until you are in a near-coma-like state, at which point you are released back into the wild, presumably better off, ...but I am not so sure). Anyway, it was fun to see them too, and I have also gotten to partake of the quebecois culinary delight known as poutine (fries drenched in gravy and cheese curds; pictured here) and tomorrow I will go for smoked meat. So, the confines of the conference haven't completely reined me in, but in collusion with the weather (which went from 70 degrees and sunny to 30 degrees and snowing in one day), the powers that be are trying. Speaking of which, the second half of the afternoon session starts in a few minutes... more from Texas soon!

Spring Break, Day 3 and thereafter

2010-04-13T19:14:00.000-07:00

I am so sorry for the delay, devoted reader(s). Although usually I would agree with you (blog before you forget the details!), the trip took a decidedly less death-defying turn once we decided to give up on our little dingy. Because blogging about disaster is always more interesting than blogging about success, I just wasn't as urgently motivated to tell you about the rest of the trip.... but I will.

We got back to the mainland and immediately (I am not kidding) ordered a margarita at the restaurant that owned the dock. We needed a new plan. While drinking said margarita, we decided to ask our waiter if HE knew of any way to get to the islands. He said there were fisherman that would be at the dock within the hour and that we should talk to them because they would be happy to take us. And so we did. Who'd have thunk it was that easy? $120 one-way to the island(s) of our choice. Given how much the boat cost to buy, I mean fix, and then tow, and then fix-- this was a steal. Why we didn't just go with fishermen who have sea-worthy vessels and boating experience in the first place, you might ask? I also asked. Here's a pic of Michelle and I celebrating life.

So we set out that evening for Cabeza de Caballo (the ominously named, if you like The Godfather, Horsehead Island). This island was rumored to have snakes, but none have ever been collected. We arrived just at dark, and since I was the only one (besides the dog) who had never actually caught a snake before, I volunteered to set up camp and cook dinner while the other three set out looking for C. mitchelli. This earned me the nickname Cookie, at least with Matt, for the remainder of the trip. About two hours later, Jesse came back with a snake. Half an hour later, Matt came back with 1 more. Given that Jesse had told me that he would be happy if we caught a handful of snakes during the entire trip, this seemed like quite a coup. Michelle came back a little while later and we hit the hay. The next morning, we searched again (this time, even yours truly was on the prowl). Lots of chuckwallas were out. They are big, skittish, and loud (=easy to spot). Mitchelli, on the other hand, are not. To emphasize this point, I have pasted a picture below. Try and find the snake in it. Unfortunately, I have not mastered the blogosphere sufficiently to have you click on it to see the snake pointed out, so I just pasted the photo again below with a circle. This may not be lifesize on your computer screen, but I think you see my point (or don't; punny, huh?) So, I didn't find any the first day. But I did find a baby chuckwalla! And I wanted to grab SOMETHING. So I picked it up and made kissy faces.
That morning, Matt found another one (right near our camp), so by the time the fisherman came to get us at mid-day we had 6 snakes and even a chance to snorkel in the beautiful bay. Success! Off to island number two-- Piojo (= louse). This island was farther away, with steep sides and a relatively flat top. Most notably, the island was covered with pelicans. Pelicans seem docile and majestic when you see them flying in small clusters at the beach-- gliding along the wave lines, parallel to the shore, occasionally dipping down to score some small fish snack treat. When you are in their hood, however, they do not seem docile. They seem irritated, and prehistoric, and gigantic. Still majestic, but just more.... real. We arrived on Piojo in the evening and made a quick dinner and then set out to find snakes in the dark. The snakes move at night to forage and mate making the trade-off between lack of light (night) versus lack of movement (day) pretty worthwhile if you have a good flashlight. We climbed up the not-so-steep cliff by our beach and got on top of the flat-roofed island to look around. The wind was blowing fiercely and the shiny-eyed pelicans seem to be everywhere. We tried to avoid valleys where they were nesting so as not to disturb their roost, but it was hard because there were so many. Seeing pelican babies in a nest squawking from their freshly hatched eggs will not be an image soon erased from my mind. Nor will the shadowy swooping overhead of vigilant pelican parents expressing their utmost dismay that I might be having an unforgettable moment peering into one of their nests. But we weren't their for birdwatching, we were there for snakes. And snakes we did find-- actually, Jesse found. Four to be exact-- I didn't take any pictures because it was dark, but he was just as ecstatic as he was the previous day on Cabeza, so I can show that. We had plenty, and really did not want to put the pelicans out any more than we already had, so we camped on the beach, relieved to know we had (again) gotten plenty of snakes on an island with no guarantees. The next morning was once again spent snorkeling and exploring near the shore. Amidst my poking around in the intertidal zone, lo' and behold, I found a snake! Practically with one foot in the ocean! These snakes are not swimmers, but the fact that I stumbled upon on so close to the water made Jesse's raft hypothesis to explain the colonization (or re-colonization) of some of the islands very plausible. It was so weird, but now it was official: I became a herpetologist. Admittedly, they are easier to spot on the giant dark rocks near the shore, but still, I became one.

The next day, the fisherman, and Michelle, and Michelle's husband (Claudio) and her labmate, and her labmate's boyrfriend, all came to Piojo to pick us up (me, Jesse, Matt, and the dog, and the snakes-- all alive, in pillow cases knotted at the top to prevent their escape). We headed north for Smith Island with enough camping supplies to last six months. We were spending one night. But look at Gilligan's Island-- who knows how long we might have ended up there? With 7 professors and no MaryAnn, I am not sure how great the ratings would be. We landed on the east side of the island and set up camp. Everyone set out to find snakes, and with our expanded crew and our previous two days of good luck, we were extremely hopeful. Jesse and I found one within about 30 minutes of looking, and then another one about 40 minutes after that. We figured that, at this rate, we would catch more than we could take with us. But alas, the rest of the night was fruitless, and the next day spent searching yielded only one snake for the whole group, bringing out total to 3 for the island. No matter, we had adjusted our expectations a bit after the snake parade the previous two days, but happily accepted this as our catch before returning to the mainland.

Once on the mainland, we wanted to look for mainland mitchelli (the scientist's quest is a neverending one, yes). We went night driving after dark in hopes of seeing some crossing the road in search of food or nookie, but did not see a single snake of any kind. We did see some people on the side of the road, however, and after tenuously slowing down to see if they were banditos or not, I recognized the tell-tale darwinized jesus fish logo on one of their t-shirts and hollered out to our biologist brethren, "Nice shirt!" After quickly finding out one of them was the author of a marine inverterbrate guide to the Sea of Cortez who wanted to cut us a deal on a recent edition, we stopped to shoot the breeze. Turns out, they were heading into BLA to meet up with National Geographic to dive and look for giant squid. We paid our reduced price, got our books signed, jump back in the car and continued our snakeless drive back to camp. Thanks for the discount Hans!
The next day was spent measuring, photographing, and preserving snakes (note the dog, under the processing table). Claudio and the rest of the reinforcement crew had to leave the next day to catch their plane in San Diego, so there was only time for a few more margaritas and fish tacos before we had to starting thinking about our 2000 mile return trip as well. Despite what you've heard about the border regions and the drug wars in Mexico, our passage went very smoothly and the whole team made it back to Arlington in one piece, despite the near-death theme to the first few days of the trip. Death is a theme in Baja though-- the evidence of the harsh desert conditions is everywhere around you. Even though I was surprised at how green and lush it was compared to the mental image I had before we arrived, I saw more skeletons that week than I have seen since working on bird bones at the museum back in 2002. A good reminder that life is short and death, too, can be beautiful. Although I am very glad to be reporting that second hand.... more adventures and flashbacks coming soon.

Spring Break, Day 2: The Sea of Cortez

2010-04-04T11:55:00.000-07:00

Where was I? Oh yes, the Sea of Cortez. Just to help you visualize what I am trying to describe, let me give you some more data. The sea is young (less than 5 million years old-- a toddler in sea years). It is 900 miles long, and in the Midriff Channel where we were, the water can be up to a mile deep. In a nutshell, the geology and climate of this area are unique and the result is major upwellings of water, high levels of mixing, and, as a consequence, tons of nutrients to support organisms, which in turn support all kinds of life higher up on the food chain.

In the water, there are invertebrates (including El Diablo Rojo-- the giant man-eating squid, one of which Jesse found washed up on shore), sharks, whales, dolphins, sea turtles, and sea lions, in addition to coral-esque reefs and tons and tons and tons of fish. The largest animal known, the blue whale, lives and breeds here (averaging 75-80 ft long and weighing 110 tons). The largest fish (whale sharks) also live here and can reach over 45 ft long and up to 15 tons. The wildlife in this sea was first described by Ed Ricketts and John Steinbeck in the book The Sea of Cortez (1941), which was part biodiversity survey and part travelogue. The prose is so beautiful, I have pasted the first paragraph from the log below. Overall, I just want you to seed your imagination with these pictures, but then go further to imagine the most spectacular, productive ocean you can possibly envision. That's the setting for Day 2's adventures....
So, Pancho (the mechanic) had gotten all the rocks out of the engine and recharged the dead battery for us and we were ready to get back to work. After the previous day's events, we were hesitant to overload the boat for the longer trip from BLA out to Piojo, the island furthest from the peninsula on which we wanted to find snakes (over 2.5 miles away; bottom right red circle on the map). So we decided to take two trips-- first, we would go over with gear (Michelle, Jesse, and I) and then Michelle and I would come back and get Matt and the dog. This plan seemed perfect. Yes, Piojo was far away and the trip was likely to take well over an hour each way. True, we were traveling through deep channels and choppy seas. Admittedly we did not know exactly how much gas it would take to get there and back. Granted, the boat had broken down just 20 yards offshore the day before, leading to relative mayhem. But none of this eclipsed our desire to go get these snakes. As a precaution, Michelle and I did test drive the boat for about 2 minutes and 30 seconds around the bay. It seemed to work fine! When we were completely loaded up, again we noticed it's power dropped precipitously. No matter! We had accepted the fact that we were going to spend the rest of the day shuttling the expedition across the sea piecemeal, so what if we had to do that a little bit more slowly than originally planned?
And so we set out. Remember the splashing over the bow that I mentioned from Day 1? We had somehow blocked this out, but were acutely reminded of it as soon as we got out of the friendly confines of BLA. Each wave we hit cast an icy spritz of sea water across the three of us, as we shielded our eyes and blindly push forward towards our island target. We were cold though, and I was driving as fast as possible (which was not very fast) in an effort to shorten the amount of time spent shivering, knowing this was trip 1 of 4 I would be making that day. As we got further out into the channel, the waves got bigger. Our little boat was smacking into them like a jet ski at a summer lake weekend-- can you imagine it? Boom, boom, boom-- jarring our individual spinal chords as we braced for splash after splash coming in over the bow. The series of swells themselves got bigger until we were right about in the middle of the channel and we went boom, Boom, BOOM, and the engine stopped. Just as the boat smacked back onto the water, nose down into the upcoming wave, water spilling over the front of the bow, into the small cavity in which we were sitting. My first thought, we are going to sink. But the nose bobbed back up, and the water stopped spilling in. Michelle yelled "Bail bucket!!!" and started furiously scooping up water and throwing it overboard. Jesse suggested now might be a good time to put on our life preservers, so we pulled out the three gigantic, fluorescent orange old school life jackets from the hold and put them on. We tried to turn the key in the engine, and heard bupkes (that's yiddish for absolutely nothing). I asked where the paddles were so we could start paddling against the current which was going to be drawing us out to deeper waters in the middle of the sea. As Michelle and I paddled, Jesse was wedged between us on the tiny seat. He pulled his hat down over his ears in utter dismay and predicted "We are all going to die." Of course we weren't going to DIE die, but there was a reasonable chance that we were going to drift out to sea, which in turn could have led to all kinds of other problems (capsizing, starving, cannibalism, etc.) So we paddled furiously with collapsible mini-paddles in a vain effort to at least stay in the same place. For a moment, we took solace in the fact that at least one member of our crew was still on shore (Matt), and would surely realize, at some point, that we were missing and call for help. We quickly lost any sliver of consolation that provided when we realized we had never really talked with Matt about some kind of time frame in which he should expect our return, and given the whole signaling debacle the night before, the possibility he would be proactive about some kind of rescue seemed low. And so we paddled. Furiously. To stay put (right about where the yellow star is on the map).
Jesse's cynicism about the utility of paddling was extreme enough that he refused to do it, and was therefore freed up to think about other options. He suggested we try starting the boat one more time, but potentially after waiting a while in case the engine was flooded. We all agreed this would be ideal if it worked, so in the meantime we kept paddling and bailing and discussing the options, if the engine wasn't going to start. I volunteered to swim. In response, Jesse suggested tying himself to the anchor and throwing himself overboard. Michelle kept bailing and paddling and shivering and apologizing for bringing us out on the Sea of Cortez in this god-foresaken boat. If things did go wrong, this would not be the first accident at sea claiming the lives of biologists (see this article on Gary Polis and collaborators who capsized in this very sea about 10 years ago), so we were not completely panicked, but we were intensely reviewing all the options. After about 20 minutes of waiting patiently to start the engine, we gave it a try. It rumbled, and failed. We tried again, and it started. Halleluah!!! We had no idea what was wrong with it, and we could only putter, but putter we did. Straight back to the peninsula, vowing that if we made it to land we would never take this boat out on the Sea of Cortez again.
At this point, you might be asking yourself-- are they ever going to make it onto the islands to catch snakes? We were wondering the same thing. Stay tuned for Day 3 to find out....

Spring Break, Day 1: Bahia de Los Angeles

2010-03-28T16:39:00.000-07:00

Things have been quiet at Chez Schaackmobile lately because I have been on the road. As many of you know, I can’t resist an invitation to join friends in their field work. This weakness has provided me with many travel opportunities and tons of fun over the years, so when I was invited to go collect rattlesnakes on desert islands in the Sea of Cortez, the answer, of course, was Yes! Lack of freshwater? No problem! Venomous snakes? Yes, please! Unpredictable ocean currents? There is nothing I love more!
Admittedly, our 4000-mile odyssey got off to a kind of rough start. The crew consisted of me, three snake aficionado biologists (Jesse Meik, Michelle Lawing, and Matt Ingrasci), and one dog. Michelle is a grad student at IU in Biology and Geology, and she and I were friends in Bloomington (she had come there from Arlington, and I was heading to Arlington, so she tried to prep me for it the best she could). She and Jesse have collaborated for years on various projects, and most recently have been working on body size evolution in rattlesnakes. Matt is Jesse’s roommate and loves herps (reptiles and amphibians, for those unfamiliar with the jargon) more than anything else in life, other than his dog. The goal of the trip was to go about halfway down the Baja peninsula and venture out to 3 islands (of the 120 that make up the archipelago in this sea) and catch Crotalus mitchelli—commonly known as speckled rattlesnakes. These snakes are found on lots of the islands and, interestingly, their size correlates with the area of the island on which they are found. Although they rattle when you get dangerously close, finding the snakes is not trivial. They are nocturnal, cryptic, venomous, and quick. My love of joining friends at their field sites has given me several opportunities to catch herps in the past (turtles and iguanas), but this was my first time snake hunting.
In order to get to the islands, you need a boat. On their last collecting trip, Jesse and Michelle had paid fishermen to take them to the islands, drop them off, and come back 1-3 days later to pick them up. Because we had four people (and the dog), lots more gear, a tight schedule, and a tight budget, Michelle had thought it might be more convenient if we had our own boat rather than paying fisherman for each individual trip-- so she bought one, on ebay. The boat she bought can most accurately be described as a glorified waverunner. It was about 14 ft. long, and it only cost $2500. In reality, it cost nothing at all because, even though the advertisement for it claimed the engine “worked great” and it ran perfectly on the lake “last weekend”, when she picked the boat up after purchasing it, it didn’t work at all. Thankfully, ebay’s buyer protection policy meant that she got to keep the boat, and got her money back. Of course fixing it then cost $3000, so the boat didn’t really cost nothing afterall, but she got the repairs done and hooked up the trailer to her Ford Taurus and drove 900 miles to Arlington to kick off the trip.
To transport the boat, the crew, the gear and the dog to Baja, we took two vehicles. Our rough start included probably about 6 stops at various Walmarts between here and the Mexican border in an attempt to try and find replacement trailer tires for those shredded by some combination of sun, low air pressure, and age in the first few hundred miles of our drive. I can't help but put in a shameless plug for PepBoys here, as it is the second time they have helped me out personally, for free, when in a pickle on the road.
Eventually, we got into Mexico, and made a late night push for Bahia de Los Angeles (BLA) in order to try and make up for lost time. BLA boasts "no banks, no doctors, and no ATMS" on a sign in town, but they have plenty of fish taco stands and provide the best home base for exploring these particular islands. By the next afternoon, we had permits in hand and decided to take the boat out for a test run to one of the islands, just to make sure it was sea worthy. We loaded up ourselves, the bare essentials for an afternoon on a desert island, and the dog and were able to travel at a mighty clip of about 10 mph out to Smith Island, the closest of the three to the peninsula. The waves were moderate that afternoon, but the boat is designed so that the passengers will get splashed, for fun. So even medium waves meant we were all soaked, and surprisingly cold, by the time we landed on the island. No matter! It's the desert, we were going to dry quickly. When we arrived, we dropped anchor in a small bay and unloaded everything on to the beach. We split up and set out, even though it was the middle of the afternoon and probably an unlikely time to find snakes. The island was gorgeous-- rocky slopes, winding gullies, a lagoon, dramatic intertidal zone-- all surrounded by perfectly clear, deep turquoise water, blue sky, and sunshine. After a few hours, we reconvened at the bay where we arrived and found the boat beached. No problem! We dislodged it, piled in, started the engine, heard a terrible sound, and headed out of the bay at a slow crawl, from which we never were able to break free. About an hour later-- again soaked (even while puttering, the spray over the bow was significant), we got to the beach where we had left our vehicles and dropped anchor. We unloaded Matt, Jesse, the dog, and the gear and Michelle and I set out to continue puttering towards town, where there was a boatramp where we would be able to get the boat out of the water and to a mechanic to find out what was wrong. It was dusk, and we were wet and cold, but double-wide optimism is not a property of the schaackmobile alone, and we figured we'd get to warm up in a few minutes when we got the boat out of the water.
So we puttered towards town, where we were going to meet Matt with his truck. About 20 minutes later, still far from our destination, but long after Matt had departed for it, the engine of the boat cut out and refused to restart. We were about 20 yards offshore, in about 5 feet of water, and I realized immediately that if we got any deeper, I wouldn't be able to touch, and we would have no control over where the boat was going. So I jumped in the water, Michelle threw me a rope, and I began to tow the boat manually down the coast towards town, but eagerly in search of a boat ramp closer by. The sun set.
At some point, Jesse realized it was strange that we had not made it to the boat ramp yet and came looking along the coast for us with the Taurus. He found us and we told him about the dead engine and the freezing our butts off. He went to try and find Matt (who had the trailer) while I played human anchor offshore. The tide was going out, so in order not to beach the boat, we had to stay further and further from shore. The stars came out.
Meanwhile, Matt had started to realize it was weird that we never arrived at the boat ramp and started cruising along the coast in search of us. At one point, he saw a boat in the water and flashed his headlights to see if it was us. We saw the lights, and thought-- Hurray! When we did not signal back (which we couldn't do with a broken boat and no flashlights), Matt decided it must not be us, and turned back towards town. One by one, houses turned off their lights.
Eventually, Jesse found Matt, and they found us, and we got the boat out of the water, and got dry and got warm. I asked the tipsy Californian who let us use their boat ramp (instead of towing it on foot the additional ~3km into town) who the best mechanic in BLA was and he said Pancho Verduga. So we were optimistic once again, and ready for day two.

Specks of Gold Amid the Coal Dust (or Music in the Metroplex)

2010-03-03T08:42:00.000-08:00

I am a music lover. Amidst the seedy, traffic-filled, overly-paved underbelly of the endless business park/strip mall that is the metroplex, one thing that I have found to delight me here in north central Texas is lots and lots of music and music love. Last week I saw two great shows-- on Friday night, The (extremely well-named) Future Unlived unhinged for a fantastic, latenight show in Dallas and Saturday I was serenaded by the Earlybirds-- which includes my friend Petra on violin and is led by a singer/songwriter named Teddy Georgia Waggy-- in Denton. Yes, that is her real name, but don't judge-- it was awesome. What more could a girl ask for than live music, once a day, like a vitamin? Not much. Next week is the 2nd annual north Texas alternative to South by Southwest (SXSW), a music conference most of you probably already know about that is held each spring down in Austin. North by 35 (NX35), as it's called, is a music "conferette" that aims to bring even more outside-the-mainstream talent to light by organizing a long weekend of back-to-back bands at all the venues in downtown Denton. Much of it is a little bit on the harder, western edge of my musical tastes, but there is also the characteristic "Denton sound" (perhaps most widely known now due to the growing popularity of Midlake) which isn't harsh at all. I will definitely be heading up for one night of shows, before heading out into the field. The FIELD, you ask? Indeed. For those of you that thought I had hung up my waders for good with all this genomics and bioinformatics business, I beg for reconsideration. Next weekend I am heading to Mexico to help catch rattlesnakes on desert islands in the Sea of Cortez. I am pretty sure Cortez, himself, did this very same thing at some point long ago, and thereby got a sea named after him. I don't expect such fame or riches, but I do expect to enjoy a week in the great wide open and some awesome mexican food. More on music and other mayhem, coming soon.

Flashback to 1996: The Land of Milk and Honey

2010-02-24T18:24:00.001-08:00

Although my career as a biologist officially started about one year ago when I finished school and began my post-doc here in Texas, there was a brief period after college when I worked as a research assistant at several places all over the world while I decided what I wanted to do in graduate school. The first of these intense, and intensely fun, jobs was at Kellogg Biological Station in Hickory Corners, Michigan (bottom center). Last week, I had the unique opportunity to go back to this very special place because my dear friend Idelle (bottom right) is now a post-doc at KBS. When I was there, I used to refer to it as the land of milk and honey because I loved it so. My job consisted of fishing in lakes, snorkeling around the experimental ponds, and counting Daphnia in petri dishes in the lab. I had spent my childhood summers in Michigan as well, a few hours away on the beach on the great lake, and this first-job-after-college was about as close to that summertime bliss as one could find, while still earning a paycheck. Summer days are long in Michigan, and very romantic-- fireflies, local dairy-produced ice cream, and lots of time in lakes, which I love the most. Going back to KBS and seeing the myriad student pictures and posters lining the hallway-- mostly people who have come through for summer jobs or programs, or perhaps a few years of graduate study-- made me realize that few, if any, of the people that come through this place have very large of an effect on it. In contrast, the impact KBS had on me, even as an inanimate entity that simply brings all those transients together, was profound. I had dinner with Idelle, Gary Mittelbach (the head of the lab where I worked 14 years ago), and Kay Gross (another professor, and now the director of the station). It was so fun to talk about the old days and some of the more prominent characters in the colorful, panoramic history of KBS. While visiting, I also got to go to seminar (given by Idelle on upcoming projects), hear about recent experiments going on in the ponds, and attend a lab meeting where they discussed a paper on the evolution of plant traits that optimize hummingbird pollination efficiency. In a way, it was like a little visit to my old life and, as much as I enjoyed it, it was also a pleasant confirmation that I enjoy the very different things that I work on now too. As always, it was fun to make Gary Mittelbach laugh-- a favorite pastime of mine in the lab in the summer of 1996. Idelle lives in the old gatekeeper's house which is beautiful (bottom left; the grounds of KBS used to be the summer estate of the Kellogg family), and visiting KBS for the first time in the winter provided the opportunity to see the beauty of this place in a new way-- on skis and covered in snow. It was such a cool combination of flashback and new experience, and provided a surprisingly harmonious feeling as I embark on my so-called career, now more in earnest. I doubt I will have many other chances to revisit intense and intensely fun past chapters of my life in this way, but I enjoyed doing so this time and highly recommend it if you have a similar opportunity. Thank you for such a lovely visit Idelle!

Giving Credit Where Credit is Due

2010-02-11T07:36:00.000-08:00

Lots to share this week-- first of all, like most of the country, it is SNOWING here! Unlike most of the country, I am thrilled about it! Arlington can be a beautiful, heavenly oasis-- but only when encased in snow, which is extremely rare. If I had an office window, I'd think I was on top of the world today. As it is, I am thinking of sending out a department-wide email to propose a lunchtime snowball fight in the parking lot. You know-- grad students, professors, administrators, staff-- there is probably a lot of pent up frustration between these factions that could be worked out with a few well-place pelts with mounds of snow. It's a cure-all!

In other news, tomorrow is my friend Britt's birthday (I am celebrating with her in spirit in Las Vegas this weekend where we are undoubtedly, in spirit, going to do all kinds of things that will "stay in Vegas", also in spirit). Britt is the best friend and best colleague one could ever hope to have-- here we are united in recreation and science in front of an aptly-named shop in Chicago last summer. Happy Bday B!!!!
Only slightly more famously, Feb. 12th is also Charles Darwin's birthday. This was an especially big deal last year, even among non-biologists, because it was Darwin's 200th bday (if he were still alive, which you'd think a bunch of biologists would agree is a silly concept) and the 150th anniversary of his most famous book, On the Origin of Species (conveniently published when he was exactly 50 years old, so two centuries later biologists and museum curators could go especially crazy celebrating their even-numbered anniversaries.) Now, don't get me wrong-- I love Charlie Darwin (check out the Low Anthem's song about him that I have posted in the upper right hand corner, in fact). And if you want to read about his amazing insights, there are plenty of other blogs where you can do that I am sure. He somehow managed to casually "notice" every major tenet of biology that has emerged in the last 200 years, long before it became clear to most biologists, simply by walking around his gardens, collecting beetles, raising pigeons, and blogging (I mean, writing in his journal). He is most famous for elucidating how changes in species occur over time:

"It may be said that natural selection is daily and hourly scrutinizing, throughout the world, every variation, even the slightest; rejecting that which is bad, preserving and adding up all that is good; silently and insensibly working, wherever and whenever opportunity offers, at the improvement of each organic being in relation to its organic and inorganic conditions of life."
—On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, 1859

HOWEVER, this principle was also "noticed" by another biologist, halfway around the world at the time-- Alfred Russel Wallace. I recently saw a great talk by Oscar Flores on Wallace outlining how his background (poor vs. rich) and adventures abroad (long vs. short) differed so dramatically from Darwin's, but how they both managed to converge on the concept of natural selection independently. In fact, Wallace had written a letter to Darwin describing his ideas which arrived just days before the final draft of On the Origin was disseminated (with lots of apparent last minute additions to the text which may have been the result of reading this letter.) The timelines of their independent development of the idea are radically different, fascinating, and too lengthy for me to describe in detail here, but what is certain is that the fruition of their ideas was simultaneous (at best, for Darwin), and the subsequent aftermath was just as dissimilar as the lead up, perhaps because of the rich vs. poor difference mentioned earlier. As you know, Charles Darwin is famous worldwide as the grandfather of evolutionary theory, while A. R. Wallace is a relative unknown outside the field of biology.
What was most moving to me about the talk was Oscar's final slide, with this quote from a letter Darwin wrote to Wallace shortly before he died:

"I hope it is a satisfaction to reflect - and very few things in my life have been more satisfactory to me - that we have never felt any jealousy towards each other, though in some sense rivals. I believe I can say this of myself with truth, and I am absolutely sure that it is true of you".

Wallace's birthday was Jan 8th-- he would have turned 187 if he were still alive. My goal is to elevate public knowledge of Wallace's contribution to biological understanding sufficiently by 2023 so that we can at least have another excuse for a bunch of geeky biology parties.
Even Darwin agrees with me, as he wrote about Wallace's 1864 paper:

"It is really admirable, but you ought not... to speak of the theory as mine; it is just as much yours as mine".

All that said, I *do* love this poster: