Safari Imeanza Mwishoni

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

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

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

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

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!

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.