Merch! (or Shane & Schaack are, indeed, crazy)

Head over to the DWO website for info on t-shirts, tour updates, and a new original song! The tour starts SUNDAY, come if you can! Bring your friends! We need clappers!

The Movin' Mavs

UT-Arlington doesn't have a football team (sacrilege in Texas, I would have thought) and, in fact, isn't very good at all when it comes to sports . The Movin' Mavs, however, are an exception-- they have won the national championship 7 times since 1989. Who are the Movin' Mavs? UTA's wheelchair basketball team, that's who.
I went to my first game on Friday night and I believe, for the first time in my life, that I might actually be capable of becoming a sports fan. The Movin' Mavs play in Texas Hall-- a strange auditorium-like court with bleachers on one side and more wheel-chair friendly theater-style seating on the other side. The whole set-up is pretty much indistinguishable from a "regular" college basketball game-- terrific athletes, cheerleaders, a maverick mascot, raffles, etc.-- except for the fact that it is inherently much more exhilarating to watch these athletes achieve their goals given the extra challenges playing basketball from a wheelchair presents (farther shots, more one-handed shots, and some pretty serious crashing on defense). It was awesome to catch a glimpse of the game this past weekend and I am looking forward to going to their next home game in early December. If you live in Arlington, come with me! If you don't, check out the fantastic documentary on wheelchair rugby called Murderball that came out in 2005-- it is excellent.

Mingling the Sacred and the Profane

As many of you know, I have been struggling (with moderate success) to find the hidden charms of my new home state. I have always been pretty much a "home is where you hang your hat" kind of girl, but looking back I now realize that the places I have actually moved to (not just visited) have often required some similar kind of resourceful charm hunting in the beginning. Richmond (IN), Gainesville (FL), and Bloomington (IN) were not, at first glance, the coolest places to live, but somehow or another they each grew on me over time and I departed each one appreciating their physical beauty, seedy underbellies, and distinctive flavors. I hope the same will hold true for Arlington, but after 10 months here (10 months!) I was beginning to question when my appreciation for this place might start to unfurl. The answer: this week.

It started with a talk I went to last Thursday. It turns out, a dear childhood friend of mine, Mari, lives in Duncanville (about 20 minutes down the road from Arlington) and we recently got back in touch with each other (via good old fashioned moms-calling-moms on the telephone, no facebook required). Mari's uncle, Joe Nick Patoski, is a writer and has authored several books on various aspects of Texas including 3 biographies on famous Texans-- Selena, Stevie Ray Vaughn, and, most recently, Willie Nelson. Joe Nick's main thesis, in his life and in his writing, is that Texas is a unique place that breeds unique people. He is a proud, unapologetic, likeable Texan (a very rare combination) and was recently honored as Author of the Year by the Friends of the Duncanville Library Association (admittedly, in part, because Mari nominated him). His speech on Thursday night was about why he thinks Texas is unique and why Texas music, in particular, embodies the state's distinctive essence. He talked about cultural diversity in Texas-- a place where mexicans, "anglos", blacks, vietnamese, czechs, cajuns, red-necks, hippies, and baptists interact and observe each other. I think I have mentioned before that my favorite thing about UT-Arlington is the diverse student body and it definitely extends beyond the college campus. Even though the rest of the world has a distinctive stereotype when they hear the word "texan", it turns out that is (at best) the weak majority and probably won't be for long. Joe Nick's biographies focus on musicians at the intersection of some of these boundaries who, collectively, represent a much more interesting version of the word "texan" than the stereotype: Selena, a tejana (a texan of mexican descent) who became a national phenom in both the US and Mexico before her early and tragic death; Stevie Ray, born in Oak Cliff (a racially charged area south of Dallas in which the schools were not officially declared desegregated until 2003), who was a prominent guitarist able to successfully fuse blues and country guitar despite sociopolitical hurdles rendering them unlikely bedfellows; and Willie, who has managed to bridge the gap between the upstanding, church-going, farmers of the dry county in which he was born with the whiskey-swilling cowboys, pot-smoking hippies, and beer-brewing immigrants in the wet county to which he went every day to perform. In other words, Willie successfully "mingled the sacred and the profane"-- an idea that I believe must be turned into a song itself and that Joe Nick believes is the heart of Texas. Although I am sure most places in America embody similar contrasts if you look closely enough, I have to admit that Joe Nick's thoughts and observations made me appreciate Texas much more than I had an hour earlier that day. I don't think I will be flying a Texas flag outside the trailer any time soon, but I definitely felt some unfurling this past week. Thanks for the invitation Mari!

Happy Birthday Genevieve!

Just a quick shout out to my sister, my ally, my co-conspirator, my confidante, my friend... Here she is at the ripe old age of 3, a mere 25 years ago! How can it be that it seems like everything happened just yesterday?
Have a great birthday and a fun Halloween tomorrow! I love you very very much!!!!

Blog Spawn

Since the whole joke-y notion of forming a band and going on an open mic night tour has become remarkably real, we decided it might be more convenient (you know, for the fans) to have a website for all things DWO (Double-Wide Optimism is a mouthful when you keep talking about it all the time....) The schaackmobile blog will still contain links to the various goings-on at the band's webpage (can you believe I just wrote that???) but will resume its normal blogginess and more general musings as well.

Feel free to check out the new site at doublewideoptimism.blogspot.com!

The Arlington Sessions

I am not really sure where to begin describing this past weekend. As devoted readers know, Shane came into town for a pre-tour rehearsal weekend. What started as a lark, with Shane blurting out "We should go on an open mic night tour!" after the Players Pub incident last December, is becoming-- dare I say it?-- a reality. We spent the weekend working on songs and playing guitar (and banjo!) as we planned (and eating hamburgers, and doing photo shoots, and making videos-- mainly of drunken dancing at Saturday night's BBQ, mind you-- and most of the other things that were on our to do list). But the whole thing got turned up to eleven when we went into the Lab of Luxury studios here in Arlington yesterday to record some of the songs we've been working on. After making sure we had our instruments, tuner, picks, lyrics, the teach-yourself-how-to-play-banjo book, and plenty of nervous energy, we went over hoping to record scratch tracks with which we could practice a little bit over the next month, perhaps in an attempt to not suck when we went on tour. Our able producers (Jeff Streicher and Jesse Meik of Jude the Innocent fame-- album from them, coming soon!), however, somehow transformed our simple little ditties into ACTUAL SONGS!!! I don't know how they did it (neither does Shane, he thinks they used magic) but somehow or another, we now have three seed songs for an EP. Currently labeled "The Arlington Sessions", this recording session exceeded our wildest hopes and dreams. It was so fun, I have to recommend that everyone who might read this go out, pick up an instrument, write a song, and record it. It is the most fun thing you could possibly do. Even my schaack-optimism was dwarfed by the final product, an example of which you can hear below. Of course, when we are on tour, Jeff and Jesse won't be there laying awesome drum tracks and intoxicating bass lines, so it will sound a little bit more like good ol' me and Shane, but it was so fun to watch the song grow and develop as we layered the music and at least some new elements can be re-created on stage with castanets and some fearless harmonizing. Like I said, go do this if you can. You will wonder why you do anything else. More DWO tour details soon!

To hear Double-Wide Optimism's official worldwide debut
of their self-titled single,
"Double-Wide Optimism"
click below!
(that's a lot of optimism in one sentence, brace yourself!)
Written by
Shane Lewinski
Performed by
Shane Lewinski, Jeff Streicher, Jesse Meik, and Sarah Schaack
Produced by Jude the Innocent and recorded at The Lab of Luxury,
Arlington, TX 2009

The Winner, and Still Champion

Despite a late-hour coup attempt by proponents of The Teapot Dome Scandal, the voice of fans WORLDWIDE (yes, apparently two people in Wales voted!) has been heard and the winning band name is: Double-Wide Optimism! Thanks to all who participated in the democratization of rock n' roll (a whopping 57 people voted, temporarily increasing my readership beyond my wildest hopes!) In the timeless words of AC/DC-- for those about to rock, we salute you!

Now onto the tour! Shane arrives tonight at the delightfully named Love Airfield in Dallas for our pre-tour rehearsal/recording weekend! That's right guys-- we are gonna practice! Well, we are gonna play guitar all weekend and eat hamburgers like we normally do when I hang out with Shane, but hopefully that will have some positive downstream effects when we hit the road.

The weekend's festivities include, but are not limited to, the following: writing songs, playing guitar, learning banjo really quick, recording an EP at the Lab of Luxury studio (= my friend and fellow biologist Jeff Streicher's apartment), a photoshoot, designing tour t-shirts (maroon won, by the way-- graphic post forthcoming! wait, that sounds naughty....), making a video, eating hamburgers, performing live, going to shows, jamming, doubling down on Shane's induction into the Schaackmobile Hall of Fame, making s'mores, and, most likely, multiple trips to Guitar Center. Sound fun? Come on over! We can act like rockstars together! I am pretty sure eating s'mores is rockstaresque behavior,... isn't it?

Thanks again for all your support for this cockamamie venture-- literally, the band Double-Wide Optimism would not exist without you all! Fear not for your ears-- no matter how hard I try, there is no way I am going to master simultaneously playing the harmonica and guitar at the same time by November.photo credit: Shane Lewinski

Reader's Choice Poll

As you may remember, Shane and I are going on tour in November throughout the midwest.... I am pleased to announce our tour schedule is tentatively planned for the following dates and cities:

Saturday, Nov 21: Pre-tour rehearsal, St. Louis, MO
Sunday, Nov. 22: St. Paul, MN
Plum's Neighborhood Bar & Grille
480 Snelling Ave S, 651-699-2227/9 pm
Monday, Nov. 23: Madison, WI
The Come Back In
508 E. Wilson Street, Phone: 608-258-8619/9:30 pm
Tuesday, Nov. 24: Chicago, IL
The Holiday Club- www.holidayclubchicago.com
4000 N Sheridan, Chicago, 773- 348-9600/8 pm
Wednesday, Nov. 25: Edwardsville, IL
The Stagger Inn
104 E. Vandalia St, (618) 656-4221
(VIP afterparty for groupies, TBA)

Although we are defying conventions left and right (most of which musicians and fans alike hold dear-- most importantly, possessing significant musical talent), we are adhering to some. First of all, we need a band name. Second of all, once we have a band name, we need to make concert t-shirts. Third of all, we have to write and practice some songs. (Ranked in order of importance, to us.) The first item is up to you guys though, so please make your voice heard by voting in the 1st Annual Schaackmobile Reader's Choice Poll! (upper right hand corner of the blog) Other than our original band name, which was thought up by my old labmate Casey McGrath, the options are entirely the brainchild of Shane Lewinski, founding member of what we will, for the time being, refer to as Band X. We will do what our fans demand!

The choice is yours, and the nominees are:

The Teapot Dome Scandal
Cher-a (a combination of Shane and Sarah)
Double-wide Optimism
Second String
Schaackzilla and the Monkey Man
Warning Track Power (to fully understand how clever this actually is, check out the wikipedia article explanation here)

Here are the specs:
You can vote as often as you like, but only for one name at a time.
You can see the results by clicking on "View Results" and using the left-right scroll bar.
Write-in nominations of your own creation can be submitted via the comment tool, and will be added below as write-in candidate options.
Voting will close on October 22 so we have time to custom design t-shirts and get them ordered before hitting the road!

I have been sketching some preliminary t-shirt graphics, but the final product, including t-shirt color, will depend on the voice of the people!

No need to buy tickets! No need to plan ahead! Why do U2 go through all the trouble of hauling that 360 stage around when they, too, could take advantage of neighborhood open mic nights??? We would love to see any friendly faces that might be able to make it and promise to dedicate our inevitable cover of Every Rose Has Its Thorn to anyone who drives over 10 miles to come see us! Hopefully living on the road won't harden us too much and we'll be able to fend off the heaps of groupies trying to make out with us all the time-- perhaps that hardship can even be parlayed into future songs of heartbreak and desperation!
Here's hoping!!!!!

Addendum: Astute reader Dan Janes has started a write-in campaign for two new names.... I can't actually add them to the poll because voting has already started and the widget rules won't allow changes, but I can list them here:

Obscured by Corn
Brimming with Vivacity in the Parlance of Our Times

Bigfoot Research

I have been a delinquent blogger, I know. But keep in mind that delinquent blogger = non-delinquent post-doc, so it isn't such a terrible thing. I mentioned last week that I would say a few words about the 9th Annual Texas Bigfoot Research Conference which was held in mid-September at the University of Texas-Tyler (a sister school!) since I, too, like research. For those of you who don't already know, although the mythos of Bigfoot (aka Sasquatch, the Yeti, the Abominable Snowman-- take your pick, different names but the same hairy, giant, elusive, hominoid-like creature) is worldwide, it has certain areas of high concentration. Like Canada (where I am from). And Texas (where I now live). Although I wasn't able to attend this particular conference, several delegates from my department went, including Christian Cox (pictured above with typical Bigfoot evidence and namesake; happy birthday Christian!) These colleagues of mine attended, in addition to 400+ other people (who presumably did NOT go as a joke), reported back on the latest findings, and, of course, brought me a t-shirt. The annual meeting consists of a full day of 40 minute talks from experts on a variety of topics ranging from "Sasquatch 101" to this year's special guest, Bob Gimlin (Mr. Gimlin is one of two people credited for making the only not-revealed-to-be-a-fake-yet 1967 Sasquatch video still in circulation; see still frame below). Unlike what you might expect of a research conference, the talks aren't so much about evidence for Bigfoot as much as they are about how to catch/prove/photograph/depict/describe Bigfoot more effectively during inevitable future encounters. It also sounds like there is a fair amount of Bigfoot-skeptic bashing, Bigfoot belief-declaring, and Bigfoot sighting retelling. My understanding is that pretty much everybody there has either a) seen Bigfoot or b) expects to, which would indicate maybe Bigfeet aren't so rare afterall, since the conference is so well attended. In addition to the researchers interested in Bigfoot, there were researchers interested in people interested in Bigfoot -- from the psychology department. They passed out surveys to everyone in the audience in hopes of continuing their efforts to identify what characteristics typify Bigfoot believers and, perhaps more interestingly, Bigfoot researchers, such as those attending this conference. Their data reveal that typical Bigfoot believers tend to come from low income households and usually have little to no education. But Bigfoot researchers? Interestingly, they defy definition, fit no profile, and typically represent no single demographic category. Why? Well, perhaps it is hard to predict exactly what kind of scientist would risk their career and credibility chasing after a legendary creature most often shown to actually be someone running around in an ape suit or a misidentified bear. However, in the spirit of scientific objectivity, after devoting an entire post to the topic, I feel obligated to provide the link to where you should file a report (hopefully more peaceful than the one recounted by this nature-loving mountain climber, above) if you should see one. And for those of you who have now come to expect an interactive blog reading experience or simply want to avoid doing research (on Bigfoot or any other topic), check out the song/video by Tenacious D called Sasquatch on youtube here.

Coming later this week! A Reader's Choice Poll to pick the band name before Shane and I go on tour at Thanksgiving. Remember-- this is what everyone is getting for Christmas because no one is actually going to buy our concert t-shirts-- so make your voice heard above the din of the other 2 or 3 voices! Like they say in Chicago-- vote early, vote often!

The Avett Brothers

I am going to blog soon for real about this past weekend's conference on the leading edge bigfoot research here in Texas (yes, bigfoot), but I couldn't wait to share something in the meantime with those of you who are already Avett Brothers fanatics like me, and with those of you who aren't yet but should be. NPR is streaming their newest album for free this week, leading up to its release (Sept. 29th). So for the next 2 days, you can listen to it over and over again like I am doing! They were supposed to play Dallas tonight, which would have lit-er-ally made my whole fall, but, alas, it got rescheduled for January. Something to look forward to in the new year, I suppose. Double-wide optimism strikes again!

To listen to one of their old songs that is a favorite of mine, check the top right corner of this page where I have added a new feature to the blog! Now, when I am going on and on about a band, I can post a song for you to listen to so you can tell right away if I am full of it. Efficient, huh? You can listen once for free, and then Lala will make you buy it if you want to listen to it again.

If you like that, and want to hear their new album in its entirety, go to:
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=112973444

Their live shows feel quite different than their studio albums. The album feels like this:
And their live shows feel like this:

This album, like their previous ones, is incredibly good. Unlike their previous albums though, for the first time the songs on this one poke right into my heart and it hurts. But I love it, and hope you do too....

The Teapot Dome Scandal and the Wacky Wacky Salt-Shakers

Wow! That comment thing really went over well. I have 4 readers-- other than my mom! (who adorably wrote to tell me she saw the comment gadget but couldn't figure out how to post one. Sometimes things are prohibitively technical for a reason Mom!) This, of course, has incurred the jealousy of bloggers worldwide (ok, perhaps only the jealousy of one blogger, in Ohio, whose readership [currently, n = 2] is about to go through the roof after I link his blog to my blog here, and all the overflow from the Bloomington Velo-News finds itself completely hooked on the latest musings and sociopolitical commentary from a baseball coach in Ohio. Thanks again for the nod GP!)

As you know, I was traveling a fair amount during my first 6 months of living in Arlington, and I got back from the last trip (details below; is that bad, to link to my own blog?) and was feeling a bit guilty and pretty behind schedule at work. So I was glad not to have any trips on the horizon, since it is usually the sprinkling of trips throughout my calendar that provides bookends around periods of supposed productivity during which I always have such a hard time getting anything done. But this time, the coast was clear and I was going to be able to come back to Arlington and just work! With abandon! You know, get ahead in the game! Maybe have something to show for it at the end of the day. Yeah, well I have been in Arlington for like a month straight and I am itchin' to hit the road! Good thing I have tentatively planned to go on tour with Shane around Thanksgiving.
Tour, you ask?
Yes, tour.
But Schaack,....um... you don't really play an instrument.
Um,... yeah,..... well, performance isn't entirely about musical capabibilites alright!

From where does this cockamamie idea stem? Well, last December I decided to make good on a vow I had made to myself about 6 years previous (for the full story, told in situ, click below; notice there is none of the actual music posted. There is a reason for this.)

Basically, I wanted to do an open mic night before I graduated and to help take the edge off, I somehow convinced/was blessed by all my friends who play instruments joining me for the event. We made a band called The Teapot Dome Scandal and the Wacky Wacky Salt-Shakers and we went on the "For One Night Only" Tour. Despite the fact that I have little to no musical ability, this was a magical night. You can probably tell by the impossibly wide smile on my face that it was one of the most fun nights of my life. It was certainly more fun that the vast majority of the other things I did during the pursuit of my PhD. It was so fun, in fact, that Shane Lewinski (Schaackmobile Hall of Famer and Wacky Wacky Salt-Shaker) had a brilliant idea shortly afterwards. He suggested that we go on tour, and play a bunch of open mic nights from town-to-town over a several day period-- like a real tour! Except, once again, without the musical talent or nagging details of setting up any shows! Our excitement reached its zenith when we realized that if we went on tour, we would get to make concert t-shirts!!!! After blowing an o-ring at the thought of having graphic art made specifically by or for us and a list of small dive-bar names printed on the back of a t-shirt, we decided we should probably try and write some of our own songs instead of counting on 80's glam rock ballads for our bread and butter. So far, I/we have written a handful, but it is definitely going to be hard to recapture the magic of that cold Thursday evening at the typically depauperate open mic night at the Player's Pub in Bloomington-- living out a dream, and bringing ten additional people along for the ride (not to mention the wildly supportive friends and patrons that came to watch and somehow knew that clapping was the most beautiful sound that would be made that night), is way better than any song I might be able to write. Anyway, that's my next planned trip-- November 21-25th, 2009. If we are crazy enough to make t-shirts, that's what you're all getting for Christmas.
The Teapot Dome Scandal and the Wacky Wacky Salt-Shakers are:
Sarah Schaack (guitar, volcals, tambourine)
Darron Luesse (guitar, vocals; drove 5 hours to surprise me and ended up in the band)
Shane Lewinski (guitar, vocals, rhythm egg, castenets; drove 5 hours to join the band)
Francesco Catania (guitar, vocals; labmate, original recruit for the band)
Stacy Hoobler (drums; actual musician & friend, provided much-needed base/bass for the band)
Matt Rosenthal (electric guitar; recruited to the band the night before)
Dan Jacobs (harmonica, melodica; stars & guitars regular, destined to be in the band)
Eunjin Choi (vocals; saintly undergrad working in the lab, ended up being recruited to the band)
Very nice dude at the bar (banjo; joined the band during the show)

Geraint Parry (announcer)
Sam Miller (videographer)

Like GP said during the show--
with 5 guitars and a banjo, what could go wrong?

Flashback to July 2009: Summiting Ibapah

Not all that big a leap back in time, I realize... but I just got pictures from the trek up Ibapah Peak (12,1010 ft) and wanted to share some of the summit approach because it is so extremely beautiful. As the highest peak in the Deep Creek Mountains, it emerges from the valley quite abruptly, resulting in a dramatic ascent and an amazing vista once you get to the top. Go climb this mountain if you can!

If you do, you will feel like this!

Lastly, after months of public outcry (okay, okay, ... a couple of emails), I have finally added the commenting gadget to the blog (see below) so I won't hoard the witty and insightful quips I occasionally get (which I love!) to myself anymore.  

If my mom is, in fact, the only one reading this blog (as I often suspect), it will become abundantly clear soon enough, so please feel free to make your opinions on optimism, trailer life, north central Texas, transposable elements, Todd Snider, or anything else you can think of 
known to the universe, just as I do!

The End of Summer is Still Summer in Texas

School started last week and I just wanted to share a picture of a campus vehicle here at the University of Texas-Arlington. Isn't it sweet? I asked the dude driving it if this is what they used to chauffeur important donors around when they came on campus and he chuckled and said no, but proudly told me it was a '74. I told him, so was I!

I spent the Labor Day Weekend down on the coast in Rockport-- a part of the state I had never been to before. Other than the Czech Stop, a gas station that sells incredibly tasty homemade kolaches (my favorite culinary discovery since moving to Texas), the metroplex (that's what they call the greater Dallas-Ft. Worth metropolitan area) and the ocean are separated by about 350 miles of almost featureless rural Texas landscape. The coast itself is nice and provides an ocean breeze to offset the incredible heat (it's September, and yesterday it was still 100 degrees here.) I am going to miss lots of things about fall, I can tell already. The weekend was composed of swimming, boating, and, most wonderfully, eating seafood to satiety, which one rarely gets to do. Thanks to Kerri and Mitch for hosting!

In concert news, I got to do 2 of my favorite things last week-- 1) see Todd Snider, on his old stomping grounds no less and 2) introduce someone new to the joy of Todd Snider. He played the Cheatham Street Warehouse in San Marcos, TX-- a venue owned by a guy named Kent Finlay who met Todd shortly after he bought his first guitar and taught himself the three chords he has learned to play so well while sharing his opinions which, brothers and sisters, he is not sharing because they are right, or because they are smart, but because they rhyme. Todd's first gigs were at this place and I was extremely excited to drive 4 hours south to see him play among old friends in a small Texas shack made out of rebar. The highlights for me were Waco Moon, which he rarely plays, and a slowed down, heartfelt version of Play A Train Song. Both songs are about friends who died early, but one is sad and one is celebratory. One of the reasons I love Todd is because of his ability to find both these feelings in something most people write off as simply tragic and his ability to share it with the rest of us so beautifully. It was a great show (my 16th I believe!) and I can't wait to see him again.

Latest Entry into the Visitor Hall Of Fame, Tent Division

I enjoyed a surprise visit from my dear friend Doug Ottke this week and so added another gilded entry into the Schaackmobile Visitor Hall of Fame. This time with a twist-- Doug set up his tent on the "lawn" (a somewhat polluted area filled with broken glass and treacherous weeds-- I am NOT exaggerating when I say treacherous-- the lengths these plants have gone to in order to disperse their progeny is quite painful for largely hairless mammals like ourselves. When you come to visit, high step through the weeds and make your way straight back to the safe confines of the concrete patio...notice the neighbors put in a new privacy fence to boot, how thoughtful of them!) Anyway, Doug was on his way from Tallahassee, FL (where he was visiting another old college compatriot of ours, Franklin, more about him in a future post) to Denver, CO (where he lives, until Sept. 15th, when he heads to Central America). Luckily, the godforesaken nature of Arlington does not impair my ability to enjoy hosting a visitor like Doug because the fun and entertainment is inherent in the conversation. Doug is a fascinating guy-- by training, a geologist, but his philosophy of living has brought him to a variety of jobs and places. These travels include a recent stay with his aunt and uncle in LA where we continued working on Teapot Dome Sabotage, his screenplay depicting the juxtaposition of nature and its destruction, and one man's inability to simply take home a paycheck and look the other way. Hopefully you will see it on the big screen one day, or on at least a medium-sized screen. Any documentarian or movie-making friends out there interested in such a thing? Becca? I can have his people call your people! (In other words, give you each other's email addresses).Doug and I met during my first year of college at Earlham in the late fall of 1992. We became friends by the time he graduated but, hour for hour, we have definitely spent more time together in the mountains and on the streets of strange cities than we ever got to hang out in college. Doug is a renaissance man in a sense-- he is well-read, a good conversationalist, opinionated but not close-minded, interesting and interested-- which is a rare and wonderful combination of traits. He is also a Rush fan, as are many of the most interesting people (ok, men-- I have yet to meet a female Rush fan) I know. Doug actually was the first person to introduce me to Bob Dylan as well, but it was long before I was smart enough to listen. I am sure that is true for many other things he has brought up in conversation over the years, and I am just genuinely grateful to him for sticking with me as a friend while I catch up. Among other stories we got to revisit, we enjoyed retelling the tale of our visit to the Smithsonion in 1999 to see the Ontonagon Boulder-- a massive piece of copper from Michigan that is embroiled in a 3-way custody battle so alledgedly controversial it has to be kept behind the scenes in the Natural History division of the museum. It can only be visited by the geological elite, but Doug knew a guy, and we somehow managed to get backstage (this was my first trip to Washington, DC, it was only about 48 hours, and despite the great number of monuments and museums I have heard that they have there, I spent most of my time in the collections area of the Geology division at the Smithsonian looking a giant, dusty rock). It was a great day though, and a great trip, and it is a telling example of Doug's passionate interest in things derived from this earth and the trouble that they can incite above ground once humans get involved. So glad you came by Ott! Come again when you can!

Happy Ramadan

Note to reader(s):

I use A LOT of capitalization in this post for emphasis.
Please do dwell on the capitalized words and say them loudly in your mind to improve flow, clarify meaning, and emphasize incredulity.

Ramadan started this week and I told my friend and labmate Assie that I would fast with her on the first and last day of the month-long festivus in solidarity and support of her suffering since SHE was fasting all day long every day for a month in solidarity and support of millions of people who suffer worldwide. It seemed like the least I could do, right?

I am not sure why exactly... perhaps it was the fact that I had agreed to fast in the first place, but Monday morning I woke up ravenous. I am not a breakfast eater, but my stomach was audibly growling as I laid in bed already trying to remember why I had agreed to do this. Then I went to work. Those of you who know me in a lab setting know that last year I bought a little, miraculous coffee maker (one of the pod-based coffee makers) in an effort to cultivate a caffeine addiction while writing my dissertation. It worked wonders for my productivity-- given that I woke up at home in my bed and the coffee maker was in my lab. After a very short time, my morning routine was shaved down to the 20 minutes it took me to get up, get dressed, scoot to school, and put the pod in the machine. 26 seconds later, I would have a frothy, delicious little cup of joy in my newbie hands. Nowadays I am patently hooked on my 4 ounce miracle each morning and it is the first thing I do to get going when I arrive at school. Monday was no different, although I soon found out that, technically, drinking coffee (or even water!) counts as breaking the fast. "REALLY?" I asked in feigned disbelief. Really, I was told. I was informed of this while chewing gum (which I was doing with unusual gusto because I was SO hungry), which I came to find out is ALSO a fast-breaking activity. Something about the flavor crystals going down your throat in your saliva…. So, it turns out, I am a terrible empathetic faster. Now I have decided that I am going to show my support for Assie by providing a pathetic example of fasting-- trying each day and failing-- in order to make her feel really good about how awesome a faster she is. I don't know why I didn't think of this strategy in the first place.

My previous experience with Ramadan was during time spent on the very Islamic coast of East Africa, where I was working a few years ago in the fall of 2006. One day, I was walking around with my erstwhile boyfriend (and current dear friend) Chris Moore in Stone Town—the main hub of the island of Zanzibar—digesting a delicious dinner from The Gardens (the nightly street food galleria that springs up in the park along the waterfront serving up the most delicious fresh-caught seafood you have ever tasted for a fraction of the price you have ever paid—unless you get snookered that is….) We knew I had the day off the next day and were lala-ing about, pressing our noses in the window of a restaurant dedicated to all things Freddy Mercury (he was born in Zanzibar and is something of a local hero; the restaurant was, of course, closed for Ramadan), and brainstorming about what to do the next day. We passed a storefront that claimed to rent any type of motorized vehicle and Chris suggested we rent scooters since a) I love scooters and b) the island is so small you can see it in its entirety via a two-stroke engine. As per usual in Tanzania, there was a guy who happened to be standing outside the storefront who assured us his friend owned the place, and that someone would be there to meet us at 8 am the next morning and hook us up with some vehicles. As per usual, the next morning there WAS someone there, 2 guys actually, totally unaffiliated with THIS particular scooter rental place, ready to take us on dirtbikes at high speed through the winding, narrow streets of Stone Town to THEIR place, where they also had a few scooters that could be rented out. Let me describe these guys briefly, because we ended up spending quite a bit of time with our lives in their hands. One was very, very tall and one was very, very short and they both had very, very greasy hair and wore a lot of jewelry. When we selected the scooters we wanted, they asked us for our Tanzanian motorcycle driver’s licenses to fill out the paperwork for the rental. For some reason, they were SHOCKED we did not have any, and acted as if the deal was definitely going to fall through. This seemed like kind of a surprise to me because a) I am an indefatigable optimist and b) I am pretty sure EVERYONE who rents a scooter in Zanzibar does not possess a Tanzanian driver’s license with a motorcycle endorsement. I gently suggested that maybe there was a way around this problem, and they agreed that we could go to the Zanzinbari-equivalent of the DMV and GET Tanzanian driver’s licenses. However, this would require a) going to the DMV (which is a time-consuming activity in every country), b) having our US driver’s licenses with us (which we did not have), and therefore c) procuring fake foreign driver’s licenses to use to get only somewhat real Zanzibari licenses, and finally, d) taking a driving test on the scooter. And so we did! Procuring the fake licenses was going to take a little while, so we were led to a courtyard to wait with the short, greasy guy while the tall, greasy guy went searching wherever one searches for these things. The short greasy guy was drinking strong coffee and smoking non-stop. Because I knew even less about Ramadan then than I do now, I asked him, “So, trying to survive the fast, huh?”—assuming, of course, that mainlining coffee and chain-smoking was a survival strategy for hunger.
“WHAT?!?” he exclaimed. “I don’t fast during Ramadan! If you fast, you can’t drink and smoke!!!”
Oh, I see. So it is not the STARVING that bothers you, it is not being able to drink and smoke cigarettes. Got it.
Eventually, the tall greasy guy came back with the licenses which, as I mentioned, need to have motorcycle endorsements (mine did, Chris’ didn’t) in order to take the test and get the permits and, preferably, should bear SOME resemblance to the person intending to get away with using them (I am pretty sure Zanzibaris think all light-skinned people look the same, so this was probably okay. ) Then we each rode with one of the greasy guys on the scooters to a park in the middle of town so we could practice before taking the test. These scooters had gears like motorcycles, Chris wasn’t nearly as experienced a scooter driver as I was, and there is a serious paucity of stoplights and lane dividers on the roads in Zanzibar so it was important just to get used to weaving in and out of chaotic traffic. Ironically, on our WAY back from the park to the DMV, we got stopped by the cops (we were not driving at this point, we were each still clutching uncomfortably tightly to our respective greasy guys). Turns out, THEIR licenses were expired. The cop took them and told them to come back later that night with “tea money” (=a bribe) and they could get them back. So now we are four people, two scooters, and zero licenses. On our way to the Zanzibari DMV.

We get there, wait the requisite amount of time (this is a prescribed amount, in accordance with a secret universal proclamation followed by DMV paper pushers worldwide), take the driving test, lie to the officials about our fake IDs, insist that the motorcycle endorsement is embedded in the numeric codes somewhere on the back, and leave with one license to ill in hand (mine, Chris was out of luck). The tall greasy guy assured us this was no problem and that, for a small price, he could just forge a license. The price was so small, in fact, I had to wonder why we didn't just go this route in the first place! After a few more stops and some waiting in lobbies of various buildings, we head BACK to the house with the courtyard deep in the back alleys of Stone Town to get our scooters and get going. It is now about noon. After four hours of mishaps, mayhem, waiting, lying, fake IDs, getting hassled by cops, driving lessons, holding on for dear life, careening through narrow alleys all over town, discussing the cons of Ramadan, and convincing everyone involved that this was, in fact, a good idea despite the apparent obstacles and illegalities—the tall greasy guy handed us some really dorky looking helmets and the keys to the scooters. At last! As we turned on the ignition and started to roll them backwards to head out onto the street, he yelled in kind of a panic—“WAIT! Wait! Stop!!!”

We turned off the ignition.

“Yeah?” I said, wondering what else there could POSSIBLY be.

He said, “DON'T FORGET!!!! You have to drive on the LEFT here!!”

I nearly died laughing. After 5 trips to East Africa, 3 months in-country on this particular trip, having covered thousands and thousands of miles by car, having DRIVEN numerous times, and (ESPECIALLY) having just spent the last 4 hours trying to rent these scooters, did he REALLY think we had somehow managed to miss the whole driving on the left thing? Needless to say, scooting is a great way to see Zanzibar (and the rest of the world I would propose) and the morning's saga only primed us for the day's adventure.

We hit the road.

Summer Nights (Flashback to 2003 & 2005)

Other than drive-in movie theaters and trips to a local ice cream dairy, there are few things that epitomize a perfect summer evening more than going to a state or county fair. I haven't figured out yet if there is a state fair in Texas, or if it is even possible to go given the oppressive, unrecreational heat, but back in Indiana, August always included a trip up to the fairgrounds in Indianapolis with my dear friend Idelle to see gigantic, prize-winning farm animals and a live performance of A Prairie Home Companion at the Indiana State Fair. The first time we went in 2003, relatively early in our friendship, we had the thrill of meeting Garrison Keillor, the host of the show-- he signed our books, gave us ketchup and rhubarb preserves, and made our month.At that show, we also met Rich Dworsky, Tim Russell, Sue Scott, and Fred Newman (the amazingly talented and funny sound effects specialist on the program), with whom we became fast friends. Since then, we have probably seen A Prairie Home Companion live half a dozen times in various places. Not only have we gotten to shoot the breeze and harmonize with GK immediately after the show, but we have had the pleasure and honor of hanging out, joking around, and swapping stories with Fred, Pat Donahue (guitarist is the Guy's All-Star Shoe Band), and Laura Bucholz (a writer for the show). Can you imagine Idelle, my sister Genevieve, myself, picking up the three of them at their hotel after there show, all squeezing into my little car, and heading to the local brewery to have dinner, and tell stories, and laugh-- literally until we cried? It was one of the most fun evenings I think any of us civilians (me, Gen, and Idelle) ever had, and I would like to think Fred, and Pat, and Laura might have had fun too. I have one picture from that evening, taken by my sister-- though I am missing another one that has her in it.... Gen, Idelle-- do either of you have the one with all of us where I look a little too happy? If so, I will embarass myself and post it too.
Other than live performances of radio shows that I adore, there is nothing I like more about these kinds of fairs than a foot long corn dog and a demolition derby. Cotton candy? No interest. Giant pretzels? Too salty. But a foot long corn dog is the greatest gift America has contributed to my culinary bliss and, for some reason, they seem to be the exclusive domain of state and county festivals. The concept of demolition derby is also uniquely american and surprisingly entertaining, especially given that I don't enjoy car racing (they just turn left the whole time!) One thing that shocked me at my first derby (in 2005) was how young the drivers were-- 10, 12, 14 year old boys are sent into battle by their parents and legal guardians to drive a car as hard as possible into another vehicle. I realize it is just good, clean fun, but I cannot imagine allowing/asking/encouraging/funding such endeavors for a kid if I were their parent. Speaking of parents, congratulations this week to Darron and Sarah, proud mom and dad to Jude "the innocent" Alexander Luesse born around this time last week. More on his future demolition derby career as it unfolds....

5600 miles, 13 days, 9 states, 2 tire changes, 7 managers, 5 labels, a thousand picks and patch cables

After blitzing from Texas to Oregon in less than 2 days, our trip took a more relaxed turn. As I mentioned previously, while Jeff and Jesse attended the conference in Portland, I hung out with my mom and sister in Eugene and Cottage Grove, OR. They were wonderful hosts-- my mom and I explored the Cascade Mountains a bit via car and my sister and her boyfriend, Jeremy, invited me to join their weekly softball game on the banks of the Willamette. There were both funny differences and similarities between their pick-up game of punk softball and the co-rec city leagues I have played in in the past. The differences included the per capita rate of beer drinking and smoking while playing (literally, on the field-- at one point three infielders were playing with a cigarette dangling from their lips and the pitcher had a beer, and beer cozy, on the ground a safe distance from the mound, but not too far away, so he could take a sip between pitches). Another difference was the frequency of tattoos and square footage of bodily tattoo coverage (out of about 35 people total at the field, including players and spectators, I think I was one of two people with no tattoos-- the other being my mom). Lastly, while most of the males played shirtless (not weird), all the females played in skirts (unheard of). The similarities were just as profound. Mainly, I have to say this was the most competitive group of punk softball players you can possibly imagine. There was no kidding around, score keeping was vigilant, the pressure to perform at the plate was high, and the sighs from the sidelines were audible if one of the more inexperienced players stranded runners on base when the score was nearly tied, just as they were in the outfield if someone missed an opportunity for an easy double-play. It was a hoot, and though I had to leave beforehand, the seventh inning stretch involved a quick jaunt down to the river to jump in and cool off before returning to the battlefield.

After a few days with the family, I went north to Dallas, OR (quite different from Dallas, TX) to visit my friends Dan and Ariel. Dan and I met in Florida in 1996-- we both did fieldwork in the Everglades, grew up in Chicago, and liked dinner parties. Somehow, despite the fact that we overlapped in Gainesville for only a few months, we became good friends and I was extremely excited to visit he and his wife at their new place near the foothills of the Coastal Range where they grow vegetables, raise chickens, turkeys, and a duck that thinks it is a turkey. They also keep bees and tend the arboretum on their 14 acres of gorgeous land-- it is amazing and I am thrilled at the prospect of parking the trailer in their ample driveway at some point for a longer visit or, if I manage to get a job in western OR, I may even be able to stomach a commute if this was what I got to call home.

Picking Jeff and Jesse up in Portland after the meeting gave me a chance to stop by Becca Pearcy's studio-- Queen Bee Creations-- and do a little shopping. If you are in need of a vessel of some kind to carry things, you need to check out her website or go to her shop in the city. I was recently bequeathed two bags from my dear friend April (made many years ago, yet still in perfect condition) and picked up a wallet while at the hive. We headed back down to Eugene to have dinner and hang out for a bit at my sister's before starting the long trek back east to Tremonton, Utah to visit with Jesse's mom, Deb, and Vince on the ranch where he trains cutting horses (and rocks out).

From there, we drove south passed the Great Salt Lake to Jesse's best friend's place from where we headed back west across the state almost to the Nevada border to climb Ibapah Peak (12,087 ft) in the Deep Creek Mountains. This area is spectacular-- rising out of the salt flats like a phoenix, this mountain range harbors lush, forested canyons full of springs and dramatic granite rock formations. I always have avoided hiking in the desert because I was under the mistaken impression that there wasn't much water there-- not so in the Deep Creek mountains. We hiked up through the canyon, through aspen and pine, came out on to a gorgeous green meadow, went up the saddle onto the ridge, got above tree line and clamored our way up the rocks to the summit (picture forthcoming). Having ascended a vertical mile, the view from the top extended far into the neighboring states including several other mountain ranges that pepper this otherwise flat and arid swathe of the US. The trail appeared to be virtually unused by would-be hikers, and is all the more enjoyable because it is so remote (although, interestingly, not far from the original Pony Express route.) I had enjoyed lots of hiking in some of the more accessible ranges in Utah about 10 years ago and it was awesome to be back in such a spectacular part of the country.

After our climb (during which we crossed paths with a gorgeous and rarely seen [but not rare] snake, Diadophus punctatus, shown here), we headed up into the hills to the east to visit Jesse's grandparents in Midway near Mt. Timpanogos. They live in a log cabin and treated us to breakfast outside overlooking the Wasatch Range and then to an informative/hilarious lecture on DVD about dinosaurs given by their grandson at age 10. Those of you who know Jesse may not be surprised to hear that he hasn't changed much since 1985-- his rabid interest in biology, and sharing it with others, is a deeply embedded feature of his personality that easily explains the path he has taken since then. We laughed hard, but were not-so-secretly very impressed with his excellent expository skills, even at a tender age.

From there, we cut through the Valley of Fire (right) and headed down to Sin City to show Jeff the strip and the spectacle that is Las Vegas, NV. I hadn't been there since coming out to the Grand Canyon on a roadtrip in 1987 and was astounded by how much the city has grown in the last 20 years. Casinos that were relatively large when I was there last are comically dwarfed by more recent additions like the Bellagio. We soaked it all in, Jeff won 7 cents on the slots, and we piled back in the car to head to Laughlin, AZ for the night to see Jesse's dad, Steve, and his wife, Sue. We spent the day riding around Lake Mohave on a wave runner and talking shop with a bunch of vacationers who were shockingly interested in biology and DNA. In the afternoon, we crashed a party and that night enjoyed a night gratis at the casino hotel on the Nevada side of the Colorado River. The ubiquity of gambling in Nevada is pretty strange-- you can gamble at gas stations, you can gamble at McDonald's-- people there seem numb to it because it is so everywhere, but to out-of-towners like us it is striking. We managed to leave the state with our shirts on the next morning to make the long drive home. Luckily, my dear old friend Gillichi happened to call that morning and we stopped and had lunch with him in Flagstaff, AZ on the wing. At about 4 in the morning, we succumbed to our nagging consciences and pulled over to check out why the car was shaking so much and discovered a pre-blow-out rear tire with a herniated air bolus the size of a loaf of french bread. Jesse and Jeff changed the tire, we got back on the road, and arrived in Arlington at about 8 am Monday morning-- in time for work, but temporarily waylaid by exhaustion. I can't say it is the first time I have gone on vacation and returned home completely rejuvenated mentally and completely exhausted physically-- hopefully not the last either....

The Oregon Trail

Just a quick post from the wild west-- Jeff, Jesse, and I left Arlington on Monday night to come to Oregon, ... by car. This might sound only partially crazy to most of you-- it is a well-known fact that I love driving, traveling, and road trips in general, so 4200 mile excursion to come see the family overland might not strike anyone who knows me as all that crazy. Well, you're right-- this time the craziness was not supplied by me, but instead by Jeff (who flew in Monday from Mexico, about 7 hrs before we left town, after doing field work for the last 7 weeks) and Jesse (who returned Sunday from a week-long road trip to OK, CO, and NM with his band The Future Unlived-- featured long ago on this blog as, I believe, the first band I saw in Texas). They are clearly nuts, but I am so happy that they are.
We drove straight through OK, CO, and WY, stopped in Utah (the land of Jesse's people) to refuel (on food, and sleep, and interactions with other humans) and then set out in the dark for Idaho and onto Oregon (now the land of my people). The drive west was an incredible geological gradient-- much more noticeable because of the speed with which we crossed through-- sandy white, dry flatlands in Texas and Oklahoma to gold and rose-colored mountains in Utah, to tree-covered slopes along the Columbia River Gorge. More on this when I can post some of Jeff's pictures (it's his first time west of Texas in the US) when we get home....
We arrived in Portland, where they are attending the annual meeting of ichthyologists and herpetologists, and then I headed south towards Eugene where my mom and sister live (more on that soon too). We'll be on the west coast until Tuesday morning, before turning around to head back east and see the spectacular filmstrip of the american west's technicolor, in reverse.

The Front Range

Fear not-- no more epic, ancient, travel posts for a while. I know there is nothing folks hate more than a "Hey, this one time, when I was in Africa (or band camp, or whatever other place you would like to insert here...)" stories, so thanks for indulging me that one time. Back to the present day: last week I went to Ft. Collins to visit my dear friends John and April and greet their new baby, Zora. John and April were my officemates when I was a grad student in Zoology at the University of Florida, back during what we refer to as the golden age of that department (if you are a devoted reader, you might remember them from an earlier post on my love of Bob Dylan.) During my time at UF, there was a perfect storm of fantastic, fun, smart, creative, enthusiastic, talented grad students surrounding me there-- we were all clustered into grad student offices instead of being housed in our individual labs as is often the case, so we spent all week at work together and then got together on Friday nights for Zoocial (rhymes with social) to drink beer out in the courtyard and figure out how to spend all weekend together as well. It was bliss, and I miss those folks so much after being spoiled like that for so long. John and April just started post-docs at CSU in Ft. Collins but, more importantly than that, they just got back from Ethiopia with their beautiful and hilarious daughter, who is also a blogger by the way-- you can see her and her insurmountable cuteness at Zora Borealis. I was joined in Ft. Collins by another dear friend from the golden age, Nat Seavy. Nat, well-known for is adventures in piracy and surfing (not the internet, but on the high seas), had also fallen under Zora's spell by the end of the weekend. Here is a picture from our hike (Zora hung with the baby bjorn for about 6 hours!) in Poudre (pronounce Pooter) Canyon, some of the weekend's doting, and-- my favorite-- Zora's serious face.

In addition to seeing these guys, I unexpectedly got to reunite with my old friend and roommate from Gainesville, from 2 years prior to grad school actually, Jenny Rubenstein. Jenny introduced me to Florida, live music at the Covered Dish, and really was an incredibly great friend as I settled in to my first "real" apartment and "real" job after college. She has spent the last 12 years gallivanting literally all over the world, and just moved to Ft. Collins recently because her husband, Andrew, is a grad student there. Amazingly, she and April met at a party in December and figured out they had both lived in Florida, and then that they both knew me--not exactly bumping into an old friend, but exactly as great.