Miracle fruit

This is maybe the coolest thing I've read about in a long time. It's a berry that changes your sensory wiring temporarily so that sour things taste sweet. Tobasco sauce apparently tastes like a hot glazed doughnut. I wonder how I've missed knowing about it. Maybe because it's highly perishable and costs $2/berry. I need to scour my area and see if I can find an opportunity to try it out. Apparently, for $90, I can get a freezer pack of 30 berries shipped to me. It seems totally worth trying. I wonder if the guy who sells them is getting all overwhelmed now that his information was in the ny times. I wonder how hard they are to grow. I'll bet there is demand for every last miracle fruit at this point. Probably it will only be about 5 years before there is miracle berry shampoo sold at CVS. Sigh, now I'm depressed about the sad and mundane fate of the miracle fruit in the future...

Jay-Z, Nas, Notorious BIG, and 2Pac

It all started because, apparently Obama likes Jay-Z. And, by the way, I like Obama more and more every day and this aide person appeals to me. Lots of people have brought up various speech bumbles and burbles and missteps but, at this point, it's all emotional and I don't care very much about campaign slip-ups. They happen and, at least he didn't imply that he hoped his opponent would be shot. Anyway, back to the topic: Obama's aide, Reggie Love, has exposed the candidate to Jay-Z and now Obama has "gotten pretty fond" of him. So, I explored my Jay-Z options. Turns out the album, "Reasonable doubt" has been dubbed, by some, to be in the top four hip-hop albums of all time, along with "Illmatic" by Nas, "Life After Death" by Notorious BIG, and "All eyez on me" by 2Pac. I'm going to purchase and listen to these albums and broaden my horizons. If there's anybody out there, and you have some hip-hop recommendations, let me know. I have a smattering of hip-hop on my iPod but nothing by any of these three artists, which upsets me. I guess that I would like it if I had heard the top four albums from whatever genre. I like music. I like broad horizons. I want to know what I'm missing...actually, if you would like to just recommend your top four albums or the four albums that you think are the top four of some other genre, that would also be terrific...now I'm paranoid because I don't have any idea what I would say in response to this question or even what genre I would pick...Um, in the sort of rocky sub-clade of Indie rock I like" You in Reverse" by Built to Spill, "Good News..." by Modest Mouse, "Diary" by Sunny Day Real Estate, and "Show Your Bones" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs...not in that order. But this list is based exculsively on music that I've actually heard. Yikes.

Memorial Day

I have returned to work on this, like most national holidays, not because I don't think it's worthwhile to remember our fallen heroes but because I like working in the lab by myself sometimes. Anyway, I was at my dad's this weekend because it's one year after the death of my mother so we did some memorializing of our own to those who have died in the fight against cancer. That's probably enough sentiment and emotion for one weekend.

Memorial Day does take on an interesting cast in light of what many believe to be an unjust war. What is heroism in this context? I fully agree with those who suggest that troops should be supported and those who say that, to die in battle is heroic but, why? I mean, dying is sad but why is it inherently heroic to fight for one's country, right or wrong? To me it's kind of like that father-to-be who died climbing Everest. If I were pregnant and my husband threatened to scale Mt. Everest, I would strap him to a chair. I once heard a story, on npr, about a woman who had lost her father in Vietnam and she felt very angry when anyone implied that he had died in vain. Why, then, I wondered? What was her rationale for his death? She says something along the lines of, "A soldier's death is never a waste. It's a sacrifice. One for which free people should always be grateful." So, I'm free because of the Vietnam War? I mean, obviously it's unkind of people to be so unfeeling toward this girl but I really am not sure that that war made my life, or anyone else's, better. So, I guess it's more abstract than that. Because soldiers are willing to give their lives, abstractly and overall, I am free. When I feel the need to support troops, I'm more inclined to wind up just feeling angry that the men in power are so flip with human life and take so lightly their power to manipulate peoples' commitments, knowing that so many people have taken oaths to do whatever is the order of their commander in chief. I'm looking to the more "liberal" press today to see if I can find something that rings true. I find very little to think about. The more liberal the news source, the more likely they seem to be to just avoid the topic. I enjoyed this piece in the nytimes. I can see how it's awesome for people to be able to improve their lives via military service, provided they stay alive. The sucky downsided to this is that it tends to be the poor and minority people who die for all these ill-conceived engagements. Maybe what I'd like to do is just remember that it sucks that people have died in wars for generations and generations and are dying today. Maybe I'll spend the day hoping that wars won't have to continue. Is that what the pacifists are doing? Do we have space in our imaginations for another way of doing things? Is war inevitable, as long as a single person is willing to start a war? Is it my citizenship in a prosperous country that gives me the luxury of imagining that we're anywhere near calling the whole thing off? What needs to be done to stop all of this ridiculous killing?

I guess the bottom line is that I hesitate to show support for troops out of the fear that we use the label of heroism to keep the populace from being angry that the government is killing their families. I'm concerned that the daughter who lost her father in Vietnam hates to hear people say that he died in vain because the anger would be too much for her and her powerlessness would overwhelm her so she continues to perpetuate the cycle. I hate that these people have died more than anything and the more sentimental the appeal, the more firmly I'm convinced. I saw Saving Private Ryan and suffered from a very mild and brief, but real, case of post traumatic stress disorder and yet veterans say that I can't possibly imagine. My imagination tells me that war is a horribly bloody, gory, and inhumane travesty of gigantic proportions and yet veterans remind me that my imagination is insufficient. Yet, often it's veterans who continue to support the system. It boggles my mind unless I realize that, if it's really for nothing, life would become very difficult to justify. On the other hand, dying of cancer is an ugly and painful thing and there's no reason for that. But people who lose loved-ones to cancer don't go around trying to give it to other people...

Chlorine, drippy hair, and nostalgia

In the gardening post, I pointed out that, rather than focusing, I'm choosing to introduce hobbies and activities while I work on my thesis. The theory is that, if I'm distracted, I won't lose my mind and commit a homocide. So, I went swimming with a friend yesterday afternoon. In the competition pool, with 50 meter lanes. It was cold, refreshing, exhausting, and perfect. I showered afterwards and immediately ponytailed my hair such that it smelled like shampoo when I went to sleep. I guess it's nostalgia that makes swimming so relaxing. The smell of chlorine, the drippy hair, that starving feeling afterward. When I woke up this morning, having showered the night before, I just re-ponytailed my hair, made soft but crazy by sleeping on it while wet, put on my clothes and came to work. I still feel relaxed, though my neck hurts, from breathing, I guess, weird.

B-Mac

I blame my husband for the fact that I, not only have a favorite baseball player, but have developed a reasonably-sized crush on one. This is fair because my husband is the one who pouts the most about my crush. It's his own fault. I otherwise would watch almost no baseball at all. Baseball is a funny sport. I've decided that those who love it are the people who can store large amounts of information in their heads (aside from the tradition, smell of the grass people, who will be discussed at another time). It's a game of statistics and expectation. Each "at-bat" is thrilling primarily for the likelihood that it will fall into line with the player's previous appearances at the plate. Each pitch is enjoyed for its willingness to conform to expectation. The baseball fan learns players' names, batting averages, RBIs, ERAs, SLGs, OBPs, and HRs. It is because of this vast knowledge that the fan then has the ability to chat with is fellows about whether or not things are going as planned. I believe that these things drive baseball fans because I'm becoming a baseball fan, or a Braves fan anyway. I'll love each of the '96 Braves for as long as they stick around, just like the next Atlantan but I also love each new Brave. I believe that Junel Escobar's spotty performance will improve and that trading Renteria was the right decision because we got a pitcher (I don't remember who but our bullpen was having problems). But I liked Renteria. We had a song for him, to the tune of Sublime's Crystal Ball...you can guess how it went...we're not imaginative people. Even though I'm a yellow jacket myself, I have a hard time accepting our own Mark Teixeira because he replaced Saltalamacchia, Brian McCann's predecessor with a name so long that it almost had to be stitched onto his sleeves. We called him "Salty" and we were happy. But this brings me back to my crush. Brian McCann. I found out only this past weekend that we're supposed to call him "B-Mac." Here's a picture: Now, first of all, is there any position sexier than catcher? I would argue that there is not (bringing us back to my sadness about the loss of Saltalamacchia). There's the crouching, the hopping around, the charming relationship with the pitcher. Also, there's the fact that there's only one of them. Fielders all look the same. Pitchers get shuffled around and have girly, weak-sounding injuries like jammed thumbs. Catchers, on the other hand are hot hot hot. The get bombarded with crazy pitches and bouncing ricochets and they come back for more. They're in the whole game and they touch the ball as frequently as the pitcher. As if that weren't enough reason to love them, pitchers are also, as in the case of our own Mr. McCann, excellent batters. Now, John Smoltz does some terrific dancing around at the plate but how can a person really have a serious crush on someone who bunts exclusively? Now, back to B-Mac, I'm not a numbers person but, if I'm going to be serious about this thing, I should tell you that his BA is .331. It doesn't compare to Chipper (.410), of course, or to the aforementioned yellow jacket...274? hey, wait a minute...it's better than that guy who, by the way also plays a very sexy position but replaced a catcher and will not be forgiven...anyway, B-Mac is a terrific batter AND he has that beta-male quality that draws me in every time. Look how much he loves the high-fives. None of this "take-'em-or-leave-'em" attitude. Brian McCann will chase a man down to get a high five. Add to that the fact that he has the best music for his at-bats and we have bona fide crushable material. Also, he's often seen with puppies and I'm told that he loves his wife. At the game I attended last week, a lady was pulled from the crowd and asked, "Who's the hottest brave?" We all knew what she was going to say because these ladies all say the same thing, "Jeff Francoeur is the hottest Brave right now." Are these ladies crazy? Let's not even go to the fact that the question had to do with actual baseball and she is totally wrong. He plays right field, which is not a sexy position at all, and his batting average is not so great (.269, okay, respectable, I guess) AND, he's NOT HOT. Why do all these ladies love this guy so much? It makes me crazy. The answer was, is, and should be Brian McCann. Brian freaking McCann. Yeah.

Square foot gardening

The garden that I planted, about 3/4 from seed, is flourishing in the late spring heat. It's a very satisfying feeling. We've had plenty of rain and things are growing incredibly fast now. The cucumbers are cute little tiny guys with flower crowns. I'll take a picture tonight for next time. We have eaten nothing yet but it's time to harvest the leaf lettuces, I think. We pulled up two radishes because the foliage was gigantic but, it turned out that the radish was not big yet. They're crowded so I'm sure it was fine. I'm looking forward to getting some carrots. If we get too many cucumbers, we're going to make pickles and that will be fun also. We check things every day. I think it's time to harvest onions but I don't see any tops on any of them. Also, I think you're supposed to wait for the greens to tip over or something. I'll have to check the book again to see. The root vegetables actually confuse me frequently, which is too bad because there are lots of them. Here's a picture of the beets. Also, some onion greens, which were blocking my view. I don't actually like beets, as far as I know, but the square foot gardening book told me to plant them, so I did. Here, I'll put a link to my book. It's been really a terrific idea and I'm having a great time. Look, you can see carrot fronds in this picture. They're so pretty! I don't know how the eating will work out but I'm really having a lot of fun. I could write something poetic about the seasons and so on. Mostly, the advantage here is that I go into my backyard a lot more often. It's a nice yard and it was feeling neglected, I suspect. Also, there's a deck back there that we should really use more often. I'm considering letting the cat out into the yard to walk around. I think he might like it. Here's a picture of him looking out the door. Sad, right? He should be allowed out. He probably won't leave. I have friends who let their cats wander around in the yard while they're in the yard and the cats go back in the house when they go back in the house. So, that should work out okay. Well, so, I'm totally excited about the garden and how it makes me feel rooted to the new house. We actually exited the house via the back door this morning so that we could poke the various plants and see how they're doing. This also makes the day more pleasant. I like to have things happening in my life other than the dissertation so that I keep in mind that, in the grand scheme, and as far as the rest of the world is concerned, this really is a very minor thing. OK, well, enjoy, whoever you are reading my blog. I will be writing more later.

Diarrhea of the mouth

I'm a talker. It's my own personal Mt. Everest. To hold my tongue. I think over my list of friends and find that all of them have a reputation for talking and I know that I do also. Occasionally this happens. I'm up in the middle of the night, mostly because of the coffee I drank this afternoon but also because of what I said while I was drinking it. Thank God it wasn't booze. Who knows what I would have said? I leave no stone unturned in these times of evacuation. Nothing is sacred. I only hope, each time, that the listener can be trusted. I'm afraid, based on what I know about myself, that if they're willing to hear me betray and abuse everyone I know and love, they're unlikely to keep faith. Do I? Have I? Will I? When people evacuate their hearts to me, do I keep quiet what they've said? My own husband knows I don't. Here's the sad truth: If there's a secret at his office that he's not allowed to tell, he may tell someone but it's not me. Maybe it's good that i know this about myself. I pray that it will never ruin any valuable relationship in my life. That is, perhaps, why I'm up at 2am writing about what I've done. I certainly can't confess to the victims. What would I say? "I told Bill that I think you're insecure and angry and I guess I do think that but I had no right to say it because you're my friend and I'm sorry." More than that, "I told Bill that you told me that someone told you that Mary..." I'm not trying to be vindictive when I do this. I really am not. But when the wrong ear is involved, it certainly has the potential to hurt everyone. Suppose I'm in a crowded theatre during these rounds of abuse and someone indirectly involved is around. Suppose the friend I'm trusting is unaware of the importance of the secret (taking her cue from my indelicate handling of the precious commodity). I don't want to be someone who can't be trusted, even by my husband. Do I do it for approval? Sometimes. Also, it makes me feel better when someone is bothering me. Sadly, someone is always bothering me. I'm very intolerant of all kinds of weakness and painfully proficient at calling it out. It's like the freaking devil. If I believed in the devil, this would be his manifestation. Biblically, I think I'm obligated to rip out my own tongue and I honestly think I would be a better person for it. It's something I give up at Lent, renounce every new year, write on scraps of paper and burn. And yet, thirty years into the journey, I still do it as badly as ever, with reckless abandon. No more restraint than when I was 14 on some days. Today I feel dirty. I feel angry at the listener, fearing that she'll tell, knowing that I'm only angry at myself. I want to pick up and move. To leave behind anyone who knows my secrets, and those of the people I care about, because of me. I want to start over and try again with a perfect life and nothing on my conscience but, of course, I can't.
I mean, of course I could but it would be ten minutes and a cup of coffee or, worse, beer, before I would need to leave again. I wait a little while when someone tells me something is a secret. Long enough that I think it doesn't matter...or until I forget they said it was a secret. Here's when you know you have a problem: Someone is a little cold toward me (maybe they've had a bad day, maybe they don't feel well, maybe the pitch of my voice is getting on their nerves) and I immediately try to remember if there's something I said about them to someone who might have told them. Ugh. Stop the ride, I want to get off. It's the worst punishment, perhaps, to be trapped in the life you've created for yourself. Actually, my life is pretty good. I'm not sure I deserve it. There's this book I'm reading, Jonathan Safran Foer...he writes about a book of truth or something from the Slacker side of a Jewish town before the war...I think that's the context, anyway. The entry regarding "Why unconditionally bad things happen to unconditionally good people" says, "They don't." Please may I keep my undeserved friends. I love them all so much for all my evil tongue betrays me. Please may today's indiscretions be lost in a karmic black hole and not come back to bite me. Can I earn the words back into my mouth with enough love and sacrifice? Would I be willing to do it if I could? Please.