Thursday, May 11, 2006

A Matter of Perspective...

So many factors influence communication, and mis-communication. Sometimes I find it absolutely amazing that it happens. Much of it happens by way of subtle, non-verbal cues, and the results are filtered through each person's previous experiences. I've spent some time recently thinking about the way men and women communicate with each other, and the factors that influence it--and indulging in a little creative writing...
"Tell me a tale, My Beloved, of villains vanquished, and great obstacles overcome, of heroism and treachery, of just rewards, and justice rewarded, of strength, and wisdom, and beauty. A tale to set hearts aflutter, and passions aflame, and..." Here she stopped speaking, and heaving a deep sigh, leaned forward expectantly. Our Hero, a gentleman to the tips of his well-polished loafers, valiantly tried to maintain eye contact, though the effort of ignoring the straining buttons marching up the front of her bodice caused a light sweat to break out on his forehead. A glazed, slightly panicked look crossed his face while he searched for inspiration, and then, with a glint of humor he said, "Ah, ...yes... The Stock Market Crash of 1929 and the Great Depression..."

Sunday, May 07, 2006

The Mailboat

http://southernoracle.blogspot.com/

Kim is one of life's little bonuses; a good friend I found by accident while following my dreams. Lagniappe, in other words!
Her posts are that certain combination of wry wit and real-life situations that bring a place and people I miss desperately a little closer.
My next visit in in September; meanwhile, there's The Mailboat!
Thanks Kim!

Saturday, May 06, 2006

Scentsational!!!

Note to self: Wearing "sensual and inviting" perfume, when one wants to bite something, sends mixed signals.--unless, of course, one is a carnivorous plant, in which case I'd guess its a successful strategy.
I woke up this morning feeling unsociable.
The birds were too loud, the sun was too bright, the weather was too nice, and I was due at the DIY emporium.
What to do...suck it up and go, reminding myself that I like playing in Outside Lawn and Garden, and that I invariably have a good time.
So I rolled out of bed, and tripped over the cat.
I staggered down to the kitchen and prepared his breakfast, commenting irritably that someone his age really should have learned how to use the can opener.
Calvin The Paw graciously overlooked the surly mood. He is the consumnate gentleman when he's getting his own way, and licked me on the ankle by way of encouragement.
Licked me!
I beat a hasty retreat to the shower, where, with the aid of LOTS of hot water, I regained some of my composure.
...Peering round the bathroom door, I determined Calvin was nowhere in sight, and scurried to my bedroom, where I ducked inside and shut the door.
Safe!--and I didn't get Licked again!
Grabbing the first clean clothes to hand,(it doesn't matter what I wear; they'll be filthy in no time), and running on autopilot, I was dressed and halfway to work before the scent of the perfume I'd chosen to wear registered.
Normally its one of my favorites. It's a lovely warm fragrance, with notes of iris and patchouli.
This morning I felt like I was sitting next to a stranger.
"Aww, hell, its way too late to go wash it off!" So I drove on with the windows down, grateful that I'd be outside all day.
On arrival, the very first customer I encountered commented on my perfume, noting how well it went with all the glorious spring flowers.
You know; its hard to be surly in the face of such a nice compliment!
I had a great day, and the perfume?
--smells just fine mixed with dirt and sweat.

Friday, May 05, 2006

Rest and Recharge?

I was reminded of this incident after reading an email from a new friend in the Never-Never...

The day after Wilma, I found a bedraggled cattle egret in the parade ground, crouching next to our impromptu lake, clearly waiting to die. Nothing obvious wrong, other than exhaustion and extreme filth. On closer inspection, the bird bugs were running races through its feathers. Hmmm, if it were really dying, they would all be bailing...
I hiked across the compound to the nearest water source I knew of(the sink in my quarters), and gave the bird a rinse, removing its bugs for good measure. The bird tolerated all this. I took it outside, and set it in a protected spot to air dry. Kevin, one of the rangers documenting Wilma damage, took a picture of my new friend. It wandered off into a dark corner, and got on with dying.
"Screw that, there really isn't anything wrong with the bird but exhaustion." So I sat in the sunshine with this bird, in a nice warm breeze(they aren't difficult to locate on the island), supporting its wings and fluffing its feathers till they dried. Niki, another ranger, stopped by and we chatted about what cattle egrets eat, and their life expectancy. "They starve when the bugs run out, though there are enough of them in their feathers to keep them going. Yum! Be sure and wash your hands."(OK, so I adore her and her warped sense of humor!)
Partway through the process, the bird started feeling better; by the time its feathers were completely dry, it was ready to go. I carried it over to the nearest place where there were lots of insects, and left it to get on with living. Thanks to the recent delgue, insects weren't hard to find.
For the next few days, I got to watch my cattle egret stalking round the parade ground, hunting bugs. Maybe? This is debatable. Cattle egrets all look pretty similar to me; though this one's feather's were a bit draggled even after they dried. It probably died; local lore has it that the cattle egrets fly to the Tortugas, and then starve, because they're too stupid to make it back to the Keys.
So maybe I wasn't doing it a favor. Hard to tell. Sometimes helping things heals something inside ourselves...

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Honor Where its Due

My rats are just waking up; they blink sleepily at me as I check their reflexes and give them a scratch behind the ears. Its been a busy day in the lab, and I'm happy to see they're doing well.
Another colleague drops by to ask "what next?" "I'm going to spoil them rotten and keep them happy, and then they're going to become data."
She and I share similar views on research, and we discuss ways in which their contribution to science might be made even more meaningful.
When I joined the lab, I was pleased to see this poster displayed prominently in several places throughout. "Thank Research" http://www.statesforbiomed.org/index.html I've been given a copy, which I intend to frame and display. What a vital role my furry little colleagues serve.

Monday, May 01, 2006

A Day at the DIY Mecca

Yesterday I was the world's most sought-after woman.
How flattering, and a little appalling too.
When Central Pennsylvanians go in for gardening, they're serious about it.--and those little stone walls you see decorating the landscape--the ones that were built by the early settlers?--these guys are still doing it.
I got accosted in the parking lot on the way in to work, and the questions never stopped till the store closed. I've destroyed my second pair of stout leather gloves this week, and when I told my boss I needed something more durable, he told me they didn't stock the kevlar in my size--with a perfectly straight face! The man is a joker.
I answered more questions about what to plant where--perennials are my favorite, so a number of new homeowners are trying them out now--and told about a dozen very nice people "we're completely out of pink dogwood, I'm so sorry". They are magnificent right now; the ones on our street are a glorious blazing pink. Anyone stocking the things yesterday could have named their price.
It was a beautiful spring day, and the local populace approached landscape gardening with the zeal of the converted.
By closing time--which caught about 25 customers by surprise, the plant displays were decimated, the staff, still well-mannered and smiling, were looking a bit hunted.
I'd found mid-day, when the demand for carts was at a peak, that cheerfully volunteering to locate one would give me a couple of minutes breather--because it meant a quick dash to the parking lot. More than one customer found they had extra help loading their haul "because you want my cart!" "You're so right! Not that I wouldn't be chatting you up anyway." Laughs all around, and I returned in triumph with a cart.
It was a fun day!
My trophy for the day? A beautiful honeysuckle vine with purple veined leaves and pink-washed gold blossoms. It smelled incredible, and reminded me of summer evenings in the south, when the air is warm as a caress, and sweet with perfume.