Growing My Hippocampus

Why I walked 80,000 steps last week.

With a family history of Alzheimers, I am acutely aware of my memory lapses.  The glorious thing about memory lapses is that you tend to forget how often they happen.  I am alarmed that I can't find my phone today.  I don't remember if I couldn't find it 4 or 5 times last week.  

What I find more troubling is the slowing of my thought processes.  I remember(!) going to the eye doctor when I thought I might need bifocals.  When I looked up at the TV from the book in my lap I was aware of my vision adjusting.  A slow refocusing from close up sight to farther away viewing.  Oh no, the eye doc said, when they stop adjusting all together--that's when you will need bifocals.  My brain is in a similar state.  I am aware of the intervening thoughts that occur as my brain tries to make sense of what it sees or hears.  

Yesterday, I napped through two quarters of the Dallas/NY game.  I woke it in the third quarter to hear the announcer say,"...is walking along the giant sideline.  That is never good..."   

The giant sideline...is that the really thick sideline?...the sideline where giants, like really big ugly men, are lined up?...clearly a bad place to take a walk...

"...headed to the locker room..."

Oh, Giant sideline...as opposed to the Cowboy sideline.

Will there come a time when my mind will no longer be able to arrive at the right conclusion?  When it gets stuck in the process of thinking?  Will I watch a football game and call the kids in NYC and warn them about giants in their neighborhood?

Not to fear--I am increasing my aerobic exercise which should increase the size of my hippocampus and my memory.  So I am tracking my steps in an effort to log 10,000 steps a day.  

Now where did I put my pedometer...

Walking On

This week I logged 80000 steps on my pedometer.  Evidently I spend a lot of my life going in circles.

In A Fog

New San Fran Fog rolling in over Old San Fran Fog

I choose a light gray/kinda neutral color for the bedroom walls.  Called "San Fran Fog".  And I had it mixed by the magic computer paint machine at the Dodge City Building Center.  And I brought it home and opened it up.  And it looked really bluish in the can.  But I know the color in the can is not the dried color on the wall.  So I started putting it on the wall.  Where it became a dark blue gray.  Don't worry, the STP says,  it isn't dry yet.  But when it is dry it is even darker blue/gray.  And instead of an ephemeral* misty neutral San Fran Fog, it is an deep dark depression, excessive misery Los Ang Smog.  It'll be fine, the STP says.  And so I continued cutting in along the ceiling.  And the longer I painted the more depressed and miserable I became, until I knew I could not live with that color.   And so I took it back.  And it turns out three different paint colors in the wonder paint computer are named San Fran Fog.  After careful selection of the appropriate one, I got new paint.  And now, three days later, after priming over the wrong paint,I am going to put the right paint on the wall and see if I like it.

Great Joy:  I love to paint things.

*edited:  The color I was aspiring to was ethereal:  Light,airy, extremely delicate and refined, heavenly

What I got really was ephemeral:  Short-lived

Coming to an End

Since our return from Mexico we have been hosting Taco Tuesdays at our house.  Wherein we gather all the fixins for tacos and anyone who wants to comes and eats them.  Pretty low key affair.  We have had anywhere from 2 to 25 people join us on any given Tuesday and over 50 different people over the course of the last six months.  In the process we have learned to make pretty good guacamole and our own taco seasoning.  But just yesterday I discovered Rachel Ray's sand art version of taco seasoning.

 Just layer, admire, and shake.  ( Just saying--the oregano is from the SFG)

Gluten free, cheap, easy, fun, and functional.  

Next Tuesday will be out last Taco Tuesday for now.  We are taking a break.  The Goob (who doesn't eat tacos) wanted to know how long of a break.  And we don't know.  Maybe a permanent break.  Maybe a seasonal break.  Maybe three weeks from now, we will be starving for tacos and company, and I will be mixing up a new batch of seasoning.
But for now, next Tuesday is your first last chance to join us.

B. cereus OR There's a Bug in my Soup

I don't think this is really Bacillus cereus, an endemic, soil dwelling, gram-positive, rod shaped bacterium capable of causing vomiting and diarrhea.  But I think B. cereus is a great choice for a naming a bacterium (by a microbiologist who clearly wasn't being serious at the time).  
Just goes to show you what a fun bunch of people we microbiologists are.


So, just for fun, I share these pics from work with those of you who do not have ready access to your own microscope.

Gram negative rods--with spores

And even more fun pics:

  Gram positive cocci, umm.., square dancing? 

And in case you have a microscope that you are not having any fun with, I offer you this link so you can do your own gram stains at home.

Just be sure to read to the end of the procedure where it advises you:

For official diagnostic purposes, an experienced laboratory technician should evaluate your slide. 

(In other words:  Be serious.  Just because you have the ability to see your germs, doesn't mean can accurately identify them.)

Today's blog brought to you by your favorite fun-loving laboratory technologist, and the letters B, U, and G.

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Bad Bad Leroy Brown

When you buy your puzzles at garage sales you take a risk.

 A risk that you and your spouse will stay up late sorting through a thousand pieces with a bazillion pumpkin parts on them.

 A risk that you will be searching for the last piece that you never had.

A risk that your 1000 piece bargain only has 998.5 pieces.
And a risk that you will get Jim Croce stuck in your head singing the phrase 'meaner than a junkyard dog' over and over.
Sometimes when you take a risk you end up looking at 'a jigsaw puzzle with a couple of pieces gone.'

Still 99.85 percent fun.  For a dollar.

Deer Squirrel

Dear Dog-Taunting Squirrel,

Do you think it is fun to sit just out of reach of my dearly loved rat terrier and chatter insults at her?   Do you think it is a challenge to bring your pilfered peanuts to my flower bed to bury them just beyond the reach of her leash?  Do you call your squirrely friends when she is in the fenced side yard?-Hey, the dog is out.  Let's go scamper on the neighbors' roofs and run on the telephone lines where she can see us. Did you know that she comes from a long line of rodent killers and she can't help but bark her head off at the very sight of you?

Well, do you know what I have in my big room?  Besides the blow gun?

Your picture.

Sincerely,

Ms Brenda

P.S.  Squirrely is too a word.

Monkey Bars Just Came Out of the Oven

I saw this recipe on pinterest...
for Monkey Squares.  Glorified banana bread baked in a jelly roll pan and cut into bars.  So I made it just like the recipe, but I renamed it Monkey Bars.  'Cause Monkey Bars makes me giggle.
It was the first thing I baked in the new oven. (Source of great joy--oven part arrived and installed)
Now it just needs leveling.

Which I was able to do with my icing.

Which still looked bad.

So, purely in the interest of taste testing the new recipe before serving it to others, I ate that corner.

And then, in the interest of not taking a messy crooked half eaten dessert to the dessert social, I cut the rest of the Monkey Squares into rectangles * little giggle* and arranged them on my lovely matching cake plates.

Which had the added advantage of leaving two more corners that did not fit on the plates and needed to  be eaten.  Oh, the gluten-free, brown butter icinged joy of it.

What Ms Brenda likes best about this recipe (besides taste-testing):  You ice the bars while they are still warm.  So you can make it at the last minute.  And take them in the car warm.  Only don't shut the car door on your finger or you will have to go back in the house for ice and band-aids.  Just saying.

Various Trials--Part 3

I shut the end of my finger in the car door this evening.  I have a pretty high tolerance for pain.  And I'm almost immune to the sight of blood.  But when it is my blood combined with my pain, I am pretty much a weenie.
 I did manage to open the door and extract my finger.  And apply my own band-aid and some ice.
Still and all, I don't think I considered it a great joy. Yeah.  Not even once.

Various Trails--Part 2

Good News:  It's apple cake season.

Bad News:  Remember that the redeeming thing about my formerly Craig's listed, not much to look at, held together with coated wire stove was that it worked.  Well forget that.  Because when I had an apple cake in the oven, it made a little Pffft sound, and then it worked no more.  

Good News:  I was able to rush the apple cake to the church kitchen and finish baking it.  Wonderful to go to a church that saves souls and baked goods.
More Good News:  Know someone who happens to have a stove in a shed that they do not need.
Even More Good News:  The STP has a pick up truck and someone (besides me) to help him move the stove into the kitchen.

More Bad News:  The stove slips just before it is in place, and in the process the knob that controls the oven gets knocked off.
Even More Bad News:  It can not be fixed with duct tape or coated wire.

Bottom Line: Still no working oven. 
Source of Great Joy:  Part is on order

Various Trials-Part 1

James 1:2  Consider it a great joy, Ms Brenda, whenever you experience various trials.

On its last outing of the summer the kayak hurled itself off the roof of the vehicle we bought to haul things and took the driver side mirror with it on the way to the ground. (Whoa, slow that imagination down--the vehicle was parked at the time.) Nothing a little duct tape wouldn't fix.

I drove around like this for the month of September.  Instead of looking like a careless driver, I told myself that it made me look like a rugged outdoorswoman.  Because, be honest now, isn't the first thing you think when you see a chubby woman driving around with a smashed mirror,  "She must be a kayaker"?
Regardless, I noticed people did not park as close to me in the month of September.

Great joy--new mirror.

I Say To-maa-to

It wasn't for lack of trying.

  Even after the great deer debacle, the tomato plant tried to grow tomatoes.  Sadly, the frost and freeze was early this year.

But once the leaves were frosted, I discovered a little secret about the tomato plant.

Tucked deep inside the tomato plant was one lone tomato that the deer had missed.

One almost ripe tomato just for me.  I picked it and put it on the kitchen windowsill.

Because a tomato ripening on the kitchen windowsill makes me feel like a real gardener.
On the lunch menu this week:  Tomato sandwich.

Great Joys

Booked a flight to Baltimore for Thanksgiving.
Turducken and Piecaken on the menu.
Turkey hats all around.




Do you think its too early to pack my bags?

Oh Nuts

What happened to summer?

I was not ready for Fall.  I still have things to do.  Summer things still on the list.

Okay, so the chrysanthemums are blooming.  I still haven't ridden my bike to Basin and back.

What are the skelemingoes doing in the flower bed?  I haven't hit any golf balls at the driving range.

A fire in the pellet stove?  We didn't have a single fire in the firebowl on the patio.

I didn't catch a single firefly or see even one 'mother statue'. 

 The bats are out front, and I'm still wondering what happened to September.

On the Fall list:

Paint the fence. (too bad we went straight from Summer to Winter.  This one may have to wait till Spring)

Go through a corn maze.

Make the vacation book.

Drink apple cider.

Hug Claire and Nick.