Songs to No One

Mornings

2011-09-18T19:05:00.000-06:00

Creativity

2011-06-23T12:43:00.003-06:00

The busier I get, the stronger the urge to be creative, and the harder it becomes to find time to create. The past couple of weeks I've been unable to stop thinking about writing, drawing, anything that involves the right brain more than the left. There are words scribbled on the back of receipts from time in waiting rooms, sketches of paramedic students who stood outside my window in anticipation of test results, and the desire to steal away from the city at dusk (once to mountains, now to farmland) to let my mind wander.

I need a structured outlet, and am going to attempt to write and draw a little every day. The former will probably be on this nearly forgotten blog, the latter can stay hidden in an unknown notebook.

Regret

2011-06-14T08:31:00.001-06:00

Recently, in one of those conversations that I stumbled into while on my way somewhere else, someone told me proudly that she has no regrets about anything. I surprised her when I responded that I had many. But how else can I learn from my mistakes if I don't regret them? It's a painful, useful part of life.

A few months ago I was reminded of a decision I made my last year at Wellesley, one I wouldn't hesitate to exchange for its opposite if through some accident of time and space I were given the opportunity. For about ten years I've been involved with a couple of charitable organizations working to improve the lives of those affected by the accident at Chernobyl. These groups bring medical care to children, mostly in Belarus, who suffer from an alarmingly high rate of birth defects and cancer. In an already economically depressed country like Belarus, these kids have little chance of a decent life without external aid. Chernobyl Children International (CCI) is probably the most well-known and well-established of the charities dedicated to this cause. In 1993, the CCI founders produced their first documentary on the effects of the Chernobyl disaster, Black Wind, White Land: Living with Chernobyl. Ten years later, CCI announced the release of a second documentary, this time about the high rate of ventricular septal defect, nicknamed 'Chernobyl Heart', among children born in the Chernobyl region since the metldown. Chernobyl Heart went on to win an Academy Award, bringing international attention to CCI and the children of Belarus, western Russia, and northern Ukraine.

In the spring of 2004, I was nearing the end of my last year at Wellesley. Like most seniors, I spent the majority of my time in a mad rush to finish my studies and plan for my immediate post-baccalaureate future. It wasn't much of a surprise to open up my mailbox one morning and see, in addition to the usual bills and reminders from the college about graduation requirements, a letter from CCI. I was on their mailing list so I was used to the occasional newsletter, but it was the content of the thin envelope that was unexpected: an inivitation to a private screening of Chernobyl Heart at the United nations in Manhattan. The letter requested a prompt RSVP to ensure my security clearance was completed in time.

I immediately responded yes, but soon the the trip to New York looked less and less likely. My ancient Volvo was on its last legs (wheels, I suppose) and I wasn't excited about the possibility of ending up stranded on the side of the road somewhere in Connecticut. I considered the bus, but hanging around Port Authority in the middle of the night was not appealing either. At the time I didn't know anyone in the city I could stay with, nor could I (in my soon to be well-educated and completely unemployed state) afford a hotel. At last I made the decision not to go. I was disappointed, but I didn't see any way it could work.

A couple of days later, I was walking to my dorm from the parking lot after an evening out. I was just starting to cross the road when a car zoomed past, right in front of me. Something flew out of the driver's window, landing at my feet. I picked it up and saw that it was a map of Manhattan, which clearly showed the United Nations and its massive plaza between 1st Avenue and the East River Drive. I don't really believe in fate, or any explanation for strange and unlikely occurrences other than coincidence, but even I will admit it was eerie, and in that moment I felt colder than the early spring night could account for.

Even after this, I didn't go to Manhattan and so missed the screening of Chernobyl Heart. Periodically I've thought about this and felt the familiar sting of regret--if I could go back, I'd borrow a friend's car. Or see if there were any Wellesley alums in NYC who would let me sleep on their couch. Or or or...

It's certainly not the greatest regret in my life, but recently the event surfaced in my memory again, and I can't help but wonder what would have happened if I had gone. Who would I have met? Would I have made connections that could have changed the course of my career, my life? Perhaps it would have had no impact on my future at all. I'll never know, but I'll always remember the choice I made, and refer to it again when I think, "No, that's not possible..."

Vancouver

2011-05-19T07:14:00.004-06:00

Eight weeks ago, not long after my last post on this blog, I spent a week visiting a few major Canadian cities for grad school interviews. The trip included just over 32 hours in Vancouver, a city I'd never visited but always felt familiar with after spending my formative years in the Pacific Northwest. It shared so many characteristics with Seattle and Portland that I constantly felt like I was just walking through a different neighbourhood in one of those cities.

I got a thrill seeing mountains again, first through the window of the plane and then again riding the (exceptionally convenient and pleasant) light rail downtown:

My hotel room gave me a view of the opposite, much taller hotel. But if I pressed my face to the window and peered right, I could see a blunt peak of the Coast Mountains, forested, dark in the rain-shadow, and hooked towards me like a half-bent finger. No beckoning needed: if I had ended up moving there, I'm sure I'd be headed for the mountains on my first free weekend.

The cherry trees were already blooming, while snow remained on the ground in Ottawa. I was overdressed and sweating from the time I arrived at the airport and stripped off my blazer as soon as I finished my interview.

I received many dinner recommendations but ended up going with a hole-in-the-wall Japanese restaurant where the servers barely spoke English and I recognized almost nothing on the menu (as well as a good deal of what was on my plate). It was a wise choice, and I happily strolled around for a while afterwards in the spitting rain to kill time before my red-eye back home.

Clever cups at the coffee shops I stopped at:

In the end, I won't be moving there, but I enjoyed my day and a bit on the strange and familiar west coast.

border

2011-03-10T09:01:00.001-07:00

2011-02-22T06:45:00.004-07:00

In the same vein as my previous post, before I ended up in Westmount Thursday before last I made a quick trip to Mile End. Not that I had the time--my train had arrived late thanks to debris on the tracks outside of Coteau, and I was due to meet a friend for brunch in the lower Plateau at 10--but I hadn't been to Cafe in Gamba in a few visits. Chief among my weaknesses might be an excessive fondness for high-end espresso, so I sought out a bus that would take me up Parc to Gamba's little spot north of Fairmount. As I've done a few times before, I missed the stop and ended up much further up Parc, around St-Viateur. Oh well, I can walk, even when it's -15 C. And walk I did, making excellent time as a consequence of wanting to get out of the cold as soon as possible.

Before I started to hoof it south (Montreal south, that is), however, I stopped to take the picture above. I like how the small restaurant Aux Lilas seems like it has been hastily stuck to the front corner of the older brick building behind it. It almost looks like a toy, bright lavender and tiny as it is.

2011-02-21T07:52:00.002-07:00

I often say that I grew up in the country but the reality is that rural area was adjacent to a city afflicted with all the worst symptoms of suburban sprawl: strip malls, cookie-cutter housing developments, and the endless streets named after trees but with few of their eponyms in sight. Even the larger cities within a couple of hours drive suffered from the same sprawling characteristics of dull Western US cities. It's no a wonder to me, then, that I've always been attracted two unusual, eye-catching, and even quite strange examples of architecture.

The buildings of Philadelphia, West Philly near Penn especially, are awash in color. On streets with names like Pine and Hazel, with massive examples of their namesakes actually a part of the environment, row houses and old Victorians alike have been painted pink, bright green, and silver. A strange juxtaposition of beauty and the endemic violent crime in the area.

In Montréal this week, I was in Westmount for probably the first time other than driving down Sherbrooke on my way elsewhere. This small set of houses in the hyper-gentrified area of rue Victoria immediately recalled West Philly:

mid-winter

2011-01-04T06:22:00.000-07:00

Thaw and refreeze.

Montreal, 18 December

2010-12-19T06:46:00.002-07:00

Chinatown

2010-12-09T06:08:00.001-07:00

That's one way to do it

2010-12-06T06:03:00.000-07:00

2010-11-15T13:10:00.003-07:00

A topic that occasionally makes its way into dozens of badly-written news stories is how to think "better." What can we do to come up with better ideas, how do we solve problems more quickly, how do we train our minds to be more efficent? Usually the lede on these stories is some far-fetched interpretation of a study that's preliminary at best, but that's nothing new as far as science writing goes. I heard a snippit on the CBC recently about how we do our best thinking in the shower because our mind is unfocused and free to wander.

That I'll buy. Not just because I wrote a great poem in the shower when I was in grade 5, but for a long time I've found that the best way to deal with a difficult problem was to free up my mind with a long drive. As I've written about before, there were not a few nights in Colorado where I would see the daylight dim and head up the canyon with a mind full of problems to work out. Music on, the sun setting behind the Rockies, and an almost empty road. By the time I reached whatever low summit, perhaps the reservoir backed up against Nederland, with the moon rising overhead and the lights of Denver far off on the plains below, I felt a lot better about whatever had been on my mind. The best part was that it came without conscious effort to think and work it all out. It's hard to compare to the scenery of the canyons, but I get the some of the same effect heading out late in the evening these days to ride.

Dressage

2010-11-14T10:44:00.003-07:00

I love having some pictures of myself riding, probably the first ones in years. Not only because it helps me see what aspects of my position need work (lengthen legs! Lower hands!), but I can see how very far I've come since I started riding with my new coach earlier this year. I couldn't be happier about it.

2010-11-06T05:30:00.002-06:00

Yesterday was chilly and dreary, constantly in that very damp state between mist and rain. Not wet enough for an umbrella, but leaving a cold film on my wool coat whenever I stepped outside. I wasn't complaining, however, as I had a vacation day to use up, a cheap VIA Rail ticket, and a workshop scheduled in Montreal.

And there was warmth to be had in this bar on Mont-Royal. As usual, I was reluctant to leave the city.

Driving west

2010-11-03T09:32:00.000-06:00

2010-11-02T11:00:00.002-06:00

The easiest route between where I live and where I'm taking my genetics course is the Colonel By parkway, which follows the S-curves of the unnaturally uniform Rideau Canal from downtown to the edges of the city. It's dark now when I get out of class at 9, and driving back the shadows erase just enough detail that the road ceases to be characteristically Ottawa--every so often, it matches a memory from a similar curved, waterside road in Philly. These brief instants I'm back there again, moving past measured intervals of streetlights and precious greenspace on the way out of the city.

2010-10-30T14:10:00.002-06:00

I wish I knew more about mycology so I could identify these things.

deep fall

2010-10-25T09:27:00.001-06:00

2010-10-22T13:02:00.002-06:00

I'm making plans for a trip, the kind that will take at least a long weekend, but am running into the problem of fitting it into an already full schedule. Have I mentioned how I'm looking forward to the end of the year? In the meantime I think another day trip to Montreal in the next few weeks is in order. It's getting cold, and while Montreal is a city that definitely comes alive in the summer, I still love it in the fall and even winter. A day trip might seem limiting but it's so freeing not to work, not to drive, just to doze on the early morning train and wake up knowing I'm about to see dear friends, go to my favourite cafes, and just wander on foot. Even eight hours away can put me in a completely refreshed state of mind for the next week.

en route to work

2010-10-22T08:40:00.000-06:00

mid-autumn

2010-10-21T07:52:00.000-06:00

2010-10-20T09:51:00.001-06:00

I can't remember the last time I was this busy. Well, actually I can, it was the fall of 2008. The difference between then and now is that my current responsibilities are manageable, whereas at that time there was a lot I had to let go of (for better or for worse). Still, having to plan weeks in advance to do things like get a drink with friends is beginning to get old... I can at least look forward to a break at the end of the year, when my classes are done and my applications are in. And that's what this is all about--pushing myself so I can move forward, to a new city, a new career, all of those things that make being overwhelmed for a few solid months worth it.

I've also been told I have several vacation days I have to use up, which I will do gladly. Now the question is... where to go?

2010-10-17T09:51:00.002-06:00

The appeal of Ottawa's unusual bike racks belies the fact that this is a dangerous city for cyclists. It's a shame that the city with Canada's most expensive public transit fares also sees car vs. bike accidents on an almost weekly basis.

2010-10-15T08:20:00.004-06:00

I had a dream recently about trying to grow mangoes in the cold climate up here. Not sure where it came from (the same with most dreams, I suppose, except the ones with elements obviously lifted from the previous day's experiences), but it made me think of a strange tree I used to walk by in Philly. Strangely curved next to the straight-trunked oaks and other common street trees in the city, it had black bark, sharp thorns, and most curious of all, small yellow-orange fruit. The round and lightly pitted fruit looked like citrus, but I knew it couldn't be in such a cold climate, and I'd never seen thorns in any commercial depiction of orange or grapefruit. I thought about asking a botanist friend but soon became focused on other things, forgetting about it until just recently.

A little searching and I found this post, which reveals the history of the strange tree. It is in fact an orange tree (and citrus apparently grows thorns in the wild), grown from three seedlings--now merged into a single tree--smuggled from Jamaica decades ago. I'm going to dig through my photos and see if I managed to take a picture of it on one of my walks to class.

Up the Escarpment

2010-10-11T16:18:00.000-06:00

2010-10-06T06:36:00.003-06:00

For all its nastiness and violence, for all the ways it exemplifies everything that's wrong with large American cities--well, Philly has a lot of art. Beyond the publicly funded variety (murals number in the thousands), street art is everywhere. It's most obvious in the student-dominated areas (and there is a direct relationship between the visibility of public art and the affluence of the neighbourhood), but look closely enough and it's there even in some of the worst parts of the city.

These were the landmarks on my 30-minute walk to class every day:

2010-10-05T09:36:00.003-06:00

A definite perk of being affiliated with a large teaching hospital is free access to countless journals and publications. Not limited to science and medicine, the collection is vast enough to include unexpected findings such as poorly scanned copies of Practical Horseman magazine (saving me the cost of a subscription, even if I have to tilt my head sideways to read it). Thanks to Wellesley, University of Colorado, and Penn, I've spent most of the past 10 years with almost unlimited journal access, save for a few dry spells when I could no longer redshirt with my old student/staff login.

This past weekend, in a state of being too sick to go out but having slept for too long to be anything but bored, I opened up my laptop and pulled up PubMed. PubMed is a site you quickly become familiar with while working on a science degree or in any kind of health care research capacity, which describes much of my non-leisure time over the past several years. I wanted to search for my grandfather's research articles, which I knew existed but wasn't sure if I could find anywhere except in the dusty, dimly lit archives of the biology department at the University of Washington. Fortunately for me, over a dozen of his papers are hosted online by the Journal of Cell Biology. It was the first time I really learned anything about his research, though growing up I'd heard about how his work helped save the salmon runs in the Pacific Northwest after all the fish began to die mysteriously in the 1950s. Despite this success, he was generally unhappy about his comparative lack of recognition in his field; after his colleagues received Nobel Prizes, he entered a depression that would last the rest of his life. Research can be a competitive, even vicious, place to spend your most productive years.

I wasn't able to find the exact paper where my grandfather described what was killing the Seattle salmon, but I found references to it in other papers. Young hatchery salmon were dying of a bacterial kidney disease, which he realized was being spread by feeding them the ground-up viscera of other fish. In the era of prion diseases like BSE, we now recognize the dangers of effectively turning food animals into cannibals, but that in the 1950s no one had yet questioned the practice. It was an important discovery, especially for those whose livelihoods depended on salmon fishing.

Starting in 1967, my grandfather's papers incorporated pages of photos taken with an electron microscope. Several articles were titled using some variation of "The Fine Structure of [Bacteria Name Here]" and essentially amounted to a venue for showcasing what you could do with this exciting new device. I'm quite sure he never got that 40 years later, his granddaughter would be playing around much the same way, albeit with lung and liver cells rather than lake and river microbes. (The first time I used one of Wellesley's transmission electron microscopes, I asked the technician how much it cost. When he replied $400,000, I joked that I guess I better not break it. He didn't laugh.) Some of the photos he took are quite beautiful; the bacteria he studied belonged to a genus called Caulobacter, which produce a very strong adhesive and so are often found adhered together in strange, almost floral clusters. This one is my favorite:

After work

2010-10-04T14:28:00.000-06:00

Toronto

2010-10-03T12:09:00.000-06:00

2010-10-02T14:29:00.001-06:00

About a month ago I was looking through old photos and paused when I came across a series of images of people traversing canyon walls without ropes. You can't say they were even climbing, just stupidly veering off the path that was already posted with newspaper clippings about deaths resulting from that very activity. These hikers didn't fall but it would not have been surprising if they had.

A few days later, I heard on the CBC that a man had survived a 39-story fall, and that surviving falls of over 1000 feet was not uncommon. Being drunk helps, apparently, due to the relaxation of the body at impact.

In between these two events, I found out that a friend of mine in Colorado had fallen climbing Longs Peak the previous weekend. He was an experienced climber, never climbed without ropes and safety equipment, but for some reason he was not tethered to the rock when he fell 800 feet on a technical climb. Unlike the subject of the CBC story, he did not survive. Neither did two other people who went climbing this year on Longs Peak, whose various faces (Broadway, the Ledges, Keyhole) pepper the speech of Boulder outsdoors enthusiasts and whose summit was a landmark for me as I travelled along the Front Range.

In the weeks since his death I've tried to write about it several times. Probably as a way to process the grief for someone who used to be part of my daily life but with whom I'd largely lost touch, other than the occasional short email and a vague sense of guilt, now amplified, that I hadn't made time to see him on my last trip to Colorado. Most of what I wrote seems trite, even hollow, as insufficient as the flurry of posthumous posts on his Facebook wall.

If anything, it's made me more conscious of those friendships that have faded over the years, because of distance or other reasons. It's too easy to get caught up in other things and lose touch, and I don't want that to happen as much as it has. So much good has started to come from reaching out those friends again.

2010-09-27T05:56:00.000-06:00

Ontario a.m.

Quebec p.m.

2010-09-24T14:30:00.002-06:00

The best souvlaki I've ever had came from Mamma's, on my first trip to Montreal in the summer of 2005. It wasn't until I went back the next year that I realized the potent effect on the tastetuds of staying up til 4am and consuming solely ethanol-containing products for several hours beforehand.

2010-09-23T13:53:00.001-06:00

This is Levin, the pony I've been working with in dressage this summer. The only thing that would make me more excited than being able to show him a little bit next summer would be to have my own pony up here, but I'll take what I can get for now. I'm not hugely into equestrian competition but I'd like to see how far I've come by riding in a schooling show or two during the next season.

The last time I rode it was completely dark by the time I was finished. Leaving the light of the barn, I walked out to my car into total blackness except for the moon and the dim grey outline it gave to the trees. Dogs were barking and I could hear two types of howl, the rather high-pitched sound of coyotes and a much deeper sound that I assume was a wolf. As much as the area is developed, even as farmland, it's still very wild in the woods in between.

dirty lens

2010-09-20T16:05:00.002-06:00

May have had something to do with standing near a hay baler for several minutes beforehand.

2010-09-17T15:57:00.002-06:00

In the past two weeks I've started my new fall routine, which in addition to working full-time also includes two courses, volunteering, and riding. For the next three months I'm scaling back on the volunteering and certainly the teaching, and the writing, and it all feels very carefully balanced. Not precarious, just... careful.

One of my courses is math-intensive--statistics, mostly, but that's a form of math I've come to enjoy a lot since I first encountered it at CU back in 2006 (those epidemiology courses this last year helped quite a bit). I always really enjoyed math and for the briefest period considered a minor in it at Wellesley, although with a science major I decided to fill the rest of my time there with as many arts and humanities classes as possible. That was one of the best things about Wellesley--no pigeon-holing, or assuming that if you excelled in science that you would lack artistic ability, for example. During my junior year I went to hear Seamus Heaney read his poetry at a campus event and ended up sitting next to Wellesley's then-president, who seemed not at all surprised when I told her I was majoring in biology and not English literature.

As much as I've got going on, I'm trying to make time for something not related to my careers (present and future), besides riding. Fiber arts is the obvious choice, but I'm drawing too, and taking my camera more places. What I'd really like to do is take a few days and travel, preferably somewhere far but I'd take someplace closer to home too. I'm tempted to stop planning so carefully and just... go.

2010-09-14T12:40:00.002-06:00

I'm really excited at the prospect of grad school next year, but one of the big adjustments would be finding a new place to ride. I couldn't be much happier with my current situation, unless I had my own horse up here. I may at least get to fit in a bit of competition next spring before I (hopefully) head off elsewhere to study.

2010-09-12T09:22:00.000-06:00

2010-09-04T13:19:00.002-06:00

Today I was sitting on a bridge over the St. Lawrence, a mosaic of blue and turquoise being chopped up by the wind. The seaway is about as close as I've been to the ocean in several years--at least three, which is the last time I was in Boston. Not quite ten years ago I took several trips to coastal places, getting my feet literally wet in the Irish Sea, the Atlantic, the saltless sea of Baikal (called a lake both in English and Russian, Baikal is no less than a sea to the indigenous peoples of Siberia and having been there I'm inclined to agree with them). Before that I spent many late summers watching the fog roll in over the coasts of Oregon and Northern California, hearing but not seeing storms collide with the cliffs and rocky beaches.

A friend of mine here is from Nova Scotia and has encouraged me to visit her home province, blithely dismissing the distance each time she talks about Halifax and the Bay of Fundy and Cape Breton. Especially in the past couple of weeks I've considered making it happen, given that I've really seen so little of Canada and haven't spent significant time by the ocean in several years. A short flight, a place to stay, and lots of banked vacation time... I might do it.

Augusts

2010-08-31T10:34:00.002-06:00

Siberia, 2003

Massachusetts, 2004

Laurentians, 2009

2010-08-26T20:24:00.002-06:00

This is the remnants of one of the most beautiful sunsets I've seen in eastern Ontario. I saw it in short, disconnected spans of time, as came around the middle of the arena during my riding lesson. Each circuit the sky flared up with new combinations of color, distracting me a little from what I was trying to accomplish with the horse. By the time I finished riding the sun was gone and the sky rapidly getting dark as it does this time of year.

The landscape in this part of the world is not what I'd call breathtaking (unlike the Rockies or the American southwest, forever my yardstick for natural scenery), but sometimes it has a quiet beauty that stuns me. I feel very lucky to live here sometimes.

2010-08-23T15:32:00.003-06:00

The fluorescent glare on the glass notwithstanding, this is a fairly lovely sight to have to look at everyday. I recently moved to another workspace and while I miss the constant energy and goings-on of the hospital environment (like its own poorly mapped city, complete with the inescapable scourge that is Tim Hortons), I do not miss being bathed in artificial light for 80% of my time at work. Natural light is an amazing thing--I don't get sleepy in the afternoons and can gaze out at greenery instead of a hallway when I need to rest my eyes.

I've always gone off and explored at every opportunity, working out the quickest routes (outdoors, whenever possible) between the medical school and two hospitals over my breaks or while running errands from one to another. Minimum seven minutes to get a decent cup of tea, fifteen if it coincided with shift change when the night nurses caffeinated before driving home and their daytime replacements got in a last coffee and cigarette before going on the wards. Ten minutes to visit the library annex, closer to twenty to buy a used book from the volunteer kiosk, counting the time it takes for small talk with the elderly ladies who staff it. My allotment of break time could be divided up into these slivers of sunlight and movement.

Now I'm in a much smaller, quieter space, but it's lighter, and I'm not disappointed to be here for the remainder of time before graduate school.

Quickly becoming a typical Sunday

2010-08-15T16:37:00.002-06:00

Get up, have breakfast, go to the barn, ride fantastic semi-retired dressage horse who really teaches amateurs how to ride well.

2010-08-12T06:30:00.004-06:00

Speaking of Wellesley, last month I was surprised to read a Facebook message from a friend announcing her impending move to Ottawa, with a suddenness that is apparently characteristic of foreign service postings. The last time I saw her was about five years ago, at her wedding on Wellesley's grounds, but the last time we really spent any time together was about a year before that. It's funny to me now that when we first met in our introductory Russian class several years ago, we didn't like each other, each of us seeing the other as a competitive threat academically. Ridiculous, but another unhealthy activity that seemed normal at Wellesley was excessively indulging one's own competitive tendencies.

Anyway, after a semester together (and especially after a lot of time on the same boat on Lake Baikal) we became very good friends. I don't think either one of us, back when we were still hanging out regularly, would have guessed that in 2010 we would both be in Ottawa. Neither of us will likely be here for very long and are unsure of where we'll be going next, but in the immediate future I see a few trips to a vodka bar/Russian cafe downtown. It's almost too bad we got over our early competitive antagonism, because these days her Russian abilities far outstrip mine.

Busy, as usual

2010-08-11T08:32:00.006-06:00

A few months ago I met up with the handful of other Wellesley alumnae living in and around Ottawa. Although none of us had been at Wellesley at the same time and they work in very different fields than I do, it was an entertaining and surprisingly revealing get-together. Walking the fine line between a healthy work balance and being overcommitted isn't unique to Wellesley alums, but I had forgotten just how much being in that environment made it seem normal (whereas Penn's version of normal was well into the overcommitted area). I find I'm walking that fine line right now, working full time as well as teaching and now being a student, with yet more activities taking place outside of Ottawa and environs. The key to happiness/sanity in all of this is being able to let go of activities and opportunities whenever possible. Sort of like the Four Noble Truths, and about as easy to accomplish, so I should be good to go in a few lifetimes or so.

2010-08-07T19:16:00.003-06:00

I couldn't manage a weekend in Montreal so I settled for a day trip, but in the end it was good to be there even for just shy of ten hours. It does make a difference to get away, not so much escapism as a short respite from trying to come to decisions. Today, with the sun and blue sky and breeze, couldn't have been a better day.

Mountains on Mont-Royal:

I made a mess of the barista's lovely work, when I stumbled into a chair:

What do you see? Swan, dragon, stomach?

Gargoyles on St-Urbain:

Deja vu:

Outside Mont-Royal metro, June 2010

2010-07-30T18:08:00.003-06:00

crossroads

2010-07-25T16:27:00.003-06:00

We meet again, agonizing life-changing decisions. It's been, what, eighteen months since we last met?

I find the best thing to do in these situations is take a break from my present surroundings, remove myself from the stress of having to work on plans for the future. I'm lucky in that I have a city like Montreal so close by, where I can see friends and recharge over a weekend whenever I feel like it. I'm booking a trip for mid-August and can't wait for that first pint out on some terrasse.

Storm in SD&G

2010-07-18T12:21:00.002-06:00

All taken in and around Casselman and Dunvegan yesterday--I was told that two fronts came together to create sudden, intense storms all throughout the afternoon:

morning walk

2010-07-10T12:59:00.000-06:00

2010-07-10T07:19:00.001-06:00

I don't usually leave work at lunch--it's a long walk to where I park and with only 60 minutes, it's not easy to get back in time after going somewhere else. But after 4 and a half days stuck sheltered from the heat in artificially cooled air, when I saw the sky cloud over yesterday I took my chance to get outside. The sky was solid gray but darker to the south, the only sign of a storm other than the undulant heavy crackle over my head as I walked. I reached my car just before the lightning began and the rain started falling.

When I was in Boulder, I would escape the worst part of heat waves by going up to higher elevation for a few hours, the air thinner but cooler above the canyon rims. Not having that option here made the heat wave this week feel much worse, in addition to the prolonged high temps and unusually oppressive humidity. The National Ocean and Atmospheric Administration (who have offices in Boulder, among other places) reports that the heat waves of recent years point to more severe global warming and much sooner than previously expected. I don't know what it will take to see real change in how the world manages the environment but, at the risk of sounding very dire (and perhaps it is), not much else we do will matter if we wind up with Dust Bowl conditions across the continent in twenty years.

2010-07-01T19:18:00.004-06:00

Last night was a good example of the bipolar weather pattern I've seen in this part of the world the past couple of years. I finished my dressage lesson just in time to avoid getting soaked by the rain (although it was a tough lesson and I was already soaked in sweat), then was relieved to see it clear up in time to lead the horse back to her pasture. Another downpour caught me as I went to my car, but when it let it up I stopped in the road to take a few pictures.

Typical eastern Ontario farm road--no one on it at 9 pm, and in dire need of repair.

Another photo I grabbed before the rain hit was of one of the new foals:

Equine color genetics is a strange thing. What looks at first like basic Mendelian inheritance patterns is quickly revealed to be a web of modifiers and strange alleles that haven't all been identified yet. Sometimes it's possible to puzzle out the unusual colors, like the foal above. She's actually a black horse, but thanks to the diluting effects of two copies of a gene appropriately called Cream, she turned out a pale version, a color officially known as smoky cream. Her official registered name is Creme Brulee, but I look at her and see Corn Pops.

2010-06-26T18:43:00.002-06:00

Today as I was walking through Montreal, it occurred to me that this time next year I might well be thinking about finding a place to live there. So strange that this time two years I was finding a place in Philly, anticipating major life changes including some that would never happen, and some that would be (and still are) postponed, possibly until next year. Humans, like dogs and horses and canaries and really every species, thrive on routine and hope that some of the more important aspects of life are utterly predictable. Often I look for comfort in that kind of routine as well, but I'm finding the as-yet-undecided status of my life starting late next year to be incredibly exciting. There's the constant reminder in the back of my mind of how much work I have to do to get there, but if anything, that kind of work is its own comfortable routine.

Coup de Grisou

2010-06-21T11:30:00.001-06:00

At Le Boudoir:

2010-06-20T16:19:00.002-06:00

The other day, I was digging through the painfully heavy box of photos that has accompanied me on my various moves since leaving Colorado in 2007. I was disappointed to find that the pictures I took on my two exchange trips to Germany in high school were nowhere to be found. Of all the crap I've been carrying around for sentimental reasons on the past few moves, it's a little hard to believe that one of the most stereotypically sentimental possessions of all -- a collection of photos -- is missing. I suppose that cross-country and international moves can have the side effect of decreasing the amount of stuff that one owns, whether intentional or not.

While some of my photos from those trips served to document some American teenagers' first legal access to alcohol, there were a lot of nice pictures of the interiors of the village Catholic churches of southern Germany. My first host family were Lutheran but were excited at my interest in art history and enthusiastically drove me around in their Volkswagen Fox to seemingly every Catholic church in Baden-Wurtemburg (in one village we stopped at a church that turned out to be Lutheran; they shook their heads at the spare decor, saying "this is no good" and urged me back in the car to find another Catholic church). The churches were classic examples of the frothy rococo style popular in southern Germany during the late 18th century: all gilt and pastels, frills and curves and waves on every possible architectural feature ("barfed-up wedding cake," according to one less than impressed art history teacher of mine). The most famous is Steinhausen, called "the most beautiful village church in the world" by some, including the Chamber of Commerce-equivalent for the village in which it is located. It is in fact an impressive and beautiful building; this photo set is worth taking a look at.

Those trips gave me a greater interest in art history and a tendency to explore inside Catholic churches when I travel. This past Friday I stopped in Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours, a small church in Old Montréal and got a few decent photos despite the low light:

My favourite feature of the church was the ships hanging from the ceiling.

Why there are hooks for hanging metal hearts on the wall near the altar, I don't know. A little creepy.

Chain Letter Book Club

2010-06-06T10:57:00.002-06:00

When I was about 10, I got my first chain letter. Supposedly started by a group of German kids in 1984 , it claimed it would be entered into the Guinness Book of World Records if it staye dthat way by 1990. It had all the classic chain letter elements: the promise of something (thousands of postcards from around the world), instructions to complete within a certain period of time (send a postcard to the person at the top of the list, and five copies of the letter to friends within a week), and a guilt-inducing sentence designed to keep the letter going (so far, the chain is unbroken—don't be the one to break it). Oh yes, and the last element is the impossibility that you'll get your postcards and those German kids will get their spot in the Book of World Records. For chain letters/Ponzi schemes to work, you need an infinite number of people, and this particular letter would require more than the Earth's population a mere fifteen steps from the initial letter writers. Bummer.

Unlike some of my friends, my parents gave me permission to send my postcard and five copies. I never got a single postcard back, although I did get the letter again a couple of times with the dates updated and requirements slightly changed. When I was 12, I got a letter than promised thousands of dollars if you sent $1 to the first person on the list, and added your name to the bottom along with what you'll do with your forthcoming riches. (I wrote “buy a saddle” next to my name, a somewhat less noble pursuit than the person two places ahead of me, who wrote, “send to starving children in Africa.”) After the no-postcards incidents I was pretty skeptical, but I did end up getting $7 out of this one, and I'm fairly sure I spent it all on candy.

I never paid any attention to email chain letters (who cares about getting thousands of emails from around the world? Even in 1997 this seemed stupid) and rarely ever find any in my inbox, except for those that come from a very religious, well-meaning distant relative who thinks my email address belongs to a much less cynical and more closely related woman with a similar name. As an interesting sidenote, the oldest known chain letter dates back to at least the 1700s and was purportedly written by Jesus-—an exhaustive history of chain letters can be found here.

A few weeks ago, an old acquaintance of mine announced on Twitter that she was looking for people to take part in a “chain letter book club”--send one book, get six back. Versions of this particular letter have been around since at least 1995.
I knew the likelihood of me getting anything back was low, but I said what the hell, sign me up. It's an unusual twist on the idea, I like to read, and even if I don't get anything out of it, at least it gets a book off my shelf. (When I got the actual letter, however, I checked the math and saw that it could theoretically result in me getting thirty-six books back, which actually less appealing than six...) I'm curious to see what people send, if anything.

McCord Museum

2010-05-30T17:01:00.001-06:00

early morning train station

2010-05-22T18:17:00.001-06:00

Grad school whiteboard

2010-05-19T12:06:00.002-06:00

Why is it so satisfying, not to mention motivating, to have a checklist? I'm quite confident I could accomplish everything I need to for my applications without the help of a cheap whiteboard, but somehow I feel just a bit more prepared being able to put that check next to "Transcripts - Penn." (And I'm a little disappointed to cross off the GRE--turns out I don't need it after all, even though my scores are still recent and it would feel like those 2.5 hours I spent writing the exam in an stuffy university basement with no A/C in June were just a bit more worth it.) I probably need a second and much more detailed checklist devoted to funding my graduate school career (as universities like to phrase it) but you gotta start somewhere.

Bee Safety Tips from Captain Obvious

2010-05-18T11:25:00.001-06:00

Ariel

2010-05-06T18:59:00.003-06:00

The horse above is Ariel, one of the mounts in the therapeutic riding program I volunteer with regularly. Although many of the horses were in regular competition before they were recruited to help disabled riders, Ariel is the most accomplished of the bunch, having qualified for the Olympics with Jill Henselwood in 1996. Even at 24, she's still capable of stunning movement and gives a great ride to students who are a little more advanced.

A few months ago I decided to try to find some photos of her in her competitive days to show her current riders. When I had no luck with Google, I contacted Equine Canada to see if they had anything in their archives. They didn't, but promised to put me in touch with the woman who owned Ariel when she qualified for the Atlanta Games. A few days later, I saw the name "henselwood" in my new email--Jill's husband had written saying he would send me a nice photo of Ariel when they returned to Ontario from their winter training barn in California. Eventually I received four lovely photographs (how strange that pictures taken with film are a delightful novelty now) in the mail, including this one:

That's Ariel with Jill up, sometime in the mid-90s. My favourite thing about this photo is the ribbons of slobber flying off her face--she the slobberiest horse I've ever known, and given that I'm at muzzle height when I'm leading her during lessons, she's graced me with a shoulder-full of drool many times. I love working with her and the rest of the therapeutic riding horses, not to mention the wonderful riders. This past year I strongly considered starting the two years of work to get certified as a therapeutic riding instructor, but unfortunately that timeline isn't really possible with my grad school plans (especially if I end up in Montreal next year). I'll keep volunteering as long as I can, though, and washing my barn jackets as necessary!

Winter scenes

2010-04-30T17:37:00.002-06:00

It was an unnaturally warm winter (and spring seems to be following suit, though I hear the global warming deniers are holding out until the oceans actually submerge the seaboards), but most of my days still looked like this:

Spring

2010-04-26T13:14:00.005-06:00

Last year's soggy wet spring as viewed from the Gatineaus:

It's a lot sunnier in the 2010 version of the season, though the pollen is particularly bad--I'm sure I'm helping the makers of Claritin post excellent profits this quarter.

I've never fully appreciated spring so much as I have since moving to such a cold climate. Even when I lived in Boston and sighed at persistence of brown and icy ground in mid-March, spring wasn't nearly as exciting as it's become since I moved to Canada. In Colorado, where sunshine prevails 300 days a year and Chinook winds keep the temperatures well above freezing most of the time, spring seems more like a suggestion, a slight greening of the prairie and darkening of the formerly snowy Rockies. (I have also never hated February so much as I have the past three years--weeks without sun, December's fluffy new snow reduced to dirty jagged ice in the streets, the incessant cold with at least another month before warmer temperatures.)

Last month, I went to work particularly early one day, before it was truly light. On my usual 15-minute walk from my parking spot in the hinterlands, I passed through a little wooded area that has so far survived the development that's turned the surrounding land into parking lots and private health care facilities. All of the winter's shovelled snow had been heaped into the wood, and as the temperature warmed up it sublimated into vapour.

Spring always feels like, as cliched as the phrase is, a new beginning. As I make definitive graduate school plans, it certainly feels like something new is starting. Suddenly the huge amount of prep work and low acceptance rates don't seem so daunting...

Blog neglect

2010-03-04T08:00:00.002-07:00

I think it's a sign that a blog is on its way out when all you can write about is how much you neglect it. Most of the time now I write over at Slipstream, or occasionally for other people. I also continue to toy with the idea of a place to write about health care and medicine. That being said, I think there's still a place for this one; it seems that most blogs are highly specialized to one topic (that's what gets you readers, if that's your goal), but I like the idea of having a more freeform space to write besides my nearly illegible paper scribblings.

Boston

2010-01-15T09:50:00.002-07:00

I can't believe it's almost three years since I was last in Boston. It doesn't feel that long at all, but most days images from my time there run through my head, kind of like having the TV on in the background while focused on other work. The landscape of more rural areas like Concord and Grafton looks similar to what I see in parts of Ontario and Quebec, which tends to bring old memories to the forefront when I drive to Montreal. As the somewhat nostalgic tone of this post implies, I'm eager to go back for a visit. Quite a few friends are still there, or returned after grad school in other places, and even without the social network it's one of my favorite cities in the world. I also have a recurring dream where this bakery has opened a branch in whatever city I happen to be living in at the time.

Early April is a fine time to visit the city, as it's starting to warm up, the flowers are blooming, and there's usually not heaps of dirty snow left trickling themselves away in the streets. Flights are ridiculously expensive but it's only a seven-hour drive...

2009-12-17T13:05:00.003-07:00

Ottawa, July 2005

Boulder, February 2006

Philadelphia, September 2008

Montreal, December 2009

Writing. again.

2009-12-07T19:43:00.003-07:00

I'm feeling the urge to write again. A year ago I was writing, sure, but it was really transcription, or my own version of course material intended to help myself comprehend topics that often seemed isolated and arcane, merely tangentially related to the career I was preparing for. Beyond that, even after having kept up the blogging habit for a few years, I didn't write.

It might be that my current life-work-studies balance is more favourable to writing these days, but I'm certainly doing a lot of it. Work and studies gradually dictate the kind of writing I'm doing, with a few articles slated to appear next year, and my enrolment in a Concordia medical writing course starting in January. But I'm writing for myself too, in journals and on the backs of envelopes in coffee shops, and who knows, I may pick up blogging again.

Ottawa-Montreal corridor

2009-12-06T07:53:00.001-07:00

Stopped to let another train pass by:

You get what you pay for

2009-11-27T14:21:00.003-07:00

My workplace put up their stack of dollar-store Christmas decorations about a week ago. A 'Merry Christmas' banner caught our attention when it went up on the wall this year--the 'Christmas' part is fine:

but the 'Merry'...

My favorite part is that the banner was up for two months last year and no one noticed anything odd about it.

Photos from 2009

2009-11-16T11:19:00.002-07:00

I haven't taken a lot of pictures this year... I'm in the market for a new camera as my current one is just too awkward and heavy to carry comfortably, and somewhat deficient when it comes to megapixels. Still, when I could be bothered to bring it I got a few nice shots this year (feeling the end of the year, retrospective mood coming on):

Purple trillium in the Gatineaus

Monty, therapy horse and part-time model

My Tuesday nights look like this

It was a wet summer in Quebec

I spun a lot of yarn this year... instead of taking pictures.

2009-08-01T06:56:00.002-06:00

My high school was really big on international trips. Being a small private school, they had the means to send a few dozen students (albeit with significant financial contribution required from the students themselves) to western Europe or South America every year, and I was lucky enough to take part in a few of those trips myself. With the exception of a lot of kids experiencing hangovers for the first time, they all went without a hitch.

This year marked my old school's first trip to China, which I learned when one of my classmates started updating her facebook status about the horrors of being imprisoned in a Beijing "hospital." Thanks to her iPhone, she was able to inform her friends list that she was a chaperone on the trip, where most of the several dozen students had tested positive for H1N1 upon arrival in China, resulting in their being quarantined for several weeks in a dirty, dingy complex that only loosely resembled a health care establishment. Meals were mouldy bread and sour milk, but I really I should say they are, as a dozen students are still stuck there (accompanied by another of my old classmates). The incident just made national news and was covered by NBC: video here.

2009-01-19T09:17:00.002-07:00

Someone sent me a link to a Louis Theroux program on crime in Johannesburg. As I watched it, I found myself thinking, "The crime in Philly may have been bad, but at least I wasn't living in Johannesburg. I mean, Theroux picked Jo'burg for a reason." Then it came to my attention that the South Africa segment was the second half of a two-part series on city crime, the first part being about... Philadelphia. I'm watching it now, let's see if I can recognize any of the scenery...

change of plans

2008-12-23T14:12:00.002-07:00

It's something I will always carry in my heart
A place when dreams begin and life can start
Who cares what people know?
Let me go...
North

- Elvis Costello

2008-11-24T08:33:00.002-07:00

Two finals down, both the easy ones, with now biochemistry (difficult, but doable) and anatomy (difficult, much less doable) to go.

Anatomy. Oh, anatomy. As much as I hate the way it's taught it's has some surprising and unexpected impacts on my life, the most noticeable being when I'm buying meat at the grocery store. The other day I found myself staring at the cuts of beef, trying to figure out what muscles they came from. That eye of round? That's the semitendinosus. It's simultaneously a bit morbid and fascinating.

I've also discovered the key to happiness is doing as many weekend wet labs as possible. We spend so much time in lecture (as well as studying for exams) it's easy to forget why we're here. But getting to do actual hands-on things like delivering a poorly-positioned baby alpaca, or helping out with an equine endoscopy, is a good way to remind yourself why you're spending 8 hours in lecture every day. (As a side-note, the reproduction vets like to praise my small hands--apparently I could have a promising future as a large animal OB.)

I'm also looking into externships and a possible research project at the large animal hospital next summer. There is life beyond the TCA cycle!

2008-10-13T14:04:00.003-06:00

Ah, vet school. First year has been described as the "great slog through all the core courses that no one likes," and often that feels like the truth, especially in regard to gross anatomy. I do enjoy most of the material most of the time, but there are times when I wonder why I didn't go to medical school at McGill, an altogether less expensive and less arduous route to a top health career. However, there is a balance to be found, often obtained by closing the damn anatomy textbook and going out to enjoy what Philly has to offer.

Philadelphia, for all of its problems, has surprised and delighted me with its amazing live music scene, wonderful restaurants and breweries, and the sheer number of galleries and museums. There is a healthy artistic community here, with 2500 murals throughout the city and innumerable examples of street art.

This is Reflectorman, seeing in various locations throughout Philly (and NYC too):

my handwriting has deteriorated significantly since 1990

2008-08-12T16:25:00.003-06:00

On the eve of my move down to Philly, I stumbled across this little artifact from my childhood. When I was 9, my class took a field trip to a local vet clinic. At the time I wanted to be a hematologist when I grew up, but maybe that visit to a vet hospital planted the idea of veterinary hematology (or rather, hematopathology, given my current interests) instead. Here's the rough draft of the thank-you letter I wrote to the owner of the clinic:

2008-06-23T13:58:00.002-06:00

I went to Montreal on Saturday to see the Craft Mafia Bazaar and the Indyish Arts Mart at Fringe, as well as to see some friends at the store where I teach. Some highlights of the trip:

- Having two people I don't know come up to me at Fringe and say, "Oh hey, you're the one who teaches spinning workshops here in Montreal." I was, needless to say, surprised.

- The one-legged cyclist (!) who stopped by the yarn store to say (in French) he was "looking for a dress for a larger lady." When the shop owner told him she could sell him yarn and a pattern but not a finished garment, he switched to English and said, "You mean I'd have to do the work myself? Aw, shit." And then he left. We were impressed that even though he was cycling shirtless, he stopped and put on a grubby t-shirt before entering the store (and removed it as soon as he left).

- Brunch at Le Cagibi. Some very filling and tasty thing with eggs, sweet potatoes, and kidney beans. Also coffee and surly hipster service!

- Realising that the stuff I make (handspun yarn and knit items) are at least as good, if not better, than the fibre arts stuff I saw for sale at Fringe. It really inspired me to start selling some of work. That's going to be a big goal over the next year.

2008-06-13T18:31:00.003-06:00

It's too bad about the silly name, but I love the concept of these sustainable houses. Someday I plan to build one somewhere in the Rockies as a cottage.

well done, Bulgaria

2008-06-02T15:59:00.003-06:00

This neighborhood is home to the embassies/high commissions for a lot of foreign countries. Most are housed in stately old homes that have been retrofitted with security cameras and the requisite flagpole on the lawn. Bulgaria, however, is the only one with a car up on blocks out front:

hops

2008-05-22T12:52:00.001-06:00

some thoughts on green marketing and vegan leather

2008-05-18T10:56:00.003-06:00

Everywhere you look now, you see advertisements for 'green' products. I grew up with a lot of green activities, even if they weren't consciously done with the environment in mind: eating produce from farmers' markets and lamb raised by our neighbours, making some of my own clothing, walking or biking when I had short distances to travel. So I suppose I welcome this new trend of eco-consciousness, even if it is just trendy; it's change from not considering the environment at all.

However, as to be expected, much of the marketing of so-called green products is just that: marketing. Many of these products are unnecessary or not even any better for their environment than their non-greenwashed predecessors, such as products labeled as "CFC-free"... CFCs have been banned for 20 years anyway. Or take "mineral make-up"... most make-up is made of minerals anyway, and those minerals can be neither naturally occurring nor good for your health. Unfortunately very few people seem willing to look into the real eco-footprint of what they're buying. One of the inevitable realisations of such research is that everything you do, no matter how green or eco-friendly it seems, is going to have some negative environmental impact. I've dealt with this by aiming to minimise that impact, but it's a lot easier just to blindly trust the green label and get on with your day.

Something that's caught my eye recently is the availability of something called "vegan leather." Citing the killing of animals and toxic chemicals used in conventional tanning processes, some small companies are producing shoes, handbags, and other items that look like leather but are totally synthetic. While I can admire vegans who feel strongly about and stick to their convictions, I question how much better for the environment (and animals) "vegan" leather really is. Vegan leather is usually made out of PVC, a type of plastic whose manufacture has been implicated in the result of dioxin (a chemical highly toxic to animal life) into the environment. PVC cannot be recycled, meaning discarded PVC products are destined either to sit in a landfill (it doesn't biodegrade) or be incinerated, resulting in further release of dioxin. Vegan leather may not involve the direct killing of an animal, but how many animals are harmed by the chemicals released during manufacture and disposal? Is it really better for the environment than leather production? These are the questions I wish people would ask.

RIP lavender plant

2008-05-16T10:59:00.001-06:00

The crime scene:

The victim:

The evidence:

The suspect:

bad kitty.

2008-05-14T06:07:00.002-06:00

This NYT article on Lake Baikal surprised me when I first read it the other day. Baikal doesn't make the news very often; one of the exciting things for me about getting to go there and do research was the lack of attention it had received from Western scientists. So it pleased me to see this article talking about not only the work of several dedicated Russian scientists who've been tracking changes in the lake for decades, but to see mention of the very research expedition I was a part of. The Russian scientists in the article have their lab at Bol'shie Koty, the tiny village where I lived in the summer of 2003, and one of the Wellesley professors who came along is interviewed as well. I even remember her talking about the changing chlorophyll levels in the lake at the time, so it's very cool to see that mentioned in the New York Times!

2008-05-12T11:57:00.003-06:00

It used to be that when I was stressed out or upset, I would get in the car, put music on, and disappear into the mountains for a couple of hours. It never failed to relax me and bring to a good state of mind, and there were many nights when I came down from the high country, quietly let myself into the house, and fell asleep happy and peaceful. I can't do that now (no car, and no mountains) and I really miss it.

I can't afford it, but I think I'm going to take a trip back to CO before I leave in August. I think I'll kick myself if I don't.

2008-05-06T12:23:00.002-06:00

It's been a bad couple of weeks in equestrian sports. Of course it's been all over the news that the filly racing in the Derby, Eight Belles, broke both ankles and had to be euthanised just after crossing the finish line. (And I know I'm not the only one to point this out, but how about the symbolism of Hillary Clinton publicly betting on the filly, who finished second to Big Brown and fatally crippled herself right at the end? Seriously, I am so sick of the primaries, just pick a candidate already.) Everyone is making the comparison to Barbaro, whose trainer Michael Matz just had another horse, Chelokee, break his leg during a race. I've thought this for a long time, but horse racing is just not a humane sport. I admire the racehorses and do love to watch them run, but it's tragic how many of them end up dead or crippled. They're pushed too hard, too young: 2- and 3-year-old horses are nowhere near finished developing physically (or mentally) and it's inevitable that many of them will break down.

In another, less publicised event, the Rolex Three-Day Event in Kentucky, two horses had to be put down after falls over fixed obstacles in the cross-country phase of the competition. Laine Ashker's horse Frodo Baggins (whose other claim to fame was starring as the main Ringwraith's horse in Lord of the Rings) fractured his skull and injured his lungs in a fall over a fence, and his rider also suffered serious injuries. Another horse, The Quiet Man, suffered a severe shoulder fracture (his rider was unharmed). The number of horses and riders killed in eventing has number in the dozens in the past few years, and that's just unacceptable. Changes in the format of the cross-country phase may be to blame, as well as perhaps an increase in the number of unprepared riders advancing to higher levels for the wrong reasons. I also think that the obstacles should be equipped with frangible pins to allow them to collapse when a horse or rider hits them; this would be far safer than using fixed fences. The technology already exists for this but for whatever reason is rarely used. I'm hoping the falls at this year's Rolex will bring about some change in the sport, because it's about time.

2008-05-06T12:03:00.002-06:00

Way back in the before time, the long long ago (last fall), I started my first day of work by shadowing one of the vets during his morning appointments. A woman came in with a little terrier named Stuart who was a regular patient and due for his vaccines. In the course of conversation the woman mentioned she owned a brewery and had put an image of her neighbour's Irish Wolfhound on the label of a new porter. I'd been mostly a silent observer up til then, when I suddenly exclaimed, "Hey! I drank two of those last night!" The vet's eyes widened and he laughed nervously. I'm sure I made a great impression just then, but the woman then said that Stuart himself was going to be featured on the label for a new organic beer. This is that beer, finally in my possession, complete with hastily slapped-on label:

Stuart is a great little dog, and this is a great little bottle of beer. Yum.

2008-04-28T16:27:00.003-06:00

What I've been up to:

That's me, teaching how to spin yarn at Ariadne Knits in Montreal. I'm back there again this weekend, with more classes scheduled regularly until I move to Philly, and tentative plans for the odd class even after I've relocated. I'm teaching in Ottawa now too but there's more enthusiasm/demand for the classes in Montreal. Love it.

Tomorrow is my good friend Naya's birthday. I sent off a big box of goodies for her today (it'll be there in about two weeks, said the bored post office worker as he went to help the next person in line, a schizophrenic [I'm assuming] with about 20 pages of illegible hand-scrawled notes to fax to someone), though I wish I could be there in Colorado to take part in her birthday festivities this week. Given that I'm not working, now would be the perfect time for a trip, if only I had the money. Seeing Boulder and the mountains in springtime would be lovely. Maybe this summer...

2008-04-23T09:34:00.003-06:00

I realise I don't blog much anymore; life's too crazy. Anyway, lots of changes right now. I quit my job due to unresolvable bullshit and am now in the process of looking for another one to tide me over until vet school. What I'd like to do is teach and indulge my creative side between now and then (though that doesn't exactly pay the bills). Maybe it's the four years of science-based curriculum staring me in the face, but more than ever I feel like creating things. Fibre arts stuff, of course, but also drawing more and finding some way to record the songs that are in my head, and writing more too. Maybe I should get back into blogging, or taking pictures again...

2008-03-05T19:15:00.002-07:00

Over the past few months I've making little notes to myself about stuff that's happened at work--I'd like to blog about it, but given that the Internet is just a little too public, I'm saving it all for a future book. Or anonymous blog. Or poorly-drawn graphic novel. I've had a lot of experiences at this job that are too good not to remember and record, such as:

-Talking to a client who happens to be an ambassador from a country that has been very much in the news for the past few months;
-The man who paid for his dogs' exam fees by getting out his cell phone and making a drug deal;
-All the strange things clients say that follow the phrase "Well, I read on the Internet that..."
-Making employees wear stupid anti-complaining bracelets as a means of conflict resolution.
-The role of Dumpster diving in the life of the average veterinary assistant.

Not quite James Herriot, but it makes for an entertaining workday.

jesus, who knew

2008-03-02T16:16:00.001-07:00

that if you removed Garfield from Garfield, the strip would actually be funny:

More here.

2008-03-02T08:20:00.002-07:00

Three weeks ago I was in Philly, two weeks ago I was in Colorado, and now I'm back in Ottawa. It's like a weird collision of past, present, and future. Kind of a headfuck, actually. One new and exciting development (besides the whole vet-school-thing) is that I've been hired to teach yarn spinning workshops at a great little shop in Montreal, Ariadne Knits. I'll be teaching beginning spinning on a drop spindle (scroll down to see my class), which as of now is the only class of its kind in the city. Funny that I couldn't find anyone to host the space for such a class in Ottawa, but it was no trouble finding a place in Montreal. As of now I'm scheduled to teach there once a month (the first two classes are booked solid with waiting lists), with possibly more classes in the future. It's really taken off and I have to say, I'm excited!

VMD 2012

2008-02-11T08:19:00.001-07:00

dodging a bullet

2007-12-30T15:05:00.001-07:00

Back in September, when I was applying for work at various vet hospitals, I got rejected for a job at a local clinic because of my lack of French skills. I was disappointed at the time, but this past week I found out that my lousy spoken French actually worked out in my favour. It turns out that the owner of the clinic in question has been taken before the board several times because of his abusive behaviour towards his staff. And by abusive behaviour, I mean physical violence. Needless to say, his clinic has an exceptionally high staff turnover rate (in a field where staff turnover is high anyway). Right now, I feel pretty damn lucky to have been turned down for that job!

2007-12-24T10:19:00.001-07:00

I've noticed there's not a lot of blogs out there about veterinary medicine. Does this mean that vets are an overworked lot with no time or energy for something as trivial as daily musings on the Internet? I hope not, though I will admit that my life for the past couple of months has been increasingly devoted to things like calculating drug dosages, running bloodwork, and educating people about the need for vaccines and prophylactic parasite treatment for their pets. It's given me a lot of food for thought about what I eventually want to do with my career (I'm leaning towards specialty practice rather than GP), what to do when the "best medicine" isn't an option, and what's essential for a clinic/hospital to be run efficiently. All good blogging topics to be sure, but during my few days off I'm gonna be focusing instead on good food and conversation, catching up on sleep, and looking at the light snowfall outside. And watching the Christmas episode of Buffy.

Happy holidays, everyone!

making christmas cards with the mentally ill

2007-11-27T06:52:00.000-07:00

Last week, as I sat on a crowded bus making my way back from work, an older woman approached me and asked if I wanted a card. She was dressed a little oddly, with a turquoise scarf wound round the top of her head and under her chin that she kept adjusting, but seemed very pleasant as she held out a fan of envelopes. I chose one and she said, "Merry Christmas." Inside was this very Jesus-y Christmas card:

The most interesting part was that it was signed "Love, Dad":

I'm guessing that Dad here is God, because when I looked over the shoulder of another person who'd taken a card, I saw it was signed "Love, Jesus." When the woman had finished making the rounds of the bus she sat down and looked very pleased. Not sure if she was a bit off the rails or just very evangelistic, but it made my trip home a lot more interesting that night.

2007-11-03T15:31:00.000-06:00

By the time I graduated from Wellesley in 2004, I felt like I'd had my fill of diversity awareness. Wellesley is unusually diverse for a small liberal arts school, and the college (and student body) devotes a lot of time and energy into providing education and information about diversity. This came in the form of not just courses but regular panels, discussions, electronic forum postings, cultural events, fliers left on tables in the dining halls, etc. I was never opposed to any of this but after 4+ years of being there, I saw the environment as somewhat humourless and politically correct; even now my friends and I still joke, "Uh oh, someone said something insensitive--better form a committee to investigate and issue a statement!"

A few years on, however, I'm finding out how much I appreciate what being in that environment did for me. Especially at my new job, I'm thinking about how Wellesley made me more aware of not only diversity in general, but of the experiences and struggles of people whose backgrounds are different from my own. I wrote before about my co-workers' frequent mentions of our gay clientele, and wondering where that stemmed from. Having spent more time with them I think it results from their own discomfort and lack of experience with homosexuality. A lot of the time they don't seem to realise that what they're saying is offensive. The other day one of my co-workers was talking about a vet at another clinic who has a reputation for not practicing good medicine. She gave a list of reasons why this woman is a bad vet (not running enough diagnostic tests, not caring about her patients, etc.), including, "and she's a lesbian." Everyone around me just nodded and said, "Yeah" and went on with the conversation. I was shocked, but no one else seemed even surprised. This sort of thing is really making me thinking about my background versus that of the people I work with. It sounds awfully cheesy, but I think this position is really going to be an education about people, and not just veterinary medicine.

pet names, Ottawa edition

2007-10-24T08:22:00.000-06:00

So far in my new job I haven't encountered any pet names that have matched the awfulness of the ones I saw in Boulder, like Cooter and Scratch Ball and Lil' Retard. But I have seen what the popular pet names are here: while Boulder they seemed to be Scout, Shadow, and Sadie, in Ottawa it's Tigger, Milo, and Rufus.

Speaking of pets, I miss my horse (with the very unusual name of Siân). :(

2007-10-24T07:03:00.000-06:00

Undaunted by an upper respiratory bug that has come and gone over the past three weeks (I am finally giving in and going to the doctor today, one week shy of the start of my provincial health insurance coverage... sigh), I've been working full time at my new job. The training section (lots of powerpoint and handouts on customer service) is mostly done, and it's been good to actually start doing the work I was hired to do. Although I'm not a technician, I've been told I might get to do some of the more technical work (like drawing blood) when they're busy and short-staffed. Unfortunately I really won't get to do any diagnostic lab work, which was something I loved about my last job, but who knows, maybe I can dabble in that too in the future.

I do like that the clinic is very new and well designed (separate surgery, dental, and x-ray suites--love it), and the people are all friendly and good to work with. It's out towards Ottawa's southern suburban fringe so I definitely don't need any French (for the few clients who are more comfortable in French than English, they use Babelfish to translate handouts for them... yikes). One thing that keeps happening is my co-workers telling me that "we have a lot of gay clientele." So far four co-workers on separate occasions have said this, usually in the form of a non-sequitur when talking about a particular patient. At first I wondered if they kept saying this because I'm American (given the anti-gay sentiments so prevalent in much of the US, I spose), but now I think maybe they're saying it because it's a novelty for them--most of them have lived their entire lives in small, rural communities, and Ottawa is really the "big city" for them. One gave me a lift home the other night and when she drove into my neighbourhood she said, "Oh, I'd be so scared to live in a big city like this." She lives in a town with only one stoplight, so I can see where she's coming from...

two years ago

2007-10-14T19:36:00.001-06:00

maybe I really am a dolphin

2007-10-12T09:55:00.000-06:00

This news story features an animation of a dancer spinning. If she appears to be spinning clockwise, supposedly you use more of your right brain ("big picture" oriented), but if she spins counter-clockwise you're ruled by your left brain (detail oriented).

I initially saw her going clockwise, but then I was able to make her switch. It takes a bit of effort to see her going counter-clockwise, and the fact that the direction changes based on a shift in my perception really weirds me out. (And makes me wonder if this depends on what your dominant eye is, rather than which side of your brain you use more.)

personality testing

2007-10-12T07:41:00.000-06:00

The fad of corporate personality testing has made it into the world of veterinary medicine. Apparently, I am a "dolphin"--expressive, likes social relations, sees the big picture, appreciates ~~fish-based treats~~ recognition for accomplishments, bad with details. Except I'm actually very good with details and am a real stickler for them (just ask anyone who's had the misfortune of being assigned to do a lab or write a scientific paper with me). But evidently it's impossible both to be good with people and have an eye for detail, or so says the test and its four possible types.

These tests are so silly, and yet I see so many people who really believe in their supposed ability to help employees work better. But it's so limiting to try to cram everyone into one of four types--even the Myers-Briggs test, which despite what a lot of people think actually has no scientific basis behind it, gives you sixteen options.

In other news, yesterday I was in on an appointment with a dog whose owner turned out to be the brewer of one of my favourite beers of all time. The dog in question is being featured on the label of a new, organic beer only available at the brewery--we're going to go try it out on Sunday. Mmmm.