T-2 Days: Wedding Prodrome

At the time of my proposal Liz and I had been together three and a third years. We had been inseparable for almost the same. Given this history, our generally laid back attitudes, and our initial grand matrimonial ambitions, our plans for our wedding were built upon a one year to one and a half year timeline. Too many couples are stressed by the experience -- too stressed to enjoy it -- by trying to get things done faster. Why not slow things down to actually enjoy being engaged? Unfortunately, almost immediately after our engagement we received the terrible news that Liz's dad had fallen ill with an inoperable tumor that was, in all likelihood, a terminal process. Thus what was originally going to be an eighteen month engagement quickly became six months, and the leisurely process became something of a forced march. Nevertheless, through hard work (mostly Liz's), ample use of vacation time (mostly mine), and the assistance of family and friends (mostly Liz's mom), it was now two days prior to the wedding and it appeared everything was on track [Liz: kind of on track?].

As we approached Nevada City, a lovely old Gold Rush-era town in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, some residual thunderstorms were still rumbling through. It was a beautiful, gray, overcast fall day. We had spent the morning filling Liz's Ford Escape with bags, garlands, broken lab glassware, three foot long sparklers, and a host of other DIY decor; had secured our nervous and moderately medicated beagle into the front seat; and had dug out a spot in the back for our sick gray tuxedo kitty, Dorian Gray, who had a few days prior received a terminal diagnosis of metastatic disease. We were as we usually are: a traveling band of pets and props, detailed plans, nervous excitement, and perhaps too much luggage, heading towards the official start of our combined future. I cannot speak for Liz who was a bit more emotionally invested in putting on a good show, but at that moment, on that day, all was going pretty much according to plan and, at least in the small world of our upcoming wedding, all was relatively well [Liz: err, not so much]. Despite the busyness that had led up to this day which had dulled many of the emotions we may have otherwise experienced, I was happy and I was excited. We checked in to our heavily shall we say "Eastern"-themed airBNB chosen because of its pet friendly renting policy, unloaded our supplies at Liz's mother's rental a short walk up a steep hill from our wedding venue, had dinner, practiced some dancing (no amount of practice was going to make me a good dancer), [Liz: don't forget about my anxiety/grief/exhaustion breakdown in the evening], and had a sit on our BNB's back patio love seat under a pile of blankets with our cat and our beagle. The wedding was upon us,battle stations!

Four Years Gone

Four years ago today, give or take a few months, I disappeared from blogspot and, some say, the world. Where did I go? What did I see? What brief, poorly composed comments did I have to share on the matter?

I was busy. Busy with a lot of things. Work. Naps. Stuff.

I was also busy meeting the most wonderful woman I have yet had the privilege of meeting, Ms (Dr.) Liz Carbone. We've been together almost four years now, married for almost two weeks, and I'll be honest, I didn't much miss the blogging. Nevertheless, since the underlying premise and reason for my blogging still stands -- to archive my memories before dementia sets in -- I will take up the quill once more.

And to begin? A short tale of an unconventional wedding. :)

How To Research and Become Famous and Be Good At Everything

Children are always coming up to me saying, "Mister! Mister! Tell us how to research!" And I always tell them, "you're not tough enough, kid. Come back when you got the goods!" Finally, today however, as I approach retirement in twenty to thirty years and contemplate my legacy, I've decided to share my secrets. Research secrets!

First things first, choose a fact you wish to learn more about. Just one. A single fact. Two is too many. A detailed summary of facts is not correct -- you're not writing a review article -- and a layman's explanation of a complex series of facts is wrong -- you're not writing pop-science. Pick just one, single, fact. Before you starting choosing, though, let me make it clear that this fact cannot be your favorite fact, it cannot be a revolutionary or particularly earth shattering fact, and, really, it probably shouldn't even be a fact known to anyone outside your specialized circle of peers and some post grads in Belgium. The good facts have all been taken or require a multimillion dollar grant. Do you have a multimillion dollar grant? The fact can be from a subject you care about -- we're not unreasonable -- but that will be your only concession. Cherish it. This fact you will spend the next one to two years of your life learning.

Now that you've chosen the fact you wish to learn you will next have to write up multiple, detailed, technical iterations of why you wish to learn this fact; how you want to go about learning the fact; how you will keep your learning of the fact secret from others; what financing you will receive in learning this fact; and how learning this fact may affect the children, elderly, incompetent, and pregnant around you. You should also include a list of people who have also said things about your fact. Make sure that list is standardized in some random but highly regimented manner. After you've written a sufficient number of drafts of why you want to learn the fact you will then be asked to wait a number of months prior to being given clearance to finally in fact learn the fact.

The next step is preparing a spreadsheet to record data about your fact. This is necessary because the process of learning a fact requires a long drawn out process of reviewing multiple different medical and technical records to identify a dozen different variables which you will then record at least a few hundred times. Make sure the spreadsheet makes sense before you start, though, because if your spreadsheet doesn't make sense now it certainly won't make any sense when you come back to it after a few weeks or months of doing other real life things. And make sure your definitions are concrete, precise, and consistent with the definitions used by other people who have said things about your fact because if not no one will believe it. They'll say your fact was not well designed. Don't worry too much; though, whatever you do now will in the end matter little because at some point you or someone you know will inevitably find a better way to learn your fact half way through thus requiring you to go through the records and spreadsheets and data again. Likely one cell at a time.

Now that you have the spreadsheet as you want it you may begin the actual process of looking at the computer screen thousands of times a day over the course of an endless number of months you will never get back in order to extract the information you need to make your fact. It is likely at some point you will accidently place one datum in the wrong datum column without realizing it and have to spend hours trying to figure out what went wrong, and it is similarly likely that at some point you will realize one of the records you are using to collect data doesn't even have the information recorded correctly. Don't lose heart, though, you'll be far too invested at this point to seriously consider giving up.

Once you have gathered enough data about your fact to actually fashion the fact, it is time to give the data to a statistician. Or, since statisticians are fabulous nonexistent mythological creatures, rather you will stare at a statistics textbook until you find a way to crudely apply one formula or another to your numbers. After, of course, also figuring out how to force that formula through whatever statistics package you do or do not have on your computer. Statistics done you are, finally, presto change'o, through the magic of math, done with researching! You have learned your fact. Congratulations, scientist!

You're not done done yet, however, oh no. You now have to share the fact with others. There are thankfully a number of ways to do so, and you will be asked to do every one. It is typically easiest to first share the fact in the form of a Power Point presentation where you will create many captivating and mercilessly boring slides talking about your fact in a level of detail that even you do not care to know. This will give you the chance to talk about other related facts as well, but do so only briefly. Remember to never lose sight of your fact for it is the most important fact. At least for the sixty minutes or so of your presentation. If you lose focus and meander off topic people will get very upset as this may interfere with their napping.

Presentation done you will then have to create a poster for your fact. This will be similar to your Power Point presentation, but different in that you'll be forced to smash down most of what you'd like to say about your fact into the three small columns of text. Most of the poster should be figures which will keep people's attention when learning about your fact better than any actual concisely written information about the fact itself. The poster will need to be a certain size, using certain fonts, with certain esoteric color and design requirements depending on who you ask and most people won't want to be asked. The font will always have to be bigger and the tables larger which will always mean you will have to say less about your fact, but for posters what matters most is how long people stare at it. Be sure to buy an expensive poster carrying case because it'll probably be something you want to place over your fireplace mantle for years to come. It also lets others know that, damn, that man's a researcher! Or rather just a weirdo walking around with a very elaborate tube carrying purse.

Lastly, you will be asked to write a paper about your fact. It will seem to you at this point that it would simply consist of cutting and pasting all the component parts you've created to date, but you will quickly find that idea ridiculous due to the ten rough draft minimum and crippling word count limits which will effectively preclude any use of adjectives, adverbs, or relevant citations. This is assuming you plan to submit to a journal with anything resembling a coherent instructions for authors. Once everyone has agreed that the current draft of your paper is the best possible draft that everyone can concede to and no further changes that contradict other changes have been suggested you will submit it to the editors who will reply some time later with a list of reasons why the paper is terrible. Thankfully you will be given the chance to clarify and modify your manuscript once more, but only after another five draft minimum. This process may repeat itself indefinitely, but eventually, if lucky, you will find yourself with a journal article about your fact. The feeling at seeing your name as the first author will be indescribably underwhelming.

And that, children, is research. A year or two of life for a fact, a glossy poster, and a journal article that your friends and family probably won't have access to. Thankfully the ladies go crazy for dot plots.





Sexy dynamite.



As a final aside I do have sincere respect for researchers who toil endlessly and often anonymously to advance our understanding of the world. I will just likely never be one of them. Nor would I likely have thought it worth my time to have done so. To the endless march of Progress!




I also coincidentally have sincere respect for champion corgi Risk masters.

Who's the cutest little conqueror in the world?! You are! You are!

Surrounded by Turkeys

I am, literally, surrounded by turkeys. Not literally, literally. But literally in the sense that I sometimes see them at work. Which raises the question, why are they following me?

When I first moved to New Hampshire I expected to see deer, squirrels, rabbits, the usual. Maybe a moose and a beaver to round out a proper New England diorama, and that was it. Instead I found myself constantly slowing or stopping my car to avoid hitting turkeys. They were inexplicably everywhere and, judging by their fearlessness, were clearly the apex predators of whatever it is turkeys feed on. Regardless, when I left New Hampshire I assumed I'd be leaving the turkeys behind.

Instead there're here too. Every day at work I drive by them. Every day I get out of my car they're watching. Sometimes I swear I see them taking notes. I didn't know turkeys were normal fauna of northern California air force bases, but then again I never knew they just chilled wherever the hell they well please either. The only conclusion: al-Qaeda turkey sleeper cell. I am expecting one to greet me coming home from work some day. He will probably be armed.

Only Golden Eagles can save us! Or kill us all.

Blargh

Remember that time I broke up with my girlfriend? Yeah. That was the worst.

In case you want to relive and reflect, here're some photos of Claudia and I in New York and half the entire United States.

Thug Life New Hampshire

You may not be able to tell just by looking, but the Upper Valley of Vermont and New Hampshire (or la Vallée Supérieure as it's known in the local French pidgin) is pretty rough territory. Teeming with gangs, hoods, hoodlums, toughs, thugs, and the thick hum of bluegrass harmony. It's a place where drugs like dope, whack, smack, and spank are sold by the handful; where drive-bys are a regular events at local sugar houses and pimps parade unchallenged down colonial boulevards and covered bridges; a place where homicide is the most common cause of death for youths next only to moose attack and bear attack; and where life is cheap because the good die young. If you want to survive on the streets of Hanover you better get street smart, fast. And get a gun too. To keep those moose of your back.

Got Goat?

Haiti may not have much of a future, but it's got good food. (It's got some good people, too, but after my last post I cannot officially go on the record saying that.) I’m not sure I’d ever eaten goat before, but I’d happily do so again.

The majority of our diet there consisted of various staples consisting primarily of fried meats (usually goat or chicken) and fried plantains supplemented by a few eggs, a few breakfast spaghettis, and a few sandwiches of what I can only guess was brain cheese. All washed down with either a 1 L bottle of coca-cola or a pint of Prestige, Haiti’s surprisingly satisfying national beer. There was also conche which tasted like... well, conche, so they can't all be winners, but our best meal, our big banquet meal our final day, was Chinese food. The best damn Chinese food in Haiti and, arguably, in all of New Hampshire and Vermont. And for dessert? Dous makos. Sugar, condensed milk, and... silly putty?

Eat it, share it, or press it up against a newspaper comic to save for later.