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19 January 2006
Do not try this with a $100 bill
Wired News: Printing Organs on Demand
Need a skin graft? A new trachea? A heart patch? Turn on your printer, and let it spit one out.
A group of researchers hope printers' whirs and buzzes will soon be saving lives.
Led by University of Missouri-Columbia biological physics professor Gabor Forgacs and aided by a $5 million National Science Foundation grant, researchers at three universities have developed bio-ink and bio-paper that could make so-called organ printing a reality.
Variations on a theme: giving the turtle back, getting a ride and a wife
This 2.5" icon has a story. It goes like this:
To Japanese folklore, Urashima Taro, a simple fisherman, caught a tortoise which he kindly returned to the sea. The tortoise revealed herself to be the beautiful daughter of the underwater Dragon King. As a reward Urashima and the girl were married. Here Urashima rides his tortoise wife on a return visit to land, carrying the magic box she gave him. The original ivory netsuke is in the collections of the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem, Massachusetts.
18 January 2006
17 January 2006
(un)true blue
I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes.
e. e. cummings
10 January 2006
it is found in the quiet unexpected
Several months ago I began losing things. Not completely unexpected and not exactly unlike me, I worried a bit because the items I'd misplaced had some personally significant value but I resigned myself to the 'oh well, there goes another one' that seems to follow me.I lost my beloved PDA first. No idea where that went, though it had to disappear somewhere between my home and KD's. I think. Or it could have been at class. Or in a parking ramp. Or maybe I left it at a meeting. I first purchased it on a slight whim - but as far as my whims go I have to defend it as fairly well thought out.
I found a great deal through audible.com offering $100 off the cost of the PDA if I'd subscribe to Audible for a year.
'No problem, I'll be wanting to download audible books anyway!', thought I, and the cost of a refurbed Palm Zire 31 became immediately accessible for me as the monthly fee for the Audible subscription was to be taken from my financial account each month rather than in one big chunk. I could do that.
My sweet little Zire stayed by my side through my many sleepless nights. We listened to uploaded books and CDs and all sorts of recorded matter together. The Zire play innumerable games of Solitaire with me. Frankly, even if I could remember the numbers I would never reveal that particular detail, so embarrassed I am of my obsessive Solitaire playing during fretful uneasy nights. My Zire kept a backup copy of a few particular cherished emails and she'd memorized the entirety of my contact list - old folks and new. Everyone was in there. One of the features I miss the most is the calendar/reminder function. I had reminders for - well cripes, for just about anything I needed to be remembering! I took it along with me outside and used the fold-uppable keyboard (also huge discount find) to work on writing and email. I'd save story ideas. But geez, I'm shot down without the calendar to keep me going.
My favorite Zire moment was when I used her to catch a sneaky photograph while stuck on a hellishly long layover at an airport terminal along about 300 other people, including an asswipe of a contemptuous fellow. He was one of those 'my shit doesn't stink, I'm worth far too much for that to happen' sort of disdainfully attitudinally-challenged people. He bore the fine suit, the leather loafers, the soft buckskin attache case, the wristwatch that dripped 'don't touch me, don't so much as breath..my..air, peon'. Dickhead made someone watch his seat while he left to use the restroom (heavens no, wouldn't want the PREGNANT woman to be able to sit down or anything, noooo). When he returned he didn't realize he had a several-foot-long trail of toilet paper running from the back waistband of his pants, down the back of his leg, ending as a flapping tongue wagging behind him on the floor. The appropriate thing for a kind person to have done at the moment of noticing his potentially embarrassing moment would probably be to quietly have pointed it out to the fellow. I, however, thought the man a complete jackass and preferred, instead, to use the camera function of my beloved little Zire to snap a picture of the guy standing in line with his toilet paper tail while he, in turn, waited to crab at the helpless airline employee (again).
I did love that Zire, oh yes I did.
And then ... one day ... she was gone. Forever.
I hope to replace her eventually - perhaps with her big sister the T/X.
Maybe...
The second strange batch of lost important things happened a few months after I misplaced the Zire. I think I must have been washing dishes or gardening; something that would have required me to remove my watch and two special rings. I remember little about the day other than a few details:
- I removed the fidgety ring first.
I bought that one in the Bahamas back on the first official vacation I ever took with a friend all by myself without my wee babe on my hip ~ circa 1994. The rolling triple gold banded ring was the one item I purchased just for me. I'm not generally a good me-bargainer but I managed to haggle the seller down to a reasonable price and I've proudly worn the ring nearly every day since. Because the yellow, pink and white gold bands are all interwoven it also makes a remarkably handy toy to have on hand (literally!) when I'm fidgety. Having this ring on my hand reminds me to be braver than I think I'm capable of being and it reminds me that I owe myself adventure --oh, and also of being grateful for whatever health care I EVER have in the U.S. after the vomitous night in the Bahamian emergency room, though that's probably a story best left for another post or, perhaps, not at all.- I remember that I removed my so-pretty funky artsy S. ring next.
After meeting online, we had a long courtship during which I chased her through jungles and into outer space. We emailed and talked and IM'ed daily. DAILY. What a heap of amazing things I learned from, and due to, S.- I remember that I slipped off my gold wristwatch. I dangled one end through the center holes of the two rings and once it had passed through both I fastened the ends of the watch together.
I am so much more a global citizen because of her. I learned that 'liberal party line' doesn't necessarily taste the same in all countries. I got to love liberally and be loved the same way. I learned to read the temperatures in both Farenheit and Celcius (and to spell both words correctly). I visited Australia. She visited the United States. I found out what a mindfuck distance can be, how horrifying ones own mind can be in creating obstacles that might not actually exist, in an effort to cling to what feels like the only important thing in the universe. I learned to flex my ankles on those 26 hour flights across the US and over to Oz so I wouldn't develop DVT. I learned, possibly the hard way, that she was who she was and didn't want to or wasn't capable of changing as drastically as might have been necessary for us to be a successful coupling. And while I never did find the kind of end of sentence/end of relationship punctuation I so desperately sought, I can look back now and sorta see how she ignored a whole bunch of super important things like facts, but in the end she fell onto the sword for me. That might be the take-away.
That, and this lovely ring I picked out during her visit to Wisconsin. We both picked rings to have something to have of one another when we were apart, but because we had such very very (VERY!) different tastes, I picked mine and she picked hers. Then, the other person purchased the self-chosen ring and gave it to the wearer with some formality. We remain close despite parting as partners. She holds her emotional cards closer still to her than even I manage mine, so I cannot know how done with me she might be, how past my shenanigans she is, how much frustration I caused her. She has met someone new and is deleriously happy together with her new girlfriend, looking forward to sharing a home within the next few months. I think part of what was so important was the physical presence of a Someone Else. I could not provide that to S., something for which I will eventually forgive myself (what else can I do?) but I will most likely continue to regret for years. At any rate, we didn't work well together but I truly am glad for S. that she has found someone else with which she is comfortable and from whom she feels loved. And well, I suppose it goes without saying that I also have found someone -local- who loves me, with whom I am comfortable and with whom I will eventually set up a home with. In a couple of years, maybe. Yet being with and loving KD does not mean that I can't wear the ring that meant a lot to me, the prettiness of which becons me to distraction at times.
This ring I chose was a wide gold 'comfort fit' band with a narrow dotted "marching ants" pattern along the top and bottom edges of the band. In the center section between the marching ants dances what look to me like stars and moons and other astral fairies, all moving and active, proceeding around my finger.
I hold the universe in my hand just as The Uuniverse holds me in Its hand.
- I remember putting the three items into some sort of a pocket that I thought would be a safe place for keeping them.
Days turned into weeks turned into I guess months and I realized they were really and truly lost. I checked through the zippered pockets of handbags and purses. I checked my backpack. I checked pants pockets and dresser drawers. No watch, no rings. Every few weeks I would re-remember that I had stopped looking and would take up the search with renewed vigor, but I'd never find what I was missing. I unearthed all sorts of interesting things I had no interest in finding, but I could not find those three pieces of jewelry.
Finally, after some Bad Days last week I decided to take a hot shower. I thought soaking off the sheister attitude couldn't do anything but help. Standing under the shower head, I wondered over and over where I possibly could have put the rings and watch that I hadn't already looked. I'd worried that I might have accidentally forgotten to check the inner zipper pockets of some purses I'd donated to Goodwill a couple of months back.
'Maybe someone else now has my rings and I will NEVER EVER SEE THEM, NOT EVER AGAINNNNN', I panicked. Breathe, breathe, breathe.
While water trickled down over the top of my head it occurred to me that I had reached a fork in this lost items road. It wasn't a remarkable thing, it was simply part of the process of thinking the thing through, y'know? There really were only two ways to handle this situation, I figured: continue panicking and freaking out over what I had fucked up and could not un-fuck or somehow try to figure out a way to let them go. Just let them go, out whereever they were - whether they were on a strange woman's arm or in the bottom of a garbage bin or in a closet or in the public landfill - I could lift up thanks for having had them and then let them go on.
And then I laughed at myself standing there in the shower thinking such hippy thoughts because c'mon, that's just too much even for me. Despite the audacity of the ohms, I couldn't shake that idea: Let them go. So I did.
I have no idea how or why or when exactly, but by the time I stepped out of the shower- and after having shed tears- I had said goodbye and be well to the three little silly but important-to-me pieces of jewelry and I was really truly okay with that.
They were gone and I was content to let them be that way.
Next lost item: Monday I was digging around in my school backpack, trying to find a scholarship check that I didn't know I had until only recently (Turns out, it helps to open the mail with some regularity. That's the lesson there). Not that I thought I'd stuffed the check into my backpack because I haven't opened the backpack since mmmm, some time in early December. But still, when you're trying to find Something Important, you cover all your tracks, right? Right.
Dig-a, dig-a dig-a ... what's this?
Well, know how right there in the third zippered pouch there's that velcro flap? And what do you suppose I found inside that? Woohoo, if you said the check???? Wrong~
A watch and two rings, that's what.
03 January 2006
Her brain broke breathtakingly on a queer quiz rampage
What Type of Lesbian Are You? (Inspired by Curve Mag.)created with QuizFarm.com |
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| You scored as The Vaginal-Reference-Making Dyke. You are the lesbian who can connect your vagina to nearly every object in the entire universe, creative and a little creepy you always astonish your friends. |
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*I rarely take issue with quizzes, especially these that are SO clearly for fun and um, entertainment. But come ON people, if you're going to quiz me on my lesbianism, at least give me a few questions that I can actually answer 'yes' to and not feel as though I've only managed to nubble together some sorta score as a feel-good consolation prize.
'The door to your dorm is plastered in gay pride paraphernalia.' HUNH? No. I answered that twice as absolutely not, and the second time I was clicking the 'NO YOU FUCKING MORON I SAID NO!' button, it was for the tie-breaker which then determined that - according to the responses I gave - I would be 60% likely to be a student dyke. Sigh.
'You own at least one black leather jacket.' Sure, why didn't I realize this sooner? After all, ones outerwear tells all sorts of squeamishly revealing information about a person, doesn't it?! Sigh.
'You secretly worship James Dean.' Go fuck yourselves. I keep my secrets SECRET and none of them, I assure you, NONE OF THEM involve James.
So I guess after all the other best and most real dyke characters are filtered down through, what we're left with at the bottom of the rusty strainer is me, the peculiar pfefferneus of properly pansified periveinous pussy.
SIGH.
No, really. I cannot in good conscience show you mine. At least not here.
 | You scored as Nipples. You're secretly kinky aren't you? I like you already. Don't let anyone onto your dirty side--it's more fun that way.
What Piercing Are You? created withQuizFarm.com |
photos? what photos?
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What's your ideal drug?
created with QuizFarm.com
| You scored as Ecstacy. Love, sex, parties, and DANCING! Just be wary of your mood coming down! www.dancesafe.org |
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less photos, more quizzes
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What Mythological Creature are you?
created with QuizFarm.com
| You scored as Faerie. Faerie: Aren't you a cute little flying person? Faeries are earth spirits. They live among each element completely hidden. They have cousins called Pixies. Pixies however, are very mischevious. They enjoy tormenting other creatures for fun. Little pranksters.. I hope you never meet one. Pixies have a bad reputation for finding a creature and clinging to them until death. Faeries can be somewhat close to a Pixie, but mostly they are loving, playful, and carry with them a child-like enthusiasm for life. Hide among the pedals of a Daisy, you are a Faerie. |
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Let's take a photographic break for some stargazing
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Which sci-fi crew would you best fit in? v1.0
created with QuizFarm.com
| You scored as Galactica (from Battlestar: Galactica). You are leery of your surroundings, and with good reason. Anyone could be a cylon. But you have close friends and you know they would never hurt you. Now if only the damn XO would stop drinking. |
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(And now, the sooper-dee-dooper ULTIMATE stargazer's quiz, updated and all)
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Your Ultimate Sci-Fi Profile II: which sci-fi crew would you best fit in?
created with QuizFarm.com
| You scored as Deep Space Nine (Star Trek). You have entered the dark side of the Star Trek universe. The paradise of Earth is far from you and you must survive despite having enemies on all fronts. But you wouldn�t have it any other way because you thrive in conflict and will know what needs to be done to take care of those around you. Now if only the Founders would quit trying to take over the galaxy. |
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02 January 2006
Welcome back, Reub. We missed you so.
During a local newscast this evening, the tv crew was interviewing local Badger fans who have been celebrating along with the UW-Madison Badger football team in Orlando, Florida at whatever Bowl game they played today. (bad fan, baaad baaaad fan. I have slapped my hand just now for those gentle readers who might be locals and reading my complete disinterest in the Badger team for the first time. I try, I really do.
I just can't get excited about many sporting events.)
The thing that grabbed my attention was the super-excited woman in her ohh, fifties or sixties maybe. She appeared to be a really happy gal, smiling broadly and donning her reddest of Bucky badger-red gear, who described the scene as "boo-ee-yant".
In what universe does the word boo-yant exist?
I hadn't been watching the broadcast; I'd been listening though, and the fact that I could not identify the word she was using got my attention. So I turned around and started to play the 'name that...' game. Given the situation and the excitement and what I knew of the Badger's winnings, I suspected that the well-intentioned woman must have meant "boy-ant".
Buoyant.
No wonder we have a confused language and an even more confused population...
if you see a little floating bobbing bit of a thing out there in a body of water to mark a channel, well of course I'd understand someone referring to THAT thing as a boo-eee.
But to mark an excited scene as boo-ee-ant? I dunn'thin'so.
Next lesson: Kwik-E-Marts and why our children are slow.
30 December 2005
This is a test. This is only a test.
“The windows of my soul are made of one-way glass, don't bother looking into my eyes if there's something you want to know, just ask” -Ani Difranco
28 December 2005
Which of Santa's Reindeer Are You?
| You Are Dasher |
 You're an independent minded reindeer who never plays by the rules. Why You're Naughty: That little coup you tried to stage against Santa last year Why You're Nice: You secretly give naughty children presents. |
Predator and prey
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A predator is any animal that hunts and eats other animals, which are called the prey. Generally, carnivores are predators and herbivores are prey. Predators have adaptations to catch, kill, and eat their prey, and, in return, the prey have special adaptations to avoid being eaten.-from Discover Africa
Predators play an important role in nature. Many scientists believe they help keep the populations of their prey from getting too large and using up more food and other resources than their habitat can provide. To be successful hunters, predators need to be able to see, smell, or hear their prey.
Predators need feet and legs adapted to running down (pursuing) their prey or to sneaking up on them. Predators need powerful teeth and jaws to kill and eat their prey; many have sharp claws to help catch the prey. Predators do not chew their food but tear it off the bones and swallow it whole.
Good eyesight is important to help predators in locating food. Predators generally have both eyes in front of their heads, so that they are looking forward, which gives the animal binocular vision. Binocular vision permits an animal to judge the distance of an object accurately. This is important when a predator is trying to leap at or run down an animal. Cheetahs and hawks, for example, have binocular vision. (People also have binocular vision, as do other primates and climbing mammals, because arboreal animals need to be able to judge distances between tree limbs for jumping and swinging. Scientists believe that early ancestors of people were tree-dwellers.)
Newborn young of predators are usually altricial (helpless) and depend on their mothers for care. The young are hidden in rock cavities, thickets, and holes; and in the case of lions, cared for by the entire pride (family group). In contrast, the babies of prey animals are generally precocial; soon after birth they are able to get up and run. This is important, because the newborn herbivores are often hunted as food by predators. Baby zebra and wildebeest can stand up and follow the herd only a few hours after birth. The large herbivores of the savanna usually bear only one young, rarely two; in contrast, lions, leopards, and cheetahs can have one to six young, though two to three is normal.
Predators hunt to feed their young and in turn teach them how to hunt. It takes a lot of practice to become a good hunter. Predators hunt their prey in three ways: stalking, chasing the prey down, and attacking in a pack. Some predators, such as the lion and leopard, stalk their prey. They can outrun their prey only over a short distance. They first get close to the prey, moving quietly and staying low to the ground, hiding in the vegetation. When they are very close, they leap and ambush the prey. Lean, long-legged cheetahs first stalk their prey, but then outrun them and chase them down, running at speeds of up to 60 miles (100 kilometers) per hour for limited distances of up to 400 yards (366 meters). Some predators, especially smaller ones, such as hyenas and wild dogs, hunt in groups. When a prey animal is sighted, the hunting pack chases it down and the meat from the animal is shared. The advantage of hunting in packs is that different pack members can take turns in chasing the prey at high speed - expending the prey's energy but conserving that of the individual members of the pack. Animals that hunt in packs must work together to be successful.
24 December 2005
happy Chrisnukahkwanstice to you and yours.
Please accept with no obligation, implicit or explicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practised within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion or secular practices of your choice, with total respect for the religious/secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, and their choice not to practise religious or secular traditions at all... and a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2006, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make Britain great (not to imply the Britain is necessarily greater than any other country nor is it the only BRITAIN" in the northern hemisphere), and without regard to the race, creed, colour, age, physical ability, religious faith, sexual orientation and choice of computer platform of the wishee.
By accepting this greeting, you are accepting these terms. This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wishee actually to implement any of the wishes for her/himself or others, and is void where prohibited by law and is revocable at the sole discretion of the
wisher.
This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year, or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher.
19 December 2005
what is your deepest conviction?
"A 'No' uttered from deepest conviction is better and greater than a 'Yes' merely uttered to please, or what is worse, to avoid trouble."
-- Mahatma Gandhi
18 December 2005
I stabbed myself with my splayd.
Don't ever call this thing a spork.
It isn't one. This creature - the spoon/blade - was invented by WIlliam McArthur in 1943. I learned much about these beautiful creatures when I dated still-beloved-aussie-gal Sara for several years. I brought what I believe is this exact cased set of splayds home from Melbourne along with me. I'm sure it was my kid who lost the one which now remains missing - I was heartsick when I was no longer able to could six of them in the silverware drawer and he didn't seem to be the least bit concerned so sure, let's blame him for the moment.
Here's the important bit: do NOT attempt to use one of these to get food into your mouth if you are not fully and entirely awake with all your faculties to guide you (and the splayd).
They bite. And sometimes they'll even draw blood. It's true! I have a puncture wound in my upper lip where I made a wayward attempt to put lunch into my mouth to prove it.
I missed the hole in the middle of my lips. OW.
That's all. You are dismissed.
Not only does Santa distribute packages, sometimes he also has to adjust them
The Big Man himself paid a visit to a Dodgeville, WI Culver's Frozen Custard restaurant this weekend.
[side note: for those not in the know, frozen custard is just this side of heaven. If you haven't tried it, please add it to the list of things to do before you die. It's just one of those very nice things. Got it? 'K, good.]
Before making his grand entrance Santa prepared himself in his Santerly way, though he clearly didn't know that there were folks out in the dining area with cameras at the ready who could see him *koff* shifting his package around. After he turned to see me snapping away, he laughed a ho ho ho (kids at the next table donchaknow) and said "Don't you know that Santa likes to know when he's having his picture taken?". I winked back at him, replying "Oh yes, but I saw what Santa was busy doing back there."
I shook his gloved hand and we exchanged knowing smiles.
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