damn you sleep demons. thank you math teacher

A xkcd reminded me that there is a lady i should throw props to.
Algebra....what good is it?  Well let me explain how my head works:
I choose the weirder pneumonic....i also will remember the algebra when most people can memorize the formula.  drug calculations are weird wild stuff.  But when you consider their algebraic equivalents, they are much easier.  I don't have to recall the particular formula; i can just figure the number according to their meaning. (incidentally, i never had a grammar teacher effectively teach me proper use of a semi-colon--despite my love of english).

So thank you my high school math teacher, who i spent about an hour trying to honor by name tonight.  I suck at names, and right now, i'm particularly embarrassed by that fact.  But you taught me how to make sense of all that silliness so i can always figure out:  how much drug is in the concentration, how much drug to give my patient, how many drips per minute i want to give depending on whether the tubing is a micro or macro drip set, and the wisdom to know i am making the formula longer, but that i understand the word problem.

The dopamine clock though....that's some amazing shit.  I'm really glad that exists, because in the stress of the moment, with all the solving for "x" i would have been doing.....i would have probably dropped some 1's and 0's.

Christmas Spirit

To everyone who makes appreciating family and friends important.  I don't want presents.  I want to spend time with you.  And every year, i find less time to be with the people about whom i care.  This happens to all of us, doesn't it.
Hugs to all of you for whom i care.

The Weaver/Morgan/Chrisman (and Weiss) family

Most of us come from broken homes anymore.  And when i say broken, i don't mean just divorce.  It is the job of every parent to ruin their children, though all mean to do well, and raise human beings they'd like to know in the world.  Sometimes we turn out all wonky, do stupid and self centered things.  Often we are a disappointment, but likewise we are equally awesome.  But almost everyone i know has their own version of broken.  I'm pretty familiar with my family's version.  Lately i've been conducting a post mortem on my childhood, what little of it i feel i got.  I'm equipped with such a high level of defensiveness that i am almost exclusively defending myself against blame that might not even be handed out.  But i'm lucky in that i have a few really strong positive influences that have shaped me.  From my mother a fighting spirit of do everything  quickly and efficiently (though i'm learning quick can turn into haste).  From my father a bit of the artistic hullabaloo that comes out in weird places.  From my grandfather the desire to learn as much as possible, my grandmother a sense of wonder and expressing love in everything.  From my brother (admittedly my favorite) i am learning ease, humor and fortitude against injustice, attack and unpleasantness.  When i think of my uncle, i think of his joy in the moment, enthusiasm and brazen expression of his passion.  my aunt love, communication, breaking things down.
Being with mjw i have attained a whole new group from whom i learn and take comfort.  In the past week, the most wonderful experience i had was looking Marta in the eye and telling her i needed a hug and was scared and having her give me that hug and say she understood, and how glad she was that i was able to express the sentiment, knowing what a huge deal that was for me.  MJW seems to have inherited her empathy and sensitivity.  She knows exactly what's happening, but will let you get there on your own with a gentle nudge.  Her generosity with her heart and time is unbounded.  She is a bright star in my life, and all her family members and friends have a little piece of that awesome and bring their own to the table.  B's Courage and loyalty, M's love and passion, C's drive and sense of justice.  These are just caricatures that belie the things that bubble over out everyone, but there is a limit on what i can do with a broken hand.
The Morgans are no different.  As i get to know them more, i love them more, and can't imagine a world without them. And TW better just consider herself part of the family, because i can't think of someone who fits better with her strength, grace, wit, will, and passion.
So thanks to my family.  I sometimes forget to do it enough, to say I LOVE YOU.
And mom W:  sorry i had to shoot you dead in Bang.  But i was a renegade.  And all your kids made sure to avenge your death ;)

Bees

Thanks to Ed for reminding me that I love honey.  Thanks to bees for making it and for letting us steal it from them under the auspices of rain clouds and #weknowbetter.  I have loved honey since I first tasted its botulistisic strains in my youth.  From clover to sweet clover to wild flower, alfalfa, buckwheat, linden and manuka, I love honey.  Freeze it for me in taste sized globules sized for a or put it in a science project for kids:

http://science.nasa.gov/science-news/science-at-nasa/2004/09apr_tea/

Thank you for it’s special antiseptic powers against bacterial stapholococcus and the delicious dirty bits full of bee parts that may prevent us developing pollen allergies.

Thank you also, bees, for pollinating stuff.  Without you guys…well, we probably wouldn’t still be alive.  Sorry if we’re messing with your dancing by talking on our cell phones.  We didn’t mean for that to happen, if that’s what is going on.  I, for one, will try avoiding using mine anywhere near you in the future.  Sorry also for the pollution and the flower culling, and the fires and the accidental smushing (I managed to get two of you in my youth due to my ignorance and inattentiveness while running through the clover).

And thanks to people like Ed, and beekeepers, and urban garden bee home advocates, who offer them safe haven to which to flee fires, bug spray, and pollution. 

Ali at the Kabab Cafe

So there was a whole Bourdain expose on this guy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WBFDvyi6p64
Worthy of a good look. 

Arriving at about 5:30 to avoid the rush, we noticed a "be back by 6pm" sign on his restaurant.  So, knowing that was at least a half hour away and both being pretty tired from being New York dwellers for two days following the gorgeous production of Sleep No More, we sat in a bus shelter prepared to lounge until food arrived.  Instead, a man beckoned to us from across the street, very adamantly that we should join him at the place to which he was pointing.  It turns out that it was Ali himself, and instead of cooking so early, he wanted to finish his hookah.  We got the honor of being treated to the best mint freaking tea ever, as we waited for Ali to finish his both his hookah and tea (with a healthy dose of whiskey).  I got to share my trip to Egypt with him through photos on the internet (I managed to get to Alexandria, but not to enjoy his version of cooking fare with various types of land animals.  We stopped for fresh fish, instead). 

Sitting in the same booth (reserved for 4 people) as Bourdain, I noticed how totally amazing his collection of effluvia was.  When i asked him about the art, he explained his plan to me.  Over the New York required hood covering his cooking space was a weird industrial art style sculpture that looked rusty and square, and hard to fully see.  Opposite this, over our table was a collection of traditional Syrrian style sculpture of stone.  He want's to collect a border going from the art of the ages: original works collected in the desert to current day in Astoria. 
As i contemplated the similarities between his painting of a veiled woman and that of a similar layout but of the Sheppard Fairrey ilk i saw in Sommerville, we were treated to some delicious foods.  His stock and desire to cook were somewhat limited because it was the day before his official month long closing to go to Greece and to Egypt (?).  After finishing most of his fifth of Dewars (which he proudly displayed to us while mentioning often that he was drunk), he was jovial, and silly, except when it came to seriousness of friendships, and fights.  He counselled a fellow in the tea/hookah shop after there was a blow-up with great aplomb (though what was said is beyond my understanding).  He is still able to keep up his cooking Spanish, and clearly a touch of Italian and nearly perfect English.  While we ate, we saw numerous ethnicities venture into his restaurant.  He claims deep friendships with all of them, often apologizing for not knowing their language well enough, or greeting them in their native tongue.  It's a testament to this man's seat in his community.

Because i do not under any circumstances appreciate the beet, we were given a delicious artichoke salad and a "sampler platter" which included his own special falafel recipe (he says the secret is fava beans instead of chick peas).  

As opposed to the local Greek place near us in Philly, which does a similar sampler platter, Ali's babaganouch(sp) and hummus are discernibly different in flavor (But keep in mind they are different versions of the same food and i wouldn't ask for seconds of falafel at the local place).  There wasn't a thing on that plate i didn't immediately swoon over with each bite.

He served it with a 7 spice hot sauce that was...well....hot.  Even M had some trouble with its level of spice after he tasted a generous bit over his hummus.  The sauce, while super hot, was also the best hot sauce i have ever tasted.  It makes me wish my palate weren't so tender when it came to spice, because the mix of hot peppers, chillies and far east spices like saffron and those unidentifiable to me added something unique to all the sample platter had to offer.  Also, while Ali serves the wussy pita i don't like much, i will forgive him because he heated it nicely and it was delicious for mopping up all the sauces and mixing with the veggies and falafel. 

Next was lamb.  While i really wanted to try some goat, we were gently, if not firmly guided to try the lamb cheeks.  I cannot emphasize enough how delicious these lamb cheeks were.  It is like heaven in your mouth, with just the right amount of spices to give it a really hearty flavor and the cheeks offering up the most delicious goodness in the fatty meats department i have ever tasted.  DQ would have been head over heels to try this, i think. 
M and i being small eaters, we ended here.  I look forward to coming back again, maybe after his trip to try some new and more wonderful delights.   Thanks Ali, for making us feel welcome and teaching me some more about the world, people, and food.

Bay area peeps

There are many.

Tanya, my beautiful friend who makes me feel special because she is my friend.  She spent so much time with me, i felt like i was home again.  Much like Denise, who challenges me to see the world through different eyes, with a finger on design, artism, and fabulous-so does TQ.  Corset shopping, chats about lingerie, delicious tiki bar drinks, and giggles remind me of the thing i'm bad at: bonding with girls.
Ellie added to this delight with her incredible humor and sweetness.  She's so smart, rarely flaunts said intelligence, and is also beautiful, girly and fun.  The reason i talk about these two is because they are girls with whom i have a relationship that isn't based on dominance or competition.  This is so valuable to me in a world where women claw each other's eyes out for looking at a boy they like, or wearing the same dress.  I think i've found it hard with women because i'm not as into the clothes and the shoes and the handbags and the diamonds.  But here are two ladies that keep me laughing, make me feel like part of a club, and make me feel genuinely happy.

Megana and Jinnah.  What can i say.  I learn life lessons from them regularly.  They are amazing as parents (i am in awe of George and Turtle, and see that having a third becomes more than exponentially harder, but they are finding a way to help their children thrive as George solos in her school play and Turtle adamantly reminds his parents to remember him (and loves weaver's music parties).

https://picasaweb.google.com/sillygoatgirl/GeorgeHoseinOnStage#


What a lovely thing.

DQ is riding a 7 day SF to LA trip for AIDS research.  He's a great reminder to exercise.  I think i might start up on the running again with the advice of my trainer mjw.  Yes, i'm jaded because i trust him, but i really trust his advice having been a cross country runner and having two terrible knees).
There's also the desire to head back to yoga.  At some point, both of these things will start.  Until then, no more mentioning intentions.
Yesterday mjw took me for dinner and a little romance.  We stayed in the same hotel he first housed me in (when i came to visit him in the bay area, he decided the RV was probably not the best first exposure to living experiences and his home was an old airstream housed in work's parking lot).  We also had some hippie local organic food that's been around since <gasp> 1980.  Recently we were reminded about how we take the age of Philadelphia for granted (i have never, and 1980 being a year that i remember, isn't so awesome, except that was just hippies, not the current "green" trend).  The waiter was fabulous.  I spilled wine all over mjw, then fled in terror of the consequences, and the staff had made it look like nothing had happened. The dinner was absolutely amazing, and i would like to learn to make asparagus soup. 

Then there is Linda.  One of my days was spent with her playing with my (now dropped on its head) lens.  I recently bought a 135mm f2D Nikon lens that is totally amazing.  It has this special effect that they call bokeh that causes out of focus areas that normally look choppy and makes them look like soft painting palates.  It turns out it's a hell of a lens for what i love to do:  take pictures of people and environments in lower light than normal.  It turns out that Linda taught me a butt ton of really wonderful stuff about my camera, about how to deal with some digital information that i have been ignoring, selling me on post camera production "it's the orchestra playing the music!" There is something that reminds me of me in Linda, too.  She has a level of peace i seek, but at the same time, has similar weaknesses.  She's intense.  She stares you in the eye.  She cares about what you feel and think and wants to know you.  She embodies my question to new people:  what drives your spirit.  She doesn't make it so obvious as i, but subtly wants to know  your heart, your dreams, and cares about the care inside every little thing, included heating plates so that they don't chill your warm pancakes.

Trophy unlocked: depressurization on Delta flight 2352

To the flight attendants and pilots on the April 19, 2011 Delta flight 2352 from Charleston to Atlanta.  On our way home from South Carolina after a lovely weekend with the Weaverents, mjw and i had our first ever depressurizing experience in a plane.  Much like the firefighter at the doorbell, i thought something was weird when i had to clear my ears on ascent.  MJW responded to my "are your ears popping more than usual or is it just me" with a shake of the head and a "yeah i guess," and returned to reading the Harpers in his lap without a second thought.  As i anxiously looked at our ascent and wondered if i had a first ever head cold airplane problem while repeatedly trying to clear my ears, the compartments above our heads opened, as if scripted as part of the educational video on an international flight and we were instructed to start breathing the oxygen.  Now any EMT knows that bag should be inflated, and it's a little sobering to realize that non-rebreather still works with the bag deflated.  It turns out the snapping on the cord as described during the instruction opens a valve and allows the air to travel up a string on the interior of the bag.  This plane was outfitted with single tanks per row (you might be able to see in the photo). We both suddenly realized that the education on an airplane is radically different than it should be, with seatbelt instructions being given to people already belted, and the instructions on oxygen masks limited to the middle of the lesson and little focus being attended by the passengers.  However, i thank the passengers, too.  No stress, a few glances around, but no one doing any screaming in shock or hyperventilating.  For the first time i saw the truth of the crowd at calm and orderly, and it was cool.  The flight attendants and pilots helped ease all of our fears with communication and calm voices.  And even though we rapidly descended back to 10K feet (exactly as we were supposed to), the pilots gave little of their anxiety away with their voices until after we landed and walked out and one admitted that had never happened to him before and appeared pale.

The pilots made a quick descent from 18K to 10K feet to return us to breathing level and we had an otherwise uneventful trip to the connecting flight in Atlanta that would take us back to Philadelphia.  Reports of lightheadedness for a bit from mjw, and i had a slight headache.  That was all short lived. 

I asked about fuel and turning back (it happened early in the flight).  For nerdy types wondering:
http://avherald.com/h?article=43b3a3bf&opt=1

Lots of other airlines had problems on the same day, including an engine failure after takeoff and drunk passengers on an international flight:
http://www.arte-ev.de/html/NewsSuchErg.php