Away from Me, Doctor

Prof. Molten is one of the most wonderful professors I have ever had.  Considering how many professors I've had and how much I talk about them, this means a lot.  In addition to being kind and sharp, she is also a scone lover and tea snob.  Naturally, I had to recommend the biscuit stand at the farmer's market.  She tried it out last week and loved it.

Moi: I keep thinking though, I can't have biscuits every week.  At some point, I have to stop.

Prof. Molten: Why can't you have biscuits every week?

Moi: It's a bit excessive, no?  And probably not good for my health?

Prof. Molten: I don't think so.

Moi: Really?  If you say it's OK.  You're a public health authority (she really is).

Prof. Molten: You can have one a week.  And you walk to and from the market, right?

Moi: Yes.  Those 7 minutes of walking burns everything off.  I am so eating biscuits now.

With Molten's blessings, I went back to the biscuit stand this morning. I also may have had biscuits with brunch yesterday.  But it was in a restaurant and served on a plate, so that doesn't count.  Today's offering was a jerk steak biscuit sandwich.  I health-ified it my adding my own mixed greens.  It was a total public health overkill.

Blue Plate Special

You know my stomach has been feeling weird all week when I manage to lay off my food long enough to take a picture.  It's an even stranger week when I have such a well balanced meel.  Card deck sized proteins, fruit and veg and everything (portion control isn't for everyone-- was overcome by sudden hunger hours later and resorted to eating handfuls of trail mix before bed).  How can I not be proud of a meal like this?  Braised kale, polenta with mushroom and tomato sauce, and the piece-de-resistance, slow braised country back ribs that tasted almost like char siu.  If it wasn't for the stolen-leftover-school-cookies that I had for dessert, this could have been a grown up meal.

Bad Robot

Today felt like an off day.  It wasn't just me.  Everyone else around me felt it.  Maybe it was the weather.  Maybe it was the stress.  Maybe it's because my summer plans hang in mid-air.  But I felt off.  Was I hungry?  Sore?  Feverish?  A little bit of each.  Yet not at all.  In the face of all this, Roommate Claude and I decided to confront the malaise and funk the best way we knew how: a night of bad television.  The trick is to get the perfect mix of lowbrow reality shows with lowbrow scripted series that feature chiseled doctors in emotional situations.  Adding on ice cream and Oreos doesn't hurt.  I'm not saying I have the cure for cancer.  But I no longer think I have restless leg syndrome as I did three hours ago.  Little victories.

Design by Committee

There are some shortcuts in my mind that I know aren't right.  I know that, for example, the DRC does not stand for "Da Republic of Congo," but that's how I always think of it.  Similarly, the SCC cannot possibly stand for "the social chair committee," and yet that's how my mind perceives it.  Regardless of what the SCC stands for, I am now running unopposed for a seat in the SCC.  And we can all blame it on free lunch.

I was drawn to our quarterly lunch-with-the-chair by the promise of free lunch today.  You know who wasn't drawn by the premise?  The chair.  She literally phoned it in.  Or maybe Jess was  just really convincing at pretending to talk to her on the phone.  Either way, questions were taken, grievances aired, and updates provided.  With those 5 minutes out of the way, we had the rest of the hour to eat and gossip.  I should have left when I was ahead. I definitely should have left when the SCC chairs (Student Conduct Committee?) mentioned that there were still unfilled committee spots.  N-Pretzel and I discussed it among ourselves and somehow it was decided that he'd get the easy one that involved networking with faculty members and I'd get the one where I organize seminars.  I regret the decision already.  Here's hoping for write-in votes.

Three Shades of Me

Three favorite quotes from Saturday.

Faith: Most days, we call Charlotte "Joy" for short.

Lenny: You're a woman of confusion, that's for sure.

(Father was in China, en route to Taiwan, so I had to update him on the weekend series via email)

Father: It looks like every time you watch the Sox/Yankees games, [the games] turn over.  (implying that I should stop watching)

But now he's in Taiwan and can watch several games at once with breakfast if he so chooses.  That sweet combination of Taiwan's generous cable packages, 12-hour time difference, and delicious breakfast foods-- there's no better way to start a vacation morning.

Drake Amore

This is what I have been doing the past couple of days:

Wake up.  Skip breakfast.  Make pizza.  Eat pizza.  Count the hours until I get hungry again.  Eat pizza with renewed glee and abandon.  Count the hours until I get hungry again.  Wake up.  You get the point.

It's the first time I've made pizza with a crust I actually enjoy.  Per usual, there are no pictures.  Because you know what a pizza looks like.  And because I have no time for pictures where there are pizzas to be consumed.  I will, however, point you to where I got the recipe.  It's easy and straightforward and not unlike other recipes I've tried.  The only difference this time around is how much I cranked up the heat, and pre-baking just the oiled dough in a hot pan for a few minutes before adding the toppings on.

I'm not sure why I'm even telling you this about this pizza.  I don't care if you make one or not.  And there are more pressing matters at hand:  It's a gorgeous Saturday for being outside, but even a better one for some early baseball in front of the TV.
(Did you see this article, Sister Claire?  It made me sad.  Because I'm afraid it might be true.)

The American Doctor

Advisor Who: Watching The English Patient, I feel like I can really learn from, that in some ways I'm becoming like-

Moi: Because you were disfigured during the war?

Advisor Who: Yeah, but I have recovered pretty well.

Just for once, I'd like to have an advisor who isn't a smart mouth.

Gravy Boat

Roommate Claude believes that nothing tastes better post-work out than coconut water.  My grandfather used to have coconut trees in his backyard and would offer us fresh coconuts when we visited.  Still, I find Claude's claim preposterous.  Coconut water is gross.  Nothing tastes better post-work out than a biscuit with gravy.

Forget the farmer's market donuts, the smoked meats, and the jerk fish.  I have a new favorite stand:  the biscuit people (blacksauce kitchen).  I arrived too late (11am) for the brisket sandwich and the rosemary biscuits, but the mushroom gravy was a great substitute.  And the people who ran the stand so friendly.  I was so excited for the biscuit, I didn't even hang around the rest of the market.  I ran home*, only stopping along the way to chat with a stranger waiting at a bus shelter about how good the biscuit is.

Farmer's market under a bridge, biscuit, and talking to strangers-- this sure isn't the South End anymore, and I can't wait for next Sunday.

*Let's not kid ourselves, I walked home at a comfortable pace.

Oh Snaps

(on the strikingly tall and red-headed couple next to us at the cafe)

Moi: I've never seen such a ginger couple.  You get one here or there, but hardly ever together like that.

Alice: It makes you wonder about their gene interrelatedness. 

Moi: Just because there are fewer red heads doesn't make those people related.

Alice: I'm just saying, the ginger gene pool is very limited.

Try, Try Again

I don't know why, but I have felt much more like a junior student, like a kid just starting out, this week than I have in quite awhile.  And the awkwardity keeps piling up in ways that I don't even mean to.  Because I am a perfectly normal person, smooth in all social circumstances.

Yesterday in the cafeteria (yup, I sit with my friends in the cafeteria, just as I have been doing since I have 9-- we didn't have cafeterias in Old Country, we just ate at our desks), I spotted Advisor Who in line.  Being naturally friendly, I gave a wave, but then realized he wasn't looking my way, and had to semi disguise it as a natural shifting of the hand.  Minutes later, he looked toward my table again as he was leaving, I thought we'd made eye contact, so I waved, except he didn't register, and just left.

Julia: That was awkward.

Moi: You saw that?  I was hoping it'd be OK if no one saw that just now.

Liz:  What happened?

Julia:  It would've been fine if he didn't see it at all.  But as he was leaving, he turned back a little and sort of saw that, but then kept on walking.

But then Julia told me a story of her professional crush and her friend.  Prof Professional Crush does interventions with firehouses, including one Julia's friend works at.  So Julia excitedly told Prof PC that she knows her friend at the firehouse.  PC's reply?  "I don't know who that is, but yes, I do work with that firehouse."  Julia told her friend, who then emailed PC directly.  "Hey PC, it's me!  I can't believe you told my friend Julia that you don't know me.  See you Thursday."  PC's reply?  "I still don't know who you are.  But I'll see you on Thursday."  This story made me feel awesome about my two failed waves. 

Worlds Apart

I've been meeting weekly with Doc/Advisor Who.  And talking with Doc Nice.  Because they're both so nice and approachable, I often forget that they're important.  Then we have conversations like this.

Moi: How was dinner?

Doc Nice: [something about a fancy foundation, representing the government, people sucking up to him because they think he controls government money]  How was yours?

Moi: Great!  (it involved eating in front of the TV and a dessert of peanut butter a la jar)
---

Doc/Advisor Who's: I went to a dinner last night.  Yeah, at my table there was [the president of the hospital, 2 soon-to-be Nobel prize recipients, someone else important, and the guy the evening was for who won the award that I nominated him for].  It was fun.  How are you?

Moi:  Great!  (I ate peanut butter from the jar.  Again.  I really like peanut butter from the jar.)

It Doesn't Get Better

Yesterday morning, in an exploratory meeting with someone per Advisor Who's recommendation, I was reminded once again of how painful and awkward meeting strangers can be, or maybe just how painful and awkward words that come out of my mouth can be.  I've been around the professor-meeting-networking circuit for awhile now, and usually, they're all too happy to talk about themselves that conversation takes care of itself.  Yesterday, since I was going to someone with a research proposal with a good word from Advisor, I thought it would all flow naturally.  Instead, it was a lot of hemming and hawing and silent gaps.  Then there was the matter of the ringing phone.  As I was talking, my supposedly silent phone started buzzing.  They ought to make silent modes quieter.  I tried ignoring it and playing through, but then this happened:

Collaborator: Is that your phone or mine?  I think it's yours.

Moi: Uh, yeah, sorry... (reach down to end call while still talking about research)

Collaborator: Mine buzzes, too.  But I think it's yours.

Moi: Yeah, it's OK.  (think: why can't we just drop this?)

Stuff Inappropriate Biostat Professors Say

(on asking for his permission to leave during exams to use the rest room)

Prof Timberfake: What am I going to say?  No?  Just because I use Depends doesn't mean that everyone else has to.  I use the slim fits kind.  This announcement is brought to you by Depends. 

Stuff Biostat Professors Say

I have had four biostat professors in the past academic year, at the rate of 2 a month (5 if we're looking at calendar years).  It has been a difficult year for the brain.  There are only so many nicknames I can make up.  That's why I have delayed talking about Prof Timberfake until now.  But oh, there is so much to talk about.  Unlike Prof McGoofy, who exhibited unbridled joy and good humor, Prof Timberfake is dark, cynical, and self effacing.  Naturally, he is hilarious.  Yet his hilarity also inspires fear.  I have seen the way he berates himself.  I do not want to see how he berates others.  Namely me.  (Whitecastle, on the other hand, never berates himself publicly, but is funny in berating others.)

(a sample monologue)

Prof Timberfake: Biostatisticians have great imaginary lives because we are very mild and boring in actuality.  I'm surprised we've survived this long.  Can you imagine what we were doing in the caves?  Counting rocks?  Counting teeth?

Words I Wish I Could Tell You

On Thursday night, I hung out with a few doctoral students from other departments.  The entire table ordered burgers because the burgers at Alewife were that good.  Though the duck fat fries just tasted like fries.  I still haven't had duck fat fries that taste like they're worth the trouble and price tag.  I was going to relay a funny conversation we had about roofies that got ruined when one guy decided to be serious and bring up his clinical experience, but then realized that writing about that was at least thee types of wrong.  Maybe four.  So I guess all that is left to say is happy Easter.  It's been a great day of church, friends, farmer's market and Korean food.  Just between the three of us though, the last 30 minutes of semi-napping in front of my computer and eating peanut butter from the jar has been my favorite part of the weekend.

Bullfrog Days

(photo courtesy of Bowdoin College, via The Daily Beast)

The picture above accompanied this ranking by The Daily Beast  a few months back.  The feature named the Bo' the 4th "horniest college".   I have so many different reactions to this discovery.

1. Nearly 5 years out, they're still having the senior soc seminar with the same professor, in the same room that I had mine.  The same room that Hawthorne and Longfellow went to school in hundreds of years ago.  This excites the part of my brain that has forgotten every gripe I'd ever had against the Bo' and likes it unconditionally.  This was the room where I had my freshman seminar, my scary evenings with Walty, and where, 4 years later, I gave my honors project presentation.    

2. Getting back to the topic at hand--  This class.  This room.  This (wonderful) professor.  Is the antithesis of horny.  If this was the last class that remained on the planet.  Killing it with a boulder would be more right than labeling it the horniest class.  That's saying something.  Because I also took Modern European Jewish History with a (also wonderful) professor who wears fanny packs.  

3. This feature reminded me of that time I bumped into Professor Birdman Ecologist Extraordinaire the day before our field trip to his pond (to look at bullfrogs mate).

(as I remember, I had something in my teeth or chocolate on my face during this conversation and did not realize it until after I got back to my room)

Professor Bird: Are you excited for the field trip?

Moi : Yeah, sure-

Professor Bird: It'll make you wish you were a frog!

Moi: ... ...

Fellowship of the King

(see what I did there?  only works on 1.5 levels, but I'll take it)

This story comes courtesy of Jesse, and because it's a slow news day, it is easily my favorite story of the day.  Especially since it involves Jesus and misunderstandings, and I didn't have to be the misunderstood one.  You see, Jesse was at the Activities Fair of Accepted Students Day, and he was trying to help a 'religious friend' out.  He was looking for the group that he knew April, Faith, and I had been a part of, but couldn't remember the name, so he turned to Anne for help (as everyone should when they need help).

Anne: Is it that one over there, the Christian Student Fellowship?

Jesse: No, definitely not.  Joy and Faith didn't give out any money, so I don't think it was a fellowship.

Anne: You've been in academia too long.  Fellowship has other meanings. 

Jesse: (run away in embarrassment)

Opening Day

(photo credit goes to Eunice, who made us wait so she could make a facebook post)

This is why I cannot take pictures of food and chronicle my quotidian acts as often as my exhilarating life warrants: sooner or later, I'll get hungry.  I am not willing to wait around for the perfect shot when there are donuts to be had.  To be rummaging for the camera when there is a whole farmer's market to explore, with brownies to sample, lemonades to sip, and greens to leaf through (ba da chi).

Today was the season opener of the farmer's market under the bridge (that's how we roll in B'more). I went with Eunice and Lois and was surprised to find that I had enough friends in B'more to not only go with friends but bump into 2 more there.  That's 4 whole friends.  I try to go to the farmer's market here as often as I can because it reminds me of the SoWA markets that I left behind (still looking for my Gallows replacement though) but also has uniquely B'more charms.  Like affordability.  Demographics beyond the professional posh class.  And donuts.  Donuts that make me feel really, really good about where I am right now.