If you've been around me for more than five minutes lately, you're bound to have heard me tell you that I LOVE HAVING A BEARD! And I do, so I've spent some time thinking about my beard as I walk Dandy at night and I realized a couple of things.
A beard is very useful. It's a lot easier to tickle my kids my kids now. It provides quite a nice wind break when I walk Dandy at night. Remember that crumb that just escaped the corner of your mouth? Tried to catch it with your tongue and you weren't quite fast enough? Well, I've never heard of anyone claiming the 5 second rule to rescue a crumb. I mean, come on, A1 sauce is just not THAT good. But with a beard, that crumb is still there. Yep. A lot more of your meal actually gets inside you rather than on your clothes or the floor. I love feeling the wind on my beard. I love feeling it move when I talk or move my mouth. I just love having a beard.
I have just about every color of hair in my beard. There is brown, red, blonde, black, and grey. It's hard to tell, but I actually think what I call blonde is white. The grey is most noticeable just under my lower lip. The black is more prominent on my chin, and the red shows up mostly on my jowles. The overall majority of course is brown. Now that I've been growing it out about 5 1/2 weeks, it's noticeably more curly than my hair and it's starting to look kind of bushy which I like.
I realized that, for some strange reason, the color of a hair is actually coordinated with the ingrown hairs I would get when I shaved. For example, the blonde-white are more likely to be ingrown and are the least painful. They also tend to pop completely out when they're ingrown and I squeeze them. The red are almost never ingrown. The black ones tend to be the deepest and most painful when they are ingrown. The black ones are also most likely to come up in one spot all together. I think I've counted as many as seven or eight seemingly coming from the same pore as a maximum. The black are also more likely to be thicker hairs, while the white are the thinest. When the brown are ingrown they tend to grow along just under the skin so they can still be seen. Weird.
I love having a beard.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Non-Conversations with a Physicist
So I don't know if it's because between slaving in a lab and then speaking only with my children for four months that I've begun to lose my communication skills, but I can't seem to communicate effectively with people anymore.
Example #1: My neighbor, in an act of service, came over to see if he could help me prep my house for winter this year. The converstation went something like this:
Neighbor: Hey, I have some plastic that I was going to use to wrap my air conditioner for winter this year. Would you like me to come over and we can wrap yours as well?
Me: You're going to wrap your air conditioner?
Neighbor: Yeah, to protect it from rust and things falling in it. You know.
Me: You want to wrap plastic around my air conditioner? The unit that sits on top of my heater?
Things get in there?
Neighbor: Well, yeah you don't use it all winter... if you protect it, it will last longer.
Me: The cooling coils that wrap around my ventilation system in my basement? You want to wrap plastic around it's solid metal housing?
Neighbor: What? No, but it's a good idea to wrap plastic around the heat exchanger that sits outside in the elements.
Yeah, so by now he's looking at me like I'm a real idiot. That's fine, because that's exactly how I feel.
Example #2: My wife's cousin is trying be a nice guy and talk to me about what we're looking at in the future. How much longer school will be, what we'll do then, yada, yada, yada. Part of the conversation went like this:
Cousin: So what will you do for AFRL?
Me: I don't know I'm still in school.
Cousin: Sure but what are you going to do for them?
Me: Well, supposedly it will be different research than I'm conducting right not as a student.
Cousin: And what type of research is that?
Me: Oh, lasers.
Cousin: That's all I was asking. So you'll be doing laser technology for them.
Me: Yeah.
As you guessed, by now he's looking at me like I'm an idiot. It's okay, I feel like one.
I think I'm going to give up on contact with the outside world for a while.
Example #1: My neighbor, in an act of service, came over to see if he could help me prep my house for winter this year. The converstation went something like this:
Neighbor: Hey, I have some plastic that I was going to use to wrap my air conditioner for winter this year. Would you like me to come over and we can wrap yours as well?
Me: You're going to wrap your air conditioner?
Neighbor: Yeah, to protect it from rust and things falling in it. You know.
Me: You want to wrap plastic around my air conditioner? The unit that sits on top of my heater?
Things get in there?
Neighbor: Well, yeah you don't use it all winter... if you protect it, it will last longer.
Me: The cooling coils that wrap around my ventilation system in my basement? You want to wrap plastic around it's solid metal housing?
Neighbor: What? No, but it's a good idea to wrap plastic around the heat exchanger that sits outside in the elements.
Yeah, so by now he's looking at me like I'm a real idiot. That's fine, because that's exactly how I feel.
Example #2: My wife's cousin is trying be a nice guy and talk to me about what we're looking at in the future. How much longer school will be, what we'll do then, yada, yada, yada. Part of the conversation went like this:
Cousin: So what will you do for AFRL?
Me: I don't know I'm still in school.
Cousin: Sure but what are you going to do for them?
Me: Well, supposedly it will be different research than I'm conducting right not as a student.
Cousin: And what type of research is that?
Me: Oh, lasers.
Cousin: That's all I was asking. So you'll be doing laser technology for them.
Me: Yeah.
As you guessed, by now he's looking at me like I'm an idiot. It's okay, I feel like one.
I think I'm going to give up on contact with the outside world for a while.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
My Fish Story
I didn't include any pictures with this post, because you can't have a true fish story if you have evidence to back it up. Now, this actually isn't a real "big fish" story in that sense, though I do have a great one from canoeing up in the Canadian National Forest northwest of Quebec. If you ever want to hear it I'd be happy to tell it. Well, okay I'll go ahead and tell that one first.
So for a High Adventure one year we went canoeing in the Canadian National Forest. Probably the most gorgeous patch of land I have ever seen on this earth. While canoeing across a lake to our campsite one night I was trolling a lure along behind the canoe. Well, about half way across the lake my Dad and I started falling way behind the other canoes. I mean the new scouts with toothpicks for arms had even paddled way ahead of us. It took a while for me to figure out why I felt like I was getting so tired rowing while not making much progress, but I figured I'd let out too much line and had snagged my lure on a branch or something that we were dragging along. As I reeled it in, however, the line starting make some pretty sharp moves. Now being a physicist I knew that something had to be moving that line, and branches don't swim. The closer I brought it to the boat the harder it fought, and for the first time in my life I thought my fishing pole was going to snap in two. We were getting to the point where my dad was leaning over the edge of the canoe with the net when this thing swam under the canoe to the other side. Unfortunately, fiberglass canoes have an aluminum rim with an edge on the outer side. That edge combined with the tension in the line snapped the line, and like that it was over. Man I still dream about catching and eating that fish sometimes.
Anyway back to the story I meant to tell. First, you should know that I love fishing, and that I haven't been fishing since before I was married. Nothing taste better than a fish you just caught. The perfect scenario is to already have the fire going at the edge of the lake so that as soon as you pull that rock bass in you can gut it and steam it with butter. Oh man, I'm salivating. Those of you who don't like fish probably have never had really fresh fish. It doesn't smell like fish, it doesn't even taste like fish. It tastes like Heaven. In fact, I rarely eat frozen or storebought fish or even order it at restaurants, because you just can't do better than catching it yourself. Anyway, the second thing you should know is that I have been craving a food from Argentina called milanesas. Can you guess which type of milanesa was my favorite down there? That's right. Fish milanesas. So when my neighbors had some family come back from the lake with too much for their own stomachs, they asked me if I wanted some. Thus, I did the first truly selfish thing of this pregnancy: I accepted.
Now, to be honest the fish had already been on ice for a couple of days. But in Argentina I had ceviche (raw fish) in a town hours from the coast, in the middle of an unpaved street, prepared by a family whose fridge and gas stove were outside so that their tv could be inside out of the rain. If I didn't get sick from that, I figured I wouldn't get sick from this. Plus, once I saw the fish, I knew they were still plenty fresh. Was I excited?!
Poor K. She actually got a glimpse of one while it was sitting in the kitchen. To add to my selfishness I made her go give the kids a bath so I could prepare THE MEAL. How she made it through the night without throwing up I'll never know. Why she spoke to me the next day is another mystery. I married an amazing woman.
The one thing I did remember was how to skin the fish. It's really easy. Like most animals you can eat, you just grab and pull. It comes right off the flesh. Now, filleting and deboning was a whole other adventure. You see, in my scouting days I would usually just cook the whole thing in tinfoil. When it's done you can grab the top of the spine and pull it out with all the bones in one motion leaving two perfectly cooked fillets. But I didn't just want fish. I wanted milanesas.
I had filleted and deboned a fish before, but remember, I've been married for more than five years with no practice. My attempt at removing the meat from the first fish was horrific. The fish itself would have been appalled to know it was butchered in such a manner. Those who regularly fish would shake their heads in shame at how I was wasting the tasty sucker. For the second fish I appealed to the knowledge of the internet and did quite a bit better.
Those milanesas are gone now, but my mouth is still watering thinking of them. Oh! They practically melted in my mouth with a little bit of mayonese on top. Please let someone I know go fishing again. Please.
So for a High Adventure one year we went canoeing in the Canadian National Forest. Probably the most gorgeous patch of land I have ever seen on this earth. While canoeing across a lake to our campsite one night I was trolling a lure along behind the canoe. Well, about half way across the lake my Dad and I started falling way behind the other canoes. I mean the new scouts with toothpicks for arms had even paddled way ahead of us. It took a while for me to figure out why I felt like I was getting so tired rowing while not making much progress, but I figured I'd let out too much line and had snagged my lure on a branch or something that we were dragging along. As I reeled it in, however, the line starting make some pretty sharp moves. Now being a physicist I knew that something had to be moving that line, and branches don't swim. The closer I brought it to the boat the harder it fought, and for the first time in my life I thought my fishing pole was going to snap in two. We were getting to the point where my dad was leaning over the edge of the canoe with the net when this thing swam under the canoe to the other side. Unfortunately, fiberglass canoes have an aluminum rim with an edge on the outer side. That edge combined with the tension in the line snapped the line, and like that it was over. Man I still dream about catching and eating that fish sometimes.
Anyway back to the story I meant to tell. First, you should know that I love fishing, and that I haven't been fishing since before I was married. Nothing taste better than a fish you just caught. The perfect scenario is to already have the fire going at the edge of the lake so that as soon as you pull that rock bass in you can gut it and steam it with butter. Oh man, I'm salivating. Those of you who don't like fish probably have never had really fresh fish. It doesn't smell like fish, it doesn't even taste like fish. It tastes like Heaven. In fact, I rarely eat frozen or storebought fish or even order it at restaurants, because you just can't do better than catching it yourself. Anyway, the second thing you should know is that I have been craving a food from Argentina called milanesas. Can you guess which type of milanesa was my favorite down there? That's right. Fish milanesas. So when my neighbors had some family come back from the lake with too much for their own stomachs, they asked me if I wanted some. Thus, I did the first truly selfish thing of this pregnancy: I accepted.
Now, to be honest the fish had already been on ice for a couple of days. But in Argentina I had ceviche (raw fish) in a town hours from the coast, in the middle of an unpaved street, prepared by a family whose fridge and gas stove were outside so that their tv could be inside out of the rain. If I didn't get sick from that, I figured I wouldn't get sick from this. Plus, once I saw the fish, I knew they were still plenty fresh. Was I excited?!
Poor K. She actually got a glimpse of one while it was sitting in the kitchen. To add to my selfishness I made her go give the kids a bath so I could prepare THE MEAL. How she made it through the night without throwing up I'll never know. Why she spoke to me the next day is another mystery. I married an amazing woman.
The one thing I did remember was how to skin the fish. It's really easy. Like most animals you can eat, you just grab and pull. It comes right off the flesh. Now, filleting and deboning was a whole other adventure. You see, in my scouting days I would usually just cook the whole thing in tinfoil. When it's done you can grab the top of the spine and pull it out with all the bones in one motion leaving two perfectly cooked fillets. But I didn't just want fish. I wanted milanesas.
I had filleted and deboned a fish before, but remember, I've been married for more than five years with no practice. My attempt at removing the meat from the first fish was horrific. The fish itself would have been appalled to know it was butchered in such a manner. Those who regularly fish would shake their heads in shame at how I was wasting the tasty sucker. For the second fish I appealed to the knowledge of the internet and did quite a bit better.
Those milanesas are gone now, but my mouth is still watering thinking of them. Oh! They practically melted in my mouth with a little bit of mayonese on top. Please let someone I know go fishing again. Please.
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