Good Change, Bad Change

ODOT has almost remedied the main bottle neck in my trip to school. They installed two turn lanes (instead of one) at the last stop light on Hwy 34 before one hits Corvallis. That change is very much in order -- the way it was before made it necessary (at times) to disobey a traffic law in order to turn left at that light. Cars were sometimes backed up behind the proper turn lane as far as a designated turn spot for another road/lane. I am looking forward to speedier transits to school.

Oregon passed a law some time ago that allows "physician assisted suicide" in the state. "Some people" don't like that phrase -- they think the word "suicide" provides a negative connotation and would prefer a euphemism like "doctor-aided death." Changing the phrase could result in an increase in support for the law... just because of how people feel about the word "suicide".
Hmmm...
First, decisions should be made based on facts, not the way we feel about a word. Gut-based voting could easily go wrong. Describing an action (e.g. "physician assisted suicide") by other words does nothing to change its moral wrongness.
"Suicide" certainly does sound negative... but killing oneself is a negative thing. Might as well preserve the connotation and preserve some sense of the sanctity of human life. Of course, if government is supposed to operate based on society's moral standards, then they have no absolute morals to follow.

First Canine Surgery

This afternoon I did my first surgery at vet school. The dog hasn't died yet, to my knowledge. :)

My group got started late (for some reason whatever group I'm in is usually slow... maybe I am the important (bad) variable there), and I had a couple issues to deal with during the surgery, so we were the last to finish.
I thought I was about ready to close the incision, when I noticed blood in the surgery site. Grrr!! I searched a bit for the bleeder and told Dr. Gustafson (he's back on the Fenestra scene!) about it. He thought (and rightly so) I should try to figure it out for myself... and usually I don't like others doing my jobs for me. In this situation, however, it seemed rather difficult to find the bleeder and I was getting stressed -- not hysterical, but not happy either. My independence was hard to come by and I wished for more help. As it turned out, he did end up finding the culprit tissue for me. And I was glad for his help at the time, but now I wish I would have searched harder on my own... next time...

One comment about my scrub attire: "Nice dress you've got there. Did you have to special order it?" And they didn't think it looked strange -- which is nice. I'm not one to be very self-conscious about how I dress, especially if I'm dressing that way for a good reason. But I think it's good to be properly aesthetic -- you could probably make a Biblical case for it. (For instance, "modest" does not only mean "not sensually pleasing"; it relates to generally decorous dress.)

Another comment (with regard to the skin closure), "Your dexterity is good, but you need to review last spring's lecture about closures." Yes, I will be doing that. And I think part of the problem was that I let my brain semi-shut down. There was information up there I could have used to my benefit if I had been actively processing the technique as I performed it.

The surgery was neat, over all. I get to do a different type in a few weeks. Yippee!

El Primer Dia

I made a couple skirts to wear with my scrub pants and tops. The outfit will look a bit strange (I'll have to post a picture some time), but at least it'll be appropriate. I wonder how many comments I'll get.

I bought three textbooks this afternoon. Ouch. I could have used that $365 for something else. Actually, I might return one or two (which are for my theriogenology class) if it looks like I can handle the class by using books from the vet school library. The third textbook is for the small animal surgery course — it might be a good reference book to have around, and I anticipate reading a fair amount of it. So I think I'll keep that one.

I did an experiment (conjugation) last week to get my 2 DNA circles (plasmids) into listeria monocytogenes. I streaked a whole bunch of E. coli containing the plasmids onto separate plates, and then streaked listeria over the top of the E. coli. Normally I use relatively small amounts of bacteria and try to keep different types separate, so this went completely against the norm. (It seemed like a microbiologist's form of playing in the mud.) I incubated the plates of bacteria for about 5 hours and then suspended some of the bacteria in media and plated them on selective plates (that would select for Listeria based on streptomycin resistance and my plasmids based on chloramphenical resistance — ideally, anything that grew would be listeria containing my plasmids).

Well, it looks like some of the listeria grew! Now I need to determine for sure if the plasmids integrated with the Listeria genome.

Tomorrow I get to do a surgery on a real live dog (I hope it doesn't die). I better study up on the surgery protocol and my suture techniques this afternoon.

Rabies and Research

I lazed around on Tuesday, having justified it because of my illness.
But I still had to go to my two jobs... so it would have been better if I'd've gone to work earlier. I think I was still at J&J after 9 pm.

Research is humming along, with an occasional real or imagined screech. I made my circles of DNA containing bovine papilloma virus genes, and I transferred them to another kind of E. coli. Now I'm trying to get them into avirulent Listeria monocytogenes, which will (hopefully) be the actual vaccine vector.

On the subject of vaccines, I think I'm going to get a series of rabies vaccinations in the near future. It worries me a bit — some people have (pretty bad?) reactions to it. But I guess it's worth the risk, since I may encounter an undiagnosed, drooling, rabid cow some day, stick my arm down its throat to check for foreign objects, and end up infected with the rabies virus. Post-infection treatment is much more risky than prophylactic measures.

School starts on Monday — whoopee!

Church, Singing, Flying

I went to Bertha's old church (which is Beachy Amish) on Sunday.
Our very own Joe Mast preached a very good sermon with the text "We do not well" from 2 Kings 7:9. In Kings, it relates to the lepers who had not yet shared the good news of the departed army with the city (take a look at the passage to fill in the details). It may be applied to our lives when we do not share the Gospel with others who are spiritually needy.

Carol and I went to Miss Sharp's for the noon meal. There was a fellow there with his wife, and he/they used to go to Oregon every other week on trucking business. He knew some people whose parents live across the Big Muddy from me, but somehow he didn't know the Smuckers.
Bertha's sister Darlene (who worked in Oregon this past summer) picked up Carol and I and gave us a tour of their home farm. She then took us to a youth singing at the bishop's house. She gave us some rather shocking information about the Amish in the area — I might make a separate post about that topic.

I took some form of respiratory illness that day, but enjoyed the singing nonetheless.
We returned on Monday. Not the greatest time, given the mixture of plugged ears and pressure changes with altitude. Makes one thankful for regular health.

Wedding Trip — Friday/Saturday

Thanks to my mother's helping hands (she foresaw the need for clothes washing before I even got home on Thursday), I made it to the Goertzens' not very long after our planned departure time of 9 pm. "Here's my late self," said I to John G. He glanced at his watch and didn't seem to think that description matched me.
I put my backpack in the back of the van, and took a small bag containing my black dress shoes to the passenger area. "Wow, you really did pack light," Johanna G joked (I had previously informed then of plans to pack lightly).

First leg of the air journey: A lovely little red eye flight (12:30 am departure time) to Houston. Ever been there? I hadn't. It was definitely "southern" — the airport even had a row of special chairs for shoe shining. I jokingly mentioned to LG that I could get my (white) sneakers polished. Little did I realize how necessary that almost was.

Second leg: Morning flight to Baltimore. I sat next to a Houston lady who helped with the refugees in the Astrodome. She said her church (Jehovah's Witness) pitched in to help with refugees — one family housed about 50 people! Pretty impressive.
Perhaps we had already arrived in Baltimore, when I realized my small bag was no longer with us. I had left it reposing in the overhead compartment and hadn't given it a second thought until many miles separated us. "I can't wear white shoes to the wedding," thought I to myself (beside being sneakers and being white, they were decidedly less than new in appearance). "I could go in just my socks," I stated. "You could spray paint your socks," said Gordon G. "They're already black — they wouldn't need that," said I. Hey, some people dance without shoes on (i.e. at a sock hop) — but then, mixed group, unmarried-people dancing isn't something I approve of, so that's no support to the shoe-less idea.

We rented a van and headed for Belleville, PA, stopping at an Anabaptist clothing, etc store on the way. I looked for shoes, found nothing very desirable, and ended up wearing Johanna's to the wedding. All was well that ended well.

Derelle M (who was also along) and I went to Fred King's for supper. It was there that I began to form a general opinion of the Big Valley (that's where Belleville is) girls. They're outgoing and genuinely friendly. There's nothing standoffish or snooty about them (I'm speaking generally here — which leaves room for exceptional (ly bad) individuals). They acted like they REALLY wanted to know me, they didn't hide mumly in a corner, and they smiled nicely. There must be something in the water, or in the families, of Big Valley. Maybe that's why fellows from my church regard belles from Belleville as rather desirable (one's married off to such a girl, another is engaged to such a girl).
Mr. King is a dairyman, so I asked him what they use vets for in that valley. I've wondered if there is little place for farm animal vets these days, but it appears they make good use of them around there. Displaced abomasums seemed to be a big deal.

DM and I stayed at Esther Sharp's place along with LT and CS (LT was only there Friday night). We had some good discussions (headcoverings, split skirts, ?) but also got a reasonable amount of sleep.

If you want an interesting wedding sermon, ask for Urie Sharp. He preached B & L's.

I served tables with my brother (hopefully he didn't mind being stuck with me — I personally think that was better than being paired with some guy I was unattached to. It could make us feel like a couple when we shouldn't. And, besides, I had more fun with my brother than I would have had with a mostly unknown guy). J Smucker's daughter was there with her family, and it so happens that Matt and I served their table. That was the third time I've seen them this summer, but the occasion is always welcome.
I won't say that we performed flawlessly, but we got the people fed, no one yelled at us, and I didn't dump corn on anyone's lap.

I went forward during the open mike session — first time I've ever done that. It's not like I had anything very earth shattering to say, but I felt like it and didn't have any pressing reason not to. That demonstrated lack of inhibition/enjoyment of speaking in front of groups may serve me ill one of these days...

There are some die-hard volleyball players in Belleville — they had games going from ~6 pm to 10 or 11 pm in the Locust Grove Mennonite Church (part of the Mennonite General Conference, perhaps?) gym. Matt and I quit early (I was rather out of it and having trouble focusing (that's probably not that out of the ordinary for me at volleyball, but it was worsened by my lack of sleep)), went downstairs, and played a piano for a while.

***
When people say "Last but not least," it implies that one of the other people was the least. Isn't that sort of mean?

Spinning #2

Choco and Company, continued (see previous post "Spinning," for the prequel)
Obviously, I am stalling with regard to this story going anywhere... bear with me, or just refuse to read it. Whatever you do, don't take me very seriously.


The mouse pricked its ears, at the same time straining its eyes toward the hillock. Its heart began to palpitate as the pile was swept into the makeshift hat.

"We just exited a time warp" said Charley dreamily "and we are living in the days of Guinevere and Sir Lancelot —"

"Those immoral ancient lovers," interjected the Girl.
"— it's Connecticut Yankee and King Aurthur all over again, only make that Oregon Backwoodsy Mennos. We have been transported with the contents of our house — we have only to step outside the door and realize our fate."

— The mouse, buying into the fantasy, began to shake with fear — fear because of tales of the Black Death as passed down from European rats. "Yersinia pestis!" he squeaked, revealing his dealings with lab rat escapees from Oregon State University. "Regurgitating fleas and swollen lymph nodes — why didn't I stay outside where I would have been safe from such time machines?" —

"Yes, Charlie, precisely. I needed a place to do my special project for health class, and figured what could be better than a health education program for the ladies of the 14th century? I knew they would not accept a single girl travelling alone, and brought you along as my body guard."
Here the mouse squeaked loudly and the children returned to earth — not to deal with the mouse, however, because inhabitants of Dogbone did not regard mice in a negative light.
"No, really, Charlie. About as exciting, but just a tad more realistic."
"Aha! A card stamping party with all the little brothers invited?" — with a smirk.
"Look, I said 'more realistic' than Connecticut Yankee."
"Of course... well, er... you just learned that we are descended from a long line of resurrection men, perhaps Jeremiah Cruncher himself — now down't prewaricate ma'am."
"Reading too much Dickens, you are. But who knows, maybe we are."
"That would be sorta neat — I never could see what was so bad about making use of dead bodies and "their" belongings — they can have mine when I die."
"I'll keep that in mind. Guess again. Third time's the cornucopia."
"It must have something to do with that mysterious meeting you just returned from — which you have cruelly tantalized me with all week long. Don't have enough female intuition to figure much more — has something to do with what's-her-name's wedding, since she wasn't invited."
"Female intuition, Bah! You hit it right on the head. Well, maybe on the shoulder, but you were close. Planning a bridal shower, that's what we were doing — but that's not precisely what I was aimin at."

Days and Times

My research advisor has advised me to continue in the lab — I think I will, at least until my project is done. Juggling school, J&J, research, library job, and the desired level of sanity could be an interesting feat. If it all works out, it'll be great. If it becomes hectic, I think I'll drop things in this order: desired level of sanity (inevitable), J&J, then research (or research before J&J if I can cram it into winter break). The library job (which = mostly study time) goes hand in hand with school, so things would have to be pretty strange for me to drop it.

I gave CS a hand at packing her stuff the other day. We had a royal battle with the water and air in her water bed. We wanted it through the hose and out the window, but it took a while to get the siphon going, and once we did, air invariably interferred with our progress. Once it was started, though, gravity and atmospheric pressure worked wonders.

(I found out today, however, that the rubber split and the mattress went to the burn pile. But draining it wasn't for naught, because we had to get the mattress out of her house, anyway.)

We went to Pioneer Villa for supper. Good, good times.

***
Ideally, I would be home by now preparing for my journey. To the contrary, I am sitting here at work waiting for my transformed cells to grow in solution so I can plate them out. I have a bit to do before I leave my parents' at 8:45 pm (a bit, considering I won't be home before 7:30):
Sew neckline on dark green dress.
Wash travel dress and dark green dress and other clothes.
Figure out what to take.
Pack backpack.
Try to remember what I forgot.

It'll happen, Lord willing, one way or the other.

"Cruisers for Christ"

— the appellation on the black leather coats of a couple/four motorcyclists on Hwy 34.
Interesting... a Christian motorcycle gang. Initially, it doesn't seem quite right. But riding motorcycles is not inherently wrong (it's the type of people normally associated with it that gives it a bad name). And maybe it provides the CfCs with an "in" for witnessing to the Hell's Angels type of motorcyclists (maybe that's even the expressed purpose of the group). It provides common ground to meet them on, to show them they could connect with you.
Any thoughts?

Fishing, etc

Sewing, sleeping, and taking J&E B fishing — that was my weekend.

Sewing: I tried a new skirt pattern and a new general dress composition. I think I'll make my deadline.

Sleeping: I still wasn't done this morning, sort of.

Fishing: J&E are nice children to take on such an activity. Another little child (unconnected to our party of three) at the reservoir was not so very nice. He was running along some cement by the reservoir and getting dangerously close to the drop off on the end. Neurotic old lady that I am, I asked him on two occasions to not go down there. I guess it's bad to tell other people's children what to do, when the parents are there, but when you don't want the child drowning and the parents aren't doing their job... I think it's permissible.

Two Life Parts

Thursday presented a delightful example of the disparity I may realize in my life as long as I continue in my present track.

Research Day vs. the Baby Shower for MW.

From 8:40 am to 4 pm, it was:

"nanoparticles," "immunohistochemistry," "GFAP," "contaminants in alpine lakes," "clotting tests," "mouse pulmonary cancer," "feline sarcoids," nerve sheath tumors," etc. Cold terms, nothing much relational or life-changing — but some interesting stuff nonetheless, and I really like it.

From 7 pm to 9 pm, it was:

"Baby Magic!," "onsies," "pampers," "Mother," "Raggedy Ann and Andy," cute shoes, identifying baby/children pictures as their older Hopewell-attending selves, baby doll dressing relay, etc. It's a different world than I usually live in, but I like it, too. More homey and comfortable, or something.

It would be fun to write a book about a Mennonite lady scientist - turned - keeper-at-home...

Learning from History

Thursday was the annual Research Day at the vet school. One of the presentations concerned the measurement of viscosity, etc in horse joint fluid using a rheometer. And that got me to thinking...
It amazes me to think of the incredible amounts of thought and effort that go into the design and production of such machines. The manufacturing techniques must be pretty amazing to produce a device with such great precision. Think about the computer programming, the molding of the metal parts, and the fine-tuning.
I think about it, and it wows me — mainly because I put myself in the shoes of a person designing such a device, and the thought positively overwhelms me. And maybe it is that amazing, in some situations. But then I get to thinking, maybe the reality is not as gruelling as it seems. Present day technologies are built on years of many people working and troubleshooting. And devices are developed (I would suppose) by groups of researchers, by companies with big money — not by an individual hermit on his back forty trying to reinvent the wheel, mine his own iron, and make his own tools.

And THAT got me to thinking of the Christian life. One beauty of the Church is the heritage it grants. I don't have to learn everything by trial and error — rather, I can (partially) build my life by integrating wisdom I learn from others. "That [my] days may be long on the land" — or, rather, that they may be spent in the best way for God's kingdom, which is a goal better suited to the New Covenant.

Strange Monday

Monday was a strange day. In the morning, sewing and listening to music with my dad (the latter with my dad, not the former). One of the songs was from a musical, and sung by a Suffragette. This historical group holds a spot near and dear to my heart, because I wrote a term paper about their founder, Emmeline Pankhurst, a few years ago. I was therefore greatly excited and went bounding into my Dad's room exclaiming. I think he wondered what was wrong with me. :)
I finally cut out my dress for Bertha's wedding — um, guess I'll be busy sewing this weekend.

I drove down to J&J Farming to do some office work. I dropped off some stuff at the Halsey post office, then decided to drive back to Hubbard to sew. The Smuckers weren't expecting me that evening, anyway, and they were having a family get-together. Well, I reached Woodburn and recalled that AG had invited me to a Bible study for that evening. I had not planned to be in the Woodburn are and therefore had not agreed to go. But now that I was there I thought, hey, maybe I should go. I'm tellin' you, sometimes I'm not incredibly logical in my thought patterns -- but it seemed like a good thing to do. AG and family live in Portland, so I called her to get directions and then trekked on up.
An interesting group it was, some interesting discussion had -- and we got stuck on the subject of divorce and remarriage. Like we did the only other time I attended a Bible study at the G's. Apparently, that isn't necessarily a good sampling of their studies, according to IG.
Additionally, there was the subject of whether it is better for a Christian to remain single. The G's think so... and it does make sense in a way, and scripture supports it to some extent. However, it is a somewhat depressing thought. My current stand is that if it's God's will for one to be single, they'd better stay single; if it's His will for them to be married, they'd better be married. It would be wrong to stay single if God really wanted you married. There are certain ministries that likely work better with a couple than a single person.
The hard part, as with any decision, is discerning God's will...

Drift Creek Falls

Saturday I joined the Hopewell youth group on an outing to Drift Creek Falls. It was a good hike/walk for a youth activity — not long/hard enough to significantly manifest my competitive spirit and the destination was delightful. The bridge was neat, the falls were pretty, and it was fun messing around down stream of both.

***

I'm not very good at accepting chivalry. My tendency is to open doors for guys (though I'm learning to go through first since they usually make me anyway). On this outing, I not only accepted chivalry — I accepted chivalry in such a way that it sort of admitted my defeat and the superiority of the chivalry-granter. A little hard to stomach, but I think I'm mostly over it by now.

I did a typical brainless/clueless-Claire and packed a lunch for the day — turns out we were to be fed by minister RW's wife. Somehow I never heard or didn't process what I did hear. Well, well...

Driving home was some fun, particularly when JG sang "The Old Maid in the Garret" as she was unknowingly videotaped on KR's digital camera.

Spinning

Maybe if I post this, it'll spur me on to finish it... see if you can figure out the significance to a couple of the names.

It was a shortish cement footpath, cracked by seventy winters and the tread of many feet, flanked by pansies and primroses. It began, depending on the perspective, by the edge of a recently graded gravel road, a narrow road, a dead end streat of a mile's length. The road led south toward its mortal demise, where it melted into the gravel lot of the road end farm.
The road led north 'til it joined Brandy Hollow which headed West into the small farming town of Dogbone. In Dogbone, all the cats were tabbies, all the children scored at the 50th percentile, you didn't look twice at any of the men, and all the women used rubber-coated jar openers because they were not any stronger than most. A very average town — but there wasn't much to flaunt and there wasn't much to desire, so everyone pretty well liked the place.
The primrose-flanked walk passed through a lawn spangled with edelweiss and dandelions. It ended at the front stoop of a very symmetrical small white house with a large centrally-placed picture window. The tan curtains were parted to make space for a black curled head which peered expectantly up the road. The black curled head was mimicked by a grey tabby cat with six toes on each foot — mimicked, except the ears on the cat pricked and swivelled toward the north while the ears of the black curled head remained motionless.

A grey and mauve minivan pulled up before the small white house, the sliding door opened and a girl of 16 stepped out onto the fluffed gravel. She waved a cheerful good-bye to the driver and red haired passenger, shut the door and skipped up the primrose-lined walk. Her blue dress waved gracefully in the breeze.
The grey tabby and the black curled head issued forth to meet the new arrival.
"Choco puff, how's it going?" inquired the blue dressed.
"How many times have I asked you to not call me cereal?" Charley exclaimed, though clearly well pleased. "It'll be the talk of the town before you know it."
"That wouldn't be hard — I'm so slow to catch on, so unobservant. Besides, it's just us that call cereal that — no one else eats chocolate granola.... Speaking of which..."
Auburn hair, black curls, and grey tabby disappeared into the small white house, and the observing field mouse glanced furtively toward all horizons before following suit. His eyes sought and found their former subjects, and he skillfully scaled the indoor avocado tree like one who has done it many times.
Charley jumped by the cupboards, hoping to snag the cereal containers. He missed one completely, but knocked the other over, sending chocolate granola cascading over his head and all over the floor.
The mouse looked on with excitement, taking in everything so he could report back to Musculus headquarters. This was looking good for his kin.

"Chocopuff! The floor has existed longer than you and you don't think it's content to feed itself?" picking a toasty chunk of oatmeal and chocolate from Charley's tousled crown.

"It may be content with the crumbs it receives at your hands, but many's the time it must sigh and sing of a hard knock life. You know I cannot bear to see my friends thus."
The blue-dressed lass turned a pirouette as she crossed the kitchen to the broom closet. She popped the dust pan from the green broom handle and tossed it to Charley, who easily snagged it between his elbow and side and set it on his head.
"Guess what, Choco?" energetically whisking the cereal toward the mini hillock in the center of the floor.

Professional Farrier

Ever try to stick the cap on a pen and then jab it into your hand to get the cap on tightly, only to poke yourself very hard with the pen tip because the cap had failed to stick on the pen? (Like I did this afternoon.)

Clint Durne, Farrier, came to trim Andy's hooves today. A talkative guy with a lot of horseshoeing wisdom. He works with vets in the area — today he rattled off the names of numerous horsey vets that would be good to observe. One particular piece of wisdom, paraphrased: "Ride with both good and bad vets — you can learn what NOT to do from the bad." Yeah, I think that makes sense, so long as my foundational knowledge is good.
Clint has done Andy's feet on multiple occasions and he never charges the club — even though Andy can be quite the pill (like today when he tried to kick Clint). His wife is really nice on the phone, and his young daughter was along today. A genuinely friendly child always surprises me, but it seems like the parents of that one have rubbed off on her. Glean from that... if you want your children to turn out well, be good yourself.