official wreckporter
Sometime last year I discovered the now famous Cake Wrecks website and I have been hooked ever since. Like so many new fans I set out to find the worst cakes in my neck of the woods. Every time I entered a grocery store I would beeline to the bakery hoping to spot a wreck.
About this time last year I spotted a “lovely” cake decorated to resemble Dr. Seuss’ famous Grinch. It was perfect. It featured many wreck-y characteristics: character infringement, recycled holiday design (clearly an upside down heart), unnaturally colored and probably toxic icing, a wonky eye, and all around hideously drawn features. Clearly the supervisor was off duty that day and no quality control was performed. I put the cake in my cart, wandered to an out of the way area, and stealthily took a picture with my camera.
I then promptly returned the cake to where I found it; no way was I eating that thing.
I submitted my photo and eagerly read each post leading up to Christmas only to be disappointed again and again. Christmas came and went with no sign of my wreck. I decided that it was not meant to be and I gradually stopped stalking my local bakery sections.
Imagine my surprise when a full year later, my photo popped up on Cake Wrecks!
No, I didn’t get a shout-out but it’s okay. Given that the post was dedicated to launching the CW Charity Campaign, I can forgo my credit. I do, however, encourage you all to donate.
Now, if you need me, I’ll be in the bakery section with my camera.
the cats may never forgive me
I moved on Tuesday and a week later the cats are still pretty pissy. They apparently have taken up residence under the couch from which they have to lured out, one at a time, by pets and treats.
Bronson's new home
poor tiny car
Adding to last week’s drama was a minor car accident. After avoiding the bad drivers on my street for two years, someone hit my parked car late Saturday night, causing further damage to my already cracked bumper and almost taking off my driver’s side mirror.
Fortunately, the police officer on the scene left a note and the other driver has insurance. Because I was asleep at the time of the accident, it’s considered a no-fault accident for me and I get my car fixed for free (including the deductible!).
monkey fighters*
Oh, where to begin.
These past few months, and this past week in particular, has been hectic enough to keep me from blogging.
There were, of course, the normal life demands like my jobs, Thanksgiving, and trying to squeeze in a few minutes here and there with Sweetpea (although never enough between my 1.5 jobs and his 1.5 jobs). And then there was The Great Bungled Move of ‘09**.
I was originally supposed to move on Monday, November 23rd. I went to the leasing office the Friday before to pick up the my keys. Cue lots of confusion, a flurry of phone calls to the manager and t he workmen, a frantic hunt for the keys with the ultimate verdict that the apartment wasn’t ready yet. A quick visit to the apartment revealed that there was a great deal of work to be done (painting, laying carpet,patching holes, installing appliances, getting the bathroom in working order, etc.). Fine, I’m flexible. I made some calls, got everything rescheduled, and accepted the offer of half off January’s rent.
Bright and early the following Monday, I arrived with a car full of glassware to pick up my keys. Only to learn that the apartment STILL wasn’t ready. Please note, that this was 30 minutes before the moving truck was scheduled to arrive. More phone calls, another inspection, and a solemn promise that the apartment would be ready by Tuesday. Fine, I called the movers again and rescheduled for the second time. (All I have to say is that they better thank God that I came by when I did, instead of at noon with a fully loaded moving truck.) I placed several phone calls through out the day to check on the progress and confirmed that I would be able to move the next day.
Tuesday comes, the movers come, the actual move goes off without a hitch. But . . . then I start checking stuff out. There are an unacceptable number of things wrong, both big and small. The big include a barely functioning toilet and shower (both draining slooowly), a non-useable dishwasher, and a non-working fridge (which I discovered was non-working after I had put all of my frozen foods in it). The small include no peephole, no mailbox key, no shower curtain rod (and thus no shower curtain), and other minor inconveniences.
After placing many, many calls to the office last week ( I am now on a first name basis with all of the staff), I had the bulk of the problems fixed by Friday, mostly thanks to one industrious workman who is outraged on my behalf (Thanks, Paul <3). I no longer have to carefully plan my bathroom use. I no longer have to huddle aganst the back corner of the shower for a refreshing 60 second shower. My fridge is working and I get to go on massive grocery shopping spree (yay!) to replace the food lost. My dishwasher is fully operational and I can do dishes all day and all night (yay!).
Now that I can actually live in my apartment, I’m pretty happy. I’m going to appeal to management to waive the remainder of January’s rent (to at least replace the lost food, to say noting of the inconveniences). It has a some issues (like significant slopes and dips in the floor) but it does has new appliances and I’m liking the carpeting more and more every day.
Here’s a little video walk-through of my new pad. Please pardon my poor filming skills.
**I don’t think I even mentioned on here that I was moving (bad, baaad blogger). Anyway, that was my 3rd major goal for the year: graduate, new job, move – check, check, aaand check.
let me tell you why i’m old
While chatting with Rouge earlier this week, it occurred to me that had I been a particularly, um, precocious girl, I could have an 18 son or daughter by now. A legal aged, (hopefully) college attending, voting, militarily joining, (hopefully not) smoking, 18 year old.
Speaking of 18 year old children, at tutoring yesterday one of our college aged volunteers accidentally left her phone behind. We were busily trying to finish up the the day’s paperwork when a friend and fellow volunteer called her phone. We didn’t make it to the phone it time to answer it, but I was going to return the call to let them know that we had the phone. Er, except I couldn’t figure out how to open it. I tried flipping, I tried sliding, I tried twisting, but no dice. It seems that my instant techo-knowledge that comes with youth is fading.
little ego boosts
I said in an earlier post that I’ve been feeling a little off my game in New Lab. My confidence has taken a couple of blows so the two small ego boots I’ve gotten in the past few weeks were greatly appreciated.
Ego Boost #1:
A couple of weeks after starting in New Lab, a postdoc candidate visited the lab for a day. Instead of giving a seminar to the entire department, like I did back in July, she just gave her talk to the lab. Now personally, I thought she did a pretty good job with her talk (okay, I did notice a few problems) and, after having the opportunity to meet with her for a few minutes, I thought she seemed intelligent and friendly to boot.
Apparently I was the only one.
The rest of the lab was terribly underwhelmed by both her talk and her personality. She had a hard time answering questions about her project during lab meeting and a lot of her data was generated by or in collaboration with someone else. Worse than that, though, is that she insulted the technicians*. In a lab that has multiple veteran technicians, this is a huge faux pas. HUGE.
Even Bosslady was unimpressed by her. I’m told that she was “done” with the candidate even before her talk. She made it clear that that she would not be offering this candidate the position.
I was floored. Maybe it’s this is that persistent lack of self-confidence I’ve been toting around for years, but all I could think was “What the hell did I do right?” (I guess for starters, I was smart enough not insult anyone.)
Ego boost #2
As I mentioned, I gave a seminar to the department in July. At the time, I was applying for postdoc positions in two labs in the same department. Obviously, both of my potential bosses were there, as well as the department chair, and anyone else who cared to attend.
On Monday, I was in the mouse room for the first time, desperately trying not to mix-up any mice and ruin the experiment. An unfamiliar man approached me; he introduced himself as a postdoc/research associate** in the chair’s lab. He said that he remembered my talk from this summer (3 months ago!) and that he thought it was excellent. He then went on to say that “if Bosslady hadn’t hired me, he would have.” Okay, so it probably wasn’t literal job offer but that’s quite a pat on the back.
*pat, pat, pat*
*For those unfamiliar with lab positions, good research technicians/assistants, do independent research, write papers, and give talks. While many have Masters’ degrees, they do not have PhDs. Although they can be as knowledgeable and skilled, and sometimes more so, than grad students and postdocs, there are many who look down upon them simply because they don’t have a doctorate. Those people are snobs.
**A research Associate has a PhD, has finished their training (i.e., a postdoc), but does not have their own lab.
i heart medical insurance
I’m very proactive about my health care. I like to know what’s going on with my body, what I can do better, and what are the latest findings in medicine. Also, I’m a bit of hypochondriac so I tend to be hyper-vigilant for perceived problems; I like to think of it as preventative care.
One thing I particularly disliked about being a student was the lack of proper medical care. Instead of having my “own” doctor, I was offered Student Health. While I’m sure those doctor’s are perfectly qualified – and they certainly were friendly – you were randomly assigned to someone on staff. Now, I’m very healthy overall and I don’t need to see the doctor often but when I do, I want to see the same doctor. There was a clear absence of a doctor-patient relationship and that was both dissatisfying and worrisome.
With my new job, I have been given excellent and almost free medical coverage. And I am taking FULL advantage of it.
In about a month’s time, I have been to or scheduled a total of 8 medical appointments: 1 sports health, 2 physical therapy, 2 orthopedic/orthotic, 2 dental, 1 orthodontic. I attempted to schedule an appointment with a primary care physician (PCP) but unfortunately my doctor of choice is booked up until January(!). (I’m assured that they’re not always so backlogged. It might be open enrollment season.)
If anyone needs me, I’m probably at the doctor’s office.
culture shock
I apologize for my lack of blogging. I swear it’s been on my to-do list. Unfortunately, the whole “40 hours a week” thing has severely cut into my internet time.
I’ve been at my new lab for a month now. In that short amount of time, I have been on quite an emotional roller coaster.
Week 1: Screw you guys, I’m going home.
My new lab is a complete 180° from my old lab. Everything, and I mean everything, is the exact opposite of what I’m used to. If someone set out to shake up my my world, they certainly succeeded; up is down, black is white, night is day. While I typically I embrace change but this was a little too much, too fast.
Week 2: One week into my new lab and I’m already 2 weeks behind.
The first two weeks were hard. I had a meeting with Boss Lady at the very start of week 2. I left that meeting feeling like a huge slacker.
Hands down, the biggest stressor was the expectation of productivity during this period of transition. My new project has very little overlap with my dissertation project so most of the time I was just trying to figure out what was going on at the most basic level . . . all while attending numerous orientations and trainings. I was expecting a little grace period; time to read up on the background, familiarize myself with the project, figure out where the bathroom is, and then start performing experiments. Nope.
I felt so out of my element that I was having dreams about quitting at my one year evaluation.
Week 3: It can’t suck if I’m not there!
Okay, I don’t really have much to say about week 3. I was out of town two days for a wedding and worked shorter days before that trying to get ready for said wedding. Because I’m a bad bridesmaid.
Week 4: No pain, no gain
At the the end of my fourth week, I feel like I’m finally adjusting to the lab. I’m still trying to find my role in the lab but I have a better read on my lab mates and, more importantly, Boss Lady. I understand the lab expectations and dynamics. I have a better grasp on my project and am starting to form my own ideas about future directions.
Where there was resentment at being tossed into unfamiliar territory, there is now growing admiration for a well-run, efficient lab. There’s a lot of hard work in my future but I know it will benefit my career in the long run.
reasons why I am a bad bridesmaid
1) I haven’t picked up my dress yet. I’ve seen it, it’s in Cleveland, and it’s currently being altered. I’m sure that it will be finished as promised and will look gorgeous. Or so I hope.
2) I don’t have the proper foundation garments. As of now, all of my bras would be highly exposed by the cut of the dress. I’m hoping to hit a lingerie store sometime before leaving town. I will have the location of Victoria’s Secret in Ithaca, just in case.
3) I tentatively have shoes. After three tortuous hours of searching for black, closed toe, low heeled evening shoes, I managed to find a decent pair of black low heeled ones. However, it occurs to me that I was shopping for these shoes with a high of 51 degrees in mind. Turns out, that it will be in the mid-30’s at night. Because I don’t want frost on my toes, I may venture back into the shoe stores.
I wonder if I can sport a pair of black combat boots? No? What about if I add a bow?
4) The wedding gift is in transit. UPS tracking tells me that it’s in a nearby town, but I simply don’t trust UPS. I bet they would forward it to the hotel, if push comes to shove.
5) I wonder if I’m supposed to make a toast of some kind. I suppose that I should look into that . . .
6) I know there are assorted weekend festivities. I’m not sure where or when. I really need to track down that invitation.
prime numbers are the best numbers
So Saturday was my 31st birthday.
Thirty-one. Thirty. Plus 1.
When the hell did this happen? I was cool with 30 but 31 is throwing me for a loop. I don’t know why I’m so surprised. It’s not like I didn’t know that 31 was next in the sequence; perhaps I was secretly hoping for 29 – 30 -21?
It was a pretty low key birthday overall. Not being one for big birthday bashes, I started the day with my usual Saturday routine. Working with the tutoring program, trying to create order in the midst of 200+ people in a small, noisy space. We had dinner at one of my favorite local restaurants followed by the annual bellydancing showcase. The weekend was completed with a quick trip to the outlet malls. Now that I’m a postdoc, I feel the need to shed my schlubby student jeans & T-shirt look.
Finally, as the bestest birthday present ever, Sweetpea got me a snazzy new iPod Touch, or, as I call it, the iTouch. (It has been appropriately named “Divinylis.”) I’m pretty sure that he was motivated by my whining about my current iPod. (Which just goes to show that if you whine enough, people will buy you shiny new toys.) I have a Nano which I have loved for the past 4 years. However, upon discovering the awesomeness that are podcasts, I realized that 4GB was simply inadequate. Earlier this year, I was forced to dump 75% of my songs to accommodate a few podcasts. But now . . . I have 32GB of glorious space that I can fill with music, years of back episodes of “This American Life,” audiobooks, and apps.
Ironically, though, I’m a little scared to touch it. It’s so thin and fragile looking. I’ve seen a lot of cracked iPhone screens and I know that I tend to be hard on electronics . As I type, it sits tucked away in a corner in its original packaging instead of being loaded with music, podcasts, and apps. And it’s probably going to stay there until I manage to get to the Apple store and buy some sort of state-of-the-art, ennuiherself-proof case.
