Christmas break was . . .

really spectacular but was uh, interesting. In short, it was a PANDEMIC of snow, bad travel, fun family, a bad cold, and the actual game PANDEMIC (pictured here with most of world infected). Seattle got slammed by piles of snow and I was a little worried I wouldn't make it to the airport since I was trying to take the bus. Given that some other buses that day plowed down a steep street and into a barrier, ultimately hanging over I-5, I guess I should be grateful I made it at all. Once I got home, I settled into a nice and deep chest cold that lasted the full 10 days and a bit more. I guess I should be glad it wasn't like last year before when I got food poisoning from who know's what and was throwing up every hour for fourteen hours . . . hum, maybe next year my parents won't have to put up with me being sick. So in short, I spent ten days in bed and right when I started feeling better, it was time to go back to school. But, the weather was beautiful, I got to see some friends, spend time with aunts, uncles, cousins, parents, and my grandmother, and it snowed!!! Some highlights, the kiddos from Seattle all got together to see Suzy who recently moved down to Utah from our town. Here are the cupcakes that she made. She's amazing! And then of course the beautiful mountains. People who have never been to Utah's lovely corner of the country picture I don't know what, but I say "It was a fantastic place to grow up, there are two 11,000 foot mountains right outside my front door". This is Cascade Mountain that I had a hard time believing that I actually got to go to the elementary school named after it (seriously, I was REALLY excited when I found out). And Mount Timpanogos, which I may never make it to the top again after the 10 hour escapade of last time . . . where I ended up running a bit of the last mile just so I didn't have to be hiking anymore.

Merry Christmas?

So . . . last night my parents sent me a HUGE box full of individually wrapped homemade cookies. Chocolate mint sandwich, lemon shortbread, walnut bars, oatmeal, walnut tarts, boysenberry pastry, macaroons, and even some delicious s'more cookies that are graham and chocolate chunk cookies with a marshmallow melted in-between. I took the box to lab this morning but barely missed my bus on Campus Parkway so I had about 15 minutes to wait for the next one. Normally I just start walking but since it was about 20-something degrees, and I was holding this big box of cookies, I decided to wait. To pass the time, I wandered around to the other people at the bus stop (about seven or eight others) and offered them some of the cookies. Most people were "uh, okay" some were "oh thank you" and some were "uh, how much?". One of the people came back over and said, "it's so nice to think that parents still do this for their children" and another lady gave me her hand warmers when she was getting on the 30. So nice! But I wished Merry Christmas to every person + the eleven or so more people once I got on the bus and passed out more cookies. I sort of got one mumbled "Merry Christmas" from the bus driver but for the most part, no return of the Christmas greeting. I got this same behavior from my neighbors that I delivered cookies to on Sunday. If someone was offering me cookies and said, "Happy Hannukah" or even the super lame "Season's Greetings" I would return the same. What's the deal? Are we so afraid of offending people that now we're just miserable and cranky? Most people were visibly suspicious of me this morning. Hopefully they were just frozen and in the depths of seasonal affective disorder?

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

My friend Emily and I are decorating, planning, baking fiends. By that I mean, I think she might actually do a lot of that stuff, I just dream about how much I would like to be doing that stuff. However, neither one of us has a lot of time or reason to be Martha Stewart juniors (without the insider trading or nasty temper). But this morning, we decided to flip on the Christmas music and enjoy the joy of holiday baking. Emily started off with a delicious praline chocolate double layer cake followed up with some enticing ginger snaps. We rounded out the morning with some southern cream cookies and cream cheese icing. Here is the fruit of the last parts of our labors. They'll be perfect for tomorrow's hot chocolate/candy cane lane meander party. We're particularly pround of Emily's brown color for the reindeer. They do not give the instructions on the food coloring box of how to do this. But a little bit of color theory from the bazillion art classes we've had to take due to our public educations, it worked out well. And since we're equal opportunity holiday celebrators, we added a whole slew of white, light blue, and dark blue frosted stars of David for our friends of the Hannakah inclination.

Whistle while you work. Or hot glue gun. Whatev.

So, my co-worker Matt, who I've sat within three feet of for the past three years, is a Dr. Pepper fanatic. He routinely amasses mountains of empty pop cans until they reach terrifying heights at which point the custodian takes them down to the recycle bin. Well it was about time to do something with all that lovely aluminum. This may be one of the best ideas we've had in our bay yet, and believe me, we've had some real winners. To celebrate the Christmas season, I spent about twenty minutes yesterday assembling a Christmas tree out of Diet Dr. Pepper cans with Matt's hot glue gun. Matt made the star and the little package at the bottom for Roland. More fun than making protein. No question.

Things I've learned in graduate school.

Perhaps this should wait until I finish but I'm doing this now. I am supremely confident that my head is full so I can't possibly learn more than I already have. That being said, what's the point of waiting. Oh, and when I say it is full, I am in no way implying that there's a lot in there. I'm just saying it's full. Let's see . . . oh, this list is edited for content. And when I say edited, I mean I took out all of the horrible things I've learned. And when I say horrible, I mean the insufferable, odious, and loathsome things I've endured, not the wild and wicked. I've been in lab for almost six years, I've had no chance to become wayward.

• The 65 bus will not stop for you. Running, pounding, and yelling will not help.
• It only takes 30 minutes to walk from Campus Parkway to my house.
• It only takes 45 mintues to walk from my lab to Campus Parkway. (The 70 will not stop for you either.)
  
• Cuban sandwiches from Paseo are slices of paradise.
• "Misting heavily" and "torrential sprinkles" are both perfectly acceptable forms of precipitation.
• If it's cold, wear a jacket. If it's really really cold, wear two jackets. Coats are not acceptable forms of Seattle fashion.
• Never visit IKEA on a Saturday. Ever. Tuesday's at 9:13 PM is your best bet.
• The water in Lake Union is dirty and cold. Very cold. Especially at 7 AM in January.
• The water in Lake Washington is delightfully warm. Especially at 7 PM in July.
• If you can't find an orienteering control point, it's because you're lost. They didn't forget, they didn't misplace it, it wasn't stolen, you're lost.
  
• Your best bet for winning first place in a Street Scramble is to show up in your jammies, half-walk, half-run, and just be smarter than the rest of the competition.
• I would like to own 40 acres outside beautiful Moses Lake.
• If you have to work every day, make sure that the co-worker sitting closest to you is a lot of fun.
• 2 for 1 day at Scarecrow Video is Wednesdays.
• If there is a Thai restaurant every half-block or so, you're not in Thailand my friends, you're in Seattle.
• UW football is bad. Really bad. Have they ever been good? Thought not.
• Men in Seattle have no excuse for not buying their girlfriends flowers.
• The best donuts in the world are sold by a nasty hairy man at the market. Really, he's kinda gross. So, sometimes just go to TopPot instead.
• I'm actually pretty good at foosball.
• I hate rats. I hate them. I hate them so, so much.
• I hate maggots. More than rats. And that's saying something.
• The lights at the Hutch automatically turn off at 8:04 PM, 1:13 AM, and 4:26 AM.
• Longboarding at Alki is fun.
• No need to merge early, just ride the Seneca lane and squeak in at the end. That's what it's there for.
• Google maps is the best. True that. Double true.
• The GEICO commercial with squirrels plotting to run in front of cars to make them crash is not computer generated. That's actual footage folks. The little devils.
  
• A walk around Greenlake with friends is the cheapest form of therapy.
  
• If a friend asks you to go see a new band, you should probably go. I could have seen DCFC for about $5. Then again, I've also been saved from seeing a lot of boring bands. So, maybe I haven't learned anything after all about this one.
• Museums in Seattle are free on the first Thursday of the month.
• In relation to the previous one, I've learned this: Paul Allen is weird.
• Don't trust sweet-talking men from Oklahoma.
• Parades can take place on the water! Clowns will throw candy to you from jet skis!
  

New Favorite Book.

The term "favorite book" is a really hard one to define. It's like asking the crazy cat lady down the street who her favorite "child" is. There's too many to choose from! I think I just unwittingly implied that I'm a crazy shut-in. But hey friends, I get out. I get out and go to lab. See? That's totally normal. At any rate, over Thanksgiving (I always take every vacation as an opportunity to read something fun) I read "Villette" by Charlotte Brontë. It's about exactly what you'd expect from one of the Brontë trio. So in short, it was depressing, and then it got really sad. Actually that's not a fair assessment of it. Dr. Bretton's mom is just the sort of sassy gal most of us women aspire to be when we're in our olders, Graham Bretton is the just the nice sort of lad most of us women would like to meet, and the ending of the book is just the realistic sort of ending that happens a lot in life . . . but maybe sometimes wouldn't want to have happen. So, if you've got a vacation coming up and you'd like to read about how an uneducated gal from the sticks of England moves to the French countryside to teach a bunch of dumb girls how to speak the real lingua franca, i.e. English, then this is the book for you. And with a summary like that, how can you miss? No really, really. It's good.

Definitely a happy Thanksgiving.

I went home for Thanksgiving to bask in the shadow of the everlasting hills. Or rather, the sun sun sunny skies of the mountain tops. While my wonderful mother took care of the two little nephews (really Mom, we could have all come home to help!) my dad, sister, bro-in-law, and I all went skiing at Alta. I think that parts of heaven must look like Alta on a sunny winter day. Bright blue skies, snow-flocked trees, groomed slopes, spectacular. Later in the day, it got socked in fog and as I tried to weave through dozens of seven-year-olds that were out on the steeps for their first time, I decided to call it enough for the day. Thanks family for a wonderful morning! My mom had prepared an amazing and delish dinner for the tired gang but I worry that she didn't get to watch any football at all. It was just nice being home. The trip got extended an extra day because Delta overbooked my flight to Seattle by about 348 people. Well, it must have been that many because they gave me $1200 to fly back to Seattle Tuesday morning, which I did. My parents were so tickled. Probably equally so to have me home another day (they're so great) and that I got a great deal (thanks Delta!)

The bee hearts me.

So . . . that stupid bee that I inadvertently trampled on in the thick forests of Seward Park is having the last laugh, at my immune system. Here is the punctate, but heart-shaped wound on the back of my leg. It is crazy itchy. This picture is blurry but it is about four inches in diameter. Just when I thought it was safe to go back in the woods. Oh so wrong. Peruvian chiggers, Seward bees. Let's hope it just stays with these two. But never two without three? OH goodness. I don't even want to know what's coming.

Piles of thesis, thesis for me.

So today I dug out my inches of literature that I've collected over the years. Here's a picture of the pile. It has to do with enthapies, entropies, self-syngeneic complexes, conserved interactions, biophysical correlations to immunological outputs, and a whole bunch of other stuff that would make Winnie the Pooh say, 'oh bother'. Actually I don't know why I just thought of that but I just did. It must be the ten hours of typing talking. Anyway, here is an excerpt of what I wrote today: "By analyzing these structures as a whole, it was hoped that either buried surface area or number of receptor-ligand contacts would correlate with either biological output (antagonist v. agonist) or at least affinity (Kd). Unfortunately, this has turned out to not be the case." Here's another excerpt: "Within this context, the paradoxical nature of the TCR is becoming clear. Unfortunately this is totally untrue. We still have no idea how these things work. What a horribly crappy thesis project. Garbaggio!" I thought that I had come up with a new word for lame, but sadly no. Garbaggio is already in the urban dictionary. Does that mean I'm culturally hip and relevant instead? Probably not. Maybe if I multislack better. Look at those dark circles under my eyes! I'm wasting away! Or, I'm sleepy. Or, the lighting is no bueno in the library.

I'll get you Gadget! I mean, Seward!!

So this morning, we all went orienteering at Seward Park. Kathy and I decided to go for course five since we didn't want to add the extra kilometer of course seven. Also, Mark and Janet were racing course five and of course we have to go head-to-head. This is my third time racing at the park and for the most part, Kathy and I breezed through the controls . . . until we came to number six. Then, we couldn't get anywhere close to it. We came in from the east, bushwhacked through bushes and came back through from the west. Then we went south and came back in from the east again, and then exited on the west again. This took about thirty minutes of our time. Muddy and stung by something frightful (still is throbbing eight hours later), we crashed out of the ferns and thicket to admit defeat and just find number 7-10 and be done. Oh, but not to be outdone, I decided that going down a 50 degree mud ramp straight into blackberry bushes would be a great way to get from 9 to 10. Really? Really. Well, the worst part was that when we got back (after 1:30.57), we found out that Emily and Megan had accidentally trampled into a hornets nest and were attacked and stung several times. The plus side of the morning (besides the fact that we all love doing it no matter what happens) was that Leslie beat Jonny on course 7. And it's only her second time. I think I've only beaten him once and that has an asterisk on it since he missed a control and was DQ'd. So, all hats off to Leslie!!!

Jorge. Close the backstage door. The audience is freezing.

So last night I went to a show with two of my friends at the Tractor Tavern. Apparently, it is a room in Ballard with boots hanging from the ceiling and uh, a stage, and some chairs and square dancing on the 2nd and 4th Mondays (FHE in a bar anyone?). Last night a guy from Vancouver named Steve Reynolds that looked 25 and was maybe currently taking too many over-the-counters but was actually in his 40s and just sleep deprived (according to the monologue) played some nice music on his guitar. The best part was his percussionist from Guadalajara (Jorge) that didn't appear to have more than just a high hat and a snare but was doing a great job. Part two was what Esther wanted to see and that is Tom McRae. He's from the UK so that won Charity and I over to his witty banter but even though I had a good time, it was a way way way too late for me to be out on a school night. What kept me awake was that Jorge, who was at the top of the list, left the backstage door open to the elements and I was subsequently freeeeeeezing. When I got home, I tucked into bed but after about twenty minutes, still cold, I had to get up grab out my electric blanket, a comforter, and two more blankets to pile on my bed . . . and an extra pair of pajama pants . . . and a hoodie. Muchas gracias George. Good times all around. I should probably be reading for my thesis writing but the beer hour for the Hutch is going on just outside so it's really noisy. Maybe I'll just head home since the library at UW is also closed. Huh.

And so it begins.

But not very well since I'm obviously writing a blog post and not studying! Today was official day one of taking halfsies at work to write my thesis. I'd like the whole brilliant piece of profound (and original) academic exploration to be written by Dec. 17th. That means, six weeks of icky. So far, I've made it through one paper full of tedious (but by no means complicated) mathematics that I didn't care to follow . . . and by "made it through" I mean I technically looked at some of the words. I'm not sure why we have to write a thesis . . . wasn't the mere attendance of graduate school proof enough that we're willing to put up with bad salaries, poor job prospects, and being put down by our superiors? Hmmm . . . well, they can't keep me down so I'm gonna finish. The Dec. 17th deadline is critical since I have to have the paperweight/doorstop in my reading committees hands by six weeks prior to my graduation date, which is March 6th, 2009 . . . according to my mental calendar of how much more formal schooling I can stomach. Hurray for the last four months of these twenty-three years and six months of school!

Butchart Gardens, Twenty Years Later.

This past weekend, Whitney and I went to Victoria out on Vancouver Island for her birthday. We stopped by Olympic Bagel Company in Port Angeles on our way out and picked up the Apple Crunch bagel. This is of course the notorious bagel that my mom thinks single-handedly ruined her calorie total for life, but really, she's so healthy and trim, it's a ridiculous thought. I, on the other hand, have no qualms about munching on this little ring of heaven. Ahh, the heady days of youth. After spending a pretty relax evening, we got up Saturday morning to go to Butchart Gardens. I came here with my family when I was six or seven years old. We were living in beautiful Boise, Idaho at the time when we came to Seattle and I decided that I wanted to live here some day. Look at me! Achieving goals! These gardens on Vancouver Island are incredible. I will let the pictures speak for themselves. Here is the sunken garden.
And the pond at the back of the sunken garden. The new monkey puzzle tree. The old one, which we took our picture in front of twenty years ago has gone the way of the mulcher. Poor thing. Looking down into the Japanese garden. (Just what every garden should be, but maybe I'd go a little lighter on the west-side of the Pac Rim thing.) And then finally, looking down towards their own private harbor. Hello! What a nice yard. Maybe my new goal should be to live on Vancouver Island . . . no. Too far. Too cold. I'll just buy lots of land in Montana and build a sunken garden out there. I could spend many happy weeks. Just me and my bulldozer. Hey, a girl can dream can't she?

Stop that giggling, it makes me uncomfortable.

Ahh, one of the great cinematic classics of the modern era. Taking just five days to write and ten days to film, we all got together to watch "The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra" tonight. It's amazing and full of wonderful sentences like when Dr. Paul Armstrong is driving up the canyon with his wife to find a meteor full of atmosphereum: "Seriously, Betty, you know what this meteor could mean to science. If we find it, and it's real, it could mean a lot. It could mean actual advances in the field of science." Or Ranger Brad says "Oh, say... You don't believe those old legends about the Lost Skeleton of Cadavra, do you?" And the other scientist (two scientists in one movie!) says, "Ranger Brad, I'm a scientist, I don't believe in anything." If any of you are looking for a movie to watch for Halloween, I would suggest this one (with a healthy dose of it's a spoof so their acting is wooden for a reason) or Watcher in the Woods (which is actually pretty scary, despite being in the family section of the video store).

Frosty the Snowman still alive and well.

No greenhouses in the North Cascades so no worries Frosty. I just got back from a quick 24 hour camping trip to the North Cascades with Whitney (aka Pepper). I've never been on the North Cascades Highway (SR20) and it is supposed to be one of the most beautiful drives in the United States. Well, it is. After a chillsville night of camping where we stole back our $15 at the closed campground to stay at the open one next door, we cruised the road in style. Here's a picture of Goodell Creek where we mercifully found a campsite and thought it was raining all night because of the constant pouring of falling leaves on our tent. Then we drove across the Gorge and took pictures of the beautiful waterfalls there. The more interesting bit was walking across the bridge decking and watching what was below. Mom, I took this picture just for you.
So, I was expecting cold temperatures and fall foilage but guess what folks, global warming has not reached the northern part of our state. It's blanketed in the real white stuff up there. The first hike we went one was a quick 2 mile round trip to Rainy Lake . . . through the snow. It was spectacularly beautiful and warranted a rousing rendition of "Walking in a Winter Wonderland". Then we did a 4 mile (6 miles? Really, I walk around G-Lake faster than that . . . had to have been farther) up to Blue Lake through the snow. I uh, would like to add all sorts of witty dialogue about how Whitney wants to be called Pepper from now on and about appropriate trail etiquette (stand aside if you're moving so slow even the banana slugs are passing you) but here is a trip where the pictures speak for themselves.

Better Off Dead. Naw, not really!

Tonight a bunch of us all gathered together to watch one of the finest cinematic achievements of the past 100 years. Casablanca? Rio Bravo? No, of course not, Better Off Dead. Oh genius. We had fronch bread, fronch fries, and to drink, Peru! Seriously, we did. I think half the room (there were about 20 of us) hadn't seen it before. Travesty children! It's an essential component of any esoteric 1980's pop culture movie conversation. Where else would you learn such important ski lessons such as "Go that way. Really fast. If something gets in your way, turn." It's kept me safe so far. Or the importance of keeping your newspaper bills paid, not boiling bacon, or lighting matches after drinking primer? The best thing is that I'm close to matching Charles Dumar and saying, "I've been in this school seven years Lane, I'm no dummy." Here's Emily with the fronch fries.

101 Dalmations! I mean, 101 Losses!

Sorry, but 101 cute little puppies with black spots sounded nicer than losses. Despite having a $100 million+ payroll (second highest in the league?), those little M's can't put a single game together and tonight was no exception. Tonight I went with Kurt to watch the M's hang in there against the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim and Greater Orange County with a Particular Emphasis on Southern California. We were tied in the top of the ninth but J.J. gave up a two-run homer. Anyway, not important. The important things were that Kurt's tickets were on the sixth row along the first baseline! If only we hadn't traded Sexie to the Yankees. But fortunately, Texas/Atlanta gave the Angels Texie who was actually better. Yes sir, Mark Teixeira shakes his rump while guarding first base. It's ridiculous! What is he doing? Also, we had a fun time trying to decipher what the crazy man six rows back was yelling. Great game. Peanuts, cracker jack, red vine, hot dogs . . . we celebrated the 101st loss of the season in style.

Holla back Phantom, I'm right here.

Tonight I went with my back door neighbors to the Phantom of the Opera at the Paramount. Now despite the fact that I've been able to play many of the songs due to my one year of piano lessons (I didn't say I played well), the only time I've seen it is the movie version. And what a show! Nothing like a good old romance where one of the men is a horribly disfigured musical genius from the sewer . . . and shoots wussy red sparks out of a cane. Still not sure what that was supposed to do but apparently Raoul didn't know either because he pretty much just grabbed Christine and wandered offstage unconcerned. I thought the chandelier could have really plummeted onto the stage with explosions and legitimate diving for dear life. But, it's definitely worth seeing on stage, it's just fun. The funniest part was that there were two mesmerized Christine's when the Phantom started singing. Nice! But, keep the mask on Phantom-man, you're icky under there. Thanks Jeanette for getting us all tickets and to Sarah for picking them up.

And the speed of the Internet!

So I got the email of the picture from Drew this morning. In my defense, I wasn't expecting a picture and so I was in the middle of choking down a very, very dry "beef burger". If I end up moving there, my major plan will be to re-introduce Worcestershire sauce to its native land. C'mon people . . . moist, delicious. You shouldn't have to choke down meat. There's sauce for that stuff. The only sauce they provided was "mint sauce" which was runny and green. I don't think my mom would approve. Anyway, Pete of "Pete at the White Horse Pub" fame is sitting across from me. His brother Drew is sitting behind him, Bro. Whitcomb is in the back, Sis. Whitcomb is next, then the little brother who just returned from his mission to England and I don't know the name of because he was at the other end (and younger and not Pete), and sitting next to me is Drew's wife Andrea. There you are, the wonderfully random members I met in an English pub in Oxford.

Ahh, the miracle of Google.

So . . . whenever it is a Saturday night and I'm at the lab (which is probably more often than is healthy), I refuse to work on science (read papers, write a thesis, etc.) while I'm there doing the science I have to (pipetting, tissue culture, transformation, gels, etc.). So the things I have done to pass the time are as follows: darts (yes we have them), watch episodes of Love Boat online (it's a bit more questionable than I recall), read books about sailing (reminds me that things could get much worse in life), check my email ad nauseum (and realize that I'm probably the only one not having fun). In short, part sad and part boring. But whatever. This is how research gets done . . . so when you feel like they should have cured cancer already, please be patient. Anyway, tonight I was looking through pictures of my past month and was reminding myself that I've already taken enough time off and so it is perfectly natural to be sitting here until 10 PM. Then I decided to see if I could track down the family I met at the pub in Oxford. They took a picture of all of us and I'd like a copy. Enter Google. Thirty seconds later, I'm emailing Drew (one of the sons . . . Peter was the British one) for a copy of that very picture. Thanks Google! I'll make sure to post the picture if this late night boredom actually worked.

Ready, Aim, Fire!

So after four days in Seattle, I decided that I just missed the airport too too much. So I woke up at 3 AM to catch a 5 AM flight to Washington D.C. The NIH put us up in a plush hotel and then ran us through two quick days of a conference designed to recruit graduate students to the NIH for postdoctoral work. I met with three PIs while here in Bethesda and got three offers for flybacks if I wanted it. I don't know. I just have no clue. Anyway, my cousin Julia and her family live in the area and so I spent today with them. We drove out to Antietam where it happened to be their anniversary weekend since the Civil War Battle of Antietam was on September 17, 1862. They had living history reenactors demonstrate cannons, muskets, and salted pork. Here's a picture of Brian, Julia's husband, giving their daughter Hannah a closer look at the business end of some heavy artillery. It was fascinating. These guys spend their own money, make their own clothes, and take time off of work to volunteer their time showing us tourists how things were. Did you know that hard tack was disgusting or that Van de Kamps was making pork and beans . . . in tin cans . . . clear back in the 1830s? Talk about shelf life of a company. Here's a picture of the spread that soldiers would carry in their packs. What I found so surprising is that most men in the war (if they survived) typically only fought 1-3 days out of the entire year. They spent most of their time conducting drills and reading "A Tale of Two Cities." After the cannon fire, we went into the visitor's center to watch an extensive movie on the Battle of Antietam . . . bloodiest single day in the Civil War. Unreal. Men killing each other across a lane, other men being mowed down by the hundreds, lines of men picked off like a shooting gallery, left for dead in corn fields, rivers, and roads. And September 18th, they called a truce for the day and sat around and talked about what happened with "the other side". Then they had a musket demonstration. It took 9 steps to load those things. How terrifying it must have been to be standing there in the middle of a smoky battle, desperately trying to reload your weapon! After Antietam, we went to Harper's Ferry which sits at the confluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers. BEAUTIFUL!!! It's here that John Brown raided the artillery house and partly incited the beginning of the Civil War. As I read Stephen Vincent Benet's epic poem on the matter in Mrs. Morris' AP English Lit class at Orem High School, I found it all particularly interesting. And I paid for the most expensive lunch in history. No kidding. I can't even write the number. Believe me folks, those West Virginians are not hurting for cash. And although I was done, and I think the three kids under three were done, Julia was not and so even though it was getting dark, we went to Manassas National Battlefield. I probably need to read up on what happened, but here's a big statue of Stonewall Jackson. And a beautiful moon. And okay, I just thought these guys looked so cool, so here's one last picture. What a great day. Thanks guys! And . . . now it's midnight and I'm waiting two hours for the shuttle to come get me to take me out to BWI. Oh airport, what will I do without you until Thanksgiving???

Thirty-two hours of travel to get to Seattle.

This was our last day in Peru and I won't bore you with the airport details. Only that since we were in the middle of the Amazon rainforest on the opposite side of the country from the international airport, and since there are no direct flights to Seattle, it took a while to get home. Fun things today: The Puerto Maldonado airport was PACKED since a couple flights were late. I was convinced they'd just shove us all on one plane with people standing and sitting wherever they could find room. After the bus, it wouldn't have been a shock. When the flight finally got there, we flew to Cusco and then on to Lima. In Lima, Steve's cousin Julio picked us up and we went out to dinner at a restaurant overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Dinner was fantastic and I ordered Ahi de Gallinas. A sketchy-looking gamish of chicken and peppers . . . with the obligatory hard boiled egg on top.
And for dessert, picarones, which are delightful little donuts.
For dinner, we met up with a friend of ours, Alex Quistberg who is down here in Lima for a summer research project. He brought his girlfriend Lourdes (sp?) and we had a great time. The restroom in this restaurant was hilarious. In the women's room, there were pictures of shirtless men flexing in their frames on the wall. Men, that doesn't happen very often. Maybe at Buca di Beppos where it seems like anything goes. When I got back to the table, I asked if there were some interesting pictures of women on the wall in the men's room. Jonny, surprised, asked, "are there some pictures in the women's room?" I think one of the best things about this trip was meeting all of the locals, our guides, Steve's cousins, everyone. What a friendly and open people they are. I loved it. I would not have had the experience as just a normal tourist so from the bottom of my heart, muchas gracias Abuelo!!!

Basically, don't touch anything!

This morning we got up at about 5:30 for an early morning trip on the lake. This is when the animals are most active. The night before, we watch dozens of blue and yellow macaws travel across the lake to sleep and this morning we watched a lot of them come back in groups of three. We paddled (they paddled us) around the lake and saw toucans, ultra rare herons, vultures, more watsons (stinky heavy birds), a green ibis (super cool!, a vermillion something or other (beautiful brilliant red bird), and more caiman (up to 15 feet long this morning!). Then we went back for some breakfast of pancakes and juice and had a morning siesta. A much needed rest for my legs. They felt fine over the weekend but the heat of the jungle made the skin VERY ANGRY. Oh, it was horrid! Oh well. You're only here once. After the siesta, we went for a morning hike to look at plants, heard a super cool bird that sounds like falling water, saw butterflies, and tasted quinine. It's foul. It's really foul. And water makes it worse. Don't eat that stuff. I might suscribe to the siesta idea because it was bliss to relax in the room for a couple of hours until it cooled down again. That night, we went for another boat ride and saw dozens of capuchins and hundreds of squirrel monkeys migrating home for the night. Okay, here's the funny story of the day. As we were watching the squirrel monkeys jump through the treetops, Jonny asked Jesus if they ever fall. "No, never. These monkeys are specialists. They're engineered to climb trees and jump through the branches." NOT MORE than 20 seconds later, we watched a squirrel monkey fall all the way down into the water. He quickly grabbed a low branch, soaking wet, and went back into the jungle. It was hilarious. What a beautiful and amazing place this rainforest is! But here's what I learned: Don't touch anything. Don't touch the plants, don't touch the dirt, don't touch the water, don't even think about getting close to anything that can actually move (that includes some plants here!), and basically breathing might be dangerous too. The entire ecosystem is to outcompete you (read: kill you so you stop sapping nutrients). Since I got nasty bites in Machu Picchu, I wasn't about to wear anything but long pants and long shirts, despite the heat.

El Infierno Verde!

This morning, we grabbed a taxi to Cusco so we could catch our flight to Puerto Maldonado. Puerto Maldonado is over on the Bolivian border in the deep Amazonian rainforest. When we landed, it was a balmy 90 degrees. Oh, did I say balmy? I meant warm and uncomfortable. The heat wasn't oppressive, but it was headed in that direction. When you go to Peru, go to Puerto Maldonado and book two nights at the Lake Sandoval Lodge through InkaNatura. It was incredible. Good work Steve. They take care of everything. They picked us up at the airport and took us back to their office where we stashed the essentials in an overnight bag. Then, it was off to the boat where we puttered down the Tambopata River to the Madre de Dios River. We had a lunch of fried rice in a giant leaf and then hiked two miles through the jungle to get to the canoe. They then paddled us across the beautiful Lake Sandoval to the Lodge. Absolutely stunning. On the walk, we saw parasitic trees, the largest leaves I've ever seen, leaf-cutter ants in a long row, and a family of about six red howler monkeys! On the canoe, we went through a smelly swamp with neon blue algae clumps (seriously) out onto Lake Sandoval. Stunning. Here is a slideshow of the first part of the day. When we got to the dock, we climbed the stairs to the lodge (still sore from Machu Picchu) and had an hour to relax before we went out on the catamaran for an evening of looking for black caiman. You find them by shining your flashlight and their red eyes reflect that light. Fun things that night were the beautiful sunset, the stars later on, a bird that Jesus saved and then left on shore by some caiman . . . so probably didn't save after all, and a whole bunch of caiman. Oh, and a fellow American tourist that said "I guess the north star isn't out this time of year". Actually, the north star isn't out. And . . . doesn't change based on season. We were dying. And hope Jesus didn't hear. When we got back to the lodge, we had dinner and then relaxed and chatted. Back in the room, they already let our mosquito nets down and I pretty much had the best night's sleep of the entire trip as I fell asleep to the sounds of the Amazon rainforest.

Labor Day at 16,000 feet!

This morning we got up and got into a taxi that drove us two hours to Lares where there are some hot thermal springs. I had no intention of getting in for multiple reasons, the most reasonable being that of my poor little legs. Anyway, we piled into a taxi and drove up, up, up into the high Andes. Here are some lovely llamas we saw along the way. They're so cute!

And at the summit of the pass, the elevation was 16,000 feet. Mmm . . . breathe that crisp, clean blue air. Delish. Here is a picture of the scenery.

Before we left, Steve had bought some bread and fruit to give out to the kids that live up in the mountains so here we are stopping so that Steve could do that. These kids are on their way to school. The surprising thing to me was that every kid wears a uniform, no matter how poor they are. It was incredible, and of course I thought they were so cute.

After two hours of twisting mountain roads, we made it to the thermal baths. I relaxed in the warm Andean sun while the others dove into the clear blue wat . . . oh wait. No. The water was various shades of thick green and murky brown. Yum! But the baths were beautiful, I was not expecting this. They had muy caliente pools ranging all the way down to frio.

Here's a picture of the changing rooms for the thermal baths.

After about an hour and a half, we had our fill and drove the two hours back over the mountains to Lamay. It was fantastic. The taxi only cost us $35. Incredible, no? We wanted to go into Cusco that night so I paid for a taxi to take us all to Sacsayhuaman. When we got there, we found out that to go in, it was going to be $12. We were tired of paying for ruins by this point, so this is what we thought of it.

And here's what I thought of it with empty pockets.

Of course, we weren't in the complex, but we could get close enough to take a picture of Tom and I with our favorite state in the United. Yay for home!

Right next to Sacsayhuaman on the hill overlooking Cusco is the statue Christo Blanco. It is illuminated every night to a blinding white so we hiked up the hill (a short walk) to take pictures.

Here is the hillside overlooking Cusco. What a beautiful city. There are half a million people in Cusco, and there is no "downtown" and no tall buildings. It's a little different that way.

Afterwards, we waited at the suit shop for the tailor to show up and then we caught a taxi back to Lamay. First of all, props to Jonny and Tom for getting us back to Lamay, I had no clue where we were. Second, on the way back, the taxi driver talked the entire time about how much he disliked (read: despised) Chileans. I got the gist, you'd need to talk to Tom and Jonny for the full story. What I got was hilarious.