The Bauer Confidential

If you’re a Big 12 football fan, or just want to see some silly college football smack talk, check out my first ever guest post over at the blog of an old grad school buddy.  Go Huskers (and Tigers)!

One of the best things about traveling is coming home.  I really enjoyed visiting family and friends back in the mid-west, but I was so glad to sleep in my own bed when we returned from our trip.

We had a really nice visit, though I have to admit that flying is even less comfortable when you’ve got a belly the size of a kick ball, and suffer from motion sickness but can’t take anything for it.  We caught up with a couple friends in St. Louis, went to Jefferson City to visit my Mom and Step-Dad, bopped up to Columbia to meet up with some of our grad school peeps, and then over to Illinois to do essentially the same with Matthew’s side of the family.  Matthew’s mom and family threw us a surprise baby shower (well, it was a surprise to me, apparently Matthew was in on it).  It was very nice, we got so many cute outfits (mostly pink) in addition to plethora of bibs and socks!  My mom even came to Illinois for the shin-dig, the whole thing was very sweet and thoughtful.

We headed back on Wednesday and I was home a whole day before I had to head off to Asilomar for the annual retreat for my department.  Though the location is beautiful, the beds are ridiculously hard and I didn’t get much sleep while I was there.  The talks were quite good though; unfortunately sitting still and paying attention for hours at a time isn’t so easy these days with the circus going on in my abdomen.  Spent a little time on the beach, it was high tide though, so I didn’t get to explore the tidal pools like I usually do.

Back in Berkeley now, last night I made my dark chocolate and coffee cake with coffee frosting, by popular request to celebrate a couple birthdays of people in my lab.  Now I’m preparing for my lab meeting on Thursday.  So much fun!

April and I decided that, before the baby arrives, it would be nice to travel home to visit the family.  We left yesterday, arrived in St. Louis, MO last night.  We travel using Southwest, and it is clear to me that the fares are cheep because the employ pilots who must have finished at the bottom of their class.  Landings were rough.

Last night we stayed with April’s friend from college, Laura.  She even made us dinner (thanks again Laura).  Today, we travel to Jeff City, MO to see April’s mother and step-father, and Friday we are going to swing by Columbia, MO to see some friends and catch-up with our old graduate school lab peoples.  We’ll make it to Illinois on Sunday to see my fam.  Right now, we’re still in St. Louis sitting and waiting for a friend at a St. Louis Bread Co, (Panera to anybody not from St. Louis).  Oh how we have missed you, cinnamon crunch bagel.

I have never felt an earthquake until my move to the bay area.  Not that I haven’t had any opportunities.  Believe it or not, the midwest does have some seismic activities due to the New Madrid fault line, the cause of what is believed to be the strongest earthquake in U.S. history.  Presumed of course, the rector scale didn’t exist in 1811-12.  I was 12 (I think), and there was a 4.0 earthquake, centered around southern Illinois.  I don’t know how much it shook my parents house, I slept through it.  So, I never felt any significant quakes until I moved to Berkeley.  Now I live less than a mile from the hayward fault line.  FYI, U.C. Berkeley, back in 1923, built their football stadium right on top it.  They still use it every year, and every year the east half and the west half slide a minuscule amount past each other.  The first earthquake I actually felt, a 3.4, occurred at 3:30pm about a month after I moved here, on my walk back to lab from getting coffee.  It felt weird, like my legs got all wobbly for a second.

Last Friday night around 9pm, the latest quake hit.  A 4.0 about 25 miles east.  April and I were on the couch, and it felt like a Semi-truck hit the house, which was followed by some rolling aftershocks.  This wasn’t the worst.  So far the worst has been a 4am, 4.2 quake that was centered in Berkeley.  Believe it or not, the shake didn’t wake us.  I’m not sure what it was, but something woke both of us at the same time about five seconds before the quake hit.  It was kind of odd, we could hear it rolling towards us, and then our apartment became a 007 martini.  It was a bit scary, probably more so because we were still sleepy from just waking.  It broke windows at the grocery store down the road, and made a small crack in our mirror in the bathroom.

I wondered what the Native Americans thought when the earth shook like that.  It scared me, and I knew what was going on.

On a side note, counting the quake I slept through when I was young, I have been in six quakes.  All of them have occurred at night, except one.  It’s a small sample size, but it made me wonder if earthquakes happen more at night?  I did some looking, and this is all I’ve found.  Still, every time I drive across one of the many bridges here in the bay area, or when taking the train across the bay, I always think “this would be a really sucky time for a quake.”

I’ve taken some inspiration from other blogs I frequent, and instead of coming up with a thoughtful and original post, I’m going to introduce you to some of my favorite time-wasters.  Mainly, I like to visit these sites when I need a laugh.

Ever ordered a cake from a commercial bakery and gotten something not quite right?  Then you’ve experienced a Cake Wreck first hand.  Even if you haven’t had personal experience, these creations will leave you scratching your head and asking, “Why?”

It’s not news, it’s FARK.  Since we don’t have cable, this is my substitute for the Daily Show.  You’ll be amazed at the news going on in the US and abroad, and even more astounded by the witty headlines people come up with to describe these events.

Anyone who ever had roomates or had to interact with others on a daily basis will appreciate Passive-agressive notes.  This site will make you think twice about leaving snarky notes for those around you, and make you appreciate that you don’t have these sorts of issues.

If you appreciate photography, funny stories about ranch life (calf-nuts and all), in addition to delicious looking recipes, check out The Pioneer Woman.  Anyone who loves bacon this much is definitely my kind of gal.

At least one entry per day on I can has cheezburger makes me laugh out loud.  I also like its sister sites, I has hotdog and failblog (not always work safe).  I’m a sucker for cute animals (as the links to CuteOverload and StuffonMyCat.com in the side bar show) and a enjoy a bit of schadenfreude watching the people on failblog hurt themselves.

I think that will do it for now, happy web surfing, and don’t waste too much time, though laughing is good for you!

This weekend marks the start of the third trimester of this pregnancy.  I don’t know what I expected really, I certainly wasn’t going to be a wimpy pregnant lady.  I didn’t understand all these women who would take off work in the last trimester, cry at the drop of a hat, or seemingly loose their ability to function normally.  I’ve always been one to keep my emotions in check pretty well, I believe in logic and reason above all else.  That was until I started crying for no damn reason.  And when I say no reason, I mean no reason.  Today at work, of all places, sitting at my desk I just started crying and couldn’t stop.  I wasn’t sad, I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t in pain.  There was absolutely no reason I could come up with for it, and it took a while to stop.  Then when I called Matthew to tell him that maybe going to lunch with his coworkers might not be such a great idea for me, I started crying again when I told him about the pointless crying.  This isn’t the very first incident, but the first time that there was absolutely nothing to cause such an outburst.  Am I going to have to hide for the next thirteen weeks for fear of embarrassing myself among my co-workers?  Though I think ultimately they’d understand, having to explain something like this to people is about as bad as the embarrassment.

I’m also begining to be slowed down by the changes to my body.  My exercise routine has definitely had to be curtailed significantly, and I’m going to need to switch to swimming as of now due to gravity and pressure.  My normal walking rate is getting slower and slower, bending over at the waist is a thing of the past.  Is it bad that I’m ready to be done being pregnant already?  I know rationally that carrying the baby as long as possible is essential, but that doesn’t take the aches away.  I don’t want to be a complainer, and I also know that I’ve actually been pretty lucky in terms of the discomforts of pregnancy.  I made this choice and knew that it wouldn’t be easy.  Still I’m surprised by how I’m affected, perhaps it’s my pride that’s hurt the most because I may not be as strong, physically or emotionally, as I’d always imagined I was.  So maybe I am a wimp, or maybe it’s harder than I was previously able to imagine.  If the baby would stop punching me in the bladder maybe I’d feel better, or maybe I just need some ice cream.

Until two years ago I lived a small town/suburban life.  More years than I care to count were spent in “College Town, USA.”  To find two positions in the same town, Matthew and I knew that an urban center would be our best bet.  In the end our choices were limited, and Berkeley beckoned as a place we could be together and continue on our professional paths in our areas of interest.

I want to go on the record as saying that there are many things I really like about the bay area.  I love the weather (though I do sometimes tire of the rainy season), public transit system, convenience of restaurants, shops, theaters, museums and other entertainment.  Somedays, however, I wonder if all that convenience comes at too high of a price.

Today I had a strange experience on BART, I was transporting a canning pot full of glass jars into the city for to make some jam and applesauce with a friend.  The pot was very heavy so I picked a bench that was unoccupied and set the pot on the seat next to me, this wasn’t hard to find since the train was practically empty.  About 30 seconds later, an older lady came up to me, pointed to the pot and told me, quite rudely, that she wanted that seat.  I was perplexed, as there were many open seats, some closer to the doors, but placed the pot on the floor and gave her the seat.  I assumed the woman must have some sort of physical reason to be so particular about her seat, but I was wrong, there was nothing physically amiss with this woman (except a compulsion to wear plastic gloves on public transit, but maybe that’s mental not physical).  After changing trains, I felt quite guilty for not giving up my seat to a different older woman while I was boxed into a seat with my hands full as teenagers and young men made no move to give her their space.  These two experiences got me thinking about the mentality of urban residents.

Does being one of so many make it easier to give less consideration to others?  You know it is highly unlikely that you will encounter the people you meet on the train in other aspects of your life, so how you treat them makes no difference.  Be rude, be considerate, it doesn’t matter because there are no reprecussions for your actions.  Cars packed on the freeway, people jostling lines at the grocery store, there’s no reason to be kind to those around you because it doesn’t affect your life.  Still I can’t help but think that if we were more considerate of others, and they returned the favor in sort of a pay it forward scenario, in the end life would be easier for all of us.

I think this self-importance translates to other aspects of people’s lives.  It manifests as city councils, like those of Berkeley, that won’t fix pot holes or public safety issues, but have plenty of time to pass resolutions for Impeaching the US President and VP or trying to muscle out Army recruiters.  The activist tradition of the bay area is tarnished by people who choose to devote their efforts and waste public resources for poorly reasoned causes, often endangering themselves or others.  The self-righteousness of people quoted in papers and featured on the news is ridiculous, and makes it unsurprising that it takes forever to accomplish even the smallest things around here.

I’m not saying you won’t find inconsiderate and/or self-righteous people in small towns, but I think those people feel the effects of their actions.  When people know you and your deeds/words, they’re more likely to hold you accountable.  This probably explains why most people would prefer to live in a small town if given the chance.  I don’t know what to do about this predicament.  We have to live here for a few more years at the least, but when the chance comes, I really hope we can go to a place that is not so anonymous; I miss “College Town, USA.”

I was looking at all the different sports on-line yesterday, and I know the more popular ones which are in the Olympics: Basketball, baseball, gymnastics, swimming (Michael Phelps to be precise since he is the sport to many Americans), and beach volleyball.  I saw the sport of shooting, and my first thought was “Americans should kick ass in the sport!”  Team USA isn’t doing bad, but they’re not kicking ass and I don’t understand why?  America has more guns per person than probably any developed nation, and with a high populations of hunters and rednecks, we should be kicking some serious tail.  If all else fails, we have the urban gangs.  I know aiming isn’t one of their strong suits, but I’m sure there has got to be a diamond in the rough out there somewhere.

Also, I was talking with April the other day and was wondering if there are any sports that are not in the Olympics but should be.  For example, should Golf or Bowling or maybe even Billards be included?  I know they’re popular in America, but are they popular in enough countries to be included?  Any thoughts about this out there?

My family is pretty big into sports.  My dad is a wrestling coach, my brothers have played just about every sport that is played in middle america.  Growing up, at least one TV in that house seemed to be perpetually tuned to ESPN.  Even my grandparents are big into football, my 84 year old grandmother loves the Huskers (is there any other team? Go Cornhuskers, woot!).  I’m not as interested in sports, most of the time.  I loved playing volleyball in high school, and was a pretty good thrower in track and field.  I really enjoyed playing co-ed softball in grad school and like to go out and play a friendly game of just about anything.  Watching sports on TV is a different story, as a general rule, I just don’t enjoy it.  I’ll happily go to any live sporting even and have a great time, but somehow it looses something in the broadcasting.

There is, however, one huge exception for me:  the Olympics.  I love the Olympics.  Have since I was a kid; I still remember watching the ‘84 LA games when I was six and falling in love with gymnastics, turning porch railings into balance beams and nearly cracking my head open.  I’ll watch pretty much any Olympic event, summer or winter games.  Since the start of this year’s games on Friday, the Olympics have pretty much taken over my life.  OK, that’s an exaggeration, but my evenings anyway.

The timed sports are the easiest to watch.  It doesn’t get much better than watching the American’s kick the speedo-clad butts of the French team in the 4×100meter freestyle after the anchor of the French team had professed that they would “crush” the American’s (though it would have been better if I hadn’t forgotten that live on the NBC screen means live East Coast time, so you should not look at CNN if you want any surprises).

The judged events are a different story.  I’m sure a lot of it is training and knowledge of the sport, but I’m often left scratching my head as to why one routine scores so much higher than another.  The most difficult system to grasp is the new gymnastics way of scoring.  I hate it.  It used to be a 10 was the best you could do in anything.  Now they give a difficulty score and an execution score, these scores are combined and any deductions subtracted to give the final score.  I appreciate rewarding athletes for the more difficult routines, but there is no longer the transparency of knowing which judge gave what score.  The process is even more hidden from the viewers.  The judges can review tapes of a given performance and then go and compare them to any other routine from that competition.  And they can go back and devalue or increase a score at anytime.  This just strikes me as wrong.  And it takes forever for them to give the scores.  Supposedly this is system will ensure less bias in the judging, but I don’t see it.

So I’ll just go on holding my breath as the men and women launch themselves into the air and grasp the high bar or uneven bars at the very last instant.  I’ll try not to care too much about the scores.  It was great to see the American men’s gymnastics team, composed of Olympics newbies after the loss of the Hamm brothers, take home the bronze when they weren’t even expected to be in the running.  It’s not always about the gold.

It’s been a while since we’ve expanded our cultural horizons.  Sure we see movies and read books, but we haven’t been to a play or a museum in a stretch.  We decided it was time to remedy this situation.  There are so many opportunities in our area to see great art and we really haven’t made enough of an effort to seek out such things since we moved to the bay area.  We remedied that a bit last weekend with a trip in to SF.

The bay area seems to sleep later than we’re accustomed to, but this is good for us; it means fewer crowds in the mornings.  We got up at a reasonable hour last Sunday and caught BART into the city and then a bus to Golden Gate Park (and the bus was quite crowded for 10:00 on a Sunday morning, I thought).  We came particularly to see a limited engagement exhibit at the De Young Museum of the artist Dale Chihuly.  I’d heard of people waiting hours to see this installment, but because we got there so early we went in immediately.

A master of color and light, Chihuly’s exhibitions are different than most artwork featured at museums.  The works are often large in scope and scale, comprised of many individual pieces of glass-work.  He came to fame for his innovative work with blown glass, but having lost the sight of one eye due to an accident, he can no longer “make” the individual pieces, but is the director of a group of artists who follow his vision.  Some of the works are visually stunning, sometimes even jarring, while one piece (glass bowls made to look like ancient indian woven baskets) was surprisingly subtle.  I can’t help but like Chihuly, I love vibrant colors, I love the radiance in some of the pieces.  His “Persian” pieces, comprised of many individual off center bowls created with a mille-fiore technique are meant to capture every color in the rainbow.  Individual bowls may have a palette very similar to a Monet “Water-lilies” type of piece, while others use more primary colors.  I prefer the bowls individually to the way they are presented in a large grouping, as they are individually graceful with hues that mix well, but taken as a whole, the piece can feel a bit disjointed, though the forms are constant. Photo courtesy KellyGrimm.com.

I’ve been told that Chihuly isn’t much liked by the artists in his native Seattle.  His work has been met with great commercial success, which often breeds dislike, and a lot of his works are annoyingly similar.  He’s obviously found something that works and is profiting from it.  I’ve seen Chihuly before, in 2002 at the Botanical Garden of Chicago.  I have to admit I preferred it to the De Young exhibit.  Set among plants and other natural elements, the organic and earthy aspects of many of Chihuly’s pieces are brought out, and anything beautiful is made even more so by gorgeous surroundings.  I also ran into a piece at Cold Spring Harbour Labs that was supposedly inspired by green fluorescent and yellow fluorescent proteins in neurons, but it looks a lot like all of his chandelier type pieces, just in pale yellow and green.

I really enjoyed the rest of the De Young museum.  The collection is eclectic to say the least, with modern art, contemporary art, revolutionary war American pieces, art from ancient cultures of south and central America, as well as New Guinea.  I particularly enjoyed the small collection of contemporary art which featured a handful of remarkable pieces.

Once we’d exhausted our eyes and minds at the De Young, we went for a more zen experience at the Japanese Tea Garden.  There we had the most overpriced pot of tea in history ($9 for rather nondescript Jasmine tea with almond cookies and rice snacks, I don’t care if they are served by Japanese girls in Kimonos, it’s still a rip-off after the $4 admission fee).  The garden is enjoyable, a short stroll through a rather non-traditional seeming environment with a few Japanese pieces (some of which are in bad need of repair).  After an even more crowded bus ride to downtown SF, we vainly searched for a decent place to eat, eventually dining in the admittedly upscale food court of the Westfield shopping mall.  By then we were pretty exhausted from all the walking and culture and we called it a day.

Today we tried to continue our cultural education by attending the Berkeley Art Museum.  I admit I’m grateful that admission was free since we work for the university.  Mostly I found this museum disappointing.  It features a lot of modern art, which I really want to like, but just can’t seem to wrap my head around.  I find it mostly pretentious and rarely enlightening or beautiful.  There was a video/performance art piece that I felt represented all that is wrong with modern art, though I’m sure a great deal of people would disagree, and that’s their prerogative.  Art is a highly individualistic by its nature.

There are still a lot of sights to see in the area, and I hope, as we find the time, we will continue to explore them.  Next time we’ll take the camera.