Snippets - Springtime Version

Work
"I spent 15 minutes on part b of number 4."

"Yeah, a lot of people probably never got that one."

"Oh, I figured it out. I just looked and looked and looked at it until I realized that work is negative! Then all the equations were right."

Work, I thought smugly as I wandered ahead of the two boys walking out of a large building full of science classrooms, is always negative. Seems such a simple assumption. It gets in the way of napping and watching TV and writing my book.

All negative, indeed.

Definition
Setting: Conference room 2 door down from my office
Purpose: Maria's dissertation project discussion

I hear: blah, blah, blah, blah, [key word].

I say: "[Key word]? I have a friend who works on that."

Boss: "On campus?"

Henry: "Could he help?"

Katie: "She would probably help. I could ask." Then I tried to think of ways to apologize for dragging Friend into extra work.

Though I did learn something when I wrote: "I think we'd want a strain that had arrested - meaning it doesn't grow anymore, yes? Or does that mean dead? I think we want the little guys alive. I think."

Friend (very kindly, I thought): Arrested means that the rate of cell division is equal to the rate of cell death. So, while they would happily grow again if given more space
and food, the net effect is no growth.

Which reminds me of several days ago
"I have to pick up IRB forms on my way to the office tomorrow. Then I'll make copies, make sure the individual folders are ready and we'll be all set to recruit!"

"Are you going to see the guy you hate?"

"Stupid IRB guy who screwed up the new application? I doubt it. I wish I would though - he deserves to be yelled at. And kicked."

Friend didn't reply, so I poked my head out of the bathroom. "He does deserve to be kicked." I defended myself.

"I'm sure." She answered. "I was just trying to remember if I had my checkbook so I could bail you out of jail if you killed him."

"Oh. I'm not going to kill him. Assault is the worst I'll do."

As I picked up my cell phone and iPod and tucked them into their appropriate pockets, I considered. "I have about $1200 in my savings right now. I was going to use it for the laser hair payments, but I could pay you back if you need to bail me out of jail."

"Good to know."

"I wonder how much bail is for different offenses. I should call someone."

"Yes," Friend said dryly. "Call the police and ask what you can do to someone for $1000. Good plan."

"I just need general categories." I decided as I patted the dog on the head and headed for my car. "Minor assault, major assault, stuff like that."

I say 'stupid.' They say 'crazy.'
I'm hardly the most fashionable person you'll meet. Yet even I cringe at the sight of girls wearing dresses over jeans. It's just not necessary.

There was this petite little blonde in dark jeans and a brightly colored dress that was about knee-length. She was cuddled into a slightly built man wearing a checked dress shirt with jeans. While I tried to remember the last time I'd seen hair bleached that white, I gained on them as I headed across campus to the Panera that contained the bagel I desperately wanted.

Her: "So I talked to her. I was like, 'do you know him?' and she was like, 'of course I know him.'"

Him: I so didn't know they knew each other! That is, like, crazy!

Her: "I didn't know they knew each other either! Like, I said the same thing!"

Him: "I can't believe they've like met before!"

Me: Good God.

Her: "So I like told her that he like painted and she was like, 'I know.'"

Him: "She knew?! That's crazy!"

Her: "Yes! She was like they talk like all the time about like everything."

Me: Those bagels had better be amazing. I'm not sure anything is worth this.

Her: "So I told her about what he was painting and she was like she already knew!"

Me: Because she knows him.

Him: "Because she knows him! That's crazy!"

Me: Not crazy. Predictable. And redundant. And mind-numbingly boring.

I wish I could tell you how this riveting conversation ended, but we made it to the street. Luckily, there was traffic noise and the brilliant pair stood downwind of me so I couldn't hear them. Otherwise I fear I would have been tempted to step into moving traffic.

And that would have been, like, crazy.

Multiplication
When I wore my pretty skirt, I wore my brown flats (with the bows of ribbon!) without hose. The pinky toe of my right foot was severely injured in this exercise and the blister is so miserably painful I can't really articulate it. Suffice it to say that it's almost crazy.

Have you noticed that when you hurt one part of your foot that you end up with multiple injuries because you walk in such a way that avoids excessive pain to that particular spot, thereby putting odd pressure on other joints and muscles?

My shins are killing me from my odd gait to avoid toe pressure. I almost fell in the shower in a strange attempt to situate my foot so that - once clean - it remained out of the hot spray of water. My ankle hurts from when I jumped when my toe hurt unexpectedly. I think I was distracted by how freaking cold it was this morning (it was probably in the upper 30s! I shivered a bit in my sweatshirt! Crazy, I tell you.), Chienne tugged too hard, and I recoiled from the pain and twisted my ankle funny.

My point is that problems build on themselves. I probably should have just said that in the beginning.

Huh.
"I'm having laser therapy to kill my hair follicles." I told Brother several weeks ago.

"Huh. I'm having laser therapy to quit smoking." He replied and waited expectantly for me incredulous look.

"Wife set it up and paid for it. It's something like acupressure points and her friend at work stopped smoking after doing it so she wants me to go."

"I don't get it."

"Yeah, I don't either, really. It's hard for me to pay attention when Wife talks."

"Obviously."

"Right. But I think that it's supposed to do something to the nerve endings? And make me want to throw up when I think about cigarettes? I'm not sure. I just know I have to go next week."

"Good luck with that." I replied.

"I know. Thanks." He said with a shake of his head.

"I hear you haven't smoked." I said a few days ago when I called him.

"10 days." He announced proudly.

"That's really wonderful, Brother! I'm so pleased for you!"

"I told you it would work. You people all think I'm weird, but I knew it would work!" I heard his wife say in the background. When you're right, you're right.

Oh! And...
I wrote that at work while waiting for a meeting to start. I found myself walking to my car (thereby hurting my feet more) because the bus wasn't waiting and I feel ashamed to wait for it when it's so very nice outside. And because I don't have a sign that says, "I hurt my pinky toe and so now I walk funny, and... Well, problems build on themselves. So I'm taking a ride to my car." I decided to tough it out and walk.

On my way, I noticed there are a number of men wearing corduroy jackets. I think that is fantastic - I really like them a lot. For example, while trying to avoid the 'like, crazy' folks on my walk to bagels, I saw an older gentleman wearing a dark green jacket in soft corduroy. He was untangling the cord to his iPod and I thought him to be both charming and hip. I must have given him a look of approval (I was weakened by the idiots in front of me, I think), because he smiled as he tucked the earbuds in his ears. I saw two more on my walk to the parking lot. So, good call, guys. I appreciate the jackets a great deal.