Tales from the Microbial Laboratory

~Airstream, with a touch of RL~

So...I'm slowly putting stuff that I'll need into my Airstream, you know, stuff like a small microwave, plates and wine glasses -- and I must confess that I haven't thought about the decor in any way other than a practical one...but get a look at this, found here in Architectural Digest with this description:

A 14-foot-long Airstream, which was completely refurbished by Ralph Lauren, is one of four unique theme trailers previously auctioned for charity on the polo.com website. Under a pine ceiling stands a pullout peeled-log dining table. The floor is made from salvaged barnwood. (May 2001)

Take a look:  2000, Director "AIRSTREAM" Ralph Lauren, Ralph Lauren Ranch.

I'm pretty sure this won't be happening to my Airstream (the whole Polo look), ya know?  I'm anxious about water, sewer hook-up - fundamental stuff - I just don't think I'm ready to think about a pine ceiling yet...but who knows?

~~~~~

(Thanks Kathy, for pointing this one out to me.  It's pretty hilarious).

~moanin'~

So I haven't spoken in awhile, in a long while, about my pending Airstream lifestyle. 

It's still out there, on the horizon (and literally in the back corner) - and tomorrow morning I meet with my architherapist and I'm hopeful. 

When my Mother's cancer started spreading...over a month ago now...I decided that the new house was something that would happen - when it happens.  It's given me time to accomplish a few things that will ultimately make Airstream Life more pleasurable.

(I know, I know - you're thinking - what could make such a luxurious life...more luxurious?)

Now, living in a 27.5 foot aluminum trailer is sounding nicer and nicer as time goes by - it sounds, well, - simple - and today in lab meeting I caught myself saying that I'll probably be spending alot of time in a chair, under the Airstream's awning, drinking any beer that is on sale and sold in cases.  I can see it.

So I've been, over the months, simplifying. I'm getting by with less and less.

It's not such a bad thing, really - it isn't. 

But the most exciting thing that I have accomplished of late is that I have copied all of my CDs into my iTunes library - over 25 GB's worth.  I love it.  I've never been a huge fan of iTunes, but I am now a huge fan of easy - and so now all of my CDs are packed away - yet I still have access to everything - and I also now have an adapter for my car so I can play my iPod through my car speakers. 

I feel so musically organized.

And having all of this music - all of my music - with me in the Airstream is extremely comforting.  I would hate to be musically-deprived.

(Now, if I could only squeeze my clothes washer and dryer in there somehow...).

But music!  It's a must.

Charles Mingus.  Moanin'.  Even in the Airstream.

   

~electrifying rain~

It was a big day.  And I mean...BIG.

The Airstream now has electricity!  Yep, I can turn on the AM/FM radio and hear it blaring throughout the entire length of the place, all 27.5 feet of her.

The light over the kitchen sink can now turn on - then there's also the hallway light (saying 'hallway' might be stretching it a bit, but hey...), the reading light over the ever-so-comfortable-looking master bedroom bed (and yes, using the words 'master' and 'bedroom' in reference to a foamy thing that pulls out in attempts to resemble a double bed might be stretching it for sure...) -- oh, and then there's the front door light (my future location for interesting moth sightings).  The only light that didn't turn on was the master bath light over the mirror (oh, there I go again...) - so I need to check the small bulbs and see what's up with that.

The electrician that showed up at 8 am this morning was recommended by the man that came to repair my water feature - and I enjoyed talking to him, as we both worked to make an 12-18 inch trench from the utility pole to the end of the Airstream, where the main electricial hook-up was located.  As we were digging, struggling to make it through the dry soil - he paused and asked me 'Aren't you a scientist?' - and then he went on to say that his uncle, who had given me his name, had told him that I was a scientist where he worked at.  There was an eager tone in his voice, and then he went onto say 'Ma'am, would it be okay if I asked you a question that has been troubling me?' to which I replied 'of course', because there are about a hundred million troubling questions floating around the world, and how horrible would it be to not be able to ask the question in the first place?  So his question, as close as I can reflect some eight or so hours later:

So Ma'am, I listen to alot of conservative talk radio during the day when I work with my grandfather, and then I started getting a subscription to Scientific American, and it seems to be that some of what the scientists write about makes alot of sense.  Do you believe that man is contributing to global warming?

It seems that this young man had been excited about coming to my house early on a Saturday morning, that he had even been reading up a little - and after he got out his first big question in a rush of words, he settled down -- and asked me some of the clearest and most well-focused questions that I've ever been asked on the topic.  There was no political bias in his tone, no frustration or anger - but instead there was a genuine desire to learn a little something, to learn and to share thoughts - and before the trench was done we had migrated to the whole God-thing and it ends up he had read an article co-authored by Richard Dawkins  and although it was apparent that he believed in God, and had been raised as a church-going kinda person, the openness to which he approached Dawkins and man's role in global warming was perhaps one of the most hopeful experiences that I have ever had.  We had a dialogue.  We compared viewpoints.  We talked about the current crop of presidential candidates - we talked about gender and race and Oprah and about how frustrated he gets sometimes because his wife is more interested in whether or not Britney Spears is wearing underwear than the condition of our world.  He kept saying 'boy do I love my wife' but 'boy do I have alot of questions that she's not interested in hearing me ask'.  We talked about power.  And how dogs really do deserve to live indoors.  So after a few hours of digging and talking I ended up having electricity safely making it's way into my lovely new future home and I was left with an optimism that I have not felt for a long, long time.  When he mentioned that he hadn't seen An Inconvenient Truth, I made a note to go and buy a copy to give to his uncle to give to him - he had said he wanted to see it, but that it wasn't the kind of thing that he would buy.  To me - his gift of optimism was huge (and even more so, during this oddly materialistic season of giving), and I'd love to share with him a view of the world that while flawed and imperfect - is eye-opening and troubling and ....oh, you know.   Before he left, he told me about a visit to his counselor when he was in middle school, where he was asked what he might want to be when he grew up - when he responded 'marine biologist' the counselor told him to think of something else, because he'd never make any money being a biologist. 

It makes me sad tonight, to think about how this young man was discouraged - where does that need to say oh, you don't want to be that or do that come from?

When I started going down this road, this moving-into-an-Airstream-while-building-a-new-house-road, I had told myself that I wanted individuals to be a part of this place - that I wanted to have the work done by people that would somehow become as important a part of the whole experience, and today was just what I was talking about.  Yes, the Airstream now has electricity - but it also has a new story.

~~~~~

So the electricity hook-up was done a few minutes before rain - yes, rain - started to fall.  We haven't gotten much, yet, but I'm hoping for more showers late tonight - the garden is desperately dry and as I was thinking of a haiku that was appropriate for a sadly dry garden - using a delightful gift from Pennsylvania friends who know, deep down, that there's nothing like poetry on an Airstream (a place where one automatically thinks of washing dishes while sipping on a RC cola and eating a moon pie) - I was thinking back on the last day that we had rain, a hard rain, and I couldn't.  It's been a long time, much too long.  If I remember correctly, I heard somewhere that 2007 would go down as the driest year on record in parts of the southeast.      

~vulnerability~

Today I checked another item off my s-l-o-w-l-y dwindling list of things to do regarding my new home:  I had the geotechnical survey done to determine the required depth of my new home's pilings.  The guys doing the test were patient with my constant questioning, and even let me jump on board of their rig and see what they were doing.  Based on what they observed in the field, it looks like I have about 12 or so feet of sand, followed by about 12 feet of clay - then back to sand (with a bit of clay mixed in).  The water table was at ~6.5', which is actually pretty low for around here, and was surprising since I'm so close to the water (coastal marshes).

This was indeed a test though of another kind.  It was the first piece of equipment that came into my garden - the cone penetration rig was on a large and long flatbed truck, and the rig had tires with metal ridges that destroyed all of the grass that it went across.  I'm not so worried about the grass - I recognize that a certain amount of it (aka all of it around the building site) will be destroyed - but it's the plants that worry me, and I cringed as the rig rolled past a crepe myrtle, clipping off a few small branches, and when it pushed up against the six foot gardenia.  Overall, the trees and shrubs and ferns and perennials faired well - but it was the left side of my front gate (and post) that splintered as the end of the flatbead truck clipped it on the way out.  I found myself not minding at all - my garden made it through, and anyway - the company had someone back out at my place not even two hours later, fixing the gate post with a smile.  I laughed and told him that I almost felt guilty, that he was making it better than it had been, to which he responded that it was a beautiful day and that he liked doing a good job.  It's hard not to appreciate that kind of attitude.  Now, within a few weeks, I'll receive a technical report describing the land that I garden on down to about 40 feet.

I also shed a few more possessions today - assisted by the lab's eclair-making postdoc and nanoparticle-examining doctoral student.  I gave some bookshelves to the postdoc - ones that I decided not to carry over to the new place - and while he was out at my place, he also picked up several of my larger potted plants that he volunteered to care from during the winter months, since the Airstream isn't exactly the place for a good-sized bromeliad, cardamom ginger, jade, pink variegated lemon (Citrus limon 'Eureka Variegated Pink') or topiaried Australian mint bush (Prostanthera rotundifolia).  While they were here, they also helped me take down a few heavier items from my deck - a shallow clay pot that contains small rocks from just about every river I've ever touched with my bare toes, a teak table that they placed in front of the Airstream (which was renamed my 'breakfast nook') - as well as a few other plants (a passion vine and a hibiscus) that I'll try to keep warm and covered myself.  My deck, which wraps around over half of my place - is now close to bare, and after they left I sat in one of the few remaining chairs in the warm sun - wishing that I could spend the rest of the day there, feeling warm and quiet and still.  But instead I had to head to the lab for my final class of the semester.

Perhaps the biggest accomplishment of the day was when the eclair-maker and nanoparticle-examiner showed me how to unlock the Airstream's awning - and for the first time, I saw it unfurled it in all of it's travel-trailer glory.  It's blue, with a ruffled front edge (as one would only hope) - and although it was pretty dirty, there were no tears or rips in it - and we all quickly agreed that it transformed the Airstream from...an Airstream into a home - and I have to admit that it was somehow comforting to me to see this extension of my new temporary home's space.  Tonight it was again rolled back up, because it is missing the pins that keep the awning poles locked out and in place - but I'll try and find some pins that work this weekend.  The outside of the Airstream is now a collection of live oak acorns, assorted bird feeders that need to be relocated from the soon-to-be demolished deck, beach chairs and an assortment of teak furniture that will become a valuable extension of the Airstream's living space.  The place is a mess right now - oh let's face it, my entire place is chaotic - and I don't sense that changing until a few more things are moved, and until a few things are re-arranged and connected.  But today progress was made, and that feels good.

~~~~~

I felt strange today, seeing my plants driving off in the back of someone's truck.  This shedding of one's possessions is an awkward process - they are just plants, plants can be propagated, returned, purchased - but I have been telling myself that alot lately:  this is temporary, this shifting and dispersing of one's surroundings.  But I must confess to a certain amount of insecurity in not being blanketed by things that are familiar (and comforting) to me.  Plants provide comfort, as do books and art and photographs of people in frames that I care for deeply.  The cross on my wall that for years was above the desk of a friend long dead of Lou Gehrig's disease.  The African tempera painting on muslin titled 'Palm Wine Show' purchased by an ex during a trip to Africa - deep, vibrant colors of a celebration with liquids flowing out of beautifully shaped gourds.  What I have to remind myself, as another layer of material belongings depart the premises, is that I am, like everyone is, larger than the possessions that surround me - larger and stronger and more interesting - and that in their absence, my world will be lighter - although for awhile I will be viewing it from more vulnerable, seemingly naked, eyes.  With every item that leaves here, my heightened sense of my own vulnerability rises - but all the while I acknowledge the growing sense of excitement that comes from a new journey to be experienced while carrying a lighter load.

~~~~~

Gonna change my way of thinking,
Make myself a different set of rules.
Gonna change my way of thinking,
Make myself a different set of rules.
Gonna put my good foot forward,
And stop being influenced by fools.

Bob Dylan, Gonna Change My Way of Thinking
   

~loungewear~

Sometimes, when things seem like they are just getting too serious for their own good (my own thoughts, that is) someone alerts me to someone else (John B. over at Blog Meridian, telling me to take a look at this post over at The Shallow End) about something that, well, just makes you smile.  Yes, Target is selling flannel pajamas covered in festively decorated Airstreams.

Yes, perhaps the Airstreams needs - no, deserves - a flamingo?  As for me, we don't do flannel so well here in the south.  But these are tempting, and perhaps they could become the attire of choice on cool evenings while lounging outside of the Airstream by the fire...

Someone please tell me to go outside and play with my new chainsaw. 

Questions Looming (just below the surface)

So what if...I really like living in the Airstream?

So what if...I quit my job and travel the world (Egypt perhaps?) in my Airstream?

So what if...

Airstream Envy

Erik Friedlander's Block Ice and Propane

Track Three, Airstream Envy

(Oh, and after you watch the video, take a look at Bruce Littlefield's interview on the Today Show - Bruce is the author of Airstream Living, and yes, I've got the book).

And no, I haven't moved into mine yet.  But it looks like the house plans are getting finalized, which means the location of the house on my land is getting solidified (so I'll know soon about whether or not the current utility pole will stay or go) - and then I'll be able to get quotes from builders, move into the Airstream, and start the demolition of my current place...that's all that needs to be done.  Yep, that's it.  It's nothing, really.

~yes, more trailer paintings~

My sunflowers don't seem to mind this hot August day - and I suppose that I don't either, since I've spent it on my side of the world and away from my office.  I enjoyed lunch out with a former lab postdoc - fish tacos at Poe's make me happy - and being out at Sullivan's in the middle of the day makes me happy too.

Mowing the grass on a such a hot day does not make me particularly happy, but it needs to be done.  I'm doing it in sections - first the shady area under the live oaks, then the small front area and the sunny side (around the vegetable beds) and if there's time (and the motivation) the area in the back around the fruit trees.  I realized today how much less grass (lawn) that I have now - I'm not willing to give it up entirely, and I like the grass that is shaded by the live oaks - but there is still quite a bit that I hope to sacrifice to the feverish-planting gods.

But trailer paintings!  After mentioning the trailer paintings of Stephanie Nance, and actually having the phrase 'trailer paintings' on my site, I have realized that more people that you might ever imagine actually google the phrase.  All of this lead me to even more trailer paintings - and in particular, to the paintings of California painter William Wray.   This is what he says on his site about his work:

If Thomas Kincaid is the painter of light, I'm the painter of blight. Whether it's an old Drive–in or trailer park, trains or sun bleached Gremlins, my subjects are bound to be demoed, towed to the junkyard or explode when the Meth chemicals combust. As a founding member of the L.A. River School of painting, I chronicle the fast disappearing pockets or industry, urban decay and run down rural areas. Places most consider not worth remembering, let alone turning them into works of art.

Blight perhaps (to some), but blight captured in such beautiful colors.

Yes, I'm thinking that there are going to be a series of Airstream paintings coming out of all of this, a reflection of this soon-to-best new strange life of mine.  My own personal (and colorful) blight.

Airstream Central Control

So, this is what happens when I'm working on a grant:  I work on the grant in my head while I'm doing all sorts of other things.  So today, while working on my proposal that is due to be sent out on Wednesday, this is what I've been really doing...

Pondering sunflowers.  I like them.  I planted mine late this year - about mid-July, and already some of them are getting ready to bloom.  I planted alot of different varieties - the yellows (e.g., mammoth, lemon sorbet, moonshadow, lemon aura) - and a bunch of the red ones too (e.g., prada red, red sun).  I pretty much plant them anywhere there is a hole in the garden - especially in my vegetable garden, where the heat has gotten the best of the tomatoes and where the potatoes were harvested months ago now.  There was recently a nice article on sunflowers over at the Washington Post - where they mentioned Renee's Garden as a good source for seed.  There's also Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds, where some of the older varieties are found (like italian white, which is one of my favorites).  My first-ever scientific publication was on sunflowers - so I'm a bit biased I suppose - and always have the thought wandering around in my head that I want to start trying to help with growing varieties of south american varieties in order to contribute to seed stocks.  I could easily do that - if I would just do it (like so many things, right?).

Pondering Airstream life.  So I decided on 'Autumn Mist'.  What can I say - they went with the refrigerator - but know that I took everyone's comments into consideration.  They're lightweight, virtually unbreakable, and take up no space.  Plus the pattern is subtle enough that I don't think they'll drive me nuts after awhile.  Lovely, aren't they?  Last evening, with friends, they all said that our next gathering needs to be at my place - my place - referring to the Airstream.  Wait!  Does this mean that I'll need more than a four-place setting?  Airstream life is getting too complicated already (although on the upside - a friend has a spare closet and alot of wall space - which will help with the whole 'what do I do with clothes and shoes' dilemma - as well as the decision about where several of the larger paintings will go).  See - everything is falling into place.  S-L-O-W-L-Y.  (Note the microwave - I found a small one that fits perfectly in the alcove above the refrigerator, which is essentially the only place that one could possibly fit).

   

Pondering ferns.  I'm growing fond of this fern -  the arborvitae fern (that I see as Selaginella pallescens here and as Selaginella braunii syn. pallescens here and as Selaginella braunii here and that's all I'm going to go into, because I'm working on a grant today, remember?!) - now that it's established, it's doing extremely well in my zone 8b garden - and here we are, in the middle of some of the hottest weather we have had in years, and it could care less.  It's hard not to appreciate a plant that seems to enjoy August along the South Carolina coast. (Oh, I've been misleading - it's not really a true fern - but is instead a prehistoric fern, referred to as club moss - it's a vascular plant that produces spores (and not seeds), hence the whole fern confusion thing.  Unless I'm confusing myself - botany was years and years ago.

Pondering true ferns.  Now I've misplaced the tag for this fern - it's on my desk somewhere, and I'm guessing that as I sort through my life, packing everything up, that I'll come across it.  I'm not sure how I feel about this one.  (I think I ordered it from Wayside Gardens - one of the few things that I've gotten from there, but it definitely caught my eye - and when I went to find it today, I didn't see it on their website, which could explain alot.)  As the fronds unfurl - they're almost a golden brown - and as the fronds mature, first they are a nice green, and then they become weighted down with...fern babies (I know, I know, there are words for these things, but again, I'M WORKING ON THE GRANT AT THE SAME TIME SO YOU CAN'T EXPECT TOO MUCH).  Here are some good fern links though (for another time perhaps).

 

Pondering corals.  Yes, there really is a grant. 

From an ecological perspective, little is known about the role of the coral holobiont in key biogeochemical cycling processes that influence not only coral reef health, but contribute to the global ecosystem, thus making the current degradation of coral ecosystems worldwide an urgent scientific challenge. 

Okay, it's a start, right?  I think it'll be a busy few days.

~trailer paintings~

So out in the world, in Austin, Texas, more specifically - there is an artist painting wonderful little paintings of Airstreams and other travel trailers.  Who knew?  I didn't, but fortunately she left a comment on my site.  I'm glad that she stopped by.

Her name is Stephanie Nance and you can see her work here.  If you enter her site, click on Portfolio and follow that to the link for Trailer Paintings.  (She also has some delightful botanical paintings as well).  They're all fun.

I love her Mission and Philosophy (as stated on her curriculum vitae):

To make art that is attainable by everybody.  I believe every human deserves to have art in their life on a daily basis and not be blocked by velvet topes to get it.

So tonight I got together my pastels, the gorgeous oil pastels (in the all of those incredible colors), and my drawing pencils, and my watercolors - and I put them in the Airstream, in a compartment underneath the 'couch'.  I'm thinking (aka hoping) that I'll find more time to play with these things when my life simplifies just a bit.

~~~~~

I am hoping that my life simplifies.  Just a bit. 

Perhaps that's being optimistic, maybe even overly optimistic - but that's okay.

Tomorrow I meet again with my architherapist.  I now have ~20 boxes in my storage unit, with many more to go.  I have to start thinking about taking out (cutting down, DESTROYING) the chaste tree and butterfly bush (yes, the butterfly bush that is almost 20' tall).  I need to do this soon.  I hate doing this.  I should be able to move the crepe myrtle, the Silver Moon, the Climbing Cecile Brunner, and the confederate jasmine successfully.

But for now, there's a grant due in less than a week.