Tales from the Microbial Laboratory

Alumapalooza 2010, photographs by Allison Turner

Love.

the names of trees

 
 ~live oaks, surrounding the Airstream~

~~~~~

When I was young, from about several months old to about age 12, my family lived in a neighborhood called Airport Acres.  Our brick ranch house was on two acres of land, and the expansive front yard was often the location of neighborhood football games, which usually consisted of my brother's older (and much bigger) friends and my two friends, Barbara and Glenn.  Barbara, Glenn and I are tiny in comparison to my brother's friends, but we held our own, even if it meant that on ocassion we were used as the football itself.  Our front yard was my 'school of hard knocks'.

There weren't many trees on the two acres.  In the front there were several dogwoods, including one gorgeous pink dogwood that was always my mother's favorite.  In second or third grade I remember getting a pine tree, I think it was an Eastern White Pine, on Arbor Day.  Each kid was given a tree, and instructed on how to plant and care for it.  I remember coming home and caring for that tree, and watering it for weeks afterward.

My parents sold that house when I was 12.  My Mom always would tell the story about how much I cried because I had to leave that tree.  I think now about ways that I've changed, but the thought of leaving trees behind still makes me sad.  However I'm grateful that of the things that I grow attached to, that trees are on the list.  I'm glad that I know their names.

I neglected, earlier in the summer, to mention that the U.S. has a new Poet Laureate, W.S. Merwin.  We all should know his name too.   

Native Trees by W. S. Merwin

Neither my father nor my mother knew   

the names of the trees   

where I was born

what is that

I asked and my

father and mother did not

hear they did not look where I pointed   

surfaces of furniture held   

the attention of their fingers   

and across the room they could watch

walls they had forgotten   

where there were no questions   

no voices and no shade

Were there trees

where they were children   

where I had not been   

I asked

were there trees in those places

where my father and my mother were born   

and in that time did

my father and my mother see them

and when they said yes it meant

they did not remember

What were they I asked what were they   

but both my father and my mother

said they never knew

I could get used to this.

I have to laugh at myself - and this situation that I'm in, and thankfully life in an Airstream brings with it many funny moments.  Like, for example, last Sunday - when I was cleaning up after my Airstream Anniversary celebration.  A table that I had used as a makeshift bar - well, I've discovered that I kinda like having a bar set up outside of the Airstream. 

So I left it there.  Complete with gin and tonic water.

Now, you are probably going 'red flag! she's got a problem!' or 'won't someone steal the stuff?' or 'wow, great idea' - so let me first assure you that I am (quite fortunately) not a stress drinker - in fact, even the ocassional glass of wine that I pour generally gets forgotten, so I've stopped pouring it altogether for the most part.  That said, it surprised even me that I liked having a bar outside of my Airstream front door, and it makes me laugh - there's an element of the absurd that fits the situation, and last evening, after working in the garden for a bit, I went inside the Airstream, filled a glass with ice, and came outside and made a gin and tonic.  Perfect.

Three Dog (and One Cat) Airstream

~Three Dog Airstream~

~~~~~

I often get asked 'how can you live in such a small space with three dogs' - to which I add 'there's also a cat, or at least most of a cat, since Haiku is missing on her back leg and her tail.'

 

Well, as crazy as it can be at times, it isn't that crazy - there is alot of musical chairs-style moving around, but it's all done rather calmly.  They all play well together, and respect each others space (as they should).

So here's some rare footage of my Airstream life...(okay, so it's not all that rare - I was just trying to add some drama to my little world).  All within the course of a few hours.

~~~~~

 

~Annabelle Lee and Haiku~

~~~~~

An Airstream Anniversary

~the Airstream, with her party clothes on~

~~~~~

On Thursday, I was talking to someone in the office near mine - and mentioned that this weekend was the one year anniversary of my moving - no jumping - into the Airstream.

('ve been living in a 1973 Airstream for the past year.)

The person that I mentioned it to said 'Well then, there must be a party, I"ll bring wine."

So there you have it.  There must be a party.

So this evening I started putting the Airstream's party clothes on - her blue LED lights, and brought out the tiki torches and I filled them with citronella lamp oil.  I even got the weed whacker out and trimmed the area - mainly because a friend of mine who plans to attend always thinks she's going to get bitten by a viper while drinking a glass of wine in my yard.

Now - I'm happy, no - I'm relieved to be marking this anniversary, which is also one week shy of my one year anniversary of losing my job of 15 years.

It hasn't been an easy year.  But then, the year is in the past - and it's time to move forward.  And I think it's important to acknowledge that it was a difficult year and that I made it through - and I think it's also important to acknowledge that good things also happened, that there were accomplishments - and that there is a future - and the truth is, it's time for me to shed the dysfunction and difficulties of the past few years.  Long past time in fact.

So - tomorrow evening, there's a party.  Come if you can - hop on a plane, or in your car or bike, hell - walk if you want to.   I'd love to share a toast with you under the glow of the blue Airstream lights, and perhaps we can talk about future plans, future dreams - things we want to accomplish and experience in the days and months ahead.  Perhaps I'll share with you what it has been like living in 216 sq ft of space with three dogs and most of a cat - and how I've learned that we don't need much to be okay.  Or perhaps we'll just gulp down our gin and tonics with the enthusiasm of people happy to be looking at a bad year in their rear view mirrors, skip the analysis crap, and just enjoy ourselves.  Yes, lets do that - okay?

Let me know if you need directions.

 

back on I-95

 
~~~~~

I'm closing up the Airstream for a week or so - and heading back up to Virginia to stay with my Dad for a little over a week.  Things have calmed down from two weeks ago, as they often do, and so I honestly don't know what is to happen.  A deeply troubling aspect of the disease is that during the calm times, people sometimes seem to forget that it is a disease even still - and everyone goes:  "His blood pressure is great!  He's doing so well."  And then I'm the heavy, and I ask:  "Did the Dr do a cognitive test since he is now off of Aricept?" and the caretaker goes "Oh, I don't know.  He's doing so well!"  I don't like being the heavy.  But doesn't someone need to be?

The irony is all of this is that suddenly I-95 has become my "peaceful place" - the road that bridges my two dysfunctional world:  life as an unemployed busy scientist living in an Airstream with three dogs and a three-legged cat...and life in Virginia, with my father and his vascular dementia diagnosis.  The car has become a coccoon.  How terrible is that statement?  This trip should be interesting (understatement) - all three dogs and the cat are joining me.  I finally smartened up and built a dog pen at my Dad's house, off an apartment (basement) door.  I'd have paid for it in six months worth of visits (instead of boarding the Pointer Sisters) if I'd been thinking.

The Pointers are packed and ready.  They pack light.  It's Stan and the Cat that can't ever decide what to bring.  As for me, I haven't unpacked in years.

contemplation

The Pointer Sisters do have their quiet, reflective moments.  Yes - they're few and far between, but on a humid afternoon, with off-an-on rain showers, The Dan spent a few moments contemplating her life's purpose:  squirrels.  it's all about the squirrels. 

I said it was the little things...and I meant it.

~Y-joint faucet adaptor~

~~~~~

I could complain tonight about the heat and humidity, or about the tough job market, or about all of the work I have to do (without the comfort of a paycheck) - I could rant about the Deepwater Horizon oil spill, or the challenges of caring for a parent from a distance who has vascular dementia.  I could whine about how my desktop crashed yesterday after downloading recommended security patches - and that I'm typing this post on a laptop that I don't particularly like, and only use when I travel for work.

But I won't.

And why?

Because I purchased a brass Y-joint adaptor for my outdoor faucet this weekend - which means that when I water the garden, I don't have to dismantle the hose from the Airstream, but instead just turn off one hose at the Y-joint and open the other.  What a luxury!

Sometimes, most of the time, life is just a matter of perspective.

  
  ~~~~~

familiar evenings

~The Pointer Sisters, home from the Paw Plaza Hotel~

~~~~~

When I picked up the dogs from the kennel on Tuesday morning, they were - as always - happy to be back home.  Happy to run on familiar paths through familiar flower beds, happy to even be back in the Airstream.  The much-loved Vornado is long gone - and the Carrier air-conditioner, on the top of the Airstream, now hums along, keeping us cool.  I don't mind the noise that the AC unit makes, it has become white noise, especially at night, and drowns out all of the sounds that might otherwise get the attention of the dogs - that is definitely a plus.  Right now Annabelle is curled up beside me, The Dan is at my feet, and Stanley and Haiku-kitty has the bed.  I'm working on a grant about the Gulf of Mexico oil spill - a small pilot project, an interesting one - and I do hope it gets funded.  Cross your fingers and toes, okay?

~~~~~

~Annabelle Lee, aka Bella Banana~

~~~~~

 

the first gardenias

Tonight the first two gardenias of summer rest in a mason jar on top of the Airstream's small oven - and their fragrance permeates the air around me.  I'm up to my chin in proposals to review, and I'm at that stage where they are running together:  dozens of hypotheses and experimental designs and budget justifications forming one big montage in my tired brain - me, worried that the ideas won't distinguish themselves in time for me to write clear and useful reviews.  In the early afternoon I was reading, and I was disrupted by a sound that made me rush outside, knowing already that it was too late.  Stan was in the back garden, fighting with a raccoon that shouldn't have been wandering the grove of bamboo in the early afternoon.  There was nothing I could do but to let the fight take it's natural course and I was relieved that it didn't take long, and I was relieved that the Pointer Sisters were in their kennels.  Stanley took the dead raccoon and buried it under a formosa azalea (leaving it there for me to retrieve minutes later, and bury in the back garden).  Last weekend Stanley tore a copperhead in two, and thankfully didn't get bitten - and now the 10 year old Stan is asleep, a bit ragged - with torn ears, a bite on his face - this sweet dog that lives to have his belly rubbed.  Annabelle Lee (frustrated that she had missed all of the fun) could only catch a skink in response and swallow it whole.  All the while, the blue of the hydrangeas are growing richer - blues that mirror Caribbean seas and a Michigan sky late on a summer evening and the bluebirds nesting in the purple martin house - and back near the vegetable garden a lily is covered in orange flowers and the first starfire lily opens - lilies from my Mother's garden that now live among these crazy dogs and a crazy scientist who measures good days by her ability to keep her cool (75% of the time) and forge ahead although it seems like her life is sporadically filled with tornados passing over her gardenia-scented and fragile world.  It's all going to be okay, and how do I know this?  The painted buntings are at the bird feeder everyday now, the brilliant male, the exquisite female, enjoying the millet and unaware of the chaos - or simply content in spite of it.