Some People Just Don't Appreciate Geology

So I get home from this awesome geology trip with Dr. Evelyn Mervine. I’m back at work after an all-night comatose state, feeling a little confined, so I have a wander over to visit that nice rock wall where Amanda took pictures of me last week. And I discover that some unutterable bastards have planted bushes all in front of it.

Gorgeous limestone (or dolomite) wall, now hidden behind rather boring vegetation. Gah. As if Seattle didn’t have enough greenery clogging up the geologic scenery.

Sigh.

Anyway. I’ll have a post of substance up soon regarding the adventures the Doctor and I enjoyed, complete with lots of fun pictures and so forth. I’ll also have a little something to say about the new executive director of the Secular Coalition of America, because I never did absorb my mother’s lessons about not saying anything at all if I can’t say something nice about someone. And I’m sure there will be other posts of substance coming up. But for the next day or so, there’ll probably just be a few outtake photos with a sentence or two which may or may not be coherent, as I’m still recovering from being stuffed on a plane for a total of two days for the first time in several years. I miss my bed. And my cat. And the cat has apparently missed me and is fine with the idea of hanging round in bed with her mommy, so I anticipate the next two nights will be spent lying abed with teh kitteh being magnificently lazy. Not to mention crying softly into my pillow because landscapers hate geology.

I’ll make up for some of it by linking to Evelyn’s reports on our trip.

I just have one thing to say if Evelyn ever invites you on a georney: go. No matter whether it’s New Hampshire, South Africa, or elsewhere, you’ll have a blast. She’s enormous fun. Also, you’ll be running around with the Doctor – how much more fun can you have?

Some People Just Don't Appreciate Geology
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"Groundbreaking result! Carnivorous Triceratops discovered…"

My first visit to New England has led to some new discoveries that could change the entire paleontological paradigm, as George Wiman so aptly pointed out:

Image is a screenshot of a tweet from George Wiman saying, "@Dhunterauthor @GeoEvelyn Groundbreaking result! Carnivorous Triceratops discovered..."

We have incontrovertible evidence.

Carniverous Triceratops! I haz evidens!

You can see for yourself at Dinosaur Footprints near Holyoke, MA. Alas, should these results survive rigorous peer review, this will mean the creationists were right: humans and dinosaurs did live together. Well, I say lived together. More like fought to the death.

Reconstruction of epic battle

I myself made only a narrow escape from the clutches of a raging therapod.

Oh Noes! I’m being attacked by a nekkid dinosaur!

If Evelyn hadn’t turned out to be a bonza dinosaur whisperer, we might have perished.

Evelyn tames the savage carniverous head-chomping beastie.

We are still processing our data. More preliminary results to follow.

"Groundbreaking result! Carnivorous Triceratops discovered…"

Weapons-Grade Cute: The Ultimate

This is it. There is no fighting back against something like this. Skirmishes may continue, but the war is over.

Behold:

Sleeping clouded leopard cub being tickled. That quivering spotted tummy, that twitching leg! It’s over.

Well, barring the celebratory drug-fest, anyway (pump up the volume).

This is why working with Starspider is so hazardous. She finds these things and sends them to me, and I’m either a pile of goo or laughing too hard to answer the phone with a straight voice afterward.

My supervisor is not immune. We sent her this one.

Poor woman. The things she puts up with from us…

Weapons-Grade Cute: The Ultimate

Oh. Right. Happy Easter and All That Rot.

I suppose we should have a bunny then, eh?

Easter bunny from Rosario Head

Easter’s never been a big holiday on my radar. I’ve seldom worked jobs where we get time off for it or folks make a big fuss, which is pretty much my only means of keeping track of holidays. There were the baskets when I was a kid, which were always quite a lot of fun and something my mother and I enjoyed immensely. Dyeing eggs, not as much. I’m not much of an egg artist. We’d buy those egg-dyeing kits and end up with a huge mess and some fairly grotesque-looking pastel eggs, which we then had to eat, and I’m not a fan of hard-boiled eggs, honestly. Especially not ones that have turned suspicious colors because of the dye seeping through the shell. I’ll tell you what I do get excited about, though: Cadbury Creme Eggs. And nice big chocolate rabbits, though I’ve become enough of a chocolate snob over the years that I don’t buy those much. Does anyone know if there are Belgian chocolate bunnies on the market? Or eggs. I’ll take eggs in a pinch.

Speaking of eggs, I’ve been meaning to post these chickens for over a month now. The Giradet vineyard has Silkie chickens running about. I’d never even heard of such a thing. They’re wonderfully absurd.

Continue reading “Oh. Right. Happy Easter and All That Rot.”

Oh. Right. Happy Easter and All That Rot.

Going Daffy For Ophelia

A while back, Ophelia mentioned she wants more daffodils. I live to serve.

Seward Park Daffodils I

I’m sorry to admit that daffodils aren’t my favorite. I was half-fascinated by them as a child. They were large and definite and presented opportunities for examining stamens and stigmas and other bits of a flower (I always loved how sticky the stigma felt). I was one of those children who used to wait for the daffodils to bloom just so I could pull them apart and see how how all the bits worked. But I liked the tulips better. They smelled nicer, and they weren’t yellow. Yellow and I aren’t the best of friends.

Also, the leaves are a bit boring.

Still. They’re an emblem of spring. And lots of people like them. Perhaps a poem will elicit some feelings of wonder and appreciation.

Continue reading “Going Daffy For Ophelia”

Going Daffy For Ophelia

I've Decided to Get in Touch With My Inner Pony

By some estimations, I’m old. I mean, people in their late thirties are ancient according to kids 18 and under. But I don’t feel old inside. I’ve decided to change my avatar to reflect that. Also, it shows the kiddies that I’m hip, I’m with it. I should probably avoid telling them I stopped playing with My Little Ponies long before I started menstruating, though, huh?

So this is me from now on:

My True Self

See? It’s purple. It’s got a geology butt stamp*. Excuse me, cutie mark. And as I got to thinking about it, I began to realize how useful being a pony would be. I mean, I forget my rock hammer sometimes – if I had hooves, that wouldn’t be a problem. I could just kick out hand samples. Of course, without hands to collect them, it would be difficult to bring them home. But I wouldn’t be able to drive anymore anyway, so I’d have to have someone driving the truck and trailer, so they could pick them up for me. Easy-peasy!

Continue reading “I've Decided to Get in Touch With My Inner Pony”

I've Decided to Get in Touch With My Inner Pony

Atheist Goggie, Evul Kitteh, Mah Name on a Book Cover, and the Most Depressing Video Ever

Sorry, folks, I’m wrecked. Got three hours of sleep last night, on top of three the night before, and couldn’t sleep this evening, probably because my body’s forgotten how it’s done. So I’m spending the night watching old school Doctor Who and cleaning out the storage shed. Yeah, I know how to par-tay.

I haven’t got any awesome geology ready. No profound thoughts on atheism. Just some random stuff I’m throwing into one post and calling conglomerate.

Cujo decided to get in on the whole A-Week thing. It’s disgustingly cute is what it is.

A-Week Puppy. Image Credit: Cujo359

For balance’s sake, I present to you the greatest poem about cats ever written. I know the link looks like it goes to a t-shirt. Indeed, it does. But there’s also a poem there, and when Nicole sent it to me, she knew she’d found a poem that perfectly describes the relationship between myself and my cat. It begins thusly:

You always hurt the one you love.

The cat’s behind the chair
The cat’s behind the chair
Hi-ho the derry-o
The cat’s behind the chair

And goes on to become ever more accurate from there.

The cover for Open Lab 2012 (which isn’t actually named that. It’s called The Best Science Writing Online 2012) is out. My name’s on it. This feels somewhat weird.

Open Lab 2012 Cover. Design by Jason Heuer.

If you’d asked me last year, before it happened, whether I thought I’d ever in a million billion years end up inside a book with a set of science writers this good, I’d have ruptured something laughing. Now there’s a book cover, and it has got my name on it, which makes it somewhat difficult to deny that this is a real thing that is actually happening. I keep looking at names and thinking, “I’m in a book with X,” X being whichever science writer I’ve admired for years whose name my eyes happened to come to rest on. I’d ask how the hell that happened, but I actually know how. I’m looking at you, Chris Rowan. Who is also in this book. Who I’ve admired for years. Yegawds.

I will need some of you to come sit with me the day the physical copy arrives. I’ll be walking round in a daze and will probably need to be guided around obstacles, and prevented from doing things like putting the cat on to boil and making sure the spaghetti’s litter box is clean. I might be able to manage an autograph or two, but I also might stare blankly at the page, pen in hand, and drool gently on the title page. I hope they chose an ink that’s not prone to running, along with a paper that can withstand dribbling authors. Bring one of those pens that’s capable of writing underwater, just in case.

Finally, the most depressing video ever. It’s depressing because I haven’t been to Circus Mexicus for years, and I bloody well miss it. Thanks, Ed. Thanks so very bloody much (no, really, thanks).

I still have half a bottle of Roger’s Mexican Moonshine. It still tastes delicious. I may have to go drink the entire thing right now. Then I can plot how I’m going to sell a publisher on the idea that they should send me to Mexico round about Circus Mexicus time with a political blogger so we can do a book on drunken geology (believe me, there is no staying sober in Mexico during Circus Mexicus) somehow tied together with the Peacemakers, poker, and politics. Trust me. I will find a way.

Atheist Goggie, Evul Kitteh, Mah Name on a Book Cover, and the Most Depressing Video Ever

Hey, Ophelia! I Gotcher Daffodils Right Here! With Haiku, Fruit Trees and Tom Lehrer

We’ve just passed the equinox, and things round here are getting ready to spring into spring. Not fast enough for Ophelia, alas – she wants her daffodils and wants them now. Well, she can haz. And so can you. There’s also bonus Tom Lehrer at the end, because spring isn’t complete without one particular song.

A Daffodil in Oregon

Next March, I should see about taking Ophelia to Oregon. There’s a long stretch of back road in the Willamette Valley where daffodils go on for miles. Lockwood and I didn’t get any pictures – the lighting conditions were teh suck for shooting from the car – but we marveled. You drive and drive and drive for what seems like a bajillion miles with this nearly unbroken hedge of daffodils along the road.

Continue reading “Hey, Ophelia! I Gotcher Daffodils Right Here! With Haiku, Fruit Trees and Tom Lehrer”

Hey, Ophelia! I Gotcher Daffodils Right Here! With Haiku, Fruit Trees and Tom Lehrer

I Got Coal in My Stocking!

Remember when I mentioned geologists have an incentive to be naughty? I must have been very naughty indeed, because Santa (i.e., my mother) just sent me coal. Coal horses!

Wild Coal Horses

I have no idea where she found them. All she did, when she told me something was on its way, was snigger about how she’d found the perfect present for a coal miner’s daughter. And a horse fancier. And a geology buff.

You know what, she’s right. They’re awesome.

Wild Coal Horses II

Carved coal, people. So much more awesome than burned coal.

This is probably anthracite or cannel coal, either one of which can be used for carvings.

Wild Coal Horses Closeup

They squigged me out when I first took them from the box. I’m used to handling coal, but in its uncarved, rough state. Carved, it feels slick and slightly sticky. It’s more tacky than you expect a stone carving to feel. It’s also a bit strange to think you’re holding a flammable statue. “Yeah, you think your statue’s cool? Mine’s so hot it burns! HA HA HA HA HA.”

These are the perfect gift ever for a geology buff. There’s a ton of coal sculptures for cheap on Ebay, by the way, so if you’re inspired to do a little early shopping for the geologist on your list, there ye go.

 

I Got Coal in My Stocking!