Visual Rhyme

While taking the hot smelly garbage can down to the curb, I spotted Dad's garden. It is too bad he's in Scotland right now because his daisies are blooming and they look phenomenal. While I was looking at them, all I could think of was "Hey, I should take a picture. That garden has lots of visual rhyme." It must be because they are planted on a hill, but every daisy leans the same way at the same angle. It's beautiful.

Mystery Show Mystery

As you might all know, I have been doing nothing this summer, which is to say I have been so bored that I have been doing everything I can get my hands on. I've been reading books, programming games I had dropped months ago, and watching every netflix that comes in the house. This means that I have gotten to see several mystery shows, including one that Mom and Dad recently started called "Inspector Lewis." The entire plot of the episode I watched was rather unsavory since it entailed rape and adultery and stuff so I'm not going to go into details. Suffice to say at the end, I had no idea who the rapist was.

Mom and Dad say as a general rule that British mysteries are better than American mysteries because they are more complex. There are so many rabbit trails on top of each other that it is much harder to figure out what had happened. However, I for one say there are too many rabbit trails when you aren't sure at the end who exactly was guilty. I looked up the plot synopsis online and I found out the rapist was one of the murdered parties. Too many murders definitely clog up the clarity machine. I remember Poirot would always explain the entire murder process and how he figured it out before making an arrest. I say that Lewis could take some pointers.

Black and White

Today as I was Dad's transcriptionist for the business I saw an X-ray that looked like its owner had inhaled a ton of smoke. The report was "Stable Fibrosis" since I figured I actually saw this one I pointed at the smoke and asked him if that was the fibrosis.

"Nope." He said, "That's the hilum. The hilum is always busy."

Later, he read one X-ray as "Pleural disease." Since I knew where pleural thickening always happened and I didn't see anything, I asked him where it was. He pointed to a little white stripe in the area. I'd say whatever it was, it couldn't be that bad. It was puny.

Later, he read "Biapical scarring." Now I was absolutely sure that "Biapical" was the top of both lungs, but they both looked perfectly healthy. I asked him again where the abnormality was. He pointed at two little stripes that were immediately next to the collar bone.

Dad said the key to reading X-rays is to know which areas are supposed to be black and which ones are supposed to be white. I don't get it.

The Extra Digit

Today in lab I had one guy come up to me with his paper and I knew that he had a problem. You can always tell on their faces when they are angry/disgusted.

"Hey, I know that NaOH is a strong base, but the number it is returning according to her chart (I assume he's referring to Dr. Potts. He seems to be pretty bitter ever since she kicked him out of lab for coming 11 minutes late.) this value would show me that it was a weak base."

I assume that he's had it up to here with not getting the required results on his lab report and I can sympathize. Dad once told me that the best thing to do was work backwards: figure out the theoretical answer first and make up "real-life" measurements to match. (When I told two girls that acetic acid was a weak acid not a strong acid and couldn't have a value of 4963, they made up a value: 1234. How obvious was that?)

So I looked at it prepared to tell him that the Verniers were new so we weren't sure they all worked and sometimes the beakers had residue, blah blah blah, etc. However I was shocked to see his value was approximately 24000. He had been reading it as 2400 since the break-off point was 2500 and he naturally assumed that all the values would be within 50 of the break-off point. In reality all the strong acids have five digits and the weak acids have four. Pretty obvious. Anyway I pointed this out and was satisfied to see all his rage against the machine was away. He didn't have any more questions after that. Hooray for learning experiences!

Poem Contest

Alright, in celebration of the closing of the poll, write a poem about "Carl." It can be any type of poem: limerick, haiku, you name it. But try to fit "Carl" into your meter and comment on how unbecomingly his name fits into one-syllable slots. Leave your poems in the comment section of this blog post.

If you don't know who Carl is, you can look him up here: http://duncan-oh-yeah.blogspot.com/2009/05/dads-new-friend-carl.html

For some reason Dad can still remember this guy and recently commented on the one year anniversary. Who would have guessed that it would be conveniently immortalized in a blog post!

Pharisee

Today during devotions I revealed that I had memorized one of the verses in the passage. Dad had me recite it to prove it. Then after that every time he found a notable verse he would ask me if I had memorized it. There were two more that I had done, but one of them I recited incorrectly: God works all thing together for good for those who love him ~and keep his commandments~. That last part is actually supposed to say ~who are called according to his purpose~. I have absolutely no idea how that little legalist phrase snuck in to this otherwise uplifting piece of scripture. I suspect that I mushed it in from another verse that I had memorized somewhere, though I have no idea where. I'm such a Pharisee :(

Aha! I just googled it and it was another one of my verses: Deuteronomy 7:9! The lord keeps steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments. Thanks, Google.

Volcanic Explosion!

Apparently, there was some sort of volcanic activity in Europe that covered the entire European world in darkness. People have been walking up to me and asking how is Heather. They are very worried. Anyway, yesterday Heather called and asked for a Ginger Snap recipe. (Super emergency right there.) Dad immediately followed up by asking how she was. She was mildly confused and asked him what the heck he was talking about. He told her that a volcano had exploded nearby and she was in critical danger. She told him that yes, they had been ordered to stay inside, but the sky outside was clear and bright. So much for that.

P.S. Douglas and Heather seem to have sustained minor damage to their taste buds. They had an ingenious idea to add oatmeal to ginger snaps. They call them Ginger Oat Snaps. Pray for them.

Fix-A-Flat

On Saturday, Carlock came down with a flat. (Carlock is the name of Alexie's car. She named it.) I was busy shooting the neighbor's kids (Bang!) when Dad called me and told me that today was the day I was going to learn to fix a flat.
Dad: Now, pay close attention Duncan. First shake this can of Fix-A-Flat vigorously (he demonstrates) and attach it the wheel. Then press this button.
We stared at the can for a while as it made noise like someone trying really hard to hold his breath.
Dad: Duncan, does it look like it's going in?
Duncan: Oh, sure Dad. (It wasn't, but hey. It was my first time. How should I know what fix-a-flat stuff going through a tube should look like?)
Dad: Hmm...
Dad then decided to take the tube off the tire and that was when the can erupted. Yellow fix-a-flat stuff was splurting out both the end of the tube and the base of the tube. Dad kept trying to reattach it, but it was too late. After all the air and all the chemical was out of the can, Dad depressedly stared at the mess of yellow goop all over Carlock's front tire and the garage floor.
If I were Thomas Edison, I would say, "It's not that I failed to learn how to fix a flat tire, it is that I learned one way not to fix a flat tire!"
Although... I still don't know exactly what was keeping the fix-a-flat foam from going through the tube...

Unwelcome Love

I was working on my Physics Report and my appetite in the computer lab when I received a call from my Dad.
"Hey ho buddy! Heather has made a delicious dinner especially for you so if you want to come home, you may!"
Now, I knew that if I left campus, I wasn't coming back. Naturally I declined. The only problem being that I was extremely and ravishingly hungry and all I had to eat were two sandwiches with peanut butter that had gone bad that morning. (I knew it had since the one I ate before my Genetics Test tasted really funny.) Unfortunately, knowing that there is good food somewhere only makes bad food taste worse. I'm going to have to eat these monstrocities at some point, but I'm holding off because I hear that hunger is the best sauce. I'm trying to drown the sandwiches in it.

Oh yeah, my Physics Report still sucks and it is only one page long. The last two reports have had points taken off for being too short so I literally copied the same sentence and pasted it 12 times with all my different results plugged in. (You do the same experiment twelve times in this lab. Oh the pain.) Yes, even with all that it is still only a single page long. AAAH!

Bureaucracy

Yesterday I heard a story from my parents' youth which was so funny, I decided to post it here. When Mom and Dad were dating, Mom came over to Dad's family's apartment to visit. Dad's apartment was on the third floor. Anyway, while visiting Grandma asked Mom to run a letter out to the mail chute. Mom sprinted over, tried to put the mail in, but the mail chute was full. She couldn't stuff it in. She reported back so then Grandma called the front desk. They went to check what was up and it turned out that the chute was full of mail up to third floor. At this point they were thinking, "What the heck? Where is that mailman?" As it turned out the mailman had died and the postal service hadn't noticed. The postal service quickly fixed the error by hiring a new guy and the day was saved. Isn't the federal government incredible? To run a business that doesn't even notice when one of its employees dies and therefore stops reporting in to work?

Driving

Today Andrew is off to get his Driver's Permit. I asked Dad if I could get my license today, but the weather shut me down by icing all the roads. Curses. I don't think ice is all that dangerous and I could really impress my proctor by driving safely in dangerous conditions, but Dad would not hear it. Now Andrew and I will have our permits at the same time and I will have to suffer the inferiority complex of having a younger brother at the same stage of driving as I am. O me miseram!

Douglas Has Arrived

Status Report: After four days delay for snow and a missed flight in Texas, Douglas has arrived. Heather is much quieter this morning: She's probably more talkative online than in person when it comes to Douglas. Alexie has not come downstairs yet. Since Douglas was lain over in Texas for a while, he bought Emily a Sheriff's Badge, which is really great since we got Bang for Christmas and Emily and Luke have been really loving it. Dad loves it and plays it whenever we have five players, but the older kids minus myself are uncooperative and unenthusiastic. The problem is that Bang is not a game for kids under the age of five and the subtle intrigue often proves elusive for kids with the mental capacity of Emily, Luke, and Andrew. Maybe Douglas would play...

New Years Dithering

I've put a request into the Party Czar (Dad) to have a New Years Eve party authorized, but it doesn't look like it'll happen. It'll probably be delayed for decision until Jan 2 if I know Dad. Dad says last time it ran too late and the little kids needed to sleep. (I think he's the one who wants the sleep most, actually.) I promised we'd keep it down to a dull roar. Nada. Heather suddenly bounced up and suggested that since New Years' Day is a Friday we could have a New Years' Fun. Ha. Who parties on New Years' Day besides college football fans? Puh-lease. Anyway, Dad really liked that idea and every time I bring up a New Years' Eve party he parries with a New Years' Day party. Ahhhh man.

Mysterious Black Eye

I've developed a mysterious black eye. This is impressive because I have been remarkably peaceful for the past few days. I haven't punched anyone (hard) or been punched by anyone back. I suspect that I just slept on a lego or something. Dad says it might be something like cellulitis and Alexie says it is face cancer. Mom's put me on an antibiotic circuit. Anyway, I'll just wait for it to deflate. It's probably something innocent and harmless like an evil spirit or a parasitic alien.

Agenda Bust

Every day when I go to school I always have a plan for things I want to get done. Today at 3:30 I asked Mom if I could go to the RUF flag football "cereal bowl" to play some flag football. She said that would be fine. For the cereal bowl, you are supposed to bring a box of cereal to donate to the Chattanooga Food Bank and then you play.

Anyways, I brought three boxes of cereal: All banana nut cheerios. Dad had bought them because they were on sale months ago and we were trying very hard to get rid of them. Anyways, Dad drove me over to Challenger Field. The place was deserted. I then suggested that they might be on the new intramural fields. Being the trooper that he is, Dad drove me over there. Of course, I had no idea where it was since I had never been there but I had Carl Ware's "directions." (Note: Don't trust college interns bearing directions.) We finally found the intramural fields after accosting Trip, who also had no idea but gave us some more vague directions. So we arrived. No one. We asked a security officer who was sitting in his car at the field where there would be flag football. He called his buddy and then told us Challenger. We went back to Challenger: still no one. Anyway, my last hope was Chamberlain so Dad dropped me off and I ran there. No one. I decided to check the computer lab and re-read the facebook message from Carl telling me when it would be. The Computer Lab is closed on Saturdays.

Anyways, I was dejectedly trudging through the UC trying to call Carl when I saw this huge banner in the cafeteria that said: "CEREAL BOWL! RUF VS. THE HOUSE VS. WESLEY VS. THE OTHER HOUSE VS. THE CHRISTIAN STUDENT CENTER!! FRIDAY, NOV 20th!" So I realized that I was exactly 24 hours late. Bummer. And Dad was gone. And I tried to turn my paperwork for becoming a TA in to Mrs. Tolar but the Chemistry Annex is also closed on Saturdays. Ugh. So I called Dad. Fortunately he was at Choices so I ran over there, watered the daisies, and went home.

Maybe God just wanted me to water the daisies.

(Or maybe He wanted the Criminal Justice club to have at least one donor to their pathetic non-perishable food drive. Ha ha! Goodbye Banana Nut Cheerios!)

SOB

When helping my dad read x-rays, I get to see all sorts of moronic idiosyncracies. One of which is shortening everything AMAP (As much as possible, LOL.) For example, if you wanted to say "no acute changes" you would say "rho acute delta." (By rho and delta I mean the Greek symbols, not the actual words.)

Anyway, we came upon one X-ray today and in the "Chief Complaint's:" section it read "SOB." I instantly wondered to myself whether this guy was a SOB or he knew a SOB. Either way, it wasn't a chest x-ray he was needing. So, being the immature guy that I am, I pointed it out and laughed. Dad ignored me for a while and then said "It stands for Shortness of Breath." These people need to find acronyms that don't already have meanings.

Lack of Insight

For some reason Dad has not been psyching me up about the MCAT. After I came back from the first Pre-Med meeting I was all like "Here is my plan for the next four years! a-HA!" But then, because I am indecisive, I was all like "Hmmm. Maybe I should get some advice from someone who has actually done this before." Today was the second time I asked "Hey Dad, what classes would you advise for the MCAT?" and he gave the same response: "Biology, Chemistry, Organic Chemistry, and Physics." I asked "What Else?" and he responded "Get a good night's sleep." I asked about Histology. "Nope. No histology on the MCAT." I asked what class he would advise to minimally improve my chances on the MCAT. "Ahhh. Physiology would round off your Biology quite nicely." So after about an hour of weedling, I have one class recommendation and a pretty boring one at that. (Of course Histology looks so boring that if I don't have to take it for the MCAT, I'm going to take something like Mammalogy or Herpetology instead.)

20 hours

Yesterday I asked my Mom if I could take 20 hours next semester.

"Uh... Ask your father when he gets home," she said. Recently she hasn't been looking up from whatever she's doing when I address her. I bet she was planning a certain someone's wedding.

Later, when Dad walked in I asked him if I could take 20 hours next semester.

"Ho ho ho! No way, my beloved son in whom I am well pleased! I could not possibly let you work that hard!" Dad said, laughed for a bit and then left. (Disclaimer: Not exact quote. Approximation.) I'm still trying to figure out whether he would let me take 20 hours or not. Sigh. Sometimes being related to people with senses of humor can be a pain.

Nausea-induced starvation

I've always wondered why Ariel always refuses to take the food I offer her, even though it was always free and I'm only giving it to her because I selfishly took too much and can't eat it. Well I finally figured it out. Yesterday, Dad took me aside when I was at home massaging my aching legs and said "Hey Duncan. I didn't want to say anything, but your table manners are disgusting. Your mouth was open as you chewed. It made me feel sick."

So now I figured out why my friends don't eat while I'm eating. They feel ill. Now I'm going to have to do some actual work and fix these sordid table manners of mine. Grumble grumble grumble. Otherwise, my friends might die of low blood sugar caused by nausea-induced starvation.

Plant Army

If all the plants of the world decided to rebel against the establishment and overthrow the animals, the movement would be centered in our yard. We have the meanest and cruelest plants under the heavens, although we keep them for the most part under check.

Like our Morning Glories. Every fall we take them off our mailbox and discover that the plants have yet again snapped the mailbox off of its post. The only reason it stayed up all summer was because the plants were so thick that they were holding it there.

And Dad expressed worries about whether our daisies would survive in their new habitat. Well, I won't be surprised if by Friday those daisies have replaced all living organisms in the area. They multipy like rabbits. Soon, Choices will be manned by daisies. It will be seriously scary.