A Storm in Minnesota

Since being home, I have been reminded of why all Minnesotans are so gosh darn obsessed with the weather; why my dad wades through the entire local news just to see the five-day forecast and each an every Minnesotan knows their favorite meteorologist by name and is willing to fight anyone who dare voice a differing opinion (Paul Douglas, a.k.a. "The Goof on the Roof" is a person non grata in my household, unless you want to hear an extended rant from my dad). A week and a half ago I felt May snowflakes melting on my cheek. Two days ago it was 87 degrees and humid as a sauna. And last night, we had our first summer storm.

Midwestern storms are just as dynamic as the weather itself. In less than hour a sunny blue sky can become dark, violent, throw down some hail and perhaps a tornado or two, and then become clear (though now a bit damp and drippy) once more.

Tornado storms always warn of their approach by tingeing the air an eerie shade of green, as if the world has stepped inside an ancient photo album. Chattering birds and squirrels become silent. And soon after the tornado sirens, wailing holdovers from World War II, confirm the atmospheric intimations.

The chartreuse (or is it sepia?) before the storm

The proper safety procedure during a tornado warning is to retreat to the basement or other enclosed area of your house, where you will be most protected from flying glass or debris. My mother, who is terrified of thunderstorms, always puts on her shoes, grabs her purse, and troops the family down into our basement as soon as the warning has been issued.

However, most Minnesotans (including me) are not nearly so cautious. A single tornado can form within seconds and rarely lasts more than a few minutes. Warnings are issued for any storm with the capability of producing tornadoes, whether or not any have actually formed, with the result that most of us have experienced countless warnings in our lifetimes with no ill effects. The local news stations, each vying for ratings, exacerbate the situation by instantly broadcasting any photo, story, or video of the storm submitted by brave viewers.

And let's face it: thunderstorms are cool.

This perhaps explains why, 15 minutes after the tornado warning had been issued, half of the neighborhood was out in the hail-peppered streets, gazing at the sky.

Nickel-sized hail from the backyard

The violent core of this sleek and compact storm had passed less than two miles north of us. So, while my mom stood in the doorway shouting the location of the nearest spotted funnel cloud, my neighbors and I stared with joy at the sight of the the sunset reflecting off the back of a thunderhead, which rose out of the treetops in a capricious mountain of steam.

Thunderhead at Sunset

Ten minutes later, it was nearly gone.

Experts at RLP

I stumbled upon this excellent quote while re-watching old episodes of Newsradio (my favorite show in junior high school and still highly recommended - at least until it jumps the shark midway through Season 3):

Lisa: I - I can do it sir, though it does seem completely hypocritical and illogical - I can do it.
Mr. James: Sorry, I'm used to working with Dave, see he's got a true gift for RLP.
Lisa: What?
Mr. James: Reconciling Logical Paradoxes.

Now, it struck me that a gift for RLP is probably one of the most useful talents a graduate student can have. Who among us is not faced with contradictory or nonsensical situations on a nearly daily basis? ("Please complete this experiment which to all intents and purposes is impossible", "Please write this report even though it was due three days ago," "Please start a new experiment even though you already have five underway". And of course, the biggest logical paradox of all: "What I am still doing in grad school?")

It is not therefore not surprising that students (especially in science!) have such a hard time adjusting to the demands of graduate school: we were (educationally speaking) raised in a world of problem sets and lab reports, right and wrong answers, yes or no - with no middle ground (or "higher ground", where the solutions to RLPs are usually found). 

But survival in this world is dependent on RLP - you wouldn't want to be pray to Logic Bombs like a mere android, would you?!?

So, next time you find yourself wondering why on Earth you are throwing away your twenties on an experiment that will never work, just remind yourself: "I am becoming an expert at RLP". (See! I just reconciled a logical paradox! I'm getting good)

P.S. Speaking of logical paradoxes, how is this not cheating?

Winter brings its small consolations

Finding hope amid the great darkness! (Also, the first post of the Bitter Boston Bicyclist to actually feature bicycling).

The absence of leaves creates thoroughly unexpected view of the Boston skyline from my bedroom window! While decidedly not spectacular, the sight of the city lights at night is quite thrilling.

Despite the cold dry air, the grass plant (for cat munching) manages to create it's own dew each morning.

Biker Balaclava Ninja!!

The employees at Toscanini's decided to string polar bears from the ceiling. I took the liberty of naming them. Avalanche is my favorite.

Coffee is, of course, always a consolation. Cheers!

On being 25, feeling both old and young

Hello all. I know it has been awhile since my last posting. I returned from Corsica and life hit like a monsoon (I have learned, in my fledgling adult years, that stress, when it comes, often comes in buckets). And, as anyone who has ever tried to keep one of these silly blog things knows, when life attacks, online writing is generally the first to go.

Speaking of "fledgling adult years" - I have been more than three years on my own now, and still I am so overwhelmed with questions. Questions, questions, everyday more questions, every minute more questions. What do I want to eat today? Or, more importantly (though less often asked) what can I afford to eat today? Should I wear the green shoes or the pink shoes? Where on EARTH did I lock my bike? Am I forgetting something?  Aren't I due for my next dentist appointment? OH SHOOT it was last week - will they let me reschedule?

And that's just the easy stuff. We haven't even gotten to:

Did I do my taxes right? Wait, wasn't there a student loan payment due at some point? Is [such-and-such friend] doing okay? Am I being supportive enough of [such-and-such friend] as s/he struggles with [such-and-such problem]? Do I want to be in a relationship right now?! Am I on the right career path?! Oh god, I am of childbearing age?!?!?!

And then the little questions start to bleed into the big questions, and the big questions infiltrate the little questions, and I want to grab that 40-something woman next to me on the subway and scream "How have you not yet been crushed by the weight of life?!" (I must say: no wonder so many of us 20-somethings find refuge in the warm and fuzzy embrace of our beer jackets [or, take your pick: vodka coats, rum mittens, wine scarves, margarita balaclavas?])

In celebration of his 25th birthday, my friend Raoul was sent a rack of ribs (fedexed, overnight, on dry ice) from his uncle, and early one Saturday afternoon a few of us gathered at his house to enjoy a nice barbeque lunch. And while the meal-time conversation was decidedly "adult" (no, not in that way you perv) - centering on such issues as "who's ready for marriage?" and "what are you favorite kitchen appliances?" - somehow we afterwards all gathered in the bedroom, where we spent a long afternoon lazing on the bed, playing silly games on an ipad, and giggling like little girls.

Amid the hailstorm of Big and Little Questions, it was nice to spend a few hours feeling like a kid again.