Don't Fence Me In

Our dog has a boyfriend, his name is Duke, and he lives at the house behind ours. Our yards are separated by a four-foot high, sturdy, durable fence. I can completely understand our dog's infatuation. Duke is a very handsome springer spaniel, who is a little bit of a free spirit and enjoys chasing birds in his yard. Duke is sure that his owner's tractor is the devil, and he lets out an abundant series of barks any time the tractor turns on. This is apparently a love song to our little pup's ears, and any time she hears Duke's yelps, she starts crying and begs to be let out.

There is no gate in the fence in our back yard, and when we first moved in to our house, my husband would lift our dog over the fence to go play with Duke whenever they were out at the same time. Much to my dismay, this taught our dog that fences aren't meant to keep pups in, but are meant to be jumped. And, because she's a spry little mix of breeds, she can clear the fence without even touching it if she gets a large enough running start. Without a running start, she scrambles over the fence, kind of gets hooked by the elbows and struggles her way over. It has to hurt a little bit, but she apparently thinks that Duke is well worth the pain.

So, this morning, I let our dog out to do her business around 7am (Duke usually doesn't come out until later, so she's not tempted to leap that early in the morning). I got distracted and didn't promptly let her in when her business was completed, so when I went to let her in, she was no longer in the yard. I had to go to drop my son off at day care, so the pup got some extra time to explore the neighborhood. When I got home I started calling for her, figuring she'd be lurking around the house by then, but NO, no sign of her. So, I started doing a marathon walk around our little town to find her. I was walking and calling her name when a good samaritan told me that they saw a little yellow dog on Second Street. I walked up the street calling her and she came FLYING out of someone's yard to me. She was absolutely filthy and exhausted and looked so pleased with herself, I couldn't help but be proud of her.

What I learned from my dog today: when you get a few short hours free from life's restraints, run, play, get dirty, and make the most of every minute of liberation because you never know when those restraints are going to reappear! Who knew that a dog could teach such a great life lesson?

There's No Crying in Baseball

My husband and I have gone to two baseball games in the past two weeks. The first game, last weekend was Phillies vs. Red Sox in Philadelphia. I hadn't been in the new stadium in Philly before - it was really well done, there was plenty of parking, and the game was fun because there were just about as many Sox fans as Phillies fans in attendance. Much to my husband's dismay, since I was wearing a Phillies cap and because he's a huge Phillies fan, I couldn't help rooting for the Sox (we live in Boston of late, and being a fan of the Sox is pretty contagious around here). Usually it's easy for him to root for both the Phillies and the Sox being that they're in different leagues, and the only time that he would really have to make a choice is if they end up playing each other in the World Series. He said I can't wear his Phillies hat any more.

Last night, toting my Red Sox visor, we were in Fenway watching Curt Schilling pitch against the Devil Rays for his 200th win. We had great seats, right at first base looking straight out to second base. The game itself wasn't that great, nor was Schilling's pitching performance, but the atmosphere was absolutely electric in the stadium in anticipation of his success. Once the game was over, no one wanted to leave - we all stood around and cheered "WE WANT CURT, WE WANT CURT". It took him a little while, but he came out and waved to the crowd and the fans went wild. It was great to watch!

So here's the problem, and I'm reluctant to bring it up being one myself, but at both games my husband and I had the serious misfortune of being seated in front of groups of women. I seriously can't understand why these women were at either game. I am pretty sure that they didn't watch a single pitch...they just sat there and YAPPED the whole game. It was incredibly annoying, and they were impossible to tune out. Why would these women pay good money to attend a baseball game (especially because tickets at Fenway are not cheap)? My guess is that they're hoping to attract one of the plethora of single men who are also in attendance at these games, but I have to offer these girls this advice:

Men (and women for that matter) do not want to hear you blabber over their whole game. Selective conversation is ok if it's about baseball, beer, or something related to baseball or beer. In the future, I would appreciate it if you save your money and phone one another to discuss the bachelorette party you're not attending and the fact that you actually wrote a 10-page term paper. Based upon your verbal excesses, I imagine keeping yourself to ten pages was a struggle.

Please let the rest of us enjoy our baseball game in peace...thanks!

Not Trashy Reading...Just Trash

Two of my sisters were english majors in college, and have an immense love for eloquent prose. They love a good story, but more than that, they love how well the story is written. I, on the other hand, just love a good story. The language does not necesarily have to be beautiful nor does the story necessarily need to be a life-changing inspiration. All that I require is that I become engrossed and can use the book to escape to an alternate reality for a short time. This means that I read books that my sisters often consider trashy. One sister in particular is often dismayed to see what I'm reading and rags on me incessantly about my literature choices (especially about my affinity for the supernatural).

I do have to add that I draw the line at cheezy romance novels. I never got into them and I find them almost painful to read they're so bad. My favorite contemporary authors are John Irving and Tom Robbins - I've read every single one of their books; but I've also read most of the novels by Tom Clancy, Robin Cook, Ken Follett (his book Pillars of the Earth is WONDERFUL), Anne Rice, Philip Pullman and Patricia Cornwell.

Lately I've gotten into reading Kathy Reichs (inspiration for the TV show Bones). For the most part, her books are entertaining, and I enjoy learning how forensic anthroplogists decipher the mysteries that were buried with their unearthed skeletons. However, I think her relatively recent book "Cross Bones" may even cross my line for cheese...my sisters would be horrified. Not only does she repeat the line "Think of it this way." multiple times, but here's the piece de resistance that I read last night:

Ryan is built on sinewy, ropelike lines. Long ones. Eventually I felt one line grow longer.

These sentences cross the line into the cheese of the romance novel that even I cannot stand. I mean, what was Reichs thinking? What were her editors thinking, just letting that line slip by? (No pun intended). Did they even read the mansucript? I will most likely continue to read this book, because the main plotline has grabbed my interest, but this will probably keep me from buying another Reichs book in the future.

I hate that I'm proving my sisters right...

...A Glutton For Punishment

My husband's cousin must be a glutton for punishment, listen to his account of a recent race he ran "for fun". Are you kidding me? Why in the world would someone want to do that to their bodies? The most difficult thing I've ever done physically was climb Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania - at least we did the "whiskey route" rather than the "coca-cola route". As we were summiting before sunrise, and gasping for breath in the insanely thin air, I was thinking "What in the hell am I doing this for?", but as we got to the summit and watched the sunrise over the rest of Africa I realized that I would never see anything like that ever again. It made the lung and leg pain totally worthwhile.

Which brings me back to Kurt...there was no incredible view at the finish line (aside from a soldier asking him if his incredibly chafed nipples were bleeding), there was no prize, there was no incentive but the satisfaction that he could do it. While I say kudos to Kurt and feel the need to tell him that I'm incredibly impressed, I think I'll stay at home on my couch and revel in the satisfaction that I can't do it, nor would I be even remotely willing to try!

Our poor son...

This afternoon my son picked up a bottle that he had thrown on the floor at breakfast time and started drinking the old milk that was left in it. Now, most parents would think "yuck!" and then run over and take it from him. Leave it to me, with a PhD in Immunology to think "it's been six hours - what's the doubling time of bacteria?" as I'm running over to take it from him.

Poor kid...see what he's in for?

Travel Woes

Over Easter weekend, my husband and I flew with our son down to Philly to see my husband's mother for the holidays. Flying was a lot easier than driving, and nearly as cheap due to the ridiculously low fares that they have on Southwest. We had a lovely stay, and it was great to see our son interact with his Grams. The trip home wasn't as lovely, because my husband read the itinerary incorrectly, we missed our return flight. In fact, we arrived at the airport just as our flight was departing. Unfortunately, the next flight wasn't for six hours, so we got to spend some quality time in the Philadelphia airport.

Last weekend we were in Philadelphia again, our son got to visit with his Grams and my husband and I got to go to the Phillies/Red Sox game on Saturday. This time I was the one responsible for getting us to the aiport on time, and wouldn't you know it, I read the itinerary incorrectly and we arrived at the airport after our scheduled flight departed. Doh! Our son and I ended up flying stand-by on a flight two hours later, and my husband flew stand-by on a flight three hours from then. Apparently my husband's flight was full of a bunch of partiers who had been drinking extensively prior to their flight, and on their descent, one of the partiers had had too much and ended up throwing up all over his seatmates. Boy am I glad that I was not on that flight! My husband was less than thrilled with this occurrence, the person who threw up was directly in front of him. He was probably irate at my mistake, but didn't take it out on me, since he had just done the same thing the month before. Nevertheless, I felt quite badly.

While we were sitting in the airport waiting for our flights, my husband called his mother to tell her that we had made the same mistake for the second time in as many months and she said "Well, she's pregnant so you can blame the hormones, what was your excuse?" Go Grams!

My Nemesis Barney

So the Barney phenomenon began long before I ever contemplated having children. As a matter of fact, it began in 1987, while I was still in high school. At that time, I was such a idealist that I thought it was selfish to bring a child into the world because the world was not such a nice place to be and it wasn't fair to knowlingly subject a child to that degree of hate and suffering. Ok, first of all, can you say TEEN ANGST? Secondly, that was the pre-9/11 era, I don't even think I knew what kind of place the world was or could be. But I digress... I of course had heard of the Barney fad and saw the annoying purple dinosaur everywhere, and I was annoyed without even really knowing why.

I vowed when my son was born that he was not going to be a Barney fan, and I was going to accomplish this by never letting him see the program to begin with. Much to my dismay, Barney comes on after Sesame Street, and the other morning I was busy doing laundry when Sesame Street was over and wasn't there to turn off the TV. I came back into the room and found my son completely enraptured by that annoying purple beast! What is it about this creature that sucks kids in? I mean, at this age, my son kind of has ADD with Sesame Street - he'll watch a couple of things (especially Elmo's World), but mostly just plays with his toys with the TV on in the background. But with Barney, he sat stock still with his eyes glued to the set. This scares me to death.

Now that I have seen Barney, I can begin to narrow down what it is about the show that bothers me so much. First, there's Barney himself. I definitely understand children's obsessions with dinosaurs, so the purple dinosaur thing is probably smart. But, the whole show is based upon songs, children singing and playing make-believe - Barney comes alive and sings with them. Now, the creators knew that there would be singing involved, and yet, they chose an actor (or voice-over-er) who not only really does not have a good singing voice, but must suffer from an awful deviated septom. Who thought it would be a good idea to make Barney be a nasally, whiny character? Why couldn't he sound like velvet-voiced like Harry Connick, Jr. or someone similar? This could make viewing a large purple thing with obnoxious teeth be a little more bearable.

Next, they have these children on the show who are little wanna-be actors. You can tell that they have obnoxious show business parents and although they're only nine years old, have been taking acting and singing lessons since they were three and have had an agent since birth. I really don't condone this, but I accept that some people have chosen this path for their children. However, I think the show would be a lot less annoying if they took a page from Sesame Street's book and used real, every-day kids. It's much more people-friendly and less Stepford Wives-ish. I mean, you can tell that these kids are going to end up like Britney Spears dropping their kids on their heads and supporting their spouse's indulgences or like Danny Bonaduce who is airing his dirty laundry on cable television.

Finally, I think what irks me the most is that Sheryl Leach stumbled onto something that really sucks your kids in and seems to be a smashing success. Call it jealousy, call it incredulity, but for as annoying as the show is, my son loves it and I hate it. Fortunately for him, there are a lot of other great shows out there that don't annoy me and that my son can enjoy. In the meantime, I will continue to prevent him from watching Barney and Friends as much as I can and quietly seethe at the success of such a irritant!

Is discrimination still an issue for women?

I have been unemployed since December of 2005. It is a truly humbling experience, especially for someone with a PhD. You spend YEARS of your life struggling to survive on a student's stipend and putting in long and tedious hours in a lab (in the case of people in life sciences anyway), to be unceremoniously dumped from a job that you gave your all to. Intellectually, the layoffs weren't that hard to understand...the company was hurting for money and so they eliminated programs that weren't immediately destined for the clinic. In that sense, it certainly wasn't personal. However, one can't help but consider that if one were truly valuable to the company, the company would find a way to keep that person on. It certainly adds insult to injury that some of the people who were retained were simply "yes (wo)men" or Peter Prinicipled to the positions they attained. Oh well, such is the life in the biotechnology industry! I have to add that in retrospect, it's really a good thing, because from what I've heard from friends who are still at my former company, it's not such a nice place to be any more. They've actually had another layoff in the first quarter of this year, so they're really struggling.

So, I have been looking for a new job since December. I have kept a job search log, and I have applied to approximately three jobs a week since the beginning of the year. Some were perfect fits, some were a bit of a stretch, but I could have excelled at them all. That's 48 applications...out of all of those, I've had four interviews. This is about a 6% ROI if you're counting - if I were a stock, I'd dump me! Out of the four interviews, two seemed seriously interested in me. One even called my references, but then I never got an offer. This leads me to suspect two reasons, either one of my references gave less than a glorious synopsis of my capabilities or there's another reason that I will reveal shortly. I can't imagine that one of my references would give me a bad review, but if I had to choose someone, I would really suspect my boss at the company I just left. It seems pretty malicious, but this is the same person I worked my ass off for and who did not fight to keep me. It bothers me that I will never know the reason.

I think that a job will come along, it just won't happen in my time frame. It's difficult to hear all the questions and advice from friends and family...
Why don't you have a job yet? I thought you'd be hired by now.
Why don't you consult?
Are you being too picky?
Sometimes you have to take a step backwards to move forwards...
I just want to SCREAM! If I HAD the answers, I wouldn't be in this situation! It's not as though I have been sitting on my hands and doing nothing. I have networked with contacts in industry, I've gone to job fairs, I've worked with recruiters, I've stalked Monster, Medzilla, HotJobs, and other industry-related websites daily. I've rewritten my resume.

So, someone might ask, maybe you're just not as good as you think you are? Fair enough. But, everyone that I have worked for has been pleased to have me work for them, at least as they've told me to my face. I've been the main inventor on multiple patents and the author of many manuscripts. I've managed staff, and had my direct reports tell me that I'm the best advisor they've ever had. Again, it could be that this is lip service since I will be giving references for them in the future. Maybe I don't interview well? Possible, although I have gotten feedback that I'm poised and articulate and give excellent seminars (a part of the interview process for scientists).

Here's what I truly believe that it comes down to. I found out that I was pregnant with my second child the week I got laid off. I am painfully nagged by the possibility that my lack of success in this job search is due to my "condition". The four interviews I went on happened in a time frame far beyond the ability for me to conceal my expanding belly. If this is true, I am heartbroken that in all of the years of progress we've made with women's rights, it still comes down to basic discrimination.

...and so it begins

My husband and sister have been regular bloggers, and I've never really felt compelled to write one myself. That is, until lately... I think that writing can certanly be cathartic, and I hope that I can use this space to free my mind. I don't really exepct any readers, which is just fine by me, although I will be curious to see who stumbles by...

So, if you do stop by, please say hello! Enjoy my ramblings...