Go Blue

Jacob is studying plants this semester for science, and he performed an experiment the other day about transpiration and cohesion and all that kind of exciting stuff. His plan was to place white flowers into four glasses of water, each dyed a different color, in order to discover how nutrients are absorbed through roots & stems and up into petals & leaves. Jacob's science textbook claimed that the flower placed in the blue food dye would most likely soak up the water before the other colors, but no explanation was given for this prediction. (And the only thing that Adam could come up with is that perhaps blue dye has smaller molecules or something.) Anyway, the blue food coloring did indeed travel up the stem rather quickly - within an hour - and tinted the flower in its glass a lovely blueish shade. Two days later, we are still waiting for the other three flowers to show some hint of color on their white petals. What the heck is it about blue food coloring? And why didn't the other dyes soak up into the flowers at all? I am almost curious enough to do some research myself.

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New Record

A few days ago, a meteorology grad student at Oklahoma University began a quest to gather pictures of something very unique. Patrick Marsh, for whatever reason, decided to document the fact that there was snow on the ground in all 50 states on the same day. This phenomenon has never before been recorded. Patrick's biggest obstacle was finding someone in Hawaii who would venture out to search for a patch of snow that hadn't yet melted following a recent blizzard near the 13,800 foot peak of Mauna Kea. After blogging, networking, and twittering, Patrick's pursuit was completed early on February 13th when these photos (verified by the National Weather Service) arrived in his inbox. To see the snowy pictures from the other 49 states, check out Patrick's blog.

Valentine Brunch

Jim, Adam, Jacob, and I all found ourselves together on Valentine's Day. Our exciting holiday activity this year was attending brunch at the Finnish Center with Nancy and Irma. The Finnish Center is a club-like social organization where every person of Finnish descent from southeast Michigan has been at least one time or another. On the second Sunday of each month they offer a brunch where people like my mother enjoy mingling with old friends and eating so-so food. The cooks and servers at these brunches are all volunteer Finns with an average age of about 85. And they are slow. Very, very slow.

The brunch is supposed to begin at noon. In the past, it listed an 11:30 a.m. start time, but the workers were always so consistently late preparing the food that they just decided to say noon. On Sunday, the six of us arrived at the Finnish Center promptly at 12:00. Nancy stopped by the hostess podium to pick up numbers to hold our places in line. Despite asking repeatedly for six numbers, the hard-of-hearing hostess would only give Nancy four: 43-46. When Nancy politely, but loudly, insisted on two more numbers, the woman reluctantly fumbled through her collection of worn, cardboard numbers and came up with 41 and 42. It was evident at that point that she was unknowingly passing out the numbers backwards. We found a table and chatted while the elderly volunteers unhurriedly set up the buffet table.

12:15. No food out yet, but chafing pans and warming trays were being brought from the back room.
12:30. Still no food visible.
12:45. My stomach was growling. Sterno was being lit. Progress!
1:00. Hostess announced that brunch was ready, and "Rudy's table could go on up first." Huh?

After somehow bumbling her way through the forty numbers before ours, we were finally called on by the hostess to go through the buffet line. I don't have enough time or space here to describe the food, other than to say that it was mediocre at best. After eating, I wandered over to the Finnish Center gift shop to make a quick purchase. The aged woman working at the cash register was busy ringing up an order for someone buying about ten items. The cashier repeatedly calculated and re-calculated the multi-item purchase - apparently never satisfied that her addition was correct. After her fifth or sixth try, Adam and Jacob came into the store to see what was delaying me. We all stood there completely flabbergasted as the buyer then joined the seller in an attempt to speed things along, only to slow the process down even further. Then, as if sent purely for our entertainment, two 90-ish ladies browsing in the gift shop started lamenting to one another that all of their friends were dead. The boys and I chuckled out loud at their conversation. All in all, I probably stood in line at least 20 minutes for my 15-second transaction. It is wonderful that these seniors get out of the house to volunteer their time and seem to enjoy doing it. But if you are ever in a hurry, heed my advice and steer clear of the Finnish Center because you will definitely not receive quick, or even normal, service there. Just slow service. Very, very slow.

Roadside Stand

Whenever I am out and about in Texas, I always notice things that you just don't see in other parts of the country. There are lots of roadside fruit & vegetable booths in the south, and, no, those aren't all that unusual. While tooling down the highway the other day, though, I caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a produce stand off in the distance. I wondered what crops might be in season in February, and was eager to see what was for sale. I was amused and surprised when I drove closer and observed the big, bold letters on the booth's overhead sign. Nope, they were not selling food of any sort, but instead "Knives and Swords." So, if anyone is ever in the market for a new sword, just contact me and I can point you in the right direction.

Winter's Wrath - The South

The weather in Houston today was the warmest it has been since Jacob and I pulled into town last Saturday. We went outside in t-shirts and flip-flops, and were able to get some work done in the yard this afternoon as well. Unfortunately, the week of below-freezing temperatures in early January really wreaked havoc with the tropical foliage in Texas. It is very distressing to drive around and see all of the dead palm trees and ferns and yucca plants and figs. (Not to mention banana trees . . .) Nurseries and landscaping companies in the area are going to make a fortune in the coming weeks and months as people begin to replace their ruined shrubs and trees. Everyone has informed us that this has been the harshest winter in Houston in decades and it is not typical at all to have more than one hard freeze per year, much less seven . Sadly, the previously lush look of the city has taken on a rather brownish hue.

These brown palm trees belong to the folks next door. They used to be a green and flourishing addition to the neighborhood.

Jacob lounged in front of our deceased tropical bush. I thought I would spare everyone another photo of my wilted banana tree. But look, at least one tree in the neighborhood (behind our fence) survived the frost!

Marcus

While we were at our Houston house in December, I had to call the gas company one day after discovering a leak at our outside gas meter. Marcus, a very pleasant employee from our natural gas provider, CenterPoint Energy, came right over and fixed it. When Jim returned to Texas in January, he detected a gassy stench near the back yard meter one afternoon. After he relayed that information to me I knew that it had to be quite a strong odor because Jim's sense of smell is terrible. Once more, Marcus was summoned to our house to repair a leak in a different pipe on the meter. When Jacob and I arrived in Houston late Saturday night, I was eager to check out the washer and dryer that Jim had recently purchased. I walked into the laundry room and could not believe that I again noticed the very distinct odor of gas. Jacob smelled it, too, but Jim did not. Since it was quite faint, I decided to wait until morning to phone the gas company. The next day, the foul stench still permeated the laundry room, so we notified CenterPoint Energy and Marcus visited our home for the third time. He brought in his gas sniffer wand and found our latest leak fairly quickly. It was located at the spot where the gas line entered our new dryer. Apparently the appliance installer from Sears was supposed to put a chemical sealant ("pipe dope") at the connection, but he did not. Marcus and Jim fixed the problem, and although Marcus is a nice enough guy, we are really hoping that we do not have to call him over to our house again anytime soon.