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At our Nest in Seward this weekend. A glorious bluesky day, chilly, with a punitive wind out of the north. Good day to slip on the ol’ Dearfoams (mine are knockoffs) and toss an extra log or two into the wood stove.  Not a flake of snow on the ground in town, though plenty high above

The dog is asleep on the couch; Happy Wife is flipping through the pages of a magazine. The only sounds are the tink tink of the wood stove box, expanding and contracting, and the incessant wind outside fighting through the break of tall evergreens that give us shelter from the north. The sound of wind in the trees has elsewhere been described as melodious, salubrious — Psithurism. Not the one I’m hearing. This one has the temper of a Comanche Warrior come to avenge the death of his leader.

Fear not, however, there’s a nearly full bottle of Sapphire gin on the counter, plenty of olives in the fridge, a high stack of dry wood, over 2 Gigs left on our data plan this month, which resets tomorrow, and so… imagine, if you will, two blissfully schnockered Alaskans and their black dog nestled into the love couch streaming season 3 episodes of Longmire waiting for the Black Bean and Butternut casserole in the oven to finish baking.

Let the vengeful wind howl. We’ve nothing to fear.

Happy Wife is in Seattle. With Rosemary in her nose.

A few months ago with her boss, a surgeon, crossing Kachemak Bay, Alaska.

Destination: Homer, Alaska.

 

Me?

I got nothing.

Except her.

Which is Everything.

Flight #81. Due into Anchorage @ 8:44 am tomorrow morning. Fifteen minutes before the Packer’s game.

Best be on time!

I woke up a few days ago, early. Sat up in bed and listened. What’s that? A noise, coming from the hallway.

First thought, “Where’s Chester?” Just like that he walks into the bedroom, jumps on the bed and lays down.

I’m suspicious.

I go into the hallway. Sure enough, he’d chomped the drywall and the baseboard. Nothing serious, superficial really, an easy repair. I shuffle back into the dark bedroom. The glow of his yellow eyes. He’s looking right at me. Does he know? Will he associate a scold with the misbehavior? Doubtful. I crawl back under the sheets, try to push him aside, to make room. (Imagine trying to move a sixty pound sack of rocks). Happy Wife murmurs, “What’d he do?”

“Go back to sleep, dear.”

We got our first dust of snow the other day. An inch, possibly more on the east side of town, nearer the mountains. Followed by melting, and then freezing, and then ice, and then cars in the ditch. That was a gray and angular morning. The clouds were so low the mountains were invisible. To look outside you’d have thought we lived in Nebraska. Nothing against Nebraska. It’s just the first topographically featureless state that jumped to mind. I could have said Kansas or Iowa. Eastern Wyoming. Florida!

Lately, there are other sounds in the house. Thin metal bars crushing the backs of mice — Snap! I bait the traps with Almond Butter. The All-Natural, No-Stir, Crunchy kind. Mice can’t resist it. I’ve no idea how they’re getting in the house or why they’re particularly bad this year. Global warming? Killed two beneath the kitchen sink and two in the garage. I threw the four corpses in the snow. The Ravens and Crows will recycle them.

I can’t find my balance at work. That’s a topic of a post all its own, if I cared to talk about it, and I really don’t. I don’t want to hasten the passage of years, who does. But let me tell you, I am anxiously looking forward to the day when we can start spending the money we’ve saved — the past 30+ years — instead of continuing to add to it. Ah, you say, we should consider ourselves fortunate we can still add to it, no? Of course; I’m not saying we’re ungrateful for the past, just ready for the future.

I’m only half kidding when I tell people I’m turning into a democrat. Single payer health insurance – count me in. Preservation of ALL social security benefits, ka ching. To hell with markets for health care and privatizing social security. It’s not that I’ve lost my conviction to self-interest, to the contrary! I just want what’s legally mine (social security), and would like never again to hear, Thank You For Calling Premara, Your Call Is Very Important Us.

Read recently that the rate of death of middle-aged white Americans is on the rise. Specifically, ages 45-54. That puts us in the clear.

But just barely.

When the researchers took a closer look at the death rate among middle-aged whites, they found that those with only a high school education or less saw a much larger rise in death rate than those who went to college.

Well, there you go. If further study should find that years in school is proportional to longer life, I expect to be the one turning out the lights.

Gotta go. Just now heard another Snap! come from the garage. Sheesh. Effin’ mice.

We left Chester alone in the house all day for his first time, save two short visits by the house sitting service. One can never be sure how a young, bored, and lonely dog will pass the time.

“Well, would you look at that, a leather wrap around a chair leg. Hmm? Looks positively chew-able.”

“Or those shoes! They smell like Mom’s feet. Yum yum.”

“I really do think if I scratch hard enough through the carpet right here I may be able to get into the basement. Perhaps there are treats down there?!”

“Would you look at that — Drapes! One tug and off the rod they came. Duck Cover and Roll!”

“What’s this up here on the counter top? A chicken? No, can’t be. But wait, it is. A thawing chicken — Yahoo!”

And so on…

Instead, about 11:30 am I get a reassuring text from the house sitting service:

Everything was perfect, Rod. I did a walk thru and didn’t find anything of concern. Chester was snoozing on the big pillow under the window when I arrived.

But of course you silly upright, what did you expect

An amusing comment to an article that characterized Hillary Clinton as the apparent winner of a debate with her Democratic rivals for president,

It’s like the Globetrotters getting cocky because they took another game from the Generals.

Some two years after my academic colleague and I were first invited to author a book chapter, the book (finally) has been published by Springer Press. Scroll down, Chapter 12 I think.

In case your normal sleep aid has been failing you, try this

While considerable research into colorectal cancer (CRC) has implicated many genetic alterations that trigger the disease and sustain its progression, there are few well-validated, clinically useful molecular biomarkers of CRC. The observation that cancer is highly diverse across individual tumors is manifested at the molecular level by concomitantly diverse patterns of gene expression. However, while analysis of gene expression has been used to identify candidate biomarkers of cancer, such biomarkers frequently do not cross validate well on independent datasets and this has raised legitimate concerns regarding the usefulness of gene expression based markers. It is has been postulated that by integrating the functional information of gene products into the approach, networks of mechanistically related gene products may be identified and used to develop more robust biomarkers. Many such approaches focus on established signaling pathways for this purpose; however, pathways consisting of a few proteins interacting in a serial fashion oversimplify, and provide inadequate models for, a complex phenotype (e.g. CRC) mediated by a constellation of interacting gene products. Here, we discuss several integrative techniques based on cellular networks (protein–protein interactions) and incorporation of lower-coverage, but functionally relevant proteomic data, and show the power these techniques hold for prioritizing disease genes for biomarker discovery and biological verification of function.

I know, right — a real page turner. And that’s just the abstract!

Only $159.00 as an e-book! The perfect stocking stuffer for your favorite insomniac. There’s even enough time before Christmas to have me sign it. What are you waiting for?!

Well that was easy.

This Lucky Dog drew the Ace of Hearts today. We played for a while in the back yard at the shelter. A surprisingly warm day in October, nearly 60. Couldn’t find a single reason not to adopt him.

Meet Chester.

A vital, 11-month old Lab/Husky mix who’s only shortcoming so far is he doesn’t seem to know his name is Chester. He appears to be a bright boy, though, he’ll catch on.

I frequently hear in the course of foreign policy discussions that the United States is the only country in the world with sufficient military force to weaken and eventually destroy groups like ISIL. This is usually brought up in the context of air strikes. I have never understood the basis for this claim. Clearly, Israel, for instance, has a competent military, including fighter jets and trained pilots to do considerable damage to ISIL. And Israel is much closer to Iraq and Syria than the U.S., a practical advantage in terms of deployment. The reason Israel doesn’t join the attack against ISIL, I assume, is because it would inflame a larger religious war in the middle east. Sure, certain Muslim (Shia) countries in the middle east have joined the fight against ISIL, Iran for instance, but Iran and other Muslim countries would likely go apoplectic if a Jewish army were to start bombing Muslims, even if those Muslims are radical Sunni terrorists, i.e. ISIL.

I assume individual NATO members, such as France, also have an adequate military force to weaken ISIL. The latest events in northern Syria indicate that Russia does too.

Interesting how you never hear the American government admit they were wrong about being the only country with adequate military power, when Russia, for instance, wages effective bombing campaigns against ISIL in Syria. What you hear, at least what I hear, is not that the Russian military cannot be effective at weakening ISIL, it’s that Russia is doing this without U.S. approval or NATO’s coordination, and that they’re bombing targets other than ISIL (e.g., rebel groups supposedly fighting Assad but not aligned with ISIL).

Pretty clearly the U.S. really isn’t the only country with a military capable of fighting and eventually defeating terrorist groups. I find it surprising then why Obama and members of his administration continue to make this claim, in light of the fact that Obama refuses to authorize the bombing of ISIL in Syria, and so far has only given limited support for the same in Iraq. If you ask me, I like the fact that Obama hasn’t authorized military force in Syria, but I’d also like it if he would be consistent and stop saying that the U.S. is the only country capable of succeeding at it.

Closer to home…

We’re going to visit a young dog at the animal shelter this afternoon. Who knows, if he licks our faces and wags his tail just right it may be his lucky day.

Update: Evidently Obama has not refused to order air strikes in Syria against ISIS targets. I should have said he was reluctant to do so.

You know you’re in Wisconsin when

Or when I say, “Andy, look up.”

Half fish, half woman. Somebody must occasionally apply a smear of deodorant. She didn’t smell the least bit fishy.

A shout out to Cleos in Appleton, especially for those infamous Dirty Snowballs.

Or you find yourself thoroughly enjoying Boogie and the Yo-Yoz.

Wisconsibly, of course.

Or you come upon a very old lighthouse on Lake Michigan in Door County

Or you discover a bumble bee on approach to a Salvia bloom

Or you spot goats on the roof at Al Johnson’s

Or you find yourself gorging on Cherry Stuffed French Toast with a side of bacon at The White Gull Inn.

Or your sister suddenly sneaks up on you to ask if you might want a kiss. Uh…

Or you attempt the Lambeau Leap at Lambeau Field!

Or you’re just hangin’ with friends and family on a Monday night when suddenly the Green Bay Packers emerge from a tunnel!

Or even better yet Aaron Rodgers throws (1 of 5) touchdown passes not fifty feet in front of you!

And to think it all began about ten days ago with Happy Wife tickling an exceptionally passive moose

Vignettes from the Lost Lake mountain bike adventure this past weekend.

Happy Wife stayed back and did the heavy lifting with Barkley, a high-spirited golden retriever.