Rim Jobs with Balls or This may or may not have been fueled by margaritas

I love salt. My husband thinks this is because I'm from the Midwest. Or, what he deems, the land of butter, salt, and frying anything potentially edible. There may be some merit to that. I still consider Bob Evans haute cuisine.

At any rate, one of my favorite things about margaritas, besides the tequila, is the salt rim. Genius, right? Why aren't more drinks rimmed in things? There's a place in Denver that will rim sweet margaritas (e.g. the strawberry pomegranate acai blended concoctions) with sugar. Also good, but nothing compares to salty.

It made me realize though... you could technically rim a glass in anything.

With a baby shower coming up this weekend and free time during which I don't know what to do with myself, I decided to turn to the internet to see if there were any party suggestions featuring rimmed glasses.

I was not disappointed.

Using a mish mash of instructions from various sites, I decided to give it a whirl.

I chose Cut Crystal Chinet cups (due to their minimal lip around the top and therefore promise of easy rolling) as my guinea pigs.

I shook out a bunch of those small rainbow colored balls usually reserved for sugar cookies or ice cream onto a plate. I did this on my porch. I didn't feel like having them roll all over the floor and then having to deal with the mayhem of kitty sugar highs.

Next, I secured a small reservoir of honey. Using a foam brush I swept a layer of honey around the Cut Crystal Chinet cup edges. Subsequently, I rolled the cup in the plate of rainbow balls.

Said honey, rainbow nonpareils, and foam brush. I may try the pink sugar sprinkles next.

It worked:

Wax papered tray to minimize clean-up. Because I don't have THAT much free time.

The honey wasn't drying out the way I'd hoped in the sun. Turns out sun makes honey run/melt. So I put the tray in the fridge for about half an hour and BOOYAH.

Completely unnecessary, but bitchin'. Would also work well for circus themed child's birthday...

Superfluous, yet awesome, baby shower cups. Instant flair!

I'm also working on pinwheel/carnation centerpieces. Because there's something wrong with me. I'm not even hosting this thing!

Becky's Baby's Booties

Can you tell I'm on an elective month?

One of my fellow residents decided she likes kids so much she's going to go ahead and have one of her own! Her shower is coming up and for the first time I will have a baby project completed prior to their arrival!

For these (pattern: Be Mine from Leisure Arts' "Booties By the Dozen")(which yes, sounds pornographic, but in fact is clean as a whistle and features baby sandals as well as baby bunny slippers!) I used Aunt Lydia's Bamboo Thread size 10 and a 1.65mm hook. The bamboo was markedly softer than the regular cotton which I felt was more in keeping with baby stuff and simultaneously a nod to my wanna-be hippie ways.

I love using crochet thread and steel hooks. There's something so satisfying about creating the intricate stitches and wrecking my eyeballs. Part of the fun I think is that the projects turn out so difficult looking when really they're just crocheting on a small scale. Granted, I don't think I could knit on this small of a scale... that would drive me insane. Crochet is just so much more forgiving and you can really "sculpt" with it.

I've got one bootie down and one more to go!

My next project will be finding a cute, sustainable way to wrap these bad boys.

Feeling Impotent

I was so fired up the other day about reproductive health rights, but felt like there was nothing I could really do. I don't have a platform to be influential, most of what I say is emotionally fueled, and if I were ever to debate someone it would dissolve into a toddler tantrum with stamping feet faster than you can say, "transvaginal."

So... I did this instead:

One step above completely passive aggression. It's a bookmark. So all the folks sitting around me at coffee shops will know they'd best hold on to their vas deferens or start urging their candidates to make a modicum of sense.

Next I'm going to start knitting rebel messages into scarves.

Just... what?

This bonanza over birth control makes as much sense to me as Chris Brown still being on the airwaves.

How is everyone not looking at each other, aghast, wondering, “Uhhh... hello? What’d I miss?” Birth control is responsible. Chris Brown is abusive. Done and done, right?

Well, interesting.... The Right. Yes. That is where a lot of this seems to be stemming from. The masochistic, inane, completely flabbergasting rhetoric being thrown around by some of the presidential candidates and their party cronies is just... I don’t even know a word that would properly encompass my feelings.

Pitiable? Infuriating? Stupid?

Do they not realize that without the use of and access to birth control they’d have a pied piper following of illegitimate children all their mistresses would produce? Show me a politician who hasn’t had an affair. It’ll probably be easier to find a frat boy who’s never tasted beer.

Oh, I’m sorry, are those broad sweeping generalizations not even remotely based in fact? Guess where I learned to do that?

The idea that the government, the GOVERNMENT, is making inflammatory decisions about women’s health care based on moral rationalization rather than, oh I don’t know, legitimate data outlining how this issue is even remotely relevant, makes me livid.

Hi, you’re not doctors.

The short sightedness and... I don’t know, again, stupidity? that’s not even a strong enough word... of these people truly makes me want to... vomit feces, I guess. I can't think of a bodily function repugnant enough.

If you’re really so concerned about lost souls or innocent children or whatever the hell you’re calling zygotes these days, DO SOMETHING WHEN THEY’RE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE UTERUS.

You don’t want to imbue public education with any funding, you don’t want to expand social services, you’re cutting down on the already scant mental health resources available, you’re ignoring the reams of scientific literature linking unwanted children and risk of abuse, and you’re making statements outside the realm of your expertise.

Unintended pregnancies know no socioeconomic limitations, but the resources available for them once they slide down the chute are obscenely imbalanced amongst societal stratification.

I see the evidence of this every hour of my 80 hour work week.

How is birth control viewed as anything but preventive medicine? Pregnancy is not a benign condition. Women shouldn’t have to be penalized (HA!) for choosing not to put themselves at high risk for medical morbidity.

It’s on par with refusing to pay for someone’s statins because they CHOSE to eat all that McDonald’s and trans fat and blahbity blah - insert any American cuisine - and have a massive heart attack. In covering their anti-cholesterol, anti-inflammatory agents aren’t I just giving them carte blanche to go eat willy nilly whatever the hell they want? Veritable permission to go be junk food whores? (I'm looking at you, Rush Limbaugh.)

Why does everything change when you substitute in “birth control” for statin and “pregnancy” for myocardial infarction?

If you’re thinking of an argument that involves Jesus, then it should be off the table. Pretty sure there’s separation of church and state. Pretty sure that the justification you’re providing, that your God says it’s bad (paraphrasing), is completely unrelated to the governance of our country.

I could bring out Harry Potter and tell you what Dumbledore tells us to do. Would that be useful? Then at least I’d be speaking on your terms. Oh, going through Platform 9 3/4 is impossible is it? So is walking on water.

Believe what you believe. I don’t care. Just don’t make it law to believe what you believe.

There is absolutely nothing in these campaigns or in these politician’s track records that smacks of God’s love, forgiveness, justice, equality, unconditionality, concern for the least of us, on and on and on... so quit using it as an excuse. Walk the fucking walk, boys.

A Sure Sign of Spring

Oh yes. The Shamrock Shake.

I once nearly missed a friend's wedding trying to snag one of these babies. My roommate at the time and I were McDonald's hopping, hell bent on treating ourselves before they disappeared for a whole year. We kept trying one more Mickey D's, then one more, and oh, there's gotta be another one around here somewhere... Ultimately we dashed, empty handed, into a pew just as the sanctuary doors were closing to unveil the bride.

Turns out the Southern Ohio chains eschewed it. Which, I guess, figures, Southern Ohio being a sink hole for fun and delight. Unless you count racism and gun slinging. I do not.

The friend's wedding was on March 17th, St. Patrick's Day. They requested all of the guests wear green and bedecked their reception tables with shamrocks.

No, they weren't Irish, just theme oriented. It was cute.

But you know what would've been cuter?

Having a Shamrock Shake in my hand.

At any rate, I had one today for the first time in many many years. And oh, I'll just say it, they are indeed worth nearly missing the nuptials of a friend who six years later you don't even pretend to keep up with on Facebook.

Act fast, their minty days are numbered! Get you yours: http://www.shamrockshakefinder.com/

The Ikea Cometh

Mother of God.

We knew that heading out to the brand spakin' new IKEA three days after it opened would be a fairly popular idea, but HOLY SWEDISH MEATBALLS.

About three exits early on the Interstate large flashing signs indicated what lanes IKEA traffic should be in. I sort of thought this was amusing as traffic was zipping along at a regular jackass pace, but then we reached the actual exit and I realized it was no joke. The entirety of the Centennial police force was out, hating their lives and using orange cone glow sticks to bat away their dignity.

Like, seriously; every five feet or so there was another cop decked out in a fetching hot yellow vest with sweat pouring down their face. Or tears. Because really? This is what they joined the force for?

One of the things I've realized in Denver is that when a place is popular or receives a good review in one of the local magazines, it still remains accessible. Snooze notwithstanding.

When I lived in Manhattan should your favorite local sushi place get written up in Time Out or worse, the Times? Forget about it. There's no point in trying. Or, good God, when JCPenney's opened in Herald Square? Oy. That was even worse because it wasn't even just the curious literate faction mobbing the place, it was anyone with eyes.

So, I was a little surprised when we were ushered through a series of traffic cone gauntlets only to watch the behemoth store pass on our right even though all the signs suggested parking was that way. As in, the direction where there is no blue and gold warehouse blotting out the horizon.

We ended up getting spit out back on the main road. Confused, Irreverand Husband and I thought that we'd just been had. Were all the parking lots full?

As we passed cars w/ Missouri and Montana license plates, making me wonder if people had really trekked that far just to visit IKEA, we momentarily thought this was more than we bargained for and we should just head home... but the promise of cheap furniture whose assembly will no doubt test the strength of our marriage was too strong.

We finally found a spot in an office building lot that was whoring itself out for the weekend. Score.

I've seen a lot of mobs in my life; that time I was accidentally in Times Square when Puerto Rico declared it's independence... or wait, that can't be right... I don't know, something happened that was monumental and there were gobs and gobs of humans just spilling out into the streets wearing flags like capes, or when I was at Cedar Point the day the Millennium Force first opened, or when Justin Timberlake was allegedly spotted at Hershey Park the day it was teeming with *NSYNC fans waiting for the concert.

That was all nothing, mere handfuls of interested parties gathering, compared to all the greater Denver-ites who've been poised for this, ready to pounce for over a year, victims of the clever advertising barrage promising an amalgamation of affordable housewares.

In the warehouse's shadow there's a (now) small furniture store, with an inventory consuming merely half the strip mall, ironically called "WOW!"

Poor thing.

People streamed past it as the blue and yellow steel testament to human consumerism loomed large. Pilgrims in the quest of promised salvation from the bitter worlds of Pottery Barn and Pier One.

And... we were no different. We recently bought a town house (oh yeah, update! I'm a homeowner!)(I have a mother fucking mortgage!)(Yes, as in MORTGAGE) and have left all 24 boxes of books we moved unopened with the sole intent of waiting for the local vernacular to hum with silly Swedish consonants.

**********

It is now three weeks after the fact and as I sit here listening to my husband and father-in-law's curses and damnations punctuating eerily dentist-like drill noises I still believe it was all really worth it.

I'm getting closer to my dream of having a Beauty and The Beast library...

one Billy bookcase at a time.

The Macrophage: Honey Badger of the Immune System

I've been trying to reacquaint myself with how the immune system works in the hopes I'll understand what the hell is going on next month when I do Oncology.

Besides the fact that wow, how did I get through med school? I've learned that absurd metaphors help me retain what I've read/doodling makes it seem like you're studying for much longer than you actually are.

For your reference: The Crazy Nastyass Honey Badger

"The honey badger has been referred to by the Guinness Book of World Records as the most fearless animal in the animal kingdom. It really doesn't give a shit."

Similarly, the macrophage doesn't give a shit. As a white blood cell that hangs out in your tissues, it'll eat anything. In fact, when it's just hanging, living its life, it functions much as a garbage collector does.

Though my garbage people don't typically eat whatever they find laying around.

The toothless sanitation workers from college who probably masqueraded in white gowns and hoods on the weekends excepted. "Honey badger don't care, it just takes what it wants."


"There he goes running in slow-mo again."

I imagine the macrophage also just poking along, taking in the scenery, UNTIL... it receives a signal from a helper T cell that something that's not supposed to be there (e.g. enemy saliva leeching through a skin punctured by a fang) is now there.



He's wearing an apron because Helper! And though it's not as widely recognized to us, interferon gamma is basically the bat signal for the phagocytic (cells that eat things) world.

"The honey badger is really pretty bad ass. They have no regard for any other animal whatsoever... Ooh look it's chasing things! And eating them!"

Thus activated, the macrophage goes to the area that's emitting the bat signal and starts chowing down on invaders. It spews out pieces of invaders. This excrement serves as a welcome mat for MORE phagocytic and warrior cells to come to the scene and eat bad guys.

The macrophage does keep some of the invader bits to adorn its membrane with. Like trophies.

Other white blood cells see these trophies as challenges and are like, OH YEAH BABY, I'M GONNA FIND ME SOME OF THAT TOO and rush to join.


"But look! The honey badger doesn't care it's getting stung like a thousand times; it doesn't give a shit, it's hungry."

And oh, if a bacterium emits something sayyy, a lipopolysaccharide, a calling card of sorts, and it hits the macrophage head on? No T-cell intermediary? Oh the macrophage is one crazy fuck. It becomes HYPERACTIVATED (real term) and "honey badger don't care, honey badger smacks the shit out of it."

It's so tormented it starts sweating off tumor necrosis factor alpha. Smelling that sweat is an aphrodisiac to the rest of the white blood cells. They come a runnin'.


I don't know that honey badgers carry around little sacks of poison (the lysosomes pictured), but I wouldn't be at all surprised.