What would happen if everyone could choose, individually, how much time their day consisted of? For instance: you choose 30 hours for today and your friend chooses only 10, but both of you have the perception that your days are the same length.
At some point in our lives, we've all said (or at least thought): "there's not enough time in a day..." or "I wish I had more time..." or "what I would give for just another hour to get this done..."
Well what if you really could have all the time you wanted before bedtime? What if you could stretch or shorten your day as much as you wish? Would you ever sleep again? Would you ever wake up? Would it be like the Twin Paradox where you've only aged a day but everyone else aged years or decades?
Just a fun thing to think about. I'm sure there's an episode of Twilight Zone or something out there with this idea. Or perhaps this is already how it is and that's why some people are more productive in their days than others!
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
Chinchillas and Children
People unfamiliar with exotic pets such as iguanas or chinchillas tend to either be afraid of them, or they wonder why I would want to keep such a thing because they assume these creatures have no individual personality. They would be wrong.
I went downstairs tonight and got some raspberries from the frig and was eating (read: inhaling) them in the kitchen. My chinchillas all reside in the breakfast nook because it is the easiest place to cool down in summer since it's like a small room (they are in danger of heat stroke over 75°F) and the easiest place to contain their mess and clean it up (they scatter hay and cage substrate on the floor daily).
Odin (our 10 year old light grey chinnie) saw me and was immediately sticking his pink nose through the bars begging for a treat: "ME TOO! ME TOO! ME TOO!"
I don't like giving him raspberries tho cuz of the tiny seeds (plus they are huge compared to his size if you think about it - that's like giving us a berry the size of a watermelon to eat all at once), so I gave him a small fresh blueberry instead. He loves those. Odin likes all kinds of fresh stuff - organic salad greens and grapes are other things I give him once in a great while (just in case new chinchilla owners seeking info are led to this blog, please note that giving fresh items such as this can cause diarrhea so if your chinnie does like these things, please don't give them anything large, and don't allow these types of treats too often. Once a month at the most for fresh items. Dried fruits are better; small bits of pineapple, papaya, apple, and raisins are your best bet. Chinchillas are junkies - they will quickly become addicted to treats, so you really have to monitor it and only give them one treat per day. That said...)
My other two chinchillas, Edwyn (charcoal grey, 9 years old) and Arty (the 4 year old beige that came to me just after New Year's - I'll have to put that in a different blog cuz that's quite a story), saw me give Odin a blueberry and they're like "US TOO! US TOO!" Suddenly I have pink noses poking through cage bars everywhere.
I gave a blueberry to Edwyn, who grabbed it and ate half, then probably dropped the other half somewhere in the cage to be revisited later tonight. (He's like that - they're nocturnal by the way.)
Then I offered one to Arty who sniffs it and says: "Uh no, I don't like that."
Me: Oh c'mon, you'll like it. The other two like them.
Another sniff.
Arty: No no, I'm sure I don't like these.
Me: How do you know? You've never had one. Here.
Arty: No, I don't like them. I'm sure.
Me: Seriously, try it. (Side note: Yes, I speak out loud to my animals.)
Arty: No.
Me: TRY IT.
Arty: NO.
Me: "Look stunad... they're the same as the dried blueberries you immediately pick out of your dish every time I give them to you. TAKE THIS. It's the SAME THING."
Arty: Gimme a treat.
Me: I AM giving you a treat! Take it!
Arty: I don't want that treat. Gimme a different treat. (Turns "the cute look" on me.)
Me: No, don't do that. Eat this!
Arty: NO, GIMME A DIFFERENT TREAT. (Turns up the cuteness by a factor of 10.)
Me: FINE.
I go get the dried blueberries in the treat container and give him one, which he immediately gobbles down. Mind you, this is the same thing I was offering him before, it's just that these have had all the water sucked out of them.
Arty: That was good. Can I have another one? I'm sure you didn't give me one yet. How come the other two got treats and I didn't?
(And the other two are in the background going, "Yeah, we didn't get treats either. We're sure. Give us one!" They are excellent little liars.)
This totally reminded me of my daughter when she was five. Or maybe when she was FIFTEEN.
Her: I don't like Indian food.
Me: Try it.
Her: No! I don't like it.
Me: How do you know? You've never had it. (A CLASSIC parent argument.)
Her: I just know! (A CLASSIC child response.)
Me: C'mon, try it.
Her: NO! It smells funny!
Me: Try it!
Her: NO!
Me: Ok here, have this instead. Take this bread (naan) and dip it in this sauce (tikka masala).
Her: YUM! That's really good. Can I have more? What is it?
Me: INDIAN FOOD.
Her: (No response.)
A similar story a few years later during the one month she lived here with me in California before running back to the boyfriend in New Jersey: Oceanside has a street fair in the evening every Thursday. There are a ton of food booths, but this one place sells Greek gyros and OH MY GOD are they good. Best gyros I've ever tasted. The first time we had them it was just luck in picking that out of all the booths; now I go back on Thursdays just for that.
Katy and I had been walking around and she kept insisting she wasn't hungry but she hadn't eaten all day (drama over being apart from the boyfriend... they cried on the phone together EVERY NIGHT for a MONTH - him included!). I finally got tired of trying to convince her to eat and bought a gyro for myself. As soon as I tasted it I knew she'd like it, but getting her to find that out was always a challenge.
Me: You need to eat some dinner. This is really good. Try it.
Her: No. I'm not hungry.
Me: You're missing out. You'll love it. Just take one bite!
Her: NO! What is it?
Me: Lamb. (mistake - never tell them it's anything but beef or chicken)
Her: EWWWW!!! GROSS!!! NO!
Me: TRY IT! It tastes like beef. You won't know the difference.
Her: NO!
Me: TRY IT!
Her: FINE.
One bite, no comment.
A few minutes later...
Me: Do you want more? You need to stop sulking and eat something.
Her: I'm NOT sulking! FINE. Just one more bite. (Rolling her eyes.)
Me: You sure you don't want one of your own? I'll buy you one.
Her: No, MOM! I'm not hungry. (So much eye rolling her head could've been a bowling lane.)
Then I ask her to hold it for me (yeah, I'm smart) and it starts disappearing like magic. When she gets down to the last few bites she asks if I want anymore of it. I say no thanks, you finish it. No other comments are made. (I ate something later at home.)
These things are necessary silent victories lest you lose the next battle because your opponent has figured out your strategy. (She was 19. NINETEEN! Don't ever let anyone tell you the terrible twos stop in a few years! The only cure for that is moving out of the house!)
The next week she asks: Hey, can we get gyros again?
Chinchillas are much more stubborn.
I went downstairs tonight and got some raspberries from the frig and was eating (read: inhaling) them in the kitchen. My chinchillas all reside in the breakfast nook because it is the easiest place to cool down in summer since it's like a small room (they are in danger of heat stroke over 75°F) and the easiest place to contain their mess and clean it up (they scatter hay and cage substrate on the floor daily).
Odin (our 10 year old light grey chinnie) saw me and was immediately sticking his pink nose through the bars begging for a treat: "ME TOO! ME TOO! ME TOO!"
I don't like giving him raspberries tho cuz of the tiny seeds (plus they are huge compared to his size if you think about it - that's like giving us a berry the size of a watermelon to eat all at once), so I gave him a small fresh blueberry instead. He loves those. Odin likes all kinds of fresh stuff - organic salad greens and grapes are other things I give him once in a great while (just in case new chinchilla owners seeking info are led to this blog, please note that giving fresh items such as this can cause diarrhea so if your chinnie does like these things, please don't give them anything large, and don't allow these types of treats too often. Once a month at the most for fresh items. Dried fruits are better; small bits of pineapple, papaya, apple, and raisins are your best bet. Chinchillas are junkies - they will quickly become addicted to treats, so you really have to monitor it and only give them one treat per day. That said...)
My other two chinchillas, Edwyn (charcoal grey, 9 years old) and Arty (the 4 year old beige that came to me just after New Year's - I'll have to put that in a different blog cuz that's quite a story), saw me give Odin a blueberry and they're like "US TOO! US TOO!" Suddenly I have pink noses poking through cage bars everywhere.
I gave a blueberry to Edwyn, who grabbed it and ate half, then probably dropped the other half somewhere in the cage to be revisited later tonight. (He's like that - they're nocturnal by the way.)
Then I offered one to Arty who sniffs it and says: "Uh no, I don't like that."
Me: Oh c'mon, you'll like it. The other two like them.
Another sniff.
Arty: No no, I'm sure I don't like these.
Me: How do you know? You've never had one. Here.
Arty: No, I don't like them. I'm sure.
Me: Seriously, try it. (Side note: Yes, I speak out loud to my animals.)
Arty: No.
Me: TRY IT.
Arty: NO.
Me: "Look stunad... they're the same as the dried blueberries you immediately pick out of your dish every time I give them to you. TAKE THIS. It's the SAME THING."
Arty: Gimme a treat.
Me: I AM giving you a treat! Take it!
Arty: I don't want that treat. Gimme a different treat. (Turns "the cute look" on me.)
Me: No, don't do that. Eat this!
Arty: NO, GIMME A DIFFERENT TREAT. (Turns up the cuteness by a factor of 10.)
Me: FINE.
I go get the dried blueberries in the treat container and give him one, which he immediately gobbles down. Mind you, this is the same thing I was offering him before, it's just that these have had all the water sucked out of them.
Arty: That was good. Can I have another one? I'm sure you didn't give me one yet. How come the other two got treats and I didn't?
(And the other two are in the background going, "Yeah, we didn't get treats either. We're sure. Give us one!" They are excellent little liars.)
This totally reminded me of my daughter when she was five. Or maybe when she was FIFTEEN.
Her: I don't like Indian food.
Me: Try it.
Her: No! I don't like it.
Me: How do you know? You've never had it. (A CLASSIC parent argument.)
Her: I just know! (A CLASSIC child response.)
Me: C'mon, try it.
Her: NO! It smells funny!
Me: Try it!
Her: NO!
Me: Ok here, have this instead. Take this bread (naan) and dip it in this sauce (tikka masala).
Her: YUM! That's really good. Can I have more? What is it?
Me: INDIAN FOOD.
Her: (No response.)
A similar story a few years later during the one month she lived here with me in California before running back to the boyfriend in New Jersey: Oceanside has a street fair in the evening every Thursday. There are a ton of food booths, but this one place sells Greek gyros and OH MY GOD are they good. Best gyros I've ever tasted. The first time we had them it was just luck in picking that out of all the booths; now I go back on Thursdays just for that.
Katy and I had been walking around and she kept insisting she wasn't hungry but she hadn't eaten all day (drama over being apart from the boyfriend... they cried on the phone together EVERY NIGHT for a MONTH - him included!). I finally got tired of trying to convince her to eat and bought a gyro for myself. As soon as I tasted it I knew she'd like it, but getting her to find that out was always a challenge.
Me: You need to eat some dinner. This is really good. Try it.
Her: No. I'm not hungry.
Me: You're missing out. You'll love it. Just take one bite!
Her: NO! What is it?
Me: Lamb. (mistake - never tell them it's anything but beef or chicken)
Her: EWWWW!!! GROSS!!! NO!
Me: TRY IT! It tastes like beef. You won't know the difference.
Her: NO!
Me: TRY IT!
Her: FINE.
One bite, no comment.
A few minutes later...
Me: Do you want more? You need to stop sulking and eat something.
Her: I'm NOT sulking! FINE. Just one more bite. (Rolling her eyes.)
Me: You sure you don't want one of your own? I'll buy you one.
Her: No, MOM! I'm not hungry. (So much eye rolling her head could've been a bowling lane.)
Then I ask her to hold it for me (yeah, I'm smart) and it starts disappearing like magic. When she gets down to the last few bites she asks if I want anymore of it. I say no thanks, you finish it. No other comments are made. (I ate something later at home.)
These things are necessary silent victories lest you lose the next battle because your opponent has figured out your strategy. (She was 19. NINETEEN! Don't ever let anyone tell you the terrible twos stop in a few years! The only cure for that is moving out of the house!)
The next week she asks: Hey, can we get gyros again?
Chinchillas are much more stubborn.
Friday, June 04, 2010
What's In A Name?
I'm proofreading a book on Oceanography. I love doing this stuff because you learn inane bits of trivia that make you much more interesting than you really are at random parties. For instance...
Early Mediterranean cultures envisioned that marginal bodies of water similar to the Mediterranean Sea surrounded most of the continents. The name “Earth” describes the portion of the planet that is inhabited by man in spite of the fact that the majority of the planet’s surface is covered by water. Our planet was named before ocean exploration began.
Which says to me that if fish had developed the ability to talk before they could walk, the third rock from the Sun would be called Water and perhaps Mars would be Earth. And they would've all drowned before evolving onto land due to an inability to keep their mouths shut. Oh wait...
Sunday, May 09, 2010
Terminal Velocity
I am dog sitting in Rainbow, CA at a house that sits on top of a large hill surrounded by grapefruit and orange trees. It’s very peaceful up here. Adding to the awesomeness is an enormous front porch that looks out over an incredible view. I am so grateful to have this change of scenery, and get paid to be here too!
The owners are into bird watching so there are feeders all along the front porch and if you sit in the large, comfy wicker chairs you’ll get buzzed by hummingbirds and orioles as they come in looking for a snack. The hummers are especially fearless and will come right up to check you out face to face.
Hummingbird food is sticky, sugary stuff, as you might know, and yesterday when I went outside to enjoy the sun I saw that ants had amassed to form an amazing number of marching lines up the banisters, across the roof, and down onto one of the feeders. It looked like the entire hill had come to party. They were everywhere! (I wonder if that’s what aliens think when they look at our planet… “OMG! They’re EVERYWHERE! Get the hose!”) The second big red restaurant had no such problem.
I found it especially interesting to see that inside one of the plastic “flowers” the ants had actually lined up like cars around a lake and were gulping it down (one would have to assume since you can’t actually see an ant gulp). I wish I had a better camera for these kinds of things. They looked like DNA all side by side like they were.
After a quick assessment of the two feeders, I realized the reason one looked like IHOP after church was that the owner neglected to fill the little upside-down umbrella at the top of the hanger, which creates a water barrier the ants won’t cross. Amazing piece of technology, really — so simple and so effective. A three-inch moat that keeps thousands of ants from being thieves. Maybe Arizona should try that. Oh wait…
I retrieved a glass of water to remedy the situation. As I poured it into the umbrella (apologizing for my “act of God”) there was panic, confusion, and drowning. A few good swimmers made it to the edge. I realized that those stuck on the part of the feeder under the umbrella would have no way off the fixture. I wondered if they would just wander around until they died of starvation or what. How long would it take those with an escape route to pack their things and go home? Would there be stories of ant heroism on the Local Insect News that night? Would web sites be set up to list the missing ants and hopefully connect them back with their families? Would this go down in history as the Great Flood of Saturday? What’s the average ant lifespan anyway? Would they even have time to do all that?
Then I realized that all the ants stuck on the wrong side of the water could easily escape if they had the mind to. I knew this because I remembered there is no terminal velocity* for an ant. Well, there IS technically since “terminal velocity” means that fastest rate at which an object will fall – for ants it’s 4 MPH. (You’re welcome.) What I mean is ants don’t die from falling off high places like people do. Actually no one dies from the falling, it’s the sudden stop at the end that gets you. An ant, however, has so little mass that it can hit the ground from any height and walk away unscathed (or perhaps with a slight headache). No parachute required.
All they had to do to return to safety was LET GO.
Imagine that.
~*~*~*~
The owners are into bird watching so there are feeders all along the front porch and if you sit in the large, comfy wicker chairs you’ll get buzzed by hummingbirds and orioles as they come in looking for a snack. The hummers are especially fearless and will come right up to check you out face to face.
Hummingbird food is sticky, sugary stuff, as you might know, and yesterday when I went outside to enjoy the sun I saw that ants had amassed to form an amazing number of marching lines up the banisters, across the roof, and down onto one of the feeders. It looked like the entire hill had come to party. They were everywhere! (I wonder if that’s what aliens think when they look at our planet… “OMG! They’re EVERYWHERE! Get the hose!”) The second big red restaurant had no such problem.
I found it especially interesting to see that inside one of the plastic “flowers” the ants had actually lined up like cars around a lake and were gulping it down (one would have to assume since you can’t actually see an ant gulp). I wish I had a better camera for these kinds of things. They looked like DNA all side by side like they were.
After a quick assessment of the two feeders, I realized the reason one looked like IHOP after church was that the owner neglected to fill the little upside-down umbrella at the top of the hanger, which creates a water barrier the ants won’t cross. Amazing piece of technology, really — so simple and so effective. A three-inch moat that keeps thousands of ants from being thieves. Maybe Arizona should try that. Oh wait…
I retrieved a glass of water to remedy the situation. As I poured it into the umbrella (apologizing for my “act of God”) there was panic, confusion, and drowning. A few good swimmers made it to the edge. I realized that those stuck on the part of the feeder under the umbrella would have no way off the fixture. I wondered if they would just wander around until they died of starvation or what. How long would it take those with an escape route to pack their things and go home? Would there be stories of ant heroism on the Local Insect News that night? Would web sites be set up to list the missing ants and hopefully connect them back with their families? Would this go down in history as the Great Flood of Saturday? What’s the average ant lifespan anyway? Would they even have time to do all that?
Then I realized that all the ants stuck on the wrong side of the water could easily escape if they had the mind to. I knew this because I remembered there is no terminal velocity* for an ant. Well, there IS technically since “terminal velocity” means that fastest rate at which an object will fall – for ants it’s 4 MPH. (You’re welcome.) What I mean is ants don’t die from falling off high places like people do. Actually no one dies from the falling, it’s the sudden stop at the end that gets you. An ant, however, has so little mass that it can hit the ground from any height and walk away unscathed (or perhaps with a slight headache). No parachute required.
All they had to do to return to safety was LET GO.
Imagine that.
~*~*~*~
*A 180-pound man has an approximate terminal velocity of 125 MPH if his arms and legs are spread out. If he's rolled into a ball, the T.V.** is 200 MPH due to less drag. (No, that does not mean homosexuals fall slower. :P)
**Perhaps "TV" is also the fastest method to fall out of consciousness. Coincidence?
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