I would have taken a really nice perspective shot, but it started to rain properly and that was enough for me!
Orange tomorrow, promise!
Other shootouts are here.
7 signs I’m no longer in college (idea nicked from Niamh, whose list last week made me laugh, and think oh yes, that's exactly how it was):
1. I no longer eat any sort of noodle & cream of whatever soup-based casserole whatsoever.
2. I don’t walk lopsided from the gigantic books in my bag.
3. Papers get written more than one day before the deadline.
4. I keep my back to the blackboard in class.
5. I know what I’m talking about. Really, this time.
6. No calculating my bank balance to the penny before buying a cup of coffee.
7. I’ve discovered that knowing where information can be found is often more important than knowing the information (as long as you do in fact go find it before needing to know it is critical).
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This is a thermocycler. It gets pretty hot for 20 seconds, then cooler but uncomfortably warm for 20 seconds, and then hot again but not so much as at first for 20 seconds to several minutes, depending on what you want. Then it goes through all those steps again, 25 to 35 times. If you started with some DNA and a couple of primers that face each other in the DNA, at the end you've got a jillion copies of whatever is between the primers. In my lab we go sequence that and find out if there's a mutation that might predispose to cancer. 
Out back, between the vast array of trash bins (paper & cardboard recycling, plastic recycling, kitchen trash and regular trash, plus a huge bin for the construction zone) and the auxiliary parking (no, no! fire truck access lane! though there is always a car or two or three there) is the tank farm. Nitrogen to the left, oxygen on the right.
There's a collection of small N2 tanks in our cold room, which we use for temporary storage and to take to different hospitals to collect surgical specimens for instant freezing. In a different building now we have four or five huge tanks for permanent storage.
One of these rats is very, very cold.
Sunday I went on one of my favorite hikes.
It's an 8 km trail, mostly dirt access roads, that winds around farmland on the south side of town. There were still blackberries out, though most had been picked.
There were a fair number of people out on the trail (though I didn't take their photos). Going for a long walk is a big Sunday tradition here, and the trails can be real highways sometimes. At one spot there was a gathering of trucks, and people tearing up and down a hillside on motorbikes. Amazing the damage those things can do. At least the noise is transient.
Some farms have sheep. On this side of the road the sheep are particularly white.
This is the other side of the road.
Where the sheep are still white (well except for one), though not quite as brilliantly white as their neighbors.
The mysterious movements of sheep: one of them started to go, so they all went. Then the one stopped and they all grouped up again, like traffic at a light.
More road. This is cow territory.
One one side, the black & white cows.
On the other, mesdames are brown and white.
No mixing of the cows.
Then it was getting late, so I didn't do the second loop for another 7km. I haven't done that one all year, now that I think about it. It follows a stream up a gorge, then winds through some farms and sub-suburban housing tracts. Maybe I'll do that one next week.
Maybe I should gather up all the windfalls and sell them for millions to a pharmaceutical company. Thar's gold in them thar goldens! 
The second part of the potato patch, which got watered much less than the one closer to the faucet, had only very small tubers. They're so cute! Note to self anyway: water more next time.
And then I noticed this guy. A potiron squash! The plant is huge and rambling and put out dozens of giant flowers (it's a trooper; it's still putting out flowers), but each time the flower faded, the naiscent fruit was devoured by the beasties that like that sort of thing. They missed one.
So according to Niamh, I'm to tell you some things about myself, and then pass the award on to other blogging greats.
Some things about me that you’re not going to read anywhere else:
Umm. Hmm.
1. I’m terrible with orchids. I can keep the plants alive, more or less, for years. But I’ve never had one put out flowers for me.
2. I didn’t pluck my eyebrows until I was 39. Looked in the mirror one day and saw that something should be done. We’re a bushy eyebrow family. I mocked my dad once, a little, (sorry Dad), about having his eyebrows trimmed, when really, it’s better to keep them under control.
3. Either I can’t count after all, or I’ve forgotten a cat. At the beginning of Cat of the Month, I figured I had 24 months of cats. Well, I’m up to Natalie now, and there seem to be just 23. 24 with the guest appearance of my parents’ cat Kisha, but only 23 of my own. Sure, there were some cats in the house when I was little that didn’t stay for long, but I do think I got them all. Guess I can’t count.
4. I don’t like tomato guts. The fleshy part of the tomato, okay, but the squishy part between the seeds, no.
5. I did a really horrible thing in college. Over the summer once I signed up to be a volunteer to take care of a handicapped teenager at her home while her parents went on an anniversary vacation. The girl was 15 and had cerebral palsy; she needed help cooking and moving around, nothing complicated. I visited the family about a month before their trip, and proceeded to go on with my summer, working at a printers and going out with my boyfriend. And I just kept on with my summer life. The week the family needed me, I totally spaced it. Completely forgot. By the time I remembered, they would have been back already. To make matters worse, I was far too ashamed to call them and apologize. What on earth would I say? Sorry to have screwed your whole vacation, but I just forgot? Instead I pretended the whole thing never happened, and I still feel badly about it.
And now for my nominations. Hmmm, so many neat blogs out there. Some of my favorites get nominated for awards all the time, others not so much. In alphabetical order (not because I’m an orderliness nut or anything, I’m just using the list as a brain annex) a handful of my current favorites:
Coffee Helps. I adore well-written blogs about picking up sticks and moving to an entirely different culture.
Mad Aunt Bernard. A screaming crackup! Please blog more!
Millenium Housewife. I don’t think I would ever have that sort of conversation with anybody.
Tooting Squared. Sharp observation, great presentation.
Us and Them. Captain Dumbass has as much fun as his kids.
A line of weather moving out.
Another one moving in.
The line of the earth's shadow crossing the sky.
It's raining.
It was raining plums for a month, though the carpet bombing of mirabelles
seems to have stopped now.
They tapered off over the weekend and appear to be done for the year.
-However-
-The respite was brief-
It's raining again
It's raining apples no matter how fast I pick them
Dried, sauce, crumbles, pie, eaten right off the tree
Four trees covered
It's going to rain all month and into October.
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This week's My Town Shootout theme is graffiti.
Where the tramway makes a long cut to go up a hill to the university campus, the concrete retaining walls are a favorite canvas for local artists.
To limit graffiti on trains (always a favorite target), they've made the train colorful. Not only does spray paint not stick as well, but even if it does, it's less noticable. And thus less rewarding for the tagger. If people can't see your work from blocks away, it's not worth doing.
Still, rail yards and underpasses are favorite places for graffiti. This building shows signs of being painted over regularly, but it remains a large blank page just begging for new decoration.
Although in certain spots graffiti seems to be tolerated, the city has a fairly aggressive campain of cleaning and overpainting that removes graffiti and keeps our town clean-looking. The other anti-graffiti strategy is to cover vulnerable buildings, like this closed (for the day) kids' center at a public housing project, with art from the community. The residents thus have a better sense of ownership and pride and are less likely to tag, but also tags are a lot less visible in the colorful chaos.
