Our local Zoo has been having a lot of success lately with procreation. Lots of new birds, a couple of lions and now a baby panda! I have found the birth video, but don't worry, it's not messy. It's kinda cute. In an anthropomorphic kind of way. And check out the panda cam whilst you're over there.
Next Saturday the other panda cub, Mei Lin, turns two and there's a birthday bash being held for her. We might have to go...
No, this is not a Racist Presidential Post
Straited muscle tissue, in fact. Just in case you were wondering. In shades of grey, not pink. When striated muscles contract, tiny parts of these muscle, actin and myosin, "walk" towards each other. Imagine holding your hands together, palm to fingers. Now, "walk" your fingers of each hand towards your elbows.
That's basically how your muscles contract.
Now, not all muscles are the same. We use some of our muscle more than others (Insert your own dirty joke here), as do other animals. Chickens, for example, don't use their "white meat" muscles very much, so those muscle don't require as much energy as their more energetic brethren, the legs. Chickens use their legs a lot, I suppose. And that means those "dark meat" muscles need more energy.
Which brings me, albeit the looong way around, to my thoughts in question: Which is better- dark meat or white meat? Of course, we're talking chicken here. Some folks say that white meat tastes better, and it does have a milder flavor. Some folks say dark meat is juicier and more flavorful.
"Dark meat" muscles have more myoglobin, the stuff that helps carry oxygen and reduces the build up of carbon dioxide. Muscles that need a lot of oxygen will have more of this stuff. Conversely, myoglobin is related to hemoglobin, the stuff in your red blood cells that makes them, well, red. Both of these molecules have an iron atom in their center to hold the oxygen. Dark meat, therefore has a lot of iron in it. Which is a good thing.
I found something out in my research, but it will probably only be interesting to me- the charge on the iron in uncooked meat is +2 (red color) but in cooked meat it's +3 (brown color) and guess what- the iron in rust is +3, too. Which might explain why rust is brown? I wonder if that means a rusty spike will taste like a steak with enough A1 sauce...
...Yeah, there's a great big silence on this side of the monitor too as we all pause to wonder what the Hell I'm talking about...
If you suffer from anemia or other low iron diseases then dark meat is what you want- but pair it with a food with Vitamin C, or another acid, since the acid makes it easier for your body to use the iron. Don't ask me how, my pediatrician told me that.
But if you have too much iron in your system, skip the dark meat.
And guess what else I learned? Muscles release a lot of myoglobin upon injury. When a patient is suspected of having had a heart attack ( a muscle!) one of the blood tests done is to check the myoglobin levels. I would also suspect that doctors do this test for patients with a large trauma to the body, like falling out of something and smacking a large percentage of their surface area on the concrete.
So which is better? I like them both, but if you're eating purposefully, that is, with an end result in mind- higher iron levels, then eat the legs!!! But if you have hemachromatosis, eat the breast.
Tonight's music is brought to you by Re-Pete. I tried to get her the 1st time she sang this song in the bathroom. The acoustics are really good there and she was really belting that song out! But I wasn't fast enough, so she sang it again for us after dinner.
It's a catchy tune, in an irrating kind of way. But you can't help but love her...
Take a look at this little Angel:
and now at this little Angel.
The rate at which we are losing touch with our humanity is reaching warp speed. I look at sweet little Caylee and all I can see in my darling Re-Pete. I feel a deep hopelessness when I think about that Crazy Bitch of a woman. I want to hurt hurt hurt her for not being the Mother she should have been.
Doesn't she know how much that little girl loved her? How much she depended on her for every thing? How she lived to make her mother smile? Why hasn't she pulled her hair out by the handfuls every time she remembers little Caylee's laughter? Or tear herself to shreds with a razor every time she remembers her baby's smell? How on Earth does her heart continue to beat knowing her child is hurt/suffering/dead because of her actions?
My head knows that people like her exist. My heart and my soul, the place where the love for my children burns brightly is enraged and screams for her blood!
and Re-Pete is so tired she cannot sleep. She says....
" Momma?"
"Yes.."
"I love you one hundred two fifteen"
Has a mother ever been so loved?
I am a lucky woman....truly
'Scuse me while I go smother her with smoochies......
about the the girl who insisted that "you cannot divide 20 into 10" even with a calculator.
I have a student, whom I'll call Tim, in one of my morning classes. Good-looking, dresses in expensive clothing (albeit 10 sizes too large and no belt), but doesn't really like being told what to do, especially by adults. You know who they are- the first sign of confrontation (to them, anyway) results in them digging their heels in deeeeep and becoming total asses. In front of the whole class. They might even be thinking to themselves at the time, "Now how do I get myself out of this situation I've created?" But their pride and self-image prevents them from stepping away. As the adult, it's my job to recognize this behavior for what it is and not make matters worse. Too often, though, adults don't or won't recognize it, and push ahead. I admit it. I've done it. But calling a kid out and embarrassing them in front of their peers doesn't work.
Tim decided to test my limits last week. And when ever there is a confrontation I know I will win. But not embarrass them. So I took the student out in the hall and tried to reason with him: these are my class rules. They are here for your safety. You will follow them, there are no ifs, ands, or buts. I want you to be able to get the most out of my class, please do as I ask.
We go back in the room and he proceeds to continue his behavior. He gets sent to the office.
He comes back in the the next day and continues the behavior. He immediately gets sent to the office for corrective action. When he gets back I explain I will be calling his house and talking to his mother.
So I'm dreading 170 odd days of show down that will undoubtedly escalate to much worse than passive aggressive behavior.
Today he comes in and he's a new man! He was pleasant, he greeted me, he shared stories of his life with me. Told me a story about seeing transvestites as a small boy and thinking they were "Pretty". Which earned him the nickname "Fruit" by his older brother.
He was so different, and the experience in that class was so different that I still get goosebumps.
That class might just end up my favorite.
Oh, and the Yo-Yo part? My last class has turned into boneheads.They spent so much time being argumentative that they did not get to do the lab. That's the second time it has happened. I'll be spending my planning period calling parents tomorrow...
I gave my students the following homework today:
On the way home from school today, do the following:
1. Make sure the windows are up in your car/bus.
2. While the car is in motion. lightly toss a wad of paper up in the air directly in front of you.
3. Be prepared to share what happened.
I also told them: Earth moves at a speed of about 67.000 miles per hour. Since you are sitting on Earth, you must also be moving at that same speed. So, I asks, why aren't we feeling a wind of 67,000 miles per hour blowing in our faces?
(and the answer is....... anyone? anyone?)
I love teaching them about motion, some of them just have no concept of it, and I love the moment when it finally hits them.....
Tomorrow is our slow race. They have to get a marble to run along a 2 meter track/ramp and then 1 more meter on the floor in the greatest time possible. My record is a little over one minute.
Cya
... about the girl who was dared to write on her face with a Sharpie, and then erase it with a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser?
Yeah, two weeks later and she still has a patch of what can best be described as road rash on her cheek.
I just don't understand people sometimes. I can't decide whether or not we should drag off and shoot the person who convinced her it was OK or just slip her birth control pills for the next twenty years.
My single friends out there may want to skip this here post. I really don't want to make you tooo jealous. I can hope that one day you will know (for the 1st time, or again) the feelings I am about to share.
My married, or otherwise hitched friends, you will understand, and shake your head in agreement, possibly with a smile on your face. Perhaps you'll make sure as you go to bed tonight that assume this position.
I ask you, is there any feeling better than spooning with your special person? Doesn't matter if you're the spooner or the spoonee, I just love it when Hubba and are are snuggled up so close that we have a steady seam of contact all the way from our chest to toes... It's best right before we drift off to sleep or when we 1st wake up. Of course, we can only handle it for a little bit. Hubba is a toaster, and I don't like to bake when I sleep. We usually stick to our sides of bed with our feet entwined, backs lightly touching
How about you, are you a snuggler, or do you want you space?
My Brother used to call them "The Little People." Dressed in their orange vests, cleaning up the road, paying their debt to society. You seem them around periodically. With their long poky sticks and plastic bags.
I have a theory (again with the theory, seriously?) about these guys. One of these days one of them is going to be one of my former students. Or I'll see them on America's Most Wanted, or some such.
Well, it's not theory anymore- just Bona Fide fact. In our hometown paper is a story of a certain former student who had been arrested for burglary. Heh, this boy didn't make it long in my school before he was given an extended vacation in the Alternative School.
And then on the way home I see the Little People doin' their Little People Thing, cleaning up the trash on the main thoroughfare. Trash they probably helped create. And there, off to the side, in all his Splendid Orangeyness and droopy britches, I see another former student. He had the habit of accusing teachers of being racist and not giving him a fair chance, that he really was innocent. Think that worked with the judge?
Bet those two boys know each other....
The following is a recounting of events that took place at my work today, to the best of my collection:
I was busy teaching when a flash of Neon green caught my eye in the hallway. A man with hair to make any Rastafarian proud was strolling past my door in a bright green shirt. Which wasn't a reason for alarm since he had a tool belt on, and our building isn't quite finished. I went back to what this Tigger does best- Teach. A few moments laters I saw a few more guys traveling. Cool, a pack of glow-in-the-dark Rasta's. I can dig it, mon. To each his own, Mon. They seemed pretty laid back, but they might have been burning a few on the way to work, for all I know. I decide to keep an eye out for the little green men.
A bit later on in the morning two of them men come in and announce they are putting up mechanical pencils sharpeners. We all know a classroom is not complete 'till we get one of those babies. So one guy takes the block of wood that has two holes drilled in it and holds it to the wall to mark where he'll be drilling, Bzzz, Bzzz. Two seconds later, he knows where to drill into the concrete blocks for the concrete screws. He puts the wood down, picks up a heavier duty drill and proceeds to plant a few holes in my wall, Screee, Screee. So far, so good. At this point, two more glowing Rastafarians type dudes, Mon!, show up to watch the drilling action, so now there's 4 guys- one to work and three to watch. Maybe they worked for the government?
So he takes his wood lovingly into his hand..
....oh wait, wrong post....
and screws it the wood block into the wall. And then unceremoniously attaches the pencil sharpener to the block on the wall. The 4 men bob their heads in satisfaction, Mon, and move on to the next classroom.
Damn, they put the bloody thing on crooked. But who gives a poo, right? They could have lined the wood up to the top of the cinder block, but I guess they missed that part in Mechanical Pencil Sharpener Installation I. No sweat, I thinks to myself.
A bit later another teacher tells me they have installed the same setup in her room, following the same steps, including the crooked part.
Except she says, "Hey, you put it on crooked. " Yeah, she's a bit Anal like that.
To which our Intrepid Green Mon replies, " I know. They're all like that. I don't understand why."
That must have been some good weed.
Sheesh.
My Darling Husband has some thoughts on why the Olympics should not have been held in China.
Let me start out by saying I agree completely. He says it much better than I can, so go read his account. I still remember watching that man stand in defiance against that tank. Everywhere the tank went, he was sure to go. The courage that took! Our little town here named a small park in honor of Tienanmen Square. (but it has since changed names, which disappointed me to no end.)
On an aside, one of my friends, who is British, made a comment that Americans think their way is best. Duh! Of course it is. But, that doesn't mean, necessarily, that I want to shove it down anyone's throat. I just think it is our our right, as Humans, to be treated with dignity and respect.
Anyway, back to why I will watch the Olympics.
1. I think these games surpass/transcend/rise above/crash through (choose your fav here) political ideals/shortcomings/aspirations. It is the one time that we come together globally for a common goal. Well, maybe not the only time, but certainly when we come together when there has not been some sort of natural disaster on an epic scale, or the unbelievable death of a beloved leader.
2. These athletes train from a very young age and their entire lives are built around this training. I support and admire their efforts. I will cheer them on, even noisily sometimes. They represent the Best of Our Best. And the highly competitive part of me wants our side to Win! Win! Win!
3. Did you see the men's gymnasts on the still rings? If my hubby could do that, I'm pretty sure I'd have a set installed above our bed. (That was waaay too much information again, wasn't it?)
...for just about everything, I guess. But this one is about the way some women name their children. I think they use the Scrabble bag. No, seriously. I think they reach their hands into the bag and pull out a bunch, and then see what names can be made. If it's a girl, add an -ia to the end.
Case in point.
I have a student, who through no fault of her own, had a Mother who named her with the Scrabble Bag. She had something like 3 consonants and 6 vowels in her name (including the -ia at the end). After two days of butchering her name, she says to me, she says, " Ms. (Holder), jus' call me "K" like my Momma does, she can't say my name neither." (Say this with a drawlllll, ya'llllll)
Heh, that's just given me the 24 hour chuckles, it has.
h/t to H20
I spent most of my Sonny Money today. That's money ($100) that we teachers get from Sonny Perdue to help offset some of the money we spend throughout the school year. I really like it because it gives us a chance to buy stuff at a decent price. I bought some balloons that science supplies charge us waaay too much for at the local MegaMart for a third of the price. I generally use 75-100 balloons a year, so it adds up.My county doesn't easily reinburse us for incidental purchases for stuff like lab supplies. (Because I got this money I will not say anything negative about Sonny today.) I also got a DVD player. I show 5 or 6 clips a year, so for 30 bucks I don't have to walk to the other side of the campus to get a player. I had all my money planned out, down to almost the full amount. But they charged me tax! I asked why and was told "This stuff is not considered school supplies". But that's a matter of perspective isn't it?
I went to Home Depot to get some plain white board, which they cut down for me to use as small dry erase boards for my classes.
Did you know that the Home Depot has monthly Kid Classes? They have projects the kids complete. This time she got to make a flag holder- with a burlap like fabric and an Olympics sticker. And they gave her a small orange apron with her name, and a kid Craft pin with a ittly bitty picture of the flag holder she'd made. That was sooooo cute! We had a great time making it. Can't wait to go back next month! Surely I can think of some thing to buy every month at Home Depot....
As we got home and were unloading our purchases, I farted. Not a bad one, just a fart. As you do. So I did what any good mother would do- I blamed Re-Pete. Out loud. Here's what she had to say:
....And Keep in Mind, she is the Queen of Obvious....
Pete and Re-Pete were given those paper crowns from a certain fast food restaurant. But with a twist. They had been painted a silver-grey. On Pete's was written Crafty Chemist and Re-Pete sported Swell Scientist. They, of course, came up with their own names. Pete is the Queen of Everything and Re-Pete is Obvious Queen. Not Queen of the Obvious, or even The Obvious Queen. Just straight Obvious Queen. Heh. I love those girls.
Happy Friday to everyone. It's my last weekend of freedom until June, give or take a few holidays.
