FreeVille
Saturdays, the Whackadoodle-II and I usually head out early to find a body of water for her to frolic in somewhere.
But this morning I used the crummy (but good for wildfire prevention!) weather here in Lotusland as an excuse for sleeping in a little.
And then I had a bit of trouble getting going.
Luckily, Ben Sinclair's Tour Diary popped up on the left sidebar and I spent a little time reading about 'The Beths' recent day spent in Boise Idaho that included the backing of their big blue bus and its trailer around multiple tight corners, the soldering of Craig's list-acquired mic cables, park exploring, the post-show cross loading of gear into a Subaru station wagon, burritos, and all manner of being young New Zealanders run amok in America (for example, sometimes they play cricket with a home made bat while on the actual bus).
Next I went full metal para-social and watched the gang wake-up and frolic the Woodland Park Zoo in Seattle a few days ago. This was followed by a spate of Tubian queue making in advance of listening to the latest from the band's road show:
The tune above is, as Sonny Bono and Townes once said, a medley of The Beth's hit, singular, called 'Expert in a Dying Field'. This particular video version is from a show yesterday in, of all places, Ogden Utah.
Okay...
Now that I'm all revved up, I've got to put the fun stuff away because the time has come to re-learn a little histology, which is, essentially, the microscopic study of tissues using old fashioned blue and pink stains that underpins much of classical pathology. Pathology is a field that is rapidly changing, what with all the high throughput, multiplex imaging and spatial genomics that is blossoming at the moment.
Nonetheless, histology is not quite dead because, before you do all the fancy stuff that helps to improve the precision of pathologic diagnosis and prognosis (i.e. naming the problem and making an educated guess at the likely outcome), you need to know what the tissue concerned looks like prior to getting messed up.
Long story short, back when I was a gradual student I became a pretty good histologist who could pick out a single antibody producing plasma cell swimming in a sea of dermal collagen based on its blue clock face nucleus or Paneth cells filled to bursting with little pink antimicrobial granules located deep within an intestinal crypt.
Unfortunately, those skills have waned significantly in the intervening decades. However, all that degradation must now be reversed because this fall I've agreed to help out passing along such skills to a passel of budding young health professionals.
Which means that, given that I'm not writing a grant at the moment, I've got to buckle down and hit the books on the shelf over my left shoulder and/or the online atlases to make sure that I can tell the difference between cardiac and skeletal muscle cells before Labour Day.
Saturdays, the Whackadoodle-II and I usually head out early to find a body of water for her to frolic in somewhere.
But this morning I used the crummy (but good for wildfire prevention!) weather here in Lotusland as an excuse for sleeping in a little.
And then I had a bit of trouble getting going.
Luckily, Ben Sinclair's Tour Diary popped up on the left sidebar and I spent a little time reading about 'The Beths' recent day spent in Boise Idaho that included the backing of their big blue bus and its trailer around multiple tight corners, the soldering of Craig's list-acquired mic cables, park exploring, the post-show cross loading of gear into a Subaru station wagon, burritos, and all manner of being young New Zealanders run amok in America (for example, sometimes they play cricket with a home made bat while on the actual bus).
Next I went full metal para-social and watched the gang wake-up and frolic the Woodland Park Zoo in Seattle a few days ago. This was followed by a spate of Tubian queue making in advance of listening to the latest from the band's road show:
The tune above is, as Sonny Bono and Townes once said, a medley of The Beth's hit, singular, called 'Expert in a Dying Field'. This particular video version is from a show yesterday in, of all places, Ogden Utah.
Okay...
Now that I'm all revved up, I've got to put the fun stuff away because the time has come to re-learn a little histology, which is, essentially, the microscopic study of tissues using old fashioned blue and pink stains that underpins much of classical pathology. Pathology is a field that is rapidly changing, what with all the high throughput, multiplex imaging and spatial genomics that is blossoming at the moment.
Nonetheless, histology is not quite dead because, before you do all the fancy stuff that helps to improve the precision of pathologic diagnosis and prognosis (i.e. naming the problem and making an educated guess at the likely outcome), you need to know what the tissue concerned looks like prior to getting messed up.
Long story short, back when I was a gradual student I became a pretty good histologist who could pick out a single antibody producing plasma cell swimming in a sea of dermal collagen based on its blue clock face nucleus or Paneth cells filled to bursting with little pink antimicrobial granules located deep within an intestinal crypt.
Unfortunately, those skills have waned significantly in the intervening decades. However, all that degradation must now be reversed because this fall I've agreed to help out passing along such skills to a passel of budding young health professionals.
Which means that, given that I'm not writing a grant at the moment, I've got to buckle down and hit the books on the shelf over my left shoulder and/or the online atlases to make sure that I can tell the difference between cardiac and skeletal muscle cells before Labour Day.
What fun!
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Image at the top of the post?...The W-II dipping her toes into Englishmen's River last Saturday morning over on the People's Republic of VanIsle...I'll take her to beach tomorrow morning...Promise!
______
Image at the top of the post?...The W-II dipping her toes into Englishmen's River last Saturday morning over on the People's Republic of VanIsle...I'll take her to beach tomorrow morning...Promise!
And, for the record...I have no idea what the most colourful, and somewhat disturbing, Cleveland Dam Ghost Walkers are all about over at NVG's place...
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4 comments:
Thanks RossK Eight years of retirement, walking, practically every day, from Lonsdale and ULH to the Dam and back.
Aaaaahhhh....Now I've got it.
They're visual NVG vapour trails!
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one reminded me of a crushing migraine headache when I was 15
Anon-Above--
Say what?
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