Learning H*nese

"Learning H*nese" is going to be the title of my Oprah Book Club bestseller. Normally, I am a little glib, but I am serious that if I ever get off my lazy ass that is going to be the title for my second book.

H is my friend and I am going to miss him. Not that he is dead or anything, but he is back in Japan and with his wife and two girls, his laboratory, and his world.

I met H in 2001. At that time I was working in a different lab. My labmate and friend M, was a fabulous and very garralous gal with whom I got along like toast and jam. M and I would decend down to the 2nd floor conference/lunch room chatting up a storm. Mi would sometimes say that she knew it was lunch time when she heard us in the hallway. At the chalkboard end of the room, two Japanese postdocs would be sharing a homecooked lunch. M, being the friendly person she was, would always ask them the same question every day "What did you make?" And all we would get were two smiles and a lot of nodding.

When I joined my current lab in 2003, I had spoken about 5000 words to H. I had heard about 25 in return. I laugh now thinking how many times since then I have told him to be quiet. It is impossible to reverse the opening of the flood gates.

Our lab has always been fairly tight knit as labs go. We spend long hours together, many of them frustrating, many of them wasted on silliness, many of them on us wanting to strangle our boss. H was particularly amusing in this aspect. Everything seemed to be magnified. He was more stressed, more overworked, and basically screwed by the world. However, it was never annoying, it was tragically amusing. He and I were not the best partners in science. Most of our interaction in the lab was him proposing something and me telling him he made no sense. We fought often about papers and what they meant. Maybe it was good because I know I became a better versed in topics if for no other reason then to prove him wrong.

Sometimes he and I would go for a beer. The night time temperature would dip below freezing, but since Massachuseetts had just adopted its bar smoking ban, he made us sit ouside in our coats and hats. He would cross his leg, like like a lady, take a sip of his beer, light up his cigarette, and say, "You know what ET#1, life is crazy. When I was younger...." The story always meandered into his college days, old girlfriends, past adventures. It never escaped me though how someone only 3 and half years older than me could think he was already over the hill.

He left that winter and returned to Japan. We kept in touch via e-mail. "Could you believe that latest paper by WG?" My favorite enigmatic e-mail was when he proposed to his wife. It was full of nouns and lacking verbs. All of the words surrounded the idea of fate. How odd for a scientist.

When V and I went to Japan this summer, we became the Three Amigos hats, dance, and all. The three of us spent in ordinate amount of time together. As we had before, H and I bickered and poked fun at each other. And V slipped into her old role of the adult/referee/mediator. One day out of frustration or inspiration, H and I were arguing about something and I turned to V and said "could you please translate, H is speaking H*nese." The term H*nese caught on because not even Japanese people (including his wife Y) could always understand his twisted logic.

H applied for a grant to come back to Boston for four months. The plan was to bring Y and show her where he spent his time in America and to learn 3D cell culture. Plans are meant to foiled, Y was pregnant with twins and therefore unable to come to Boston.

For the past four months, H has been pattering around our lab. He bonded with everyone. The boys were so grateful to finally have male that could speak up for them. There was finally noise eminating from the boy side of the lab. They chatted and laughed. H would act as a go between visiting V and I mainly to commadeer stuff off our bench.

We all went out sometimes. We would get D, a former labmate, and eat dinner. Sometimes we would talk, but sometimes we would just sit there like you do with you family members, with whom you are happy to see and have nothing to say.

As a farewell gift, V and I took H to a Celtics game last week. We sat in the nosebleed section with our 7 dollar Budweisers. He crossed his legs, like a lady, took a sip of his beer and said, "You know ET#1, life is crazy. I used to get seat there. [pointing to the loge sections] I like basketball...."

Last week was a flurry of activity of H getting ready to go back to Japan. Our professor took us out to dinner in his honor on Sunday at a Bugaboo Creek Steakhouse. The talking animatronic moose and bison heads freaked me out. Or maybe it was seeing them while supporting a fever of a 103, that scared me. Throughout the dinner H was checking out the tables around us filled with children and their parents. He swung from horror to smiles. He could see his own twin girls who were only 50 hours away reflected in all of them.

I was sick the next day and did not get a chance for a proper send off. I was coughing, and a little delierious when the phone rang Monday night. H was calling. And even medicated, I had no problem understanding H*nese, he said farewell.

Eye on the Prize

First off, thanks to Evil Twin #1 for posting so diligently during my absence. It's been a crazy few months and I am still trying to catch up... Second, apologies to Evil Twin #1 and to our readers for the delay in posting about. . . the Philly Marathon!

As ET#1 recounted post-race, we ran through the streets of brotherly love on November 19, 2006. I believe that despite the lack of cartilage in her knees, ET#1 is a natural born runner. In contrast, I am not what you would call athletically inclined. Racket sports are definitely not my thing as a result of poor depth perception and hand eye coordination. Running, because you get to set your own pace (incredibly slow in my case) is more doable for me. I am not even sure how I ended up running a marathon -- according to ET#1, I had declared (during a drunken stupor) that I would run a marathon in 2006. I don't remember saying that, but a trusted law school friend said that I did, so that was it. I was committed.

I started my training almost a year ago. It was spotty at best, and I ran my longest runs in places other than NY -- one was in Boston with ET#1 and another was in the south of France, again with ET#1. According to ET#1 she had not been running at all while she was in Japan -- ET#1 must be a running machine since she was able to run 12 miles no problem. She was able to do this despite carrying my water bottle and wearing far too much clothing (it was a lot hotter than we thought it would be). I, on the other hand, was well hydrated but struggling to keep up with ET#1. Hmm... I think this means that I am a sloth and that I am not capable of running long distances unless someone (such as ET#1) is there to make me go running. ET#1 always says that she only has one speed when she runs -- at mile 10, that speed is pretty damn fast.

Fast Forward 1 month, Team Hot Rock made a strong appearance in Philly. ET#1 smoked the course (despite minimal training since running the Boston marathon this spring) in 4:16:47. It took me a little longer -- 5:30:44. My goal had been to beat BF's time when he ran the NY marathon in 1998. He told me that he finished it just under 5 hours. Initially, my goal was to beat that time. As my training progressed and I fell further and further behind in sticking to my schedule, I revised my goal. All I wanted was to finish.

I wouldn't have been able to finish the race if it wasn't for the support of my friends and family, especially BF, Kentak3, Mamacita, and Xtian. BF gets a gold star for walking me to the start so early in the morning and for managing to meet up with me at miles 3, 8, 14 and 24. Seeing Kentak3, Mamacita, and Xtian so close (yet so far) from the finish gave me the boost I needed (or was it one of the 4 powergels that I had previously sucked down) to finish.

I thought that it would be pretty easy to find ET#1 at the start line -- I was wrong. The first 10 miles were great. The Philly course winds its way through Center City, South Street -- various places mentioned in the Boys 2 Men song, Motown Philly. I had downloaded 7 hours of music onto my ipod shuffle and was feeling great. That is, until I had to stop to use one of the port-a-potty at around mile 6. If I ever decide to run another marathon, I will be sure to NOT eat bananas in the morning as they make you have to go #2 mid-race. As I approached mile 13 and saw signs for the route for the half-marathon, I contemplated going right at the fork in the road instead of going left for about 2 seconds. Then I saw a sign that said "last hill, almost there". So, I kept going. That sign was a lie.

The second half of the course wound its way through river-side parks. It also takes you past the art museum (cue Rocky music) more than once. This is where ET#1 scared the crap out of me by yelling at the top of her lungs, "Go, [ET#2]!!!" (see the photo above) She informed me that for the last 2 miles of the race she was known as "Friend of [ET#2]". The last 4 miles of the race were the hardest thing that I have ever done physically. I had fallen behind the 5 hour "Cliff Bar Pace Runner" after I stopped to use the bathroom earlier on. I never caught up to her. So, the last part of the race was me and a bunch of middle aged ladies and the 5 hour 30 minute pace runner. I am not ashamed. Ok, maybe a little.

At mile 23, at which point I had shifted my race strategy to a run/walk instead of just a run, I was thrilled to see Xtian, Kentak3, Mamacita and BF at the road side. I even picked up my pace a bit! BF and Mamacita were kind enough to run the last 2 miles to the finish with me and encouraged me to keep running if I started walking. I managed to finish and even sprinted (probably more of a brisk walk, but at that point it felt like sprinting to me) across the finish line. They wrapped me up in a propaganda laden foil blanket and we walked back to the hotel where I took the best shower EVER.

I really hated running when I started my training. But now, I can't wait to go for my short (wow, I never thought that 3 miles would seem short) runs. I've signed up to do the Atlanta half-marathon in late March and BF and I are running the Boston Run to Remember (another half) in May. The winner has to pay for the other person's entry fee times two. I think I have a pretty good shot of winning, seeing as BF has yet to start training and I am running about 10 miles a week right now and am following my training program, more or less.

Postscript: I went to brunch with BF and some of his high school friends a few weeks ago. I hadn't seen them since I ran the marathon and they congratulated me on finishing. When they asked me what my time was, I told them "slower than BF's." But then one of them said, "Are you sure?" It turns out that BF's actual time was just under 6 hours, not 5. I met my first goal without even knowing it!

Will the real ET#2, please stand up?

Some of our loyal readers have expressed concern about Evil Twin #2. Where is she, what is she doing, and wasn't a fact that she was kidnapped by aliens and now lives in trailer home compound in the Great Salt flats with many other alien abductees?

Because here at Evil Twin central we do a little investigative journalism now and then, I decided to go to New York City to hunt down the elusive Evil Twin #2.

Day one:
I arrive in New York City at about 4pm. I get lost. I call ET#2. I get lost. Realize I cannot lock doors because they are manual and don't want to reach over to get to them. Realize that I would not be a target anyway because I am driving a rented fire red Chevy Cobalt, aka economy plastic death trap.

Park a block away from ET#2 condo next to a yuppie looking sushi restaurant that is next to "No.1 Chinese" take out joint that has epileptic seizure inducing flourescent lights. Note to self on the oddness of gentrifying neighborhoods. Walk in her building and take elevator that must have been used to shoot crack den sequences on "Law and Order" to the second floor. After jarring elevator ride, get to her apartment.

She's alive! or is she? Is this person her alien doppleganger while she stays trapped in her trailer in Utah making macrome pot holders? This operation is going to require a little more time.

Luckily for me I have help. My college roomate, A, is visiting NYC from Hawaii and is staying with ET#2. A also has a boy from Hawaii, K, a hunk-a-hunk 'o' man who managed to deal with all of our silliness with his brav-ery-oci-tude. He is our Guy Friday for this mission.

Things are not looking so good. ET#2's apartment is too organized. I am worry, but have no oportunity to pull A aside and tell her my suspicions. After reveling in "on demand" cable television with ET#2's BF watching "School Ties," ET#2, K, A and I trek down to the East Village for some polish food. Then things start to swing in ET#2's favor, as we all consume large quantities of vegetables stewed in animal fat, sausages stewed in animal fat, and sweet potato perogies fried in animal fat. I do however start tp have my suspicion about K as he finishes/enjoys a side order of kasha. Is he not a California boy, but really a 75 year old jewish man in disguise? Hmmmm we will have to see.

Next, it was a stop to the rice pudding store, Rice to Riches. Forget about mission. Must focus on pudding.

We met A's sister and her fiance for a round of karoke in Korea town. Everyone has a good time. Standard Backstreet Boys and Madonna fare are met by rave reviews (our own of course).

We take scary taxi ride home. I fall asleep, but am informed by A that we encoutnered multiple near death experiences.

Since K's flight was early Sunday morning, we stayed up a little while longer talking about the old days, talking about the new days, and talking about the future days.

Day two:
We wake up at 11am. A makes us coffee and we drink it while listening to John Hodgman's "the Area of My Expertise" audiobook off of my ipod. While the day before ET#2 did not laugh, this morning we all laughed at crabs, deep fried cheesecake, and Missouri, a state somewhere west of here.

The three of us motivate to go to Jersey for the afternoon. We initially want to get deep fried hotdogs at Rutt's Hut in Clifton, but somehow get sidetracked into eating yummy korean soups in Fort Lee.

Everyone claims they are full and cannot eat anymore. We wonder around the japanese gorcery store. We buy snack cakes, ice coffee, and ramen. In the japanese food court, we decide to order the cream filled oban-yaki. They come in containers of six and are made to order. Hot off the skillet the three of us devour the first one. Hmmm after eating all night do we dare go for the second. Of course! Having passed the final test of eating more than what should be possible, confirmed that this was in fact the real ET#2.

The three of us returned back to ET#2's apartment and watched "Mr. and Mrs. Smith," not because it was good but because it was on HBO. I drive back to Boston. Mission accomplished.

Life sans babies

I am back in Boston living the life of free wheeling single gal once again. A life that translate into: go to school, internet surf, check e-mail, do a little work, day dream, curse self because experiments suck, come home, eat dinner, watch tv, and then go to school. Wahoo! However, lucky for me I have friends that rescue me on the weekends.

Because I had been exposed to a new flora of bacteria when in California, I got sick and took it pretty easy last week. No stories, of craziness. I did go out to the movies with A and G.

Boston has opened a new Institute of Contemporary Art on its waterfront. It has a beautiful view of the Harbor, which can beautiful if you do not pay too close attention to how nasty the water is. It is a perfect place to go for a day for the ultra-hip, the ultra-educated, and of course the elderly, they are staples at any museum.

A and G had planned a trip out to the Boston ICA to watch this year's hot movie: Pan's Labyrinth. I went with having heard much about it on the ultra-hip and ultra-educated National Public Radio. It was the "it" movie, having earned all kinds of international film accolades.

The auditorium was full. Lots of black leather coats hung off the back of chairs. Gay men held hands. Women in dreadlocks with their boyfriends in plastic rimmed glasses and ironic slogan t-shirts. The movie was introduced by a woman supporting a heavy accent and the inability to use a microphone. She made up for it in enthusiasm.

The first image of the movie is a disturbing and perhaps sets the tone for the whole movie. A young girl in blue cast light, lies on a stone blood pouring from her nose in reverse. The movie lies somewhere between horror, fantasy, and action. Without giving too much away, the most salient feature of the movie is a monster that has its eyes in its hands. I had a nightmare about it last night. I think I will have a nightmare about it again tonight.

It's good to be back.

Babies, babies, babies

For the past week, I have been spending my time with the pediatric crowd. My niece is 2 and a half, very precocious, very energetic, very talkative, and very bossy. Under the guise of not wanting to have my niece exposed to toxic dust, my very pregnant sister dropped off my niece at my parents' house mid week. Surprisingly, my niece had little anxiety of being abandoned her mother and father. Instead, for her it was a week of fun with grandma, grandpa, one cranky aunt and a ferret. Maybe I am exagerating there was no ferret, it was a marmoset.

One fact that is strange and true: children like me. Children like cats, seem to be attracted to the person that is most uncomfortable around them. They want to sit on your lap, or rub up against your leg with their runny noses and sticky hands. Don't get me wrong. I enjoy the television programming they inspire, as I still watch Saturday morning cartoons. I just worry that when I am around children because they are small I am going to break them (or beat them out of sheer annoyance of having to read the same Curious George book 4 times in a row).

On Friday, my one free day from my family, I drove up to San Francisco. I visited UCSF and did a little adult talking with fellow scientists. And then more babies. A former student from my lab is at UCSF and he has a 2.5 year old too. At night I went to go visit my college friend, O and his wife A. They recently had a baby this summer, so I got to visit a mostly immobile baby. She took a little nap at the restaurant while we ate dinner and was the center of attention when we got back to their apartment.

Don't get me wrong all of these babies are cute and well behaved. I enjoy cooing, oohhing and ahhhhing for a few hours. I can even tolerate drawing 10 versions of a bunny rappit on post-it paper. I just don't know if I have a long term tolerance for this behavior. I enjoy the auntiness of children the visiting, bringing of gifts, the feeding of sugary treats and marmosets.

PS.
For the past week, intermittently through my baby time I have been listening to John Hodgeman's audiobook. (He is the PC from the Mac commercials) It is a brilliant listen. I have been laughing about snippets from the book everyday.