Bucks coffeshop loves the Beatles. So do I.
My cell colonies are sick. I was supposed to do cytotoxicity assay on them anyways.
How ironic.
Since when did democracy translate to demo-crazy?
I wonder if my dad just coined that term. Probably not.
Will parliamentary work?
Eric says it works for Britain and Canada.
3-leaf clovers on the walls. But Fat Tuesday was just yesterday.
Still, St. Patrick’s day is just around the corner.
Maybe I’ll bake my annual irish soda bread.
I want to go to Ireland. And Austria. See moats and mountain goats.
I wonder if there really aren’t any snakes in Ireland.
Kekule’s not irish, right?
8-legged fiends?
The winter hiking in Shenandoah last weekend was memorable.
No wonder I forgot about my cells.
It flurried and the snowflakes stuck to my lashes.
I sat on top of 600 million year old Contoctin lava formation. My turkey pastrami sandwich tasted yummier up there.
I’d rather stare at the columnar formation than the sad news on the idiot box.
When the wind stopped swirling and the brittle creaking trees halted their ominous swaying, the feeling sank in.
This is how it feels to be in a snow globe. Perfect little snow globe.
Woodpeckers and does and their younglings. They loved having their pictures taken. Jumping all about.
Bear paws or bobcat’s?
What exactly does doe eyes look like?
Reminded me of John Denver.
Almost heaven. West Virginia. Blue ridge mountain. Shenandoah river.
On the other side of the earth, turmoil.
In the incubator, my cells are still striving to live.
I have a presentation tomorrow.
I’d rather show my darling does’ pictures than discuss the mortality rate on my plates.
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