I will say about Elsevier that they know how to bribe a librarian.
I mean, win a librarian's heart. Because the way to a librarian's heart is with a good bribe.
In celebration of National Medical Librarians Month, they've sent out postcards with codes you can redeem for either chocolate or coffee. I picked chocolate, but the results show coffee currently in the lead with 58% of the vote.
I imagine coffee gets some votes for its legendary ability to make coherent thought possible first thing in the morning. Me, I drink green tea, so coffee has little hold over me.
Chocolate, on the other hand...
Bribery aside, I should note that having entered about a million of them into the catalog, I do quite like Elsevier's ScienceDirect interface to e-journals.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Friday, October 7, 2011
Sad Feet
Sometimes you don't realize how much momentum you've got built up until you run into something.
To cite an example from my own busy life, yesterday I stubbed my toes on the sturdy wooden base of a coat tree. Wait, no, I didn't just stub my toes, I really smashed them into that thing.
The nail on one toe was a bloody mess, and that toe is now all purple bruises and soreness. I don't think it's broken, and I suppose it doesn't really matter since you can't do much for a broken toe, but it's not happy. It seems unfair that toes, given that we walk on them all the time and might wish them to be tough enough to endure all kinds of insults, are so darn sensitive.
The pain of a stubbed toe is so severe. Surely a nice hoof would be more practical, for beings that walk around on their feet a lot. But even when I was a kid and went barefoot all the time, until the soles of my feet were tough as leather, stubbing my toes still hurt. Kind of a lot.
I should also note that this coat tree has been in the same place in the apartment for the entirety of the 10+ years we've lived here (right in the doorway, where you'd expect!*), so you really wouldn't think I should be bumping into it anyway, but sometimes you roll a one on your Walk check.
Anyway, here I was just puttering around the house, getting ready for bed, and there was still enough vigor in my stride to do damage by walking into a coat tree. Imagine if I'd actually been going somewhere.
Striding briskly along on my way to the train, perhaps. If I walked into a coat tree while going full speed ahead, I'd probably knock myself over. As I said, sometimes you don't realize how much energy you have invested in going a certain direction, until something suddenly arrests that motion.
And the moral is, if you're moving right along and everything's going fine, just watch where you're going. I guess that's not a very profound moral, but there's nothing else written on my injured toe.
Well, I'm off to see if I can walk into any walls while brushing my teeth tonight.
*Just kidding. It's out of the way, against the wall. Easy to avoid...or so you'd think.
To cite an example from my own busy life, yesterday I stubbed my toes on the sturdy wooden base of a coat tree. Wait, no, I didn't just stub my toes, I really smashed them into that thing.
The nail on one toe was a bloody mess, and that toe is now all purple bruises and soreness. I don't think it's broken, and I suppose it doesn't really matter since you can't do much for a broken toe, but it's not happy. It seems unfair that toes, given that we walk on them all the time and might wish them to be tough enough to endure all kinds of insults, are so darn sensitive.
The pain of a stubbed toe is so severe. Surely a nice hoof would be more practical, for beings that walk around on their feet a lot. But even when I was a kid and went barefoot all the time, until the soles of my feet were tough as leather, stubbing my toes still hurt. Kind of a lot.
I should also note that this coat tree has been in the same place in the apartment for the entirety of the 10+ years we've lived here (right in the doorway, where you'd expect!*), so you really wouldn't think I should be bumping into it anyway, but sometimes you roll a one on your Walk check.
Anyway, here I was just puttering around the house, getting ready for bed, and there was still enough vigor in my stride to do damage by walking into a coat tree. Imagine if I'd actually been going somewhere.
Striding briskly along on my way to the train, perhaps. If I walked into a coat tree while going full speed ahead, I'd probably knock myself over. As I said, sometimes you don't realize how much energy you have invested in going a certain direction, until something suddenly arrests that motion.
And the moral is, if you're moving right along and everything's going fine, just watch where you're going. I guess that's not a very profound moral, but there's nothing else written on my injured toe.
Well, I'm off to see if I can walk into any walls while brushing my teeth tonight.
*Just kidding. It's out of the way, against the wall. Easy to avoid...or so you'd think.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Pilot Light Lit: Check
Add another skill to my list: relighting a pilot light!
I confess I was a bit anxious about striking a match in the kitchen this evening, given the smell of gas, but nothing exploded and the little flames caught most satisfyingly.
I like a gas stove, although it's occasionally a little nerve-wracking, because I like to be able to tell by looking at it whether or not the burner is on, and whether it's on low or high. Electric can be deceptive, since it can be quite hot without glowing red, or it might not be hot at all.
I suppose electric is more like the wood-burning stoves of my youth, which also offer few clues as to whether they're on 'high' or 'low' heat, and you can always splash a few drops of water on either of them and see how rapidly it boils away, but again, I like gas.
Look! The flame is high! That water will boil soon!
Or look! The flame is low! That rice will simmer quietly for 45 minutes!
As you can tell, cooking is very exciting in my house. That's why I don't do it often: it's exhausting.
Anyway, if your stove isn't lighting and your kitchen smells like gas, your pilot light is probably out, so based on my newly gained experience I say you should lift up the top of the stove and look for a little flame midway between the burners on each side.
If there isn't one, light a match and touch it to the little raised section between the burners, and a flame should catch most satisfyingly.
Or the kitchen could explode. I guess you never know with gas. But from my vague knowledge, there's probably not enough gas to explode as long as the smell isn't so powerful that you can't stand to stay in the building. If you can't stand to stay in the building, probably call someone instead.
Also, I am not a natural gas expert, nor do I play one on TV, so possibly it's safer just to ignore everything I say.
I confess I was a bit anxious about striking a match in the kitchen this evening, given the smell of gas, but nothing exploded and the little flames caught most satisfyingly.
I like a gas stove, although it's occasionally a little nerve-wracking, because I like to be able to tell by looking at it whether or not the burner is on, and whether it's on low or high. Electric can be deceptive, since it can be quite hot without glowing red, or it might not be hot at all.
I suppose electric is more like the wood-burning stoves of my youth, which also offer few clues as to whether they're on 'high' or 'low' heat, and you can always splash a few drops of water on either of them and see how rapidly it boils away, but again, I like gas.
Look! The flame is high! That water will boil soon!
Or look! The flame is low! That rice will simmer quietly for 45 minutes!
As you can tell, cooking is very exciting in my house. That's why I don't do it often: it's exhausting.
Anyway, if your stove isn't lighting and your kitchen smells like gas, your pilot light is probably out, so based on my newly gained experience I say you should lift up the top of the stove and look for a little flame midway between the burners on each side.
If there isn't one, light a match and touch it to the little raised section between the burners, and a flame should catch most satisfyingly.
Or the kitchen could explode. I guess you never know with gas. But from my vague knowledge, there's probably not enough gas to explode as long as the smell isn't so powerful that you can't stand to stay in the building. If you can't stand to stay in the building, probably call someone instead.
Also, I am not a natural gas expert, nor do I play one on TV, so possibly it's safer just to ignore everything I say.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Uneasy Thoughts
The white-text-on-dark-background of this Tumblr is kind of hard to read, but We Are the 99 Percent is...OK, hard to read in pretty much every way. Some pretty grim stories about how tough things are right now.
My spouse and I both have stable jobs and earn decent salaries. We have health insurance, and savings accounts. We're doing fine by any objective measure. Great, even. No complaints.
I feel very fortunate, and also insecure, because realistically it would be pretty easy to lose what we have. Someone gets seriously ill, loses a job, can't find another job, family can only support you so long...it happens all the time.
I dunno, I'm not out occupying Wall Street right now, or even Boston, but it's hard to say there's not something to be upset about here.
I got to the Tumblr via Alas, A Blog.
My spouse and I both have stable jobs and earn decent salaries. We have health insurance, and savings accounts. We're doing fine by any objective measure. Great, even. No complaints.
I feel very fortunate, and also insecure, because realistically it would be pretty easy to lose what we have. Someone gets seriously ill, loses a job, can't find another job, family can only support you so long...it happens all the time.
I dunno, I'm not out occupying Wall Street right now, or even Boston, but it's hard to say there's not something to be upset about here.
I got to the Tumblr via Alas, A Blog.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
World Domination Cannot Be Far Behind
I'm taking a web development class, and it promises to be good, clean fun.
I'm already plotting how to use my forthcoming knowledge to make millions (of page views).
I suspect pictures of kittens will be involved. Or naked people. That seems to be what the internet likes.
Does someone have a naked kitten site already?
I hope not, because hairless cats are creepy looking. They can't help it, I know, and I don't hold it against them, but it's true.
I bet chimpanzees think the same about us.
I'm already plotting how to use my forthcoming knowledge to make millions (of page views).
I suspect pictures of kittens will be involved. Or naked people. That seems to be what the internet likes.
Does someone have a naked kitten site already?
I hope not, because hairless cats are creepy looking. They can't help it, I know, and I don't hold it against them, but it's true.
I bet chimpanzees think the same about us.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Vegetable Know-How
I've heard that the heat in some hot peppers is mainly in the seeds, rather than the flesh. I believe it.
Because I sliced up a little poblano pepper and tossed it in a salad and ate it with perfect calm.
And I scooped up the seeds, and that sort of pale inside bit that holds the seeds, and tossed them out, and my hands were burning for hours.
Good thing I didn't absentmindedly rub my eyes. These are the adventures one gets into, when one purchases the Box 'o Veggies at the farmer's market.
Another adventure is squash seeds. I love to roast and devour them, so it saddens me to think that people scoop them out and throw them away. People should be sending them to me instead!
Because know what would make my day? Receiving a gallon jar of squash guts in the mail.
All right, maybe not, but only because they would probably spoil.
Having someone knock on my door, and when I opened it they wordlessly presented me with a gallon jar of fresh squash guts, gave a curt, knowing nod, and hurried away? That would make my day.
Because I sliced up a little poblano pepper and tossed it in a salad and ate it with perfect calm.
And I scooped up the seeds, and that sort of pale inside bit that holds the seeds, and tossed them out, and my hands were burning for hours.
Good thing I didn't absentmindedly rub my eyes. These are the adventures one gets into, when one purchases the Box 'o Veggies at the farmer's market.
Another adventure is squash seeds. I love to roast and devour them, so it saddens me to think that people scoop them out and throw them away. People should be sending them to me instead!
Because know what would make my day? Receiving a gallon jar of squash guts in the mail.
All right, maybe not, but only because they would probably spoil.
Having someone knock on my door, and when I opened it they wordlessly presented me with a gallon jar of fresh squash guts, gave a curt, knowing nod, and hurried away? That would make my day.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Learnin' Stuff
I was at the 40th anniversary party/slash 9th edition book launch for Our Bodies, Ourselves, yesterday. There were a lot of amazing women from all over the world who spoke about their work in women's health as global partners of OBOS.
I was knitting an afghan square, not taking notes, and the event was streamed and will be archived, so I won't say much even though there were many cool moments I could highlight.
One thing that did strike me, and then made me wonder at how striking it was, was Miho Ogino, who edited the Japanese edition of Our Bodies, Ourselves (published in 1988 and now out of print, she said, but not before inspiring many other women's health books), mentioning that, unlike in many countries, there was no religious backlash to the book's content in Japan.
She said this was because Japanese society is not strongly religious, and did mention that there was some cultural resistance, as of course there may be anywhere.
"Imagine no religious backlash!" I thought.
And then I thought how unfortunate it is that the default assumption is that religious figures would naturally object to frank information about women's health and sexuality. Can't have people knowing stuff about stuff.
Speaking of frankness, another recurring theme was how tough it is in some languages and societies to even find words for some of these topics. There might literally not be a word for something, or the one commonly used might be inherently associated with shame or secrecy--obviously not what you're going for when you're trying to present facts about health.
Anyway, a very interesting day.
I was knitting an afghan square, not taking notes, and the event was streamed and will be archived, so I won't say much even though there were many cool moments I could highlight.
One thing that did strike me, and then made me wonder at how striking it was, was Miho Ogino, who edited the Japanese edition of Our Bodies, Ourselves (published in 1988 and now out of print, she said, but not before inspiring many other women's health books), mentioning that, unlike in many countries, there was no religious backlash to the book's content in Japan.
She said this was because Japanese society is not strongly religious, and did mention that there was some cultural resistance, as of course there may be anywhere.
"Imagine no religious backlash!" I thought.
And then I thought how unfortunate it is that the default assumption is that religious figures would naturally object to frank information about women's health and sexuality. Can't have people knowing stuff about stuff.
Speaking of frankness, another recurring theme was how tough it is in some languages and societies to even find words for some of these topics. There might literally not be a word for something, or the one commonly used might be inherently associated with shame or secrecy--obviously not what you're going for when you're trying to present facts about health.
Anyway, a very interesting day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)