Just add water:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/8516319.stm
Shake and bake.
"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" Mary Oliver
From the Writer’s Almanac, February 15, 2010:
It’s the birthday of the Father of Modern Science, Galileo Galilei, (born in Pisa, Italy (1564). It was Copernicus who suggested that it was the sun, and not the Earth, that was at the center of the universe. But Galileo became a famous public defender of that theory, called heliocentrism. The pope and Galileo were on friendly terms, and the pope encouraged Galileo to write a book outlining the controversy. But of course the pope instructed Galileo that he must not promote heliocentrism, and asked that his own beliefs be represented. So Galileo wrote Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems, which purported to be a debate between two philosophers; but one of the two, Simplicio, sounded stupid, and it was this figure that acted as a mouthpiece of the pope. No one knows whether Galileo deliberately attacked the Pope — it’s probable that he just couldn’t write as convincing of an argument from a philosophy that undermined his own scientific beliefs. In any case, the pope was definitely not a fan of the book, and Galileo was put on trial for heresy. He publicly renounced his views, but he still spent the rest of his life under house arrest, and his books were banned.
Wow. Talk about your author’s bias and purpose. Remember the other day when we talked about characters, and how writers purposefully and intentionally name their characters? Simplicio? Simple? As in simple-minded? Consider that when we begin fictional narratives in the next few weeks. The characters in your writing all matter, whether they have a major or minor role. And they are your creation–name them accordingly.
One more note: heliocentrism. Remind you of anything? Helios? Hmmmm?
If carbon-based organisms keep some genetic memory, some imprint, of our collective conciousness, is that why we keep telling the same stories?
Mrs. Love’s Note:I asked one of my favorite science teachers/doctors/bloggers I follow for a little clarification, because I knew that this information wasn’t completely on target. I knew we aren’t “fish” people. We are life forms. We share traits, like bones, guts, and eyeballs. I am using this as a metaphor, which I’m sure you all know. The metaphor is we share a sociological and biological imperative, a need to tell a story. At some point, humans stood up, looked around, and said, “I want to talk about this! Better invent language! I need to write this down! Better invent pigments for the cave walls! I need to read a letter from Aunt Mudpie, better learn to read! (She has a recipe for grilled mastodon that is to die for!)
Here’s what he had to say:
Dear Kelly,
A couple of thoughts on your evolution post.
Humans and fish and reptiles all have common ancestors–just about everything alive does depending how far back you go–but no species around today evolved from any other species around today. Humans did not go through a “reptile” stage–we go back to a common ancestor.
The ontogeny illustration is lovely, and you’ll occasionally find it in textbooks, but it does injustice to the real appearance of embryos/fetuses at their respective stages. Ontogeny sort of recapitulates phylogeny, but not nearly as closely as would be fun to believe.
“Phylogeny” is a great word–it comes from “phylon” which means tribe, race, or clan; “geny”, of course, goes back to the same roots as genesis, and means birth or origin. So phylogeny is looking at the origins of our tribe!
Cheers!
~Michael
Also: It is a lovely illustration, isn’t it? We animals/birds are all thrown together in an antiquated chart like some sort of indigo rainbow spectrum of life-light, albeit scientifically erroneous.
This is a stretch, I know, but perhaps early mankind felt more connected to the critters, creepers, and caterwaulers of the earth and sea, and that’s why animal spirits played an important role in spirituality, mythology, and fables.
Now, on to our originally scheduled post, already in progress:
If carbon-based organisms keep some genetic memory, some imprint, of our collective consciousness, is that why we keep telling the same stories?
Ontogeny is the development of an individual organism; in other words, from its embryonic “egg” form to its mature, developed state. Phylogeny is the scientific discipline that studies the evolutionary history of a group of organisms. In other words, ontogeny would study how you went from an embryo to who you are now; phylogeny would study the entire human race’s path. (I think that’s what it means. Perhaps one of my science friends can help me out with this one!)
From http://thebrain.mcgill.ca/flash/capsules/outil_bleu12.html,
The Connection between Ontogeny and Phylogeny
The evolution of the human brain over millions of years and its development over the course of one lifetime are inextricably linked. In fact, the best way to get an overview of the stages through which our brain passed in the course of evolution is to look at those through which it passes as an individual develops.
The phrase “ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny” was coined by Ernst Haeckel in 1866 and for many decades was accepted as natural law. Haeckel meant it in the strict sense: that an organism, in the course of its development, goes through all the stages of those forms of life from which it has evolved.Modern biology now rejects this dogmatic perspective. Though recognizing that human beings evolved from fish and reptiles, biologists cannot discern in our development any stages that correspond precisely to those of a fish or a reptile.That said, species that share the same branch of the evolutionary tree clearly also go through the same early stages of individual development, though they diverge subsequently. One good example here is the basic skeletal structure of all vertebrates, which is one of the anatomical structures that is laid down earliest in the process of embryogenesis. In fact, the most precise way to describe this whole phenomenon might be to say that related organisms start with a common general embryonic form and then eventually diverge into distinct adult morphologies as they complete their development. To understand the link between phylogeny and ontogeny (in other words, between the evolution of a species and the development of an individual), one must understand that a species can evolve from a series of small mutations in the development program encoded in its individuals’ genes. The earlier that these mutations occur in an embryo’s development, the more likely they are to be lethal, because of the fundamental changes that they will involve. That is why we tend to see more mutations in the later stages of development, and why various species show similarities in their early embryonic stages. But sometimes a mutation in the program at an early stage of development will still leave the embryo viable, resulting in a differentiation of these early stages that erases any strict correspondence with the phylogeny of this species. That is why a strict interpretation of Haeckel’s law of recapitulation does not withstand close empirical scrutiny.
Great conversation Friday afternoon, tying in with our World History studies. Consider early mankind. If you want to put a face on it, think about Lucy. With more time on her hands, perhaps she communicates a story to her young. They in turn, tell a story, too. They ask questions. They think of answers. They think outside of themselves. They begin to reflect on the meaning of their own existence. They use the spark, the light, the inner awareness (call it what you will) to look to the skies and ask, “Why am I here?”
How are we answering that question today? We’re still asking it. We’re still fighting over it. We’re still debating it. And sometimes it even involves blood, sweat, and tears. We want to know. We ate the fruit. We got fire. We created big rock clocks. And though we increase our data/technology construct, processing more information in the last five minutes than we did in the last five hundred years (I’m guessing), we still tell stories.
Is that what keeps us moving forward, or stuck in a rut? Or, is just a way to stay human?
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
In my slap-dash attempt to cover all emotional and friendship bases the other day, my “chocolate healing” post fell woefully short of its mark. I was trying to say a lot in a small space, and the excess goo didn’t patch or mend, it just stunk the place up. I was trying to say I am sorry. I should have just said that, and shut my pie-hole.
Inspired by Look At My Happy Rainbow’s post, his heartfelt love letter to a colleague, I am inspired to attempt the same. I fear I will fall woefully short again. He is a kindergarten teacher after all. There is intrinsic love and admiration for all kindergarten teachers, male or female, young or old, new or experienced. Kindergarten teachers are the first adults that take on a stature, significance, and set the tone for future school experiences, positive or negative. Usually, it’s positive. In some ways, I have been envious of that hero worship that comes with the territory of being a primary teacher. I teach big kids, on the brink of adulthood. Many have had to be their own parents for a long time, and resist my attempts to help guide them along. No matter. I do what I can, and do what I must.
It is a hard job. No question. And if I ever made this job more difficult for a colleague than it needed to be, then I am doubly ashamed. So I am going to take this moment again –ignoring laundry, grocery lists, and errands and write you all a love letter. I do love you. I love my friends who have been through the trenches of our master’s program. I love my teammates who are truly teammates, although it isn’t a “sport,” (I didn’t play sports growing up), I would challenge anyone who thinks that I and my two core teammates aren’t working in concert, or working as a well-tuned machine that would stand up to any sports analogy one might make. Bring it.
And the ripple-effect of support doesn’t stop with my teammates and cohort friends. It extends to the teachers in the hallway who have my back in case I need to talk to a student in my room during passing time and I can’t stand “on guard duty” in the hallway. It’s for those teachers who understand that I’m not intentionally trying to undermine or not support them if I let a kid eat a Starburst in my room. It’s for the secretaries and support staff who understand my sense of humor, because we all know that’s our survival. It’s for the mentors at every level of administration who don’t feel like ‘ADMINISTRATORS’ but true mentors and friends, who want me to succeed because they know in their hearts how much I care about OUR students, and will go the extra mile for them. They stand by me during the marathon of the year, giving me cups of water and cheers.
So, I do love you. I am humbled by you. You make me bigger than I am by myself.
Thank you.
What is going on with my brain? Why do people forget things?
Here’s a short list of things I’ve forgotten in the past 24 hours:
#6 hurt the most. All my friends are down there having a great time, eating potatoes, enjoying themselves. Forgetting that there are friends and food somewhere other than my classroom is darn near unforgivable. Stupid brain! Now, forgetting that there was a staff meeting, forgetting to ask permission, forgetting to follow through…well, fine. But staff lounge potato bar? D’oh!
I apologize for my lack of photography skills; my camera does not do a great job on up-close shots.
But this is not a piece of trash.
It is a red dinosaur.
I credit Jada’s inventive, imaginative perspective for spotting it. I, on the other hand, may have dismissed this diminutive sculpture for a piece of candy-wrapper trash. It is, however, really a small dinosaur, specifically a brachiosaurus.
And if you can’t see it, then you better have your imagination checked.
My son told me an interesting fact this weekend, and I verified it on the ‘net:
4. “Illegal for a man to give his sweetheart a box of candy weighing less than fifty pounds.” I don’t know, this might be a smart law, not a silly law. Yes it would be expensive. Yes it would be heavy. But what woman wouldn’t like to get fifty pounds of chocolate! Talk about being able to pick and choose your favorite pieces!
From: http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1523712/idaho_laws_top_five_silliest.html?cat=17
That begs the question: What wife or girlfriend became so angry at her cheap husband/boyfriend that she decided to get the required signatures and petition for a new law to be put on the books? Okay, aside from finding this fantastic writing prompt, the real reason I’m writing about chocolate this morning is because I owe people. A lot of people.
My friend stepped in for me BIG TIME yesterday. My other co-workers always have my back. My husband went back to the store for ME when he was already home because I was too tired. This morning, a heavy bronze crab sculpture I have in my bathroom fell (yes, I am the owner of a heavy bronze crab sculpture) and my husband asked me if I was okay.
I was kvetching that no matter what I do, I don’t get it all done. I still didn’t finish training myself on a new reading program I must start today. I still didn’t get everything I needed from the store. I still didn’t have time to clean this morning. What I really needed to do was just shut up and consider how lucky I am.
It should be a law that I must reciprocate with no less than 50 lbs. of the best, smoothest, most delicious chocolates for all of these people in my world I cherish, love, and appreciate. The best I can do for now is to say, “I love you, and I am so grateful for you.” And I’ll try to throw in a few Hershey’s kisses, too.

Dog Ear is one of the best book recommendation blogs for young adult readers. So, if you need to sit and read a book, go fetch one you might like, and don’t waste time chasing your tail.
(And no, I’m not above pandering to you by using a cute photograph of an Aussie.)
If you want something interesting to chew on, find a book that speaks to you.
(Dog Ear is named such because to ‘dog ear’ a page in a book you turn the corner down to hold your place, or one of your favorite places, such as a dog’s ear flops down.)
Yesterday was kind of a weird day. I normally don’t dislike Mondays, but yesterday, I did- I was feeling all Garfieldish and cranky (I am not a fan of Garfield, so even to allude to him demonstrates how Monday it felt.) I was still feeling work-lag from the weekend. Orchestrating every minute to get the most done possible on my current BIG project, the BIG expensive project, the BIG project that has only a 50% chance of succeeding according to “project” statistics, nothing I did played in concert. There was no synchronicity. It was all out of tune.
So, I faced Monday feeling like a failure. Adding to the weight of my current burden, others presented their burdens to me as well. A good friend advised me not to pick those up as well. Let them carry their own bags for awhile; I’ve got enough of my own gear to lug around, and I don’t have a place for it all. And I don’t know where the tuning fork went, but I believe it’s causing me some pain.
The BIG show is coming up–there is an end date. Everyone bought their tickets and the venue is sold out. And the reviews won’t come in for eight months. I’m practicing, creating, and writing to a group of faceless, nameless critics who are sitting in a darkened theatre, holding their applause. And my drummer just imploded, a-la Spinal Tap.
But, you know what they say: The Show Must Go On.
I just wish it felt more like a rock show than a funeral march.
From: The Writer’s Almanac, February 8, 2010:
Valentine’s Day is coming up on Sunday, and we’re celebrating all week with love letters from the literary world.
Poet John Keats (books by this author) lived to be just 25 years old, but in that time he wrote some of the most exquisite love letters in the English language. The letters were to Fanny Brawne to whom he became engaged.
He was 23 years old, recently back from a walking tour of Scotland, England, and Ireland (during which time he’d probably caught the tuberculosis that would soon kill him), and had moved back to a grassy area of London, where he met and fell in love with Fanny Brawne. During this time, he composed a number of his great poems, including Ode to a Nightingale. And one Wednesday in the autumn, he wrote this letter, considered by many the most beautiful in the English language:
My dearest Girl,
This moment I have set myself to copy some verses out fair. I cannot proceed with any degree of content. I must write you a line or two and see if that will assist in dismissing you from my Mind for ever so short a time. Upon my soul I can think of nothing else. The time is passed when I had power to advise and warn you against the unpromising morning of my Life. My love has made me selfish. I cannot exist without you. I am forgetful of every thing but seeing you again — my Life seems to stop there — I see no further. You have absorb’d me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving — I should exquisitely miserable without the hope of soon seeing you. I should be afraid to separate myself far from you. My sweet Fanny, will your heart never change? My love, will it? I have no limit now to my love … I have been astonished that Men could die Martyrs for religion — I have shudder’d at it. I shudder no more. I could be martyr’d for my religion — love is my religion — I could die for that. I could die for you. My Creed is Love and you are its only tenet. You have ravish’d me away by a Power I cannot resist; and yet I could resist till I saw you; and even since I have seen you I have endeavored often “to reason against the reasons of my Love.” I can do that no more — the pain would be too great. My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.Yours for ever
John KeatsThe following spring, Keats wrote: “My dear Girl, I love you ever and ever and without reserve. The more I have known you the more I have lov’d. … You are always new. The last of your kisses was ever the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest. When you pass’d my window home yesterday, I was filled with as much admiration as if I had then seen you for the first time.”
Keats and Brawne became engaged. He wanted to earn some money for them before they got married. But then he began coughing up blood. When he saw it, he said: “I know the color of that blood; it is arterial blood. I cannot be deceived in that color. That drop of blood is my death warrant. I must die.” He wrote to tell her that she was free to break off their engagement since he would likely not survive. But she would not, and he was hugely relieved. But he died before they married.