riparian rap

The rubber chickens and moon suits arrive.

It was in the single digits last night and Kate and I got the wood stove too warm and I slept hardly at all and dreamed material for a couple of David Lynch movies when I was asleep.

We’re working way too hard, but it has to be done. Poor Cara was up half the night with a sick child, and so pretty tired today, too.

So we were in the mood for non-work when my big order from this place showed up–a little holiday gift to myself.

We buy electronics and such from them for prototyping. They have tons of cool things like these surplus biohazard suits for $6 each. And rubber chickens. That’s me and Cara, ready for the microbial apocalypse with aforementioned chicken, no bird flu jokes, please.

The last picture is more indicative of our work lives for the last few weeks. The brain-hurting task of writing a major grant proposal. That’s Harvey Henson, a geologist and educator from SUIC, and Cara, as we worked this afternoon.