Here's a thought to bring Zombie Week to a close:
On a completely different note, today I am dressed as a Jedi Knight disguised as a Hogwarts student (i.e. myself). I hope you all get to eat lots of sweets and enjoy the frivolity of the day!
Wugs © Jean Berko Gleason 2006. Drawn with permission!
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Zombie Week Day 7
HAPPY HALLOWE'EN, EVERYONE!
Here's a thought to bring Zombie Week to a close:
On a completely different note, today I am dressed as a Jedi Knight disguised as a Hogwarts student (i.e. myself). I hope you all get to eat lots of sweets and enjoy the frivolity of the day!
Here's a thought to bring Zombie Week to a close:
On a completely different note, today I am dressed as a Jedi Knight disguised as a Hogwarts student (i.e. myself). I hope you all get to eat lots of sweets and enjoy the frivolity of the day!
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Zombie Week Day 6
Welcome to Zombie week, the best week for random facts about brains. Check back each day for your daily dose of BRAINS.
Today's fact:
Today's fact:
You know how I told you that the left side of the brain is usually responsible for language? Well, it's even weirder than that. There's a part of the left hemisphere that is mostly responsible for understanding language, and another part of the left hemisphere that is mostly responsible for producing language using grammar!
Unfortunately, a lot of our evidence for these "language centers" in the brain comes from people with some kind of acquired brain injury (like a stroke or a localized trauma) in those areas. When brain damage causes difficulty speaking or understanding language—but understanding the world and how things work is mostly okey—the patient is diagnosed with aphasia, or impaired language. So someone with aphasia might know how to use a toothbrush, but if you were to ask them about it, either they might not understand you or might not be able to answer you.
If Broca's area is damaged, most people present with impaired expression, and it is harder for them to make grammatical sentences. They are more likely to use "telegraphic" speech, like "Doctor...leg...bad." I am currently reading a paper about how Broca's area deals with complicated pattern recognition that is difficult for most other species. (I'll write about pattern recognition in Broca's later—thanks to a friend who showed me this paper!)
Notice that Broca's area (producing grammatical language) is very close to the motor strip, which controls motor movement. So people who have damage to Broca's area often also have muscular problems and muscle-planning problems too. So basically, talking is hard!
Damage to that other area, Wernicke's, causes problems understanding language. Patients with Wernicke's aphasia may talk a lot, but what they say doesn't make sense. They'll say things like "Isn't that terrible? I know what they're saying. The thing comes in right here and goes out and they say do that and two, and ten, and twenty, and five of them. I don't really do that stuff." The grammar is fine, mostly, but they talk and talk and nobody understands what they're saying. And they don't understand what other people are saying—but if it's really bad, they don't know that they don't understand. (This makes therapy very interesting!)
There are other kinds of damage that can be done. If the arcuate fasciculus (the axons connecting Broca's and Wernicke's areas) is damaged, but nothing else, the patient may be able to understand things pretty well and have pretty good speech (except for some word-finding errors), but they won't be able to repeat things. They will hear what is said, and their Wernicke's area will interpret it for them, but it won't make it to Broca's area to be spoken. Or if there is damage to the areas of the brain surrounding the language areas (but not in the arcuate fasciculus), they may have impaired understanding or expression, but they will be able to repeat things. And if there is damage right at the beginning of the main artery that supplies blood to the left hemisphere's language centers, the patient will probably be diagnosed with global aphasia—understanding, repeating, speaking—everything is impaired.
It's complicated—and remember too that every brain is wired a little differently!
This has been a tour of the language centers of the brain as evidenced by aphasia.
Unfortunately, a lot of our evidence for these "language centers" in the brain comes from people with some kind of acquired brain injury (like a stroke or a localized trauma) in those areas. When brain damage causes difficulty speaking or understanding language—but understanding the world and how things work is mostly okey—the patient is diagnosed with aphasia, or impaired language. So someone with aphasia might know how to use a toothbrush, but if you were to ask them about it, either they might not understand you or might not be able to answer you.
If Broca's area is damaged, most people present with impaired expression, and it is harder for them to make grammatical sentences. They are more likely to use "telegraphic" speech, like "Doctor...leg...bad." I am currently reading a paper about how Broca's area deals with complicated pattern recognition that is difficult for most other species. (I'll write about pattern recognition in Broca's later—thanks to a friend who showed me this paper!)
Notice that Broca's area (producing grammatical language) is very close to the motor strip, which controls motor movement. So people who have damage to Broca's area often also have muscular problems and muscle-planning problems too. So basically, talking is hard!
Damage to that other area, Wernicke's, causes problems understanding language. Patients with Wernicke's aphasia may talk a lot, but what they say doesn't make sense. They'll say things like "Isn't that terrible? I know what they're saying. The thing comes in right here and goes out and they say do that and two, and ten, and twenty, and five of them. I don't really do that stuff." The grammar is fine, mostly, but they talk and talk and nobody understands what they're saying. And they don't understand what other people are saying—but if it's really bad, they don't know that they don't understand. (This makes therapy very interesting!)
There are other kinds of damage that can be done. If the arcuate fasciculus (the axons connecting Broca's and Wernicke's areas) is damaged, but nothing else, the patient may be able to understand things pretty well and have pretty good speech (except for some word-finding errors), but they won't be able to repeat things. They will hear what is said, and their Wernicke's area will interpret it for them, but it won't make it to Broca's area to be spoken. Or if there is damage to the areas of the brain surrounding the language areas (but not in the arcuate fasciculus), they may have impaired understanding or expression, but they will be able to repeat things. And if there is damage right at the beginning of the main artery that supplies blood to the left hemisphere's language centers, the patient will probably be diagnosed with global aphasia—understanding, repeating, speaking—everything is impaired.
It's complicated—and remember too that every brain is wired a little differently!
This has been a tour of the language centers of the brain as evidenced by aphasia.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Zombie Week Day 5
Welcome to Zombie week, the best week for random facts about brains. Check back each day for your daily dose of BRAINS.
Today's fact:
The vertebra that holds up the skull (the very top one) is called the "atlas" vertebra, named of course after the famous Greek Titan who held the world on his shoulder. You know what that implies? That we have BIG brains. There could be whole worlds in those brains!
Today's fact:
The vertebra that holds up the skull (the very top one) is called the "atlas" vertebra, named of course after the famous Greek Titan who held the world on his shoulder. You know what that implies? That we have BIG brains. There could be whole worlds in those brains!
Monday, October 28, 2013
Zombie Week Day 4
Welcome to Zombie week, the best week for random facts about brains. Check back each day for your daily dose of BRAINS.
Today's fact:
This fact is relevant to both zombies and vampires.
The main arteries responsible for supplying blood to the brain are called the carotids (left and right) and the vertebral arteries (also left and right). These blood vessels run up through the neck and meet at the Circle of Willis, which supplies blood to the six major cerebral arteries (three on each side).
What does this mean for vampires? Well, I hear they always "go for the jugular", but if they prefer to drink freshly oxygenated blood from the lungs (which I imagine might be tastier), they could try for the carotids. It might be a little messier, with a bit more digging around to get to it, but maybe it's worth it. I'm not a vampire, so I wouldn't know.
What does it mean for zombies? Well, the carotids and vertebral arteries keep those brains nice and fresh.
Today's fact:
This fact is relevant to both zombies and vampires.
The main arteries responsible for supplying blood to the brain are called the carotids (left and right) and the vertebral arteries (also left and right). These blood vessels run up through the neck and meet at the Circle of Willis, which supplies blood to the six major cerebral arteries (three on each side).
What does this mean for vampires? Well, I hear they always "go for the jugular", but if they prefer to drink freshly oxygenated blood from the lungs (which I imagine might be tastier), they could try for the carotids. It might be a little messier, with a bit more digging around to get to it, but maybe it's worth it. I'm not a vampire, so I wouldn't know.
What does it mean for zombies? Well, the carotids and vertebral arteries keep those brains nice and fresh.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Zombie Week Day 3
Welcome to Zombie week, the best week for random facts about brains. Check back each day for your daily dose of BRAINS.
Today's fact:
Saint Catherine of Siena is a super inspiring saint—she had lots of visions of the Lord and wrote many inspiring prayers. She was also called a Doctor of the Church because of her mystical theological writings for the faith—she is one of three women to hold that title. (The other two lovely women are Teresa of Avila and Therese of Lisieux.)
Time for some freaky Catholic stuff, guys. When Catherine of Siena died, she was originally buried in Rome. But her head was removed and then taken to the Saint Dominic Basilica in Siena, Italy, where it is kept in a reliquary.
Here is a picture of Saint Catherine of Siena's severed head.
Although the theme of this week has a silly title, I don't mean to be irreverent to Saint Catherine. She is super hard-core saint and she was absolutely devoted to Jesus Christ! I think it's cool that her entire head is a relic. Especially because some of her most major contributions to the faith were her mystical writings. That took a lot of brainpower (and Holy Spirit)!
Happy Sunday, everyone.
Today's fact:
Saint Catherine of Siena is a super inspiring saint—she had lots of visions of the Lord and wrote many inspiring prayers. She was also called a Doctor of the Church because of her mystical theological writings for the faith—she is one of three women to hold that title. (The other two lovely women are Teresa of Avila and Therese of Lisieux.)
Time for some freaky Catholic stuff, guys. When Catherine of Siena died, she was originally buried in Rome. But her head was removed and then taken to the Saint Dominic Basilica in Siena, Italy, where it is kept in a reliquary.
Here is a picture of Saint Catherine of Siena's severed head.
Although the theme of this week has a silly title, I don't mean to be irreverent to Saint Catherine. She is super hard-core saint and she was absolutely devoted to Jesus Christ! I think it's cool that her entire head is a relic. Especially because some of her most major contributions to the faith were her mystical writings. That took a lot of brainpower (and Holy Spirit)!
Happy Sunday, everyone.
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Zombie Week Day 2
Welcome to Zombie week, the best week for random facts about brains. Check back each day for your daily dose of BRAINS.
Today's fact:
Most people in the world are right handed.
Wait, I thought this fact was about brains, you say. Well, it is. The reason most people are right-handed has to do with the functions of the right and left hemispheres.
Today's fact:
Most people in the world are right handed.
Wait, I thought this fact was about brains, you say. Well, it is. The reason most people are right-handed has to do with the functions of the right and left hemispheres.
I know popular culture teaches that the "right brain is for creativity and the left brain for analysis." Well, actually, this is largely false. The hemispheres of the brain do appear to specialize, but not really that way.
The left brain is responsible for the movement of the right side of the body, visual processing from the right half of your field of vision, and processing of language (listening, speaking, reading, and writing).
The right brain moves and receives senses from the left side of the body, and it is largely responsible for spatial reasoning and pragmatics, social skills, reading emotions, recognizing faces, and things like that.
Now you can see why being left-handed is strange. Most people choose from an early age to write with their right hand because the language centers of the brain can easily communicate with that hand (left brain controls right hand). But lefties are using the hand controlled by the other side!
Many lefties are still lateralized like right-handers—that is, their left brain houses the language centers. When these people write, the motor message has to go from the left side of the brain to the right side of the brain and then down to their left hand (the message has an extra step to take).
But some lefties have different lateralization—either both sides of the brain are involved in language, or the right side is more involved in language. So in conclusion, left-handers are cool!
Take these statements with a grain of salt, though. Just because a part of the brain specializes in something doesn't mean that other parts of the brain don't participate at all.
Please enjoy this cool case study done to show the different functions of the right and left hemisphere. Although the reporter (and even the researchers, to some extent) are simplifying the situation, it is a good bit of evidence for hemispheric specialization.
Friday, October 25, 2013
Zombie Week Day 1
Welcome to Zombie week, the best week for random facts about brains. Check back each day for your daily dose of BRAINS.
Today's fact:
The term "grey matter" actually refers to the "soma" or "body" of the neurons in the brain. The soma is where the nucleus and some other major organelles are found. Grey matter is found in the most superficial parts of the brain's folds—if you look at a cross-section of the brain, grey matter is in the shaded bits:
The "axons", or tails(ish) of the neurons are called "white matter." It is the white matter that carries messages from one part of the brain to the other.
So in P. G. Wodehouse's famous comedies, when Bertie refers to Jeeves's "grey matter", he is actually just referring to the surface layers of the folds of Jeeves's brain. Technically, he should tell Jeeves to use his "white matter" also, because what use is a neuron if it isn't communicating with other neurons? But I don't think Bertie has really thought it out that far.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Riding rollercoasters for Jesus
This weekend, I went with my parish youth group to Six Flags for World Youth Day (North Texas). No, Pope Francis wasn't there, but Bishop Deshotel was—along with hundreds and hundreds of Catholic Youths from all around the Dallas/Fort Worth area.
Most of the day was spent enjoying Six Flags—which, I learned, is named for the six different flags that have flown over Texas: Spain, France, Mexico, Texas, the USA, and the Confederate States. (I suppose here they acknowledge the Confederate secession as more legitimate than we do up north.) There was much screaming and teasing and games-playing. For lunch, we went back to the parking lot and ate burritos and donuts. Classy and delicious!
One of the rides is the Sixflags Sky something-or-other, where you go up on a tower suuuuuper high and slowly come down—you can see for miles and miles. Texas is flat, guys. Not a bump or a mountain or a molehill in sight from up there. The only things that really add contour are the skylines of Dallas and Fort Worth. And the hugely tall rollercoasters of Six Flags—including the super tall Superman tower-drop-ride thing, which terrified me immensely.
And then there was Mass. There were *so* many jovenes gathered in that place to praise the Lord. Although this youth group is a bit rambunctious and all over the place, when it is time for Mass, everyone was stoked. The Mass was bilingual (which was good, because several people in our group don't speak English) and the choir sang some great songs, including a few by Matt Maher. In the background was a huge wooden roller coaster, and way off in the distance, the Superman ride. But the real star of the show was, of course, Jesus, present in every heart and physically present in the Eucharist.
If you'll allow me to step into something a little more personal, I would like to ask for your prayers, my friends. I am still trying to find my place as a member of the Dallas Catholic community. Obviously I am being impatient about this. But having been accustomed to being surrounded by a faith community, now that I'm back in the finding process, I feel strange. I have days when I feel like I am on the right track and everything is going to be wonderful, and there are other days when I still feel very lonely in my faith journey.
That was a mixed day. I was surrounded by the youth group, and I was the butt of plenty of jokes (i.e. lots of attention)—and I was able to dish some jokes back too! But right before Mass, I was hit with a wave of loneliness. I missed my family, I missed el Grupo en Los Tres Brazos, I missed my friends at Christlife—I missed them all so much it hurt. Suddenly I felt ripped away from my worship buddies. Having to develop Jesus-filled friendships from scratch seemed like a burden, not a blessing. I wanted to cry, but that would have been silly, surrounded by so many people who obviously want to become friends with me. But the loneliness was there, in the pit of my stomach, right next to my fear of the towery-drop-Superman ride. I was able to swallow my urge to cry and throw myself into worship for Mass. It was beautiful, and the whole time I was praying, I was asking God to help me feel like I belong here. I don't need much, I thought, just a friend or two who can challenge me to deepen my faith.
The Gospel reading was Luke 18:1 - 8. The Lord said, "Will not God then secure the rights of His chosen ones who call out to him day and night?" Bishop talked about how when we pray, God answers with what is best for us rather than exactly what we ask for. For example, if we ask for something we really want, sometimes God answers with the patience to wait until it is time for us to receive that thing.
During the petitions, one of the prayers was "for anyone who feels isolated or alone—especially those who are youths in North Texas." Right at that moment, although they didn't know it, everyone in that stadium was praying for me. God was like, "hang on, there, girl. Just hang on."
When it was time to receive the Precious Body of Christ, the redhead in the group surprised me. She is one of the most rambunctious girls in the group, and she said to me that she would only receive the Eucharist on her tongue—because that is the most respectful way to receive it. She doesn't bow down to anyone—except, of course, Jesus!
After Mass and after another coaster, about half the group wanted to do that scary Superman ride. It's a tower ride and you get shot up to the top of the tower and then it drops you a bunch of times. It is basically the epitome of scary for me. I've done a small one like it before, but it took a LOT of coaxing to convince me to get on this bigger, faster tower. It mocked my fears with its primary color scheme and happy Superman decor.
But Redhead held my hand and assured me that I would survive. One of the guys teased me that God would take care of me—but I was stubborn in my fear. My heart was beating so hard I could hear it in my ears, and my arms and legs were shaking. The ride started with a huge engine noise, and then we shot straight up into the sky—and below us, the cities sprawled like an intense set of constellations in all directions. It was actually pretty terrifying, especially for the first bit as we sped upward and then hovered, ready to drop at any moment—and I screamed my head off, half praying desperately, half using the Lord's name in vain: "OH DIOS OH GOD OH GOD AY POR DIOS"—and Redhead was kindly laughing at me. We zoomed up and down and up and down, and finally the ride slowed and gently lowered us to the ground. "See Kiki? You were fine." She was right. It was even kindof fun.... With a deep breath, I collected my shaking limbs and used them to walk out of the park.
When Redhead asked me to lead prayer over dinner that evening, I thanked God for the day at Sixflags and for Mass with the Bishop, and for friends that we can share our faiths—and our fears—with.
Now I am asking God for patience as I get to know people here. Even though I sometimes feel alone, there are so many other people on this journey to love God in our lives. He knows my heart; He knows what—and who—I need in my life. And He knows where I need to be, and when. I just have to learn to trust Him.
Most of the day was spent enjoying Six Flags—which, I learned, is named for the six different flags that have flown over Texas: Spain, France, Mexico, Texas, the USA, and the Confederate States. (I suppose here they acknowledge the Confederate secession as more legitimate than we do up north.) There was much screaming and teasing and games-playing. For lunch, we went back to the parking lot and ate burritos and donuts. Classy and delicious!
One of the rides is the Sixflags Sky something-or-other, where you go up on a tower suuuuuper high and slowly come down—you can see for miles and miles. Texas is flat, guys. Not a bump or a mountain or a molehill in sight from up there. The only things that really add contour are the skylines of Dallas and Fort Worth. And the hugely tall rollercoasters of Six Flags—including the super tall Superman tower-drop-ride thing, which terrified me immensely.
And then there was Mass. There were *so* many jovenes gathered in that place to praise the Lord. Although this youth group is a bit rambunctious and all over the place, when it is time for Mass, everyone was stoked. The Mass was bilingual (which was good, because several people in our group don't speak English) and the choir sang some great songs, including a few by Matt Maher. In the background was a huge wooden roller coaster, and way off in the distance, the Superman ride. But the real star of the show was, of course, Jesus, present in every heart and physically present in the Eucharist.
If you'll allow me to step into something a little more personal, I would like to ask for your prayers, my friends. I am still trying to find my place as a member of the Dallas Catholic community. Obviously I am being impatient about this. But having been accustomed to being surrounded by a faith community, now that I'm back in the finding process, I feel strange. I have days when I feel like I am on the right track and everything is going to be wonderful, and there are other days when I still feel very lonely in my faith journey.
That was a mixed day. I was surrounded by the youth group, and I was the butt of plenty of jokes (i.e. lots of attention)—and I was able to dish some jokes back too! But right before Mass, I was hit with a wave of loneliness. I missed my family, I missed el Grupo en Los Tres Brazos, I missed my friends at Christlife—I missed them all so much it hurt. Suddenly I felt ripped away from my worship buddies. Having to develop Jesus-filled friendships from scratch seemed like a burden, not a blessing. I wanted to cry, but that would have been silly, surrounded by so many people who obviously want to become friends with me. But the loneliness was there, in the pit of my stomach, right next to my fear of the towery-drop-Superman ride. I was able to swallow my urge to cry and throw myself into worship for Mass. It was beautiful, and the whole time I was praying, I was asking God to help me feel like I belong here. I don't need much, I thought, just a friend or two who can challenge me to deepen my faith.
The Gospel reading was Luke 18:1 - 8. The Lord said, "Will not God then secure the rights of His chosen ones who call out to him day and night?" Bishop talked about how when we pray, God answers with what is best for us rather than exactly what we ask for. For example, if we ask for something we really want, sometimes God answers with the patience to wait until it is time for us to receive that thing.
During the petitions, one of the prayers was "for anyone who feels isolated or alone—especially those who are youths in North Texas." Right at that moment, although they didn't know it, everyone in that stadium was praying for me. God was like, "hang on, there, girl. Just hang on."
When it was time to receive the Precious Body of Christ, the redhead in the group surprised me. She is one of the most rambunctious girls in the group, and she said to me that she would only receive the Eucharist on her tongue—because that is the most respectful way to receive it. She doesn't bow down to anyone—except, of course, Jesus!
After Mass and after another coaster, about half the group wanted to do that scary Superman ride. It's a tower ride and you get shot up to the top of the tower and then it drops you a bunch of times. It is basically the epitome of scary for me. I've done a small one like it before, but it took a LOT of coaxing to convince me to get on this bigger, faster tower. It mocked my fears with its primary color scheme and happy Superman decor.
But Redhead held my hand and assured me that I would survive. One of the guys teased me that God would take care of me—but I was stubborn in my fear. My heart was beating so hard I could hear it in my ears, and my arms and legs were shaking. The ride started with a huge engine noise, and then we shot straight up into the sky—and below us, the cities sprawled like an intense set of constellations in all directions. It was actually pretty terrifying, especially for the first bit as we sped upward and then hovered, ready to drop at any moment—and I screamed my head off, half praying desperately, half using the Lord's name in vain: "OH DIOS OH GOD OH GOD AY POR DIOS"—and Redhead was kindly laughing at me. We zoomed up and down and up and down, and finally the ride slowed and gently lowered us to the ground. "See Kiki? You were fine." She was right. It was even kindof fun.... With a deep breath, I collected my shaking limbs and used them to walk out of the park.
When Redhead asked me to lead prayer over dinner that evening, I thanked God for the day at Sixflags and for Mass with the Bishop, and for friends that we can share our faiths—and our fears—with.
Now I am asking God for patience as I get to know people here. Even though I sometimes feel alone, there are so many other people on this journey to love God in our lives. He knows my heart; He knows what—and who—I need in my life. And He knows where I need to be, and when. I just have to learn to trust Him.
Sunday, October 20, 2013
When a machine is broken....
One of my new school friends and I have been having super faith-sharing conversations after class. She is a devout and passionate Muslim who is absolutely in love with God. Among other things, we like to talk about what it is like to try to communicate the love of God to others when our world (both in religious and secular groups) so often feels apathetic or hateful toward Him.
I am totally inspired by her devotion to God; she rejoices in her daily prayers and she loves to teach her children and her friends about how much God loves them. Just by being in her presence and hearing her talk about God, I can see the peace and joy He has instilled in her spirit—she really lets His love in! And she knows how to be strong by being dependent on Him. Here's something really neat she said to me:
"When a machine is broken, you take it to the person who made it—he knows how to fix it better than anyone else, because he made it and he knows how it works. It's like that with God too—He made us and He knows us, so when we are having problems, we should take them to Him so He can fix them. So many people try to fix themselves, and it just doesn't work unless you go to God."
That is such a beautiful way to explain why it is best to trust God rather than people. Trying to be totally self-sufficient is actually inefficient, and the result is not as good as if we let God handle things.
I am so grateful to for super inspiring friends who can teach me so much about trusting in God and sharing His love. Hooray for faith buddies!
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Thymey-Wimey Chicken Stuff with Rice
Did you know I could write recipes? I can write recipes!
I'm not a Thyme-Lady by any means. What I am, really, is bad at using my parents' thyme dispenser. This recipe was originally going to be cilantro/basil based, but the first time I made it, when I tried to add a pinch of thyme, the thyme shaker exploded. So I re-adjusted the spice palate and carried on—and all without a sonic screwdriver, I might add! It was such a success that I decided to write it down. It's one of my favorite recipes now!
I'm not a Thyme-Lady by any means. What I am, really, is bad at using my parents' thyme dispenser. This recipe was originally going to be cilantro/basil based, but the first time I made it, when I tried to add a pinch of thyme, the thyme shaker exploded. So I re-adjusted the spice palate and carried on—and all without a sonic screwdriver, I might add! It was such a success that I decided to write it down. It's one of my favorite recipes now!
This is served best with rice, but I imagine it might go well on pasta also. (Remember that to make magical rice, you cook the raw rice in oil first for a few minutes, then add boiling water.)
Ingredients:
5 small chicken breasts (or the equivalent in thighs, maybe 8 thighs)
2 or 3 small sweet peppers
about 1 onion
2 or 3 chopped chives
4 or 5 tomatillos (can be replaced by 1/4 of an eggplant)
2 tomatoes
1/2 cup olive oil (can be replaced with any oil)
1 cup water
1 small handful of salt (to taste)
1 small handful of sugar (to taste)
1 tsp basil
1 tsp cilantro
1 tbsp garlic
generous amounts of thyme!
(Note that all spice measurements are estimates; I usually just shake it in until it smells right.)
(Also note that the most important spices here are thyme, garlic, sugar, and salt. You can omit the basil and cilantro if you don't have them handy.)
(Also note that the most important spices here are thyme, garlic, sugar, and salt. You can omit the basil and cilantro if you don't have them handy.)
Dice the chicken and vegetables.
Put all of the ingredients in a pot. Add water and/or oil until all of the ingredients (specifically the chicken) are mostly submerged. Mix well.
Boil it all for about a half hour to an hour (or slow-cook in a crocpot) until the vegetables are all really soft. Stir occasionally. Add more salt and sugar to taste.
I like this dish to be a little thicker than minestrone soup. If yours is too watery, boil it uncovered until it reaches the desired consistency.
Serve on top of rice. Serves 3 (depending on how much rice you made).
Let me know if these measurements work out for you guys. Hope you enjoy!
Let me know if these measurements work out for you guys. Hope you enjoy!
Saturday, October 12, 2013
This might could be fun as all get-out!
Southernisms! I love them! Idioms and grammatical weirdnesses alike. Here are some of my recent favorites:
"I'd rather walk on my lips than say anything negative about someone." A good philosophy to live by and a cool thing to say.
"It's as fun as all get-out." One of my professors says this quite often.
"That woman drives me redneck crazy!" This was said in earnest, not as a joke. Proof that I've moved to Texas. QED.
"I'd rather walk on my lips than say anything negative about someone." A good philosophy to live by and a cool thing to say.
"It's as fun as all get-out." One of my professors says this quite often.
"That woman drives me redneck crazy!" This was said in earnest, not as a joke. Proof that I've moved to Texas. QED.
"That might could work." I have a friend who uses the "might could" construction in most of our conversations. She cannot say either "might" or "could" alone in a sentence like that. For the linguists out there, she's using two modal/auxiliary verbs. The best part is that when the sentence is negated, it goes like this:
"She might not could go there."
See? The negative marker goes BETWEEN the modals.
(This is where things get nerdy.) Now, even though some of the more complex discussions of syntactic theory are hard to test scientifically, I currently believe that snytactic theory helps us to understand the psycholinguistic processes that produce language. There are lots of different models, but the one I have studied most (and thus have the most evidence for) is Chomsky's binary-branching tree model.
For the non-linguists, let it suffice to say that according to this theory, language is hierarchical, and certain structures must precede or follow certain other structures in order to form grammatical sentences. I'm not explaining this well. Hmm. Well, here's some confusing tree sketches that probably won't clear anything up:
After perusing my syntax textbooks, searching on google scholar, and referring to my library of theoretical syntax articles, I ended up drawing syntactic trees and considering the possible category of "might" and "could" for an embarrassing amount of time. I have come up with this temporary solution:
To my linguist friends out there, what have you to say about this? (Even if you don't like transformation theory and binary-branching trees.) Please provide input!
To my non-linguist friends, let me know if you guys are interested in me explaining my branch of syntax theory (pun intended). Maybe I could write up an intro explanation for this blog sometime, if people wish.
Regardless, there will probably be more trees in the future. Syntax trees are fun as all get-out!
Regardless, there will probably be more trees in the future. Syntax trees are fun as all get-out!
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Tiny large creatures
The other weekend, I took the Fort Worth girls to the Fort Worth Zoo. They had a lovely time—among the highlights were that we got to see a baby bonobo way up close, touch a live snake, feed cockatoos and parrots and other such brightly plumed birds, and eat ice cream with crocodiles, turtles, and strange fishes. (The ice cream parlor shared a wall with the submarine level of the croc tank, so I'm not kidding—we were spending quality time with those crocs—but thankfully with glass between us.)
(And yes, dear linguists, I am a proponent of regularizing the plural form of the word "fish." And "moose", and "deer", but those probably won't catch on anytime soon.)
And everyone knows the main reason I go to zoos. And at the Fort Worth zoo, there are TWO zoo-born babies!
Read about Belle's birth
Read about Bowie's birth
We walked by the elephant habitat pretty early in the day, but it was rainy, so only one of the adult male elephants was out and about. We didn't linger there long because the girls were anxious to see the snakes.
As the day went on, it looked like we weren't going to see the baby elephants. I wasn't the only one sad about this—one of the girls was particularly excited to see the babies. But then, just before we were planning to head home, I suggested we swing by the elephant habitat one last time to try to see the babies. The girls heartily agreed, and so we made the quick walk back to the eles.
The timing was perfect—the babies were running around being absolutely adorable with their mothers and aunties! As we watched them, the zookeepers came out and brought the family some branches for lunch. The adults stripped the branches of their leaves (delicious). We watched them eat for a good few minutes before going to get some food ourselves.
Look how teeny-tiny the babies are! Bowie (I think the one on the left in this picture) was born in August, weighing 230 pounds. And Belle (probably on the right) was born in July at 330 pounds. Okey, so "teeny-tiny" is a relative term.... But look at the fuzz all over them—and their huge baby eyes! Absolutely adorable.
(And yes, dear linguists, I am a proponent of regularizing the plural form of the word "fish." And "moose", and "deer", but those probably won't catch on anytime soon.)
And everyone knows the main reason I go to zoos. And at the Fort Worth zoo, there are TWO zoo-born babies!
Read about Belle's birth
Read about Bowie's birth
We walked by the elephant habitat pretty early in the day, but it was rainy, so only one of the adult male elephants was out and about. We didn't linger there long because the girls were anxious to see the snakes.
As the day went on, it looked like we weren't going to see the baby elephants. I wasn't the only one sad about this—one of the girls was particularly excited to see the babies. But then, just before we were planning to head home, I suggested we swing by the elephant habitat one last time to try to see the babies. The girls heartily agreed, and so we made the quick walk back to the eles.
The timing was perfect—the babies were running around being absolutely adorable with their mothers and aunties! As we watched them, the zookeepers came out and brought the family some branches for lunch. The adults stripped the branches of their leaves (delicious). We watched them eat for a good few minutes before going to get some food ourselves.
Look how teeny-tiny the babies are! Bowie (I think the one on the left in this picture) was born in August, weighing 230 pounds. And Belle (probably on the right) was born in July at 330 pounds. Okey, so "teeny-tiny" is a relative term.... But look at the fuzz all over them—and their huge baby eyes! Absolutely adorable.
Friday, October 4, 2013
Happy Saint Francis Day, Everyone!
It's a great day to pray for animals—and for the amazing works of Franciscans everywhere, spreading God's love through service, teaching, and generally being awesome, humble witnesses.
Saint Francis, pray for us too!
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Stickers are worth their weight in gold.
No really. Ask any elementary school worker. During my observation hours last week, I was amazed at how excited these kids got about stickers; they sifted through the sticker basket as if they were searching for precious metal or jewels. It reminded me of what the niños in our class in Los Tres Brazos would do for estrellitas (little stars) in their notebooks—even the most repetitive handwriting tasks or vocabulary exercises. Almost without fail, a child will do pretty much anything you ask if you offer them a sticker.
Somewhere along the lifespan, stickers seem to lose their charm. A sticker transforms from some kind of magical talisman into a flat piece of paper with an image on one side and glue on the other. It's kind of sad. (This may not be true for scrap-bookers.)
This was a part of my childhood that I thought was behind me. I mean, I like stickers, but I only get excited if they have elephants on them. Or if they're really really sparkly. Other than that, stickers are stickers. I do, however, love to watch kids with stickers. They are magical, I suppose, but only second-hand. In the grown-up world, stickers aren't worth so much. Maybe I should learn how to appreciate them again!
When I got in my car to drive to work the other morning, I noticed the shiny green sticker on my windshield, the one that allows me to park on campus and near the speech clinic. It's nothing much, just a green parking pass. Much to my chagrin, I had to pay one hundred dollars for it.
Maybe grownups value stickers more than I thought....
Somewhere along the lifespan, stickers seem to lose their charm. A sticker transforms from some kind of magical talisman into a flat piece of paper with an image on one side and glue on the other. It's kind of sad. (This may not be true for scrap-bookers.)
This was a part of my childhood that I thought was behind me. I mean, I like stickers, but I only get excited if they have elephants on them. Or if they're really really sparkly. Other than that, stickers are stickers. I do, however, love to watch kids with stickers. They are magical, I suppose, but only second-hand. In the grown-up world, stickers aren't worth so much. Maybe I should learn how to appreciate them again!
When I got in my car to drive to work the other morning, I noticed the shiny green sticker on my windshield, the one that allows me to park on campus and near the speech clinic. It's nothing much, just a green parking pass. Much to my chagrin, I had to pay one hundred dollars for it.
Maybe grownups value stickers more than I thought....
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