Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Not Opposed to the Lunchometer, per se.

Now, if I were smart, I'd be using this time to create an industry contact by e-mailing Dr. Taylor about the secretarial work I did for him this winter. Letting him know I appreciated the training in herbarium shit, the sympathetic ear, and the beautiful beautiful notes he takes when compared to people who don't have 40 years of practice. Unfortunately, I feel like it would be transparently a bid for networking instead of a polite note. Ce' te' fouque.

Instead, I will blather about plants.

Sos I am doing some free work for the Forest Service, trying to sort out the life of a pretty little local lily. It has rust colored stamens as opposed to cream colored stamens, and it grows everywhere it can in the Trinity River drainage (or everywhere that is not reservoir/lake). What I want to do is gain fame and prestige by finding new sites or extending old populations. What my boss wants me to do is check on recorded populations. I asked "What about known populations on Forest Service land recorded by non employees?" She said "Do those last." I said "What about those weird ones with lavender stamens further south?" and she said "Plants displaying intermediate characteristics between two species, both rare, do not interest me at all."

Foo.

On the other hand, I'm getting a car and a place to sleep, whilst I go look at flowers all day. Maybe I will accidentally get lost on my way to a site and find new populations. Getting lost is expected, since I am a member of the vile younglings dependent on satellites and theory of relativity to find my way, and how can you trust the laws of physics more than your gut?

I want to talk to people about these things, but they are boring subjects. SeƱor C is so exhausted by the mind numbing work with people that we sorta live in different parts of the house until one AM. By the time he's recharged enough to sympathize, we have five minutes to chat before it's so far past bedtime we won't be able to function the next day. I spent that time wisely, bitching about accidentally running a red light in my ongoing effort to minimize the time I spend in intersections, trying to restart a stalled car.

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