Bugs R Us

Have you been following the bug news? About how we are made up of about 90% bugs?  Or microbes, as the experts call these little bugs. This comes as a nasty surprise to someone like me who has this phobia of bugs. even micro-sized ones. Maybe you too are thinking: Yuck.

But the experts are saying these bugs are a good thing. As one of those experts, Lita Protor, at the National Institute of Health said:

These microbes aren't just along for the ride. They're there for a reason. We have a symbiotic relationship with them — we give them a place to live, and they help keep us alive.

"They belong in and on our bodies; they help support our health; they help digest our food and provide many kinds of protective mechanisms for human health," Protor said.

http://www.npr.org/blogs/health/2012/06/13/154913334/finally-a-map-of-all-the-microbes-on-your-body

Also in the news is nonstop moaning about the obesity crisis. Some people are linking obesity with consumption of too much sugar and high fructose corn syrup, such as in sodas. We already limit or prevent our kids from drinking sodas at school. As you probably know, there is a move afoot to limit how much of these sugary drinks even adults can slurp down.

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/06/12/nyregion/persistent-obesity-fuels-soda-ban-by-bloomberg.html?pagewanted=all

So what does sugar have to do with bugs? Well, stay with me here: obesity seems to be related to the kind of bugs colonizing our bodies. Experts are saying fat and skinny mice (another critter regardless of size, I don’t much like) have different bugs in their bodies.

 Scientists at Harvard and Washington University in St. Louis have found fat people, like fat mice, have  different bugs than their skinnier friends:

They have found that the ratios of various bacteria in the guts of obese mice and obese humans were significantly different from those of lean controls, suggesting that altering the stomach’s microbial balance with antibiotics might put patients at risk for gaining weight.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/11/01/health/scientist-examines-possible-link-between-antibiotics-and-obesity.html

The experts go on to relate all of this to overuse of antibiotics. Just like farmers use antibiotics to fatten up livestock without increasing how much they eat. The experts find inverse correlations between certain bugs and obesity, as well as some serious diseases.

I take that to mean some micro-bugs are good for you and some are not.

The bottom line seems rather obvious to me. The bad bugs are enjoying all this soda. That means there  may be a simple solution to the obesity epidemic since the bad bugs are making us fat. 

You remember the old folk remedy for getting rid of slugs, ants and other undesirable bugs? You pour something sweet like beer or soda into a small container. The bugs drown, after they drink themselves into an alcoholic stupor.  

So, we should be allowed to buy those large sodas. We just should not drink them. Rather than drink the sodas, we need to set the sodas close to us and let the bad bugs drink themselves into oblivion.

The Simple Life

We were without power for about twelve hours: an auto accident took out a nearby utility pole. Reduces you to the simple things in life. Since it happened at night that means finding the flashlights. And in the morning trying to figure out how to make coffee.

The night was cool so we opened a window. This morning we needed no alarm clock as we woke to bird calls. We enjoyed a nice walk in the park and a leisurely read of the newspapers. To our surprise, the dog happily ate plain kibbles without all the extras we usually add in--we were not opening the fridge to keep its contents cold. We went out to breakfast to solve the coffee as well as the "no opening the fridge" dilemma.

Now the power is back on.  I have gotten busy and am doing the laundry, emailing friends, and writing on my computer. But it was kind of nice without power for awhile. Inside the house was really quiet, except for the bird songs wafting through the open window.

I easily could get used to a few hours without power. That is, if I could solve one of life's great mysteries: making coffee without electricity. Is there a solar-powered coffee pot? If not, someone should invent one.

At the art museum with old friends.

The Redbud Trail

I know the drive from Louisville to St. Louis well.  Due west on highway 64, about 280 miles, depending on exact departure and arrival spots. With current speed limits and few stops you can make it in four and a half to five hours.

Born and raised in St. Louis and living in Louisville for over twenty years I've had many occasions to make the trip over the years. Trips to spend holidays with family.  Trips for a wedding, short visit or other occasion. In my parents' later years, many trips were to check on them during illnesses, go to doctors' appointments, or visit them in hospitals. 

I never will forget Sunday, May 8, 2005.  My Mother called to tell me my Father had died. I was soon on the road, driving to St. Louis. 

The drive is boring.  Flat, smooth interstate the whole way. with Evansville, IN about half way. Mount Vernon, IL about an hour before you get into downtown St. Louis. The iconic Arch standing out in the St. Louis skyline.  My Father had an interest in photography and he took photos of the Arch in all stages of its construction. 

On May 8, 2005, I saw the sun set behind the Arch in a spectacular sunset. In all the years of driving to St. Louis I had never before been on I-64 heading into St. Louis just at sunset. Before that time I had always planned the trips to arrive before rush hour and thus before sunset.

I drove I-64 again yesterday. My brother had been in a bike accident and I had gotten a call from the emergency room in St. Louis. In his concussed state, my name and number was the only contact that had come to him. 

This time the most remarkable part of the trip were the purple filigrees of Redbud trees decorating the interstate. Some of the Redbuds looked to have been recently planted, as they lined up in perfectly straight rows.  Others were interspersed amongst the taller trees, those wearing only the soft green of early spring. But throughout the drive, Redbuds were my constant companion, as if showing me the way from my present home to that of my childhood. 

My brother's injuries are of the kind that should heal well. Stitches in two rows at the eyebrow, scrapes across his face, hands, arms, and legs.  A dermabrasion, courtesy of the St. Louis streets.  We are hoping he has no long-term repercussions from the concussion, other than a firm commitment to never again get on his bike without a helmet.

Now that both of our parents have passed on, I don't make the trip nearly as often. Sometimes my brother comes to Louisville; sometimes we meet in other locations. But the Redbud blooms along I-64, just like a sunset over the Arch will always remind me of a particular drive along that route.

Breakfast with a Cardinal

Our yard is small.  But the view this time of year is beyond belief.  As if it were a giant bouquet, pink fluff envelops the weeping cherry tree just outside my kitchen window.   A short distance beyond the cherry tree the fence is a riot of golden forsythia.  Springtime parades in the Ohio River Valley with flowers, shrubs and trees in dazzling colors and scents, some sweet, some stinky.  But all a welcome relief from the dreariness of winter. 

By the meteorological calendar it is not yet the beginning of spring.  But the term spring hardly does justice to what is happening.  That season also is denoted for the religious holidays, Holy Week or Passover to name two.  I like to think of it as the week  daffodils are in bloom and a few tulips brave the evening dips in temperature to begin their opening dance.   The pear, tulip and cherry trees are in serious bloom. The redbuds hinting at the purple splendor soon to come.

As I sit at my kitchen table eating my regular oatmeal and fruit breakfast unexpectedly I am joined by a Cardinal.  Not the kind wearing an ornate red hat and officiating at church ceremonies.  Or even the kind wearing a team jersey and carrying sports paraphernalia.  No, this is the bird from which all the others take their inspiration. 

The Cardinal perches atop the recently-trimmed junipers nestled beneath my bay windows.  As I eat I watch him snack leisurely at the shrub insects, stirred, no doubt, by the trimming.  He is bright red and smallish.  Certainly smaller than the robins who splash in the birdbath, but larger than the finches who delicately sip a drink.  The Cardinal is less than five feet from where I sit, separated from me by a window.  He occasionally hops forward on the bush, watching me as I eat.  I wonder what thoughts go through his head on this glorious morning. 

"Big Head" and Skunks

“Big Head Todd and the Monsters” opened for John Hiatt at the Taft Theater in Cincinnati last night.  We had come for Hiatt, the man with the sweet voice and poetic songwriting talent who has penned such classics as “That Thing Called Love”, Crossing Muddy Waters”, “Riding with the King”, “Slow Turning”.  Well the list could go on and on.  As could the list of successful musicians who have covered Hiatt’s music.  But hearing the original songwriter is a real treat, especially such an energetic performer with such a beautiful voice.

However the real surprise was the opening act, “Big Head Todd.” and the crowd that came to see him and his band.  My husband tells me Todd does indeed have a big head.  I couldn’t tell.  A very enthusiastic crowd stood, or should I say danced, near their seats during most of their hour and a half performance and “Big Head’” music was very danceable, with a strong beat and good guitar work.  I remained sitting during most of the performance but could not keep my toes from tapping.

The really interesting part was the crowd, a few of whom overlapped for both musical groups, but most of whom obviously had come for one or the other performance.  Both crowds were baby boomers for the most part.  And both crowds were mostly clad in folk-concert attire—denims and t-shirts.  Most distinctive about select portions of the “Big Head” crowd were their odoriferousness, if there is such a word.  And that, unfortunately is not in a good way, at least to my sensibilities.  Such as the gentleman next to us in clean denim but reeking of body odor.  

Or the two youngish women who had taken great care with their sparkly denim duds and heaped on the musky scent.  When the two ladies entered the venue you could smell the musk from across the lobby.  I said a silent “thank you” to whatever gods may be, when I saw the “skunk goddesses headed for the front of the auditorium, far, far away from our z row seats.  Often I lament being seated in the rear of a large auditorium where viewing is difficult, particularly when the crowd mostly stands.   But not last night.

 I don’t know if Todd enjoys “eau de skunk” but having a back row seat at this concert, similar to a “Blue Man Group” or ballet performance where you see and smell the performers fluids, was a real benefit.