Burns' Night

Approximately 168 hours ago, I took part in a real Scottish tradition with a group of rather lovely people. Now Burns' Night is arguably (after, maybe...St. Andrew's day) the most Scottish holiday there is. In principle the goal of the night is to celebrate the life of Robert Burns, one of the greatest Scotsmen to ever live. Apparently he really loved whisky (Scottish spelling) and women, two things very close to my own heart. So that's really what we chose to focus on.

Mike and I get ready for the party

Not sure if I've even mentioned her in this blog (a pretty good indicator of just how unapologetically self-centered I really am), but I was invited to the gala by my close friend and classmate Jess. No I don't know what the deeper meaning is behind my befriending girls with that name, but it does seem to keep happening. Here is a picture of her enjoying the night's festivities with her boyfriend Calum (one of the only real Scottish people I hang out with here).

Jess and Calum

That was all well and good, as I'm always up for a genuine cultural experience like that, but somewhere in the planning process (likely a few pints in...and yes, that is how we tell time over here) Callum, another friend Mike, and I decided that it would be funny to incorporate a Western theme into the party. Not sure exactly how relevant it was, but after five months of being the only one dressed as a cowboy I was looking forward to actually fitting in a little bit.

Yes, some of those cowboys are wearing kilts

And so Burns' night commenced. I was requested to bring not one, but both of my banjos, and after a whisky or two I was easily convinced to play some songs for everyone. I think I started out with "Mama's Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys," which was (despite my rather poor musical skills) well received. Of course my skills were reduced over the course of the evening (due to the many Burns' toasts), but everyone put up with it very politely.

Increase in alcohol = decrease in talent (but increase in perceived ability to rock)

Soon after this, the dinner preparations had been finished and it was time for the first real Burns' Night tradition - the Ode to the Haggis. Now haggis seems to get a pretty bad rap in America, where people can't seem to accept the idea of eating something that's been cooked in a sheep's stomach. Not sure why people think this is different from eating sausages in normal casings, but that's beside the point. The point is, haggis is actually pretty delicious. It certainly deserves an ode every once in a while. First we had to play the haggis into the room (lacking a piper I had to banjo it in), but soon it was time for the speeches to commence. Callum recited Burns' famous poem from memory to much acclaim.

The haggis receives its just praise

Of course the food was only a small portion of the night. There was more drinking, more poems, more speeches and some more singing. Astonishingly, I even convinced some pretty Canadian girls to drop by for part of the evening. All in all it was a pretty spectacular evening, although the side-effects did somewhat hamper my ability to do school work the next day. It was great to to take a break from what has been a hectic school schedule and just relax with good friends and pretty decent whisky.

The reasons for wearing this hat are probably best not described in civilized company

All in all it was a great reminder that I actually live in this amazing place.

Steve and Mike enjoyed it too

Time Flies

There goes another year...

It's absolutely crazy to think that 2010 has come and gone so quickly (by far the fastest of any year I can remember). I suppose this is a good thing - an indication that I kept myself busy, that I engaged with the world and managed to keep my head above water - but I can't help being a little sad to see it go so soon.

Grady James Lawton

                                                

For me, at least, the end of the year was the best part of a great year. Over the Christmas break I managed to get myself back to the States to meet the newest member of the family - my 2 week old nephew Grady. Since I probably lack the talent to really express how this little baby has affected me so far, I hope the pictures will at least show you all that he got some good, strong Jorgensen genes. Of course I'll try to write about it anyway, because one thing definitely didn't change this year...I'm still one stubborn son of a bitch. It may take me a bit to get around to it, but I promise it'll happen.

Uncle Buck and Baby Grady

A year ago today I sat at home contemplating many different things - job opportunities, academic opportunities, and the adventures that I was sure still lay ahead of me. Every path led to new possibilities, to new adventures that would keep me on my toes. One thing, though, was missing; one thing caught at me as I pursued each new test.

I had lost that feeling of "home."

At some point in the last four years, as a moved from Wyoming to New York, to Minnesota, to Africa and back again to each; as I packed my life up once more into two bags and prepared to set off for Hawaii, a phantom sensation became startlingly clear. Without having put down roots in any of these places, my roots had disappeared entirely. My father's house was comfortable, familiar and welcoming, but it was just that - my father's house. For the first time in my life it didn't truly feel like home. Neither did my next home on the volcano, nor the next at San Clemente. It was unintentional, to be sure, but my lust for new tests, for new adventures, had made me into some kind of emotional hobo. Please reread that last sentence and insert something more eloquent than "emotional hobo" (although for a small fee I will allow use of that term for any of you trying to come up with band names).

How I imagine an "emotional hobo" looks as a baby

I wasn't lost. Not really. I had a fair picture of where I was headed. Yet, somewhere along the line, I had become a tumbleweed, with no place holding me any closer than another. The sensation was both unpleasant and unnerving, it was completely unfamiliar. For my entire life, home was one of those immutable things that defined me - how can anyone know who they truly are without knowing where it is that they belong? 

This year provided me with two reminders of what really makes me who I really am. The first was the hot Nebraska weekend of my sister's wedding, gave me a new brother and a good excuse to dance a polka. Somewhere in that weekend, in between the service and the reception, between a banjo song and the cheers of a man on a tractor (as he watched the new couple taking pictures in his corn field) the reminder was there. For some reason though, perhaps the excitement, or perhaps that alcohol, it didn't fully register.

The two newest family members

It wasn't until my second reminder, in the form of a seven pound infant with bad gas, that I realized what was needed to make me belong. As I sat in the kitchen of my sister's house and watched each family member take their turn holding him, I realized that home isn't really a place. Home is my brothers. Home is my sisters. Home is my father. Home is the people who love me. If there is one thing in this world that keeps me going on each of these adventures, it is knowing that these people love me unconditionally, that they support me no matter how ridiculous my plans get.  

Passing around the kitchen

That tiny baby reminded me of what "home" really means, that home is where my family comes together. That baby reminded me that it is my family, not my country or my state, who keeps me strong on cold Scottish nights. That baby reminded me that I am loved, that I  love - that I love my brothers, my sisters, and my father more than I could ever say. For reminding me of that, little Grady, I love you too.

Welcome to the family

Snow Day

View from our front door

Winter has finally come to Edinburgh. We almost made it to December without any really cold or snowy weather. I think my Wyoming upbringing will keep me from thinking anything over here is actually cold, so I've been hoping for some snow to help me get into a Christmas mood. Wish granted, although the amount of snow on the road could potentially pose an issue for my carpool as we try to get to Easter Bush to turn in two big assignments in the morning.

The typical Snow Pose

St. Andrew's Day is tomorrow (the 30th) so the Edinburgh Castle is having free admission for a few days. My flatmate Jag and I thought we would take advantage of both this and the blizzard and go visit for the first time since we arrived. Unfortunately, the snow was so heavy that the castle had closed for the day by the time we got there. Disappointing, but probably fine as I still had a lot of editing to do on my papers. We did manage to get a few pictures taken in the courtyard though, so hopefully you all enjoy them.

Jag in front of the (closed) castle

Other than the change in weather things are going pretty well. It's lovely to not have these two assignments lingering over my head any more, although I still have plenty to get done in the next few weeks leading up to exams. I did manage to make some time this weekend to celebrate Thanksgiving with my contingent of American (and Canadian, German, and Indian) friends. It was certainly different than any Thanksgiving celebration I've experienced - we were cooking in three different apartments at once which made things quite hectic. I had managed to find fresh cranberries several weeks ago, which I had prepared the day before. Both it and the giant loaf of French bread that I baked turned out to be big hits (I managed to sneak out with a little bit of leftovers though, so I've got cranberries for a few days at least).

Me in front of the castle.

I'm starting my last week of class tomorrow, so it's not long before I come back to America for Christmas. Lindsay's baby is due here pretty soon, so there are more exciting things for people to get excited about than me. If you have last minute name suggestions you should probably get them in soon.








I can't think of much news aside from that, so just enjoy the pics!

The clock tower in snow

Sorry!

So I know I promised to keep this blog up to date, but I'll be damned if a Master's degree doesn't involve a little bit of work...I'm sure a lot has happened since my last post (considering it's been almost a month), but I don't really know where to start.

I just turned in my first big assignment today (33% of the grade for one of my classes) which was focused on comparing methods to assess surgical pain in rodents. Is this a topic worth writing about? It turns out that yes, it is, as pain is a HUGE issue in animal welfare (obviously). The weird part though, is that there is still a pretty extensive argument about whether animals can feel pain or not. Now I know you're all thinking "of course they can!" and I'd probably agree with you. It just seems so intuitive that they would. But the issue needs to be dealt with from so many different angles that it is almost impossible to get a definitive answer. Essentially, in order to feel pain (rather than another, less controversial perception of noxious stimuli called nociception) requires not just a physical component, but an emotional response as well. This leads us into philosophical and scientific questions of animal cognition and consciousness which is, in itself, an incredibly complex field with a lot of different viewpoints to be assessed. I know it's not a particularly interesting subject for a lot of you, but that's what I've been focused one for a while now. The paper itself was meant to judge if this relatively new method of pain assessment was actually more reliable than some of the older methods. It was, so it looks like research is at least headed in one positive direction.

Other than coursework life has been...interesting. I won't get into it too much, but I think it will suffice to say that the hunt for a nice British girl has taken a few unexpected, discouraging, and bizarre turns...Essentially, it turns out that I am particularly attractive to girls that don't interest me in the least. I'm chalking up the disappointment to a combination of my incredible animal magnetism, dance floor dominance, and my absurdly high standards. I'm still optimistic, although I'm not really sure where all the beautiful, reindeer-enthusiast, country girls (alternately accepting Voodoo Princesses) hang out...probably Finland if I had to guess (I can get a plane ticket there for 12 pounds though, so I might give it a shot one of these weekends).

As I don't have much enthusiasm for extended stories right now, I'm just going to toss in a bunch of random thoughts - most of them in question format. Maybe one of them might be interesting. If not, I'll intersperse them amongst more pictures of Edinburgh that I know are more interesting.

After three weeks of searching I managed to find fresh cranberries for Thanksgiving. They were ridiculously expensive, but will be my ticket to a full Thanksgiving dinner with some American friends.

How do I go about finding a PhD program? How important is it that I take the GRE?

Who wants to come visit me here? Who wants to come visit me and then go immediately to somewhere that  stays light past 3:30? Tenerife? Marrakesh? I can get tickets to both places for 30 pounds.

Why do hiking boots all look stupid these days? I recognize that boot technology has progressed a lot since I bought my last pair seven years ago (RIP Kamik) but even the good boots look dumb. I guess it doesn't matter that much, as I don't have enough money to buy them anyway.

I was doing well at not being homesick until Friday night. Then for some reason I thought I should tell some girl about my dog...mistake.

What does everyone want for Christmas? Too bad, you're getting Scotch Whiskey.

Does Lindsay's baby have a name yet? I know they won't know the sex until it's born, but is Tsugotai still on the table?

Alright, last one - I finished working on Sarah's wedding pictures recently. Not sure when they'll be released to the world, but here's a little taste.

The Highlands

Alright gang,

I promised you all a little recap on my big weekend in the Highlands (or at least some of you) and I like to think that I'm a man of my word. As you all know (or will soon learn) I'm not a brilliant author, so I thought I'd let some of my photos guide the post. I'll try to fill in the gaps with a little writing, but I'm sure we'll all appreciate the images a bit more. I'd apologize that they're all of reindeer, but really that just makes them that much better. I don't care if you want variety, you'll enjoy what you get...ingrates.

Magnus - a breeding bull

So I don't remember if I've posted anything about my work on planning a dissertation project, but the whole process has been relatively difficult. I started out back in April with nothing more than a decent idea of where my passions lie - by combining certain aspects of my education, upbringing, travel experiences (and the little bit of idealism that somehow exists in an admitted cynic) I have found myself more and more interested in exploring the viability of alternative hoofstock species in development agriculture.

Now don't worry if that went a bit over your head, you certainly aren't the first to have a confused look on your face. Let's just say that if you're trying to pick up a pretty girl at a bar, it's a lot easier to say "I work with animals" than spend the next hour explaining what that sentence actually means. Fortunately. I know that anyone who reads this blog is pretty sharp, so I'll give it a go with the explanation that I generally use.

In developing regions of the world, animal agriculture represents an important source of nutrition (not to mention draft power, transportation, etc.) and provides much of the protein necessary for proper growth & development, cell function, and a whole mess of other important things. I'm not at all interested in arguing with vegetarians about this topic. Meat and other animal products are incredibly useful and downright delicious. Unfortunately, there are several downsides to animal production in developing countries: traditional livestock require significant resources to raise, can have a negative impact on the local environment, and are not automatically well suited for every climate on earth. The example I always use is that of cattle in sub-Saharan Africa. Most domestic breeds of cattle are descended from a Bos taurus or an essentially European ancestor. These animals did not evolve to cope with the harsh conditions of the region and they have many issues, like low production quality, low production efficiency, and a plethora of welfare issues, which are not easily resolved. The idea then, is to replace cattle with native species which are better suited to the environment. An eland, for example, is perfectly adapted to cope with African heat, low precipitation and marginal food supplies while still producing high-quality products (many of which have significantly higher shelf-lives than those produced by cows). While there are many issues that need to be overcome in behavior and reproduction, I think the field holds a lot of promise for reducing the environmental impact of animal agriculture in these developing countries while reducing hunger issues and food security problems.

Running to Dinner

Plus a job like this would let me keep travelling all over the world and work with all the best animals. There could be projects like this anywhere from Swaziland to the Northwest Territories and beyond.

"Enough of that dry sciencey mumbo-jumbo" you shout, "tell us about the Highlands!" Well, dear reader, your wish is my command.

Reindeer and I have a lot in common. For instance we both love to pose for photographs.
Is it vanity that drives us? Absolutely yes.

This last weekend I travelled up to the North of Scotland to visit a reindeer herd that has been in operation for almost sixty years and will be the focus of my dissertation research this coming spring. Now I don't know how much experience any of you have with reindeer, but basically they're awesome. I have worked with many different species in my life so far, but the reindeer has a certain charm that most of these other animals lack...a certain je ne sais quoi, if you will. Plus they're absolutely gorgeous to look at, which doesn't hurt at all.

Loch Morlich in the Background

So the Cairngorm herd is currently owned by Tilly and Allen Smith. I met the former this weekend to discuss the project, and she seemed like exactly the kind of person I want to be working with - welcoming, cheerful, and (best of all) receptive to sarcasm, provided it comes on the back of a little hard work. She's exactly what you would imagine the combination of hardy Scottish farmer and reindeer expert to be, going from butchering a sheep on the dining table in the morning to training reindeer to pull a sleigh in the afternoon. Basically, she's pretty damn cool.

The Cairngorm Mountains in the Background

Best of all, she seemed very receptive to the idea of having me come up to conduct my research at the centre. After a lot of discussion we came to the conclusion that my developing a comprehensive study of maternal behavior would be the most useful project for everyone involved. The specifics are still in the works, but for at least part of the research period it looks like I will be following new mothers as they lead the calves up on to the mountain tops for summer grazing. That means legitimately becoming a reindeer myself, camping out for days or weeks at a time, and generally having reverting into a wild man. I imagine a loin-cloth will be involved at some point. At the very least there will be some eyewitness reports of a very scruffy guy running free and unburdened (of stress, problems, and clothing) with the reindeer.

The weather was unbelievable, the nicest I've seen since I left America.

I'm sure by now you've noticed a bit of a giddy tone in my writing. If you know me well, you know that it takes a lot to get me excited about anything. After telling a class-mate about my trip she mentioned that I was acting like I had just fallen for a pretty girl. It's not exactly the same (reindeer don't make me feel particularly romantic) but I realized that the feeling was a lot the same, this project has so much potential to be amazing for me that I can't help but feel butterflies in my stomach. Hell, I'm having trouble concentrating on school work because I keep daydreaming about reindeer. Sounds silly, I know, but it's not a feeling I've had in a long time.

So that's it for now. Feel free to suggest topics for future posts if you like.

I apologize for the pictures. I recently had to reformat the ol' computrix and lost my photoshop in the process. The disk is in the mail, but I thought you all might like to see some pics before they get here. I managed to do a little rough editing with some programs on the computer, but I'll probably be redoing it all again at some point. Hope they at least give a sense of how awesome reindeer are. We'll finish off with a couple favorites from the trip.

A young castrate shows a little interest in the photographer

Just a handsome animal

My Neighborhood

First of all let me apologize for not posting more frequently. I do have some excuses (like working on my Master's degree) but not really any good ones. So finally I found an afternoon to take the camera out and take a few picture of where I'm living these days. You'll all have to excuse the photos, landscapes and tourist photography aren't really my strong suits (although to be fair I'm not that good at any other styles). Hopefully they're good enough to give you all a sense of what I deal with on a daily basis...and let me tell you, it's pretty terrible.

So after three less than fruitful months of searching for private apartments, I gave in and applied for my guaranteed university housing. I fully expected that this would suck, and, when the offer finally came through, was disappointed to see that they had given me my last choice apartment. Kind of. They really just gave me a random room in my last choice building. I do have to admit that it was nice to know I would have somewhere to sleep when I got here (although my bed is so uncomfortable you can't really call it restful). So I left the US with a slightly pessimistic attitude about how this foolishness would turn out.

The Front Door of my Building

Well it turns out Mylne's Court, the area I was placed, is completely ridiculous in basically every way (mostly good ways). For instance, it was built before there was such thing as the United States. Ridiculous!

It's no Walnut Street

You wouldn't guess it by looking at the front door, but my apartment (which I still can't remember to call a 'flat') is located right in the middle of the city. Right in the busiest, most historically important, populous part of the city. We call it the Royal Mile. Well...everyone calls it that, and there's a very good reason for it.

Edinburgh Castle

It's a castle. Less than five minutes walk from my front door there is a real life castle, and not only is that sweet, but there's been a castle there for even longer than my apartment building (apparently since the 12th century, although I'm sure it's been renovated since then). Now I know what you're thinking - "Matt, you're in Europe now; there's a castle on every street corner." Well you're wrong, but not by much. The architecture of this city is absolutely gorgeous in the Medieval sort of way that makes everything look all castle-ey.

My Neighborhood from a Distance. That Building with the Twin Towers in the Middle? Yeah, I Live Right Behind That.

If you know me at all, you know how I feel about cities. They suck. It has never made sense to me why so many people would want to live so God-damned close to eachother, with buildings so tall you can't see past the next street, putting up with the constant strain of worry about crime, health, pollution, and the whole slew of other city-related problems. Give me plains and mountains and no one else in sight (except maybe a pretty girl to share it with). That said, Edinburgh as a city is something so completely different from what I'm used to that I'm not sure how I feel about it. Yes it is crowded (a fact disputed by new friends from London, LA and Mexico City), but the depth of history here, the feeling that street I'm walking on is hundreds of years old makes it somehow better than more modern cities. The Scotch whiskey doesn't hurt either.

Other notable sites on the Royal Mile include Parliament Square, St. Giles Cathedral, Holyrood Abbey, various high courts, and a plethora of tourist shops and pubs. It's always packed with tourists and locals alike and seems to be the busiest part of the city. Two minutes out my front door is the Bank of Scotland, which I think would provide a good model if Hilltop Bank ever renovates their main office.

The Bank of Scotland

Now this has been an obviously brief tour of my new digs, but I hope it gives you a sense of what an absurd turn my life has taken. I'm sure many of you are a bit jealous, but you shouldn't be. Despite the greatness of my neighborhood, this is what you see out my bedroom window.

At Least Nobody Can See me Naked, Right?

But, being the competitive lad I am (and yes, I've been called a typical American several times, so the drive to win fits in with the rest of that package). If I open my window and peek my head out, I can see this building.

The Hub

So I'm settling in. I'm dealing with the oddities of city living, of British culture, and the rigors of coursework. Homesickness hasn't hit me too badly yet, but that's most likely because I don't have enough time to think about it. I'd say that, in general, things are going pretty well. Hope you all feel the same way, and keep an eye out for the next post (which hopefully won't be two weeks in the making).

And an answer to Papa's question from the last post: "Dinna Droun the Miller" is apparently an old Scottish saying imploring the barkeep not to put too much water in your whiskey. As it turns out, they generally don't put in any. As a result I've seen several foreigners grow a little extra hair on their chests.

Unfortunately, they were women.

Getting There

Well I'm sure all of you (all five of you at least) are curious to hear how things are going over here. All in all...not too bad, I suppose. But to understand how I'm feeling about things at this point, it would probably be good to hear a little bit about the journey over.

It all started 11 days ago in a basement in Wyoming... (cue wipe to flashback)

I woke up that morning in a haze. A rare bout of insomnia had allowed me only sporadic sleep - possibly due to the excitement of realizing it was my last night at home, possibly because of the two pounds of hot wings I ate for dinner the night before. Suffice to say I wasn't feeling my best.

Of course this general malaise was compounded by the fact that I wasn't done packing yet, as well as the impending separation of me from my beloved dog. Now throughout our time together, Skua and I have been apart many times: she stayed at home during my freshman year at Cornell, for one of the two summers I spent in Minnesota (the bad one), and during each of my adventures working for the San Diego Zoo this spring. While our separations have been fairly frequent, it's never been for more than four months at a time. That morning I would be leaving her for an entire year. I'd love to say that she is as sad about this as I am, but, being a good animal scientist, I know that she's already settled into a new routine and is doing just fine without me. I, on the other hand, am still having a tough time with it.

How Could You Not Have a Hard Time Leaving This?

Despite the sadness, I managed to drop her off at the kennel, pack up my car and head East to Aurora, Nebraska where my sister Sarah was scheduled to get married. The trip was uneventful, as difficult as that might be to believe for those of you who have experienced driving in Nebraska. It was so uneventful, that I think I'm just going to skip writing about it.

The wedding weekend, in stark contrast to the drive out, was a good bit of fun. I had several responsibilities to attend to, including alcohol procurement, wedding photography and a little pickin' and singin'. Somehow I managed to take care of all of these and other chores, though admittedly some went better than others. The weekend started with a "get to know you" dinner with a good portion of Brian's (the groom's) family who all seemed to be very kind. It was an early night though, as the next day was set to be packed with wedding preparations. In the interest of brevity, I'll skip the tedious details of finding a liquor store and tying paper hearts to mason jars. After a quick rehearsal of the service it was time for the groom's dinner, a barbecue at the Hampton auditorium for all the guests who had made it to town by then. It was a relatively quiet affair, but I'm sure a good time was had by all.

Brian's Dad Mans the Grill

Of course Sunday was the big day, what with there being a wedding and all. Everyone managed to make it through a nerve-filled morning without any tragedy, although the planned schedule was not exactly followed. Timing issues meant that the service would be held in the early afternoon, which was fine, but it made for some tough lighting conditions for the photographer. I haven't had the chance to go through all the wedding photos yet, but I'm sure I'll be able to pull some workable ones out of the bunch. I did manage to fill up almost 8 gigs of memory card, so there better be something in there. The service itself went off without a hitch - Chris' reading went well, Monica's song was fantastic, and of course the bride looked beautiful. She even managed to hold back the tears during her vows (although I can't say the same for my father). After the service the newly-weds got hugs, kisses and congratulations from all the guests, got the marriage license signed, and Sarah took her bouquet down to the cemetery to lay them down next to my mother's headstone.

The Newly Weds Leave the Church

I got the honor of driving the new couple around and taking some more photos while people set up at the reception. Yes, we did get some shots of them in a corn field (which triggered a fist-pump congratulations from a passing farmer) among some other shots in less rural spots along the drive.

Requisite Corn Field Shot

Then it was on to the Prairie Loft barn to get the reception to get the real party started.

Arrival at the Reception

Drinks were served, toasts were made, and the party got underway, but not before the guests were exposed to three minutes of banjo-based torture courtesy of yours truly. In keeping with tradition, I sang my big sister an Avett Brother's song (The Greatest Sum), which went...alright. I was, admittedly, a bit nervous having never played banjo in front of more than two people. When I perform in front of crowds I tend to spend a majority of time out of my own body and this time was no different. Everyone was very generous with their praise after I had finished, but I wasn't completely satisfied with how it went. I did manage to make my sister cry though, so either it was really awful or I managed to show her how much I (and the rest of the people in that barn) really love her. I'm really hoping it was the latter. From that point on the night is a bit of a blur. Drinks were had, dancing was done (mostly by Jorgensens making fools out of themselves) and a good time was had by all. Several people seemed to think that I needed to hear how great my younger brother's girlfriend was. The venue was beautiful, the music was good; all in all it was a pretty perfect evening.

Good Times Were Had

A group of ladies from Denver seemed to think my ego needed a little more recovery towards the end of the night and convinced me to sing my song again out on the lawn. It was a little weird until I noticed that my sister was out there listening too. It just helped me realize that in my head that song will always be for her.

Private Concert

My only tasks for the following week were to help my pregnant sister Lindsay move some furniture, to buy some socks, and hang out in St. Paul, MN. There wasn't a whole lot going on while I was there, which was good, but the week flew by anyway. I even managed to see some old friends from the Minnesota Zoo and a very old friend who has grown up with me since we met before kindergarten. I also, somehow, managed to go out one night with one of the prettiest girls I have ever seen. I'm not sure how I convinced her that it would be a good idea, but we both seemed to have a decent time. The timing couldn't have been worse, but I suppose that's no surprise.

I flew out from the Twin Cities on Saturday morning and the entire trip over went pretty smoothly. I'm still getting situated in my apartment, but it seems like my flat-mates are all pretty cool. We are living right in the middle of the city so there will be plenty of distractions testing my will power, but I'm pretty optimistic about how this year is starting out. I'll try to get out and get some pictures of my neighborhood (you will have a hard time believing that I actually live in this area) and post again soon.

Congratulations again to Sarah and Brian on gettin' hitched.

Hope all of you are doing well wherever you might be!