I've been feeling a bit off for a few days, don't worry, I'm not pregnant (in case the title of the post was leading you there). It's probably swine flu.

Right now I'm lying on the couch and being so pathetic that I've been tucked inside the doona, in manner of bug in rug, and brought a piece of apple pie. Which is silly really because part of the reason I'm feeling ooky is because I tried to eat what seemed like an entire barramundi for dinner. Will I never learn? Apparently not.

I've had an interesting week.

My science is still not working, but my usual pastry-chef-as-alternative-to-research plan has been shelved for the time being, for reasons that may, in time, become clear. Observe: PCR fail.
I skipped off work early yesterday because, as above, my science is not working, and the sun was out, meaning that for the first time in 3 weeks I could do some laundry (three loads...) and vacuum my room. I'm sorry science, but until you realise that this is a two way street, give and take and all that, I think laundry is going to take precedence.

I skipped off Monday entirely because JM was here on her way back to Farmadale from Darwin. I was super stressed about taking a whole day off, but we went to yum cha with my absolute favourite people...


...and demolished a huge amount of food. I'm surprised I didn't lose a hand, they were like piranhas; food would land on the table and 30 seconds later all that remained were sucked-clean bones and stray tumbleweed.


And as we wandered through the Chinese Gardens after lunch, my inner tranquility returned for a little while at least. It was back on Tuesday, but on Monday afternoon, with a belly full of tea and mango pancakes, I was serenity now personified.





How's the serenity.

Something amazing happened to me last week, amazing in the sense of the Double-Yolkies Incident of 2007.

I was in the lab, sitting at my bench*...


..and I was refilling my tip boxes, like this:**
And now, you see, the box has 96 holes, because it fits 96 tips. And I was sitting there, minding my own business, listening to music, probably singing along louder than I realised (we've all been there, right...right?), filling away, and I look down at the box: it has 5 empty holes. Then I look down at my hand: 5 tips left in my hand!

I had pulled exactly 96 tips from the bag! What are the chances?!

More importantly, what are the chances of it happening twice?!! Because happen twice it did!*** I should have bought a lottery ticket.




*Actually, I wasn't sitting at either of those benches, but I wanted to set the mood...
**Although I wasn't refilling them like that at all, because, as is clear from my absurd story, I had the tips in my hand, not in the box-lid.
***No, I don't care what your theory is about it, nor do I actually want to know what the chances are. Go away and stop ruining my fun.

I like cupcakes mmmmmk. Food in general really.
Which is why on Sunday I had the most delicious roast beef sandwich, shared a pie with peas, mash, and gravy with Rob, and ate a cupcake. Plus a little snack of burrito, and pizza for dinner. Hmmmn, that explains why I felt a bit ooky today. Too much food. Way way way too much food.

Technically we were in the city to go department store shopping, but it didn't really happen. Just a lot of semi-aimless wandering through David Jones and a momentary lapse of sanity while I fingered a KitchenAid Mixmaster Artisan. I bought a super fantastic cute notebook with little birds on it too. Because I really needed a super fantastic cute notebook with little birds on it. Definitely.

But I can't lie to you, really, when I put two and two together and realised we'd be near the QVB I knew I would have to hunt down a cupcake from The Cupcake Bakery. I'd been thinking about those cupcakes ever since a friend and I tried, multiple times, to catch up there. Since I don't go into the city that often, the place had become a cupcake enigma in my mind.

Never mind the crap photos and incredibly photogenic background scenery. The weather was vile so we sat down on a dirty step near Town Hall to eat and wait it out.

I had red velvet. Got sucked in by the little red sugar heart on top.


Rob had a (horrid looking) choc-peppermint.
Hmmn, what can I say.. they're tasty, if a little sweet. The crumb was tender enough but eeh, they aren't quite Magnolia...

I've been thinking about this for some time,* or at least, it's very early and I feel slightly psychotic because I'm usually not awake for about 3 more hours....where was I..?

Yes: I have come to a conclusion, and am ready to issue A Pronouncement.

Even though I have sort of issued it previously, never mind.

You have never really tasted a strawberry unless you have roamed in mountain woodland sunshine, and plucked it yourself, fresh, from its mossy nest.

I'm going to give you some little hints; it's like a puzzle.



Ok, that one's Coffs Harbour... random, I know. And Bambi too, just trying to throw you off the scent.
Some others...


And so....
...where to next?

Walking down Marrickville Road on Saturday night, we passed an old lady clothes shop with 4 mannequins in the window...all with pictures of the Queen's face stuck to their heads. It was disturbing times 4.

We thought it was some kind of tricky marketing ploy to appeal to old ladies who fancy themselves..well..fancy.
..but obviously, this is the June long weekend. Also known as the Queen's birthday weekend. It's an homage to the Queen. Someone else figured it out. Sort of.. immediately.

Still, it was creepy. I had dreams about those Queen faces. Bad dreams.

It annoys me when I see people in the eastern suburbs carrying their dogs around in handbags. Dogs are made for walking..they even have four legs to do it with.

A shop I walk past on my way to uni annoys me also, because it caters exclusively to the particular breed of frou frou eastern suburbanite that carries small dogs around in expensive handbags. There are two things about it that make me smile though.

This sign, at mother height, shows that children and their sticky little fingers cannot be trusted.

This one, at dog height (provided, I suppose, that the dog is not in a bag, in which case we can only assume that the same rules as above apply), shows that dogs are inherently trustworthy. Moreover, in the eastern suburbs, dogs are taught to read before children.
That seems about right to me.

This week, actually, last week too, I have been a failure at science.

There's nothing particularly new about that, and in fact last night after running the same reaction 5 times and getting the same result each time (=fail) we thought we finally got to the bottom of my problems...namely..ahem "operator error". Also known as "my incapability to program the PCR machine correctly and failure to notice the switching of annealing and extension times..five times."

Anyway, in the process of trouble-shooting (pre identification of me being the source of the problem) we threw everything out, made up fresh stuff etc, and so today when I ran it, it really really truly was supposed to work. Except that it didn't.

I came across a number of possible solutions whilst trawling the intertubes for answers, and I have decided on this one:

The Bad Karma Hypothesis.

Background:
This is basically the "God is punishing you" hypothesis. It sometimes gains a great deal of favor.

Symptoms:
- i) All rational explanations have been exhausted and yet PCR still is not working for you.

And if you look closely at that screen-shot you will notice that my lovely, beautiful MacBook now has dirty Windows running in the background.

That's karma for you right there.