It's all in the DNA...
Yesterday, before studying World War I, we studied yellow journalism. I am fortunate to be involved in a few media happenings, so I pulled out some dailies with article content for which I was responsible, coupled with sensationalistic headers for which I wasn't. A then made up a few yellow journalism articles with headlines of his own.
For Genetics, we worked a bit off of this page.
Then I went window shopping at Carolina Biological Supply. I love that store. On our roster of things to buy are:
We still do not have a microscope, but that is on our wishlist.
A is out doing lessons right now. Catherine is back in the picture with A's French lessons. We were on a bit of hiatus with that.
Last night I attended a friend's birthday party. I knew it would be star-studded and laid back, but it was one of those parties that you do not soon forget. Photographers were there. Every single record industry person who I've met over the last 10 months was there. Musicians were there. Minnie Driver was there. I think a certain widow of John Lennon's made an early visit, but I would have arrived after her.
Most bizarre moment? Five of us actually discussed mice problems, while we sipped wine and rum punch. This started because I asked a photographer if he had a dog, and he answered no, that he had a cat to resolve mice problems. Then we all sort of shook our heads and said, "Yeah, wow. Hate that." Then: "Wait. You've had mice problems, too?" What the going rate for glue traps must be in New York.
Second most bizarre moment? I certain young woman telling me Joey Ramone lived with her at her dorm at F.I.T. That he wore her bathrobe (she is 5 feet tall). Then she told me his shoe size.