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A couple of weeks ago I did some science. That project ended today with me spending 90 minutes head first in an MRI. Ninety minutes is just about my limit.

Overall, the experience was great. I ended up with some cash in hand, learned some stuff, and got two new earrings for my tragus (if you count the plastic retainer) that replace the one I had been wearing for 12.5 years.

The part where I was ready to be done was at about 70 minutes into the MRI. The machine spent 7 minutes making a noise comparable to the first really long tone in a modem dial up. For seven minutes. In my head.

I can tell you for sure, audio torture is the way to get me to tell you anything you want to know. I will tell you the secret recipe for my grandmother’s potato salad at 4 minutes, and if you’re patient I’ll even tell you how to make the Graff Christmas cookies.

I would completely do this again. Now I just hope a decade from now this paper doesn’t show up in Retraction Watch.

Nobody mentioned gluing 60 electrodes to my head.

At least, they didn’t mention it specifically when I replied to one of the many local requests to be a guinea pig for some sort of research work.

With daytime hours available, I replied to one of the ads my husband had seen, and so far it has been kind of interesting. There are three parts, and I will do the final bit on Thursday. I’ve taken 4 different kinds of quizzes and a couple of other baseline sorts of things. I’ve had my eye movements measured and I’ve been timed at how quickly I can accurately juggle numbers and letters in my mind.

So far, the only downside has been 4 students gluing 60 electrodes to my head. Each of them had two of those big q-tips that look like they are going to test me for strep throat. They were just kind of — knitting — on my head — with glue.

When the whole thing was done they offered that I could rinse out my hair (like hospitals, labs seem to always have showers around someplace). I declined because my plan was to go to the gym and run, then shower.

I got to my car (parked on the Carlton St. Deck – right off of Smith St —WHAT???) I found out that my beloved computer – out for repairs for a week – was ready to come home. So I skipped the gym and headed into public with my hair revealing chunk after chunk of white glue.

You know that dental cement that you end up spitting out randomly for a week after you get work done. Like that. With my whole head.

The computer is home, my head has been soaked, it stings like it is covered in road rash but I cannot stop running my fingers around to check and see if I got it all.

I feel pretty. I did science.

“Jeff?  If you can stay patient and pleasant for the store, you can pick an Easter candy to try from the big wall of candy…”

We had a great trip through the store and he chose pink bunny Peeps.  At the register the young woman joked about putting them in the microwave (she suggested NOT doing that).  I talked about our soap adventure (Ivory – totally do it) but I started eyeballing Jeff and he was eyeballing me…..  LET’S GET HOME.

Zoom to the car, throw the food in the cabinets, eat one Peep just to have the normal experience (like either of us tasted it) and saddle up – let’s NUKE this sucker.  We kept it from exploding, we de-foiled two Hershey Kisses and jammed them in the middle and swirled them around until it was a sticky mess.

Yesterday I was on a plane.  Today Husband was on a plane and son, frankly, doesn’t get why he isn’t collecting airlines miles as well.

We are in divide and conquer mode as we enter the home stretch of LLV with to do / to decide / to resolve / to be rid of lists a mile long for each of us, and none of the lists overlapping very much at all.

Our reward and reconnection at the end of the first of many strange weeks was a pink sticky sweet hot mess of a moment together.

I’m pleased (and a bit zoomy from the sugar).

Ivory Soap