Chris picked up one of the first Nintendo Wiis (or is it Wiii?) this morning. I couldn't resist going over there to check it out. We tried out the bowling game. It's very cool. In case you don't know, the Wii uses a new controller that is based mostly on motion, tilt, and acceleration sensing, not innumerable buttons and sticks. To play the bowling game for example, you hold the controller in your hand and swing your arm around like you're rolling a bowling ball. The controller senses the angle of the throw, the direction, and even the spin on the ball. Bowling is accompanied by other sports, like golf and tennis, all with a similar gestural interface.

Curiously, I ended up doing a fair amount of research about both the Nintendo Wii and the Playstation 3. The reason is that I was contacted mid-week by the local CTV affiliate, who wanted an... ahem... expert opinion on the two new game consoles. I pleaded that I know nothing about videogames, but apparently that's wasn't a very important prerequisite. So in the absence of my more knowledgeable but out-of-town colleagues, I ended up taping a five-minute interview for CTV on Thursday. I believe it was broadcast earlier this evening (which is why I don't mind mentioning it now). I assume nobody saw the broadcast. If you did, don't tell me about it. If you taped it, don't show it to me. Thanks. The most positive thing about the interview was that it was good practice against some future time when I'm called upon to discuss a topic that I know.

When I visited the Artist's Market last week, it was to see the owner's Escher collection (and, in theory, to check prices on some of the more affordable pieces -- heh). Of course, the gallery doesn't only deal in Escher; they have to pay the bills! They had a wide selection of contemporary prints, photography and miscellaneous tchotchkes.

I want to call attention to a photographer whose work they were featuring. Christopher Burkett is a nature photographer who travels all over the US to find his subjects. He's also an expert printer, and hand prints all his photographs. The results are absolutely stunning, sometimes impossibly vivid. Yes, I went in to look at the Escher prints. But if I had the money, I would have purchased a copy of Green Veratrum on the spot. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), I didn't have five thousand dollars to spend on a photograph. On the other hand, Golden Aspen Glade is only $1500, and will be going up as of next year. It would look really nice over the couch...

At the beginning of the month, I embarked on a one-week solo road trip to visit a couple of schools and galleries/museums. To summarize the itenerary, I crossed into the US at Buffalo, and drove east to Williamstown, Massachussetts. I spent a couple of days visiting with colleagues at Williams College, a place I had heard very good things about from alumni. Indeed, it was the only US school I applied to for a faculty position. From Williamstown, I drove south to Norwalk, Connecticut. I indulged by staying overnight in an out-of-the-way inn/tavern place. The next day, I visited an art gallery called The Artist's Market. I've always wanted to go there, because the owner has a fairly large collection of Escher's prints and drawings. Owing to an introduction by someone who knows him, I was given the grand tour, including his private collection. From Norwalk, I went west around New York City (the closest I've ever come!) and into Pennsylvania, where I visited colleagues at Moravian College in Bethlehem. A couple of days later, I went north to Corning, New York, where I visited the Corning Museum of Glass. Then it was a straight shot home.

The trip left me with some observations.

• I really enjoyed the driving aspect of the trip. I have to fly a fair amount for my job (not as much as Dan, but still). And I hate it. I'm not afraid to fly in any way; it's just that air travel manages to pack together many of the worst aspects of modern civilization. The endless waiting. The paranoia. The discomfort for the sake of convenience. The patronizing service industry. Increasing prices in exchange for less service. And so on. Driving is so much more civilized by comparison. Plus, I had brought with me an audiobook of Neil Gaiman's Anansi Boys . The book was excellent, and the performance (by Lenny Henry) was outstanding. I can actually recommend the audiobook regardless of whether you've read the original.
• I had to pay a few different tolls on roads in the US. And I was very lucky to have the money I needed with me. Just past the border, there was a 75 cent toll, and I happened to have a single US dollar in my wallet, leftover from our trip to Seattle in August. Then, I needed to cough up ten dollars in Albany after having taken the New York State Thruway. Fortunately, I had decided on a whim to take cash out from the ATM at the rest stop on the thruway. Good thing, too. Apparently, if you can't pay the toll, it's straight to Guantanamo Bay for you. US folks: what's the deal here? How are you supposed to know where the tolls are? I'll remember to bring more cash next time!
• At both schools, I gave talks about my research. And I got paid both times. They call it an "honourarium", though the term should be applied loosely in my case. Please understand: this was completely unexpected. I would have financed the trip from my own pocket if necessary, or possibly dipped into my grant (it wasn't a very expensive trip, after all). This is just icing for me. It made me feel better about undertaking a miniature shopping spree at the end, and bringing home a few gifts for my family. I'm especially happy with the Bodum mugs I picked up at the glass museum. They are très chic.
• There's some regional variation in coffee drinks. At the end of a particularly buttery meal in Bethlehem, I ordered a cappuccino. I received drip coffee with milk, topped with whipped cream. Uh, yeah.
• The academic visits were an interesting exercise in contrasts. The number of faculty in my department here is nearly as much as the entire faculty of Moravian College. Williams isn't much bigger. There are a lot of positive and negative aspects to teaching at such small institutions, but overall I think I would enjoy it. I ended up sitting in on a lecture at Moravian. There were four students in the class where I would probably have 60. The professor didn't lecture, but led more of a Socratic dialogue with reference to the text, which the students had read as homework.

I could definitely see myself going on another trip like this. I wish more of my work-related travel could be by car or train. I have to go to North Carolina in March. It's around a twelve-hour drive, and under six hours to fly (factoring in all the peripheral time). Driving would be ludicrous, but part of me would still like to find a way to justify it.

I've always been a big fan of the short story. I like novels well enough, but it's rare with a novel that I'll approach the end with the feeling of wonder and astonishment that I get from a well written short story. I'm always amazed by the imagery, the density and quality of ideas that a talented writer can pack into a small space. One recent collection worth mentioning is Children Playing Before a Statue of Hercules, edited by David Sedaris. In it, Jean Thompson's "Applause, Applause" blows my mind. After reading it, I immedately re-read it. I've probably read it half a dozen times. I can't explain why I like it so much, and indeed Nath doesn't see what's so special about the story. I think I identify very strongly with the main characters. I'm happy to lend the collection to anyone within borrowing distance.

I mention all this as preamble because I recently had that deeply satisfying short story experience again. I happened to catch NPR's Selected Shorts a couple of weeks ago, and heard a reading of J. Robert Lennon's "Eight Pieces for the Left Hand". Each of the eight pieces is a very short anecdote -- about a page or two of printed text. And each one is a minimalist jewel, a self-contained story, usually a combination of insightful observation and bitter, nasty wit. They have the pace of a well written joke, but with a chiling punchline. And the reading was right on. Later in the week, I recorded a stream of the program from a different NPR affiliate, and listened to the Eight Pieces a pile of times, never getting bored of them.

Searching on the web, I discovered that the Eight Pieces were later published in a book entitled Pieces for the Left Hand: 100 Anecdotes. One hundred of them? I had to read the whole thing.

I managed to find a copy of the book at the other local university's library, and borrowed it on Saturday. I finished it a couple of hours ago. It definitely didn't disappoint. Definitely worth reading. I'm tempted to type in one or two of the anecdotes here so all can sample them (and violate some copyrights), or link to my MP3 of Selected Shorts (even more violations). Maybe I'll do that later. In the meantime, you can visit the author's website. Note that he's also a musician, and even released an album to accompany the 100 anecdotes. And do take the opportunity to watch this video, in which he explains how to be a successful writer. It's easier than you may think.

Ginkgo, My black cat, has been getting thinner for the past year or two. This I had attributed primarily to her age. We estimate her to be around eleven years old; not ancient by cat standards, but perhaps old enough that her appetite could have declined.

Last week I took her for a checkup, and she weighed in at seven pounds. She was around ten or eleven pounds when we got her. At seven pounds, she's emaciated and bony, but otherwise in fine health. The vet was immediately suspicious, and suggested that healthy cats who nevertheless lose weight are frequently diagnosed with a hyperactive thyroid. She found further evidence in her heart rate of 300 BPM, where 260 is considered the upper limit for terrified-cat-at-vet. She ordered a blood test, but was so convinced of our cat's condition that she sent me home with the medication, and promised to email me to confirm that I should start administering it.

Yes, it turns out that Ginkgo's thyroid hormone level is more than five times normal. That's unhealthy for obvious reasons. The related problem is that it can lead to a strained, hypertrophic heart. The good news is that treatment can effectively reverse the problems.

So our kitty is now on a regular dose of Tapazole to control thyroid hormone. If that doesn't work, the popular treatments include surgery to remove the thyroid gland, or a dosage of radioactive iodine. The latter is particularly interesting. Because of regulations in Canada, Ginkgo would have to be in the care of vets in radiation suits for about three weeks. Apparently this is strange, because the feline dose of iodine is much smaller than the human dose, and yet humans are simply given a drink of the stuff and sent on their way.

New Zealand must have similar regulations, because residents of Christchurch are currently in a panic over an escaped radioactive cat. Dude. I totally want to get bitten by that cat, for then I would have special cat powers. Superhuman napping ability, for one thing. Despite the obvious benefits of being Cat Man, I'll maintain the hope that the Tapazole will suffice to treat Ginkgo.