98% of the human genome is noncoding DNA. Termed junk DNA, this vast majority of all human DNA has no known biological function. Why would we have so much nonfunctional genetic material? Are these the instructions for superpowers that are waiting to be tapped or are they really just junk left over from millions of years of modification? I don't know about you, but I'm hoping for superpowers.
Harper's class has been working on learning the alphabet. For every letter they study, they color pictures like this and hang them up on the wall in the classroom.
While I was surveying the class' artwork, I noticed that Harper's picture looked different from all of the other ones. The other kids colored all over the picture - inside the lines, outside the lines, you name it, they colored it. But Harper only filled in the polka dots
(and, as she explained to me, added some of her own dots at the bottom). I have no idea what this means. It just struck me as funny that hers was noticeably different than the other ones.
I heard about this site on NPR last week and was excited to check it out. Basically, you copy and paste in a writing sample and it tells you what famous author you write like. This excerpt from an interview with the site's creator explains how it works.
Actually, the algorithm is not a rocket science, and you can find it on every computer today. It’s a Bayesian classifier, which is widely used to fight spam on the Internet. Take for example the “Mark as spam” button in Gmail or Outlook. When you receive a message that you think is spam, you click this button, and the internal database gets trained to recognize future messages similar to this one as spam. This is basically how “I Write Like” works on my side: I feed it with “Frankenstein” and tell it, “This is Mary Shelley. Recognize works similar to this as Mary Shelley.” Of course, the algorithm is slightly different from the one used to detect spam, because it takes into account more stylistic features of the text, such as the number of words in sentences, the number of commas, semicolons, and whether the sentence is a direct speech or a quotation.
I tried several writing samples - blog entries, emails, articles I'd written for scientific journals. Apparently, I write like Cory Doctorow.
I have to admit, I wasn't familiar with him. But after doing a little research, I can see why we might have a similar style. He's a science fiction author, activist, journalist, and blogger. You can read more about him here.
I'm not sure how accurate this is, but it's fun. Give it a try and let me know who you write like!
Thursday is quickly becoming my new favorite day of the week. This is mainly because of the weekly farmer's market that sets up in the courtyard where I work. I love it!
You can get all kinds of locally grown fruits and vegetables.
I stock up on tomatoes every week. Last week I tried some yellow and purple heirloom tomatoes. This week, I just went with some good old fashion red ones.
Once I muster up the courage, I'm going to get some of these blackberries and make a cobbler.
The market has lots of other things too.
Like flowers...
There are also booths where you can get fresh herbs, organic meat, and goat cheese. While I haven't tried that stuff yet, I have been getting milk and bread. The milk is awesome - no hormones, no antibiotics. The bread is fantastic too.
Two thumbs up to my university for hosting such a great farmer's market.
Researchers from Scotland and England have determined that a protein called ovacleidin is absolutely necessary for the formation of eggshell. Located in the chicken's ovaries, this protein is required for kick starting the conversion of calcium carbonate in the chicken's body to calcite crystals that make up the eggshell. Without the protein, no shell is made. Therefore, the chicken must come before the egg.
My cousin posted this picture on facebook. I just about fell to pieces when I saw it. Pap's been gone for a while, but I still think about him all the time. He was a good guy - a coal miner from Pennsylvania who took up boxing during the Depression to earn what ever he could (this is actually a picture of his boxing license). Of course, I didn't know him as that. The guy I knew never left the house without a hat, always spoke softly, and grew the best tomatoes in town.
We packed a lot into this weekend. Here's the recap.
1. On Friday after work, I decided that Harper and I both deserved a cupcake. So after I picked her up, we went to Gigi's. I let Harper pick out which cupcake she wanted and, surprise surprise, she picked the one entitled Miss Princess. I chose the much more sensible carrot cake one.
2. On Saturday, I thought we should take advantage of the slightly cooler temperature (high of only 90 instead of 98) and go to the zoo. It was great. Harper had her very first carousel ride. She picked the zebra to ride on.
Then we headed over to the lorikeet exhibit. This exhibit is cool because you enter into their enclosure and can feed them nectar out of a little cup. Harper loved it.
3. Sunday reminded me that my daughter is every bit of 2 years old. The highlight of the day came when I went outside to take the garbage out. Harper must have been trying to open the door to come with me. But instead of turning the doorknob, she turned the lock. When I realized I was locked out, I called to her and she came to the door. In the nicest voice I could muster, I asked her to unlock it and let me in. She wiggled the doorknob and locked and unlocked the deadbolt for a good 5 minutes before she actually unlocked the door. I didn't know whether to hug her or beat her when I got in the house. Even though we've tried to instill a strict "no door touching" policy, I think we will be hiding key in the garage. It's never a dull around here.
After "the incident", we all needed to take it down a notch so I decided to fold some laundry. Harper is a good helper. It's her job to find all of the socks and put them in a pile. I'm guessing that a normal 2 year old would pull the socks out of the basket and throw them in a haphazard pile on the floor. Not my kid. She carefully removes each sock and places them one on top of each other. She definitely got a healthy dose of my OCD.
