Hey, Scientists! Need a Theory to Test? #1 Skin Tightness

Hey, Scientists. Here is a well thought out science theory for you to test. 

All I ask is that you make me 3rd or 4th author on the papers that come from it. I really want to go back and get my PhD, and being published will help my application process.

This one is on skin tone - not the color, but the fitness of the skin.

Here's the problem: People who lose a lot of weight have loose skin. It has been stretched out for so long that it is not able to shrink with the tissues under it and it gets floppy. Older people also tend to lose tone and elasticity in their skin. Humans find this a very adverse condition. Except possibly people who have flag or eagle tattoos. They may enjoy the animation.

Here's the question: Is there a way to tone skin and tighten it?

Here's the logic: Human muscles can be toned and tightened by exercise. Human skin has muscles, tiny muscles, but, muscles none-the-less. Therefore, we should be able to exercise skin muscles and achieve better skin tension.

Here's the hypothesis: If people with poor skin fitness are forced to exercise their skin for 1 hour every day, there will be a marked increase in the tightness of their skin after 6 weeks.

Here is the procedure: Have participants come in and experience extreme cold and wafty, moist breezes in a controlled lab condition for 1 hour everyday. Every participant will be monitored carefully to make sure that they experience goosebumps for at least 45 minutes of each daily hour, because it is the little muscles in the skin that contract to warm the body (goosebumps) that are the exercise. (See. This is making perfect sense, is it not?) Measurements of the skin before the trial and after the trial will determine the effectiveness of the skin exercises. Control subjects will come in and shoot the breeze with the testers but will not be subject to actual cold breezes.

Also, for the writeup: Come up with a more technical term for goosebumps.

An added benefit or next step study: Test to see how many calories the goosebumps burn. The goosebumps are caused by muscles, and, therefore, the muscles are being used, right? It makes sense that they are burning calories. And shivering. Shivering should also burn calories.

Potential money making: Market a cooling jumpsuit that gets people shivering and goosebumping for weight loss and skin tightening. We can be rich! (I get 50%).

Gardening Must Do's and Must Don'ts

Here are some things I have learned over the years that are really important to know when you are a home gardener. Just thought you could use the information, as it has been really hard-earned for me.

• Always, ALWAYS, squish up your gardening gloves clear out to the tips of the fingers before you put them on your hands. This is to kill any spider that may have found your glove a happy home.
• Do not plant roses near your air conditioning unit or anything else that may need maintenance at any time of the year, because repairmen will charge you extra and curse in your yard if you do.
• Do not plant wisteria near your house or porch or trees or bushes or wimpy trellis or retaining walls or shed or tree house or playset. It will take over. It will overcome.
• Better yet, do not plant wisteria. Just don't.
• Remember that any convenience the automatic sprinklers give you will be offset by lots of time repairing heads that get poked out by aeration guys and snow blowers and just by random acts of God. It will be a love/hate relationship.
• Do check your sprinklers once in a while, because you never know when that random act of God will strike, and if your sprinklers only come on at night, you will have a devil of a time knowing that there is a problem. At least until your neighbor calls and tells you there's a problem, because his garden is being washed out at night, every night, and has been over the course of the last month.
• Do mutter to yourself when you lift off a lid to a sprinkler control box or water meter, "There might be black widows in the perfect, dark, little square holes on the back of this horribly designed lid." It makes it easier to scream, throw the lid, and run, if you are well-prepared first. And just to make you that much more prepared for anything - though it hasn't happened to me, it has happened up the hill a mile or so - rattle snakes in the water meter pits. Gives new meaning to the term 'pit vipers'. Yeah, I know. 
• Hire help for the sprinkler maintenance from now on.
• Do enjoy the gardening catalogs. 
• Don't think anything you grow will look anything like the gardening catalogs. Remember, they have staff horticulturalists and photo-shoppers making theirs look good. You have, well, you.
• Plants that people give away for free from their garden are going to overtake yours, just like they did the giver's. And that is why they are free.
• Free plants you should not ever accept: iris, daisies, chamomile, horseradish, wisteria, parsley, oregano, horsetail, bamboo, sunflower, aspen trees, and holly hocks. Or anything thistle looking (and not because of the thorns, but because of the propensity of seeds!). If you do want some of these plants, however, let me know. I can get you some for free!
• Do not put black thistle into a bird feeder or allow your neighbors within 30 miles to put black thistle into a bird feeder, unless all you want to grow in your yard is black thistle.
• Do wear a belt and long shirt when gardening. Gardeners get a 'gardener's tan' about the same place plumbers have exposed skin and the neighbors don't appreciate gardener's tans, although the hub might appreciate it.
• Prune like you mean it. Too little and the plants know you are weak and they take over completely.
• Do talk encouragingly to your plants, just not when anyone can see or hear you.
• Don't over-water your grass. Not only does it waste water, it makes the worms crawl out of the turf and all over your sidewalk. Dead worms are really hard to get off the concrete.
• Don't buy materials for a yard project until you are truly ready to tackle it or you will forget what you were going to do with them and they will just sit there taunting you for a couple of seasons.
• And, finally, don't make anything you see on the internet that is made out of chicken wire. Chicken wire is a tool of the devil.

Death By Gretchen's Burritos

This is going to be a short post. But I just want it on record, in case someone finds me sprawled out on my kitchen floor, dead.

It will be a sad and solemn scene. I will be laying there on my back, all dead and my limbs splayed across the linoleum that I have always hated. My head will be about where those purple paint drops that I have not been able to remove since we moved in are. The dishwasher door will be gaping open. There will be a storage container lid near me on the left side of my stiff, cold corpse just beyond my curling, gnarled fingers. On the other side of my body you will find a used, plastic container with remnants of a great leftover meal clinging to the sides. My lips will be parted slightly with my front teeth touching, frozen on the last word they spoke: it. As in, "I knew it!"

Question the hub. Question him hard.  Make absolutely certain he did not do it on purpose just to be rid of me.

I hear you all saying, "What?"

Well, here it is.

I make larger meals than we can eat every night so that the hub can take leftovers for lunch. He likes this arrangement a lot. In fact, last Thursday he actually texted me when he ate it. "Yum. Gretchen burritos for lunch." That is what he said.

Well, he worked from home on Friday and then was home through the weekend. This morning, a Monday, he got out a new container of fresh leftovers from the fridge (chicken pot pi - from pi day which we celebrated on Saturday with the whole family) for lunch and put it into his back pack. At the same time, he removed the empty, but unwashed, sealed container from Thursday's lunch and put it on the counter.

When I open it to put it in the dishwasher I will die. The fumes that are trapped in there are noxious. It is beginning to bulge a little. Just want you to know. I love you all.

Goodbye, cruel world.

I Love My Local Grocery Store - Mint S'mores

It is strange to think that I actually enjoy grocery shopping. Once I get out and do it.

I still hate going out and I put off all my trips into one big fandango, but the grocery store is awesome. I usually save it for last. Last the best and all that. I know that sounds weird. 

I have been shopping there for over 13 years now and have learned some names. The guy who runs the front desk at the store used to be a checker and he liked to sing happy songs while he checked. It was awesome. We talked while he rang me up and he has tropical fish and a son named Damian who also used to check at the store. When I go in I can ask him about them and he is always almost honored that I remember and that I ask. He fills me in. His last few new fish have disappeared. One of the other fish is obviously a cannibal but he hasn't figured out who yet. And, yes, I know the man's name.

Then there is the sweet little checker I try to find if she is there. She always seems so cheerful. Last time I went through her line she came around to help me uncart my groceries. I asked her how she was doing and she gave me a half-hearted okay. When I said she wasn't very convincing, she burst into tears and, while she didn't go into details, she shared some of what was happening in her life and I got to give her a hug.

Then there is the young man who started as a checker about four years ago. He was good looking and happy when I went through his line. So I tried to set him up with my daughter. I know, I am soo weird. He and my daughter thought so too. I gave him my daughter's number and the next time I saw him I asked if he had called. "No. Someone threw the paper away when they cleared off the register".

"That is really too bad. Here it is again." This time I tucked the paper into his suit coat pocket. He was dressed up for the storewide Halloween party and was stationed right by the front doors handing out treats. He could not escape. I really was having too much fun making him uncomfortable. Three times I gave him her number.

He is obviously one of those people who looks at what could go wrong instead of what could go right. Because he never called. I mean, who wouldn't want a crazy mother-in-law like me?

That young man is in charge of the dairy section now and I am pretty sure he runs to the back where they stock the milk just to hide when he sees me. It makes me chuckle. I really am evil. I still call him by name every chance I get and ask how things are in his hometown. He gave me far too much information. I love to see him squirm. He truly missed out though. The daughter is fabulous. (more about her below). And she has been married for over a year and a half. But don't tell him. It is just too fun to rattle his chain.

Back to why I love the store. I shop the pop aisle often enough that the Pepsi stocker always pulls out a special coupon for my husband's Mt. Dew addiction when he is there and sees me. It pays to be friendly. These are the really good coupons - like the ones he gives his mother.

They don't ask my name at the pharmacy - they just go get my phoned-in prescription and bring it to the window - and then the pharmacist asks how my daughter is doing. (yep, that daughter) She worked as a technician there for a summer and is now a pharmacist herself.

So, anyway, yesterday I decided I wanted to get a treat as a thank-you gift for people who were helping me with a church meeting that night. I went to the candy aisle and stood there pondering. "What cute little saying could I put with that candy? Would the ladies like those?"

I was a little perplexed. One of the young men walked by in his store apron and asked if I was doing okay. "Yeah," I replied.

He walked by again five minutes later and I was still standing there pondering.

"Are you finding everything you need?"

"I am doing this thing and I have helpers and I want to give them something good as a thank you."

"Oh, that's easy. Mints are always good," he said pointing to the bags of mint patties.

My head churned out a "just mint to thank you" message in my head and it was instantly decided. Love that boy nice young man!

Then, as an afterthought he added, "And they make the best s'mores."

Skeptical me: "REALLY?"

"Oh, yeah. The dark chocolate and the mint and the marshmallow. Ohhhh! So much better than plain and even better than the ones people are making with peanut butter cups."

I nodded like I knew people were making s'mores with peanut butter cups. Who knew?

So, loaded to the top with 10 bags of mint patties and a gallon of milk, I headed to the check stand. The kid nice, young man who had helped me had relocated to right in front of the line I was heading through.

"He made me do it!" I stammered to the checker, while pointing at the lad. "He is the one who made me look like a junk-food addict." He seemed proud.

Well, I got home and slapped a Just Mint to Thank You label on those bags and was ready to go.

But something kept nagging at me. Mint s'mores. It just kept running through my brain and making my mouth water. And, I had time, so I went back to the store and picked up graham crackers and marshmallows, lots of marshmallows. I do have a tendency toward compulsive.

We had these tonight for dessert to check it out.

Everyone thought they were good. I was surprised.

A single gift

The pile of gifts

 So, to make s'mores without a fire or grill here is what you do.

Put graham crackers tightly together on a baking dish. I was making four full size s'mores so I used four crackers. Then lay marshmallows across the top of the graham crackers - about two and a half marshmallows per cracker.

Put the dish in the oven at 350 degrees for about five minutes until the marshmallows get soft and start to plump up. Then switch the oven to high broil and give them about a minute more. Watch them closely and pull them out when they start to lightly brown on top.

Ready for the oven

 Once they are a little toasty, pull them out of the oven and turn off the heat. Quickly lay 14 unwrapped mint patties over the marshmallows. Place the pan back in the oven to melt the patties ever so slightly - less than a minute.

Melty and toasty

 Then put crackers on top and squish just enough to make them stick together.  Let me know what you think about them and I will let the kid at the store know. Unless you don't like them. Then I will keep it to myself. He is a nice kid. Wouldn't want to hurt his feelings. We're, like, old friends.

Gooey, Melty Mint S'mores

Oh, Never Mind. I Took Care of It.

From my front yard - the horses are Cha Cha and Charlie.

Sunday Sermon 2

I have been thinking a lot this past month about my rural upbringing. We prayed for snow, or rain, or sun, or warmth on a daily basis. The fields were everyone's livelihood. Even if you didn't own an acre, or a cow, the local weather affected your own livelihood. If the farmers didn't have healthy, heavy cattle to sell from eating good winter hay, you closed your store. If the potatoes froze, families moved away and there were fewer kids to teach as a teacher. If the drought caused the deer to die, there would be no guiding money and no extra taxes to collect.

The valley where I grew up.

The farmers all over the Western United States called for people to fast and pray for rain at the beginning of February this year. The reservoirs we rely on for irrigation were drained to the bottom last year. Usually they stay half full. We drink from those reservoirs in the major cities along the Wasatch Front. The situation was dire. And the winter to this point had been dismal for water. Many of the snowpacks were at 20 percent of normal - and that was following the rough year before.

Well, people prayed. It was like being in my hometown again, listening to the fervent prayers for moisture.

The Lord heard our prayers. February brought our water storage in snowpack up remarkably. We had rain and snow in the mountains a lot, and that is unusual, and as March begins, it just keeps coming. We still have a way to go to get our numbers up enough to take us out of the extended drought, but no one can miss the miracle of February 2014.

Or can they? I am reminded of a story from my Dad. He probably told it to me when I was a little lazy in my faith or work ethic, but it stuck. It was a simple story:

There was a young man whose roof needed just a bit of fixing. He carefully climbed up the ladder and climbed warily onto the two-story roof. After a few minutes he got confident enough to wander the roof without too much fear. He quickly finished his patches at the very top of the roof and took a step toward the ladder below.

That is when it happened. He slipped. As he fell closer and closer to the edge of the roof, he tried to grab something, anything, that would prevent his falling. Finally, in desperation, he cried out, "Lord, please save me!"

Almost in that split second (and he really had no time but a split second before he would have fallen into the abyss), his back pants pocket caught on a protruding nail and stopped his descent.

"Oh, never mind, Lord. I took care of it", he said as he reached for the ladder.


We have truly experienced the hand of God in the last month. But in the prayers at church last week I heard no mention of the rain.

If God had a temper, I think he'd tip the ladder to the ground and leave us stranded up there on the roof.

And the story carries an added significance that is easy to miss. The thing that saved him was a nail.

Whether it is rain or atonement we need, let us be aware from whence the blessing comes. And it isn't our back pocket.

I Figured Out the BEST Wrinkle Cream Ever

The Infomercial

Do you know how much money is spent annually on trying to look or stay young? Well, the Global Industry Analysts (a market research group) says it is $80,000,000,000 per year. 80 billion! They expect that by 2015 that will climb to $114 billion.

But, really, you can now send me your cold, hard-earned cash, because I figured it out a few years back. It is the wrinkle cream that will keep us all looking as smooth and baby-faced as any little kid in the world. It has been tested as safe for thousands, if not millions, of years. It has been used over and over in every culture and time. It has even been safely tested on animals. It is actually one of those things that is tied into our very biological makeup. It is automatic. It cannot be escaped. It just happens. And yet, somehow, it has eluded us until I figured it out.

I am just that smart. It took me to figure it out. I am a science prodigy.

I think I will name it The B2 Elixir of Youth. I will charge you all one thousand dollars a month for the secret - direct deposited monthly to my secret Swiss account will be fine. And $1000 is a bargain compared to a skin-care product called Peau Magnifique that costs $1,500 for a 28-day supply. And that sounds French. Who trusts the French? You want my good ole B2 Elixir of Youth!

So how to get your own supply, you ask? Well, it is simple, really.

Just spit and rub. Yup.

Have you ever seen a wrinkle-faced cat? A slobbery, bubble-faced baby with wrinkles? And little kids don't have wrinkles either, obviously, because their mothers are constantly going, "Hey, kid. Come here. You got a little something right there. Let me get that for you." Followed, of course, by a lick to a thumb and a cleaning of the cheek.

It is only after the kids get old enough to start thinking that type of motherly protection is gross that they begin to age. But then they start kissing - really make-out and slimy and saliva-y kissing and that keeps it at bay for another 10 or 15 years.

After that, everyone keeps their spit to themselves, in their mouth and off their face, and the wrinkles begin in earnest.

Saliva. Sputum. Spit. That is the wrinkle secret.

You are welcome.

E-mail me for my account number to send your direct deposits to. I appreciate it. 

The brass spittoon we got as a wedding gift. It has remained empty all these years. Had I only known then what I know now, I would still have the skin of a teenager.

Here is an Introduction

     A lady at church once actually called me eccentric. Out loud. To my face. Where other people could hear her.
     I was flattered.

    I am Bea Tew. Pronounced B2 - like the Bingo space. If you just do the first name and last initial I am BeaT. If my middle name was Uriah, then I'd be BUTT (my maiden name started with a T - a long German thing that was hard to spell). But my parents didn't give their daughters middle names.
     Too bad.

    And this is why I am B2 'at random'.

    I have a little of my artist grandmother's creativity in me, a little of my dad's writer in me, a little of one grandfather's love of nature, a little of my other grandfather's persistent optimism, and some of my father-in-law's wondering about the world in scientific terms. (How did that happen?)

    But, I have none of the math from my rocket scientist (yes, he really is) husband. And that's okay with me.

    I graduated from high school with 36 other people. Then I went on to attend five universities and had six declared majors. I ended up with a master's degree in fun and games. No kidding. Recreation, they call it. My emphasis was outdoor recreation, tourism, and interpretation.

    I have four nearly grown children, all very unique from each other and the world. All brilliant and curious and constantly learning. Guess we did something right.

    Welcome to my random and eccentric world. Hope you enjoy the ride. It might get bumpy.