Call me kooky, but, even at the relatively tender age of 33, I sometimes fantasize about the kind of old lady I’m going to be, or at least the kind I’d like to be. I want my Mom’s silvery hair. I want to almost exclusively wear jeans. I want my body and bones to be strong so I can walk my dogs and hike in the woods and dance at parties. I want to live in a small town where everyone knows me. I want to garden and cook and eat really flavorful, whole foods. I want to be surrounded by good friends and loving family, and you know, I’m definitely going to want a really good dirty martini every now and again.
Turns out, other than the silver hair, jeans and martinis, I’m aspiring to, and hopefully steering toward, the prototypical golden years of a Blue Zoner. Continue reading “In the (Blue) Zone”
I take my hat off to the original inventors of Drosophila gene nomenclature. They managed to create names that are clear descriptions of the genes effect, are easy to remember, and express something of the humanity of the scientists behind the discovery. Once you’ve heard it, you can’t forget that Cleo (Cleopatra) is only lethal in the presence of Asp, or that in tinman, the embryo has no heart. I really appreciate the ease-of-use of 