introduction, mk 5

Okay, I'm going to try something new here as I'm drafting this manuscript. I'm going to try sitting down, working out what I want to say, and writing it out for y'all on the internet to read. Can't hurt, might help.

( Sexually selected traits like peacock's tails, hooded monk seals' ridiculous nose balloons, and the haunting thrum of the midshipman fish have been an object of fascination for biologists since Darwin sat down upon a tangled bank: they are flashy, loud, intricate, elaborately detailed and painstakingly controlled. )

Just for funsies, here's a hooded seal with full nose balloon engaged.

the upside of taking my dog to the lab writing retreat is...

...that she is just so damn good that she makes me look good.

Seriously, I am very proud of Tribble this week: she went to the beach with me for a walk and saw the ocean for the very first time; she's been just about perfect off-leash even in the face of standing water and mud to roll in; she's been very good about waiting for me to wipe her down before going into the rental, and after a couple of 'nope!' chastisements for hopping on the rental's furniture has happily been rolling around on the floor without even trying for the couch. For a dog who usually lives to burrow into our sectional, this is angelic behavior.

(It probably helps that she is viewing the living room rug as a deliciously scratchy novelty to roll around on, and that my colleagues are delightedly giving her attention every five minutes--with six people besides me in the house, almost all of whom like dogs at least in theory and only one of whom has his own at home, she's getting a lot of belly rubs.

And she's been about perfect about napping quietly in her crate while people are writing, and she's generally being very quiet and very sweet, and just--

*mooshes her* what a GOOD DOG.