Harsh

In the world of research publications, you submit your study, all written up, and people critique it. You don't know who they are, but they see your name. They write up what they think, give some suggestions, and it is up to the editor to determine if the manuscript is rejected, needs revisions, or is accepted. After the decision has been made, you can see what other reviewers submitted for feedback.

I received the second version of a manuscript I had reviewed previously. I gave very thorough feedback the first time and recommended accepting after major revisions. The other two reviewers gave minimal feedback, but were critical of the overall study, and suggested minor revisions the first time around. It appears the authors just did some rewriting according to my feedback.

This particular journal has you highlight your changes so they are apparent. It occurred to me that most of the new text was a little too natural sounding for these non-native speakers from a country in which I have lots of experience. I dug further into this text. Turns out it is almost exactly copied from the other studies they cite. Friends, this is what we call plagiarism. Because I am familiar with their culture, I understand why they do it and how difficult it is to rewrite something in your own words when it is not your native language. However, this is unacceptable.

My response to the manuscript:

I appreciate the thorough response of the authors to feedback on the previous draft of this manuscript. I think the additions have incorporated the literature into their manuscript well.

However, large portions of the text are plagiarized from previously published studies, and I cannot recommend publishing the manuscript as it is currently written. I am happy to review this manuscript again when the authors have rewritten the text.

On the plus side, I no longer felt like I needed to go through and proof-read it, so reviewing the paper was a lot faster than it could have been. One more thing crossed off my list for the weekend...

Shoulda stayed in

I went out to see Lincoln today, and it's a great movie.

I went in to the movie when it was still light out, and it was dark when I came out. I realized that my lights were still on in the car. Not all the car lights, but the ones around the locks, radio, and the rear license plate. So I ran my errands and tried all combinations of turning the headlights on and off with the car on or the doors open when I got home. When I left home, I accidentally set off the car alarm when I started the car. Given the quirks of my car, I am pretty sure that messed some random electric connection up.

I don't have the right wrench to undo the battery to try to solve the problem that way. I am pretty sure these lights will not drain the battery, but still. I have to be at church at 8:45 tomorrow morning.

One of those times I wish that I had (human) company at home. A second car.

Time for a new car. Which I get to buy by myself. Yay. [sigh]

Now is the time

I distinctly remember driving back to Boston from my parents' house one year at the end of MLK weekend. I happened to catch a radio station playing Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s I Have a Dream Speech. I admit I got the chills. If you have never listened, I recommend taking 15 minutes of your time to do so.

I am always reminded of my elementary school's principal and often share this story. I do not know what grade I was in, nor do I remember what led to me and another kid in my class getting called to the principal's office. But I remember the old black tape player and the principal playing a recording of MLK's famous speech to us because our principal had been there. I wonder how many other kids he played the recording for? You learn about these pivotal moments in history, but often feel removed. Our principal was this towering white man, and listening to MLK's speech just now, I realize he was one of the white* people in the sea of black* people who was there to support the cause and to whom MLK spoke at one part of the speech. He was my principal in a dinky little New England town, and I will never forget that experience.

Martin Luther King, Jr. said many wise things, in my opinion, and if you listen to him orate, it is no wonder he moved people. I have read many snippets of his wisdom, from science to social issues. MLK said:

We have inherited a large house, a great "world house" in which we have to live together - black and white, Easterner and Westerner, Gentile and Jew, Catholic and Protestant, Moslem and Hindu - a family unduly separated in ideas, culture and interest, who, because we can never again live apart, must learn somehow to live together with each other in peace.

We re-inaugurate our first bi-racial president tomorrow. He is African-American, but he is also European-American. I think it is wonderful that he is our first African-American president, but also that he represents the acceptance of interracial relationships. Although not by design, I love that his inauguration is the same time of year that we remember Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I need to go figure out if I can watch it live on my computer or if I am taking the day off to watch it at home. That's right - I will take the morning off to watch the presidential inauguration, and I think that is okay. As a matter of fact, I think public schools should watch them and wish I had growing up.



*Recently I have become even more aware and curious and hyper-conscious about words I and we use to describe people. Quite honestly, I think if you are not a part of a defined social group, it is impossible to know what that social group feels is a respectful way to describe the group. Is it more appropriate to refer to the attendants at MLK's speech as 'white' and 'black' or as 'European-American' and 'African-American'? I am of European descent, but would call myself 'white', and usually use the parallel term 'black' for people of African descent. I should really ask someone of African descent what is the preferable way to explain someone is of African descent If you identify in a particular way, and someone labels you in a way that makes you uncomfortable or may be inappropriate, I encourage you to first assume that they are merely uneducated about the issue. This recently happened to me in a group where we were interchangeably using two labels for a particular social group. A member of the conversation told us why we should only use one of those descriptors, and let me tell you, we were all very grateful to her for speaking up and explaining the difference to us.

A Winter of Soup

I like cooking a couple of dishes on the weekend that will get me through Wednesday. An easy way to do that is soup! I went through some of the other soup recipes I have posted and will definitely have to make them again this winter.

• Mushroom and Feta
• Peanut Soup
• Buttermilk Soup

Last week I made a delicious Roasted Cauliflower and Cheddar Soup.

Today was a fennel-pear soup based on this recipe.

I roasted the fennel and a couple cloves of garlic, and thawed some chicken stock and apple cider I had in the freezer.

 Blended, put some delicious moldy cheese on top, and ate with a homemade pretzel.

I mostly followed the link above for the recipe, but the details are....

1 fennel bulb quartered, plus stems
2 garlic cloves
1 shallot, chopped
2 pears, chopped
~1/2 c homemade chicken stock - if you don't want to use stock of some type, you will probably want to add other spices
~1 c apple cider
~2 c water
1 bay leaf
Olive and/or grape seed oil

Spray fennel and garlic with olive oil. Roast at 400 for about 25 minutes.
Saute shallot in grape seed oil until translucent. Chop the roasted fennel. Add all the fennel and garlic to the pot and saute briefly. Add pear, cover, and saute for a few minutes, stirring occasionally.

Add the liquid and bay leaf. Bring to a boil then turn temperature down and simmer ~15 minutes. Remove the bay leaf and the fennel stems. Blend the soup and serve! The soup has a very mild flavor, so either add more herbs to the soup or some garnish, like a cheese or dollop of sour cream.

Mini-makeover

Do you ever watch those home make-over shows and get annoyed that they compare a regular lived-in home as before with the polished nothing-that-the-family-owns-is-in-the-room after shot? I always notice even more when there is a play room or child's room involved. This is my own mini-makeover version. Unlike those TV shows, this was free.

I took down all of my Christmas decorations last weekend and cleaned up.

I could not remember what I had on top of my china cabinet before the big Santa was there. I started playing with the idea of moving my furniture around. This is the before - notice all the random stuff near the door and the crap on the table?

Then I emptied shelves to make furniture easy to move. Vacuumed. Polished the table. Hung all the things I have from my travels after not hanging them since I moved here. I tried to get it all done while there was lots of sunlight to play the other lighting trick they do on TV. Alas. I do like the new set-up so far though!

Hallowed Joy and Love

I was on a roll with reflecting on the Advent Season until the world took a wrong turn. I have not posted in a couple of weeks mostly because, while I can think of lots of things to post, I wonder why I want to put them out there on the internet. I feel guilty about my life moving on (some aspects faster than others). I have started thinking about why I am still posting here. What I want to post about - random life occurrences? Deep Thoughts by Jenski? Maybe just make a better effort to stay in touch with people? Those thoughts are for another time...a few more posts...but for now, some catch-up.

The third week of advent is supposed to be Joy. Joy is difficult to strive for when there is so much sad suddenly. Our pastor shared that two of the most difficult jobs to have after a tragedy has occurred are those of a reporter and a pastor. The most difficult idea to convey and to grasp is that there can be joy found in tragedy. That loving those you have and being kind to people is a way to honor those who have been lost. If you have not heard, looking for the helper is a good way to start finding that hallowed joy.

Fred Rogers about when he was a child and would see scary things: My mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.' To this day, especially in times of 'disaster,' I remember my mother's words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers-so many caring people in this world.

The final week of advent, the week of Love, I was home and went to the church where I grew up. I was mostly interested in how I felt about the pastor now that I have found a church where I am touched or inspired by the sermon on a weekly basis. The sermon/message at the church in which I grew up was non-traditional, so I did not hear a sermon from the pastor. For me though, the message of Love for the week came from the people I know there - hugs from many, questions about whether I was back to ring handbells, and people noticing that my Mom, CF, and I left quickly after the service (which was then mentioned to me on Christmas Eve). The Love for the week came to me in the roots I had in the church, and not in looking for whether I could still find meaning in the pastor's message. It was good that I did not end up comparing my experiences there with my current church and could just enjoy my annual Christmas visit.

I did not take a picture, but every time I go back there, I smile and my heart is warmed by the hand-made sign proclaiming that it was the first open and affirming church in its state.