My new division chief Paul told me that my R01 grant application would occupy the next two months of my life, and so far he's been spot on. I spent the majority of last week producing the first 17 pages of the grant. It wreaked havoc my second week of working out, causing me to miss three sessions with Fred. On top of that, i've got to get three papers out asap. This effort will provide a basis for my Stanford career, and i'm approaching it with renewed vigor. But it's long and hard work nonetheless.

In addition to my workout schedule (weights and cardio five days a week, barring the unavoidable work and personal interruptions), i'm going to join a softball team being organized by my colleagues at Stanford. We'll see what my catch and throw skills are like after all these years.

Our Coachella expedition had some shake-ups in the week preceding it, with Geoff and Jenz dropping off our roster. We regrouped and gathered Veronica and myself as well as Naomi, Michelle, Kevin, and Amy to attend the festival. V and i departed Redwood City on Friday morning, taking Tara for a vet appointment in Fremont at which her ears were emptied of copious amounts of wax. We left an unhappy dog there to be boarded for three days, then drove south after a quick lunch at Panera. V slept for most of the drive as i listened to a good four hours of Howard Stern on Sirius. We arrived in Bellflower around 6pm and had dinner with Michelle and Sean. Then it was on to San Gabriel to fetch Naomi, and east to Palm Springs and Indio. We reached the Miramonte Spa & Resort around 11:30pm. V had negotiated a sweet deal on a big room at the beautiful resort. We had a late dinner of Domino's pizza delivered and passed out. We awoke on Saturday and had brunch at the restaurant, then lounged at the pool for a while until Kevin and Amy arrived. Then our day 1 odyssey began. After returning to the resort at 2:30am, Kevin, V, and i immediately headed out again and fetched Jack in the Box for our crew. That took about an hour given the post-show line at the drive-thru. We ultimately did the unhealthy act of eating Jack in the Crack right before going to bed.

Random show memories ... with the dance tent adjacent to the indie-centric Mojave tent, i was continually drawn to the thumping beats emanating nearby, but unfortunately only managed to see the climactic Daft Punk performance ... the grounds are a great festival location, but i have trouble believing the polo-playing owners are keen on letting thousands of drug-crazed delinquents tear up the fields once a year ... the Bamonte brother who plays backup keyboards for Depeche Mode live these days is like a completely unwelcome Billy Joel, playing a sort of honky tonk "Shake the Disease" ... i came dangerously close to peeing in a discarded water bottle amidst the throng of concertgoers after seeing the line for the port-a-potties ... we exited the parking lot incredibly quickly despite the hordes of people leaving, of course "quickly" excludes the half hour walk to the car.

Something about Coachella weekend seems to click with my beloved Chelsea, as their 3-nil victory over nearest challengers Manchester United on Saturday morning (our time) ensured the Premiership trophy would remain at Stamford Bridge. I caught the match highlights on Sunday, and was puzzled a bit by the subdued nature of the celebrations at the final whistle. The weight of expectations at Chelsea is almost unbearable at this point. Sour grapes from a club that has had unprecedented success in the last two seasons? Perhaps. But i tell you, my less rewarded football supporter readers, it is real. In the post-match interviews, José Mourinho admitted that he is not able to enjoy his successes because of the negative image of the club. Is he on his way out? I wouldn't be surprised, and despite my displeasure with his hatred-inspiring demeanor, i would miss his passion and personality. However, if the club replace him with the dull-as-mud Sven Goran Eriksson, i will be royally pissed. If the media thinks we're boring now, Eriksson would take that to a whole new level. Rumor has it the summer will see widespread changes at the Bridge, with Ferreira, Carvalho, del Horno, Gallas, Duff, and even Robben and Lampard suspected of exiting. The last five would be a huge mistake in my opinion, but as a Chelsea fan i'm somewhat resigned to the reality of supporting a club with aspirations to rule the world. At any rate, congrats to the boys on the win (thumping our rivals 3-nil was the perfect way to claim the championship!), and here's to further conquests and beautiful football at Chelsea.

Speaking of beautiful football, i have to say that Barcelona are the best team to watch at the moment. Ronaldinho is bar none the best player in the world, a constant source of inspiration as he casually executes spellbinding moves on the pitch. Coupled with the innovation and striking instincts of Samuel Eto'o, the probing runs of the soon-to-be-more-well-known Ludovic Giuly, and the surprisingly solid defense partnership of Carlos Puyol and Rafa Marquez, Barça are a pleasure to behold. I feel about them as i felt about Jordan and the Bulls teams of the 90's ... i'm not a fan persay, but they are a sporting force that is an absolute joy to witness. Good luck to them in the Champions League final ... and not just because i wouldn't mind seeing Arsenal get spanked.

About three weeks ago i learned i was due to give radiobiology faculty meeting on Monday, May 1 at 8am, ie, right after Coachella weekend. I could've rescheduled, but this talk was particularly important as i was charged with presenting my forthcoming R01 grant application. So i ditched the second day of the show and bought a plane ticket from Palm Springs to SFO via Vegas for late Sunday night. As an alternative, i booked a massage for myself at the spa for 3:30pm Sunday afternoon. I hung out with our collective until then, bidding them a good afternoon at the hotter-than-yesterday Polo Fields. My first ever massage in Orlando was a relaxing experience, but in Palm Springs i got a battle axe. This woman tore the s@$t out of me. Elbows, knuckles, everything ... there were times i was writhing in pain. Today it's almost as if i lifted more weights yesterday. Egad. I collected my broken body and relaxed in the hotel room until my taxi arrived at 7:30pm. My puddle jumper from Palm Springs arrived in Las Vegas at 10pm, and i had two hours to grab a Burger King dinner and work a bit on my forthcoming presentation before my flight to SF departed. When boarding began, a quick glance at my ticket revealed something curious ... somehow i ended up in first class. I totally expected this error to be corrected when the proper owner of my seat showed up, but it didn't happen. I watched the masses of people file past me into coach with a smug smirk on my face, sipping my complimentary pre-flight ... water. I was too tired for booze. I intended to enjoy my big comfy seat, and i guess in a sense i did ... i slept the entire flight. That never happens with me, so i must've enjoyed the royal treatment. We landed at SFO at 1:30am, and i picked a good cabbie who got me back to Redwood City by 2am. Instead of crawling into bed immediately, i made a pot of coffee and completed my presentation, finishing at 4am. My recent caffeine consumption prevented me from falling asleep even at that point, so i watched that night's episodes of Family Guy and American Dad before finally slumbering.

My enjoyment of Family Guy has decreased a bit since seeing its brutal treatment on South Park recently. As is no secret i've always loved Family Guy, but Trey Parker and Matt Stone's claims that the show is lazy and derives its humor from a series of pointless pop culture references are impossible to deny. I don't know if the show has gotten lazier lately (some of its references seem particularly uninspired in recent episodes) or if South Park's public skewering has colored my perception of things. Well, last Sunday's episode was decent so i'll keep my hopes up.

Continuing with recent form, my 8am presentation was apparently accentuated rather than hampered by my paltry two hours of sleep. Comments were positive, and i was very pleased with the exchange of ideas. I took care of the most pressing of business for the rest of the morning, including having a welcome breakfast with our newly arrived division director, the amicable Paul Keall. At noon, i took Veronica's Mini over to Fremont to fetch Tara from her incarceration. As expected, she nearly did backflips upon being released from the kennel and spotting me waiting for her. After bringing her home, i found the energy to take my shirts and pants to the cleaners and wash and gas the Mini. Then my lack of sleep caught up with me and i took a late afternoon nap on the couch with Beastmaster playing in the background. V should get home from her drive northward late tonight, and it's back to the grind tomorra.

V and i reconsidered the timing of a scooter purchase and have decided to wait until next year before incurring any more debt. Not that we're strapped, but a little moderation in the financial department will do us well. I thought that delay meant i could purchase an Xbox 360 post haste, but V reminded me that i'm way too busy to indulge much in video games at the moment. When i need video distractions, i'll return to Winning Eleven 9 for now. June 19th perhaps?

V and i are reviewing our current housing situation, debating our plans for staying or moving on. Our house has actually increased in value quite substantially, giving us some options. I hope to enlist my newly retired dad to help me execute a few projects around the homestead. including building a new porch and back staircase. He built the deck at our house, and i could definitely use his skills on this work. If he's interested in the challenge ... "the challenge" referring to both the work and the remedial education of the home improvement dunce Ted. Dad has been exploring new activities since leaving the workforce, including collecting signatures for an environmental petition on Earth Day. I'm glad he's now getting to explore new pasttimes.