My little thumb injury shenanigans have taught me two things... firstly: Keeping wounds moist for the first stage of healing is the current state-of-the-art method, and I can tell from my experience that it was very agreeable and worked very well. The thumb is almost back to normal as of this morning. There's a little bit more healing to do, but there's no pain, no redness and no swelling anymore.

Secondly: There's a very good reason for film coating around pills... at least around some of them. The antibiotics I got prescribed, alas, they lack such a coating. Don't ask me why, maybe it's because the makers believe in the old German adage about "bitter medicine" and so on. Anyway, I popped the first one in my mouth and then reached for the water, and that was definitely not the best idea of the day. Lacking a coating, the pill generously spread its outer surface to the outer surface of my mouth, and that stuff is bitter with a capital B. It also had a tendency to stay where it had gotten to, which means the bitter taste was quite persistent and took a while, and a handful of cherry tomatoes, to get rid of. There may also have been some funny noises.

So the next pills got coated. Not in liver paté (though I'm still tempted to do that with the last one I'll take this evening, because, you know, cat), but, with varying success, in jam, honey, and chocolate spread. (I was actually a little tempted to coat them in real chocolate, but for just the few pills for 3 or 4 days, it did not seem worth the effort of melting choc and coating them.)

Choc spread is basically the equivalent, for me, to the cliché of liver paté for cats, so it seemed the logical (and most amusing) choice. However, it's way too tempting to eat it off the pill (defeating the purpose, but also very much cat-like as in they'll quite often suck the coating off and then spit out the pill) and in addition it's rather sticky in the mouth. Jam and honey work better; I think I like (liquid) honey best. Safest method to avoid any of the bitterness to escape was rolling it in a bit of honey on a teaspoon, then taking a mouthful of water, tipping the head back, dropping the pill in and then quickly swallowing everything. (Pro tip: If you touch the naked pill for the rolling-in-honey action, do not lick your fingers afterwards...)

Now... does that count as a life skill? If not, at least it makes for an amusing story.

Unicorns are something that's been fascinating humans for a long time - and  I remember that when I was a child, I went to "Fasching" (dress-up for carneval) as a unicorn one time. (No, I don't think there are any pictures, but I know it involved a horn made from silver crafting paper, and probably a pin-on tail.)

Unicorns come up sort of frequently in medieval artworks, too - and if you'd like to read a bit more about them, you can do so at the Deutsche Digitale Bibliothek, where there's a nice article (with pictures) about the unicorn, both available in English and in German.

I've been saving seeds for next year, like I always do, and I was thinking about putting something about the fermentation of tomato seeds here just in case someone is interested, and while looking for some instructions I stumbled across the Garden Myths blog.

Which says, here, that a test of different tomato seed prep methods did not result in any difference in germination rate. 

Well... I do remember reading something, a good while ago, about different methods of preparing tomato seeds. That was some scientific research thingie, geared more towards industrial production, and there were differences in seed viability... so I think I'll stick with my method.

Which is: Take a ripe tomato that tastes well (obviously!), take out some of the seeds (maybe all, if it's a small tomato or has few seeds) and put them into a small glass. Add a pinch of sugar and some water, swirl around. Let stand for long enough, usually between 2 and 3 days, depending on temperature and general conditions. The way I decide whether it's time to get them out or not is swirling the contents around in the glass; when the seeds sink quickly to the bottom of the glass, they are ready. I then put them into a small sieve, wash the gunk off (gently rubbing with the fingers), put them onto a paper towel, and let them dry. 

Worked very well for me these past years, the seeds don't stick together, and they have stayed viable for at least several years. (Might take them longer to sprout if they are older, though.)

Do you save your own seeds? Do you treat the seeds in any way?

The L'Oréal and Ipsos Foundation are running a survey on gender equality in research, available in 6 different languages (German is not among them, but English is). It is asking scientists for their experiences in their careers and work, and according to the survey intro, it takes about 10 minutes to complete. (It took me a bit longer.)

It is especially interesting if you are working in an academic environment or a company also doing research - it's definitely not tailored towards special cases like me, who are working as self-employed people with a research part to their job. But even if I could not contribute to quite a few of the questions, I can at least spread the word further!

The survey is online until September 9, so if you plan to do it, or plan to pass the info on to someone else, you should do it before then.

Years ago, we got a "Dampfente" - which is a small hand-held steam cleaner that has, more or less, the shape of a duck. It's not large, and it has been used occasionally through the years, mostly related somehow with textile work.

For instance, I used it to set the twist in spun yarns when I was pressed on time; steam once, let cool and dry off (which will not take as long as letting a thoroughly wetted skein dry out) and then repeat the process. Voilà, almost instantly dead yarns. 

An added benefit of that process was that I realised how much movement and wiggling happens when the twist is set. There was a lot of wiggling of the threads, even though they were all stretched on a skein winder.

From the past tense used in this past text, you can probably guess that at one point, the little duck broke down. It would still heat up, the pump would still try to do its work (audibly, but not horribly so), but no steam was coming out.

Yesterday I finally took out a screwdriver and some ambition and took the whole thing apart. I got joined in my duck dissection by The Most Patient Husband of Them All in the evening, and using four hands (which is very much to recommend, since the hot parts have to be kept away from the possibly-melting parts, and the water from things that should keep dry, and you have to test all the stuff somehow) we found the culprit: The filter was clogged.

I had expected some limescale issue to be the cause, but no, there was nothing. Instead it looked like enough fine fibres and dust particles had accumulated in the fine filter mesh to stop water from coming through. Filter cleaned, set back in, then a longish session trying to fit everything back inside into its proper place and screw the thing shut again. 

The fibres in the filter probably came from not cleaning the little can that was provided to fill the duck with water well enough before using it - so fibres and dust from the bottom of the little water can got into the tank, and from there into the filter, and there you go. Clogging, after a while. Which means in the future the water can will get cleaned before use (with normal water) and just to prevent any chalk issues, distilled water will be used.

I'm very pleased now - both that it functions again (it will come in handy at the Textile Forum, I'm sure) and that it was possible to repair it!

Social media is, if you ask me, both a blessing and a curse. It's a wonderful way to keep in contact with others, or to get into contact and discover new people and new things or possibilities. However, it also has a tendency to eat up inordinate amounts of time.

It also has a tendency, or an inherent danger, to foster unrealistic expectations. That came up a while ago in a chat with a friend and colleague, who told me about another colleague being the aim of harsh criticism regarding the look of her hands - which she had happened to post on social media.

Years ago, I remember seeing a gold ring for offer on etsy. The artisan himself had taken the photographs, and one of the images showed him holding the (very well-made, really beautiful) ring. Now... goldsmiths are metalworkers. Metalworking is not a job that has a reputation for being kind on your hands, or skin. The photo, consequently, showed a worker's hand, and you could see a bit of grime and a lot of abrasion and the nicks and cuts and scars that years of working metal had left.

To me, that was a very impressive picture, and beautiful in its own way, as it showed both the product and the most important tool to make it. The hand was not "pretty" or "beautiful" in the sense of someone being a hand model, but to me, the contrast between the shiny clean ring and the battered hand also made it clear that this piece was hard work to make, and had a cost beyond the materials and the time invested.

Someone of the potential customers actually complained about the "ugly" picture, and that it would be offensive to post dirty, ugly hands like that. To which the artisan replied that these are his hands, they look ugly like this because that's the cost of making beautiful things, and she's welcome to do her shopping elsewhere. (Or something roughly along these lines. It's been a long time ago.)

My own hands also tend to look a little battered. This is normally nothing that I much care about - unless it's something that gets in my way when working, such as exceptionally rough skin that silks will snag on, or something that causes pain. Other traces? My hands are tools, and tools will sport traces of their use after a while, even if used correctly and treated properly and with care. When they do so, to me, they have their own very special kind of beauty, So, to me, have a dyer's hands stained bright blue or red, or a shoemaker's hands with its calluses and short nails, or a goldsmith's hands with calluses and scars and metal dust caught in the cracks of skin.

If you ask me, hands that bear the traces of work should never be something to be ashamed of. On the contrary! 

Just when you really don't need it - though when do you? there's computer troubles.

Yesterday afternoon, my email programme crashed and complained about a faulty database... and the HDD that said database resides on started making noises. Now... any noise coming from an HDD that is usually quite quiet definitely falls under "that is not a good sound".

And indeed it wasn't. I did try repairing the drive (no luck), scanning and recovering data (also no luck, the programme crashed while trying to recover things, and probably that happened because of Final Death of the drive), and a few other options - all to no avail.

A replacement drive was ordered at night, and then I can do a last try to get the data on the drive. And now, I guess, I will find out how well my backup solution has worked...