I felt so sorry for the family of the young Scout who had come in to have his Eagle project reviewed. They had driven quite far, clear across the District, to have the Committee take a look at the Project and see what kind of advice they could give to the candidate.
And our best advice was, Go back and Try Again.
Most of the time, we reviewers sit at our little table with the candidate in front of us, chewing his fingernails while we go through the huge pile of paper describing the plans he's come up with, the drawings he's slaved over, the various details that have caused the sweat to pour from his face, and we see a few things here and there that need to be fleshed out, a few missing details, a few uncrossed T's and undotted I's. Because most of the time, his Eagle Project advisors and his Scoutmaster, who've been down this road before, provide the candidate with sufficient advice and guidance to get him through the tough parts.
But this kid ... oh, it still hurts to think about it.
We only had two projects to review that night, and if everything is good to go, we can be done in half an hour. But we were there with this kid for over an hour, trying desperately to come up with something that wouldn't make his parents' long trip - in the rain - a complete waste of time. We made lots of notes, wrote down lots of ideas, things for him to look at, to go back and think about, but it all boiled down to one statement that the Chairman made over and over: There's nothing we can do for you. You just aren't ready.
He had some bizarre excuses. When we first asked him where his material was - it was obvious from the thin stack of papers he gave us that he didn't have nearly enough detail in the project plans - he tried to tell us that he had "filled all that out on-line". But we had no clue what he was talking about. Everyone knows - don't they? - that when you come to your Eagle Project review, you bring the papers - all of them! - with you; and you bring enough copies for everyone on the Committee. At least three. It was like some kid in a school classroom telling his teacher that he'd emailed the Term Project to her the night before, when she is sitting at her desk waiting for him to hand it to her. Since when is it her responsibility to print out his emailed homework so that she can grade it?
We tried, we really did. We talked to him about the project, asked lots of questions, tried to get an idea of what he'd had in mind. But the more we talked to him, the worse it got. He hadn't actually come up with the project himself; someone had handed it to him because they didn't have enough time to do it themselves. Part of the project was to build a covered bulletin board (like they have in the National Parks at trail heads), or so we thought; actually, it turns out that most of the work to build the covered bulletin board had already been done by someone else, and he was just going to put it together and put it into the ground. OK, maybe that's doable; we just won't count the part where the materials are cut, and only count the part where he assembles it and plants it. But then we try to make sense out of his drawing, and there are dimensions missing and some things in it that just don't add up. Lots of missing detail. How is his team supposed to know how to build this thing? There was no procedural, no step-by-step description of how it was supposed to go together.
So we look at the map of the area which shows the layout of the project. And right off the bat, we notice some things that don't make sense. Not to get into a lot of detail about the project, but it appears that he's going to put concrete pads on the edge of the property, which is most likely on an easement. And he has other part of the project which encroach on parking lots and driveways. How is that supposed to work? We ask him if he's actually visited the site to ensure that the plan will work. He assures us that he has. Yet when we delve further into the details, we find that he is rather fuzzy on certain things. We get the feeling that he hasn't really done his 'homework' in regards to placement of the project items. Then it comes out that the drawing which he gave us was actually given to him by that other guy who was hoping to do the project. And he never bothered to go out to the site to make sure the drawing was correct.
It was hard, so hard, to have to tell the guy he was going to have to try again. But we had some good news for him. The next review is scheduled for October 6th, which is next week. He has a little over a week to make the corrections and get it ready again. We hope he gets it done. It's a really good community project, and a great enhancement to a vital city park. And it would be one of those projects that would garner some really good press for the Boy Scouts.
But it's just not ready yet.
And it reminds me that the Eagle project being planned by one of the guys in our Troop will need to be just as detailed as we expressed to the unready Scout tonight. And that is going to take a lot of work on our part to help him get it to that state. Because it's not even close. And this particular Scout in our Troop is going to "age out" in December.
We don't have much time.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Back Braking
Before I begin today's exciting episode ...
There, I feel better now.
Didn't get as much done around the house as I was hoping. Too tired. Had such a wonderful time yesterday, hanging out with Cheryl, wandering through Meijer Gardens, admiring the sculpture and art, then going out for some dinner at Arnie's (while the kids did their own home-made pizza dinner ... at home). Such a lovely evening. Then slept in this morning, and had trouble getting up. Spent too much time puttering around in the morning, didn't feel up to anything energetic. Then, around noon, Cheryl and I took James up north to meet his girlfriend, stopping at the store for some groceries.
Finally got up the energy to do some real work, cleaning up the clutter that'd been hanging around the garage. Summer projects to take apart and store, insulation to put up in the attic, all sorts of other miscellaneous tasks. While listening to bluegrass and folk music from the local bluegrass and folk music radio station.
And after dinner, there were cookies.
One of the reasons that things haven't been getting done around here, is that my lower back has been aching. At first, it felt like a muscle got pulled, but after a while, when the pain had not abated, and there were flashes of pain running down my leg, it occurred to me that it was more symptomatic of a pinched nerve than a pulled muscle.
It wouldn't surprise me. There seems to be some history in the family of pinched nerves. I don't recall that anyone else has mentioned it being in the lower back, but mine has always been in this same area (and recurred relatively often) for about the past ten years or so. I used to have a back brace which I wore every time it flared up, and that helped a great deal; but it wasn't to be found anywhere in the house or garage this time, so it was necessary to purchase another one.
It helped. After wearing it yesterday and today, most of the day, my ability to lean over and lift tiny objects is greatly improved. Heavy objects are still off-limits, but it feels as though that might be possible soon enough.
Meanwhile, the back deck is all cleaned off, the attic is slightly warmer, much of the clutter in the garage is put away, and there are still warm cookies on the stove. Yum!
There, I feel better now.
Didn't get as much done around the house as I was hoping. Too tired. Had such a wonderful time yesterday, hanging out with Cheryl, wandering through Meijer Gardens, admiring the sculpture and art, then going out for some dinner at Arnie's (while the kids did their own home-made pizza dinner ... at home). Such a lovely evening. Then slept in this morning, and had trouble getting up. Spent too much time puttering around in the morning, didn't feel up to anything energetic. Then, around noon, Cheryl and I took James up north to meet his girlfriend, stopping at the store for some groceries.
Finally got up the energy to do some real work, cleaning up the clutter that'd been hanging around the garage. Summer projects to take apart and store, insulation to put up in the attic, all sorts of other miscellaneous tasks. While listening to bluegrass and folk music from the local bluegrass and folk music radio station.
And after dinner, there were cookies.
One of the reasons that things haven't been getting done around here, is that my lower back has been aching. At first, it felt like a muscle got pulled, but after a while, when the pain had not abated, and there were flashes of pain running down my leg, it occurred to me that it was more symptomatic of a pinched nerve than a pulled muscle.
It wouldn't surprise me. There seems to be some history in the family of pinched nerves. I don't recall that anyone else has mentioned it being in the lower back, but mine has always been in this same area (and recurred relatively often) for about the past ten years or so. I used to have a back brace which I wore every time it flared up, and that helped a great deal; but it wasn't to be found anywhere in the house or garage this time, so it was necessary to purchase another one.
It helped. After wearing it yesterday and today, most of the day, my ability to lean over and lift tiny objects is greatly improved. Heavy objects are still off-limits, but it feels as though that might be possible soon enough.
Meanwhile, the back deck is all cleaned off, the attic is slightly warmer, much of the clutter in the garage is put away, and there are still warm cookies on the stove. Yum!
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Dreaming of the Simple (Computing) Life
I'm never going to recover from 1977.
Wasn't that the first year of my real life? I can't remember. It's so hard to remember those "good old days", when life was so simple (except, of course, from my point of view, when life was so full of complications like dealing with parents and siblings and chores and school and homework and acne and all that). 1977. Last year of Junior High, first year of High School. It was somewhere around that time. I'd had my first exposure to programming in 7th or 8th grade (can't quite remember ... whenever the first year of TAG was). Loved it. Addicted. Writing programs that did exactly what you told them to do. So unlike things at home.
No control. Over anything. No job, no car, no girlfriend. Sisters, but no brothers (yet). My only consolation was electronics, because I could build circuits that would actually do what I expected them to do (mostly). And computers, with the little bit of programming I'd learned in TAG. BASIC. On a teletype machine, hooked up to a remote mainframe.
If it is true that we spend the majority of our lives trying to return to the days where we felt most in control, that would probably be my year. That was the year I found a little integrated circuit in the parts bin at the local Radio Shack, the little chip that set my world on fire. A microprocessor. The 8080A, one of the first 8-bit microprocessors, the one that started the PC revolution (long before the IBM PC showed up, there was the MITS Altair and the IMSAI 8080). I had to have it. And they were selling it for only $5!! Naturally, I picked it up.
But it took me over a year of poring over the specs to create a board with something that would run anything. That's because it didn't function very well without the 8224 Clock Generator chip (which was not in the parts bin at Radio Shack), unless you know how to create a two-phase clock from scratch (which I didn't). Took a year before I found an 8224 over at Jameco, and then I finally got the silly thing to run a simple program, entered through switches which had been plugged into a proto-board.
Back then, it was way cool to have a computer with 4K of RAM. I had a 1K chip, so I was only kinda cool. Then it was 'vogue' to have 16K. I dreamed of having 16K! What programs I could run then! But I was happy (kind of) to have my little 1K RAM program. Which I had to enter by hand.
A few years later, I got my first Z80A chip, and upgraded my old 2 megahertz 8080A to a screaming 4 Mhz model. With a new 4K memory chip. Wowsers! Life was good. Not quite the IBM 5100 that was sitting in the Science department over at the high school (and which I diligently programmed from 1979 - 1981). Or the Apple II which they had over in the Mathematics department (which I considered a cute little toy). But it was mine, all mine! Ha ha!
Eventually, my friend, Mark, and I purchased a TRS-80 to "share" at college (it bounced between my college and his), and we used it as a terminal to access the mainframes so that we could get our homework done.
The first IBM PCs showed up at college. Then the PC XTs. Then the portable PCs. The pace of change was increasing. The punch cards disappeared. The old remote terminals were replaced by newer, more capable ones. The old PDP-11/780 in the lab was starting to look a mite shabby and underpowered, especially in the graphics department (but our mainframes could still do some amazing things on the RGB screens).
That pace has never ceased, and each year brings a new change, a new advance, a faster CPU or more memory or more buttons or widgets or gimmicks. Indeed, my now-ancient, 3-year-old Dell laptop is a geezer, with its dual 2 gigahertz processors, 8 gigabytes of RAM, 500 gigabytes of hard disk storage, and HDMI video. It's practically a dinosaur!
But it isn't the newest gadgets which thrill my soul; it's the old hardware, the old chips with their simplistic structures, the ones which captured my imagination back when life was so much easier to handle, when it felt like things were more within my grasp, my control. When I would sit in my stuffy little room with the television propped on the old wooden trunk, its back cover missing so that I could see the glow of the tubes against the back wall, watching Saturday Night Live while I played with my little 8080A computer, toggling switches to enter the trivial programs which sent the electrons flowing through the counters and adders and registers and output ports to the little flashing LEDs, telling me that it was doing exactly what I told it to do.
1977. Oh, how I wish sometimes that I could return to those days; or, rather, that those days would return, bringing back that feeling that I actually had some control over something in my life.
Wasn't that the first year of my real life? I can't remember. It's so hard to remember those "good old days", when life was so simple (except, of course, from my point of view, when life was so full of complications like dealing with parents and siblings and chores and school and homework and acne and all that). 1977. Last year of Junior High, first year of High School. It was somewhere around that time. I'd had my first exposure to programming in 7th or 8th grade (can't quite remember ... whenever the first year of TAG was). Loved it. Addicted. Writing programs that did exactly what you told them to do. So unlike things at home.
No control. Over anything. No job, no car, no girlfriend. Sisters, but no brothers (yet). My only consolation was electronics, because I could build circuits that would actually do what I expected them to do (mostly). And computers, with the little bit of programming I'd learned in TAG. BASIC. On a teletype machine, hooked up to a remote mainframe.
If it is true that we spend the majority of our lives trying to return to the days where we felt most in control, that would probably be my year. That was the year I found a little integrated circuit in the parts bin at the local Radio Shack, the little chip that set my world on fire. A microprocessor. The 8080A, one of the first 8-bit microprocessors, the one that started the PC revolution (long before the IBM PC showed up, there was the MITS Altair and the IMSAI 8080). I had to have it. And they were selling it for only $5!! Naturally, I picked it up.
But it took me over a year of poring over the specs to create a board with something that would run anything. That's because it didn't function very well without the 8224 Clock Generator chip (which was not in the parts bin at Radio Shack), unless you know how to create a two-phase clock from scratch (which I didn't). Took a year before I found an 8224 over at Jameco, and then I finally got the silly thing to run a simple program, entered through switches which had been plugged into a proto-board.
Back then, it was way cool to have a computer with 4K of RAM. I had a 1K chip, so I was only kinda cool. Then it was 'vogue' to have 16K. I dreamed of having 16K! What programs I could run then! But I was happy (kind of) to have my little 1K RAM program. Which I had to enter by hand.
A few years later, I got my first Z80A chip, and upgraded my old 2 megahertz 8080A to a screaming 4 Mhz model. With a new 4K memory chip. Wowsers! Life was good. Not quite the IBM 5100 that was sitting in the Science department over at the high school (and which I diligently programmed from 1979 - 1981). Or the Apple II which they had over in the Mathematics department (which I considered a cute little toy). But it was mine, all mine! Ha ha!
Eventually, my friend, Mark, and I purchased a TRS-80 to "share" at college (it bounced between my college and his), and we used it as a terminal to access the mainframes so that we could get our homework done.
The first IBM PCs showed up at college. Then the PC XTs. Then the portable PCs. The pace of change was increasing. The punch cards disappeared. The old remote terminals were replaced by newer, more capable ones. The old PDP-11/780 in the lab was starting to look a mite shabby and underpowered, especially in the graphics department (but our mainframes could still do some amazing things on the RGB screens).
That pace has never ceased, and each year brings a new change, a new advance, a faster CPU or more memory or more buttons or widgets or gimmicks. Indeed, my now-ancient, 3-year-old Dell laptop is a geezer, with its dual 2 gigahertz processors, 8 gigabytes of RAM, 500 gigabytes of hard disk storage, and HDMI video. It's practically a dinosaur!
But it isn't the newest gadgets which thrill my soul; it's the old hardware, the old chips with their simplistic structures, the ones which captured my imagination back when life was so much easier to handle, when it felt like things were more within my grasp, my control. When I would sit in my stuffy little room with the television propped on the old wooden trunk, its back cover missing so that I could see the glow of the tubes against the back wall, watching Saturday Night Live while I played with my little 8080A computer, toggling switches to enter the trivial programs which sent the electrons flowing through the counters and adders and registers and output ports to the little flashing LEDs, telling me that it was doing exactly what I told it to do.
1977. Oh, how I wish sometimes that I could return to those days; or, rather, that those days would return, bringing back that feeling that I actually had some control over something in my life.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Writer's Group & Movie Quads
Sundays are sometimes the busiest days of the week. We were studying that in Sunday School last week, discussing the transition between the Jewish Sabbath days to the Christian Sabbath-Sunday concept during the First Century church era. It used to really confuse me how the Jews got Saturday off, and the Christians were supposed to honor the Sabbath but we always did our yard work on Saturday, and that certainly wasn't a Sabbath. And people used to talk about taking it easy on Sundays, but in the household of a minister/evangelist, Sunday was always the busiest day.
So for some of us, both Saturday and Sunday are very busy days. When do we get a real day off?
Though today wasn't completely relaxing, it was a fun day, mostly due to the fact that I got to spend a few hours with the kids at church in the morning, then a couple hours with Adam at the Writer's Group meeting during the afternoon.
There's just something about being with those young kids - aged 4 years to 4th grade - that fills me with joy. Not sure if it's because I get to teach them Bible stories, lead them in worship songs, play games, or work on artsy projects with them. Or all of the above. Then there's the part where they call me "Mr. Meyer!" when they want to get my attention in the middle of playtime, to tell me about something they've seen or done or wanted. Or when they sit next to me because they just like to be near me. There are so many wonderful kids there, and they all make me feel so special.
Of course, my own kids make me feel special, too, but it's a vastly different kind of feeling from the one I used to get when they were little. They're almost adults now, and our conversations are quite different than they used to be. They don't hug me as much (mostly the boys, but part of that is due to their father's reticence toward making them uncomfortable). I expect more out of them, and that tends to put a strain on the relationship. Then there's the inevitable desire for more independence without the consequent burden of more responsibility.
Teenagers can be so much fun.
Today, actually, Adam and I did have some fun while attending the twice-monthly meeting of a local Writer's Group. He and I have been a part of the group for a few months, sharing our stories with the others and getting lots of good feedback. Today he shared an allegorical story about Babylon and Heaven which was quite good, and I shared a scene from my forthcoming action/mystery story (soon to be submitted to some nameless monthly detective magazine when I get the nerve). And the rest of the group shared stories ranging from fantasy/allegory to repentance.
On the way home, we stopped by Costco to pick up some milk (we seem to be going through it much more quickly now that the children have become teenagers); and while we were there, I found a great quad-pack of sci-fi movies, including 2001: A Space Odyssey; Soylent Green; The Time Machine (1960 version); and Forbidden Planet, all for only $10! Even though we already had the 2-disc version of Forbidden Planet, I couldn't resist it. Especially when Adam reminded me that none of the kids have seen 2001 before. I've been such a bad parent! To deprive them of such a classic sci-fi movie!
Really, though, I much prefer Forbidden Planet. Robbie the Robot is my hero!
But I let them watch the first half hour of 2001, just so we could laugh at the goofy guys in the ape costumes. And the Pan Am shuttle with the 60s-style stewardesses. And the bizarre telephone call from the guy in the space station to his little girl back home.
And I let them watch the trailer for Soylent Green, so I could try to explain to them the significance of having Edward G. Robinson in the movie. It was, after all, his 101st film.
And I let them watch the first hour of The Time Machine, just so they could see the goofy special effects, which were very state-of-the-art for such a low-budget film back in 1960.
Then it got late, so they had to go to bed. And I should do the same.
So for some of us, both Saturday and Sunday are very busy days. When do we get a real day off?
Though today wasn't completely relaxing, it was a fun day, mostly due to the fact that I got to spend a few hours with the kids at church in the morning, then a couple hours with Adam at the Writer's Group meeting during the afternoon.
There's just something about being with those young kids - aged 4 years to 4th grade - that fills me with joy. Not sure if it's because I get to teach them Bible stories, lead them in worship songs, play games, or work on artsy projects with them. Or all of the above. Then there's the part where they call me "Mr. Meyer!" when they want to get my attention in the middle of playtime, to tell me about something they've seen or done or wanted. Or when they sit next to me because they just like to be near me. There are so many wonderful kids there, and they all make me feel so special.
Of course, my own kids make me feel special, too, but it's a vastly different kind of feeling from the one I used to get when they were little. They're almost adults now, and our conversations are quite different than they used to be. They don't hug me as much (mostly the boys, but part of that is due to their father's reticence toward making them uncomfortable). I expect more out of them, and that tends to put a strain on the relationship. Then there's the inevitable desire for more independence without the consequent burden of more responsibility.
Teenagers can be so much fun.
Today, actually, Adam and I did have some fun while attending the twice-monthly meeting of a local Writer's Group. He and I have been a part of the group for a few months, sharing our stories with the others and getting lots of good feedback. Today he shared an allegorical story about Babylon and Heaven which was quite good, and I shared a scene from my forthcoming action/mystery story (soon to be submitted to some nameless monthly detective magazine when I get the nerve). And the rest of the group shared stories ranging from fantasy/allegory to repentance.
On the way home, we stopped by Costco to pick up some milk (we seem to be going through it much more quickly now that the children have become teenagers); and while we were there, I found a great quad-pack of sci-fi movies, including 2001: A Space Odyssey; Soylent Green; The Time Machine (1960 version); and Forbidden Planet, all for only $10! Even though we already had the 2-disc version of Forbidden Planet, I couldn't resist it. Especially when Adam reminded me that none of the kids have seen 2001 before. I've been such a bad parent! To deprive them of such a classic sci-fi movie!
Really, though, I much prefer Forbidden Planet. Robbie the Robot is my hero!
But I let them watch the first half hour of 2001, just so we could laugh at the goofy guys in the ape costumes. And the Pan Am shuttle with the 60s-style stewardesses. And the bizarre telephone call from the guy in the space station to his little girl back home.
And I let them watch the trailer for Soylent Green, so I could try to explain to them the significance of having Edward G. Robinson in the movie. It was, after all, his 101st film.
And I let them watch the first hour of The Time Machine, just so they could see the goofy special effects, which were very state-of-the-art for such a low-budget film back in 1960.
Then it got late, so they had to go to bed. And I should do the same.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Band / Back Blowout
Well, the band did well.
Typical Friday night in high school; the football team loses, but the band plays well. Actually, the football team didn't do as bad this year as they did last year; that was a real blowout. The team had more speed this year, which helped when it came time to run long distance to make those touchdowns.
I was down on the field with the band, helping to put up the yard markers and the drum-major stands. We have to get it timed just right so that the band completes their program and gets off the field within 15 minutes, or there's some kind of penalty. I didn't realize this was a rule until I volunteered to help. What kind of bizarre rule is this? How do you penalize a band??
Anyway, we got it down to an almost-science; there were only twenty seconds or so, but we got 'em on the field, through their program, and off the field, in time.
Had a hard time finding James while the band was performing; having a grounds-eye view isn't as easy as the up-in-the-stands view. And, truth be told, they all do look alike in those uniforms. Except for the girls with the long hair. And the midgets.
The temperature has dropped somewhat, too, so the game felt like a real Fall football game, with crisp air and cloudy skies and What do we do if it starts raining? thoughts in our heads. The stands - aluminum, of course - were cold, so it was a good idea to bring blankets and chairs. But it's going to be even colder at the next home game, which is in October. By Halloween, we should be dealing with icy winds and muddy ground. Oh, joy!
Meanwhile, I spent Saturday attending to the last of the warm-weather outside chores, painting the trim on the front of the house. And trying to not lift things. Because I overdid it on Friday night, lifting the drum major stands. After my back was already hurting, too. Well, I never was one for restraint.
Typical Friday night in high school; the football team loses, but the band plays well. Actually, the football team didn't do as bad this year as they did last year; that was a real blowout. The team had more speed this year, which helped when it came time to run long distance to make those touchdowns.
I was down on the field with the band, helping to put up the yard markers and the drum-major stands. We have to get it timed just right so that the band completes their program and gets off the field within 15 minutes, or there's some kind of penalty. I didn't realize this was a rule until I volunteered to help. What kind of bizarre rule is this? How do you penalize a band??
Anyway, we got it down to an almost-science; there were only twenty seconds or so, but we got 'em on the field, through their program, and off the field, in time.
Had a hard time finding James while the band was performing; having a grounds-eye view isn't as easy as the up-in-the-stands view. And, truth be told, they all do look alike in those uniforms. Except for the girls with the long hair. And the midgets.
The temperature has dropped somewhat, too, so the game felt like a real Fall football game, with crisp air and cloudy skies and What do we do if it starts raining? thoughts in our heads. The stands - aluminum, of course - were cold, so it was a good idea to bring blankets and chairs. But it's going to be even colder at the next home game, which is in October. By Halloween, we should be dealing with icy winds and muddy ground. Oh, joy!
Meanwhile, I spent Saturday attending to the last of the warm-weather outside chores, painting the trim on the front of the house. And trying to not lift things. Because I overdid it on Friday night, lifting the drum major stands. After my back was already hurting, too. Well, I never was one for restraint.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Spiderman!!
The nights are getting colder, and it was about time that the plants and other things which had been sitting on the back deck, got moved off. During the winter, we only use the back deck to store our snow.
So after a very nice dinner and Bible study with the family, the boys and I went out on the back deck and loaded as much of the soil from the planters into plastic buckets. Some of the mixed soil and gravel, which was at the bottom of the planters, we left in the plastic liner because I really didn't want to get the gravel completely mixed in with the soil. (The intent is to have a bottom layer of gravel to help with the drainage.) So all we had to do, was to lift out the liner with the soil/gravel mix, then move the planter boxes and support stands down to the garage. Simple job.
As I was un-stapling the plastic liner from the planter boxes in preparation for the lifting task, I noticed a little spider dangling from the box, but didn't think any thing of it. Figured he'd drop down to the deck and move on. But I was wrong. He actually went back up the web and crawled into the folds of the plastic liner. And he sat there, motionless and invisible, until my big, blundering finger approached to grasp the liner and lift it out of the box.
Ow! What was that?
It felt like a sharp needle had jabbed my hand. In fact, that's what it was - the sharp, needle-like jab of the spider's fangs. My finger immediately started burning. Sudden images of the effects of brown recluse spider bites filled my mind (thanks, Mr. Internet!). Hurriedly, I rushed into the kitchen and ran cold water over it. Mary gave me some baking soda which I rubbed into the wound. After a few moments, the pain stopped. But Cheryl went ahead and made a little bowl of baking soda paste, just in case. And sure enough, half an hour later, my finger started aching again, so I gave it a baking soda paste path.
Meanwhile, we still had to get the planter boxes and soil put away. The boys toted the planter boxes and stands down to the garage, and we took the buckets down as well. We left the liners with their loads of soil up on the deck so they could be spread out and dried in the sun the next day. (It's generally not a good idea to store damp soil & plant detritus inside the garage in a plastic bag or liner. Either the moisture has to be baked out, or it must be left out in the sun to dry. Unless you like mold & mildew...)
The strangest thing about the incident was the fact that this particular finger was jammed a couple weeks ago on the first night I was helping out the Marching Band. We were opening the back of one of the trailers (where the riding lawn mower and the carts for the timpani and xylophones are stored) and I misjudged the weight and momentum of the gate. My finger got caught between the gate and the asphalt, and I felt it go 'sproing'. And it swelled up a little bit, but only on one side.
And that pesky spider managed to bite me right on top of the swollen part of my finger. He couldn't have planned it better if he'd tried - and he probably didn't plan at all. He just responded to the threat of the approaching digit, as any self-respecting spider would do.
It was disappointing to realize that he wasn't radioactive. I haven't gained any Spiderman powers yet. Rats.
So after a very nice dinner and Bible study with the family, the boys and I went out on the back deck and loaded as much of the soil from the planters into plastic buckets. Some of the mixed soil and gravel, which was at the bottom of the planters, we left in the plastic liner because I really didn't want to get the gravel completely mixed in with the soil. (The intent is to have a bottom layer of gravel to help with the drainage.) So all we had to do, was to lift out the liner with the soil/gravel mix, then move the planter boxes and support stands down to the garage. Simple job.
As I was un-stapling the plastic liner from the planter boxes in preparation for the lifting task, I noticed a little spider dangling from the box, but didn't think any thing of it. Figured he'd drop down to the deck and move on. But I was wrong. He actually went back up the web and crawled into the folds of the plastic liner. And he sat there, motionless and invisible, until my big, blundering finger approached to grasp the liner and lift it out of the box.
Ow! What was that?
It felt like a sharp needle had jabbed my hand. In fact, that's what it was - the sharp, needle-like jab of the spider's fangs. My finger immediately started burning. Sudden images of the effects of brown recluse spider bites filled my mind (thanks, Mr. Internet!). Hurriedly, I rushed into the kitchen and ran cold water over it. Mary gave me some baking soda which I rubbed into the wound. After a few moments, the pain stopped. But Cheryl went ahead and made a little bowl of baking soda paste, just in case. And sure enough, half an hour later, my finger started aching again, so I gave it a baking soda paste path.
Meanwhile, we still had to get the planter boxes and soil put away. The boys toted the planter boxes and stands down to the garage, and we took the buckets down as well. We left the liners with their loads of soil up on the deck so they could be spread out and dried in the sun the next day. (It's generally not a good idea to store damp soil & plant detritus inside the garage in a plastic bag or liner. Either the moisture has to be baked out, or it must be left out in the sun to dry. Unless you like mold & mildew...)
The strangest thing about the incident was the fact that this particular finger was jammed a couple weeks ago on the first night I was helping out the Marching Band. We were opening the back of one of the trailers (where the riding lawn mower and the carts for the timpani and xylophones are stored) and I misjudged the weight and momentum of the gate. My finger got caught between the gate and the asphalt, and I felt it go 'sproing'. And it swelled up a little bit, but only on one side.
And that pesky spider managed to bite me right on top of the swollen part of my finger. He couldn't have planned it better if he'd tried - and he probably didn't plan at all. He just responded to the threat of the approaching digit, as any self-respecting spider would do.
It was disappointing to realize that he wasn't radioactive. I haven't gained any Spiderman powers yet. Rats.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Energy Boost
Today would've been a really good day to stay home in bed. There was no energy in my body, and it was aching besides, and there were too many things on my agenda today, and the days when there are too many things on my agenda are the days when it is difficult to find my motivation.
First item on the agenda was the meeting with the suppliers - the guys in a Foreign Country who are doing the Software Testing (of which I am in charge) - where they explain why they are behind schedule, and my boss expects me to beat up on them (verbally, psychologically) so that they better understand this Western concept of "deadlines" and "milestones" and "unnecessary stress". Personally, I think their concept is better: it gets done when it gets done. And a rushed job is better than no job at all. I did not enjoy the meeting. I did not enjoy my boss jumping in half-way through to remind me to bring up the fact that they aren't on schedule and are in danger of missing the (artificial) milestone.
Started feeling not-well about that time.
Then there was the volunteer meeting, the one where a bunch of my colleagues who are interested in off-hours training try to put together a schedule of events and speakers so that our fellow engineers can stay up-to-speed on technical issues, company plans, and other things of varying degrees of interest. We usually hold this meeting around lunch time so that it doesn't cost the company any time. Aren't we generous? Only the number of volunteers has been dropping so we're all having to pick up more on our To-Do lists.
Really not feeling well by now.
Went home afterward, thinking I'd grab some lunch (which I'd skipped during the volunteer meeting) before we headed over to the Title Company to sign the paperwork on our refinance loan. Wasn't sure if it was a good idea to eat at this point, but did it anyway. Went over to the Title Company, where we found out the Bank messed up the loan numbers. Again. They weren't supposed to roll up any of the closing costs into the loan, but they did anyway. It was a little better than last time, when they rolled in the entire closing amount. We were wanting to bring max cash to the table in order to reduce the overall loan. When we saw what they messed up, we quickly estimated how much it would impact the monthly savings, and it wasn't enough to make a big deal out of it. But it was annoying. Strike two for that lender. Never again!
I was really ready to nap by this time.
Got home and, instead of heading back to work (because it was only three o'clock in the afternoon), took a bit of a nap. Right up until dinnertime. Woke up groggy when James stuck his head in my bedroom and shouted, "Food!" (He's always very direct when it comes to such important topics.)
It wasn't until later when the girls and I got to church that my energy level suddenly shot through the roof. And I don't think it was the dinner or the marshmallows I passed out during our family Bible study. I really think it being around the kids at church. They are so much fun, they have so much energy; when they smile, all my troubles just disappear and I just want to play tag and climb on the monkey bars and throw the frisbee and run around like a crazy person and do all the other things we end up doing during class. We cleared out the gym of all the extraneous stuff so the middle schoolers could us it during their class, and then I took my kids (4 years to 3rd grade) to our classroom and we studied the story of Adam and Eve, and we made people out of Play-Doh, using different colors for the arms and the legs and the abdomens and the heads, and we talked about how God made us all special, even more special than the animals, because he made us in his image. And the kids smiled and laughed and had a wonderful time. And I forgot all about how awful I'd been feeling beforehand.
Why can't my job give me this kind of energy?
First item on the agenda was the meeting with the suppliers - the guys in a Foreign Country who are doing the Software Testing (of which I am in charge) - where they explain why they are behind schedule, and my boss expects me to beat up on them (verbally, psychologically) so that they better understand this Western concept of "deadlines" and "milestones" and "unnecessary stress". Personally, I think their concept is better: it gets done when it gets done. And a rushed job is better than no job at all. I did not enjoy the meeting. I did not enjoy my boss jumping in half-way through to remind me to bring up the fact that they aren't on schedule and are in danger of missing the (artificial) milestone.
Started feeling not-well about that time.
Then there was the volunteer meeting, the one where a bunch of my colleagues who are interested in off-hours training try to put together a schedule of events and speakers so that our fellow engineers can stay up-to-speed on technical issues, company plans, and other things of varying degrees of interest. We usually hold this meeting around lunch time so that it doesn't cost the company any time. Aren't we generous? Only the number of volunteers has been dropping so we're all having to pick up more on our To-Do lists.
Really not feeling well by now.
Went home afterward, thinking I'd grab some lunch (which I'd skipped during the volunteer meeting) before we headed over to the Title Company to sign the paperwork on our refinance loan. Wasn't sure if it was a good idea to eat at this point, but did it anyway. Went over to the Title Company, where we found out the Bank messed up the loan numbers. Again. They weren't supposed to roll up any of the closing costs into the loan, but they did anyway. It was a little better than last time, when they rolled in the entire closing amount. We were wanting to bring max cash to the table in order to reduce the overall loan. When we saw what they messed up, we quickly estimated how much it would impact the monthly savings, and it wasn't enough to make a big deal out of it. But it was annoying. Strike two for that lender. Never again!
I was really ready to nap by this time.
Got home and, instead of heading back to work (because it was only three o'clock in the afternoon), took a bit of a nap. Right up until dinnertime. Woke up groggy when James stuck his head in my bedroom and shouted, "Food!" (He's always very direct when it comes to such important topics.)
It wasn't until later when the girls and I got to church that my energy level suddenly shot through the roof. And I don't think it was the dinner or the marshmallows I passed out during our family Bible study. I really think it being around the kids at church. They are so much fun, they have so much energy; when they smile, all my troubles just disappear and I just want to play tag and climb on the monkey bars and throw the frisbee and run around like a crazy person and do all the other things we end up doing during class. We cleared out the gym of all the extraneous stuff so the middle schoolers could us it during their class, and then I took my kids (4 years to 3rd grade) to our classroom and we studied the story of Adam and Eve, and we made people out of Play-Doh, using different colors for the arms and the legs and the abdomens and the heads, and we talked about how God made us all special, even more special than the animals, because he made us in his image. And the kids smiled and laughed and had a wonderful time. And I forgot all about how awful I'd been feeling beforehand.
Why can't my job give me this kind of energy?
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Falling Apart
It is sometimes difficult to tell the difference between an allergic reaction to an external stimulus, and an immunilogical reaction to an internal bacterial or viral stimulus.
About a week ago, there was something in the air which seemed to be playing havoc with my immune system. The reaction was nearly identical to that of a normal allergen: sneezing, drippy nose, headache, difficulty breathing. Naturally, then, the symptoms were attributed to some kind of plant (or animal) detritus which was floating around in the air with the sole purpose of making me - and some of my family - miserable.
But the conditions persisted over time, and then it became obvious that a simple allergen could not explain the reaction completely. Adam took to bed for a time; my own energy had dropped to extremely low levels. And the normal, over-the-counter medicines weren't helping. All they did was make me feel sleepy.
Now, a week later, we all feel a little better, not like those who have survived the onslaught of an air-borne irritant, but rather those who have beaten off an internal invader. The energy levels are still not quite back up to where they were before, but we are slowly gaining ground.
In the meantime, the entire weekend was spent not getting anything done. Except Cheryl, who on Saturday attended the Beth Moore simulcast with a gathering of other ladies from the area. She wasn't feeling at the top of her physical game, but she sure looked good! And she had a great time. As for the rest of us, we struggled to get through the day doing various things here and there, but nothing of great consequence. The plants continued to die off, the garage continued to be cluttered, the basement continued to be ignored (except by those who spent the majority of their time watching Doctor Who on YouTube, or playing video games, or getting some homework done).
I've had a bee in my bonnet lately about getting back to the basics of my profession. My current position is boring me silly (another management position), and some days it feels as though all my technical knowledge is leaking out of my ears. So the old books are pulled out again, the ones about circuits and transistors and microprocessors and software design and building the Linux kernel from scratch, and an attempt is made to stimulate my brain with these seriously out-dated tomes. And for a few moments, it's the Nineties again, and I'm at the cusp of technology, and everything is new and wonderful and exciting, and no one mistakes me for an ancient fossil.
Which happens sometimes at work.
That's the trouble with technical work. If you don't keep up with the latest advances as part of your working career, there is a danger of becoming the "Old Man and the C" who can't program his way out of a paper bag because he's spent too much time poring over spreadsheets and proposals and budgets and other meaningless trivia, trying to manage teams of bright young engineers instead of being one of those bright young engineers as he once was. And there is a definite need for good managers! But there is not enough time in the day - or in a life - to do both, and do them both well.
At least, not in my experience. Maybe I just work for the wrong company. But in this business, it is rare to find someone who can be both Manager and Engineer. A Manager needs to be able to handle the Executives and their ridiculous focus on the bottom line ("make the shareholders happy!"), while an Engineer needs to be able to focus on creating technological miracles out of the latest, hottest tech toys. Most of the time, though, if you keep the shareholders happy, you end up creating junk (that barely works) out of baling wire and duct tape. And if you make the engineers happy by spending lots of time and money on perfecting the product, you have a company that comes to the brink of bankruptcy.
Sometimes it feels like my "career" is falling apart. But I never really wanted a "career". I just wanted to build computers. Only thing is, I should've been doing that thirty years ago, back when it was still relatively simple. Now it's much too complicated. You don't see any people making them out in their garages anymore. Now it takes teams of people, and lots of money. And good management. And people who are driven by the vision of a great product, not the vision of a big paycheck (or bonus).
Right now, I'm driven by the vision of actually being able to get up in the morning and walk around without feeling any pain.
At some point in the past week, while getting or recovering from this illness (whateve it is), my lower back muscles got pulled. They've been aching something awful. Makes it difficult to lean over, pick things up, sit comfortably, pick up small children during Bible school. And my shoulder aches, too, but I'm not sure why. Old tennis injury, probably. Can't throw a ball overhand without feeling my shoulder screaming. And my finger got jammed a week ago, helping the Marching Band get their instruments out of the trailers.
It could be that my warranty is running out. Guess I should check the paperwork. Or get down to the doctor's for a check-up. See how the old machinery is working these days. Had a stress test two or three years back, and it went very well. But things don't feel as good now as they did back then. This summer, I was having difficulty making a quarter-mile run, wheezing like an old cow. And I thought I was in pretty good shape, after making it up Nevada Falls in Yosemite a couple years go. But it's hard to keep on top of that stuff when you sit in a cubicle all day.
Which is probably a good enough reason to go out at lunchtime today and take a long walk.
About a week ago, there was something in the air which seemed to be playing havoc with my immune system. The reaction was nearly identical to that of a normal allergen: sneezing, drippy nose, headache, difficulty breathing. Naturally, then, the symptoms were attributed to some kind of plant (or animal) detritus which was floating around in the air with the sole purpose of making me - and some of my family - miserable.
But the conditions persisted over time, and then it became obvious that a simple allergen could not explain the reaction completely. Adam took to bed for a time; my own energy had dropped to extremely low levels. And the normal, over-the-counter medicines weren't helping. All they did was make me feel sleepy.
Now, a week later, we all feel a little better, not like those who have survived the onslaught of an air-borne irritant, but rather those who have beaten off an internal invader. The energy levels are still not quite back up to where they were before, but we are slowly gaining ground.
In the meantime, the entire weekend was spent not getting anything done. Except Cheryl, who on Saturday attended the Beth Moore simulcast with a gathering of other ladies from the area. She wasn't feeling at the top of her physical game, but she sure looked good! And she had a great time. As for the rest of us, we struggled to get through the day doing various things here and there, but nothing of great consequence. The plants continued to die off, the garage continued to be cluttered, the basement continued to be ignored (except by those who spent the majority of their time watching Doctor Who on YouTube, or playing video games, or getting some homework done).
I've had a bee in my bonnet lately about getting back to the basics of my profession. My current position is boring me silly (another management position), and some days it feels as though all my technical knowledge is leaking out of my ears. So the old books are pulled out again, the ones about circuits and transistors and microprocessors and software design and building the Linux kernel from scratch, and an attempt is made to stimulate my brain with these seriously out-dated tomes. And for a few moments, it's the Nineties again, and I'm at the cusp of technology, and everything is new and wonderful and exciting, and no one mistakes me for an ancient fossil.
Which happens sometimes at work.
That's the trouble with technical work. If you don't keep up with the latest advances as part of your working career, there is a danger of becoming the "Old Man and the C" who can't program his way out of a paper bag because he's spent too much time poring over spreadsheets and proposals and budgets and other meaningless trivia, trying to manage teams of bright young engineers instead of being one of those bright young engineers as he once was. And there is a definite need for good managers! But there is not enough time in the day - or in a life - to do both, and do them both well.
At least, not in my experience. Maybe I just work for the wrong company. But in this business, it is rare to find someone who can be both Manager and Engineer. A Manager needs to be able to handle the Executives and their ridiculous focus on the bottom line ("make the shareholders happy!"), while an Engineer needs to be able to focus on creating technological miracles out of the latest, hottest tech toys. Most of the time, though, if you keep the shareholders happy, you end up creating junk (that barely works) out of baling wire and duct tape. And if you make the engineers happy by spending lots of time and money on perfecting the product, you have a company that comes to the brink of bankruptcy.
Sometimes it feels like my "career" is falling apart. But I never really wanted a "career". I just wanted to build computers. Only thing is, I should've been doing that thirty years ago, back when it was still relatively simple. Now it's much too complicated. You don't see any people making them out in their garages anymore. Now it takes teams of people, and lots of money. And good management. And people who are driven by the vision of a great product, not the vision of a big paycheck (or bonus).
Right now, I'm driven by the vision of actually being able to get up in the morning and walk around without feeling any pain.
At some point in the past week, while getting or recovering from this illness (whateve it is), my lower back muscles got pulled. They've been aching something awful. Makes it difficult to lean over, pick things up, sit comfortably, pick up small children during Bible school. And my shoulder aches, too, but I'm not sure why. Old tennis injury, probably. Can't throw a ball overhand without feeling my shoulder screaming. And my finger got jammed a week ago, helping the Marching Band get their instruments out of the trailers.
It could be that my warranty is running out. Guess I should check the paperwork. Or get down to the doctor's for a check-up. See how the old machinery is working these days. Had a stress test two or three years back, and it went very well. But things don't feel as good now as they did back then. This summer, I was having difficulty making a quarter-mile run, wheezing like an old cow. And I thought I was in pretty good shape, after making it up Nevada Falls in Yosemite a couple years go. But it's hard to keep on top of that stuff when you sit in a cubicle all day.
Which is probably a good enough reason to go out at lunchtime today and take a long walk.
Tuesday, September 06, 2011
Sunday, September 04, 2011
Summery
One more day of summer, and then it's all over. The kids are kind of excited. They miss their friends, the classes, the new information, the schedules and activities. I'm depressed. There was so much that needed to get done this summer, and we didn't get around to any of it.
There are just too many things around here that need to get done, and it's too much to juggle. I haven't had time to do anything with the blog, as you probably noticed. Do you miss it? It's hard to tell on a blog like this that gets maybe five or six readers, if I'm lucky. Sometimes it just doesn't feel like it's worth the trouble.
There are so many other things that are screaming for attention. Family, job, house. Priorities. Some days there are simply too many things to juggle in my head, and it brings me to a grinding halt. Other days, the allergies kick in, and the meds make my head all fuzzy, and I can't even think straight enough to handle a simple conversation, let alone several house projects.
We got the garden going, but it didn't last as long as we had hoped. The peppers and watermelon never produced anything at all. Got some broccoli, cucumbers and tomatoes (besides the herbs and spices), but that's about it.
Started learning about wheels and engines, but that kind of fell by the wayside when things got busy near the middle of July.
Did some electronics stuff, but again, it got side-tracked by general busy-ness.
We were pretty good about doing the exercise every morning. Some mornings were easier than others. But we got up on time, went for walks, lifted weights, ran, rode bikes, played soccer and tennis, and kind of kept in shape. Mostly.
The kids finished their summer homework.
But there was so much more to do, and it irks me that there were so many things that didn't get done. Mostly things on my list. And I wasn't working a lot of overtime, so work isn't to blame.
Now school is almost here, and we'll be back to having activities scheduled nearly every night, and then before you know it, winter will set in, and we'll be sitting in the house surrounded by snow again.
Oh, joy.
There are just too many things around here that need to get done, and it's too much to juggle. I haven't had time to do anything with the blog, as you probably noticed. Do you miss it? It's hard to tell on a blog like this that gets maybe five or six readers, if I'm lucky. Sometimes it just doesn't feel like it's worth the trouble.
There are so many other things that are screaming for attention. Family, job, house. Priorities. Some days there are simply too many things to juggle in my head, and it brings me to a grinding halt. Other days, the allergies kick in, and the meds make my head all fuzzy, and I can't even think straight enough to handle a simple conversation, let alone several house projects.
We got the garden going, but it didn't last as long as we had hoped. The peppers and watermelon never produced anything at all. Got some broccoli, cucumbers and tomatoes (besides the herbs and spices), but that's about it.
Started learning about wheels and engines, but that kind of fell by the wayside when things got busy near the middle of July.
Did some electronics stuff, but again, it got side-tracked by general busy-ness.
We were pretty good about doing the exercise every morning. Some mornings were easier than others. But we got up on time, went for walks, lifted weights, ran, rode bikes, played soccer and tennis, and kind of kept in shape. Mostly.
The kids finished their summer homework.
But there was so much more to do, and it irks me that there were so many things that didn't get done. Mostly things on my list. And I wasn't working a lot of overtime, so work isn't to blame.
Now school is almost here, and we'll be back to having activities scheduled nearly every night, and then before you know it, winter will set in, and we'll be sitting in the house surrounded by snow again.
Oh, joy.
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