here's life

This weekend I went to Colorado.  The first days were saturated with preparing for, and then participating in an age-old tradition interpreted with a respect for the past and a flavor of the present---the rite of passage of a boy into the path that would solidify him into a man. My cousin's Bar Mitzvah started Friday night with a Service that welcomed the Sabbath, and the rest and peace and focus on the community reaching for God that brought. Sabbath morning we met again for more celebration and ceremony like steps of a dance (sometime literally) until the climax where my cousin was called down by his Hebrew name to read from the Torah---the much-revered scroll that was passed from generation to generation and hand to hand. The significance was striking---this was the Word of God, the first extant epistle from the Creator to the creature---more than just ink on paper, but a living letter of meanings and deeper meanings. Max then expounded on his passage--the first chapter of Bamidbar (I'd call it "Numbers") with clearness and originality of thought. Then there was more singing---an interesting, rhythmic style which made our four-part rendition of "I Sing the Mighty Power of God" sound stilted and stoic in comparison. By the time it was over, we had gone through the the prayer-book, back to front. 
We then had more food than I could eat and topped it off with various desert dishes. The afternoon found us floating down a snow-melt river over a small waterfall--it was cold to stand in, but swimming in it was warming and demanded repetition.

Sunday some of us walked up Bear Peak---hills, up a wooded gorge, rock field, to the fractured peak jutting into the sky.  Then we ran back down. Monday was a more leisurely stroll up to a water fall.  Tuesday before heading back to Flatland we took another foray into the mountains, up to the remains of a hotel that burned almost a hundred years ago, and then to an overlook the gave us a  view of the the Continental Divide---had there not been clouds gathering over the mountains.  In the remains of the hotel was a fountain which not only sported a large snake, but a piece of galvanized pipe sticking up out of the rocks. It had been about a century since this pipe was installed, and not only was it not very rusted (due to climate) but I could have bought a modern pipe fitting at a hardware store and it would have fit perfectly---the NTP standard has not changed.

Today I was back at work, catching up, and enjoying the discussions about what the title of flagnotes should say since the memo about the new way they will be listed.  I asked how it affected how the plane was put together--trying to be matter-of-fact, not sarcastic, and got the answer that what mattered was that there be a standard for the naming of flagnotes, not because it would change the final product. Back in the day they had a piece of plastic with lines on it, horizontal, vertical, and slanted, and your text on the drawing had to match the right set of lines. It is fun to see the world crystallized into a position of obsession with such impractical pointless machinations. Gives me something not to be. An edge, a lip to climb up from.

Yesterday I started cleaning.  My living room is now pretty neat and clean. My dining room only has piles of junk around the edges.  My kitchen floor is swept.  My bathroom is amazingly more clean.  The middle of my bedroom is swept, but there is more stuff piled there.  And my closet is almost impassible now.  But my clothes are washed.  What sparked this domestic industriousness was the fact that my family needs a place to stay for a night, and so I need some accessible floor space.
Interestingly, I can waste time for hours reading stuff, writing blogs, etc. but once I can get myself started on something useful I usually have a hard time stopping. Last night I was just planning to clean my living room, but one thing led to another, and before I knew it I was scrubbing the shower.

Work goes on as usual.  Monday I had a meeting with several people from the shop, my boss and a another guy.  We discussed a problem and settled on a decision that everyone who showed up could be happy with.  And it was a much easier fix that I was planning.  Then there are times that I realize just how comically inefficient we are.  Like printing out over 80 sheets of paper to represent some assemblies so I can change a "5" to a "7" in 8 places.  And some of those places that "5" is in pretty small type.  Now, there was lots more I was changing on those 80 pieces of paper, but it was just overhead for the change.  I enjoy making little red marks on paper (especially if I had some softer red lead) and I have a kind of sadistic happiness in printing out massive amounts of paper.

Today I bought an engine for my airplane.  The one I had doesn't work anymore.  It is pretty old, but it seemed to have pretty good compression---even with the glow plug out!  An engine should turn over easily with that cork removed from the top of the head. The piston only went partway up into the cylinder, even after I disassembled it in the field and the guys smoothed it down with some emery cloth.  So, I picked up a new one.  I shouldn't have trouble finding parts for this one. And the carb should work. And the head shouldn't leak.

Well, I need to get the blankets out of the tub so I can take a shower and go to bed.

And here's a picture of my kitchen the other day, to give you an idea of what messy means...

I sit here in my chair as I often find myself.  Outside the sun is shining, and maybe I should go out and walk around.  Or saw something.  I have too much stuff in my house. I have a couple table tops, a couple bean bags, some bamboo plywood, a large coffee table without a top, a bunch of lumber, some thick slabs of black plastic, a mirror-with-pegs for hanging on the wall--the type you hang a small quilt or decorative cute objects, there is a scroll saw, several computers, parts, and printers, a lawn chair, a bike, and a partially disassembled rolly-chair.  Also a few odds and ends, like a strainer for boiling a turkey in oil, a flat basket, and a long glass jar with layers of dry corn and beans. a big shiney pot without a lid has coils of foam sitting on it. I also have an exercise mat. That all is in the dining room.  Obviously, no one is going to be dining any time soon.

Saturday I went out to Lake Afton and got my plane looked over by the experts, mainly Bob.  Then, after we were satisfied that it ran right, Bob took it off. It was pretty exciting to see this piece of wood and plastic take to the sky. Suddenly it changed from being a collection of materials to actually an airplane. I had messed with it, and fixed stuff on it, and now it could fly.  After Bob got it a couple mistakes high and had run through what I was going to do, he handed me the controls and instructed me, "Right a little, up, left, Left, No, your other left! up a bit.." and I flew it a round in swirling arcs, handing it back frequently when I felt out of control.  We made a couple flights that day, but the engine was acting up. There was an old hand there who helped to make it run. It was interesting to see the contrast between Bob's careful, methodical, well thought out actions versus Mike's wealth of experience and understanding of planes and engines.  He's standing over the prop, smoking a cigar and adjusting the mixture.  Or sucking dirt out of the carb and spitting it out.  Seemed to have all the right things in his pockets. Gets it running, runs it across the field and into the air, and soon hands me the controller, giving instructions in jargon that I don't understand. Just a different way of looking at planes, and looking at him he seems to have done fine, missing no fingers or large pieces of his face. The day was a success, seeing how I came home with a whole plane of the proper proportions and configuration.

Sunday afternoon saw me and some kids from church playing frisbee in the wind.  Our team had some good catchers, but no throwers, and yet we lost 9-10 and we were down one person.  It was a trifle cool, but not when you run until you can't. I got somewhat competitive---i.e. emotionally involved in the game--toward the end when we had a chance at winning. But it was fun, and a good dose of exercise for the week.

There is a guy at work who was expecting his first child--well his wife was, and Sunday they had a baby boy.  They named him: Tobias.  Now, it could be that they just always wanted to name a kid that, and did despite some clown at work already using the name. But, I like to think that they got the idea from me (not that I had a hand in choosing my name). That makes two people whom I knew who have named their kid Tobias.  Maybe I will finally meet someone with my name.

This evening I talked to aduma and spork using skype, off and on for a couple hours.  We also called my house phone and Bubble's phone using the recently-free skype-to-regular phone function. I am thinking that maybe I should get rid of my house phone and just use skype---people can call me from regular phones if I pay $36 a year.

After work on Friday I didn't have much time at the Surplus Store---just enough to buy some 1.5" linear bearings (it was a great deal,,,but I am not sure what I'll use them for) and a touch sensor for high precision machining applications. Then I hurried off to the parade. Yes, I was in a parade!  First we had to fill up the big helium balloon in the shape of an airplane. I'm not sure if it would have lifted me--couldn't get everyone to let go. We followed a band through the streets, pulling it down under the stoplights and dodging the sharp signs along the route. Some places we could let it up high. There was only one other parade entree that had similar large helium shapes--Raytheon had a humpback, an orca, and a white weather balloon with the company name on it. There were some other floats that were pretty cool--but I didn't see much of the parade since I was in it.

I stayed around to pack up the balloon.  We vented off all the helium---you could see it coming out, causing refraction like hot air on a still day.  They had a vacuum cleaner to help pull the helium out, and when the hose was stuck into the helium, the whine of the vacuum would rise considerably--like when it is clogged (because the helium is less dense).
After that I went a few blocks to an art show.  It was multiple art installations that focused on using technology along with art to further interactiveness. In fact, each one was created by a team made up of Electrical Engineering and Art students. Some were cool, some were ok.  The best was "Firefly Environment"---a darkened area with tiny lights hanging from the ceiling at different heights, with peaceful background of crickets.  On the walls were some fans to keep the "fireflies" moving slightly as they flashed in random patterns. On the floor was a 3'x3' grass area, with a mason jar on it, with more captured fireflies.  I want this in my living room. Another interesting one was a monolithic object with a microphone on it and a hole near the top that a dancing laser beam shined out of.  It hummed with sounds created by modifying the input sound an looping it, and feedback from it's own modulated, phase-shifted sound. The laser was driven by these sounds, tracing crazy lines on the wall. Later they moved it so it shone on a building across the street.  There was also a little room called "Secret Garden" that had things made of flowers and speakers with garden sounds that changed as you walked up. All in all it was pretty cool to look at, and interesting to talk to the people who had made it happen.  I think I might try to take this class. I talked to the teacher and he was a pretty cool guy and repeatedly said that it would be good for me to get involved.

As I drove home, I wondered about art. What good is it? So often it seems  to be an Emperor's New Clothes sort of thing; "If you were cool, you would be impressed by this."  And what does it accomplish?  Then I realized that what it provided was the happiness that I felt as I stood in the firefly-filled volume in that old building. It provides joy to people. Usually I attribute value to technical things a more efficient dishwasher, a better paperclip, a more user friendly computer program. They are worth my time because they make the world a better place---we can get more done, faster. But is anybody happier if I move a pilot hole in a piece of metal a fraction of a hundredth of an inch?  Maybe the guy who puts the fastener in, but that is only because then he can make airplanes faster.  Sometimes the things that we see no value in are the ones that matter while what we thought was important really was just a self-perpetuating illusion.  
I talked for a while with the guy who helped the teacher with the dancing laser.  He works at a local company that make power supplies for florescent lights for aircraft. He also makes things like this and this. He said "I couldn't work for a big company" and I realized that maybe my frustrations with my job are fixable--I have been telling myself that there are going to be problems wherever I go--which is true...ish.  After all, I left a start-up company, and my job was annoying because there was no system, and specifications changed all the time, and the job was not very reliable. Maybe there is a happy medium somewhere---or a whole different paradigm that makes it a moot point. Where the problems I beat my head against are real, not invented by the system, however necessary it is.


On the other hand, tomorrow I get to help out with the balloon some more---helping to deplete the world's limited supply of helium.

,,,and I don't know what to say. So, there is this Philosopher at work, who has a plan to fix the world. A Utopian plan based on everybody being nice to one another and not being greedy. So far so good---it's worked before... He uses many biblical and pseudo-biblical ideas and metaphors. He takes on the label of "Christian", but usually doesn't stress it, because he talks about philosophy, not so much religion. I usually disagree with most of what he says because it is almost right, and almost plausible, and maybe I am just pretty much an antagonist. Today, after we had discussed something, I mentioned that part of my problem was that I can't seem to divorce my beliefs and philosophy---and so we got onto religion. He reiterated that he was a christian, but that he thought that the way that everyone in the world can get along is by all the religions coming to a compromise, because if you get down to the basics of all religions, they are pretty much the same. I suggested that he meant people could not kill others, but try to help others eventually see the light. No, that would be me waiting until I could conquer you, or prove you are wrong. What we need is a "world conscience" to turn around the way the world is going. Each religion will have to give up some beliefs, and come to a consensus about what to believe. I can't really tell him that actually, the others are wrong, and I am right. Where is my evidence? What would it accomplish anyway?

Often I find that I hate him because what he says has no obvious, glaring flaws, and even if it does, he philosophies it away. He seems remarkably patient when I attack his ideas---maybe he confuses my backhanded disagreement with the not-so-witty banter that floats around the office. It isn't as easy as I figured curing someone of wrong conclusions using logic would be--you can't just show that a view leads to eating babies--after all, if it's you or the baby... Without a lot of time, it seems that I have no direct, clear, reason for what I believe if I don't use Scripture or other evidence that would seem inadmissible in a secular debate. Maybe I need to make it obviously un-secular. Or, just ignore the stream of almost-correct views on life (I've ignored the glaringly false ones) and just do my work, and let it be. Or, bring a constant flow of anecdotal stories about my own walk with God. Hmmm,,,mostly I see my failure to regularly connect with God on a personal, reciprocal level.

And, I am not sure that posting such stuff on a public forum isn't uncouth, but, where else can I get advice about my day-to-day life?

It seems that I don't have to go insane just because I work at a place that isn't perfect, and my coworker are mostly harmless, but often are synced to a reality that doesn't fit with the facts.  Not that they are majorly crazy---not most, anyway---nor is the environment distinctly difficult. It is just that I have this feeling that I have to push against the machine, or I will become an automoton. However, I can be happy, positive and realistic and still keep my sanity, if I choose.

Speaking of sanity, I've got this crazy idea that will never happen! So, I live in an apartment which is pretty fine, but I would rather live in a house I had built. The catch is that summer is coming, and I haven't really figured anything out, and it is too late, but here's the deal:  Buy a couple acres, plant some stuff, maybe a couple chickens---enought to call it a farm, so that I can call my house a farmhouse, so that The Code will let me alone.
Make sure I buy where the soil has enough clay that I can use it as stucco, and do a rubble trench with a concrete footer on it, and stack straw bales on that. Put on a tin roof that overhangs enough to protect the walls from rain (porches) and make the south wall stick-built with windows and a passive overhang. Stucco the place, insulate the roof with a straw/clay mixture, floor it with vapor barrier, packed dirt, topped with tar/clay/paper mixture and move in!  Attach a composting toilet, add a garage (separate by a wall for sound/fire). 
Water is one thing I need to figure out. Shallow well wouldn't be hard, but that would need processing for drinking. Solar still?  Probably hook to the grid because wind power is still pretty expensive.  By then it will be fall, and I will wish that my wind break grew faster, but at least my house is snug, and warmed by the sun---probably I would need a woodstove that "sets outside the home" to supliment it. Doesn't seem to be any waste biomass around here, so maybe I would burn old tires.
Well, that's the idea, and I am sure somebody has some better ones, and I am all ears.

Last weekend was pretty cool. I left a party at my boss's a little early, and drove to Hutch to see Fjord and his parents, as well as Schmorgan, Trolley and Spence.  The sun was softened by the clouds, there was a slight breeze, and it was a cool afternoon as I drove north out of town to where ParentsFjord live.  When I turned into the green tunnel that is their driveway, some turkeys hurried across the sandy path and a deer bounded over to join another in watching as I drove in. The Locust trees were blooming, and although past their prime, still smelled wonderful when ever we stood among them, the white pedals drifting down around us as the wind bumped them loose. 

I had already eaten, but there were delicious enchiladas as well as an Israeli pita-and-chickpeas dish, courtesy of Fjord's recent class trip to the Holy Land---of which we saw pictures.  I really had to pass on desert---my stomach can't handle two parties in one day.  That evening we sat around and read and talked and Fjord prepared for his speech in church the next day, as well as his summer of coding for Jesus, which was what his talk was about.  We  played ping pong and Schmorgan and I discussed my situation in a new job and city, and it was good to get feedback about my thoughts and feelings on it---nothing like other people to help me figure out what sanity is.

In the morning the family went to first service at church, and we slept and went to second service.  Fjord gave a rundown in each service of what he was doing this summer. He did a good job of talking about his technical position at Wycliffe in layman's terms so we all could understand. He will be helping to code a computer-based super-dictionary that will help translators with their daunting task of getting the bible to the twenty-five hundred languages where work has not even started. There are about that many translations currently in progress, and this program will benefit those efforts as well.

After eating lunch, Trolley, Spence and I wandered into the woods, through a carpet of chickweed punctuated by poison ivy. We found  the neighboring elk farm and looked at the paddocked animals and wondered at how they would look in their natural habit. Locust trees aren't bad climbing--except for the spikes.  The dead, rotten branches are still really strong--no wonder people make locust fence posts. I got a little poison ivy on my wrist, but I rubbed in some bleach that evening, and it was gone by morning.  The woods was a lovely green, but we had to head out, me back to town and the other guys down to sun-washed Texas.  But it was a very nice place to spends some time, and I hope to return, maybe sooner this time.