What do normal people do?

After repeated pleas for help with the donation drive, more people are gradually signing on to do stuff. But they are signing on for the trivial tasks, like putting up posters. No one is signing on to coordinate things like getting collection bins from the charities, which we need for there to be a need to put up posters.

I am sure if I asked them to take on something bigger, they would say they don't have time due to work commitments. I would tell them I understand. I would also be thinking that I have 10x more work than they do. And I will still probably be stuck with the bigger tasks.

I now have so much work that it is pushing out social commitments. I have to rearrange my classes and still skip some to boot.

I now have so much work that I don't get enough sleep. This is because I insist on squeezing in a little reading or television, anything to keep my sanity.

Hell, I now have so much work I didn't do the dishes this morning. Keep this up and the drain will get slimy and there will be a layer of filth covering the floors.

It's not for you.

J's latest reminded me of something that happened a couple years ago. Back then, a group of us went to dinner once a week since we were all new to the area and we wanted to explore the restaurant scene. Besides me, the group consisted of A1, A2, and D. It was A1's idea to meet for dinner, and A2's idea to explore dives. D and I share A2's enthusiasm for dives and A1's for eating.

That week, A2 chose a Mexican place just south of downtown. Admittedly, the place wasn't a total dive, but parts of the menu were quite authentic. We saw some interesting items on the menu, including either burritos or tacos containing your choice of filling. Included among the standard carnitas or chicken was something that probably translated to either offal or sausage. Possibly from a cow. A2 had learned French in school, and my command of Spanish doesn't include many useful words. We asked the owner/waitress what it was, and her only reply was, "It's not for you." Meaning we wouldn't like it. I'm sure our group actually would have, but she was insistent and her answer was well-worded, so we dropped it.

The dishes we finally ordered were fantastic, by the way.

This one's for the gEEks

I am looking for instructions for a peanut butter and jelly fab. Have never done the workshop myself (otherwise I'd have the instructions) but have heard it described several times over. Last night I heard it in gory detail for the first time. It sounds like a nice compliment to basic circuits, assuming you have some knowledge of IC manufacturing. It would be heresy to mix up the various oxide layers and get the reticle wrong.

I tried Googling variants of this phrase only to find many peanut butter aficionadoes and sellers of various baked goods and snacks. I found detailed instructions for the cookie fab, which is not the same thing.

The idea behind the cookie fab is to demonstrate IC manufacturing with cookies. A sugar cookie is the wafer. Frostings are oxide layers, and sprinkles are dopants. Etching steps require brushes and plastic knives which must be decontaminated and isolated to prevent cross-contamination.

With the PB&J IC is you start with a large cracker as your wafer. The first layer of peanut butter is oxide. Jelly forms the reticle. You use your finger as the etch step, already making this workshop superior to the cookie fab. Then you must remove the reticle, and apparently the most effective way is to lick it off. I would imagine there are sprinkle, chocolate chip, or raisin dopants, but the description kind of stopped at etch.

On the plus side, peanut butter is much healthier than frosting.

But what shall we name it?

The other night the "Iron Chef" aired a neat idea for the 3S. The idea actually came from the challenger's side. The theme was eggs. The challenger made a white pepper ice cream using some egg yolks. The ice cream in of itself sounds intriguing, but the neat part was the presentation. He whipped up the egg whites with a little sugar into a merengue. Then he shaped mountain-like mounds of the merengue and floated them on boiling water until they cooked through. To serve, he placed a round scoop of the ice cream onto the plate and pressed the merengue mountain onto it. Sort of like finding the treasure in the mountain. He drizzled fresh raspberry sauce on the plate and covered the mountain with an eggy custard sauce. I forget the final name of the dish. I wonder if it would flambe well.

Now who can I blame?

It's all my fault, isn't it?

In my world, 8 hours of sleep every night are necessary to function properly. It prevents excessive grouchiness and makes for a very nice day. But 8 hours of sleep also cuts into waking hours, which I need to do stuff like make a dent in my ever-increasing book working set. It has an odd habit of increasing faster than it decreases. This is all my fault. I wish I could blame other people, but it really is my fault. When I buy books for the book club on Amazon, I have to buy additional ones to make the free shipping limit. When I go to the farmers' market, I inevitably visit Books Inc. and their excellent bargain book shelves. And when Christmas or my birthday roll around, I am not intelligent enough to ask for much besides books. (Well, there is method behind the madness, which I won't divulge here.) During the gift-giving season, I feel like Baldrick. (What would he do with money? Buy a turnip. What would he do with lots of money? Buy a really big turnip.)

Which brings me to my point. I stayed up late reading a couple books. This caused me to wake up late, leaving no time to make a decent cup of tea. I instead substituted a latte and now I feel way too good. Wheeeee!

Another odd dream.

In this one, I was outside a house, possibly mowing the lawn. This house was clearly no house I've ever visited or lived in. There was loudish nondescript (it was distinct at the time, but I have since forgotten the tune, so it's probably one of many pop tunes) music playing. The music paused twice to let through the sound of a doorbell. I remember wondering how the doorbell could sound so loud and clear when I was outside of the house. I also wondered where the music was coming from and why it paused so distinctly for the doorbell.

I awoke to find my alarm radio going off, but neither the music nor the static noise (it's a cheap radio) matched anything I heard in my dream.

There's hope for me yet!

Or: that's your definition of hope?

I've decided I would make a good lawyer. Lawyers are suposed to think of every possible worst-case scenario and plan for it. They'll have appeals all ready to go in their briefcases even before their client is indicted. Stuff like that.

I personally am cynical and I worry about every possible scenario. I pick over details and nail down several possible gameplans. All of this to the point of frustrating the freer of spirit.

Meaning there's an alternate path for me out there that doesn't necessarily include engineering. Or trying to collect on insurance money for 3S. Or trying to convince grade-school kids that I'm cool, something teachers must do every day.

Being a rock star, historian, custodian, or friendly customer service representative were already out.

M the misfit

For some time now, I've been wondering how people meet compatible people of the opposite gender. Obviously I am doing something wrong.

It would be wrong to date an immediate coworker.

I'm not sure I'd want to hang out with someone I found in a bar because they'd probably enjoy bars, and I don't.

The bookstore is an expensive proposition given my weakness for the magazine rack. And I've seen many rather sketchy people at the library.

The coffeeshop isn't bad, except I have tried being wired all the time and it didn't work out.

A Magazine once suggested a pickup line that involved finding an exotic vegetable and asking the closest single how to cook it. I find this extremely creepy, and I would therefore not go out with someone who followed advice from A Magazine or hung out in supermarket produce departments.

The smoothie place is deafening. The chance of companionship is not worth my hearing.

The gym, perhaps. When I'm motivated to go. But not a sweaty freeweight hog. And not those guys who work out in front of the mirror. And not someone who leaves the machine settings on a heavy weight to try to impress the next person who uses the machine.

The windows are clean.

Well, they're cleaner. At least they have been rinsed off with a hose. The water washed out the dust trapped in the bug screens and removed the layer of filth covering the windows. Now the air coming through the open windows is gloriously clean. It makes the air at work feel disgusting by comparison--I thought my annual allergies were back this morning. At night, the moon is nice and clear, not the furry patch of light it was before.

Now if only the temperature would drop below 90 degrees it would actually be comfortable to have the windows open instead of having the air conditioner on. That sounds terribly bourgeois, doesn't it, fussing about the air conditioner and destroying the environment in the process?

To sleep, perchance to dream.

I think I may have sleep apnea. This will likely go unconfirmed since it's costly (both in money and time) to visit a sleep clinic.

I say this because last night I had the strangest dream. For some reason, I was idly milling about in a corner of a swimming pool. It was a bright, sunny day and the water was a brilliant shade of blue thanks to the pool. I was bobbing up and down with my eyes open. Once in a while, I'd duck low enough for the water to come over my head as this is very refreshing on a hot day.

Normally when you submerge yourself underwater, you hold your breath. Otherwise your sinuses fill up with chlorinated water. When I hold my breath underwater, the sensation I get is of water in my nose that stops just short of the sinuses.

Interestingly enough, in my dream, I was holding my breath properly and the water was stopping short of my sinuses. And I could feel this happening.

Guess what I'm thinking.

A proper cup of tea should not be chunky.

People I should be allowed to flog.

1. Aggressive drivers.
2. People who drive under the speed limit in the left lane.
3. Tailgaters.
4. People who drive while engrossed in their cellphone conversations.
5. People who turn, then signal.
6. People who run red lights.
7. People who change lanes without signaling.
8. Drivers who do not yield to emergency vehicles.
9. People who do not polish their presentations and make their point clear.
10. People who do not label their data.
11. Whoever created the sales policies at this housing development.
12. Neighbors who whine about ants and yet neglect to trim their yards and sweep up after their cats.
13. Neighbors who take all the parking spots because they have too much crap in their garages.
14. Neighbors who stuff my trash can because they have too much crap.
15. People who do not pick up after their dogs.
16. Coworkers who do not fess up when they break the code.
17. Coworkers who abuse the budget, making it impossible for people like me to get the machines they need. Worse still, making it so we have to justify every pencil purchased.
18. Coworkers who unplug my machines because they are too dumb to ask for help.
19. Coworkers who do not respond to requests in a timely manner. (6 days is timely. 6 weeks is not.)
20. Ambulance-chasers.
21. People and their trial laywers who bring frivolous cases to court.
22. Bigots.
23. Political bigots. (You know, the Democrats who claim all Republican ideals are evil, and vice versa, thereby eliminating all possibility of civilized debate.)
24. Politicians.
25. NBC, for their coverage of the Olympics.
26. PBS, for repeating their endless nostalgia musical marathons over and over again.
27. Whoever thinks redoing reality shows over and over again is a good idea.
28. ABC, CBS, NBC, and Fox, for their reality shows.
29. CNN, Fox, MSNBC, CNBC, and all the major networks except PBS, for failing to provide worthwhile news coverage.
30. Geraldo Rivera, for failing to provide any news coverage.

Tell me when you've had enough.

I think the left contact lens may be inside-out. Theoretically, one can tell whether a lens is inside-out by looking at it.

I can't tell the difference.

I spent a few minutes this morning flipping the right one in and out. It seems that flipped one way, it holds its shape more easily than the other way. This probably made it easier to install. Also, the left one seems to be having more trouble focusing this morning. But I am not keen on reinstalling my lenses today.

Contact lenses are definitely not a good choice for those grey, increasingly dark mornings.

I've said it before and I'll say it again.

Not the one about letting me flog people, although that would be nice, too.

The world would be a much better place if only all engineers were forced to study technical writing and presentation skills. With an additional course covering data presentation. I have seen many rules broken these past few weeks. Here is a sampling of what the presenters did not do.

1. Speak up over the drone of the air conditioner and other assorted fans.
2. Address the audience instead of the laptop or screen.
3. Plot data intuitively.
4. Add descriptive titles to their axes.
5. Put descriptive titles on their slides.
6. Explain their plots and data.
7. Use fonts and font sizes that are legible on the big screen.
8. Cut off people with long annoying questions.
9. Talk to their foils instead of reading them.

I should be allowed to flog them.

My new theory about the missing contact lens.

I think I ingested it somehow.

This theory comes from what happened this morning. After I put the left one in, the world was clear for a few moments, then suddenly fuzzy again. Despite carefully plugging up the sink prior to installing the lens and an extensive search of counter, sink, mirror, and floor after everything got fuzzy, there was no sign of the lens. I even swept the eyeball with a finger (rather painful) and came up with nothing. So I abandoned installation of the right one, put on my glasses, and headed off to assemble breakfast.

Suddenly my left eye started stinging. Looking in the mirror, I found the contact lens, slightly askew, in said eye, and the world was suddenly clearer. (Incidentally, I took off the glasses before looking in the mirror.) This is very disturbing. Where did the lens go? Under my eyelid? Is it possible the other missing lens (it was for the right eye) was also under my eyelid and eventually got absorbed?

In light of all of this, and given the fact that contact lenses aren't as good as glasses (contact lenses don't fix astigmatism), I still prefer to wear glasses most days.

K's wedding was a lovely event. It was also very efficient, making it one of the more enjoyable weddings I've ever attended.

The ceremony itself was the shortest one of those I've ever attended. My kind of ceremony, with very few religious references out of respect for the bride and groom's beliefs and the diversity of the people in attendance. What few references were there were non-denominational, and it cut right to the chase. All in all, it lasted maybe 20 minutes tops. The prayer came after the rings and lasted about 15 seconds. The bride and groom didn't write their vows, which is good, because vows written by the bride and groom, in my experience, are never that great anyways. The only problem was it went by so fast, we were a little confused and missed the opportunity to toss the flower petals at the newlyweds as they exited. Some people opted to toss the petals at the bridegrooms and bridesmaids instead.

The ceremony and reception were all held a few blocks away from the bride's parents' home, so there was no rounding up everyone into their cars and getting lost on the way to the restaurant or banquet hall.

The meal itself was half salmon, half beef, making it a surf n' turf for everybody. No need to wonder whether you checked beef or fish on the RSVP card! I'm not sure what would have happened to the vegetarians had any been in attendance, though. The only other weddings I've attended where you didn't need to mark your preference have been the Chinese ones, where you get the full banquet and your choice is whether to sample every dish that comes your way.

Heck, even the weather held out. It was gloriously sunny, but not too hot, with just a hint of breeze.

All I can say is I wish K and P all the happiness in the world. And to everyone else, here are the lessons to be learned for your respective weddings.

How M uses the rule of 50

I don't consume books nearly as quickly as my pals J and Z do, nor do I consume them nearly as quickly as I should. But I do get through at least a half dozen worthwhile books in a year, and many more not so worthwhile ones, including rereads of various favorites. It's comforting to revisit the classics, sort of like catching a rerun of a particularly entertaining television show when you could be watching "Amish in the City" or something equally improving. At any rate, there are enough books to warrant a classification system. There are six categories of books.

1. Finished.
2. In progress.
3. Being reread.
4. Started then given up on.
5. Purchased but feel guilty about not starting yet.
6. Cookbooks.

At any given time, I generally have one book close to entering state #1, two or three books in state #2, and one or two books in state #3. I estimate there are currently four books in state #4. There is also one book in state #5. There were two, but I started "Home" as of last night. In addition, state #2 has two subcategories.

2.1. Being read during my lunch hour at work. These books must be very carefully selected so as to be intellectually engaging, quick enough to read while distracted by food, and quirky enough to impress my coworkers who inevitably wander down to join me when I've planted myself at a table outside.
2.2. Being read outside of work. Heck, I can read whatever I want in my own bed.

There are currently two books in state 2.1.

State #6 has three subdivisions.
6.1. Has at least one good recipe in it.
6.2. Has no good recipes in it, and therefore I feel guilty for acquiring it.
6.3. Haven't had the chance to try any recipes in it.

A friendly acquaintance of mine says that if a cookbook has one good recipe in it, then it's worth the price. Incidentally, no cookbook goes unread in my home, so you'll notice that state is missing. And no cookbook gets purchased unless there was an intriguing recipe in it already, so there is no cookbook with recipes that I have not or do not intend to try.

If I ever become dedicated enough to have a lot more books to classify and invoke the Rule of 50, then there should be two more categories.

7. Invoked the Rule of 50 on for justifiable reasons.
8. Invoked the Rule of 50 on, but feel guilty about it.

I'd draw you the state diagram, but that would be horribly geeky. Maybe next time.

Incidentially, I finally finished "Trading Up", which J very kindly gave me for Christmas. It's an interesting read and neatly summarizes the traits of each success story. But there seems to be a sinister undercurrent implying that the new, fresh guys always win and the old players are always too conservative for their own good. I'm sure there are plenty of examples of old players who have adapted well to the trading up phenomenon. Just give me a little time to think of a good example.

Nancy Pearl's Rule of 50

To preserve the copyright, here is the reference.
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2001952705_nancypearl10m.html

And because I'm a little geeky, here is the C-style pseudocode. (Truer geeks than I would use ML, Lisp, etc.)
if(age <= 50){
required_min_pages = 50;
}
else{ // age > 50
required_min_pages = 100 - age;
}

Revenge of the Avocadoes

I guess it's a good sign that two of my most pressing thoughts are 1) getting this work project off the ground, since this thing runs a long time before I can take a checkpoint, and 2) what to do about the avocadoes.

I purchased a bag of four organic Hass avocadoes. The cost per avocado was about $1.12 or so, making them relatively inexpensive for avocadoes around here. One of them went into last weekend's California roll. The other three should be perfectly ripe by now. Don't get me wrong. I love avocadoes. Normally they are a precious commodity, purchased on sale and one at a time, so I only have the opportunity to eat them plain or in a lovely BLTA made with vine-ripened tomatoes and Niman Ranch bacon.

Three avocadoes make for a lot of BLTAs.

Guacamole is a fine option, but a little normal. Previously frozen avocado halves from Trader Joe's freezer case would probably work fine in a guacamole.

Food Network has a recipe where you stuff something into the cavity and bake it. That sounds wrong. Avocadoes shouldn't be cooked, should they?

I don't have a blender, so avocado milkshakes are out. Incidentally, I wonder if avocado ice cream would taste any good.

Chopped salad sounds like a lot of work. It also sounds like a lot of chopped salad, which would wilt, turn brown, and not be good for lunch during the week.

I once had a recipe for a savory cheesecake. It had a water biscuit (I think) crumb crust and was garnished with avocado and smoked salmon. I no longer have the recipe. Good riddance, because that sounds like work.

Guess it's guacamole after all. Perhaps served with chips, salsa, and chicken quesadillas.

I dropped a contact today. I am extremely annoyed that this happened. I thought the right one was in, and it seemed to be for a bit. Then it wasn't there and I was trying to decide whether things looked blurry because my eyes were tearing up or because something more sinister had happened. It may have stuck to my fingers and then washed down the drain when I washed my hands.

Sigh.