Richard Feynman

Richard Feynman (pronounced fine-man) is the most approachable scientist of our century. He makes science approachable by using common terms that the layman can understand. No doubt he obtained this gift from his father. I found this interview on line: The Pleasure of Finding Things Out. He had a very intelligent but practical father.

You may remember that he was the one who solved the problem with the Space Shuttle Challenger. He was sitting around a huge table with a bunch of stuffed shirts (as he tells it) and asked for a cup of cold water. Then he dropped an o-ring similar to the ones used in the Challenger into the glass of ice water. When he fished it out, it crumbled in his hand. The Columbia's o-rings failed because of very low temperatures that weakened them.

You can read more about this curious guy. You can find out how he played blood hound to his friends by picking out the book each of them handled in the library. Or you can learn about his safe cracking shenanigans and involvement in the Mahattan Project. All these stories and more are in the book Surely You're Joking Mr. Feynman. It's a great read.

[You can find more in a previous post here.]

...dave
Why can't I be as personable as I am in my head? - Paul Madonna

Mugnum

A Mugnum for those impossible mornings? I wonder what repercussions there might be if someone really carried this around at work?

...dave
Whistling is passive agressive. - Paul Madonna

HDR Photography

I've just been learning about HDR photography. Great stuff. Here's my first image. You can read all about it online. But here it is in a nutshell.

Film and digital photography are not as sensitive to light as your eye. If you expose for bright spots your dark areas will be too dark to discern the details. If you expose for the dark areas, the bright spots will be "blown out" or in other words, just white areas lacking detail.

HDR photography merges the best of three or more images together through software. I'm using Photomatix Pro. (Just the demo version that's why you see their watermarks in the images.) You can take the three images yourself (one under exposed, another with the proper exposure, and the third over exposed) and merge them together. Or you can take a single RAW digital image and make the three or more exposures. You can only do this with RAW since it has recorded all the details of dark and light areas in the image. Therefore it can render properly the under/over/proper exposure.

I took one of my existing RAW images (I only took RAW when traveling China) and created the HDR images.

Check out the Longji village home and the Cloisinne factory above. We visited this factory while in China just after the Great Wall trip. (Click on the images for full screen images.)

Here is a favorite image of a friend of mine.

...dave
The camera is an instrument that teaches people how to see without a camera. -Dorthea Lange

Returned

Saturday it was good to get with my sister and her family. Catherine, Matthew and myself helped Catherine wash her new BMW. Matthew got more water on me than the car. There might have been a water fight. But Matthew is tough. He can take it.

I flew home Sunday. Uneventful. Except for the flight attendant's comments:

"The flight attendants will be coming through to collect your cash . . . I mean your trash. And don't try to hide it. You know who you are. We'll find it."

"Ladies and gentlemen the pilot has turned on the fasten seat belt sign. We are approaching the airport. Please return your seats to the upright and most uncomfortable position. If you have any baggage out please stow it under your seats and fix your hair. Put away your laptops, iPods, Palm Pilots, and toasters."

"Thank you for flying our airlines and remember you can book your flights through our web site. You can do so in your pajamas or not."

"We hope you've enjoyed your flight as much as we've enjoyed taking your for a ride."

...dave
For every action, there is an equal and opposite criticism.

The Long Journey Home

The next day we checked out of the hotel, picked up dad from the hospital and drove home.

Interstate 5 is long and boring. It's as straight as a hypodermic needle and is about as painful. There is nothing to see. There are no good restaurants along the way. Only fast food places are available just off the exits. If you travel up or down California use 101. You'll die of boredom using 5.

And so mom and I talked on the way up while dad dozed in and out of consciousness in the back seat. When he came to he'd kibitz my driving. I told him that anxiety was unhealthy. Besides, I have pills.

But were were getting hungry. After being in the hospital and visiting with doctors who carry needles we didn't want to stop at any heart-attack hamburger place. We hoped against hope we'd find something along the way that would offer a fresh salad and other healthy choices.

We did find the famous Pea Soup Anderson's and stopped. But they had a fire earlier that morning and were closed for business.

It was back on the highway. Or was it? There was a truck stop (Mid Cal Truck Stop I think it was called) across the way. The owner suggested we try it. We wished we hadn't.

As soon as I walked in I felt as though I'd been transported back 20 years. One tall cowboy walked through in a cowboy hat, jeans, boots, and a cowboy shirt with pointed yolk and pocket flaps with pearly white snaps. Fat folks sat around desperate tables and faded chairs munching deep fried chicken breasts and thighs. Folks looked like they took way too may trips to the all-you-can-eat buffet. They just as well could hang an IV bag of fat and attach that to their veins.

But the eggs weren't bad. (What can you do to eggs?) And so after we ate we left.

When we reached the outside we breathed a sigh of relief but were only accosted by a 250 pound guy with half his backside hanging over his bench chair. He was actually sitting on his belt loops. Dude, tuck it in. He won't survive long. I can almost hear the ambulance coming for him.

...dave
I tried exercise to burn my fat but it didn't work. It smelled like bacon and just made me more hungry.

The Procedure

Everyone kept calling it a procedure. Why doesn't anyone call these things operations anymore? Is that unacceptable? Is that old fashioned? Maybe referring to it as "a procedure" makes it sound routine. Maybe they just follow a check-a-box sheet of a TODO list? It seems euphemistic. Isn't a procedure defined as "a surgical operation."

The doctor said: "It couldn't have been more successful."

I think success is a binary term. Either you are or you aren't. Either you're successful or you are well, in the vernacular, a looser. In my mind success is a light switch. It's ON or it's OFF.

"How did you do with that light switch? Were you successful?"

"No, I had a little problem. I was less successful than I wanted to be. It's almost on. I did better last time. I could have been more successful."

Huh?

At least he was "more successful." "Less successful" would have worried me. Of course, I was hoping for "wildly successful." Now that's a term I can understand. Wildly successful works for me. Wildly successful means of course you had fun getting to success. It gives the feel of wild abandon in reaching success. I was hoping he'd say: "The Procedure was wildly successful."

And so ends the worst of it all. Of course, the doctors and nurses never tell you everything that they'll need to do to you. You wouldn't submit to it if you knew all the details ahead of time.

And so we were up until 9:30 last night with dad. They were pulling out tubes and administering pain drugs in ICU. He had been under for about three and a half hours.

I remember my dental operation and the feeling I had coming out of the stupor. I simply thought I had nodded off for a few minutes after the "sleeping drug" had been administered. So when I cam to I asked if they had started. "Oh, you are done." It had been an hour and a half. You have no sense of time. You have no idea of the time of day.

Dad was slightly alarmed when I told him it was 6:30 p.m. His last recollection of time was 12:30 when he went in.

But the Procedure was wildly successful.

...dave
Many doctors pay their grocery bill with the money of folks who have eaten too much.

Doctor's Visit - The Preparation

Dad and mom went to see the doctor while I checked out the breakfast places in the neighborhood. The lobby attendant was a good source for recommending one. He was complaining about a restaurant sending him the wrong food. He said it was good stuff if they could just get the phone order right. He told me where it was located. And he owed me, he asked me to watch the lobby for him while he went out for a smoke break.

I found the place. Great deal. Just $3.95 for two eggs, two strips of bacon, and two pieces of toast. An American heart attack breakfast.

I thought the waitress might be Chinese but she stared blankly when I asked in Chinese if she spoke the language. "I'm Korean." she said. Rats, and I had about four or five new Chinese sentences to try out. I was depressed through the rest of the meal. I really should have known. I couldn't understand any of her earlier conversation with the other Asians. There was an older man who looked to be her father and another younger girl that might have been her sister. The girls spoke rapidly among themselves while the old man interrupted through his foreign newspaper.

Except for the old man, who evidently was in charge, they were all working hard. I was happy to support them. I'd eat there every day if I lived in the area.

I remember another Korean restaurant I'd go to every day for lunch. It was back when we were living in Hawaii. One day it was especially crowded but I managed to find a seat in the middle of the tiny place and pulled out my reading materials and highlighter. (I can't study without a yellow highlighter because I hit key words with it and then review the chapter by paging back through the lesson reading the highlighted words.) The place was noisy. It was a full house. They were mostly Koreas. It must have been a special day of some kind. Anyway, just as soon as I pulled out my book and highlighter the place grew quiet. Subconsciously I was relieved because I was concentrating on a specifically difficult paragraph and the sudden quiet helped me to focus. But then it seems as if no one was eating. It was that quiet. Like a library, the air was still. I felt somehow uncomfortable. I looked up only to find the entire place staring blankly at me. They looked at me like I was insane. I was the only person sitting at a table alone. I was the only person NOT talking to another person. I was the only person with a highlighter in my hand instead of chopsticks for my lunch had not arrived yet.

I hung out at the cafeteria and drank a cup of Starbucks waiting still some more. Where are the parents? It was after 11:00 and they were nowhere in sight. I called and SMS'd mom and finally got a call. They'd be a while.

I spent the time typing up Chinese material for our Saturday class. And I listened to a Latino family nearby to see if I recognized any words.

In the mean time I met Richard and Trudy who came down in support driving their new car. Cadillac DeVille, loaded. Wow nice machine!

After the doctor, we took a 25 cent bus trip to Macy's to get some food. That was my idea. The Cadillacs were parked in the garage. Why pull them out for a few blocks only to look for another garage. We each fished a quarter from our pockets and walked to the nearest bus stop. Mom saying to me from behind: "See how flexible we can be? We are leaving it all on your shoulders." Yeah, thanks.

No one wanted fast food so we ate at Cias, an Italian place across the street. All the tables were prepared for Valentine's Day. Crisp white linen table cloths and red roses were set at each table. The architecture inside reminded me of pictures I've seen of the Basilica, pillars towering thirty feet up, capped with filigree capitals. The arches supporting the domed ceiling. I was IN Italy. Unfortunately we could have flown to Italy, ate, and flown back for the prices we paid for our meals.

But here's the great part of hanging out with the dad and his older brother. We laugh a lot.

One of the vertical blinds came down in Richard's room. The light from the street streamed into his room He stood dejected in his PJs, stocking hat, and slippers near the window. The sock cap was especially comical. Why is he wearing a sock hat? It wasn't cold for crying out loud. We are in L.A. It was 65 outside. The vertical blind drooped sadly in his hand.

I don't know if it was tiredness, the beer, or truly Richard's face that made me loose it.

...dave
The colder the X-ray table, the more of your body is required to be on it.

First Day in L.A.

We’ve made it to L.A. The drive down Interstate 5 was uneventful. In fact, there is little to look at on this stretch of highway. There were a few Rest Stops and some McDonalds fast food places but nothing of substance to see. California’s Highway 5 is straighter than a rocket’s ascension to space. And setting the car to cruise at 70 MPH will get you from East Bay to L.A. in less than six hours.

The weather is fantastic here. It’s about 65 or so. I just checked today’s weather in Atlanta and it’s 5 degrees! Yeah, you read that right, 5 degrees. That’s crazy. May as well live in Alaska. I miss California’s weather. It's fantastic.

The drive into north L.A. was beautiful. The afternoon sun cast a golden glow on the west-facing hills. Their crevasses were deep, black and sharp which made a high contrast to the golden color of the dried grasses on the hillsides. It had just rained and the cumulous clouds shown violet blue as if lit by black light. These colors reflected in the wet pavement of our highway.

We unpacked the car and moved into our 12th floor “penthouse.” It’s a clean place but built in 1925, it shows. You can read a newspaper through the washcloth!

The ceiling in the lobby is copper and hammered into an intricate scalloped patterns.

We went to dinner. Found a Mexican place on the corner near the hotel. The waiter showed us to a red leather booth. We ordered beer, margaritas and food.

We were all talking about Richard joining us tomorrow and how important it was to call him and give him explicit directions. "He likes everything all lined up" mom says "otherwise he'll get nervous about driving into L.A." Yeah, really who wouldn't? It's a crazy place.

Then a discussion ensued around how important it is for the Terrys to have everything laid out, perfectly planned. Dad says: "I feel like I've lived two lives. I've planned well and as a result I've accomplished twice as much in my lifetime."

Interesting way to look at it.

When we were in China I was thinking how difficult it would be for most American travelers, including my parents. It was impossible to plan anything in real detail. The single most important surviving skill while traveling China is flexibility. Our experience with the fishing boat up the Li river was proof of that.

After dinner I sent my uncle step-by-step detailed mapquest directions on how to get here. I hope it'll give him peace of mind.

...dave
The problem with the gene pool is that there is no lifeguard.

California Trip

I left for California to visit the folks. I never get used to flying or should I say getting in and out of the plane. I guess the flying isn’t too bad as far as it goes. But discovering who your seat partner will be is like playing Russian Roulette. It’s either a non-event or it’s death.

Mine took far too much of my seat area. I put the swing arm down to mark her boundary. She was spilling over into my chair. As it was she kept touching my arm. She just didn’t fit in the seat. What’s worse was the ill-fitting tube top she wore. It revealed way too much skin that would be proper to reveal in public. Her pants were so tight the seams were only a flimsy damn about to bust, skin pouring from their sluices. And she talked to herself. She’d look over our seat backs and often mumble something unintelligible. What did she want? The bathroom? The flight attendant? What? She’d squirm and fuss until she got all tuckered out and fell asleep against the fuselage wall. I was glad she quit moving. I could finally focus on my book in peace. What makes people so oblivious of others? She’d even put her feet up on the back of the chair in front of her. The back would move and she’d fuss some more. What is wrong with this woman?

I was glad when we landed. But there were other worries.

I had forgotten about the very small Swiss Army Kinfe I carry at the end of my Thumb Drive. So I had to check a bag. It’s something I hate to do. I abide by the One Bag Code of Conduct. It’s the only way to go. I paid for it when I got to Baggage Claim. Since I was the first to arrive (over two hours early for my flight) my bag was the last one out. In fact, I’d thought they lost it. As the carousel dribbled the bags from the mouth of the conveyer, I hoped mine would arrive soon. Meanwhile my ride idled outside. It was actually the very last bag coughed from the cavernous opening. Before it arrived I was already calculating what I’d do in the morning without my clothes.

...dave
“Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.” -Mark Twain quotes

Hard Wear

One of the bad things about being a computer hack is the friends and family network. You may not understand this but I never get a break from figuring out why computer stuff breaks. I’ve stopped telling people what I do for a living. I’ve got my hands full with my immediate family.

Eric's computer can't turn on very well. Sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn't. Ruth's machine just stopped turning on altogether. And of course, they want me to figure it out. The really ugly part comes when I give them the bad news: "It ain't happening. Don't expect this computer will be resurrected. Few miracles happen these days."

They are all surprised that hardware fails, gets old, stops working, or crashes. I try to tell them to back up often. I try to tell them to update their virus programs. I try to tell them not to visit every website their friends send them. But they don't always listen.

Three months ago Eric came to me crestfallen. His machine wouldn't come up at all. He'd been having this problem for some time. I was able to get it back up. After the boot up was successful I suggested he Google the problem, determine the failing part, and replace it. But he’s a victim of the-dead-body-in-the-living-room syndrome. At first it's alarming. Then you kind of get used to it. And finally you just step over the corpse, look down and say: "Hummm, he doesn't look well this evening." People get used to working around issues. Once the computer was up and running he forgot about it’s booting issues. He never shuts it off so it shouldn’t be an issue, right?

So Eric’s machine is down. He can’t get it started. The corpse is on his desk, opened and exposed.

And then there is Ruth’s machine. It’s been dead since the move. Soon after our move of five months ago she bought a new one but it's still in the sealed box. She's afraid to set it up. Afraid something will go wrong. So there it sits. Funny thing is the label on the outside of the box says: “Must return within 15 days if any defects are found.” I think THAT date is past. But then, how would you know if there are defects if you haven’t opened it?

I think that people with errant computers should have intervention sessions. You know, that's when the family gathers around the member and his or her computer and says: "Your computer has a problem, and you need to get it fixed."

So now neither has a machine that can be used during the day. They've now asked me to leave my notebook home each day so that they can use the Internet while I'm at work. Some people are just not responsible computer users I guess.

Computer hardware is wearing hard on me. I just want to do software.

I think a traveling computer repairman could make some good money.

...dave
I used to work in a fire hydrant factory but you couldn't park anywhere near the place. -Steven Wright

Japanese Dinner

We had a great time over Yuki's and Maiko's visiting and eating. I liked their entertainment best. Yuki played the piano and Maiko sang opera. Wow. So much tallent.

...dave
Hide not your talents, they for use were made. What's a sundial in the shade? -Benjamin Franklin

Intrusive Appliances

I hate noisy appliances. I really hate them. They are so annoying.

I hate appliances that bleat and glow. I hate appliances that beep, and buzz, and bleep, and blink. Owning one of these things is like owning a spoiled only child. They incessantly vie for attention.

In the old days appliances just made some noise as a part of their operation. For example, dishwashers just made swishing sounds when they ran. Washing machines made slopping sounds when they washed. Dryers just made spinning noises. They couldn’t help themselves. It was just in their nature.

And alas, some appliances made NO noise, bless their hearts. Toasters, for example, just well, quietly toasted toast, except, of corse, when they were done, they’d pop the slices with a final quiet snappy burst. That made a little noise. But they couldn’t help themselves. That was just what they did.

It’s all different now. Today’s devices are created with micro-processors in them. They are created to act like spoiled children.

My toaster doesn’t quietly toast. It blinks while toasting. I guess I could ignore that. But I can’t ignore the high-pitched shrill piercing whistle when it’s finished scorching my bread. It’s about as pleasant as a pointed stick through my eardrum.

“Just make my toast and leave me alone! I don’t want to know the progress of the burn marks. I don’t need data on the completion stage of your process. When you’re done just pop my toast. I don’t need any more verification than that. I don’t want beeps. I don’t need blinking. Ejecting the slices is fine. My dad was fine with that, my grandfather was fine with that, I’m fine with that.”

I wish I knew how to shut the sound off, besides using a sledge hammer that is.

I have an electric toothbrush that blinks. Why?

“Why do you have to blink when I set you back into your rechargeable holder? My previous one didn’t. You’re nothing like my previous child. And why do you have to have a purple light? Why do you tormented me with your blinking purple recharging light? Why do you demand my constant attention? I have other appliances to attend to you know. I can’t give you exclusive focus. I don’t care if you ARE recharging! Just do it quietly, faithfully, and unobtrusively. I’ll get back to you when I need you again.”

These appliances are not just annoying. They are intrusive.

I’m making a new bumper sticker: Stamp Out Intrusive Appliances Now!

There ought to be a law.

...dave
Household electric appliances actually run on smoke. We know this because when the smoke escapes, they quit working.

New Sketching Brush

I’ve converted over to brush sketching, at least for a few months. It’s so discouraging. Russell Stutler got me started. His stuff is awesome. Wow! Inspiring in fact.

It was his article on the Pentel brush that got me to thinking about trying it myself.

Trouble is, my sketching ability has gone right down the drain. It ain’t pretty anymore. Before I'd tackle anything and felt fairly sure I could draw it. Ain’t so with the brush. It’s very hard to control even using Russell’s techniques. I need lots of practice. And then I’ll need some more practice. After that I should be able to practice again. Maybe by the time I’m 80 I’ll get it.

I’ll post as I go. Should be interesting to see improvement.
Check out Russell’s stuff. Fantastic.

...dave
I saw a sign: "Rest Area 25 Miles". That's pretty big. Some people must be really tired. -- Steven Wright

Cafeteria Open Time

I was standing around this morning waiting for the cafeteria to open. That's the second time this week. What's going on? I asked "Bubba" my chef: "Hey what's up with the cafeteria? Did someone change the time or something?"

"Yeah, the new guy decided to change it from 6:30 to 6:45."

I'm thinking 'What could possibly motivate someone to move it 15 minutes?' and 'Who is The New Guy?' so I asked.

"Our new CEO decided that 6:45 is a better time for the morning. The previous CEO thought that leaving the cafeteria open until 10:00 was too late so you'll remember it was changed to 8:30 a.m."

No I don't remember because I never go down to the cafeteria at 10:00 a.m. But then, who cares when people go down to eat breakfast or grab a cup of coffee? What's with all this control-freak CEO stuff anyway? You mean to tell me that the CEO is making the decision on something as mundane as the open time of the cafeteria? Ludicrous!

And he thinks that by closing the cafeteria at 8:30 a.m. he'll get lazy people to stay at their desks? He's mad. If we've got lazy people fire them! The more laws you make the less control you have. If the bosses of those lethargic souls can't control their own people, then they should be fired.

I'm dying to hear why the new CEO moved the open time from 6:30 to 6:45. That'll be my next question to Bubba when I come in tomorrow.

I thought CEOs focus on the P & L (Profit and Loss) and on the customer and the stock and stuff like that. I never imagined they determined the cafeteria open time. No wonder they have to work the weekends. They have to make all those important decisions.

...dave
Men are at war with each other because each man is at war with himself. -Francis Meehan