Since everything is now on the truck and on its way, and I’ll be spending the next three days doing a very gentle road-trip to my new home, I should have time to start catching up with the blog again. Assuming I can even move tomorrow, of course–Herculesing that GIANT storage bin (full of all the red wine and port, none of which can go on the truck, and all of which must therefore go in the car with me) up the stairs was probably not the smartest move, despite how manly and powerful it must have looked, and how efficient of a move it was. Still, surely a bottle of Ontario’s finest hard cider, followed by a bottle of Quebec’s finest stout, will solve all my internal muscular issues while I sleep.

Anyway, since today is also Thanksgiving for the Yanks, I’ll send out wishes for a good holiday to my American friends, and I’ll leave you with this picture:

That’s the centerpiece from our Thanksgiving dinner last month. It was assembled by Dr. Wife and my lovely daughter from things they found in the yard–so it’s also a little bittersweet, since I suspect the new house won’t have quite the same wilderness resources, being much more “in the city”. However, since I haven’t seen the new place yet… who knows?

However, there’s one area in which I seem to have kept my beginner’s mind: appreciating the sky. The sky here never lets me down–at least not on the days you can actually see it. Several times a week I am literally stopped in my tracks just looking at how ridiculously beautiful it is.

It’s not a “living outside the city” thing, as I’ve done that before. I suspect it might be a “living near the ocean” thing, but I don’t know for sure.

What I do know is that the clouds here don’t look like the clouds anywhere else–sometimes they look so perfect that my brain can’t parse them as real, and tries to convince me that the whole thing is a manufactured backdrop. Oh cognitive irony, that faced with raw beauty the only way my poor brain can interpret it is “it can’t be real, it’s too perfect”.

And the sunsets.

My God, the sunsets.

I was driving home the other night at sunset–I drive into the west to get home from the city–and realized that the entire sky was one ridiculous continuous rainbow, with the indigos and violets above me, fading into blues and then greens before me, and down into oranges, yellows, and reds by the horizon. There’s no way to adequately describe it; you just had to be there. I had to pull over to the side of the highway and just look at the sky for a while. Everyone else seemed to just take it for granted. (Maybe I am a little insane about this–certainly many people I know are tired of me going on about it–but if so, it’s a very pleasant kind of insane.)

And that was not a rare occurrence. This time of year it’s pretty common for me to be driving home into the sunset, and more often than not it just floors me. And it’s never the same show twice. In the parts of the year when sunset comes earlier, and I’m usually home for the show, it’s not unknown for me to sit at the dining room table, and just look out the large, west-facing, bay windows while the sun goes down behind the trees.

Tonight I stopped an took a couple of pictures, a few minutes apart, to try to illustrate the show. Do click through for the larger versions, to see something closer to what I saw–although these pictures really don’t do the real thing justice at all.

Here’s what I saw when I stopped in a little cul de sac beside the highway:

Walking over to look down the highway–towards my home–I could see this:

It’s like a symphony in purple and gold, isn’t it?

Then wait just a few minutes… until the moment when the sky absolutely catches fire, and then take more-or-less the same shots:

When the time comes for me to leave Nova Scotia, I’m going to miss a lot of things, and especially a lot of people… but I suspect the thing I’ll miss the most often is that feeling of being regularly knocked on my ass by the sheer beauty of the sky.

In some senses it’s ludicrous–I just had a professional mover estimate the size of my library, and he put it at somewhere north of 8 tons of books. I think if I had to I could get rid of perhaps 5 or 6 percent of the contents without feeling pain. So picking 15 books that I can’t see myself not having is a bit silly.

However, viewed from a different angle, if I had to pack up the library for a move, and it might be in storage for sometime, and I could only leave out 15 books, what 15 books would I want to keep near me during the “stored library” times?

So, with a little bit of thought, here’s my list:

Non-Fiction

The Conquest Of Happiness – Bertrand Russell

I could have listed a whole bunch of Russell here–not just the ones, like this, written for a general audience, but also some of the more technical or academic ones. However, this is probably the one I’ve reread the most over the years, so I’ll pick it. Actually, it might be time for a reread of it anyway…

The Unconscious Civilization – John Ralston Saul

Many of Saul’s books are candidates, but this is one that I’ve read a couple of times now, and I think I would be interested in going through again–perhaps on more of a “notes in the margin” basis, rather than the more “compelled to read through” way I’ve read it before.

The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire – Edward Gibbon

It’s been on the shelf for almost decade now, and I keep saying that I’m going to attack it someday. And I will, too. (Also, it being an eight volume monster would make it good pick for a period when I needed 15 choices to cover a lot of reading time.)

Fiction

The Travis McGee Books – John D. MacDonald

Yeah, I know that’s cheating, but I honestly can’t imagine being without them–or really all the other ones that don’t involve McGee. If I had to pick one, it would probably be either A Tan And Sandy Silence or Darker Than Amber.

Star Of Gypsies – Robert Silverberg

For reasons that I am still not sure I understand, this is probably the single book I have reread the most often in my life. There are other Silverberg books I think are better, but this is the one I keep rereading.

Dinner At Deviant’s Palace – Tim Powers

Kind of the same story here with Powers–there are lots of his books I would say are better books, but it’s this one that I’ve read the most often. I harbour a mild suspicion that this is possibly because this is the first of his books I ever read.

One of the Jeeves/Wooster books – P. G. Wodehouse

Because, of course, nobody else is Wodehouse, and you need some every now and then, and Bertie is the most concentrated form. I’d probably take The Code of the Woosters, but any of the novels would do in a pinch.

The Book Of The New Sun – Gene Wolfe

Yeah, this is kind of cheating too, but I’m sure a one volume omnibus has been published somewhere. A library with no Gene Wolfe in it is a library with a hole in its heart.

Flashman in the Great Game – George MacDonald Fraser

I also can’t imagine a library without Flash Harry in it. That’s really the whole series (with the possible exception of the last one). This one, though, is probably my favourite, and lead to me doing a lot of reading of things like Tournament Of Shadows, etc.

VALIS – Philip K. Dick

There a bunch of Dick books from his later period that are all related in my mind: this one, The Divine Invasion, The Transmigration of Timothy Archer, and Radio Free Albemuth, and I come back to them fairly regularly. Valis was the first Dick I read, and I was the exact right audience for it at the time.

Other

Codex Seraphinianus – Luigi Serafini

Now that I finally have a copy of this, I’m not going to let it go. Also, it is something with which one can spend an almost unlimited amount of time.

From Hell – Alan Moore & Eddie Campbell

Oh most intricate of comics. Not my favourite, but perhaps the one that might yield the most rewards for a number of close rereadings. And, you know, I can spend a lot of time just looking at Campbell’s pictures.

Zen Without Zen Masters – Cam Benares

A very slim selection for my 15, but worth as much as the others. Another one that I read for the first time at just the right age, and that rewards the occasional revisit.

Blood Sugar – Nicole Blackman

I believe I have already said what I need to say on this.

The Kasîdah of Hâjî Abdû El-Yezdî – Richard Burton

I have also explained this one at length previously.

Huh. That didn’t come out looking at all like I thought it would.

First there were the two weeks in a four week period that I was on the road for work–that’s more being away from home than I like.

Then there was the massive and literally stunning workload–I don’t want to go into detail about my job here, but the scope of my responsibility expanded by a factor of several hundred percent, literally, and that expansion came along with a large number of this must be done immediately items. This lead to a pretty steep curve for the first while, and I’m still working on that. I have hopes that this will eventually level out at a sustainable place, and within a reasonable time frame.

Those things probably account for my non-blogging for most of the month.¹

Those things and a couple of other minor annoyances.

Like this:

(Super-extra hi-res version)

Details about that, and another extended whinge (with pictures) follows.

That photo was taken on the side of the road, while I waited for AAA to arrive, during my drive home from the latest New England trip. I had decided to stay over until Saturday and drive home during the day (it’s a little more than 11 hours on the road, and I usually stay over unless I can get out by not much later than noon on Friday.)

Ironically, on the preceding trip, in the last week of March, I had been driving on tires that were pretty well worn out, finishing off a set of winter tires, and the car had developed a pretty serious balance issue–the car was fine between 0 and 90, and above 110, but between 90 and 110 shook like it was about to explode. When I got home I got the mechanical things dealt with, and also put on a brand new set of all seasons. On the March trip I had been quite worried about the car, and everything was fine. On this trip I was expecting no trouble, and especially not from the tires.

I was getting pretty pissed during my first hour of the drive home because it was already wicked hot early in the morning, and my A/C seemed to be dead.² I was driving along the 495N, and suddenly I totally lost control of the car, there was an incredible noise, and I was driving in a cloud of thick smoke. No warning, no apparent cause.³

I managed to get control back, and shudder to the side of the road.

And I saw what you see above in the photo.

I have a spare in the car, but it’s one of those little “donut” spares–the ones that can’t go over 90, and can’t be used for any significant distance. So I could put it on, but I don’t know the area of northern Mass. near the NH border, so I had no idea where I could go to get a tire and get it put on in a hurry on a Saturday.

I called AAA, had a hard time convincing them that they could accept CAA numbers, and eventually got to talk to a dispatcher. My plan had been to ask the local dispatcher for a recommendation of a place nearby to get a tire. The dispatcher couldn’t recommend anywhere, but said she could send out the truck, and the guy would know the area.

So I did that.

Then I waited 50 minutes for the truck to come (despite being told I was “a priority” since I was on the side of an interstate and would get someone within 15 minutes). The tire dude⁴ told me the name of the closest little town and to go into it and go to the “Tire Warehouse”.

I went into the town, followed his directions until I got to where the Tire Warehouse was supposed to be, and there was a roadhouse. Turns out the Tire Warehouse has been closed for nearly a decade.

The garage in town said they closed at noon, and wouldn’t be able to get a tire before Monday anyway.

So I went to police station.

As you do.

The town’s chief told me that no one in the area buys tires in MA, they all pop over the border to get them with no state tax in NH. He gave me a map with the “back way” to get to the town just over the border, along with almost SNL quality New England directions, to where Sullivan’s Tire would fix me up. And they did.

I lost about 3 hours to that. And the $100 for the new tire. Although I’m getting that back from the people here who installed it–the photo is pretty convincing that it was a tire defect.

I do think it’s pretty funny that the police told me to go to NH to beat the tax, and maybe funnier that the mechanic didn’t tell me.

Now the second major annoyance of the month: the flooring saga.

The short story is this: for years we’ve been living with some hideous white carpet that came with the house. Some of it we’ve already replaced, but earlier this year we contracted to have some of the hallways, and the den, done with some laminate flooring we like.

The laminate is nice, but the installer did a terrible job. Instead of my telling you about it, let me show you the content of the email I eventually sent to the salesman who sold us the flooring at set up the install:

It’s been seven weeks since the day that our flooring installation was supposed to be complete, and the work is still undone.

I’ve been waiting now for almost a month since the last time you called and told me that the final materials were in stock, and that things would be settled any moment, and I haven’t heard a word since that call. Additionally, despite several requests, you have failed to provide us with a receipt for the flooring and installation.

I have a number of other concerns with the installation, many of which I have mentioned to you before, and was trying to hold my commentary until the work was complete, but at this point I’m just going to lay it all out and give you one final chance to do something to convert me from the kind of customer who tells everyone he talks to about the nightmare experience he’s had into the kind of customer who at least doesn’t laugh bitterly when reading that the mission statement is “{STORE} want to meet or exceed customers’ expectations of them”.

First, let me remind you of the timelines—we had one of your estimators out to measure the house, and you told us that the job could be completed on February 9th. We spent the preceding weekend moving furniture and removing the old carpet. Your installer showed up on that Monday, and had the following problems:

1. He didn’t have any of the transition molding
2. He had no solution for transition at the brick in the living room (although one assumes the estimator would have noted this on the form)
3. He only had one stair nosing, despite their being two areas where it was required. When this was pointed out to him, he said “I’ll do it later”.
4. He had no solution for the large area in the entrance hallway where one side of the flooring area butts against a wooden rail, again despite us having discussed this as a potential problem with the estimator.
5. He brought (and installed, apparently without thinking about it at all) primed white quarter-round. Since the flooring is a dark wood, and the walls/baseboard are also a finished wood, this looked ridiculous. Apparently that wasn’t worth mentioning, or commenting on.

We then had to deal with living with all the furniture rearranged, and part of the floor (where the second nosing section was required) unfinished while transition molding was ordered, and we were waiting for the delivery of the “do it yourself” quarter-round.

When the installer did eventually return, he did not have enough transition molding to complete the job. At this point, seven weeks later, this is still undone.

He did cut some unfinished quarter-round, which my wife and I stained, finished, and installed. While I was not thrilled about this—I would have expected that selling flooring would mean having access to trim that complemented the flooring—it seemed like the quickest way to get the job done, and allow me to regain the use of several rooms in my house. Had I known that doing this would have been part of “my job” it certainly would have influenced my decision to purchase.

During both visits, it was manifestly obviously that the installer had no interest in doing a quality job, and just wanted to “get out” as fast as possible.

At this point, I want that last section of molding installed, and I want that receipt, but I also want to show you some pictures of the quality of work that was done, and ask you if this is the kind of work Wacky’s considers acceptable—if you stand behind this work.

Let’s start with the unfinished section:

Undone section

I repeat, I’ve had that hole in my floor for seven weeks now. And despite repeated communications, I suspect that if I didn’t write this email, it might stay like that for another 70 weeks.

Now, let’s move on to some more general quality of installation issues.

Let’s start in the entry hallway, where we have part of the flooring butting against the railing. Here we have and installation that was made with no professional installation plan—no attempt to route out a channel to slide the flooring under, or even a plan for a transition—just butted ends. Surely the estimator would have realized some work would be needed here? Surely this shouldn’t have been left to the installer’s whim?

I could probably have lived with the butted ends, if the ends were cut level, and actually butted against the rail. But they aren’t, and they don’t:

Rail 1

I showed this to a neighbor who has worked as a contractor and his comment was “Wow, that’s trailer park quality installation”.

Here’s a close-up:

Rail 2

Now, I’m hardly a handy guy, but I’m pretty sure that two of the most important things in this kind of work are being able to cut square, and having sharp tools. It’s obvious from this that neither of those things happened here. Look at the chipping on that board on the right! And, of course, not only do the ends not butt up with the rail, but they CAN’T—because they aren’t cut square, and because there are bits sticking out where the dull cutting tool failed to make a clean cut.

As I said, I wouldn’t expect there to be a gap at all in a professional installation, but I guess I could have lived with a small one (although notching out a grove to slide them under seems like a much more obvious solution)… this one, though, in addition to being not square is also pretty wide: I can fit a bunch of quarters in there.

Rail 4

What kind of professional does a job like that, looks at it, and says “Yes, I have done well here. I am satisfied with this work.”?

Now let’s move to another problem area: the areas in the den where coping was required. As you may recall there is a step into the den. Without getting into the issues of the step itself, let me just show you the job that was done cutting the flooring to fit:

Stairs To Den

I repeat—I’m not a handy guy; this is why I’m paying for a professional to do this installation, but come on: I can nearly fit a quarter, lying down, into that gap. And look at the “coped” edge—again, it sure looks like either the right tools weren’t used, or else they weren’t maintained in any condition that might be called “sharp”.

On the other side of the room, there’s the same problem with the hearth:

Brick

On this side, the installer did tell us that due to the irregular nature of the brick, we would need to caulk. I wonder why this A) wasn’t noted by the estimator, and B) why it wasn’t done as part of the installation. If I’m staining and installing my own trim, and I’m apparently also caulking myself, why am I paying for professional installation? I also wonder if it really wasn’t possible to get closer than the diameter of a quarter.

Now, let me show you where the nosing was installed at the end of the hallways, where there are stairs down to the basement:

Nosing

The nosing is there, but no trim or finish. Also, it looks like a hack saw was take to the former stair head. I guess this transition is another one of those things about this installation that is “my job”. And this photo is another illustration of what a {STORE} installer looks at and says “Yes, I have done well”.

A closer view:

More Nosing

A similar, but more severe issue exists where the nosing was installed (on the second visit) to the laundry room:

Yet More Nosing

I’m not even sure what he did here—but it clearly ripped a large section out of the baseboard below the nosing, and apparently he thought that was just fine. Is that the kind of work you expect your installers to do? Christ, that’s damage, not installation.

And incidentally, that particular piece of nosing is not actually secured to the floor. When you step on it, it tilts into the room.

Oh, and the flooring in the doorway that borders the nosing? It’s not flush with the wall either—you can actually see the subfloor through the gap. Here’s the top view:

Nosing Flush

And finally, just for extra bonus customer satisfaction, there are a couple of areas where there are significant gaps in the flooring between abutting planks. Here’s two different such cases:

Gap 1

Gap 2

I won’t discuss the place where the floor feels like a springboard, etc, since I can’t capture that with the camera.

So, having seen all that, are you comfortable telling me that this the experience {STORE} expects their customers to have? If not, what do you propose to do about it?

The email was much more effective than all the phone calls and messages that lead up to it. Within hours of sending it I was contacted by the regional manager of {STORE}, who nearly fell over himself apologizing. He came out to see the job, and then sent us out a new contractor to fix the installation. The new guy did an amazing job–if he had come out the first time, I would have been the world’s happiest customer–and we’re quite content now. If I get excited I’ll take a couple of photos of the proper job.

Let’s hope May has fewer of these things and more happy sanity.

1. Well, that and a bit of a contrariness when faced with the “blog every day in April” challenge.
2. Yeah, I kind of hate that car, but it’s not done yet–I know most people in my tax bracket don’t think this way but….
3. Although, interestingly, when I looked out at the side of the road beside where I was forced to pull over, I saw this.
4. One cool thing–he put on the spare, and the jack he used to lift the car was essentially a balloon–it was just a big inflatable pad.

And that really says all that needs to be said on the subject without risk of boring you with my job-talk, except perhaps to say that this week isn’t looking likely to be any better.. Bless the bus slogan generator for encouraging brevity in cliched posts.

Before I leave though, I can’t resist one more:

This morning brought two new examples.

The first was “proof”. I mean “proof” in the alcoholic sense, of course. I know, as everyone does, that the “proof” of a particular booze is a number that’s twice its alcohol percentage. What I realized today is that A) I have no idea why this is called “proof”, and B) I have no idea why it’s twice the alcohol level.

A little research turned up the very interesting explanation of why it’s called proof: apparently this comes from a British practice dating back to the 18th century, where liquor was checked to see if it was boozy enough by mixing a specified amount of the alcohol with a specified amount of the booze. If you could ignite the mixture, it was “proved” strong enough to use for the liquor ration, etc. If the mixture wouldn’t light, then there wasn’t enough alcohol in it. This, incidentally, is a lovely story with essential Man elements: booze, fire, rough measurements, and the potential for explosions.

The point that it would light at, it turns out, is 57.15% ABV. Since they called this “100 degrees proof”, it follows from a little math that 100% alcohol was 175 degrees proof.

What my research didn’t turn up, and which I’d love to know, is how we went from that to the modern North American 2:1 standard. In North America we don’t talk about something being “80 degrees proof” (not quite 46%ABV), but instead say “80 proof” (for 40%ABV). I can see the laws that establish this 2:1 relationship, but I can’t seem to dig up information on the point at which we switched from “degrees proof” to “proof”, and why it went from 175:100 to 2:1.

The other one that hit me today was “vicious circle”. I think, in my head, this was defined as “one of those things that keeps repeating, which there’s no way out of”, and when I ran into a technical work today that referred to a “non-vicious circle” I was stopped. The definition I was using internally didn’t really explain how a circle could be non-vicious–I mean every circle kept repeating over and over, right?

Turns out I was just wrong on that one, that a “vicious circle” is essentially what I, as an engineer, would call a “positive feedback loop”–that is, a series of events or operations that drives a loop in which each cycle reinforces itself. Actually, it’s a specific case of a positive feedback loop: one in which the thing that’s being reinforced is undesirable, or “bad”. There is also a “virtuous circle” in which the reinforcement leads to a desirable or or “good” result. So rather than “a cycle that is locked into repetition”, a vicious circle is more “a cycle that is locked into a repetition where each subsequent cycle follows the same pattern but is worse.”

Of course, any engineer will tell you that a positive feedback loop tends, and rapidly, to an unstable state. For a vicious circle, this kind of makes sense–the negative outcomes reinforce themselves until the cycle is interrupted, or else it will inevitably lead to its own collapse. For a virtuous circle this makes less sense–that the desirable outcomes keep reinforcing themselves until some kind of positive singularity, unless interrupted. Maybe that’s the Nerd Rapture again.

These facts brought to you by an interminable meeting about CMMI.

(I might be even more positive if this weren’t day three of Vacation Days That Are Ruined By The Annoying Head/Throat Cold, and were a blizzard not currently threatening my ability to leave the house tomorrow and my chances of having power until tomorrow night.)

Here’s to 2009: the clean slate, and the hope for better things for us all!

Things you’ve already done: bold.
Things you want to do: italicise.
Things you haven’t done and don’t want to—leave plain.

1. Started your own blog – you are reading it, running strong for more than a couple of years
2. Slept under the stars – in a Roman ruin outside Ouchy and on the lawn outside Village at UW, among others
3. Played in a band – Only if vocals count
4. Visited Hawaii – I think I like the idea, in a Magnum P.I. sense, but there are lots of places higher on the list
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity – only technically true, in the “have borrowed money to give to charity” sense
7. Been to Disneyland/world – Epcott as a kid, and Disney as part of a Sybase TechWave once
8. Climbed a mountain – Both in the Rockies and in Switzerland
9. Held a praying mantis – with my daughter!
10. Sang a solo – twice, most notably the Joe Cocker number I did in P.O.E.T.S. during my laryngitis attack
11. Bungee jumped – I am not a fan of falling
12. Visited Paris – almost 20 years ago now
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea – I did see a really wicked lightning storm from the patio at Moose Winooski’s once
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch – I wish I were artistic. Sigh.
15. Adopted a child – were Trish or I sterile, I think I would have totally pushed for this
16. Had food poisoning – and to this day, still haven’t forgiven my wife for how she treated me
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables – I have made some frightening tomatoes in my day
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train – Lots of times, mostly in Europe–I still want to actually do this on the Orient Express though, although that’s crazy expensive
21. Had a pillow fight – lots of times, although never with the Swedish Bikini team
22. Hitch hiked – this was the normal way to get to concerts in Toronto when I was a kid, and was also a big part of my trans-European travel in the 80s
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill – I am a believer in the “mental health day”.
24. Built a snow fort – I have engineered some monsters in my day. Most recently a fort with a massive snow throne
25. Held a lamb – this past summer, with my daughter, if not at any other point
26. Gone skinny dipping – in a quarry in Cochrane, before partying in a graveyard
27. Run a marathon – I have zero urge to do this; I’d love to be more fit, but marathons always seemed a but much
28. Ridden a gondola in Venice – I would actually like to see Murano, but I suspect that the end of the old school glassworks would sadden me
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset – I watch the sunset all the damn time here; Nova Scotia is amazing for sunsets
31. Hit a home run – I don’t really enjoy baseball, but on occasions when I’ve had to play my at bats have generally either been strike outs or homeruns; if I hit, I hit hard
32. Been on a cruise – I have no real interest in this
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person – lots and lots of times
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors – depending on how far back you go, my honeymoon may qualify
35. Seen an Amish community – do Mennonites count?
36. Taught yourself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person – also almost 20 years ago now
39. Gone rock climbing – even had formal lessons in it
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David in person – also almost 20 years ago now
41. Sung Karaoke – one time, at the Silver Star, a Johnny Cash tune
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal in a restaurant – there are a few of these, but the best story was the girl Ralph and I found crying and drunken on the street, who we took for a meal at the OEP, and then drove home to her angry policeman father
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance – I’d like to continue to have this unbolded as long as possible
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing – no interest
49. Seen the Sistine chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris – with two girls from L.A. and a mad Australian, all of whom I met in Lyons and travelled with for a while
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud – in 1984 I supervised the construction of gigantic mud pit into which people could jump while listening to Van Halen’s Jump–I was 11
54. Gone to a drive-in theater – I believe my first drive-in movie was Popeye, and the last was The Wedding Crasher’s (there is a drive-in operating in Nova Scotia)
55. Been in a movie – a documentary about Owain Glyndŵr, in which I was an unnamed Welsh casualty
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business – I was the co-owner of Excessa Technologies for most of my university years
58. Taken a martial arts class – I progressed through one belt in judo before getting bored
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen – only a couple of times, but something I should seriously consider doing more of now
61. Sold Girl Scout cookies
62. Gone whale watching – although oddly never here in NS
63. Gotten flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood – I used to do this regularly, but stopped since moving to NS
65. Gone sky diving – see above, re: dislike of falling
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp – I feel like this should not be a tourist destination
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar – I did not enjoy the experience
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guard in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book – no discipline or talent, but I love the idea
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car – I am still unconvinced that this is anything but a horrid waste of money
83. Walked in Jerusalem – next time I go to Israel for work
84. Had your picture in the newspaper – most recently with Sarah on the cover of the Herald’s local news section, when we were at the ‘picnic at the Citadel’ thing
85. Read the entire Bible – More than once, in different translations
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating – only fish
88. Had chickenpox – I still have one scar
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury – I’ve never even been called for jury selection; I have been paying taxes for over 20 years now
91. Met someone famous – lots of writers, some musicians, and a couple of actors
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby – well, not personally, but you know that’s down to biology
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swum in the Great Salt Lake – I did drive by it, but SLC freaked me out, so we didn’t stay any longer than absolutely necessary
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee

Even so, there are lots of times I find myself using a word or phrase in a way that I’ve heard it used before, often many times before, without actually understanding the background.

When I catch myself doing that, I have to go find out. It’s already happened twice this week, both times with “F words”.

The first was “foil”. Yeah, I know, we all know what foil is. That’s not the sense in which I mean it though. I mean it in the sense in which it’s used in this sentence: “More and more it becomes clear that Wilson is less a real character than a foil for House”.

I think I always imagined that this was a fencing term–that a “foil” in this sense was someone that a character could cross swords with, as ’twere, to illustrate the character’s prowess. The ultimate example then perhaps being “Inigo’s primary role is as a foil for Westley”, or something close.

I actually looked it up this week, and while I wasn’t far off in effect, I was in the origins. I especially like the one description of the verb form of “foil” as “enhance by contrast”, which makes the literary usage’s antecedents so clear.

The second was “festooned”. I found myself commenting on a particular home that was “festooned with Christmas lights” and realized that while I know what festooned means, and how to use it, I had no idea why it means what it does.

So it was back to the books, where I discovered that–big shock–that “festooned” is formed by extension from the noun “festoon“. Who’s ever heard of a festoon? Well, OK, fine, those guys over at Wikipedia have, but who else?

This kind of thing probably happens to me five times a week. (Of course, it’s much more common now that I typically have instant access to the sum total of human knowledge pretty much continuously throughout my day–the friction bump that you have to get past to actually look something up is so very small these days…) I wonder how many times an hour I use a word or phrase without really understanding it, and just fail to notice.

Life is hard: Wear A Helmet.

Or that I would go with a bunch of Australians to “The Outback” for dinner. This is possibly the most hilarious thing I’ve done in a while. Their reaction to the notion of “Alice Springs Chicken” was priceless.

On the other hand, this time last week I thought that being on the business trip meant that I would miss the chance to go to the most tacky possible event with Chris Butcher. That might possibly have been even more hilarious.

Your result for What Your Taste in Art Says About You Test…

Traditional, Vibrant, and Tasteful

19 Islamic, 16 Impressionist, 11 Ukiyo-e, -29 Cubist, -30 Abstract and 14 Renaissance!

Islamic art is developed from many sources: Roman, Early Christian, and Byzantine styles were taken over in early Islamic architecture; the architecture and decorative art of pre-Islamic Persia was of paramount significance; Central Asian styles were brought in with various nomadic incursions; and Chinese influences . Islamic art uses many geometical floral or vegetable designs in a repetitive pattern known as arabesque. It is used to symbolize the transcendent, indivisible and infinite nature of Allah.

People that like Islamic art tend to be more traditional people that appreciate keeping patterns that they learned and experienced from their past. It is not to say that they are not innovative personalities, they just do not like to let go of their roots. They like to put new ideas into details and make certain that they will work before sharing them with others. Failure is not something they like to think about because they are more interested in being successful and appreciated for their intelligence. These people can also be or like elaborate things in their life as long as they are tasteful. They tend to prefer geometric patterns and vibrant colors.

Take What Your Taste in Art Says About You Test

I wonder if that lines up with the art I’ve got hanging around the house?

While there I also did the Eight Types of Intelligence Test to find the somewhat surprising result that:

Your result for Howard Gardner’s Eight Types of Intelligence Test…

Linguistic

27% Logical, 29% Spatial, 45% Linguistic, 39% Intrapersonal, 27% Interpersonal, 8% Musical, 14% Bodily-Kinesthetic and 45% Naturalistic!

“Verbal-linguistic intelligence has to do with words, spoken or written. People with verbal-linguistic intelligence display a facility with words and languages. They are typically good at reading, writing, telling stories and memorizing words and dates. They tend to learn best by reading, taking notes, listening to lectures, and via discussion and debate. They are also frequently skilled at explaining, teaching and oration or persuasive speaking. Those with verbal-linguistic intelligence learn foreign languages very easily as they have high verbal memory and recall, and an ability to understand and manipulate syntax and structure.

Careers which suit those with this intelligence include writers, lawyers, philosophers, journalists, politicians and teachers.” (Wikipedia)

Take Howard Gardner’s Eight Types of Intelligence Test

The next few days are about focusing on my family. Back on Thursday evening.