Sunday, July 3, 2016

Paradise ponders...

Paradise ponders...  The puppies are growing like little furry weeds.  I haven't weighed them, but I think Mako (the boy, and biggest) is getting close to 30 pounds.  The two of them continue their roughhousing, but with sharper teeth and (much) more muscle behind it – whenever I get in the way, I come away with cuts and punctures :)  In the 90 second video at right, you can see them being puppies – but after they spent 10 minutes beating each other up.

Race (our adult border collie) is especially tolerant of the puppies.  There have been quite a few times when he had two puppies hanging off him (on his ears or lower jaw), and he just keeps playing.  Miki is getting a bit more tolerant of them, though he still does lots of growling and will nip at them when they're especially bad (say, when there's one hanging on each of his ears!).  Both of them are still doing great:


When I first took the dogs out this morning, it was still a half hour or so before sunrise. The high clouds overhead, though, were fully lit. This made for a pretty high-contrast scene that isn't quite faithfully captured by my camera.  Our eyes have an essentially logarithmic response to brightness, whereas the camera's image sensor is linear.  This makes it nearly impossible to photograph a scene with very high contrast and have it look like what your eye sees.  Someday someone is going to make a log response sensor, I just know it.  Photography will get ever so much easier when they do :)

The construction crew has knocked off for the long weekend.  Here's what our three construction projects look like right now:


The first photo shows the yawning pit outside our bedroom, where the sun room will go.  Notice the basement windows are fully exposed, and the old steel casements are gone.  Each of those windows will get a poured concrete casement, with an area 50% larger than they used to be (to let more light in).  Then a seven-sided foundation (7 sides of a regular dodecagon) will be poured, a conventional joist floor built, and the sun room installed on top. 

The middle photo shows the craters outside our kitchen window.  These are where the six footers for our deck will go.  These footers will be poured concrete, using the “BigFoot” forms at right.  A cardboard tube is inserted in the top of this form to make the complete footer.  We'll have larger ones at the outside (farthest from the house), as those footers will be supporting both the deck and the roof over it.  The deck will be redwood on top of treated joists, with 18" of crawl space underneath.  The area under the deck is where nearly all of the underground services enter our house (power, water, septic, cable, phone, and gas) and where services to the barn leave (water, gas, and network).  You have to be mighty careful digging in that area!

The last photo shows the area outside our front door, where we used to have a brick walkway and a large poured concrete porch.  Now there's just this giant hole :)  Here there will be a mud room, roughly 10' x 12', built on conventional footers and foundation.  It will have a porch that is semi-circular, seen from above, made from concrete faced with rock.  That porch will be fairly close to our driveway, so we'll need a much shorter walkway.  This will also be of rock.

Friday, July 1, 2016

Optical illusions...

Optical illusions...  The one at right is a real mind-bender.  But it was the second place winner in a recent contest!
Here's the first place winner, at left.

Awesome illusions, these are.  In both cases it makes absolutely no difference that I understand the mechanisms.  My brain is fooled anyway...

Kudos for above-and-beyond customer service...

Kudos for above-and-beyond customer service...  About 18 months ago, I purchased 30 sets of the garden hose quick-connect shown at right.  I converted all my hoses to use these, and I absolutely loved how easy it makes changing hoses, sprinklers, etc.  I always had trouble getting the connections watertight with standard hose connectors, plus it was extra difficult (especially to undo them!) if it was cold outside.  These things make it a snap, literally.

But there is one problem with them, and I'll call it a design flaw.  The problem is that the female half of the connector (on the right side in the photo above) has an O-ring inside it – and if you are stupid enough to turn on the water when there's no corresponding male half inserted in it, that O-ring is likely to blow right out.  Your chances of locating it in the grass is somewhere between slim and none.

So a couple weeks ago, I found the LR Nelson company's web site and wrote to their customer service department describing the problem, telling them that I had several connectors made useless by this, and asked them if they had replacement O-rings or (failing that) if they could tell me the dimensions of the O-ring.  They're readily available in just about any size under the sun, so even just knowing the dimensions would have made me happy.

I got no response by email, so I just wrote it off as another failed attempt to get customer service (a far too familiar occurrence), and I made a mental note to find another source for quick connects.  Then this afternoon I discovered a box on my doorstep, from the Fiskars company.  I think of Fiskars as a company that makes scissors and pruning tools, so when I saw the name on the label I was scratching my head trying to remember what the heck I had ordered like that.  Then I opened it up and discovered – complete replacement quick-connects for all 11 female connectors that I'd had a washer blow out on.  Instead of sending me some O-rings worth a dollar or so, or the dimensions which would cost them nothing at all, they sent me 11 new quick-connect sets worth about $80.  It turns out that Fiskars acquired Nelson in 2014, which is why the box came from them.  Well, Fiskars/Nelson has a surprised and happy customer here. 

That's definitely customer service above and beyond, and kudos to them for that!

High expectations...

High expectations...  Mom had very high expectations of her kids, both as children and continuing through their adulthood.  I suspect this is an extension of the equally high expectations she had for herself – she would berate herself often for laziness, sloth, or something she did that was less than brilliant.

When I was still living at home, mom would often say things like “That’s ok, but you can do better!”, or “That’s not good enough!  With your abilities, you should be better than that!”  Versions of this continued, for me, less and less frequently until about twenty years ago when they stopped altogether.

I've known for quite some time that my siblings and I all had very different reactions to this.  For me, these were motivational: I interpreted them as the combination of two things.  First, that my mom thought I could do darn nearly anything – and secondly, that the only thing stopping me from anything I wanted was my own laziness or self-doubt.

Through the time that I finished high school, my mom's exhortations served as a counter-balance to my uniformly awful experiences in school.  I've written about my school experiences before, but in short I was bored to the edge of madness, I was in class with people much older than me (and physically and psychologically), and my introversion kept me effectively terrorized the entire time I was in school except when I was hiding in the library or in science or math class (where I actually felt competent).  If it weren't for mom's hectoring, I think it's likely I would have given up on school altogether.

After I finished high school, mom didn't let up at all.  I was accepted to a university that my parents could ill afford.  They had to borrow against the farm to raise the money; back then someone like me could never have qualified for a student loan.  I went for one semester – only to discover that the environment there was even worse for me than high school had been.  My maturity level and mental state at that point was such that I'd be certain to fail at university.  I couldn't keep spending my parent's money for a school that I wasn't ready for, so I dropped out and came back home.  I had a series of odd jobs for a while, then joined the U.S. Navy to avoid being drafted (I had number 17 in the draft lottery, which meant I'd be going to Vietnam for certain).  During this period, mom was particularly hard on me.  The odd jobs – all admittedly awful, menial jobs far beneath my abilities – she was pushing me hard to find a way to learn skills that would challenge me.

For instance, I once had a job assembling the electronic coffee pots used on passenger airplanes.  This was all mechanical assembly; the circuit boards were all built somewhere else.  Most days when I came home from that job, mom would hector me – wanting to know if I'd spoken with the firm's one electrical engineer to see if I could get an internship or anything that would help build my skills.  If I said “no”, she was all over me in a very unpleasant way.  To my complete amazement, when I finally did work up the courage to speak to the engineer (a god-like creature in my view), he readily agreed to take me on as an intern for a couple hours after each work day.  That internship was a formative experience – but I never would have done that if it weren't for mom humiliating me for not doing it :)

So for me, mom's high expectations and all the badgering when I didn't measure up were most definitely motivational.  I was about 16 or 17 when I finally realized that there was some validity to her expectations – and her exhortations started to actually be motivating in a positive way.  This was especially true the first two years or so that I was in the U.S. Navy.  Though I was stationed in California, over 2,000 miles from her in New Jersey, with letters and phone calls she continued pushing me to learn more, do more, be more.  In that period I started studying, hard, on my own.  Much of the time I was studying things of particular interest to me: history, religion, math, science, electronics, and programming.  Sometimes, though, I was studying things she urged me to – especially writing, but also evolution (and I never did find out why she pushed me on that particular subject).

For some of my siblings, I've discovered, mom's high expectations were less effective as motivation.  Instead they more like impossible ideals that were frustrating in their unreachability.  I'm the oldest child, and my siblings are certain I was treated much differently because of that.  I'm less certain of that; in fact, in some ways I think the expectations (especially from my dad) were higher because of that.  It doesn't really matter, though.  We each live in our own version of reality, and we'll never really understand anyone else's.  For myself, though, I am thankful for my mom's high expectations of me...

Paradise ponders...

Paradise ponders...  Jim Johnson and his crew were here early this morning, loading up the first (and heaviest) of the two big chunks of our former front porch.  He guesses that this chunk weighs in at two to three tons.  It took several attempts to figure out how to get it onto his dump trailer.  First they tried lifting it with the backhoe, but it couldn't raise the block entirely off the ground.  Then they turned the tractor around to use the bucket, which just barely lifted the block off the ground.  Another 100 pounds and I'd bet they couldn't have done it.  The photos below show the whole process.  That chunk was so heavy that we were worried about the chains breaking; luckily they didn't.


Today the construction crew is hoping to get the concrete forms in place for the sun room foundation and new casements.  Those forms are going to be a bit tricky, as the sun room isn't a nice rectangle – instead it has seven sides all at 30° angles from each other.  I'm curious to see how they do that!

My office is a lovely, cool, 70°F right now, even though it's already warming up outside.  I can't hear the air conditioner working at all.  I love my new air conditioner!


Thursday, June 30, 2016

Paradise ponders...

Paradise ponders...  I'm writing this in my office, which is at a lovely 70°F, while right outside my office door it's 107°F.  This is because Ryan Osborne and his crew from Leading Edge came out today and installed my new split-system air conditioner.  It's a Pioneer model I chose for the combination of good reviews and quiet operation.  It works great, easily cooling my office to the desired temperature.  The photo at right shows the inside part of the split system; the other part is about twice this size and is hanging on the outside wall, out of sight.  I can scarcely believe how quiet it is, too – the inside unit is just barely audible if everything else in my office is silent, and the outside unit I can't hear at all.  Woo hoo!

Meanwhile, Jim Johnson and the crew from Cache Homes were busy doing the demolition work that is the first phase of our current construction project.  At right you can see one of them at work with a jackhammer, trying to reduce our former front porch to manageable chunks.  We all got surprised by what a solid job was done on that porch – about 5 yards of concrete poured as a single giant piece.  Someone wasn't scrimping on concrete :)

A little later, excavation work started for the foundation of our sun room.  Late yesterday afternoon, this same area started flooding with water after the loader drover over it.  We figured out that there was a 2" PVC line feeding an old (and defunct) irrigation system.  The loader's weight split the line.  Jim dug it out in an area beyond any excavation he was planning, and early this morning I capped it off.  This afternoon, the excavation began in earnest, as you can see at left.  The first bit of work is to clear around the basement casements, because the old steel casements are being replaced with larger concrete boxes.  One of these will be used to let our cats move between the sun room and their current home in our basement.



The Flag...

The Flag...  A few years ago, mom undertook one of her last big crafts projects: making a Revolutionary War flag from an old section of picket fence.  That flag is now installed on our shed, as you can see at right (click to embiggen).

At left is a reproduction of an authentic Revolutionary War flag.  You can see that she did a good job of duplicating it!

When I received the flag, it was in perfect condition.  My sister Holly and her husband Warren packed it into the POD full of my mom's stuff they shipped out here.  There were two eye hooks screwed into the back, near the top of it.  I'm guessing it was hung like a picture, on a wire from a single nail or screw.  I didn't dare do something as simple as that, as we frequently get fairly strong winds.  So I screwed two more eye hooks into the bottom, and then put four “L” hooks into the side of the shed, so that each would engage an eye hook.  That took some careful measuring!  It all worked on the first try, though – I just sat the flag's eye hooks down onto the “L” hooks, and now it's not going anywhere.

I'll remember mom every time I walk out to my shed now...

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Kindnesses and gifts...

Kindnesses and gifts...  My brother Scott tells this story:
One of the most unusual, in fact probably extremely rare styles of giving that Mom had was her special and surprising way of being very generous with her heart to complete strangers.

Extremely early in the morning or when the timing was right she would go all out creating a half dozen or more of these huge unbelievably gorgeous custom bouquets made of fresh cuttings of various extra pretty flowers, shrubs and trees found all around our 12 acre nursery ( which no longer exists ). Each bouquet would weigh a hefty 5 to 10 pounds each. Most of these plant materials were unusual and extremely hard to find. She'd keep them fresh longer by making sure that the base of the cuttings stayed moist. Each one of these bouquets could easily sell for $150 each today. Once she had these carefully packed in the trunk of her car she would go out to quite a few garage or yard sales. She'd usually search for low cost little treasures that would make nice presents for her friends, great tiny things that would help her with her crafting or perhaps an aqua colored glass object to add to her aqua colored glass collection.

During this shopping adventure and right before leaving a yard sale - if anyone gave her a real authentic smile, was very polite, helpful or any kind of positive behavior she would open up the trunk of her car and pull out one of these bouquets and give it to this nice person along with her healthy smile. I've personally witnessed seeing the look of shock on the faces of these lucky recipients, as well as hearing their responses and seeing tears of joy rolling down their cheeks. Some of them would ask something like "What did I do to deserve this?".  My Mom would answer: " Because of your beautiful smile and personality" or something just as wonderful.
I'm ashamed of myself for not having thought to write about this aspect of mom's character.  My only defense is that we saw this side of her so much that ... I tended to think it was normal.

I'll add to Scott's story by pointing out that many times her “gift” was just some simple and kind words.  There are so many times that I witnessed this that it's hard to pick out just one to relate – but remember, please, that this sort of thing happened very often with her.  On one of her visits to us in California, mom, dad, Debbie and I all went out to one of our favorite Thai restaurants, on Orange Avenue in Coronado.  The hostess and waiter was a woman perhaps 40 years old, Thai, who spoke English well, but with an attractive Thai accent.  She was very attentive to us during our meal, and helped mom and dad (then unfamiliar with Thai food) choose appropriate items from the menu.  During all of this, she maintained a calm, professional demeanor.  At the end of our meal, my mom told her, very directly, that her service to us had been spectacularly good, and that her voice was so attractive that my mom would like to listen to it all day long.  Our waitress' face lit up like she'd just won the lottery – she was transformed.  Ten minutes later, as we left the restaurant, she was talking with the owner and still beaming.

Mom often said something along the lines of “You never know if you’ll have another chance – so if someone deserves some praise, give it to them right now!”  She truly lived by that maxim; on some days she left a trail of cheer and smiles behind her everywhere she went.  I try to do the same, very much following her example, as do my siblings...

Construction has started!

Construction has started!  We've been waiting for this day for quite a while.  There are three new pieces of our house being tacked on this summer.  First, we're putting in a roofed deck with a built-in grill.  Second, a sun room, about 12' x 14', outside our bedroom.  This will be an aluminum-framed all-glass room on the east side of our house, with a clear shot of the southern sun.  Finally, there will be a mud room, about 12' x 10', on the front of our house. 

The first step is demolition of existing concrete slabs, removal of two steel casements, and excavation of the area underneath the sun room and mud room (preparatory to pouring foundations).  The demo work is mainly being done by Matt and his big ol' loader.  Matt seems to enjoy thumping concrete slabs to break them :)


Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Fish Thermidor...

Fish Thermidor...  This is the first in a series of posts I'm making to publish my mom's recipes.  The origin of the dish's name is interesting – it involves the French revolution!

Reading this recipe brought back some sweet, sweet memories for me.  I loved my mom's fish thermidor, and because she didn't make it very often, it was always a real treat when she did.  I haven't tried making this myself (in fact, until this afternoon I'd never even seen the recipe before), but it looks pretty straightforward.  It also looks like it would work with just about any kind of fish...
Elinor Dilatush's Fish Thermidor

12 small onions
1 lb. fish fillets
l/2c milk
1/2 c light cream
3 T soft butter
3 T flour
1/2 c grated Swiss cheese
1 t salt
pepper to taste
3 T lemon juice
paprika
soft bread crumbs
poultry seasoning

Peel onions and cook covered in 1/2 inch boiling salted water 25 minutes.  Drain and place in greased casserole. While onions are cooking sprinkle the fish with pepper and cut into serving size pieces. Because flounder today is much smaller than years ago and this is an old recipe - I changed way of preparing. Combine milk and cream and bring to gentle boil.  Blend soft butter and flour and stir a little of the hot milk into butter/flour mixture - then add mix into hot milk stir constantly until thickened.  Add cheese and some pepper to taste, cook until cheese melts, stir in lemon juice.  Place pieces of fish on top of onions - gently pour sauce over all.  Top with soft crumbs mixed with seasoning and sprinkle with paprika.  Put in 500°F preheated oven for 10 - 12 minutes.

Monday, June 27, 2016

Religious – but not moral – self-determination...

Religious – but not moral – self-determination...  When I was a child still living at home, I never had any clear understanding of what my parents' religious beliefs were.  In hindsight that seems rather remarkable – not the sort of thing that happens by accident.  In addition, I know something now that I didn't know as a child: our parents were determined not to indoctrinate us with any particular religious belief.  I know this from conversations I had (separately) with both my mom and my dad.

Growing up, I had the vague notion that mom had some sort of Christian faith.  This notion came more from inference than from anything she overtly professed.  For instance, she urged me at one point to attend Sunday school with my cousin (whose family was very religious).  Another time, she expressed some concern that we were growing up without exposure to the Bible.  We owned a Bible, with the family tree inscribed in it, but I never saw either mom or dad reading from it, and certainly they never read from it to us.  Other than those vague sorts of things, religion never really came up at home.  My dad was less ambiguous – he fairly frequently mocked religious people, most especially those who wore their religion on their sleeve, but didn't have the morality to match their talk.  I was pretty certain that dad didn't hold any religious beliefs (Christian or otherwise).

I remember eating dinner at my cousin's house when I was quite young, and being admonished to “wait for grace” when I started to dig into the plate set before me.  Saying grace before a meal was a new ritual for me.  Later I discovered that many of my friends' families had a similar habit – even though they never did so at lunch when we were in school.  Encountering this ritual was the first recollection I have of running into the actual practice of religion.

After that meal at my Uncle Donald's house, I asked mom why they said grace before the meal.  I can still remember her reaction to that: her face had various emotions playing over it, but what she said was “They’re giving thanks to God for the meal they are about to eat.” – the straightforward answer.  Naturally, my response was to ask why they would do such a thing, and what did God have to do with it?  I think mom was sorry she started down that path :)  But she tried hard to give me a direct and unbiased answer.  I don't remember her exact words any more, but I came away from that conversation with an understanding that many people believed there was a divine being, called God, who created the world and everything in it, and that it was incumbent upon them to worship and honor this God.  Furthermore, these people believed that their soul lived on after their bodies died, and where their soul lived (heaven or hell) depended on one's behavior and faith during life.

One thing I did not walk away with: any sense at all that my mom thought such beliefs were right or wrong.  When I asked, she said: “That’s something you’ll have to make up your own mind about.”

That, I know, is an unusual stance for any parent to take.  But that's exactly the stance they did take, and (much later) I discovered that it was very deliberate.  My dad was an atheist (though I didn't know this until the '90s!), and mom an agnostic (I didn't know that for certain until the '80s).  My dad was fairly certain in his own beliefs, my mom much less so.   Something they shared: a determination to not indoctrinate their kids with their own beliefs.  They wanted us to make up our own minds on the subject.  My dad expressed this most clearly to me in a talk we had on one of our many trips together.  He recollected how before they were even married, he and mom talked about their shared belief that kids should be free to explore their religious inclinations on their own, without having their parents' beliefs crammed down their little throats –  or even used to influence them.  I don't know how common such a parental stance is, but I don't know anyone else whose parents shared it.  Most parents seem to consider it a duty of theirs to inculcate their children in their own religious beliefs, and indeed many religions feature such inculcation as a fundamental parental responsibility.

But that stance was specific to religious beliefs, and most definitely not the case with regard to moral beliefs.  Both mom and dad had very well-formed moral senses, centered on honesty and charitable behavior (they subscribed enthusiastically to the Golden Rule).  We were not left to our own devices on a moral code – they spent a lot of time and effort molding us to share their version of morality.  I think they succeeded in this reasonably well.

I found out just yesterday that my brother Scott shares my own reaction to our parents' decision not to indoctrinate us on religion: we are both profoundly grateful to them for the gift of letting us decide for ourselves what we believed.  My own questions about religion (and the question of whether a god or gods existed at all) sent me on a quest that lasted some fifteen years.  My starting point was simple enough: I didn't understand why so many people believed in the existence of a god.  I think this derived from the simple fact that my parents never told me that gods existed – had they done so when I was very young, I'm pretty sure I'd have grown up believing that blindly.  My quest led me to extensive reading about dozens of religions, including all the “mainstream” religions.  I read a dozen or so English versions of the Bible (some quite different than others), the Koran (in English translation, of course), the Torah, and quite a few other texts relevant to other religions.  I went to several church services, including Protestant, Catholic, and Episcopal churches.  I've been in prayer meetings in a mosque, several synagogues, visited a Buddhist monastery, talked with a master at a Shinto temple, and much more.  Mom (especially) and dad encouraged me in these explorations, which I suspect is an uncommon thing.  More recently, having moved into an area where the vast majority of the population are members of the LDS church (Mormons), I've read the Book of Mormon and several other books about the LDS church, the better to understand my neighbors and new friends.  Had I been indoctrinated by my parents into their chosen religion (or absence of it), I doubt I would ever have undertaken this quest – most likely, I would simply have assumed that my parents were right (and that the parents of those who were members of other religions were wrong).  My life has been much richer for having made this investigation – not only did I finally make up my own mind, but I now have a reasonably well-informed appreciation of many religions, and of religiosity in general.

And I have that gift of self-determination from mom and dad to thank for it...

Sad duties...

Sad duties...  This morning I went through some of my mother's belongings, things that had been in her luggage when she traveled from Virginia to Utah about a month ago.  Mostly it's perfectly ordinary stuff that wouldn't mean much to anyone outside my immediate family – some cups, a little stuffed bear, her wallet and purse, a pillow, and so on.  But to any of her children, many of these ordinary items are suffused with a “mom” aura, as they are things we'd seen her use or appreciate many times.  One such item that got to me was a collection of plastic discs designed to hold hands of cards.  The only time I've ever seen or used such things was when I was playing cards with mom.

So I have a case of the sads this morning...

Puppy update...

Puppy update...  The little monsters (Mako and Cabo) are two very spoiled and happy little puppies.  They're growing quickly; Mako is approaching 30 pounds, and Cabo is around 25.  They play just as roughly as they did a few weeks ago, but now they're more dangerous – they have larger, sharper teeth, more mass, and a lot more muscle.  We've started just a teensy bit of training, for recall (that is, to get them to come to us when we call their name).  The little stinkers figured out very quickly that when we have treats on our person (which they can easily smell), all they have to do is run back and forth between us to get their tummies full of goodies.  I'm not sure we're actually training them for the right thing :)

I had them outside yesterday for a bit of a photo session.  As usual, you can click on any of the thumbnails to embiggen them.  First Mako:



Then Cabo:

Sunday, June 26, 2016

Never give up...

Never give up...

So sad...

So sad...  The graph at right (click to embiggen; source) jibes with my own experiences hiring people here in the U.S. vs. in Estonia and Russia.  I still remember my utter shock when I first evaluated potential employees in Estonia, back in '93 – their superior math and science knowledge, in particular, were simply stunning when compared with typical American candidates.

A few years ago, I sent the video at left to a friend of mine in Estonia.  His response?  He was positive it was a put-on, that those couldn't be real people randomly interviewed on the street.  No adult, he said, could really be that ignorant.

Oh, yes they could...