There are plenty of wind turbines that need cleaning!

from Jon Abad

Mike D: He didn’t really eat his treat. He just kinda let it fall out of his mouth into the bottom of the crate
Sarah T: Geeze Mike D. Give the dog a break. You try eating without opposable thumbs.

There’s a lot going on right now! Christmas was a blast, time with the family was awesome, the House of Rock is being improved, Sarah T is here, and it’s almost 2010. I apologize for the lack of posts, but stay tuned as there’s so much to share. The big story of the moment, however, is that Tony and Paulette headed up for a ski week this week and were brave enough to leave their 35 pound dog at the House of Rock.

I have never owned a dog, nor have I ever babysat a dog. But I think it’s safe to say that The House of Rock is treating little Toby well. Today we had all sorts of walks and played fetch. He’s clearly a little nervous at the wealth of persons living at this establishment, but he’s taking it well. It’s been a lot of fun having a dog around. I look forward to the day when my schedule allows me to keep one permanently.

Merry Christmas Everybody!!

Occasional insomnia has a very odd effect on me. About once a month I find that my mind goes into overdrive as I try and fall asleep and the distance from mattress to dreams inflates from a typical 20 minutes to a mind-numbing 4+ hours. While the immediate result of these bouts with sleeplessness is Zombie D, the secondary result is a complicated fear of sleep.

After such a night of sleep struggles, I find that I start fearing the sleep process. I don’t want to have to deal with insomnia so I stay up to the point where sleep is all but guaranteed. Let’s call it planned insomnia. It’s 10pm, it’s bedtime, and I’m exhausted but i know I’ll have an easier time falling asleep if I wait until after midnight. On one hand, I’m improving my ‘falling asleep’ efficiency while also getting an extra 2+ hours of productive guitar practice or such. But, obviously I experience a far more debilitating and sustained exhaustion.

Has anyone dealt with this odd fear of sleep symptom? I’d be very interested in learning what techniques you used to conquer it. Do any of the psychology-smart readers have valuable input into why I have adopted this ridiculous avoidance strategy?

Patrick! This is for you.

My best score so far is level 6, 6435

This was mostly through luck though, because most of my other attempts have landed me in level 4.

Enjoy!

From Kurt.

An impressive TED talk discussing the removal of the computer from the box and putting it in our environment.

From Sarah T.

Genius tune, built from the sounds within a Jeep.

From Kev.

Perfectly cute gingerbread houses that sit atop a mug of cocoa.

From Viv.

Regarding the Rite of Spring

“As one writer has said, in two seconds the 20th century is going to begin”

Enjoy this and others here.

and the physics behind them.

She has a big interview today.

Good luck Viv!

As a blog writer, I have to take extra care whenever important websites (banking, e-mail, etc) invite me to contribute a security question to reset my password. I’ve written about all facets of my life on this site so first pets and street addresses are anything but secret from the public. If I’m not vigilant than some malefactor could reset one of my passwords without my knowledge and create mayhem galore.

For this reason when given the option to write in my own security question, I dig deeply into the obscure to find truly creative questions. Sometimes, this method fails me miserably.

I present to you exhibit 1.

I set my security question as: “What is your Secure Password?”

Seriously? Why would I do that?

So stupid.

The Alps are getting taller.

Awesome!

from Goss

Last year at this time, Jess in Ukraine intercepted a bunch of prints from their path to the trash after her Ukrainian school decided to get rid of them. She was kind enough to give me one as a gift during my visit. I chose the one below because of its awesome color and the amazing artistry in the chains and lighting.

I knew it was about the youth army, but could only speculate as to the true story behind the prints. UNTIL NOW. This morning I got an e-mail. Jess in Ukraine was talking to her language teacher and got the whole story behind her collection of salvaged prints!

Here we go:

Malchish Kibalchish was a little Soviet boy like any other. He worked at home with his family. He took joy in his play and worked steadfast through his chores. One day a man on a white horse came into town. He announced that he was forming a people’s army to help defeat the German Army. Malchish Kibalchish watched as the town gathered together its fathers, uncles, and elder brothers and sent them off with the man on the white horse.

The seasons wore on and the day came when the man on the white horse returned to Malchish’s village. The man was visibly tired and worn but held his head high. His horse’s tired gait betrayed the struggles on the front line.

His torn clothes hanging wearily from his shoulders, the man announced that they were doing well but needed more support. He asked for the help of the able elder men of the town. Malchish watched as the man on the white horse led his village’s able grandfathers and seniors off to war.

With much of his family off at war, Malchish Kibalchish had taken on a greater role at the household. His hopes of seeing his family’s quick return faded when he saw the man return one more time to his village. Now without a horse, the man struggled to walk forward. He brought news of near victory, but pleaded for more help.

Malchish Kibalchish stepped up proudly “Come on young boys. We have been helping everyone at home the whole time our fathers, uncles and grandfathers went off to fight and now it is our time.”

Malchish and the young privateers headed off with the man and began their fight on the lines. The Fascists were falling under the renewed spirit of the Soviet army.

This is where his arch enemy comes in. Jess remembered his name as Malchish Spalchish. He was a fat and spoiled son of a fascist. The fascists tell Spalchish that they will give him barrels of candy and soda if he will tell them where Kibalchish has his headquarters.

Spalchish accepts his role as traitor and readily tells them. The Fascists find and capture Kibalchish. They chain him up and torture him, demanding the secrets of the Red Army. Malchish remains stoic in his refusal to speak.

The Germans kill him.

There is a monument and a ship named after Malchish Kibalchish. All of the Young Pioneers go to his monument when they are officially sworn in to salute Malchish Kibalchish, the most loyal and bravest Young Pioneer.

Wow!

I’ll try and get photos of some of the other prints that Jess got her hands on so that we can see more pictures from the story. Special thanks to Jess for the new information!

If anyone wants to buy me a Christmas present, I think some Sugru would be fun.

The Opie & Anthony show brings a homeless person into their radio studio every year and then brings them shopping.

This year, homeless man Mustard mentioned that he used to be a musician. They handed him a guitar and he performed this raspy version of Radiohead’s creep.

Enjoy.

There’s a fair correlation between musical success and mental eccentricity. Axl Rose, Nick Drake, and Fiona Apple are classic anguished musicians, but there are other examples of persons less tortured who simply seem to see things that the rest of us don’t. Tom Waits, Jack White, Leonard Cohen, the list goes on.

I think all of us would expect that a visit to any musical higher education establishment would reveal a wide assortment of genius and vibrant mental individuality.

This weekend, after extended guitar practice, I had an idea. Perhaps it isn’t necessarily a uniquely wired brain that triggers musical majesty, but instead the study of music that gives rise to mental peculiarities.

Music practice is an odd bird. The thousands upon thousands of hours of excessive repetition, competition, self-criticism, and solidarity associated with a day of practice might tip the scales away from psychological normalcy. Or, at a minimum, generate an odd atmosphere for child development.

I’m not saying this situation is unhealthy, just distinctive. I would love to hear comments from the professional musicians amongst us. Alicia? Sarah T? what do you think?

Do you feel that your music practice changed your personalities? Or perhaps your unique personalities made you successful within the arts?

Check out the street names! Cool!
(googlemaps link)

Submitted by Sander

I heard a short clip on the radio suggesting that publishers might delay the release of electronic copies of their books. It’ll be like the video release of movies, coming months after the original release.

I find the battle between paper and screen completely fascinating.

On Wednesday, Cape Cod’s tide was particularly high. At one particular beach not far from Ryan Schenk’s workplace, the water advanced so far up the beach that the waves crashed against the tidal wall. As the waves drew back from the wall they would expose a small swath of sand, only to wash over it again after a fleeting moment.

To the women amongst us, this may seem like nothing unusual. To the men? It’s a challenge.

Ryan Schenk recognized the challenge and responded. He tossed a log onto the short-lived beach and watched carefully again and again as the tide washed back and forth. The goal was simple: As the water pulled back, Ryan would leap heroically off the jetty, sprint 10 feet across the sand, scoop up the log in his hands, and vault over the sea wall – all before the persistent waves reclaimed the beach.

Ryan Schenk leaped.

It was a perfectly timed endeavor. His foot landed on the soft sand just as the water retreated from its hold. But Ryan miscalculated the softness of the sand and instead of fearlessly dashing across the receding dry ground and retrieving the prone log, Ryan promptly fell flat on his face. Just as his chest hit the ground, the steadfast wave returned in full regalia and ended the exercise.

Ryan Schenk as he’s falling. The wave on the left is advancing.

Mission failed.

Method 1: Theoretical
According to this site, “commercial butter is 80–82 percent milk fat, 16–17 percent water, and 1–2 percent milk solids other than fat.” We have a little salt in there too.

Presuming standard atmosphere conditions, the water will boil at 100C (212F). The fats and solids should raise that temperature a bit as boiling point elevation can be accomplished by adding compounds to a solvent. Wikipedia reports that milk solids brown around 150C. My first idea for a crude estimate would be to calculate the boiling point as a percentage of composition. ~80% milk fats and ~20% water = 132C. This however is probably not realistic. It’s more likely that the water will begin to boil first, then the milk fats will brown.

Temperature estimation for that butter in the pan: 115C – 120C

Method 2: Anecdotal
On Tuesday, I splashed some boiling butter on my face. I now have two blistering welts on my forehead.

Temperature estimation for that butter in the pan: freakin’ hot.

This morning as I drove to work on studded snow tires, I realized I never put together that new car post I was promising. So here it is. I’d like to formally introduce you to Rod Zapa.

Rod Zapa on a dark and dreary day

Rod Zapa is my ‘new’ red 1998 Mazda Protege stick shift. I purchased it from Margo, speed skater extraordinaire.

This is my first standard vehicle. It was awhile before I stopped loathing hill starts. Each hill became a delicate game of timing as I tried to crawl towards unforgiving red lights and speed through wavering greens. When I faltered in my timing, my passenger (most often carpool buddy Shaun L.) had to endure excessive revving as I tried to compensate for my shaky clutch work. I sometimes wonder if those cars who stood idly by my side at lights thought it odd I would taunt them with my car’s throaty roar only to piddle and sputter forward once the light changed.

The car has a number of amenities that are novel to me. Most obvious perhaps is the CD player (The future is now!) Rod Zapa also has a sunroof and a temperamental Air Conditioner system (better than my previous ornamental Air Conditioner). Granted, the car runs a little louder than the Nissan and lacks some of the luxurious faux wood paneling in its interior, but its performance has been consistent and I’m pleased with the new ride.

Thanks Margo for the great car!