And if you looked down the post you might have an idea what it was, but unless you look real close you won’t understand what it was.
The haircut is easy to see, but unless you spend lots of time with me or go back to the downloaded image and blow it up until you can count the pores on my nose, you won’t be able to tell what else I did. Or you could just get a clue from the title text. I’m not that mean.
The other thing I did you wouldn’t know about unless I told you that I walked about 2 miles total today between getting to and from the bus and walking from the barbershop to the post office to pick up a roll of stamps for Mrs. the Poet. The walk to and from the bus stop is 0.82 miles total, and I walked 1.58 miles from the barber shop to the post office and from the post office to the bus station. I did have a small problem with my feet swelling and my shoes pinching after I got home, but that happens even when I stay home.
And I’m still thinking about how to mount the steering box to the frame of the Sprint-T. I’m leaning towards a small piece of barstock from the left side extension from the front bulkhead to the bottom frame tube up to the bottom of the plate mount, and a small tube from the bottom tube on the right to the top of the mount on the left. But I also want to run a small tube from the middle tube on the right to the top of the steering box mount, making a triangulated structure that is pretty much guaranteed to not flex when the front wheels are suddenly moved to change direction. And I retain the right to run a tube from the left frame rail to the extension tube running from the front bulkhead to the frame rail. It’s hard to describe in words, but easy to show when I do it.
And my feet really hurt so I’m going to have a lie-down so they don’t get any worse. Y’all stay frosty and check your six for idiots.
I took an extended break from social media and my computer to try to do something about my mental state, and it turns out the only thing helping my mental state was connecting to people through social media and this blog.
OK a big part of my problems are related to lack of touch, and a lack of access to people who would touch me in ways that were beneficial for me, and that is something I can’t get from social media. But it is something I can get from massage. Which is another reason why the closing of massage places was so hard on me. At this point between social distancing and so many of my friends passing on for many reasons, finding someone willing to touch me for free is pretty much impossible. And given my current economic state finding money to pay people to touch me in ways that help me is another impossibility.
I guess if I stop buying things online I could save my money for my phone, meds, and massages. But seeing that stuff I buy online is allowing me to go outside (masks), and/or is contributing to the goal of building the Sprint-T by paying for components that will eventually go into either the full size or scale version (Mini Sprint-T), so obviously I need more money to be socially adjusted, and have more than a fat chance of finishing the Sprint-T. But if I get more money I also have obligations that suddenly appear as a consequence of having money. It’s like the universe conspires against my ever getting the car I have been dreaming about literally for a half century. The car has changed as the technology has changed and as my preferred form of competition has changed, but the only thing that has changed about my preferred form of competition has been classification and the existence of the Goodguys sanctioning organization strictly for vehicles like hot rods like the Sprint-T and traditional street rods. So I have more places to play with the toy I have been wanting for more than a half-century.
I saw a movie on TV in 1968, and knew I wanted something like that, not the turbine car, or the jet dragster, but the cheap hot rod from the start of the movie. As I grew up, I understood the engineering and physics behind the T-Bucket and Sprint cars, and their inherent economy of form. Basically the design ethos of the two cars is “does it make the car faster? is it necessary to make the car go?” and if there is not at least one “Yes” answer it doesn’t go on the car. Now before someone jumps on me about the full cage around the bucket body and asks are they required, the answer is they are “yes” to both questions. I drive faster when there are reduced dangers and I drive faster when I’m comfortable. The cage protects me and makes the suspension work better by transferring weight from one corner to another with no losses from twisting or bending, by making the entire chassis stiffer because the forces are reduced on individual frame members by the geometry of integrating the cage as a crossmember of the frame. Certain parts of the frame are going to be heavier than required from typical loads imposed because of rules requiring roll cage members be of a certain minimum thickness to prevent distortion from crash loads, but the change in weight is a few pounds out of a couple of hundred more or less for the full frame.
The brakes being as large as they are even though this adds a few pounds in a very bad place to add weight, brakes being both unsprung and rotating weight, the additional stopping power will let the car stop quicker, which will lead to lower lap times because less time and distance stopping mean more of the lap is under power. A bigger proportion of the lap under power means that part takes less time, and that means the whole lap takes less time. That means bigger brakes make the Sprint-T faster. That’s why I have the biggest brakes that will fit the parts I have already bought because those parts make the car I build a T-Bucket. And unless I build a T-Bucket, this build is stripped of much of its meaning.
And that looks like a really good place to stop, because I’m paying more attention to Michelle Obama on TV than I am to my writing.
There is a standing joke that the most difficult part of running an adult RPG group is getting everyone there at the same time a.k.a. scheduling. And we have one member of the group participating in a 3 day Magic the Gathering tournament who just happens to be the GM who’s running things… So no game today. Actually we would be playing this evening because one of the other members has a Sunday morning shift for some reason (he works for a bank?) and another member uses the morning and early afternoon to be with their Significant Other.
This is the game that my character is an AU version of myself, or as close as the game mechanics will let me, because some of the stuff I have done IRL would break the game mechanics. The specific instance I’m referring to is when I got hit with the truck. Now there is the possibility my character could survive that, but the player’s guide puts it outside human limits, not just by a little but a lot given the speed the truck was going when I was hit. I would have to be something with the Body stat of a Dragon but looked like a Human, and I’m not sure that exists in game. Or it could be that I have Natural Armor of some kind in the game. See my backstory page (link at top of this page).
Since we weren’t going to be playing I decided that maybe this would be a good day to go back to church since they don’t start until 1300, but when I got out of bed that idea was quickly vetoed by sharp pains in the bottoms of my feet, as I evidently Did Something my feet didn’t like. I have no idea what that might have been, but I have no doubts I Did It, because the evidence is there. It must have been something I did before I put my shoes on, which means it could have been almost anything. Or it could be just accumulated wear and tear coming back to bite me. See the previous paragraph for an example of “wear and tear” I have accumulated. And speaking of painful feet mine are getting cold and I need to lie down and get my feet under a blanket, so I think I should do that now.7
Yep, looks like *45 has placed our collective butts firmly in a Hell-bound handbasket. I don’t like posting politics to this blog, but this is pretty serious. Our *president has committed an act of war without formally declaring war, making us Japan in 1941. Only this time we lack the excuse of not having a typist to type the declaration of war to deliver to the president, like the Japanese ambassador in 1941. Our *president was perfectly capable of sending a Tweet to Iran telling them we are going to start shooting, but he didn’t even do that.
As I posted to twitter the only thing I’m thankful for is none of mine are eligible for the meatgrinder for reasons of age or already in a critical LEO position. The only one close to being in the grinder is my ex-Marine son-in-law, but he’s also the one in a critical LEO position. But still I’m worried about the people who are subject to the meatgrinder.
On other subjects Mrs. the Poet is still waffling about the date for her operation because, I dunno? She’s afraid the operation will leave her like her sister? There is a slight chance it won’t work and will leave her in worse shape than she is now, but TBH there is only one way she’s in worse shape and still alive, because she’s all but bedridden now. Also I’m getting tired of her complaining when there is a paid for option to mostly fix her problems, but it can’t fix everything and every delay means more permanent damage that will last after the recovery from the operation. Kinda like what happened to me except swap “Physical Therapy” for the operation. And “SOOL” for “paid for option”. But she has Medicare which means she has at least some access to getting things fixed. And her waffling about getting her problem fixed when I’ve been living with the pain for years just sets me off, especially when she complains several times a day about her symptoms that will go mostly or completely away after she gets her operation.
Anyway, “Agent Orange” bad, war with Iran bad, people getting killed unnecessarily bad, flushing billions of dollars down yet another Middle East War toilet bad, Mrs. the Poet not getting her back fixed, super bad from my perspective because I don’t know all those other people and I have to listen to Mrs. the Poet complain several times a day.
Because my son-in-law’s relatives are upset that we have monopolized the grandkid the last 6 Christmases we are doing our presents Saturday over pizza, so I don’t know what I’m getting yet. The cats are getting flea treatments because 1) they don’t know that Christmas is any different than any other day, and B) they really need flea treatments.
I take that back, I do know some of what I’m getting because Mrs. the Poet let me open my present last night… in bed.😍
We are having ham for dinner with our son and I guess I’ll get back with you Monday after family presents on Saturday and RPG party on Sunday. Once I know what I got for Christmas, I’ll blog what I got for Christmas.
OK little infodump here but I don’t have what is considered a “normal” circadian rhythm. For some of you this isn’t exactly earth-shattering news, but for some of you knowing I live in the US Central Time Zone is going to be a bit of a surprise if you track my posting schedule. Or lack of schedule because I publish whenever I finish composing a post, no matter what time of day it is. Basically what it looks like is my body is working on a 26 hour day, and if I just do my thing and work and sleep when I feel like it, I lose a day every month or so. But for a good part of my life I’m on Vampire Hours which means I get faster internet because not as many people are using it, and there’s nobody calling me on my phone.
But because I have to interact with the rest of the world on a regular basis, I lose that day more frequently so I can sorta get back in step with the rest of the world. For instance if there is an event coming up that would be during my sleep cycle I stay up as long as needed to get my sleep cycle sometime between midnight and 0800, usually meaning I’m up about 36 hours to get to sleep at midnight. That also means I’m usually going to bed about the same time as Mrs. the Poet gets up until I have to reset. That’s the really bad part about it, because Mrs. the Poet is still not used to Vampire Hours. But anyway, I do the model building and picture taking when the natural light is better, and the writing when the internet is faster. You get the idea.
And it’s about time to reset to “normal” time again, as I went to bed after 0600 the last 2 days, which really bothers Mrs. the Poet which makes her complain I spend “All day in bed!” when it’s the same amount of time asleep she spends in bed. I just don’t like to get out of a nice warm bed and let my feet get cold. So to counter that I have slippers, fuzzy on my Xmas list, right before the swat pants because I have discovered how comfy they are when the thermostat is set for economy over “running naked through the house comfort” in the winter. I think Mrs. the Poet would like “running naked through the house comfort” over low electricity bills except when she sees the electricity bill.
I forgot to mention I’m really starting to notice the effects my cataracts are having on my life, mostly at night. It takes what feels like forever for my night vision to kick in and it’s not as good as it used to be a
few years long time ago, when I could wear sunglasses and still navigate by the light of the full moon, or by starlight when I wore regular glasses. Now I have a hard time not tripping over things even with nightlights. I can see the lights and floor, but not things with low contrast on the floor. So I step on things and trip over things that don’t have good contrast with the carpet in the blueish light from the LED nightlights.
And basically that’s all I have to say this afternoon, complaining about getting old and not able to do the things I used to be able to do when I was younger.
Turns out when you don’t finish a gig with this company it takes more than a couple of e-mails to get untangled from the mess. I told them I would continue to honor the NDA because well I didn’t get enough information to actually disclose anything from the last one and everything I learned from the earlier ones is already public knowledge for anyone who buys their products that I worked on. But that’s not the problem, apparently there was supposed to be some kind of pre-payment made that I never knew about much less received. Everything I got was always after delivery of product. So anywho the company I was doing the gig for says I was supposed to get a pre-payment of half up front, that it seems the company I get gigs through never passed on, and now they want 50% of their pre-pay back as specified in their contract with the company setting up the gigs. Well since I never got the money and all communication went through the company who set up the gigs… you get the point.
To reiterate this last gig had so little usable data for me to work with that it was more a translation than a cleanup, only I can’t even read the language because I don’t have the fonts, even if I was literate in the language. So I’m kicking this back up to the company that sets up these gigs. I don’t know what the procedure for this situation is, but I do know this one Is Not My Fault.
Short post today. I can’t name the client, but I really wish they would at least tell me where I can download the font for their language, because I’m just really tired of getting documents from their translator that are literally nothing but boxes of Unicode codes that my box doesn’t understand. Seriously this is worse than trying to read the “good” parts of the Mueller Report that have pages upon pages of redaction. I mean I know I can’t read whatever language this is and except for things like “the, this, and, of, that, there, when, above” and “today” neither does their translation program. I’m seriously about this || far from telling them that the money isn’t worth the frustration. Seriously, I can’t work with this company unless they either assign me a bilingual assistant or pay for a better translation program.
At this point I don’t think there is any reasonable amount of money they can pay for me to finish this document, and I refuse to ask for unreasonable amounts of money because I know I don’t have enough information to finish it. The translation is just that bad, or the input is so full of trade names and esoteric BS that the translation program just upchucks a bunch of garbage instead of words. And I can’t tell which it is which is even more disturbing in a way. I’m actually beginning to wonder if this is some kind of psychological test I’m getting paid to take, to see how far I can be pushed before breaking, because TBH some of the other docs I did for this company read more like an acid trip than a user manual after I Romanjied their trade names into something pronounceable. Seriously, whatever language this is has more vowels than Welsh has consonant strings and I really don’t know how well I transliterated their product names. I’m not a linguist, I’m just a cleanup writer trying to make a usable user manual for a product I don’t know what it is or what it’s supposed to do to or for you. Or I could be translating a religious document for a cult, I can’t tell. If someone hands you a tract where the deities’ names are strings of voiced vowels with no consonants you might be reading one of my works.
OK through spouting off about my weird clients and their language that doesn’t translate.
Yes there are real superpowers in this world, yes I have one, and yes there are side effects that aren’t pretty. My “superpower” is extreme durability, the one we are coming up on the 18th anniversary of the event that led to my discovering it. Well, it comes with the side effect of making the person highly susceptible to stone formation, like kidney and gallstones. In my case I literally make rock inside my body as there were calcite crystals forming along the bone scar lines and on the implant that held my leg together, calcite being a mineral mostly made of calcium.
To prevent the formation of kidney stones I need to drink lots of fluids, more than the 8 glasses of water Oprah said to drink. Not a problem most of the time, except that I’m about to be 61 in a month, and I have a bladder of the same age. Or as I put it to Mrs. the Poet, “I stood up, now I have to pee.” I literally can’t get too far from a bathroom, because I have to urinate several times a day, or risk getting huge kidney stones. I pass a few during the year already but they are small and don’t notice unless they make a noise when they hit the side of the toilet. It might also be another aspect of my high pain threshold. I don’t know they are there so I don’t notice any pain. but I do notice having to use the bathroom several times a day and a couple times a night.
And that pretty much covers everything I need to say today except Harley-Davidson is going all the way back to their roots and building power-assist bicycles again, only this time with electric motors instead of gas ICE.