Back in February...

This image of R on the pommel is not new, but having a still of this image is. I recently pulled this still frame out of a video of R's competition.

Hubble: Hubble Finds Unidentified Object in Space, Scientists Puzzled

The article at Gizmodo says it best. I'll just quote:

"This is exactly why we send astronauts to risk their life to service Hubble: in a paper published last week in the Astrophysical Journal, scientists detail the discovery of a new unidentified object in the middle of nowhere. I don't know about you, but when a research paper conclusion says "We suggest that the transient may be one of a new class" I get a chill of oooh-aaahness down my spine. Especially when after a hundred days of observation, it disappeared from the sky with no explanation. "

Hubble: Hubble Finds Unidentified Object in Space, Scientists Puzzled

Harmonica Hero

So, with the piano getting daily action, and the guitar receiving periodic attention, it was only a matter of time before the harmonica started sneaking its way into the fabric of the family.

C found one of my harmonica books while she was preparing for the garage sale. I was excited because I now have the notes tablature for my harmonica and can transcribe songs into harmonica notation now!

 

 

I'm probably a long way from tackling this particular game:

 

 

But a few minutes each day - as a relaxation mechanism - sitting in the family 'musical corner' ought to do me some emotional good.

If...

"The Art of Manliness" included this Kipling poem in a recent post. I found the poem, which was new to me, to be thought provoking

 

“If”

By: Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream–and not make dreams your master,
If you can think–and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings–nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And–which is more–you’ll be a Man, my son!

The Complete History of Nintendo

For R -- game geek info!

Gameplayer - The Complete History of Nintendo

Like Sitting On A Block Of Ice With Your Hair On Fire

It's the old adage about 'averaging out' . Being average means nothing really, given that you could have your hair on fire and your butt on a block of ice...that'd average out to room temperature, wouldn't it? An ice chair and a flaming head may be zero-sum game, but they don't average out. 

To celebrate our upcoming tenth wedding anniversary, C and I had made plans to go to a well-regarded boutique hotel downtown. The idea would be to have a romantic evening away from the kids, even if it was just three miles down the road from our home. I floated the idea of a spa room, or one of the hotel's Starlight Rooms, where the ceiling is all glass and you can sleep under the stars above and over the street-life below. C thought it was great.

And then, she said something that made it even better.

You see, there's a young family that has been attending our Cancer Art Therapy class for about a year. He's young. 32 or so. Fighting off metastasized cancer that's settled in his lungs. It's Terminal. He's in hospice. His wife is maybe 28. By my guess, all three children are under ten years old.

C suggested that we make our night available to them instead. "We'll have lots of anniversaries; they won't." she said. I agreed. We called the couple. They said they'd like to, very much. They settled for Sunday, September 7. We made the reservation.

C put together a big basket of cool stuff to make them at home in the room. Snacks and lotions, cider and champagne, and stuff like that. She had two dozen roses to decorate the room. She'd arranged with the hotel to get early access on Sunday. We were all excited about giving someone else a nice experience.

In the meantime, M went to a special ballet class at the Oregon Ballet Theater practice facility this morning. It was, in fact, an audition. Perhaps, M would be able to join their (very prestigious) ballet school. There were about 20 or so auditionees at the class. During the class, the school director ran the parents through the program details, rules and such.

• Parents do NOT talk to the teachers. Ever.
• Inquiries go to the school director, who handles the communication with the teacher.
• Parents are not allowed to watch the class at any time.
• Student attendance is compulsory.
• Students are expected to get themselves ready - without assistance - for their class.
• Spaces are extremely limited.

C asked a number of questions to learn more about the school. I wasn't there, but C said she asked more questions than anyone. She learned that universities give scholarships for Ballet. We didn't know that.

At the end of the class, the children rejoined the parents. M was beaming. As soon as she got to C, she pulled C down and whispered in her ear, "I have a REALLY good feeling about this!"

The school Director, at this moment, made the general announcement that all the classes were full, and that they'd be calling students as spaces came available. In other words, everyone was dismissed. People started filing out through the door. As C and M were working toward the exit, the director discreetly asked them to step aside. In a corner, and at a whisper, the director said "M is exceptional. We'd like to offer her a place in the school."

We all consulted quickly via cell phone. We decided that M should have this chance if she wanted it. She did; so we registered her. And that was that.

Overall, today was a high-spirits day. M now dances at the OBT school. We're doing something cool for another family. We were all so excited it was like our hair was on fire. What could possibly go wrong?

The phone rang, that's what.

It was the young wife of the couple we made the hotel reservation for. She was calling to tell us that her husband had passed last night.

Our present was too late. He was already gone.

We were heartbroken. No, not because of anything to do with the hotel room. All because we feel so much sorrow for the family. Knowing this is coming does absolutely nothing to make it easier to bear.

We all cried at the news. They're all in our prayers.

Things got a bit somber after that. We were even a little edgy with each other for a while as we all processed the news. Even now, at the end of the night, there's an extra chill in the interpersonal interaction. Fear is that chill. Fear that this might happen to us, too. Fear is that block of ice we've parked our butts upon for today.

Cheerfulness and sadness; joy and disappointment; triumph and defeat. Our friend's death balanced against M's new, potentially life-changing, adventure. All zero-sum balances of emotional energy. Certainly not average.

The Death of YAHRSU

As you read The Eye Of The Storm, You may have noticed the deluge of comments from my thousands of dedicated readers asking why I haven't given any updates on the progress of the cottage remodel.

Okay, well... me 'neither. My readership is just not that comment-driven, I've learned. But I'm sure hundreds of you have all been silently checking in, dying to ask me about the cottage progress, right? Right?

No, probably not. In my heart, I know that. Really, I do.

Truth is, the dozens of readers I have are probably damned glad that I'm no longer constantly pinging their RSS aggregator with YAHRSU - Yet Another House Remodel Status Update. Privately, they're all celebrating but still fearful. Afraid to mention the lack of YAHRSU for fear that either 1) their comment will lack sufficient tact and hurt my feelings, or 2) worse yet, I'll miss the point and start posting YAHRSU once again under the guise of 'back by popular demand!' It's like that irritating dripping faucet that finally, inexplicably stops dripping. On the one hand, be glad; on the other hand, DON'T DARE touch it - it might start dripping again!

No, no. It's okay. I can see the difficulty of the situation. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if my entire readership (all seven of you!) have started a private blog somewhere in a remote corner, safe from my prying eyes, where you all laugh at my posts and blow off your frustration by complaining in safety.

Well, you know what? That's the story itself! There is no YAHRSU.

 

I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING TO THE HOUSE WORTHY OF A REPORT!

That's where we're at! We're effectively done. We're just enjoying the weather, getting the school year schedule in place, sleeping a little more, turning on the TV here and there, messing around with Mindstorms and piano, and putting off the remaining interior finish work until the winter rains chase us back inside.

 

DON'T EXPECT MANY HOUSE REPORTS IN THE FUTURE, EITHER!

Mainly because there won't be much to write about. I've posted a couple new views to the Before/After portfolion, and I'll post a few more, but that's about it.

Come see it at Christmas time, while the lights on Peacock Lane are blazing (Dec 15-31).

• Drop in.
• Say Hi.
• Sing a Carol with us.
• Bring your own musical instrument.
• Have a snack.
• BRING a snack, if you feel like it!
• Watch all the people.
• Marvel at the lack of paint on our hair, clothes and cuticles.
• Comment on how rested we look this year!

WHEW!

Like my readers, I'm rather glad I'm done. Except for one burning question...what will I blog about now?

I'm sure I'll find stuff....