One is the loneliest number

Occasionally, at the end of a long day, especially when I have been trying to be all analytical and sciency like I was yesterday, my right brain will rebel against the repression, paint itself blue and attempt to take over my mind. At these times, my thoughts tend to puddle into a loose collection of images, semi-random associations and fragments of stories, some real and some imagined. Sometimes there is music.

When I left my lab last evening the sky was on the move. Low and heavy overcast slid eastward as a solid block, accompanied by occasional thunder. Random gusts and a few sprinkles warned those of us walking to or from our cars to quicken our pace or risk being deluged.

I walked past a three car gridlock, caused by one person attempting to turn around and two more pulling up right behind them. I overtook a young woman with multi-colored hair and a Yankee's jacket on her way to the bus stop. I felt the set of my Land's End raincoat, and the New England life it promised, as clearly as if it had spoken to me.

I was suddenly overwhelmed with the vastness of possibility. The ocean of lives I could have lived -- that we all could live -- filled my mind and rolled away like the clouds. A different decision on one day as a child, or a different flip of a coin could have sent any of us in radically different directions.  A Maine writer. A show business douchebag in L.A. A crocodile hunter down under. All were probably within my reach at some point.

It seems unfair how puny our lives are, when our imaginations can hold so much. How can it be that we only get to live one life, and that we don't even get to choose which one in advance? I'm not sure whether it's more frustrating that so much of our life is out of our control, or that it takes most of us so long to realize it, and to begin to enjoy what we've been given.

This caused me no end of anguish in earlier years, and on occasion I medicated heavily against the pain. Eventually I really came to understand and accept what my father meant when he used to say, "There's a long way between what we've got and what's fair." I chose years ago to focus what a treasure this single life is, and what a sweet one I drew.

I have got to spend more time out of the lab.

Maybe it's that global warming I've been hearing so much about

The weather here has been quite strange this fall. A former girlfriend called October "convertible month," but this year it rained practically every day. November has been surprisingly clear and mild so far, giving me an opportunity to get out for a little stargazing the last couple of nights.

So Sunday I finally got a chance to put the new camera on the big telescope and take a tour of the sky. We have a large number of big trees and a lot of light pollution, so there were only a few items of interest visible and I can't really do any long exposures, but I had a good time.

This is Almach, a double star that I discovered somewhat by accident when I was looking for stars to use to align my scope. You can see it these days rising in the eastern sky not long after sunset. You can resolve the two stars with a good pair of binoculars.



This is the wife's favorite picture of the moon, because of all the big craters that are visible out on the southern limb. The big crater in the middle is Tycho.



Last night it was clear again and there was a great full moon, so I brought out the little scope to get the whole thing in one shot. It's not as clear as the view from a mile high, but my Facebook friends seem to like it.



I tried to get some pictures of Jupiter before it went behind the giant trees in my yard, but I'm still trying to get the balance between keeping the Galilean moons visible and overexposing Jupiter.



I probably need to try eyepiece projection for planetary photography, which means I need to buy a tele-extender. Plus, I think I might need some filters. And maybe some new software. I guess I had better start with lottery tickets.

You know what would be cool?

This is a parable of home improvement and software development, and applies pretty much equally to both. If you're not a fan of either activity, or at least have never been on a project that spun wildly out of control until you felt sure you would die before it was finished, you might want to skip this one.

I grew up in a family of builders and construction people, and I have always enjoyed working with my hands. I have several small cuts and splinters right now to prove it. Most of my adult work life has revolved in one way or another around building software, and I've got scars from that, too. I've said for years that "you know what would be cool?" are the six most dangerous words that can be uttered when creating software. I have also said that I should take my own advice about eleventy-million times, but that doesn't seem to have any effect, either.

About six or seven months after Hurricane Gustav* reminded me why we refer to nature as a mother, we had completed repairs on everything except our yard, which I don't even want to talk about, and my little storage shed. For a number of reasons, I had decided to keep the new shed much simpler than the last one. It was going to be easy, cheap and take almost no time. I had the floor and foundation from the old shed. Six foot walls and a two foot roof height would let me do it all with a minimum of materials and cutting. Two productive weekends should have it ready to paint.

Just one thing -- it would be nice to have a little overhang because of how damp it is down here. Of course, the easiest way to do that would be to knock together a few simple roof trusses, which means the inside height will be restricted a little by the cross members. And while I could live with six foot clearance inside, I'm a little taller than that and get really tired of hitting my head. And you know that two foot roof pitch looks a little shallow for that height of wall, so let's make it 30 degrees and add another half a foot. It will be easier to cut that way. I can build a little gable vent to cover the space above the eight foot paneling. Oh, and I will need to notch the side paneling for the rafters. And I guess I need lookouts, so I will need to notch all the panels. Anyway, I think you see where this is going.

By initially changing one little thing from the simple, functional -- if not cool-- design that I started with, I have created a cascade of add-ons and extra work. All of the extra cutting, as well as the unknowns that come with designing on the fly, have caused me to do quite a bit more trim work than I had planned on. Oh, and the extra complexity cost me another piece of siding because of the unfamiliar territory of notching for the rafters.

So now we're two days from the first anniversary of the storm that started all of this, and I'm probably two work days from finishing the shed. Granted, it will be somewhat nicer than what I had originally planned, but it will mostly only look nicer, since the core construction is still what was planned when I was doing this on the cheap. And while I think we can all agree that it is better to look good than to feel good, I've always believed that being good trumps both.

So in addition to the building taking all sorts of extra time and costing nearly twice as much to build as planned, we have had to look at the pile of crap in the carport that would normally be in the shed for a year now. And the (much more enjoyable) project that I was working on when the storm hit has been delayed even longer.

If you've ever worked on a project that seemed like it would never end, and just got more and more complicated as time went on, or if you have ever waited for something to be delivered until you despaired of it ever being completed, the chances are very good that the same thing happened that has happened to my shed. One tiny thing makes a thousand other tiny things happen, and the finish line begins to get farther away instead of closer. So the next time you think of something that would make the thing you're working on cooler, keep it to yourself.
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* You bastard!

Summer on the Bayou

When I woke up this morning it was 78 degrees (F) with calm winds and 95% humidity. It has rained several times today -- street-flooding downpours that drop a half an inch or more in 10-20 minutes. When I walked outside just now it was 87 degrees and the air was so muggy I swear it takes extra effort just to walk through it. After the 100 degree sauna of the last few weeks my first thought was, "Wow, this is nice."

I have definitely lived here too long.