It's Winter

You know I have issues with the whole idea of "growing up" when the highlight of my morning was walking across a snowy field. Specifically the part where I walked into the ditch (I knew it was there) that was completely invisible because the blowing snow had filled it in. It was halfway to my knees! (I LOVE the shock cords at the top of my boots).

In other news, it's not cold enough for the amount of clothing that's needed to be comfortable. I'm not going out with a bare face, or without my splash pants, so the weather needs to fix itself.

Disturbing

It scares me sometimes, just how much importance is placed on academics. If you get good marks, it's assumed that you'll do well in the workplace. Presumably the converse is also true. Given the number of people I know with learning disabilities, I have serious issues with this. (I have issues with it for other reasons, but I digress).

Breaking Strain

The Hymn of Breaking Strain

Rudyard Kipling, 1935

The careful text-books measure
(Let all who build beware!)
The load, the shock, the pressure
Material can bear.
So, when the buckled girder
Lets down the grinding span,
The blame of loss, or murder,
Is laid upon the man.
Not of the Stuff - the Man!

But, in our daily dealing
With stone and steel, we find
The Gods have no such feeling
Of justice toward mankind.
To no set guage they make us, -
For no laid course prepare -
And presently o'ertake us
With loads we cannot bear:
To merciless to bear.

The prudent text-books give it
In tables at the end -
The stress that shears a rivet
Or makes a tie-bar bend -
What traffic wrecks macadam -
What concrete should endure -
But we, poor Sons of Adam,
Have no such literaure,
To warn us or make sure!

We hold all Earth to plunder -
All Time and Space as well -
Too wonder-stale to wonder
At each new miracle;
Till in the mid-illusion
Of Godhead 'neath our hand,
Falls multiple confusion
On all we did or planned -
The mighty works we planned.

We only of Creation
(Oh, luckier bridge and rail!)
Abide the twin-damnation -
To fail and know we fail.
Yet we - by which sole token
We know we once were Gods -
Take shame in being broken
However great the odds -
The Burden or the Odds.

Oh, veiled and secret Power
Whose paths we seek in vain,
Be with us in our hour
Of overthrow and pain;
That we - by which sure token
We know Thy ways are true -
In spite of being broken,
Because of being broken,
May rise and build anew.
Stand up and build anew!

From http://www.cuug.ab.ca/~branderr/risk_essay/hymn_strain.html

Do Nut Sorters Dream of Mechanized Squirrels?

Ok, interesting question: why do we respond the way we do to bugs. I'm still not quite sure how much of me not squishing them is from the fact that it's a lot easier to trap them than clean up after them, and how much is from other aspects of being a city kid. Opinions?

Oh, and if you don't get the title, my ME 380 project (nut sorter) is the closest I've come to making a robot. If you still don't get it, you haven't read Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? recently enough.

Things I Learned Today

1) John in the shop wasn't trying to play pranks on the undergrad who didn't know how to work with metal by suggesting use of the punch

1a) The clearance between the handles of the punch once you finally apply enough force to go through the metal is less than the height of my thumb.


2) Using the density of water instead of the density of air with a height difference in a water-filled manometer makes your calculations much more accurate

Wish I'd had a Camera

Across from Kitchener City Hall is the Public Utilities Building.

Fortunately

There is nothing quite like realise that the last couple hundred stitches were done in knit when they should have been purl.

Tinking lace is not cool.

What The Rabbit Heard in the Test Equipment Room

"Ok, new theory. It wasn't working because you were the one holding it."

Mother Nature is Beating Me Up

So being quite dedicated to my bike (read: lazy) I decided to bike home today despite the heavy wind warnings from Environment Canada (I think the wind was down to a steady 50 km/h with gusts in the mid-sixties). I was ok leaving work, and then turned so I was biking across the wind. I work out where it's open enough that I get major cross-winds. When I hit the main highway I'd say I was a good 20 degrees off of vertical just to stay upright. I even managed to keep moving forwards when I turned into the wind. Things were going well.

Unfortunately (and you all knew that that was coming, even without the title), I had problems with the cross wind. I reached the part which is less industrial park and more just outskirts of town (or whatever the town equivalent of suburbs are) without too many problems. However, after the traffic light and the second time when I was almost blown into the curb, I decided that enough was enough. However, a victory apparently wasn't good enough for the weather. I signalled a stop and hopped onto the curb.

I actually hopped rather quickly onto the curb. You know, like when a fire truck comes by. Put one foot on the curb, pull the other leg up and over the bike then pull the bike after the outside leg. Notice that I skipped the "move the outside leg out of the way" step. It never really occured to me before that this was a step. However, I never brought the end of the handle of my bike up into my knee as it was coming down before.

Oh well, live and learn

Sorry, No Pictures

You'll understand why in a bit.

For those of you who like visuals: remember Sophie? The cute little dal-lab that I'm living with this term? The one whose neuron is probably in danger of dying of loneliness? Yes, that one.

See, one of the reasons that she isn't the brightest, despite having some lab, is that her mother died while giving birth. This may have resulted in some brain damage in Sophie. That's not certain, but what we do know is that it resulted in Sophie being bottle fed. (As an aside: the woman who raised her as a puppy lost only one from the litter of nine. Rather impressive.) One (very noticable) side effect of Sophie being bottle fed, is that she doesn't sprawl the way most dogs do. She is quite comfortable lying on her side, or with her legs crossing over each other. If you look you can see how she would have been held as a puppy in her relaxed postures now. She's also comfortable pressing up against people. Quite comfortable doing so. Perhaps more comfortable with it than the people (such as me) are.

I'd show you a picture of Sophie deciding that standing with her forelegs on my lap, hindquarters curled up on the couch, head pushing against mine, was a good way to get attention. Unfortunately, that would have required me being able to get up and get ahold of the camera.

Such Good Friends

This is Charlie:This is Sophie:
Cute li'l beggars, ain't they? Sorry about the picture quality by the way, they aren't very big on holding a good pose long enough for me to get a shot in. What they are big on, however, seems to be me. Seems that they've discovered that I'm a sucker for cute things. Unfortunately this coincides well with their enjoyment of attention. I say unfortunately because they seem to think that I'm fair game no matter what.

Charlie is quite skilled at being petted. Or rather at drawing pets out from people. He will walk up to anyone stationary and jab his head into a convenient protrusion (such as my chin while I'm doing push-ups) and then drag his body along. Sophie isn't quite as pushy. She's more a fan of coming and sticking her nose in my knitti- my lap. I'm not sure I want to find out what her plans where when she followed Charlie into my room while I was doing push-ups, but I'm beginning to regret setting a bad precident last night.

What did I do last night? Well Sophie apprently really doesn't like thunderstorms. Like the one last night. And I don't like her growling and whining. Like she does at thunderstorms. So I used logic - comfort is good. Unfortunately the reason I needed her to stop whining was that I was trying to sleep. So I opened my room door and told her to come in. It worked, she was happier curled up beside me taking up half the room on my mattress. That wasn't really a problem though, I'm in a queen-sized bed. At least, it wasn't a problem until Charlie decided to come join us.

I think that tonight I'm going to close my door. Just like I had to do this afternoon to be able to finish my push-ups.

Purpose

The old catechism asked "Why did God make me?" and answered with "God made me to know Him, to love Him, and to serve Him in this world and be happy with Him forever in the next."

What does this mean? It means that our purpose is to love God, as happens from knowing him, which brings the desire to serve God. And because love is not something that can flow in one direction, it means that our purpose is to be loved by God. And God's love does not end, nor is it stingy. God loves us warts and all, no matter what we do. God wants to be there for us, and for us to be there for Him.

And God? Thank you for sharing.

Well That Explains a Lot

This is why hypochondriacs like me should not be allowed online.

Donald Where's Your Trousers?

You know what's the best part of the weather getting warmer? I get to wear SKIRTS again. *happy dance*

So this is looking to be an interesting year at guides. (It also looks like it might be the last for the seventh Waterloo guides, but that's a different story entirely). We have a very small company, making it easier to manage, but one of the girls is developmentally challenged.

This isn't the first time I've worked with a girl who has a hard time with what we expect of her, who can't remember to wait for the other girls, who doesn't sit well, who needs some extra attention, and a bit of leeway in the rules. It is, however, the first time I've had to do so as a guider (rather than just a teenager helping out.) Before, I was always able to turn to the guiders for help, and just follow their lead. Currently I have the most experience of any of the guiders in the company. I'm just not used to that sort of authority.

Having been put in the hot seat as I was, I have now been able to look back at some other circumstances where the guider in charge, who I have been known to look to as an all-knowing source of what to do (the image is really well kept), was out of her depth. It's a really odd feeling to have childhood icons knocked down to human size like that. Rather scary as a matter of fact. Especially when it starts to happen to parents.

Like most people, I found it really difficult to have to realise that my mother was once just like me, and to see parallels between where I am now, and realise that she was there once. But I did survive that. What's scary now is to realise how much like me she still is. There's no magic potion, no fairy who granted her a wish to all of a sudden become "mom" and be exempt from the doubts that plague her children. She still struggles with the same problems that plagued her at my age, and she is still the same person.

And despite the difficulty I am having in equating us, I am glad that she has done such a good job of hiding that.