April 12th doesn't stand out to many people as an important day in history. At least, I never really thought about it, until this year.
Today is the 150th anniversary of the first shots of the US Civil War. My mom always called it "The War Between the States" or "The War of Northern Aggression" because "there was nothing civil about it." There is a lot of truth to that. More people in the US died during the Civil War than during any other war. In fact, the Civil War nearly accounts for half of all US deaths during war. The reason it was so costly, was we were fighting ourselves. Every death, friend or foe, was the death of an American.
There is a lot of discussion in the media today about how contentious times are today. While it's true the public is more polarized than at any time in recent history, it's not true that it's the most contentious. (Look up Sumner and Brooks if you don't believe me.) The line between sides is not as obvious or clearly geographic as it once was. There are red states and blue states, but if you really look at how votes break down, it is more a question of urban vs. rural. If you look at California, which is considered a blue state, you'll find that the cities have a super-majority of Democrats, but the entire rest of the state is Republican. In fact, in many states if you look at a voting map, you'll see a similar trend, blue in the cities and red everywhere else.
I'm getting a bit off track here. I mainly wanted to make the point that 150 years ago, this nation began to tear itself apart. From the ashes of that war, a stronger nation emerged. The strength of the United States is in our motto "E Pluribus Unum." So, I'd urge everyone to remember the lessons of history, and be civil to each other.
Of course, I would be remiss as an Aerospace Engineer, from failing to point out that 50 years ago today, the first man in orbit. While Yuri's flight was not the trigger for the space race (much as the shots at Fort Sumter were not the start of the Civil War), it is still an important date in history. It also marked the beginning of an amazing time in World history where science grew by leaps and bounds.
So, April 12th might not be a red letter day in history, but maybe it should.
12 April 2011
04 December 2010
Thanksgiving
Alright, Thanksgiving was a while ago, but I haven't gotten around to writing about it. At the last minute, well, a week before last minute, I decided to take my sister up on her offer to go down to Knoxville for Thanksgiving.
Melanie picked me up at the airport with her two daughters. Veronica was being rather standoffish as usual, but Heidi didn't seem to mind it when I carried her. On the drive back from the airport, I learned the Veronica loves "Veronica" by Elvis Costello. I'd hear from the backseat "Veronica song on" over and over until my sister would flip back to it. Also, while my niece might greet my "Hellos" with "No", she would take french fries from me. Speaking of food, I also learned my niece is just as fond of peanut-butter as I am.
Thanksgiving day we went to the home of some of Melanie's friends from church. Melanie and I had picked up a turkey and the plan was to fry it when we got there. Meanwhile, a second turkey was getting smoked. The frying turned out to be a non-starter. The first tank of propane emptied before the oil got hot. We got a second tank, and tried again, but the burner wasn't going full blast like it should. After half an hour or more, the oil was barely over 100 degrees. Eventually we gave up and decided to smoke the second turkey as well, but not until after we had the first one.
It ended up being a late lunch timewise, but delicious. I really enjoyed the smoked turkey, but was sad that I didn't get to try the fried turkey, since I've heard it's delicious.
While Thanksgiving was nice, what was really nice was getting my niece to like me, at least temporarily. I resorted to an electronic bribe. Melanie had told me that one of her friends had downloaded a song to play which amused Veronica. So I went to the App store and download a couple of games for Veronica to play on my phone.
The game is pretty simple, fitting for a two year old. Basically there are large rectangles covering a picture. The simple version, you just touch the square and it goes away. The next most advanced level has a little flower on one of the rectangles indicating that that one has to be pushed first. The third level has dots on the rectangles like dice, and the fourth level has actual numbers. The version with the dots was hit or miss with Veronica, so we mostly played the one with the flowers.
Once Veronica saw that I had a game on my phone she came right over. It took a bit of explaining but she figured it out pretty quickly. The funny thing was that after about five minutes of playing, she got tired of pushing the rectangles herself. So she would grab my finger and use my finger to press the button instead. All told it probably kept her amused for half an hour or so.
Later Veronica came over to me and put her hand in my pocket. "Phone Game" she said. So I pulled out my phone and let her play for a while. Then she'd get bored and wander away. This kept up for a while, with Veronica coming over and saying "Phone Game" and I would load it up for her.
Of course, right after she was done playing, she didn't like me much. But I figured out how to make it more fun for her, a second level bribe. Whenever she would push the correct square, the phone would make a faint click sound. So I started saying "Click" when she pushed it. She found this very amusing. She even started saying click as well.
There was also a faint buzzer sound when she would push the wrong rectangle, so I started saying "RNNNT" when she would push the wrong rectangle. She enjoyed the buzzing so much that she would intentionally press the wrong one just to hear me buzz. She would go through all of the show rectangles (except the one she was supposed to push). This would leave her with a fierce case of the giggles. Perhaps the first time I've heard her giggle.
Anyway, the e-bribe worked well enough that she would actually sit on my lap. When we were done playing the game, she even let me read her a couple of books. Although her idea of reading Winnie the Pooh was turning the page when I was only a paragraph or two through. Melanie was quite amused by the "madlibs" like resulting story.
Of course, the good-will I had garnered wore off over night. She wasn't as standoffish as she had been, but she wouldn't let me read her a book. It was also the day I was leaving, so I didn't have a chance to rebribe her sufficiently. At least now I know how to win the heart of a two year old.
Melanie picked me up at the airport with her two daughters. Veronica was being rather standoffish as usual, but Heidi didn't seem to mind it when I carried her. On the drive back from the airport, I learned the Veronica loves "Veronica" by Elvis Costello. I'd hear from the backseat "Veronica song on" over and over until my sister would flip back to it. Also, while my niece might greet my "Hellos" with "No", she would take french fries from me. Speaking of food, I also learned my niece is just as fond of peanut-butter as I am.
Thanksgiving day we went to the home of some of Melanie's friends from church. Melanie and I had picked up a turkey and the plan was to fry it when we got there. Meanwhile, a second turkey was getting smoked. The frying turned out to be a non-starter. The first tank of propane emptied before the oil got hot. We got a second tank, and tried again, but the burner wasn't going full blast like it should. After half an hour or more, the oil was barely over 100 degrees. Eventually we gave up and decided to smoke the second turkey as well, but not until after we had the first one.
It ended up being a late lunch timewise, but delicious. I really enjoyed the smoked turkey, but was sad that I didn't get to try the fried turkey, since I've heard it's delicious.
While Thanksgiving was nice, what was really nice was getting my niece to like me, at least temporarily. I resorted to an electronic bribe. Melanie had told me that one of her friends had downloaded a song to play which amused Veronica. So I went to the App store and download a couple of games for Veronica to play on my phone.
The game is pretty simple, fitting for a two year old. Basically there are large rectangles covering a picture. The simple version, you just touch the square and it goes away. The next most advanced level has a little flower on one of the rectangles indicating that that one has to be pushed first. The third level has dots on the rectangles like dice, and the fourth level has actual numbers. The version with the dots was hit or miss with Veronica, so we mostly played the one with the flowers.
Once Veronica saw that I had a game on my phone she came right over. It took a bit of explaining but she figured it out pretty quickly. The funny thing was that after about five minutes of playing, she got tired of pushing the rectangles herself. So she would grab my finger and use my finger to press the button instead. All told it probably kept her amused for half an hour or so.
Later Veronica came over to me and put her hand in my pocket. "Phone Game" she said. So I pulled out my phone and let her play for a while. Then she'd get bored and wander away. This kept up for a while, with Veronica coming over and saying "Phone Game" and I would load it up for her.
Of course, right after she was done playing, she didn't like me much. But I figured out how to make it more fun for her, a second level bribe. Whenever she would push the correct square, the phone would make a faint click sound. So I started saying "Click" when she pushed it. She found this very amusing. She even started saying click as well.
There was also a faint buzzer sound when she would push the wrong rectangle, so I started saying "RNNNT" when she would push the wrong rectangle. She enjoyed the buzzing so much that she would intentionally press the wrong one just to hear me buzz. She would go through all of the show rectangles (except the one she was supposed to push). This would leave her with a fierce case of the giggles. Perhaps the first time I've heard her giggle.
Anyway, the e-bribe worked well enough that she would actually sit on my lap. When we were done playing the game, she even let me read her a couple of books. Although her idea of reading Winnie the Pooh was turning the page when I was only a paragraph or two through. Melanie was quite amused by the "madlibs" like resulting story.
Of course, the good-will I had garnered wore off over night. She wasn't as standoffish as she had been, but she wouldn't let me read her a book. It was also the day I was leaving, so I didn't have a chance to rebribe her sufficiently. At least now I know how to win the heart of a two year old.
20 November 2010
Dented Car
Today I pulled a dent out of the hood of my car. I ordered a suction cup type dent puller online and it got in on Friday. So this morning I went out to my car, wiped the dent clean and then applied the suction cup. It took surprisingly little force before I heard the dent pop back out. The fix isn't perfect, there is some residual waviness, but it is not very noticeable, especially compared to the dent.
So how did the dent get into my hood? Well, that story is much longer and started last weekend. I was driving to the grocery store, planning to stop for breakfast on the way. I was stopped at a light when I saw three men off to my right. They were on the island between the straight lanes and the lane that turns right.
I'm not sure exactly what was going on, but the two white guys were taking the coat off of the black guy. The black guy wasn't putting up much of a fight, until the two other guys starting walking off. They were saying something back and forth, but I had no idea what. One of the white guys kept walking, and the other turned back. The two started fighting. Well, they never quite got around to actually landing any punches or kicks, but they went through the preliminaries.
The guy who was not participating in any of this, grabbed his buddy and starting pulling him away, across the street in front of me. There were still some words being exchanged, but it looked like the confrontation was over. Then the black guy started following them across the street. It was at this point that the light turned green.
Since they were directly in front of my car, I didn't proceed. Eventually they cleared the way, and I started forward. I'd gotten about three feet when the black guy turned around and started back across the street. I stopped well before I would have hit him, but that didn't stop him from turning his anger on me and kicking my car.
At this point, I decided it wouldn't be the best idea to get out of my car and confront this individual. First of all, I was in the middle of traffic, second of all, he was clearly in a contentious mood. Third, I didn't know what the other two guys would do. So once he cleared the way, I drove off.
I got to the diner where I was going to have breakfast and got out and checked my car. Sure enough there was a dent where the guy had kicked my car. I tried to decide what to do. Judging from the looks of the guy, I was guessing there was a good chance he was homeless. Even if I could find him, there chances of him having any money to fix the dent was small. I also tried to decide about an insurance claim, but figure that was a losing proposition, because it would be near or below the deductable.
I had a quick breakfast while I tried to figure it out. I decided to go back to see if any of the three were still around. I stopped at the gas station near the corner where this had all happened. I thought I had seen the guy before I pulled in. I got out of my car and looked back toward the intersection and the guy who kicked my car was walking towards me.
He asked very politely and humbly, "Excuse me sir, have you seen two guys walking by here." I said I had seen him kick my car. He seemed a bit surprised by this, although he did say he'd pay for it. I thought it highly unlikely but didn't know what to say. He said that the guys had taken his bag and his coat. I hadn't seen a bag on either of the two men, but I had seen them take his coat.
He kept going on about the coat, and when he realized I had seen what happened he got a bit frustrated, but when I reminded him about him kicking my car, he just sat on the ground. He said he was homeless (he'd mentioned something about Pine Street Manor which is the homeless shelter a few blocks from where all this had happened), and they'd gotten all his stuff. He also said he didn't do drugs, although the smell coming off of him belied that idea (although it could have been from being homeless and unbathed). I talked to him a bit more and decided to call the cops. The guy agreed about calling the cops.
I talked to the cops for a bit, describing what I had seen between the three men and then what the guy had done to my car. She asked me if I felt comfortable letting the guy talk about what happened. At this point the guy was super passive, so I handed over my phone. He held it backwards, and even after I turned it around for him he still was having a hard time. I ended up holding the phone for him while he described what happened.
His story was that he'd put his bag down somewhere and when he came back he saw three guys walking away with a bag that looked like his. He'd asked to look at the bag to see if it was, but said he'd done it really politely since he didn't want to start anything. Apparently they kept going with his bag and his $250 dollar coat (that his brother had given him out of love).
The guy eventually wound down and I spoke briefly to the dispatcher again, then the police cruiser showed up. The guy started talking to the police office while I waited. The officer sat rather stoically through the whole story. Eventually a second cruiser came up with two more police officers. I talked to them briefly and showed them the dent in my car.
There was now a third police cruiser on hand, and a fourth officer. The guy who kicked my car came over to where I was talking to the officers about the dent and what had happened. They asked him if he'd kicked my car. He said yes, and the cop immediately said, "Put your hands behind your back, you're under arrest." The guy wasn't surprised, or even seemingly upset.
One of the cops quipped, "That was easy." I was a bit upset about this. They didn't seem to care that the guy had his stuff stolen. They told me I could leave. I asked if they wanted a description of the other two guys. They said they'd gotten the description from the guy they'd just arrested. I said he couldn't remember how many guys there were. So reluctantly they let me start describing them.
I started the description and the cop said, "So they looked like junkies." I tried to say they looked like townies. I also said that the whole thing would have been caught on the traffic camera. But apparently for something like this, they wouldn't go through the hassle. They said that it was probably just two other guys from the methadone clinic. The guy who kicked my car, hadn't mentioned anything about his bag being stolen while he was in the methadone clinic.
I talked briefly to the first cop who had arrived at this point. Mentioned which way the guys had gone. I said I hadn't seen them with a bag, but I had seen the coat. I said it was a long black quilted coat with fur trim. He asked if it had a money symbol on it. I hadn't seen anything of the sort. The coat the guy had described to him, totally didn't match the one I had seen. So I wonder where he had gotten the coat. I also wonder whether the guys I had seen were two of the three guys that might (or might not) have stolen the guy's bag and the coat he described to the cops.
I feel bad for the guy. He has his stuff stolen, and in a moment of anger he takes it out on someone else (well, that someone else's car). As a result, he gets arrested. I don't know what's happened to him since, I haven't heard from the cops about the matter. I do know they don't feel sorry for him, since in their eyes he's just a junkie. Maybe someday he'll be more than that.
So how did the dent get into my hood? Well, that story is much longer and started last weekend. I was driving to the grocery store, planning to stop for breakfast on the way. I was stopped at a light when I saw three men off to my right. They were on the island between the straight lanes and the lane that turns right.
I'm not sure exactly what was going on, but the two white guys were taking the coat off of the black guy. The black guy wasn't putting up much of a fight, until the two other guys starting walking off. They were saying something back and forth, but I had no idea what. One of the white guys kept walking, and the other turned back. The two started fighting. Well, they never quite got around to actually landing any punches or kicks, but they went through the preliminaries.
The guy who was not participating in any of this, grabbed his buddy and starting pulling him away, across the street in front of me. There were still some words being exchanged, but it looked like the confrontation was over. Then the black guy started following them across the street. It was at this point that the light turned green.
Since they were directly in front of my car, I didn't proceed. Eventually they cleared the way, and I started forward. I'd gotten about three feet when the black guy turned around and started back across the street. I stopped well before I would have hit him, but that didn't stop him from turning his anger on me and kicking my car.
At this point, I decided it wouldn't be the best idea to get out of my car and confront this individual. First of all, I was in the middle of traffic, second of all, he was clearly in a contentious mood. Third, I didn't know what the other two guys would do. So once he cleared the way, I drove off.
I got to the diner where I was going to have breakfast and got out and checked my car. Sure enough there was a dent where the guy had kicked my car. I tried to decide what to do. Judging from the looks of the guy, I was guessing there was a good chance he was homeless. Even if I could find him, there chances of him having any money to fix the dent was small. I also tried to decide about an insurance claim, but figure that was a losing proposition, because it would be near or below the deductable.
I had a quick breakfast while I tried to figure it out. I decided to go back to see if any of the three were still around. I stopped at the gas station near the corner where this had all happened. I thought I had seen the guy before I pulled in. I got out of my car and looked back toward the intersection and the guy who kicked my car was walking towards me.
He asked very politely and humbly, "Excuse me sir, have you seen two guys walking by here." I said I had seen him kick my car. He seemed a bit surprised by this, although he did say he'd pay for it. I thought it highly unlikely but didn't know what to say. He said that the guys had taken his bag and his coat. I hadn't seen a bag on either of the two men, but I had seen them take his coat.
He kept going on about the coat, and when he realized I had seen what happened he got a bit frustrated, but when I reminded him about him kicking my car, he just sat on the ground. He said he was homeless (he'd mentioned something about Pine Street Manor which is the homeless shelter a few blocks from where all this had happened), and they'd gotten all his stuff. He also said he didn't do drugs, although the smell coming off of him belied that idea (although it could have been from being homeless and unbathed). I talked to him a bit more and decided to call the cops. The guy agreed about calling the cops.
I talked to the cops for a bit, describing what I had seen between the three men and then what the guy had done to my car. She asked me if I felt comfortable letting the guy talk about what happened. At this point the guy was super passive, so I handed over my phone. He held it backwards, and even after I turned it around for him he still was having a hard time. I ended up holding the phone for him while he described what happened.
His story was that he'd put his bag down somewhere and when he came back he saw three guys walking away with a bag that looked like his. He'd asked to look at the bag to see if it was, but said he'd done it really politely since he didn't want to start anything. Apparently they kept going with his bag and his $250 dollar coat (that his brother had given him out of love).
The guy eventually wound down and I spoke briefly to the dispatcher again, then the police cruiser showed up. The guy started talking to the police office while I waited. The officer sat rather stoically through the whole story. Eventually a second cruiser came up with two more police officers. I talked to them briefly and showed them the dent in my car.
There was now a third police cruiser on hand, and a fourth officer. The guy who kicked my car came over to where I was talking to the officers about the dent and what had happened. They asked him if he'd kicked my car. He said yes, and the cop immediately said, "Put your hands behind your back, you're under arrest." The guy wasn't surprised, or even seemingly upset.
One of the cops quipped, "That was easy." I was a bit upset about this. They didn't seem to care that the guy had his stuff stolen. They told me I could leave. I asked if they wanted a description of the other two guys. They said they'd gotten the description from the guy they'd just arrested. I said he couldn't remember how many guys there were. So reluctantly they let me start describing them.
I started the description and the cop said, "So they looked like junkies." I tried to say they looked like townies. I also said that the whole thing would have been caught on the traffic camera. But apparently for something like this, they wouldn't go through the hassle. They said that it was probably just two other guys from the methadone clinic. The guy who kicked my car, hadn't mentioned anything about his bag being stolen while he was in the methadone clinic.
I talked briefly to the first cop who had arrived at this point. Mentioned which way the guys had gone. I said I hadn't seen them with a bag, but I had seen the coat. I said it was a long black quilted coat with fur trim. He asked if it had a money symbol on it. I hadn't seen anything of the sort. The coat the guy had described to him, totally didn't match the one I had seen. So I wonder where he had gotten the coat. I also wonder whether the guys I had seen were two of the three guys that might (or might not) have stolen the guy's bag and the coat he described to the cops.
I feel bad for the guy. He has his stuff stolen, and in a moment of anger he takes it out on someone else (well, that someone else's car). As a result, he gets arrested. I don't know what's happened to him since, I haven't heard from the cops about the matter. I do know they don't feel sorry for him, since in their eyes he's just a junkie. Maybe someday he'll be more than that.
26 October 2010
Dollar Bill Penguin
One of my hobbies is origami, and a few years ago I started inventing my own models. While out at a bar, I came up with a way to make a penguin out of a dollar bill. It makes a great tip. So, I've decided to publish the how-to on how to make the penguin.
1) Fold the dollar in half length-wise and unfold.
2) Fold the corners of the dollar to the center-line (airplane fold)
3) Fold the new edges to the center, making the point sharper
4) Fold the dollar bill in half with the folded corners inside
5) Reverse fold the dollar so that the point is perpendicular to the rectangle
6) Reverse fold again, this time along the edge of the new triangle
7) Crimp fold the straight section through the obtuse point of the triangle so that the long edge of the resulting rectangle is parallel to the long edge of the triangle (see comments for tip)
8) Inside reverse fold the two small flaps parallel to the long edge. The new fold should lay along the long edge of the triangle
9) Inside reverse fold the tip of the triangle. The reversed edge should form a slightly acute angle with the side of the model.
10) Inside reverse fold the corner of the rectangle at a 45 degree angle, so that the crease lies slightly above the free corner
11) Fold the two free points (formed in step 10) inward, so that the free edges are parallel.
12) Inside reverse fold the point (and all the layers) at a 45 degree angle. The fold should go through the free corner. This forms the two feet.
13) Crimp fold the head. This is most easily accomplished by opening the head and folding the point in half, then folding the point back outward. Then refold the head.
The model can stand on its own. Once the basic folds are done the beak can be curled downward slightly to give it a more realistic shape. To give the flippers a bit more character, try giving them a slight fold in half along the point, just enough to give the surface a bit of a bend.
1) Fold the dollar in half length-wise and unfold.
2) Fold the corners of the dollar to the center-line (airplane fold)
3) Fold the new edges to the center, making the point sharper
4) Fold the dollar bill in half with the folded corners inside
5) Reverse fold the dollar so that the point is perpendicular to the rectangle
6) Reverse fold again, this time along the edge of the new triangle
7) Crimp fold the straight section through the obtuse point of the triangle so that the long edge of the resulting rectangle is parallel to the long edge of the triangle (see comments for tip)
8) Inside reverse fold the two small flaps parallel to the long edge. The new fold should lay along the long edge of the triangle
9) Inside reverse fold the tip of the triangle. The reversed edge should form a slightly acute angle with the side of the model.
10) Inside reverse fold the corner of the rectangle at a 45 degree angle, so that the crease lies slightly above the free corner
11) Fold the two free points (formed in step 10) inward, so that the free edges are parallel.
12) Inside reverse fold the point (and all the layers) at a 45 degree angle. The fold should go through the free corner. This forms the two feet.
13) Crimp fold the head. This is most easily accomplished by opening the head and folding the point in half, then folding the point back outward. Then refold the head.
The model can stand on its own. Once the basic folds are done the beak can be curled downward slightly to give it a more realistic shape. To give the flippers a bit more character, try giving them a slight fold in half along the point, just enough to give the surface a bit of a bend.
16 October 2010
Catching Up
I haven't blogged for a while. I can't say it's because I didn't have anything to write about, it's just that I lacked the motivation to write. Also it tended to slip my mind, I would think, "I should write something," then by the time I'm done checking my email...
A couple of weeks ago I went to the Roller Derby Eastern Regional Tournament in White Plains, NY. It was a lot of fun, and I ended up seeing something like 13 derby bouts over the course of the weekend. With 17 bouts total that's a pretty serious tally.
One thing I couldn't help but notice was the incredible diversity in ability between the top teams and the bottom teams. The closest thing I can compare it too, is the difference between high school football and pro-football. Although that is a bit off, maybe an all-star high school team. The most obvious difference is in terms of speed and conditioning. But there is also significant difference in teamwork and coordination. Also, the top teams are much more tactical in their approach.
After the first day of bouts, I went to the after party. It was a floating after party going from bar to bar in downtown White Plains. At the first bar, they were having a drink promotion (actually many of the bars had the promotion at one point). The most interesting part to me was that the guy running the promotion was actually on the wagon. Apparently he has been dry for over five years, and got the job just after getting sober.
I also met a bunch of fun folks, including some of the skaters who were hosting the tournament. In particular I'd like to mention Vixen Von Bruizen and Milkstud Piglet. Piglet approached me at the first bar and said she knew I was with the roller derby. I asked how she knew, apparently I stand out. Must have been the bowling shirt.
The last bar of the night had a mechanical bull. We immediately got in line for the bull when we got to the bar. The line was pretty long, and wasn't moving terribly quickly as the guy was taking it easy on the women, and letting them have a second try on occasion (or letting them ride a second time with one of their friends). Watching two girls riding a mechanical bull is not actually that exciting. Anyway, eventually my turn came. I actually think I lasted a good amount of time, and I remember hearing a lot of cheering from the derby crowd (although I don't remember actually seeing anything). When I was finally thrown off and talking to those who had been watching, Dumptruck told me someone had commented that I was doing really well, he'd said, "Of course he is, his feet are still on the ground." Dumptruck's observation was actually quite astute, because a few times I did push off the ground to maintain my seat. I also got to spend some time with one of my fraternity brothers, Mostafa, who got to the bar just in time to watch me ride the bull.
The next morning I was a bit the worse for wear, but I managed to get up and have breakfast with Jen and her family. We got to share some bacon, which was good.
I have to mention a couple of driving related things about the trip to NY. First, when I was about to cross into Connecticut (you know, the big "Welcome to Connecticut" sign), I saw a Massachusetts state trooper sitting on the state line, waiting to pull over people crossing into Massachusetts. The second thing I have to mention, is that I still hate driving through Connecticut. It seems like every time I drive through Connecticut I hit construction traffic.
In other news, I had a birthday. I got together with some friends and went to Fire + Ice, which is a Mongolian BBQ place. Basically you fill up a bowl with raw ingrediants (mine was mostly beef and bacon, with some corn in the first batch and broccoli in the second). Then you give it to the guy working the grill and he fries it up, adding whatever sauce you selected (in my case no sauce). I also had a couple of large drinks. The second drink I had was actually a shared drink, which I didn't end up sharing. I don't know if its a Mass law or a Cambridge law, but bars can't sell one person more than two drinks at a time. The large shared drink count as four drinks. Anyway, between the volume of the drinks and the amount of food, I was stuffed by the time I left. But I did end up having enough room to share a couple of scorpion bowls at the Hong Kong after dinner. We actually spent a good amount of time at the Hong Kong playing with the little plastic animals they put in the Scorpion bowls, creating little scenes and taking pictures of them.
Alright, I'm sure there was something else I wanted to mention while I was writing, but I can't think of it right now. I do want to wish my brother a Happy Birthday! Hope it's a great one!
A couple of weeks ago I went to the Roller Derby Eastern Regional Tournament in White Plains, NY. It was a lot of fun, and I ended up seeing something like 13 derby bouts over the course of the weekend. With 17 bouts total that's a pretty serious tally.
One thing I couldn't help but notice was the incredible diversity in ability between the top teams and the bottom teams. The closest thing I can compare it too, is the difference between high school football and pro-football. Although that is a bit off, maybe an all-star high school team. The most obvious difference is in terms of speed and conditioning. But there is also significant difference in teamwork and coordination. Also, the top teams are much more tactical in their approach.
After the first day of bouts, I went to the after party. It was a floating after party going from bar to bar in downtown White Plains. At the first bar, they were having a drink promotion (actually many of the bars had the promotion at one point). The most interesting part to me was that the guy running the promotion was actually on the wagon. Apparently he has been dry for over five years, and got the job just after getting sober.
I also met a bunch of fun folks, including some of the skaters who were hosting the tournament. In particular I'd like to mention Vixen Von Bruizen and Milkstud Piglet. Piglet approached me at the first bar and said she knew I was with the roller derby. I asked how she knew, apparently I stand out. Must have been the bowling shirt.
The last bar of the night had a mechanical bull. We immediately got in line for the bull when we got to the bar. The line was pretty long, and wasn't moving terribly quickly as the guy was taking it easy on the women, and letting them have a second try on occasion (or letting them ride a second time with one of their friends). Watching two girls riding a mechanical bull is not actually that exciting. Anyway, eventually my turn came. I actually think I lasted a good amount of time, and I remember hearing a lot of cheering from the derby crowd (although I don't remember actually seeing anything). When I was finally thrown off and talking to those who had been watching, Dumptruck told me someone had commented that I was doing really well, he'd said, "Of course he is, his feet are still on the ground." Dumptruck's observation was actually quite astute, because a few times I did push off the ground to maintain my seat. I also got to spend some time with one of my fraternity brothers, Mostafa, who got to the bar just in time to watch me ride the bull.
The next morning I was a bit the worse for wear, but I managed to get up and have breakfast with Jen and her family. We got to share some bacon, which was good.
I have to mention a couple of driving related things about the trip to NY. First, when I was about to cross into Connecticut (you know, the big "Welcome to Connecticut" sign), I saw a Massachusetts state trooper sitting on the state line, waiting to pull over people crossing into Massachusetts. The second thing I have to mention, is that I still hate driving through Connecticut. It seems like every time I drive through Connecticut I hit construction traffic.
In other news, I had a birthday. I got together with some friends and went to Fire + Ice, which is a Mongolian BBQ place. Basically you fill up a bowl with raw ingrediants (mine was mostly beef and bacon, with some corn in the first batch and broccoli in the second). Then you give it to the guy working the grill and he fries it up, adding whatever sauce you selected (in my case no sauce). I also had a couple of large drinks. The second drink I had was actually a shared drink, which I didn't end up sharing. I don't know if its a Mass law or a Cambridge law, but bars can't sell one person more than two drinks at a time. The large shared drink count as four drinks. Anyway, between the volume of the drinks and the amount of food, I was stuffed by the time I left. But I did end up having enough room to share a couple of scorpion bowls at the Hong Kong after dinner. We actually spent a good amount of time at the Hong Kong playing with the little plastic animals they put in the Scorpion bowls, creating little scenes and taking pictures of them.
Alright, I'm sure there was something else I wanted to mention while I was writing, but I can't think of it right now. I do want to wish my brother a Happy Birthday! Hope it's a great one!
23 May 2010
Eosinophilic Esophagitis
Before I go into my news for last Tuesday, I have to welcome Heidi Rebekah Bartholomay to the world. She is my sister's second daughter. While my sister was busy having a daughter, I was also in the hospital getting an endoscopy. The ironic thing was that due to sleep apnea, I required full anesthesia for a relatively simple procedure, whereas my sister only got local for a c-section.
The reason I was getting the endoscopy was because I have been having issues with swallowing, also know as dysphagia. Basically I would be eating, and then suddenly the food would get stuck before it got to my stomach. I won't go into all the messy details, but sometimes the food would pass the blockage, other times it wouldn't.
This has been going on for quite a while (first time was about five years ago), but it didn't happen all that often. Maybe once a month it would occur, sometimes it would be months between episodes, other times it would happen everyday for a week. There were certain foods that seemed to have this occur more often, but it seemed just as dependent on my stress level and how empty my stomach was.
The first time I went to the doctor with this, he had me get a barium swallow. The barium swallow revealed that I have a hiatal hernia. Since it wasn't happening that often, and didn't seem to be getting any worse, the doctor suggested just eating more slowly.
A couple years after the initial barium swallow, the situation got worse. I had an episode where the food got caught and I was unable to swallow for several hours, not even water or my own saliva. So I went to the doctor again and was scheduled for another barium swallow. This one revealed the exact same thing as the first, with no new information.
A month and a half ago, I had an even more severe episode. This time I wasn't able to swallow the next day and ended up going to the ER to see if they could do anything. They listened to me explain the inability to swallow, then I got to the part about the hiatal hernia and they said, oh here swallow these pills for heartburn. Eventually it cleared up and I went home.
So, another trip to the doctor, and he referred me to a GI specialist. I met with her and she went through the whole history. She seemed stumped, but scheduled me for an endoscopy so they could look down my throat and see if there was a problem. Eventually I got the appointments scheduled. I actually had to appointments, one to see the anesthesiologist and the second to have the actual procedure.
As I mentioned before, because of my sleep apnea, they needed to put me under for the procedure. So the day of the procedure arrived, and I was a bit nervous. The thought of going under didn't really appeal to me. I also didn't have great hope that they would be able to find out what was causing my problems, since everyone seemed stumped. Oh, also the procedure wasn't until the afternoon and I was told not to eat or drink after midnight.
So I met with the doctor before the procedure and explained the situation. He asked me if I had allergies or asthma, I said yes. He said it sounds like Eosinophilic Esophagitis, which is more prevalent in young men and those with asthma and allergies. Just like that.
So eventually they wheeled me into the procedure room and had me turn on my side. The nurse and the anesthesiologist were talking and then the doctor came in. Then suddenly I was asleep. There was no count down, no are you ready, just out. I came to about forty minutes later. It took another five minutes or so to be fully awake. Then there was about twenty minutes of observation and time for my ride home to get there. During the wait the doctor came out and confirmed his suspicion. He also said the lower portion of my esophagus was narrow, as in narrower than the 1/2 inch scope.
He explained that Eosinophilic Esophagitis is a swelling of the esophagus that is probably caused by a food allergy. He gave me a couple of prescriptions and said I should get tested for food allergies. I was a bit surprised that one of the medicines was Flovent. As an asthmatic, I am familiar with Flovent as an inhaled steroid. In this case however, I'm not suppose to inhale the steroid but swallow it. The other medication comes in these little plastic shot glasses. It is pink, a bit chalky and tastes like medicine. It is also annoying because I'm supposed to take it four times a day, and have to take it on an empty stomach (2 hours after a meal and no food for an hour after). This especially makes breakfast tricky.
Anyway, all that being said, it is a great relief to finally have a name for what's going on. Although I have to say it is annoying that no one came up with this before.
On the drive back from the procedure I was talking with David who was kind enough to chauffeur me. He thought it made sense, since people who have food allergies are often picky eaters, which I most definitely am. The thing he brought up is what's left that could be causing this? I suspect that it's a seasoning that I might tolerate eating in small quantities but is enough to trigger this reaction.
But the main thing I want to point out, is that all those times as a child when I was choking down food I didn't like... Maybe I really was choking it down.
The reason I was getting the endoscopy was because I have been having issues with swallowing, also know as dysphagia. Basically I would be eating, and then suddenly the food would get stuck before it got to my stomach. I won't go into all the messy details, but sometimes the food would pass the blockage, other times it wouldn't.
This has been going on for quite a while (first time was about five years ago), but it didn't happen all that often. Maybe once a month it would occur, sometimes it would be months between episodes, other times it would happen everyday for a week. There were certain foods that seemed to have this occur more often, but it seemed just as dependent on my stress level and how empty my stomach was.
The first time I went to the doctor with this, he had me get a barium swallow. The barium swallow revealed that I have a hiatal hernia. Since it wasn't happening that often, and didn't seem to be getting any worse, the doctor suggested just eating more slowly.
A couple years after the initial barium swallow, the situation got worse. I had an episode where the food got caught and I was unable to swallow for several hours, not even water or my own saliva. So I went to the doctor again and was scheduled for another barium swallow. This one revealed the exact same thing as the first, with no new information.
A month and a half ago, I had an even more severe episode. This time I wasn't able to swallow the next day and ended up going to the ER to see if they could do anything. They listened to me explain the inability to swallow, then I got to the part about the hiatal hernia and they said, oh here swallow these pills for heartburn. Eventually it cleared up and I went home.
So, another trip to the doctor, and he referred me to a GI specialist. I met with her and she went through the whole history. She seemed stumped, but scheduled me for an endoscopy so they could look down my throat and see if there was a problem. Eventually I got the appointments scheduled. I actually had to appointments, one to see the anesthesiologist and the second to have the actual procedure.
As I mentioned before, because of my sleep apnea, they needed to put me under for the procedure. So the day of the procedure arrived, and I was a bit nervous. The thought of going under didn't really appeal to me. I also didn't have great hope that they would be able to find out what was causing my problems, since everyone seemed stumped. Oh, also the procedure wasn't until the afternoon and I was told not to eat or drink after midnight.
So I met with the doctor before the procedure and explained the situation. He asked me if I had allergies or asthma, I said yes. He said it sounds like Eosinophilic Esophagitis, which is more prevalent in young men and those with asthma and allergies. Just like that.
So eventually they wheeled me into the procedure room and had me turn on my side. The nurse and the anesthesiologist were talking and then the doctor came in. Then suddenly I was asleep. There was no count down, no are you ready, just out. I came to about forty minutes later. It took another five minutes or so to be fully awake. Then there was about twenty minutes of observation and time for my ride home to get there. During the wait the doctor came out and confirmed his suspicion. He also said the lower portion of my esophagus was narrow, as in narrower than the 1/2 inch scope.
He explained that Eosinophilic Esophagitis is a swelling of the esophagus that is probably caused by a food allergy. He gave me a couple of prescriptions and said I should get tested for food allergies. I was a bit surprised that one of the medicines was Flovent. As an asthmatic, I am familiar with Flovent as an inhaled steroid. In this case however, I'm not suppose to inhale the steroid but swallow it. The other medication comes in these little plastic shot glasses. It is pink, a bit chalky and tastes like medicine. It is also annoying because I'm supposed to take it four times a day, and have to take it on an empty stomach (2 hours after a meal and no food for an hour after). This especially makes breakfast tricky.
Anyway, all that being said, it is a great relief to finally have a name for what's going on. Although I have to say it is annoying that no one came up with this before.
On the drive back from the procedure I was talking with David who was kind enough to chauffeur me. He thought it made sense, since people who have food allergies are often picky eaters, which I most definitely am. The thing he brought up is what's left that could be causing this? I suspect that it's a seasoning that I might tolerate eating in small quantities but is enough to trigger this reaction.
But the main thing I want to point out, is that all those times as a child when I was choking down food I didn't like... Maybe I really was choking it down.
09 May 2010
Mother's Day
It has been many years since I've celebrated Mother's Day, not because I don't love my mom, but because she passed away. When this time of year rolls around, I have acutely felt what I was missing. With distance comes perspective, and from now on, I will endeavor to celebrate what I have instead.
My mom was an educator. After college she was a teacher, then she started a family, which set her on a different career path. But she was still an educator, as she was constantly teaching me and my siblings. She also taught Sunday school, and when we were older she became a substitute teacher. Education was very important to her, and in turn to me. I could go on about this subtopic, but I will just say one last thing. There came a day when my education in math and science far outstripped her own. It was a bittersweet time for her, since while she was proud of me, she recognized it marked a transition in our relationship, a sort of declaration of independence, which to her came all too soon.
Aside from the formal education, my mom sought to taught me other things as well. One thing she was adamant about was manners. I am not saying dinner was a stiff formal affair, but there were no elbows on the table. She also taught me the importance of "please" and "thank-you" and the formalization of those in the form of thank-you cards and hostess gifts.
The real lesson of manners, isn't the set of actions and reactions that have been codified and refined through time. It is the idea of showing others respect and doing things in a way that benefits everyone. Respecting others is one of the lessons my mom didn't overtly try to teach me, but she taught me anyway.
Along the lines of respect, is a lesson I think my mom learned from her mother is to think the best of other people. My grandmother found it impossible to think that other people had negative motivations. My mother was a bit more realistic, but still strove to believe in other people, and wouldn't look down on someone. I remember after college, I had a neighbor who worked as a stripper. I told my mom one day, and didn't quite know what to expect, but I was surprised at what a positive spin my mom put on the girl's choice in career. Even in my twenties my mom manager to teach me something.
Another thing my mom taught me was the importance of honesty. As a child I was often very creative with the truth. My mom told me in no uncertain terms that she might be mad if I did something wrong, but she would not abide my lying about it. I was still rather creative, just not to her. But one day that changed, abruptly, and I went cold-turkey on lying. I don't know if this anecdote had anything to do with it, although I don't think it did, but it's a good story and very telling. My mom organized a surprise birthday party one year for my dad. We were all in on it, and thought it was great fun. When the party finally arrived and we surprised my dad, my mom broke down and apologized, and said that she had never lied to him before and the deception the surprise party necessitated had torn her up inside.
That is not to say that my mom wasn't sneaky. She was just honest about it. One of here favorite ruses was taking us shopping and finding out what we liked. She would then sneak back an hour or day later and buy us that item for a present. She would also put the wrong names on presents under the Christmas tree so that we wouldn't be able to guess what we got. Actually, speaking of Christmas and honesty, we never believed in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy growing up.
The last thing I will ramble about, that my mom taught me without trying to teach me relates to frugality, but nearly the opposite. I never remember my mom buying something that we didn't need. Things tended to get old and worn out, but they generally had to stop working before being replaced. But when she did buy something, she always went for something of good quality. This didn't mean buying name-brand clothes, but it did mean our first computer had a real keyboard. It also meant that we didn't eat generic Oreos when real Oreos tasted so much better.
I suppose that last lesson I learned from my mom, is an odd one to end with. But not all the things we learn from our moms are terribly practical, or world defining. Sometimes they are as simple as letting your kid lick the bowl.
Happy Mother's Day.
My mom was an educator. After college she was a teacher, then she started a family, which set her on a different career path. But she was still an educator, as she was constantly teaching me and my siblings. She also taught Sunday school, and when we were older she became a substitute teacher. Education was very important to her, and in turn to me. I could go on about this subtopic, but I will just say one last thing. There came a day when my education in math and science far outstripped her own. It was a bittersweet time for her, since while she was proud of me, she recognized it marked a transition in our relationship, a sort of declaration of independence, which to her came all too soon.
Aside from the formal education, my mom sought to taught me other things as well. One thing she was adamant about was manners. I am not saying dinner was a stiff formal affair, but there were no elbows on the table. She also taught me the importance of "please" and "thank-you" and the formalization of those in the form of thank-you cards and hostess gifts.
The real lesson of manners, isn't the set of actions and reactions that have been codified and refined through time. It is the idea of showing others respect and doing things in a way that benefits everyone. Respecting others is one of the lessons my mom didn't overtly try to teach me, but she taught me anyway.
Along the lines of respect, is a lesson I think my mom learned from her mother is to think the best of other people. My grandmother found it impossible to think that other people had negative motivations. My mother was a bit more realistic, but still strove to believe in other people, and wouldn't look down on someone. I remember after college, I had a neighbor who worked as a stripper. I told my mom one day, and didn't quite know what to expect, but I was surprised at what a positive spin my mom put on the girl's choice in career. Even in my twenties my mom manager to teach me something.
Another thing my mom taught me was the importance of honesty. As a child I was often very creative with the truth. My mom told me in no uncertain terms that she might be mad if I did something wrong, but she would not abide my lying about it. I was still rather creative, just not to her. But one day that changed, abruptly, and I went cold-turkey on lying. I don't know if this anecdote had anything to do with it, although I don't think it did, but it's a good story and very telling. My mom organized a surprise birthday party one year for my dad. We were all in on it, and thought it was great fun. When the party finally arrived and we surprised my dad, my mom broke down and apologized, and said that she had never lied to him before and the deception the surprise party necessitated had torn her up inside.
That is not to say that my mom wasn't sneaky. She was just honest about it. One of here favorite ruses was taking us shopping and finding out what we liked. She would then sneak back an hour or day later and buy us that item for a present. She would also put the wrong names on presents under the Christmas tree so that we wouldn't be able to guess what we got. Actually, speaking of Christmas and honesty, we never believed in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy growing up.
The last thing I will ramble about, that my mom taught me without trying to teach me relates to frugality, but nearly the opposite. I never remember my mom buying something that we didn't need. Things tended to get old and worn out, but they generally had to stop working before being replaced. But when she did buy something, she always went for something of good quality. This didn't mean buying name-brand clothes, but it did mean our first computer had a real keyboard. It also meant that we didn't eat generic Oreos when real Oreos tasted so much better.
I suppose that last lesson I learned from my mom, is an odd one to end with. But not all the things we learn from our moms are terribly practical, or world defining. Sometimes they are as simple as letting your kid lick the bowl.
Happy Mother's Day.
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