Friday, January 10, 2020

Stellaris: People of the Stars




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And here's the link!

Greetings to all my internet friends and neighbors, who have long been wondering if I was EVER going to return to my review habits. And to any of my family checking in, I still don’t have that family reunion ice cream recipe.

Some recent history. A few days ago, scientist/author Robert E Hampson, who has aliases known to many, pointed out that he had requested that I review a book.
Last August.

Now, at the time, he very graciously accepted the reality that I was in the throes of reviewing the nominated works for the Dragon Award, and couldn’t interrupt that frenzy. No problem, he said. Just get to it when it’s convenient, he said.

Well, neither he, nor I, had any idea that circumstances (armed with a bludgeon) were on the way, or else we might not have been so casual about the arrangement. But that, as they say, is all water over the dam, washing away villages downstream and creating havoc and establishing conditions for disease epidemics. So, we shall speak no more of that, and simply proceed with the review.

What kind of book is this? It’s the kind that will last you a long, long time, IF you are somewhat like me. I know this because a series with a similar format has lasted me for nigh on 40 years. I speak of “There Will Be War,” edited by the late great Jerry Pournelle, and the illustrious (or, wonderful, delightful, inestimable, still alive) John F. Carr (and if I were to allow myself to launch into everything I wished to say about this and them and that,  nothing else gets written. So, forcible stop).

More specifically, it’s an anthology that addresses a single topic (the future of humanity in space) through a combination of short fiction and non-fiction articles. Now, IF you are somewhat like me, you are going to immediately devour the short fiction first. And then, over time, you are going to return to the non-fiction, and you are going to become involved much more deeply. I tried to come up with a food comparison, as in fast food versus Thanksgiving Feast, but I could think of nothing that will do justice to either component.

Just know this: the short fiction also educates, and the non-fiction also entertains. Also know that the environments being considered for human life are lethal, so that failure to make the right choices, every time, results in extinction.

The content.

Foreword by Robert E Hampson. PLEASE don’t skip the Foreword! Not only do you get the story of the genesis of this volume, you also get a brief, interesting review of problems already encountered in real life in sustaining human life in space, as well as the science fiction treatments.

Burn the Boats by Sarah A. Hoyt. They say Sarah A. Hoyt is a real person, but I’m not so sure.  I’d say that she might be a cyborg, but for two things: she writes about cats in a way only a human could; she also ALWAYS respects the science in a story, but her stories are incredibly perceptive studies of the PEOPLE who interact with the science. The people in this story must accommodate themselves to changes they had NEVER considered, or go extinct. And they have children.

Bridging by William Ledbetter. At first, I thought this was a Norse fantasy, and I recoiled; I mostly don’t appreciate fantasy. It’s NOT, though; it just incorporates names (and maybe themes) from that mythology into a science fiction. There are two groups of space colonists living in close proximity, but one lives under a gravity field much stronger than that of Earth, while the other lives in free-fall. They hate and fear each other, because of ancient stupid acts, but if they can’t find a way to join, they both are at risk of going extinct.

The Future of Intelligent Life in the Cosmos by Martin Rees. The first non-fiction article in the collection, this one is particularly wide-ranging. (First impression? It’s more of a concept dump than I prefer.) Advances in bio-tech, AI, and space propulsion are all essential. A significant point: if the exploration is funded by the government, can the level of risk needed to progress be accepted? He thinks not.

Stella Infantes by Kacey Ezell and Philip Wohlrab. There is a tiny sub-plot in one of James Michener’s massive works (I THINK it’s “Hawaii,” but am not sure) about the missionaries who were sent on long voyages to set up missions on potentially hostile shores. Despite their reputation of being sexual prudes, almost all of the young couples had their first child SIGNIFICANTLY before nine months had elapsed after reaching their destination. If it was like that on long sea voyages, what about long space voyages? There is plenty of discussion here about medical implications of space pregnancy, and for that, I feel certain we can thank Wohlrab. Ezell, once again, utterly fails to disappoint in her ability to make a person in crisis come alive.

Maintaining Crew Health and Mission Performance in Ventures Beyond Near-Earth Space by Mark Shelhamer. With respect to long-term residence in space, it doesn’t even appear that we know what it is that we don’t know. Shelhamer examines the current process of assessing the risks, and then moves forward. The ability to simulate living in a gravitational field appears to be essential, but there is no way of controlling for everything that MIGHT happen.

At the Bottom of the White by Todd McCaffrey. Although there is some nifty tech in the story, most especially the technique of using people in re-entry ships to ‘bounce’ cargoes up and down (just read the story, ok?) what really makes this story pop is the evolved culture of a long-term trader, journeying between star systems, which have developed on their own, in isolation.

Pageants of Humanity by Brent Roeder. Tee-hee! Roeder has captured the brainless chatter of talking heads, providing commentary on a beauty pageant in which the outcome determines whether a far-flung system still meets the requirements for humanity. It contains some well-conceived rationale for making the determination, but it’s such a yock to read it presented this way. Loved it!

Homo Stellaris — Working Track Report from the Tennessee Valley Interstellar Workshop by Robert E. Hampson and Les Johnson. Ummm...this is the report. It’s PACKED with info, and if you have any interest in people in space, read this. It’s a summary of a LOT of work, and I can’t further distill it.

Time Flies by Kevin J. Anderson. If you have chosen to travel, but not to arrive, how do you manage to do it? These are people who trade information and goods between far-flung star systems, and they have the technology to go into a super-slow time. Every so often, they shift from slow to normal time, to check on ship functions, and when approaching a planet. If you were able to, essentially, live forever that way, would you do it?

Our Worldship Broke! by Jim Beall. Although NICELY presented, I had to ask for help on this one. Fortunately, my son-in-law, Sam Blackstone, used to be one of the guys who run the nuclear tea-kettles on a submarine (and that’s all he can tell us). So, I had him read this one, and he said: a person without some engineering background might struggle with how some of the concepts work with each other. He really liked the accuracy of the article “speaking directly about the success of nuclear power and how the Navy organized it from the very beginning;” the people, places, and things Beall references are all as described. Sam also suggested I’d find reading up on Hyman Rickover, the Father of Naval Nuclear Power, to be interesting. Thanks, Sam!

Nanny by Les Johnson. The POV swaps between Angela, beginning when she is age nine, and Manuel, an adult crew member on an interstellar voyage. Soon we begin to wonder: how did all these kids wind up with no adults? We find out. 

Those Left Behind by Robert E. Hampson. Melisande, bka “Mace,” and her older brother Sandy are dedicated space people. Besides having the brains to do the science, they were highly motivated to get a way from home essentially destroyed by Dad’s alcoholism and Mom’s fluttering from cause to cause. So, they both opted for some physical changes, to make their bodies more adapted to working in space. A final home visit for a Thanksgiving meal became explosive (or nearly so).

Securing the Stars by Mike Massa. You cannot allow sabotage, or even sloppiness, to interfere with spacecraft systems; there are no convenient repair shops. Massa identifies some similarities between the isolation and hostile environment on a space mission with some Earth-based environments; the conclusions are inescapable: a space mission isn’t a democracy.

The Smallest of Things by Catherine L. Smith. Just because SOME things are similar in our exoplanets, that doesn’t mean they are really Earth-like. Smith shows us the challenge of alien strangeness, compounded by human goofiness.

Biological and Medical Challenges of the Transition to Homo Stellaris by Nikhil Rao, MD. Before we go, while we are going, and once we get there: what can kill us? What can just mess us up? Well….lots of things. Here are some of them.

Exodus by Daniel M. Hoyt. (Okay, if Sarah A. Hoyt ISN’T real, then they are doing a really good job of covering that up.) Ginny is a science geek born to parents who “Only know of physics like Ex-lax,” and are proud of it. She devotes all of her efforts to get away, but it turns out not to be that easy, because, evidently, a LOT of people want to get away, and then she finds there are some things hard to leave. This story does an EXCELLENT job of showing the results of alternative, and competing, research tracks: if the other guys make it work, all that you have done may go into long-term storage.

Afterword by Les Johnson. Nicely reflective on What It’s All About.

Tennessee Valley Interstellar Workshop,  by Joe Meany. A further explanation of the group, and how to join them in the goal of becoming People of the Stars, Homo Stellaris.

Well, there you have it. Grab a copy of the book, and read it for the next forty years.



Peace be on your household.

Monday, December 30, 2019

I Woke Up Troubled This Morning

Greetings, to all my friends and neighbors out there in Internet land! And, for those family members who meet the three criteria (above the daisies, able to use a computer, and both aware and interested in my blog), I hope you don't have to go to the dentist today, unless it's for a social visit.

I woke up troubled this morning. For some reason, I was listening (just in my memory banks) to the first lines of Joan Baez singing "The Ballad of Joe Hill" at Woodstock, 50 years ago last August. I have no explanation as to why that should be so, but, to help clarify, I both listened to the song again, and did a bit of research on Joe Hill.

I already knew he was an early 20th century labor organizer, who was executed under dubious circumstances. What I didn't know was that most of his work was as a songwriter, putting revolutionary words about organizing (at the time, unions were a revolutionary concept) to the tunes of popular songs. One of his works, "The Preacher and the Slave," was set to the tune of the hymn "In The Sweet By and By." His song bewails the practice of those in authority offering poor workers starvation wages, while encouraging them to keep working hard, because they have a reward in heaven.
(Parenthetically: I have not verified this from other sources, but the single site I referenced claims that the term "pie in the sky" originated with this song. I will leave the proof of this as an exercise for the reader.)
(Also parenthetically: Without doubt, the practice of denying a worker appropriate wages is wicked in itself; to cloak greed with the promise of a heavenly reward multiplies the evil. Going beyond the employee-employer relationship,  James tells us that religious words are worthless, if we offer them to a brother or sister in place of providing for their physical needs.)
And I thought: I have food, shelter, and clothing, as well as other comforts that the rest of humanity throughout time, as well as most of the world today, could only dream about. I also have the hope of glory, which is Christ in me. So,
Why then, do I find myself praying so fervently for the things I need to make it through the day?
 I'm not sure, but I think it's because I'm troubled about our country.

There may be a lot of leaders out there, working hard to bring peace, but the noise that reaches me here in my home is that of factions fighting for power at the expense of all else. Long ago, I decided I was NOT going to try to follow political parties, or attend to ANYTHING that seemed to be divisive. Even so, the noise reaches me. I have heard that there are some saying that NOW, TODAY, is the time for active opposition, whether to a government policy, or to a civilian faction espousing some other point of view.

Admittedly, I may hear more about this than some of you, since my one remaining hobby is owning and operating (and reloading for) obsolete (also known as CHEAP!) firearms. However, apart from what seems to me to be a ludicrous battle raging over gun control, I'm also aware that there are some fairly significant issues of freedom of speech and freedom of religion that appear to be on a collision course, and I don't see that as having a good outcome.

It's not all one way, of course, and it hardly ever is. A couple of weeks ago, the editor-in-chief of Christianity Today, a magazine I have long had great respect for, and one of the tiny number of magazines I subscribe to, posted an editorial titled "Trump Should Be Removed from Office."
(insert firestorm of reaction here)
Figuratively speaking, that is. This blog post does not have the bandwidth to actually carry a  firestorm of reaction. Pretty sure you need 4K, 5G, 3D VR, and lots of other alphanumerics to convey a  firestorm of reaction.
(Also also parenthetically: This isn't the first time that Christianity Today has spoken out against a problem with the behavior of a sitting president. The editorial quotes criticisms made in 1998 regarding the seeming inability to tell the truth on the part of then-President Clinton. At the time, he was assailed by Ken Starr's Whitewater investigation, Paula Jones' sexual harassment claims, and final proof of his dalliance with a 22-year-old infatuated intern, Monica Lewinsky (who probably paid the highest price of all concerned.)) 
For me, the great issue with the Galli editorial is that he went beyond identifying problem behaviors, both in the White House, and from the seemingly unquestioning evangelical supporters of the administration, to pronouncing sentence on the president: he should be removed from office. THAT, in my opinion, is NOT within the purview of the editor-in-chief. YES, identify the issues, and tell it like it is! Absolutely! But, DON'T pronounce the sentence. As Galli correctly states, that decision rests in the hands of the Senate, with the impeachment process, and with the electorate, if he remains in office.
Perhaps I am mistaken. I am not in the Trump camp, and thus as unaware as possible about all of the fragrance surrounding, etc, etc. When I was 19, I was a Democrat; by the time I was 33, I voted Republican. I considered affiliating with the Libertarians, but they are just a little bit crazier than I wish to be considered.

Regardless of all, I woke up troubled.

Part of today's study was Psalm 12, and it helped, a bit.
1 Help, Lord, for the godly man ceases to be,
For the faithful disappear from among the sons of men.
2 They speak falsehood to one another;
With flattering lips and with a double heart they speak.
3 May the Lord cut off all flattering lips,
The tongue that speaks great things;
4 Who have said, “With our tongue we will prevail;
Our lips are our own; who is lord over us?”
5 “Because of the devastation of the afflicted, because of the groaning of the needy,
Now I will arise,” says the Lord; “I will set him in the safety for which he longs.”
6 The words of the Lord are pure words;
As silver tried in a furnace on the earth, refined seven times.
7 You, O Lord, will keep them;
You will preserve him from this generation forever.
8 The wicked strut about on every side
When vileness is exalted among the sons of men.
May all of good will be found in the safety for which we long. 

Peace be on your household.

Wednesday, November 27, 2019

Letting Go of Pride: Dancing Like a KING!

Greetings, to all my friends and neighbors out there in Internet Land! And, to you few family members who stumbled on this, I hope you already have all the necessary supplies to put together your Thanksgiving feast.
We are low on table salt, ourselves, but, as my gift-from-God, happily-ever-after trophy wife Vanessa, the elegant, foxy, praying black grandmother of Woodstock, GA, stands between me and the salt with a flaming sword in her hand, I guess that's just the way it's going to be. 
If any of you, friends, family, whatever,  find yourself looking for a place to eat food and give thanks tomorrow,  come on by the house. If it ain't already cooked, I have discovered that a pressure cooker can do wonderful things in a short amount of time.  If we run out of chairs, we have plenty of floor space.

I have some surprising news for you: I am not a king, nor any sort of ruler.
And yet, I wish to have the attitude of a king!
(King David, to be exact).

When reproached for abandoning himself to the joyous celebration of the LORD's mighty power and deliverance, and appearing to be without dignity, he replied:
"I will be more lightly esteemed than this and will be humble in my own eyes..."
If you want to look it up, it's II Samuel, chapter 6. The quote above is the first part of verse 22, but you need go back at least to verse 12 to get the context.

I'm not sure exactly when the idea of kingly humility became desirable to me. I know, FOR SURE, it wasn't a part of my make-up as a young man. I could give you example after example of how I sought glory and avoided humiliation, but I'll limit it to this one:
It's 1971. I'm a brand-new 18 year-old college freshman, and I've just gone for a successful job interview, which was part of my financial aid package. I'm exuberant! On my way back to my car, I cut across an medical building lawn. Midway across, I stumble over an irrigation valve, somewhat hidden in the grass. Thinking fast! I decide I don't want anyone watching out the windows to be amused at my clumsiness, so I start acting like I walk that way, in a hippie-dippie dance of joyous celebration of life, or something. 
Twelve years later, I'm about to be a parent for the first time. And I suppose I have learned to let go of supposed pride a bit by then. Evidence: one of the promises I made to myself was that I was always going to be honest with my son; and that if I ever made a mistake in my treatment of him, I was going to promptly admit it to him; and do what I needed to do to make it up to him. You know what? I'm reasonably sure that's one promise I've kept, with all my kids.

It had an unexpected benefit: over the years, there have been times with ALL my kids when they disagreed with some decision I had made, and they didn't like it, and so forth, rinse and repeat. However, I found that I was always able to say to them:
Listen, I know you think I'm wrong about this. Maybe I am, but I don't think so. But, you KNOW that if I find out I'm wrong, I'm gonna admit it, and I'm gonna fix it. Right?
Grudgingly, maybe, they agree, and the situations resolve. I think of it as if I have been making deposits in the First Trust Bank of Papa's Kids for all these years, and I have enough of a balance that I can draw on it. (And I have no idea how often I've been wrong. Ask my kids.)

So, on Monday, I was Papa-sitting three of my grandchildren:

Brave (3), Blue Bird (1), Bro Bro (6)

Through misunderstanding of my instructions from Mama, I put all three of the kids down for naps at noon-ish.

Heath, which is Bro Bro's legal name, was flabbergasted. Let me cut to the chase: he could not imagine that his mother had told me to put him down for a nap, and he wanted me to check with Mum. I did NOT want to disturb Mum, who was on a Mission From God, to ask about something that was perfectly clear in my mind. After a somewhat protracted discussion, which NEVER, EVER escalated to temper or tears, Heath accepted that I did, in fact, have the authority to put him down for a nap, even if that seemed utterly ridiculous. And he went to bed.

About 10 minutes later, Mum called to check on status. I passed along that I had just gotten them all down for bed. With alacrity not found in most inhabited regions of the universe, she quickly disabused me of the idea that Heath was to take a nap. Mum was dreadfully apologetic, thinking the error was hers, but it wasn't. I was even able to identify where I went wrong, as if it mattered. But, what I did next, DID matter.

I joyfully dragged my ancient carcass up those blessed stairs to the boys' bedroom, and summoned Heath. I told him that he was right, and that I was wrong, and that Mum had just clarified things for me. 
And I told him how impressed I was that he had been so cooperative, and BOTH parts of that statement are true! He HAD been cooperative, more so than could reasonably be expected for a young man in the first grade, and I WAS impressed with the way he handled my error.

I passed the information along to Mum and Dad when they returned from their (successful) Mission From God, to emphasize what a wonderful character their first-born son demonstrated. And then, Papa Pat got the Great Big Blessing.

Dad praised and encouraged Heath for his behavior, and gave him some other examples of adults who made mistakes, and needed to fix them (which the Mission From God was designed to redress), and then he said:
"And you know how when I make a mistake, I always admit it to you and make it up to you?" Heath nodded, enthusiastically. "Well," Dad points to me, "he's the one who taught me to do that."
Beloved, beloved, beloved: in my heart then, and now as I recount it to you, I am dancing like a king.
May you find such moments in your life.

Peace be on your household.

(P.S. Evidently, I am supposed to explicitly state that when you click on a book link here, Amazon knows that you were referred by me. And, if you actually BUY the book, I get some paltry amount (2.39%, I believe) for having made the referral. I thought it was public knowledge, because it's right there in the referral link, industry standard, etc, but evidently, I have been negligent. SO: if you click on links here, to a product on Amazon, Amazon will know I referred you!)
( 'nother P.S. Will I have reviews coming soon? I surely hope so! Laura Montgomery has an EXCELLENT relatively new release in her NWWWLF series; Shami Stovall has not one but TWO books about PIRATES! that are just great, with a third one in the works and there are others with longer wait times. Behold, I shall hide nothing from you: multiple facets of the universe have gathered together with the obvious intent of pounding the Chattahoochee Pattersons into powder and casting us to the winds. Were it not for the steadfast love of my gift-from-God, happily-ever-after trophy wife Vanessa, the elegant, foxy, praying black grandmother of Woodstock, GA, I do not have a clue of how I would have been able to keep breathing in and out. We WILL prevail!)
 



Friday, November 22, 2019

RED Friday: Until They ALL COME HOME!

Today is RED Friday:
Remember
Everyone
Deployed
(Until they all come home...)

Now, I probably had the easiest duty in the world; stationed in Ludwigsburg and Stuttgart-Bad Canstatt, March 1972 - September 1975, with about a half-million other troops. Our main role was to make the Soviets think twice (or nine times) before they rolled the tanks through the Fulda Gap, and it worked. We had a tense moment when they detached my unit in preparation for a Middle East deployment in 1974, or thereabouts, but I guess the threat of the US muscle did the trick then as well. So, no tissue damage (apart from that inflicted when I drove the car into the river on October 15, 1973; but that's another story).

Even so...
Even so, although I ETS'd 2 SEP 75, I don't know how long it was before I really came home. For sure and certain, that ignorant, arrogant, sniveling 19 year old who got off the plane at Rhein-Main never came back. The very SLIGHTLY wiser 22 year old who replaced him was a much better citizen!
I jumped straight out of the Army into college, but it took a VERY long time before I could start a sentence with anything but "When I was in the Army..."

What I'm saying is that there is more to coming home than just putting on soft clothing and re-learning the language of civilians. I confess: for me, it was relatively easy. It still took time, though.

So, this morning, when I put on my RED shirt,  it is not only for those who are eating in mess halls across the oceans, who check duty rosters to see what the other "duties as assigned" might be, who even this very day might have some unexpected physical, emotional, or even spiritual trauma thrust upon them.
Those FIRST, of course. They are, after all, serving as guarantors of the freedom we have, resting here in relative comfort, relative safety. Whether they are facing active combat, or serving, as I did, as a promise of the lethality that can be unleashed on those insane enough to cross the line, they serve us.

But SECOND, I wear RED for those who have not yet been able to come home, all the way.

Remember everyone deployed; until they all come home.

Welcome Back!


Peace be on your household.

Monday, November 18, 2019

Dealing With Stuff I Don't Like

Long, long ago, I used to think that Stuff I Didn't Like happened to me because I was trapped in some incomprehensible cycle of small happiness, followed by disaster. As a result, I was fatalistic; Stuff I Didn't Like kept happening.
It looked a lot like this (except not nearly as pretty):

The Cycle of Life


Later, I believed that Stuff I Didn't Like happened to me because God was mad at me. As a result, I tried to stop doing things that made God mad, and hope He ignored me; some of the Stuff I Didn't Like stopped, but an awful lot kept happening.
It looked a lot like this:

Angry Jehovah, Sistine Chapel



Much later, I realized that most of the Stuff I Didn't Like happened to me because it was a logical consequence of my behavior. As a result, I changed my behavior; almost all of the Stuff I Didn't Like stopped happening.
It looked a lot like this (except I'm smiling, not crying):

A sign that no longer bothers me

For the last several years, I realize that just about all of the Stuff I Don't Like comes as a result of loving people, and they make their own mistakes, which causes them pain, and random things also happen to cause them pain, and I don't like it when people I love are in pain. As a result, I realized that the only alternative was to stop loving people; therefore

Stuff I Don't Like is going to be with me forever.

It looks a lot like this:
Acceptance, Forgiveness, Restoration;
Things we all need, 
To give and receive.

 Peace be on your household.

Friday, November 15, 2019

Cold Weather Management, Two Sick Kids, and Hallucinating

Greetings to all of my internet friends and neighbors, as well as those who I know primarily from other things that the Net. And to my family who just happened to stumble on this blog post,  I do so hope that everyone has at least one warm blanket.

Yesterday I wrote about the generosity of the Atlanta Air Authority, and their decision to donate a complete HVAC system to one lucky veteran, who turned out to be me, The house is now survivable, even comfortable enough that company can enjoy hanging out with us. Doesn't cost much to run, either.

I also talked, a bit, about my need for coffee most days, but particularly when it's COLD.

Some of you may know this about me: I bought my first motorcycle right after I got out of the Army, and followed that up with at least seven more bikes.

My current machine is a 1985 V65 Sabre; 



65 cubic inches is 1100 cubic centimeters, or near enough to make no difference, and that 's what I ride, when I ride. And it's COLD!
One (!) of the reasons I like coffee so much. There are others.

And because of my fondness for the brewed goodness, yesterday I decided I'd see just how reliable the pot was, with respect to giving me the same amount of brew all the time.

And because I tend to collect friends who also like to Know Stuff and Find Stuff Out, my offer to describe my research methodology was taken up.

But, you won't get it today, Cedar, nor anyone else who is looking for it, because Papa Pat is seeing things, and hearing things, (but NOT believing they are real! A significant point !) and making ATROCIOUS errors, because he hasn't slept since Tuesday.

Okay, Cedar: you asked, AND you shall receive! In a bit...

Procedures and mechanics for this amusing little exercise will be transferred from scribbled lines on a small collection of 3x5 notepad sheets to storage on my laptop  computer screen, and distributed to those without the foresight to opt out. No time-frame has been established as to just when that will be accomplished. Here’s why:

Wednesday (just after midnight), I get a prayer request from Granddaughter Alexx in Charleston, WV.
Alexx and our grandson Esan

My new great grandson Aki is sick. and having difficulties breathing.
Aki still has the new car smell, 
and his tags have not been reemoved 

 So, of course, I pray, and offer words of encouragement. I promise to stay in touch. Later in the morning, I make sure that my gift-from-God, happily-ever-after trophy wife Vanessa, the elegant, foxy, prying black grandmother of Woodstock, GA,  knows what’s going on.
But, I don’t get back to sleep that night, and a nap just doesn’t work out for me that day. No problem!

Thursday (also just after midnight), the phone rings again. I have JUST begun to drowse, but when I hear that our precious Miss Evelyn is sick, and the call is a request to come sit for older (sleeping) brothers Heath (6), and Eliott (3), while Miss Evelyn went to the Doctor with her Mommy and Daddy.

Is Miss Evelyn not the most adorable little gurrrrll?

Her Daddy, Mommy, and Heath, and Eliott

Heath and Eliott make NotASound throughout the night. I read, eat a brownie, make a cup of coffee and drink it while making mediocre French toast, and then  welcome the family home when they return around  5 AM with a not-frightening diagnosis, and an appropriate treatment plan. Hugs and kisses to all, ad I’m out the door, to go home and catch up on my sleep.

Except, I don’t. For reasons unknown to me, I didn’t sleep, once again. And the impairment of my cognitive functions, as well as losses in physical coordination, mean that I absolutely don’t get behind the wheel of a car. I just looked at my watch: 9:42 AM. That means it’s taken me WELL over an hour to get this in coherent form, because I keep making mistakes. I’ve looked up at the screen multiple times to discover that I’ve had finger or book, resting on the keyboard.

So, I’m closing this now, and I’m going to go to sleep. I hope no one knocks on my door or calls me. I might say something rude.

Papa Pat Patterson

Peace be on your household

Wednesday, November 13, 2019

Atlanta Air Authority and Keurig: 19 degrees? No prob!

19 degrees this morning, as my gift-from-God, happily-ever-after trophy wife Vanessa, the elegant, foxy, praying black grandmother of Woodstock, GA, left for work around 6:30 AM. Brrrr!

It's a couple of days after Veterans Day, and with that as a prompt, coupled with the FREEZING temps, I'm thinking with gratitude in my not-frozen fingers and toes about a particular act of generosity. It was just two years ago that the folks at Atlanta Air Authority provided this semi-impoverished veteran and his family with a brand new, comprehensive heating and air system; I won the system at a local Veterans Day event. Good-bye and good riddance to sweltering in the summer, and huddling around space heaters in the winter.

678-215-6789

I grew up in a home without those luxuries, and remember how awful it was to get out of bed on a cold Georgia morning.
So, thanks again, and for folks living up here in Cherokee County with me, check out their website at the link above or their Facebook page.


Another thing that gets us through the cold mornings (any morning, actually) is a great big cup of hot steaming coffee! We have a coffee maker that makes a pot at a time, but mostly, we use a Keurig K40. It's an older unit, but it still works well. Or does it?

You ever look down at your coffee cup, and say, "No way is that a full cup of coffee!" Well, I have, LOTS of times, and it also seemed that sometimes I get a bigger amount of coffee than other times. So, I decided to check it out.

Test equipment:
Keurig K40, measuring cup, digital scale
Reusable K-cup, Folgers coffee, and a big cup to save the results

 I took careful notes, and followed good procedures, but I'm not going to document those here. If you want to see how I made sure I was getting good data, let me know, and I'll send you my methodology.

First, I ran several cycles of just water through, with an empty K-cup in place. I ran five cycles each in the three capacities of Small Medium, and Large. (Actually ran six on the Large setting.) For accuracy, I weighed them with my scale set on the 'grams' setting, and then converted the results to ounces in the spreadsheet.
Then, I ran one more cycle at each setting, by size order, to see if there was any  variance due to switching settings.
Finally, I brewed one cup of coffee at each setting, using one scoop of Folgers in the re-usable K-cup.

Here are my results:


Gross weight in grams Net weight in grams Net weight in ounces
Water Small Medium Large Small Medium Large Small Medium Large
Run 1 224 287 352 171 234 299 6.03 8.25 10.55
Run 2 222 296 351 169 243 298 5.96 8.57 10.51
Run 3 225 294 351 172 241 298 6.07 8.50 10.51
Run 4 227 291 351 174 238 298 6.14 8.40 10.51
Run 5 223 290 348 170 237 295 6.00 8.36 10.41
Run 6

352

299

10.55
Run 7 228 293 350 175 240 297 6.17 8.47 10.48










Coffee 218 284 335 165 231 282 5.82 8.15 9.95

As you can see, the machine gave fairly reliable results. If I was funded, I'd repeat this using coffee each time, since that's what we really care about, but one run was all I wanted to do sine I'm financing my own research. (and, if you look at the picture, the brewed coffee is all in the big green Bubba cup. No wastage!

I also weighed the coffee grounds, before and after brewing. There was 13 grams of water in with the grounds, which accounts for the differences in the water v coffee output.

I was only checking to see if the Keurig was reliably putting out the same amount of brew at each setting,  and that appears to be the case. My subjective opinion earlier that it wasn't enough coffee is likely due to perspective, both from the cup size (I use a GIANT cup) and from demand (when I want coffee, I want a LOT of coffee!).

It was fun. I ran this as I was eating my breakfast, which was a big bowl of pinto beans and rice, the heart of EVERY good breakfast! And I didn't spill NOTHING, which is good. I was writing my procedures and the results on the tiny pages of a notepad, and it reminded me of the days when I was doing research that really DID matter, and how spilled pinto beans could remain with a researcher for years...

Peace be on your household.