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Friday

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21
Oct 22

1,000 words without trying, and rockabilly

Sorry for the lighter-than-normal load here the last few days. It’s seemed … busy … somehow. Well, busier than normal, I guess. Not every widget we make is a producible unit of measure, not every exercise is something you can point to: I made this, this was made, because I helped make this. And those are the best days. Videos or copy or online metrics come and go, the time you spend working with people is where the real value is. You hope they feel the same way about you.

Worked with some of those people today. Had the opportunity to thank someone who did something for me. Thanked him twice. Gave a tour, because someone has to do that and you’re reading words typed by the guy that draws short straws. Today was also career day, which featured a lot of alumni who had returned to talk about what they do. The smart students took time to visit the many sessions. This ran all day and occupied a great deal of attention and energy.

At quitting time I walked out into the sunshine and walked a block to the car and drove the 4.5 miles to the house. Narrowly avoided a red light in one of the larger intersections. At home I checked the mail, just political stuff. The two people running for the local state legislative seat have spent a fair amount of money on direct mail. Now we’re getting stuff that is designed to look like it’s for one candidate, but it is, in fact, from the opponent.

I wrote my master’s thesis on this stuff. Some of them are more sophisticated than others. And among my metrics are language, Photoshop skills and clip art acquisition. These guys? Amateurs.

Washed the dishes, straightened up the kitchen, started the weekend’s laundry.

Normally I try to do laundry on a Thursday or, in peak form, on Wednesday. Then it is all done and not a moment of weekend time gets spent on it. But, last night, I was gripped by a wear sense of thinking ahead. If I waited a day, more things could go in the basket, into the machine, and so on.

It’s foolhardy to think ahead in something that you know is a perpetual cycle. But at least everything was washed and dried this evening.

I try to do this on Thursday so it isn’t a weekend chore, but, mostly, so it isn’t a weekend celebration. That’d be too much to handle after a peak day like today.

Time to check in with the Re-Listening Project. I’m working through all of my old CDs in chronological order, and padding the blog by writing about it. None of these are reviews, but sometimes there’s something fun. And, today, there’s a lot of good music. First, let’s stop in the mid-1990s.

Chris Isaak found his way into the player. No, not that record. I don’t actually have that one. This is “Forever Blue” which is two albums after that one. And I’m not sure why I bought this, or several of the ones that are to follow. Maybe there was a Columbia House deal. That hustle got a bad rap. If you knew what you were doing, and could maintain some discipline within the system, you could do well. We’re still in my first book of CDs at this point and so, I’m sure, this was all an effort just to add some bulk and heft. And one of the singles, probably “Somebody’s Crying” or “Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing,” probably got my attention.

“Forever Blue” is a good record, just steady and consistent Isaak. It went platinum in the U.S., certified platinum three times in Australia and gold in Canada. Clean instrumentation that compliments the lyrics of a powerful, yet unpretentious singer-songwriter.

Here’s the rockabilly that you grow to expect from Isaak.

Sometimes you hear the Buddy Holly and Ricky Nelson in him.

This time through I wondered how I had managed to never hear Roy Orbison in his singing. It’s obvious and beautiful.

Between the twang and the slide there’s a lot of Dick Dale, too.

I just googled this, and Chris Isaak and Dick Dale have collaborated on some music. I had no idea about that before I was listening this time and thought of the The King of the Surf Guitar.

When you put all of that together, Dick Dale and rockabilly and Roy Orbison and the others, you get sleepy, powerful masterpieces like this.

When I drive, in this town, I somehow manage to spend a disproportionate amount of time at one particular red light. (It is always red, is what I’m saying.) Spend enough time at one spot you’re liable to cultivate a few memories there, and sure, I have one or two at that intersection now. But hearing that song, this time, at that intersection, is the one to hang on to. This record works for me in a new way now, the appreciation deepened when I thought “This is what it would sound like if you put Roy Orbison and Dick Dale and rockabilly and Ricky Nelson together.” And, looking them up, what do you know, I was right.

Only took 26 years.

The next album up: “Greatest Hits,” by Styx. This is how I am sure we are working through a bulk purchase part of my CD collection. I don’t like it. Maybe I bought it for one or two songs, probably “Renegade,” and “Come Sail Away,” or perhaps some sense of suburban obligation. Perhaps I had spent a week without hearing some classic rock station, I don’t know. The tenor is good, but the music just isn’t for me, and this is a compilation of the pop and rock singles, not their prog rock catalog. Most of these songs, though, were recorded between 1975 and 1983 and I have a complicated relationship with that mini-period of music.

Which makes the next couple of albums curious choices.

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14
Oct 22

Just in time: the weekend

A busy week is over, a slow and peaceful weekend has been ordered and is now en route. You can track the package through late Sunday night.

My contribution to the cause today was this. I produced one more video we’ll send out to new students in the next few weeks. That’s four of these videos in the last three days. Now the videos are being edited. The videos, I am happy to say, were left in capable hands.

I’ve had a student work on these. She’s quite talented and I’m pleased that she’s taken on the role of being the project editor. Now I can just give her a few notes and, later, all of the credit for this effort.

We were shooting here yesterday, care to guess?

(Click to embiggen.)

Otherwise, today was fall break for students. So, even though I was working, it was a relatively quiet day. Just what I ordered. (You bet I tracked that package.) I think, though, I’ve hit various different stages in the last three weeks.

The Yankee crashed on Sept. 22nd and a week later had surgery. It was that day, after a week of very little sleep, when real, determined exhaustion set in.

The next day, her mother arrived and a little sleep happened in that second week, which helped a bit. Her mother left after a week. We were fortunate to have her here. Spirits were lifted and I returned to something akin to the normal Merely Very Tired.

Her friend, Anne, came to help this week. That’s been huge. She has basically taken over running the dinner show. Her help with the big and little things where she’s cheerfully pitched in this week was a game changer. I don’t know how to properly express my gratitude when she heads home tomorrow.

My lovely bride has now firmly entered recovery mood. A good surgery, time, good bones, her fitness, beginning physical therapy and Anne willing it to happen has probably done that. She is on schedule, but it’s a slow recovery and it isn’t easy. On top of everything else, she’s also pretty tired. Every time she moves at night she wakes up.

As for me, my circadian rhythm is such that I’d almost rather stay up all night than have a night’s sleep punctuated and interrupted by waking up. We spent two weeks waking up for medicine and I still wake up hearing her move most of the time.

So, in the middle of this week, an incredible sort of fatigue set in. I guess three weeks is the current limit of my first-stage endurance. (This is after the regular day-to-day stress, her bike crash earlier this summer, two other surgeries within the last year, the pandemic and whatever else … )

I stopped protesting about having help with dinner and only meekly protested when she beat me to the dishes last night.

So, after a semi-demanding week — and it should be fairly said that my bosses have been sympathetic and understanding about all of this — I am looking forward to staring mutely at the maple tree.

I’m hoping that, next week, she can finally get a full night of rest. Four weeks removed from the last one, she’s surely due. I might be, too.

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7
Oct 22

The shades beneath the shade

“I set out to the explore the world and never made it beyond my back yard.”

That, or something like that, I might be mis-paraphrasing by memory, was the signature file someone used in a photography Usenet that I once subscribed to. I’m not sure where the quote originated as of this writing, because none of the most likely variations brings up the original. But it strikes me, today, as a sentiment I probably didn’t understand then, but appreciate a little better today. Particularly after these few minutes in the back yard this evening.

The woods are starting to get their autumnal glow.

Closer to the ground, the Joe Pye weed is doing it’s thing.

Three different versions of the same weed within two steps of one another.

Everything out here looks tired. Tired of the summer, or already tired of fall, who can say?

Right about the time I noticed the pink smartweed, I started kicking myself for not bringing a macro lens outside.

Let’s check on the maple.

It seems like all the green leaves are facing south. I wonder why that is. I do enjoy the red petiole on that tree, though.

Oh, look, the sun is peaking through.

My contribution to the cause today was this. I supervised the production of four TV shows. I supported two live events. I had two production meetings and four other less eventful meetings.

That was enough. I now feel I can stride into the weekend with a good conscience.

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30
Sep 22

This is a recovery week – Friday

I read broadly. I’m well educated. I travel well. I watch the occasional documentary. I feel like I have a decent vocabulary. So it doesn’t happen every day anymore, but yesterday I learned a new word. The doctor taught it to me.

This was after the surgery. The Yankee did great. She has strong bones. The surgeon, who does hundreds of these a year, was complimentary of the patient and the quality of her injury. She blew her collarbone into five pieces. And he showed me the X-ray where they put most of it back together.

I asked about the rest. Do you take those fragments out?

No, he said. The bits are so small there’s nothing left.

The impact of her crash ground the bone into something little more than dust particles.

In addition to that, and the two broken ribs, we also learned she fractured her shoulder blade.

This is what happens when a cyclist riding at about 25 miles per hour is cut off and forced to crash by the driver of a red pickup truck.

Be kind to cyclists. And wear a helmet.

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23
Sep 22

Visited an ortho this morning

Last night was a fairly sleepless night, I think. The painkillers seemed more like pain ticklers. But we had an early morning appointment, and that brought out two trips to the biggest pharmacy in town — and several phone calls with the doctor’s offices and the insurance company because, the best I can tell, American healthcare — and drugs that can get the job done.

The Yankee had more X-rays following her bike crash last evening. And they all confirmed how lucky we are.

To recap: some jerk cut her off and she crashed her bike to avoid hitting his red pickup truck. There are witnesses. So we spent most of the night in the ER, and the rest of the night in the drive through of the pharmacy.

She has a few broken bones. This we knew. Two ribs will heal on their own in time, and we knew that. The particular ribs were an initial worry yesterday, because they often lead to other damage, but that’s not the case here. Today’s doctor visit was to consult a specialist about her collarbone, which is also broken.

More X-rays were taken. After several painful rounds of that, the doctor thinks that she might be able to avoid surgery. (Which, having had that surgery myself, I say “Good!”) We’ll go back for more scans next week. And, for the next while we’re just gritting through everything, moving slowly, using one hand, and finding out that there’s no position that is actually comfortable.

And counting our blessings.

Let’s look at her helmet.

By the way, never buy a used helmet. Not all helmets are made the same, some are better than others. Like most anything these days, there are tiers to modern helmets in terms of price and tech and protection, but all helmets on the market have to pass certain minimum standards. The Smith Ignite MIPS Helmet you see here is a good aero helmet.

And should you crash your helmet, retire it and get another one. Also, depending on who you ask, it’s a good thing to upgrade every three-to-five years because of age or heat or sun damage. There’s no real consensus opinion on their lifespan, but three-to-five years are the most agreed upon windows.

This is the left side of her helmet. All of the scratches on the polycarbonate shell came from this accident.

This part is important. The shell on this helmet is molded to the expanded polystyrene foam, but you see where that got ruptured in the crash. This would be just above the left ear.

Here’s the overhead view, with the rider facing the top of the shot. There are some impressive gouges and scratches across the crown of the helmet. All of this, of course, means the helmet is doing it’s job. The helmet gets eaten up by the road so your cranium doesn’t.

See this cracking in the EPS foam? That’s not supposed to be there. That’s crash damage.

Again, better the helmet than the head. Here’s another view of where the EPS foam was destroyed. The green stuff, the straw looking stuff, or the honeycomb stuff, is called Koroyd. This stuff is designed to crumple on impact and absorb crash force in a controlled manner, minimizing energy to the noggin.

The point of this is plastic deformation. Look at how it got squished up. The Koroyd did it’s job.

Altogether, it seems the many bits of technology in this helmet worked. You can see a fair amount of damage, and no head trauma.

A guy in a truck caused this wreck. A helmet very well might have kept it from being a life-changing wreck.

Be kind to cyclists; wear a helmet.