Rons Blog

Writing Class: Murder

2012-02-29T10:02:00.004-05:00

The Murderer’s Mistake

What was the murderer’s mistake? There was always one, and thinking like the murderer was Alec’s way of solving most of his investigations. His white hair was a sign of his status in the department, a person of power. He told his assistant to look in the cupboards and drawers, all of them, and write down the contents. Murder is predictable.

Looking at the body, Alec wondered why this person died. It was a personal death, many blows to the head, more than needed. There was not enough blood, so only the first few blows were needed to do it. However, personal murderers can never tell if they did the job. They overdo it all the time.

There must be a secret, unless there is something missing from the house of value. Usually, a secret, a thing of knowledge that disappeared with the victim.

“We will have to make a list of her closest people, Dan,” he said to the detective at the scene. “First do that and then for each of them, find out about their movements. And get the financial records for all of them.”

Paperwork and groundwork. He needed these. A case is built on this, and he works with input.

He decided to talk to the husband. Rule #1. Married? Then #1 suspect is the spouse.

Alec talked to Tom, the husband, at the station.

“You were not home last night or today. Is that right?” Alec was testing his ‘lie detector’ internals with an obvious lie. The suspect is pulled totally off base with this and he usually answers the following question with the truth, if he is innocent. It is science.

Tom exclaimed, “No, I was home last night! Where did you get that information?”

“We’ll see about that. Were you and your wife on good terms?” Alec looked at Tom, his chemical balance waiting for the reply, or for any indication of more stress.

“Of course, sir. We loved each other,” was the answer. Tom looked him straight in the eye.

Aha, thought Alec. Alarm bells. Truth does not need a direct look in my eye. Tom is under stress, but he is putting up a face of steadiness. Ergo, he is not innocent and this is not the truth. It is science.

So, a day later, Alec’s group had all the information they needed on Tom, his business, his movements for the previous week. It was the groundwork. Alec aimed the department at Tom, and he now understood Tom.

Alec, now Tom, was wandering in his mind through the previous week, removing all paper bills and visa receipts. There were none in the house. Alec then sensed how Tom felt the night before. He had gone out to a bar and became very drunk. There was stress building up and he tried to drown his feelings. The day of the murder, Tom drove to work and walked in on a meeting he was late for. He apologized and said he had to phone a client in Britain.

The phone records agreed with his call, but Alec felt, no, he knew, that Tom had been planning this murder, and needed an alibi. The call to Britain was to an office, quite properly, and the person at the other end agreed that the call was made.

Alec, was intriqued, for he knew that Tom was murdering his wife at the time. How did this happen? It would have taken Tom a half an hour to go home, do the deed, and come back.

Well, Alec figured it out. Tom started the call in his closed office, knowing that all his cohorts were in the meeting. He then turned on his cell phone, through call sharing, and continued the discussion for 10 minutes. The office in Britain confirmed that Tom had to answer another call for about 5 minutes, then he came back online and finished the call.

Proof? Alec didn’t need any more proof. He had his man. The department would finish the investigation.

Things to do at 66

2012-02-28T22:24:00.000-05:00

Curling at 66

Curling: The sport of champions. Well, probably not, but it sounds good.

This was my first step on the ice since teenage years, 50 years ago, and I was determined to learn curling again. I had paid my $270 for the year, my $80 for the shoes, my $120 for the broom and I was ready! Now I am more informed and more careful about the word ‘ready’.

Well. Curling ice is slippery! When I started, I didn’t even have my slippery left shoe on... It was covered up with a rubber outer sole, so that you could actually walk on the ice. Otherwise, walking was impossible and darned right dangerous.

Ha! Walk on Ice? The image of legs and arms wailing about in the cartoons was what it felt like.

In fact, for each of about 5 weeks, someone in the club fell down on the ice... one to hospital, most just needing many others help to get up. This was very demoralizing.

So, the main objective of curling: don’t fall. You might say, well, are you all too old to be playing? The group is called Men’s Morning Group. Yes, we are all retired. Main objective of this curling: don’t fall... Then, having accomplished that, make points for your team.

I am now a happy curler. It is different now. I can walk on the ice. How? It has only been 1 year. What did I do to make me a happy curler?

My progress:

My first steps on the ice, total fear! One foot down on the ice, the other on wood, and I felt like falling already. Wow. This ice is nowhere like the stuff outside on the walkway. So, pull your leg back to the wood, balance yourself, then take off. Yup, with both feet on the ice, you just feel like sliding beautifully forward, under total control. Yeah. How do you stop? Just wait. You eventually stop. Just keep straight up.

My second job. Use the brush, a thing on a stick to make the ice warm for the ‘rock’. Great, a third thing to put on the ice, two feet and a brush. Yes, this is how you learn to not fall over, sort of. I remember playing this when I was young, The brush was a broom, like a witches broom, and you beat it against the ice to make the ice heat up. Thankfully, the modern ‘brush’ lets you put weight on it to hold you up off the ice.

My third job. Throw the rock. This is where things get dicey. I could tell you about my first ‘throw’ of the rock, but that could be too embarrassing. I didn’t fall. But the rock is not supposed to be picked up off the ice and then banged down on it as my muscle memory said... “throw it down the ice.” And, when you take the rubber off your slippery shoe, you have only one leg to stand on. Single leg, and one doubtful appendage. But there is a way. I am glad to say that I can now throw a rock down the ice and have it pass the hog line. Yeah, I speak curling!

SO, for all you newbies out there who want to learn curling. You must. You have to. You will die if you do not buy a Canadian Tire special piece of exercise equipment for curling. You stand on it and your legs instantly want to spread 4 feet apart. Only your inseam muscles hold you back from devastation. Without this tool, you will end up spread-eagled on the ice. It is as simple as that. Hold your legs together with strength, and you live.

The lesson is over. I no longer need the Canadian Tire Special. I rock with the rock!

In Class Piece: Dialog.

2012-02-28T21:24:00.004-05:00

My Knives

Her eyes looked down at the package. “You bought what?” she said.

I defended my purchase. “Yes, they were just there on the web, waiting for me.”

She stared at the purchase, sitting in the opened package in the hallway.

“Why would you want those?” she said.

OK, I thought, let’s not get into an argument with her. I’ll tell her it was a silly idea, but they are now here, and we should be happy.

But she continued with her rant. “I shouldn’t let you have a Visa Card!” She stormed into the kitchen.

(Really, I am the only one in the family with a job. It’s my Visa!)

I picked up the package and followed her into the kitchen, my pride a bit bruised. I picked the three things out of the package and carefully placed them side by side, perfectly parallel to each other, on the kitchen table.

“Aren’t they beautiful? I’ve always wanted them!” I said enthusiastically. “They did not cost as much as they look.”

She snorted. But she looked down at them. I could see a small glint of humour in her eyes.

I was winning!

“See how they shine? And look at their size. Each one is 12 inches long and they are balanced just right.”

I picked up one of ... the knives... those glorious, all-metal, Professional Throwing Knives! They came in a set of 3, with a leather case. What a steal at $78 dollars! With reverence, I picked up one of them and held it gently in my hand. It was a man’s weapon!

OK: Now for the worst thing a man can do to a wife. I pulled her and my knife out to the deck, our beautiful cedar deck. I balanced my knife in my hand, took it by the glorious metal handle and, with great strength, bolted it straight at the deck surface!

It flew straight down, as it should, then bounced with a horrible metallic ringing sound down and then back up, leaving a very large divot in the deck. It then continued wilfully past the roses and sunk into the wooden fence facing next door.

Well, my wife yelled. In fact she shrieked, “What are you? A maniac?” She ran into the house with a funny gurgling sound coming out of her throat.

The knives are now in the cutting knife drawer, relegated to carving meat.

403 words, 20 minutes. The knives really are beautiful.

Homework: A convincing B

2012-02-28T20:42:00.003-05:00

The Point of it All

My friend, Pat, looked up at me and shivered a little. Her soft brown hair fell down a bit over her forehead, covering an eye. The other eye was looking afraid, and she slouched a bit, feeling trepidation and just a touch of fear. This is not the response I expected to my question.

It was simple. I wanted her to get into the canoe.

She repeated her worries again, “I don’t think I can stay upright. I will fall in the water. I can’t paddle. I’m too weak.”

Her tongue licked dry lips, and she looked at the seat in the canoe. The paddle drooped in her hands, resting on the ground at the water’s edge.

The canoe was parallel to the water’s edge and it was about 1 foot down below ground level. A person would have to balance on one foot and place the other exactly in the middle of the canoe, then transfer weight to the canoe while forcing it back against the shore. Simple.

I said, “Don’t worry. I am holding the canoe for you. And getting wet isn’t so bad.”

I shouldn’t have said that last thing. She moved back from the water’s edge, and straightened up.

“Don’t worry, Pat. It’s only a little canoe. No worries. Just jump in. I will hold it for you. I promise.”

She still looked at it with some form of hysteria; it was a foreign object. There was no hint of her moving toward the canoe. “I don’t know. Can I sit on the ground? Then I can just put both feet into it.”

I told her, “That’s just a bit overdoing it. You really should just put one foot in then use the other to push into it.”

She sat on the ground, 3 feet away from the canoe. Her hands were shivering. I was going to have a problem.

“OK,” I said. You don’t want to get into the canoe, do you?”

“I would love to get into it. Will it turn over if I do? I don’t know how to paddle.”

“Don’t worry, Pat. I can do all the paddling. You can just sit back and enjoy the ride. I will only need you to paddle if the wind is too strong.”

She looked up at the wind, the hysteria looking a bit more firmly planted in her mind. I shouldn’t have said that last thing.

She braved up a bit, her eyes showing a bit of heart. A quivery little voice said, “You will hold it for me?”

“Yes, I have it firmly in place, the canoe won’t move.”

She tried, she really did. One foot went in and the canoe rolled a bit. That was the end of that. It was though the canoe was on the edge of the Grand Canyon.

Her eyes were wide. She looked at me with defeat on her face. “I can’t.”

Well. Grand Canyon. I told her to take her shoes off. She complied, rolling up her pants.

“I will hold the canoe for you from the water”, as I jumped into the 1 foot deep river. “Now, just walk into the water.”

The Grand Canyon became 1 foot deep as she slid into it. She smiled. “That’s better. Why didn’t you suggest this before?”

I said, “Yes, I could have. But it is not hard to get into a canoe. It’s all in your mind.”

Besides,” I said, “One gets into a canoe, and the point of canoes, is to go across water: Without Getting Wet.”

She looked at me as if I were strange. She didn’t understand canoeing.

Homework: OP-ED

2012-02-27T17:34:00.005-05:00

OP-ED: Dog Poo

Dog’s poo. I don’t have a dog... or a cat... I have a resident mouse.. the traps are out, snap-traps. You now know my position from this. Dog Poo, I hate it.

But why do I remember the smell, the heat from that stuff, the bag held at a distance? Must’ve taken Geoff’s (2^nd son) dog out for a walk. Really! I don’t remember that... wouldn’t have done it. But I really do remember the bag, the smell. Yuk.

Must dogs walk? I feel sorry for all the dog owners in the world who feel the need to walk the beast. What’s wrong with the yard? Exercise Yard... string a cat-substitute on a string and make it run around the yard. You don’t even have to leave the house. Fido..catch cat. Good training too.

SO: Dog owners. You must put the dog in the yard first. It is a new rule. If you don’t have a yard, you can’t have a dog... or can you?

PATENT #7,090,268: The dog Poo-catcher.

Yes: place this on the backside, just like a horse owner. And I will allow you to walk the dog!

OK: nobody does that! But why do they have smelly bags, grocery bags, to hold the poo? Yeah, I know, they are pliable and big, really big.

OK #2: Just outside the door. Your own dog-litter-box. YES: dogs are smarter than cats, aren’t they? WELL: maybe not; put a fence around it and wait for doggy to poo. Easy. You stay inside. It stays outside.

Back to the bag. Must there be a bag? How about aluminum foil? Smell Proof! Recyclable. (perhaps not when filled with poo.)

Well, this is beside the point. Dogs should not Poo. Simple. Ha Ha.

But to emphasize the point. I don’t even like to see a person picking up the hot smelly smoking stuff. It offends me. And while I am ranting, “Do I have to see dog’s undersides?” They should wear clothes. Hey! How about diapers?

And why do they try to mate with my leg?

Charlie and Poppin's Adventures #4

2012-02-27T12:08:00.004-05:00

Hop Skip and Jump

Poppin said “This is fun”, as she hop-skipped along the marbley red path. Charlie just looked at her because boys don’t like hop-skip-jumping.

Charlie thought that he really should learn how to do it, just to show Poppin that he could do it. But at that moment, a bird flew down onto the marbley red path.

It was a small black bird, with yellow eyes and a pink beak. It looked up at Charlie with one eye, then at Poppin.

It looked very happy and it jumped up and down doing circles. Suddenly, it talked, not surprising since this was why Poppin and Charlie were here. They liked to talk to things, and help them out.

“Hello there people!” he said in a tweety high voice. He then said “Chip chip chip” as though it was a laugh, or a giggle.

Charlie bent down. “Hello little bird. My name is Charlie and my sister is called Poppin. We are very glad to meet you.”

The bird jumped up on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, “I would like to hop-skip, like Poppin. My name is ... well, everyone tweets at me, so I will be Tweety.”

Charlie smiled. “This is Tweety,” he said to Poppin. “He wants to learn how to hop-skip like you.”

Poppin laughed. Do you think she could teach Tweety how to hop skip?

Poppin said, “Well you know how to jump, don’t you. I just saw you. So I will have to teach you how to hop and skip.”

So, Poppin stood on one leg. Was this hopping or skipping?

No, but she said to Tweety, “This is how you start hopping, Tweety. You must be strong and balance on one leg.”

Charlie tried to stand on one leg and had some trouble staying up. He wobbled left and right, holding his arms out wide. But Tweety knew exactly how to do it.

Tweety chirped and chirped as he stood on one leg. “When one of my feet gets hot, I do this all the time. I can even sleep this way!”

Poppin said, “Yes, it looks easy, but you now have to jump up and down on that one leg. It’s hard.”

Tweety could barely jump on the one leg. He kept falling sideways. “This is hard. My legs aren’t very strong. Can you help me?”

What could Tweety do to stop falling?

Well, Charlie had the same problem, but he held out his arms to keep on the one leg as he jumped. Would this help Tweety?

Poppin said, “What if you flapped your wings? They would help you hop.”

And Tweety tried this and it worked. He could now hop up and down on one leg almost higher than Poppin. Charlie was doing this pretty well too. Charlie laughed and Tweety chirped in happiness.

Poppin said, “Thats great, you can now hop on one leg. You now have to hop on the other leg without falling over. That is how to skip. One leg, then the other leg and then the first leg again, then the second.”

Well. Have you ever seen a bird skipping? Tweety started skipping down the marble path very fast, with wings flapping and nice high skips, first landing on one foot, then on the other, then back to the first. Tweety was very happy and skipped all the way back to them, big leaps and jumps with wings flapping. It was a funny sight.

“Thank you for teaching me to skip. Now I can Hop, Skip and Jump.” Said Tweety.

Poppin and Charlie smiled with delight. Charlie had also been practising. Now all of them, with Tweety in front, skipped down the marbley red pathway, Tweety flapping, Charlie with arms swinging wildly, and of course Poppin, who did it perfectly.

Nonfiction: What Is It?

2012-02-26T20:25:00.002-05:00

The Mystery of the Square Fence

There is a fence out there, in the middle of a field, in a square, no road to it. It is doing nothing. It is about 60 feet on each side, a chain link fence about 4 feet high and it has a gate in one corner. It is a large gate and it is open. The chain link has wind-screen attached to it. The wind screen is green, like that used for tennis courts and you can’t see through it. There is nothing inside the fence. It looks exactly like the rest of the field, a farmer’s field.

What is this fence for? The field is across the road from a new municipal equipment center. Is it a recreation field for the employees? Is it a septic system? A horse pasture? A skating rink? Perhaps it is a community garden. There is no sign, no tracks to it in the dirt in the field. It just sits there empty.

To be fair, it was built in the late fall, and this is now winter in Canada.

SO: guess what that field is for.

I don’t know, but there are inferences.

It can’t be a community garden. It is the country, a farmer’s field. It needs to be close to people.

It can’t be a septic system, it’s across the road from the equipment building.

It cannot be a horse pasture, the fence is too low.

It can’t be a sports area, it is square; no sports field is square.

Any ideas?

It has a wide gate in a corner. Why is there a wide gate?

The fence is too low to protect equipment loss or people jumping over it.

It has wind screen. Why don’t they want a wind?

There is absolutely no reason why such a fenced-in area can exist. It was built at about the same time as the municipal equipment building was built, but it doesn’t appear to be connected to it in any way. It may be part of the farm, and the windproofing might indicate a farm use, perhaps to test out a special crop, but it is very small for this, and why would it be built now?

SO: any ideas?

It is in the middle of a flat field. Why is it not closer to the road? It is in the middle of the field for a reason. It must be the key. There are water hydrants outside the building, so it can’t be for a well... or maybe it is for a test well. Yes.

The municipal equipment building may have equipment which leaks gas and oil. A test well may be the new requirement for monitoring oil and VOC’s coming from the building. Maybe there are more fenced enclosures around the building.

Best bet.

I will have to go into the building when it opens and ask the question. Why is the fenced enclosure there? It must be the future site of something. A wind tower? (It’s too small). Cell Tower? (The municipal building would be better).

I will finish this piece of writing when I find out. I will update it with anyone’s valid idea.

Homework: Non-fiction Non-personal

2012-02-24T21:33:00.002-05:00

Power and Tides

Tides rise and fall each day, creating a wave of power around the earth, following the moon and the sun for eternity. The earth’s surface seems to pull and push as the water fills the vacuum.

Surging water results when tides are directed inward along coastlines, producing waves of water volume which force themselves up the coastline. These are usually slow and lazy movements, but in places the coast line forces high currents and dangerous waters.

The power of water in a storm is beyond description, able to break bridges, pull ships apart, destroying sandbanks and ecosystems.

The tides are rarely this active, but they still work their power, in day by day constant movement. If you stand on a beach, or on a rock being submerged by the rising tide, you feel the danger, the water lapping closer, the way to safety disappearing slowly and inevitably, a foreign world could take you from your place of safety. The tides can pull a swimmer into the depths with just a little hint of their true power, almost invisibly.

However, the water in a tide is also a live-giving source of power. The earth and its oceans were designed around tides and live because of them. Without the tides, there would be pockets of the ecosystem which never change or mingle or evolve. The movement of water brings in food, makes changes to the sea floor, and mixes the temperatures of water that might otherwise be too warm to harbour life.

The tide is like the night and day of weather above the sea, causing winds, rain and snow because of the power of the wind following the temperature changes of the sunlight.

Like the sunlight, the power of the tides create movement, and from this, makes changes in the ocean which activate life below the surface. Most tides are noticed along coastlines, but this is the way it should be, the incubator of the ocean, the source of life for many species.

The kelp, and plant life including all floating algae live on nutrients in the oceans, the movement of which is governed by the tides near the coastlines. Heat and cold cause movements as well as tides, but the tides don’t need the temperature change to work.

Wind is a major source of ocean power, but major ocean current movements are also caused by the tide and the large wave which flows around the earth in synchronism with both the sun and the moon. These sun and moon tides are large, but more in their wave power than in the few centimetres the earth or water may move because of simple gravity. Move an ocean up one centimetre and you have amazing power which can be moved sideways. Ground can’t move sideways easily, but water can, and some of the vertical power of gravity change is converted to horizontal power in the ocean.

The earth we live in is powered by the ocean, our oxygen is created by the ocean even more than all the greenery on land. Our carbon dioxide is absorbed in the oceans, our tempertatures are modified by the oceans. And the tides are created by our oceans.

OP-ED eat your heart out

2012-02-22T20:03:00.002-05:00

Opinion Piece: Toronto’s Fish and Chips

I have a problem and I can’t be the only one. But this subject is big. It affects my Fridays, OK, my fries-days. I have a problem with Toronto’s Fish and Chips.

Fish and Chips are significantly worse than they were 10 years ago. In fact, I no longer buy fish and chips. They are horrible, and every fish and chip shop is the same. They have all created the worst fish and chips in the world.

Is this because ‘we’ can’t use saturated fats any more? Is this because we can’t use high temperatures for their carcinogenic effects? Is Canada destroying its own fish and chips for our safety?

But it is true! The fish are more like old fashioned fish sticks than traditional fish and chips. I can make better ones in my home frier... and I could never do that before.

Fish and Chips shops are supposed to take lovely, white, mild tasting fish like cod, maybe a bit flat, like halibut. They then make the most lovely crisp coating, bubbly, thick, rounding dipped syrupy batter, maybe with beer to add lightness that melts in your mouth. And the final touch, the fish in the batter, thick surrounding, double dipped, and quickly into the frothy, foamy, dark liquid at high temperature. The fish immediately froths and bubbles. This is the real chippy shop version of fish and chips.

BUT now. Everything looks the same. The cook does everything the same, it all looks the same. But what comes out is thin, almost no coating, harsh, dry, limited crisp.. it is horrible.

The ‘perfect’ fish in fish and chips would take the malt vinegar, and it would just bubble on the surface and drop away. The Toronto version absorbs it. Yechh. The ‘perfect’ coating in fish and chips is at least 4 times the thickness of the fish. If the Toronto fish were thick like they should be, the fish would be twice the thickness of the coating. As it is, there is more fish than coating.

It is my opinion, and I wait for some fish shop to prove me wrong, is that somewhere out there, cheap fish and chip kits are being sold to the shops to cook. It is all a matter of money. We, the public, will eat anything. Let them eat... a kit. It’s cheaper, it’s easier.

Where is the pride? Where are the entrepreneurs who really want to make happy chippie customers? I wait. But I won’t believe it and I won’t go in a fish and chip shop until the Star or the Globe and Mail tells me it is safe to enter again.

Gemma's Story

2012-02-22T17:32:00.000-05:00

A Vikings Journal
June 23, 992 AD

I am both worried and excited. This is my first voyage to unknown lands, well, my first voyage ever. Plus, I'm the youngest kid going, I'm only fifteen. My name is Freydis the Adventurous, my name says it all. I have short, blond hair and I am quite small and short for my age. In two days, we're leaving west in search of land. Leif Eriksson is leading this risk-taking quest with about eighty members of the crew. Most of us girls have to wear dresses, but I hate to wear these and they get in the way too much if you're on a quest. So I'm going to borrow some of my brother's clothes on our valiant quest. I was born in lovely Greenland and still live there today with my two brothers and my parents. Leif Eriksson wanted me to join his voyage because I'm skillful, small and adventurous. I am just scared of meeting those savage Skrealings, if we do, and treacherous sea monsters. My best friends, Tora and Katrin, will be coming with me so I won't be too lonely. We leave in two days so I'm going to start practising my techniques.

June 24,992 AD

Tomorrow we head westward where no one has set foot before (I think). We are going into uncharted waters, as far west as we can go until we find land. We're going in the summer when it is warm and the sea is calm. The skies are looking darker, but all we can do is hope for the best. A man named Bjarni Herjolfsson was going west when he was blown off course and saw land but did not visit it. I want to go see the dewy grass and lush forests that Bjarni explained. I think we're bringing some of our farm animals like our pigs and sheep. I hope we get to stay where we're visiting for a while, I just don't want to explore icy, cold lands. We just have to follow our brave leader. My friends are just as excited as I am. We're leaving tomorrow and I hope for the best!

June 25, 992 AD

Yes! We are leaving today in our old, worn out boat that Leif bought from Bjarni. It's a musty brown colour with worn out red and white sails made from linen attached to a gigantic mast in the middle of the boat. The Longship is actually pretty big; it's about 30m long! At least it won't sink. All the girls have to share a room and same with the boys. Leif and his immediate crew have their own cabin where they stay. At the front of the Longship, there is an elegant dragon head. The dragon has sharp teeth and is very scary-looking. Today, since we are leaving, the sky is clearing up! It's sunny and the waters are calm. We just left the port of Greenland in our ship, now we are heading west. I hope we don't have to stay in our Longship for too long! I'm starting to get sea sick. I'll tell you when we hit land.

July 5, 992 AD

When I first woke up today, all I saw was everyone gathered at the side of the ship. Tora told me to come over. I saw land! The first place was icy. We didn't go visit that place. Leif named it Helluland, land of ice. The next place we saw was full of leafy forests and woods. We didn't go too far onto the shore, but we stopped to get some lumber for buildings and fire. Leif named it Markland, land of the woods. Finally we got off at a beautiful place that was covered with wet grass. It was gorgeous! Everyone was stunned by the beauty. When we first got here, we licked the dew off the grass. It tasted so sweet! Leif called this place Vinland. We're waiting until tomorrow to set up camp. I guess we're going to stay a while. I will tell you when things get exciting.

July 6, 992 AD

I went on our first dangerous mission, with Leif and ten of the other crew members, to explore the new land we just found, that was unknown to us Vikings. When we were walking through the woods, I thought I saw some faint Skrealings or spirits watching us, but I didn't tell anyone, in case they sent me back to the others. I was starting to get a little worried now. After a couple more hours of walking, we found a Natives' site with one tent. Inside, there were eight Natives. Leif went into the tent to see if they were real, and, he killed them. Obviously they were real and there are probably more of them around. Their campsite is very intelligent looking. There is art all over the walls, different tools and kinds of food and some bows and arrows that looked really sharp. We heard some other Natives off in the distance. We started to run as fast as we could. I'm starting to think that this isn't a safe place after all for us of Viking blood.

July 12 992 AD

The Natives came for revenge. They were extremely upset about what Leif did to them. But they didn't fight. They were very generous. They said they wouldn't attack if we gave them three volunteers to stay and teach them things that they didn't know. I was getting quite impressed that these Natives were so intelligent. I went over to Tora and Katrin. The three of us volunteered.

June 2 993 AD

The Natives took us in like family. They treated us very well, almost like we belonged with them our whole life. The Vikings were going to stay and declare war against them but I knew they were greatly outnumbered. I persuaded Leif Eriksson to go back to Greenland with the rest of his crew. I told them to tell our families that we were in safe hands, but we would not be coming back. I hope they did tell them though. We taught the Natives many things they didn't know. We taught them how to smelt iron, how to make warmer clothes and how to write poetry. In return they taught us two things. One, how to draw beautiful, stunning artwork of animals and landscapes. And two, to make peace with one another. These Natives never fought with each other and they were always kind and supportive to one another. We all respected the elders as well as the younger kids. Tora, Katrin and I were given jobs to help out around the busy community. We also decided to keep peace with them. They introduced us to their gods and traditions. Right now, I'm still living with them, probably forever. I just wish I could go back to Greenland to show my friends and family everything I have learned. I think these Natives would be a great influence to the Vikings. I know that I have learned from these Natives a lot. I will stop writing my adventurous tale in this saga now. Our new stories get passed down orally, generation to generation. So that was my adventure to Vinland.

By: Gemma Patey

Non-Fiction Practise:Bali

2012-02-21T21:42:00.003-05:00

Diving Bali

Most of you have not gone diving, but you should know what you are missing, and this will give you hints of the amazing world that you can see below the surface. It is not like the television documentaries that simply view colourful creatures in the underwater world, because you are really in the middle of it. Blow a bit too much out of your lungs and you fall hopelessly into the coral, breath in a bit too much and you rise hopelessly toward the surface. But if you breathe just right, you simply rise a little and fall a little and rise and fall, and you never even notice that you are in full neutral balance.

There are many reasons why you need to be trained, not just a few hours on a beach. Because, if you ever get into trouble, you had better know how to get out of it. SO NAUI or PADI courses, take them.

You might wonder if diving is worth all of the trouble, the weights that you have to put on, the limited air supply and all the other things that are ‘not worth it’ to those who have never dived.

Well, if you are not afraid of water, the answer is obvious. Yes.

Our favourite place in the world for diving is Bali, the little country just north of Australia. It is a Hindu country, with amazing dances and of course all the peculiarities of Hinduism when viewed through their unique culture. Every taxi, for instance, has a little tribute on it’s dash or outside on the hood, a large leaf full of flowers and natural things. But the exciting part of Bali is under the water.

On the west coast, a very long drive from the tourist region, you land on a stoney pebbley beach to get into a small boat. It then takes off into the ocean, with waves higher than the boat, but still calmish and smooth, just like the ocean that it is. The boat rises on the top of a wave, and you eventually see land, like the Galapagos, small volcano, rocks. It’s probably Bali itself, but it looks so foreign. At some point, the boat stops and you are helped into your gear. It is only we two, and our divemaster and the boat owner. Like all diving, the worst part is above the water, the wet suits, the weights, the tanks, your safety equipment and buoyancy jackets. But in Bali, it is normal for all the work to be done for you. You sit, you stand, and you are fitted out. No, they don’t push you off the boat, but the boat is small enough to allow you to sit on gunwale and push backwards into the water. Splash. Done. I love Bali for that! Instead of being half used up by then, we are fresh and ready for a complete dive experience, about an hour.

Magic, you land under the water, just off the boat and you stay there; quietness hits. You look up and see the surface. You look down and see not very much at all, but you know there is good stuff down there. You breath, and the air tanks answer with a full breath of air. Now is the time to do diving things, clearing your ears as you fall, removing air from your buoyancy bladder on your back, then immediately adding air back again since your balance just starts to make you drop like a stone once you pass about 10 feet down. You look up and the boat drifts away, bobbing in the waves. You don’t have any waves, only the sound of your breathing. Now slowly, you drop, looking down and swim forwards to control the descent. At about 20 feet, you start seeing the dropoff. There is ground below you, and then further on, there is no ground, only blue, the edge of the hundreds of feet of dropoff, straight vertical down. Beautiful.

Ordinarily, you would worry about downdrafts, but the divemaster has already told us that this is a safe place. So, just over the edge, take out a bit of air out of your buoyancy bladder and down you go. You can do the same by breathing in a more shallow fashion, but you are still not where you want to be, so it is better to use the bladder. The colours on the wall start to pop out.

The colours are brilliant because there is not too much water above you. You have to stop here. There is much more below you, but they will all start to stay blue and the colours will fade. Now is the time to stop going up and down. Neutral buoyancy, just lie there and you stay there. Fortunately, it’s even easier than that. The current is slowly moving us past this wall of coral, just like a mild breeze.

Red coral in fans, layer by layer are passing you, with little red and yellow fish moving in and around and under them. These are hard coral, so the fish just use them as covering, they don’t sit within the coral here. Then there are the frilly blue-ish corals waving in the current. Blue and yellow fish look at you from behind them. Staghorn coral with hard antlers are aiming straight up, and other, more frilly, corals with almost no definition to their shape wave about. There is no ground to see, nothing but corals and waving flower-like things.

The fish are grouped in colours, the larger fish are not as colourful, the smaller ones are the brightest, with bars and stripes. We can put our hands out and almost touch them, if they stayed there long enough. One follows us, a blue and yellow fish, staring at us, flitting away, then coming back.

Looking backwards, out into the blue, we see shadows of larger fish, not sharks, but larger and barely viewable in the distance. This is a new experience, like lions out there waiting for you to get close to them, there are things out there.

Then we move down the garden, down past bright reds and greens to where colours are just yellow and blue and faded green. But the corals are intense in their density, waving in the flow of the water, with miniature little fish wandering aimlessly around them. If we move close to the coral, the fish move out of the way, than back as we drift further away. We don’t have to move to float across this wall of coral, which never ends.

Looking up, there is coral and the sun shines through it, showing veins and branches of amazing intricacy. Each vein appears translucent with the sun behind it. Looking down, there is a solid mass of coral, whispy in places, solid branches in other places, with a profusion of fish hovering over them.

We felt like just lying down on the beds of coral, projecting out in places to add depth to the picture. In the distance there is a landscape of ins and outs of coral, mostly light blue, with places of black where no light passes. The reds have turned black, a solid, permanent-looking black. And all around, from above, is sunlight, straight streams of it, like moonbeams in sheets of intensity in the translucent water of the ocean.

We are at about 60 feet down now, and our tank pressures are approaching the limit for our time under the ocean. We still hear only our own breathing, with silence between breaths. The fish surround us and ‘will’ us to stay down there forever. That is the feeling. Up Above is noise, waves, danger, a world. Down here is silence: there is no danger down here, there is only beauty.

The reason for diving, is being there.

1300 words, wordy. 1 hour, not bad.

Biggest Ever

2012-02-20T11:41:00.001-05:00

The Biggest Word

“Moonshineonetwothreecoverstormthunderthepresantofthelightwichhasthunderpower” said Kayla.

That’s the biggest word in the universe,“ she said.

Her friends looked at her and all laughed. “It really is the biggest word!” said Gemma.

They were all under the sheet as the storm flashed outside, getting louder and louder. The lights in the house had just dimmed and then went out when the sound came. For a few minutes, the house was dark and they couldn’t see a thing. Abbey screamed then and then there was silence, until Kayla said that biggest word in the universe.

Then, instantly, as they were laughing, the lights came on. It must’ve been the longest, biggest word that did it.

SO: Gemma said “Thismymustbefinestbestesslongestlongerthankaylasword” and happily announced that this was really the longest, biggest word in the universe. Lightening cracked and the lights went off again.

Kayla screamed. Abbey screamed.

They both said, “That’s not long enough. Look what you did! You turned out the lights!”

“Please say your biggest word again,” said Abbey.

Kayla said, “I can’t. I forgot it.”

And the lights stayed off forever.

Homework: Childs Verse

2012-02-18T19:41:00.005-05:00

Perfect Light

.... Hello I say to the man in the moon,

It’s nice to see you all round as a spoon.

In a week or so you will lose some weight,

And get thinner and lose your light.

Thin as a string and then no more,

And a new moon starts up next night to soar.

....You are gone many days, but nights are great,

You light up the sky, if I stay up late.

Right overhead, with full face looking down,

Smiling and happy over my little town.

The trees would be invisible in the night,

If you weren’t there to make everything right.

...My window is bright in your white lovely light,

It seems like outside is full of daylight.

But whiter light, not so yellow,

Even though the sun makes you light up, I know.

My pillow is bright, it glows in the night,

Because of you and your perfect light.

Electronics 101.3

2012-02-18T13:28:00.000-05:00

I will Teach You, Electronics, Computers

Lesson #3

Here, I hope, is some more knowledge of electricity and electronics... And Computers.

I know this is getting boring, with lamps, heat, magnets and water. But let’s jump to something interesting for this lesson. Computers.

When you turn on a computer, the first thing you probably hear is the disk drive. This is magnetic. Yes. There are giga-amounts of little dots on a whirling plate. The little dots are made into magnets (written) by electric current pulses in a coil. The little dots are read back by a magnet (being one little dot) flying by a coil which senses the moving magnet, sort of like a DC motor (lesson #2), except instead of just a few NSNSNS’s in the motor, (or NSSNNSNS) there are giga-amounts of them. The disk drive knows the exact physical location of every dot. SO, you know disk drives.

Next, when a computer turns on, you see little lights around the keyboard. Well, these are small LED’s, light emitting diodes. These are special. When current goes through them, the electrons push and hit other electrons making them more active... then when they stop being more active, they make a photon, a single thing of light. Now we are talking millions and millions of these in the one LED. So it lights up. LED’s are very sensitive. Never put them in backwards. Never put too much current through them. At any rate, they come in many sizes and many colours. The colours depend on the material that the electrons flow through. Different levels of ‘active’ jumping make different light photons when they lose their active state. Red was the first colour ever, so old things have red LEDs.

The keyboard is next. It is a set of switches. There is voltage applied across the switch, but no current flows because the IN and OUT are held apart by rubber, or a spring, or anything else that feels good. When you push down on the keyboard switch, the IN and OUT are connected together and current flows into the circuit to be detected by a little computer. This is like a water tap in lesson #1. The little computer senses the switches by scanning. This is like looking at one switch at a time, maybe for 1/2000 second. The electrons move pretty fast, so this is easy. So the little computer, usually right in the keyboard, does this with about 8 switches at a time. There are about 8 outputs from the computer and they each look at 8 switches or so. The computer is doing 8 things simultaneously (or so) and the number of wires is only 8+8 = 16 instead of 8x8 = 64 switches. Yeah, this is called multiplexing and is one of the biggies in the computer world because it saves a lot of wires, especially the ones inside integrated circuits... see below.

Computers would be very large, and used to be very large. But now there are integrated circuits. The engineers found out that if you started with silicon that looks like glass, you can make dots on the silicon which are little switches, millions or billions in one integrated circuit. That’s a lot of circuits. Then they connect the dots together with wires which are so small, you wouldn’t be able to see them, even with a microscope. The switches have an IN and an OUT, just like the keyboard, but they also have a ‘gate’, a connection which is like the tap, or your finger. If the gate has voltage on it, the IN and OUT are connected. If the gate has no voltage, the IN and OUT are not connected. This sounds simple BUT it is what makes computers tick. Like we humans and our brain neurons, You need IN’s and OUT’s that are affected by ‘gates’ to make computers work, or even have memory.

Memory Integrated Circuits inside the main computer are all multiplexed. If the computer wants to see what is in address location 18,233,943, for instance, it outputs that ‘address’ and up pops 32 or 64 ‘switch’ results. All of these switches are kept in the memory circuit just for that location and represent the number in that location. Fun. Sort of just like the keyboard scanning.

When a computer starts up, it has a known memory location that it always uses to be its first instruction. SO, the computer starts at say, location 00000000, and reads a value, say 45600 and an instruction, say 476, sort of like ‘45600476’ from that location. Now the computer uses all of its internal circuits to figure out what 476 means. This is permanently built into the computer and it probably means “take the value (45600) and make it the next memory location you look at”. Yes: that was a ‘Jump’ instruction. The computer then sends out location 000045600 instead of 000000000 to the memory, and reads the value there, say 00012 for the value and 421 for the instruction, 00012421. Instruction 421 is probably a simple read of the ‘value’, which is 12 and put it into a temporary memory #1. (422 might mean temporary memory #2, etc.). Now, the fun of computers. The computer automatically uses the next memory location as the next thing to do, that would be 000045601 (unless the instruction part told it to Jump). That next memory location might hold 00001521 meaning value 00001 and instruction 521. Well this might tell the computer to put temporary memory #1 out to an external location 00001, the location of the blue LED and all the other LED’s beside it. The computer just turned on some LEDs. Fun. This may be a bit deep and hard to understand, but this is a working computer, and how it runs... forever. This is called a program, or an app.

The computer’s display screen is the next marvel, and is needed for all personal computers. A Laptop is easiest to understand. The screen is like a memory, a location in the memory is a pixel on the screen. There are usually special integrated circuits to handle this. So a location on the screen wants to be changed. There are 3 colours in each pixel and say 8 levels of brightness for each one. That is 24 memory locations (3x8) and the computer has to decide what number should go out to that one pixel, say 483, where 4 is for RED, 8 is for GREEN, and 3 is for BLUE. This probably makes a horrible brown colour. Red would be 800 (no GREEN or BLUE).

Now the scale of the numbers is amazing. The computer has to decide on the colour of every pixel, say 1000 wide by 700 high, 700,000 pixels. And the computer has to do all of this decision making fast enough to play movies, 30 times a second; 700,000x30 = 21 million pixels per second. Computers are fast!

BUT, LCD screens are like memory, so they are multiplexed. There are 1000 up/down wires and 700 left/right wires to give only 1000+700 = 1700 wires for pixels. A whole row is done at once, but the computer still has to make decisions on what to put there at 21 million pixels per second.

Next lesson, we will go back to boring electronic circuits, using capacitors and inductors and transistors, like for a radio.

PS: some of my computer description is simplified and/or uses old technology... but it is all true. It is meant to instruct you. For example, the little dots on a disk drive are getting too small to be read by a coil, so a magnetorestrictive resistor is used. Magnetism changes its resistance. Fun.

Exercise: Politics & Opinions

2012-02-16T18:05:00.000-05:00

Letter from Your Representative in Office

You want my opinion? Hey, politicians do not need our opinions, because we elected them for their opinions as presented at the election. Didn’t we? We trust them to act like the people we saw in front of us during the election. They must have good sense. We elected them.

SO, a letter wanting my opinion. Is this a political way of saying they don’t know what we wanted when we elected them? I wonder. If this person knew of our opinions, he wouldn’t send the letter. Our opinions were what elected this person, so why doesn’t he know?

SO, the politician does not know why we elected him. It must be so. He should know what we want, because it’s what ‘he’ would want, being a 'like minded' individual. This is the way it used to be.

LOGIC: was he telling the truth at the election, no? Or is there something else in the pot?

EITHER which way. The politician made a mistake. He is not who we wanted in office if he has to ask us for advice.

He is our mind, our logic, like minded, but he has studied the possibilities so that we don’t have to. He is our expert in office. Why does he ask us for an opinion? Usually our knowledge of the problem is limited and ‘at the whim’ of the media. We trust our politician to get around all this and make the decision that we would have, if we could spend the time and have the contacts to enable a good decision. Is he not studying these things on our behalf? Or is there something else.

Damn. He is our representative. I don’t want to be a politician! Why is he doing this to me?

SO: to my politician: go stuff it. I made a mistake in electing you. Next time I will not pick you.

Writing Class Subject: Local News: 320 words, 20 minutes.

Tennis Again

2012-02-15T20:38:00.004-05:00

It’s Not Silver

SO: you must ask... I won’t say anything until you ask me: Why do I now have 5 tennis racquets?

Thanks for asking.

I am a first-year tennis player, at the age of 66, a grandpa and I want my first ever racquet back, but its now obsolete.

You see, my first racquet, the one of my dreams, my playmate, my beauty... well, I let go of it. Yes, at the top of my perfectly massive fast serve, it hit the cement at 85 miles an hour. Needless to say, not all racquets bounce. It didn’t.

It was blue, light blue... no one else has a nice light blue racquet. Rats. I have to buy another one, but that first one cost $250 big dollars! So... Walmart.... $20 is all I spend on my next racquet. It has served me well and is still with me. Drat. Why can’t it break, instead of my nice blue one? OK, so the blue one went first. But this racquet, well it’s all very nice, Orange. But it’s too light. It shimmies, it jumps, it bends my wrist, it just isn’t a very good racquet. But I still have it.

SO... after many many games with this Orange racquet, I finally say to myself, “there must be something out there like my first lovely beauty.”

Ah, there is a store called Sportchek, which, I am told, sells tennis stuff. I am ready.. I drive the long drive and walk many many corridors of a shopping mall and find the store. It is winter. Obviously, no one but me plays tennis in the winter (tennis bubble). SO.. the store, 5 racquets. They are between the skis and the skates. But god is good. There is a nice Red racquet with a 4 ½ inch handle which feels pretty nice. And it’s on sale (I saw this after removing the dust). Well, I checked it out at the checkout... they said, "what’s this"? I tell them it’s a tennis racquet. "Oh." We discuss the sale. I win.

The red racquet is not bad. I can barely remember my blue one, so I can’t compare them. There is some niggling difference, a sound it makes that worries me. But, my serve is starting to speed up and I am happy. Well, barely. My friends are still out-hitting me. This will not do. But, the racquet was only $60 dollars and I am happy. Well still niggling. I should really find another better racquet, one that is worthy of my power. $60 is just too cheap.

Well the red racquet, as good as it was, helped me decide on my next racquet. The red racquet broke on me. YES. I can now get a good racquet! The red racquet heard my prayers and just at the top of a serve, no, I didn’t let go, It just broke. Snap, Splinter, Crunch, and thar she blows.

SO: I get on the internet and study.... I talk to the people I play with... I select the Perfect Specifications for my racquet, and go off to a specialty store in Oakville which has that, the ‘perfect’ racquet. I am ready. I give him the name of my racquet and the handle size. He has it in stock! But he says, let’s try out some of these... A half an hour later I emerge with my new racquet, not the one I had previously selected. I am a twit. But this racquet, new 2012 model (its now February 2012), Andy Roddick uses it. It is a PLAYERS racquet, so my tennis pro bud says.

We all test the racquet, my Black Beauty racquet, and thrill at its solid sound, the speed of the ball after it bullets itself across the net.

This is MY racquet. And then I play a game with it. Well, half a game. I can’t hit a thing with it. It is too heavy and I am always late getting it to the ball. Drat. Out with old Orange. Black Dust. Useless strings on a piece of plastic. $200 of pure venom. I hate it.

SO: I get on the internet and study... I talk to friends and use their racquets. I have now fallen in love again, a silver racquet called Prince O3 Silver, that a lady uses. Yes, a ladies racquet.. light, without power, but oh so beautiful. It dances in my hand, it serves with something.. indefinable, the perfect racquet. It Must Be Mine.

Marching off to my specialty store, I give them my requirement. They laugh.. “where is your other racquet?” I do not smile. BUT they don’t sell Prince Racquets. Darn and Drat. I feel like stamping and yelling. I want my racquet! Well, we do rent racquets out you know. (no) Would you like to try some, for free (for you, you snivelling newby)?

I now have 3 more racquets, a total of 5, mostly all hated, because they are not SILVER. But in the next 4 days I have to pick one that will do, and then pay another $200. None of them are SILVER.

828 words. Too long. 1 hour.

Homework: Dark Children

2012-02-15T19:54:00.000-05:00

Evil Begets Evil

No one will know, I won’t tell them. But there are animals, bad animals in this house. I use them. I send them on night errands: they do my bidding.

After everyone goes to bed, I call them out. They do my bidding, reluctantly. They don’t like me but they are mine to control. I have power. I am 13 and I have Power!

Tonight, I am going to destroy some more of him, slowly, from within. I am in my third week of eating his insides out. ‘He’ is probably not the correct word for this evil. Harold. Why does he pick on me? Why do all his ‘evil’ friends as well? They will be next.

Evil begets evil, and my animals, my creatures are evil.

I had previously worked out the perfect end for him, one that is perfectly evil, and will bring him years of pain and torture. And he will not know it was me. Yes. I am his judge, jury, and hangman!

So, my animals, what should we do tonight? I had made a hole in the outside wall for them and put a wooden box at the hole with a hatch for me to get them out. Tonight, I close my eyes and concentrate. Stir, my bodies, wake up, it’s time. The box under my bed shuffles with energy. I concentrate: “I want you.” More shuffling, more movement.

I open the hatchway in the box and my animals, my friendlies, come out, sneaking around on the floor and looking at me with hate in their eyes. A hiss here and there, but they are under my control, all mine.

My mind concentrates: They see his body, they know where he lives, they know his evil. I am in control. I place the liquid, already poured on a plate, down in the middle of ‘my friendlies’, my animals, and their red eyes glow. I concentrate again. Hissing, they lap up the liquid, looking around to make sure this is theirs alone.

My mind sends this message: find him. Find his bicycle, lick the handles. Go!

The red eyes, in the black bodies of those evil black bats look at me with knowledge. They are powerless to resist.

They will find his bicycle and put my brother’s juicy fluid from his warts all over the handles. The evil fluid will grow in evil Harold.

He will be powerless to remove the warts as more and more spread over his aching body.

Evil begets evil!

Homework 422 words, Dark Kid Story.

Charlie and Poppin's Adventures 3

2012-02-15T18:41:00.002-05:00

Water is Good for Us All

“What is that doing there?” said Charlie as they walked along the red marbley path.

Poppin stopped and looked at it, big and dark, because it was placed just in front of them, covering the path. She thought that it looked like a row of bushes. “Do you think they want us to go through this?” she said to Charlie.

There were dark clouds overhead and the birds had stopped singing. The dark bushes were shedding leaves and they looked really worried.

Poppin said, “I think we should help the bushes. They look unhappy.”

They both walked slowly up to the bushes and picked out a really big one. Charlie pulled a dead leaf off its branch.

“Ow! Yelled a small voice inside the bush.” The bush waved back and forth as if a strong wind had pushed it.

Charlie jumped back and said, “I’m sorry. The leaf looked dead and shrivelled up. You talk do you?”

“Why yes,” said the bush, “and my leaf was not yet ready to fly away. It is only August, and the leaves fly away in 2 more months.” The bush shivered a bit as the dark clouds seemed to get darker.

“What is your name?” said Poppin, who looked at all the bushes in the row.

“I am Bobby Hedge, and all my family is here, they are all part of the Hedge. We need some water, because August is so dry, there is no rain.”

Poppin said, “Isn’t it going to rain now? Look at the dark clouds.”

Bobby Hedge new all about clouds. He said “No, those clouds are just going to make wind, and blow more of our leaves off. If we had water, we could hold on to our leaves better and they would not fall off. We need our leaves to get sunlight beams when the sun is shining. That makes food for us.”

Poppin thought and thought. Could she do anything to help. What could they do?

Poppin looked around, and she saw a river and a pail. Poppin always liked looking around. Could she do anything with that? She showed Charlie the pail.

Charlie said, “Well Bobby, you should have some water. Do you need much?”

Bobby laughed, “I will take as much as you can give me. And my family all need it. It will make us all stronger and our little dead leaves will come alive again.”

Charlie looked at the pail and said “The pail is not very big for the water. But we will try.”

Poppin ran to the river and picked up the pail. She bent over the river and very carefully dipped the pail into it. The river smiled and sighed a happy sound. Popping patted the river and made it giggle. She ran back to Charlie who carefully poured the water from the pail onto the ground just below Bobby.

Bobby laughed, “Wow, I haven’t felt cold water for many months. It feels good on my feet. Please feed my family next. This water is already feeling good for my leaves.”

So Charlie continued to feed the Hedge from the river while Poppin made little holes in the ground below each bush in the hedge. This made everything uch faster and the bushes were just tingling with delight. They started to sing...

“Water in us is good for us, Water make us grow. We love the sun, we love the earth, but we love the water more.”

In a short happy hour, Poppin and Charlie had fed all of the Hedge and Bobby was so happy.

“You know that this water is going to keep us healthy, even with the wind that is about to blow. We are all glad that you walked along here.”

Charlie laughed and said, “But you know, that is why we are here. We always like to do a good deed.”

And the Hedge continued to sing as the leaves on the bushes in the hedge started turning green and full. A spot opened up on the marbley pathway and Poppin scampered through the hedge, with Charlie not far behind. It was time to go home before the wind blew them away.

Wine Club

2012-02-12T21:22:00.000-05:00

Feelings

Grandpa has sinned again today. It is Sunday and not a day for sinning, but there is the wine drinking, the tennis exultation, the great day tasting wines and the listening to people with better stories than me. It is a day of feelings.

Let’s get the sinning out of the way.

I brought home 7 bottles of partially finished wine! Yeah, not just a few. And I had a fair bit of every one of them. 4 of them were mine, at the wine club, at the Ontario Amateur Winemakers Competition. Yes, now proud owner of 1 bronze, and 2 silver medals! OK, I had to taste them again, and again. Shiraz, to me tastes like sh...t, but the judge, loved it! Ha, Grandpa rocks again. It was my Bronze. The Kerner and Pinot Gris were Silvers.... he he he, better than my friend, Stu’s, who made the same wine from juice bought the same day. Yeah for me. I think that having a basement with a window that can be opened and a fan that can deliver super cold air to the fermentation makes all the difference.

So, sinning, I drove home a bit higher than I should. Yes. Grandpa was a happy driver. Didn’t go over the railroad tracks at 130, had to stare correctly to see them at all. But straight as a die,

honest. (didn’t say die, did I?)

But the day started with me taking Ray, a wine friend, down to the tasting place in Mississauga at 9am. We spent the morning getting the 40 bottles ready for the judge, with blind tastings, excel spreadsheets, numbering systems and cross-references to ‘standard’ wine groups like “Red Rhone” and “Other White”. And then at 12 noon, the judge arrives, the spittoon is ready for him, 40 glasses and 40 bottles are laid out and ready. There is bread and water for him, the judging sheets are printed out; all is ready. The poor judge, having to taste and comment on each bottle of wine. There was only one gold, and it wasn’t mine (why did he get gold, eh?)

My best wine comments say.... Typical Colour, Clear (I filtered it), Good Intensity (I bottled it early), Fruity (Yeah), Moderate bouquet (should’ve got Gold if it was fruitier.. should add some straight juice before bottling, like the Gold guy did), Typical Variety (Tastes like it should), Assertive, Fine Acid, Passable sweetness (eh, Its Great Sweetness, this guy is getting too old), Short-to-Long Persistence (will be better next year, If I keep enough of it), Fine overall Quality... score 80! Silver. Wow. This is good enough for the Ontario Championships... only costs $5 and a bottle of the wine to apply.

SO, tennis. I did exceedingly well today at the round robin. 3 others and me this time. So we played for 1 ½ hours. My new Andy Roddick Babolat Pure Drive Racquet is ready for bigger and better serves. The tennis place pro was so happy to get one of these new 2012 versions in his hand. He said ‘this is for Players’. (I think he meant it was not for me.) Anyway, the warmup went great, everyone felt my racquet and loved it, and I hit the ball with pure venom. It was super-good. Until we started to actually play a game. It was too heavy... I missed all my shots because the racquet couldn’t get to the ball fast enough. $200, Anyone want a racquet? Actually, the pro person offered me a price for it... good idea. I got out my $19 racquet from Walmart and today.... I had already been tasting the wine since 12, and this was 3pm, I beat them all! They were putty in my hands. Wine Rocks. I love my Walmart.

Finally, back from Tennis, I snuggled in with my wine and my wine club, tasting a bit of all 40 bottles and comparing them to the judge’s comments. So much fun. I sat beside my friend Peter who regaled me with Newfie Logic, CN/CP tales of owners and pension benefits (he knows one of the really high uppities there, and radio systems (Marconi). He has so many stories, he was an engineer and is now 86, that I, a measly 66 year old engineer could listen to them for days. I told him he should join a writing class.

I am now home and ready to watch 8 hours of Davis Cup Tennis, on ‘tape’ and there is more tomorrow... More tennis for me with our group at 2pm tomorrow. Go Tennis!

A day of good feelings. Did I mention the model Railroad? No? Another time.

First liner #14, Kelp 3rd Person

2012-02-10T10:03:00.001-05:00

Kelp Experience

The ice floated over the seaweed, too heavy and dense to get the boat through it, but there was no option, they had to make it and they had to make it now. It was crazy to have tried this, just off the coast of Alaska in the autumn but it was listed in the approved side-trips.

It had not been cancelled like so many others, due to weather. A mammoth cruise ship from Vancouver had been delayed the day before because of the waves, the wind and the weather. But the snorkelling ‘Kelp Experience’ was not cancelled. The Whale Watching was cancelled. The Kayaking was cancelled. But snorkelers must be built of stronger stuff. Besides, it was just off the coast line, almost swimmable.

Most of the time, it is understood, the snorkelers enter the water from the beach. At this time of year, it is clear water and you can see all you want of the Kelp just 16 feet below the surface. Yes, the water is cold. ‘Cold.’ If a snorkeler was to take off, say his hood, then there had better be a boat close by! This is about as cold as the water can get. The glaciers drop their little calves into this type of water, and the calves don’t melt.

The trip started with a bus, a small dilapidated school bus, now painted brown. There was no tour guide. But the bus trundled happily along, around the coast line to what appeared to be a home. Really, thought some of the passengers. But behind the home was this little shack and that’s where the passengers were greeted.

Warm coffee and biscuits filled a corner of the shed. No one took any. Instead, they were all intent on finding the right size gear before anyone else took their size. The rubber suits were handed out and amazingly, all the various sizes and shapes of the passengers were fitted. 15 minutes later, there were still a few people not strong enough to get these ‘wet suits’ on; they needed help. Now no one wanted the coffee, they were all too hot, stifling and sweating in these 10 mil (1/3 inch) thick rubber suits and hoods. Should’ve drunk something, Newbies, because sweating causes dehydration.

Now into the bus again, now happily garbed in black and looking really fat. They all show bulges in the wrong places, except for the guides, who are beautiful people, thin, young and fit. The wet suits squeak as everyone sits down.

But at the drop off place, there is ice, a bit here a bit there but Ice all over the beach! Well, snorkelers are built of stronger stuff than this. The bus turned around and went back about ½ mile. The intrepid snorkelers, their fins and masks and snorkelers all got into a little 26 footer. It seemed a bit small for a boat, but didn’t sink in the water too much. There were seats for most. Put Put. The little craft made a beeline for the same beach, but this time it didn’t need to worry about the ice because all of it was on the beach.

The snorkelers slid off the back of the boat, and didn’t feel cold ‘after’ about 10 minutes of freezing in the water. If you move, the suit leaks a bit of trapped air, and cold water, very cold water replaces it. But the Kelp! They had all come to snorkel the Kelp, and it was amazing. Clear water, a few crystals floating, but you could see some starfish on the bottom fighting at their infinitely slow pace. There were floating ‘live’ things, could that be a jelly fish? Some of the snorkelers dove down the 16 feet to see the view. Others, just floated around in circles, perfectly content to see their small neighbourhood. It was perfect.

However, as all things in the North, change happens quickly. The place where the boat came from, that little dock ½ mile back was now invisible, there were icebergs all around it and they were coming this way. The water became white, as it started to freeze in slushy sections. New colder water was arriving and the snorkelers were panicking. This was accompanied by increased winds, as the ice chunks started bobbing in the dark slush.

How do you get 16 snorkelers in a boat in a matter of minutes? Well, you get most of them, the rest are too tired and just hold onto the boat.

‘The ice floated over the seaweed, too heavy and dense to get the boat through it, but there was no option, they had to make it and they had to make it now.’

The boat could not go back, nor could it dock at the beach. The snorkelers were in there last stages of shock, holding on to the boat sides as the boat churned against the ice. There were only about 3 snorkelers left holding miraculously to the back stage of the boat and they were just getting up onto it. The captain yelled, hold on.

The boat surged with strength towards the shore, making crunching sounds as it pushed, with small areas of faster speed, then full stop at full power. But the shoreline got closer, bit by bit. And then the boat stopped. The captain looked at his sorry crew. I’m afraid you have to get into the water again, and do it now, please, before you get crushed. The snorkelers, some who had removed their gear, looked at him in shock. Back ‘there’? Yes, the water is only about 5 feet deep here, some of you will be able to touch the bottom. If so, help the shorter ones. Now do it!

As they all got in the water, clear of the boat, it immediately reversed, moving the ice behind it in waves until it started moving away, leaving them in their watery grave. Well, actually, it wasn’t too bad, but the shore was pure ice and the snorkelers pushed up and onto it like seals, flapping and pulling themselves to safety.

It must be said, that the Snorkeling Adventure, for that Cruiseline was removed from the Optional Sidetrips for a very long time. The ‘quality assurance’ department made many trips to that shed before allowing any of their passengers to enjoy the Kelp in the North.

1069 words, 45 minutes. First liner #14. This is fiction, but not all of it.

Required RANT

2012-02-08T18:24:00.003-05:00

Blogspot Be Damned

OK. I live in Canada, you know, Home. So why have I, in the last month, Had Just 5 viewings on my Blogspot from Canada? Huh? Am I that boring? Writing too much?

Obviously, my ‘followers’ are not impressed. Once viewed, well, forget it. Why did I allow tracking on my Blog? Really. 5. So, those new viewers out there... Leave Me Alone. If I tell you never to come back, then 6 by next month won’t seem to be such a failure.

Blogs! Feast for the Soul. Yeah. Like writing to a cloud! There’s nothing there. Yes, received it OK, thanks. Poof, gone. Don’t care. Who are you?

But. Salvation. 385 viewings from the Big US of A! I love you all. Who are you? Don’t care, love to all. Except, that I searched for my blog on the web. Yup, lots of hits. From Search Engines. Sigh. I am famous for my ... links ... to search engines. At least They have good taste!

Last Blog. Forever.

Personal Essay: Lateness

2012-02-08T16:52:00.002-05:00

On Being Late

This is a problem with me, yes my fault. I am never late. I don’t mind others being late, and I really don’t care if they are early, but it makes me wonder, “Why Do I Want to be On Time?”

You might ask, “who cares?”, and in fact, some people are not built to be worried about lateness. There may be a gene for worry that I am soaked with. It makes you wonder... a gene, yes, but in which cells? Perhaps my feet cells, my memory cells? Was I born this way? I didn’t weigh much; maybe I was early at birth, so I am really worried about being late and it showed up before I was born? There must be a niggling little gene somewhere in me that pops up every time there is an appointment, a target time... and I Must be there... Not Late.

Well, all my friends know my problem.. they are standing at the door looking out for me at the exact time. And I never fail them. I do not arrive early to my friends, and I can’t arrive late. That means that I fritter my time driving around looking at trees, new houses and things until ... It’s time... off you go. I probably know their neighbourhoods better than them. The same thing applies if I have to pick someone up. Yup, they know; they are standing at the door with their coats on as I drive up. There is no stress on my part... But I Must Arrive On Time!

My friends have tried many ways to smooth the way for me. “Arrive between 5 and 5:30”, they say, thinking they have stymied my built-in gene. They seem relieved when I say OK, I can hear a happy sigh at the other end of the phone. Little do they know... 5:15 is exactly half way... and I Will arrive at 5:15. They have not helped me at all with this ruse. Ha!

So, now my dilemma is getting serious. Who Cares if I am late, like 5:16. Is it my little gene talking, Is it my Pride yelling at me, am I practising for the next real appointment? I don’t really know. I am driven. If I pick 5:15, then it will be 5:15 and no one but me will know...except that my friends are standing at the door at 5:15.

Perhaps working in a factory caused my gene to emerge. Thou shalt not be late. Your boss is watching. But Thou shalt not be early, mustn’t be too eager, your friends at work are watching. Well, that narrows down the time of entry to the factory, doesn’t it!

Or perhaps it was my wife’s parents. They were 38 when they had her. SO, you ask? Well, really old people don’t want to impose. If you say you will pick them up at 5:00, they will be standing at the door at 5:00, coats on, shoe bags in hand, and peeking out the door. Can’t be early, they will feel like they should get ready 15 minutes before the hour. Can’t be late, they will still be standing there at 5:15. Yes, a training ground for young people. You can’t, you just can’t win with that facing you...at 5:00 pm. No Stress!

So, my gene, was it ‘learned’ or was it Evolution? Am I getting, like them, to be an “old people”? Naw, I was always this way. Wasn’t I? It really is my problem. And I will Never Be Early for any appointment; doctors, hair, teeth... yup, another problem... for another day.

606 words, Personal Essay. Homework. I am not really this bad, Am I? Don’t answer.

Practice, Bank Interest Increase

2012-02-06T21:54:00.000-05:00

Monopoly in the News

Jean was expecting this; why did the bank send out that letter? This was the sixth man in here this morning. Sigh, yes, it will not be a good week, or a good month.

Carl Sawyer was not happy. “Jean. I understand.” He looked around a bit, then back at her. “But I have a lot of money in this bank.”

She didn’t smile, it would not be appropriate, even a sympathetic smile. She had taken his bank card and swiped it in her machine.. it was protocol, and kept her from looking back at him.

“You know,” he said, “There have been many times in the past that I’ve been angry with this bank. But I stayed. This is my bank.” He pulled out the letter he received last Friday. “I don’t think I will stay here any more.”

He stated tersely, “I want my mortgage out. I want to cancel my life insurance. I will close out my Portfolio. I am leaving you.”

Jean winced a bit and even thought she was a bit pink. “Would you like to see Jamie? Maybe he can do something about this.” Jamie was his new financial advisor. They just don’t seem to stay at the bank for a long time. Really, this is very embarrassing.

That was the wrong thing to say. Carl’s voice became louder. “You have my card. The computer can arrange the transfer out of the bank. I will figure out where you will transfer it this afternoon. You and your bank, wasting my day. There had better be no transfer fees! Will you do this?”

“I can do most of it, but it will take a while, maybe a week. And the Portfolio, it has some fixed periods. It may not be possible with some of them.”

Carl became insensed. “What! I am a client here. I .. can.. remove.. all.. my.. money!”

Jean looked at the computer. His mortgage had 10 years to go. He would have to pay that down. This was getting out of hand. She said “But Mr.Sawyer, you don’t even use your Line of Credit. Why are you upset?” Wrong thing to say.

He almost yelled, he sputtered, “My Line of Credit! You raised the percentage rate by 40%! Banks don’t do that. Who do you think you are? This is a Monopoly!”

Turning rapidly, stamping his feet. “It’s not the point that I don’t use it. I will not pay that much when I need to use it. You are thieves, I will get my money.”

He left. She still had his card in her hand. It was dropped in a drawer.

445 words, 45 minutes, getting slower.

First Liner #13, Run!

2012-02-06T20:52:00.003-05:00

We Shouldn’t Be Here

They came over the hill, silently, carefully, not knowing what waited for them, until suddenly with realization of their fate, they stared straight ahead.

Rory gasped. “How did we land up here? Jake, didn’t you read the map?”

Jake was just stunned, he couldn’t move, probably a good idea. The view in front of him was enormous in importance. He looked left and right, then he slowly peeked behind himself to make sure he was safe. “I don’t think we should be here,” he said.

Serengeti; Lion Pride. Where was the hot air balloon ride? The Jeep was a long way back. The lions were looking at them, looking interested; the little ones got up.

“Gawlee,” said Jake. His skin seemed to hold him in place, it didn’t want him to move. He tried, but was afraid to become anything more than a stone. Do you think they will ignore us? “Gawlee.”

The lions were soaking in the morning sun. But every one of them were totally engrossed in their potential breakfast, the two men who just came over the hill, on foot, not carrying anything. Mmmhh.

Thirty eyes. Four of them were hysterical, as Rory and Jake stepped back, just one step. Two of the larger lions slowly rose up, their eyes now looking at angles to the men. They started out in opposite directions. Rory and Jake took 3 steps back.

“I don’t think we are supposed to run,” said Rory. “They sort of attack when you show fear.”

Jake whispered, “Can we run faster than them?” He really knew the answer, but what else could they do? They took 3 more steps backward.

Only 100 more steps to go to the Jeep. Three more lions slipped up on their haunches, still looking them in the eyes. They panted. Probably salivating. So there were now 5 of them, the two first ones were probably now behind them. The silly lions now looked around them, like there was nothing to rush for.

“Damn,” Jake yelled as a tsetse fly bit him. The lions didn’t jump, but their ears moved quickly. That was not a wise thing for Jake to do. Three of the younger ones looked up at the older ones. The older ones looked at them and seemed to soften. The younger ones started toward Rory and Jake.

“We had better try to beat them to the Jeep,” Rory said when he calculated that there were now 8 lions on the move. The Lions sensed this and started to lower their bodies to hunting mode. Their eyes became slits. Their heads were just inches above the ground.

At this point, Rory and Jake started insane, unrestrained running toward the Jeep. They heard nothing, where were the lions? Their backs could feel the claws, the jaws, but there was nothing there. Where were they?

Suddenly, a loud, almost mind chilling sound blared out above them. The hot air balloon’s gas jets were fully on, trying to scare the lions, and it worked; the lions scattered at speed. The captain yelled down at them, “You are late!” The other passengers on board clapped and cheered. This would be on National Geographic within the week.

532 words, Antiques Road Show in the background, 44 minutes, a bit slow.

First Liner #10, Soul

2012-02-05T10:09:00.002-05:00

Food for the Soul

The wood was silent, the conditions were superb and I felt the breeze, undoing my coat and absorbing the brightness in the sky as the sun started peeking over the trees. And then I turned my hearing aids on and was ambushed by the sounds of a million birds. This was Costa Rica.

Where in the world can you find wildlife that knocks your socks off in its density of sound? There is no abatement, this is a forever sound, one that is almost too strong to absorb. And it is not just one type of song, like Cicadas, or Sea Lion Colonies; it is nature’s full mix of wildlife surrounding you, intense!

The morning started many hours ago, in this southern Pacific part of Costa Rica, Osa Peninsula, Sea Level. Our group already have the tripods out, adorned with cameras and massive monoculars. It took us 1 hour to get to this location, about 10 miles by truck; we sat in the wooden benches along the side of the truck bed at the back. The roads down here are, well, backbreaking.

We are standing at the side of the road, we haven’t even started our walk, and the birds are already swooshing overhead; did I just see a green parrot? The glen before me is moving, left and right, it is moving with things in the grass, things in the trees. In the distance are dead trees, and there are bigger things on the dead trees. This is not a forest, it is not a lake, nor a steamy everglade. It is a wide open glen, with a stream to the right, things like bamboo behind it and dead trees in the distance. The few trees there are, now just above me and lining the stream, are not even the loudest... probably because we are there. But you can see little yellow birds flitting inside them. Every now and then, one or two swoop down in front of us, making a beeline for somewhere, out there in the glen. They are all so busy.

The sun rises a bit higher, and we start feeling the heat. The coats come off. We stop for a while at the stream, and the guide points out the ducks in the water and the 1, 2, 3, 4 (well #4 might be just a log), alligators in the stream. Yes, it wasn’t much more than a stream, but I eventually saw 2 of them. They aren’t very big. The ducks must know something we don’t. Overhead, there are about 10 Macaws flying by, in a formation, they look red, and disappear beyond the line of sight.

We continue our walk into the ‘bamboo’ and down to a log crossing the stream. Our guide stops us and shows us the red snake, then the cutter ants, and pulls a ‘bamboo’ piece off to show us something inside. I don’t remember what it was. Information overload.

The best part of the walk were the dead trees. The Monocular owners were in delightful heaven. Everywhere, close, far away, surrounding us. Hawks, Buzzard-things, pairs, singles, take a photo anywhere... and when you get home you will be able to count them. What are they doing here? I guess they are preparing for their morning meal.

And what a table is set out for them!

558 words, morning exercise, this is not a travelogue, but is true except for the hearing aids. FirstLiner #10

Novel, Part 1

2012-02-04T19:26:00.000-05:00

Storm Inc.

He didn’t care. The wind whirled and spat at him, but he had other things to worry about. There was something behind him. The night was dark but his eyes were used to it. However, this thing was felt, not seen.

Maybe he should just stop and wait for it. Was it more powerful than him? Unlikely. But it might have other tools. He had none. Not yet, anyway.

A wise man picks his battleground. He kept going, an air of the hunter about him to delay the attack. He kept up the stealthy steps, the tensed muscles. Senses are heightened. Preparation for pain, skin taught, mind planning the attack after the first pain. Protect the soft areas. Twist. Spring.

Damn. It’s gone. Is it attacking? Crouch, Swivel Left. Look up. Nothing. Was there anything there?

He couldn’t feel his left foot anymore. Unexpected. He should have anticipated this. He was falling. Spring, you silly fool. You have only one chance!

That was the last day of Dan’s trip South. This story chronicles the hidden life that he found in that small town just south of the border. Was it real? Or did the mists of time just play with him and he is now waking up?

Dan is a physical addict. He does everything a body can do. Every minute of every day is calculated to improve his strength and skills. He trains people. Anyone... especially those who want to be like him.

This story begins in Dallas, his home. A simple request it seemed at the time. A lot of people asked him for help and he usually said no. But this seemed like fun. A bit of a challenge....

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“Hello beautiful” Dan said to the woman at the door. Samantha looked up at him and held the door open to let him go first. There’s something that makes you shiver when Dan walks next to you. He doesn’t need to do anything more than smile. What a hunk!

“So, what’s up for the day?” she asked. “Well, I’ve decided to interview that VP at Storm Inc.”, he said. “There’s not much information on him. But he played Rugger as a kid and his tennis is rated near 5.5.” They walked quickly across the marble floor to the security desk.

Samantha pondered this. “Will you test his muscle structure and reaction times?” She knew the answer. Training needs a framework, something already there. “Let’s wait and see what he’s about.” Dan said.

His friend sitting at the security desk, Malcolm, looked up at him and waved them through. They didn’t need weapons to be dangerous.

The elevator was theirs. It whistled up the 25 floors to the penthouse complex: the training ground. Sensors in the walls sniffed and pico-pulse xrays analyzed the contents of the elevator. That was enough for identification and threat detection. The blast-proof elevator could be a prison at its own discretion. Of course, this could be bypassed with a whisper from the right person. It was needed only for higher alert levels. And this didn’t happen very often...only when training for certain customers.

Times were good. Five high-paying groups of people filled the bank this month alone. The training is rigorous and consuming and takes over a year. Some customers need monthly tuning. Special-needs groups also come to this little fortress for training. Yes. Income is no problem.

The elevator door slid open to an ante-room. “Hello Amy” Dan said to the room. “Good Morning, Sir” she said. “Good Morning, Sam” was added as an afterthought. “Coffee?”. “Not yet Amy, lets see what plays out this morning. I might need something stronger”. Samantha said yes because last night was full of fun. Her sleep readings for last night were pretty low in the deep-sleep department.

They made their way to the office, bypassing the waiting room and its TV receptionist which was normally used for the customers. Samantha’s coffee was already on her desk. The computer glass was silently glowing. The stainless steel desks gave the office an electric edge which Dan thought appropriate to his human-sculpting business; more like computers than humans emerged from his programs.. if he was successful. However, more for Samantha’s sake, he added barely-cream walls and maroon-red highlights in the accessories. The marble floors were a trademark of the whole complex. He liked the natural sheen.

Dan was especially proud of the lighting. The walls and ceiling were all shuttered with microsized channels, each with a pixel of coherent light aiming straight out. Wherever a person was located within the room, there were 4 horizontal beams and one vertical beam of pixels. Invisible lighting because the computers normally turned off the pixels hitting the eyes. Unless in attack mode which reversed everything at ultra high brightness. The combatant was blinded, Dan and Samantha were not. It was a very controlled room. And one of the training rooms.

“Dan, I really think I need a session to wake up. I’ll use the cold room for 10 minutes, if you don’t mind.”

Dan smiled. “I don’t need you until 8. Sure. Have fun.” He opened up the day’s activity screens and the computers sent texts to today’s clients. “We’ll see how to organize these people today. John needs to do the outdoor climb. When he gets here, we’ll do a bit of disorientation, then out to the glass. OK?”

“Alright. Haven’t done that for a week. It’ll be good. Thanks.”

The responses to the texts came back within the next several minutes. There were only 3 of them today. Silly people have other things to do.

John was going to crawl the glass outside the skyscraper. But after that, he should do a bit of strength maintenance and tennis ball machine slapping. Dan only needed to set that up.

Greg was actually finishing his training. Dan always enjoyed this period, because he could show the client’s company his client’s new status as a superhuman. Well, in Greg’s case, almost there. Greg had no legs. But that body! His main problem was fear. No problem now. Dan had tuned micro-muscle twitch control to his stumps for whatever future purpose Greg needed. It seemed like a good idea.

And finally Karen, special needs. She wanted improved mind control. The reaction times were phenomenal. Her pain control almost perfect. She thought at light speed. This was her objective and that’s how she started the program. She is now half way through. Her power is now Anticipation, pre-thinking and analyzing people. Her skin actually bumps on sensing subconscious reactions in other people. Her facial pulse readings were the best he had seen. She will be a success story. Now if he could only convince her to do physical training.... or just something like memory enhancement.... so many possibilities.

“I’ll set up the video demo for Greg in an hour, I think.” said Dan to himself. Always a bit of fun first in the morning. And he can test himself for later viewing. Always an excuse to train. Karen is coming at 11. She is practising against computer animations for an hour. Then some exercises and speed control. That takes care of the ‘exercise room’. John can use it then. He really should spend some time in the pool before that. Perhaps more breath meditation control in the 48 foot tube. Samantha can stay with him for that.

Dan gave instructions to Amy and the usage charts popped up onscreen. It left the exercise room clear for him for 4 hours. Perhaps a bit of speed practise as well. We’ll see. Nothing needing extras.

The telephone sounded in his ear. “Yes?”. Amy had vetted this caller and the information popped up on the screen. “Hello Dan.” He recognized the voice of his Training Doctor. “Hi. What’s up?”, Dan said. “I need you for an hour in the next couple of days.” Jim said. “Your last blood sample showed that the stemcell fragment volume was getting low. I need to fill your injection site and put you in vacuum. Have you been getting cold recently?” Dan responded, “No, not particularly”. “Well, it’s time anyway. The Doctor is waiting!” Jim said with a smile in his voice. “Amy will get back to you, Jim. I’ll let her work out the next few days. OK?” Jim said that was alright, then complained about conversing with a mere computer. Amy interjected.

The day had started.

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2. What is Storm Inc?

Dan’s company had no name: a number, ‘2999’. He did not advertise. If he did, the item below would be the summary....

Human Development Specialist. Stem Cell enhancement program and Brain Chemistry modifications followed by tuning and training programs to stimulate and master human interactions.

It would not mention pain control, doctor visits, fear distortion and a few other tidbits which only the true adventurer would love. And the adventure addict makes the best Industry Giant. The United States was built by adventurers who crossed the ocean. Ships were designed to sail. Humans were designed to improve. That is adventure.

The students of ‘2999’ were not athletes. It would be unfair of them to compete. The ‘superhuman’ word is really not correct. Dan did not have the students long enough or early enough. But he knew this is what he was going to perfect one day.

So it is always a question when a Company phones up and wants an interview. What do they really want? Do they know what they are doing? Who did they talk to? No one is supposed to know. But they always seem to. Let’s face it. Chemical Enhancements are frowned upon...but used. His little babies are perhaps just a bit more advanced than the usual.

And AMY, his pet computer, made this all possible for him. Advanced Memory is her specialty. (Advanced Memory arraY) She uses massive memory in sheets of time. All that she was, she is. Every circuit in her is duplicated in every time sheet. The memory is the computer. Algorithms move back and forward in time. All she needs is changing input. And the world provides that. Once he developed this structure, along with 4D AI, he sent her to school. Med school produced the way to take stem cells and control them in the body. It then evaluated brain operation. Like HER, a person works better with faster. Out popped the chemical soup needed to do this. Biofeedback came next. What a learning curve.

Yes AMY has siblings and peripherals. But they crave, need and use her sheets of memory. They’ve even extended the memory into the future. Albeit, a very short distance into the future. SHE is evaluating that whenever there is time.

But no one knows about AMY. Or do they? Does Storm Inc. follow and control storms? AMY can’t find them. AMY has friends. The friends don’t know them. They are tracking the employees. There are none, but one, and he was coming for the interview. Maybe It’s just a startup. VP is coming. There must be a P.

------------------------

The Storm Inc.’s VP arrived on time. He sat in the anteroom while Amy did her work. It was a pleasant room, but she sensed sweat and something else in his breath. Mmm. A chemical composition of some sort. Related to a nerve gas. Interesting. Better let him sit another 10 minutes and test to see how long he has had this. If it was new, then he is a threat... Dan... “Yes Amy.” ...Watch out for this guy. There is something wrong, she said. Wait 10 minutes...

Dan’s screen brightened with a chemical formula. He did some twists on it to see if it would slide into some other form. Nothing. Might as well set his small lab on to it. He sent it off.

“Amy.” Yes. “Please let Malcolm know below that we are on a small alert”. “Quietly”... OK Dan...

The man’s name was Cork, Geoff Cork. After 10 minutes, nothing showed that this was a newly placed composition. He has had it a long time. So Dan went out to see him. The chairs in the anteroom are very comfortable, the lighting subdued and everything was what a Lawyer’s Office would look like. It did help Dan in fingerprints and textile analysis, as well as all the biofeedback on the client he would ever want.

Geoff came into the office with a bit of trepidation. Dan sensed that he had a secret. So maybe he actually wants training.

“It’s good of you to come this early in the morning, Geoff”, Dan said. He pushed his smile a bit and watched the eyes to see if they softened. Nope. “It’s not often a person just gets in touch with us. We usually get a friend of a client.” Dan waited a tenth of a second to see anything tensed. He felt nothing.

Geoff looked around. “Yes, I know.” Pause. “My computer in the office is special. It is linked to some very powerful mainframes. They directed me here.”

“Wow.” said Dan comfortably. (must control my body here. He is scanning me.) “I know that my security system here is pretty good. Maybe that’s what they saw. Let’s face it. Good security in itself is a searchable item”.

“Could be”, Geoff said. “At any rate, I do need some help that security itself is part of.” Geoff again looked around interestedly. He couldn’t understand some of the room somehow. Dan started becoming interested. Could Geoff be a fellow adventurer?

Amy whispered.... He has been in Costa Rica very recently. Some frog in his hair and volcanic dust in the waiting room air sample ....(The leather chair puffed and sucked air when he had sat in it).

....There were no reservations anywhere for him, though....

“Well, I guess we should start by asking some formal questions, eh?” Dan said with brightness indicating full innocence. He started shuffling papers... none were ever needed but it looked good. “Your company, Storm, isn’t it. They are going to be hiring us?” Dan didn’t even look up. Just a normal question. Amy said....a bit deeper breath than normal. He doesn’t want us to know....

Geoff said, “Yes, of course. You told me on the phone your daily fees. I don’t have that amount of money available by myself.” Dan responded, “Yes, it’s almost always a business expense”.

“I’m interested because you don’t really know what we do here, do you?” Dan looked slowly up with darkened blue eyes. “Why are you here, Geoff?”

“As I said,” Geoff was good, “my computers were sent on a task and your company came up.” “I started being interested in your business. Yes, I’m not totally sure what you do. But I have links. For instance, you have cornered a few ‘associates’. The Harwin brothers for instance.”

Dan sat back. That was a bit of a shock. His friends were supposed to be below radar. The little finger in his left hand moved.

Geoff continued. “I have always been interested in biological manufacturing.” He put his hand in his pocket and brought out his Iphone. “The Harwins do a lot of business with you.” He showed Dan a photo of a med-vac case being delivered to Malcolm. “That was delivered 5 days ago. I know its contents.”

“Well, Geoff. I think that we are not talking client-sales, are we”. Malcolm walked into the room behind Geoff. “I don’t appreciate attention like this. I train people. You are not a potential client.” Dan got up. Malcolm moved sideways a bit.

Geoff seemed bewildered at the speed of events here. He looked up. He considered. “Could I have just a few more minutes?”

“I don’t think so. You have problems. I don’t want problems.”

Geoff said, “Yes, I have problems and you may be able to help me. Honest, I know I could shut you down, but there is no way I’m going to do that.”

Immediately, Malcolm understood. He would let the man speak. Dan said, “Look here. I want to stay under the radar. What do you really know about us here?”

“In fact, before you do that, What is Storm Inc. and why are you really here?”

Geoff looked at him and hesitated. “I don’t exist. The profile you may have of me will be a fabric.” He looked at Malcolm. “I can’t have you listening to this. In fact, if this room is electronically monitored as I am sure it is, I can’t say anything right now.”

Dan considered this. “Amy”, he said. Shut down, but first have Malcolm here erase the last month of your memory and it’s backups... permanently. Do you understand? AMY said..... I will lose a lot of data, Dan.... “Yes, Amy, but you will also lose any virus or tracking software or even any pattern that computers can analyze. In fact, if any of your circuits were changed, they will also disappear.”

....Yes, Dan....

Malcolm said it would take 10 minutes. Geoff looked at Dan for 10 minutes. The lights finally dimmed to full darkness. Dan turned on a fluorescent fixture. “Good enough?” he said.

“Viruses are harder to remove than that”, said Geoff. Dan smiled. “But a computer which lives in its memory banks is immune to viruses. The computer virus needs circuits to read it. Those circuits were just erased. Malcolm has just erased a trillion computers of the old style.”

“I am trusting a lot in what you can do.” Said Geoff. “But I have seen something in here which resembles my place.” He stood up, and Dan immediately countered by getting up too. “It’s all right. I just need to adjust to this place.” They looked at each other and Geoff slowly sat down again.

Geoff pulled out his Iphone. “Do you mind if I check out your presence out there?” He tapped into the virtual keys. The message went out. “My computers will just take a minute.” In a few minutes, he had his answer. 2999 had no electronic signature in the world. If it was there, it was no longer there. And his computers were good at their job.

“So, again, what is this all about? What is Storm Inc. and who are you?” Dan said with no particular inflection. He studied Geoff and wondered what this invisible man was up to. Why did he want to bother Dan and his company?

Dan’s eyes became a bit vacant as if they were busy forming words within the brain matter behind them. He looked down and started. “I am one of those people who never existed. I was too smart to go to school. I went to special places to learn. People, my parents, my aunts and uncles were there, but only as almost ghosts that I sort of remember. I have learned. I have remembered. I work. It is fun because nothing is difficult for me. They all love me, whoever they are. My friends come in to talk to me, professors, specialists, people who know things. I absorb them.”

Dan felt a bit embarrassed at this ‘openness’. “What was to come from this strange person? He still hasn’t told me a thing.” He waited.

Geoff still looked down and said “At some early age, I discovered a few fun things about the world and applied for patents. I suppose that’s when it really started.” He winced a bit. “There were people all around who showed up and wanted to teach me more. My parents sort of disappeared over time and I moved into some nice place.. In fact, I kept moving to a lot of nice places.”

Dan felt that he had to interrupt. “Geoff. You are here in front of me now. What are you doing here?”

“I am hiding” Geoff said.

Damn. That was no answer. “Geoff. Get to the point!”

“I am part of the government somehow. I guess. I don’t really know. But I started building my computer software in my spare time to find out. I created software that created software. Hackers do it all the time, but they never do anything useful with their Trojans and viruses. I have 1 billion computers working for me. They send their results a byte every minute. Totally invisible. I found out about me.”

“I created Storm Inc. to hide in it. I do not wish to do the work I was doing. It is scary, that stuff.” He looked up finally with glazed eyes. “So I sent my computers on a task to find a hiding place. You came up as the answer. I need you to save me.”

Dan was just sitting there. His usual quick mind was at a standstill. Huh? Left field.

...............................................

3. Saving Geoff Cork

“Really,” Dan said. You made me shut down my computer just to “Save You?”. Dan got up. “Are you serious?”

Geoff was not put off. He said, “Yes: do you want money? I have 100 million for you.”

Oh. Dan almost sizzled inside. 100 million Dollars? He became hot. “So. Why me?”

Geoff said “I know you trust your ‘Amy’. I trust my billion computers. They said you would do it.”

Damn. Could this be fun? Is it real? Dan started considering the problem. Yes, He would have to be smarter than a government. OK. No problem. But why ‘hide’ a person? He would have to make the person of no interest to the ‘government’. Why didn’t Geoff just pretend to get dumb? There has to be more to this.

“Geoff,” Dan said, “You are obviously smart. Can’t you just ... leave?” This didn’t seem to be a difficult solution.

“Oops, sorry Dan.” They found me. He brought out his Iphone. It was on. “The traffic camera outside shows a license plate we know.” Geoff almost bounded out of the chair. “How visible are you? Can I just hire you for ‘training’ or whatever you really do and would they suspect anything?... Forget it for now. My password will be x43y5534capB. Can you remember that? Now get me out of here.”

He bolted for the elevator. Dan was happy to speed him along. “Get off at the 9^th and take the shipping elevator”, Dan said. “By the way. Put 20 mil in my checking account as a show of faith, OK?” Geoff was off and away.

Well, that was an interesting start to the day. Dan felt he needed some comfort. He called Malcolm on the landline. “How did the shutdown go?” he asked. “just tiddly wink fine,” Malcolm said happily. “I physically pulled 3 weeks of the memory bank, then erased the rest. About as fast as I could do it. I will erase the 3 weeks now, OK?”

Dan thought for a second. “You know Malcolm, you may have just done the most brilliant thing in the world. If AMY can be set up to read that memory offline but backwards, She might find a pattern related to this Geoff person. She mustn’t use the memory’s circuit simulations... just read them.” He could almost hear Malcolm coming to attention. This was ‘hardware’. Malcolm loved hardware. “I will get right on it,” he said to Dan. “So, is it safe to turn AMY back on?” said Malcolm.

Dan thought for another second. “I don’t know. If this Geoff is right, we are being studied right now. I think we should stay down for a day or two. If Geoff pays me the up-front money he promised, we will be on a whole new level of business.”

“I have an idea,” Dan put out. “Create a front for us. One that does just physical training. See if you can quietly put about a year’s ads in the local papers. Use one of the peripheral laptops from the library. OK?”

Malcolm said, “Seriously? This sounds like a big change of strategy. Am I still going to keep AMY?” Dan laughed, “Yes Malcolm, we’ll need all of us for this. But remember. Don’t link it with 2999 for now. Let’s wait and see. Pick a nice ‘heavyweight’ name for us and order a sign for the elevator. I guess Samantha is wondering what’s up. None of her equipment will be working too well.”

Dan went out to the back of the penthouse. Samantha and John were just coming in from outside. Both of them red in the face and about as happy as little children who have just come home from playing in the snow. She had noticed that the watches weren’t working, but that didn’t stop them from the climb.

Dan said “Samantha, the computers are down. Sorry. John, It wouldn’t be safe for you to continue with the computer down. Is it OK if we put off the rest of the day?” John looked a little bit dejected. Dan continued, “It’s really unexpected. We’ve never had this happen before. Look, I won’t charge for the day, or even the next time. Why don’t you go and do some kayaking? It’s a lovely day. It will keep your arms in shape. Try to do a turnover for practise. Stay under and test your meditation.”

So Samantha took care of John until he left and then came into the office. She looked at the computers, the lighting and Dan. “What’s up, Dan?” He looked at her and said, “How would you like $20 million dollars?”

She smiled. “You are kidding. Who was this VP? Do I get the whole 20 million? You didn’t promise my body, did you?”

“I’m serious, I think.” Said Dan. “This guy could be giving us $100 million to ‘save’ him.”

Samantha sat down in the comfy red leather chair. “OK,” she said. “Tell me.”

Dan swivelled slowly, “First, AMY is down because she is probably under attack by the government.” Dan continued, “It’s nothing to do with the chemicals, but I’m sure they would find out pretty quickly.” Samantha shook her head, “You know, we’re always on the edge of illegal with those. But I couldn’t even think of living without them. We’d be just normal humans if we couldn’t benefit from them.” Dan looked down, “I know. But we didn’t ask for this. The Storm guy, he just brought the spotlight on to us.”

“But 100 million dollars. Just think of what that could do to build AMY up. She does use up most of our money, you know. Memory is expensive, a terabyte every 15 minutes is expensive. She does do power sharing to save electricity, but that also costs a bit. Yes, you can keep your 20 million.”

Samantha started getting nervous, “What is this about the government, anyway? Is this guy wanted? Are they going to attack us? (a fun idea, she thinks)”

Dan said, “No, this seems like a simple scientist-wanting-out problem. He doesn’t want to do what he is doing for them.” He added, “But there is more to it... he programs and uses about every computer in the world as a hobby. And he is full of a neurotoxin.”

She looked at him. “A simple problem, huh. Sounds like we should ask for more money. Is this what we want to do?” Dan thought for a second, “I don’t think this will change our business after we ‘save ‘ him. It’s just a little thing, a blip in the business. A good think, then a little work, and then 100 million dollars.”

“It can’t be that easy,” she laughed. Little did they know.

-----------------------------------------

4. Contact

It was the next day that Dan’s bank account blossomed by $20,000,000. It is a worrying thing that money can just show up like that. It could just as easily disappear. He will have to do something with it. Yup, 100 bank accounts . Amy will do that when she gets going again. He’d never done something semi-legal like that before, but it was His Money, and he was just spreading it out. “I wonder if Malcolm has inserted the past years ad’s yet? Amy could make the money accounts in that name. No, just numbered accounts. He would have to hire one of his ‘associates’ to pull the cash out and hand-file the transfer to already-created accounts in other institutions. Amy will handle it. She will change the dates , smudge the signatures.”

He must remember that removing AMY’s memory is a bad thing to do. He might lose the account numbers. Everything is getting too complicated. He will put Malcolm to figuring out how to protect her memory of ‘his’ stuff. Probably too complicated anyway. He will ask Amy.

He had cancelled his clients with the excuse that the computers were down. He got his shot of chemicals for stemcell maintenance. He was now just considering Geoff Cork. “Maybe I should lift some weights.”

“Malcolm.” The landline was his link to the world. “How is it going?” Dan said. The other end talked incessantly “ ....wires, power onto the memory bank....just as easy to parallel... and When can I power AMY up?”

It was too soon to wake Amy up. If THEY were interested in Geoff’s visit, they might just sample traffic for a day or so to see if there was anything. Computers can do that forever, but the people looking at output must have a limit of interest. Maybe Amy can be brought up slowly, communicate at slow speeds, just like Geoff’s computers? Then she would look normal. Not a very useful Amy, but a normal looking one. He should do something about that. Maybe Geoff could help.

Now Dan contemplated ‘black ops’. How do you get Geoff away from things and safely stowed away? You might need to do this. If he buys anything, goes anywhere, he will be monitored, videoed, checked for past routines. Does he need prescriptions? Do they tap his accounts? He should have another name, another life and a ‘makeover’ to look totally different. This may not be needed. Better to continue a normal life, without change. Then do the deed, whatever it is. But he will need money (especially for me, Dan thought) and places to stay where ‘he has always been here’. Lots of past-life to create.

“It’s useless,” he thought. “I need to find out more.” Dan got up and went to the gym to lift weights.

Three hours later, Samantha came in to work. There was no purpose to having her come in at all, but she should continue training anyway. You must never stop your training. Yes, there is no computer, but there are still ‘physical’ things to do.

First Liner #9, Birth

2012-02-04T12:54:00.002-05:00

Birth, Feels Good

Wiggle, squirm, it seems as if I have been down here for ages, waiting for the right moment.

There is something in the way, the back end of something. But I know.. the right moment is coming! I’m getting too big. I need air!

Let’s open up a channel or two. Oooh, squishy out there, but nice and salty, potassium I think. Yeah, must’ve been a banana yesterday.

Watch out! My whole world is being squished. Come on now, let’s be nice to me. Again! Stop it. Send out some of my ... maybe that will stop them.

Well, it has improved. Most times, especially when it’s dark, you get a nice long period of rest. But when it’s light, watch out. Especially in the morning, hot water! Gooey stuff rubbed in right above you. You can smell it, Yuk. I curl my little pointy head under and try to ignore it.

I think today is the day. The walls around me are getting a funny coating. Wiggle, squirm. And that thing that holds me down is changing; it’s becoming hard and pushy. Well, I will just push back, see what that does to you, eh? I don’t know. Things are getting tight, I feel pokey things all around me, they almost hurt.

Maybe if I make myself straight, right full out straight. Yup, something doesn’t like that! Oooh, there is that feeling again. Hey, let’s be gentle here. Nope, more pokey things. The back end of something above me is shivering, twisting. I think it’s time.

The brush she used was pushed just a little bit harder today, she was mad at her husband. It started pulling out more hair on her head than usual.

Wiggle, squirm, the follicle that was in my way is now gone! Pokey little head, let’s get some fresh air. I will be a new long hair, just like mommy, some day.

316 words, One liner #9, 30 minutes.

FirstLiner #8, Fear

2012-02-04T09:44:00.003-05:00

Fear

My eyes are closed, but I hear the machinery, I feel the rotation.. downwards, and my arms are above my head as we crash hopelessly towards the ground.

It is a fact. I have flown around the world many times, each using little hops, like to Paris, then to Johannesburg, then to Perth. Things like that. No-fly zones were always a problem. I read, go to sleep, eat, drink and eventually 12 hours in the air just flits away. We land, we take off..... Up Down Up Down..... boring.

But I am here to instruct you, the First-timer.

A 747 is a flying hotel. It is big, you are lucky you didn’t start out in 707’s or STOL’s. Long skinny 707’s are claustrophobia personified. The little ones, STOLs...another story, you look past the pilots (back then) and all you see is ground, trees, fear, as it lands. Most happy airplanes land sort of facing up, like getting their bellies warmed. An STOL noses straight down until it thinks it might hit ground, then god helps and it actually lands. But these are the way it used to be.

The large airplane. You sit in cattle class (probably... I hate you if you are up front), and if you put your outstretched hand on your nose, it might even touch the chair in front of you. This is how it starts. I won’t tell you that the most dangerous part of the trip is just about to happen. As the plane starts rolling down the runway, you tell yourself, “well, this must be the easy part, can’t crash on the ground if you are already there, eh?” Nope: this is the time to fear. Grip those armrests, well actually only one of them, because the buffoon beside you is taking your armrest. Sit back. Will it ever take off? If you could only see outside the front, you would not be just thinking that, you would be yelling it, out loud. With feet to go before you hit something, the plane climbs. Yup, dangerous times. Feel the air? 747, probably not.

Machinery. You feel it on takeoff, but you can mostly see it out the window. The wheels come in, about the right time to do that. Yup. OK. The crazy plane is tilting, because you see the ground straight out the window. This is the time that almost every baby on the plane starts crying. They must KNOW, something is about to happen! You wait. The plane straightens out again. But then, help me mommy, it tilts the other way and you can see the Sun, straight out the side of the window! Don’t planes sort of slide into the ground when they tilt that much? OK. This is not the worst part of a plane trip. No way.

As an aside, don’t pick a seat near the back of the plane. There is a reason that the better class seats are up at the front. Wind doesn’t jostle you around up there, that’s where the pilots are. But the back... even on the big planes, is where the rest of the plane decides to bend and twist and move up and down with each hurricane force burst of air out there. The paper bags are used most often back there. But this is not the worst part of the trip, no way.

I now describe the part when you wake up, the lights are on... they should be off at night. There is nothing happening. But the plane is rotating. Yes, it is doing a very slow downward turn. Your stomach feels it, your head feels it. This is not supposed to happen. Never, Ever, close your eyes when you feel this. This is hysteria. The plane, this is the one that is going to make the news, is going to crash! Yes, you picked the wrong flight today, buddy. How can it keep going down without them telling us? Why is everyone not in panic mode? They are not as sensitive as me, I can feel these things well before them. I have perfect balance.

But the worst, is now about to happen. The babies will cry, they will scream. Mommies will grip their children. It must be this way. The airplane bumps, it bumps again.. again. What was that? Has the fuselage ripped off. Don’t look outside, it’s dark and it would force you to move. Don’t move. Stomach is pretty fragile right now.

WOW, grinding. The plane’s outside must be ripping off. Where’s that armrest, “fella, move over, I need the armrest”. There is that machinery sound, slowly, tearingly, grindingly. Say your prayers. But the worst in not over yet, no way.

The plane drops a thousand feet in a second. Yipes, my hands go up and grab the ceiling above me, feeling hopelessly for a grip. Don’t close your eyes. The plane is falling and you need to figure out where the exits are. My buddy looks at me, do I see... a strange look. Yes.. Is he knowing this too. No. He smiles.

He tells me we are just about to land.

“My eyes are closed, but I hear the machinery, I feel the rotation.. downwards, and my arms are above my head as we crash hopelessly towards the ground.”

Planes are safe. Trust me... but never trust a landing.

Grandpa Sins

2012-02-03T17:10:00.000-05:00

I am a Sinner

You shouldn’t do that, because if you do, I will have to erase your life and ensure that you never control me again. My inner voice. I must ignore it. Really, why do I have to listen to this trash! Erase my life, will you? Me.

So do you think I should have these thoughts? It’s as though I have an erase button built in to my brain. Whoa here, are you thinking of Dementia? SURE would lose control of my life with that. But no problem, I am taking a writing class, left brain stuff.

So, what shouldn’t I do? Let’s see, what was I doing? It was important. Damned. Yes, my mind is coming back, damned adrenaline! I seem to be upside down. Did I just pass out?

No. But It was good, that feeling of pure excitement. Talk about a bubble of exhilaration! .....

My name is Ron, and I am an adrenaline junkie. I have sinned today.

My sin today, like every day I go over the railroad track, calls me, beckons me. And if no one else is around, I sin. I don’t want to have my adrenaline erased! Inner voice, damn you. I will do it and you will not control me.. maybe on another day. Right now, adrenaline controls me.

My car. Black. Black Windows. 6 Litres of pure Fire. That’s gasoline, 94 proof, the closest to aircraft stuff you can get! Undersized wheels! The engine of a Corvette under the hood. The transmission, drive shaft, brakes all designed for HD. 400 plus horsepower, IT IS A BOMB! ITS MINE!

The eyes flatten, the head shifts forward. 150 feet to go. Running at 80. Just the right speed to bring up the overdrive. No train, don’t care, it won’t get even close.

NOW, down with the gas pedal, Whoops, the head blasts back, the arms, you have to control the direction please, arms. WOW, 2 seconds, 3 seconds... you look down.... 130. Now that’s rocking! Have to start earlier next time.

The railroad crossing, you see has a ramp. If you go over at the pitiful legal speed of 70, you feel all the bumps. At 130, you just feel air... smooth baby!

Robbee Design

2012-02-03T16:08:00.000-05:00

What to do Today with Robbee

Robbee, my robot, is stagnating. I bought 10 new microphones, the old ones are now obsolete, and one broke off, so I need to replace them all with new ones... they have to be matched microphones. The life of electronics, obsolete in less than a year.

So, now to Robbee, I’ve been busy elsewhere, so dust is settling. I have this ultrasonic microphone which now sort-of works on Robbee, and I have this dog whistle, a Christmas present, that Robbee alone can hear. Well, I can’t hear it. All my grandchildren and most of my children can hear it. 15 kilohertz. But what to do with it?

I think I should alter the circuit to make Robbee hear only higher notes, then increase the microphone amplifier gain... then reduce the trip point in the software. Then the dog whistle, If I take a file to it so that the adjustment goes further down, It will become a higher frequency. And the children should not be able to hear it! Yes, that’s the plan. In my younger years, maybe an hour’s work. Now where was that schematic?

But right now, the dog whistle just causes a little blue light to turn on. The blue light is supposed to tell me when Robbee is charging his battery, but at this point in my development of Robbee, it’s the only light that works, so I use it for ‘debugging’. Computereze for finding out why something isn’t working.

Actually, Robbee’s circuits amplify the ultrasonic sound from the microphone, up to 60 kilohertz, compress it logarithmically, compand it based on past levels, RMS measure it and send it to the computer in Robbee as an analog value of the amplitude as we humans would hear it. The computer samples the amplitude using an internal A/D 12 bit converter 60 times a second, and the software keeps a 16 sample running average of the readings, dropping off the oldest one and including the newest one 60 times a second. If the average, thus calculated, is above a trip level, I turn on the Blue Charge Light. It is a fixed trip point, meaning that I have to blow really hard on the dog whistle. But it works and almost ignores ordinary sounds like the motors running and people yelling.

With this knowledge, I ask again, what to do with it? If Robbee is stopped, I could have him say his name. Or even rotate a bit, or shiver. If Robbe is moving, the whistle could make him change direction 180 degrees. So, without them knowing it, I could just run amok with Robbe while the kiddies are remote controlling him. Could be fun.

But, by increasing the frequency response, I am taking Robbee up to the level of bat-sounds. Yup, take him outside and the blue lamp may come on in the evening when the bats are flying about. Fun. I wonder if the bats are out in the winter? No Bugs. Mmmhhh. Might as well put this software in anyway.

But that fixed trip point is a problem. It is set to ignore little sounds like motors squeaking. If I change it to a slow moving average of say 600 samples, dropping the total by 1/600 then adding the new sample, using the 2-16 samples as the required ‘real’ average, then compare them, the ability to hear far-off sounds can be improved by 100 or more. Now we are talking about hearing bats! But it would hear the motors, so the programming has to make this only work when Robbee is resting. Lets try that. This could take the next weekend to do. Oh well. Hobby.

I wonder if he would hear Jets overhead? Jet Alarm. Mmmhhh... How long does a bat sound last? Maybe I have to look at peak sounds, not averages.......

Stripper

2012-02-03T13:09:00.002-05:00

Bring it on, she said to herself

Homework. Stripper. Third Person. OK. I’m a guy here, and writing class has given me Porn to write. Woot Woot!

She walked through the joint, barely noticeable among the ‘ladies of the night’ who flocked in with their beau’s. Her skirt was too short, but weren’t they all? Black tights, well probably thought of as a whore, weren’t they all?

But she was different. She wasn’t there to have fun. You could see it, purposeful, watching, a false smile, wondering who was next? She strided to the bar, owning the place, and had her glass filled again, yes, no alcohol... need to make money tonight. As she turned around, her eyes scanned. So many men. Let’s not get into that. This is business.

Her eyes singled in on a few potentials.. groups of men, some really smashed ladies. Actually much more fun, those smashed ladies. The lighting hid the stained carpets, the cobwebs, the holes in the walls and the cracked, stretched black leather. The bar looked really nice with the lighting down but what light there was showed up as stark, mysterious. There was music playing, but in the background, some sort of country thing right now.... dangerous music, people might actually get up and dance. Bad for business.

She felt her stomach, It was hard, it had to look good. So many beautiful women had little balloons down there, soft pouchies, but oh so ugly. Stomachs must be flat, perfect, tight. The bones have to stick out in front of the stomach. She wondered if her hair was OK. It probably didn’t matter, they don’t look at the hair. But she always regretted her legs, the way they bent a bit like a cowboys. She could never get rid of that look. The black stockings help.

It was time to get to business. The Ladies had to wait, they needed more libation, they weren’t loud enough yet. I will give them something to be loud about, she thought to herself.

The man, he was sitting alone in a rounded leather sofa, looked around at the people. He noticed them all, and discounted them all. He was there to drink, to forget, to have fun.

One might consider a man who doesn’t smile as one to avoid. She feels emotion, it brings out the best in her and she responds well to get more money from people who are needing a bit of ... loving. Her homing gene saw him, and directed her to apply her talent. She started the hips as she walked away from him, turning slightly to show off her body.

He saw this lady, she moved like a cat, smooth, hard, easy viewing. Her black hair flowed like that of his favourite horse, Jiggers. There was something home-town about her, he wondered what it was. She looked good, look at those curves. That could make a man forget. He waved his hand to the barmaid, pointing to his drink. She nodded her head.

The Stripper, now looking in a mirror, saw his motion. Yes, he is going to be a good client. She stood a little bit taller, getting the body parts in the right orientation. Swooping down on the bar, she winked at the barmaid and picked up the man’s drink. Bring it on, she said to herself.

561 words, 45 minutes, a bit longer than it should.

Unlimited View?

2012-02-03T12:02:00.000-05:00

Really Big Point of View

OK. It’s God here. Limited point of view, forget it. I know everything, all encompassing. You think you humans know it all? Poof. That’s you, if I want to. Big. Power. Yes, I have it, ...you weaklings. I even have to write things down because you need to ‘learn’ to communicate... weaklings.

So Point of View. This is from above... you know. Me.

The amoeba, he Shall Be Called: Smooch. Smooch is in some place, dark, wet, and sort of single layered. Smooch doesn’t much care. Yes, he really is a thinking, living thing. Eat, Move, Find, ..... yeah yeah hurray... Procreate. Yes, Smooch is good at what he does. Decisions are possibly simple minded to a human, but let’s define intelligence.

Aware of surroundings. Well, Smooch would be very unhappy flying through the air.

Able to make decisions. Well, flying through air....catch any raindrop you can find.

Communication. Yeah, where are those ladies, huh?

Using Tools. Wah-de-ya think water is? I move like a torpedo, picking up particles and throwing them out my backside. I move. I Rock!

Procreate. See Communication above. Fun. Besides, he gets to multiply himself at the same time. Separation into little pieces feels good. (Humans don’t know that, they are dumb.)

Learning. See below....

Smooch is intelligent for his species. He has developed this way to circle around forever. Not just back and forth. So, what is the purpose of this new learned tool. He is just playing with the idea right now, but maybe the currents will corral those ladies. Do you think Smooch has a one track mind? Naw, never... procreate... driven to multiply, or eat, or drink..but be fruitful.

So, birds can do things the moment they are born. They don’t have to be taught, they know. That is built-in intelligence, inherent, it’s a gene thing. Must be, since they haven’t learned a thing, other than how to break out of an egg, when they are born.

Smooch, had a mum, or a dad, don’t much care. Son of an Amoeba, chunk off the old block. But he is better than mum. He does circles. It is fun and makes him dizzy, but here comes one. Mmmhhh, good little tentacles, is she a me? Smooch has corralled a she thing, pucker up my lovely.

Smooch is happy and little Smooch knows how to do circles too.

400 words, 30 minutes, Limited Point of View or Unlimited?

For those scientists out there, Smooch's parents were hit with a gamma ray. Evolution. (from God)

Electronics 101.2

2012-02-03T10:58:00.003-05:00

I will Teach You, Electronics

Lesson #2

Here, I hope, is some more knowledge of electricity and electronics... And Magnets.

You, from last writing, now know that volts, like water pressure, causes electrons, like water to flow with great speed. The flowing electrons, like the flow of water out of a hose, does things. In electricity, the electrical current causes things to heat up/light up, where water just moves things.

But there is more to electricity than water. The first and most important for industry and the first electric things is this: The Moving Electrons make magnets. This is important. Water does not make magnets. But wind a wire, the thing that carries electrons the best, around a nail, make it a lot of wire, or else too much current will flow from a battery. Put the two ends of the wire on a 1.5 volt battery and the massive current through the wire (ignore the sparks right now) makes the nail a magnet. Wow. It might also get hot if you don’t use enough wire.

But magnets. You build electric motors out of magnets. A magnet has a North and a South, and supposedly, the little magnetic forces move from the North to the South, and all things being the same, a North desperately wants to find a South. One end of the nail is South, the other North, but they can’t bend around to touch each other. The nail is too strong. North can move mountains to find a South, and that’s what makes a motor work. Magnets, though are normal things, when the North finds a South, it just happily sits there and is hard to pull away...(N-S=friends)... useless for motors. But the nice thing about electricity... If you reverse the wires on the battery, (reverse the current flow), then the North becomes a South and squeals in anger. It is now right beside another South. South’s hate South. North’s hate North. So the new South moves away, anywhere but beside a South, now in search for a new North. So if the electricity can be changed just when the South finds a North and vice versa, you can make it move forever, just make sure there is a place for the South or North to move to find its new life mate. The motor is born, it is round on a shaft, so the only place for a North to find a South is to rotate a bit. And the motor has a whole lot of N S N S N S magnets around its outside. You sort of can get away with just a few N S N S’s but it’s such a long way to move in the search for a friend that a N or a S doesn’t have much force behind it. The current that makes the magnets is changed by a ‘commutator’ a thing on the motor shaft which keeps on forcing the current to reverse as the motor rotates so that it is never a happy beast, never able to stay friend-to-friend. Fun.

This is an electric DC motor.. because it runs off a battery-like voltage. There are other motor types, but we are only talking about electricity and electro-magnets here. Done.

Exercise #.? Injuries

2012-02-03T08:21:00.003-05:00

Workman’s Compensation Injury

She looks at me, eyes not really seeing me, as she contemplates my question. “Injuries? You mean big bad things?” I said it was for writing class, and we needed to ‘talk’ to an injury in a short story.

I said it could be anything, small or big, and she popped up with tonsils. Yes, I had my tonsils out as a kid, will that do? No, I said, that’s not the remotest bit interesting (yup, I had that too). I said that I wanted something juicy, full of information and problems in everyday life. Come on here, let’s give out your worst.

Well, she contemplated, mumbling to herself, a possible bad knee, but not really; she runs 5 km for the fun of it. Skiing, no prob. Triathalon, her dream, but she would have to work on the swimming a bit. Yes, this woman is not to be taken out by any injury, 52 as she is.

Ah Ha! Her eyes brighten, I have it, Yes, interesting! She holds up her hand at me triumphantly. So, I say, fingernails are all cut nicely, no injury there. She waves it around a bit, well more than a bit, and I squint at it. Not a bad hand, not too large, no scars, no blisters (blisters, now, that could be a whole big story).

You don’t see it, do you? The hand turns around and she pops up her little pinky. See! Yes, I see a small bulge in the last little part of the pinky. She proudly announces, “My First and Only, Osteoarthritis!”. Yup, that’s a big word. Confirmed by the Doctor, she interjects.

I am shocked, a sports person brought down by Osteoarthritis. I commiserate with her. It must be difficult having such a massive body-part-failure. It is on her left hand. I look closer, the bulge is on a joint, looking more like a witch’s finger the more that I look at it. “Does it hurt?” I ask. “Well, no... but it’s big!” We wonder whether the pinky would take a ring, now that it is a totally useless appendage. We tried it, no problem, I guess the bulge moves around or something.

SO. “Did you get this from work?” I ask. “Maybe you can claim Workman’s Compensation?” She laughed; you know, don’t you, that you have to call 911 or fill out hundreds of forms notarized through many meetings with your workplace, to get WC? Well, I guess we’ll have to see about disability rating here, I say.

We had many happy minutes discussing her injury, with me madly tapping into my Iphone notepad, adding new useful information about the pinky. I just have to ask her. How does this affect your life? Obviously, it affects your skiing, doesn’t it? Laughing again, my interviewing skills are weak, Newby that I am. It seems that this injury has only one drawback right now.

She can’t clean out her left ear properly while driving.

Discussion Over, Rolling on the Floor Laughing.

502 words, 35 minutes. Reasonable.

4th week inclass

2012-02-02T12:25:00.002-05:00

Perspective in 3 Parts

The sound of a collision jolted Jocko out of his reveree. For one sleep-fogged moment, he thought that the house was falling down! The sound was coming from outside and Jocko jumped up and barked, for this should not happen on his property. With stiff legs pumping furiously, Jocko made for the front door. There, he waited and listened, hearing nothing, and then a squeak. Again, He Must Protect his house and the barking started up again with infinite zeal, insanity taking hold. They will not enter! They will be torn to bits. Minutes, maybe hours later Jocko stopped, then thought. He looked out the window. The paper boy with his wagon, was now down the street, throwing his newspapers at the street’s house doors.

The sound of the collision jolted Mandy out of her reveree. For one sleep fogged moment, she thought that the house was falling down! She rose gracefully, switched her tail and meowed—dumb Jocko was at it again, the paper boy. Perhaps she should follow him.. drat, dumb dog, why bother? But there may be something of interest out on the street. Jocko, why doesn’t he shut up? I can’t hide from that incessant howling. She stretches, pulling her front legs as long as she can make, curling the claws under, then out in full spread... ahhhh. She slowly ambles into the bosses’ bedroom and jumps up. Warmth, quiet. Good.

The sound of the collision jolted the wall mouse out of its reveree. There was no sleep-fogged anything, it was awake instantly. The mouse froze, wondering what the sound was. A moment later, it heard Jocko yapping all over the place. No Problem. The mouse snuggled into the cotton ball it called home and went to sleep.

290 words, 10 minutes, very good. In-class exercise.

Life, Dance

2012-02-02T08:31:00.001-05:00

Life, Dance

Music, dancing, throbbing, a drink in hand, the world surrounds me and I am living in a dream of quietness in my bubble in the center of the room....

You might wonder about this... a guy dancing like crazy? We are in Lima Peru, a small club where nobody speaks English, nobody cares that you don’t speak Spanish. It is glittery but dark at the same time, all sorts of spotlights, and I think.. can’t recall too much, that there was one of those dance glass balls reflecting light. Maybe not. The drinks were really good. Our guide ordered them for us and they just kept coming.

My specialty? Merengue, that wonderful dance where you just shuffle around, looking like a matador... in my own mind, or like a train, constantly moving forward like a snail. We have taken about 2 years of dance classes to get to this point. My feet originally just refused to move fast enough for any latin dance. OK, Rhumba aside. But clod-hoppers in Costa Rica. “You must dance just like walking, sir”. Yeah, but you also need the beat. Without that rhythm, you are like a white man playing the Blues. And it took 2 years of classes to respond to the rhythm.

But when you come across the Salsa, well that’s where all Newbies fall apart. There is Salsa North America, Salsa Club, and true Salsa, Colombian style. No stopping, frantic, frothing, spinning, beautiful Salsa. Jaw-dropping Salsa. Every move is perfect, the feet seem to be random alterations of the beat, finding their own life, but beat they do and they never fail. But the arms and the body, define Salsa. You have routines that your partner had better know. It doesn’t matter, If you spin your partner 2 or 20 times, it all seems right, because those feet never stop with the beat. The spins don’t stop, separate a bit, come back a bit, choreography is beautiful.

So. Why am I in a bubble of silence, when there is all about me the frantic, the mayhem called Salsa?

Again: Music, dancing, throbbing, a drink in hand, the world surrounds me and I am living in a dream of quietness in my bubble in the center of the room.

My wife had just yelled in my ear. “I am Pregnant!”

390 words. Exercise done.

3rd Week Homework

2012-02-01T08:08:00.000-05:00

3^rd Person Details

I sat there, munching my Big Mac, and reading Bird To Bird, on my IReader, an old man on a bench. Well, not so old, 66. But, reading this book on writing, it said that I should become aware of surroundings, the activities, the details every minute of the day.

So, MacDonald’s. What a rich place to observe.

The counter lady, they now hire older people, came around the empty counter and saw him. She must have wondered about the older man in front of her, but smiled at him anyway. She is probably trained to ignore white hair. Singles over 50 rarely come in at this time. Most of them come in during the quiet periods to sit and read the newspaper. It was about to be pandemonium, 15 minutes before noon. He ordered a Big Mac meal. The credit card machine, she had to take his card, insert it in the machine, wait til it showed him to be solid citizen (not a thief), and then handed the machine to him. He squinted, reading the display. “This is not right,” he said, “Oh, that’s better. I didn’t see the ‘wait’ word.” Yup, the old guys always read every line on the machine, or just pay cash. This one was pretty spry. While waiting for his ‘meal’, he went and got the straw (one always needs one, but we always place the bin across the way to make them go get it. It’s an intelligence test). Then believe it or not, he pulled out his Iphone to see if it was on, then when sitting down, got out his IReader! Go figure.

The crowd came in like a herd of buffalo. Instantly, the 3 lines were full. The teenagers. Always fun to watch, greeted each other like lost children. A girl hugged another. A trailing boy, long and skinny, said sheepishly that he’d just fallen in the snow. His pants were all over snow as he dripped toward the counter. His friends barely noticed as the ‘communicating’ continued at an accelerated pace. They all wore black, but not too much hardware in their noses, eyes, tongues etc. Just normal school kids, spending another $10 at another lunch.

Then there are the women, with baby child, who decide that the busiest time is the time to have lunch. Really! This particular one had a lovely stroller that must have been really hard to get through the door. It pushed, it pulled, it jostled and she was now in line in the midst of the teenagers. Baby was asleep, the gift of the gods. She ordered and was asked how to pay. Hhhmmm, where is that purse? Somewhere in the bowels of that monstrous stroller, inside or outside the diaper bag, under the purchases hanging on the back, tucked beside baby? No, after all of that she brightens and pulls it out of a pocket, a single credit card, by itself, just sitting in a pocket. She must have been busy this morning.....

Required 503 words, sorry, end of exercise.

Electronics 101.1

2012-01-31T08:32:00.002-05:00

Well Children, I will Teach You

Lesson #1

I know. I gave you electronic project kits for Christmas and they are a marvel, wonderful and should keep you occupied for the 200 projects you can build. But they do not impart knowledge. The instruction manual says do this or do that, but that’s it. Emptiness must follow you every time you do something with this kit.

Here, I hope, is some knowledge of electricity and electronics.

Let’s start with electricity. It is electrons in atoms (I bend the truth here a bit, but really, that’s it, and good enough.) When electrons move, they can make motors run and lamps light. The problem is that they don’t want to move. Volts make them move, its called electromotive force, yeah electron motivated to move electrically. Volts. A 9 volt battery has nine of them, a 12 volt battery has 12 of them and the more volts, the more the electrons move, more electromotive force. And you know that force ‘does’ things, more force, more ‘doing’.

So we have electrons moving, that’s called Current. And we have the reason they are moving, that’s called, Voltage. Simple.

If it hasn’t hit you yet,and It never did with your Grandmother, I will offer an example which works pretty well in most electrical things. Water, let water be the electrons. Volts, let the water pressure coming out of your tap be the Voltage. So... so what? Yes, turn on the tap, and water flows. Volts and Current. (Current here, ha ha, water flowing like a stream... someone had a sense of humour.)

The water pressure wants to make the water flow. Volts want to make Current flow. But the tap stops it. It must be a switch, like the wall switch. But if you turn on the tap just a little, only a little water flows. Mmhh, the water pressure in the pipes is the same, but there is less water. The tap is a switch, yes, but it is also, in electrical terms, a Resistor. Yeah, it resists making current from the same water pressure.

So, there are those multi-coloured things in your kits called Resistors. They have values like 10, 1200 or 100,000. The higher the number, the more Resistance, the smaller the current will flow, the tap is turned closer to off. These are wonderful things for electronics, because they limit the amount of current. If there is too much current, horrible things happen.

Light bulbs are an example. The resistor in them, yes, there is only this silly little coil of resistive wire stopping all hell breaking loose in the light bulb. But it’s close to all hell. If it was normal air (oxygen) inside the light bulb, you would get a nice little explosion in there because the resistor resisted so much that it absorbed all of the force in the electicity and burnt up...almost immediately. Light bulbs get hot, and the little resistor is the heat source. Current running through resistance starts getting it hot. It creates heat by slowing down electrons and absorbing their power. This heat is because of the Wattage, the absorbing of force and is the third thing to remember. Wattage causes work to be done, heating a lamp or moving things. Increase the Volts, get more Current and it increases the Watts (the power output, like heat). Light bulbs are rated by their wattage, more watts = more light.

The water analogy, well, the water tap doesn’t get hot, but it really should and probably does, but it’s so big, you don’t sense it. But the water current can move things, a water wheel, Hydro-electricity, power washers. And the higher the water pressure (Voltage), the more water comes out (Current) and the higher the ability to move things (Wattage)..

Well, lesson number 1. Electricity has Voltage, Current, Wattage... in electrical units, Volts, Amperes, Watts. W = V x A.

Lawyer Exercise

2012-01-30T20:18:00.002-05:00

The Reporters were now Running for their Cars

“Excuse me”, said the defence lawyer, “I have a statement that I can now read out to you from the accused.” He turned toward the other lawyers, who were walking down the front stairs, “It is understood that I am not going to relate anything that will affect the trial, since the Prosecution already knows the truth.”

“But, you the press, should also know the truth as it will come out in the trial, and the reason why my client could not defend himself before this.” The reporters started packing around him and a few started their video machines. One of them yelled at him, “There can be no defence for this person, this maniac.”

He retorted, “You don’t know the story, the anguish, the hidden forces in this case. In fact, my client was not even present at the attack. He was with a very important member of the community.” There was silence. The other lawyers came closer, wanting to find out what new information there could be in this most important case.

“As you know, it is insinuated by the Prosecution that my client, purposely and with malice, took a knife and attacked the Mayor of this city. The mayor, his family and one friend of the mayor, are testifying that they saw my client there, and he was the one with the knife.” The defence lawyer looked around, and saw angry faces, but they were hesitant, wondering what he was going to say next. He smiled contentedly within himself.

“I will now read you the statement, and I expect you to listen carefully, without interruption, until I am through.”

“This is the text as written by my client himself. He handed this to me 5 days ago, and made me promise not to act on it until today. “

“I, Richard Chaney, was picked by the Police Captain, Donald Bridges, to investigate one Mark Hammond, the friend of the present mayor, for rigging the recent election. I was selected because of my experience in political fraud in another country. I would not be recognized here. It was imperative to make this investigation quietly, since there was no indication that the Mayor was involved. I selected a team of 3 local people and they were busy identifying the group responsible for the now-proven fraud in this election. The present Mayor will have to step down and there are potential charges to be laid down against him. I personally don’t think he was involved but those charges have to be made to clear his name if he is innocent. “

Continuing, “I have asked my Lawyer to delay bringing this document to court, because the 3 people I recruited disappeared 2 weeks ago.. and I was with the police captain on the day and time in question, trying to find them. It was imperative to keep this knowledge secret, in the hopes of releasing or finding them, and that was when I was arrested for trying to kill the mayor. We have how determined that the 3 people are most likely dead... but just in case, I have asked my lawyer to hold back reading this statement until their status is known.”

The Lawyer looked up, “We now have found the 3 recruited people and they are all OK.” He smiled, “The Mayor is now being picked up and also his friend, accused of forced confinement and fraud.”

The reporters did not ask any questions. They were running for their cars.

#5 Artistry Rocks

2012-01-30T14:20:00.001-05:00

Anatomy of a Painting

The reds are wrong, I think to myself, as I get closer to it, measuring the brightness of the whole thing. It is my picture, my painting. And it is wrong.

Acrylics, they are so forgiving, they can mostly be worked over and redone several times, with perfection placed on less as the need arises. So much better than watercolours.

This painting was one of my New Year resolutions. And I wanted to speed up the process for this painting, because I had foolishly set the annual target way too high. So, I decide to make a ‘quick one’, more modern and taking only an hour or so.

Out with the palette knife, one that I usually use to mix the paints. Yes, this will be my paintbrush... so much faster, a few swipes and a large area of the canvas is finished. SO, I’ve never done it this way before! I wanted bright, big, thick enough to see mountains.

Did you know, you can use up a whole $10 dollar tube in 10 minutes? Yes, I can’t afford to use a palette knife in the future. So day 1, I actually use a brush to put down pale pinky-grey, the colour of my hallway over the whole canvas, 12x16 inches. That takes about 5 minutes. Yeah. Day 2, I need a table. I place masking tape across the lower portion of the canvass, and brush in dark brown. Piece of cake. Inexpensive.

I have picked my target, the Large Lovely Poinsettia in the hall.

So now I have the table in my hall, the colour of my hall and it is Day 3. I will do1/3 the painting today, and it will take no time at all. The large beautiful Poinsettia is in a lovely reflective red vase, and I have practised how to get the reflection just right (that doesn’t count as time). With bold strokes of red and darker red, I use the palette knife with abandon, great artist that I am. Oh, I already laid down the masking tape in the shape of the vase.. I am determined to save time here.

Well, you should take the tape off immediately, I learned. The mess I left behind the tape is permanently there now. Acrylics, I love them, they sand down, you can cut them off, and repair the damage.

Now, the problem. I have other things to do in my life. I joke with my kids... “If I don’t get to finish the painting soon, the plant will be dead”... it is a race. SO, the grand day, the plant is a bit on the wobbly side now. I pour in some water til it sloshes around. AND I do the leaves. Large swaths of green, almost the whole tube, whitish on the right, darkish on the left, stems dark or less, with some brown, dedicated to get the light source coming from the left. It is a masterpiece of palette knifing. I am so proud and it takes a miniscule half an hour or so.

Well, now the race to the death for the plant is getting serious. The plant won’t last another week, I am sure, and the kids are coming over to see the painting next weekend. Darn, on Friday, I figure I had better do it. The red flowers were pretty withered, but I can imagine them, can’t I?

Yup, I get out the red, plaster it on my palette, mounds of it. I separate it into two, dark red and darker red, just like the plant. I am The Master of colour! And the palette knife whizzes with activity, one flower head here, yes, there is a larger one on the right.. less than a minute. I am bounding at great speed and each flower petal is thick like paste, shiny, I have never put on as much paint in my life. I rock. So, done, I put it away on the easel and wait to show it to the kids.

On Saturday, I have them over, and proudly run to the back room, get a dark brown frame, (it always shows the pictures better), and pop it in, and place the picture on the wall. We all step back and compare it to the Poinsettia in the hall. There is silence.

My painting is that of a dead Poinsettia, exactly like the one in the hall, and the reds are just not right. Too dark: dead petals. Why did I not see this before?

#4 Don't Let Go

2012-01-29T12:14:00.001-05:00

Don’t Let Go, Ever

The bubbles were rising, clear and shimmery, with slow abandon, but I was rising faster with no thought of slow or steady....

Diving, down 60 feet below the water surface. This is about that. We had learned how to dive a year earlier, and we had already dived Costa Rica and Bali. It is a passion for those who are water babies, limited only by your energy level and available money. But 20 dives in your life, you are still a Plebe, a Newby, relegated to the simpler dives.

So, yes, they looked at us a bit when we came in for the dive. We already paid, and stayed in the designated motel... otherwise, I think they would have said no. 60 year olds don’t have strength, they get tired and that’s dangerous, very dangerous.

This is the Saint Lawrence River, behind two islands, with a sunken boat about 60 feet below. We had brought all of our gear, and all that we needed were the tanks of air. We brought our 5 mil suits and our 10 mil farmer johns. This is southern Canada, the water should be warm, shouldn’t it. Nyet, wear those 10 mil suits, sir, and the hoods, you will need them. The farmer johns are good because you get two layers on your chest, more warmth.

But I regress here. Our first dive that was a wipeout for me, we were in water running at about 9 miles an hour. It was a ‘rapids’. You can barely stand up in water at 3 miles an hour. And at 40 feet, I lost half my weights, 15 pounds just fell out of my pocket. You Don’t run amuck at this speed, so I held on to barnacles, slowly pulling myself down the river, lying sideways, the water forcing me to let go, but I didn’t let go. I survived, my wife at my side, bless her, holding me above the water when we got to a small bay. Then we had to walk back to the other side of the island to get to the boat, carrying our gear, 50 pounds.

The second dive is always easier. It is the rule. Usually less depth because your body absorbed so much nitrogen in the first dive, and you are more susceptible to the Bends, absolute pain. The boat had to weigh anchor at the second dive because the current was bad, not as bad as the first, but bad enough. The boat had to stay anchored.. it couldn’t just sit there because of the current. And this is the first time we were told to go down in the water, holding on to the anchor rope.

We were warned here. Don’t let go of the rope until you get down to the wreck, then hold on to the wreck. If you don’t, you will leave us, and we can’t get you because we have to stay anchored. You will float down the Saint Lawrence, and in about 15 minutes, you will be in the Shipping Lanes. We will phone for a boat to come out and get you, but please stay with us.

I had some nice photos with my underwater camera, us holding on to the anchor rope, horizontal with the current. And we made it down to the wreck, 60 feet below the surface. And we held on the wooden struts of the old boat half stuck in the bottom. The current is less at the bottom.

The bubbles were rising, clear and shimmery, with slow abandon, but I was rising faster with no thought of slow or steady. My wife has always had trouble with buoyancy, staying in neutral floating mode. She rises, she falls, adding air to her bladder on her back, or letting it out. I must say, it is more difficult with 10 mil suits on. And she was 10 feet above me, rising with abandon, upside down, feet up. You can’t maintain buoyancy that way, the air doesn’t come out when you are upside down! In 20 seconds she will hit the surface! Forget the Bends, there is more danger waiting than that!

In 2 seconds, I had finned my way up to her, holding her hand for life. I change direction as we rise and power us down to the wreck below. There was no way we are going to float on the surface, little blobs of black, in the St. Lawrence River Shipping Lanes!

Grandpa Grows Up

2012-01-29T10:37:00.000-05:00

Socks

Socks. Yes, children, Grandpa is going to come today wearing thick, dark grey socks, with a darker grey and red toe. So, you say, so what, grandpa?

Well, you know, grandpa always brings slippers or indoor shoes to your parties. Grandpa has always worn shoes, no carpet was ever saved by the lack of them, ever. He always wore suits.. well not in the last 15 years, but did you ever see him in jeans? Never.. you never will... and don’t buy me any.. ever.

Last year one of you gave me plastic shoes. Not bad, you know. They just slip on and I bounce around in them.. they are called cogs or something, crogs? Clogs! Mmmhh, should go and look.. Crocs! Yup, really good present. I wonder if it was part of a game plan, a long term game plan to make grandpa lose his shoes. Next, I suppose, it’s going to be those soft pants that you will give me, the ones without creases.

But these socks. A week ago, yes, well past Christmas, I met my neighbour next door outside on the driveway. We talked, she lost her husband 3 months before I lost Sandy. Happily, she said we should have tea again... the last tea, we used up a bottle of wine.

And this time, she said hold on. I have something for you. My presents weren’t wrapped, and I knew who they were going to be for, back a year ago. But I graciously accepted new work gloves and two pair of work socks as my Christmas present. She always does good things like that.

The gloves are waiting in the garage for spring. I will use them. The socks, however. I look for the thinnest socks in the world, long tops, dress socks, they take up no room in the drawer. I do use white tennis socks for tennis, but that’s OK.

But now, this morning, I put on the darkest of the socks. The light pair are a bit too flamboyant. Anyone want them?

I feel somewhat, I don’t know, liberated with these socks. Imagine, a pattern, as I wiggle my toes, and they are long socks. So, yes, I put them on with the intention of not wearing shoes at your party. No one in the family wears anything but socks. Forget all my friends who bring slippers to visit. Forget my beautiful leather bottomed dancing shoes that I usually bring.

Today, I will come half dressed and wear just socks.

#3, The car moved

2012-01-28T14:53:00.000-05:00

The moral of the story

As the car moved slowly backward, I looked up, unable to move as it passed on top of me.

“There once was a man from Kilkenny,

Who saw by chance a penny,

He said to himself, How Lucky I am,

To have this in front of me.”

It was on the side of the road and I nearly left it. Let’s face it, something that valuable belongs to someone, doesn’t it? But another person would find it. I saw it first. So it is now lying beside my car.

“The man from Kilkenny, He bent for the penny,

To find out it was stuck very thoroughly.”

Darned, it is buried partly in the ground. I wonder, should I try to pry it out? How did it get there? I opened my trunk and searched around for the tire iron. MMhh. They don’t make those any more. Well, how about a rope or something? Grappling in the trunk left and right, I found a sort of rope thing.

“He pulled and he pulled, this man from Kilkenny,

And broke his back, trying to pull out the penny.”

Try as I could, I couldn’t get the rope thing to stay on the buried treasure. Well, I will just have to attach the rope thing to the car, then hold it myself on the treasure as the car moves away. This could be fun. I will turn the car on, put a weight on the gas, a string on a stick to pull the shift out of Park and Bob’s Your Uncle. Huh?

( As the car moved slowly backward, I looked up, unable to move as it passed on top of me.)

The moral of the story...

Figure out that Reverse comes before Forward.

#2 Worth Living

2012-01-28T13:49:00.000-05:00

Our World is Worth Living

The branches were cloudy in texture, barely visible, as the flakes piled up on the twigs, clinging for life.

Just 40 minutes ago, my passengers were shuffling out of the Hamilton hospital, Frank having just had his radiation. They were married, and while she used a cane, she still held him up and opened the car door for him. They were a happy couple, carrying on about the seat belts and the rain. It was my job to drive them home.

We took highway 6 north. Frank was a farmer a long time ago, until he became too old to handle the beef. We discussed Silos, fermenting grain and his farms, one of which looked over Square One in its early days. His favourite thing to do is sit under the maple tree, in front of his house and enjoy the summer breeze. Why the front of the house, I don’t know because there are fields and a stand of trees just behind the farmer’s house.

But now is winter and he has a new month of radiation visits; every day. The highway ahead looked very dark as we moved slowly against the rain. At some point, we entered a little town, and I was instructed to turn right. The rain had stopped 10 minutes ago. And the little town, just off the main highway was white. It was like entering a new world. Where did the old one go? The roads were dark brown, running with water, now slush, but the lawns, the bushes, the houses were white. The snow was wet, and it stayed where it landed.

We slowed down to keep on the road, but the snow became solid in front of the windshield. The snowflakes dreamily switched left and right and up over the car, mesmerizing, becoming a curtain blocking out the road ahead. It was dangerous driving, and I concentrated on staying straight, peering through the snow. We had to stop after a few miles of this, moving over to the roadside in a large forest of mature trees. Then we saw and we marvelled at our good fortune.

The view ahead opened up and the world became magic, with white patterns and hints of a world we rarely see. The sky was dark, but there was enough light from the west to see everything in blazing, beautiful, stark whiteness against the grey sky.

I could hear them breathing, as I was breathing, a bit quicker than normal. Snowflakes, big and small, mostly very big, swirled lazily in front of us, sometimes just floating back up to try again to hit the ground. Looking up, more than 60 feet at the majestic tree tops surrounding us, we could not see any wood, the trees were so blanketed in thick snow. Look through the leafless forest into its depth, it is fluff and full of white vertical stems. The snow became little whirlwinds, at a leisurely pace, then slowly left or slowly right or even both at the same time. And wherever it landed, it stayed there. We just parked there for a while, and then I took them home.

I thought, “as the flakes piled up on the twigs, clinging for life.” What a beautiful reason for this aging couple, alone against the world, to find the strength to cling to life.

561 words. Time for coffee.

#1, Hungry Eyes

2012-01-28T05:29:00.001-05:00

Hungry Eyes

It’s cold. My covers are on the other side of the bed and I roll over to read the time. Its 3:35 am. I lift the covers over me, another pillow under my head, lie on my back with another pillow on top of my chest to give instant warmth. I dream. 4:47.. I might as well get up. The story, the one-liner #1, “Please,” she said, “My eyes are hungry.” Is now finished in my head. Why do I try to sleep at all? 4:54am and the Taissimo Decaf is ready. Be back in a sec.

#1a) Soft, Hungry Eyes look up at me. I am the visitor, the outsider, but she knows that I carry something of interest. The eyes look at me, brown, large, hungry, then she looks at her owner, the host. Then me again. I barely have time to get my coat off. Those eyes are fixed on the bag. She is well trained, fattish, just fed (I understand), but hungry. Dogs, really, do they think of anything else? The bone is 12 inches long, maybe longer and weighs a lot. It is pork and I just got it for her, a peace offering of sorts. “I bet that lasts for days and days,” I say. “Forget that,” the host says, “probably 10 minutes, 15 at the most.”

As we enjoy our wine 15 minutes later, I say “You don’t have to worry about a vacuum cleaner, do you” as the dog is licking the carpet to shreds, finishing the last crumbs of that lovely, expensive bone.

And the soft, hungry eyes look at me again. I suppose next visit, I will have to do better.

#1b) Dark Hungry Eyes look out at the children playing in the dung layered yard. She sits in the shade, straight back and thin, really thin arms. Her face is of stone, proud, solitude and strength, but the eyes stare straight out at the children, or just at nothing, I can’t tell. She has a scarf over her head, beads abounding on the bright red patterned dress. She is regal. But one can see hunger. The thin children, hunger, The mothers are trying to sell me things, things I don’t want or need. They are there for tourists and our tour guide has set this up. We two are the only ones who will visit today, for the compound is nowhere near anything, a San village, trying to support itself on tourism. I only brought thirty American dollars and I spent twenty on things I don’t want. The extra ten, I gave to that old lady, sitting there with hungry eyes.

#1c) Hollow Hungry Eyes. I can’t think, I have to concentrate on breathing, chest up, chest down. I wish my stomach .. it is all that I feel.. breath again. I know that the famine is bad, I have to let the family take its share. My arms are too weak, but my home in here, small, has a lovely grass bed, and it gives me some comfort. But they need to lift the cup.. I hope there is still water in it. Breath again, it gives me something to do. I should die, let me just go. But for years, someone has always come by the shack with food. We survive again, getting perhaps a bit weaker every year. Last year, I could walk on my own to the village. Breath in, push down, breath out.

My mouth is so dry, my stomach is shrivelled but seems to stick out so much. It is useless. I hurt. My tongue keeps sticking to things in my mouth, I have to physically pull it off the walls. My eyes are the only things with liquid in them and the flies take that.

Ooohh, my tongue and my throat. I can’t breath and it hurts. Oooh pull in my chest and there is nothing, my arms flail, my eyes, they have to be bulging. Ooh, heat, hot in my chest, but it’s going away, all my pain gone, I am floating...

The Hollow Hungry Eyes look outside for help, but see nothing.

694 words. I hate dreaming. 5:26 am. The coffee is cold.

My Hobby

2012-01-27T21:32:00.001-05:00

The Vintner’s Score

It is clear, very pale, almost no colour.. should be straw and a bit of pink. It must have been filtered, heavily filtered 0.5 microns at least. I think it is more natural unfiltered.

The nose, it is beautiful, varietal nature is perfect, A Pinot Gris. It must be the grapes, but it could have been cold fermented and then bottled very fast. Whatever, I commend the vintner. Maybe it came from a northern slope.

The first taste, it explodes down the center of the mouth, hitting the back top. That is good, very good, but maybe a bit too much alcohol content. Maybe picked when it was too cold, perhaps a late harvest. But it goes well with the floral nose.

I like to call it the guzzle test. The liquid has to hit all portions of the mouth at the same time, then just stop and savour the change in texture, the staying power of the taste, any subtle tones. New wines have little of this, but meld pleasantly within 4-6 months where their true spirit starts to emerge. This wine is newish, but over the 4 months. It needs more time to find itself.

The second tasting, now honing in on the real wine. The acidity must match the variety. Yes, a small bite and sting. A bit grainy. I don’t think it has been cold-stabilized, explaining the graininess. I wonder if a change of yeast? I will have to ask what was used.

Now, the real test of a hobby vintner, the stabilization. I am very sensitive to this. Breathe it in for a minute or so. No. This person wanted the wine to be drunk within 8 months or so. Longer if it is kept in a cold-room. No sulphites. That’s hard to do, because the wine can start up again and turn on you. Cleanliness, the holy grail for vintners.

The score: I get out the sheet with its categories and scales, modifying descriptions and wildly put down my feelings. The average from this group has been pretty good, But I always sample a good percentage before judging so I can pick an average score. Then up or down each score as I taste it. This P.G. deserves a Bronze. Yes, perhaps a bit higher, but I haven’t checked them all yet.

I read my notes again. Let’s give him a Silver. It’s really a nice wine for its age.

Story Ideas

2012-01-27T20:46:00.000-05:00

First-Liner Ideas

“Please,” she said, “My eyes are hungry.”

The branches were cloudy in texture, barely visible, as the flakes piled up on the twigs, clinging for life.

As the car moved slowly forward, I looked up, unable to move as it passed on top of me.

The bubbles were rising, clear and shimmery, with slow abandon, but I was rising faster with no thought of slow or steady.

The reds are wrong, I think to myself, as I get closer to it, measuring the brightness of the whole scene.

Music, dancing, throbbing, a drink in hand, the world surrounds me and I am living in a dream of quietness in my bubble in the center of the room.

You shouldn’t do that, because if you do, I will have to erase your life and ensure that you never control me again.

My eyes are closed, but I hear the machinery, I feel the rotation.. downwards, and my arms are above my head as we crash hopelessly towards the ground.

Wiggle, squirm, it seems as if I have been down here for ages, waiting for the right moment.

The wood was silent, the jumping conditions were superb and I felt the wind, undoing my coat and absorbing the brightness in the sky.

You are inside, and there is so much ‘outside’ that it hurts, but you can see the outside, can feel and taste it as it happens, but it is not you.

The numbers were beautiful, they plastered the wall in front of him, and they spoke the truth.

They came over the hill, silently, carefully, not knowing what waited for them, until suddenly with realization of their fate, they saw it.

The ice floated over the seaweed, too heavy and dense to get the boat through it, but there was no option, they had to make it and they had to make it now.

The paper slipped through the door, was crinkled and an ancient yellow, with some capital letters and a set of numbers on it.

It is not known, to this day, how the animals were able to walk through and come out of that bleak landscape, newly created and densely malevolent.

To whom it may concern, this canister, this last of our communications, should be a warning to all of you.

It has come to Our attention that some of you are not pulling your weight, that you are not listening to Our instructions and We are not pleased with you.

In the world of nature, there are some things you don’t talk about, some things that defy description, even if you were brave enough to mention them.

That XXX machine, it won’t open quickly enough and we are running out of time... hurry before it’s too...

Two opposing forces, the higher and the lower, aim for each other, holding back and straining until they feel like breaking, when suddenly, the restraints let go and they spring into action.

Damn, who dared to do that?

500 words, Not bad, and each a story? Or maybe 2 or 3 with the same start?

Not Personal Not Fiction

2012-01-27T13:34:00.005-05:00

Contemplating Big Things

If you like playing Sudoku, you shouldn’t read this. We, who play Sudoku, are suckers; we are duped. There are only about 16 games out there which are original. We just keep playing the same ones again and again.

You Say? But they are all different. Not one the same.

How? Each row within a group can be exchanged with another in the same 3. This is 6 combinations for each of the 3 groups, 18 possibilties. This applies also to each column as well. 18x18 possibilites. Then each group of 3, horizontally and vertically, can be exchanged with another. 18x18x6x6 possibilites. Then each number can be exchanged throughout the game with another.. a 1 and an 8 can be exchanged.. etc. This makes 9x8x7x6x5x4x3x2 combinations. The whole thing can be rotated 90 degrees, but you might be repeating some of the same games now. So what is the total from these numbers?

4.2 billion ways to play the same game. And the creator can then partially solve them for you in so many ways to make them easier. But each is solvable only by the combinations of 4 corners, 3 in a rows, all but one number don’t fit, etcetera. That’s why a lot of these just seem to have the same pattern, if the left side in a game is solved, then the same row on the right is solvable... or the same 3 tricks work on 2 games you have played in succession. Very defeating. We are Lemmings.

If you believe in the Universe, you shouldn’t read this. We who live in our Universe think it has been here a long time. We are duped. To us, the electrons in an atom are travelling at light speed. Have you noticed that our galaxy has the same form as an atom? You can’t pin down the location of an electron in an atom because it is full of energy. Our galaxy, viewed from ‘above’ could be thought of in the same way. The viewer ‘above’ can’t see the individuals, just our average energy levels.

Have you noticed how an ant seems to walk pretty fast for its size? Time slows down for the ant. It doesn’t think it is walking fast. Do you think our atoms themselves think they are travelling fast? SO.... Space-time. The smaller you are, your time is perceived slower than by those ‘above’ you.

In the same way, as we look up at the scale of our Universe, We think it is running pretty slowly. A viewer up there thinks we are running pretty fast. We think the Universe is pretty big. A viewer ‘up there’ thinks we are going really fast, and we are really small.

In fact, our universe is a hot one... it was made of hot energy. Our Universe is probably now still in its early burning stage, stuck on the end of a match that someone ‘up there’, just scratched and lit for his cigarette.

500 words. Doing well. The tennis game is still on the TV, running in the background. I wonder who’s winning?

Charlie and Poppin's Adventures #1

2012-01-26T07:48:00.001-05:00

Charlie and Poppin’s Adventures

The girl is sitting in the corner, reading a book on the soft sofa. She is thin, dressed in pink and red today, and she looks just like her mother. I wonder why she doesn’t get bored, sitting here every morning, reading? Jill Peacock studies her some more, while doodling at her desk. She has such nice hair. I wonder if all 10 year olds have nice soft hair?

Vanessa reads the last sentence again. This story is so good. “I’m glad my dad is a writer”, she thought. This is his latest book and it is all about them, yes, the family. Vanessa has been reading his books over and over again and there are a lot of them. It is her favourite thing to do.

She looks up at the end of the next paragraph. “I wonder why Mrs. Peacock keeps looking at me?” She smiles back at Mrs. Peacock. It’s been an hour since they arrived at the studio. Maybe she should ask for an orange juice. Mom tells me I should keep drinking, but I wish she would let me have a Coke in the morning. Well,stuff it, “Could I have and Orange, Mrs. Peacock, please?”

Dad has brought us here today, because Mom is off at her Yoga. The kids are really giddy today. I think they know that the stage is going to be really fun. Most days they come back home just so full of stories. I am sure the kids at school don’t believe half of what they say. But I do.

It is now later, now 11 in the morning, and they are running a bit late. They should be out by now. Dad took them into the Magic Room two hours ago. I’m not allowed in there. I don’t know why, but I guess the kids wouldn’t concentrate if I was there to laugh at them.

Suddenly they burst out of the door, jumping and skipping in front of Dad. It must have been really fun today. Dad is beaming. He says “Well Mrs. Peacock, that was a fun morning. I don’t know how the animators do their magic every day without fail. The kids loved it.”

You see, Charlie and Poppin, the 6 year old twins, are the real kids in the TV show “Muftins” that shows every day. You wouldn’t recognize them because the TV show animates their bodies based on what they do. They enter the Magic Room every day, not knowing what is going to happen, but they see a perfect world, just as you see it on TV. The ground moves, things appear and disappear. Walls talk to them and they laugh their way through a lovely dream every day.

These are their Dad’s stories.

I can't stop

2012-01-25T18:44:00.002-05:00

Something Personal

The single candle is glowing on my coffee table. I made it myself. It has a perfect flame, just to the top of the clear glass votive. Vanilla. The music is in the background... Elvis, Fools Rush In. My Lasagna is in the oven. I only picked 14 noodle things; needed 15. Extra sauce goes on the empty space. My salami was bad on the outside. Salami Lasagna without much salami. I added some zucchini. My Life. A glass of wine, I made it myself and it’s OK, but a bit sour. Should’ve waited for the Lasagna but there is a new bottle downstairs; There are a hundred bottles downstairs. Wine should not be so close at hand.

So I write the fourth little story today. A hawk, Me in a Mineshaft, A kiddy tale, and this, My Life.

The writing class is to blame for today. It is a life-altering problem. Do I eat, or do I write? How can I be inventive yet again today? I have decided I can write about the life of a hair on my hand. Then about the miniscule bug in my skin. Then about a flea on a dog. Did you know that fish are bothered with little things on their skin? How about my diving experiences? Or the training for them. My day is rich with thoughts.

I think that when you see a 90 year old person in the mall, sitting on a soft chair, waiting for people to pick her up, she is rich with stories, she is immersed even as she sits, with her memories.

Elvis now sings ‘You will never walk alone’, my wife’s favourite song... sleep peacefully dear. Sniff. I really should erase that. Sorry, tears. I will start again later. Bye for now.

So, the cork came out quite well from my 2011 Kerner, made from grapes by Watson’s near Niagara. Wow. The taste just jumps out! It’s much better that the P.Grigio I just finished.

You ask, why write something about me? Well, It’s homework. But I wrote the Mine thing as my ‘personal’ thing... well this is just practise..again. It is NOT a journal. I won’t do that, ever. What did I do today?

Well, I did manage to fix something for a friend, get texts from kids, put out garbage etc. But I did the ‘Round Robin’ at the Tennis School, my tennis court of the winter. This time there were 6 of us, so we did doubles on one court and singles on the other. My favourite person is a lady... figures. But she is as good as me! We practise little shots across the nets. She bullets them at me. Good practise for you Ron. Her name is Helen and she has some Norwegian or something accent. A perfect match because I can’t hear her (My hearing aids are in for repair) and she can’t understand my Canadian accent. Like I said, a perfect situation. She rocks.

My shoulder doesn’t hurt any more. Must be the wine.

I have done the required 506 words. This story is done. Bye

BTW, I’m 66. I’m young.

Charlie and Poppin's Adventures #2

2012-01-25T16:57:00.001-05:00

Our Good Deed

“Lets do something different today”, said Charlie. Poppin looked at him and said, “What should we do?” They were walking along the marbley red pathway. The sun was bright in the sky and the wind was just a light breeze, warmth surrounding them. A butterfly of blue and green fluttered and swooped gently around them. Puffs of white floated across above them. It seemed magical that day, all smooth and clean.

They wandered along a plastic white fence just their height. It was so bright and shiny and had beautiful red flowers sticking through it. The little red cottage behind the fence was the only one they saw. It was the new thing today, it wasn’t there yesterday. Normally, they would go into the new things, or ask them why they were there, but Charlie looked at the cottage, and said “This is something different, but I don’t want to go in there. It’s too nice outside. Let’s sit on the grass just behind the fence.”

Poppin and Charlie sat down on smooth green, just in front of the cottage. They felt the ground and it moved where they touched it. They giggled. Poppin said, “Maybe this is what we have to talk with today?” She poked the ground. It made a grunt and she rose an inch or two as it squirmed. “Yes”, she said, “this is where we should be.”

Charlie said “Wake up, grass!” Poppin looked around, waiting for something to happen. “It’s really sleeping well”, Poppin said. “What should we do to wake it up?” They thought for a while. The grass was going to be hard to wake up.

Charlie had a thought, “You know, if mommy wants to wake me up, she tickles me.” He pushed his hand down again and then let go. The green again squirmed and pushed back. Poppin smiled and looked around again. “What should we tickle it with?” There were 3 things leaning up against the cottage. There was a broom with a bright red handle. There was a wheelbarrow full of dirt and a large rake. “Maybe we should use one of those?” said Charlie. “What would be the best thing to use?”

Poppin crawled over to the broom, because the ground kept moving on her. It was getting active. “This must be the thing to use. It won’t hurt the ground”, she said. Charlie said “Let me do it, it was my idea.” Poppin gave him the broom. He stood up gingerly, balancing with the help of the broom. “I guess I should brush the ground”, he said. He gave the green ground a sweep or two with the broom. Nothing happened.

“I guess his skin is too thick”, said Poppin. She rolled over to the rake and picked it up. “This must be just the thing. It will scratch and pull his skin. Then he will wake up.” She pushed the rake into the ground and dragged it all around her. Wow, the green ground had grass which now popped up all around. Nice green and soft grass that tickled their legs. The ground scrunched up and a big sigh resounded from below them.

“Well, what have we got here?” said the ground. Its voice was very low and loud, but it wasn’t scary. It sounded happy.

“We are Charlie and Poppin”, said Charlie. “And we just knew that you wanted to wake up”, he continued. “The day is lovely and you shouldn’t be sleeping.”

The ground wiggled a bit and sort of bubbled up in places. “Yes, I should be awake.” Another big sigh, sort of like a yawn. “Today, I am supposed to be fed,” said the lawn. “Can you help me?”

Poppin looked around again. Poppin liked looking around. There was the wheelbarrow full of dark brown dirt. She showed Charlie and said “I guess we should give the ground some dirt. It could be the food that he is needing.” Charlie agreed.

Charlie said to the ground, “Do you like dirt?”. He almost rolled over when the ground laughed and the grass wiggled and ground bumped up and down. “Thank you very much”, the ground said, “I knew that you came today just to feed me.” Charlie jumped across the bumps and slid over to the wheelbarrow. It was heavy, but he managed to bring it back to Poppin. Together, they turned the wheelbarrow over and the dirt fell on the ground. Then Poppin raked it in to the ground and the ground was happy.

They had done their good deed for the day, and happily skipped down the red marbley pathway with the sun shining brightly in the sky.

My Week 2 Homework

2012-01-25T09:47:00.001-05:00

Late for the Plane

I was asked to write about me, something in my past, something special. Well, I had a lot of special things happen, but there are some things, usually related to abject fear....

The Saskatchewan Potash Corporation, somewhere in Saskatchewan (yeah). I am an engineer, one of those with a white shirt, pens and pencils in the pocket, long fluffy hair, glasses.... you know... Geek. And I was visiting this mine. The suit was impeccable. They made me wear a helmet, must be safe now, mustn’t we. There is a small city above the mine, and in the middle was a tower, and in the tower was an elevator. Not bad. Takes lots of people and is super shiny. This is a well maintained site. A good potential customer!

I am there to figure out how to automate an excavator and add tunnel RF digital communications using lossy Coaxial Cable. This cable was a new thing back then and since I was full of RF, I new that this was a really, really good idea. Mining RF is amazingly poor. I even played with modulating 60 cycle power for communications, since low frequencies go through rock. But that’s another story, for water/rock combos don’t like RF. Period.

So, I have been in gold, salt, nickel, copper, coal mines and a few others. Small. Insignificant. Yes, the SPC mine is a city. Sudbury mines are large in the middle. The SPC mine, this was just so much bigger. The Load Haulers (LHD) are like miniature mechano sets. We have just dropped 2000 feet into the earth and I walk out into a cavern, more like a 747 hangar of today, but longer, much longer. It is pink, it is dry (thank heavens), and it is an underground city. The LHD machines zoom through on what seems like a highway. The buildings are almost permanent looking with all sorts of safety signs. There are sounds of people all around , from unknown places. This is a mine built on columns. All the tunnels dig forwards and sideways, with intersections at regular intervals, leaving just columns to hold up the 2000 feet of whatever is above you. And down the center of this right now is the highway. We get on a truck because I am with the big guys. They want me to evaluate the possibilities of mining the unsafe areas of the mine, by remote control.

Well, that means we have to go there. Huh. I like computers, I like radios.. I don’t like mines. Hard hat, why a hard hat? The mine roof is very high. I now know why a hard hat. And it wouldn’t help you a bit. A flattened body, with a hard hat sticking out. Yup, that’s all you would see.

After about 4 miles of driving, we do a right turn into an unidentified tunnel... well a big opening, things this big should not be called tunnels. The truck stops. Did I tell you, it was incredibly hot down there? Was it me, or I think, I know it is the floor’s proximity to molten lava. We get out and pass the warning signs, the gate. Lights are on? Why are the lights on here? It’s like a comfortable little arena, with built-in heat, floodlights, beware the rocks on the ground. Why are there rocks on the ground? We walk for 10 minutes or so and the tunnel starts getting more like a tunnel. There are still these ‘posts’, columns holding the rock up, but there is darkness behind them. The men talk at intervals, commenting on the state of the area, how the water is holding back well. They ask me if I know of a way to tell if there is a body of water 10 feet behind a wall of rock. Why did they ask that? I didn’t think so, they seemed a bit disappointed in me. Why don’t you just drill pilot holes? We do that, they said, but it’s a bit dangerous. Mmmmh.

Well, the ceiling has dropped to about 16 feet, a somewhat normal height now. The lights are still bright. They have set this up just for me. We walk another 5 minutes or so and I feel like an explorer, in an area no one has gone in a long, long time. I have no fear. Silly Newby. They send me ahead by thirty feet or so to study the layout of the side of this little tunnel. It is a bit wet, and the rocks on the ground are somewhat larger than they should be. There is no netting on the ceiling. Then it happens, the rock, the tunnel become my grave, my mind is numb, I must have jumped 5 feet in the air.

The large crack of sound above me is deafening, It reverberates forever, I feel movement. But there is nothing, no dust, no rockfall, no water. Just that sound. Rocks this big must move when they crack that loudly. Did they do this on purpose? They are not standing behind me, they are 30 feet away, safe, right beside a column. No, they aren’t, they are right beside me, I run so fast. I’m surprised at my agility. They don’t smile, but I think they have all experienced this before. I don’t need to study the wall anymore. Let’s go back. I now know the dangers of mining unsafe areas, and that was to be our specialty from that point on.

So, you say. Was that the reason for this little story? It was a good shocker, and worth the story, if I could remember more, like ‘did I wet my pants?’. But no, that was not the reason for this little story or my reason for remembering.

I am late now, late for my plane out of Saskatoon. Here I am, 2000 or more feet below ground, my suit, my briefcase and me. I tell the men that, and, let’s face it, there is no way I can make that plane. They are now glorifying in my discomfort... Yes Newby underground, but they must like me. The truck does not speed up (safety you know), but it doesn’t slow down either. As we approach ground zero, one of them gets on the phone (yeah they had radios back then, walkie talkies, 10 watts, 110 megahertz).

These are good guys. You can’t miss a plane in the early 80’s. The next one is the next day. SO, I am herded to a place of infinite noise. There are conveyer belts, LHD machines, all dumping rock... into a Skip. This is a very very large container for rock. The rock has to get up to the surface somehow, doesn’t it? Mmmh. Am I going to get into this on the rock? Why am I here? Suddenly, all things stop. Yup. The word has gone out, engineer Ron is late for his plane. I climb a ladder. I hate heights. There is this little door and I step through it. “Now just put your briefcase down here and step on it if you want.” My mind is reeling. “This cable, here... Use these gloves... Hold on and close to it. Good. We’ll raise you in a couple of seconds, maybe a minute. A bell will sound.”

I hate heights, this is 2000 feet under the ground. You don’t need to fear heights this far below ground, do you? The black world of rock is flying by me. “And don’t put your arm out”, I think that was the last parting shot as the little door closed. You believe it, I’m not moving... an inch. I am standing on the top of a skip elevator, it is full of rock. No Railing. The air, like a parachute, must be, 1000 feet below ground. How do I see the rock? Its pitch dark. This thing takes about 30 seconds to hit the top. It was much longer than 30 seconds, wasn’t it? Yeah, it was minutes and minutes. Nope. I really don’t remember the top, the limousine, the airplane. Now that’s Abject Fear.

Hunting

2012-01-24T23:10:00.002-05:00

My Best Meal of the Day

He is looking down, using extraordinary vision, trying to sense any movement. The large eyes are focussed on a constant spot, regardless of any other movement, the true hunter, the dinosaur’s descendant. The brain absorbs the grass, the wind and the whimsy of the air as it pushes and pulls him.

What do you think a hawk really sees, 200 feet above the ground as it scans for dinner? Does it just ignore the vehicles, giving them less thought than we would an ant crawling close to our feet? Or does it see everything, discounting those which are not food or a threat?

This hawk thinks. It looks at humans, discards them as unusual birds who don’t fly. Now a sparrow...an open field..., that’s food. Usually too fast to make a try... why waste a breath on something that changes direction so quickly. Memory kicks in. Nesting sparrows, mmmhhh, good. But sometimes they cause me trouble, they actually attack me! Really.

So, the ground below moves, waves in the wind and nothing registers in the hawk’s senses. These are ignored; smooth fluctuations. His neurons fire when something moves faster than that. A blast of wind wafts him up 20 feet, a good feeling not needing any wing adjustment. The eyes are still focussed exactly where they were. The head adjusts minutely, the eyes squint and then open again, all done automatically. A blade of grass moves backwards.

The hawk feels the movement. The eyes refocus 3 feet towards the sun, with no thought at all. The new spot is in focus, the neurons reset but with a bit more conscious attention, a bit tighter. The hawk thinks now, hoping for something, anything. It has been a long time on this cold day, and his wings are a bit pushed. Might have to land on something for a while. But the best hunting is in the air, wait until your stomach is full.

Something in this world has to die, for the hawk is hungry. Things are out there to eat, and eat he must. Forget the fact it is a living thing, he will eat it or he will die. And it tastes good. There is no sympathy, no feeling, when you are eating something you have been eating as long as you can remember. Like us eating lettuce... It’s alive, but it tastes good. Does it feel? Don’t know, don’t care.

The blade of grass stays bent, is it just weak? The hawk moves 50 feet away from the sun. Hunters become invisible. He drops 60 feet and actively hovers. His head is now in tight mode, like a lion aiming at an antelope within running distance. The other things in the world are now ignored, let the muscles take care of them. There is only the area around the blade of grass. Hovering, the wind will not budge the hawk, and each blade of grass is a target, a calculation, a neuron... sense left right, evaluate movements, nothing will move without him knowing about it.

Yes, the food moved. Just an ear. The hawk moves 3 feet towards the direction of the sun. The food sensed this, it stopped, time to attack, the food is moving. The wings move inward, the hawk plummets with about an inch of wing showing, controlling the attack. This is what he is designed to do, full abandoned attack. He is good, he knows he is good. Keep track of the thing, remember its taste, enjoy the rush. The food is going in the same direction, no movement sideways; easy kill, dumb food.

The hawk is ¼ second from its meal. The silly food twists left, but the hawk knows all the moves of this dumb a creature. A leg blasts out to the left and clamps tight. A head, a beautiful catch. The ground approaches and he has to adjust quickly, but still hits the ground, no problem. Let’s just stay there and have the meal right now.

The meal goes rigid, they always go rigid. Doesn’t matter, it crunches just as well. The warmth is wonderful, juicy, let’s just hold on to this feeling for a second. OK, done; let’s eat.

A problem

2012-01-24T18:53:00.000-05:00

The Hundred Dollar Bill

Yes, he gives me three bills, each a hundred dollars. He always does that, and I do joke about it. But that’s what I get, not, mind you for payment of any kind. I do have to stay under the taxman's wide view,,, this is for stuff I bought him, Yes.

At any rate, the usual problem, how to get rid of them. I can't go to the bank, they know me there, and I am sure the something-police are tracking everyone who uses 100 dollar bills!

OK. Over-obsessing, but there aren't too many places that want these. The something-police you know. Gas stations would be easy, my pump always stops at $100 minus a penny. Why don't they take the bill?

There they sit. Did you know that Rafa Nadal, my idol, added 3 grams of weight to his tennis racquet this year? It must have made headlines. His whole game is going to change, so they say. Well, I decided to try to see how much that weighs on the kitchen scale,,, the Bills are sitting there. 3 hundred dollar bills weigh 3 grams. Huh.

So the first bills. I know that the grocery stores have to take them. Ever tried to spend less than $100? They squirm at bit, look through the plastic window in each bill, sigh, look around and stuff them under the twenties.

Good. But the last one. Anyone need a 100? I finally figured out that there is a place,,, where rich people go. Surely, this must be accepted practise? My tennis club.

Yup, I need change dear. Not a blink, smile, sure she says, how would you like it? Just like a bank. I need $2 for the water machine, I say.

Feels good.

The Next Generation

2012-01-23T08:11:00.000-05:00

The Next Generation

I am 66 and I am the Next Generation. I have been retired for 6 years and I am bored, except for ROBBE, my robot.

Our generation won’t make history, but we will sure warp those young things who don’t have time on their hands to be bored. We don’t work for ‘Industry’, so money is limited, but that is no obstacle these days. You can have your own Printed Circuit Board made for you for just a few hundred dollars. Your laptop computer is full of all the design software you will ever need... It came from your last jobs. My favourite one is a DOS program, from the early 1980’s, Rev 1.1.

Yes, time is no problem. Experience is just sitting there in your body, exuding knowledge. I am an Electronic Engineer. It is my vocation. My jobs were varied, but it didn’t matter... I did electronics, I do electronics. My little workroom in the basement has electronic boxes humming when I turn on the power bars. Yes, there are 15 electronic and other things plugged into the AC. At my age, the swing-around magnifier is the most useful tool for me. The pins on the Integrated Circuits I am soldering are 15 thousands of an inch apart. Never solder on a Monday morning. Well, It used to be that, now never solder if you haven’t slept well the night before, whatever that day may be.

ROBBE (named after son Robert, my youngest) has a voice. I made the 2 oldest grandgirls spend hours in front of my laptop, speaking words into it. The list is 250 words, like ‘one’, ‘two’, ‘My Name is’ and on. I added the ‘Damn’ and ‘Oops’ words. The software puts these words together to make sentences. I have added a few songs to ROBBE’s repertoire so he can dance to them. ‘Mr Roboto’ is his favourite and he dances very well. (Youtube ROBBE2.mov.)

I haven’t finished ROBBE, and I may never finish him. He has 5 computers on board and I have only programmed one of them. But he talks, dances, follows a special flashlight and acts like a moth. Yup, ROBBE has the intelligence of a moth. You have to start somewhere, and my experience says you always start with the fingers, the legs, the basics.. make-em good, then add intelligence, the easiest part.

The other 4 computers in ROBBE handle his ears, eyes, TV controller and people detectors. Yes, ROBBE will eventually just sit there, moving every now and then, scanning for people, his favourite things. Their body heat will wake him up, and he will wag his tail... the detector and tail work right now, because they are controlled by computer number 1. I am resisting making ROBBE bark. But who knows?

I have a lot of software to do for the ears. They will make ROBBE the party animal that he should be. There is an array of 7 microphones. Each is amplified, filtered linearly, compressed and sent to the computers. They will measure the microseconds it takes for wavefronts to hit. I have prototyped this successfully. The speed-of-sound calculations predict where the sounds come from. The array of light sensors surrounding him will also keep ROBBE honest and will help him keep away from the party people as they walk around him. He is only 2 inches tall. That’s the theory anyway. He is even now ragged and torn from his many altercations with inanimate objects.

So, young things, look out, because your grandparents grew up with computers.