R.U.R.

(R.U.R. or Rossum's Universal Robots -- a 1920 play by the Czech playwright, Karel Capek. I read it in college but I don't remember it, good or bad. It did, however introduce the word "robot" into the English language)

   And if I'm not feeling robot-like (what with a new total of seven pieces of metal and plastic installed in my interior), I am beginning to resemble the $6,000,000 Man (It's not that bad, but thank god for insurance)  -- It's too bad there isn't some sort of  installable window for the knee -- I could put the kids with their  silly little "piercings" in their proper place.  Or I could emulate grandson Josh who got a ankle to knee tat that illustrates his broken-leg surgery.

   The recovery and rehab are proceeding with not much to say about them. It hasn't been as painful as I heard it would be (it's very tolerable -- I'm voting to award a Nobel prize to everyone who has invented an analgesic). I'm walking about -- with crutches for balance only -- and am getting flexibility back. The staples came out Wednesday, and the Doctor's PA said I'm making excellent progress -- It might even be good to slow down on the stretching so I don't rip open the incision.

  In other news, there isn't any. Very little of interest happens when your day consists of moving from the couch with leg propped up, to some exercises and back to the couch -- with ice this time.
 
  A special commendation for my private home-care nurse, dw, who has been doing a stellar job. It's really nice having your needs taken care of before you really need them.

Books:  Quantum Man (Lawrence M. Krauss)  a biography of Richard Feynman life in science. With clear explanations of electromagnetism and quantum mechanics. The author does an excellent job with his discussions of physics, and Feynman is an intriguing subject.
   Unfamiliar Fishes (Sarah Vowell) A brief history of Hawaii. Up to her usual form, Vowell is not a humor writer but she is frequently humorous. In this book, the missionaries weren't as bad as they could have been, the Yankee whalers, soldiers, businessmen, et al, were consistently foul.  But when you're part of Manifest Destiny it's to be expected and forgiven (or at least ignored)  DA
  

dw here, dja on the sofa

Good Sunday morning to everyone. As you may remember dja has had a knee replacement as of Monday March 19 and a stellar experience it's been. Being the GudWif I channeled all of his anxiety so that dja was the epitome of calm. Really, it was almost unnatural (from my perspective anyway) but not unexpected. In spite of being warned from a well meaning friend about post op grumpiness in The Man, I've not seen it except once when waking up and perhaps too many people saying "how are you?"

He is doing exceptionally well and pretty much self care. Twice a day he does the prescribed exercises and I help with the lifting parts and can tell he's improved with each day. So have I as it's been a long time since I've done an arm curl and more than once in the beginning we've slowed for me. Now he's pretty much on his own. This is much less trauma than I was expecting as so far (knock on wood) all is going routinely. There was the temp scare the first night when he hit 101 and we diligently called the doc to report (as instructed on the handout) who said "nah, not to worry until it hits 102-103, do the incentive spirometer and call me in the morning". No aspirin, though, he was already taking it. Dja topped out at 102.4 during the night and came down to 99 during the day. Reported that all was well to the drs. office. Deja-vu the next night as he went over 101 - guess he's just a hot-toddy at night. The night temp spikes have apparently stopped.  Sooooooo, the cell phone is readily available for safety and social interaction. Hmmmmm - works too as I just called him.

That's my update and I'm sticking to it. For those interested, dja has finished Bossy Pants by Tina Fey and found it okay, so-so, not stunning. I listened to half of the audiobook read by Tina Fey while in WI. and enjoyed hearing it, then didn't finish the book. Currently on the top of the pile is Quantum Man by Lawrence M. Krauss about Richard Feynman's life in science. (Can you hear me snoring? My current book is Detective Inspector Huss by Helene Tursten (Sweden's Prime Suspect) and full of mouth tangling place names and action! Will turn this over to dja for a proofing and editing and then post. Later, dw

The Ides Of March

   This year, for the first time in over 2000 years,  the ides of March will fall on the 19th. The date wasn't considered ominous until Plutarch reported a soothsayer predicting Caesar's assassination on the 15th (the ides, in case anyone doesn't know). And then a few hundred years ago Shakespeare (to the irritation of H.S. freshmen all over the U.S.) reinforced the notion. The ides, with all of it's perilous connotations, falls on the 19th this year because the 19th (tomorrow) is the big day for my knee surgery -- an ominous epochal event in my book.

   The hospital gives every knee patient a spiral notebook which explains what's going to happen, how to navigate the hospital, prepare your home, where and how to get rehab and etc. etc.
Included is a web site with a simple-minded cartoon game that takes you through (with ample illustrations) the procedure:  www.edheads.org/activities/knee.  Simple-minded, but with chills and thrills if you're vividly empathetic and not sedated.

  After watching the cartoon, I have a theory about how the procedure developed.
  In the beginning, the surgeon went to a lot of trouble with straps, clamps, hot glue and a vice-grip to hold the cutting jig in place.
   (The cutting jig is a very good thing. Any carpenter can tell you that you make cleaner more accurate cuts when you use a jig)
   So keeping the jig in position was always a difficult part of the operation. On one occasion the surgeon was having a particularly hard time of it, cursing and swearing, vowing to retire immediately if things didn't improve post haste, when his assistant asked: "Why don't you just nail it in place?" The surgeon said: "What?!" and the assistant explained: "Nail it. As long as you don't use ring-shank nails they'll pull out easy as pie and you won't have to mess with all these clamps and stuff."
   And the surgeon did just that. Taking all the praise for the idea, as people in charge usually do.
   (The cartoon shows a light tack hammer being used. I suspect they actually use a two pound framing hammer)
   So by this time tomorrow I'll have a new knee (possibly ensuring cavity searches at the airport) and be on my way to retiring my crutches and brace. 

Books: Just one of interest:  Arguably essays (Christopher Hitchens) A great thick tome of essays covering authors, ideas, politics movies and actors and etc. A good display of his skills as an essayist, but I did start skipping parts. I simply wasn't interested in everything he wrote about. It would have been better to read a few at a time, rather than going straight through. His famed atheism was on scant display.  DA

P.S. From dw: given my penchant for decorating, it has been suggested that I do something creative with the brace perhaps turning it into a "summer" tree loosely based on the "spring" tree I currently have in the living room. I am open to suggestion and if anyone has a creative or not so creative idea please say so. All submissions will be the property of danddontheroad and will not be returned.   There will be a prize, as decided by me, for the best idea, as decided by me. Good luck.   dw
  

The Case Of The Levitating Coyote

Rather than arouse unrealistic expectations, I will admit upfront that I don't actually solve The Case Of The Levitating Coyote.

   A few blogs ago I mentioned that I had started training to ride the STP. -- The Seattle To Portland bike ride. I recently  told a friend at the rock gym, who is six weeks into rehab for a new knee, and who is a younger and fitter (than I am) bicyclist, of my plan to ride the STP. Opining that even with the interruption caused by my upcoming knee surgery I would still have enough time to train for the ride. He didn't even bother to try and conceal his snicker. Telling me, in effect, that while it is possible that pigs will develop wings and fly, the laws of evolution pretty much guarantee that it won't happen in the next five months.
   But I have been repeatedly told by my surgeon, his PA, and not least, by my spousal unit -- dw -- that the stronger and fitter my legs are pre-surgery the quicker and better the re-hab will go.
   (Completely as an aside, the uncapitalized "dw" for dw is her choice. She said that's how she always initials things.)
   Back to the bike riding:  So I have been riding with increasing frequency and distance. Most of my non-errand rides start on the same bike path. It circles around the sewage treatment plant (which generally doesn't smell -- much -- but occasionally could stun a buzzard) and after three miles I choose a long or a short ride. The short ride totals about 10 miles, and the longer one as much as 80. In each case, aside from crossing some streets, I share the way with cars or trucks for only about two miles.

For most of the short ride and the start of the long ride, the bike path is bordered by art installations. This carved limestone clam shell is one of them. There are also similarly sized stone flower buds, snails, dinosaur skulls an American Indian canoe (also stone -- it probably doesn't float) and so on.  The items have a vague connection to the specific area and they make for an entertaining ride. There is also a series of peeled and partially de-limbed trees 15 to 20 feet high set along the path. Some have stylized masks and others pod-like bird houses stuck in the limbs. I wouldn't call any of it significant art but it all provides a distraction from a bicycle-sore ass.

 

And the levitating coyote is in a fenced field that's part of the sewage treatment plant. Perhaps it was put there to discourage geese from hanging around the field  (My solution to the Mystery of the Levitating Coyote) but if that's the case it didn't work. The field is festooned with goose poop. And besides the coyote doesn't look scary, it looks like someone just kicked it in the butt. I concede it's doing its' best, but when you've got no legs and you're levitating -- you're just not very scary -- even to a goose.   DA

Wheels Are In Motion

   A quick note about Valentines Day: this is a picture of  two treats for dw and I from Pix -- a patisserie with pastries to die for. These two hearts (chocolate mousse with ganache, and strawberry mousse in a paper thin cookie shell) are two of their plainer creations. They tasted at least as good as they look.
   (Pix has a lunch menu which is good if not exceptional, and a good array of beers and wines. Notable: a float with chocolate beer and ice cream and a favorite of mine, espresso with a shot of grappa -- both much better than they might sound -- sidebar: vanilla ice cream splashed with a good balsamic vinegar is oddly tasty) (alas, I don't expect Pix will comp me with anything in return for this plug)

   The Valentine tree has been taken down, and dw -- still full of ideas for the unfinished sculpture -- redecorated it as a Spring Tree. (with today's weather, dw is being wildly optimistic) I did point out that, while there's no real hurry, I do want the tree back at some point so I can finish it. "All in good time." she said.

   And the wheels are in motion for my knee replacement. Three weeks ago I put on my leg brace, got out my crutches to go for a walk and decided I was totally sick of it. Sick of the discomfort and the fuss and bother every time I want to move, and the occasional knee collapse where I careen around like a drunken sailor. I went to see the surgeon and: surgery scheduled -- done / pre-op physical, asap -- done / pre-op bill -- done / pre-op surgical nurse to explain the horrors of it all -- scheduled / pre-op hospital visit for blood-work, and to make sure I can cover the co-pay and some money right now would be great -- scheduled.  I have the feeling that it's a slow season so everything moves very quickly. The surgery is slated for the middle of March so I should be recovered by summer.  I'm not looking forward to the process. I had a knee operation many years ago and still recall some unpleasant days but I think the end result will be worth it.

   Books: The Invention of Air (Steven Johnson) A biography of J.B. Priestley and the Age of Enlightenment with side trips into B. Franklin, T. Jefferson, J. Adams and etc. The book doesn't specifically address the subject, but I find it interesting that contemporary politicians who preach a return to the "founding principles of this country" are the same ones who sneer at science and education, history and philosophy.  And our "founding fathers" were exemplars of science, education, history and philosophy.  Burden of Desire (Robert MacNeil) A surprisingly lusty novel about Halifax by a respected journalist turned novelist. During WWI an ammunition ship blew up in the Halifax harbor. It was, and still is, the largest non-nuclear man-made explosion ever. MacNeil uses the explosion as a base for this entertaining pot-boiler / coming-of-age novel. The coming-of-age refers to  the characters and to Canada itself.  (and how is that for a book cover blurb?) DA

Old Weird Ben

The other day I went on a 21 mile bike ride (I may, or may not, be training to ride the Seattle to Portland Bike Ride -- 100+ miles two days in a row) During the ride I passed through a neighborhood I seldom go to and rode by the once-upon-a-time house of Old Weird Ben (OWB). Ben was my age or perhaps a year or two younger, but "old weird" was a perfect nickname for him.

   He was a friend of sorts, although much of my interest was similar to watching a top as it's spin slows and it starts to wobble. The fascination of wondering when, exactly, it will topple over, jerk around and  fall off the table. During one of our regular sessions of speed chess -- we'd play several games until Ben got too frustrated, then I'd let him win one, he'd gloat,  and we would stop. -- But during that session he told me of a time when he was pulled over by the police in Idaho and he happened to be carrying fifteen tabs of acid (he wasn't a dealer -- they were for his own use). The 60's was a very bad time to be arrested for drug possession in Idaho, so he swallowed all fifteen tabs. "I've never been quite the same since." he said. I imagine that sticking your tongue in a light socket to perform  do-it-yourself electro-shock therapy would produce a similar effect.
    I'm not a very good chess player, and my string of wins came, I imagine, because he couldn't always tell the difference between a pawn and a bishop or the king and queen. He hadn't let the Idaho incident change anything -- he was still a regular, enthusiastic user* and my interest in him was kind of morbid.

    Nearly every time I visited he would come up with something new. Once he told me he made a canoe by folding a sheet of corrugated aluminum, wiring the ends together, smearing on some tar and putting in a spacer. The paddle was a board nailed to a broom handle. He got the mess to the middle of the river before it collapsed and sank. OWB couldn't swim but he had carried a cooler for the beer and he was able to hold on and make his way to shore (he sadly shook his head: "I lost all the beer." -- he wasn't joking)

   (I have to give Ben his due: In the time I knew him, he wasn't a layabout. He always had a job. How he managed to get and keep a job was another of the mysteries surrounding him -- along with why he was still alive)
   

   OWB's piece de resistance also involved the river and a boat. He decided he needed to sail around the world, so he bought a derelict life boat and a derelict Airstream Trailer. He put the one on the other -- cut down an alder tree, trimmed and peeled it for a mast,  bolted them together and -- Presto -- an inexpensive ocean-going yacht. While he was cleaning and putting the finishing touches on his boat (I don't remember if he had named it) he had moved from his house and was living on the boat.
   (Another unexpected attribute: he was always neat and clean)
   On the particular day that marked the end of our acquaintance he was trying to sleep in. (I heard about this from a neighboring "yachtsman") But OWB's sleep was disturbed by an on-going river dredging operation, so he borrowed a row-boat, rowed out to the dredge, clambered on board and politely asked them to stop dredging. The dredge crew picked him up and threw him in the river.
   OWB returned to his yacht, collected a few sticks of dynamite he had laying around, rowed back to the dredge, and started lighting and throwing the dynamite at the dredge -- I don't believe Ben intended to injure anyone, he just wanted some quiet time. -- something we can all sympathize with.
In short order, the river patrol reeled him in and he got an extended period of quiet time. He was eventually released but the dynamite thing was a little too amusing and I never contacted him again.

*I didn't share his drug affections. My drugs of choice were -- and are -- in order: (1) Caffeine -- although I no longer measure my consumption in quarts per day -- (2) Nicotine -- I quit 10+ years ago but would happily start again -- and (3) alcohol -- infrequent nowadays.  DA

Books: Parisians (Graham Robb) "A creative montage of how history, individuals, and geography intersected at key moments in Paris" -- a fair description. Also a "stylish and stylized tale" -- a bit too stylish and stylized writing-wise for my taste but I did finish it. And The Nothing That Is -- a natural history of zero (Robert Kaplan) The title and sub-title pretty well describe the book. Of interest: Unlike many math historians, Robb maintains that the concept and symbol of zero came from Greece rather than India. I fear that my skill at Sanskrit and Attic Greek (let along linear B) is too limited to weigh in on the subject.  DA
  

  

Hood River

   This photo is completely irrelevant. I just find it curious that such a thing is available. dw saw a package of them in a craft store, and while she usually doesn't clutter her life with stuff like this, found them irresistible. (she actually used a few of them to make the Valentine's Tree -- last blog)

  Last week dw took a mini working vacation. She took all the tax stuff, financial files and a shredder to Hood River -- got a motel room and organized and shredded. I stayed behind, puttered around, took phone messages: Lora T. (a long-time friend with an acerbic sense of humor -- after I told her that dw was away for a few days): "Well, she finally got sick of you, did she?"  I protested that such a thing was utterly impossible. Lora said: "I just tell it like it is."
   And another message from someone who was a fast talker. Now I do have a bit of a western drawl and my speech is a medium tempo but it was way too slow for this caller. She said something about an email and hung up. "Easy, there gal" I thought "Time to rein in yur hoss there." -- I had been reading The Virginian  -- 
   After dw had been in Hood River for a couple of days I joined her for one night. She had a view room at The Vagabond, a nice locally-owned motel. There were only a few sail/kite boarders out (probably too cold) and only one barge passed but we did have two golden eagles and two bald eagles coming and going between us and the river. It was very nice with clear sunny weather. At one point we drove to the upper part of town where there was a splendid view of both Mt Hood and Mt Adams (sorry, I didn't have my camera). Saturday, before coming home, we crossed the river to White Salmon and wandered in and out of a couple of galleries and a junque store. A pleasant little outing.

   After our trip to Wisconsin I took another step towards joining the 21st century and bought an ereader (a Nook). I took four books to Wisconsin and after stopping at a couple of book stores, came back with seven. The Nook should really lighten my load when we travel, but it will only ever be a supplement to my library. I really like books. Today dw and I went to the library for a tutorial on using the thing and afterwards scheduled another tutorial for next week. Much to her surprise, dw has decided she likes the reader (like me, as a traveling tool) and will probably get one of her own. 

Books: The Virginian (Owen Wister) it's really sort of boring, but it is the source of the famous western line: "When you call me that, SMILE." -- Talking About Detective Fiction (P.D. James) No revelations, but she discusses some of her favorite authors and writes about the craft of crime novels. Interesting reading from one of the few crime writers that I really enjoy. -- An Architectural Guidebook To Portland (Bart King) I don't know enough about the subject to critique his critiques, but I like the book and plan on buying a copy (The one I read is from the library) -- Blood River (Tim Butcher) The author re-traced H. M. Stanley's trek across Africa and down the Congo River. The country is in a state of violent anarchy. It seems to be in a worse state than it was under the vile rule of Belgium. -- and Decided On The Battlefield: Grant, Sherman, Lincoln and the election of 1864 (David Alan Johnson) Briefly: if Grant and Sherman hadn't won the 1864 battles that they did, Lincoln might not have been re-elected. It's well written if not revelatory. (Johnson does hint at the perception of Grant as a mediocre general -- Grant's record actually shows that he was, by far, the best general in the war -- Much better than Lee, for example) If anyone reads the book, I would suggest skipping the fatuous epilogue where Johnson prattles on about what could have happened had Lincoln not been re-elected)

   And I finally started arranging and editing the photos I took when we drove to Vermont and Quebec two years ago. It's a problem with digital cameras -- it's really easy to take hundreds or thousands of photos but then they need to be sorted and purged. Anyway, here's one I like:  It's the tip of the Gaspe' Peninsula. DA