A Short Story for Engineers
Okay. I haven’t posted for eleven days, which is the longest gap since I started this blog.
Didja notice?
Nevermind. Maybe I don’t want to know the answer to that question.
Anyway. Long story short, my mom is doing better every day, and we fully expect the doctor to set a discharge date next week. Her back surgery was a completely anticipated and scheduled event, but the length of recovery . . . not so much. Still, we have every reason to believe it will provide long-term pain relief, and I’ll be honest here. Mom could use some relief after the last couple of years.
I had a great time visiting in Florida, regardless of the less-than-ideal circumstances. Sadly, it takes an event like this to make me slow down and properly appreciate the blessing that is Mommy and Daddy.
We had a lot of laughs, just a few tears, and some really profound self-realization moments, like when Dad was driving, and I squealed and cringed and hid my eyes as he did a sudden U-turn. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?” he asked, chuckling. Yeah, well, okay, so I reacted like Mom. Most females would do the same, Mister.
On the airplane, I was able to make substantial progress reading Ted’s book, The Eagle Has Crashed. A really good story, and I can’t wait to find out what happens.
Oh, yeah. The title of my post refers to a story my step-dad-in-law emailed. It’s worth reading to the end, and you don’t need to be an engineer to appreciate it:
A toothpaste factory had a problem: they sometimes shipped empty boxes, without the tube inside. This was due to the way the production line was set up, and people with experience in designing production lines will tell you how difficult it is to have everything happen with timings so precise that every single unit coming out of it is perfect 100% of the time.
Small variations in the environment (which cannot be controlled in a cost-effective fashion) mean you must have quality assurance checks smartly distributed across the line so that customers all the way down to the supermarket don’t get pissed off and buy another product instead.
Understanding how important that was, the CEO of the toothpaste factory got the top people in the company together and they decided to start a new project, in which they would hire an external engineering company to solve their empty boxes problem, as their engineering department was already too stretched to take on any extra effort.
The project followed the usual process: budget and project sponsor allocated, RFP, third-parties selected, and six months (and $8 million) later they had a fantastic solution – on time, on budget, high quality and everyone in the project had a great time.
They solved the problem by using high-tech precision scales that would sound a bell and flash lights whenever a toothpaste box would weigh less than it should. The line would stop, and someone had to walk over and yank the defective box out of it, pressing another button when done to re-start the line.
A while later, the CEO decides to have a look at the ROI of the project: amazing results! No empty boxes ever shipped out of the factory after the scales were put in place. Very few customer complaints, and they were gaining market share. “That’s some money well spent!” – he says, before looking closely at the other statistics in the report.
It turns out, the number of defects picked up by the scales was zero after three weeks of production use. It should’ve been picking up at least a dozen a day, so maybe there was something wrong with the report. He filed a bug against it, and after some investigation, the engineers come back saying the report was actually correct. The scales really weren’t picking up any defects, because all boxes that got to that point in the conveyor belt were good.
Puzzled, the CEO travels down to the factory, and walks up to the part of the line where the precision scales were installed. A few feet before the scale, there was a $20 desk fan, blowing the empty boxes out of the belt and into a bin.
“Oh, that,” says one of the workers – “one of the guys put it there cause he was tired of walking over every time the bell rang.”
File This Under: The Price of Over Regulation
The best example of regulatory lunacy since The Tuna Confiscation of 2011 has to be this: the FAA has grounded a little aircraft used to escort endangered whooping cranes to their summer home. (via Drudge.)
Operation Migration is a nonprofit organization that seeks to reintroduce whooping cranes into eastern North America. Their website explains that, in the 1940s, the species was reduced to just 15 birds.
The whole operation is fascinating. They have to make the birds think that they are their mother.
So why was the migration grounded? Apparently, someone got worried they are paying the pilot for the task of flying the bird-looking “light sport” aircraft.
Now, don’t get too outraged. A waiver process is already in place. Certainly, a conservationist quest to save the whooping cranes will qualify for a waiver, and the migration will soon resume. Everything is completely friendly, explains the latest news report from Operation Migration (dated 05 January) : “The FAA is in support of this project and is working hard to resolve the matter in our favor. We appreciate their efforts.”
They seem very patient about the whole thing. Would a couple of days delay jeopardize the migration completely? Weather windows can be so fleeting.
Anyway, a waiver process makes everything copasetic, dontcha know. Rule of law, schmule of law.
The uninformed among us are largely unaware of the sheer volume and weight of regulation from every level of government. It blankets every nook and cranny of our society, and stifles activity in innumerable insidious ways.
Blissfully unaware, some people say, well what’s wrong with trying to prevent banks and corporations from abusing power? What’s wrong with making healthcare available to everyone, regardless of their ability to pay? What’s wrong with insert a well-meaning goal here.
These questions sound reasonable at first blush, but (aside from the whole running out of money to pay for it problem) we can glimpse the truth of the matter in situations like this one.
When we try to control the behavior of our fellow citizens (yes, even when they are corporation-y or bankish), right down to the smallest detail, we don’t get rid of abuses of power. We don’t get everyone the healthcare they need. We don’t get insert a well-meaning goal here.
We get lunacy. We get a guy who can’t benefit from the good luck of accidentally catching a giant tuna. We get an amazing charitable cooperative enterprise between individuals, governments, and businesses–stopped in its tracks.
We get a society that says, but we like the regulation that causes the problem here. We want to control businesses and charities, to keep them from taking clients on joy rides in risky Light Sport Aircraft.
Silly old me, I figure that if the clients are grown-ups, maybe they can decide for themselves whether flying in a glorified kite might be worth the patently obvious risks.
Society seems to disagree. Society seems content to replace the Rule of Law with Arbitrary Rule, doled out as privileges and favors in a myriad of “waiver” systems.
This fact frightens me more than, well, pretty much everything on our political landscape today.
Exit question: if a Tea Party was in need of this waiver, what would be their chances of receiving it? We could ask the Richmond Tea Party what they think.
The Perfectionist’s Guide to Christmas Trees
Okay, sure: this post is a bit late. It’s not too late, though. The tree yet darkens lightens the living room corner, mocking me with its warm glow and winking twinkle lightbulbs (just two, we’ll get to the rules on those later). Each year holds the same month-long ritual, ending with the take-the-tree-down-avoidance dance of the new year.
This post is intended to be humorous, sure, but make no mistake. I am serious about every step. Strict adherence is strongly encouraged and perhaps direly needed, for American culture is shedding its tree-trimming skills at an alarming rate.
In other words, the older I get, the worse everyone else’s tree becomes. So, perhaps you are here because you are a regular reader. Perhaps you actually googled for tips on decorating Christmas trees. Perhaps you are an insomniac with nothing better to do. Whatever the case, welcome to The Land of the Perfect Christmas Tree. It is a frustrating place.
Step One: Get The Tree.
Sounds easy, no? Well, maybe. If your idea of getting the tree involves a trip to the attic, basement or garage, stop! Or, rather, go ahead and grab the dang thing and chuck it to the curb. Ugh.
Over the years, artifical trees have gained popularity. With preset lights, no needles, and multi-year use, these plastic creations are convenient and cost-saving. Alas, I’m pretty sure they also make Santa cry.
No artificial tree exudes Christmas spirit like a real one. A real tree dominates the living area with an overpowering presence that cries out, look at me! and leave presents! An artificial tree sits demurely in the corner, unable to outshine even the light-up robotic snowman you got on clearance at Big Lots last January.
The details are the artificial tree’s undoing. They are usually too small. One cannot decorate the artifical tree’s inner branches (this creates depth, see the ornament step below). One cannot properly light it. One cannot even hang the bigger ornaments without unsightly “branch bump” (this occurs when an ornament leans on the surrounding branches instead of hanging freely). Also, they are probably made in China, and real trees are all-American (just ask Mr. G).
And I don’t wanna hear any comments about clean-up. You don’t have to vacuum much more than normal. Those pine needles are less dirty than all the human and/or pet dander with which we normally live. Trust me: when your sparkling work of art is finished, you won’t notice the needles on the floor.
Have you thrown that plastic tree out? Good. Now, when you are wandering the rows upon rows of fresh Christmas trees in the brisk outdoors, it’s easy to lose a sense of height. Here’s a rule of thumb for tree size: better too big than too small, as long as you own a decent saw. Admittedly, when you drag that tree indoors and try to right it, the subsequent gouging of ceiling paint is a pain, but the alternative is worse: being unimpressed by your tree. Nobody likes it when something’s too small.
Step Two: Standing The Tree
When I was a kid, my parents used a massive metal stand with gigantic screws that twist into the trunk until tight. That thing was heavy duty–a real anchor. Today, stands have shrunk in size and weight, making this step potentially tricky, especially if you are on your own because hubs is on the boat. What is supposed to be a festive occasion can turn into a hot mess and a string of profanities if you can’t get the dang tree anchored straight, not that I know from personal experience or anything.
If you don’t have a good old-fashioned heavy stand available, I recommend the adjust-by-pedal type, like the Wonder Stand. I’m not sure if my 11-year-old model is that brand, because it looks a bit different. Anyway, the pedal eliminates the old routine my parents went through, which involved my dad anchoring the tree, viewing it from every angle possible, then getting my mom to hold the tree steady while he gets under it and repositions the screws slightly, then viewing it again from every angle, and re-adjusting, lather, rinse, repeat.
Now, all we have to do is anchor the tree, view it from every angle possible, get hubs to hold the tree steady while I get under it and adjust the pedal slightly (it is hard to manipulate by foot), then view it again from every angle, and re-adjust, lather, rinse, repeat.
Hmm, well. At least the foot pedal is easier to adjust than the screws are.
Ooh, back up a minute. I almost forgot. Make sure that the tree seller saws off a bit of the trunk. Then get it in a stand full of water asap. If it sits outside overnight, you’ve got to cut it again, because the sap dries and seals the trunk so that it cannot drink water. Your tree won’t last a week if the trunk is sealed.
Step Three: Lighting The Tree
Do not, I repeat, do not string lights on the tree until it has stood overnight. The branches need to lower and spread out. If you don’t wait, you’ll have to do it over again. Ask me how I know.
Now as to color: multi is better, but all-white will do. Non-white same-color strings are terrible, don’t use them. Lights that blink or chase or change color along the entire string are right out. Don’t even think about it. The big, old fashioned bulbs bring a healthy dose of light to your tree, but they are too heavy and space-consuming. The little bulbs are light and pretty, but not bright enough on their own.
You’ll need to use both. String the large bulbs first. 
A modest tree (its tip is close to the ceiling, but it didn’t need cutting to fit) will take two strings of large bulbs and three strings of small bulbs. A “whoops-I-didn’t-realize-it-was-that-big” tree will need three strings of each type. Ban your tallest child to the back of the tree, so that he can hold the string when you go around for another pass. Tell him to hush if he gets impatient back there; it’s character-building. Ask me how I know.
I could write an entire post on light placement alone. The hour is late, however, and I don’t want to try your patience. Just put the larger bulbs slightly deeper in the tree, and allow enough space in between rows for the smaller bulb strings that follow. Tuck as much wire out of sight as you can, and try to balance between inner and outer lighting.
If possible, buy a pack of twinkling bulbs, and add a few to your large bulb string for that little something extra. Once the lights are done, stop for the day. The newly-weighed-down branches will continue to settle. If you don’t wait, you’ll have to move your ornaments later.
Step Four: Garland or Ribbon
My dad used gold garland. I prefer the wire-lined red ribbon available these days. You’ll need at least three 5-yard rolls, preferably four. Your eye for symmetry and the branches themselves will guide ribbon placement. Make sure you’ve banned that child into the back corner again, for the handy hand-off. Remember, it’s character-building.
Step Five: Ornament Placement
By this time, your children have been clamouring for three days to decorate the tree. Let them go crazy, with strict limitation. Rule Numero Uno: One ornament per branch. They may not learn this rule until age 18, but tough. This rule is strictly zero-tolerance: move all offending ornaments immediately.
Rule Numero Dos: Mom may move any ornament at any time.
Aesthetic considerations are more important than the children’s self-esteem. Anyway, I often move my husband’s ornaments, and even my own. As the tree gets filled, readjustment is necessary and natural. Remember, “branch bump” is not allowed, no exceptions.
Each ornament’s placement is dependent upon key factors: the ornament’s weight, the ornament’s size, the ornament’s beauty, and the ornament’s sentimental value. In that order, with the beauty and value being interchangeable on a case-by-case basis. The ornament’s weight is a variable factor, as the branches continue to lose strength. Keep a sharp eye out for drooping branches.
Ornament hanging generally takes two to three days. Towards the end, ban that big child to the back corner one more time, so that he may hang the plainer ornaments out-of-view. Why hang ornaments in the back, you ask? Well, they aren’t totally out-of-view, just mostly out-of-view. At certain angles, they are at least kind of visible.
The same visibility theory applies to ornaments hung deep inside the tree. They may be largely hidden, but peeks and glimmers within the tree create depth. Moreover, the inside is the only place where branches are strong enough to hold all the ornaments relatives give you because they know you love ornaments but they have no idea which ones to buy. (Buyer’s tip: If it feels like a paper weight in your hand, it is too heavy for the branches of a real tree.)
Here’s a few more ornament rules:
There is no such thing as too many ornaments.
All ornaments should be bought on clearance after Christmas day, unless you are on holiday in a place you are not likely to return.
The cheap ornaments are more valuable, especially those little red ribbon bowties you bought for a dollar at the Dollar General when you were twenty years old.
Homemade ornaments are the most valuable and always hang in prominent places.
Ornament breakage is a necessary part of life when you are an impatient spaz like me.
All rules subject to change with experience. Enjoy your tree. If you do it right, it should look something like this:
Presidential Holiday Messages Prove What, Exactly?
Like many of you, I’ve been fond of Misfit Politics ever since ATTACK WAAAAAAAAAATCH. Their newest video was uploaded the other day.
It is a comparison of President Obama’s recent Christmas message with his Ramadan message of 2009. Misfits’ video makes a profound impression. It highlights the way President Obama uses even nonpolitical messages for political purposes, by injecting his “I’m ending the war!” bit into both. Moreover, a difference between the videos in Obama’s tone and substance is unmistakable.
Should anyone wonder whether clever editing is to blame, the Misfits provide a link to each original message. Sure enough, a full viewing leaves one with the impression that the President takes Ramadan more seriously than Christmas.
So, does he?
This question led me on a morning-long quest for the bigger picture.
Here’s what I can tell you. The bigger picture is much less impressive than the one-two punch in a single video. After reading a little on the history of presidential Christmas messages, comparing previous presidents on YouTube, officially released White House holiday statements, and Obama’s various holiday messages, I have come to two conclusions.
First, protracted viewing of presidential holiday messaging makes me want to nap. Second, questioning the President’s religious beliefs is not a good idea.
I understand the religion angle: if a man is willing to be deceptive on an issue so personal, so important, and so personally important as his religious beliefs, than literally not a single word he utters can be trusted. It would mean a complete loss of credibility.
But, there is a problem.
Who can see in a man’s heart, and know his innermost thoughts, feelings, and beliefs? Not you or I. Sure, we can get some glimpses (always subject to interpretation, of course), like when the President expertly rattles off details about Islamic practice.
What are we to think, then, when President Obama expertly rattles off details about Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur? Does that mean he is secretly Jewish? Well, that video is merely half the length of the Ramadan video, so perhaps not. Should, then, we be concerned about the President’s reference to the spirit of Umoja?
How about the fact that in this latest (and patently goofy) Christmas video, the President referred to the birth of Jesus as a story? Perhaps this is a damaging little subconscious admission.
Ah, but I noticed something in this lovely 1981 Christmas message from President Reagan. He referred to the birth of Jesus as a “story” at :46.
President Bush has some interesting quotes too. In this Ramadan statement, he rather glibly pronounces Islam to be a peaceful religion, and he uses the Islamic term “mubarak” as though he, too, is an expert.
Please, don’t take this the wrong way. I’m still fond of Misfit Politics, and their video quite fairly leaves the viewer to judge for himself. My point is, we have better fish to fry. Lower hanging fruit hangs all over this tree. (Can you tell by my analogies that I’m getting hungry?)
Many other examples of Obama hypocrisy are both easy to prove and ultimately more damaging, for they do not require us to disprove what Obama claims to hold in his heart. First, how about the way Obama condemned Bush’s use of signing statements in 2008, and then felt free to use signing statements himself as a way to avoid new laws?
Or how about that 2008 Obama promise of a “net spending cut?” /snicker/
Or the way he claimed that Obamacare was going to lower healthcare costs? Or his promise to close down Guantanamo Bay? How about all the cronyism? Or the chart showing what the Recovery Act was supposed to accomplish, versus the reality?
Please, do add to this list. I know there are more examples, but the hour is past my lunch time, and I’m starting to draw a blank.
Supposedly, 1 in 5 of us think that our President is really Muslim. I think we should avoid such unprovable theories like the plague.
Chuck Pads The Blog
I’m working on a more lengthy post, but real life keeps trumping the blog.
I’m still here, though, and here is proof: a message from Chuck Woolery. Enjoy, and in case I don’t post or comment in the next several days, Merry Christmas! And Happy New (General Election) Year!
Happy?
Oh, goody! A study in the December issue of APA’s Journal of Family Psychology concludes that “working moms feel better than stay-at-home moms.”
Could it be? Ah, yes, it’s a twofer, combining the emotion-prevoking Mommy Wars with yet another Study of Dubious Utility.
A Google search unearthed the opinion of a professional feminist, which I’m not exactly sure what that is, other than someone I’m not likely to agree with often, but by golly I agree on this one:
” . . . personally, I think there are some days when I am [happy], some days when I’m not. This isn’t a race. There isn’t a shortage of happiness in this world, and the way people are splitting ‘The Motherhood’ into two camps just [bleeps] me off.”
Well, yes.
Something else is annoying, though, beyond the dubious utility and the arbitrary division.
Who likes it when other people think they know best? So when I hear this:
“lead author . . . says the real message of her study is this: get a job, whether full-time or part-time,”
my reaction is, don’t tell me what to do.
The vagaries of life haven’t offered me much in the way of universal truths, but one thing I can say with certainty: staying at home doesn’t make me unhappy, and likewise working wouldn’t make me unhappy, either.
I make myself unhappy.
That’s right, I cause my own unhappiness–and sometimes outright misery–no matter what my daily circumstances, which have varied greatly in the last forty years, I might add, and through all those changes I have always managed to maintain an impressively unhealthy level of worry, anxiety, insecurity, and general malaise.
Furthermore, no amount of scientific study, psychological profiling, or helpful advice will decrease said level of worry, anxiety, insecurity, general malaise, and outright misery. I’ll lower the levels when it suits me, if it suits me, on my own time, and in my own way.
Just so we’re clear on the matter.
Only One Thing To Say Today
Go Navy! Beat Army!
Oops, that’s two things. Anyway:
So why is the Army-Navy game one of the best in college football? Because it is a metaphor for what is best about America. It shows us that we are at our best when we fight ferociously in the game, but afterwards, no matter who wins or who loses, we come together as brothers.
UPDATE: Why didn’t the YouTube vid embed?? Trying again:
Who’s Running the Asylum?
Still here, I’m still here, and at this rate every future post will begin with the same assurance, but anyway.
Mind if I blame the home schooling again?
School’s not really to blame, of course. I’m to blame for trying too hard on the whole endeavor, attempting to stuff the kids’ brains and instill in them a lifelong desire to stuff their own brains, while simultaneously making it as fun as a carnival with free rides and funnel cakes, while also cooking delicious dinners daily, getting regular exercise, and giving the dog slightly more attention than my husband, who is mercifully too busy with his own schoolwork to notice my complete inability to carry on a conversation with him.
Let’s see . . . some classical education, unschooling, current public school curriculum, group activities . . . add some music and civics, why not? One can just pick and choose and blend it all together with a spoonful of sugar, right?
Anybody out there with kids (and most without) know how children react. They like attention. They like fun. Give us more! The challenging parts of learning . . . not so much. Even children who are eager to please will instinctively resist the unpleasant and vie for the good stuff.
Now, the sane part of me knows good and well that the sanity of this entire household is at risk if I keep pursuing the perfect education, but guess what?
The sane part hasn’t been driving this home school bus. The perfectionist is behind the wheel. Even as my white-knuckled push to perfection descends into impatience and desperation, the perfectionist isn’t slowing down the bus until she sees the exit for The Land of Exactly Right. Low fuel, threadbare tires, and frightened passengers be damned.
Retrospective recognition of the problem is easy, of course, once the problem has culminated in a full-on mental breakdown, complete with tears and the unilateral issuance of New Home School Rules, typed and posted upon the dining room wall.
How did I get here? I lamented while surveying the roadside to find my bus stuck in The Land of Almost Completely Wrong.
I think I know the answer. Beneath the aforementioned perfectionism lies guilt. Since the beginning of school in August, it has lurked in the back of my mind. I’m worried about preventing the boys from forming friendships. I feel guilty about forcing yet another drastic change in their lives.
I want the change to be worth making.
Ironically, the harder I work to make it worthwhile, the less worthwhile it becomes. Maybe I should just give my inmates the keys to this asylum, and stay in bed.
On second thought, who am I kidding?
They’ll have to pry those keys out of my cold, dead hands. Hang on, boys, ’cause this bus ride ain’t over. Your mother just threw her guilt out the window and stepped on the gas.
Bad Bad Blogger
Sorry for my lack of internet activity. I’m still here, and reminiscing about England a bit. This week, the homeschool curriculum included the story of The Sword in the Stone, and I’m all like, King Arthur! We went to his castle! Do you remember Merlin’s Cave?!
I got blank stares.
Argh, the boys were too young to retain memory of the things they saw, the culture they absorbed. (Both do, however, retain an uncanny ability to fake the British accent, and both remember Peppa Pig and the Jimmer Jammers. Does that count as culture?)
Tintagel is the name of the village purported to be Arthur’s birthplace, a right pretty little spot. Of course, most UK villages are right pretty little spots.
I really miss those villages, as well as the cheeses named after them: Stilton, Wensleydale, Davidstow . . . . The Brits are dead serious about their cheese, as this macho marketing strategy can attest: 
In America, one must look to Axe and Old Spice ads for similar imagery.
Okay, enough rambling. I fully intend to make the rounds soon, and see what fellow bloggers are sharing. I also intend to write more substantive posts. Maybe even get a chapter of that novel written /sarc/.
Ya’ll have a great week.
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