Tornado Corridor Impressions (pt2)

Seeing the tornado damage corridor (above) made me realize I'd actually heard the tornado from my deck.

I'd been watching the weather sweep through--- it was an impressive group of storms, and it had caught my attention to the point where I had a radar loop running on my PC, tracking the storm's progress (the public Nexrad feeds update every 6 minutes or so). We were already under a flood watch from the intense rains of this and the previous series of storms, and I saw that the National Weather Service radar had flagged one cell near my house with the "hail" symbol (a solid yellow box).

I wasn't worried about flooding; I live on a small hill at about 800' elevation (240m), with no streams or lakes above me. But radar showed the hail-producing cell would pass a bit to the west of my home. That might be worth seeing. I'd been caught in the edge of a supercell's hail last summer in Colorado ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GFdxvIKSYrU ) and we'd seen hail on the tornado chase. But I haven't seen a lot of hail in NH.

Outside, it was raining in gusty bursts, but the rain was warm and not unpleasant, so I went onto my deck to see what I could see. There it was: the hail cell was a darker mass of clouds just above the treetops to my west. (Remember, I'm at 800'; up near the cloud bases.)

As the cell passed close by to my west, I heard continuous crashing, and I remember thinking that this was a very active cell with lots of continuous lightning. I'd seen lightning like that on my tornado chase last Spring, so I knew that violent cells could produce nearly continuous flashes. This particular storm was in daylight, so the lightning wasn't well-visible, but the nearly continuous cracks and crashes easily were. The sound was very sharp, with lots more high-frequency snaps and crashes, not just thunder's classic deep cracks and rumbles. I attributed the sharpness of the sounds to the lightning being close by.

The active, dark mass of clouds headed left to right as I watched, moving north. The sharper sounds diminished quickly, but the deeper thunder faded more slowly. I went back inside, and a few minutes later, the radar tagged that same cell with the purple triangle symbol of "tornadic vortex signature." By then, the cell was north of my position.

After seeing the above photo, I realized that I'd been hearing not a continuous crash of thunder, but the sharper sound of tens of thousands of trees being snapped off, chewed up, and tossed around: the sound of a long strip of living forest being ground up by a tornado.

It wasn't at all like the "freight train" sound that people sometimes report when they hear a tornado.

An EF2 tornado has winds about 111–135 mph (179–218 kph). That's about the same speed as a free-falling skydiver. If you've ever had the pleasure of jumping out of an airplane, you know that at that speed, your ears are overwhelmed with sound--- the world is just a loud white-noise whoosh, with almost all sonic detail (other than you own whoops and screams) lost.

Perhaps this is a more-familiar analogy: Stick your head out your car window at normal highway speed of about 60 mph (100kph). If your head is fully out into the airstream, you won't hear much other than deafening wind noise. An EF2 tornado has winds twice that fast, and if you remember your basic physics, twice the airspeed is four times the power.

I can understand why people choose that "freight train" sound analogy: A nearby freight train is one of the loudest sustained white-noise sounds people commonly experience (especially in the midwest, where grade-level train track crossings are common). People latch on to that sound as a handy point of reference.

But I think comparing a tornado's noise to a freight train sells the tornado short. In the case of this EF2, for example, the noise was actually much, much louder than that. On top of the wind's own roar, you also have the sound of tens- or hundreds of thousands of trees breaking and falling, the sounds of tens of millions of tree limbs snapping. That's an unimaginable noise--- not only beyond what our ears can capture but way beyond what our brains can process.

People say "freight train sound" because they have no better reference. I said "continuous unusually sharp-sounding lightning" because I had no better reference.

I'd never heard a tornado destroying a forest before.

But the picture (above) brought it home, and I finally understood what I'd been hearing.

Ok, let's get back to the motorcycle ride through the tornado's path: that's tomorrow's entry!

Tornado Corridor Impressions

That's an aerial shot of the recent tornado's path near my house; you can see the major damage corridor as a lighter-colored diagonal line where all the trees are down. (The photo is a scan of a newspaper photograph from the Concord Monitor; perhaps NH's best newspaper.)

[Geekly aside: To orient yourself in the above photo; the plane that took that aerial photo was at low altitude over the dead-center of this Google map http://tinyurl.com/6ne8ov. The plane was headed North; the damage track in the photo heads NNE. In the photo, you can just see the blue of the westernmost part of Northwood Lake in the picture's upper right.]

On Sunday, a friend invited me on a short motorcycle ride with some of his buddies through the area recently hit by the tornado.

I'd purposefully stayed away from the tornado damage corridor in the days immediately following the storms: The National Guard was called out briefly, and FEMA plus numerous State and private agencies were all brought to bear. The 20+ mile track also was swarming with utility trucks to restring wires and restore services.

Incredibly, the area was clogged with sightseers, too; US Route 4 runs through here, and traffic was bottlenecked by cars parked illegally while people jumped out to take pictures. I thought the best thing to do was to stay away to avoid being an obstacle.

But by the weekend, the spectators were mostly gone and we could pass through the area without getting in anyone's way.

It was impressive to see. The forces involved were amazingly constrained: total destruction here, and then, in the space of a few tens of feet, hardly any damage at all.

One of the things that impressed me most was the way the tornado chewed through living forest. This isn't at all like the damage you see in classic photos of midwest tornadoes roaring across a dusty field. This was something else.

To explain, I have to ask you a question: Have you ever felled a big tree? I mean a BIG tree, like 100' (30m)?

If you're close to it, a big tree makes an incredible noise as it falls. As the tree's huge weight starts to shift, the trunk protests with long groans and gunshot-sharp pops.

If you're the one felling the big tree, you retreat in a safe direction, away from the fall line. Right behind you, groans and pops from the tree trunk accelerate in tempo as the wood's fibers stress and fail. Way, way above you, you can sense the falling tree quickly gathering momentum.

Even if you expect it, and even if your conscious self knows you're safe, the sound of a big tree starting to fall wakes up some primal circuitry buried in the subbasement of your brain: You feel a burst of adrenalin as the ancient "Flee!" wiring lights up. "Run!" it says. "Something heavy is falling!"

As the tree falls faster, you begin to hear a perceptible whoooooshing sound as the branches sweep the air. The falling tree's branches rake the neighboring trees; a wood-on-wood clatter that builds into a sustained white-noise roar of breaking branches.

Then the tree hits the ground and you can feel the concussion both through your feet and also in your chest, the way you can sometimes feel loud fireworks reverberate there.

Incredibly, a big tree will often bounce after hitting the ground. You then hear a second, less intense impact followed by a loud, slowly diminishing clatter and crack as the tree settles into its lowest-energy resting position on the ground.

Simultaneously, you hear a gentler whooshing overhead as the branches of the surrounding trees recover from having been swept by the falling giant; as you watch, the surrounding branches whip back into position and the forest canopy rearranges itself around the new hole you've created.

Let me assure you: Watching a big tree come down nearby is impressive.

Now take a look at this picture again. This is just maybe 1/10th of the total damage path from the tornado. Look at the trees. Many of them were mature giants, and each one--- each one--- made noises like the above as it fell.



And remember that the photo only shows 1/10 the total damage. So, take the noise of the sound I described above and multiply it in your mind by the number of trees you see in that photo, times 10. That's the aggregate sound of this tornado's tree damage.

But there's more. And we'll talk about that tomorrow.

Not Just NH Criminals...

After the post about our local criminal class, I was glad to see Wisconsin has some dolts, too:

========

Appleton police nab burglar drenched in barbecue sauce


APPLETON — Police early today arrested a man drenched in barbecue sauce after being called to a home for a burglary in progress.

The couple living there heard whistling coming from their basement after the alarm clock sounded, police report.

The male resident armed himself with a shotgun and went to the basement stairs to find the light on. He turned the lights off, which led

the burglar to ask what he was doing.

The burglar, who turned 35 today, left the basement and put his hands up upon seeing the firearm.

The burglar said he entered the home because he was on the run from the government, according to police. The barbecue sauce, he said, was

an “urban disguise.”

The man was wearing the woman’s jacket and the man’s hat upon arrest, police report. His shoes had been left in the basement.

The man was booked into the Outagamie County Jail on one count of burglary.

Items taken from the home included a can of soda — and a bottle of barbecue sauce.

I was a bad, bad man.

I didn’t mean to, really. It was the simplest of verbal exchanges, but I must have punched one of the buttons of one of the pillars of our tiny community, the local bank manager lady.

It began innocently enough. You see, I foolishly let myself be talked into volunteering to be on my condo’s Board of Directors. In fact, I’m President.

It’s a pretty exciting job, let me tell you. Why, just last week, I talked to the workman installing new grade collars on the septic tanks. I signed some paperwork. And I engaged in a lively debate of the relative merits of leaving clover in the lawn areas or not. (Just so you know, I'm strongly pro-clover, but the head of the Landscape Committee is adamantly anti-clover. It's a hot debate!)

I mean, is that exciting, or what? Come on, admit it: You’re jealous.

Anyway, I was at the local bank with two other Board members. We were there to sign some financial stuff. The bank’s a tiny branch office here, in one part of a tiny New Hampshire town. As a homeowner’s association, we’re one of the larger fish in this tiny pond, so we get good service. The branch’s head honchette personally attended to our needs.

She’s a very nice lady who takes her job with utmost seriousness. That’s a good thing; you don’t want some clown screwing around with your money. But you can be safe and still have some fun.

Or so I thought.

Our Treasurer was trying to find the best place to park some of the Association’s money for a while; perhaps a shorter-term CD or something. We asked about the current standard savings interest rate, and she said “Point 1.” meaning one-tenth of one percent.

I knew that it was that low. In fact many banks are in the same area of ridiculously low interest for plain saving accounts.

She mentioned the “Point 1” again and, trying to be funny, I said something like “I like how you can say that without even cracking a smile.”

I thought the humor was obvious: An interest rate that low is like a joke, right? Ha Ha?

Nope.

She was visibly affronted and immediately launched into a heartfelt and spirited defense of both her bank and the guys who set the rates. She explained how, at a corporate meeting, she’d asked how the rates are actually set and was impressed with the detail and clarity of the answer she got. Why, they have spreadsheets and analyses, and....

She had gone on for a painful couple minutes when I leaned forward and said, “I’m sorry! It was just a joke!”

She stopped in mid-sentence, looked at me with eyes wide and said, “It’s just that no one ever said that to me before.”

Such are the thin skins of small-town banking officers.

Note to self: Dial it back, Fred. Just dial it back a notch or two. Sigh.

I think I’ll use the drive-up window for a while.

New Hampshire master criminal

Or: Tiny Brain Disease strikes again:

CONCORD -- A driver eluded a police chase yesterday morning, careening wildly through the city before crashing his pickup truck. In the end, police found Brian Eldridge hiding under a bed in an apartment directly across from the Concord Police Department.... He is being held on $50,000 cash bail.

Five Miles (8km) From My House

This Spring, I chased tornadoes. This Summer, they're chasing me!

We had a wild bit of weather here in NH on Thursday with heavy storms and an F2 tornado:

"The National Weather Service has confirmed that an [EF2] tornado did touch down in the state of New Hampshire yesterday, including the town of Deerfield, where a woman was killed... FEMA is currently in the state making their preliminary assessment of the damage suffered. Officials say there is about an eight-mile path of destruction, beginning in Pittsfield and extending into Alton."

Actually, it turned out to be a 20 mile path. A dozen homes were destroyed and 100 damaged.





Raw video of some of the damage:
http://www.wmur.com/video/16987202/index.html

Photos and slideshow:
http://www.wmur.com/slideshow/16981648/detail.htmlindex.html?currentSlide=6&taf=man

http://www.wmur.com/slideshow/slideshows/16981648/detail.html

I know you don't think "tornadoes" when someone says "New Hampshire," but NH averages 1.6 tornadoes a year, meaning we normally get one or two every year or two. (Those of you in the midwest rolling you eyes--- remember that NH is a very small State.)

NH was among the first places colonized by Europeans in what we now call the Northeast United States, so those settlers were among the first Westerners to experience tornadoes. In fact, TornadoChaser.Net reports that colonial Governor and weather buff John Winthrop wrote what may be history's first description of a tornado, in July 1643:

Winthrop, who was ever conscious of the weather, recorded that there was a sudden gust in northeastern Massachusetts and coastal New Hampshire. According to Winthrop this “gust” blew down many trees, filled the air with dust, lifted up a meetinghouse in Newbury, and killed one Indian. Because there was no weather technology in that time period we have no way of knowing whether this “gust” was a true tornado or not.

A tornado, quickly passing by in a violent minute or so, might very well be described as a gust.

The rough terrain of NH means the tornadoes here are usually at the lower end of the strength scale. Much more common are microbursts and 'straight line winds' that actually can be just as damaging as a true tornado. [Tornadoes are rotating winds that shear and grind their way across the land; straight line winds deliver blunt force trauma simultaneously across a large-area.]

The State has witnessed just one known F4 tornado, with none higher. F2s are relatively rare anywhere--- only about 11% of all tornadoes are EF2s. So, Thursday's EF2 here a doubly-rare thing: a somewhat unusual tornado type in an area where tornadoes themselves are somewhat unusual. You'd go a long time between seeing F2s in New Hampshire.

In fact, you don't often "see" tornadoes here at all. Unlike the plains States with their enormous sight lines, NH's heavy forests and hills mean the tornadoes here are hard to spot until they burst upon you. Many of the eyewitnesses here this week said that by the time they processed what they were seeing, the wind was upon them. No one reported being frightened initially--- there simply wasn't time.

Imagine what that's like: You look up, see trees and other objects flying through the air, and then you're in the middle of it, just like that.

There's no system here of tornado sirens or similar general warnings, except those issued by radio by the NWS. If you're not listening to a broadcast or watching an online weather feed, there's no way to tell that a tornado warning has been issued. Just another one of New England's little weather surprises!


It's trivial compared to the damage just a short distance away, but we lost several trees here where I live, five miles (8km) from the center of the storm's path. (See pic above.) Still, even here the wind was strong enough to break the trunk of one 18" (45cm) thick hardwood and several smaller pines. Fortunately, the trees did no damage as they fell.

Friday, a day after the storm, was beautiful: a cool, dry, sunny and gorgeous New England summer day. Saturday looks even better.

I love it here! :)

"Mean girls get the goods"

I read this recently, and although it sounds like a lead up to a joke, it's actually serious--- and fascinating--- research. Read it, see see if it rings true for you!

==================

From issue 2662 of New Scientist magazine, 25 June 2008, page 21; titled "Mean girls get the goods"


To test the apparent differences in how very young children compete, Joyce Benenson at Emmanuel College in Boston and her colleagues divided 87 4-year-olds into same-sex groups of three. In successive trials, each trio received one, two or three highly prized animal puppets.

The sexes behaved similarly when there were two or three puppets to go round. The differences became clear, though, when there was just one puppet for each group. Boys tended to ask for the puppet, grab at it, or even chase the child who had it. By contrast, girls punished the puppet-holder by excluding her from their clique, whispering behind her back or even hiding from her (Animal Behaviour, DOI: 10.1016/j.anbehav.2008.01.027).

Benenson says that these socially aggressive tactics may account for why girls exhibit greater jealousy over same-sex friendships than boys. They could be trying to protect themselves against exclusive coalitions.

Melissa Emery Thompson at the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque says the results help to dispel the myth that females are the less competitive sex. Even at an early age, they avoid risky direct aggression in favour of subtler forms of competition such as small shifts in tone and expression, or spreading rumours.


Summary: Girls are no less competitive than boys, they're simply subtler about it, a study of pre-schoolers suggests. While boys use head-on aggression to get what they want, girls rely on the pain of social exclusion.

Back from Hawaii; and Hello, WS Readers!

I just got back from Hawaii. I'm still pretty jet lagged, but it was a very good trip. I was there to visit my daughter and her fiancee; he’s in the Navy and is temporarily stationed in Honolulu.

While I was there, I got an email from Brian Livingston asking me for a one-off column for the Windows Secrets newsletter, newly merged with Support Alert. He said my column should be about what I’ve been doing since I stopped writing for WS. Hmmm, ok. I banged that out on my daughter’s coffee table, and sent it off. It’s in the Jy 24th issue: http://windowssecrets.com/

That column has a back-link here, so: Welcome to all the new visitors today!

I have some Hawaii-related stories to tell you over the next few days, including sea turtles, crater hikes, a whole roast pig, and how I may have offended some Japanese businessmen with a souvenir Kamikaze headband.

My trip ended on a high note: American Airlines had badly oversold the long, overnight Honolulu-Chicago leg of my flight, and after finding volunteers to give up their seats for free travel vouchers, still needed an extra seat in coach. They did a search of passenger to upgrade, and my "Million Miler" status popped up (it’s a remnant of my days in magazine publishing, when I wore a groove in the sky between New York and Silicon Valley).

So I got a free first class upgrade on the redeye. Nice bourbon, a good steak dinner, and an almost-fully reclining 8-way electrically adjustable seat (with a duvet, no less) to snooze in. Very pleasant way to fly, when you don't have to pay for it. (In fact, the airfare for my whole trip was on Frequent Flier miles; finally burning the last of them with this trip. Airline stocks should rebound soon!)

Anyway, my jet-lagged brain is still mush, and I have some after-trip tasks to attend to. Thanks for stopping by. Now, and especially as plans develop over the next few months, I’ll try to make it worth your while.

Best,
Fred

real or fake?

I assumed it was a joke, but when I Googled "pround," expecting to find a Snopes or similar entry confirming the sign as a hoax, I instead found many sites also misspelling "proud" as "pround."

Is the sign real? Yikes!



(BTW, my web search for "pround" turned up this very slightly risque joke: http://tinyurl.com/68nz47 )

Well, if you're already getting screwed at the pump...

NEW YORK (Reuters) - A Nevada brothel is trying to stimulate business by offering free gasoline.

Clients of the Shady Lady Ranch will get a $50 gas voucher if they fork out $300 -- worth about one hour's worth of services -- at the brothel in Beatty, Nevada, 130 miles northwest of Las Vegas.

Owner James Davis said he already has had to order another $1,000 set of gas vouchers because the first $1,000 were spent in one week.

"It's rocking along. We're doing quite well. June and July historically are not big months," said Davis, who is co-owner of the brothel along with his wife Bobbi, in a telephone interview.

The $50 rebate would roughly cover the cost of a round trip drive from Las Vegas to the ranch.

Davis said business at the ranch, which has been operating for 16 years, generally slows in the early summer. He said the brothel regularly offers specials to lure clients and his wife came up with the gas vouchers for this month.

U.S. gasoline prices hit a record $4.08 a gallon last week, up 38 percent from a year ago.

Brothels, illegal in most U.S. states, are legal in parts of Nevada.

Indoor Blimp Adventure

(Still in Hawaii, having a great time, but with limited Internet access. Meanwhile, although I remember this from years ago, it's making the rounds again. Perhaps some of you haven't seen it yet:)

===========
A Blimp Building Adventure Turned Ugly
by Alfonzo Smith

While traveling, I stopped at a Zany Brainy store and saw that they had a blimp for sale. It's called Airship Earth, and it's a great big balloon with a map of the Earth on it, and two propellers hanging from the bottom. You blow up the balloon with helium, put batteries in it, and voila, you have a radio control indoor blimp.

I'd seen these things for sale in Sharper Image catalogs for $60-$75. At Zany Brainy it was on clearance for $15. What a deal!

Last night my wife was playing tennis and it was just my daughter and me at home. I bought a small helium tank at a party store, and we put the blimp together. Let me tell you, it's quite a blimp. It's huge. The balloon has a 3-ft diameter. We blew it up with the tank, attached the gondola with the propellers, and put in batteries. Then we balanced the blimp for neutral buoyancy with this putty that came with it, so it hangs in the air by itself neither rising nor falling. It was easy and fun. Then I blew up another balloon and made Mickey Mouse helium voices for my daughter. My three year old loved it.

We flew the blimp all over the house, terrorized the dog and attacked the fish tank. The controls were so easy my three year old daughter could fly it. Let's face it, blimps are fun.

Alas, the fun had to end and my daughter had to go to sleep. I left the blimp floating in my office downstairs, my wife came home, and we went to bed, and slept the sleep of the righteous.

It is important to know that my house has central heating. I have it configured to blow hot air out on the ground floor and take it in at the second floor to take advantage of the fact that heat rises.

The blimp, which was up until this moment a fun toy, here embarked on a career of evil. Using the artificial convection of my central heating, the blimp stealthily departed my office. It moved silently through the living and drifted to the staircase.

Gliding wraithlike over the staircase, it then entered the bedroom where my wife and I lay sleeping peacefully. Running silently, and gliding six feet or so above the ground on invisible and tiny air currents it approached the bed. In spite of its noiseless passage, or perhaps because of it, I awoke.

I awoke the way you awake at 2:00 AM when your sleeping senses suddenly tell you that the forces of evil on converging upon you. I awoke the way you awake when you suddenly know that there is a large levitating sinister presence hovering towards you with menacing intent through the malignant darkness.

Sometimes I do wake up in the middle of the night thinking that there are large sinister and menacing things floating out of the darkness to do me evil. Usually I open my eyes, look and listen carefully, decide it was a false alarm, and go back to sleep. So, the fact that I awoke in such a manner was not all that unusual.

On this occasion, I awoke to the sense that there was a large menacing presence approaching me silently out of the gloom, so I opened my eyes, and there it was! A LARGE SILENT MENACING PRESENCE WAS APPROACHING ME, AND IT COULD FLY!!!

Somewhere in the control room of my mind a fat little dwarf in a security outfit was paging through a Penthouse while smoking a cigar with his feet up on the table, watching the security monitors of my brain with his peripheral vision. Suddenly he saw the LARGE SILENT SINISTER MENACING FLOATING PRESENCE coming at me, and he pulled every panic switch that my body has.

A full decade's allotment of adrenaline was dumped into my bloodstream all at once. My metabolism went from "restful sleep mode" to "HOLY SHIT! FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE OR DIE!!!! mode" in a nanosecond. My heart went from twenty something beats per minute to about 240...even faster.

I always knew this was going to happen. I always knew that skepticism and science were mere psychological decorations and vanities. Deep in our alligator brains we all know that the world is just chock full of evil and monsters and sinister forces aligned against us, and it is only a matter of time until they show up. Evolution knows this too. It knows what to do when the silent terror comes at you from out of the dark.

When 50 million years worth of evolutionary survival instinct hits you all at once flat in the gut at 200 mph it is not a pleasant sensation. Without volition, I screamed my battle cry (which is indistinguishable to the sound a little girl makes when you drop a spider down her dress—not that I'd know what that sounds like,) and leapt out of bed in my underwear.

I struck the approaching menace with all my strength and almost fell over at the total lack of resistance that a helium balloon offers when you punch the living shit out of it with all the strength that sudden middle of the night terror produces.

Its trajectory took it straight into the ceiling fan which whipped it about the room at terrifying velocity. Seeking a weapon, I ripped the alarm clock out of the wall and hurled it at the now High Velocity Menacing presence (smashing the clock and
putting a nice hole in the wall.)

Somehow at this moment, I suddenly realized that I was fighting the blimp, and not a monster. It might have been funny if I didn't truly and actually feel like I was having a legitimate heart attack.

I went to the bathroom and literally retched into the toilet while shaking uncontrollably with the shock of the reaction I'd had.

Unbelievably, both my wife and daughter had completely slept through the incident. When I decided that I wasn't having a heart attack after all, I went back into the bedroom and found the blimp which had somehow survived the incident.

I took it to the walk-in closet and released it inside where it floated around with the air currents released from the vents in there. I closed the door, this sealing it in, and went back to bed. About 500 years later I fell asleep.

At 7 a.m. my wife awoke. Remember, she had been playing tennis and wasn't aware that we have assembled the blimp the previous evening, and that is was now floating around the walk-in closet.

The dynamic between the existing air currents of the closet and the suction caused by opening the door was enough to give the blimp the appearance of an Evil Sinister Menace flying towards her.

This time the blimp did not survive the encounter...nor almost, did I, as I had to explain to my angry spouse what motivated me to hide an evil lurking presence in the closet for her to find at 7 a.m.

I can order replacement balloons on the Internet but I don't think I will. Some blimps are better off dead.

cats, babies, dogs...

The recent post with the photo of the baby and the cat also got me thinking about the differences between cats and dogs as pets.

It occurred to me: A dog will sometimes take one for the team.

But a cat will usually say, "What team?"

masterful photo

The above picture ran in a recent issue of New Scientist (probably the world's best English-language science publication). The article was about innate psychology, and the photo editor made an inspired pick.

The baby is showing classic human curiosity. "Look! Something new! Let's explore it!" Of course, because it's an infant, the next behavior will likely be "Can I eat it?" closely followed by "Can I at least drool on it?"

Come to think of it, those behaviors might not apply just to infants.

But that reflexive, initial curious engagement with a new object is wired into a very deep part of our brains; and is a trait we share with only a relative handful of our closest animal relatives. (The "Can I eat it?" exploration is even more fundamental, but that's not what the photo is showing.)

Cats don't share that wiring. Look at the cat in the photo, exhibiting pure, classic domesticated cat-ness. Placed in a novel situation by trusted humans, the cat is fully alert, and equally ready to either flee or defend, with no clear tendency either way. The cat's only immediate interest in the baby is to see if it's going to be a threat or not. The phrase "scardy cat" has real-life roots.

Come to think of it, "curiosity killed the cat" sort of means the same thing. Curiosity is the intellectual lifeblood of humans; but may be frequently enough fatal for felines (of the non-scardy sort) that an aphorism was born.

What a great photo!

A Newfoundland expression...

I mentioned my dieting a few posts back. I doing online reading, I came across this absolutely wonderful Newfoundland expression regarding skinny women:

"It's like sleeping with a bag of antlers."




And on that note, I'm off to Hawaii for a week. See you later!

Minor ethical quandary

This is, admittedly, a small thing. A mechanic did a small favor for me a while ago, and I tried to return the favor by giving him some easy business. While he's a nice guy, he turned out to be a lousy mechanic. hence my small quandary.

Here's the story, and a poll I posted in a motorcycling forum:

http://www.advrider.com/forums/showthread.php?t=359268

Summer in New Hampshire

Sunset, as seen from my deck.

I really like New England weather, and New Hampshire in particular. We're at the intersection of two major weather tracks--- the Atlantic coastal track, and the cross-continental track--- and so get quite a variety of weather. The geography I helps too. NH's White Mountains, the still-imposing eroded roots of mountains once higher than the Himalayas (see: http://www.mountwashington.org/ ), are close enough to the ocean to be easily visible from the water. The blending of mountain-affected ("orographic") and maritime weather patterns also adds to the mix.

Lately, we've had many thunderstorms, some severe, which is a little unusual. But for the most part it's been deliciously cool in the evenings, even after a hot day. I haven't had to use the AC at all this summer, although I do use fans quite a bit. With the windows open at night, I can feel the cool night breezes blow through the room and hear the crickets, frogs, and other night critters doing their things, while the wind . It's very pleasant.

I suppose something gets programmed deep within us when we're young, setting our personal thermostats and expectations as to what weather feels right. But I honestly feel there's something special about this place, with its distinct seasons and its blending of many diverse types of weather. It's not the most benign climate by any stretch of the imagination, but it's endlessly fascinating.

VOA's "Special English"

I don't remember how I found these pages, but they're kind of nice:

http://www.voanews.com/specialenglish/

VOA is the Voice of America; the government-sponsored worldwide radio broadcasts. "Special English" is a deliberate style of writing designed to make the content accessible to non-native English speakers who want to learn the language.

"Special English writers use short, simple sentences that contain only one idea. They use active voice. They do not use idioms."

Those actually could be good rules for writing in general--- rules I often break, especially regarding idioms. Hmmm.

The other nice thing about the site is the balance in most of the reporting. I expected raw propaganda and a huge pro-USA bias (and more importantly, pro-administration slant; especially after seeing how much of the rest of the Government has been blatantly politicized), but the site is much more even-handed than I expected. Check out this article for example:

"Just What Does Patriotism Mean in America? Issue Enters Into Campaign"
http://www.voanews.com/specialenglish/2008-07-05-voa5.cfm

Props to the VOA staffers!

Jabba called. He wants his pants back.

Man, dieting sucks.

I've been able to be a lot more active since I unchained from my desk, and have lost almost 30 pounds in the last year. I really let things get out of hand there for a long while. Yuk.

Still working at it. I'm mostly OK during the day, but the Late Night Hungry Horrors are my primary remaining dietary hurdle.

Isn't aging fun?


Reminds me of this old email joke (not original with me) about A.A.A.D.D. - Age Activated Attention Deficit Disorder:

=====

I decide to wash my car. As I start toward to the garage, I notice that there is mail on the hall table. I decide to go through the mail before I wash the car.

I lay my car keys down on the table, put the junk mail in the trash can under the table, and notice that the trash can is full.

So, I decide to put the bills back on the table and take out the trash first, but then I think that since I’m going to be near the mailbox when I take out the trash anyway, I may as well pay the bills first.

I take my checkbook off the table and see that there is only one check left. My extra checks are in my desk in the study, so I go to my desk where I find the can of Coke that I had been drinking. I’m going to look for my checks, but first I need to push the Coke aside so that I don’t accidentally knock it over.

I see that the Coke is getting warm, and I decide I should put it in the refrigerator to keep it cold.

As I head toward the kitchen with the Coke, a vase of flowers on the counter catches my eye–they need to be watered.

I set the Coke down on the counter and I discover my reading glasses that I’ve been searching for all morning.

I decide I’d better put them back on my desk, but first I’m going to water the flowers.

I set the glasses back down on the counter, fill a container with water, and suddenly I spot the TV remote. Someone left it on the kitchen table.

I realize that tonight, when we go to watch TV, we will be looking for the remote, but nobody will remember that it’s on the kitchen table, so I decide to put it back in the den where it belongs, but first I’ll water the flowers.

I splash some water on the flowers, but most of it spills on the floor. So, I set the remote back down on the table, get some towels and wipe up the spill.

Then I head down the hall trying to remember what I was planning to do.

At the end of the day; the car isn’t washed, the bills aren’t paid, there is a warm can of Coke sitting on the counter, the flowers aren’t watered, there is still only one check in my checkbook, I can’t find the remote, I can’t find my glasses, and I don’t remember what I did with the car keys.

Then, when I try to figure out why nothing got done today, I’m really baffled because I know I was busy all day long and I’m really tired. I realize this is a serious problem, and I’ll try to get some help for it, but first I’ll check my e-mail....

hey, is this thing still on?

Can you hear me in the back? 8-)

Hope you all had a good weekend. Things here are progressing apace. Lots of small details to attend to this week: Next week, I'm burning up the last of my frequent-flier miles to visit my daughter in Hawaii. That should be fun.

In running errands the other day, I had a small parking lot encounter that helped me remember one of the reasons why I enjoy motorcycle riding.

I was at the supermarket, gearing up to leave (I always wear full safety gear), when an ancient guy tottered by, pushing a cart very, very slowly. He must have been in his 80's, and was not in good shape.

He was out and about--- props to him--- and he wasn't dirty, but clearly life's routine tasks, including personal grooming, were a major challenge. His clothes were messy and buttoned wrong. His hair wasn't combed. He'd missed parts of his cheeks when shaving, and had long tufts of scraggly beard-hair growing in odd places next to shaved areas. He walked with a slow shuffle.

We made eye contact, and he stopped--- not that the speed difference between his "stop" and "go" was all that great.

I could see his mind working to form a thought. Every action was slow and deliberate. His brow furrowed and his mouth worked. He slowly drew himself out of his stoop and turned to me.

"Nice bike," he said, in a rough, papery voice.

I said thanks, and asked, "Did you ride?"

He processed my question for a moment, looking at the ground, then raised his head and nodded yes. Maybe I'm projecting, but I swear there was a small spark in his eyes that hadn't been there before. His mouth worked and he clearly was gathering himself to say something.

"Be... be... be careful of them cars!" he said. He had to work to get the words out.

I gave him a thumbs up and he slowly turned, grabbed onto his cart and started shuffling away again, a small smile on his face.

I have no idea what riding memories he was enjoying, but I hoped he remembered being younger and full of life, going where and when he wanted, in a body that mostly did what he wanted it to do.

It was a nice moment, and if it weren't for the bike, it wouldn't have happened.

Gotta admire his spirit...

... if not his judgement:

==========

COPENHAGEN (Reuters) - A drunken 78-year-old Swede stole a dinghy after a night out in the Danish town of Helsingor and tried to row back to Sweden, but fell asleep halfway, Danish police said on Monday.

When the man discovered he lacked the necessary funds to pay for the ferry from Helsingor to Helsingborg in Sweden on Saturday, he decided to row the five km (three miles) across the strait of Oresund that separates the two.

He quickly grew tired and, trusting fortune and the currents to see him safely home, took a snooze at the bottom of the boat, where Danish police later found him out at sea, still asleep.

The strait is one of the busiest shipping lanes in the world. Police said the owner of the dinghy had decided not to press charges.

=========

On a less amusing note, a neighbor and friend of mine is gravely ill in the hospital. Please excuse the erraticness of my posts while this gets resolved. Thanks.