Single Rainbow ALL THE WAY!

Goddamn this is fun.

Beautiful Mind

I’m design drunk on Christoph Niemann’s work.

Including his meta-level work about his work:

More.

Being evil in new and exciting ways.

This weekend the boy purchased his first Arduino kit.

Which. Is. Awesome.

He’s read the “Getting Started” book, and carefully unpacked and sorted all the bits and pieces.

I made tea. I have read nothing.

The boy was kind enough to let me get all up in his breadboard as he did the first tutorials. There were lightbulbs and wires and… oh man. I could go on, but you really had to be there.

Tutorial 1 involved blinking a light on and off. It was everything I thought it could be.

Photo Attrib: Ed Halley (ed@halley.cc)

The next task was hookin’ up a button to control the light, writing the code to make the bulb hold the state. i.e. Press button, light goes on (and stays on), press button again, light goes off (and stays off).

Le simple. But of course stupid circuits are all stupid and are like “wait, am I on or off? Now? Is off now? When is now?” (<-circuits are existential bastards) “You’re still holding the button? Is that now? How about as the button goes up? Is that on or off? I’m just going to loop between on and off until you pull your finger out and tell me MORE CLEARLY WHAT THE EFF YOU WANT ME TO DO.”

I don’t know why I put up with this sort of trashtalk from electrons.

Of course, the lovely husband’s brain is wired properly for this. Also he’s all wasteful of variables, whereas I like to be frugal (too many variables kill polar bears. FACT.) and so my code usually doesn’t work on the first try. Screw you electrons.

After the second almost-but-not-quite try, I decided that I wanted to read the book and remember how to make my brain think like a stupid trashtalking electron before I fixed my code.

Of course, I didn’t say this to the boy. I just edited my code for a while, then uploaded it to the Arduino again, and let him press the button to test it.

Him: “There it goes. Oh, no… wait. Okay, well that’s good it’s on again. No, wait. Well, it works some of the ti… what the. DID YOU JUST SET IT TO BLINK?!”*

I have learned nothing from my first Arduino foray but how to be evil in new and exciting ways.

* I had him know that I set it to blink randomly, associated with the button press. Present, practice, produce baby.

Home sweet home on the range.

I really, really, know how to spend a Saturday.

HK – P2000 (9mm) (or the Sig, I can’t see in this pic).
Update: It’s the Sig Sauer – P226 (9mm). Thanks Pat! Very first 25 rounds. Important lesson the boyz got to learn off me — take your time with the trigger. Weirdly more important than “aiming”.

Smith & Wesson – M&P-15
.223 cal (civvie version of an M-16)

Doodles.

What I did post-work, post-dinner, post-dishes* tonight.

*I’m totally lying, I haven’t done the dishes yet. Forsooth!

How a motorcycle is like a big dog. Stay with me on this…

So my brand spanking new shiny red motorcycle is now home safe and sound, tucked in under a tarp (shhh, she’s sleeping).

Which got me thinking about how motorcycles are like kids and dogs.

(No, not that they’re loud and stinky. And you take that back about my baby.)

This is what it’s like when you get your first bike. Swap dog for bike, and little kid for grown-up little kid:

Little kid sees a big dog. Runs behind parent’s legs, but can’t stop staring, wide-eyed, at the dog. Mom: “Do you want to pat the doggie?” Kid shakes head and hides face behind parents legs, clutching at fabric. Seconds later, kid is peering around legs again.

Time passes.

Kid mumbles something incoherent into fabric of parent’s slacks. “What’s that sweetie?”

“I want to pat the doggie.”

Holding parent’s hand, kid walks over to dog. Skin and fur barely make contact. Kid runs back behind parent’s legs. Kid resumes staring at dog.

Time passes. Dog scratches its ear.

Kid tries again. Maybe this time the dog licks the kid. Kid almost loses it, but holds it together. Barely.

Cut to later the same day.

Kid is chasing the dog around the house yelling “I want to play with the doggie!!!” “HERE DOGGIE!!!”

The whole ride home is doggie this and doggie that. Kid. Loves. Dog. (Dog just wants to be friends).

.   .   .

This is what it’s like with a motorcycle. When you first see it, you think it’s cool. Then you sit on it, and it’s suddenly huge and scary. Then you get used to it, and it gets smaller and smaller and you get bigger and bigger. Until you have one sitting out in your parking spot and you keep throwing on your flip flops to go peek under the tarp at it.

Hypothetically.

Woof.

Yeah baby, talk feelings to me… *rawr*

CBC just wasn’t trying hard enough this morning.

If their shoulder was really to the wheel, they could have jammed in a few more cliches about women (and men) and sex.

Women like talking (guys don’t). Women need intimacy before sex (guys don’t). Women are the ones who lose interest in sex over time (their own sexpert said it’s 50/50 — when it happens). Long-term relationships will probably fizzle unless you get all new-agey about the “person within”. Women like WALKS as foreplay (<-barf).

Oh, did I say “barf”? I meant “swoon”. (No, I meant barf).

All of these little dead horses were trotted out to be beaten on the CBC’s new summer show about divorce. I forget what it was called (”Unsatisfied” or “Uninteresting” or something).

It’s not that I mind these tropes being discussed. But as part of a spectrum of experience. Ready for the big reveal? Not all women are the same.

I know. It’s just so crazy, it might be true.

Same token? Not all men are the same.

Holy. Shit. Did I just blow your mind? I know right? Take a minute to wipe your brain bits off the wall.

I expect more from my national broadcaster. I expect at least a little both-sides-of-the-dead-horse dialogue. If I wanted to hear about how women need to feel intimacy before they have sex, I would go to the grocery store and buy a magazine from the gum rack.

Cuz y’know what? Some women just like sex. (BAH! OMG! BRAIN BITS!) Some women don’t even like foreplay. Some women (CBC interviewee: “*giggle* that doesn’t work for any women“) enjoy a random ass smacking (by their partner people, by their partner). Or a random nipple tweak.

Some women think that going for a walk is about as sexy as cleaning out the cat’s litter box. Some women even… I know, it’s so crazy… like to have sex not because they’re feeling “emotionally connected”, but because they have sex drives that make them horny. For sex. The kind of sex where if you say “making love” it’s a fucking deal breaker. (<-Get it? “Fucking deal breaker”? Take a minute to enjoy that one…)

And as I ranted about this to the good’ol’piece’of’meat husband as he left for work today, I teased that maybe we should *rawr* go for a walk.

Him: “I don’t want to get all aroused right before I go to work.”

I smacked his ass.

Married Life: Quarters!

When we moved here, I rolled our (motherfuckin’) stockpile of laundry quarters and loonies. A housewarming accomplishment gift to ourselves. No more schlepping laundry up and down 3 flights of stairs, instead we would have ensuite laundry and (motherfuckin’) espresso on-demand.

Oh. yeah.

The espresso machine is, quoth the husband: “The greatest thing we have ever purchased.”

But one espresso machine later, and I find myself still in the habit of separating out quarters and loonies. They are “special” change, and I just can’t mix them in with those plebby nickels and dimes.

So I’m still compulsively putting them aside. Dimes and lower go into the R2D2 piggy bank (no, really). And quarters and loonies go into the little plastic coin roll beds that sit beside it. To be filled and thwacked shut and taken to the bank, for who knows what adventure?!

The husband is on board with my sorting. But we had to balance out whether or not I take the change from his office. Since no one likes to find their stockpile of change suddenly missing. Our arrangement was that he will put quarters that are “ready to go” on the top of the laundry shelf. Done.

But on our way to bed one evening, he noticed me walk past the laundry shelf without picking up the quarters. “Sweetie? Didn’t you see I left quarters on there for you?”

Me: *pause*
Him: “Bunny?”
Me: “Um. Yes, I noticed.”
Him: “And? I thought you liked finding them there?”
Me: “… well, the thing is.. I was saving them for the morning.”
Him: “You were… what?”
Me: “Yeah, well… I really like finding quarters. They’re like a little surprise. So sometimes I save them until the morning. I like discovering them. It’s like a tiny treasure hunt.”
Him: “I see.”

Since this conversation, I have started to find quarters everywhere. Beside the printer. On my bookshelf. Beside my water glass. Balanced on the lamp’s switch. Placed perfectly on the round ends of the shelving unit.

And damned if it doesn’t make me incredibly happy every damn time. It’s like the whole house is a plum pudding, but without the troublesome pudding bit.

Man I love that guy.

Little Tikes: No dreams are too small to squash

From How To: Prepare Your Child For A Life Of Servitude To The Man, the Little Tikes “Young Explorer“:

See also Chuck & Bean’s My First Cubicle:

Carl Sagan and Patrick Stewart try to save us from ourselves.

Over the past week or so, just about every single person I know has shared the Carl Sagan “pale blue dot” video. Tagged “must watch” or “life changing”. But I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d seen it, or something very similar to it, before.

And, though Google search strings failed me, my cousin pulled through with the link to the Patrick Stewart video. So here they both are together. Carl on the Earth as a tiny speck in the cosmos, and Patty-boy on the Earth as an island. Enjoy!

Carl:

Patrick: