Hello, I’m Veronica
The sky is not completely dark at night. Were the sky absolutely dark, one would not be able to see the silhouette of an object against the sky.
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Liquid Dreams
On the few occasions I buy water at a convenience store, I don’t think twice about downing the bottle I just paid two dollars for. Maybe you pay more or maybe you pay less, but I’m guessing the price doesn’t make you hesitate either. Even so, you could’ve gotten the same sixteen ounces for free out of your kitchen tap. That kind of thinking danced in my head last week when I reviewed a contractor’s bid for a new swimming pool in our backyard. I mean, it’s basically a divot filled with water. How much could it possibly cost?
Like fancy cars and country clubs, I’ve just been reminded a pool earns the label of “luxury item”. It’s a something you may want but definitely a something you don’t need. The cost is just one of the reasons people flock to public pools instead of having one of their own. But even public pools aren’t free. Maintenance. Insurance. Labor (lifeguards). The water itself. The list goes on and on; the same costs you’d have with your own pool. Okay, maybe not the lifeguards (unless my wife has visions of Baywatch studs in our backyard) but add it all up and pools are expensive with a capital E.The contractor was more than happy to stop by our house last week for a look. He loved the proposed location: flat, unobstructed, and right behind the back porch. Then we debated the dimensions. My wife wanted a lap lane for exercise, but just how long should a lap lane be? Forty feet? Fifty feet? Something to host the next Olympic Games? Eventually we settled on fifty. Then we added a “sun shelf” at one end for the grandchildren and a small patio at the other for an umbrella table and chairs.
Here’s where I got annoyed and suspicious (take your pick). The whole time we’re talking, the pool contractor is doing nothing else besides talking. He’s not sketching, he’s not measuring or taking notes, and he has no examples of what we’re looking for. He’s just talking and nodding his head. He did manage to find time to tell us how he likes to take his boat to the Bahamas several times a year (!) And before I could wrap my head around that he shook my hand with a hearty “Okay Dave! I’ll get you a quote by next week!”.
Well, “next week” is this week and I’m staring at a single page with a single number. $89,750 without any bells or whistles. Go ahead and gasp the way I did, as if you’re underwater in your new pool and can’t breathe (heh). A few of you – those who already have pools – are nodding your heads and saying, “Yep, sounds about right, Dave.” But now all I’m thinking about is how I’m helping this guy make his mortgage payments on his boat. The quote is suspiciously vague as well; not even broken down into labor and materials. My pool does come with a net and brush, a session of “pool school”, and an underwater light (“whoo-hoo”). I also get a credit for “no diving board”, even though it doesn’t say for how much.
This experience reminds me of our last house, and a contractor who gave us a bid on a very large all-seasons deck. We talked briefly while he stood on our lawn, gazing over to where the deck would go. Then he held up his hands as if framing a painting. After a few moments of silence he turned to us and simply said, “$200,000”. Seriously? Not only can you instantly estimate the cost of our new deck, but the number comes out to exactly $200k? So I asked this guy for a more detailed quote and he said, “Yeah, no. I am an artist (he pronounced it “ar-teest“). People pay good money for my work”. Yeah, not these people pal.
Our community has a small pool, sized to somewhere between soaking and short laps. Really short laps. My wife will take two or three strokes before having to think about her flip move to head the other way. She’ll burn more calories switching directions than she will the swimming itself. But hey, at least we won’t have to worry about the maintenance and insurance (or the mortgage payments on someone else’s boat). For now at least, our pool will remain a liquid dream.
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Ambassador Aspirations
Wedding anniversaries call for a celebration in one form or another. My wife and I default to dinner out and exchanging store-bought cards. This year however, we threw caution to the wind and splurged on three days at the beach, at one of those resorts where they put a price tag on every little thing. It was meant to be the proverbial toast to our almost forty years of marital bliss. But right out of the gate I had to wonder if dinner and a card would’ve been the smarter choice.
Ocean-front room… has a nice ring to it, right? Somehow I shooed the practical angel off one shoulder in favor of the carefree one on the other and just booked it. I figured the extra cost would be justified by endless views of the horizon, easy walks on the beach, and ocean waves to lull us to sleep. At least that’s what I had in mind as I approached the front desk.
No sooner did I present my driver’s license and credit card when “Paula” (per the name tag) said, “Can I hang onto your cards a sec, Mr. Wilson? I’ll be right back.” Without waiting for an answer she disappeared behind a closed door. Minutes passed. Then tens of minutes. The growing line of check-in guests behind me was stressful, but more to the point what the heck was taking Paula so long? Was I about to be arrested and dragged away in cuffs? Was my credit card getting shredded to little bits? Was Paula really a front desk employee or someone who was already out the back door with visions of identity theft?
My fears were interrupted when the closed door opened and out strolled a more important-looking person – “Kevin” from Guest Services. Kevin asked if I could “step aside for a personal conversation”. So we moved beyond earshot of the other guests and an awkward exchange began.“So… Mr. Wilson… uh… I don’t how to tell you this so guess I just tell you. We don’t have any more ocean-front rooms. I’m very sorry. We’ve given you and your wife an ocean-view room instead.”
Let’s clarify before we go any further. Ocean-front and ocean-view (at least at this place) are very different offerings. “Front” is smack-dab on the dunes of the sand of the beach of the ocean. Leave the sliding door open and you breathe in salt air and get sand in your hair. “View” is the room high up at the very back of the resort, with the hotel bars and restaurants in the foreground and the ocean a distant third.
I hesitated ever so briefly before responding to Kevin from Guest Services. The angel on one shoulder was lacing up boxing gloves while the other was donning a Japanese kimono and parasol for a bow of gentle acceptance. Neither approach seemed quite right so I split the difference.
“Why don’t you have an ocean-front room, Kevin? I have the confirmation email right here, showing I made the reservation weeks ago.”
“I know, Mr. Wilson, I know. We simply don’t have the room, not tonight nor any other night you’re here. How can I make things better?”
“How can I make things better?” Seriously?
“You can give me an ocean-front room, Kevin, just like I booked online. That would make things better.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Wilson, that’s just not possible. The best we can do is an ocean view. Listen, why don’t you and your wife get settled in and I’ll give you a call later?”
So settle in we did, somewhat begrudgingly. And I’ll be the first to admit the ocean-view rooms at this place were actually pretty nice. Our windows were centered so we had a panorama of the pools and restaurants, with the waves and horizon just beyond. Live music floated up from the bar. It was a pleasing scene from our little balcony. Now if only we had the king bed we reserved inside of the room instead of two queens.
Ring-ring (er, buzz-buzz)
“Mr. Wilson? It’s Kevin from Guest Services again. I’m checking in to see how you like your room. Getting settled? Everything okay so far?”
“Well, yes Kevin, it’s a nice enough room, only it has an extra bed. We reserved a king and I’m looking at two queens.”
“Two queens? Hoo-boy that’s not good. Can’t say how that happened. How can I make things better?”
Ignoring his favorite phrase and choosing not to state the obvious, I said, “Look Kevin, we’ll manage with the two queens; don’t worry about it. But here’s what I want to know. How does a hotel not have the ocean-front room I reserved and was guaranteed weeks ago?”
Pause.
“Well, uh, Mr. Wilson, I’m not supposed to share this information but I can tell you one of our other guests extended their stay, so they’ve taken the room that was supposed to be yours.”
Extended their stay? Taken my room? Must be someone important, like South Carolina’s governor or one of those surgeons at the “Advanced Echocardiography” session in the hotel conference room.
“Yes Mr. Wilson, an extended stay. In fact, the person who made that request is an ambassador.”
Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. I knew it! A political heavyweight. One of those who has the power to simply decree and it shall be done.
“An ambassador, huh? Okay, well that’s something. From what country?”
“Marriott.”
“Excuse me? Marriott?”
“Yes, Marriott rewards. An Ambassador is the highest level of our rewards program.”
My wife looked it up. Sure enough, you’re an “Ambassador” if you stay in a Marriott enough nights in a year. Like, one hundred enough nights. Me, I stay in a Marriott three nights in a year. I wonder what the program calls me, “Peon”? Again my thoughts were interrupted.
“Look Mr. Wilson, I’ve got to get going now, but we’ve added a nice discount to your room rate. I hope it makes up for the inconvenience. How can I make things better?”
Man, this guy really wanted to make things better, so I considered my options. Room service? Spa treatment? Round of golf? Hotel gift shop splurge? Instead I simply said, “Sure Kevin, make me an Ambassador”.
He laughed. Then he stopped laughing. Needless to say, I didn’t get the promotion.
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Finial Touch
In early January you walked into my blog, took a seat in a pew up front, and witnessed the longest church service in the history of France. From the first LEGO piece I laid as the cornerstone – a now-hidden flat black rectangle – to this week’s placement of the oversized finial on top of the roof, you watched – for almost two hundred years – the slow, somewhat steady rise of Notre-Dame de Paris. Time sure flies, doesn’t it? But at last we’ve made it to the end (or at least, the year 1345), where the pastor dismisses the congregation with a “Go in peace!”(which sounds much better than “Go in pieces!”)
Notre-Dame de Paris Some reflection is in order today, especially since we’re talking about a building of faith. Our cathedral adventure over the last 19 weeks took us through 4,383 LEGO pieces and 393 steps of the instruction manual, snapped together in fifteen hours, resulting in a five-pound plastic model that – “thank heavens” – really does look like the famous French cathedral on the Seine River in Paris.
[Builder/blogger note: I chose my Spotify classical music playlist while I finished up the cathedral. The first selection was entirely fitting: Edward Elgar’s “Pomp and Circumstance”, because this really did feel like a graduation of sorts. But the second selection was eerily more fitting: the final chorus of Handel’s “Messiah”. Ha-a-a-a-a-llelujah indeed!]
Some of the photos here aren’t much different than last week’s, but only because bags 31-34… of 34 bags of pieces, were all about embellishment: capstones, pinnacles, tabernacles, finials, statuary, and all the other little architectural flourishes unique to a cathedral (plus a little landscape on the sidewalk). You know those cake decorator videos where a white cake sits on a spinner and you get to witness the slow, mesmerizing development of frosting, flowers, and such? That was me this week; spinning, applying, and fully decorating my cake… er, cathedral.
Here’s a good photo of some of this decor (and click on any of the photos to see everything better). To the far left you can see several of the pinnacles; the little spires all in a row high up. There are 30 pinnacles on the entire cathedral. To the right you can see a couple of the tabernacles (14 of those); the open box-like structures above the tiny drainpipes. And running along the first floor you can see capstones; the helmet-like headers on either side of the open bays. There are more capstones on Notre-Dame de Paris than any other decorative element (68!)
Here’s a look at the cathedral’s famous flying buttresses, the exterior structural elements keeping the building from falling in on itself. There are 28 buttresses, including 14 running around the chancel and apse on the east end. Just below the tabernacle boxes you see the drainpipes. There are 46 of those. During a good rainstorm this view would include an elegant line of waterfalls.
Remember those curious “stars on flagpoles” (or “magic wands”)? Here they are again, all grouped together just below the part of the towers housing the bells. There are 24 of them. You can also see one of the cathedral’s three majestic rose windows front and center. Finally, note the round “medallions” just under the curved arches on either side of the rose window. You’ll find 24 of those on Notre-Dame de Paris as well; several stamped proudly with a “LEGO” logo.
Okay, one more example of embellishment. Here you can see the 12 disciples in green, symmetrically positioned around the base of the finial (all facing inward). When I pulled these little guys out of the plastic bag I thought they were scale figures for down on the sidewalk, but instead they are the statuary I referred to when I first talked about the cathedral back in January.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t say something about the model’s landscape elements. LEGO has come a long way since the boxy trees surrounding LEGO Fallingwater. These little “growees” are pretty sophisticated. Consider the tree in the middle. (Click on the photo for more detail). It’s made up of 37 LEGO pieces, including the trunk, branches, and leaves. Furthermore, the branches up against the cathedral are a darker green because, of course, that part of the tree is typically shaded.
Now then, before you “go in peace” I must mention one more thing; the so-called surprise I teased in last week’s post. Notre-Dame de Paris is such an elegant structure it deserves to be seen by day… and by night. Thanks to the good people at Briksmax, I am able to do just that: light up the cathedral from one end to the other. That’s the good news. The bad? I’m looking at another 2 instruction manuals and another 230 steps to get it done. Are you kidding me?
Briksmax lighting When I purchased the lights I figured they would be simply and cleverly inserted in and around the completed structure, but NO-O-O-O-O-O!!! (cue horror-movie music). In order to light up Notre Dame de Paris I must deconstruct the model. Again I say, are you kidding me? Here I finally complete my cathedral and now you want me to take it apart again? Sorry good readers; it’s just not something I can stomach right now. I’m going to sit and admire my completed cathedral while you settle for admiring the Briksmax photo above. You don’t place the finial on the roof of the catheral with a flourish, only to then remove the entire roof. Another church service for another time.
I leave you with one last look at our poor, unused, leftover pieces, all 48 of them in plastic-bagged captivity (but still trying to escape). I think they all ganged up and cried, “RUN FOR IT!”, because the 49th leftover – a tiny cluster of leaves from one of the trees – went skittering off the desk and onto the carpet below, where it immediately hushed and hid. I still haven’t found it, but no worries. The next time I walk into my office I’ll probably step on it with a satisfying crunch.Running build time: 15 hrs. 6 min.
Total leftover pieces: 49
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My Unforeseeable Future
In the not-so-distant year of 2062, forecasters predict we will have perfected the invention of “nanofabricators” – machines capable of producing food, clothing, electronics and such, not from assembly-line parts but from the very atoms of those parts. It’s a mind-blowing concept: technology that creates virtually anything by manipulating the structure of raw materials at the molecular level. Too bad I won’t be around to see it.
Is it making your dinner? When you reach your mid-sixties, the harsh reality is that predictions of what life on Earth will look like in the future focus on a period of time beyond the years you’ve been given. The experts tend to look fifty years ahead or more, so, sorry Dave, you just won’t be here when all these wonders take place. It’s a little strange to think about a world without you in it. Sure, you can also imagine the years before you were born, when your parents and grandparents were living life without you, but those were simpler times devoid of the technology we take for granted today.
Driver’s license not necessary Consider self-driving cars. Fifty years ago I was a teenager and couldn’t wait to get my driver’s license (the very definition of “freedom” back then). But had you told me, “Hey Dave, you’re not going to need that little card in fifty years because cars will drive themselves”, I would’ve given you a strange look and accused you of watching too many science-fiction movies. Yet here we are.
I hit on this topic today because I’m still processing the fact we have humanoids who can run half-marathons (my post from last week). When the world’s technology exceeds your expectations, you push the pause button and wonder if you’re getting left behind (or just getting old). Am I suddenly more inclined to believe those fifty-year forecasts? You bet I am. And nanofabricators are just the tip of the inventive iceberg.
Ping-pong partner Nanobots (does everything in a post-Dave world start with “nano”?) are in the works as well. A nanobot is a robot so tiny you might not be able to see it with the naked eye. I was introduced to the concept in Michael Crichton’s sci-fi novel Prey. Imagine a pile of nanobots sitting in the corner of a window in your house. Once a day those nanobots spill out over the glass like a wave, consuming any dirt or other matter like little vacuums. Perfectly clean windows! Of course, “Prey” takes the technology in a more sinister, out-of-control direction and a bestseller is born.
[Blogger’s note: You’ll find “nanobot” in your favorite online dictionary. At least in some lab environment out there, nanobots are already here.]
With Prey in mind, Hollywood isn’t helping us to embrace these fifty-year forecasts. Virtually every movie (or book) about yet-to-be-here technology takes the concept in a not-so-nice direction. (The Terminator comes to mind.) The fact is, nobody’s going to buy a ticket just to watch a happy application of future tech on the big screen. Something always has to go “worng” (to quote Westworld).
I hope you’ll be around in fifty years to see and experience some of the wonders our forecasters predict today. Brace yourself: you’ll have a “wearable” of some sort (watch, eyeglasses, implant). One of you will have bionics in a limb or organ that wasn’t functioning properly. Some of you will live up in space or deep down in the ocean instead of on terra firma. It’s a wonderous world I’ll never get to see, but I’ve made peace with it. At least I won’t be around in 2182, when Asteroid Bennu (we name asteroids?) will be on a collision course with Earth.
LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris – Update #14
(Read about the start of this “church service” in Highest Chair)
The service is rapidly coming to a close. I sense the inevitable benediction and dismissal of the congregation as our work on LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris wraps up. The remaining pieces in Bag 28 brought the cathedral’s bell towers to an even (if not finished) height, while Bags 29 and 30 – of 34 bags of pieces – added more detail to those towers, as well as some elegant structure above the transept doorways.
Bell tower detail We worked high off the ground today; quite a bit higher than the roof line of the cathedral. My shaking fingers had a sense of vertigo as I added the little drainpipes, railings, and such you see here. I imagined one of those towering mechanical cranes dropping the LEGO pieces into place until, of course, I remembered I was working in the thirteenth century. The word “crane” hadn’t even been invented yet.
Again with the missing pieces. For the first time since I laid the cornerstone I thought I threw a piece away, along with the plastic bag it came in. I searched in vain on my office desk, only to decide I’d be going through the garage trash later on. Then lo and behold, just as I was completing today’s build, there sat the missing piece right in front of me as if to say, “What the heck is wrong with you? I was right here in plain sight!”
My hat is off to LEGO’s engineers today. Look at the process above where I completed the structure above the transept doorways. Those two long LEGO pieces in the first photo are designed to hinge open, simply to allow easier placement of the central cap piece in between. Then you close those long pieces around the cap like a hug and voila – second photo – the transept is complete.
Our work really is almost done. Just four small bags of pieces remain – two for the top structure of the bell towers (and a little ornamentation around the cathedral roof), and two for landscape elements to soften the edges of the model. Don’t walk out of the sanctuary just yet. The final product includes a surprise!Running build time: 13 hrs. 58 min.
Total leftover pieces: 40
Some content sourced from the FutureTimeline.net website, the CNN Science article, “Near-Earth asteroid Bennu could hit Earth in 157 years…”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.
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Running Amuck
Last Saturday our little town hosted a festive 10k run. High school cheerleaders pom-pommed us away from the starting line while hundreds of residents waved flags and tossed water bottles along the way. The finish in the town square was packed with people, and included the music, food, and fun you’d find at a carnival. As I struggled to complete the last couple of “k’s” I struck up a conversation with a nearby runner to distract myself from the effort. She was pleasant enough, with just the right pace, and she was even a human being. At least, I think she was.
Suddenly, shockingly, we’ve come to this. The entry form for your next running race may ask you to identify as 1) human being, or 2) human-oid . If you choose the latter, you’re saying you still have the physical form and characteristics of a human being. You just happen to be a robot.Ten days ago this eerie scenario really played out in Beijing. A half-marathon took place with thousands of human participants, but the spotlight was clearly on the twenty-one humanoids who also showed up at the starting line. These robots were accompanied by operators running close behind them, but make no mistake; absent of the wires or other attachments you might expect with a remote-controlled device. They were running free, with the look and gait of any other runner in the race.
I’m wondering how any of the human runners kept their focus as they ran this race. I’d want to pace myself against one or two of these machines and just admire their every step. The humanoid winner, Tiangong Ultra, finished the half-marathon in 2 hours and 40 minutes, or about five miles an hour. Trust me: five miles an hour is not a walk; it’s a run.I’ll have to search for the video online, because a still of a running humanoid doesn’t do the accomplishment justice. I just can’t get over the fact we now have robots who run. Granted, the Beijing half-marathon wasn’t what you’d call a “run in the park” for these technological marvels. Only six of the twenty-one finished the race. Others fell down or exhausted their battery packs. Still others lost their heads or spun out of control. If there had been a humanoid hospital nearby, its ER would’ve been a machine-shop hotbed of activity.
My perception of all things “robot” is clearly outdated. I’m more inclined to picture self-guided vacuum cleaners and assembly-line automatons than race-running humanoids. Case in point: I’ll never forget the grade-school novel, Andy Buckram’s Tin Men. It was a wonderfully imaginative tale about a boy who created a family of robots from a pile of cans, and his unexpected adventures when those robots came to life courtesy of a lightning strike. The book was written in the 1960s and was a work of fiction. Of course it was.
I’ll also never forget the movie Silent Running (1972), a future shock story of a destroyed Earth, with spaceships housing giant terrariums cared for by lovable lifelike service robots. Or Westworld – the 1973 original, not the HBO series – an adult amusement park of sorts where robots catered to the guilty pleasures of their human customers (until collectively the robots decided to run amuck).
C-3PO C-3PO from the original Star Wars trilogy (1977) might’ve been the first humanoid to get me wondering if such technology was possible. Blade Runner (1982) took the concept an interesting step further, with humanoids desperate to demonstrate their emotional capacity. Less than fifty years later we’re still working on that emotions bit, but I certainly wouldn’t have bet we’d have humanoids who could run.
Let’s be clear – we’re at least another fifty years removed from any technology that remotely suggests “human”. Even if Siri and Alexa appear to read your mind and hold meaningful conversations with you, they’re not going to jump out of your smartphone tomorrow and land on two legs. Even if your little robot dog wags its tail, lies down, and rolls over, it’s not going to take a bite out of your leg when it doesn’t get enough attention. Your Roomba might suck up the lion’s share of dust and dirt in your house but it’s not coming for your valuables.
I sleep peacefully at night knowing the nightmares of Westworld and Blade Runner continue to be the stuff of (evil) Hollywood imaginations. Virtual reality will remain virtual, and robots will continue to be nothing more than subservient devices for years to come. But admittedly, you can’t help but question “years to come” when you see a humanoid run a half-marathon.
LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris – Update #13
(Read about the start of this “church service” in Highest Chair)
I’m not sure I’ve ever stopped the construction of a LEGO model smack-dab in the middle of a bag of pieces. Imagine our priest at Notre-Dame de Paris, pausing midway/mid-sentence into his homily only to say to his congregation, “I’m tired. Let’s pick this up next week, shall we?”
Cathedral roof structure Bags 25-28 – of 34 bags of pieces, were a study in opposites. In a crisp fifteen minutes, Bag 25 assembled to the roof structure you see here, covering the remainder of the nave (the sanctuary) and transept (the cross section). Even Bag 26 wasn’t a stretch as we built the “cores” of the uppermost cubes of the cathedral towers.
Two bags = hundreds of pieces. Seriously. But that’s when I should’ve stepped on the brakes. The instruction manual told me to break open Bags 27 and 28 together and this is what stared up at me. If you think the pile on the right adds up to a lot of pieces, you are correct about both piles and you’re probably underestimating the number. These tiny, tiny pieces come together slowly to complete the uppermost cubes of the cathedral towers. One cube took 75 minutes. Why so long? 186 pieces each. No kidding – zoom in on the top of the completed tower below and you’ll get some sense of how intricate it is. Now you understand why we paused in the middle of the homily. I just didn’t have the energy to build up the other tower. Next week!
(Click the photo for more detail) Since we’re close to the end of the build, let me admit to looking ahead in the process. The remaining six bags are small, and the pieces inside of them are minuscule. If I had visions of finishing off the cathedral in a flurry of construction, they’ve been dashed by the thought that I’m still a good five hundred pieces from the finish line. Sigh… this church service is getting a little long.
Running build time: 13 hrs. 0 min.
Total leftover pieces: 32
Some content sourced from the Smithsonian Magazine article, “Humanoid Robots Just Raced Alongside Human Runners…”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.
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The sky is not completely dark at night. Were the sky absolutely dark, one would not be able to see the silhouette of an object against the sky.
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