crane Lifts sequoia vase to Radio City music Hall
“Well,” I replied. Concisely.
“We can see the Pacific Ocean from our home..”
“Poetically speaking,” I interrupted.
“... so why are you flying to Boston and New York?”
“It’s the fault of Darius’ genes. He’s our son and he likes to work in remote locations.”
“Dan..”
“It’s scientific, Nazy. I share 50% of Darius’ genes and Darius shares 50% of your genes. And you moved from Teheran to America. Ipso facto, I rest my case.”
“Ipso facto?”
“And e pluribus unum by the principle of habeas corpus.” And, “Aut viam inveniam aut faciam,” I thought after consulting the internet.
“What does that mean?”
“Ask Melika, she’s the lawyer.”
“Are you making a legal argument, Dan?”
“I’m simply saying that the East Coast is only half as far away as Geneva - where I spent the Spring. I’m making progress. I am moving westward, like Laurel and Hardy.”
“Lewis and Clark,”
“Them too. You can’t complain,” I explained - ignoring every lesson of husbandhood.
“I can’t complain?” Nazy responded. Predictably.
“Have a glass of Cabernet my dear.” I temporized. Successfully.
Over the last few weeks, I have mentioned Nazy’s Vase/Umbrella Stand. My descriptions left troubled readers in a dizzying state of suspense. In the last issue of The Weekly Letter, I cleared up all confusion about the purpose of the device (It is a vase for sequoia trees). I am now happy to report that it survived the ‘second firing’. During the 27 years that it had been in storage, the exterior glazing had ‘thinned’. Accordingly, the finished product had a polished, glossy interior and an artsy muted matte exterior finish.
I used a rented crane to get the object into the home. Now we just need something to hoist the sequoia into the vase.
The Crane (The Vase is to the right below)
Given my experience in the technology field, I watch (horrified) the rollout, eh, wheezed crawl-out, of the federal healthcare website. It’s hard to believe that no one thought of testing the software. Or, more likely during the GO/NO-GO meeting...
“It’s crap!” the QA manager exclaimed. “It is a total, unadulterated, complete disaster. Using this software is like having a surgeon perform brain surgery with a chain saw. It’s like entering a clam in a 100 meter sprint.”
“So, it’s less than perfect,” the development manager replied.
“Less than perfect? No! It is perfect! A perfect storm of unparalleled ineptitude. Problems will reproduce in perpetuity, people will grow old waiting.”
“I’ll report your findings to the Special Assistant to the Deputy Under-Secretary of Medical Services (the ‘SADUSM&rsquo
”“That makes me feel good.”
The development manager called the Special Assistant to the Assistant Administrator of the General Services Administration to arrange the administrative session.
“So,” the SADUSM said. “Quality Assurance is not completely happy with the results of the test.”
“You could say that.”
“But QA also said that it is ‘perfect’ and that because of this website, citizens will grow old. That doesn’t sound so bad. Do you want to be the one to tell the President that his ‘signature achievement’ isn’t ready?”
“I wonder if his title is pronounced ‘Sadism’,” the QA manager thought as they left the office.
The politically astute Special Assistant decided to move the decision up a level. (Interestingly, moving it up a level meant that the ‘decision’ would be made, eh would be taken, by a larger group.) Because the situation was politically sensitive, the review went through several levels (The Under-Secretary, the Secretary and even the Over Secretary were involved) Survival skills needed in a large bureaucracy kicked in: responsibility was spread so that no one could be blamed. The QA manager, watching this kept chanting: “But he isn’t wearing any clothes”.
In the last few weeks, I have developed strained relations with Apple. It began will an ill-conceived Operating System upgrade - a move that I made by blatantly (and stupidly) ignoring a “Cormac-Clue” - abbreviated C2
C2: Every Operating System upgrade should be accompanied by hardware replacement.
Prior to the update, the MacBook Pro had run for more than two years without a single crash after the update I began to celebrate a daily crash. The Apple web browser won’t print PDF files and Photoshop won’t open photos unless the incomprehensible iPhoto opens them first. The the ‘pointing device’ began to go rouge, eh, rogue: trackpad sensitivity spontaneously changed to the extent that it responded by moving the arrow as a result of atmospheric pressure changes, passing clouds, cosmic ray density, local mood swings, bells at the Mission and gravitational anomalies created when the International Space Station flew over California. I fixed this problem by disabling the trackpad when the mouse was connected.
And then, I forgot to bring my mouse to Boston - where the trackpad stubbornly refused to respond to my fingers. (It preferred to perform random Brownian motion.) With the help of my sister Marjorie, I found an Apple Store and bought a new mouse. The left side placement of the USB port together with the (short) ‘length’ of the wire limits functionality.
“I have to learn to be left-handed,” I thought as I struggled to move the mouse diagonally.
“... and Steve Jobs is turning over in his grave,” I explained to my sister.
“Steve wouldn’t believe that any customer would be so stupid that they’d buy a wired mouse.”
“That’s not..”
“He’d be embarrassed that Apple was still selling a wired mouse.”
“I think Apple is hiring engineers from the President’s medical development staff.”
After visiting Marjorie and Sandi in Boston, I flew to New York for meetings there. I arrived in time to see the unveiling of the Macy’s Christmas window displays. I even took the opportunity to see the Holiday Show at Radio City Music Hall. The Rockettes do a kick-line almost as well as the Princeton Triangle Club.
More on Boston and NYC next time.
