Sleep is for chelonians

Bats!

The beaver has cut down another tree, but still no sight of him on the GameCam. Plenty of bats, though.

 

Nature Cam 1

As I wrote previously, I set up a game camera to try to catch our friendly neighborhood beaver in flagrante delicto. To date, no beaver action in the box (it seems the little guy has been working on a tree across the river, so I will re-orient the camera) but I did get some interesting pics.

Some kind of furry critter that only shows his rear end:

The inevitable squirrel (I have dozens of these, most of them blurry):

And am I kidding myself, or is that some kind of deer swimming along the other riverbank??? You'll have to zoom in to see it:

The beaver strikes

Incredible but true, the blog lives! Sorry, having a social life keeps me very busy -- almost as busy as a beaver.

Speaking of which, sometime last week, the industrious neighborhood beaver took down our favorite tree overnight.

Views from the deck...

Excellent workbeavership, I must say.

The little vandal has been coming back to the scene of the crime every few nights, chopping off segments from the top of the downed tree. I've set up a motion-activated infrared game camera to try to snap some action shots. Stay tuned...

 

 

Floods of postcards, outgoing

I always do this. I go off somewhere fun and interesting, buy lots of postcards to send to family and friends (mostly to make them jealous, although they think it means I like them) and most of the time I'll even write them up, including address and everything... then I go home, get back to Real Life, and it's weeks or months before I rediscover the backpack or suitcase pocket where the poor postcards have been sitting lonely and unloved. Or more to the point, unsent.

Well, I've been cleaning up my mess and prepping bags in anticipation of my trip to Austin, Texas for a week of unparalleled geekery (scientific computing conference; it doesn't get much geekier than this). And of course I've stumbled across stacks of unsent postcards from three separate trips (to three different states: Nebraska, Missouri and New Hampshire).

So I've just spent the last half hour licking stamps and getting postage math wrong in various fun and inventive ways (I blame the stamp glue fumes).

The foot-high stack (if you measure its height next to an actual foot, it reaches a reasonably-sized middle toe) is now sitting next to the front door along with a bright red Netflix envelope (helps with the not forgetting). Tomorrow morning they will move to the mailbox at the end of the driveway, where a little red flag will be raised to alert the postman of the presence of outgoing mail (I love that system!).

By Monday they will be on their way -- one to Jamaica Plain (that's a neighborhood in Boston, before you get too excited -- although it is admittedly quite an exciting one) and a gazillion others to Belgium. There would be one going to York in the UK but I've lost your snailmail address again, Mike. 

If you think you should be getting one but you don't within two weeks, leave a comment and I will be in touch to get your address. You too, sis, if you're reading this. I have a booklet for your man. About a Finnish architect.

Sorry this post doesn't include photos of muddy girls, Mom. And sorry if that sounds wrong in so many ways.

Girls love mud -- preview

Here's one photo from last week's Warrior Dash. The airborne arm and leg belong to my lovely partner in mud... There will be a few more photos here soon, with details of the obstacle course.

Catmembert

 

Crash course in US geography

I've been traveling a lot within the US.

In March I went to Atlanta, Georgia for a conference. In early May, I went to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (by train!) for the weekend to visit my girl, and briefly saw a bit of New Jersey (Fort Dix). Then we spent the last week of May in Nebraska for her cousin's wedding and to visit family -- well, mostly her adorable baby niece. This weekend I'm off to St Louis, Missouri to visit her and at some point we'll cross state lines into Illinois (Scott AFB).

Please don't mention carbon footprints.

Going native in Philadelphia (note the Boston t-shirt)

In the room where the US Constitution was born.

Gotta get 'em young.

 

Enjoy this one because she's going to kill me for posting it.

It's aliiiive! (now with audio)

This blog has been in a vegetative state for the past -- what, two months? Can it really have been that long?

Well, I was busy. *petulant pout*

Anyway. I'm prodding it awake to plug (=advertise) my latest side-project.

inSCIght : the scientific computing podcast

Oh, it's not really MY project -- it's a collaboration with a bunch of other like-minded scientific computing geeks, mostly masterminded by ringleader Anthony Scopatz who recruited me to the podcast at Pycon* last March. I've been a panelist on a couple of episodes, and for a while that was the extent of my involvement.

But this week's episode is mine! My own. My precioussss...

Episode 12: Hacking Education: crowd sourcing for the win!

Feel free to make fun of my robot-mouse voice and be merciless in the comments.

* Pycon = Python programming language conference for which the registration website offers "Klingon" as a food preference option.

So am I a good driver now?

This may be the family equivalent of an urban legend but I'm told that my granddad (whom I am honored to count among my teensy tiny readership -- Hi Biquet!) always says that you're not a good driver until you've had a car accident.

(I expect at this point most alert readers will have put 2 + 2 together, so if you've cottoned on, let me reassure you that a) I am entirely unhurt and b) I was not at fault at all.)

The story is that this last Wednesday, having stayed home to work and needing to get out of the house for a bit, I set out on a trivial errand (buy some cables to improve the TV A/V setup) in our trusty Gabby the Volvo SUV (yes, my lovely lady named her car after a certain TV Amazon Princess -- I would have called it Argo, but nevermind logic).

It was raining buckets and I was in no rush at all so I was being careful and taking my time. Somewhere along the line I had decided to treat this leisurely drive as an opportunity to do a bit of geographical reconnaissance in my new suburban neighborhood.

Trouble (and the Nissan Altima it drives on Wednesdays) hit when I was forced to slow down fairly rapidly, almost to a stop, for a car that quite rudely swung onto the main road in front of me from a side street to my left. Oh, I didn't hit it -- Gabby has wonderful brakes and tires that grip the road like they were hugging a long lost friend. The car behind me, however, slammed into poor Gabby's butt with a desperate honk and a great big resounding crash of shattered plastic and twisted metal.

When I stepped out (after pulling up to the side of the road, hitting the distress lights and stopping the motor --did I do that right, daddy dearest?), rather shaken (and more than a little bit stirred) the first thing I saw was the wrecked front part of the poor little old Nissan Altima, its hood popped and bent, front bumper almost gone, belching fumes and leaking bright green antifreeze (no photo, sadly). My throat tightened, my heart sank, and I turned around in slow-motion, unwilling to witness the destruction of Gabby's rear-end but compelled to look...

The metal plate on the bumper. It's a bit dented. That's it.

Obviously the match-up wasn't fair, the Nissan never stood a chance. Between differences in height and weight, the gods of physics were in Gabby's corner from the start.

Anyhoo. The other driver was a teenager who looked like he'd turned 16 and got his learner's permit last week; he apologized profusely for not stopping, said he tried to brake but the road was slippery... Well yes it was, that's why you're supposed to keep a bigger distance between cars and pay attention to the road, buster. I'm sort of a newbie and even I know that (and do it, too). But heck, I felt bad for the kid, busting his mom's car like that and probably vaporizing his allowance and/or savings in the process. He seemed like a good guy, too, polite and well-mannered and taking his responsibilities. Tough break.

So we exchanged contact information, insurance details, I wrote a short statement describing the accident and had him sign it, then later I filled out a police report (you can download the forms online, it's very convenient). It's all in the hands of the insurance companies now, but the outcome should be straightforward.

All that remains to be done is get Gabby to the repair shop to get her butt patched up, and we're good.

So, am I or what?

In case you thought winter was over

Last week we had three days of shoveling in a row: one to shift our existing snowbanks a few feet out to make space for more, and the next two, clearing the fresh snow that came in two big drives. I love snow as much as the next person, but this is all getting a bit ridiculous, if you ask me. Also, my back hurts. I'm not in my twenties anymore, d'you know. Then on top of that I get viciously attacked by the local militia!