Happy Anniversary Explorer I

On 31 January 1958 the US launched its first artifical satellite, ushering this country into the space age...50 years ago today.

It was meant to be.

The United States launched its first satellite into space on 31 January 1958. Several months later on 1 October 1958 the National Aeronautics and Space Administration was founded. In between these two history making events a much less monumental event occurred. Perhaps it was somewhat as important, however, to a small knot of people in central Alabama. I was born.

As I always tell everyone, I was born into the space age. Naturally I would have a close connection with it. It was meant to be.

Now, this will sound like a low budget B movie from the early sixties. In fact, when I had told this before, I was accused of inventing such a worse-than-ordinary story that several people said, “I could have come up with a more imaginative idea than that!” I was accused of invention. The fact of the matter is that my story is true.

I was there, so I was told, in front of the television when Alan Shepherd finally had that candle lit and pushed the U.S. into its first baby steps to manned space flight. If you count that up, recalling that Shepherd’s flight was 5 May 1961, you will see that I was rather young to be making the claim. However, my parents assured me I was right there with them, and so I’m sticking to the story. Remember or no, I was there. (And I haven’t missed seeing a launch since.)

I have a better recall of the Gemini program. Still young to be able to understand all the implications, technology and sheer will this program brought to bear, I do recall it. Our teachers were certain that the space program would have such a profound affect on all areas of our lives that they dragged old black and white television sets into the classroom to be certain that we did not miss a launch. For some kids this was the same as in-house leave…a free morning from class work. There were those of us though who were quite literally glued to the tube from the moment it was turned on until coverage ended or the teacher turned it off. (“Don’t sit so close! You’ll ruin your eyes!)

And then those teachers had the nerve to ask, “And what do you want to be when you grow up?” From the earliest memory of that question, I recall my emphatic and immediate answer. “I want to work for NASA and build rockets!” This was met with a quirky smile and a pat on the head. Of course many kids at that time shared similar visions. And of course they would outgrow them as they got older and were exposed to more subjects, more experiences and more “real world” careers. Most of all, I would outgrow it, they were certain, because I was…a girl. And in the early 1960’s girls most decisively didn’t do things like that. At least not a girl from small town USA reared in all the stereotypical girlish manners. Wait, at least my mother tried to raise me that way.

Nature took its course though. My nature. I was the biggest tomboy around. (Many who know me say I still am!) I would sneak away from my mother’s lessons in crocheting, baking and how to help raise my baby sister and join my male friends in their rugged pursuits. One of these was building rockets. At that time and for kids of our age and means, that was not like “Rocket Boys,” by any means! But we tried.

All this fueled my interest and determination. Math and science became near obsessions for me. I read every science and science fiction book in our small library, and read them over again until more arrived. I devoured every “Life” magazine article about the building of the mighty Saturns. When I was in fourth grade, I received my first telescope, which did not encourage any return to Barbie and Easy Bake Oven.

And then IT happened. I still draw in a breath and hold it as I recall; the memory is sharp as if it were yesterday. Men walking on the moon! (Or hopping at least.) But they were there! It was surrealistic. To my ten year old eyes, it was nearly like all the Saturday movies I devoured with my father, who was a big a sci-fi and NASA fan as I was. Except this was not in color (at least not the very first steps), and it was kind of fuzzy…and it was real!

There was no looking back after that. I quite literally spent my entire life getting ready for that ideal, dream career at NASA. I realize now that I had been training all my life for it. When I read “Thirteen: the Flight that Failed,” by Henry S. F. Cooper back in 1972, I didn’t know that when I did go to work for NASA, I would call on that memory (made firm by the notes I took from the book on how the failure occurred) to lecture some of my fellow workers in Safety and Mission Assurance, younger than me, who knew about the explosion…but how did that oxygen tank get in that shape to go boom?

Through all the experiences, subjects and other careers that I was exposed to in my life, none deterred me. Oh, certainly, there was the occasional thing that grabbed my attention firmly. The closest I came to departing my dream was a minor flirtation with applying to graduate school to study fusion physics. Just in time though, STS-1 launched and plastered me to the television once more. (“We can’t see! Get out of the way. Besides, you’ll ruin your eyes!) I knew when I saw that beautiful, but odd, looking thing take off that I couldn’t abandon my lifelong dream. (“Ms. Lindley? We got your application and wanted to talk to you about a fellowship.” “Huh? Oh that…well…you see…it was a mistake. Must’ve, ah, sent it to the wrong school. You’re the school of nuclear physics??” “Yes, Dr. Williams said he talked to you when he visited your university.” Gulp…he remembered me!) Fortunately Dr. Williams was very nice about it all and completely understood. Especially about a lifelong dream.

So, when I graduated from college not long after that experience, the only place where I applied for a job was with NASA. Nowhere else. And I sat and waited. “What? A hiring freeze?? Okay…” Sigh… Now what? But just a couple weeks later, fate stepped in as it had to (it was meant to be!) and I was offered a co-op position. Not that ideal, dream job…but it was a job with NASA! “Sure, you bet!” All I had to do was…apply to graduate school…but the “right” way this time.

And fate is a funny thing. (It was meant to be!) Before I could get that process finished, I got another call from NASA. This time a real job. A full time position as an aerospace engineer. Was I interested? Was I interested?? I nearly bit my tongue off to not laugh into the mouthpiece. WAS I INTERESTED?? That was like asking if I needed air to breath.

That was in September, 1981, not very long before STS-2. And after twenty-six and a half years (but who’s counting?), here I still am. Still working happily away at NASA. Over twenty-two years working on the Space Shuttle Main Engines and now working on the Ares vehicle.

In 2008 NASA will be 50 years old and so will I. No, it doesn’t hurt to say it. I was born into the space age. I was born when NASA was. It was meant to be. Happy birthday to NASA and to everything the agency and its people have accomplished. There will be an extra candle on my cake for you…perhaps one that looks like a rocket. (“It’s not rocket science!” “It’s not? Then I can’t do it; I am a rocket scientist!”)

Quid hoc sibi vult?

I don't know if I have the motivation or energy to post today.

Okay, so stop right there and don't post. Don't tell me why. Just don't do it.

Day of Remembrance

27 Jan--41st anniversay of Apollo 1 fire
28 Jan--22nd anniversary of Challenger
1-Feb--5th anniversary of Columbia

Yesterday was the Day of Remembrance for NASA to observe these dates and losses. It's very odd that they are clustered so closely. It gives one a feeling (even though one realizes with rational reasoning that luck isn't a factor) of jinx or bad luck. When the launch of STS-122 (coming up 7 Feb) was moved from December to January because of the ECO sensor problem, we all drew in a long, deep breath. It makes no sense to think of January as a bad luck month and yet we all do. However, if you had endured the deeper horror of being involved in the program that failed, then you would, likely, have the same feeling...like looking over your shoulder in a dark alley.

I wasn't at NASA for Apollo 1. I was eight years old. The reality of it missed my young and innocent soul. However, I was deeply involved in shuttle when Challenger happened. In fact, I was convinced that the component that I worked on had failed and caused it. (That's a story with background. Too long to dip into at this moment.) I was quite sick for a couple of days. I didn't eat or sleep, literally, until someone shoved a plot of the incriminating data under my nose and showed me what really happened. Every time I'd try to sleep, I'd dream of that launch and when the explosion happened, I'd wake up. Eventually I'd drift off, only to have the same events happen...over and over again through the night. I wasn't really a lot happier to know my component didn't cause it, but it was good to know that I didn't have to keep beating myself up for not doing everything I could do. But what about the guys who knew about the O-ring problem and had tried to warn management? Well, they probably have a clear conscience because they did try and often. The managers who waivered that problem for flight after flight, until it blew up in their faces...now those are the ones that I wonder how they can live with themselves.

The foam on Columbia. I had worked for five years in engineering photo analysis (but not at the time of Columbia), and we often saw foam come off the tank, and even strike the vehicle. It had become a non-problem because post-flight inspections didn't show any significant problems. Complacency. But that's the same thing that infected managment just before Challenger. Complacency.

Every time they got away with it, they become bolder in their arrogance that they knew this problem and it wasn't a problem. And people died because of it.

The Day of Remembrance is not just to remember, but to ponder, reflect and think. The guilt still rattles the souls of those who were at NASA during these events. It's not just guilt for those who didn't do their jobs correctly either. Why would one feel guilty if one was not responsible? Because we know that we've been complacent too. Our complacency may not have been the factor that killed someone, but the fact that we allowed the complacency and didn't fight it reminds us that we could have been responsible. The Day of Remembrance is needed just as much for that as for memorializing those who paid the ultimate sacrifice. We need to remember them first, but we need to remember what caused their deaths as well.

Thus it seems

How quickly we forget. "Oops, forgot to check your blog." Well, that's no problem. But I nearly forgot it myself. A major faux pas. It's so forgettable. (Forgetable, that's what you are...la la la la...)

The end (very nearly) of the first month of a new year. And where did it go? It poofed in a cloud of soft white nothingness. Seems that way when I think back on it. What did I do in January? At least it wasn't as bad as December...shudder. And I really do have a couple of tangible accomplishments. I (shh...finished) the story I started. Well, in a sense. I wrote it to a conclusion that I can carry into a sequel. I didn't plan a sequel, until I saw that I couldn't quickly resolve the complex situation I'd set up. But I began and ended a story...aaah...

I think time seems to go by so fast when the days all become the same. When the routine, whether work or home, becomes so similar and there's little to mark the differences, then time becomes an undivided blur. But I like my routine, or most of it. (Work...that's a different issue.) I like to know what is coming and what I plan to do. Surprises often leave me perplexed and hesitant. Not all surprises, of course, but the larger ones that do not mark an anniversary, birthday, etc. Things like...December...shudder. Those kinds of surprises. And so the lesson is, excuse the so trite saying, variety is the spice of life. Not surprise, but not rut either. So it's up to me to see that my routine isn't so...well, routine. A little surprise that doesn't upset life is a good thing, and perhaps I need to make those happen rather than wait on them to come to me. Yes, I like that thought. It gives me several ideas...which I can't expound on in case certain people do recall to check the blog today (of all days).

Let's see...quick check...3 Feb Super Bowl, 6 Feb dry run on hazard report presentation, 7 Feb STS-122 launch, 14 Feb Valentine's Day, 18 Feb President's Day, 21 Feb presentation to CSERP. Gonna be a full month. Enough variety in there that it shouldn't be the same ol' thing every day. Be careful what you ask for. Some of it begs for SURPRISE!

Frigid Friday

Seventeen degrees this morning and some wind, so it is quite cold, to say the least. We are getting all the cold of winter without the benefits.

So, my philosophical question about imagining yourself removed from the planet did invoke some to think. I was encouraged to pose another "good" question. Do the opposite. What if you were the only person alive on the planet? You haven't disappeared but everyone else has. What do you do? Does it alarm you to be that alone? How do you cope? Would you help yourself to every vice available since nothing is denied you? Or would you continue to live as you do? Do you at least try not to give in to all temptations? I confess I haven't thought this one through because the question didn't occur to me until I sat down to write. It is a good question though. It certainly makes one examine oneself to a deep degree...if you take the time to really think it through instead of just ignoring it or giving it a fast pass.

I found yesterday that telecons can be quite amusing. Ours was a comedy of errors. About 10 minutes deep into it, this beeping began on the line. At first the meeting coordinator tried to pretend it wasn't there, but someone asked if everyone else was hearing it. There was a rush of suggestions for solution with the majority idea of everyone hanging up and calling back in. Well, that didn't help. It was still there. Someone was prowling around for another number to use. Finally the operator came on the line. Whether she was randomly checking or someone got in touch with her, I'll never know. She suggested calling back in. But she then suggested the she terminate all the calls to be sure the line was cleared. And that worked. When we called back in, the sound was gone. I'd estimate 15 minutes to solution. The moment of greatest hilarity for me however was when someone mentioned "valve movement" (in a rocket engine). Well, that tore me up because I immediately thought of another sort of movement which sounds similar. I think someone else did too...or that sound was simply to clear a throat.

The most amusing thing about meetings is the slips that people make and how they deal with them. Mr. Valve Movement never gave any indication that he caught his unintentional (I suppose) faux pas. I like to keep a running list of words that people invent on the spur of the moment. Such as "desirement". Our desirement of this meeting... I have no idea what our desirement was because my mind hung up on that word. What? Desirement? So I added it to the list. And most recently was "delegee". I nearly laughed aloud in a small meeting over that one. A delegate is a person who stands in for another. There is no reason to "-ee" the word. It stands on its own, and it not a real word. Ah, the things that rocket scientists say.... It doesn't take a rocket scientist to speak English.

People are interesting. That is the main reason that I write about things like this. I like to study people. All their imperfections and all their moments of glory make them the most fascinating things to observe. You can see a lot by observing.

Such as...a lady who works on the floor that I do. Let's call her Minine because she has a unique name and I won't print it here plainly for all to see, lest some think me attacking her rather than observing. Minnie wouldn't give me the time of day. If I said hi to her in the hallway, she'd stare straight ahead and never answer. So I didn't try any more. Then one day she passed my cave and saw some artwork I had posted. "Did you do all this?? This is great! Will you draw my granddaughter??" (The thing that is most frustrating about drawing is the many requests I get to do free things. Not that I'm so greedy, but I do have my own interests and commitments to pursue, but many people think nothing of asking you to do something for them which they have no clue of the time or materials which may be involved. At least offer to compensate a person for the materials, gentle reader. Even if they turn it down or never wanted it, you've at least shown respect for their time and resources by offering.) Well, I never answered that question. So far she hasn't brought a picture. Yesterday she pinned me to the wall to enter the Earth Day logo design contest for our center. She told me that I really needed to enter, because "we" have to win! Then she proceeded to lay out her vision of the logo that I would draw. Finally she stopped and said, "Well, you're the artist! You come up with the idea!" (Thank you.) "But you need to enter because we must win!" We? Possibly because winning also includes a small amount of $$? It was amusing. Humans in action. Oh, I know only too well of my own failings. I don't pretend to be perfect. Don't mistake me. But I still love to observe and learn.

~*~

Yes and so

Progress at work, progress in weight loss, progress in writing. What more can I ask for? Not a lot. Don't be greedy or look a gift hoss in the mouth...or get too dragged down with cliches.

The best part of writing is being creative. However, there's another part of it that is nearly equally as rewarding. Escape. Writing, fiction of course, provides a great way to jump to another place or another time or another galaxy and leave things behind for a while. One can live vicariously through one's characters. One can have them do the things one wishes and isn't able, or fears to even try. One can expel feelings and frustrations through characters and the situations they are in. It can be theraputic to exercise that last one. I've taken out my frustrations on characters a few times and it does help empty oneself of all that negative emotion, easing the burden if not taking it completely away. Ah, but the poor characters, the things they must suffer to abet the author's "recovery". I know a couple of you reading this know what I mean. It's the reason that some stories are only appreciated by the one who wrote them. Others don't know where that idea came from.

So I apologize to those characters that I've beaten up or beaten down. But, gentle character, you've helped me more than you'll know. That is why I must also be good to you and give you times of unbridled joy and happiness. Because you provide for me, I'll provide for you. It's a mutually beneficial relationship. If I don't write, you go into stasis...as the character that I left blind for three years. But I'm sure he'll have a nice long rest after his eyes heal. He'll be back for more.

To all of you fictitious phantoms who speak to us all, writers or readers, thank you.

Wandering Wednesday

Did you ever wonder what it would be like if you disappeared off the planet? Not a death, but just a quiet, innocuous disapperance. What would the difference be? Would anyone notice? And how long would it take for things to return to normal when you left...right away or longer? This is a thought that has visited me on and off through my life. And the answers to those questions that I posed don't come out as happy ones.

I'm one person out of how many billion? What difference can or does one person make? I'd like to be pompous and think I'd make a big difference, but I can see in many ways that the hole I'd leave would close up just like a re-sealable tire that has punctured.

Oh, no, I'm not having ideas of "ending it all". Nothing that drastic. I've grown up from that. But it's difficult to find the motivation to face each day when one feels so very low on the totem pole. And have I achieved anything of real value in my life? I don't know because I can't objectively evaluate that. I'd like to think I have, but in reality what have I done?

And there's so many things I'll never get to do either. Dreams that have been with me for years that will never be realized. I'll never walk through the heather of Scotland or the fog of London. My feet will never touch the sands of the Holy Land. I'll write hundreds of thousands of pages and never be published. I'll never be able to tell those whom I admire what they have meant to me.

I know it sounds as if I'm feeling sorry for myself, but it's not really that. It's a simple stop to take stock of life. Something I'm sure we all do now and then and at crossroads of life. When I feel the pressure and futility of things (like work right now), it does make me stop and wonder what all the fuss is about. Should I keep living the daily rut or should I break out and do what I truly feel like doing? Can I be that irresponsible. It would be, you see, because the things I want to do are not things that would gain me income and the benefits and privileges associated therewith. Would it be worth giving it all up and finding a new way to live that is, I don't know, more bohemian (sounds so trite, but a better word escapes me).

And yet every time I consider it, I go back to the safety of the rut. There are benefits and privileges assoicated therewith.

~*~

More Terence Stamp for your viewing pleasure

Ah

Dear Blog,
Did you miss me? I missed you very much. It was a long weekend, nice and quiet for the most part. I have been released from post-op care and may now go back to my old bad habits. She was most impressed with my recovery all along, and yesterday noted, "She didn't even scar!" So my attempts to gain a new nickname failed miserably.

However, it feels like Monday even though it's Tuesday but it's the second day of the week even if it is the first working day this week.

I'm deep into the story I began Saturday a week ago and I'm very much enjoying writing again. It's ironic how much I could detest writing, so very much dread it, and mere days later I am in love with it once more. The bad news on that is that it threatens to become an obsession again. The old feelings of urgency (must write two hours a day!) are back and I had to insist to myself last night that I stop writing because I was not having fun and the conversation I was writing was stilted. And yet I wanted to keep going because I hadn't written enough for the day. That is what burned me out so badly before. So now I must learn new writing habits and new attitudes, lest I find myself back in the pit of writing hate. But I am enjoying it so much, particularly the characters I am currently working with. I have many ideas for them and wonder how I'll pull myself away to revisit other characters.

And so no art work was accomplished over the weekend, dear blog, and no reading. Other casualties of my new obsession. This is going to take work and reflection. So what if I don't write today? I didn't write for three years and the world continued to turn. I do have some art projects that I want to accomplish too, and some books I long to read. How may I increase the number of hours in a day? Alas for the days of sponsors... Why is it that I am unable to locate a benefactor who will pay me to stay home and play, er, that is write and draw?

And so, dear blog, it was quite cold yesterday with a low of 19 in the morning. I had to go out in the chill to make two appointments. I didn't warm up until late afternoon, wearing my jacket all afternoon inside the house. It is 36 right now and I'm still very cold. It only gets harder to bear the cold the older I get.

What about that NFC championship game, blog?? Wasn't that incredibly good? The titans (not Tennessee, figuartive titans) clashed and the underdog came out victorious. It was a nail biter game for both sides and I'm happy to see the team I was pulling for win. I believe that Eli has come out of his brother's shadow now. And Tynes redeemed himself. I'm certain he was exceedingly glad to get another chance.

Now, dear blog, I will close with a photo to share with you. It's a wonderful view of the wonderful actor, Terence Stamp, and I was struck by the photo. That is why I close with it.

Friday Fribble

It's real word. Look it up...http://www.dictionary.com/

Sweet, sweet Friday. Why did you go away for so long? Where the heck have you been? Was it something I said or did? Tell me so I won't do that again. Don't go away for so long again. I need you...and you need me, if you think about it. So let's come to an understanding. Just don't do that.

Actually I am in a rocket scientist kind of drarm this frong and I have some adjectives to produce. It's like the way you find your head has gone and left you in the deuce. And then when all has come around and you seem to horng along, you freak a week and crome a while and find you have a sweenk. That's the time you krink your whoa and sit behind the strard. No one will come to see you sob so keep it to yourself. It's all in your own mind, you see, and that's the whole of it. This is the frond that comes to you when you have combed your crit. And that's the way of all the life and no one knows the truth. You could stop now but that's no good, it only causes reet. So just pull up your big grund snel and get on down the line. Don't look back, just charge uncharge and look for me in there.

The wisest words of wisdom I ever smelled. Take them to heart and don't forget. Memorize it now. You'll be glad you did when things are bad and even when they're good.

Enter at your own risk...

The last thing I wanted was for this blog to become a woe is me spot. Sure, we all have the down times and we all like to air them. Hey, that's healthy. I just didn't want to come here and cry on virtual shoulders every day. Part of the reason I never started a blog. But I need to download some of the stuff building up inside. So continue at your own risk, or bail out while you can.

I'm always amazed at how people at work can compliment you on being intelligent and doing a great job and then the next day the same person will show no confidence in your ability at all. In December I was congratulated all around. In January, I am a total idiot who isn't able to do the same job I did in December.

I have a hazard report I've put together. It's for the new launch vehicle, Ares, and it concerns malfuctions/weaknesses/accidents that could cause the vehicle not to reach proper orbit. Many of the causes are due to the propulsion system, i.e. rocket engines. I've spent 23 of my 26 years working on engines. That's why I got this hazard report to do. I understand it well enough. It makes sense to me with all I've learned and been exposed to. However, about half of my team shows sudden lack of confidence in my ability to carry this thing through the next phase...review and approval. I'm not allowed to attend meetings by myself to discuss this. Each time it comes up for presentation in an informal group, I get tons of help from others trying to explain it for me or respond to questions for me. The especial "yike" coming up is presenting it to the Constellation Safety Engineering Review Panel. THE CSERP, the panel that eats engineers alive and spits out the bones at the end of the meeting. When I was a young engineer I presented regularly to panels and boards and I lived to tell about it. I don't know what the suddenly shift is, but it's a huge pain to try to plan this and have everyone do it for you.

And speaking of things to complain about... This has been hell week for me. There was an all day telecon on Monday and Tuesday, another all day thing on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and a third on Wednesday and Thursday. That is in addition to the every day at 8 hazard report meeting for 1-2 hours, all my weekly meetings and other meetings that were called as a result of planning or lack of for this upcoming presentation. And this morning, I get an email from another engineer asking me to go compare all of the shuttle hazard reports with all the Ares hazard reports to be sure we've covered everything...NOW. The part that makes this even sadder is that this is not unusual now. It's a way of life now...just this week was worse than usual. Actually I don't worry about what I can't do. I just get annoyed that "here we go again." I wonder when someone will figure out the things that aren't getting done because we can't split ourselves infinitely to cover all the meetings and tasks...

And there you have it. Now I can return to work and to a non-complaining blog.

:p

What in the world

It's a catchy title.

I may actually be speechless this morning, and not because anything excessively exciting or wonderful has happened. Speechless as in, I have nothing to say. (You certainly are typing a lot when you have nothing to say.) Well, let us clarify then. I generally have an idea what I wish to talk about when I begin. However, this morning, that is elusive. Hey, but you don't think that is going to stop me, do you??

I do have to say that it has been quite rewarding to be writing creatively again. (No, not this. This isn't creative.) I've enjoyed it a great deal and there's something about creating that is, well, rewarding. The story I began is flowing well. The ideas are flowing well, that is. It remains to be seen just how well the structure, etc. is. I suppose I've accepted by now that I'm not going to be the next great author on the best seller list. I haven't even tried to submit anything in a very long time. However, the mandate is still there to create. And so I will write for my own satisfaction and for the little but loyal group who enjoys what I spin.

The collage is near completion. I have the little gaps to fill in and some other touches to add. I'm quite satisfied with the way it has turned out. Considering how little advance planning went into it, it's surprising that it didn't turn into a mess. And that's probably a very subjective point of view. I accept that. In spite of all the Discussion and Debate on the subject, art ofttimes is in the eye of the beholder.

Work... Well, we won't talk about that this morning. My favorite person to dislike is rearing his ugly head again and trying to make life miserable, but no matter how difficult, I must not seem miserable...for then he has won and what power that gives him. And besides now with the re-org he's a pimple on the organization's butt with no power. A peon engineer like so many of us. So what's to worry about from him? He just enjoys annoying.

Instant winter

After a warm weekend, I awoke to 27 degrees F this morning. No, not outstandingly cold, but when one has become used to the warm, then the sudden plunge is, ah, uncomfortable. I've always been what my mother referred to as "cold-natured". (I assume this isn't the same as cold-hearted.) And each passing year makes me only more so.

So, I was told that the wanderings of my wild mind haven't proved to be very wild. I suppose the new medium and "exposing" myself this publicly has made me a bit tamer. But with time things will change, rest assured.

Well, what can I say? Would you think me mad or wild or just be very mildly amused if I told you that my Tyrannosaurus Rex visits my friend's Rex? Obi (hopefully that's recognized as a nickname, not actual name) sent me a Rex like the Rex on Obi's desk. Rex (Obi's) and RA (mine) are great friends and talk often. They visit each other on weekends, alternately staying at Obi's house and mine. Also they do adventurous and amazing things together. Rex is founder of the well known shipping company, Fed Rex. He's a very good driver and likes to go "vroom".

Let's not forget BBH and BBH2, twins again. BBH got his name from the fact that he was in the winner's dodecahedron and was trying to get out. Since it is a closed figure, he ended up just banging his head against the wall over and over. Currently he is shacked up with Rags, the racing mare and is her gofer and ardent admirer.

That leaves nkow. He's very confused because he is a he and doesn't understand why he has udders since he is a he. But that doesn't stop him from being a well-manner kow most of the time...except when he has a laugh while drinking and snorts chocolate milk. But he's a good kow and always cleans up after himself. Nkow has a weakness for hugs too.

There are others, but those three are the best known and most important of the herd, pack, group.

I just glanced out the window and noticed that I could see Venus. I know...so what? But that's just one of the things I like to do, follow the planets in the sky. I had been seeing Venus every morning as I left for work, but she's been moving closer to the sun and rising earlier and earlier so I haven't seen her in the morning sky in about a month now. But there she is now, rising later, shining not quite as bright as before as she recedes. Mars was easily visible this morning to the west and very red. Yes, the color is apparent when you see Mars in the sky. So Venus and Mars are alright this morning...to paraphrase. Love that song.

So I fare thee well as I sail off into the sunrise and get ready for another day of all day telecon safety review. Be safe and buy bonds.

Look out

It's gonna be a wild week. Overlapping all day long meetings. And Wednesday, ah Wednesday...you really did me dirty this week. How can I be in three simultaneous meetings? Still haven't figured out how to handle that one yet. On the other hand, it is becoming more common for such things to happen as we speed toward the Preliminary Design Review for Ares. I think it's going to be this way until we get to the Final Design Review, at least. I know the shuttle people are working hard, particularly with this latest issue with the ECO sensors on the external tank. Ah, I remember working shuttle and how hard that could be. However, Ares is catching up with it. But it is good work and I have been in worse work environments and political situations, so it is hard to complain much.

I had a good weekend. The trip was cancelled because of "stuff". So I had the unexpected pleasure of my spouse's lovely company. That made it fun. We did many ordinary things together, but after 25 years (this April) just being together is what counts. Thank you for caring, sweetheart.

I actually...shhh...(wrote) over the weekend. Ten entire pages! I was certain the house was going to fall down around my shoulders...and yet it did not. I think I finally have come out the other side. I wrote an eight page story in December and I didn't enjoy writing at all. It was fun for about the first 30 minutes of each session and then it was such a chore. Because it had becoma a chore is why I stopped, not because of lack of inspiration. Gee, I've had tons of ideas in the (has it really been three years??) three years that I didn't write. However, what I did over the weekend was pure pleasure. I enjoyed it so very much. It was great fun and I'm anxious to continue this story. I have so many ideas for it and I'm re-gaining that urgency to write. That is utterly fantastic news to me. I'd begun to wonder if I'd write again. Beginning a blog has helped as well. Writing in the blog each day stoked some desire to write. Now let us hope the blog doesn't fall by the wayside in favor of other writing.

Also I worked on a collage over the weekend. I've had the idea for a couple of months now and finally I began. It's (yes) a NASA 50th anniversary collage. I wanted to do some sort of art project centered around the anniversary. I couldn't come up with one idea, so a collage seems to fit trying to cover 50 years of events. However when I was on leave in December, which is when I originally planned to begin, I endured two (two) computer crashes and was without computer for nearly two weeks. And so since I needed interet access to get the images I needed, that idea went down the tubes. However, I started last night and it was pure pleasure. Great fun and a nice loose medium to work in. No painful details. Just cutting and pasting so far. I'm quite pleased with how it is turning out and I have high hopes for the result.

So I had a weekend of fun and of accomplishment. Very satisfying. And a good foundation to start this difficult week on. Meetings...yuck. Well, not all of them, but the big presentation type can be quite dry at best and positively boring at worst. At least most of it is telecon. I can sit at my desk and listen on the headset...and do other things. Ah well, it is part of getting there from here. It is part of the follow-on program to shuttle, and making sure it is safe. (Good to keep in mind as we come up to the anniversary dates of Apollo 1, Challenger and Columbia.) Working in Safety and Mission Assurance, I want to do all I can to stop that kind of thing from happening again.

Friday

I should be glad it's Friday and I am. It has been a long and hard week, even with the excitement I've had this week. More excitement yesterday as my team at work got a Group Achievement Award for the Ares SDR safety work (and money along with the certificate). Mainly it's satisfying to have your hard work recognized and appreciated. And after my previous boss nearly lost me my job (because he stuck me in a job that, in reality, could not be done and then wrote me up for not doing it), it's very gratifying to work for people who are more reasonable and actually do care about their people. When all that men could do failed, God opened the door to this assignment...and I never even turned to Him when I was at the lowest point. He has mercy even when I forget Him, and that is what keeps me bound (more closely now) to Him.

I'm very tired and I just want to go home and die. One more day of the good and hard work and then I can. But I don't know if I really will rest and relax. That is a long story that I'm not comfortable sharing the whole of in a public forum. But my better half is going out of town this weekend and therein lies my problem. Yes, I realize that makes no sense and I decline to explain it at this point. I just am going to wish my weekend away, waiting for the return Sunday night. And I will leave it at that. Pray for me to make it through the weekend...vague as my explanation has been.

Documentation

Commander Pam Melroy as she finishes signing the painting.

A wee bit o' stir

After every shuttle mission the crew makes the rounds of the NASA field centers for morale visits (obviously our morale, since I doubt these whirlwind hops in the middle of their regular duties does much for the crew). They are nice events though. Generally the crew is gracious and genial. In the auditorirum they say a few words, show some cool video of their favorite parts of the mission, including a "blooper reel". I don't know if they get any sort of coaching from PR, but they do a good job of narrating the video, mixing the proper amount of humor and seriousness...even at the right time. After the program there is an autograph session, but it generally is kept to a strict 30 minutes to maintain the schedule. If you are not fast to hit the line and are over half way back, it depends on how much talking goes on as to whether you'll make it to the table or not. Well, I do go to some of these events, as my schedule allows, but the autograph line is not nice sometimes. Some employees bring all their relatives out. And a new trend is to invite a class or two. I have no problem with that. The kids need to hear this and be inspired. But that does keep employees from being able to attend sometimes when all the seats get taken. I suppose that is irrelevant. However, some people will kill you getting in the autograph line fast. I don't generally do that part unless I get lucky and it looks like I can get up front easily. But yesterday the STS-120 crew was at Marshall. That was the mission with the female commander, to refresh your memory, and they did the "potentially fatal" space walk to repair the solar array. I've been thinking for some time that I should get one of my shuttle paintings signed. I've done several oils of the shuttle, which I used to hang in my office...when I had a real office. (Not that it matters, but that gets mixed reviews from "great" to "geek!") So I brought in one of my favorite paintings and was going to attempt the auto line. Guess what...I was waaaaaaaaaay back in the line. I didn't watch the time...because I couldn't stand the suspense of whether I'd make it before someone broke it up to maintain the schedule. I got to the table at 11:30 exactly...cutoff time. And after all that, there was a lady from the public affairs office who was standing guard over the table where the astronauts were sitting. She was collecting the pictures to be signed and pretending to be glad to see everyone. She lost that attitude quickly when she saw me. To say she gave me a wilting look is like saying the sun's surface is warm. "I don't think they'll sign THAT!" she informed me in her best annoyed tone. (I think she practices it each night.) But then Pam Melroy, the crew commander, saw me and she said, "Bring it over!" I obliged her. Of course. Now that I think about it, I wish I'd looked at the PAO lady to see her reaction, but I had quickly forgotten her and never looked back. At any rate when Pam saw the painting she said, "WOW, are you sure you want me to write on that??" I was sure. I had thought about it and I knew that as much as I back space exploration and love my job, yes, sign it. That would only make it a more special painting to me. (Someone later said, "That will be worth a lot of money some day!" I didn't do it for that. I'd never sell it. To me it is priceless. My motivation had nothing to do with money and everything to do with who I am and where I am.) The entire crew very happily signed the painting. They were quite nice and cooperative about the entire thing. They were asking me more questions than I asked them...and I had thought of some (I hope) intelligent questions to ask, but never got to ask them. That's okay though. "Are you the artist? Do you do other space art?" "How long did it take?" "What medium?" "Where did you sign it?" You would've thought I was the celebrity. One other detail is that I had made my own crew shirt. I used to order mission shirts (with the mission logo on the left chest area) from Countdown Creations in Houston. However, I am still waiting on a shirt that I ordered 7 months ago. (I don't recommend them.) Needless to say, that was the last order I placed. I do have an embroidery machine. However, I like to do it for fun, not the stress of all that fine detail. And I'd rather stitch my own "stuff" that I design. But after that... Well, I don't do the entire patch. But I noticed that the astronauts have begun wearing golf shirts that only have part of the patch design stitched on it. Even I could do that. And I have done three missions now. So I wore my STS-120 shirt yesterday, like the crew shirts. I know you can't buy those anywhere. They make them especially for the astronauts. And Stephanie Wilson noticed mine. She asked me about it. So I told her I just copied theirs after I saw which part of the patch they were using and stitched it out on my machine. Not difficult at all. But she was as impressed with that as the painting. I don't stand in such awe of astronauts after 26 years at NASA. But impressing the astronauts was still something that made my day a bit brighter. They were great about the entire incident. And I have a very particularly special keepsake that I created and they acknowledged by signing.

A tour of stuff

I'm gonna burn myself out fast if I keep posting at this rate. But it's kinda hard to shut up too. It's good to talk to the computer because it doesn't roll its eyes when I say some things, or have eyes to glaze over, or a mouth that says, "That's nice, but let me tell you...(about me)." Oh, don't mistake me, I do want to hear other people and I do care about what they do and say and think, but it would be nice if they showed (or at least feigned) interest in me. I've heard all the pat answers too. It's easy enough to figure out if someone is listening, cares, etc.

For instance, I love my work. I work for NASA. But these days NASA is passe and it's fashionable to trash NASA. Other than my spouse (an engineer), none of my friends really want to hear about that. They will interact with me on that subject for five minutes tops. But to me it's really more than a job. I would be exceedingly interested in the space program even if I didn't work for NASA. It's the only job I ever wanted, the only place I applied out of college. My dream job. How can I not love it? Okay, love it, but don't tell me about it, for goodness sakes. Let's talk about something important...like the big sale at Kohl's! Did I tell you what I bought and how much I saved?!

I thought I had some interesting hobbies, the sort of things you'd bring up when a person asked about you: drawing, writing, reading all kinds of books on many subjects. Gee, I missed the class in relationships that says you should focus only on the other person. If you mention anything you have accomplished then you are an arrogant jerk. And the people I work with are always surprised to find out the sorts of things I do...when (if) they do find out.

I guess I sound like someone just starting out, or someone just moved here. But I'm 49 and have lived and worked here for 26 years. Just when people should have had friends for ages and get together with them always for dinners, movies, or just fun, I find that the older you get, the harder it is to make friends. What an isolated world we live in. And how difficult it is for someone who learned the social game in a totally different world. I think that's as much a part of it as anything else. The world has changed so greatly and I guess I haven't changed enough with it.

Title? Sir Blog

Dear Blog,

You've been here for me for a whole day now. Gee, what commitment! That's more than some of the people I have to rely on at work give me. No kidding. You've been here through thick and thick. We will always be together...at least a few days more. You listen, even if you don't answer my emails. What a pal you've been. Would you like to see my phoenix drawing? I thought you'd never ask. No one else has.

Yeah, I know, but I never claimed to be a professional. I like it. I did it for me. So that's all that really counts.

I really feel rotten this morning. I had a lot of trouble getting to sleep last night. I couldn't shut my mind down. It was full of plot ideas and such. I really need to write. Hard to get the motivation though. I worked so hard at it before that I really burned myself out totally. Writing a full story seems like such a chore...one I can't bring myself to face.

But I do feel good about one thing. I finally seem to have found some exercise that I don't mind, that doesn't kill me and that I feel like I can stick with long enough to get some stamina back and drop this belly. I used the recumbent bike for the first time yesterday...a lot easier on my rump! I felt like I worked out instead of being at it a handful of minutes and feeling like my heart and lungs are going to burst!

Well, blog, as I said before, my life is very ordinary. That's all, blog. Thanks for listening.

All kindsa new beginnings

I've never blogged before. Never. Never even commented to a blog. I am slow to cut into things like this. Nothing personal. I just never seem to have the time nor the inclination. However, I was pressed and pressed and here I am. A new blog and a new year.

Wanderings of a wild mind? Well, yeah, it is very wild, if anyone takes the time to look. Another reason I was slow to blog. I didn't figure that anyone was interested in what I might have to say. My life is very ordinary, and I didn't want it to just be a soapbox or a place to dump to. So...what makes me tick that might be of interest to the casual observer?

Well, this morning I was totally surprised and very pleased to hear coyotes yipping to each other. Why? Just because I've never heard it in real life before. I was walking from my car to the building. I work for NASA's Marshall Space Flight Center, which is located on a military reservation of a few thou acres, a great deal of which is still wooded and populated by lots of wildlife. It was dark and I was walking and I heard one call and another answer and then from another direction--and then they sounded like a chorus. I stopped to listen for a couple of minutes and I was totally charmed and excited by it. I could have listened more, but they stopped. Why so exciting? I don't know. I can't explain it, except that God's creation amazes me and I never stop examing it or being awed by it and Him who created it. Amazing.

The other thing that I'm so excited about this morning is that I finished a pastel of a phoenix. I'd seen a quilt last week of a bird, but the colors and pattern really grabbed my imagination and wouldn't let it go. The bird stretched his wings in a big arc over his head. I loved it. And coincidentally on the same day I re-read a story I wrote titled "Phoenix". The idea of a phoenix crossed with the beautiful quilt and I carried the idea in my head until the weekend, when I had time to sketch out my concept. I completely love how it turned out. The colors are great and I'm quite satisfied. It turned out even better than what I pictured in my mind. Accomplishment and creativeness. Yes, I'm content with the world this morning.