Chez Kneel

I have a high IQ

2012-05-20T12:11:00.002-04:00

Our freeze-resistant fitting to which we attach our garden hose resisted insufficiently, which is to say that it froze and burst asunder in April when we had a several day stretch of -5C and -7C nights. But I did not know this until I tried to use it earlier this week. I was trying to spray the dog with the hose but the water pressure was weak. I peered inside the basement window to see a violent rainstorm.

Rats. What a pain.

I shut off the hose and started plotting the repair. Over the next day or two I purchased a new freeze-resistant fitting and a length of copper pipe. I did not want to cut up my plumbing more than necessary, so I decided to heat the soldered joint where the burst fitting was attached, and then when the solder loosened we would bang out the faucet and solder in a new one.

It was difficult to access the space. I moved the freezer. I moved the dryer. I disconnected the dryer vent. I removed the basement window.

I concocted a plan that only a genius could summon. I went outside and laid down on my back in the window well. I performed a pivot. My head was now inside the basement, with thighs pointing up and knees hinged over the top of the window well. My ankles dug into the dirt, their leverage ensuring that all body parts would hold in place during the procedure. #2 son was standing outside, ready to yank on the faucet.

I fired up my handheld propane torch, and applied it to the joint in the enclosed space, mere centimetres from fifty year old super dry joists and floor support boards. Well they weren't totally dry... I hosed stuff ahead of time. I'm not stupid you know; I don't want to burn down my house.

The application of heat continued apace. Excited atoms jiggled up and down the length of the copper pipe. Soon, little streams of leftover water started exiting the faucet, under which I happened to be propped. No worries, mate, it's okay if my tummy gets a little wet.

But the water got warmer. And warmer. And warmer. And scaldingly hot. I was in some real discomfort and started squirming, but if I stopped torching, then all would be for naught. I carried on. #2 threw a towel on my stomach.

Then, a Black Swan Event occurred. Some solder or old residue or something on the joint flared, and really hot pieces of micro-metal rained upon my neck. Some other pieces shot up into crevices in the joists. I quickly evaluated the developing situation, and decided that the plan had not sprung from the mind of a genius after all.

It was time to abort.

I withdrew the torch from the enclosed space and reached for the dial to turn off the gas. Did I mention that the dryer vent discharged into this vicinity? Have you ever wondered if dryer lint would ignite and burn quickly? Well, no need to ponder that quandary any further. Before I could get the torch extinguished, it had found some lint. Delicate wafts of beautiful flame were rapidly trotting their way all around the window frame.

This was not good. What to do??? Well of course I blew on it.

Lint fire put down, I wiggled out of that window faster than I would have previously thought possible, brushed past #2, went back in the house and sprayed down the whole work area. #2 peeked down at me through the window with a look that I just know he's going to use on me when I'm in my dotage.

Then I got out my cutter and did it right.

Google Docs app for Android tablet broke. I wonder if Google will fix it.

2011-11-25T19:17:00.003-05:00

The insurance company I work for recently went with Android tablets for our Board of Directors. We looked hard at iPad and Playbook, but we chose Android. Even more salient, we recently settled on Google Docs as the cloud environment that we would use for distributing advance meeting material to the Directors. In addition, we have gone paperless at the meeting; the Board members have their Android tablets with them, and they peruse the material on their tablets with Google's Google Docs app for Android. We name the documents in such a way that they just show up in order on the tablets, and the meetings were going swimmingly.

We also use Google Apps for our calendaring and mail. It's Gmail under the covers, but we get to use our own domain name. We pay a quite reasonable fee for this.

Stellar! Win all around! Laughs and hollers!

Except...

On or about October 6, 2011, Google "upgraded" the Google Docs app for android. You know what they did? Google removed the option to sort the documents by title in the android tablet Google Docs app. I've been sorting documents by title since the 1980's. Taking this option away is not an "upgrade".

Unfortunately, the disappearance of the simple sort-by-title feature has firmly ensconced Google Docs in the role of IMPEDIMENT to user acceptance. My Directors are great, progressive governors, but they can't find the material I've sent them. I look sillier than usual. Google Docs is no longer doing what we need. Google Docs has become the single biggest barrier to my Board's use of the Android tablets.

We are now actively seeking a suitable cloud replacement to Google Docs, one that won't capriciously remove features that we should probably be able to take for granted. We will likely replace Google Docs by the end of 2011.

Anybody have any ideas for replacing Google Docs?

What about you, googlebot.com? You visit here quite frequently. Do you have any ideas on what we could replace Google Docs with? Because Google Docs no longer meets our cloud computing needs on android tablets. Google Docs used to meet our needs, but it no longer does.

Non-stellar. Sad all around. Tears and bared teeth.

Dear Google, please restore the sort-by-title option in Google Docs mobile app for Android tablets.

That is all.

2011-06-27T12:11:00.002-04:00

Franchise Opportunity

2011-05-31T16:08:00.004-04:00

Hoping I can entice the Shays to expand this franchise into the Great White North.

Dizzy Institute

posted by Matt Gumm

It's a trap

2011-03-14T22:02:00.005-04:00

You can find me at irregular intervals here.

Sorry 'bout that.

Salut!

2011-02-16T00:01:00.001-05:00

Has this thing seized up yet?

Nope

2010-08-16T19:55:00.001-04:00

The muse remains maleficent. No bloggy. Perhaps we'll try again in another six months.

2007 Fossil: Like calves skipping

2010-08-04T20:46:00.002-04:00

My notion to reenter regular blogging is proceeding as expected: haphazardly content-free. To that end, please now be fooled into embracing this as fresh composition.

“But for you who fear My name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings; and you will go forth and skip about like calves from the stall.”

--- Malachi 4:2

Between fifty and seventy thousands. That's my estimate of the number of cows that I milked in my years working on the dairy farm in the late 1970's and early 1980's. The place was about eleven kilometres from home. I rode my bicycle to work for a while before I got temporary possession of my grandfather's battered 1967 Olds Ninety-eight. Yes indeed... four hundred and fifty-five cubic inches and empty country roads... It took a third of my paycheque to keep the tank filled, but life was very good for this teenager.

But back to the cows. My boss believed I was responsible, and I did most of the milking all by my lonesome. It was a smallish operation, with no more than forty cows milking at any one time. There were no robotic milkers in those days. The routine was this... approach the cow from behind and off to the side (always the same side; cattle get unnerved by surprises), wash the udder with a cloth (cleans up any dangly undesirables, and stimulates the “letdown” reflex), give each teat a quick massage and squeeze to make sure there are no encrustations or blockages, and then attach the milking machines. About five percent of the cattle were known kickers, and it was a ritual dance to dodge the hammer strikes while raiding the lactic treasure. A few cows had a crushed teat or were even missing one, having been quickly awoken from sleep when it was stepped on by one of her sisters. Those unfortunate kine required a little special attention to avoid chronic mastitis. Anyways, after several minutes (the actual elapsed time varied from cow to cow, but was consistent for each cow from day to day), I would remove the machine, dip each teat into iodine, pour the milk product into the refrigeration tank, and then move on.

I ran two machines at a time, and it took almost two hours to finish the job. Morning and evening, seven days a week.

During my boss' father's long terminal illness, I was alone in the barn for days at a time, and hardly even saw my boss for a couple months. At the funeral visitation, he mentioned to my father that he did not worry about the cows at all when I was around, and that I was able to get more milk from them than he could. My dad still trots out that proud factoid when introducing me to one of his friends. And I must confess that I am proud of it. In fact, out of all my so-called professional accomplishments in the intervening decades, there are none that I recall more fondly than this one. Alas, I've been unable to figure out a way to include the “better milker than the boss” achievement on my current resume, but it's not for lack of trying.

How can one person get more milk than another? How does that work?

It turns out that cattle are quite tender and emotional creatures. They get to know their humans and they get to know the routines. I apparently had a way with those girls. They were comfortable with me and they trusted me, even more so than they trusted their owner. Cows have feelings.

And calves have a few feelings too.

Just about the favourite day of the year was that time in May when the winter calves would be moved to their summer minibarn and outdoor pasture. These calves had spent their entire lives inside the main barn, in calf pens. When they were first born they would be in stalls that were barely larger than themselves, but as they grew they were moved to larger pens. A vigorous calf could take six or eight steps in these large pens before she ran out of room, and their mommas were in eyesight and earshot. But they were still penned, and a traverse of six or eight steps is not a very large universe.

One bright morning, we would quietly open the gates of the pens, and then leave the outside barn door open on our way out. After a while the first nose would poke through the door. The next twenty minutes were raucous, joyous, and wondrous. As the calves emerged from their little world of the pen into the more expansive and rich cosmos of the barnyard, their minds were rocked. They would moo, but not the rational cowspeak kind of moo. It was sort of a moo-ooo-ooo-ahh-oooo-oo-oo moo moo moo that carried on for dozens of yards as the excited cowling would run – RUN for the first time in its life. It would look heavenward with amazement, throw its head right, and then run left. It would lock its knees and slide to a stop just like Barney Rubble. Then it would oooo-oooo again and whirl dervishly. It would bump into a fellow calf and run towards us. It would turn tail. It would stop and bellow. It would have the best day it had ever had.

This was Liberation Day and it was emotional for these calves. All they had ever known was suddenly small and enclosing. They had no idea that the real world was so large, that it didn't have an eight foot ceiling, that they could travel so far without stopping, and that there was such a thing to eat as fresh green grass. The calves had no prior desire to be freed from their pens, because they didn't know any better. They had never conceived of such a large and free existence, and when it was finally revealed to them – when they were finally released into it, it changed everything. And we were genuinely happy for them.

Malachi 4:2 presents the fearers of God with a layered metaphor and a simile to describe the results of following their Lord. The metaphor has to do with light and healing and flight, and is for another time. But the simile is speaking almost directly about our calves.

We can take Malachi 4:2 as an eternal promise, a sort of teaser for the afterlife of the children of God. Heaven will be so much more than what we now consider to be reality. We cannot even conceive of the joy and wonder that will awaken us on that day in the very presence of God. C.S. Lewis captured the gist of this in The Last Battle. The only thing we can now say for certain as that we will look back on this life and marvel that we had believed the eight foot ceiling to be all that there was.

We can take Malachi 4:2 as a here and now promise. Sin is a seductive slavemaster, and we can be very happy in our gilded cages. We hear Jesus say things like “Take my yoke upon you,” and we resist and shut our ears, thereby missing the rest of his promise “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart and you will find rest for your souls.” The blessing and joy that comes from serving God with all my heart and mind and strength cannot be envisioned when I am serving with my lips only.

Or we can take Malachi 4:2 in its direct context. The entire book of Malachi is aimed at a jaded and cynical people, those who were so cold and encrusted with disobedience and rebellion that they didn't even twig when their folly was revealed. These titular people of God were pretending they were following the law, but they were in fact stealing from God. They did not offer their best, but kept it for themselves. Their priestly leaders were no better, because they winked at the attempted hoodwinking, and they even encouraged it. In fact they were much worse than the people, because they who were supposed to be leading the people down the right path blazed one instead infested with snakes.

God challenges this lot to serve Him with whole hearts, and not to hold back. The irony of Malachi is strong, and God tells them that they were actually hoodwinking themselves instead of Him. They thought they were augmenting their wealth by holding back the best pieces of their pies, but they were too foolish to see that their sin was making the pies smaller and leaner. God the giver of all that is good didn't need their wealth. But they desperately needed to give God their best and they tragically refused to comprehend that.

Which of the three is the correct way to take the simile of the skipping calves? The answer is yes. They all apply. And they don't just apply to the folks that knew Malachi personally. They apply to us. They apply to me. They apply to you.

They apply to a Christian that fears the name of the Lord.

They apply to a Christian who is holding back, who is not following the most important commandment.

They apply to an unbeliever who does not fear God. Read Malachi 4:2 again, but this time with its matched bookend in verse one...

For behold, the day is coming, burning like a furnace; and all the arrogant and every evildoer will be chaff; and the day that is coming will set them ablaze," says the LORD of hosts, "so that it will leave them neither root nor branch.

But for you who fear My name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings; and you will go forth and skip about like calves from the stall.
--- Malachi 4:1,2

It's a stark contrast. The skipping of the calves will not happen in isolation. It's an “either or” event. Either you fear the name of God and experience healing light and joyful liberation, or you are arrogant in your unbelief and you meet dire deathly consequences. There is no middling place.

You see, not every calf was set free on Liberation Day. They were marked out beforehand. The heifer-calves had a future of comfortable cudchewing and milkmaking, and so they experienced the skipping. But the bull-calves had no future other than the slaughterhouse, and they stayed in their calfpens. Mind you, they weren't displeased with their lot; their pens were quite comfortable, and I daresay they led a happy carefree life. I scratched them behind their ears when I went by. But they didn't realize they were prisoners. And they didn't know their certain doom.

Fear the name of God. Serve Him with every fibre of your will and your heart and your actions.

We eventually gave the '67 Olds to our milkman to run in a demolition derby, but he did not care for it as he ought and certainly not with the affection that I gave my bovines, so the 455 overheated during the match.

It was a good death.

Overly long reading list, the best that adult A.D.D. can muster

2010-08-04T09:04:00.003-04:00

Finished: The Jesus of History (1917) by T.R. Glover. Perseverance to the end results in the discovery that it is an orthodox tome after all, allbeit somewhat couched all along the way in liberal phraseologies.

Reading: An Old Testament Theology by Bruce Waltke.

Nitwit

2010-07-25T21:18:00.002-04:00

Got me self a twitter account. Haven't tweeted anything. Don't anticipate tweeting anything anytime soon. I'm following about 20 interesting people. I guess. My phone is for phoning and email, so won't be hooking twitter up to that. I plan to check twitter once a week or so.

I don't really get it, do I?

I don't like Australians

2010-07-19T14:42:00.002-04:00

Righteousness and peace have kissed each other

2010-02-14T20:59:00.000-05:00

Psalm 85
O LORD, You showed favor to Your land;
You restored the captivity of Jacob.
You forgave the iniquity of Your people;
You covered all their sin. Selah.
You withdrew all Your fury;
You turned away from Your burning anger.
Restore us, O God of our salvation,
And cause Your indignation toward us to cease.
Will You be angry with us forever?
Will You prolong Your anger to all generations?
Will You not Yourself revive us again,
That Your people may rejoice in You?
Show us Your lovingkindness, O LORD,
And grant us Your salvation.
I will hear what God the LORD will say;
For He will speak peace to His people, to His godly ones;
But let them not turn back to folly.
Surely His salvation is near to those who fear Him,
That glory may dwell in our land.
Lovingkindness and truth have met together;
Righteousness and peace have kissed each other.
Truth springs from the earth,
And righteousness looks down from heaven.
Indeed, the LORD will give what is good,
And our land will yield its produce.
Righteousness will go before Him
And will make His footsteps into a way.

Edelweiss

2009-08-24T14:39:00.002-04:00

Yesterday morning, my wife and daughter sang a song at church, accompanied by #1 son on guitar and #2 son on piano. It was nice. But I knew that it would not, could not, be the end of the story.

The post-song comments... I anticipated, dreaded, prophesied, foreboded, and looked forward to them with mischievous forethought and delight.

The first one was delivered no more than three seconds after the final chord. A nice women two seats over leaned forward and said, “Hey, why weren't you up there?”. A nice women only one seat over concurred. I smiled demurely.

After the sermon, three more like-minded sentiments were lofted from surrounding pews. I mumbled something about being tone-deaf.

On the way out to the foyer, a couple more encouragements were offered. I told them my triangle was out of tune.

The drummer in my son's band pronounced that I should have stood up there with a single drumstick and whacked something at irregular intervals. I made an ugly face.

Out in the foyer, no fewer than seven admonishments were delivered, and those with authority and moderate disapproval. I should have made it a family affair. I apologized for losing my kazoo.

On our way home, my family talked. We do that a little bit. They had all had similar experiences. Apparently there is a general desire in our congregation to hear me sing. Or grunt. Or something.

Before church last night, a friend with some knowledge of my sordid past wanted to know when I would be accompanying my trophy family on the bagpipes. I responded that sadly my lip muscles had atrophied and I was no longer able to play the pipes that well. That's actually true. You need strong, toned lips for the things.

None of these responses were satisfying. Not a single prober was pleased with my deflections. None of my answers had gobsmacked the questioner. Bitter disappointment! But inspiration now filled me. I waited impatiently for the next questioner. As a gentleman approached, the mirth in his eyes telegraphed his intentions. When he delivered the reproach for my unmusical stance, I deadpanned that my interpretive dance wasn't quite ready, but that I would be up there for sure the next time. It seems my delivery was stellar. My antagonist's jaw dropped.

Victory.

R.R.F.2009 - Gretna P.O.E.

2009-06-17T12:26:00.004-04:00

R.R.F.2009 - Emerson POE

2009-04-26T12:00:00.000-04:00

h.i. β - shower stall includes convenient access to electricity and toilet paper

2009-04-26T07:00:00.002-04:00

R.R.F.2009 - Emerson & Pembina April 17

2009-04-25T12:00:00.000-04:00

h.i. α - conduit shortage, junction box surplus

2009-04-25T07:00:00.000-04:00

R.R.F.2009 - Approaching St. Jean from the north

2009-04-24T12:00:00.000-04:00

h.i. z - burner

2009-04-24T07:00:00.000-04:00

Red River Flood 2009: Approaching Morris from the North

2009-04-23T21:28:00.003-04:00

h.i. y - direct power

2009-04-23T07:00:00.000-04:00

h.i. x - junction box

2009-04-22T07:00:00.000-04:00

h.i. w - chew can

2009-04-21T07:00:00.000-04:00

h.i. v - yes, let's introduce dryer lint into the hot water flue

2009-04-20T07:00:00.000-04:00