Author: cdwan

Home again, safely. Turns out that it’s about 8 hours from Topsail, NC to Baltimore, MD … and another 8 hours back to Providence. At least, that’s what it took us with a combination of moderate traffic, mildly over the top velocity, and comfortable sit-down meals.

Thanks to everyone who hosted us. This was a wonderful trip and a wonderful week.

Now, back in the car, off to go on a fishing trip.

Snakes on a Plane was everything I had hoped and dreamed that it would be.

Awesome.

Today, I celebrate the (binary)11111th anniversary of my birth. That makes me 31 years old. That’s 2⁵-1. The next one like this is (dec)63, and I most likely won’t see the one after that. 31 is a prime number, and one whose digits sum to a square (2²)

From the prime curios page, we also find the following:

• 31 is close to ³
• 31 is the third Mersenne prime.
• Buddha preached on the 31 levels of existence in our universe.
• 31, 331, 3331, 33331, 333331, 3333331, 33333331 are primes
• Lance Armstrong, in 2003 (at the age of 31), became the 2nd person ever to win the Tour De France 5 times consecutively, beating the runner-up Jan Ullrich by 61 seconds. Note that 2, 5, 31, 61, and 2003 are all prime numbers.

W00t.

First off, my cat was in fact hiding under the kitchen sink. Way in the back. Behind a box.

Now, the sorrows of Pluto:

If anyone happens to be near my house and sees a cat that looks like Maia (small, tawney, stripes, pictured above), with a collar on that says “Maia,” please grab her and hold on to her.

The person we have watching the house says that a screen popped in during a storm, and the cat is nowhere to be found. Of course, this is the cat who (a) fights furiously to avoid being taken outside (b) frequently hides in the crawl space or under the sink.

Thanks.

Just click here, read the excerpts (and click on the links if you feel like it), and tell me why this is totally bogus so I can ignore it and go back to supporting our “war on terror” and our noble president.

Go on, I’ll wait.

So far, my vacation has been the best vacation ever.

blah blah blah

Gazpacho: tomatoes straight from the vine to the cutting board and thence to the bowl. Peppers and cukes too. Fresh basil and cilantro from the farmers market. Chilled overnight, very hungry, Oh so blissed out. Out of tobasco, substituted Haitian hot sauce, works quite well.

Language capabilities shutting down, pleasure centers drawing all power.

Going to garden, cherry tomatoes straight off the vine, eaten warm. This is the life.

From Friedman’s column in the NY Times today:

What matters in war, alas, is the balance of destruction on the ground and the political weight it exerts over time.

Indeed, but what does it mean?

I suppose that I should give the world fair warning: I’m going on vacation this week. My schedule is completely insane for the next month. Here’s what I’ve got right now.

Fri: Drive to PA. Stay with Bro-in-law
Sun: Drive to VA. Stay with ‘rents
Mon: Drive to NC. Stay at beach house. See turtles.
Sat: Drive to Baltimore. Stay in hotel. See sister.
Sun: Drive to Providence. Drop off spouse. Continue driving up to MA. Stay with co-worker because …
Mon: Wake up at crack of dawn to go on a fishing trip with my company. We decided that three years of profitable operation probably merits a day of corporate revelry. Drive south to Providence. Sleep in my own bed
Tues: Get on plane to Georgia
Wed: Work
Thursday: Work. Return on the last flight.
Blissful weekend of repose.
Monday: Fly to NASA. Work.

… And so on …