Some Days

... and today is one of them.

Nothing in particular... well, the computer acting up is one of them. I think I really need to "rebuild" my computer, but it's so much work to backup and migrate everything, and reinstall all the software. Yeah, I've got an IT assistant whom I pay to do that sort of thing. But my life is on that computer, at least big parts of it. I've got to be sure I have access to everything while the rebuild takes place.

Lots of little things accumulating and conspiring against my contentedness: One employee on medical leave; a second still learning; a contract lead who's less than clear on what he wants, and seems intent on asking us to work on areas of research far from our expertise and distant from what he originally asked for and what we proposed to accomplish; hardware that won't quite do what we expect it to; children who are a bit too hard to deal with at the moment.

Funny thing, all I really want is the freedom to pursue my research, to put my mind and talents to their best use. Damn the Academy for denying me those opportunities where I thought I should expect them; damn myself for the stubbornness to pursue them against the tide of circumstance.

Ha! I guess I make myself laugh too. My three boys at the moment and chasing each other in circles. Pitter patter pitter patter pitter patter. It's been rainy. They're happy at least, not fighting. Far worse things than that.

As life is. At the end of the week or early next week, I'll have in place a line of credit from my business bank. Good thing too. I haven't been able to pay myself since December. I've got about 7 or 8 checks piled up in a drawer awaiting my ability to cash them. The first two invoices (one on each contract) are awaiting payment, and a third should be submitted this week. It'll be a couple months until I catch up. But I will.

The tax accountant has been slow in finalizing our filings. I've had to draw from savings to cover the expected payments. Yes, far worse things than having to pay taxes, and having the savings to draw from.

Life's pretty good I know it. It's just been one of those days.

Banana-Apple Oatmeal Pancakes

I modified an old recipe. One change, I dropped the raisins, as one of my sons (the Painter) refuses them.

Banana-Apple Oatmeal Pancakes

Ingredients
1-1/2 cups	bread flour
1/2 c.	dry oatmeal
7 tbs.	apple sauce
1 tbs.	flax seed meal
2 tsp.	baking powder
1-1/2 c.	soy milk
1	egg
1 tbs.	brown sugar
2 tbs.	plum butter or jam (any variety)
1	banana sliced
2 tbs.	chopped nuts (optional)
1 dash	cinnamon
1 splash	vanilla extract

Directions

Combine wet ingredients in a medium batter bowl. Mix with fork to scramble egg. Add flour ½ c. at a time while mixing, interspersing with flax seed meal and baking powder, and cinnamon to ensure ingredients are well mixed. Add the sliced banana toward the end, to retain some chunks. Cook over medium-high heat, in a lightly greased or non-stick pan or griddle. Flip when popped bubbles remain open.

Listen to Gopnik

Here's an interesting article in yesterday's New York Times on the intelligence of infants and young children, by Alison Gopnik, a specialist in the subject. Lessons to be heeded.

The Weight of Life

Heavy.

Tonight, I have an overwhelming sense of despair, a vague desire to just disappear, to suffer amnesia, to be someone else, satisfied with a simple life. But it's an inward feeling. The world has not shifted place since yesterday or this morning.

In fact, it's that simple stasis that I identify as my trigger. I wait ...

Perhaps it's all in my head. Not... not that waiting is not a condition of my present life. Just that focusing on that wait is something I alone can control. But I don't.

I wait to hear back from my agency project leader, regarding my second stage proposal (she's just back from three weeks on the road). That second stage contract is a BIG DEAL, the biggest deal of my life. It represents stability for a couple years, a good salary not only for me, but for three or four others. It represents the chance for me to take my ideas to the next stage, to practical applications. The chance to actually build a sustainable research-based business that I can be proud of. That's big.

It's not that I lack confidence that this will happen. It's just that I wait for it to happen. And, if it didn't I'd be okay. For me, the waiting is worst. It's like anticipating the collapse of a house of cards. Once it falls, you just pick them back up and start rebuilding. Picking up the pieces is fine... just waiting for them to fall drives me batty.

I wait to hear about whether I'll be interviewed for the research position across the seas. Apparently, their expectation of a hiring committee rendering a short list in a couple weeks was overly optimistic. Why do I even care about that post? (Because I want so much to feel that I have not been entirely banished from the world of academia, even if I'm not certain that is where I wish to be).

And I wait to hear the results of my other two recent proposals. I wait to receive job applications for the three positions I've recently advertised (well, sent around through my channels--I'll formally advertise them if need be).

I wait to hear back from the seller's agent on a few issues regarding the building I wish to purchase as office space for my company. Then, I suppose I'll wait for their response to my offer.

But... what am I really waiting for? Whose answers will change my life? Truth is, I have, right now, most of the things I have thought important in life: a wonderful wife, whom I am truly still in love with; three beautiful, delightful, charming, intelligent (and sometimes infuriating) boys, growing up in part under my tutelage; I'm a dad; I have a house, with a mortgage payment so laughably small in comparison to what we've paid in the past that I'd be hard-pressed to imagine it possible for us to lose; I've got savings in the bank, enough at least for us to consider remodeling our kitchen, and putting in a new paving-stone patio in the backyard.

Yeah, there is still some lingering bitterness and sorrow over leaving the Academy. I guess part of it is the unsettled nature of where I am. Being an entrepreneur isn't exactly a cake walk. It's quite often overwhelming, daunting. Much better feelings I admit than despair. I'll take the weight of life over the weight of dejection anytime; that doesn't make it any lighter.

Yes, this too shall pass. In the morning, a new day shall dawn. Friday I head to the lakehouse. Rocketmom and the boys are already there for the week. I'll spend the weekend there, and hopefully forget these worries for a couple days.

Overdose, overdiagnose?

Is it just me? Or is it a Midwestern thing? Why does it seem that the parents of every seemingly gifted child I meet reports their child has been diagnosed with Asperger's?

I mean, I can't speak with authority about Autism. I taught a child diagnosed with Autism for a short while. I have a cousin who seems properly to be diagnosed with Asperger's... but these kids? I just don't see it.

Yes, they're challenging (what extremely bright child isn't?). I wonder how much of a diagnosis reflects the society and environment more than the one being diagnosed. I shake my head in wonder.

Challenge

I wrote a post as guest blogger today on my wife's blog: Exploring New Worlds. We've begun some parenting training (shock therapy, boot camp?). Seven years into being a parent, I still haven't figured it out.

Intensity

... at seven months
(and yes he does have grey-blue eyes...
like my wife, and grandmother)

Peach Jam

... and blueberry, and apricot-raspberry too.
My family is happy, and the neighbors love us.

Reminder

Painter: Mommy, does daddy really sneak in here every night and give us extra kisses?

Mommy: Yes, he does... well, maybe not every night.

Painter: Daddy, when I'm a daddy, you'll have to... you'll have to remind me to kiss my boys, too.

I don't think I'll have to.

Seared Ahi Tuna with Mango-Pepper salad

Ingredients:

• ~1 lb. of Ahi Tuna steaks
• ~1 cup of minced peppers (use several kinds)
• ~1/2 cup of diced fresh fruit (mangoes, peaches, apricots)
• 2 tbs. thinly sliced green onions or chives
  
• 1/4 c. olive oil
• 1 tbs sesame oil
• 1 tsp. sesame seeds
• juice of half a lemon, half a lime, half an orange
• 1 tsp. fresh minced garlic
• 1 tbs. fresh grated ginger
• 2 tbs. soy sauce
• 2 tbs. rice wine vinegar (or apple cider vinegar)
  
• 1/8 tsp. wasabi powder
  
• fresh greens (lettuce, arugula, radicchio)
• fresh sprouts
• cherry tomatoes

Mince & chop peppers, green onions, & fruit. Mix in bowl with oils, seeds, garlic, ginger, soy sauce, vinegar, wasabi, and citrus juices. Stir well. Gently Sear tuna about 3 minutes per side (don't overcook it). Arrange leaves, sprouts and tomatoes on plate. Set tuna steaks on leaves, spoon mango-pepper sauce on top. Serve with rice. Enjoy.

The mango-pepper chutney was devoured by our pepper-loving (won't touch most other fruits and vegetables) Painter. Chalk that up as success.

Little pleasures

Our dear Mira is gone. In some ways, knowing the end was coming, makes it easier. I remember when Mouse was run over by a car. I was devastated. Such a sweet, fluffy (she was the only longhair in the litter), intelligent (she was the only one who could open doors by grabbing the handles), beautiful cat.

Mouse in March 2002

She had a habit of running across the busy frontage road beside our condo complex to catch field mice and gophers in the greenway along the highway. One day she didn't make it back. She had been out for hours, I was worried. I found her, flat and stiff, wrapped in a newspaper beside the road.

It was the daily habits that reminded me. Each day, I reached for four cat bowls... then put one back. These days I reach for three, and settle on two. Two toms remain. Enormous cats. Not really fat, just enormous. Take a look at the tail size on the other tabby beside Mira in this photo and you'll get a sense of what I mean. The fourth cat of the litter was Spock. His tabby "M" marking on the forehead reminded us too much of Leonard Nimoy's character to forego the namesake. We had given him away shortly after weaning. It was very hard. We decided to keep the others. Five, then four cats... now down to two.

My three boys

But there are many small pleasures in life. Looking in my baby Composer's grey-blue eyes. I wonder if they'll remain that color. His mother has long been my "grey-eyed goddess Athena". My paternal grandmother had sky blue eyes her entire life. The older two boys have my hazel-green. Composer is just four months now... they could yet change. But those eyes seem willful in their determination to take after their mother's.

I love to tickle his cheek, and watch his delighted, gaping, toothless grin. I love the creativity of his elder brothers, their stories, and their questions. I enjoy those rare occasions when all three (or even just two) play contentedly together.

Multigrain sourdough

The past couple days I've enjoyed my baking again. I was never a baker until the past couple years, when my yearning for dense and flavorful Central European-style bread (the kind you just love to slab a hunk of cheese on), and the inability to find it anywhere, led me to purchase a baking book, and start experimenting. I'm finally at the point, where I can modify recipes on the fly and be fairly sure they'll turn out. I learned the secret to free-form loaves that don't collapse: long rising times (about 3-4 hours), with a couple intermediate sessions of folding the dough in on itself (like an envelope). That stretches and strengthens the glutens. The loaf above is a multi-grain sourdough (wheat, rye, spelt, cornmeal). I baked a dozen bagels the night before.

And now, it's back to work. I'm still honing the technology narrative. I have lunch today with an upcoming senior in computer science and business at a local college, who will be taking on developing a business plan for my firm as his senior project. Then, I head on a two-hour drive for a talk about the research priorities of one government agency. Busy days. Good days. It helps dispel the sadness of loss.

Goodbye Kitty

Mira, foremost, with three of her kitties.

Late summer 1999, a rainy day in Denver. I heard a cat mewing from beneath a car across the street from our first house. I crossed, and bent down, holding out my hand patiently, seemingly disinterested (as my father had taught me to approach a strange cat). She approached and sniffed, then rubbed with verve, purring. I scooped this tiny cat (about 6 lbs at the time) into my arms, sheltering her from the rain, and carried her to our porch.

What do we have to feed a cat? I thought, alighting on the idea of a can of tuna. I opened the door to retrieve it, and she darted in without a thought or hesitation. I opened the can in the kitchen, and watched her hungrily devour it. We let her out and in over the next few days. She decided it was home. We bought proper cat food, and began to treat her as our charge.

Honey, have you noticed that her nipples are swollen? I wonder what that could mean. I was naive, really. I had no idea... but soon figured it out. Did you know that feline gestation is a mere 9 weeks? No wonder she was hungry.

We discovered that Tigger (as the three children up the block called her) was one of the many (a euphemism in this case) cats that they harbored in and around their home. According to them this was already her third litter. About 4:00 in the morning on the Saturday after Thanksgiving 1999, four tiny kittens the size of my thumb were born in a box full of shredded sheets, rags, and paper in our bedroom closet. She had been in labor for 12 hours, crying constantly.

Mira as we named her (from the Slavic root for "peace" and also incidentally for space and the earth) was an integral part of our family for the next decade. Last night, lying on a pillow beside my eldest son who lay in his sleeping bag on the floor (as he had wished), she passed her final hours. Today we buried her in our backyard, along the fence, where we will later today plant some catnip, and eventually place a stepping stone in her honor. Mira, we will miss you.

Mira (on the right), then about 9 lbs, with one of her boys.

Another day: seeking ground

I had one day last week, which I could call a productive full day of work. Continuing work on the basement is a major distraction. It's Passover, so the holidays are also a distraction (which I suppose they are supposed to be).

Today I had hoped to spend the whole day "at work". It hasn't turned out that way. Finding and maintaining focus are difficult but crucial. Finding and maintaining enthusiasm and commitment for my research are essential. It's one thing to come up with an idea (or a set of ideas), and to believe in them. It's quite another to retain that confidence (and the energy that must accompany it) throughout the requisite duration of leading the idea to fruition!

I've got ideas. I talk about them excitedly. I see their usefulness, their worth, their practicality. But it takes more than that. I need to do the work. And some of that work is drudgery: coding and testing, and revising.

This is what lies before me at this juncture. Yet, living life with all its indelicacies (for a parent of young children there are many) is inevitable as well. The basement needs finishing in part because it gives the boys somewhere else to be besides the living room just on the other side of my office wall, and will provide a sound barrier.

I think perhaps the noise in my mind is the bigger issue. Patience, perseverance, a bit of pluck.

A good day

We promised the boys, iff we were able to get everything packed up today and tomorrow (save whatever we leave for the movers), we'd be able to spend most of Monday and Tuesday simply having fun. Despite a few frustrations (understandable when you're expecting a three-year-old and a five-year-old to entertain themselves), they were rather helpful and creative. They even helped us pack a few boxes. We got a lot done today. I'd even venture that it was our most productive packing day for the past couple weeks.

We'll walk to the ice cream parlor (does anyone else use that term?) for dessert, then a bath for the boys when we return. There's still a lot to pack, but I think we're on top of things now. Frankly, I'm more worried about the cleaning up. But then, it's only money. They required a rather hefty security deposit upon renting (two months' rent), which amounts to close to a month's worth of living expenses on our new budget. So, it'd be nice to get the lion's share of it back. But, there are things out of our control.

The property managers switched a few months after we started renting. The house is owned by an old (and somewhat senile) woman, whose children have been bickering, and accusing each other of embezzlement and neglect and such. We rented from the son and daughter-in-law (who were marvelously supportive), then the daughter and son-in-law took over the reins with a rather different philosophy on maintenance (she actually asked the electrician--who had been called last summer, when the temperature was above 109F, because the power would go out everytime the air conditioner kicked in, largely because more than half of the house was on a single circuit--does it have to be repaired?... I mean, it's been like that for forty years!)

She came by last week (with her rental agent!) to do a "walk through". Um... it won't be clean yet. Yeah, yeah, I understand. She sent us an email: the carpet was new when you moved in. Um, yeah... but now it's not... it's been lived on for two years. In any case, I see her working herself up for retaining as much of our deposit as she can muster.

But.... but, it's only money. I am so ready for this chapter to be done. Keep it all and I'll be a bit miffed. But I vow not to raise my blood pressure fretting over it. We do what we can. We're having the carpet professionally cleaned, and we're scrubbing and patching, and painting what we can.

Meantime, there are bigger fish to fry, and a whole wonderful new chapter of our lives to start writing. I set a big goal today: before half of our savings are depleted (figuring we've got two years of living expenses), I will get my first investor or first contract for the business.

Today, the weather here has been in the 80s, touching 90 I believe. They forecast a low of 50s tonight. Meanwhile fresh snow falls on the large corner lot of our new home (with a corner lot's sidewalk to clear). The weather gods are not being kind to us... or perhaps they're just testing our resolve. Any recommendations for a good snow shovel (or snow blower)?

A bit poorer and whole lot richer

Today 3/4 of our cash savings vanished from our account in one fell swoop. Yesterday, I requested a bank check be sent to me to cover our closing costs. It should arrive here at our soon-to-be-departed rental on Monday. The movers come on Tuesday to pack up our belongings. Wednesday we fly, one-way, toward our new home. We close on Thursday at 11:00. The movers should arrive the following Monday or Tuesday.

The mortgage broker says he's got everything lined up to complete the paperwork today (the deadline for our contingency). I wish it had been done weeks ago, but certain things are beyond our control. Current utilities have been set to turn off next week. I've set up our utilities to turn on in our names in the new house. I've cleared out my office, and carted everything home. I sent the movers our credit authorization today.

There's still a bunch of things to pack in boxes, though we're entering the phase of pack it in, we'll sort it out later. Tonight we'll try to pack up our suitcases, and whatever else we need for the next week, then pile everything else into boxes. We'll pay the movers to box up the computers and electronics. Friends have agreed to adopt my three mango, and four avocado trees, all grown from pit a couple years ago, currently thriving in oversize pots on the patio.

All that remains is to book a hotel room and rental car for the day or two before we catch a plane. That, and cleaning, touch up paint, minor repairs. Today was the Painter's final day of kindergarten here. I visited for the last hour, and took pictures. They'll miss him, and he'll miss his friends.

And they forecast 10" of snow to fall tonight... Are we ready for this? I think so!

A dandelion day

Just a fine day, earlier in the week, for blowing dandelion seedheads, as my two older boys were eager to remind me.

My three sons

The Composer, at three weeks old. Getting cuter everyday.












The Inventor, showing his mischievous side.












The Painter, looking more and more the schoolboy.

Back from the trip

I hesitated to title this post "Back Home". We're not home here. This has just been a landing pad, a stopover on our journey. I think we're ready to get back on the train.

All told, we spent three full days with an agent, looking at about 30 homes, several more than once. Some were quite forgettable; others rather unforgettable, for good and bad. What's amazing is the realization that housing where we're looking is without exaggeration 1/5-1/6 of the cost of comparable housing here. On bestplaces.net, our current area rates a 325 for housing costs (U.S. average=100) vs. the prospective community's 53-60.

We had set our priorities: a nice-sized and well-laid out kitchen; a good-sized yard (big enough for a vegetable garden, and running around room for the boys); a decent neighborhood; priced under $150k; 3+ bedrooms (at least two of good size); we need space for our books and piano, space for a home office, space for our entertainment center, and space for the boys to play.

In the end, we were down to three under consideration.

A) Listed at $124,000. Wood exterior, needing paint in the next year or two. Two car garage is a tear-down. Kitchen on the small side, but possible to remodel into the dining room (maybe a rather large eat-in). Large yard, corner lot. 10x10 sun room could be home office); fireplace; hardwood floors throughout; central air, fairly new furnace; unfinished basement; good neighborhood.

B) Listed at $150,000. Three bedrooms upstairs. Large yard, corner lot. Office room on main floor. Nice kitchen (everything updated, new cabinets and stone floor). Hardwood throughout; carpet in living room. Newer furnace; central air; programmable thermostat; vinyl siding; 5-year old 2.5 car garage; unfinished basement; large yard; same neighborhood as above.

C) Listed at $135,000. Great neighborhood. Lots of cosmetic work needed (including new kitchen). Hardwood throughout. Aluminum siding. Partially finished basement. Medium yard (but two houses down from a nice park and playground). 1.5 car garage needs work. Across the street from new friends from the synagogue with two kids. (They had us over for dinner on Saturday).

What are your thoughts? More coming soon...

Community vs. Home

I've been struggling with a post, which keeps becoming longer and more complicated than I'd like.

Here is the essence: Which is more important community or home?

Here's what I mean: our current first pick locale leads in part because of the prospect to become part of the local Jewish community there. I've never been an active member of a synagogue before. But I'd like to pass along to my boys a sense of my heritage, which in today's America seems impossible without such a connection. (When public schools send children home with countdown chains for Christmas, teach them to sing "the Lord is come" in the winter pageant, have them write letters to Santa, and insist that Christmas is a secular holiday, how is a child not to become confused?)

But I fear we may be forced to choose between being near such a community or finding a place that satisfies our housing requirements. Which is more important? If I'm to be working at home, and Rocket has no work outside the house for a time, that leads me to think those requirements are more stringent.

Community is hypothetical, potential. A home is where we'll spend our lives, but for the few spare hours each day or week that we go elsewhere. The point is, doesn't it seem where and how we spend most of our time should weigh most heavily on our decisions?

If the choice is between being near a possible community and having a home that fulfills our expectations (sufficient land for a garden and running around space for the boys, a sizable kitchen, space enough for a reasonable home office, and costs that allow us to survive for 2-3 years), I think I lean toward the latter.

Assuming I succeed in turning these ideas into self-sustaining support, we can always move nearer to community then, eh?

Out of the stupor

These past couple days I've been absolutely and utterly exhausted. Frequently interrupted sleep is a nasty condition. Yesterday, I came home around 4:00, and promptly hit my pillow for about an hour. Then, I went to bed before 10:00 and slept until nearly 7:00. Today, again, I was drowsy. I picked up my mom at the airport, after getting the Painter from kindergarten, and picking up the Inventor (who wanted to join us) from home. I narrowly escaped a few very bad judgments on my part while driving home. I chalk it up as sleep deprivation. That's a good reason not to drive more than necessary.

Somehow, out of the stupor of the past couple days, I've made admirable progress on my major unresolved issue. Sure, it takes me a while. But, time is something I have in abundance. My white board has remained uncluttered since I wrote about it in that earlier post, except for the addition of the words breathe and smile. They help I think.

I know about myself that I work most productively in spurts, long seemingly uninspired periods of mulling, then bam. It's nice to have hit a spurt on this issue, since it is a fulcrum of sorts on which much of the rest of my proof-of-concept work depends.

But, there still remains this little matter of mastering C++. [SIGH]