Donald Ferguson’s Blog

I have to mount my new binocular to camera tripod that I have owned for many years. A little tinkering and prying with a screwdriver allowed me to mount bracket on the binocular. The next step was mounting the bracket on the tripod. The bracket is supposed fit a “universal camera-tripod mount.” I should have panicked at this phrase and called in an “integration specialist,” i.e. my girlfriend. I did not.

I thought that using a standard interface should be easy. I should have known better considering how much work I have put into designing standard interfaces for the software industry. I give a lot of presentations to customers, universities and at conferences. Almost all of them include material on SW industry standards, like Web Services.  The first two “timeslots” in my presentation are almost always:

1. Trying to plug my laptop power cable into a power outlet near the podium. This should be easy but never is. If the podium has a US 110V outlet it is almost always in an awkward position that causes the power transformer to dangle in the air. The transformer’s weight pulls the plug out of the outlet. This means I have to bend the plug’s tongs inward to make the plug grab the outlet but not too close together to not fit into the outlet.  I will need to use my computer somewhere else at some other time, which means that I have to “un-adapt” the tongs after the presentation. Many of my presentations are in foreign countries. This adds the complexity of using a “power converter.” This is pretty straightforward except that I need to adapt the tongs for my power supply to make a tight connection into the converter and the converter’s tongs to make a tight connection into the outlet. Think about this pair of manual tasks. I am trying to simultaneously jury rig two electrical connections and I have two hands, and my body conducts electricity. Rubber soled shoes have saved my life many times. Thank God for “business casual.”
2. Trying to get my laptop to connect to and “drive” the projecting display. This normally involves frequent use of “Did you hit Function-F7?,” toggling settings on the projector, changing my display resolution and powering on/off the project and/or my laptop.

All of this occurs right before I start presenting on the benefits of industry standards.

Two quotes from Seronik’s book “Binocular Highlights: 99 Celestial Sights for Binocular Users” explain one of the many wonders of astronomy.

“Even if it (M104) isn’t visually stunning in binoculars, by looking at M104 you are looking some 28 million light-years (emphasis added) out into the cosmos. Keep that in mind the next someone asks how far you can see with ‘that thing.’”

“In 10×50 glasses, NGC 2903 appears as a tiny smudge of light … That doesn’t sound impressive, but it is. Consider that with minimal optical aid you are able to look through a skin of foreground stars, across an expanse of more than 20 million light years, and actually see the glow of billions of suns whose combined brilliance has been subdued to the 9th magnitude by a distance beyond comprehension. This kind of realization is central to the experience of visual astronomy.”

For some additional perspective, the apparent magnitude of Venus is  -3.7. This means that a 9th magnitude star is approximately 2.5^13 (the 13th power) fainter than Venus, or 150,000 times fainter. The apparent magnitude of the Sun is -26.7, which is 2.5^26 or 2.11 x 10^14 (100 trillion) times brighter than a 9th magnitude star. So,  NGC 2903  is so far away that the combined brightness of billions of suns is100 trillion times fainter than our sun.

One of my Christmas gifts was a very high quality 16×70 binocular. Binoculars are a lot more complicated than I thought. Some of the metrics are obvious. 16×70 means the magnification is 16x and the lens diameter is 70mm. Like telescopes, a wider diameter captures more light, which makes it possible to see fainter objects. I have not yet read about “Eye relief (mm),” “Exit pupil (mm)” or “Interpupilary adjustment distance (mm).”

I also received the book “Binocular Highlights: 99 Celestail Sights for Binocular Users”by Gary Seronik. The book is excellent. I decided to start with two easy targets:

1. The Pleiades
2. Betelgeuse

I also decided to try for Kemble’s Cascade, which is an asterism.

Tonight was a productive but brief project. First, I learned a new word: atserism. Second, I easily found The Pleiades. Finding the small smudge that the naked eye sees is simple. The view through the new binocular was stunning. The 4 degree field of view is almost too small for this target. Also, I did mistake another set of stars for The Pleiades before actually finding it.

Betelgeuse is also easy because it is a star in Orion, which is very easy to find. Seronik’s book recommends this star because it is one of the stars that is clearly “not just white.” There is a slight orange tint to the naked eye. The tint is extremely clear through the binocular. Seronik recommends slightly de-focusing the binocular to enhance observing the tint. I did not find this to help. Focusing/de-focusing the binocular is a bit more complicated than some other binoculars because each eyepiece has its own focus adjustment. Other binoculars have a center wheel that focuses both eyepieces.

I think I found Kemble’s Cascade. A “backyard astronomy” site provides hints for finding the cascade and a star field that shows what you should see. What I saw matches the star field, although the 4 degree field of view might be a little small. I clearly saw four bright stars in a line, three fainter stars in a slight curve and some “fuzzy thing.” The “fuzzy thing” was right where  NGC 1502 should be. The observation was a good match for part of the cascade but the whole cascade is much longer, and probably did not fit into the field of view.

My project was brief for two reasons:

1. I quickly found my targets.
2. I need to mount the binocular on a tripod. The magnification is so high that things dance around in the view.

I tested the binocular during the day. There was a pickup truck at least 200 feet from my porch. I could easily read the license plate. The binocular has amazing depth of field making the view very 3D, almost like a 3D movie or one of the shows at Disney World.

I might have made my neighbor paranoid. He climbed into the truck and drove off while I was looking at it.

I am not sure what the right term is: binocular or binoculars. Different online dictionaries make different choices. 

I am shopping on Amazon.com for a desktop Zen garden set. The searched return several options. The “Amazon recommends section” had two weird suggestions:

1. EyeClops Night Vision Infrared Stealth Goggles

2. My Little Sandbox - Combat Mission

Night combat missions seem a bit un-Zen.

My girlfriend is in charge of hiding the Christmas presents from my children. Yesterday, my oldest daughter asked me if I knew where the presents were hidden. I responded “No.” She then asked if I thought I could guess a couple of places where we could look. I said, “I cannot find the things Regina doesn’t hide.”

Every now and then I look for something of mine in the house. When I cannot find it I start rampaging through the house thinking, “Damn it! Where the Hell did that idiot put it? I am going to tell her to never ever again to touch my belongs again. I don’t care if it is the middle of the hallway. I don’t care if it smells and is under her pillow. Treat my stuff like it’s radioactive, or perhaps Metamucil that looks like Anthrax!” (see previous post).

I usually find what I am looking for after rampaging and rummaging through the house like a demented burgular. I punctuate with search with a few phone calls to her. I leave strident and insulting voicemail messages demanding a phone call to tell me where the critical item is. The phone calls frequently use the word “radioactive.”

When I finally find the item, one of two thoughts occurs:

1. “Crap. I put it here.”
2. “Wow. This is a really good place for it.”

Thought #2 has allowed me to form a search algorithm entitled “Where would Regina put it.” If I cannot find something, I draw on my Kenpo karate focus and Buddhist mediation to become one with Regina’s thoughts.  I become the “Searching Jedi.” Usually The Force tells me where the item is.

We moved into a new house several months ago. People would often ask me if I was “all settled in or is everything in boxes?” I concluded that there is a simple test to determine if I am moved in. If the “Where would Regina put it algorithm?” works, we are moved in. Stuff has been put in its proper place.

Despite having only been in the house a couple of days, the algorithm started working like a charm. One night I was looking for something. I think it was some kind of big spoon or spatula or something. I applied the “What would Regina do?” algorithm. This returned the following answer:

1. Clearly in the kitchen.
2. A list of drawers and cabinets ordered by increasing distance from the likely places for her using the item, or in a place maximally far from where I would use the item. Gina wisely keeps cooking utensils far from me.

The algorithm failed. The item was nowhere to be found. I looked everywhere. I gave up and shouted, “Gina, where is the XXX?” She responded “On the counter in the Dora the Explorer tin under the witches’ ball.” I thought “Either we are not moved in or Gina has a radically new algorithm.”

Another post on this topic will be “Why the Hell did that idiot city girl from California shovel the snow to the wrong side of the walkway burying the rock with the key and put away the snow shovels in a locked house in the middle of winter!?”

This entry is a short interlude between the previous entry and a future one, which will be “Fart Tag, a Sixties rock legend and the Elf Queen.” I want to briefly provide details on an allusion in a previous post.

I was returning from New Orleans on a business trip. The trip was after 9/11 and during the height of the Anthrax scare. In fact, there was a news report the night before my trip stating that Anthrax had been found on an airplane in San Jose, CA. The report turned out to be false.

My flight was one of the first morning flights out of the New Orleans’ airport. The post-9/11 security was taking up a lot of time at the airport. So, showing up two hours early was wise. I showed up at the airport 90 minutes before my flight, which was 60 minutes before airport security opened. Everyone else flying at that time also showed up 90 minutes before their flight. Net result: a massive line of people waiting at a closed security checkpoint (for 60 minutes). This was New Orleans, which meant a lot of passegers were hung over, grumpy and needed a bath. The same was true of the security team. (By the way, I went back to look at the checkpoint right before boarding. There was no line.)

The security checkpoint opened and people progressed through the bag scan and metal detector. I am an experienced traveler and know what I can/cannot bring through security.  Screwdrivers are obviously not allowed. I had been carrying a small eyeglass repair kit that contained an itsy-bitsy screwdriver. I had gone through security at dozens of airports with the kit in my computer bag.

This time the security agent pulled my bag aside after the scan and told me that he needed to do a manual search. OK with me. The agent rummaged around, pulled out the eyeglass repair kit and then flourished it with relish. He looked like he was going to shout “Ah Hah!” My six year old daughter did not look as excited as the security agent when she finally managed to get a stuffed animal out of one of those “magic claw” games, after about 30 attempts.

The agent explained that I could not bring a screwdriver on an airplane. The agent became a bit cantankerous.  Now to be fair, I am not sure I blame him. He was surrounded by hundreds of angry, restless, hungover and semi-washed people. Worse, he had to deal with me. I probably got “a look” on my face.

The agent shouted, “Don’t act like that. A screwdriver is a weapon!” My response will go down on the short list of my all time stupid responses. I responded, “What? Yeah, maybe if the pilot is this big (holding my hands about six inches apart). Maybe if the pilot is a hamster. What’s the pilot’s name? Stuart Little?”

Things went downhill from here. Yes, it was possible to go downhill from this apparent low point in the passenger/security relationship. The agents decided to do a complete, thorough manual bag search. I had been carrying Metamucil in a Tupperware container on business trips. Every time I presented ideas at meetings my colleagues would tell me that I was full of crap. Thus, Metamucil was a critical travel supply. I had previously tried carrying the single serve packets but they kept exploding in my bag. Now there was a small residue of Metamucil powder in the bottom of my bag.

The security agents found the Tupperware container an opened it. Everyone jumped back about four feet thinking that the Metamucil was Anthrax. The agent I had upset shouted “What the Hell is this?” This drew a bit of attention from other agents and did not inspire a warm fuzzy feeling in nearby passengers. In about two minutes there were five or six security agents and as many passengers peering into my Metamucil while trying to hold their breath. The agents looked into my bag and found the Metamucil scattered in the bottom. Their faces told me that they thought they had a major hazardous material crisis.

I explained that the material was Metamucil. I now had 10 people looking at me and clearly thinking, “Who carries Metamucil in their computer bag. That is the lamest lie I have ever heard. This guy is full of crap.” They got one thing right.

I offered to eat the Metamucil. This offer did not allay anyone’s concerns. I appeared to be carrying Anthrax and thought the plane’s pilot might be a hamster. I was clearly crazy enough to eat Anthrax, and had obviously been exposed to Anthrax for a while. Eating it would not increase my risk. I was clearly ” The Sicilian criminal genius Vizzini from the Princess Bride who died because he built up a tolerance to Anthrax instead of Iocaine Powder.”

The security team’s solution was to swab the Tupperware container with the Nitrate (explosives) cloth and place the swap in the analysis machine. I thought about pointing out that they were performing an explosives test that would be useless on a biological weapon.  For one of the few times in my life I decided to keep my mouth shut.

The Metamucil/Anthrax passed the test. The security team still had their doubts about me. They looked like they were considering a full body search including a cavity search. This did not happen. I assume that they believed anyone carrying Metamucil was full of crap in the literal not metaphorical sense.

I don’t carry Metamucil anymore. Don’t ask.

I am flying home from Australia after attending the 6th International Conference on Service Oriented Computing (www.icsoc08.org). I gave an industry keynote and then gave a technical overview of “management using Web services,” “Web based enterprise management” and “management of Web services” to the SOA Summer School following the conference. I will provide a link to the presentations once the organizers publish them. I was also on a panel discussing various aspects of global SOA provisioning including SaaS, enterprises publishing services, etc.

One word that could describe my trip is surreal. The first example is a completely logical paragraph in what appears to be English, and which uses terms I heard in Australia. “I was hungry and decided to get something to eat. My friend was not hungry and did want to have a meal. I did not want to eat in a restaurant alone. I decided to take home take away. I was not very hungry and decided to have something light. My friend suggested a Rocket Salad. The friend was not hungry but did want something sweet and asked me to bring back Persian Floss. I left to get the food, which I picked up relatively easily. The walk back was a little harder. There was much more traffic and crossing streets was difficult. Fortunately, school had just let out and children were walking home. I followed some of the ones heading in the direction I wanted to go. I figured there must be some way for them to cross the busy streets. After a few minutes we came to a Zebra Crossing. For extra-measure, there was a Lollipop Lady to assist in crossing the street. The traffic did not stop right away and I had to wait for a minute. So, I had to stand at the Zebra Crossing watching the Lollipop Lady while holding my Rocket Salad and Persian Floss.”

That last sentence makes perfect sense to:

• Hallucinating psychotics
• People on LSD
• Salvador Dali
• Australians

I speak very softly and had to use a wireless microphone during my keynote. About halfway through my presentation voices started coming from apparently nowhere. I was pretty jetlagged. For a joke, I said to the audience, “I am pretty jetlagged. Please tell me you hear those voices too.” The audience laughed. I was relieved for a moment because my joke went over well. I then realized that the audience’s laughing could either be very good or very bad:

• Good: The audience heard the voices through the sound system and thought my joke was funny.
• Bad: The audience thought I was being funny by saying that I was so jetlagged I could hear voices that they were not hearing.

The voices continued for a few minutes. One of the organizers got up and left the room. Again, this could be really good or really bad:

• Good: He hears the voices and is going to investigate.
• Bad: He is going to get security and medical help for me.

The voices stopped and the man came back into room. I took this to be a good sign. There must really have been voices. There is, however, a second interpretation. The man was a hallucination also.

There was also a bit of strangeness during my panel session. The strangeness was a repeat of the basic theme in my keynote. The moderator posed a question. I was nearest the moderator who passed me the microphone, making me the 1st panel member to answer. I started giving my answer and a pigeon walked into the room and stopped in the area between the audience and the panelists’ table. I stopped speaking. The pigeon looked at me, and then turned and left the room. I said, “I guess the pigeon did not agree with my answer.” The audience laughed. This looked like a repeat of the “voices” conundrum. After a moment’s thought I realized that situation was a little more complex.

• Possible improvement: I had only hallucinated one thing (a pigeon), while the previous time I had hallucinated two things (voices, a man).
• Worsening: A second hallucination.

Australians say “No worries” when they mean “You’re welcome.” This is similar to American’s saying “No problem.” I find this funny when people say it to me. No one ever thinks that I do not worry. This would be so funny to my friends that I bought a shirt that says “No Worries.” Ths phrase came into play during my departure.

Security during my departure was interesting. I cleared customs, baggage scan and the metal detector. I started walking to the lounge but a female security agent stopped me. The agent told me that I was selected for a “random explosives scan” and asked if that was OK. I said, “Yes.” I was tempted to say, “No” because she had asked if it was OK. I learned previously, especially on a trip to New Orleans, never to be “funny” at security. I used the phrase “What? Is the pilot a hamster?” at New Orleans security. That is a story for another day.

I walked with the agent over to a little cubicle and she asked if I had ever had this done before. I said “Yes. Many times.” My first thought was that this was either the worst answer I could have given or the best.

• Good: Agent thinks, “This is a frequent traveler. Unlikely to have a bomb.”
• Bad: Agent thinks, “Many people believe this traveler is likely to have a bomb.”

This explosives check was different from the previous ones. The agent asked me to stick out my palms, and then proceeded to use the swab on my hands, belt, pockets and shoes. The test normally involves just the luggage. The agent seemed to think that I might be a bomb, nut be carrying one. Many people have told me that tend to explode for no reason. So, I was a bit alarmed. My luggage and I passed inspection. Clearly the people who think I explode are wrong. I will bring up this proof next time.

I thanked the agent when she was done. Her response was “No worries.” Security was excellent and the phrase was finally appropriate to me.

I was walking towards the lounge and saw a long line of people waiting to enter a room with a couple of clerks. The sign over the room said “Tourist Refund Scheme.” The Australians are very open people. They even let you know about their scams and schemes. Most places just trick the tourists out of their money.

Qantas gives pajamas for the flight to 1st Class and Business Class travelers.  The first time I experienced this was on a previous Cathay Pacific flight from Hong Kong to Frankfurt. I was flying Business Class but got upgraded to 1st Class. Cathay Pacific is an excellent airline and 1st Class is killer. I was amazed when I got to my seat. There was a shelf that could function for a desk on the left hand side. The chair was like a living room recliner and there was a partition that I could shut. I said to myself, “Wow. I have a cubicle!” I then thought, “That is a very context sensitive statement.” If IBM had put me in a cubicle at work, especially a cubicle this small, I would have exploded.

I ate the excellent meal on the Cathay Pacific flight and got up to brush my teeth. On the way to the washroom, the flight attendant asked, “Would you like your pajamas?” This was the first time I heard of pajamas on airplanes. Without thinking (a common problem), I responded, “No. If we all die in a fireball, I do not want them to find me in my jammies.” The flight attendant looked shocked. There were probably a few possible explanations:

• “Oh no. Someone who is likely to explode got past the random explosives check.”
• “Huh? If we go down in a fireball, what you are wearing does not really matter. If you are really concerned about your appearance, brush your teeth well. That is all they are going to find.”

I have gotten over the  “jammie concern.” Many people put on their pajamas before takeoff. I wait until after takeoff. Very rarely, a plane has to abort a takeoff, mildly crashes but does not explode into flames. There is an emergency evacuation, however. You are not allowed to take any hand baggage during an emergency evacuation. I know what would happen to me if I were wearing jammies.

• The plane would mildly crash but not burst into flames.
• We would all escape with our lives.
• The plane would then burst into flames, incinerating my belongings.
• I would be stuck in a foreign country with no passport or wallet and wearing pajamas in an airport. I find this prospect frightening, especially because I was once in the airport terminal in Lagos, Nigeria.

Hearing voices and hallucinating pigeons may not get me committed. Wearing jammies in an airport without money or identification might get me committed. One of life’s universal truths: “Never be in an airport in your pajamas without any identification or money.” Nothing good ever follows the sentence, “The other day I was at the airport with no money or identification, and by the way I was in my pajamas.”  That sentence is never followed by, “And then Adriana Lima walked up to me, said ‘Hi’ and gave me a puppy.” Hearing voices may not get me committed. Seeing pigeons may not get me committed. If, however, you

• Ever see me in an airport in my jammies with no money or ID.
• Ask me how I am doing
• And I respond, “What a silly question. Didn’t you just see Adriana Lima give me a puppy?”

You can commit me.
Next blog: “Fart Tag, a Sixties rock legend and the Elf Queen.”

I am travelling to Australia, which reminds me of something about food that puzzles me. I have eaten both kangaroo and ostrich on business trips. I skip over the kangaroo part when talking with my kids. I prefer that they not think that Dad ate Kanga and Roo from Winnie the Pooh. The kids and I often eat bacon but I do not think they have made the connection with Piglet. All of us really like bacon. So, they may not care enough about Piglet. I do not know.

I have also eaten rabbit, which I also do not mention. Rabbits are my oldest daughter’s favorite animal. She has has been inseparable from her “Big Bunny” and “Little Bunny” stuffed animals for many years. I am not concerned about the youngest one. She has outgrown Winnie the Pooh but has fond memories. She will not get upset about my eating rabbit. We both agree that Rabbit in Winie the Pooh is annoying and deserves to die.

Anyway, back to the mystery. Kangaroo tastes like chicken. Ostrich tastes like beef. I would have guessed the other way around.

I have had ringing in my ears due to a cold and everyone knows that I am dumbbell. So, it is surprising that I have had trouble finding the Ring Nebula (M57) and the Dumbbell Nebula (M27). I have tried on five separate nights. It should be easy to find M57 from Vega and M27 from Albireo.

Tonight was my latest try. Transparency was above average but “seeing” was poor due to windiness. The sky was very dark because the moon was not in the sky. I think I am beginning to successfully navigate through Lyra with my binoculars and finder scope. This should make finding the Ring Nebula quite easy. I am not sure what it should look like through binoculars and my finder scope. I expect that I will see a diffused light source unlike a point star. I cannot find anything other than a crisp point light source with my binoculars, finder scope or 10mm lens.

I looked at Albireo again tonight, for the third or fourth time. It is quite pretty.

I thought I could faintly see a thin strip of the Milky Way tonight. I need to double check where it will be in the sky.

I will not get many more chances at M27 or M57. They are getting lower in the sky and out of lines of sight above and between the trees. The constellation are switching from the Summer constellation to with Winter constellations. I saw Orion while driving home around 8:30.

I had a meeting with a customer in the “Customer Value Center.” The CVC is a large ball room subdivided into meeting rooms using partitions. My meeting was in “CVC Board Room B.” I knew in advance what time my meeting was and in which room. I entered the CVC. There were many, many people milling about. There were no chairs. Chili’s (a restaurant chain) would at least have had a bench. There were some “ticket windows” to the right. Some were labeled “Partner Registration Only.” Others were simply “Registration.” I was not sure what I was registering for. So, I decided to skip the registration. I walked towards the farm of cubicles. There was a rope like you see in front of a nightclub. Some guy with a foreign accent, not big enough to be a bouncer but pretending to be one, stopped me. I told him I had a meeting in the “CVC Board Room B.” The “bouncer” looked it up, and then agreed I had a meeting. He then asked if I had registered. I told him no. So, I had to go register. I went up to one of the ticket windows. The clerk looked up my meeting, agreed that it was in “CVC Board Room B.” She then asked if everyone was here. I said “I have no idea. I have never met these people.” I naively assume that I could go to the room and then the people would come. This is how almost any establishment would work, even a restaurant like Chili’s. But no. 

The clerk gave me a yellow sticky note with the number “873” on it. She then told me to go stand “in the corner” and someone would come and get me. To make matters worse, the corner I was assigned was labeled “Service Management.” This was cruel; this was not service.

I did not know what to do with the sticky note. I stood in the corner like Mickey the Dunce. Had I know it would be like this, I would have made a dunce cap in my room. I would have worn it and stuck my “873” tag on the hat, making me easy to find. Finally, one of the customers I was meeting came up to me. She found me by name because was wearing a conference name tag. I have no idea what the 873 sticker was for. When she asked me if I was Don Ferguson, I should have responded “No, I am 873.” I should have attached the “873″ sticky note to my name tag, covering my name.

The customer and I walked up to the ticket clerk. Not all of our party had arrived and they did not want to “seat us.” I explained that the other attendees told us that we should start without them. Finally, I was allowed to go back to the bouncer.  The bouncer did not want to seat us. I once again explained that we were supposed to start without the other people. The bouncer took us to “CVC Board Room B.” Basically, this is just a slightly bigger cubicle. The cubicle was empty. I almost shouted, “You’ve got to be sh*&#ting me! The room was empty? Chili’s makes me wait, but only when all the tables are taken. Oh, and by the way. Chili’s gives me a vibrating pager that lets me know when my table is ready, not a sticky note. AND THEY ARE NOT A COMPUTER COMPANY. WE ARE!” The bouncer then asked if there were only two of us. He wanted to give us a smaller room. Apparently, “big cubicles” are at a premium.  I explained that more people were coming. He asked how many, hoping there were too few to justify a board room. Moving us to another room would be a mess because the people coming later would come to the room where we were supposed to be, not where they put us. How to answer the question “How many more people?”

1. Karate his ass. He may not be a bouncer but I am.
2.  “47,” a number big enough to justify the board room.
3.   ” I would like to use this room. This is where the other people expect to meet us.” 

Guess which one I chose.