We’ve been asked to deliver our Argon Gas Module to our customer “AS-IS”.

Even so, I don’t like it one iota.

When this thing blows up, and we get dragged to court, I will make it quite plain that I did not want to see this thing put up on orbit, and I guess I get to use IJSM as testimonial evidence of that fact. It is not safe to allow this thing to go out the door untested, as our customer has shown a critical willingness to skirt testing procedures in the past in order to meet schedule. There is absolutely no way that I will knowingly and willingly put the lives of ISS crew at risk, and if there are any open non-conformance reports on the AGM, I’m going to clearly state that fact on every disposition.

I am not amused. I am a good little engineer, and I do what I am told, but I am not paid to like it.

I must see this tour.

Caedmon’s Call and Jars of Clay.

Touring.

Together.

Wow.

I can go see one of these shows and die a happy man. Unfortunately, I’m not sure if Derek Webb will tour with CC … I think he’ll be working on a solo tour promoting She Must and Shall Go Free, his new solo album. I hope Derek sticks with the band, but if he left, I’d understand.

Dude … CC and JoC! DUDE!

I’m probably too mad to be posting.

The fact that I can even think that means that I am too mad. Yet post I shall.

One of my customers–I won’t say who, eh?, but that’s only because I value my job–is pushing to make a choice that is absolutely, 100% unsafe. Not only do I think it’s unsafe, but my manager thinks that it’s unsafe. He told me so last night over a beer, and my job today was to hold down the fort just in case the customer wanted to do this.

At about 3:40, one of my favorite people at TBE called me to tell me that the customer wanted to do specifically what I was to avoid. They were headed to the clean room. I thanked Dean for the information, tried to call my senior fellow engineer, and when I couldn’t reach Jim, I had one choice:

March my happy ass to the clean room and physically bar them from laying a hand on that piece of hardware.

Mind you, they didn’t come out there, so I’m back in the main building. I just marched down to my Vice President’s office, but he was in a meeting. I told his secretary why I was there, and she told me that Jim had already called to speak to my Vice President. So, somewhat satisfied that this is going to get solved rationally–or at least a level far, far above where I am in this company–I’m going to hang around in my old office a bit, see if I can catch Jim to add my two cents, and then go back to my other office to finish the stuff that I really do need to do today before I leave.

I’m so mad, I could spit. I had to write this so I’d calm down–I hate to think what would have happen if I’d actually gotten into Mr. Runkle’s office to speak with him and tell him what a damn fool idea this is. I mean, I’d hope that my good sense would kick in and that I’d try to be diplomatic about it, but … whew.

You just don’t play with spaceflight hardware. Period.

No, really.

We were back in the 100K clean room testing the Argon Gas Module today, and we weren’t getting anything. Nothing. Nada. Zip. So, we started jiggering things around, looking for a problem. Checked all input voltages and currents–just fine. Checked the outputs … nothing.

Eventually, we pulled the connector, and then it became clear … the former female connector on the end of our breakout box that we’re using to test didn’t fit the flight male connector on the AGM yesterday, so we found one that fit it. However, the one that fit was a male connector. The pins are short enough that they never hit each other, so there’s no damage to the connector …

… but I just thought that it was funny that we were trying to make a homosexual connection with our damn hardware. Also, I hope that Noah will forgive me for being a bit, ah, insensitive in this entry.

I love this job.

Last night, somewhere amidst the rest of my insanity, I had the germination of an idea: instead of flying to Jersey, why not drive? I mean, that weekend’s going to be screwed by the fact that I have to travel, so why not enjoy it?

I’m an aerospace engineer, and I really don’t like to fly. Sure, it gets me there quickly, and the view from the air is cool and all, but there’s nothing like a good road trip in my book. Now, I’ll get to take one. Because Ed didn’t decide early enough when we’d go, we don’t get three-weeks-in-advance tickets. That means it’d be about $1000 for me to fly from Huntsville-Atlanta-Newark and back. I can rent a car for $37/day. You do the math.

I actually wanted to take my truck, but they won’t let me. Well, they would, but I’d have to fight a lot of paperwork, and I have too much real work to do in order to have my stereo a-blastin’ the entire trip. [Even at $0.365/mi, it'd still be cheaper than flying, but not as cheap as a rental car, probably. So hey. If I were driving a new car, I'd raise hell. This, I won't.]

Why am I even considering this? Two reasons. The first is that this is warranty re-work for TBE, and any place we can save money is good. The second is the more important reason for doing so–visiting folks along the way. You know, if I drive up the Eastern Seaboard, who will be on my path? If you guessed Andy and Heather, you get a cookie. [You gotta buy it, though--can't stick that on the expense report since I wouldn't be eating it for you. Sorry.]

I figure if Andy and Heather are in town that weekend–which Heather says is a good possibility, given Andy’s work situation–I drive from Huntsville to MD on Saturday, spend Saturday night goofing off with them, and leave out early on Sunday morning and get up to Jersey in time to figure out where the hell I am.

That, and I can add states to the List of States I’ve Been In. Currently, I’m at 27. Hockey season is going to bump me into the 30’s. This trip will add Jersey to be sure, though I think that’s it.

Anyway … save TBE some money, not adversely affect my week, and drive about 1900 miles round trip. Sign me up, baby.

That’s what any weekend plans I had just did.

Well, that really happened about an hour ago, but it took this long to echo up to my keyboard. [Sound travels slower at TBE. Don't ask. You don't want a yellow badge, do you?]

Anyhow … with James [expletive deleted] Drake leaving our fair company, I’ve got to pick up his work on Space-DRUMS™, the ill-fated Canadian payload we’ve been building to go on ISS. We’ve got two gas bottles that should go out the door tonight while I’m in class, two that have failed one test and will probably be shipped to them as-is, and most importantly, the gas module to test.

As I was reading the AGM test procedure today, I thought to myself, “Who was the stupid SOB who wrote this test procedure? Oh, yeah, that was me.” Most co-ops get insulated from the dumb mistakes they make as co-ops when they become engineers. Mine just jumped up and bit me square in the tuckus. Yeeeehaw.

So, anyhow, we want to get all this equipment up to Canada postus-hastus, so that means early mornings and late nights until it ships, which should hopefully happen early next week. Of course, that means that my weekend is shot … and with next week my birthday and the next weekend being my travel time up to Jersey, well … hope Mom and Dad weren’t too set on seeing me anytime soon.

I lost the Valcor lottery.

In two weeks, I’ll be in the Garden State.

Can you feel my enthusiasm? Yeah, thought so.

Feh. It’s a job. It’s even the second half of a pay period, and I might be able to wangle not having to work past the time I get back that week.

Man, I need a freaking vacation. Too bad that this is the week after UAH’s Fall Break … otherwise I’d find a couple UAH students with little responsibility and have us throw caution to the wind and go to the beach that weekend or something … but alas.

Back to beating my head into the schedules.

… this week, I swear … I’m going to get more than about three good hours of sleep.

It will be glorious. Oh, it shalllllll be glorious.

Until then, I will go through life in the catatonic state of a zombie.

/me takes a moment, being absolutely mesmerized by the commercial on TV …

It’s not enough, I guess, for DirecTV to run commercials for owning your own alpaca. Nope. Now, they must run commercials for alpacafashion.com.

I am disturbed. I will come home tonight, wish to crash and get some of this sleep thing that I keep hearing people talk about, and then I’m going to think of … alpacas. Then, I’m going to scream.

Oh well … I should get myself motivated towards that place that gives me money for showing up.

Rick, always trying to catch up to me. Don’t worry, guy–nine more days and I’m older again.

Much love, big guy, much love. You don’t know what it means to still have your sorry lanky self around these days.

When is a father and a son getting together at the ballpark to have some fun wrong?

When they go nuts and decide to jump out of the stands, storm the field, and attack the first base coach.

Sure, you’ve probably heard about this incident, but have you read Ray Ratto’s column on it? If not, take a few minutes and go for it.

Gee, Doug, why didn’t we do anything this exciting when we were at the park? Oh, that’s right, Dad would have kicked our asses.

Whew.

I’ve been thinking about purchasing a new A/V receiver. It simply comes down to the fact that, now that I have a TV with S-Video and high-quality audio inputs, I should have an A/V receiver that handles those. My lovely little Aiwa has been a great little trucker for the last three years, but it’s just not up to my … well, not needs, but desires.

So, I’ve found what I want to get: a Sony STR-DE985. Sweetness, in a box. And hey, the old Aiwa doesn’t have to be chucked … the “second room” function could be used with that as a receiver. And yes, I actually have a way to use it.

Of course, this would still be pushing sound out through my bargain-basement KLH speakers, but one thing at a time. I’ve seen these on eBay for around $400, and found one place online selling them for about $350. Sometime soonish.

Kat signed up for Senate!

She did it of her own free will. All of you who are now pissed with me can bite my ass. Especially Sean.

Maybe now Kat can stop bitching about stuff and start fixing it …

Off to UAH to go raise some hell, back after lunch.

UAH assistant women’s basketball coach Lindsay Floyd was killed in a car accident yesterday. She and head coach Andy Blackston, who was injured in the wreck and is in stable condition in a Corinth, Miss., hospital, were on a recruiting trip to Memphis and were on the way back home.

I sorta knew Lindsay, but I’ve worked pretty closely with Andy in the past. I’m trying to pretend this hasn’t happened, but it’s not working.

Dammit.

Darcie’s making me do this, but hey, I consent to it. She says that it was “honestly the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard”, and since I’m in that kinda mood, well, I’m posting. If you don’t like it, stick it in your ear.

“You know what I want from a relationship?

“Someone, at the end of the day, to talk to about what went right and what went wrong.

“Someone, who no matter how great or how shitty the day was, gives me a hug and a kiss and tells me that she loves me.

“I don’t want premarital sex.

“I don’t want complicated drama.

“I just want the love of a good woman.”

Sure, I want someone who’s fun to be around and who likes to do crazy stuff from time to time … but, that’s it.

That’s not too much to ask, is it?

I can look at this hilarious bit of flash and say that I’m not this self-centered.

I fear anyone who is, frankly.

The chat session is to die for.

Now, what sites are this self-absorbed that we could bomb this URL with?

It’s tornado season.

Amy just called, wondering why she was hearing sirens. She’s out buying groceries; I checked weather.com and saw that, indeed, that we had a tornado warning. [Just at that time, I heard the sirens going off.] It’s up in the northern part of the county … up by where we live. However, it’s already east of where we live, since it’s supposedly right over 231/431 right now. That’s past where we live … but I bet the dogs just got rained on like a madman. Thank goodness they have that lean-to that they can get under … and it stays pretty dry. They were all under there looking at me as I was changing the battery this morning.

Just a fun, fun day.

… and some days, you’re the pasture.

I am not mooing.

It all started around 4:03 a.m., when some automated fax-sending service decided that my home phone number was a fax machine. Oh well, they only called three times.

It got a little better when I got up this morning and dozed through some TV. That was nice. It was also nice to chat with Kat and Heather for a quick bit before I hopped in the truck to go to work.

That’s when it got worse. You see, my truck’s battery, which had been on its last legs, died. I paged my boss to have him call me so that I could tell him that I’d be late, and then I walked over to the house to see if Anthony was still home. He was, so after he got a few things set up, off we went to Wal-Mart.

As we drove to Wally World, the bottom fell out of the thunderstorm that covered much of Madison County this morning. We ran in, and then got to stand in line for 20 minutes waiting for the automotive folks to look up a battery for me. Why the wait? Wal-Mart’s automated battery selector was down.

Got the battery, got back in the car, drove back home. Anthony drops me off, I tell him how much I owe him, and I proceed to do the changeout. All well and good, except I can’t find my metric wrench set [who knows what box it's in out in the garage], and my 10mm socket isn’t a deep-well socket. Makes for a fun, knuckle-busting time to change the battery.

Replace it I did, however, and it started up the first time, just great. It hasn’t started that well in a couple of months … proof that the battery needed changing. Of course, sitting for a month uncranked at the collision shop didn’t help, either.

I related all this to the Boeing QE, who was standing outside the door smoking a cigarette as I walked in at 9:50. He said, “My advice to you is to get back in the truck and go back home and go back to bed. I won’t say that I saw you, and you can blame it on a bad starter or something.” It was tempting, but I’m here nonetheless.

It’ll get better from here. I just know it.

… on m-w.com is “troubadour“.

I love it.

Okay, some of you have said that you don’t check IM.o often because I don’t write there often. That’s fine. Some also have said that you’d like a notification here when I write over there. Nah … that’s not happenin’. Well, just this once … wrote a long, rambling, expository entry. There’s a lot to chew on there.

Anyhow … if you’re interested in my writing on IM.o-oriented material, hit the link in the sidebar of any IM.o page that says “sign up for the notifylist”. A few of my readers are on that list, but if you’re curious as to what I’m writing about, that’s where you want to be.

Okay, enough of that. I need to do some more thinking. Should be a fun evening.

I’m quite amazed … I do schedule updates without referring to the notes. Quoth Jerry, one of the resident Boeing managers: “One of these days, they’re going to have to find you a real job … or check you into a psychiatric ward.”

Things are well in other areas of life. I’m hoping things pull together for Friday evening.

The other mechanical engineer in International Programs [my real job -- not this scheduling hell I find myself in] has put in his notice. This scares the crap out of me. I feel exposed, nauseated, whatever. I’ll make it through, but … ugh. Not a good way to start my day.

Got a meeting [imagine that!] in a few minutes. Need to unwind for a second before I go back into it. Have worked solid for the last three hours updating schedules, barely moving. Stiff am I…

Mom sent me an email earlier, asking if I’d spent the weekend “killing snakes or being adult and boring”. Well, it was the latter. Woke up early on Saturday–5:00 a.m.–to be at church for our kidnap breakfast. Kidnap breakfast? Take senior high in the church van to snag new sixth graders out of bed and bring them to church, where other senior high have been making pancakes and frying bacon since loooooong before the sun came up.

Did that, came home, crashed. Saturday pretty much turned into nothingness because of that. I almost went out on the town with Anthony last night, but I thought better of it. Felt pretty tired, so I stayed in. Didn’t do much today, either, other than to go up to the cafeteria and talk to Heather while she was at work. [Asking who Heather is will get you nowhere for the time being, so don't ask. It's certainly not Heather Stanfield, though.]

Youth choir continues to improve under the new director, even though I find myself wishing to be up there waving my hands from time to time. I fully realize, though, that taking the choir job [if it had even been offered to me, which it wasn't] would have meant dropping something else, and frankly, that’s a bad idea … in the other church things I do, I am more needed. That’s been a lesson in knowing my role and doing God’s will in His place for me, so I do my best to keep the pride stuffed in Pandora’s box.

Now, I’m going to be adult and boring and go to bed at a semi-reasonable hour so I can get to work early in the morning. Yay.

A Flash bowling game.

Some people have too much free time on their hands.

I suck at this bowling, too.

Evidently, my boys have decided that my summer needs to be fun in ‘03.

First Sean … now Rick. Yep, best man at both their weddings. Thankfully they’ll be reasonably far apart.

Andy, buddy, I need to plot with you! You must pass on some skillz.

These guys don’t know what they’ve done to themselves. Noooope.

MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHA!

[No, the crack hasn't worn off, but thanks for asking. Not sure why I'm so hyper ... probably because I was up much earlier than normal. Oddly enough, that usually does it.]

Man, I’m just a freakin’ live wire today. Compared to how I’ve felt all week, it’s quite amazing to me.

Trying to hook up the Ant-Dawg with a job over in my group. He’s dumb enough to want the job, so hey, I’m going to be dumb enough to hook a brotha up!

As I type this, people keep calling me with stuff to do … a big change from yesterday, when I might as well have not been here. Guess I better get back after it … as soon as I figure out where the hell I left the redline copy of the schedule … oh yeah, the conference room.

Cure for boredom of office workers the world ’round, yes it is!

[Mainly posted for Todd and Anthony's benefit.]

Carry on.