Thoughts on INVASION

Happy Saturday morning to all of my readers! Today is 23 August — only FIVE days until Vanderbilt football and only SEVEN days until Texas football begins! Happy days!! We can all finally crawl out of the darkness that is football-free into the light that is football season. Cherish these days – they will be all too short. In just four more months, it will be Christmas, and we’ll be in the midst of bowl season, gorging ourselves on as many games as possible (because America celebrates mediocrity!), until we get to the last sweet morsel, the “championship” game on 12 January. (“Championship” is in quotes since it’s only a four-team playoff and there are way too many people who are either too involved to vote without bias or who really don’t know anything about football on the so-called “committee.” Why can’t Division I football have a “normal” playoff like EVERY OTHER COLLEGE SPORT IN AMERICA? I guess that’s a topic for another day.) On 13 January, we will be forced back into the cold, dark months without any football. No more tailgating. Televisions and radios stop working both ways (my beloved and sainted father, glory be unto his name tells me that, during football season, if you yell loudly enough at the TV, the coaches and players can hear you). We are stuck with “sports” like rhythmic gymnastics and ping pong. I could cry just thinking about it.

None of that now — in just a few days, football season begins, and we can enjoy 132 beautiful days in the Sun that is college football.

That said, some of my readers might wonder about the title of today’s post. Let’s see:

  1. We have two beautiful passion flower plants. These climbing vines produce beautiful flowers (an example of one my mother grew is shown below). wpid-passionflower-2014-08-23-08-32.pngIf you find them, enjoy them while you can — flowers open around 11 AM and last only one afternoon (especially on the Caprock). While the passion vine is chemically protected by cyanogenic glycosides (that prevent plant-eating bugs from eating it), it is fed upon by caterpillars of two specialized butterflies that basically do not feed on anything else. The nasty-looking larvae of Agraulis vanilla (the gulf fritillary) are ALL OVER both of our vines, and have almost completely destroyed them. These grotesque things look like like the picture below; there seem to be ZILLIONS of them, and they are remarkably resistant to my mother’s efforts to irradiate them (which continued until she realized they were going to become butterflies; see the picture below the nasty caterpillar). It’s hard to believe that nature would allow a species to completely destroy its larval host, but I think next year, we’re going to make good use of insecticide (we might plant milkweed, like Asciepias tuberose L. (a.k.a. “Butterfly milkweed”) so the damn caterpillars will have something to eat and Mommy can have her freaking butterflies). I just want to see more passion flowers passion fruit!                  wpid-caterpillar-2014-08-23-08-32.jpgwpid-1920px-agraulis_vanillae_butterfly_from_above-2014-08-23-08-32.jpg
  2. The Crimea is a really beautiful part of the world. Until 2014 (which is really none of our business — let the Russians, the Ukrainians, and the EU handle this mess without us!), the only time anyone heard about this place was either the Crimean War (1853–1856) or the famous song about the principle waterway of the region (here). Seriously. This mess needs to end. Get over yourselves, Russia.
  3. The group calling themselves the “Islamic State” (or ISIS; a violent, terrorist organization claiming to have established a caliphate in Syria and Iraq) is committing the most heinous, abominable, and abhorrent crimes across the Middle East. There really are no polite words that can express what’s going on over there. Beheading men, women, and children (and not with a single, quick stroke, either). In some cities, this freakish group demands that Christians (those who do not believe in their so-called “prophet” and their bizarre interpretation of the Quran) must pay fines, leave, or convert to ISIS’ heathen beliefs. This is genocide in its ugliest and most base form. In any case, ISIS marks their property with the arabic letter nūn – “n” for “Nazarene.” All Pekingese (and really, all decent human beings) stand with these Christians in defiance of ISIS and their unforgivable crimes! For future reference, when you see someone wearing, carrying, or otherwise displaying a picture like what’s below, they are standing up for these persecuted people. We encourage you — in the strongest possible manner — to stand together with us – #WeAreN
  4. wpid-pastedgraphic-2014-08-23-08-32.png

Finally, for some poor souls (like my mother), school has started. For others (like my beloved and sainted father), classes begin on Monday. This is the true invasion.

My mother is now teaching VERY young children (who should be seen rarely and never heard – you KNOW they would yell into my ears and pull my tail!). Some of these lost souls have yet to experience the bathroom, and get some of the fundamental concepts confused. For reference:

These are sinks. Wash your hands. Use hot water AND soap. That means you have to get your hands wet AND get soap on them AND rinse them off. You are little Typhoid Marys, and you don’t need to be passing any of those cooties to my mother, because she’ll bring them home and infect my poor father. Especially since my mother has not allowed the construction of an emergency bleach shower just outside the front door.

These are urinals. This is where you go to mark stuff (don’t do it anywhere else, or you’ll get into BIG trouble). A quick reminder: ONLY LIQUIDS GO HERE. I’ve heard that some of you missed this point already…


These are toilets. This is where you leave your scat (again – don’t leave your scat anywhere else!).


None of these look similar, so try not to confuse them (again). Just a little help for my mother.

My poor father’s condition is even worse (although, granted, he probably doesn’t have to deal with poo on a daily basis). This semester, his teaching load has DOUBLED! That means that he’ll be working on a new lecture EVERY DAY FOR 15 WEEKS! These aren’t terribly puffy classes, either. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, he is teaching a graduate class on applied nuclear physics called “Nuclear Matters;” on Tuesdays and Thursdays, he is teaching a special topics course on nanostructured transition metal oxides. If you want to try to keep up, you can periodically check his university website. If it is slightly dated, please forgive him — this promises to be a truly hectic semester!

In addition to classes, my beloved and sainted father’s laboratory has been transformed (finally!) from a filthy hole full of broken crap into something that resembles a fairly clean, fully functional, operating material science laboratory! Deo gratis! The last major piece of equipment was delivered and installed during the week of 21 July, and things are settling into place nicely. I don’t believe that “before” pictures exist, but the current configuration looks like this:


Pictures will, I’m sure, be forthcoming. Let’s look at the timeline:

  • Started work in January 2013; assigned crap lab that could never be used for science
  • ~March 2013: Assigned better lab space (the one he is currently using)
  • ~May 2013: Original occupant leaves newly-assigned lab space
  • ~June 2013: Renovation begin
  • ~August 2013: Last bits of trash leave the lab, and the lab is cleaned for the first time in (months? years? decades?)
  • ~December 2013: Realization that purchasing new equipment “isn’t working well”
  • January 2014: Purchasing solution realized; equipment starts coming in properly
  • July 2014: Final renovations completed; last major piece of equipment arrives
  • August 2014: Final equipment checks started; minor issues still need to be resolved

This means that the laboratory really went from empty to full in ~8 months. That’s amazingly fast — especially given the way certain bureaucracies work (or don’t, as the case may be). The goal is that the major systems are characterized and initial data is generated during the fall semester (while teaching a double load; ha, ha). This means that “real” work could begin in the spring.

Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men… Perhaps one of Murphy’s Laws of Combat is more appropriate: No plan survives the first contact intact.

For all of our friends out there, think of us as the semester begins (i.e., the invading hordes arrive). St. Albert, St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Cassian of Imola, St. John Cantius, St. Ambrose, and St. Bede the Venerable, pray for us!

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A Black Day

Kenneth Charles Kaye, 71, noted League City attorney, passed away July 29 in Houston, after a decades-long battle with Crohn’s disease. A first generation American, he was born in Houston on September 15, 1942, to Walter Kaye and Margaret Schoening Kaye, who had come to America from Germany.

He graduated from Ohio Wesleyan University in 1964 and in 1968, was awarded his law degree from the University of Texas at Austin. Kenneth was a loyal Longhorn all his life, particularly during football season.

He was board certified in civil trial law and was selected by the National Trial Lawyers of America as one of the top 100 trial lawyers in the nation. A member of the bar associations in Texas, Galveston County, and Bay Area, Kenneth was also a fellow of the Texas Bar Foundation. He served on several committees for the State Bar of Texas, including three years as chairman of the district Grievance Committee.

Kenneth was admitted to practice law before the U.S. Supreme Court, the U.S. Court of Appeals, the U.S. Tax Court, and the U.S. District Court of Texas. He was a referee or Master in Chancery for the 308th, 306th, 10th, and 212th Judicial District Courts in both Harris County and Galveston County. He also served as municipal judge for Taylor Lake Village from 2006 until 2013.

He married Patsy Jane Hays in Houston 43 years ago this month and became a loving father to her son, Gregory Nassar, and later to their son Anthony. He was a wonderful role model for his sons and an unfailing source of love and support for his wife.

Kenneth was a loving husband, father, grandfather, nephew, friend, and colleague who will be sorely missed by many who loved and respected him. He was preceded in death by both parents and his aunt, Dr. Eva Schoening Pfeiffer-Haufrect.

He is survived by his wife Patsy; his son Gregory Nassar; his son Dr. Anthony Bresenhan Kaye and wife Christine of Lubbock; two granddaughters, Alexandra Veronica Nassar and Marron Margaret Nassar; his sister Irene Kaye Crichton and husband Andy of Pennsylvania; three nephews, David Crichton, Stuart Crichton, and Peter Crichton; and his twin aunts, Ruth Schoening Schultz and Lore Schoening Aufhauser.

Private graveside services were held in Wheelock, Texas, on Saturday, 2 August at 10:30 where Kenneth and Patsy had a retirement home. A memorial service — a celebration of Kenneth’s life and work — was held at 2 p.m. on Monday, August 4, at the Crowder Funeral Home in Webster, Texas. In lieu of flowers, the family requests that donations be sent in memory of Kenneth Charles Kaye, a good man and fine attorney, to the Crohn’s and Colitis Foundation of America.

As many may recognize the Hon. Kenneth C. Kaye:

My grandparents upon their engagement:


The most loving father anyone could imagine:


There will never be a more honorable, more righteous man. Requiescat in pace, Papi. You are loved, and we miss you already.

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Today’s Thoughts: Smoke!

Dominus vobiscum!

It’s been months and months since I’ve last written, and you, my dear readers, have suffered (I’m sure) as a result. My most sincere apologies.

Let’s start with the biggest news:

  1. Mommy is the latest (and best!) addition to a private school here on the Caprock. She gets to teach tiny little children (who would probably chase me and pull my tail — I’m glad they don’t come home with her!). I know she’s happy about that, and we’re all happy that she’s happy.
  2. Omi and Papi have officially moved out of my beloved and sainted father’s childhood home and moved up to the ranch. We’re all very proud of what they’ve accomplished, and we think they’ll be very happy there. For my beloved and sainted father (glory be unto his name), however, there really is no more going home… Here is their place:


My beloved and sainted father took this picture from way far away using his iPad (not a real camera). If you can’t see Omi and Papi, they live here:


When I go see them, I stay in the little house over to the left in this picture (with my parents). Here’s another picture:


Wouldn’t you like to visit?

All three of these pictures show excellent examples of crepuscular (from the latin word for “twilight,” crepusculum) rays. In this case, small water droplets are causing the sunlight to scatter through a layer of stratocumulus clouds, making the rays visible. Despite the fact that they seem to converge at a point, they are really near-parallel shafts of light. Many people call these rays “fingers of God;” what else would you expect in Texas?

  1. After more than 18 months of struggling, swearing, ranting, raving, crying, and begging, the last piece of major equipment for my beloved and sainted father’s laboratory will be installed next week (they will be here Monday through Thursday), at which point, his lab should be ~95% up and running. Deo gratias!!! I am sure more pictures will follow once everything is done. It’s a bit sad that it’s taken so long (and even sadder that this piece of equipment has been sitting in the lab, wrapped up like an untouchable Christmas present for more than two weeks – isn’t that cruel?), but the wait is now almost over. Yea! Happy bouncing Pekingese dance!!

Now for the real news. This is serious.

I mean it. Brace yourselves.

My beloved and sainted father has somehow acquired a smoker. No, Mommy doesn’t light up some foul-smelling garbage. I’m talking about the grill’s new big brother. Another device to combine fire, smoke, and meat. Thus far, I have personally witnessed the following meat exit what could only be described as the back door to heaven (since what comes out deorum cibus est):

  • Two whole chickens (N.B.: One quarter of one chicken was sacrificed to the fire god)
  • Two racks of baby back ribs
  • One massive pork shoulder

You know what’s really cool? Smoking both chickens and both racks of ribs — at once — with room left over. Yeah, baby.

Mommy is thinking she might never have to cook again (she needs to seriously rethink that, though).

Despite the fact that I’m not as privileged in the “meat tasting” department as I think I should be, I can confirm that all of this at least smells awesome. My beloved and sainted father (glory be unto his name), who never lies to me, has told me that it’s really dang good. This afternoon, however, I’ve heard whispers of the new piéce de résistance: BRISKET. Mmmmmmmmm, good – and I’m not talking about some Campbell’s soup. If I’m sufficiently stealthy, pictures should follow. I’ll bet our guests tonight will be happy (until my sister bites them…).

Until next time…

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Today’s Thoughts: Daddy’s Lab is at DEFCON 2

My beloved and sainted father (who is, as everyone knows, infinitely patient) is mere hours away from doing actual science. Don’t tell anyone – I’m sure they’ll think of (yet) something else to stop him.

After months of not having a lab at all, to cleaning out the nightmare (and doing laboratory archeology – Yea! Computer memory from the 1960’s!), to the never-ending construction (which makes a never-ending mess), to non-functional locks and uncooperative safety people, my beloved father and his students are now two-digit hours away from doing science.

That aside for a moment, I really had to think about the title of today’s post. Lots of bitches I know would have totally gone for “Hey, baby. Want to get some red hot furnace love?”


Yes, Daddy loves his furnace. He loves his new quartz sample holder even more. This picture was taken this very evening during characterization testing when the furnace reached a mere 600 degrees Centigrade (that’s almost 1300 degrees Fahrenheit). You can see the rails on which the sample travels and the half-round cross section of the sample holder itself. The bright lights going around the tube at the back are the heating elements.

During initial testing, this furnace went up to 1,200 degrees Centigrade (almost 2,200 degrees Fahrenheit). This ain’t no Easy Bake Oven, yo (in Yankee-speak)! It’s hot enough to scorch a snake’s ass in a wagon rut (as they apparently say “out West”). Since fused quartz doesn’t melt until it reaches ~2,000 degrees Centigrade, I think we’re safe (although when we hit 1,200 degrees, the temperature was still rising at a degree or two per second… we never did find the maximum).

Now that my beloved and sainted father has rebuilt it with new thermocouple wire, new housing, and modified insulation, we’re about ready to be cooking with GAS (in this case, nitrogen, and that’s not flammable; no oxygen in this furnace!). That means that he’s just one tiny (but critical) piece of equipment away from really doing something in there (something other than cleaning, setting up, fixing things that shouldn’t be broken, fighting with the safety people, ordering new equipment, organizing, cleaning again, fixing something ELSE THAT YOU WOULD NOT FREAKING BELIEVE IS BROKEN – AGAIN, the safety people said what?!?!, etc.). Perhaps something… scientific!

Hope springs eternal. Perhaps by early next week, some preliminary results will even find their way here… Until then, think upon this picture (same furnace, now at 720 degrees Centigrade):


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Today’s Thoughts: Books (and lots of them!)

Less than a year after moving to the South Plains, and desiring only to please his children and our mother, my beloved and sainted father (glory be unto his name!) bought us a new house. Yea! A YARD (and no rocks to hurt my pads)!! Yea!!! Good floors (we have LOTS of room to run and play!)!!!

Daddy did well (I suppose Mommy should get some credit – I think she picked it out). It’s here (on top of the palisaded plain – taken from the southeast):


And after the recent weather (Thunder ice!), when you walked outside and looked left, it looked like this:


To the right:


And here is Mommy (with her poor foot and the ice scraper) coming out so that she and my beloved (and sainted!) father could go to Mass:


There was just a “bit” of ice (about 1/4-inch) on the windshield:


In any case, after we move, the books have to go back up. All of them. Since we knew we’d be moving from our rental to a house, we didn’t unpack all of the books there; so packing up wasn’t too bad (only about half…)…

Over the past two weeks, Daddy has been setting up his new library. Daddy’s library at home has room for 69 linear feet of books plus another 9 feet of antique books in glass. The pictures below show that we’re basically at capacity. Here are mostly non-technical books, along with Daddy’s library throne:


Here be physics – and lots of it:


Astrophysics and math go here:


Yes, some shelves do not look 100% full – that’s intentional. There are books all over the place, and since my beloved and sainted father is being freed from his current assignment and moving to a different topic in the spring, books will shuffle some more. It’s pretty dang full as is…

In any case, since these shelves are so full, some sections had to spill over into Mommy’s office (another 34 feet) and into the bedroom (another 16 feet), and into the space that’s TBD (for “picture books” – about four feet) –– and all of this doesn’t include the four or five feet of books that will be donated to others (i.e., the yearly “Great Purge of the Library”).

That means that ignoring the books that are out (i.e., not put away), there are roughly 132 linear feet of books at home!!

Think about how much that weighs. There are roughly half paperback and half hardcover books (see the pictures); as an estimate, that’s close to 25 pounds per foot – for a whopping total of something close to 3,500 pounds of books! And this STILL ignores all of the books at my beloved father’s office…


That means that all of the boxes had to come in, get opened, all of the books had to be put onto the floor in piles (so they could be organized), and then put up on shelves. The shelving process wasn’t trivial, either. As a shelf of books was ready, the height of the shelf had to be adjusted to accommodate that particular collection. Effectively, once sorted, the books had to be put on, taken off, and put back on again. Of course, there is ALWAYS shuffling later to accommodate other books and ensure that things remain organized…

During this process, my silly sister decided that she would try to learn something. Here she is in stage 1 of the process:


And here’s a closer look:


Midnight is in the middle of Computational Electrodynamics: The Finite-Difference Time-Domain Method (third edition) by Allen Taflove. It’s an excellent book – everyone should ready it!

You might notice some other books in these pictures:

  • The red books all stacked together are the (autographed) collection of the Michigan Spectral Catalog by Nancy Houk.
  • The blue books under the Michigan Spectral Catalog is the General Catalog of Variable Stars (GCVS) – the only reference source on all known variable stars. Now available electronically from their original source, these books were produced by the Institute of Astronomy of the Russian Academy of Sciences and Sternberg State Astronomical Institute of the Moscow State University.
  • Just in front of my sister and to your right (her left) are some thermodynamics and statistical mechanics, two of which (in that pile) were lovingly donated by our beloved Papi.

We’ll see how well the current arrangement lasts once the semester is over and books get switched out for the spring… Want to keep up with my beloved father’s teaching? Periodically check here.

These books aren’t the only things that are still finding their new homes. I think it will take a while for all of the boxes to vanish. The important stuff, however, is already out and progress is being made…

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Today’s Thoughts: What’s dangerous?

Yes, I know that I’m supposed to be talking about the end of my beloved and sainted father’s trip to Oz. Yes, I know that I’m late.

Those of you who regularly read this, please forgive me, but this must be said:


However, my beloved and sainted father (glory be unto his name) is going to be giving a lecture in a Physics 5300 class (this one has to do with renewable energy). The lecture will be on nuclear power.

This is relevant, since my beloved and sainted father (glory be unto his name) will be teaching an entire semester on radiological and nuclear physics (power, detection, weapon effects, and forensics) in the spring.

So… he was putting some graphics together today. Here is a plot of the number of world-wide radiological deaths (blue line) and radiological deaths and injuries (red line) plotted year by year along with the number of automobile accidents in each year (black line).

Pretty clear, right?


Go ahead. I’m sure you can see the red and blue lines… WAY at the bottom. To try to see it, we plotted this with a logarithmic y scale. Here it is:


Although there were radiological incidents as early as 1896, they don’t show up on this scale (the base 10 logarithm of zero isn’t defined). Look at this graph. Seriously LOOK AT IT. THINK ABOUT IT.

At some point, society started to associate nuclear power with nuclear weapons; we didn’t do the same thing for nuclear medicine – yet the vast majority of incidents are related to radiology overexposures and overdoses from cancer radiotherapy.

Before you ask, yes, this graph includes the effects of Chernobyl.

Nobody chants “NO ROADS, NO ROADS” to end the huge number of traffic fatalities we suffer in the U.S. (never mind what the entire world suffers) every year. There are no U.S. cities that proudly declare themselves to be “AUTOMOBILE FREE.”

People need to find their ears, hold one in each hand, and pull firmly. Nuclear power isn’t scary. It’s necessary. If we spent a fraction of the money that we currently spend on wind, solar, and hydro power (all of which are more expensive and worse for the environment – don’t believe me? Show up to my father’s class and learn something, dammit) on new, safe nuclear power, we’d all be better off.


Stay tuned. More (even more delayed) news from Oz still to come…

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Thoughts: On Pain and Pain Scales

My beloved and sainted father (glory be unto his name) went to the doctor yesterday. We like this doctor; he’s kind, and he’s more than competent (a rare combination for a surgeon).

In any case, said doctor’s nurse asked how badly my poor father was hurting. I’m sure you have all been there. In some cases, there’s a little sign (without all the steps – usually just the even numbers) that looks like this:


This doesn’t really cut it. If you’re in the doctor’s office because something hurts, why would you be smiling (Step #2)? A normal person’s interpretation of this scale might be as follows:

0: Haha! I’m not wearing any pants!

2: Awesome! Someone just offered me a free hot dog!

4: Huh. I never knew that about giraffes.

6: I’m sorry about your cat, but can we talk about something else now? I’m bored.

8: The ice cream I bought barely has any cookie dough chunks in it. This is not what I expected and I am disappointed.

10: You hurt my feelings and now I’m crying!

Clearly, this doesn’t make any sense.

Once again, however, the internet comes to save the day. I admit that I stole this completely (nobody would begrudge a Pekingese something like this when they’re looking after their beloved and sainted father, right?). Here is a revised pain scale with all the numbers filled in:


Of course, this also needs interpretation:

0: Hi. I am not experiencing any pain at all. I don’t know why I’m even here.

1: I am completely unsure whether I am experiencing pain or itching or maybe I just have a bad taste in my mouth.

2: I probably just need a Band Aid.

3: This is distressing. I don’t want this to be happening to me at all.

4: My pain is not screwing around.

5: Why is this happening to me??

6: Ow. Okay, my pain is super legit now.

7: I see Death coming for me and I’m scared.

8: I am experiencing a disturbing amount of pain. I might actually be dying. Please help.

9: I am almost definitely dying.

10: I am actively being mauled by a bear.

11: Blood is going to explode out of my face at any moment.

Too Serious For Numbers: You probably have Ebola. It also appears that you may be suffering from Stigmata and/or pinkeye.

I think this is much more realistic.

Now I should point out that never, ever (EVER) in his life has my beloved and sainted father REQUESTED a shot. Seriously. Who LIKES to get stabbed with giant needles? That’s crazy.

At this point, however, when the pain was Too Serious For Numbers, it doesn’t matter what the solution is – just take it – needle or not.

Our hope is that this shot lasts longer than the last one. At some point, my beloved and sainted father (glory be unto his name) will require surgery – probably in the middle of September.

In any case, next time you go to the doctor, use this new Pekingese-approved pain scale. They might even adopt it in their office.

Stay tuned for more (delayed) Thoughts from Oz soon!

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