So as I've said elsewhere, I've been working on a re-analysis of a subset of the data we took before the Chandra X-ray Observatory was launched (11 years ago yesterday morning, hey). The data were taken over about 8 months (most of it; supporting calibrations the previous and following years) in 1996 and 1997.
I knew this stuff was valuable at the time, so I had a minion sorting out CD-sized chunks and burning it to disk. I ended up with seven disks which represented about 2/3 of the Phase One data, and then for some reason we stopped doing that. And it turns out the last of those seven disks is unreadable.
Not to worry, we have about six copies of everything on disk, copied from little disks to big disks multiple times over the years. They're all nearly complete, but, well, missing little bits here and there.
So I was excited to learn that one of our NASA colleagues insisted on a copy of all the data when the testing was done, which he burned to a Jaz disk (hooboy, is that ever upwards compatible... not!) from his NextStation or whatever they called those things back then. Mirabile dictu, he's managed to read that disk.
So this afternoon I spent 3 minutes ftp-ing it over the home network to my laptop, where it occupies about half of one percent of the available disk space.
How the times change.
So I'm sitting in my recliner doing that, and writing the "thanks!" e-mail, when the world explodes.
A dog walked by with his person on a leash. This is a mortal offense, apparently. So both dogs started barking, and Rusti led the frenzied procession to the back door to see if she could get another glimpse of the offender, barking her fool head off.
Into the waiting arms of a sleeping cat. Who doesn't take kindly to being disturbed, stepped on, snapped at, whatever. When Rusti is startled or scared, she attacks. The cat would win that contest, hands down, even starting from a dead sleep.
The barking went from "you kids get off my lawn" to "prey!!!111eleventyone"* before I could get to the kitchen. Where I found Rusti, remarkably calm and contrite, at a respectful distance from Calcifer, who was hissing at her. And growling. He never growls.
Nobody's bleeding, and the critters touched noses several times afterwards. Rusti coughed a couple times, so I wondered if Calcifer had managed to damage her neck somehow, but she seems to be fine now. And Rocky, the sweetest, most submissive dog in the world, is sure that whatever it was that happened must be his fault somehow, poor puppy, even though he wasn't involved beyond a bit of barking. So I comforted him, too.
Now: Rocky and Rusti are sleeping on the couch across the room, and Calcifer is curled up in my lap, likewise asleep. Though, I expect, with half an eye open waiting for the next unprovoked dog attack.
----
*Perhaps the proper reading is "You and me, Garbage Truck! We both know which one of us is bigger. Right here. Right now."
Apparently toxicfur had a grand time seeing Melissa Etheridge in concert in Atlanta. S is a woman who was introduced to this music by toxicfur, when they were in college together, and her kids were little. I have a cell-phone pic of blue spotlights on something to prove she was there.
She'll be back Monday in time for (half a day of) work. zzzZZZZzzz.
I knew this stuff was valuable at the time, so I had a minion sorting out CD-sized chunks and burning it to disk. I ended up with seven disks which represented about 2/3 of the Phase One data, and then for some reason we stopped doing that. And it turns out the last of those seven disks is unreadable.
Not to worry, we have about six copies of everything on disk, copied from little disks to big disks multiple times over the years. They're all nearly complete, but, well, missing little bits here and there.
So I was excited to learn that one of our NASA colleagues insisted on a copy of all the data when the testing was done, which he burned to a Jaz disk (hooboy, is that ever upwards compatible... not!) from his NextStation or whatever they called those things back then. Mirabile dictu, he's managed to read that disk.
So this afternoon I spent 3 minutes ftp-ing it over the home network to my laptop, where it occupies about half of one percent of the available disk space.
How the times change.
So I'm sitting in my recliner doing that, and writing the "thanks!" e-mail, when the world explodes.
A dog walked by with his person on a leash. This is a mortal offense, apparently. So both dogs started barking, and Rusti led the frenzied procession to the back door to see if she could get another glimpse of the offender, barking her fool head off.
Into the waiting arms of a sleeping cat. Who doesn't take kindly to being disturbed, stepped on, snapped at, whatever. When Rusti is startled or scared, she attacks. The cat would win that contest, hands down, even starting from a dead sleep.
The barking went from "you kids get off my lawn" to "prey!!!111eleventyone"* before I could get to the kitchen. Where I found Rusti, remarkably calm and contrite, at a respectful distance from Calcifer, who was hissing at her. And growling. He never growls.
Nobody's bleeding, and the critters touched noses several times afterwards. Rusti coughed a couple times, so I wondered if Calcifer had managed to damage her neck somehow, but she seems to be fine now. And Rocky, the sweetest, most submissive dog in the world, is sure that whatever it was that happened must be his fault somehow, poor puppy, even though he wasn't involved beyond a bit of barking. So I comforted him, too.
Now: Rocky and Rusti are sleeping on the couch across the room, and Calcifer is curled up in my lap, likewise asleep. Though, I expect, with half an eye open waiting for the next unprovoked dog attack.
----
*Perhaps the proper reading is "You and me, Garbage Truck! We both know which one of us is bigger. Right here. Right now."
Apparently toxicfur had a grand time seeing Melissa Etheridge in concert in Atlanta. S is a woman who was introduced to this music by toxicfur, when they were in college together, and her kids were little. I have a cell-phone pic of blue spotlights on something to prove she was there.
She'll be back Monday in time for (half a day of) work. zzzZZZZzzz.
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