I got some responses to my last Rubik’s Cube post. After I sent the report though, I worried that some might offer clues about whether I’m on the right track or not, so I set the responses aside. I didn’t read them. It’s like not being able to watch a football game during the day while it tapes on the DVR to watch the next day, and then trying to avoid hearing the score before you get a chance to watch it. I want to know how this ends, but I want to work my way through it to get there. I’ll read the responses later, thank you. In the meantime I haven’t gotten anywhere by trying to solve the cube level by level. I’ve been thinking more about breaking down the task into smaller parts. There are 26 visible positions on the cube, 9 on the top layer, 8 on the middle layer, and 9 on the bottom layer. Of those 26, 6 of them are fixed; pivot points that won’t change. That leaves 20 individual positions that need to be solved. Within that 20, there are two types of positions; 8 corner pieces with three sides each, and 12 middle pieces with two sides each. Since we know the whole cube can be solved, it stands to reason that the individual smaller problems could be solved as well. I’ve gone back to my effort to solve just the corner pieces. Maybe it’s the simplest; it’s got the least number of pieces. It’s not that hard to get four corner pieces right all at once. I can get part way through the other four corners, but haven’t made it all the way yet. I think I just need to be able to see a little farther out to get all the corners in the right places all at the same time. Hopefully, if I can resolve all eight cube corners, the rest of the puzzle will follow; I’ll be able to solve the middle pieces as well. My progress (or lack of progress) updates must surely be maddening to those who already know how to solve the puzzle, but please don’t shout out the answer. I still think this is something I can figure out eventually. It’s a warm night, the door is open, and there is a pauraque calling out in the park. What a delight. The pauraque is a night bird, so that’s when it’s vocal. (These are the birds that sleep on the forest floor during the day and are indistinguishable from leaf litter.) When it gets dark, they pop out into clearings and eat flying insects. They hunt from the ground and jump up in the air to catch their prey. In the early dusk, they look funny hopping up and down in the twilight. This is the first one we’ve heard this season. They’re a common summer chorus.
Go Broncos!
It was a hard-fought hard-hitting game, but we provided just enough boost from Way South Texas that the Broncos advance to the Super Bowl! Our contribution to the cause involved Broncos poncho wearing, dishes in the kitchen doing, yelling, running, jumping, high-fiving, and swearing. Judy watched the last part of the game from outside on the deck, looking in at the television, trying to cool down a little. And good thing for me; I had my neck-helmet on the whole time! We get a chance to do it all again in two weeks. We were scheduled to be in Houston, on a driving trip to watch Alex’s gymnastics meet on Friday, see some birds north of Houston on Sunday, then travel down to Corpus for a checkup with the neck surgeon on Tuesday. We decided to scrap everything about that trip except the Alex’s gymnastics part. We’ll fly back and forth to Houston so we can be home on Sunday for the Super Bowl. The people at the Houston hotel who would have been our next door neighbors will likely enjoy a quieter stay. Go Broncos!
Then and now
I weigh the same I have weighed all my adult life. That’s good, right? As I’ve gotten older, I haven’t put on any weight. Couldn’t tell that by the mirror though. What’s up with that? I thought about it. Muscle mass. I’ve read that men lose five pounds of lean muscle per decade after the age of 40. I’m three decades past 40. Let me do the arithmetic. Oh shit! I just lost fifteen pounds of muscle and I still weigh the same!
It’s Henry’s fault
We find ourselves sleeping in. We’ve always gotten up at 6:30 or 7:00. We get up and get about our day. But without Annie now, there is no 6:30 puppy alarm telling us it’s time for us to get up, take the dogs outside, and bring them back in to feed them. Henry Iron Bladder doesn’t care. He’ll sleep as long as we do. It doesn’t matter when he eats either. Whenever we get around to it is fine with him. Now Judy and I are underperforming and it’s Henry’s fault.
Neil deGrasse Tyson
