I recently delivered a small piece of software with a big responsibility. The task was to look in a database of products, customers and orders, and produce a daily report of how much to manufacture and ship, and who to ship it to.

When I thought it was finished, I had occasion to go through it again, and realized I had introduced a bug, whereby the quantities of items were undercounted. Specifically, it counted one, for each line item that was to ship today, and missed the possibility that a single customer could have ordered more than one of a particular item. Fortunately, the customer had not yet relied upon my output.

As I fixed the bug, I realized how serious it was, and how important my work is to the customer.

This businessperson is relying on my to tell him what products, and what quantities to manufacture each day. His goods have lead time and are perishable. If he gets it wrong, he’s either left without product to ship, or he has to eat the overage. (I do mean “eat.” His products are food items.)

I once knew a programmer who expressed total shock when he was shown his first customer feedback. He replied, “you mean somebody actually uses this stuff?”

We live in our little cubicles and forget that, out in the big world, people are relying on us for their livelihoods.

Roseann and I are visiting them at their home in upstate New York, about 45 minutes east of Saratoga Springs, and an hour north of Albany (or so.)

It’s amazing to me how much I can learn about people that I think I know. This time, I’m struck by the eclectic set of interests that my parents hold. I want to just stay here for the rest of my life, and spend my time reading their books.

Today I’d like to take you on a visit to my parent’s office/computer room in the back of the house. Here is my mother’s desk, where I’ve been sitting to do my work.

Now the interesting thing here is the mixture of old and new. Over on the left, we have a reasonably recent, large, color laser printer from Dell, that my mom bought at a going out of business sale. Note also the massive amount of media visible in this picture. I estimate over 500 floppy disks, but I don’t think there is a floppy disk drive on line any more. CDs date from the days of DOS and Windows 3.0. The stack of cassettes are indeed music, not data. I was afraid that there was still Commodore 64 software up there. (Would you like a Commodore 64? There’s one, maybe several, in the barn.)

The box with the blue lights, to the right of the laptop, is the Hughes satellite modem.  I’m getting excellent service out of Verizon’s 3G. If they’re out of contract to Hughes, I’m suggesting they consider moving on.

That’s my laptop on the desk. My mom’s Dell laptop is hidden behind mine.

There are also a few models visible on the upper shelf. My father’s stuff is escaping to my mother’s side :)

Perhaps tomorrow, we’ll visit another section of this marvelous, strange place.

Where were we in 1994? Oh yes, I was working for 3Com.  That gig was 12 years long, so may be a recurring theme. Technology was so different, but we were seeing the shape of things to come. There was no World Wide Web. I was working to bring Lotus Notes out to the entire company of over 10,000 people.

In the “Ten Years” post, I mentioned that I was beginning my term as Master of my Masonic Lodge. Fifteen years ago, I had been a Mason for one year. Masonry had and would lead me to many valued friendships, and would teach me a lot.

In 1994, I was actively riding motorcycles. I had a Yamaha Venture Royale motorcycle that I rode to work every day. My main vacationing activity was motorcycle touring. I had taken one sabbatical and crossed the country, and several more long motorcycle rides were in my future.

I’m struck by the fact that so much of life is lived by just “plugging along.”

We went to Birchat HaChama on the beach in Boca Raton, FL.   The event was co-organized by all the synagogues in the area. The morning opens, as all good mornings should, with the morning prayers. There were three minyanim, or services, going on. One each for Ashkenaz, Sephard and Chabad custom.

After the morning prayers were finished, we were told, “even though we had three minyanim, we will all move down to the beach where we will recite the blessing on the sun together, as one people.”  We did.

The experience was uplifting. The size of the community and the fellowship with folks that I did not “know”, yet was connected to, was very moving.

Lots of photos were taken by lots of people, including the three that I took on my phone, below.

[Show as slideshow]

Then, with 50% of us dissatisfied with the outcome, during the next eight years, the same domestic peace prevailed. There was no revolution, no internal violence, no breakdown of law and society, and now, eight years later, the dissatisfied spoke, loudly, for their dissatisfaction with what had gone before.

For all it’s warts, the United States of America works.

It’s from my father…

for each piece of shmura matzo, one piece of regular matzo broken in large pieces

soak in warm water just till soggy. Then rescue quickly. Don’t let it dissolve.

drain very well. Continue to let drain for a while more. Then put in largish bowl and add… (for the equivalent of each couple of kazayes of matzo) 2 EGGS OR THE EQUIVALENT IN EGG BEATERS OR CHEAPER STORE BRAND SUBSTITUTE. USE A LOT OF EGG. Probably a lot more than you think you should.

Let it absorb, turn gently, being careful to avoid breaking up the largish pieces of soaked, drained, eggy matzos. This is not supposed to come out chopped up like scrambled eggs but rather like thin pancakes glued together w/egg stuff.

Use the biggest frying pan you have, more oil or spray than you think you should, good and hot, and only fry enough at one time to cover the bottom of the pan. Otherwise it will come out steamed rather than fried. Fry till crispy. Then make some more. And more… till everything is used up. Make a lot as there will be no end of people who will want more.

Serve with maple syrup, honey, jelly or jam. Don’t forget cinnamon. If this is made for lunch or dinner rather than breakfast, onion powder or onion soup mix and garlic powder will go good but leave out the cinnamon (for the squeamish or unimaginative).

This can be kept warm in an oven till it’s all made so the people who got served first and waited don’t have to eat cold food..

Definitions

Shmurah Matzoh: Shmurah = “Watched”. This is the round cardboard-like stuff that you buy from the Chabad for use at the Seder. See image.

Kazayes: An archaic hebrew measurement. I believe it’s the volume of half an egg. Many religious requirements for consumption of ritual food require the consumption of a Kazayis. My take on Morty’s use of Kazayis is one eggs for each board of regular matzoh and one for each round of shmurah matzoh

Ten years ago today, I was living in San Jose, working at 3Com Corporation. I was the technical lead for the web site group. The web was two years old. 3Com’s web site ran on one Sun server. It was all static HTML, except for some dynamic page generation that ran on a perl script that I had written. I didn’t know that the whole method of web delivery would change in the next year and that I’d find myself looking for other work. (Fortunately, I found it.)

Ten years ago today, I was just beginning my term as Master of my Masonic Lodge.  I had become a Mason six years before, and had worked my way through the officer positions. Now I was leading the Lodge. This is a bit more dramatic than being president of most societies and boards. In the tradition of the old trade guilds, the Master has lots of power — on paper. In fact, although the Master can say, “it is my will and pleasure that…”, he’d better be careful of what “that” is, or his will and pleasure will not be very forthcoming. Nonetheless, I had a full year of lodge programs and problems to deal with, and I was much excited about it.

Ten years ago today, we were just looking at buying our first RV. This decision would lead to major lifestyle changes for us, though we had no clue that we were doing anything other than changing our vacation plans.

Ten years ago, last summer, I took a week’s motorcycle trip on the Oregon coast. I rode from San Jose, up 101 through Northern California, and all the way up 101 to Astoria. I came home on I-5. I had many interesting days, though no “adventures.” It would be the last motorcycle trip before I sold the Gold Wing.

Funny how so few paragraphs can encapsulate so many beginnings, and so many endings. Clearly I’ve given my readers a very tiny overview, but the events mentioned above meant a lot to me, and even as they were shaped by what had gone before, they shaped what came afterward.

Boruch Dayan Emes…. indeed.

I’m struck by the fact that I can’t complain about this. Why?

1. I don’t pay for a paper every day. I read it on the web.
2. I don’t even pull down the ads on the website. I use an ad-blocker.

So given that I’m not a “customer”, I have no right to b*tch.

How do I expect to continue to receive valuable content, if I don’t support it?

San Diego being a bit far out of reach this weekend, I decided that home-made tortillas would be the next best thing. Google yielded up a recipe, and we were off and running.

The tortillas are definitely different than what comes from in the bag.  They are thicker and softer than the store-bought variety.  It reminds me (in taste, not texture) of Shmurah Matzoh. They warm up very nicely in the microwave. The main deficiency is that I can’t get them round. Oh well. They are very good.