Materia.com

Materials science was, hands-down, my favorite series of classes in college. Had nothing to do with the materials professor (who told me the only reason females (generally less than 5 percent of the class) attended was to “husband hunt,” and he was NOT joking), or because I’m particularly attracted to suspending 5-ton blocks of concrete on stainless steel wire above a bunch of innocent civilians.

Nope. I loved that class because it opened up whole new ideas: Eutectics. Crystallization. The difference between crystalline and amorphous solids. Liquidus and solidus. I’d always loved big chunks of stuff, and this class gave me a peek into why. And I still pay as much (or more) attention to the materials used in a project as to the project, even now.

So…there’s an organization in the Netherlands dedicated to connecting designers and architects with amazing new materials, and they run a website called Materia. It’s a fascinating place even if you don’t spec architectural materials for a living. (And if you’re a glassist, use their very nice search engine (Material Explorer) to look for types/textures of glass (you’ll need to register first). Fun stuff will result.)

Wong Kee BBQ Dim Sum Restaurant

• Local site (review)
• Location: Downtown/Chinatown (Pearl)
• Price to fill up two people for dinner: About $30

The signs outside (and in) said “Best dim sum in Portland.” The waitress, however, seemed puzzled. “You want dim sum?”

Yes, we said firmly. Dim sum.

She shook her head, went back to the kitchen (which, for some reason, was loaded with boxes of Smart Start cereal), and came back pushing a metal cart filled with little metal cans.

“Here’s the dim sum,” she shrugged, “You pick what you want. Ten minutes to cook it.” We smiled yes at some cans, no at others, asked her to add an order of Chinese broccoli, steamed, and she pushed off to the back to cook it. As she did, an older gentleman in t-shirt and apron popped out, hands on hips, looked at us, and shook his head sadly.

I got the feeling we were committing the dim sum gaffe of the century but had no idea why. [Read more]

Heat-seeking missile of the furry variety

So I get home tonight and run to check on my venting kiln–it’s the mold moisture release phase of the cycle–and close everything up for the duration. Thanks to traffic jams I’m very, very late, so the kiln is up to 1300F instead of where it should be. The inside ends of the firebricks propping up the kiln lid are cherry red, and I’m spilling heat everywhere but where it should be. Drat.

I hurry over and nearly fall over Rajah, my fat little Abyssinian cat. He’s smack dab in front of the kiln opening, sleeping soundly in the hellish hot airflow, furry red belly aligned with the kiln lid.

[Read more]

Disappointed?

And I thought the British were the masters of understatement. They ain’t got NUTHIN on the Canadians, apparently.

Here’s a story about poor Fournier, the skydiver who’s trying to break the freefall record. He planned to send himself aloft on a helium balloon, break off at 130,000 feet and freefall down. Just for reference, that’s about 24.6 miles high. Airliners generally cruise between 6-7 miles (30,000-42,000 feet).

The balloons cost a couple hundred grand apiece, and Fournier had already destroyed two in previous attempts. He’d moved his 20-year project to Saskatchewan because authorities in France forbade it as too dangerous, and as he had run out of money, this was his last chance.

So, new venue, new balloon, new weather delays but Fournier finally gets the A-OK to take off this morning. He inflates the balloon, and it takes off without him.

Poof. Gone. And that’s it. End of story.

The Canadian AP story said “Fournier appeared disappointed…”

I’ll bet.

Army of weekend daddies

“Excuse me,” said the man beside the dairy case, politely, “But can you help me?”

I’d watched his son zooming around on rollerball sneakers earlier, swooshing in circles around my cart until his father brought him to heel. The son, about 7, had grinned at me sheepishly, “Sorry,” and hurried back to where his father stood, frowning at a list scrawled on the back of an envelope. I’d smiled and moved on to the tuna pouches.

Milk was the last thing on my list and I’d found the man and his son again, staring earnestly through the glass, checking his list, scrutinizing the cartons. My selection was in that case, so I waited patiently for them to make their choice and move on.

[Read more]

Next Page »