Analism.

Not only is Ms Big coming to the lab, but also she's sending a QA person from JPL, the Jet Propulsion Laboratory.

[Carl suggested that I call her Dr Big, which would be appropriate, since I'm referring to her in her professional position in the project. I haven't met Fiona Harrison, yet, but everyone seems to have a lot of respect for her. Nevertheless, I have a 'thing' about calling PhDs 'doctor'. I was originally soured on the practice by meeting a couple of people who insisted on it, which seemed lame. And if I ever go down in the streets like a sack of beans, I don't want Fiona Harrison showing up if someone yells, "Doctor!" I don't even call my MD 'doctor', I call her 'Tracy', although I do say 'Dr Tracy' now and then, if I'm in the mood.]

JPL is a federally funded R&D center in Pasadena. It's managed by Caltech. And that's about all I knew about it before I started this job. The first skinny I heard was from Trish, Carl's wife, who told me that everything at JPL is strictly by the book. Then Ken went there a couple of weeks ago with FM0, and I heard some inside stories.

Ken thought it would take one day to mount FM0, so he planned on two. It turned out he was there for four days, which he found extremely frustrating. A lot of the time was spent idle, waiting for one QA check or another. He said there were usually three or four people working, with four to nine others watching to be sure everything was being done correctly. He speculated that the NuSTAR optics would never be finished if they were being built at JPL. Here's one example.

A torque wrench is a tool that tightens something to a specified tightness, or torque. There are different kinds of torque wrenches, with different sizes, torque ranges, etc., but they all do essentially the same job. There are different ways of setting the desired torque. Probably the most complicated way is shown here:

You turn the knurled part of the handle and the set torque is the value on the shaft plus the value on the turned part that lines up with the center line on the shaft. When you're tightening something and it gets to the right torque, the wrench stops tightening. You could probably teach a 5th-grader in 5 minutes how to use this wrench.

Ken was at JPL and someone had to torque a bolt. There were four people there, all of whom knew how to read the torque wrench. But there was a specific QA person who had to approve the setting on the wrench. They sat and waited over an hour for the QA person. When he arrived, he looked at the wrench, wrote down the value, and work resumed.

I suppose there are good reasons for that kind of care on some projects, but it is kind of anal. The JPL QA guy will probably go nuts when he gets to our lab.

State of the project.

I'm a bit behind in blogging because I've been busy reading and sorting all the guest blogs! :p

It took 3 days to repair the damage to FM1. Now, with new layers over the broken ones, the optic is beautiful again.

FM1 is on Layer 109 and FM2 is on Layer 99. If all goes well, FM2 will be finished on March 18 or so.

Ghosted!

In the Nevis Labs building there are offices, etc. The lab itself is a big room with a very high ceiling. It is poorly lit in the mornings. The optics lab is a small room near the center of the bigger room, and it is brightly lit. The door to the big lab is marked "Please Close", and it is almost always closed. I make a point to close it.

I arrived at work this morning just before 3:30 AM. As usual, no-one else was there. If anyone ever is there at that hour, which is rare, it's usually Marcella (our QA person) working late, or a student doing an all-nighter.

I mentioned in an earlier post that there is a ghost in the lab. He doesn't bother me. He makes strange noises and sometimes bangs on the side of the optics lab, but I ignore him. This morning he was more active than usual.

At about 6 AM I took a bathroom break. While I was in the bathroom, I heard a noise outside. "Someone is here," I thought. I wondered who it might be. A minute later I heard a voice say something like, "Don't worry." When I came out of the bathroom, I couldn't see anyone in the hall. I walked to the lab door and it was wide open. "YIPES!", I thought.

I got rid of fear many years ago, so I wasn't afraid. I was curious, though, about who was in the lab. But I didn't see anyone, and there was no-one in the optics lab. That seemed very strange. And when I left an hour and a half later, there were still no cars outside the lab.

It was the ghost, I suppose. I wonder what he was up to.

Call for blogs.

Blog reader, avid commenter, and resident guru Carl made a suggestion that both the Blog Mistress and I like: reader participation. We therefore invite all of you who dare to read this blog to send your own post. It can be on any topic at all and you may sign it with your name or "anonymous" or whatever you wish. We will not reveal your identity - just try not to get us kicked off blogspot.

Please send your blogs to: boopiblog@xemaps.com.

Scientific American, February 2011

I found out this morning that Fiona Harrison, aka "Ms Big", is coming to the lab.

This article is in the current edition of Scientific American (the images are clickable, if you want to read them):

Disaster repairs.

This morning Ken told me that the repairs are going to take 3 days. Tom is gluing new spacer chunks where he can. As I mentioned, we don't have glass to replace the broken panels, but Ken said we wouldn't do that even if we had the glass, because the severity of the damage doesn't warrant it. He said the telescope will have to increase exposure time by 1% to compensate.

Disaster recovery.

The optics disaster was caused by human error, which is all I want to say about that.

While at work yesterday, I took a closer look at the damage. It appears that the wheel only penetrated one layer, which is about the best possible disastrous result. In a few areas the second layer was damaged, and the third layer in one or two places. My opinion is that those were caused by debris.

I am not in the lab today, but I've been watching on a webcam. The damage was photographed. After that, Tom cleaned the damaged areas by removing all loose pieces. Now he is applying epoxy to broken spacers where some graphite remains. Possibly he is going to add small pieces of graphite which will then be ground to the correct height; or he is going to build up those areas with layers of epoxy. Support for the next layer of spacers is the issue. The glass cannot be repaired.

I should have more info tomorrow. Also, I have some potentially interesting information about the glass that we use.

Twila.

The shuttle just picked up Twila to take her to LGA. It was a *perfect* weekend (except for the too-short part, and the NuSTAR disaster). And she blogged!

What is it you can't face?

That was the question on the T-shirt of the usher who showed us to our seats in the theater yesterday. We saw The Divine Sister. (It's a play about nuns.)

Durf and I have been (sort of) following the same rule Tanya and I follow at Telluride: step out of your comfort zone and go see something you would not usually shell out peanuts to see. And that is how Durf and I found ourselves in the audience of a farce.

So in the spirit of the genre, I read the ushers' shirts and waited patiently for that line to come up in the show. Eventually the mother superior, during a heart-to-heart with another nun, said, "What is it you can't face?" whereupon the lesser nun jumped from her chair and exclaimed, "You called me cunt face!"

It might not sound all that funny to you. I guess you'd have to be there. After all that's the best part of "in jokes," they are for the people who were there.

Reminds me of another inside joke that I thought was funny. After going diving in Australia, I bought a shirt that said Great Barrier Reef on the front and on the back it said, "where going down is a way of life." My parents couldn't believe a person of substance would wear something raunchy. My friends thought it was adolescent. I thought it was funny.

And as long as I'm telling sense-of-humor stories on myself, I'll confess that I laughed uproariously at the scene in Pulp Fiction where John Travolta accidentally shoots (splatters the brains of) the guy in the back seat of his car. I try not to think about it too often because it always gets me laughing again.

Disaster.

Yesterday morning I went to work. I unloaded FM2 and started the first grind. Then I unloaded FM1 and pushed the button to start the first grind. The grinding wheel started. When it came up to speed, the optic started to rotate and the carriage began to approach the optic. During that time I stand with my hand on an Emergency Off switch in case something goes wrong. Also, an Optional Stop was set, which stops the carriage when the wheel is close to the optic. Then the start button has to be pushed again. I was watching the wheel approach the optic, and suddenly there was a sickening sound of breaking glass and spacers. The wheel had hit the optic. I pressed the Emergency Off button, but a great deal of damage had been done. This really sucks.

Toilets (continued)

Ah, mysterious Maid in Manhattan, you have unleashed a firestorm. Let me just say this: Durf and I each do our part in prep for our reunion. He cleans the toilet, I shave my legs.

I couldn't resist a quick post (I believe Carl predicted this urge). I can't say that upon my return to NY it was as tho I never left. That's because I've never seen this apartment so clean. I had an almost irresistible urge to dine off the floor. It was sparkling! I'm not sure whom I have to thank for inspiring this behavior, whether the Maid, the NUSTAR team or the NY Department of Health, but if it's a uniquely NY behavior, I'm moving here permanently.

All kidding aside, I could tell Durf was happy to see me because there was a giant Snickers bar sitting on the counter. (my secret addiction)

Our toilet.

"Maid in Manhattan" asked whimsically if my preparations for Twila's visit consist of putting the toilet seat down. The answer is 'no', but I do have to clean the toilet. As soon as I finish this post I'm going to Google how to do that. The reason the answer is 'no', btw, is that the toilet seat does not go up in this house. Here is a little Burma Shave thing that I sometimes post (before company or a party), "For Men Only".

For Men Only
It doesn't hurt
To sit to squirt,
But if you must stand
Or die of shame,
Please be careful
With your aim.

Not that it does any good.

Blogging.

I've made a list of blogs I'd like to do, and maybe one or two of them are interesting. Right now, however, I'm preparing for Twila's visit. She's arriving tomorrow! So I might not blog again until Monday or Tuesday. I'll try to get Twila to blog while she's here, but I'd say it's a long shot. :p

A lovely day.

I looked out the front window at 3:30 AM and snow was coming down heavily in large flakes. The driveway didn't look bad, though, and our porch looked like only 3" or so had fallen. The side driveway hadn't been plowed, but I drove slowly up it. The roads were really slippery. Leaving the complex, it was a big challenge to get up a short, steep hill to a main road. I slipped and slid to Columbia. The driveway there hadn't been plowed, but it was downhill. It was still snowing steadily.

Work was normal, no problems, but I was afraid that there would be enough snow to strand me at the lab. When I left the building, I was surprised to see no snow on my car. Then I realized - ice storm! It was raining rain that was maybe 80% frozen. Everything was ice. I had to scrape my windows. I was able to get out without trouble, though. The commute home wasn't as hairy, and people were driving cautiously. Now (1 PM) it's raining/sleeting/ugly/cold, but not a full-blown ice storm.

Which reminds me. I learned to drive in Syracuse, which means I was driving on snow and ice from my very first year. I even spent one winter commuting from Syracuse to Watertown on Interstate 81 on the east edge of Lake Ontario - a rough drive in the winter, especially before dawn. (I won't say why I did that commute, but try to imagine what a 20-year-old guy's motive might be.) That commute ended in an accident, but that's another story.

My memory was that people in NY know how to drive in the snow. There really isn't a big secret. Just do everything more slowly. Accelerate more slowly, decelerate more slowly, turn more slowly. I never had to use chains when I was a youngster, although I did finally accede to studded snow tires on my VW bug - the same one that eventually got caught in a crosswind on 81 and slid into a guardrail, a great learning experience that unfortunately got me sued bogusly by the same reason I was going to Watertown in the first place, which is yet another story, or maybe part of the first other story, but no matter.

Nowadays I often see a driver trying to get up a slippery slope, his pedal down way too far and the rear of his car futilely sliding back and forth and going nowhere. Did NY drivers forget how to drive in the snow? I don't think so. I think a lot of people who never learned to drive in the snow became New Yorkers, but that's just a guess.

Building optics, Part 47 - condensed and completed.

Having been convinced that this optics stuff is boring, I'll condense and try to wrap it up.

If you go back to the post a couple of days ago, "Building optics - the optics, Part 1," the areas pointed to by '3' show the edges of the glass. From the inner mandrel to the intermediate mandrel, the optic was in sextants, which means 6 pieces of glass comprised the circumference on each side. The left side is the top of the optic and the right side is the bottom. At the intermediate mandrel, the optic transitioned to dodecants, or 12-tants, meaning 12 pieces of glass form the circumference on each side. Of course, with every layer the circumference changes, so the glass changes, too.

This is one end of FM1 at about 100 layers. The lines are the ends of the spacers. The double lines occur at the edges of each piece of glass, with a spacer on the edge of each. You can see that the double lines double about 3/5 of the distance from the center, the intermediate mandrel. Where the spacers change from single to double there are two layers of a special, wide spacer. The two new rows of spacers are initially mounted on glass only, with no spacers underneath, which requires some special processing in the grinds.

When Tom and Iliya arrive each morning, the optics look like this. The spacers have already been ground to the correct height. They vacuum and then wipe the optic to remove graphite dust, then check for problems. Then they initiate scans of the spacers followed by scans of the glass segments. The scans are closely monitored by engineers to ensure that assembly is within specifications.

This is the measuring device, called an LVDT, that performs the scans. It is turned toward the optic and travels back and forth on the carriage. It is calibrated by touching it to a standard location on the lathe, and then by grinding and checking a special piece of graphite called a sacrificial.

The scans take a couple of hours. Tom and Iliya then return to the lab. They apply epoxy to the exposed spacers and then set new sections of glass upon it. The epoxy is special, made to endure numerous heat cycles and vibration. It is mixed every day and the amount used and linear density on each spacer is recorded. After new glass is placed, new spacers are epoxied and placed on the glass. Those are the spacers that will be ground to the correct height after the epoxy has hardened.

This is a single strongback, which is used to mount two spacers to the glass. One side is covered with Teflon tape. The other side will be covered, but is not in this photo. The Teflon is used to hold the spacer in place, and also to prevent epoxy from getting on the strongback.

Looking at a strongback from the end.

A double strongback, which holds the spacers that are mounted to the edges of the glass sections.

The new spacers are already loaded into the strongbacks. The techs apply epoxy and then slide the strongbacks into position using the guide wheels on each end of the optic.

This is a strongback in position, holding a spacer against the glass.

After the strongback is in place, a device called a load bar is slid into the guide wheels above the strongback and then pinned to the guide wheels. When air pressure is applied through the tubing, pistons move down to hold the strongback and spacers firmly against the glass. The illustrated load bar is for a double strongback.

This is a closeup of an optic at the center. The white lines are threads of Teflon that were caught in the epoxy. They are removed manually or during the grinds.

When I arrive at the lab at some unfrogly hour, this is what I see. Double load bar to double load bar marks one piece of glass, with three single load bars in between. I begin by removing the load bars.

There are 48 load bar/strongback pairs on each optic - 12 doubles and 36 singles. Because of their weight, they have to be removed in balanced groups of 12. This shows 12 strongbacks after the load bars have been removed.

After removing a set of load bars I remove the strongbacks (numbered because they go in the same place each layer) and put them in trays. When all are unloaded I remove the guide wheels, do a few preparatory tasks, check the computer settings, and then begin the grinds.

This shows the beginning of a grind. The optic is spinning on the right. The carriage is behind it, carrying the spinning grindstone along the length of the optic. It's kind of scary and amazing, but it works!

Once the grinds are started I inspect the strongbacks that were removed. The Teflon tape typically was pulled off of several. I inspect the rest to verify the integrity of the tape. Each strip of tape is replaced at least once a week. I install new tape as necessary, then install new spacers in each strongback. I have a few other tasks, like changing chart recorder paper and reprogramming a status sign, and THAT'S ALL, FOLKS! (I can't remember the ditty that's supposed to play here.)

The Lone Blogger.

To tell the truth, I don't know about this. "TwiDurf in NYC" seems to have transmogrified into "Durf in Tarrytown", and I don't know if I'm up for it. I quit Facebook because it's so narcissistic. I really don't like talking about myself. I can talk about what happens in the lab, but a boring blog is worse than no blog at all. Twila seems adamant about not blogging here anymore, and being The Lone Blogger has scant appeal for me.

Today I was able to take some photos in the lab that I think will help make the assembly of the optics more understandable. After that, I don't know.

An oopsie.

When I started work at NuSTAR, Todd, who is the Assembly Engineer, and therefore the person to whom I report, taught me what to do. After a week he asked me to write up the procedure so he could review it. My standard operating procedure, as is known by all my employers (not always happily, I confess), is to inject a little humor into things like that. So I added a couple of statements like, "In case of shattering glass, stop machine." When I handed it in I thought, "Heh, heh. This is hilarious. They'll get a couple of laughs from it."

What I'd forgotten to take into account was that I was a new guy. They didn't know me at all. I hadn't been a new guy since Lam Research hired me in 1983, so I kind of forgot. Now I can imagine them reading my procedure: "Who is this doofus who's been here a week and is making jokes about shattering our $2M optics?" At the time it never entered my mind, but I did notice that Todd became somewhat aloof. "Todd's not very friendly," I thought.

In September we started FM1. The spacers for the first few layers are 1.6 mm x 1.5 mm, so the procedure was to measure them with calipers before inserting them in the strongbacks. After a while I realized that I could tell by looking at them which side was which, so I stopped using calipers. No-one seemed really happy about that, but they didn't demand that I use calipers, they just made strong suggestions. I kept the calipers handy in case I was in doubt about a spacer, but I was always right.

A couple of days later I came home from work and learned that my father had died that morning, so my emotions were frazzled. Then I got an email from Todd saying that at least five spacers had been inserted incorrectly. I knew that couldn't be the case. I was confident I hadn't made any errors, much less five. It was disturbing, and I became angry. Fortunately I calmed myself and resolved to answer only when I'd composed a proper, business-like response. Well, that's what I should have done. What I actually did was fire back an email saying, "That's bullshit!"

I knew the techs, Tom and Iliya, would have measured the spacers correctly, so it was a complete mystery to me. All I was sure of was that I didn't make a mistake orienting the spacers. Then I had a terrible thought. I wrote back to Todd to make sure that 1.6 mm was the height. He wrote back and calmly said, "All of the spacers are 1.5 mm in height. 1.6 mm is the width." Oh, brother. I'd installed ALL of them incorrectly.

Prudence, humility, intelligence, and sanity dictated an apology at this point. What I actually did, however, was to write back to Todd and accuse him of not training me properly. (Needless to say, I hope, I am truly embarrassed about that now.) Somehow I kept my job.

Two milestones occurred today. One is that January 15 is the date to which I originally agreed to work. The other is that FM1 is at Layer 100. I know now that Todd is a good guy, and I am behaving myself. I'd like to be around for the next milestone.

Building optics - the optics, Part 1.

You'll have to click on the photo to really see anything. It's FM0 (FM1 and FM2 are much better) when it was close to completion. '1' points to the inner mandrel, the internal cylinder upon which the optic is built. I don't know what it's made of, but maybe someone will reveal that in a comment, or I could ask, if anyone is curious. (I probably know more about it, but at the moment I can't locate that information in the thorny tangle of my brain.) The first step in building an optic is to mount the inner mandrel in a lathe. It is then precisely aligned with the carriage.

Once the inner mandrel is in place, the optic is built entirely of spacers, glass, and epoxy.

Above is an actual spacer, beside which I have cleverly placed a metric ruler. As you can see, the spacer is about 22.5 cm in length. Its height is 1.5 mm and its width is 1.2 cm. It is made of graphite. You can write with one, just as you could with a pencil, but it would be a #1 pencil or harder. Almost all of the spacers in the optic are like this. There are two exceptions. The first 6 layers of spacers are 1.6 mm wide. (I have a story about that, but I'll tell it later.) That's to add strength. (Optic components are designed with both strength and weight taken into consideration.) The other exception occurs at the intermediate mandrel, which is pointed to by '2' in the first photo. I need a better photo to explain the intermediate mandrel - I'll take one tomorrow.

(Is that a crack in the glass on the surface above where '2' is pointing? I don't remember, but I think it's a reflection.)

Once spacers are epoxied to the inner mandrel, glass is epoxied to those spacers, then more spacers are epoxied to that glass. The procedure is repeated until the optic is complete.

I'll explain what '3' points to tomorrow.

...to be continued.

Technology trumps tyranny.

I have good credit. I pay my bills when they arrive, I have no debts, and my credit score is over 800. But you never know what's going to happen.

A few weeks ago my phones started to ring. Since both my landline and my cell were ringing at the same time, I knew the perp was calling my Google Voice number. Caller ID showed an 800 number, so I declined to answer. But they kept calling, every hour, so finally I answered. A woman told me I owed GE Money Bank $166. That was interesting, because I'd never heard of GE Money Bank.

What had happened was this. Twila and I were shopping and I wanted to buy a jacket, since the weather was getting cooler. I found a nice one at the Gap. As I was standing in line to check out, a man behind me offered a 45% discount card - he had two. All I had to do was apply for a Gap credit card. I didn't need another credit card, but I applied and was instantly approved. The jacket was applied to the card, and the balance was $51 after the discount. A good deal!

I waited for the credit card to arrive, but it didn't. No invoices arrived, either and I mostly forgot about it. Then I received the phone call from GE Money Bank. The woman on the other end was... well, I would say low paid. When I'd figured out what the problem was, I told her I'd pay the $51, no problem. She told me that with interest and finance charges I now owed $166. I told her it wasn't my fault, and she couldn't hope for more than the original charge. She threatened a collection agency, and I wished her luck.

A couple of weeks later more 800 calls started. I finally answered and it was a collection agency. The guy I was talking to seemed nice. I told him I really wanted to fix the problem, and eventually we reached an agreement. He said they'd waive all but one of the fees and that I'd have to pay $65. I told him none of the problem was my fault, but I agreed. I gave him my address and asked him to send me the bill.

A while later the bill arrived from the collection agency and it was for $166. My desire to cooperate evaporated. I immediately wrote to the collection agency, describing the entire situation and emphasizing that I had received nothing at all from GE Money Bank, until the late phone call. I said that I would pay $51 and not another cent, and that I would vigorously contest any negative mark on my credit reports. I enclosed a copy of the original invoice.

Soon the telephone calls resumed. I had to turn off my phones at night, because they would call in the wee hours of the morning. Then I turned technology on them.

Very few people have my actual cell phone number. If I want someone to be able to reach me at any time, I give them my Google number, which rings all my phones. So I went online and added the agency's phone number to a blacklist. Now when the call my Google number they get a busy signal. They still could have my landline number, though. Fortunately, it is a VoIP number. I logged on to my provider's site (ViaTalk), and blacklisted the same number. That was a couple of weeks ago, and no more calls have arrived. Probably they're still calling and calling. Heh heh. Hopefully they'll send a reasonable letter soon so I can pay what I owe.

I realize this post is probably boring, but I haven't been to the cricket museum yet.

Syracuse Guy.

Last night Todd (NuSTAR Assembly Engineer, my boss) sent me an email that included, "Don't risk coming in tomorrow if the snow is too bad. We can't take any chances with our people."

"Har, har," I thought. "That was nice, but he forgot I was born in Syracuse. I eat snow for breakfast!"

I looked out the window and nary a flake could be seen. I wrote back and told him I'd be in if I had to rent a dog sled.

When I was getting in bed at 8 PM, I looked out the window again and still no flakes. I knew snow was coming, though. I hopped in bed, read awhile, then turned out the light and fell asleep.

About four hours later, near midnight, I awoke, thinking, "What's going to happen?" It kind of looked like it was snowing out, but it was hard to tell. Between then and 3 AM I slept uneasily. I got up before the alarm went off and walked to the front of the apartment to see how it was. I opened the door and... do you remember the photo Twila posted of the last storm?... there was a foot of snow. But it wasn't wet snow, and a plow had cleared the driveway in front of our apartment. I resolved to go in to work

I did the morning stuff, put my shoes in a plastic bag, and threw on some boots. Fearlessly I emerged into the snow, which was still coming down heavily. I made it to the main driveway and walked to the side driveway that leads to our garage. Hmmm, the plow had made that pile across the side driveway. I decided I could use my legs to clear it, if necessary. I started walking down to the garage when I realized that the snow was over my boots, halfway up my calves. There was no way my bad-in-the-snow Prius would be able to escape. Defeated, I walked back to the apartment.

Now what? Todd had told me not to worry about it. But what about Syracuse Guy? I gave in and went back to bed. Sleeping, however, seemed impossible. Then, at 4:30 or so, I heard the plow, and I thought it was behind our apartment. I got up and looked out the window, but I can't see the driveway from there. I thought awhile and then went back to bed.

I was lying there fretting, wondering what to do. Every minute that I was late made my work less useful, since getting the grinds done before the techs come in is most of the point. And if the driveway was cleared, would the road to the lab be? After a long while I fell asleep.

When I got up, it looked almost summery outside, in my mind. The driveway was clear and the sun was out. It wasn't snowing. I dressed and prepared some fruit and sat down to read the paper. At 10 AM I viewed the webcams and grinds were going on both machines, so that was good, at least. I kept wondering if I'd done my best to get to work.

Now, having thought about it all day, I guess I made a reasonable effort. But, goodbye, Syracuse Guy.

Building optics - equipment.

Even Twila doesn't really understand how the optics are built, so I'm going to try to make it more clear. This post is about the hardware that's used, and next I'll describe how we use it. We're building two optics, but both are essentially the same.

A machine called a lathe (the NuSTAR webpage says it's a lathe-like tool, but it's really a lathe) holds the optic. Probably some of you don't know what a lathe is, so I'll describe it. First, here is the Wikipedia definition:

A lathe (pronounced /ˈleɪð/) is a machine tool which rotates the workpiece on its axis to perform various operations such as cutting, sanding, knurling, drilling, or deformation with tools that are applied to the workpiece to create an object which has symmetry about an axis of rotation.

I have no idea what that pronunciation thing is. Simply, 'lathe' is pronounced the way it looks, with a long 'a'.

Suppose you have a cylinder of wood that you want to make into a baseball bat or a bed post. You would put it in a lathe, horizontally. The lathe rotates it at a fairly high speed, and then some kind of tool, like a sharp edge, slowly moves down the length of the cylinder, shaving wood off. The carriage, which holds the piece that cuts the wood (or whatever), holds the cutting piece. It can move in and out, depending on the shape that's required. For the NuSTAR optics, the carriage moves in a straight line, and it takes about one hour to travel the entire length of the optic. Here are some photos of our lathe. The photos are clickable, if you want to look more closely.

This photo is kind of blurry - sorry. But you can see that the optic is mounted horizontally. It is spinning. The black thing with the gauge behind the optic is the carriage. It moves from left to right.

This is a view from the end. The optic is on the right, and the carriage on the left. The carriage moves both left and right and forward and backward. It is controlled by a computer. Instead of a cutting tool, the carriage carries a grinding wheel, which spins and grinds the spacers. You can see the grinding wheel just under the white band (a filter) under the gold part of the carriage.

The rest of the equipment is used to apply the spacers to the optic and to measure the results. The glass pieces that form the optic are epoxied to those spacers. I'll talk about that in the next post.

What's the word?

Honestly, I can't think of the word I want, even after 3 days of thinking about it, and even though it's a word I've used often. It's kind of a combination of chutzpah and gall. I'm sure one of you can tell me.

Here's the story. On my commute home from work, there is a place where the two-lane road narrows to one lane about 100 yards before a stop light. Sometimes it's really trafficky there because there are a couple of schools just past the light. Cars frequently are stopped back to where the lane ends. (At the time I usually commute home, school is starting.)

We all know about this kind of situation. Let's say the right lane is ending... there's a sign that announces that well before it happens. A lot of people line up in the left lane, like proper Englishmen at a bus stop. Then there are those who zip by in the right lane and cut in in front of cars that have been waiting.

No-one likes line jumpers, but it's wrong to blame them in this situation. They are using the road the way it was designed. Blame the designers.

A couple of days ago I pulled up in the left lane behind a few cars followed by a school bus followed by a couple more cars. The bus had left a lot of space between it and the car in front of it. Then, no surprise, a car zipped by in the right lane, then pulled in in front of the bus. But he didn't just pull in, he pulled halfway in so he could block anyone from passing him on the right!

Now, what's the word for that?

State of the project - 01/07

I had a good idea for today's blog. Yesterday I'd planned to go to Manhattan to visit "The International Museum Of Crickets And Other Insects That Chirp". But when I was getting ready my female side apparently kicked in, because I looked around and said, "Golly! This place is a mess!" (My male side would never, ever say "golly".) I stayed home and tried to repair the damage that had occurred in two days without Twila. So, it's back to the state of the project.

There are a couple of webcams in the lab, which means that someone, somewhere could be watching me work at any time - and I know that the engineers usually are watching while they're in their offices. But it also means that I can log in to see what's going on. I usually do that at night before going to bed, to see if any surprises await. I didn't do it last night, though, and there was a surprise in the morning. FM2 had only one strongback on it, probably because something was wrong with a spacer. That saved some work today, but it also added one day more that I'll be in New York.

I think something is haywire with FM1 now. I just looked, and one of the engineers is examining the module intently. That's never a good sign.

There have been concerns lately about the precision of the build. Probably a lot of it is theoretical, and it's not surprising when the tolerances are 5 microns or less. A micron is 1/25,400 inch.

Soon I'm going to explain more clearly (I hope) how the optics are being built, and describe a couple of the issues that have arisen. Maybe I'll get to the cricket museum, too.

State of the project.

I'll be in New York until the project is finished. When will that be? Today FM1 is on Layer 93, so there are 40 more layers to go. If there are only two more down days because of no glass or some disaster, that's 7 weeks. FM2 is on Layer 80, so another two weeks plus. That means the earliest I'll be going home is the second week in March.

Everything has been going reasonably well. There was one recent incident. I was at work on December 28 and the second grind was running on FM2. I heard a noise like someone snapping his fingers loudly, so I jumped up to investigate. I stopped the grind to examine the optic. One of the spacers had broken and about 9 mm separated, which caused glass to break. I don't know if they ever figured out what happened, but I'll try to find out.

FM0, our "practice" module, went out and underwent a 25 G stress test. It passed!

My New Year's Eve photos.

This is about as close as we got.

Pretty much the same photo, but a better hat.

Twila was frowning in this pic, so I thought it wise to do a touch-up using my vast Photoshop skills.

This guy looks like he just saw a ghost.

Plenty of police cars were available.

Twila taking a photo of the ball... we think.

Phase 2.

Please note that I did not write "Phase II". Why do some people want to label things with numerals that have been out of general use for over 1000 years? Do they think it makes them seem more important? Take the Super Bowl, for example, maybe the biggest event on Earth except for the World Cup and Lindsay Lohan's latest misadventure. I am an NFL fan, but I really have no idea which Super Bowl is next. I can translate Roman numerals easily enough, but why? I would actually have to think for a few seconds to see which Super Bowl is approaching, and I don't care enough to do it. As far as I'm concerned it could be Super Bowl &$%W8@ and it wouldn't make the slightest bit of difference. Anyway, moving right along...

Today is the beginning of Phase II (heh, just kidding). It is the second phase of Twila's and my New York adventure and also of this blog. When I was considering taking the NASA job, a couple of my friends told me the months would go by so fast I'd be shocked. That was certainly true. And when Twila and I first considered the possibility that I might stay while she went back to Colorado, we decided to postpone that decision until we had to make it, and that came way too quickly.

Yesterday we went to UPS to send Twila's latte machine home, a significant event. There is no latte better than a Twilatte, and she has one every morning. I love them, too, but I usually only have one on the special day of the week we have christened "Latte Sunday". So shipping the latte machine, the last thing to go, was symbolic. Later we went to our favorite (not really, not even close, but it's just a short walk from our apartment) restaurant, TGIF. Then we came home and watched half of a movie, but my mind was so far away I have no idea what the movie was about.

I told Twila that I was going to get up this morning (at 3:15) and just leave, because otherwise it would be too hard. Except for a quick extra hug and kiss, that's what I did. I was sorely tempted to go back for another kiss, even as I was walking to my car, but I soldiered on. In the words of the immortal E.A. Bibesco, "It is never any good dwelling on goodbyes. It is not the being together it prolongs, it is the parting." A limo picked Twila up at 5:30 AM or so, and now she's flying home.

Now that today is here, it's kind of a relief. I'm not at all happy that Twila's gone, but at least I don't have to dread it anymore. Now we'll both adapt and look happily forward to when we'll see each other again, and dread begone!

When Twila and I will be living together again, we're not sure. I'll report on the state of the project soon, which might yield a clue.

As for this blog, I'll do my best. The nature of it will change, because I'm not the adventurer that Twila is, but I'll try to say things that are at least a little bit interesting. I've already done hats - maybe I can do underwear next. :p

Hats.

Twila is doing her final packing today and I'm making sure I have enough tequila for tomorrow. There seems to be little chance that our hero will blog in the next couple of days, but she might succumb eventually to popular demand, so keep those cards and letters coming.

Meanwhile, hats.

Twila and I left Loveland in June with one suitcase each, so hats for winter were neither in our minds nor our suitcases. Soon enough (almost instantly, it now seems) the cold weather arrived and our ears were among the first body parts to notice. Usually that happened while we were downtown, so we scurried to buy hats from various vendors. And, naturally, we often forgot to take those hats on subsequent trips, so the process repeated. Here is our current collection, more than half of which will be at their new home in Loveland tomorrow... ACK!

(I realize that the last photo is a little fuzzy, but one of the hats [which one?] was already packed, so I couldn't retake the picture.)

Well.

I have failed so far to crack the veneer. But, please don't leave us. It's possible that Twila will soften as time goes on. This wouldn't be a readable blog without her, and I think she knows that.

We're both kind of sad today, I think. For me, it's no surprise. I'm emotional by nature, for better or for worse, and I'm watching a Niners game. Twila is a rock, but even rocks can crack. She might deny feeling sad, but she'd have to blog to to do so. I suppose this is kind of a win-win situation.

Before our hero decides to return, I'll do my best. Today I have some recent photos. And I'm planning a major post about hats.

Here it's just after our snowstorm, and she's taking a photo for the blog.

On the train on our way to Manhattan for the play. Is it possible to not love this woman? Not for me.

I took this photo in the theater just before an usher (who was nice, really, sort of) attacked us and demanded that we smash our cameras.

(I had some photos from New Year's Eve that I wanted to post, but they're missing. Stay tuned!)

Encore!

Before this blog goes the way of the "floppy disk" and "Herman's Hermits", I am going to invite "Twila of Tarrytown" to make an "encore performance". Now, please excuse me while I try to crack her veneer of "firm resolve" and try to lose some of these "quotation marks".

Happy 2011! Over and out.

And with that, the Twi portion of TwiDurf in NYC goes dark.

Thanks to all of you who visited us in NYC! And thanks to everyone for cheering us on during our adventures and misadventures.

Over to you, Durf.

She says...

We hope you enjoyed the sight of the fabulous ball dropping from the sky amid billions of pieces of confetti, because, as Durf explained, we missed the whole show. Turns out NYC sells access passes anyway, so I'm not sure the result would have been different if we'd pulled a "Thanksgiving" (arriving six hours before the event).

Here's how close we got (see colorful towers in the distance):

Occasionally my telephoto made me feel as though I really was seeing something:

Through it all, Durf had his game face on. (No, I have no idea who she is.)