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I’ve been thinking about getting a rain barrel for a couple of years. I haven’t pulled the trigger for a few reasons. Among them: it seems silly to by a huge plastic thing as a way to capture and reuse a bit of water. Feels like I would have to capture and reuse A LOT of rainwater to come even somewhat close to making it work.
Enter chewed up old garbage can we inherited when we moved last year. It’s about the right size and the existing lid damage makes it less than fully useful for it intended use. After a quick trip to Menards, it looks like this:
I bought:
* aluminum screen to keep the Mosquitos out (vinyl and plastic were options but I thought I’d stay away since this is supposed to be good for the environment).
* 5/8″ wood boring bit as a way to add the spigot.
* metal snips to cut the existing downspout.
* a spigot
* a nut for the back of the spigot
* a 10′ hose
* a flexible down spout extender
Total outlay: about $35. Compared to quite a bit more for a rain barrel on amazon. At least $100 and then another $35 for a diverter kit. Sweet!
And this raw excitement I feel about the next few days of rain — well that’s just a bonus.
I also made an exciting discovery. Turns out the previous owners of the house painted our copper gutters brown.
No accounting for taste, right? I’m not that excited about having to cut into that but, well, once you make the cut you’re pretty much in it so what the heck.
I can’t help but notice how everyone is increasingly certain they’re right. Happens to me too. On the plus side, we’re all more confident in our presentations and sales pitches.
But are we really, objectively, meaningfully “right”?
In many cases, it’s impossible to tell. Our point of view may be a conscious presentation or honestly held. But the background and our motivations are complex and often not apparent even to us.
And that’s the problem: separating the wheat from the chaf takes time, effort and objectivity. More often than not, people don’t take the time. Instead we square off against one another or only interact with people we agree with.
Is there room to slow down and appreciate the nuances? How do we make room where today there is so little?
My personal goal: make more mental space to appreciate the differences.
Just found these nailed under the stairs. FPM Coping Saw Blades. They look ridiculously old. How long have they been there? Yes there are still 3 in the packaged, unused.
Update: Here’s a listing in Boys’ Life from Dec 1928 Advertising the F. P. Maxson Coping Saw. Now, my house is from 1930, so it wouldn’t be from 1928, but that’s kinda surprising.
If you’ve worked with me on a consulting project, there’s a fair likelihood you know I don’t like referring to potential members of ad hoc teams as “resources”. Why? People make a project succeed or fail. “Resource” attempts to abstract away this dependence on individuals.
In the more-of-the-same department, I am also coming to dislike the term “consumers”. It tries to do the same thing as “resources”: provide a convenient abstraction that lets you consider individuals in bulk, en masse. It conveniently dehumanizes people for easier handling.
Is there an alternative?
Could we build a culture that focuses on individuals?
What if we could consider every shorthand for human suffering, every statistic, every financial human excess, every normal success, every modest virtue — not at an aggregate level, but on a by the individual basis?
Admittedly, from my current point of view, this would be overwhelming. How would I assimilate the information about even one day’s worth of human activity with zero aggregation?
I wouldn’t — much would drop, just like it does today, but the information I connected with would be much clearer, the people on the end of it much more human.
And that would be interesting.
First, a confession: back when I was hip deep in code every day, I didn’t have a lot of respect for marketing. It seemed fluffy and too close to the Dilbert world.
I started to change my mind a few years ago, and the job I took in Feb 2010 is actually part of the marketing department (yes, I knew that going in 
). It brings me into contact with marketing people day in and day out and I have a new-found respect for marketers and recognize a few differences in the way practitioners of each discipline think.
One difference that’s stood out to me lately is the concept of “done”.
Most developers I know look at their //TODO list, and start to tackle it. With enthusiasm. Sometimes a little too much. For example, most less-experienced devs will breeze through their list, declare it “DONE!” and ask what’s next. Which sounds great until you realize their definition of “done” is grossly inadequate. So you give them a definition that works for you and that usually fixes the problem. More-experienced developers take a different tack but strive to end up in the same place: done. Done is accomplishment. Done is satisfaction. Done is virtue.
Marketers on the other hand don’t seem to hold the concept of “done” in the same esteem. It’s not that there aren’t deadlines or milestones or tasks that need doing — of course there are. The difference is that the goal is typically to connect with potential customers, and “connect” is very ambiguous. It always ends up with the idea that someone who can benefit from the product becomes willing to pay for the product, but it can take many turns between start and finish. A marketer will try something, and then try a slight variation, and then another, and then another, and so on.
Where a dev might think, I’ve already done that, why would I do it again? A marketer will think, let me try this one more time. It’s an endless refactor.
Sure, it’s true that devs create the things marketing wants to use (although hopefully there’s some cooperation and cross-functional design, right?) but marketers often have a very tough gig: exposing the product, helping people understand the product and building a message that really helps people connect with the product.
You might be thinking (like I have sometimes thought), yeah, but if the product is any good, all that happens on its own via word of mouth. That might be true for 0.01% of products, but you can’t count on that. If 80% of new products deserve to die, and 20% are worthwhile, getting people to see and understand the 19.99% that aren’t overnight successes takes creativity, patience and insight.
So if you are a dev who is occasionally a little under appreciative of your marketing brethren, take another look. You might like what you see.
I have been thinking: wouldn’t it be interesting to have a catalog of career patterns, descriptions of the games people play, typical outcomes, and advantages and disadvantages?
For example, leading up to the mortgage crisis, I knew a lot of mortgage brokers. One of my customers was a service provider to them, and many subsequently became my customers. Watching them, it became apparent that their raw material was money and that there was, consequently a lot of it floating around. This isn’t surprising. When you work at a bookstore, they have a lot of books, right? So their game was all about finding sources of money, finding a home for that money, and skimming some points off the top. Very little risk, zero pressure to innovate and not a lot of work. No wonder people swarmed to that business!
Today, as we see social tech startups by the dozens. Basic pattern goes something like get an idea, create a plausible link to social media, get angel funding and then either a) burn out and start again, b) find a next round of funding or c) sell to a larger company. Now this pattern has more risk, substantially more pressure to innovate, but also (potentially) a bigger paycheck at the end.
And then of course there are anti-patterns, patterns that end with people working a series of Wal*Mart jobs through their lives and end up with (almost) nothing to show for it.
You get the idea. There’s a ton of these we could pick, talk about the rules, talk about outcomes and then make it mandatory reading for everyone considering working. Ever.
If I go out for Mexican food, as we are want to do on Easter, I can pretty much guarantee that I will eat more than I should. The delicious guacamole — who can resist its powers?
Which got me thinking about great Mexican food themed band names.
The Enchilada Aftermath.
The Fajita Hangover.
The Guacamole Underground.
You get the idea. In fact, there should be a generator for these. Someone should get on that. Someone other than me. But please definitely let me know about it and if you are a band with this kind of name please by all means let me know.
Side note: it’s shockingly easy to find a picture of a bunny in a sombrero. The world is a strange place.
If I got lost in a store as a child, you could be pretty sure I’d wind up on the small home appliances aisle. I’ve never spent much time trying to deconstruct this. Blenders. Toaster ovens. Electric can openers. Juicers.
Yet, this morning, this Easter, it’s front brain material. Why? Who knows. Maybe it’s just easier than wondering why she-who-must-not-be-named (you know, former “leader” of Alaska, etc) showed up in my dream leading, of all things, a standing ovation for me.
Childhood obsession? Semi-relevant politicians? You can’t explain that.
Look: just because I didn’t respond to you, it doesn’t mean I’m ignoring you. Times being what they are, I might have attempted to listen to you while I was multi-tasking and interpreted your comment through that context and arrived at a totally different meaning from what you intended–or maybe I arrived at no meaning whatsoever. Sorry. Try saying it again. Try a different approach. And if it seems like the message didn’t stick, try reminding me about it. It won’t bother me. I’ll appreciate it. I promise.
The end of the week finds me both frustrated and optimistic: frustrated because almost never a week goes by where I accomplish everything I want to and optimistic because, well, it’s almost the most highly prized period known to the modern western salaryman, The Weekend. I’ve always had a hard time balancing my goals at work with the time available to accomplish them and this border day is where I notice the leftovers most clearly. This out-of-balance-ness and sudden-notice-ness occasionally leads to regrettable interpersonal awkwardness, my own mild kernal panic, something I might also call a prominent not-so-fresh-feeling (to steal a phrase and then use it inappropriately for light comedic affect). Sadly, the titans of industry haven’t yet invented a convenient spray to control this condition, which means I’m on my own. So here’s my strategy: today will be about careful attention to detail, clean contexts for all interactions and acceptance that there’s only so much time in the day.
