Advanced Directives

Mrs ERJ and I are thrashing through our "Advanced Directives". I will be Mrs ERJ's decision-maker and she will be mine. We have a second person, an alternate, lined up in case the primary is not available. That can happen, for instance, if we were both in the same auto accident.

One of the difficulties is providing the alternate with some simple, clear-cut questions to ask the surgeon or attending doctor and communicate what the GO-NOGO criteria will be.

So, the picture in my head is that if I can sit in a wheelchair and hold a fishing rod or a shotgun 60 days after the surgery or intervention then I want the intervention. If there is a 50% chance that I will have that level of capability, I want the intervention. If there is a 25% chance that I will be able to reach that capability in 60 days, I want the intervention. If there is only a 20% chance that I will reach that level of capability in 60 days...I think I don't want the intervention.

Critical to this process is that the medical caregiver who is providing the information not be aware of what the cut-off values are. 

I need to have some tasks on "the other side" that give me a feeling of being productive, whether it be catching bullheads, carp or bluegills, or whether it be slaying bunnies, woodchucks and red squirrels intent on ravaging the garden and orchards.

Studies on how the human brain calibrations for various probabilities are pretty consistent. Most people are fairly well calibrated for 50:50 probabilities. The calibration gets shaky at 25:75 events and goes totally into the weeds at 20% probability.

 

May 31, 2022. Mrs ERJ was out-of-town and the tomato plants weren't going to plant themselves. That is precisely 31 days after I got whacked as I was crossing a street by a Malibu going 35 mph.

I got a big assist from Belladonna. She moved the trays of pepper plants to the garden for me. And she didn't rat-me-out to Mrs ERJ.

A physically-fit person in a wheel chair can probably run a zero-turn mower if there are not too many obstacles. If he is sufficiently motivated, he can probably do some straw-bale gardening and grow tomato seedlings, brew small batches of beer and, with a little bit of help, run a still. He might even be able to do a little bit of blogging on the side.

He can shake a bucket with corn in the bottom of it but he cannot chase cows and probably cannot close the gate. 

Any thoughts? 

University of Michigan goes all "Alice in Wonderland"

Alice: If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary-wise; what it is it wouldn't be, and what it wouldn't be, it would. You see? 

For a very brief period, sanity prevailed in the education industry. The leading thinkers claimed that test-scores were much better at measuring the teachers' performance than a measure of an individual student's ability.

The logic was that a single test score was a snap-shot of a single student at an instant of time. Did he need to visit the restroom (anxiety)? Was there a big fight with his dad the night before. Did the girl he was interested in disrespect him just before the test? Maybe he had been up all night writing plug-ins for Call-of-Duty or software that compressed video in real-time. A single test score is a single number with very little context.

However, if a teacher is teaching three sections of freshman algebra, then there are seventy-five data points. It becomes crystal clear if a teacher skipped over some material that the students were responsible for because nearly all of the students will bomb the questions that measure that skill. If the scores of the classes are segregated with the earliest (in the day) class scoring poorly and the latest class scoring best, it indicates that the teacher failed to prepare for the class the night before and was "winging it". Or, if all of the students struggled with story-problems, it indicates that the teacher needs to do more story-problems on the chalk-board in front of the class, even if she absolutely hates story problems.

As you can imagine, this insight was extremely unpopular with teachers and they quickly buried it.

Which brings us to the University of Michigan 

University of Michigan will not issue grades to some freshmen students.

This is an admission of stunning failures of multiple systems within the education industry.

It is a failure of the admissions process. If the students are not ready to start their freshmen year at U-of-M, then why were they admitted? They can enroll at a community college, beef up their skills and then transfer to U-of-M.

It is a failure of the high schools feeding U-of-M. They were giving inflated grades to students who then hit-the-wall when presented with college-level work. There are multiple examples of valedictorians with +4.0 GPAs requiring remedial math classes as freshmen.

It is a failure of the high school academic advisors who "encourage" students with puffery rather than calibrating their expectations with reality.

It is a failure of a higher education system that prints reams of 4-year diplomas with zero market value, thereby requiring students to seek Master's degrees. In turn, the need to get into a Master's program puts pressure on students to generate high GPAs during their worthless 4-year program.

It is a failure of the U-of-M College of Education which has an enrollment of over 50,000 students. They are churning out teachers and administrators who cannot produce a "product" that is acceptable to the down-line customer, be it industry or higher education. Universities are trapped in the jaws of conflicting interest. They require better incoming students even as they churn out teachers who cannot teach and administrators who cannot "improve" the inadequacies of those teachers or discipline the students with criminal behaviors.

Consequently, they must dilute the value of their primary product, diplomas. Like Rome adding lead to their silver coins, it is a one-way street.  Home schooling is looking better by the day to the normal people.

The only question is whether the education industry dies a slow, tortuous death by starvation or whether they are catastrophically defeated like the Spanish Armada which sailed top-heavy ships into the storm. 

 P.S. Parents and grandparents, self-esteem should be EARNED. Proper self-esteem is based on reality and is an unshakable foundation. It is a source of confidence and is the basis for a robust outlook on life. The false-esteem shilled by the education industry is a fragile, over-inflated balloon and grossly INCREASES the student's fragility.

Don't be scared off if you kid calls you "a dream killer". Better they should grapple with reality while they can make adjustments then to get trapped by debt for a worthless degree that they cannot repay. 

Doublemint girls

Yesterday was a lifting day. I didn't hit my usual time-slot and got to the gym at about 2:15 PM.

One of the people at the desk noticed my hospital socks and very gently and very professionally informed me that they were not allowed. He also added that he understood why I want to wear them. He also explained that they get a lot of high school kids who want to work-out in shower-slide. Shower slides have unstable soles and no side-stability; they are accidents waiting to happen when lifting. Ergo, only lace-up athletic shoes are allowed in the weight-room.

I think he was surprised when I didn't give him any push-back. "I used to be a supervisor. I understand that you represent the organization and that you have to enforce rules. Thank-you for telling me."

I went back to the locker room and put on my regular socks and my street shoes (which are athletic shoes) and went back and started lifting.

As I was recovering between my second-to-last set and my last-set, two young women started using the hamstring machine behind the dead-lift platform. That is where they lay on a table on their belly and hook a padded bar with their heels and lift it by flexing their knees.

I could go into great deal describing them physically, but it is enough to call them "The Doublemint Twins". You will get the picture.

I finished my five minute recovery and got on the dead-lift platform and squatted/bend down to grip the bar...and I felt their eyes on me. A quick glance around confirmed that the eyes of the girl on the machine had her eyes locked on me.

Six repetitions takes me sixty seconds. That feeling never departed.

It was a what-the-hell minute. Are they checking out my gluteus maximus? I wear baggy clothing when lifting but the fabric gets stretched tight down there when lifting. 

The feeling was so novel and disquieting that I completed the last three reps with my eyes closed. It is entirely possible that I lost count of the number of reps and done more than six.

I immediately started breaking down the set-up after the last rep, pulling off the plates and she maintained her intense stare the entire time.

When I left the platform to get the sanitary wipe to wipe-down the bar, I noticed that the girl on the hamstring machine kept her eyes locked on where I had been....which was between her and the mirror on the wall.

Mystery solved.

Frankly, I am very relieved. I am wearing enough hats already and don't have time to do all of them well. I don't need to add teen "heart-throb" to the list. 

Today's work-tickets

Pick up the yard.

Mow the grass.

Go for a run. 

Weed in the garden for an hour. 

Stretch target: clean out the bed of the truck 

Spinach, Hibiscus blossoms, Tortoises and Goat Festivals

 

The last of the spinach seeds for the variety trial were planted today. When I realized that I was going to be rained-out the other evening, I put the cv. "Red Tabby" seeds in water to soak over-night. Then I drained them, put them in a snap-top, plastic container and put the into the refrigerator.

It was my attempt to not excessively penalize the Red Tabby seeds by having them start later. They were fully hydrated and spinach seeds will germinate when it is quite cold, so the seeds were producing enzymes even though they were refrigerated.

The seed bar had issues. Some of the shallow divots were fuzzy with wood fibers and that was enough to keep the seeds from falling out even when it was inverted 180 degrees. I can fix the fuzzy holes by drilling them a tad deeper and then sanding. I am not sure it is worth the effort.

Hardy Hibiscus

I got scammed by a seller on Etsy who was selling heirloom tomato varieties.

I got lucky by a seller on Ebay who was selling "Luna, assorted" hardy hibiscus seeds. Germination was only 50%. I did not expect them to flower the first year because they are perennials, but some of them have. The flowers are absolutely stunning!

My hand is the same distance from the camera as the flower. It REALLY is that big.

This was the first to bloom. This is the 5th blossom.

Fun fact, tortoises (turtles) adore hibiscus blossoms. Rose of Sharon is also a hibiscus. Hibiscus petals make striking "garnishes" and are much more memorable than sprigs of parsley.

A Goat Festival

I was invited to a goat festival. My readers who are fluent in earthier language can make substitutions as desired.

A neighbor was sending her goats to auction. The trucker showed up. The goats escaped. We were able to (finally) get most of them into the trailer. 

The trucker was a professional. As the sweating woman was paying him and apologizing, he said "I've seen worse. Just last week I had to capture an escaped bull. He was in heavy brush and the plot was cut by deep gullies."

I need to start running again. Goat festivals can be extremely aerobic. 

Bonus video

HERE. This link ports you into the "bottom line". 

Your brain at 101 year-of-age can look like a junk-yard and it is not inevitable that you will have the symptoms of Alzheimer's. 

Presented without comment

 

Proof

 

Mrs ERJ left me the last two cinnamon rolls

Proof that she still loves me!

Fine Art Tuesday

A hunter flirting with a girl who seems a bit uncertain about his intentions. You can see that the hunter's weapon is a muzzle-loader, still in use in the 1880s and beyond.

Emil Rau was born in 1885 in Dresden, Germany and died in 1937 in Munich.

He is best know for his paintings of everyday life in rural Germany. 

Mountains are HARD places from which to grow enough food to survive the year. Multiple types of livestock were the norm.

A rare image of Old NFO from the 1880s.

Scythman enjoying a break with a pretty girl. He is smoking a pipe. The knee of his pants are patched and the toe of his right boot has been repaired.

Unlike the Hudson River School that shrank the human elements in the frame, Rau amplified them. The house and man on the right side of the frame are much larger than the perspective and distance warrant.

Probably hunters. A long-arm is leaning against the bench on the left side of the frame. Chamois horns on left side of frame by window.

Open fire beneath a trivet on far right side of frame. Black ceiling might be soot, it ends at the top of the window in the background.

Clothing (socks?) drying beneath the eves of the roof