We are In the Groove, and Other Things.

This is for Emily and Wyatt. We had an interesting discussion about music and musical tastes after the Saturday private missions at the Space Center. Many of you like to stand around my desk and listen to these discussions / debates. You all know I'm usually right, and when it seems like I'm on the precipice of being proven wrong, I can always use the ultimate logic (above). If that fails, the time cards and an eraser are always within arm's reach.

Hello Troops,
We are well into our school year operations. I think I can officially claim that we are "In the Groove". That means things are running like clockwork. The daytime staff know where to be, when to be and who to be at all times during the four hour experience. There are a few odds and ends being polished, like new tactical screens for the smaller simulators. Stacy works nearly every day creating ship specific tactical screens for each of our five field trip missions. Her tacticals will improve our mission's appearance, thus a more professional look.

We ran our last Summer Camp Friday evening. The Summer Camp season of 2011 is officially over! We survived. In fact, we did more than survive. This was our best summer ever in regards to attendees. We beat last year's attendance by nearly 230 people, landing on our feet with 3,227 summer campers, defined as anyone who attended a mission lasting 2 hours or more. I don't know our total earnings. That will be calculate after the September payroll is processed. A big Thank You to our staff and volunteers. A bigger Thank You to all of you kind readers that came to one of our camps.

Lindon Elementary's 5th Graders open the school year season with this weekend's Overnight Camp. Lindon Elementary has always been one of the Space Center's top schools. Their 5th and 6th grades attend field trips in addition to the three Overnight Camp weekends the book. Only Sego Lily Elementary does more. Thanks Lindon.

This year we bring Christine and Megan on board as classroom presenters, assisting Lorriane and Aleta with the classroom lessons. Abram A. is helping in the Voyager. Andrew M., Devin S. and Matt R. are our high school A day interns. We are always looking for high school interns. If you are a junior or senior and have an extra period or two I encourage you to intern at the Space Center. Call me for additional information.

May I share a personal note? I achieved one of my life's minor goals this week. I write a family history blog (americandynasty.org) in addition to The Troubadour. I started American Dynasty to record my aging parent's stories and memories before time or senility takes them. I'm also publishing our family's old photographs with correct identification and anecdotes. Each post is another thread in the fabric of who we are and where we came from.

One of my goals was to find our family in Sweden. My GGrandmother Ida emigrated from Sweden at the turn of the century. She left her parents, brothers and sisters behind. Her youngest sister Hilma wrote to her from neutral Sweden during World War II asking for coffee. I found the letter in one of the boxes of old photos. Based on what Hilma had written, I knew we had close relatives in Sweden. My goal was to find them.

Success! Last week I found my mother's two first cousins, once removed, alive and well living in a small northern Swedish village bordering Finland. Rolf is 73 years old. I'm not sure of his sister Astrid's age.

Correspondents flew back and forth across the Atlantic all week. There are many stories to tell and many posts to write detailing their story from the point where Ida left Sweden at the turn of the Century. Of course you know a trip to Sweden will be next.

My next goal is to find my father's first cousins once removed, along with 2nd and 3rd cousins living in northern Italy. They hide well and Vercellino is a fairly common name in the Torino region. Finding them is proving to be a formidable challenge. I'll keep you posted.

And now, how about a few things from the Imaginarium........


There is something not quite right with this slide. I'm having trouble putting my finger on it. It may be best to walk away form the slide right now. Just walk away.....


What a question to throw at an adult. I think little Victor would be amazed at what I did with his love of Star Trek. He would think I've got the coolest job in the universe. So, remind me of that the next time you hear me complain (which I don't do that often and only when I'm at my Rope's End. Rope's End is the last stop on the mental tram before reaching the terminus at Blubbering Idiocy).

Great sign for my front yard. Imagination at its best yet once again.
Hey, a perfect Christmas gift. Where can I buy one?

Behind every young anarchist stands a good mother.
"Stay out of trouble. Call if you need me to make bail. Go get 'em sweetheart.
Make mommy proud."

OK, many of you are just now entering the work or volunteer force. This is a good representation of how things really are. Thinking of the Space Center's organization, where are you and who's droppings are you shouldering :)


Brilliant use of imagination and creativity. Above and below! By the way, that's a window in the lower picture. You see what happens when you break out of the mold and think outside the box.

Agreed 100%.

X marks the Spot Mattie!

Advancements from the Front Lines.

Hello Troops,
The Space Center is engaged in a war against Imagination's foes. Recently we took advantage of a lull in battle to award advancements to several of our front line troops. Each honoree was given a two day pass for a little rest and relaxation in beautiful Pleasant Grove. Their liberty pass included a hot shower, hot meal, shave and a clean uniform.


This is Sub Private Connor Jones receiving his Year of Service Pin. Connor's excitement isn't reflected in his vacant expression. After one year on the front, Connor is showing signs of shell shock and fatigue. Our medical staff recommend a leave of absence. Connor would hear none of it. He left our underground bunker right after receiving his pin, determined to get back to his unit. Jon stopped him at the door to the outside world.

"Here Connor, take the overnight camp's left overs."

Connor was grateful. He opened the hatch to the outside world beyond the Space Center's Command Bunker. The sound of distant explosions, accompanied by bright flashes of light filled the foyer. He fastened his helmet, took a deep breath of our heavily filtered air, and stepped out into the smoke and dust. Jon resealed the hatch and returned to the war room to make plans for our next offensive.

Private Hailey Hadley received her Year Pin at the same ceremony. Hailey works in Intelligence, and dreams of serving as a Unit Commander. Courtesy laughing at Mr. Williamson's often repeated jokes is one way she hopes to be noticed and move ahead. Everyone knows that laughing at anything Mr. Williamson says is required if one wants to be promoted.

Abram is receiving a Battle Field Promotion to Commander (notice the blue shirt in Mr. Williamson's hand). Abram distinguishes himself on the front, leading charge after charge against ignorance's formidable forces. We have high hopes for Abram.


Lt. Matt Ricks received his Year Pin. Lt. Ricks is in charge of technology. He originally signed up for front line duty. He was brought back to Headquarters in a delirious and disoriented state after two days on the Front. Paranoia took root in his mind, a common occurrence caused by taking enemy fire from all directions. He still has trust issues - as seen above.

Andrew received his Voyager Pin. Some on our staff think he may be a secret KAOS agent, embedded here at Headquarters and entrusted with a mission to stop Imagination's Forces and deliver the world to Ignorance and mental poverty. I have yet to see evidence of that. Although I do recall he refused to shake my hand at the ceremony. He seemed rather pleased with himself.

Private Caitlynn is confused. Commander Devin even more so. Caitlynn wonders why Devin is taking so long to fasten the pin. Devin has a slight problem with dexterity, as his platoon discovered the first time he tried to throw a grenade. The grenade landed at his feet. He panicked and kicked it towards his comrades in the bunker. Thankfully someone picked the grenade up and threw it out of the bunker, into the open field.

Devin was transferred to Headquarters.

Five minutes and several of Mr. Williamson's jokes later, the pin was attached without drawing blood. Caitlynn was gratefully for small blessings.

Dave Daymont, Phoenix Set Director, is seen giving Hayley Warner her Phoenix Pin.
Hayley is working hard to become a Phoenix Flight Director. Until then, its back into her camouflage and a ticket back to the front lines.


Private Michaela receiving her Galileo Pin from Set Director Stacy. Michaela is yet to spend time on the front. Stacy knew this and managed to muster a reassuring smile, knowing all too well what awaited this poor new recruit.

Private Nabil received his Galileo Pin. Nabil is an excellent double agent. He is the boy of many faces. One minute he passes for one of Imagination's top soldiers, but when needed, he can look as blank and lifeless as anyone living behind enemy lines.

And finally Aliah. Private Aliah received her Galileo Pin from Stacy during one of September's Overnight Camps. She accepted the award on behalf of her squadron.

"My unit is fighting scientific illiteracy at this very moment." She spoke fondly of her friends. "I accept this award for them."

And Yet, Another Overnight Camp.

Hello Troops,
Some weekend Overnight Camps are better than others. Many factors determine whether we label a camp great, good, so so, bad, and "Its every man for himself!". One of those factors is the amount of mental effort and patience it takes to put the younglings to bed. Tonight's bed time saga has been a test of my strength to manage a smile when all I want to do is verbally strike back with lightening sarcasm meant to disable anyone with a question the moment his arm goes up.

So far tonight....

"Mr. Williamson. That kid over there was using a bad word during the mission."

"Mr. Williamson. That kid over there was making fun of us in the bathroom."

"Mr. Williamson, I didn't bring a sleeping bag and pillow. I thought the Space Center had beds."

(2nd boy chimes in) "Mr. Williamson, me too."

"Mr. Williamson, we need to go to the bathroom."

Those words were spoken by one of the three boys I assigned to sleep on the Voyager's Bridge closest to the two chaperons. They were the ones mouthing off in the boy's bathroom earlier this evening. I specifically told all the boys just thirty minutes earlier that one of my biggest pet peeves were kids coming to tell me they needed to get a drink or use the restroom MOMENTS after putting them down for the night. Remember, the boys all get a bathroom break right before we put them to bed. I tell them three or four times during that break that "This is your LAST bathroom break."

Of course, our campers are allowed to use the bathroom and get a drink during the night. My point is this, they shouldn't have to use it right after they got a bathroom break. One goes, then another, then another.... It is there way of staying up later and roaming the school's halls. Yes, I'm on to their game.

Let's leave that one and move along.....

Coming from the staff and volunteers:
"Mr. Williamson, there aren't anymore pads."

Ah, the age old lack of pads. The Space Center staff sleeps on these flimsy, disintegrating pads purchased from the U.S. Government's Auction of Civil War Surplus. You could tell the pads once had padding. Now they provide a semi porous fabric shield against the industrial carpet the District uses to carpet its schools. Someone weighing 25 pounds might feel something akin to comfort when sleeping on one of them. Anyone weighing more might as well just sleep on the floor. Anyway, we ran out of the pads tonight. This weekend a larger percentage of staff chose to stay here at the Center. Perhaps its because its LDS Conference Weekend, and if they go home, their parents may insist they return right after the Overnight Camp for the Saturday afternoon session.

The boys are in bed and its strangely quiet - odd for 12:31 A.M. They are either in the advanced stage of mischief making or they really are taking pity on an old guy who seriously needs a bit of sleep to recharge his patience.

Mr. W.

P.S. Post Update. It's almost time to get the kids up. They actually went to bed very well. The staff got the sleep they needed and my patience batteries are fully charged. It appears to be the start of a good Saturday (yikes, did I just curse myself?).

Comet Elenin. Our Doomsday Comet?

Elenin is Coming!

Hello Troops,
We've survived the alignment of death with the mysterious Elenin, the comet of death, or is it the brown star of the Apocalypse? Regardless, the internet rumor mill has been churning out videos and articles on NASA's supposed big cover up concerning a very dangerous (disappointing) comet heading to within 22 million miles of Earth. The comet finished its swing around the sun and is heading this way! (screaming allowed at this point. Please be sure not to faint of fright without checking for sharp objects in your fall zone).

What the fear mongers can't or won't tell you is that the Sun had its way with poor Elenin, leaving it a snowflake of its former self. It will continue on its way, obliviously to the panic it inspired on Earth's gullible who believe that if they see it on the internet and YouTube, then it must be real.

"I seen it!" is their typical response when their facts are challenged by those of us who are baptized true blue skeptics and take the time to check facts before jumping to conclusions.

One such video posted earlier this week reported that many high ranking government officials were on vacation this week. Could it be that this is the normal September vacation for Congress, or could they know something we don't? That must be it. Why believe the obvious? Surely the most complicated explanation for "their" actions must be correct because reasonable explanations are boring and don't sell ads on web sites or hits on the YouTube.

So, to my friends and associates who are frantically digging their backyard survival shelters, please stop and relax. All will be well. Call me when you see or hear an internet story of something coming to rain death and destruction on Earth. I'll check it out and get back to you. And if I don't get back to you, then you have my permission to panic.

And now, how about a few items from the Imaginarium.

Brilliant in design and imagination.

The moral of this story is.
1. Don't spend money you haven't earned. How do you think we got into this recession anyway?
2 Don't buy things you don't need. What a waste of resources. Give up trying to keep up with the neighbors. Let THEM go to bed worrying how they're going to pay for their expensive home and toys. Remember, you really don't like them anyway.

Just leave it.

"Will you slow down! Where's the Fire!!"

Walter Sends in his Registration Form. He's Going to the Space Center (and other items from the Imaginarium).

Walter Pickle saved his $2.00 per week allowance for several months. He wanted to do an Overnight Camp, a Super Saturday, and several of the Academy Classes at the Space Education Center. Of course, his allowance wasn't enough, so Walter canvased the neighborhood looking for odd jobs to supplement his income. Finally he earned enough from mowing lawns, trimming hedges, babysitting unruly brats and washing dozens of windows. He printed the Registration Form, filled it out with his best handwriting, had his mother double check to be sure every question was answered, stamped the envelope and dropped it in the corner mail box.

Every afternoon after school Walter checks the mail for his Confirmation Forms. He's hoping Mr. Williamson has the time to take care of his registration quickly, but understands if he can't. Walter knows poor Mr. Willamson is overwhelmed with the day to day running of the Space Center, not to mention taking care of the staff and volunteers.

Walter wishes he'd followed his instincts and added an additional dollar paper clipped to a 3 by 5 card with "Buy a Diet Dew on Me, Mr. Williamson" written on it in red ink. He heard from his best friend Max, who heard from his cousin Alfie, who heard from a former volunteer at the Space Center, that the best way to get Mr. Williamson's attention is to bribe with him with a Diet Dew.
( I Realize some of The Troubadour's readers take everything I write literally, so please do not send me money for Diet Dew's. I'm only kidding)

Walter also knows the importance of imagination from reading The Troubadour. He tries to look outside the box whenever he's faced with a problem or task.

Walter is another fantastic Space Center camper. You must be too. How do I know? I know because you're reading this, aren't you?

And now, a few things from the Imaginarium.


You've heard of Polo Shirts? Well, this is something nearly the same, but with an imaginative twist. Just the kind of thing you'd find here in the Men's Department at Wonderland's Imagination Emporium of All Things Weird and Unexplained, my favorite place to shop.


Another example of awesome creativity, the kind usually found in Space Center fans. A moment of silence for the poor pigeons unlucky enough to seek a moment's rest from flight on this razor blade factory's sign.


And now, Something Completely Different.

Random? Yes.
Creative? Yes.
A perfect example of teenage thought pattens? Yes, Yes and double Yes. We hear this kind of Randomspeak daily at the Space Center.

Radomspeak was heard by Christine and her Odyssey staff on Thursday. During a confrontation with the mission's antagonists, a 6th grade crew member offered the following solution to the Captain, "Why don't we hit them with the shrink ray!"

Awesome idea if the Odyssey had a Shrink Ray, which it doesn't, and never had. Where did that come from? The randomness of the statement sent Christine into hysterics - which happens on a regular basis. Christine is known for seeing and encouraging the best in everything and everyone. A good person to have on your team in a crisis.

I think we should send Christine to Greece to help with their government's austerity program. The Greek Government is desperately searching for ways to balance their nation's books which are awash in red ink from decades of over spending on social programs. Put Christine on Greek television and within one hour the government's phone lines will ignite with pledges of money from every Greek tax payer, coast to coast.

Problem solved, the Christine way.


The one meal I kept waiting to see at Hogwarts. Finally we discover there are days when the kitchen elves take a break.

I find this very true. I've been suckered multiple time by these 'tiny leaves'. It happens at Blockbuster. I scan the shelves looking for a good DVD. My eye stops at every case displaying the olive branches because I know olive branches indicated A Winner!

Wrong.

Just because the film has the words "Winner, Best Picture. North Dakota Film Festival" braced by olive branches doesn't mean the movie is any good.

We could put olive branches around the name of the Space Center. Or better yet, give all the paid staff business cards with their names bracketed with olive leaves instead of this month's pay checks. They'll thank me for it.

That's the power of olive branches.


Have a Great Monday!

Mr. W.

Jorden's Day on the Voyager's Bridge.

Jorden's Request for a new uniform to the replace
the Blue Supervisor's Shirt.

Hello Troops,
Remember that mental picture I conjured up during the post camp meeting yesterday after discovering Jorden received 0 votes for his work on the bridge. Well, this is my theory as to what really happened.
Mr. W.


Jorden stood near the spiral stairs on the Voyager's Bridge. It was the furthest place possible from the campers. His bottom lip quivered with nerves. His eyes darted from one child to the next. His nose tested the air for scents indicative of uncleanliness. The Communications Officer looked at him. Jorden notice and turned away. Jorden's survival code required minimal eye contact. Eye contact could lead to conversation and conversation might lead to proximity, proximity would lead to the sharing of air molecules, and Jorden knew that sharing air with other humans could lead to disease - sickness - and possible death.

The young boy raised his hand. Jorden was practicing selective observing and therefore pretended not to notice. The boy became impatient. "Mister," he shouted. Jorden was compelled to answer. Jon might notice and he desperately needed his Voyager Bridge Pass.

"Can I help you?" He tried to sound sincere. Sincerity was foreign to his nature. He'd been practicing sincerity at home in front of his bathroom mirror and thought after several months he could pull off a believable performance. The boy, not wanting to shout, rose from his seat and starting walking toward Jorden. "Stay where you are, don't come closer." Jorden backed further into the wall and pointed to the boy's empty chair, "Back to your seat." The boy stopped cold, confused at the Bridge Supervisor's reaction. Jorden had noticed something shiny draining from his nose.

"I need a tissue." The boy inhaled through his congested nose to stop the drainage. He sounded like a walrus snoring.

"God Help Me!" Jorden's eyes watered as he sought divine assistance. Jordan unzipped his fanny pac, removed a moist towelette and disinfected his hands, arms and face. Once sterilized, he regained his composure and answered the boy's question. "Tissues are kept by the Security Station. Hurry; you're dripping on the carpet!".

The boy walked to Security, took a tissue and wiped his nose. Jorden turned away to take an unwelcomed question from the First Officer.

"Where's the trash can?" Jorden recognized the boy with the snotty nose's voice. He stood and turned. There the boy stood, well inside Jorden's comfort zone, presenting the moist tissue cradling his nose drippings.

"Get it away!" Jorden tripped over the Captain's platform as he tried to get away. "What's wrong with you. That's disgusting?"

"Where do I put this?" the boy asked. He was surprise at Jorden's strong aversion to a simple tissue. The only other time he'd seen such a reaction was when he held a spider close to his sister's head.

"The trash can is over there." Jorden pointed to the trash can under the printer. Sweat formed on his upper lip. Was the room too warm or was the sweat the first sign his immune system had been compromised and exposed to a potentially new and deadly virus. Another towelette was removed from his side mounted fanny pack and rubbed liberally over his face and hands. He wondered if he should use his inhaler but decided against it. His doctor told him in no uncertain terms to stop using the inhaler as a lung disinfectant.

Another hand went up as the mission started. The girl at the Tactical Station was clueless about loading and firing the ship's phasers.

"What is it?" Jorden questioned from a distance of ten feet.

"I don't get this?" the girl answered. "Can you help me?"

"Did you listen to your training?"

"Yes, but I don't get it."

Jorden took three steps before encountering the smell of human perspiration mixed with your average run of the mill Utah dirt. The boy sitting between him and the Tactical Officer was definitely in need of a good scrub down. His unwashed hair triggered Jordan's gagging reflex. He took several steps back, unzipped his Fanny Pack and removed a heavily perfumed, monogrammed handkerchief. Holding the handkerchief closely to his nose, Jorden walked around the boy, giving him the widest berth possible to reach the Tactical Station.

"You need to click there to charge the phasers?" Jorden instructed after surveying the screen.

"How?" the girl questioned.

"Click on that button." Jorden pointed, but did not touch the screen. She might have touched it during training.

"What button?" she asked.

"That button?" he responded with his finger hovering one inch over the icon on the screen.

"I don't' get it." The girl was at her frustration level and stubbornly refused to continue unless he actually pointed to the button she was suppose to click.

Jorden removed another towelette, thoroughly cleaned the mouse and her keyboard and rezipped his Fanny Pack.

"This button." Jorden took the mouse and demonstrated the correct procedure to charge the phasers.

"I get it." She reached out and took the mouse. Their fingers briefly touched.

"God Help Me!" Jorden cried as if he'd accidentally broken open a laboratory vile containing smallpox. "Get back, everyone get back!" he shouted. The panic in his voice frightened the campers, causing them to jump over the desks and each other to get to the lowest level of the Voyager. Jorden pulled a bottle of alcohol from his Fanny Pack, poured half its contents over his contaminated hand and struck a match. The alcohol ignited into flame. Jordan wildly waved his burning hand back and forth to put out the fire. Applause erupted from the Voyager crew.

"This is the bestest mission ever," one of the campers exclaimed, his eyes wide with wonder at the human torch before him.

The flame quickly burned itself out.
"Back to your seats everyone," Jorden urged as he rubbed his stinging hand.

The mission resumed. Jorden stood in his corner. His right hand held the perfumed handkerchief near his nose, warding off the smell of children in an enclosed room with poor air conditioning. His left hand rested on his fanny pack, always ready when needed. It was going to be a long mission.

The Changing of the Season and Will We Get Hit?

Hello Troops,
We've just sped into the first day of Autumn on our blue spacecraft called Earth.  NASA has a video showing the changing of the seasons from space.  The video is labeled from the Northern Hemisphere's perspective.  You'll notice the reduced amount of sunlight during Winter and vice verse in the Summer.   

http://www.space.com/13068-seasons-change-space.html

It's 11:56 P.M. on Friday.  Once again you find me at the Space Center for an Overnight Camp. This evening's group is fantastic.  Groups like this make 21 years of running Overnight Camps bearable.

To be honest, I'm a bit weary about going to bed with that satellite circling overhead looking for a place to crash land.  I'm considering sleeping under my desk (just for added protection).  I know the odds of the Space Center getting hit by the falling debris are astronomical, but only you regular readers of The Troubadour know how Fortuna, the Mischievous Goddess of Fortune, likes to toy with us.  I can see her up there riding that satellite like a cowgirl on a disagreeable bull.  With a few correctly placed jabs she could maneuver that satellite into perfect position to put Pleasant Grove on the map. 

The age of the school works in my favor.  This part of the school was built in 1956.  It is designated a Fallout Shelter, able to provide protection in the unlikely event the United States and some other nation decided to toss a few of those nuclear forget me nots at each other.  I'm thinking, if the school can weather a nuclear blast reasonably well, then why wouldn't it hold up during a space debris party?

I think I'll be fine.  And on that note, its off to bed.

Mr. W. 

UARS Satellite Coming Down!

HEADS DOWN!

It's Duck-and-Cover time, folks, as a big piece of space junk is headed our way and just may hit someone! Sure, the chances of it hitting YOU in particular are about 1 in a trillion, but hey, you're on the planet, aintcha?

UARS in orbit.

NASA's Upper Atmosphere Research Satellite (UARS) is expected now to re-enter the atmosphere sometime late Friday the 23rd or early Saturday the 24th. As the trajectory becomes more clear, it seems that we Americans may be in it's probable fall zone. That zone could be an estimated 500 miles long.

UARS has had a good life, performing its research since 1991 in orbit of the Earth. It's a big boy, though, about 6.5 tons and the size of a school bus (why are things always related to the size of a bus or Rhode Island?) and it won't all burn up during re-entry. Scientists have estimated that about 26 pieces will survive to land on the ground. The fall through the atmosphere will cool the pieces so it shouldn't be hot when it lands. However, there are some coolants and reactants that could be harmful to human flesh so if you should find a piece, don't touch it(!) but rather notify local police and take lots of awesome pictures.

Mr. Daymont
Space Center Educator

A Diet Dew did the Trick.

Hello Troops,
I fired everyone including myself yesterday. Afterwords, I went to Harts, bought a Bill Chill, 32 ounces of Diet Dew with one squirt of cherry for extra flavoring, returned to the Center and rehired everyone - including myself. The Dew, did the trick and made things better.

I remember a verse from a Primary song, "If I had a wish then it would be.....". It goes on wishing the listener a Happy Birthday. IF I had a wish then it would be..... schools that give me accurate student counts!

An example, we had a school arrive with two classes of 27 and 28. They sent an email saying their classes were both 26. We use the Voyager and Odyssey for classes of 26. We open the Phoenix if for classes over 26. We had to scramble to get the Phoenix up and running and staffed for two missions. Of course, the school arrived late making thing more difficult.

So, if you're a teacher coming to visit the Space Center, I urge you to give us accurate student counts before you arrive so we can be prepared. We want to deliver the best possible field trip. That's only possible with accurate numbers and students well briefed on their missions before they arrive.

Thanks teachers in advance for helping!

How about a few Wonders of the Imagination from our favorite place, the Imaginarium....

Just in case you needed to

My favorite of the day

Again, we take care of our Dr. Who / Space Center fans.

Have a great day troops.

Mr. W.

Tatooine, Real? Perhaps it all Happened in Our Galaxy and Not a Galaxy Far Away!

Luke watching a double sun set on Tatooine.

Hello Troops,
I'm blown away by Kepler's newest discoveries, like the first known planet to orbit a binary star system. Yes, this is a real Tatooine like planet straight from Star Wars found by the Kepler Space Telescope.


Please take a moment and read the short article below. Then watch the two short videos showing the planet in motion around the double star.

http://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/kepler/news/kepler-16b.html

Space is truly the final frontier. We live in interesting times. You gotta love technology!

Mr. W.

A Friday I Want to Forget, But Can't.

Hello Troops,
It's been one of those days when the fool wakes up, opens the curtains and exclaims, "What a beautiful day! What could go wrong?"
His neighbor wakes up, sees the same sun kissed early morning clouds, hears his neighbor jinxing himself by drawing the Fortuna's attention and smiles, knowing what is spoken is heard and what is thought is private. Being wise to her ways, he silently marvels at nature's grandeur, knowing full well what the Madam of Mischief is capable of doing to those with sparkly optimistic dispositions.

I was the foolish man today. I spoke when I should have kept silent. We paid the price this evening with two power outages at the Space Center.

Le Madame de Mischief's first strike occurred at 5:00 P.M. just as our 4:00 and 4:30 P.M. missions were getting underway. Central school and its surrounding neighborhood was plunged into darkness after a lightning bolt hurled from Olympus struck a nearby transmission tower. I risked life and limb to step outside to survey the situation. There was nothing but cold pounding rain and wind. I quickly retreated back into the relative safety of the school, not wanting to give Fortuna another tempting target.

At 5:45 P.M. we told our crews to go home and returned their money. Returning money is difficult, its our life blood, but what could I do? They came to fly and we couldn't deliver - regardless of fault. The Center took nothing in yet had to paid the staff.

And just as we all predicted, the power came on just as we sent our campers home. Fortuna has a wicked sense of humor. At least we had electricity and the 7:00 P.M. Overnight Camp wouldn't be affected.

It was 6:40 P.M. The staff were in their loading places. I was about to give the order to open the doors and let the Overnight Campers in when the gym lights flickered and went out. We were once again plunged into darkness.

"Perfect, just perfect," I mumbled to myself and the demons swirling overhead. Not once in the Space Education Center's 21 year history have we ever had a power outage during one of our Friday night Overnight Camps. Action needed to be taken. I didn't want parents dropping their kids off and driving away. What if I had to cancel the camp? I asked Dave Daymont and Jon Parker to gather the campers and their parents in the lobby and front sidewalk while I went in search of Rocky Mountain Power's telephone number.

We had over 100 people mulling around the front of the school at 7:00 P.M., all waiting for a miracle. I hate being in charge during times like these. I prayed for a blessing. Someone up there took pity on us. At 7:05 P.M. the power returned! We started the simulators to check for damaged equipment (which happens on a regular basis with power spikes). At 7:10 P.M. I gave the "All Clear". The ships were in good condition. The doors opened and the camp was underway. We dodged another bullet aimed directly at us by "you know who, she who shall not be mentioned".

Update. It is now Saturday morning. I'm sitting in the Discovery Room with the staff enjoying our chocolate covered Walmart donuts. Rachel walks in with hands held together in front of her in prayer.

"The Galileo won't start right. It comes on then switches off. What do we do?"
My nose recoiled at the stench of Fortuna's perfume, Parfum de la Carcasse en Décomposition. Mischief was again afoot. Rachel and I fiddled with a few of the power strips under the Galileo's left bunk while Stacy shouted orders over Rachel's phone. We discovered a faulty power strip. I jiggled it a bit while promising Fortuna her pick of any of our new young volunteers as a sacrifice. Suddenly the power strip lit up. We were back in business. Now, who do I select as Fortuna's next whipping boy or girl? I promised her a new young volunteer. I hate being in charge........

Enough depression for one day. How about a few things from the Imaginarium? (you may click on them to enlarge the picture).


This poster is perfect. It reminds me that no matter how difficult our lifes, there are billions that have it worse.

And now a Star Wars reference or two.

My definition of "The Perfect Desk".

I won't forget. Will you? Something must be done

And finally, Mr. Hans Solo Bean and his sidekick, Gingerbocka.

We've got a great bunch of campers tonight. They've gone to bed and fallen fast asleep. I appear to be the only one awake at 12:24 A.M. Jon and Casey are the Voyager chaperons. They may be up but I don't care. It is time to collapse.

Mr. W.