Today I wanted to share two of my favorite brainteasers. It’s just by chance that they are so similar, both tricking you into thinking something is missing. Every few years, I forget the trick to the first one – because I’m smart like that – and it stumps me again. The latter puzzle is more of an optical illusion than anything else. Like all good optical illusions, understanding how it works doesn’t ruin your ability to see it.
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As I’ve approached and entered my thirties, I’ve become increasingly interested in politics. Not that I would ever, ever participate beyond the ballot box or a donation, but as a spectator, I’m fascinated. Another of my interests in recent years is the psychology of decision making, belief, and logical fallacies. Of particular curiosity is the growing ideological gulf between the political left and right in the United States brought on by increased access to information.
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In June, 2011, I’m going on a golf vacation to Ireland with three of my best friends, Paul (my father), Jeff, and Jacob. Six years ago, we took a similar golf vacation to Scotland. At the time, I posted photos and commentary to a website that predated this blog. In preparation for our trip this year, I’m re-posting my commentary on that trip in October 2005.
On Sunday, October 9, 2005, the Kingdom of Fife Championship was officially begun. In an unbelievable display of daring, defiance, and bravery, Jacob proposed a (gasp!) change to the itinerary which involved playing a course at Carnoustie instead of playing the Anstruther Golf Club again. After much discussion, several whiskies, and minimal name-calling, it was decided to drive to Carnoustie, without directions, and try to play golf there, without a tee-time!
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In June, 2011, I’m going on a golf vacation to Ireland with three of my best friends, Paul (my father), Jeff Fitzgerald, and Jacob Pittman. Six years ago, we took a similar golf vacation to Scotland. At the time, I posted photos and commentary to a website that predated this blog. In preparation for our trip this year, I’m re-posting my commentary on that trip in October 2005.
On Saturday, October 8, 2005, we arrived to the Captain’s Hoose in Anstruther, Scotland. It’s the house with the purple door. There is a spiral staircase from the front door to the attic.
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As much as I’ve been trying to avoid it, I’ve been unable to avoid seeing pictures of these two British faces around the news. There was something about this one photograph that struck me as being perfect for a Photoshop trick I’ve been wanting to try, called face switching. Sure, enough, their faces were angled just right such that it was really quite a trivial operation for someone with a rudimentary understanding of layer masks. If the royal wedding coverage gets too annoying, just imagine it’s this lovely couple instead.
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Today we saw the first episode of the second season of Pregnancy. It was Marga’s twelve-week ultrasound. There was an eerie sense of déjà vu in the same corner of the hospital with the same nurses and same 12-week-ultrasound doctor as the last time. Just like last time, I was blown away by two distinct facets of our visit.
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On April 15, 2011, I was struck by the photograph on this news article. The caption attributed it to a photographer for Getty Images named Chris Hondros. I’d never heard of him, but, when I tweeted about it, I specifically mentioned his name. If my good friend, Kevin McCloy, hadn’t been on a Facebook hiatus, he might have seen my message about Hondros and proudly told me that Chris Hondros was one of his best friends from college.
Five days later, on April 20, 2011, Chris Hondros was killed in an RPG attack by Libyan government forces in Misrata. I heard immediately via Facebook from my friend, McCloy, and the next day it was the top news story across the United States.
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This is one of the more curious Spanish expressions to me. I think it was first introduced to me by my Spanish friends in England when my future wife traveled alone to Spain for a wedding and I had to stay behind because the British immigration officers were getting uneasy with me going to and from Spain so much. Here’s a brief definition of the expression, followed by a longer explanation I’ve gathered from some internet research:
estar de Rodríguez: adj. the state of being left at home alone to work by one’s spouse (wife, typically) and children, while they go on vacation.
Two nights ago, we were sitting in the living room, and Marga exclaimed, “Whoa! Check out the moon!” It was just peeking up over the tree-lined hillside to the east of our house. I ran to get my camera and snapped several pictures during the minute I had when the natural satellite was still behind the trees. Only one of them came out very good.
The following night, I decided that, if the weather was willing, I’d be ready to photographically ambush the moon as it rose over the trees.
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Over the past several weeks, as a project for his own personal blog, a colleague of mine, Cole Watts, has been interviewing me about my blogging over email. It was a fun experience, as I’ve never been interviewed as if I knew something about anything, well, almost never. I suspect many of my readers might be wondering these exact questions about me, but perhaps not. Here, reproduced with permission, in its entirety, is Cole Watts’ interview of Erik Rasmussen, blogging expert.
Most of us daydream about traveling but many of us will often not leave the United States. I’ve recently had the opportunity to be a coworker of Erik Rasmussen, who took the idea of traveling and ran with it. Erik currently resides in Spain and is known to some as an American in Spain.
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Whitby Harbour, UK
Fantastic.
Four year olds are pure id.
“Daddy, after I finish this dessert, I want another bowl filled to the top with nothing but [whipped] cream. Okay?”
Convinced my daughter to watch Star Wars with me by promising that it had a princess.
George Catlin, Prairie Meadows Burning, 1832
From the Smithsonian American Art Museum:
George Catlin painted ominous, swirling clouds of black smoke that loom out of the distance and drive the Indians before them. The artist was an eyewitness to such terrifying events, and described the fire’s “thunder rumbling as it goes.” But he also wrote that prairie fires made for “some of the most beautiful scenes that are to be witnessed in this country, and also some of the most sublime.”
