Quo Vado?

It's the third day of dreary weather here in Atlanta. I' tired of the fall gloom the rain brought with it. I cannot help but laugh at the folks who keep saying we need the rain. They're not wrong; they're just not entirely correct either. The water levels at Lake Lanier ar extremely low. Most of the metro area rain water doesn't flow anywhere near the lake. So, while rain here does the lawns and trees good, it doesn't necessairly help to raise the water in the lake.

If I had any question this morning about what day it was, it has since been lost. The day started with a 7:30am meeting, includes some damp grey weather, caused a tension headache, and elevated my concern levels for a pen-pal of mine stationed overseas.

All I've really wanted to do all day was go home and go to bed - shutting the world out for a while longer.

The Kid's going to make me piss or get off the pot soon about the teaching thing as he noe has a two year plan that startsbwith learning to speek Spanish. I'll be out of stupid debt by the first of the year so I won't have that holding me back any longer.

The dream started innocently enough. A day without power a the office - it happens often enough I didn't think much of it. Only a trip to the front of the office reveals that it somehow became take your kids and grand kids to work day and we were overflowing with munchkins. I played nice with the kids and explored the morphed building until the first alarm rang.

I returned to the dream via my car. As I opened the door a contractor standing outside his truck said, "What are you doing there? A tornado is coming. Are you stupid woman, get to safety."

I looked around, and no one was taking cover. Suddenly, I was on my feet yelling "Duck and cover! Duck and cover!" to the adults as I passed by them, running for the glass offices I knew were filled with children.

The kids were ducking and covering in good hurricane drill procedure in the front glassed in lobby. With enough shouting and pleading we moved them to the inside, windowless bathrooms. As the last child was pulled into the bathroom, the second alarm rang.

This time, when I returned to the dream the only person around outside was Squid - and he wouldn't listen to me. After fighting with him - and pointing out the funnel cloud we found the safest place by a tall hedge and I covered his body with mine as I felt the pressures around us change. The final alarm sounded just as the tornado touched down.

I don't know what happens next.

OK, so this post may fall a bit to far into the TMI pile for some folk's taste; but, I cannot resist writing it. I realized today as I zipped up the connector, what my favorite part of coming home is. It's my bathroom. That claustrophobic six by six square piece of real estate represents what I miss most when I'm away from home.

Using the throne like feature of the little room is like heaven. There's no fear of someone else's germs,. The conversations in the stall next door that I didn't want to be a part don't exist. The toilet paper comes easily off of the bloody roll. My toes reach the floor. And best of all, I can leave the door open and take as long as I like for no one cares. [1] If the place is dirty it's my own fault. My blue striped towels and multi-stripe shower curtain provide color and the overhead light is great to read by (when it's not blown). All in all, my bathroom is essential to my well being and I'm glad to see it again tonight.

[1] I grew up in a household where every single soul - with the exception of our illiterate dog - was known for camping out in the bathroom with a book. Because Dad liked to keep an eye and an ear out for kids, he rarely closed the door while camping - so, I have poor privacy skills and poor bathroom sharing skills.

So, the subject line says just about everything about my day. I chose not to go into work yesterday, so I spent much of the day trying to do three (possibly four) things at once. I did, however, manage to learn a very important lesson. After last weeks sleep away site visits, I repacked the site boots into their tote bag. I forgot two things - the socks. As a result of my forgetfulness, I had the privilege of walking around a local construction site without socks and with sweaty feet. Luckily, I managed to avoid blisters. I packed a pair of socks for tomorrow's visit to Louisiana. By golly, I just love flying.

Will make me look stupid some day.

Unfortunately for me, that day is today.

Way back when doing probability problems I learned about this little function called factorial. Eight months ago my brain forgot about it when designing shear walls for a wood building on an elevated post-tensioned slab.

One of the things you have to be seriously aware of when designing these slabs is that all embeds and anchors either have to be cast-in-place or placed after the concrete has cured. Those items placed after the concrete has cured can not penetrate the slab more than 3/4" to avoid 'popping' a post-tensioned cable.

OK, like everything else both Simpson and Hilti make short drop-in anchors that do the job beautifully. The only problem is that they don't provide the kind of shear resistance we see when embedding longer anchors into a slab-on-grade. So, the drop-in spacing is much tighter than the spacing of the regular anchor bolt in shear applications. Instead of being placed 4'-0 apart the drop in is placed every 1'-0". And here is where the pesky factorial function comes into play. Heavier-duty anchors are often used at each end of shear walls to resist overturning during a seismic event (think of trying to tip a refrigerator over on it's back). With drop-ins placed so closely together the about of overturning felt by any one wall is nominal - much less than what I originally designed. Much, Much Less.

I am such a dork brain.