The House Surrounded by Wood

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About the simple photo shoot that took two tries (so far) to get right.

The client left a voicemail message, explaining that she wanted us to take an aerial photo of her house as a surprise Christmas present for her husband. She left a phone number, but I was afraid to call her back. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.

She caught me in my office two days later. We met at the airport so I could take her deposit and learn more about the job.

She explained where the house was — less than a mile south of the airport — and described it as being surrounded by chopped wood. “You have to take the photo soon,” she urged. “Before all the wood is gone.”

She’d done her homework on the Flying M Air Web site, and knew all about the Pentax 67 camera with the big negatives. The one I’d just decided to sell because it was so difficult to use. She wanted us to use that camera because she wanted the photo blown up to a large print.

I took a $50 deposit and told her I’d call her when I had a contact sheet for her to look at, probably within a week. She told me to e-mail her, since her husband never looked at the computer.

Mike and I went up a few days later. We’d loaded the camera with 10 shots, but had decided to use half of them photographing Rancho de los Caballeros, in hopes of selling them a postcard. I flew for about 20 minutes. Mike took pictures. I had to climb to 5000+ feet for the photos of the ranch.

I dropped off the film at Safeway, requesting Kodak processing. The only kind of processing I could get for that kind of film. I noted that I wanted a contact sheet only. No sense in spending $20 on processing.

The contact sheet was a major disappointment. If the client wanted a great shot of her neighborhood, we could deliver. But a photo of just her house and all that wood? By the time we had it cropped enough, we would have been better off with the 35mm negatives.

I broke the news to Mike. He complained that the camera didn’t show the right thing through the viewfinder. I didn’t point out that the ranch photos came out okay. There didn’t seem to be a need to start an argument.

I e-mailed the client and explained the situation. I asked her to come to the airport and tell me which angle she liked best and to draw her property line on the best shot. She came in and looked at the contact sheet. “My house is one of those?” she asked. I assure her it was. Then I pointed it out. She picked an angle and I used a Sharpie to mark up the image. I told her we were switching to a 35mm camera, one my photographer was more accustomed to using. I told her he’d do a better job and she could still get her enlargement. I told her it was a “man thing.” She understood completely.

We went up today to try again. Mike loaded his Nikon with zoom lens with 24 exposures of 100 ASA Kodak print film. He shot about 10 of the house, 10 of the ranch, and 4 of the town. I dropped off the film at Osco, so I could pick up the prints tomorrow.

Let’s hope I don’t have to continue this tale in another blog entry.

The Big, White Tire

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How I conquered the big, white tire.

In my essay, “When I Became a Pilot” (which has since been lost in various Web site changes), I discuss the various flights I’ve made that have led up to me finally feeling as if I really am a pilot. One of these flights was my private pilot check ride. And in one of those paragraphs, I mention the big, white tire.

The tire is a truck tire, painted white, that sits out in the desert in a practice area my old Scottsdale-based flight school sometimes uses. The area is about four miles northeast of Deer Valley airport (DVT). I’d tried on several occasions to find it, but was never successful. Until today, that is.

But I’m getting ahead of myself here. First you need to know the back story.

During my check ride, the examiner asked me to hover up to that big, white tire, face it, and hover all the way around it, facing it the entire time. This is an exercise in hover control and frankly, when I attempted it on my check ride, I did quite poorly. In fact, I thought I’d botched the check ride, mostly because of my failure to do this one maneuver anywhere near satisfactorily. I passed the check ride, but I vowed to return to the tire and try again.

Today, after a late lunch at Deer Valley’s airport restaurant, I decided to try to find the tire again. And this time, I found it.

It’s not very hard to find, if you know where to look. There are actually two big, white tires there. But more obvious from the air is the landing square, marked out with small, white tires and the orange windsock, which must have been recently replaced. Today, it hardly moved, with a two- or three-knot wind from the northwest.

I landed in the square, then hovered up to the big, white tire. I faced it with the tip of my cockpit only a foot from its closest edge and my skids only two feet off the ground. It seemed to mock me — after all, it was just a big, white tire in the desert, but it had been in my thoughts for years. It was as if I were making a pilgrimage to pay homage to its greatness.

And then I began my circle, to the left. It amazed me, at first, how easy it was to perform this simple task. Slight movement to the left with the cyclic, slight pressure on the right pedal, miniscule adjustment of the collective. Within half a minute, I’d circled it, returning to my starting point. Then, just for good measure, I circled to the right.

Ha! I could do it after all!

(Of course, I’ve logged over 600 hours since my first check ride. If I couldn’t do it by now, I should go back to flight school.)

I left the practice area, proud of myself. I flew low around the mountains of New River, over Anthem and the outlet mall, over Lake Pleasant and the golf course, into the Wickenburg Mountains. I flew low, a hundred feet above a car on Castle Hot Springs Road, past a man parked out in the desert with a camera, over some ATVers in the Santo Domingo Wash. I passed the shooting range and the rodeo grounds, then climbed to a respectable altitude to overfly Wickenburg. I came in to the airport on Runway 23, and set it down at the pumps, feeling more like a pilot than I have in a very long time.

My Computer Setup

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Some information about what I consider to be the “perfect setup” for writing books about computers.

I’ve been writing computer how-to books since 1990 (13-1/2 years at this point). I just finished #55 the other day. Do the math and you’ll see that I average about 4 books a year. (My biggest year was 10; my smallest was 1.)

I write all of my own books, with a few exceptions here and there. For example, I didn’t write the Unix or AppleScript chapters of my Mac OS X Visual QuickPro Guides — I lacked the expertise and didn’t have time to learn. I also co-authored two of my books. But other than that, I wrote them all and will continue to do so until I find someone who has skills that meet my standards.

As you might imagine, my writing setup is an important part of what makes me so productive. I like to tell people that I have it “down to a science,” and I think I do. I’m fortunate that I’ve been able to earn enough money over the years to build what I think is the ideal setup.

I have three computers that I work with with when I’m writing a book: my “production machine,” and two “test mules.”

Currently (November 2003), my production machine is a Macintosh G4/866 minitower. It’s about two years old at this point. It has 512K of RAM and a 40GB hard disk. It also has a built-in modem, SuperDrive (that’s a drive than can read and write CDs and DVDs), and Zip drive. It also has all the standard Mac OS ports (USB, FireWire, Ethernet, etc.), as well as a SCSI port, which I thought I’d need but never have used. The computer is connected to a 21-inch Sony monitor and an array of USB and FireWire devices, including a scanner, Epson photo printer, digital camera, graphics tablet, iSight, digital video camera, and iPod (original).

I have two test mules, one for my Mac OS books and one for my Windows books.

My Mac OS test mule is an eMac 800 with a SuperDrive, built-in modem, bunch of RAM and 80GB hard disk. I’m really fond of this machine — it’s a great machine for someone with limited space who doesn’t need a lot of expansion or bells and whistles. And frankly, it’s a lot more “normal” looking than those ridiculous ET-looking iMacs that Apple is selling like crazy. It has a 17-inch monitor and can be hooked up to all the devices I need to write about in my Mac OS X books. It’s about a year old now.

My Windows test mule is a Dell Dimension 933Lr (or something like that). What can I say about it? It’s a Windows PC running Windows XP Home edition. It has a built-in modem and networking card and some kind of Pentium processor. Enough RAM, although I can’t remember how much. And enough hard disk space. It’s hooked up to a 17-inch Gateway monitor that I kept from my last Windows test mule, a Gateway PC. I think this Dell is about three years old now.

All of my computers, as well as my LaserJet 2100TN printer, are hooked up to an Ethernet network. They do file, Internet, and printer sharing using the built-in networking tools in Mac OS X and Windows XP.

My Internet connection comes from my old G3/300, which was my last production machine. It’ll soon be my Web/E-mail/DNS server, connected to the Internet with a cable modem. It feeds Internet to my three desktop computers, plus my PowerBook (when it’s added to the network) and Mike’s Sony Vaio (when he’s in town).

Here’s how it works. Suppose I’m writing a book about Mac OS X. I fire up the eMac test mule, reformat the hard disk, and install the Mac OS X software on it. I also install Snapz Pro, which is the best screen shot software out there for Mac OS X. Then I fire up my production G4 and open the file for the chapter I’m revising or the template for the chapter I’m writing from scratch. When I’m writing a Visual QuickStart Guide, I use InDesign 2.0; otherwise, I use Word X. As I work with the software on the eMac, I write about it on the G4. The two machines are sitting right next to each other and I can swivel in my chair to work on one or the other. I take screen shots on the eMac and copy them from the pictures folder, which I’ve opened on the G4, to my manuscript folder. If the screenshots need editing, I do it with Photoshop 7.0. If I’m doing layout, the screenshots get copied into the manuscript file. I add captions and callouts as necessary. Using this technique, I can turn out a completed manuscript page for a revision in as little as 10 minutes, if very little editing is required. For brand new titles, it takes 30 to 60 minutes for a page. On a good day, I can whiz through a chapter in a day or two.

The whole thing works pretty much the same when I’m writing a Windows book, except I use the Dell test mule and don’t reformat the hard disk before starting. I have to use two different screen shot software packages, because neither one does everything I need: Collage Capture and HiJaak Pro. And the shots always need to be touched up a little in Photoshop on the Mac. The process is generally slower, but not by much. Frankly, I don’t like writing Windows books, but my setup doesn’t have that much to do with it. I just don’t like working with Windows.

I believe that some authors write computer books with only one computer. They write, then switch to the program they’re writing about, fiddle around with it, take screen shots, then switch back to the program they’re writing in. (A very well-known author that I’ve often traded stories with confessed to me that he once wrote a book about Windows software by running the software under SoftPC on his Mac. Is he nuts?) With computer prices being well within the realm of affordability these days, there’s no reason an author should subject himself to such abuse. Two computers — one to work on and one to run the software on — are required, along with a network connection between them. I have three because I write about two different platforms.

By the way, if you were to peek into my office these days, you’d find quite a collection of computers. In addition to the G4, eMac, and Dell, you’d find the G3 that will soon be my Web/E-mail/DNS server and the old 8500/180 that’s currently my Web/E-mail/DNS server, still running on an ISDN connection. The 8500 was my production machine before the G3. (Before that was a 7100/66, which my sister now has. Before that was a Mac IIcx, which is long gone.) On my desk, you might also find my 12-inch PowerBook G4, which replaced my iBook SE, which replaced my PowerBook 3400c.

A production Mac lasts me about 2 years, although the G4 will probably last me another year — there’s no reason right now to replace it; it’s doing its job quite well. I replace each production machine with a current model Macintosh that isn’t top-of-the-line, but has enough RAM, speed, and hard disk space to last a few years. Test mules are good for 3 to 4 years. I replace them with low-end models that can run current operating system software and connect to the hardware I need to write about. I usually pump up their RAM enough to ensure that they operate smoothly. Laptops are good for about 3 years; I hope this PowerBook lasts longer because I really like it. My average annual expenditure on computer hardware is about $5,000, which really isn’t bad.

I don’t buy the latest and greatest gadgets unless I need to write about them. The iSight camera is a perfect example. I needed to write about iChat AV, so I bought a compatible camera. My AirPort wireless network, which lives at home when I’m not writing about it, is another good example. I bought it to write about it. Once or twice a year, I disconnect it and bring it to my office, where I reconnect it and write about it. Only one of my computers — the PowerBook — has AirPort networking built in. I don’t mind wires in my office, but its kind of nice to connect to the Internet at home from the kitchen, living room, den, bedroom, or back patio — without needing a really long cord.

The other thing I need to mention is that I don’t spend long hours “playing” with my computers or surfing the ‘Net. I have a life away from my computers that I enjoy. Computers are tools I use to make a living. Although I find them interesting, I think the other things I do with my life are far more interesting and fulfilling. My PowerBook is the only computer I spend non-working hours with. It’s my notebook, my tool for writing. And since I occasionally do that for pleasure, it makes sense to keep it handy, even when I’m not working.

Like right now.

Another Sleepless Night

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About my unfortunate sleeping problem.

I can’t sleep.

It’s Tuesday morning, at around 12:30 AM. I’m wide awake, typing on my PowerBook in front of the TV. The TV is off.

I have a weird sleeping problem. I wake up very early — usually around 5 AM — without any assistance from an alarm clock. I can’t even claim that the sun is waking me, because the sun doesn’t rise these days until nearly 7 AM. I go through my morning routine, which includes making coffee for me and scrambled egg for Alex, my parrot, at a leisurely pace. By 7 AM, I’m ready for work.

The day goes quickly. These days, I’ve been starting my day at the local airport, which I kind of manage. My morning guy went back to work as a pilot and I’m looking for a replacement. Until I find one, I’m the morning guy. I work until about noon, getting lots of paperwork done and spending lots of time talking to the people who come in. Then I usually go to my office, where I spend a few hours catching up on the things I neglected while working on my last big book project — in this case, my Mac OS X Panther book. (Next week, I start another book project — Excel 2003 for Windows.) Around 5 PM, I head home. Mike and I have dinner and usually watch something we’ve “tape” on Dish Network’s version of TIVO. Last night, it was an episode of “Choppers” from Discovery Wings and a “Nova” about string theory. (We don’t watch network TV.) By 8 PM, I can barely keep my eyes open. I go to bed.

I’m dead to the world for the first half of any night’s sleep. You could set off a bomb in my kitchen and I don’t think I’d wake up. After that, things are iffy.

On the worst nights — like tonight — I wake up about four to five hours after I’ve fallen asleep and I’m wide awake. Tonight is worse than usual because I still have a cough, so when I woke up, I spent some time coughing, waking up Mike, too. When I’m like this, I can spend at least two hours wasting time watching TV, reading, or writing. Then, if I’m lucky, I can get back to sleep.

Other nights, I’ll just wake up and snooze and wake up and snooze for the rest of the night. Or I’ll just sleep lightly and wake to the slightest outside sound: dogs barking, coyotes howling, wind, etc. Or be kept awake by the sound of Mike breathing. Since I can’t get him to stop doing that, I’m often in a semi awake stage for hours. These nights are particularly bad if I have a lot on my mind. Then these thoughts parading through my head make it impossible to sleep.

Of course, other nights, I’ll sleep right through.

The sleepless nights usually come in groups. They might be triggered by the moon or by some internal clock that my body keeps winding. So I’ll have a week or more of sleepless nights. Then, one night I’ll sleep right through and wake feeling very pleased and surprised. For a while, the sleepless nights went on for months. It got to the point where I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a good night’s sleep. Then, suddenly, I could sleep straight through again. I was extremely pleased. The thought of never sleeping well again wasn’t sitting well with me.

I don’t believe in taking medicine to help me sleep — unless, of course, I have a cold. I’m a firm believer that when you’re sick, sleep is extremely important. If you don’t get sleep, you won’t get better. So whenever I’m sick, I purposely take over-the-counter remedies that include sleeping aids. Of course, they seldom work because I’m sick and too busy coughing or fighting a runny nose to sleep.

Anyway, tonight is one of those nights. I just spent 20 minutes writing this, sitting on the sofa with my legs tucked up under me and my laptop on my lap. I’ll write something else during the next hour or so. By then, I should be ready to get back to sleep.

I hope.

Flashback: February 6, 2002

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I take Mike’s cousin Ricky to a real ghost town.

Swansea is a ghost town about 60 miles west of Wickenburg. Located on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere (or as close to there as you can get), it takes about 3 hours to reach the place by car. But it takes only 40 minutes by helicopter.

Mike’s cousin Ricky was in town on one of his annual visits. (He doesn’t come annually anymore and I’m not sure why.) Mike had to work and I needed to play. So I took Ricky to Swansea in Three-Niner-Lima.

We landed on the site of what had been the mine manager’s house. The area was flat, covered with the same fine gravel that seems to cover about 90% of Arizona’s desert. The town was deserted — at least I don’t remember anyone being around.

Swansea
Ricky stands near Three-Niner-Lima, on the site of the mine manager’s house.

We explored the town for about an hour. I’d been there before and although I found it interesting, Ricky really seemed to enjoy it. The town has quite a few buildings, many of which have enough left of them to explore. BLM, which owns the townsite, has a walking tour, with numbered stops, and a brochure that explains a lot. It really is worth seeing, but whether it’s worth a total of 6 hours spent in a car, most of which is on dirt roads, is debatable. Having the helicopter for transportation really makes places like this much more accessible.

Ricky at the Wheel
I don’t know why, but I like this photo of Ricky behind the wheel of a desert wreck.

This year, if Ricky shows up, I’ll take him someplace new. I have a few ideas for places to explore.