Disclaimer: I work on computers at a bank in Ohio. I have nothing to do with this company, I barely weld as a hobby, definitely not professionally. I just enjoy engineering eye candy on the internet.
These folks have a laser illumination system that basically stomps all over the arc flash of welding from a brightness perspective. This allows the cameras to have their exposure turned WAAAY down and get nice even illumination of a welding process.
I've been subscribed to their channel for a while, and they have tons of cool videos of welding processes, some realtime but many are in slow motion. Really provides a new perspective on how welding works (and in some cases, fails). They just posted a teaser for some new content so I figured I'd share a link to their channel.
We love the look of Overwatch! Do you?
While we don't intend to copy any existing game in detail, we think recreating a similar vibe in your game is cool.
Join Abylight's Creative Director Miguel Garcia Corchero on Twitch, as he'll demonstrate how to di that - live, on a real game scene. All questions welcome!
⏰16:00 GMT
▶️https://www.twitch.tv/abylight
Hello,
I was researching FHA loans and came across the 203K loan. Essentially I want to build my own multi unit property while living in one of the units. How realistic is this and are there additional things to consider for the 203k loan?
A handful of watercraft displayed vulgar messages criticizing President Joe Biden during the holiday-themed Cocoa Beach Boat Parade, sparking complaints from spectators and community Facebook arguments.
And the Cocoa Beach Rotary Club, which organizes the popular annual event, has publicly pledged to try to prevent similar situations from happening again.
“Political messaging has no place in a Christmas parade," Cocoa Beach Mayor Ben Malik said.
"We have enough to fight amongst each other about. We don't need to ruin Christmas over it," Malik said.
A tradition since the 1970s, the Cocoa Beach Boat Parade features a procession of illuminated boats. The festive flotilla started Dec. 11 at Marker 101 near Centennial Park and headed southward along residential canal-front neighborhoods, ending near Cocoa Beach Country Club.
Some spectators later complained about profane political flags and light displays via social media and calls and emails to City Hall. Cocoa Beach Rotary Club President Marcin Kubiak addressed the issue in an open letter last week.
“It is our understanding that this year a handful of boats — whose captains to the best of our knowledge did not participate in the captains’ meeting held in early December — joined the parade displaying political messages including profanities,” Kubiak's letter said.
“We are deeply saddened, disappointed and disgusted this took place,” the letter said.
“We are meeting internally to evaluate best approaches to help similar situations from occurring in the future. Cocoa Beach Rotary Club is an apolitical association and our goal is only to make positive impact in our community and beyond,” the letter said.
Cocoa Beach City Hall officials posted the Rotary letter on the city Facebook page on Dec. 15, generating hundreds of comments — and arguments over national politics, freedom of speech and common decency.
The city of Cocoa Beach does not sponsor the Rotary Club boat parade, though the city police boat leads the procession.
"I feel this was a planned move by a small group of boat owners, to get attention, and they did," John Alexander, boat parade chairman, said in an email last wee
... keep reading on reddit ➡Chapter Twenty-Nine
The vehicle drove for another half-hour at least with its occupants in silence. Adam’s mind roiled with questions for Classy, but no good way to ask them. Clearly she was okay with allowing him to know her secret, but not Sel, otherwise she would’ve been less evasive.
When they arrived at their destination, Sel was out of the car in a flash, clearly not wanting to be in the presence of the intimidating noble any longer. Adam quickly shut and locked the door behind her, turning to Classy.
“So, do you wanna answer questions now or after the - uh - what did you call it again?” He asked, looking her in the eyes.
“Bold of you to assume you can demand things of me, Adam.” She replied with a coy grin.
“Well, when you walk in and do the whole ‘I’m a Princess, do as I command!’ spiel, I’m not going to let it slide. So; you either answer questions now, or after we return to the unit.”
She exhaled an audible sigh, rolling her eyes and opening the door.
“Ladies, we will be a few minutes! I am discussing private matters with the recruit, and expect not to be bothered!” She said, before closing the door and looking at the groaning Adam with a teasing grin.
“Fuckin’ hell, Classy, did you have to make them think you were in here riding me into the sunset?”
“I can moan, if you’d like,” she said, smirking, “really ‘sell’ the illusion!”
“Please don't.” Adam replied, staring at her. The straight faces of the pair lasted scant seconds before they both burst out laughing.
“Okay, first question;” said Adam, “how the fuck did you get here so fast?”
“You can thank both Captain Rey’nara and Sel’s mother for that.” She said, gesturing with one hand, “Sel’s mother has been on world for the past two weeks, operating her end of the courier ship business she runs out of the nearby city instead of her homeworld. Captain Rey’nara managed to find her, and dispatched their fastest messenger ship to Fel’yara. When they arrived, the info was sent to Grim, almost immediately after we got orders to deploy for an emergency guard detail.” She paused, letting Adam take in the info.
“After we got the info, I paid the ship Captain to take me to my mother’s world, where I negotiated your imperial pardons…” she trailed off at the end of her sentence, looking down and to the left.
“Wow, sounds like I’ve got a lot of people to thank. You first of all, it sounds like you had to make some concessions.”
“Yes… I did,” She replied softly, deliberately avoiding his gaze.
“M
... keep reading on reddit ➡My story takes place a few years ago.
I’m a twenty five year old female now, but back then I was the ripe age of twenty three, and had a sudden stroke of luck. I’d saved up for my first home, and in my search, I came across a fairly old Victorian in a rural neighborhood of Port Perry, Ontario.
The house was beautiful, well priced, and close to my place of work. Without much of a second thought, I’d snatched it up, and within a matter of weeks I was moving in to my new home.
I remember the day I moved in vividly; I stood on the small, white cobble stone pathway leading up to the wooden wrap-around porch stairs, grinning up at the houses vacant windows. Its brick was a pale yellow, recently re-painted, and its intricate trimmings a bright white that contrasted sharply with the coal black shingles of the roof, it’s pointed spires silhouetted against a spotless blue sky.
I had sighed contentedly, tearing my eyes away from the house and glancing around the rest of the property. It had been mid fall, October 15th to be exact, and the forest behind the house was a patch work quilt of colours. The leaves fell gently to the ground, carried by a crisp autumn breeze, blanketing the forest floor in the earthy tones of autumn.
Focusing my attention back on the task at hand, I began making my way up the path, my box of kitchen utensils in hand. The movers I’d hired strode past me, throwing me the occasional smile and asking where I wanted things, and I would reply politely with directions. On my third trip out to the truck, I got the distinct feeling of being stared at.
Turning around, I expected to find one of the men, but instead found that I was alone. Before I had the opportunity to brush it off however, I caught movement in my peripheral vision.
In one of the upstairs windows, I just barely caught the silhouette of a person slip out of view.
It was there one second and gone the next so quickly, I blinked a few times, thinking that last night’s insomnia had made me imagine things.
I made a mental note to go to bed early that night, and with a sense of unease, I entered the house.
Little did I know, that first day would be the beginning of a series of disturbing encounters that would make me a local hero, and a firm believer in the unknown.
That same night I lay awake in my new bedroom, staring up at the ceiling as the sounds of nature drifted lazily through my cracked window. Back in the city, there had been a constant barrage of noise every night, and
... keep reading on reddit ➡The tension was about as thick as the steam that filled the bathhouse. The three of us waited with bated breath for Axle's report as he organized his thoughts (or relished in the undivided attention).
"The first thing I want to say is that while I did hear some interesting information, I'm not exactly sure where it fits together or whether or not it's even related to our investigation. I made sure to write it all down just in case it was important."
"Did you hide it somewhere safe?" I asked sternly, jerking forward.
He blinked a few times in surprise, "Um. I'm the guy with a boarded-up window and wards on his walls. No, I left it out on my table."
"Just making sure," I said. "I'll tell you more later, but Headmaster Vega broke into my room today and searched my dorm."
"Um. What?" Fena blurted out. "Can they even do that?"
"Apparently so," Atlas said gravely.
"Yeah," I affirmed. "It's the second time my dorm has been searched, actually."
"My room was searched today too," Axle spoke up. "They broke in during my meeting with the headmasters. When I got back to my room, they questioned me about all of my locks and wardings."
"Do you think it made them suspicious?" Fena asked.
"At first," he said softly. "But they just laughed in my face when I warned them about what's really out there; watching us; listening."
"Creatures from another planet," Atlas nodded seriously. "I believe you, Axle," he reassured him.
"Just means you won't be surprised when they come for us," Axle said casually as he lifted his arms out of the water and laid them across the wooden walkway edge behind him. "We're awake in a world that sleeps, my man."
"I'm pretty sure this violates the contract we signed when we agreed to dorm here," Fena spoke up in what was a refreshing return to reality. "I kept my copy," she added. "I'll be going over it with a magnifying glass one of these nights."
"The point is," I interrupted. "We need to be very careful about what we keep in our dorms concerning our investigation."
"Don't even worry, my man," Axle said confidently. "I wrote it down in a language I invented. I call it Axillian," he grinned confidently.
I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. Of course, he had his own language. I sometimes forgot that he was legitimately crazy. Correct from time to time, but still pretty crazy.
"Good," I sighed with relief. "I'm sorry I interrupted you."
^("Can you teach me Axillian?") Atlas asked quietly.
"So I guess break down what you ca
... keep reading on reddit ➡I don’t have a fear of flying; I have a fear of Phil.
Who’s Phil? Phil is the guy who tightens the bolts that hold the wings onto the plane, the critical ones that keep them from ripping off in mid-flight, sending it hurtling to the ground in a pirouette death spiral.
Some time ago, Phil got distracted and left one of those wing bolts about a quarter-less tightened than he should. Normally Phil doesn’t do that; he’s good at his job, takes a lot of pride in it. Maybe he received an ill-timed text from his wife, irritated that he left his wet towel on the bed after his shower. Or one of his work buddies was ribbing him because Phil’s favorite team ate a huge shit sandwich in the big game over the weekend.
Whatever it was, it was enough to make Phil forget to give that bolt one last torque before moving onto the next. Tight enough to pass inspection, but a little too loose to withstand the bumps and vibrations that a plane experiences during takeoffs, landings, and heavy bouts of turbulence. Not just any plane; this plane, the one I was about to get on.
Over time, those vibrations have spun the bolt backwards, working its way out with each shimmy and shudder. By now it’s hanging by its last thread, and one more good hard bump is all it’s going to take before it falls out and-
“ID and ticket, ma’am?”
The TSA Agent’s voice roused me from my Rube Goldberg death scenario.
I had reached the front of the security queue, mentally elsewhere as I worked my way through the line. The Agent’s face scrunched with irritation because I didn't have my ID and ticket ready per the intercom’s instructions. Not following the rules must be a great annoyance to them, enough of a distraction to allow someone with a gun or a knife to slip right on through the line undetect-
“If you don't have your ticket you’ll need to go back to the ticketing kiosk,” the Agent said.
The man behind me exhaled a deep sigh that reeked of black coffee and cigarettes. His rumpled brown suit gave him the look of a life long traveling salesman. Probably wasn’t his first airport of the day, nor would it be his last. He looked like he could sleep through the heaviest of turbulence only to be annoyed when the flight attendant woke him to remind him to fasten his seatbelt.
I stepped aside with a meek “sorry” that no one but me heard. The line reformed behind the frumpy brown-suited businessman with his weathered suitcase filled with brochures for aluminum siding and definitely wasn’t a bomb.
The li
... keep reading on reddit ➡
Denial. Anger. Negotiation. Depression/sorrow. Acceptance. The five stages of grief. I learned about them briefly in paramedic school. We studied it with more application specifics in nursing school. It was covered a little more in depth in psychology 101. I learned that it's not necessarily a linear process. People can bounce around through these stages, like a pinball, when severely strained. Regardless of what I know about it intellectually, as a critical care nurse, watching my patients and their family members go through it still can overwhelm me at times. Tonight was one of those nights.
The patient that I'm thinking of was a male in his upper 50s with a previous medical history of high blood pressure and high cholesterol. He was not vaccinated against Covid-19. The patient’s spouse had been diagnosed with Covid-19 about 10 days prior, and, of course, he ended up sick as well. He came to the hospital after about a week of persistent fevers with worsening shortness of breath.
When he got to the emergency department, his blood oxygen percentage levels (SpO2) were found to be abysmal, in the 50-60% range. A normal range is 92-99%. This is one of the features of significant Covid-19 sickness: the surprisingly low SpO2 levels far exceeding the presenting symptoms. The patient was admitted to the ICU on continuous positive pressure ventilation given by a pressurized mask with straps going around his head to hold it onto his face. We call it AVAPS, although that is technically the name of the advanced setting being used. He stabilized pretty well on that, and his SpO2 levels improved up to the range of 93-97%. Eventually he only needed AVAPS some of the time, and was stable on a high flow nasal cannula otherwise.
The patient and his wife had multiple conversations with the critical care doctor, and he adamantly did not want to be placed on a ventilator if it came to that. Per his instructions, we would do anything and everything to help him recover, but if he stopped breathing, or if his heart stopped, we would only do comfort measures. We would not perform CPR or place him on a breathing machine. In our state, this is called a DNR-CCA.
The first time I personally met him was his second day in ICU. I wasn’t his primary nurse, but he had put the call light on because the IV pump was beeping. We chatted for a bit while I fixed the problem, and he was pleasant, cooperative, and determined to get better. He looked uncomfortable, and I could tell that
... keep reading on reddit ➡From the link:
n 89-foot diameter temporary walking LABYRINTH will be constructed from recycled holiday tree branches this winter, and will be free and open to the public. How Lovely Are Thy Branches is coming to Olbrich Park Beach in Madison WI, January 2 through March 1, 2022. This Project was commissioned by Madison Arts Commission Blink program which supports artist proposed temporary public art installations. Conceived, designed, and facilitated by local Madison artist, Lillian Sizemore, the project is also supported by a Matching Grant from an anonymous arts fund at the Madison Community Foundation, administered through Communication Madison.
Will you be cutting or buying a holiday tree this winter?
WE WANT YOUR TREES!
Drop off your used holiday greens from JAN 2-29, 2022 at the designated point at OLBRICH PARK, 3527 Atwood Ave. (at Walter St., Near the Biergarten).
Look for the signs placed at the DROP OFF site, right next to the parking lot.
The project needs Real Trees only - no ornaments, no wired wreaths or swags please. Sizemore needs about 250 trees to line the pathways with their branches
Anna January, the chair of the Madison Arts Commission offers, “We are so happy to see this temporary public art installation come to fruition. The artist has been planning and working with City staff to secure permissions for nearly a year.” She added, “Lillian Sizemore is a talented artist and she is giving our community a beautiful gift, a place to enter the beautiful winter landscape and find peace within. Our community needs special places for reflection and healing right now.” The project was created as a platform for environmental dialogue, personal reflection, and hospitality.
ON OPENING DAY: a Celebration is planned and details are underway. Opening Day to the Public, SUNDAY JAN 30, 2022 3:00 PM to 5:30PM (more details to come) Sunset is at 5:07 PM that day.
A special illuminated hoop performance is planned with Hoop Elation founder and Instructor Danielle Lee and others, to open and energize the labyrinth. The Glowing Hoop Procession will take place starting around 4:30PM. The public is invited to bring a light: such as solar lights, LED candles, glow sticks, headlamps, flashlight
... keep reading on reddit ➡Previous chapter: https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/rw9vgw/longhunter_ch8_part_1/
First chapter: https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/rqyezp/longhunter_ch1_part_1/
(Continued from part 1)
George barely had time to turn around before another of the braves leapt over one of his fallen brethren, bellowing a challenge as he brandished a wicked hatchet. The blade was chiseled from flint, the haft wrapped in leather, decorated with black feathers.
George raised his rifle, using it to block a downward strike, the blade of the axe biting into the wood. His opponent was strong, and he buckled under the blow, the Blighter drawing back for a second attack. Kuruk darted in under George’s raised arms, throwing his weight into a vicious jab with his stone blade. He drove it up to the hilt in the Blighter’s exposed ribs, who let out a cry of surprise and pain, taking a faltering step back. It was the opening that George needed, and he swung the butt of his rifle into the man’s face like a bat, sending him reeling as his nose caved in.
Kuruk stooped to pick up his spear as he rushed forward, barely breaking stride, driving the pointed tip into the Blighter’s throat. Clutching at his neck in an attempt to stem the flow of blood, the man toppled over backwards, his hatchet falling from his hand as he crashed to the ferns.
George could see another of the Blighters being cut down to his right, but where was the third?
Something whizzed past his head, close enough to blow his hair, George turning on the spot to see a Blighter standing behind him. He was in arm’s reach, a knife in his hand, but he was frozen in place. From his forehead protruded the shaft of an arrow, his eyes slowly rolling up into his head as he slumped to the ground.
George looked over his shoulder, seeing Tia peeking out from behind a tree. She gave him a nod, reaching for another arrow from her quiver.
“We must press on,” Kuruk said breathlessly, waving them forward with his spear in hand. “The noise will attract more.”
The sound of more gunshots rang out from somewhere ahead, George setting off at a jog, the war party racing between the trees. They began to descend a slope, which sparked George’s memory. The trees all looked the same, but he knew that the slope was close to the camp. This was the right direction.
As he skidded down the incline,
... keep reading on reddit ➡
Denial. Anger. Negotiation. Depression/sorrow. Acceptance. The five stages of grief. I learned about them briefly in paramedic school. We studied it with more application specifics in nursing school. It was covered a little more in depth in psychology 101. I learned that it's not necessarily a linear process. People can bounce around through these stages, like a pinball, when severely strained. Regardless of what I know about it intellectually, as a critical care nurse, watching my patients and their family members go through it still can overwhelm me at times. Tonight was one of those nights.
The patient that I'm thinking of was a male in his upper 50s with a previous medical history of high blood pressure and high cholesterol. He was not vaccinated against Covid-19. The patient’s spouse had been diagnosed with Covid-19 about 10 days prior, and, of course, he ended up sick as well. He came to the hospital after about a week of persistent fevers with worsening shortness of breath.
When he got to the emergency department, his blood oxygen percentage levels (SpO2) were found to be abysmal, in the 50-60% range. A normal range is 92-99%. This is one of the features of significant Covid-19 sickness: the surprisingly low SpO2 levels far exceeding the presenting symptoms. The patient was admitted to the ICU on continuous positive pressure ventilation given by a pressurized mask with straps going around his head to hold it onto his face. We call it AVAPS, although that is technically the name of the advanced setting being used. He stabilized pretty well on that, and his SpO2 levels improved up to the range of 93-97%. Eventually he only needed AVAPS some of the time, and was stable on a high flow nasal cannula otherwise.
The patient and his wife had multiple conversations with the critical care doctor, and he adamantly did not want to be placed on a ventilator if it came to that. Per his instructions, we would do anything and everything to help him recover, but if he stopped breathing, or if his heart stopped, we would only do comfort measures. We would not perform CPR or place him on a breathing machine. In our state, this is called a DNR-CCA.
The first time I personally met him was his second day in ICU. I wasn’t his primary nurse, but he had put the call light on because the IV pump was beeping. We chatted for a bit while I fixed the problem, and he was pleasant, cooperative, and determined to get better. He looked uncomfortable, and I could tell that he w
... keep reading on reddit ➡