Space travel fans and recyclers are full of admiration for the people at Space-X, who come closer with each attempt to doing something the throw-away generation of the ’60’s didn’t even consider. They’re trying to create a rocket booster that can carry a vehicle to orbit, and then land, vertically, the same way it took off.
To allow some room for error, they built a barge that can float out in the ocean, away from population centers. Smart, but problematic, as it creates a somewhat unsteady surface.
This last time they came quite close to making it work.
I love the slow yielding to gravity at the end, as it gradually becomes clear we are not going to remain vertical.
The fall takes about 7 seconds – just long enough to read three lines of 5, 7 and 5 syllables.
if there is no land
just a barge in the ocean
there is no landing
falling down to earth,
a job anything can do,
gets tricky at last
hold the platform still
and I will stick the dismount
at some other time
practice makes perfect
but first some big explosions
for entertainment
Space X says next time, they’ll try to do the landing where there is actually some land.
When has practice made perfect for you?
Trail Baboon 
Wow, where is everyone this morning? Am I really the first comment, or has the work computer messed up my view again?
I find that practice never makes perfect, but it always makes better, and sometimes it makes pretty good. I figure my poetry tends to be pretty good, and I’ve been practicing that most of my life. I’ve been practicing a Druid exercise since February, and although I’m a long way from perfect (or even complete) in that, the visualizations are gradually getting easier, and eventually I’ll have the whole thing memorized. The hard part for me has always been keeping momentum throughout all the practice, which is why for years I tended to start something, get bored, drop it for a while, then circle around and come back to it. I don’t have quite as much time to waste any more, so focus and discipline have become much more important qualities to cultivate.
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Considering modern usage has degraded “unique” for an absolute, I can now say that I have only ever been moderately perfect.
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Now there’s a concept, “moderately perfect.”
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. . . unique FROM an absolute . . .
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Oh perfection! An illusion that makes us miserable. My husband calls me a baking fusspot because I am constantly critiquing the results of my bread and pastry attempts. He just wants to eat the results and I barrage him with questions. Is the bottom of the pie crust crisp or soggy? (It is no mean trick to have a non-soggy bottom crust, but it can be done.) Did the rim get too brown? Have the French bread loaves risen as high as they ought, and have the slashes on the top stretched out just the right amount or did I slash too deep or too shallow? is the fruit crisp filling too watery or the topping not crisp enough? I have solved the fruit filling problem by draining the fruit before filling the pan (especially peaches) and boiling down the syrup until it is almost caramelized and then pouring it back on the fruit.
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You are that aunt Garrison Keillor takes about who is apologizing the whole time one is in the throes of ecstasy over her baking, aren’t you
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I am afraid so.
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Yes, yes, Clyde. It would please me to be moderately perfect, although that is probably be too generous. I’ve just been corresponding with mig, mother of the math geek who runs the mile in track, about my own brief, woebegone career as a miler. In the two races I ran my goal was to not finish dead last. In one of those two races, I did not exactly finish last, although I have to cling to a technicality to make that claim. Whether you calculate my success in track in absolute or relative terms, it was not impressive. And certainly far from “perfect.”
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Good morning. I find that just about everything I do gets better with practice. I am not a quick learner. There must be something that I don’t need to practice to do well. The only things I can think of immediately are basic things like breathing. Of course, I don’t remember taking my first breath. I must have been able to do that without practicing. I am living proof that I learned to do that without practicing. If we are talking about becoming perfect by practicing, I wonder if I have practiced anything enough to do it perfectly.
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“Perfect” is a term that’s not even in my vocabulary other than an expression of pleasure.
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Morning all. No perfection here either. I’m a pretty quick learner and fairly capable, but have discovered over the years that there are some things that I don’t want to practice more on; I just want someone else to do them!
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I think all the baboons are out perfecting themselves today. I am just stumbling along in imperfection.
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“Anitra’s Dance” in a piano recital when I was 14 or 15 was close. I remember the dread, I remember playing; I don’t remember if I got through the hard part without a mistake!
“Anitra’s Dance” was
the extent of my career
as a stage pianist.
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I had two piano recitals before my career ended. For the first one I played An der Schoenen Blauen Donau – I must have been 10 at the time. The following year I played a nocturne by Chopin. Although I made it through both pieces without mistakes, I can’t imagine that listening to me play either piece gave anyone but my mother pleasure. But I remember the dresses I wore on both occasions!
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It is a haunting melody.
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I can’t think of thing that I have perfected through practice. In fact, I don’t even think I’ve ever considered perfection as something to strive for.
There are lots of things that I have improved through practice, but I’d contend that if you can do something perfectly every time you do it, you have turned into a robot. I rather embrace the Japanese concept of wabi-sabi, which is probably a good thing since little in life is perfect. And if it is, it’s certainly fleeting and ephemeral.
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One of the few things I’ve practiced is playing guitar. Practice, in that case, didn’t make me perfect. “Inept if spirited,” would be closer to it. Or maybe I should stick with “clumsy and amateurish.” I was 25 when I tried to learn the guitar. I think someone who plays no musical instrument that long is never going to do well, and even “mediocrity” is too much to hope for in such cases.
On the other hand, my writing got better with practice. This is hard to prove, as success in writing is mostly subjective. Speaking subjectively, then, I wrote better after several decades of practice.
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This didn’t work. Sorry.
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See? Imperfect.
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Try playing the guitar under these circumstances!
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Although I don’t play a musical instrument, I can think of any number of activities I’ve embarked upon that were similarly thwarted by a cat that had other ideas.
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I know! I know! After a lifetime of practice, I am now a perfect fool.
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Holst wrote ballet music for an opera called The Perfect Fool.
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They say that nobody is perfect. Then they tell you practice makes perfect. I wish they’d make up their minds.
– Wilt Chamberlain
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Humility.
Oh, Lord It’s Hard to Be Humble
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i used to love mac davis
he was great and funny on the tonight show
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perfect every time
i have ever tried it out
which equals zero
perfect practice makes
perfect results i am told
ill never know
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Daughter in distress.
Swears that she was not texting.
Ran light in Fargo
Just got a call from daughter. She and the other driver are ok, but the other vehicle isn’t. Hers may be drivable.
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Eek.
Let us know….
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Her vehicle is at the shop for repairs. It has a flat tire and a crumpled right front but the nice police officer thought it could be fixed. The other vehicle is in poor condition and has a destroyed hood. This is one of those situations where I can only hope a lesson is learned and never repeats itself. No one was injured and it happened at 25 MPH and not 80 MPH. Now she knows how to contact the insurance agent and file a claim.
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Too bad that Jack the Signalman wasn’t driving.
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Scary nonetheless. Glad no one was hurt.
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i backed every car in the driveway into the other car at high reverse speed when i was your daughters age. 10 accidents in the first 3 or 4 years
off into the ditch once or twice. none with other cars going forward. til the volvo hit the lincoln going 60 mph. i was looking at the car phone the first year car phones were introduced. like texting. i felt real bad for the car i hit. a truck was stopped in the middle of the mendota bridge and i didnt notice because i was diddling with the phone.
i got my mom a volvo right after that when i found out the hard way how solid they are. amazing cars.
hope the daughter files it away. life in the big city can be touch and go. fargo is a forgiving big city.
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