I’ve posted the last couple of times about depression, letting go of a dream of having an observatory in my backyard, and bargaining with myself to replace it with other options. I can find better ways to let go, find alternative locations to view, and even consider a custom storage option for the backyard. However, in the meantime, I need to find a better way to transport my gear from the garage to the backyard and in a smaller number of trips.
I looked into some hand cart ideas, mostly dolly-like tools, and while they would transport a couple of the accessories boxes, they would do very little for my table, chair and actual tripod, let alone the scope itself. In addition, many of them have small wheels, some of them even just casters. None of them are particularly good at getting a large volume of gear to the back yard, down a rocky/gravel side path and potentially across a bumpy lawn. I looked at a few garden wagons, but they don’t hold much.
And then I found Gorilla Carts. These things are relatively magnificent. Amazon has one of the models that will carry a 400 lb load, and the prize isn’t outrageous. $182. It’s a bit short, and a bit narrow, but I could maybe make it work. The big feature are the wheels. 10″ pneumatic ones that can handle the terrain fine. My fear is I would have to make two trips which kind of defeats the purpose. Better than what I have now, sure, but I have a better idea. I’ll come back to that.
Another one on Amazon is Gorilla’s big model, with a payload capacity of 1400 lbs.
At 54″ long (an extra 20″) and 34″ wide (an extra 16″), it would easily hold everything I need to move, which gets me down to a single trip from garage to backyard. The price is steeper, $450, but you get a a lot more strength AND bigger tires for navigating the terrain. The weight also goes up of the actual trailer — the first is about 30 lbs; the big guy comes in just over 100 lbs all by itself.
I would prefer a push handle rather than a pull handle, but I might be able to rig something up. Or give myself a better way to pull it. Regardless, it’s certainly viable. I’m a little nervous about the 34″ width as the back gate just barely handles a 3′ clearance, and the side path is only about 39″ in a few places (there are things that jut out), but it is doable.
But my real “brainchild”, so to speak, was the idea that perhaps I could create a small parking berth in my garage, park the wagon IN it, and thus leave all my stuff in the wagon. No loading and unloading in the garage, except for things that need to be charged or dried out over night. I would still need to enclose it to keep dust and stuff out, but I could rig that myself. I don’t have great craftsman skills, as I mentioned earlier, but it has to be functional, not pretty. Functional I can do.
I’ve reached out to the American company, mainly as I confess the 1400 lb version is NOT the one I want. There is another model slightly smaller (1200 lb payload) and another possible one (1000 lb payload), but I can’t seem to find a reliable Canadian distributor. Lowes carries some of them, but there are a bunch of reviews of people ordering it and getting a Lowes-brand knock off instead that dies within a month or two. Particularly on the low-end ones.
But if I have to go for the big wagon, so be it. I can deal.
And besides, it can be fun playing with wagons, right? Just don’t tell my wife I’m going to completely gut major parts of the garage to find room for it.
Earlier this week, I mentioned that I need to let go of my dream of having a backyard observatory (Letting-go-of-an-observatory-dream/). It was based on the crash between the dream and reality, with the reality that multiple variables don’t work in my backyard:
I don’t have space for a pre-fab observatory (normally 8’x8′ minimum);
There’s really only one place in the backyard that works, and to make it functional, I would have to raise it up to deck level, but once there, the only options are either too expensive, too big, too ugly, or all three.
The weird part is that I’ve known it was unlikely for quite some time, and I thought it was “gone” from my plans and options. Some of it remains because I have had nothing to replace it with, to be honest. One frustrating thing for me with my hobby is that I don’t have any places nearby that I can just pop over and start observing from, with most decent options being quite a drive. So I couldn’t “bargain” my way out of the loss by saying, “Okay, but I can go HERE instead.”
Which isn’t to say I don’t have SOME options. I live in what is classed as a Bortle 7 sky (scale of 1-9 with 1 being perfectly dark skies and 9 being the downtown of a big city). But once a month, we have public star parties in Carp which is a Bortle 5 sky. The Fred Lossing Observatory is just over an hour away and is Bortle 4, as is Luskville (1 hour), and my in-laws’ cottage (4 hours). North Frontenac is Bortle 2 (!) but at 2 hours, I’ve never made the trek. I would settle for Bortle 6 or 7 with better horizons and set up options than I have now if I could get there in less than 20 minutes.
So if I already knew the reality…?
As I said, I thought my heart and brain knew I didn’t have an option in the backyard. The glitch was that I had done most of my previous calculations based on a specific form of set-up. If I set up on my tripod, I need a central space that is almost 4′ in diameter. The simple math of the tripod spread demands that much. And I was thinking the simplest set-up that I could have would be some sort of movement of my scope in full mode, so I would be using my tripod. But then I had a small epiphany that if I did go the pier route, which is quite a small footprint (no tripod legs), then maybe I could locate it in a less-used spot and stick a box around it. And I let myself get excited again about the possibility. Partly because of the ennui of the current stuck-at-home world, I let myself go all-in on putting everything I had learned into HOW I could make it work in that spot. And I did it. I found an option that would fit the space.
Then I showed it to my wife and reality crashed. Any option except that space doesn’t work for Jacob using the yard; that space only works for Andrea if I can make the box around the scope short and attractive, which I can only do if I either pay someone else an arm and a leg to build it or I could pay someone else just an arm while finding a cheap pre-fab option to keep it pretty. Cheap, functional, or pretty. I would have to pick one, which kills the project.
Which knocked me on my ass on Wednesday. Like the start of a downward depression spiral. I know the symptoms well-enough to spot them and to attempt emergency measures to head it off.
Stopping the death spiral
First and foremost, I need to give myself space to breathe. So I took Thursday off from work. An actual vacation day. I didn’t try to monitor my phone, avoided certain things on FB and Twitter, locked myself in the basement and vegged. It didn’t help that Wednesday night I slept like crap and was dead tired. Hard to tell how much of that was physical and how much mental/emotional. But I needed the break to regenerate. Ideally I’d take a week, but that ain’t happening when the three of us are locked in the same house and there’s no escape.
Second, I need to reboot my coping mechanisms. One of those is music. If my brain is going a mile a minute, one of the few things that calms it is fast music played loud. Normally I could just go for a long drive and blast tunes. Alternatively, I could go for a walk, but I’m not really up for that right now. Lastly, I could put on some headphones and let it penetrate my skull until my brain is just so overloaded, it stops thinking and just shuts down. Meditation doesn’t help, it won’t quiet the chaos when I’m this far gone. Great for maintenance, lousy for restoring my balance from scratch. Except the f***ing iTunes wouldn’t recognize my downstairs laptop nor would the f***ing headphones that I have for the laptop work. Really? Whatever. I listened to some music, closed the door to the basement, and forced myself to sing along to some of the songs. Listening is better for me as I can let my brain free associate its way to some revelations sometimes, but not this time. I had to sing to drive out the turbulence.
Third, I need to confront the emotions and figure out WHY it’s knocking me down. In particular, why THIS loss is affecting me when it is not really a loss at all. I already KNEW I couldn’t do it, so the outcome is “no change”. Why would THAT knock me back?
Figuring out my reaction
It wasn’t hard to figure out why it’s bugging me, I just had to force myself to walk through the steps.
I started with the first aspect, the location. Is living in Centrepointe where I want to live? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. But the “reality” (that harsh word again) is that it is the best compromise for the three of us. I’d prefer to live somewhere like Dunrobin but that wouldn’t be fair or viable for Andrea and Jacob. Centrepointe is good for them and is fine for me for work commuting, access to commercial infrastructure, etc. I don’t really DO anything in the area, so it doesn’t much matter to me as a location, I could get most of it anywhere. But it is a good commuting compromise for everyone. If I only had to compromise with myself, I would probably find a way to live farther out, with a darker sky and better horizons. There are even some spots about 5-10 minutes from where I live now that would do, but not great options for the family. Just me being selfish.
Secondly, I know that there is no real reason why I have to have the viewing option at home. Lots of people do it at cottages. I don’t have a cottage, I can’t afford a cottage, I will likely never have a cottage. So that’s on me. If I managed my money better, was more entrepreneurial, maybe pushed harder earlier in my career for promotions, I could have that cottage. But I made my choices and it is a pretty good life. Whining about it is the epitome of a first-world problem and even more almost like a 1-percenter problem.
Thirdly, even with my location, and finances, I could have an observatory in theory. It wouldn’t be perfect, it wouldn’t be ideal, but I could buy a pre-fab sky shed. Write a cheque, have it delivered, bam, instant observatory. And it would mean Jacob would lose any place to play in the backyard. I would love to have a pool, but we don’t, mainly for the same reasons. It would take up the whole yard for one purpose. And so we keep it clear for him. So why is that depressing? Because I’m irritated that I don’t get to do what I want to do, but he gets his yard and my wife gets her gazebo area on the deck. How f***ing selfish is it that I’m irritated by THAT? They’re both good and reasonable uses of the space.
Fourthly, I found an area that COULD work, at least in theory. But while I can lament the options being too costly, too large or too ugly, the real reason it can’t work is me. If I had the know-how and technical skills to build the observatory myself, I could do it at a reasonable enough cost that it would work. It wouldn’t be awesome, it wouldn’t be perfect, but it would be functional. But I can’t, because I don’t have any of those skills.
I can’t put in two 6′ posts in the ground; I can’t build a nice-looking extension to the deck that would match what we have; I can’t pour a pier and attach the metal rods and face plate I need; nor can I wrap the deck around it and put railings on. It isn’t a question of just not doing it well, I can’t do it at all. I know the theory, sure, but the wood wouldn’t cut straight, I wouldn’t know how to line it up properly, it just wouldn’t work. I build bookcases and I’m amazed they even stay together when they’re done. In high school, I took machine shop in Grade 9 and 10, and the only reason I passed either one was because there were enough marks on theory to get me over the hump. I think my Grade 10 project, a C clamp, came out at like 14/40. I did manage to make a tack hammer in Grade 9 that I still have, even if the balance isn’t quite right. I just don’t have much in the way of talents to do all that. Which normally I’m okay with, I just write a cheque. I can do that, and I know the result will be WAY better than anything I could do myself even on my best day.
But after that, after the deck is in and the pier is there, all that needs to be done is to build a small box to put around the pier and scope. There are a series of steps that would challenge me, but I could likely take my time and get it done. It wouldn’t look awesome and that’s the rub. I got all excited by the option and showed an example to my wife who thought it looked ugly. Which was true. It didn’t look great. But, unfortunately, it was also about 10x better-looking than what I could make. This means that if THAT version didn’t fly, none of my options would either. My only solution is to write a cheque again, and that is putting the price for an observatory way too high.
Not great skies, not great location, not great functionality…so why would I pay $3-4K or more to build it? Because that is the only option I would have because I don’t have the skills to do it myself.
Ah-hah, now I’m getting somewhere
That’s really the crux of it for me, in many ways. I’m trying to compromise on what I want, with functionality, with what Jacob needs and Andrea wants, and in the end, I can almost find a solution. Except it is completely out of my control because I am not capable of doing it myself.
I can’t just throw money at it and solve it. We have savings, but we also have plans for a bathroom reno, a bunch of needed yardwork, some time off if Jacob has some surgery and needs a recovery period, and a subsequent trip, not to mention plans to retire in 5 years that requires me to buyback some time using mutual funds that just tanked when the stock market plummeted (which also means I will have to work another 18 months longer than I had planned).
And yet I can’t work around it and do it myself either. I can’t buy pre-fab and I can’t build it myself. My father could have, probably. My brother, Don, for sure. Me? No.
Which is what is knocking me on my ass. I can’t realize my dream, not because of location, or layout, or Jacob, or Andrea, or cost. I can’t realize the dream because I don’t have the skills to make it happen.
Sure, there are other elements at play. Isolation. Cabin fever. A desire for some momentum. And even if I had the skills, I probably don’t have the physical stamina to do it all. Not to mention the disappointment I feel in myself that not only did I let myself get excited for something that wasn’t likely to happen but also that I am not handling it better. But mainly it is the feeling of personal failure over all.
Moving forward
I am already experiencing aspects of denial, anger, and I’m trying to mitigate depression. But I’m hoping to embrace a more successful form of self-bargaining to turn it into something I’m willing to accept so I can let go of the past.
Putting my analytical hat on, there are four options that I can see. I could just let it go, with no replacement. Deal with it, don’t try to find any solution, let the winds buffet me as much as they might. I suppose that’s an option. Not a mentally-healthy one perhaps, but it’s an option. It’s going to happen to some extent anyway so I guess I can explore techniques on how to do that in a healthier fashion.
I can replace it with some modified form of storage since I can’t have an observatory. I mentioned in the previous post that I’m not in favour of putting all my gear just in a storage locker, but if I could find a way to perhaps just put the big items in there, maybe keep the expensive stuff in the garage and only make one trip, and maybe even find a shed big enough to put my scope in it in the full upright position on the mount so I could just “slide it out” easily, then would that be an option? I gave it a go. If I’m not building an observatory, then eating up more lawn space with just storage isn’t great as an option. So that leaves me the deck. With the only viable space being about 45″ x 60″. My scope’s tripod can fit in a space 43″ x 37″ x 56″ but it’s a struggle. The 37″ is the problem dimension.
Very few sheds come in a size other than whole foot dimensions. So if I go with one above 37″, it pretty much has to be 4′ … but I only have a space 45″ deep before it starts to interfere with something else. So what I really need is 3.5′ by 4′, and that’s not an available size in pre-fab stuff. I found one that came close, but it is way too tall…I want it about 5′, and it was almost 8′. Too imposing a size and potentially presenting a wind risk in a storm.
I found one option that is almost okay. But it is entirely made of wood, no shingles on the roof, and no indication if it would keep out rain. Plus, it is so tight, I doubt I could fit anything else in the shed with it. And it is almost $2000. Pass.
The only sub-option that I see is to maybe pay someone to do a custom build at some point, get it exactly the size and dimensions that work for me in the space. But that is also going to run up the cost. And, more importantly, a hypothetical “future” option that is out of my control doesn’t help me bargain with myself in the short-term. Pass.
I can reframe the question back to the original problem. Moving all my gear from the garage to the backyard takes too many trips. What can I use that will speed that process?
I looked into various carts and dollies today. Whatever I use, it likely needs at least 10″ pneumatic tires. The narrow space in between my house and the neighbour’s is rocky and even when I get to the backyard, the lawn itself is bumpy and coarse. I have a dolly already, but I’ve never put much mind to trying to strap all this gear to it. The bottom plate isn’t very deep either. Hard to see how I would get a table on it, all my gear, plus the tripod and an observing chair in one load. But if I’m doing multiple loads, what difference does it make? I’m wasting time loading up and unloading if it doesn’t really change the calculation. I might be able to find a way to leave some gear in a wagon or something? I don’t know. I’ll need to play with it. But the solution might be just to decide to go with a smaller footprint by either using Jacob’s equipment, or perhaps just taking one of my EPs to use rather than a bunch of them. Minimize the options, and minimize the load. It seems kind of pointless to have gear that I don’t use, but if I’m not using any of it now, I guess using some is better than using none. I looked at all the options online and didn’t see any ideas that screamed “pick me”. If I’m going to use the backyard, I either need to compromise or suck it up.
If moving everything to the backyard is a pain in the patootie, what if I reframe the geographic scope again? I mentioned earlier that I would be willing to go somewhere with at least equal skies if I could have a decent horizon. If truth be told, I haven’t looked EVERYWHERE that I could. I checked major parks in the area, a few other options, but nothing that didn’t have major negative aspects. But if I loaded the car in the garage quickly (it’s only a foot or two to the trunk) and then unloaded directly at the view site, it would be simpler than hauling it all to the backyard, I just would have to drive somewhere to do it. Including more use of FLO out in Almonte, I guess. Again, I need to find options or suck it up. Once the restrictions lift, I’m going to devise a search grid for every neighbourhood within a 15-minute drive of my house and see if any of the parks, no matter how small or big, can accommodate me for use. Then I’ll just have to commit to going there at least once a week and maybe once a week to FLO.
Conclusion
This post has been a classic change-up for me. I thought, when I started writing it, that I was going to just write about techniques that are out there on how to “let go” of something that is no longer possible. Instead, I talked my way through why it is bothering me so much and some bargaining options to help me deal in the short-term.
I’ll look into those options on how to better deal with letting go with lost dreams, and I’ll consider maybe a long-term solution for a custom storage option, but I suspect the price for that will be prohibitive. I need to get my short-term solutions going, namely ones that I can do and that I can implement on my own. Once the restrictions lift, I’ll find a new place to observe close to my house and make efficiencies for commuting out to FLO to observe more often.
I may not have the skills to build an observatory, but at least I know how to drive.
I have this dream of a backyard observatory but I know it isn’t very realistic. Yet I let myself get excited earlier this week about a new possibility, and my COVID cabin fever let it go too far.
When some restrictions lift, we are hoping to get somebody in for a small backyard renovation project (landscaping, fence repair) and I was wondering if I could tack on an option to have a better set up for observing at home. I had a small epiphany that I thought gave me much more flexibility in how it could work and, as I said, I got excited temporarily. And then reality crashed in.
My current observing locations are limited
I’m in Nepean (a suburb of Ottawa) and it is not exactly a dark-sky option. My only spot for observing is the backyard which is close to houses, both front and back, which gives me a view to the South. I can see a bit to the SW, and high on the West and North above the neighbours. Nothing to the East as my house blocks that completely. Plus there are often house lights on in the neighbours’ places. In short, it is what it is and it’s the only usable site where I have regular and easy access.
My initial set up time was one of the major factors in choosing the scope I did — a NexStar 8SE, go-to mount in alt-az mode. No EQ, no counterweights to fiddle with, nada. For physical set up, I can be up and running in about 10 minutes. The problem is that those 10 minutes are after I get all my gear to the spot where I’m going to observe.
For RASC star parties, I load the car (10-15 minutes), drive to the site (45 minutes), and then I can set up while I am unloading. I then observe for at least 3 hours, it’s a big event, I’m the organizer, yada yada yada. It’s worth the effort. It’s not great “observing” for the night, you mostly show whatever planet is available to people, repeatedly, and then maybe show a few clusters, etc. Then I pack up (10-15 minutes), drive home (45 minutes), and take everything out of the car and into the garage or house (10-15 minutes). It’s not a light outing. Adding in my RASC duties onsite, it can be 90 minutes from the time I leave my house to the time I am viewing, and 75 minutes from ending to having everything unloaded again at home. Good thing it is only once a month.
For personal observing, I could drag my gear to some darker locations like the Fred Lossing Observatory in Almonte or the AstroPontiac site in Luskville, but that would be similar to the star party outing, except the driving part takes an hour or more to get there. I wouldn’t have star party duties, but I would have to drive into the site, figure out where to set up, a few extra admin steps. Again, about 75-90 minutes from deciding to “go” to viewing.
When we go to the in-laws’ cottage, I usually drag my scope along because it is a dark site, there are a bunch of people to show stuff to in the sky who appreciate the views, and I can observe for a couple of nights potentially. It’s worth the extra effort. But I confess, even then, lugging everything down to the car by myself and then back again at the end of the night is a lot of work.
RASC parties are about once a month, I might throw in FLO or AstroPontiac every other month, and a couple of times a year at the cottage. It’s about all I can handle, at least until I retire.
So observing at home is the next-best option. To be honest, though, the issue isn’t necessarily set-up time so much as the set-up time in relation to the viewing time. If I can view for a long-time then set-up times are worth it; if I can’t, that set-up time over-shadows my experience.
Set-up time at home
When I go out to those other sites, sure, there is a long lag time between the “go” point and actual observing, but the viewing is better in darker skies and I make it worth it — 2, 3, even 4 hours of observing. Some retired people in the club will go out on a Wednesday night when it’s clear and observe for 5 or 6 hours, including some imaging, because they don’t have to get up early the next day. I don’t usually have that luxury. But astronomy is a fair weather hobby — you need to seize the opportunity when a clear night sky appears.
Right now, in order to set up, I have to lug everything from my garage to the backyard and leave the garage door open while I do it. Which doesn’t excite me when I lost $3K worth of scope equipment last year when I accidentally left it open and unattended one night. But even if I address that risk by moving everything through the house, it is still a 20-30 minute job to get set up. At the end of the night, I frequently just move everything into the family room so I can get closed up fast (basic take-down) and worry about putting everything away later (detailed take-down). Of course, that also means it is a giant eyesore in the family room next to the breakfast table with everything in everyone’s way until I get to it. And if I have a chance at viewing the next night, I frequently leave it in place for a day or two to cut the second outing’s time.
I have to lug my scope, mount, tripod, couple of cases of equipment, observing chair (I usually don’t even bother), small table (often don’t bother), etc. I also have to find my phone, grab a camera adapter, go to the living room to get my power supply for the scope. It’s a whack of gear to move and all of it takes time. Thankfully, I don’t do any advanced imaging that requires a laptop, cabling, webcam, power, heat shields, table, chair, etc. I keep everything in a cupboard in the garage, but if the car is in there, it is hard to get in and out of the cupboard easily. I usually just back it out, which means I also have to pull it back in later. Obviously not a big issue, just one more step.
Let’s be generous and call it 10 minutes to lug everything and 10 minutes to set up. 20 minutes from the go decision to observing the sky, if I did it every night and had an efficient process. Plus another 20 minutes to put everything back. For me, that 40 minutes is only worth it if I can observe for at least 40 minutes and more likely 60-90. If it is something “quick”, it really isn’t worth my time. I’ve toyed with buying a backpack scope, something I could add an EP or two to and be able to observe in 60 seconds. But it’s not what I want to use. I want to use my real scope. Unfortunately, I am frequently not “free” until about 8:00 p.m. at night unless I make a special effort to be done earlier, and in the summer months, viewing doesn’t work until after 9:00 p.m. anyway. I can manage a couple of hours of observing on a good night, but most nights it would be way less than that with other things that fill my day. Exciting things like laundry, for example.
Jacob has a small scope and some accessories too if he wants to set up as well and he can’t stay up very late on a weeknight so that’s not usually worth it for him. I can use it myself, but that doesn’t change the calculation much. One less box to move than using my larger scope. It is a big difference in the amount of space it takes up in a car, but not in set-up time.
The attraction of an observatory
I’m a visual observer, mainly, not an imager and so my main interest in set up is actually not in an observatory. I would much rather have an open-air, non-claustrophobic set-up. A cement pad would be nice, sure. But walls and a dome? Not really. Almost every observatory I have ever been in seems “small” or “tight”. This is usually a function of both cost or available space to the builder. Two things that are at a premium in just about any build. For me, the two main attractions to having an observatory would be blocking light pollution and set-up time.
Starting with the light pollution, if you have one of those classic domes that you see on big telescopes in TV shows and movies, you can open a portal wide enough for the scope to look through while blocking all the surrounding ambient light. That is huge in light-polluted locales like a suburb. It doesn’t give you a dark sky, but it really helps.
Setup time though, as you can see from above, would be huge for me. My scope would be permanently set up and ready to go. I could flip a switch, put in an EP, run the alignment, and I could be observing the skies within 5 minutes. No lugging equipment everywhere.
The variables for building
I mentioned two variables above for why an observatory is attractive, but actually building one involves five main variables, in my view. I’ve read a lot online, and many of the views of experts add a host of other considerations about remote viewing, access to the building, materials, layout inside, etc., but those are really secondary considerations.
To me, the big factors are location as a proxy for functionality, size, cost, build options, and the appearance.
For context, I should mention that my backyard is a rectangular shape, running north/south. As I mentioned above, my house is on the east side blocking all views in that direction; there are houses to the north and west that block low horizons in those directions (particularly to the west); and I have a relatively clear view to the south with obstruction at the horizon. And, of course, I can see above me. We have a deck at the north end that occupies the whole width of the backyard, and steps in the middle of the deck down to the yard on the south end. The deck is about 20′ across the end of the yard by 16′ into the yard; the grassy area itself is about 20′ wide x 30′. Not huge, but not dinky either.
For location and functionality, the closer I get to the south, the more problem I have with the fence line for viewing low on the horizon but the more I can see to the north. Equally, the closer I get to the back fence to the west, the less I can see above the houses behind me. The so-called perfect location for an observatory would be to avoid all of this and put it on top of the house. Not happening. Past that, the next-best option would be close to the middle of the yard lengthwise (north and south) and right against the house. This would maximize views for north, south and west. The problem? That totally screws up the backyard for any other use. So that’s out.
When I set up my scope for a night, I usually set up on the deck itself. It raises me up a bit which helps with my views to the west. But because of the location of a BBQ, I’m in the middle of the yard width-wise (east/west). It works okay, although we added a gazebo on the deck, and its roof does obstruct some things. If I want more northerly views, I can set up on the lawn. Usually if I set up there, I do so in the general middle of the yard in case I can see “something” to the east past my house. Neither of those are options for me for an observatory though. One would be right in the way on the deck or getting to the stairs, and the other would eat up even more of the yard. I’d love an observing pad at either location, but that doesn’t work very well either. I either use a pier there and totally mess up things, or I need one big enough to have my wide tripod setup and walk around for observing, potentially stepping off it and twisting an ankles. We could lower it to lawn height to avoid such trips or ankle-twisting, but it still eats up valuable yard space, which my wife wants to conserve for our son to play in.
By the process of elimination, there is one area in the yard that I can use, which is about a 6’x6′ area next to the deck against the back fence. I’ve ignored it in previous considerations because it is too low for the west views. Equally, if I wanted to try going with a pre-fab model, the most popular ones (SkySheds) are minimum 8’x8′. I don’t have enough room, even if I liked them (which I don’t — doors are too small to get in and I find them cramped). However, my small epiphany was two-fold. First, I realized that I could raise that location off the ground and make it deck height, which would help with north, some east, and a little bit west. Not awesome but doable. Planets nearing the horizon would be lost but if they were up anywhere south in the night, I could grab them. I have wanted to check out Venus the last few months but it’s a 10-minute viewing to see it and 40 minutes to set up. Pass. If the Ottawa Valley Astronomy Friends had been able to set up in the parking lot at Chapters in Kanata, I would have driven out there one night with my family. It will likely be gone by the time I get around to setting up again, but I digress. It is a huge compromise on functionality, but it is the only space available to me, and it is at least usable.
I had always discounted this as even an option as 6’x6′ is pretty tight with my set up. The tripod sticks out pretty far, you have to walk around the legs, etc. If you had a second person wanting to look, it would be way too crowded. And a strong likelihood of kicking the legs, throwing off alignment. Raising it up to the deck wouldn’t help with that, still too small a space. Until I had the second part of the epiphany.
If I had a permanent spot, I could put in a pier. And with a pier, there would be no tripod legs. Nothing to trip over. In short, A MUCH SMALLER FOOTPRINT. And easily doable in a 6’x6′ space with vertical walls (no domes). Now we’re talking.
Enter the other variables
So, what would I need someone else to do? Well, I need them to extend my deck into that space. And pour the concrete pier. We’re hoping to have some landscaping work done, so if we bundled it somehow with some fence repair, maybe I could get the incremental cost down to about $1500? It’s a REALLY small space, but it still is going to require 2 new post holes, inspection, and a concrete pier. But after that, I could potentially do the rest?
If I went for something that was 6’x6′, and about 6′ tall, a nice little cube, it’s probably too big. It would seem large in proportion to the deck and block the view from the gazebo and family room window somewhat. Well, frak. Okay, I can’t go full-size custom observatory. That would be beyond my DIY capabilities anyway. I’d have to pay someone to do that and the cost would sky-rocket.
But I’ve seen some other ones that are “roll-away” observatories. Not roll-off roofs or domes, but actually the door opens and you roll the whole structure away. Basically, it looks like a telephone booth. But when you open the door, instead of finding a phone, there’s a telescope. And instead of stepping “into” the booth, the booth part is on wheels and you roll it out of the way so all you’re left with is a telescope on a pier.
I’ve seen some other designs called “motel-o-scopes” that look a lot like a very large birdhouse. Or a gigantic mailbox. In that design though, there is a supporting “table” that is permanent and wouldn’t work in my footprint.
But the pier and roll-away phone booth seemed like a doable/viable option. If I break it down into smaller pieces after someone else builds the deck and pours the pier, I would have digestible chunks that I could do myself:
Attach a plate to the top of the pier — some rods go in when you build the pier, you attach a plate that you can buy commercially using some standard nuts to level it;
Attach the mount from the tripod to the pier — easy peasy;
Build a frame for the phone booth — relatively easy;
Add some siding — wood siding is easy, not sure how to weather-proof it, but there are options;
Add a roof — a bit more challenging for me, but it’s small enough, might find something commercial to attach but can be built and shingled;
Add some interior insulation perhaps, sun-shielding if necessary, smooth panels — easy enough;
Add a door — custom size one out of plywood or something like a barn door design, or scale it up to fit a standard size narrow door, doable;
Add some wheels — this seems the most challenging to me as I’ve never done much with wheels but if I’m buying commercial options, not trying to DIY in tracks or anything, should be workable, might have to pay a bit more for easy over functional;
Build an adjustable floor to go around the pier and stop any critters or anything from getting inside from underneath — designs already exist with hinges, steel wool, and small locks; and,
Add a hasp to the outside.
I could commit to this. It would challenge me. My father or my brother Don? They could build it in an afternoon. Me? Probably a week, once I have everything worked out.
It almost sounded like a plan. But it isn’t. Because there are problems I can’t solve.
If I make it small enough, it looks like a giant electrical box. Which is ugly. You can try and pretty it up, but it the end, it looks like a box. Because it is.
If you make it a bit larger, then you can make it look like a small shed or house, it is prettier but it also starts to look imposing next to the deck and blocks some of the view from the family room window. Or as most people think of it, “Hey, you built an outhouse in full view of your yard.”
Plus, not for nothing, I can’t do that myself. I would need to pay someone else to do it, and the cost goes up considerably. Too high a cost for suburban viewing and a location in the backyard that is already a huge compromise on functionality.
So I got excited about an option that works for functionality/location and size, but not for cost, build options, or quality. Well, frak.
So what’s my backup option?
The two backup options I have are relatively separate. First, I could pour a cement pad somewhere. But again, I’m back to screwing up the backyard if I make it big enough to use with a large tripod. The pier can have a small footprint design but a full tripod can’t. So I guess I’ll use the lawn or the deck still. It works, it’s fine.
Secondly, I could put some sort of shed in the backyard. I looked at several options, including ones that would allow me to move my tripod in and out without having to break it down. In an ideal world, I could even leave my scope in it, even though it isn’t recommended to move your mount with the scope attached. I’d have to be careful while doing it, but it could be done. Some people have bought commercial systems where it is set up on a cart and you wheel the whole thing out. But that adds too much cost and instability for what you get, in my opinion. And doesn’t really make much sense with my set-up.
Unfortunately, the more I think about it though, the less comfortable I am with putting my scope and accessories in the shed. It wouldn’t be fully insured without expensive extra riders, the deductibles are too high, and I don’t want to deal with losing any of the stuff anyway. I was willing to adjust if I could build it in with a small pier and padlock the crap out of it without it looking inviting to someone.
Equally, I have the same space limitations for a shed. If it is big enough to house things while put together (like my scope), than it is too big, ugly and/or takes up too much space.
For those of you who have known me for awhile, you likely know that I used to be quite anal retentive about goal-setting. Each December, I would start thinking about my version of New Year’s resolutions which were to do some hard-core planning for the year. I really like the “Inbox Zero” equivalent of personal planning, and my to-do list reflected that preference.
If you haven’t seen Inbox Zero, it is originally for people who had trouble managing their inbox. In the planning industry, it was the “do you manage your inbox or does your inbox manage you?” idea. In short, most people have large inboxes. Dozens, hundreds of messages, maybe even thousands, all in a single folder. Which is an incredibly inefficient filing system. Think of it as the equivalent of 200 post-it notes around your desk. How do you find anything? How do you avoid missing something critical?
The Inbox Zero approach is designed to remove that clutter. You go through every email in the box until you’re done the first time. With each email, you either deal with it immediately (for something that takes a minute or two)…and if it is a repetitive task like answering a request for a copy of some document you regularly send out, then take a few extra minutes to setup macros for quick responses. Then any future one of those requests can be dealt with in seconds. Many of the emails are likely ones that you can just delete. At least the first time you do a triage. And then there are two final categories.
The first category is for ones that are simply things you want to read later. You don’t have to “do” anything with them, but you don’t want to delete them either. Think of them as an equivalent of a “To Be Read” pile of books. Do you need that TBR pile on your desk? Nope, file them in a folder and pull some out from time to time when you are available. Or if it is really important to you, schedule 15-30 minutes a day where you’ll just read the best thing in the folder, shutting everything else out.
The last category is for the “to-do” list items. You didn’t respond yet, you have to do some work on them (maybe your boss was tasking you with something), and it isn’t something you can just file and pull out later. This is your “active” set of emails. But why are they in your inbox cluttered up with everything else? The Inbox Zero approach insists that you at least move them to an ACTIVE folder with no more than a screenful of emails or you make a list of action items and put them on your to-do list. Then, you can move them around on your to-do list, reprioritize as needed, delete if necessary or possible, whatever you need to do. But you’re not using a pile of electronic post-it notes on your desk to do it.
Mental Inbox Zero
To me, the Inbox Zero’s real benefit is that it declutters your active workspace so your to-do list isn’t screaming at you “do me, do me, do me”. You aren’t managing your inbox so much as managing your time in comparison with all your other priorities. But once it’s on the list, you don’t have to be trying to remember it mentally. It’s gone from your mental inbox. It’s on a list, and you can read that list when you need to. In the meantime, you can focus on the most important or urgent task YOU choose to do next.
So I used to apply the same principle and discipline to my to-do list. I have a master list of things I am planning to do, thinking about doing, or maybe just dreaming about doing some day. Some of the items are almost bucket list level; others are short-term items like picking up the drycleaning. So, with lots of refinement over the years, I created my own personal development model with “blue” cerebral / cognitive items, “green” family or emotional items, “yellow” social or community items, and “red” financial or active leadership items (see the image to the left of the title). The colours match up with the Insights Discovery model for personality profiles, which has its limit but works as an organizing metaphor for me. I have extensive groupings and categorizations too within those colours:
Computers, website management, blogging, media management, writing.
22 categories in total, with three levels of prioritization within it — things I can do in the next week or so; things in the next month; and things that are parked for now.
I then keep a separate “subset” list that I use for my weekly to-do list. It’s essentially the “things I can do in the next week”, but triaged into five more granular priority levels. I use it to manage my week, without being cluttered by looking at my MT or LT priorities. I’ve already done the triage at the start of the week, now I just manage what I committed to this week. If something new comes up, I either write it down on my to-do list and add it during the weekly update, or I add it to a temporary folder and triage that each week for additions/changes.
Two years without my to-do list
I had been using variations of my approach for almost 20 years when I decided two years ago to put it on hold. There was a very specific reason — I thought, at the time, that if I was to make any progress on my goal of weight loss, then I needed to marshal all my resources to that goal. And I was right, in a way. It was indeed the only way to make progress initially. But over time, I’ve slipped. I had managed to achieve almost 20% of my overall weight-loss goal when depression wiped me out. It kicked my ass good. I had promised myself I wouldn’t return to a long list of to-do list items unless or until I achieved my goal.
But over the two years that I’ve been working on my weight loss in varying degrees of commitment, I realized that my initial success was great, but I can’t maintain the pace. So it is going to take me almost 3 times as long to achieve my goal, measured in years rather than months. I honestly can’t maintain a good mental state that long without some structure to the rest of my life.
And therein lies the benefit and the rub. My to-do list can both give me a sense of accomplishment or momentum and distract me from real growth opportunities (measuring the wrong thing or missing real growth opportunities because I didn’t put it on the list). It both focuses and narrows my perspective.
For two years, I have figured out what I need to do on my weight, and I feel in control of where I’m going. Maybe not at the pace I would like, but on track. I’ve got the initial tools I need now, and I know where to get the next set I need later. And the next set after that.
But my mental health needs that original structure back, and so I sat down this past weekend and updated my to-do list. I’m exaggerating the gap a little…I had updated it about 4 months ago, and about 8 before that, and about 8 before that. Nothing really aggressive, just weeding out things that had expired or already passed for time. Or were simply just not relevant to me anymore. For example, I took into account considerations where I went “left” on some decision point and I could therefore drop the possible options if I had gone right instead. I was simply updating it, I wasn’t managing it.
Let’s be clear though…this is not a simple to-do list. There are 280 items on it. It is, in fact, more of a detailed project management tool where the “project” is me. Even my sublist for this week has 67 items on it, although I would say only about 20 are really truly “this week”…the other 47 are more ambitious areas to consider if I start moving down that path on one of the areas. 50-60 is about normal for me, with about 20 “core” goals and another 40 that I wouldn’t mind seeing some progress on, as time permits.
So far I have knocked off ten, this post itself is number 11 oddly enough, and what was number 1? Updating the list itself. It is almost always number 1. I can’t manage my priorities if my priorities aren’t up to date. Past the initial 10, another five or six are well underway, so I’ll probably hit 20-25 things done by Sunday. A bit above average, but it fluctuates.
Momentum
One of the benefits of the to-do list is it gives me an automatic sense of momentum. I know what all my “items” are, I’ve triaged the 20-60 that I might do something about this week, and I’m knocking a bunch off the list. By definition, I’m working on things that I’ve already determined are important to me. Which usually allows me to stave off basic depressive tendencies.
Occasionally, the momentum bubble bursts. New projects coming in are usually not destructive to me, I expect those and I’m flexible enough to adjust. New priorities? By definition, I have to adjust. That’s why the list exists.
However, what CAN suck the life out of me is bogging down on 2 or 3 items in different categories. If I run into a snag on one area, I can usually get some juice out of progress on another area here or there. But if I run into multiple blocks, then there is a risk that my frustration with two or three will start to ripple into others that were originally progressing just fine.
None of that is insurmountable. I feel like I’m back on track, although the schedule of the day tends to present some challenges to shifting gears between work life, homeschooling life for my son, general family life, and carving out some time when I can be productive on personal items. I’m even ready to blog again about my weight loss plans, albeit a bit more obliquely than before.
I like the idea of ongoing change, and no better book exists in my view than Change: What Really Leads to Lasting Personal Transformation by Jeffrey A. Kottler (BR00118). I blogged about it extensively, but that doesn’t mean shorter pieces out there don’t catch my interest. Like this one from GetPocket although the original was Inc. This one takes the premise of “planning” your reinvention rather than settling for reacting to something and creating a spontaneous reinvention. It outlines some reactive ones (like a change in the market changing your business life), shifting businesses to a more sustainable model (although no reason that can’t apply to your personal life too), or a change in lifestyle (similar focus). However, the one I liked was the one the author called the “big Aha! moment” as a catalyst.
Many people waste years looking for a magic bullet and wallowing in their misery, I guess I wasn’t meant to do that. I remember as though it were yesterday, waking up one morning with absolute certainty that I would tender my resignation, change careers (although I had no idea to what), become a better person, grow spiritually, and become the best single parent possible. It was an evolution that took place over three years, and the journey continues, but I can say that I found happiness very quickly once I made the decision to change.Â
The mere act of committing to change is the single biggest step you can take.
