Ed Nisley's Blog: Shop notes, electronics, firmware, machinery, 3D printing, laser cuttery, and curiosities. Contents: 100% human thinking, 0% AI slop.
So when I entered that impact socket in KMyMoney 0.9, which is how I do my exceedingly simple bookkeeping, I entered it just like that: 1-1/16″.
That worked fine, right up to the point where I exported the summary of transactions report in CSV (comma-separated-values) format and tried to open it as an OpenOffice spreadsheet: only the first third of the file made it into the spreadsheet.
Having screwed up exactly like this before, I knew where to look: CSV format wraps fields with double-quote marks and KMyMoney isn’t bright enough to escape the double-quote mark, resulting in a broken file. That may be fixed in the current version (1.0.2 right now), but I’m still running Xubuntu 8.10 with some KDE-based programs spliced in because KDE 4.x still has problems with rotated dual monitors.
That escape mechanism is actually part of the CSV standard, such as it is:
Fields with embedded double-quote characters must be enclosed within double-quote characters, and each of the embedded double-quote characters must be represented by a pair of double-quote characters.
I knew better than that, but it’s an easy mistake to make.
What really ticked me off, though, is that KMyMoney breaks the transaction into two parts (it’s a double-entry bookkeeping system, after all) and, even after I changed the double-quote to the word inch, refused to update the other half of the transaction. Furthermore, I couldn’t get access to that half; the only description I could find had inch.
Had to delete the whole entry and add it back to get it right… which was better, long term, than hand-editing the CSV file every time.
Mary’s folks visited us for Christmas and her father brought along a shelf that needed cutting; their apartment doesn’t have room for his shop equipment, alas. I cleared the crap off the radial saw, grabbed the elevation knob to crank the blade up to get it set for ripping, and … the handle broke off.
That’s not the first time this has happened, so I wasn’t entirely surprised. The knob is large enough that I could complete the mission just by grabbing the rim, but it was a near thing.
The handle is made of some wonderful engineering plastic that doesn’t solvent-bond well with anything in my armory, although Plastruct had enough bite to make me think it would work. That repair actually lasted several years of admittedly low-duty-cycle use, but obviously this couldn’t continue.
Stress raiser
The problem seems to be built into the handle design. This pic shows that the fracture spans a high-stress part of the handle: between the inside right-angle corner (upper left) that rests on the outside of the knob, across the handle’s web, to the corner of the recess in the flange at the bottom of the picture.
The red hoodickie is the latch that secures the handle in its deployed position, wherein it sticks out at exactly crotch height for average human males. That accounts for the fluorescent red tape around the handle.
Broken surface
You can see how the latch recess triggered the crack: that notch where the latch wraps around must be the highest-stress part of the handle. I suspect the original design didn’t have the latch (or had something different) and the fat web near the round feature on the left extended all the way to the angled flange on the right.
That would work!
I epoxied a pair of rectangular brass tubes across the fracture inside the web, where they fit neatly below the latch. I roughed up the web with an awl to give the epoxy more surface to grab.
Incidentally, this is one of those cases where you might think a cyanoacrylate adhesive would work. It won’t: too much shock, too much pressure. I used it to hold the parts together while the epoxy cured, but that’s about as far as I’d trust it.
I’d like to add something to the notch, but I’m not convinced a right-angle brass flange and some epoxy will have enough grip to make any difference. It would certainly require changing the latch, perhaps by thinning the left side, which would make that weaker. On the other paw, I can probably eke out a miserable existence without the latch.
Brass internal reinforcement
The picture shows the clamping in operation. A snippet of polypropylene (from some random consumer packaging) under the tip of the clamp prevents it from becoming one with the project; the clamp tip is slippery plastic, but you never know.
Perhaps this fix will last for a few more years…
Y’know, I’m beginning to believe that finite-element analysis will be the death of us all. Obviously this handle was modeled to a fare-thee-well, with only enough material to meet the expected stresses in the expected directions. Unfortunately, the real world doesn’t cooperate: the forces are always larger, the conditions always worse, and the materials always weaker than the design anticipated. A “safety factor” of three or four or maybe even ten just isn’t enough!
I’m using Texas Instruments TLC5916 constant-current LED driver chips for my my friend’s Totally Featureless Clock. An 8-bit configuration value sets the output current, with the external resistor defining the maximum value as described there.
The problem is that the current-versus-config-value curve has a non-monotonic discontinuity in the middle, where the Current Multiplier bit switches from 0 to 1. I don’t know in which alternate universe this design decision made sense, but right here and now…
It. Does. Not.
Why it’s a problem: the LED brightness tracks room illumination as seen by a CdS photoresistor, averaged over maybe half a minute. The brightness changes very slowly, so the jump when it goes from 0x7f to 0x80 is really eyecatching. At least to me, anyway.
Eyeballometric measurement of the curve shows the current at 0x80 pretty much matches the current at 0x60, soooo let’s just shove the second quarter of the curve (between 0x40 and 0x7f) downward until it meets the high-current value at 0x80.
The AAA cells I mentioned there bubbled to the top of the heap on my desk again, so I charged them, let them sit around for a few days to stabilize, then ran a discharge test.
The top (black) trace is all four AAA cells in series; the two steps correspond to the two weakest cells failing. The red trace is the surviving two cells. The green trace is the strongest cell, which supplied current during all three traces.
They’re nominally 900 mAh, but the results are pretty much what you’d expect.
No-name AAA NiMH – Sequential Discharge
The most durable cell, the last one to fail with the green trace, had a capacity of a bit over 500 mAh: slightly over half the rating. The weakest cell (the first step on the black trace) failed after a mere 250 mAh.
Junk. Pure junk. I’ll give ’em another charge just to see what happens, but don’t hold your breath anticipating a resurrection.
This is on the “control panel” side of the Sequoia ImageCast Ballot Marking Device voting machines used in Dutchess County. I put my finger in the middle of the CLOSE POLL button and the panel misread a press on the REPORTS button.
That’s one of several misreadings of the day. Earlier, while setting up the machine for the day, it misread horizontally and gave me a STATUS report instead of a ZERO report.
Last year the same sort of thing happened. It’s always explained as “being out of calibration”, which makes me wonder just exactly when the panels are calibrated and what the criteria for success might be.
One of the few good things to come out of having a totally dysfunctional State Legislature is that New York has managed to delay and stall and fumble around until other states demonstrated the utter stupidity of direct-recording, no-paper-trail electronic voting machines. The ImageCast machines are a spectacular boondoggle, but far less catastrophic than what we’ve seen in Florida, Ohio, California, and …
Oh, and after a 16-hour shift as a BMD Election Inspector, exactly zero handicapped voters (actually, any voters) took advantage of the machine to cast their vote. A report from someone who’s in a position to know says that in the last election, the bottom line was $250 per vote on the ImageCast machines. I think that’s probably low.
OK, this is shooting the low-hanging fish right off the barrel (or some such mixed metaphor), but why does anybody still use Internet Explorer and Windows for embedded systems?
The proximate cause is a dead Internet link, but somebody obviously didn’t take that problem into account during the design phase. I’m sure there’s a keyboard hidden inside the box, wherever the box might be, but the rest of us are left to snicker at a jammed display.
The problem resolved itself (or somebody plugged in the cable) by the time we walked past the display again.