Obstructions

This summer, the city began a project to repair the bridge that carries 16th St. NW over Piney Branch Parkway. The project first closed off the northbound lanes and the sidewalk on that side, the east side. Traffic markers redirected the flow of traffic. Now the work is on the southbound, west side. I don't see what has been done so far on the east side except for the removal of some asphalt. The holes in the screen that prevents the idle from throwing objects onto the road below, and prevents the suicidal from jumping, still has a hole cut in it. The sidewalk is not repaired.

This morning, I noticed that the catwalk beside the bridge is open at the north end. I trust that it is built well--many construction workers are heavier than I am--but I have no real interest in walking on it. Still I liked the idea of crossing on the catwalk, and checked at the south end. There I found it blocked by a chain-link gate, secured by a spike in the pavement. I did not bother to pull at the spike to see how well set it is.

In the summer of 2016, high water in Rock Creek damaged the trail that allows pedestrians and bicyclists to skirt the National Zoo grounds, and avoid going through the tunnel below the Zoo. For a long time there was no sign of work. Then there were signs of work, then signs of near completion. Now from both ends of the tunnel, it appears that the trail--with a new bridge on the downstream side--is all ready. Yet the gates remain closed. I understand that projects take in more work that outsiders imagine. Still, I'm ready for this one to be done.

Many years ago, out running, I got to the downstream Zoo gate on the old trail, and found the gate closed. I suppose the chain that secured it was a bit long, and certainly I was thin: I squeezed through, and then somehow got out at the other end. A few days later I noticed three marks on a bicep, and imagined that they meant an outbreak of shingles, something I had already experienced, and did not enjoy. It was only when the marks did not develop but faded that I remembered squeezing through the gate, and remembered that the ends of some chain link had scratched me.

Units of Measure

 In An Elegant Defense: The Extraordinary New Science of the Immune System, a passage stopped me for a moment:

... Dr. Lambert drained 65 cubic centimeters of fluid from her left knee (about 65 teaspoons).

First, I thought this unhelpful. I know from cooking the size of a teaspoon, but seldom have reason to measure out more than one or two of them--how much room do 65 take? Second, a bit of calculation suggested that something was wrong. Sixty-five is about a sixteenth of 1000; a cubic centimeter is equivalent to a milliliter, and a quart is a bit less than a liter: so 65 milliliters are a bit more than a sixteenth of a quart, two ounces or a quarter of a cup. A teaspoon is a third of a tablespoon; four tablespoons make a quarter cup; 65 teaspoons ought to be a bit more than a cup and a quarter. It appears that the author simply forgot to apply a factor of five: five milliliters make a teaspoon, so one gets 13 teaspoons, 4.3 tablespoons, or a quarter cup and a bit.

All of this assumes that the measure in cubic centimeters is correct. In the kitchen, a quarter cup is small, but in the knee it might be conspicuous and inconvenient. I infer that we are supposed to be impressed by the amount. I have no desire to find out by experience.