I have the best job in the world. Over the last 36 years, I’ve worked on three human spaceflight programs at the Kennedy Space Center. I’ve worked with dozens of flight crew members (our term for astronauts); spent hundreds of hours around — and often inside of — all six shuttles; supported some of the most famous spacecraft ever launched including the Hubble Space Telescope, the Magellan Venus orbiter, and the Galileo Jupiter orbiter. I’ve worked on International Space Station modules and helped build the Orion capsule.
The people I’ve worked with are everything the public expects NASA to be: incredibly smart, extraordinarily motivated and infused with excellence. We are driven to perfection, intolerant of mediocrity and merciless in solving failures.
Once again, this may be a very tedious post for the non-transplanted. Transplantees? Transplantites? Sorry for the digression, I sometimes feel life is shouting "squirrel!" at me 24/7. Anyway, today’s post goes over some of the rules I live under, and the coping techniques we’ve devised, to allow a pretty normal life in a world where food, instead of being a wholesome, nourishing boon, is pretty much trying to kill me.
Once again, those with germ phobias or a mistrust of our first world food supply need to stop now, unless you’re one of us. If you are, you maybe know all this, ...