Previously:
Introduction
Part 1: Simulating candle-light with pseudo-random sequences
Part 2: Some physical structure
Part 3: When Exactly is Hanukkah?
Part 4: A Typical Programming Problem
Part 5: Oil and Lasers

So here we are, six days away from Hanukkah, and the first build of the Maccabeam™ is complete!

Below is video of it running, and a general build gallery. But before that, here are some thoughts and lessons that will go into Version 2 (and/or a kit, if that ever happens).

I build things the old-fashioned way. Everything’s soldered onto a breadboard with finicky little wires (I used wire-wrap wire, since it’s fine and easy to twist around). While this is fine for prototyping, it’s not great for a finished product. I need to learn to use a design app, and have printed circuit boards made.

A printed circuit board would make the positioning of the LEDs better, too. I bought the LEDs on a long strip, which I then cut and wired together. If I used surface-mount LEDs, I wouldn’t have to worry about the width of the strip and making each little segment fit in the channel. It sounds simple, but in the corner areas, it got congested.

The next design won’t just use a printed circuit board. It will also use standard connectors so the disparate parts may be added and removed easily while building.

Back to the LEDs. The decision to put the LEDs behind a layer of frosted acrylic to make the light more diffuse may not have been the right one either. When the “marching ants” animation is running to indicate the shamos lighting the other candles, the diffuse light bleeds over into the neighboring star-shaped windows, disrupting the flow of the animation a little.

The physical hanukkiah, all the laser-cut wood, works well, but it makes access to the internal components very difficult. The screws hold it together, but there’s enough play in the screw-holes that I supplemented with hot glue. When I had to replace one of the laser diodes that burned out, I had to tear the whole thing down. The next design should be more maintainable.

Speaking of lasers, the inexpensive laser diodes I purchased online are not really very good. The brightness varies dramatically! Now, they’re representing candles, so the variation is not a show-stopper, but the dimmer lasers are not bright enough for a well-lit room. You can see this in the video below.

I didn’t write about how I programmed the “music.” To make a long story short, I found sheet music of “Hanukkah Oh Hanukkah” online. Using the Wikipedia article on reading music, I translated the sheet music into the notes. The LCD display has a small piezo-electric speaker on it, and you can play notes by sending special codes on the serial lines to the display. So I took the notes, and translated them into those codes. It’s what the kids call chip-tunes, but perhaps next time I’ll go for the Teensy audio board, and play a stereophonic MP3 off of a memory card.

Another thing I didn’t write about was simulation mode. When the silver switch on the left is thrown to the left, the circuit gets time and date from the GPS unit. But I couldn’t wait for Hanukkah to test my code! Given the number of bugs found and fixed during development, it would have taken me several centuries worth of Hanukkahs to get it right. Therefore, I implemented a simulation mode. When the switch is to the right, we magically locate ourselves in Jerusalem, and set the time just before sundown on the 24th of Kislev. This allowed me to endlessly watch Hannukah arrive, and get the animated displays to my satisfaction.

Anyway, the results are below! We’ll see if it’s satisfactory in just a few days…

Previously:
Introduction
Part 1: Simulating candle-light with pseudo-random sequences
Part 2: Some physical structure
Part 3: When Exactly is Hanukkah?
Part 4: A Typical Programming Problem

So, remember how the one of the original requirements was that the lasers would illuminate vials of olive oil? Now that I’m at the point where I have the lasers working, I’ve discovered that olive oil is more transparent than I anticipated. In my mind, I kind of saw the oil illuminating evenly from the laser light when, in fact, it just creates a single faint beam like this:

So, I could see that I got nice reflection and illumination off of the air-oil boundary up top, so the next thing I tried was filling the vial only partially:

That’s better, but still lacks something. The next idea was to mix some very fine glitter into the oil:

I like this! I think it looks really nice, but there’s still a problem. The glitter lamps and lava lamps that inspired this approach use convective forces to keep the glitter or wax moving inside the lamp. In my system, the laser light doesn’t transfer any measurable thermal energy to the oil, which means that there is no convection or other currents in the oil. So it looks good for a while, but as the next video shows, after ten minutes, we’re pretty much back to just a vial of oil — but with a clump of glitter on the bottom occluding the light.

So how do you make it so glitter doesn’t sink to the bottom of the oil? Introduce thickeners! In this case, I blended in some corn starch, carefully heating it for maximum absorbtion. Now, not only is this getting way away from the original idea of illuminated oil (corn starch in the menorah probably violates halacha somehow), but I was unable to do it in a way that didn’t just cloud up and look icky.

Not only does that look like a distressing medical sample, it still suffers from the same problem. The thickener slows the sinking of the glitter, but doesn’t prevent it entirely. After half an hour, it’s just murky soup:

Going back to the observation from the beginning, I’d got nice scattering from the interface of the oil and the air. Maybe I’d get the same nice scattering from an interface between crystal and the oil. So I filled the vial with a few faceted bits of crystal to see:

It’s a lot nicer than the oil/corn starch blend, but still not spectacular. Still, it fels like moving in the right direction. The last experiment was to fill up the vial with small beads made of ordinary glass and the oil. I chose 11/0 (2.2 mm) beads, thinking smaller beads meant more interfaces for scattering:

Finally! While it’s not perfect, I like this look, and the source of the light scattering will not sink into oblivion any time soon. Coming up with an explanation is a little harder. Do the beads represent the sands of the Judean desert? Shattered windows of the Second Temple? Did they even have glass windows at that time? Well, regardless of explanation, this is what I will use for the final version.

Previously:
Introduction
Part 1: Simulating candle-light with pseudo-random sequences
Part 2: Some physical structure
Part 3: When Exactly is Hanukkah?

The build is coming together.

One discovery was a sneaky bug in the date conversion code. originally, the code had used standard C library for doing some time manipulations. These functions like mktime are used to convert from a structure containing year, month, day, hour, minute, and second to a single large number of seconds. Similarly, there’s gmtime which does the reverse. One nice thing about these functions is that you can use them for arithmetic, e.g., pass mktime all the regular values but a negative value for the hour, then convert back with gmtime to get the computed time. If you want to do the arithmetic yourself, you have to handle all of the boundaries (e.g., if you’ve rolled back into the past hour … or day … etc.)

Under the hood, mktime is doing something like what was described in the last posting about date conversions: it computes a number of seconds from the epoch given the year, month, day, hour etc. The epoch is an arbitrarily defined date and time standard. In most C / Unix environments, it’s the midnight of 1 January 1970 (e.g., the 0th second of 1970). The gmtime function does the reverse, converting a number of seconds from that epoch into a date and time.

I use this feature when computing sunrise and sunset times. Paul Schylter’s suntime.c returns a number of hours and/or minutes to each event. If the sun has already risen on the day you’re computing, for example, you’ll get a negative hour and or minute for sunrise. If the sunrise has not yet happened, the values are positive. I assembling times by adding those offsets to the current hour and minute, and passing the values to mktime. I didn’t have to worry whether the value was still the same hour or day, because mktime sorts it all out for me.

Somewhere along the line, however, I switched from the standard C library for time to using Paul Stoffregen’s Time Library. I did this because it integrates nicely with the GPS. What I neglected was that in C’s standard library, the components of the time structure are integers but in Paul’s library they are unsigned 8-bit integers.

For simple 8-bit integers, the highest-order bit is used for the sign of the number. In other words, a binary value of 00000011 would represent 3, and 10000011 would represent -3. That way, an 8-bit integer can represent values from -127 to 127. An unsigned 8-bit integer, however, uses the highest-order bit like any other bit, so 00000011 would still represent 3, but 10000011 would represent 131!

All this to say, my trick of passing possibly-negative hours or minutes into the equivalent of mktime was not doing what I had thought! When I thought I was computing the time of sunrise that was 7 hours earlier by passing hour - 7, I was actually computing the time as hour + 135. It turns out that tweaking Paul’s library to supports signed integers was simple.

The moral of this particular story is pay attention when changing C libraries.