Multiple SSD Fusion Drive

I doubt many if any of my intended audience (wishing you could combine two SSDs in a Mac) this post will reach, but I'm wanting to put a basic outline out there to help.
Bottom line: I got it to work. I'm hoping I can give some tips to everyone else.

The system I've got, and had wanted a Fusion setup for is a 2017 iMac with 500GB nvme SSD, to which I added an internal 2TB Samsung Evo SSD to its internal sata connection.

Here are the internal disk speeds of my Evo SSD

Here are the internal disk speeds of the nvme SSD that my iMac came with:

And here are the disk speeds of my Fusion drive:

Besides not finding reliable information online about doing this, I didn't want to make a fusion drive because I was afraid I'd only get the Sata SSD speeds. While good, they're inferior to the drives that the iMac shipped with. Additionally, I was warned that I'd experience bugginess or crashes or file system errors. This doesn't seem to be a well documented thing, and I ran into a couple issues in my attempts to get this working.

Let's jump to the how-to: 

 1.) Backup your computer. I had a Time Machine backup, and a separate external backup of applications and my user folders, in case things ever got really bad. Time Machine was wonderful, and I needed to restore twice (once for a failure, the second time after I got it working). My Time Machine backed up two drives of stuff to one combined backup, which it was able to restore to just one drive.

2.) Boot into recovery mode

3.) Use terminal in recovery mode to determine which disk partitions are going to be used for your fusion drive (for me, my nvme drive was /dev/disk0s2 and my samsung drive was /dev/disk2s2 . Use the physical volumes you want, which should be labeled "Container disk2".

4.) Use terminal to create a logical volume group.
My syntax was: diskutil coreStorage create FusionDrive /dev/disk2s2 /dev/disk0s2
Multiple things to note here:
 a.) APFS is required, and won't allow for a secondary drive that is larger than its primary. I've read many places that the first disk mentioned (here disk2s2) is the faster one. As you can see from the above screenshots, something about that statement either doesn't apply in MacOS Catalina, or is an incomplete statement. In the days of APFS, the smaller portion goes first. How the speed difference was figured out by coreStorage, I don't know.
 b.) Your disk names, and chosen name of your fusion drive (I picked "FusionDrive") may differ.

5.) Create the volume in terminal with jhfs+.
My snytax was: diskutil coreStorage createVolume FusionDrive jhfs+ "Macintosh HD" 100%
 a.) I chose "Macintosh HD" because that's what Apple uses. You can likely change it to something else

6.) Boot into internet recovery mode

7.) Erase your Fusion volume with Disk Utility to reformat it as APFS

8.) Install MacOS Catalina onto your Fusion Drive

9.) Restore from Backup (or don't, if you want a clean install).


The tricky bits for me were: -needing internet recovery mode (don't know why) for the APFS reformatting. Terminal wouldn't support APFS as a coreStorage option. jhfs+ in terminal in recovery mode first, then internet recovery mode Disk Utility (not terminal) for turning the drive to APFS -Ordering the disk partitions in order of size, rather than speed. Biggest, not fastest first.

I hope this reaches someone who it can help.

A "quick" run

It's been ages since I've done anything with my blog. I've resolved, on occasion, that I would write an entry or two about some notable experiences or adventures I've had since then.

Today, I'm writing about a learning experience I had this morning. Having resolved to run at least a little every day, I got up today, and set out for a quick run. I approached this run differently than I have approached any run in all my years of running: I prayed.

Sure, I've prayed, or joined in quick prayers for "everyone to

perform to the best of their abilities" or to "have fun. This was different. I've set a handfull of resolutions for my personal improvement that I'm really working hard on. This morning, I was talking to my Father, and we talked about what I've been doing; where I've been improving, and where I could improve. Today, on the heels of a couple really short, disappointing runs, I prayed for help. Asking for a healthy heart and a stronger mind, and preparing otherwise, I set out for my run.

I started out for my go-to run: a 1.9 mile loop around the Logan temple. Only a block out, I resolved to change direction and head east, towards the the entrance of Logan Canyon, and the first in a series of small dams -- a 5 mile loop. A quarter of the way into the loop (halfway to the first dam), I decided that I felt good enough to run a little ways up the canyon. It evolved into this.

I learned/re-learned a few really cool things from this run:

1. Prayer works. When I'm on top of my exercising, I'm motivated and everything else seems to fall in to place. Knowing that it was important to me, Heavenly Father strengthened me.
2. Every additional mile your body isn't used to handling hurts more than the previous.
3. I don't know what I'm capable of. Every time I work at something hard enough to feel like I'm pushing the limits, I realize the limits are further out than I'd imagined. Though I definitely felt limited today, I know I can do more than I thought. I pushed several limits, and loved doing it.

If you didn't check the link, do it. I think the post makes more sense with it.

Is my nephew cute enough to eat?

This is a picture of Taylor, my first and only nephew.  He is a really stinkin' cute kid. Really, this kid is absolutely the cutest kid I know.  "Yeah, yeah," you say.  "He's your nephew. You're biased" you say.  Maybe so.  I've never been one to agree with the idea that all kids are cute.  There is an obligitory "oh yes, so cute" response we're all supposed to have when a child or baby is mentioned. I don't have it.   Now that a little kid is more in my life, I'm more aware of this too.  Not all babies are created equally.  There are some really ugly babies out there.  I've got a friend who is great with kids.  Loves playing with them, loves looking at pictures of them.  No matter how often he shows me these pictures, I have not yet been impressed. I've given the courteous "yes, cute..." on occasion -- but only to be nice.  More often I've just said "wow, ugly baby" or "not cute."  Call me heartless, or call me a discerning customer. I like "the kid", as we call him.

Then I stumbled across this picture on flickr. Taylor needs one. Hilarious!  Though cruel to essentially disable your baby's mobility, it sure would be great to see and then be able to say "my baby looks good enough to eat."  For a closing visual: imagine your baby has learned to walk. Who can resist a cheesy baby burger walking toward them? I wanna' Taylor burger!

Skeletons that Never Should've been in my Closet

I don't anticipate really being on top of this blog thing or posting frequent, unique or interesting posts. Still, I wanted to write something. It's been a couple weeks.

Just a few minutes ago, while reading somebody else's blog, I remembered one of many really stupid lies I've told in my life.  You may know the kind; lies that make me look worse, feel worse than had I just told the truth, lies that just plain aren't beneficial.  Why tell lies that don't get me out of trouble or give me a good reputation or cover up somebody else's tracks or....something.  I can think of a couple of these rediculous lies I've told:

Still too irresponsible to take care of a pet (but hoping, I assume that it would teach us), my sister and I got a puppy for Christmas.  This cute cocker spaniel was a great toy and friend (when I was good enough to take care of it.)  The lie came one day when the dog and I were playing in our basement.  The basement was unfinished and one part

icular room was filled with boxes.  I liked to play on the boxes and climb higher and higher up the magical staricase of moving boxes that seemed a wonderland for a young boy like me.  The dog was big enough to hop up, one box at a time with me and we played together on the boxes.  Then I jumped down 4-5ish boxes down to the exposed concrete foundation floor. I waited innocently as I expected my little friend to follow. It wouldn't.  I couldn't understand why not; the drop must have been 3 1/2 feet -- nothing to fear.  The scared, but trus

ting little soul jumped towards me after a deal of coaxing on my part.  Our dog broke its leg from the fall. No, I didn't know that at the time, but we knew the dog was hurt.  I was ashamed.  The boxes weren't ours. We were holding them for friends of the family.  Maybe I shouldn't have been using them as my playground. Maybe I shouldn't be playing like that with our puppy. I don't know. I knew it was my fault it had broken its leg.

The lie: in the same room was a bench and set of weights for lifting. I liked to carry the small 5lb weights. I lied and said I'd dropped one of these on our puppy's leg.  The truth then

, was hidden. I lobbed a weight at my dog and somehow that's better? We had to give the dog away to our aunt because we (I) couldn't take care of it.

Another lame lie story started in 9th grade.  Starting High School, I had the unlikely scenario of making a group of new friends who all came from a different Jr. High. I was new and fun, exciting to my new friends. I'd (finally) had a big growth spurt and I looked much less awkward than in years past. I had no shortage of girls wanting to date me and I thought this was cool.  Now, "dating" at age 15 meant that a girl and I would acknowledge each othe

r as boyfriend/girlfriend, hold hands, giggle and exchange love notes.  I would go through these girlfriends as often as I pleased. I broke a lot of hearts and built up my pride. I was a total jerk. My first two years of High School, I had a new "girlfriend" every month or so that I was in school.  These girls became co

nquests/trophies to me.  I am NOT proud of it.  I am very very ashamed of the way I saw and treated girls then. Still, these girls were like trophies. The guys on my cross country and swim and dance teams would praise me for catching such a pretty girl. I'd feel proud.  Alright. I was a punk. But where's the lie?

I've only ever kissed two girls. One (my first) of them was one of these "girlfriends."  I didn't like it. I felt used and empty. It didn't mean anything. I didn't kiss again for 8 years.  That time I made sure it 

meant something.  At the time, everybody assumed (and I let them) that I'd kissed every one of these "girlfriends" and even the ones that tried to date me but never could.  I fueled it, thinking it was what was expected.  I lied and said I'd kissed a lot. Truth is, I'd kissed one girl and vowed not to do it again. That kiss kept me away from dating or "dating" for years.

My parents tell me about how physically affectionate I was as a small kid. I'm really not that way anymore. Too afraid. I want every touch to mean something.  How many girls have I held hands with? 3. Now though, I just don't want to hold anybody's hand or kiss them. The physical elements of a relationship are the scariest for me. I can commit my heart and my time and myself, largely to a relationship. Those things precede for me any physical signs of affection.

Unfortunately, I'm not done with my dumb lies. I could take up some space writing about these.  Another comes to mind: in High School, there was a time (however short) that I rode my bike to school.  O

ne of these days, I was riding home from school and was hit by a car backing up.  

I scraped up one side of me, put a big dent in my bike helmet, and I had headaches for days.  That's not the story I told. I just fell over. Lame me. Shouldn't even be on a bike I just fell over. I dressed the scrapes and cuts on my arm, hip, and side myself and threw away the now holey blue shirt I was wearing (which I didn't like anyway) in the outside garbage can.  I still reported my broken helmet (expensive to replace), but not the bit about being hit by a car. Why on earth not? Yeah. I know. Still, I kept it to myself.

Blog Post #1 -- Spring Break 2009

Alright, so the blogging thing is new to me. I don't know what to put here. I know I've been asked to do it, and I want it to look cool.

The most recent thing of note I've done was just last week. I drove 12 hours north from school to Lethbridge, Alberta Canada.

The roads on the way up were pretty nice. The final destination being so far away, I didn't really pay attention to the ugly, flat, dead landscapes of Idaho and Southern Montana.  

By the time Butte came around, I was smiling. Having seen nothing resembling civilization in hours, Butte seemed a thriving oasis of gas stations complete with little boy's rooms.  Wonderful.  No break was to be longer than 5 minutes. I was eager to get to Canada.

What's 5 minutes to such a long drive? I don't know. Just five minutes less driving. I wanted to get there.

The drive AFTER Butte was spectacular. Two long, winding mountain passes had me giggling and tooting through the funnest driving experience I'd ever had.  P

articularly enjoyable was the stretch from Helena to Great Falls.

 Following the Missouri River, the mountain pass has been dramatically eroded away. A meandering highway set in the canyon weaves its way through deep, sheer cut cliffs and through small "villages" of vacation homes set along the river.

After Great Falls, the drive gets flat and boring again, and it was nearly dark. So, I picked up the pace and found the speed at which my car's acceleration slows. Didn't shoot for its top speed though. Scary. I WAS however, going fast enough after my crossing over to Canada that a friendly officer wanted to welcome me to the country.  He told me my speed was a little too fast, but let me off without a ticket since I was an alien. Phew.  After 12 Hours (including my rule-breaking 30 minute stop in Great Falls at a Taco Bell to visit a friend from BYU-I), I arrived in Lethbridge.

Things looked good. Temperatures in Lethbridge had been about 5 degrees C warmer than Logan, and I was looking forward to a warm spring break in the "Great White North."

Boy was I in for a surprise! After a fine weekend in Lethbridge where I was wined and dined and in all ways pampered by my hosts Jared and Lyndi, the cold came in (as though they saw it coming;) ) The snow was light, the winds were... light by Alberta standards, and the temperatures... Just not nice. I was expecting 10-15 degrees C and got -24!

What's a boy to do with -24 outside while his hosts are at school and work? Go running, of course. Ha! I made it about a half mile before I decided there were microscopic knives in the cold air hitting my lungs. Wow it hurt.  I thought I liked the feeling of "cold" air in my lungs while running. Hard, yes, but somehow rewarding.  There was no time to break through -- or even meet the runners wall this day. Too cold. Far t

oo cold.

The cold shut the door on my 15 degree trip to Waterton, but I took heart in being able to go later in the week. Illness and work/school schedules wouldn't permit it in the time I had left. Darn. Guess I'll just have to go back.

The drive back was less exciting (see pictures). I was not happy to leave, so starting the day with ugly flat death was no fun. The mountain passes were slower and a little scarier (and WAY more patrolled, may I add). I did pick up a "friend", Jesus  who was walking along the side of I-90 between Missoula and Butte.  Curse that I was ever on that road! I missed the turn to stay on the highway and ended up a ways towards Missoula before kicking myself and turning around (saved by GoogleMaps on my iPhone), only to meet up with thick-accented Jesus.  He kept me company all the way to Ogden, Utah where I dropped him off by the temple with all the food I had. It was a long, bizarre missionary moment during that long drive. Noteworthy at least.