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Sunday, 21 January, 2001 at
10:42 PM -0600
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The weekly Diary of a PC Geek |
Monday, January 15, 2001
Oh, Ouch.
I guess it's time. I'm thirty-seven years old. I've got a seven year old. I've got a four year old. I guess today's the day.
We officially started sharing Legos.
Before you snicker, there, I'll have you know that many great minds (like him, and him, and yes, even him) play, or played with, Legos. I do note, with some disgust, that those three have had the intelligence to not bring people home that they'll have to share their Legos with.
But that's why we have kids. To share. I think it's really and truly the end of childhood - all those things you heard about as a child and were told you needed to do - share, be nice to the other putz - er, kid, wash your hands, mind your manners, all of that stuff you HAVE to do. I mean, you could get away with faking it when you were dating, but once you have a child, you KNOW that eventually that child will meet your mother, and that child will look at your mother and say "no, he never taught me that."
Regardless of what that is, you need a backup, hopefully your wife, to say "Oh, yes he did."
But sharing Legos? I know of no true geek who hasn't got a box of them somewhere. But sharing mine? Uh-huh. No way. Never. Not in a million... Oh, well.
So, after making this decision, I'm on my way home, kids strapped into the back seat, and my son, with the curiosity of a typical four-year-old, asks "Daddy? Are rocketships real?"
How do you answer that one? I know what I did.
"Of course they are, Jack. When I was a little
younger than your sister, we actually landed a man on the moon."
"REALLY?" (in unison).
"Yes, we did. Why so surprised?"
"How come we don't go there any more? Did somebody get hurt?"
How do you answer that one?
I'd been thinking a whole lot about Matt Beland's proposal for Project Conestoga. On the one hand, I've re-read Gene Kranz's book "Failure is not an option" I don't know how many times. I finish it and start right over. I've got plenty of reading materials, but it draws me right back in. I don't know if it's the writing style, the subject matter, or the point of view.
I do know that Matt's got a very good idea. While "Open Source" for the next generation of Space Exploration doesn't make sense at first glance, think about it from a more practical angle.
During the initial race to the moon, many contractors contributed pieces and products to build a 363-foot tower of explosives, delicate instruments, and people. Various contractors produced detailed technical documentation about the product they delivered, it's flaws, faults, and potential failure points. People, mostly male, mostly under thirty, dug in until they understood these systems better than we understand most of our software today. Contractors published bulletins to NASA about things like switch contamination - which allowed a flight controller to tell a couple of astronauts to rap on the panel on Apollo 16 and then land the LM on the moon.
Today, you'd have close to two hundred lawyers in that mix - each contractor would have at least two; one responsible for writing a manual full of legal warnings at least two inches thick, and the other looking out for the other fellow's screwups so they can claim it wasn't their fault.
Most projects these days are undertaken "for profit." You can't write a business plan for space-flight. There's no break-even point, there's no cost analysis that would satisfy a typical bean counter. The best you could do is show just exactly how much you can estimate the thing will cost.
But time and again we've shown that the investment in science for pure science's sake pays dividends in ways we can't calculate. I remember hearing back in the late 1970s that every dollar invested in the space program paid $7 in dividends at that point, at that time, in direct relation. What about the half-a-hundred indirect relations? How about the personal computer? No, you think not? Stop for a second and look at it this way - when the space program started, all the computer power in the world would be outperformed by the machine on your desk (assuming, of course, you've graduated to a Pentium by now). And those computers were room-sized. The necessity for having a small computer that could be installed into a space capsule and weigh less than a ton played into this just a bit.
Now you've got a device that few, if any, imagined back forty years ago. Just think what we could do. Just dream.
We've let it get away. Our technical capacity is now bogged down with middle-aged middle-management mentalities who cannot put together a test program with any hope of success. NASA needs to blow a few things up WITHOUT people in them - fire off a rocket, and if it works, wunderbar! If not, hey, that's what the RSO is for (Range Safety Officer). Don't make it a billion-dollar-boondoggle. Plenty of people have proved the concept that this can be done more cheaply. Let's get them to do it. Reward them for 80% or even 50% success. Not with the big prize, but with enough to keep them interested.
As a country, America used to reach for big things. We used to dream, to imagine, to look at the universe and ask "what's possible?" Not "what's profitable."
I'm pretty sure Matt's idea will succeed. Maybe not now, and maybe not even soon. But my kids could pull it off. As Kranz says "There are old pilots, and there are bold pilots, but there are no old, bold pilots."
This enterprise needs to be lead by people who aren't hampered by "too much knowledge." They need to know what can be done, and some of the consequences, but they need to not dwell on them.
Matt's plan is perhaps the only way I'm going to get into space. I can't say for sure that I will, but I don't want to die like the Senator at the end of Lucifer's Hammer - "Capture the lightening for my children." I want my kids to look up at the sky and say "yes, we can" instead of "wow, we did".
Well, some
of you might have noticed a few graphical changes around here. The logo
was kinda fun, but I'm particularly proud of that line right above here.
Would you believe that it's only a little over 2K? I took a 36-pixel wide
image, 6 pixels high (it looks like this ), and animated the colors marching across it. Then
repeated the image to make a line long enough to fill the screen.
Ain't I smart?
And tonight, just to prove I did what I said I was gonna, look at that grin. And the box. For those of you who keep track of such things, it's 22 inches wide by 15 inches by a foot deep - it's a plenty big box.
And after dumping the combined thirty-one years worth of Lego blocks into the box, I have about four inches left from the top of the box. The "good" news is that 2500 pieces of Legos covers about an inch or so, depth-wise. So I've got some room to grow before I invest in more Legos.
Is that good news or bad news? I don't know. I know SWMBO believes that it's bad. But hey, she knew it when she married me.
I also figured out why I'm starting to sound like a demented old man around home - with two small children, I can rarely express a complete thought without being interrupted. So quite often I've got three or four conversations going on at once in various stages, and I've got to be able to ping-pong back and forth between them. My wife, from a gregarious Irish family, does this as a second nature. Coming from a taciturn German household, I really have to work at it. My kids have it second nature. Oy vey.
I'm getting really close to the concept of Referential Integrity. Let's start like this.
You've got a basic database. Your tables are People, Companies, and Job Titles. Your database is set up so that the Company is the primary key. In other words, you have to create the company first. Any people you create must be connected to a company. People don't have to have job titles.
What Referential Integrity, or RI, does, is it makes sure when you send down a person, that the company they're assigned to exists already. It will allow any job, since the job category allows nulls, or isn't required.
What we're experiencing at work is called a "Foreign Key Conflict" - that's what happens when the people come down before the company does - or in other words, the "child" record comes down without a parent there waiting. We're experiencing a REALLY weird situation where, sometimes, the child record is bounced from the client, and it also gets deleted from the server because there's some sort of "echo" sent back to delete the record.
You know, there are times when I think too much knowledge is dangerous - I'm especially frustrated in this because I just CANNOT trust Microsoft on this one. They swear by all that's holy that replication is done with a process that looks for the key table and sends that down. Then it looks for the one with the one link to the parent table, and multiple children, and sends that.
Theoretically, the whole process is done by evaluating the tables and sending down tables one by one until all the information's down there, and in the right order. Somehow, whenever I hear "automatic evaluation" from Microsoft, the little hairs go up on my neck and I say "oh, yeah, sez who?" I do wish I could trust them, but I just can't.
The good news is that, based on Bob Thompson's recommendation on the Hardware Guys Message Board, I picked up a Storcase D100 single drive kit - the D100 is basically a connector and set of rails that's mounted in a standard hard-drive slot - there's also a carrier that holds a standard hard drive - once mounted in there, the drive is removable (not hot-swappable, but what do you want for $150?).
Our plan is to have three drives - one with Windows NT and SQL Server 7.0. One with Windows 2000 and SQL 7.0. Then, on the last drive, Windows 2000, SQL 2000. That way we can use one computer to do the work of three. We don't need all three all the time, so we went with the StorCase solution.
I will tell you, though, never to order from CDW. We were looking for a large vendor to use, and I'd remembered CDW fighting tooth and nail for my business when I was at Great Clips (I relied at the time on a combination of Microwarehouse and a local vendor - the Microwarehouse folks had just about everything I needed, sent me e-mail confirmations of what I'd ordered and what the status was) and what they didn't have in the way of odd or unusual, I'd get from my local guy). But CDW's web site told me (and I verified with a phone call) that the parts I needed were in stock and would be delivered the next day. I'd even upgraded hard drives from a 15 gig to a 20 gig model (Quantum Fireballs) because the 15 gig was on a 3-5 day delivery.
So what happens? The drives show up the next day. I call on the rest of the order, and David from CDW calls back - wants to know if he can substitute - Hell, no, I want what I ordered, that was quoted as in-stock. He calls back and tells me that the Storcase parts (Carrier and rails, and two extra carriers) would arrive at CDW some time on Thursday or Friday, and I'd get a free upgrade to next-day air because of their screwup. Ok, fine.
So this morning the carrier and mounting rails arrive. No second or third carrier. Call the fellow back. "Oh, yeah - I called the vendor (I'd left a long and specific message with my customer number, order number, missing part number, and my phone number. And then, for good measure, I repeated all of them again, s-l-o-w-l-y, so as to make sure he'd heard it right), and I'm sorry about the other two parts. We're getting them in hopefully yet today, and you should have them tomorrow morning by 10:30 am." "Gee, OK, thanks." And you won't be getting the next order from me, folks. No chance.
The good news was that two of the drives booted and worked right off. No problems. The bad news is that one failed, and I also had a CD-ROM drive die as well. Weird. And I've got a Win2K problem that's driving me nuts - the drive boots into Win2K, I get the CTRL-ALT-DEL to log on, I do that, and then I get "loading personal settings", a message flashes, and I'm back to the Ctrl-Alt-Del window.
Of course, it may be insoluble. One of the other fellows at work said "I think it might have something to do with installing on one drive under one letter, ghosting the info off, then restoring it onto another drive under another letter." Yeah, that might be it. Sort of like having a lobotomy makes you eligible to coach the Minnesota Vikings.
(Nice segue, eh? Didn't see it coming, didja?)
The painful thing is that, after yesterday's Vikes game, I was so disgusted I just wanted to hide. I did hear a couple of good ones - One of the local sports fellows said "Yesterday's Vikings' performance was of the type typically reserved by the team for Superbowl appearances." The headline on this morning's StarTribune said it all. "Oh No. Not Again."
Just in case my feelings weren't clear on this matter -
I guess if you're from San Antonio, this has to be good news. Poor team performance up here will eventually lead to people not paying through the nose to watch this team. Once that happens, McCombs can move the team there and most likely get a new stadium in the bargain.
The best one I've heard so far today? "Why are the Vikings looking for a new stadium? They Suck." (you have to understand the current "dome" is a large concrete bowl with a fabric top. Higher internal air pressure holds the roof up. I think it's a miracle that the roof's stayed up this long).
I guess I'm a little surprised that other people are surprised that I could call that game. We've got plenty of jokes about it here in Minnesota. The saddest part is that the Minnesota Twins, a team that is doing it's level best to give the Chicago Cubs a run for their money when it comes to laughingstocks, has won exactly two World Championships (1987 and 1991) in their history. For most of the rest of it, having a .500 season was only a faint dream. But the Minnesota Twins still draw players, and Tom Kelly, the Twins manager, now holds the record among all professional sports teams in all leagues for the longest tenure. Why? Because he won - the Twins in 1986 were THE WORST TEAM IN BASEBALL. Bar None. Hell, they could have challenged any local sandlot team to a pickup game and still lost 8-2.
But for two years, two glorious seasons, those guys played their hearts out, played hurt, and fought like mad, and won. And we love them for it.
But the Vikes? Come on. I've lived here all my life. I was born the year after the Twins inaugural season (I think if I remember right). The Vikes came a few years later. And I know those Vikings. No matter the owner, the coach, the players, or the designs on the helmet or jersey, they have a difficult time playing and winning the big games. As it's been pointed out since their first Superbowl loss (#4, to Kansas City Chiefs, you're welcome), it's very difficult to play football when you've got both of your hands on your own throat. Or your head up your ass. Take your pick.
The Vikings have been a "good" team for most of the time that the Twins have really sucked. The reason I'm so fed up with it is that the Vikes have obviously had such great talent and such wonderful opportunities. And they've blown them every time. The Twins? They had two wonderful shots. And they got it done.
If you're a Vikings fan, you're used to pain. I'm nearly certain that should the Vikes ever win a Superbowl, you'll find a sudden up-tick in heart attacks, a significant portion of the state's population wearing purple will spend several days in the hospital recovering from various shocks to the system. Even the most hard-bitten of us, the ones who look like their face has been chiseled out of a log, will likely shed a tear when it finally does happen. But don't bet your house on it, and certainly don't expect to see it soon. We don't.
Tuesday, January 16, 2001
Moderator/Demoderator
(Tonight we have a special feature. One half of John's brain, the part we think of as "sane", will be talking to the other half of John's brain, the part we think of as... well... there. I guess that works)
Moderator: Hey, what's the matter with you?
Demoderator : Bad day.
M : How so?
D : Long story.
M : Try me.
D : Okay. Got up a half-hour early this morning.
M : That's good, right?
D : No, not really. Went to bed almost two hours late.
M : Oh, that's bad, then.
D : No, not really. I set the alarm.
M : Oh, well then, that's good.
D : Yeah. Got showered before I got the kids up.
M : That's good
D : Yeah, but Jack was feeling pretty bad last night. Fever and all.
M : That's bad.
D : Yeah, but he was OK this morning.
M : Oh, that's good.
D : Yeah, but he was tired and whiney.
M : Oh, no fun at all. That's bad.
D : Yeah, but they were moving pretty good this morning.
M : Well, that's good.
D : Sort of. But I found a small problem.
M : Small?
D : Well, sort of.
M : Which was?
D : You remember last year when the sink was leaking?
M : Yes.
D : Found it doing the same thing this morning.
M : Oh, man. That stinks.
D : Yes, it does.
M : Good thing you caught it.
D : Yeah, but a lousy way to start the day.
M : Oh well. At least the kids were moving.
D : Yes, but I forgot to tell them I love them when I left.
M : Oh, very bad.
D : Yup. But traffic was light
M : Oh, that's good.
D : Yeah, and I got to work almost when I wanted to.
M : Well, see things are looking up.
D : Not really. When I got there my boss was already there.
M : So?
D : He was looking for some things that weren't due until 9 am.
M : Oh, that's not so good.
D : Well, I got most of them started.
M : Started?
D : Well, I mis-read some confusing instructions. Installed the wrong OS.
M : Oh, no. A real Homer moment. Doh!
D : Ha ha. Very Funny.
M : Sorry. Continue.
D : I had to replace a busted CD-ROM with another one - went from 40X to 4X.
M : Oh, man. Pain.
D : Yeah, when you've got to install CD after CD.
M : I can imagine.
D : I doubt it. Every file copy window was reporting half the time, at best.
M : That sucks.
D : You don't know the half of it.
M : Really? Tell me more.
D : Well, I started on my daily tour while I was waiting for a server to reboot.
M : That sounds good.
D : Hardly. Tom Syroid's son Landon
broke his
leg.
M : Oh. That's like worse than bad, isn't it?
D : I think so. Tom feels guilty.
M : Wouldn't you?
D : Yeah, I guess so.
M : Was it Tom's fault?
D : Not unless you're blaming him for pooping in Landon's pants, too.
M : Good point.
D : So that wasn't a good start.
M : At least you remembered your lunch.
D : Whoop-dee-doo. Forgot to take bread out last night. Two heels and a couple dried out slices after breakfast was done.
M : You snooze you loose.
D : Good point.
M : So anyway...
D : Yes?
M : I suppose you could finish up by telling us why you were four hours late getting home from work.
D : Well, I wish I could tell you why.
M : Security concerns?
D : No. Clueless.
M : Huh?
D : Well, we were getting ready to do an application stress test -
M : Stress test?
D : Yeah. Five computers hitting a server at once.
M : Hitting the server?
D : Replication testing. Start with five, see if we need to add more.
M : OK. Go On.
D : Our network is pretty, well, hosed.
M : How so?
D : We've got two Linksys 16-port 10/100 Autosensing Workgroup Hubs.
M : 32 network ports, 10/100, go on.
D : Well, of the 32, 2 were uplinks.
M : That leaves 30.
D : Not really. Seven ports on the one unit had the 100 lights lit.
M : So?
D : There were no cables in the corresponding ports.
M : So you're down to 23 ports.
D : Not really. There were about four more bad ports scattered around.
M : Ouch. Down to 19.
D : Yeah.
M : And how many computers did you have in your office?
D : Well, we've got 28.
M : That's 10 ports short!
D : No, we also have a 24-port HP Switch.
M : Oh, that's good.
D : Not really. We've got no idea what some of that crap plugged in there does.
M : Ouch.
D : We've also got two five-port 10 megabit hubs. And one 24-port 10 Megabit hub.
M : So you're OK for ports?
D : Barely.
M : So, anyway.
D : Yeah. I was trying to hook up the test machines to the fast network.
M : Seems logical.
D : It seemed that way.
M : But...
D : Yeah. The network flaked out.
M : Flaked out?
D : Well, some of the servers on the backbone apparently disappeared.
M : Disappeared?
D : We couldn't see the PDC, DHCP Server, or some of the other servers on our network.
M : Really?
D : Yes, really. The stupid thing was -
M : Yes?
D : You keep interrupting.
M : Sorry.
D : 'Sokay. Stupid thing was that I could go in the computer room, to a hub port, and I'd see a server.
M : Okay.
D : But if I took the same laptop out of the computer room and plugged into the same port via the room's network, no joy.
M : Sounds like an office network issue.
D : You mean the wires in the walls? Yup. Except -
M : Uh oh.
D : Yeah. One person would be able to, the person next to them can't.
M : Still sounds like the wires in the walls.
D : Except that I could get it working at 10 megabit.
M : Intermittent problems?
D : Could have been.
M : Well, then.
D : Except.
M : Here we go again...
D : Yeah. I called the help desk. They were having problems too.
M : Really? Problems on their end?
D : Pretty much.
M : So why so glum?
D : They closed up shop at 5 pm our time.
M : So what were you doing for three hours?
D : Putting together some tests.
M : What kind of tests?
D : Ran some cables from working ports to non-working ports.
M : And?
D : Yeah, it seemed the connectivity was in the cables, not in the ports.
M : How so?
D : I tried dragging cables all over the office. I could use different ports, and they'd work.
M : Makes no sense.
D : To me either.
M : And...
D : Yeah, there's more.
M : More?
D : Yeah. Missed my daughter's swimming lessons.
M : Oh, no.
D : Sokay. Mom took her.
M : Well, that's a pretty poor excuse.
D : Right. And...
M : I can't take much more of this.
D : Me either. I missed my workout appointment.
M : Workout appointment?
D : Yeah, the folks at the "Y" would be training me on the equipment.
M : Oh, no.
D : Good news is that Ann had an appointment tomorrow I can take instead.
M : What about her?
D : She's already working out.
M : Uh oh. Better catch up.
D : Damned straight.
M : But you're still here.
D : Yeah...
M : One more thing?
D : Yeah.
M : And it's...
D : The sink drain.
M : Oh no.
D : Yup. Got home, after 8 pm, drain was still leaking.
M : So what did you do?
D : Called the office.
M : And blew your stack?
D : No. Calmly told them it was an after-hours emergency.
M : And?
D : Got someone out here.
M : Really? Good.
D : Not really. He didn't show up until 10 pm.
M : Ugh.
D : Yeah. So here's hoping he gets the job done quickly.
M : We can hope.
D : Don't hold your breath.
And with that, they wandered off into the sunset. Or at least wandered. If you see a couple of lumps of gray matter, give me a call, please? My mind's too small to be out wandering by itself. Really and truly.
Not much to add to that. If you're the praying type, say a few prayers for the Syroids - they're in need of them. If you've got any ideas for things that little Landon can do for the next couple of months while he's recuperating, check Tom's site or Brian Bilbrey's for directions. However, DO NOT just go off and order something for delivery. Between the various fees for going across the borders and such (seems that Canada isn't part of the United States, as some people would think - then again, most of them never cracked open a National Geographic, either), things could get ugly.
There's quite a few people who claim that the internet depersonalizes everything. I think they've missed the boat a wee bit. Here I am, very concerned and worried about a family of folk I've never met face-to-face, only e-mailed, and yet this breaks my heart. Not only for little Landon, but for Tom as well. He's going to be feeling guilty about this for a long time. And he doesn't need that.
Oh well. At least Kirby and Dave Winfield are going to be in the Hall of Fame. There's some justice in that.
Good night, and HEY, let's be careful out there, eh?
Wednesday, January 17, 2001
YMCA=Torture?
Oh, man. That was just plain stupid. Stoopid. Brainless.
After thirty-odd (and believe you me, odd is quite appropriate) years of abusing my body, I decided that I should learn what I need to do. So we made appointments, and I went to work out tonight.
A very nice young gentleman said "let's put you on four pieces of equipment, ten minutes each." OK, I thought. "First, warm up." Easy enough. The track around the upstairs of the Y is nine laps to a mile, so I did three laps in five minutes. Probably not a good idea for a "warm up"...
So then he puts me on this machine called a "Cross-Trainer". Whoever invented this particular piece of equipment is a holdover from the Marquis De Sade, I'm telling you. Arms and legs moving, theoretically in sync. Obviously I'm out of sync. Ten minutes of that and I'd amazingly covered about a mile. I think the two ladies joking and laughing behind me really enjoyed my drunken sailor impression.
Then, I moved to a StarTrak. This particular machine has probably made millions for it's inventor. With luck, he's bought a house deep underground somewhere and is safe from those shuffling hordes coming to kill him.
I was nearly done-in by that one, but moved anyway on to the treatmill. Ten minutes there, and then I moved onto the last machine - a bike. Managed three and a half miles there.
Then the fellow tells me to cool down. Five minutes more on the track. Are you in trouble when the little old lady with the walker laps you? How about twice?
Today is one of those
days that I'd rather forget about. I really REALLY hate computers right
now. Before we go into that, you'll find my entrant for the
most boring photo on the internet to the left here. What's in the
glass, you ask? Well, aside from being out of focus, it's water. Or
so I'm told. We called the apartment office - "Oh, that's just
rust. We had the water off for a while today." Yeah, I guess I
won't be drinking water that looks like they've dissolved shit in it. I
ran the water for 20 minutes, and it still looked like that. That
particular glass was after five minutes. Prior to that I didn't want to
dirty our glassware with the scum. Drink it? Yeah, right. I
already have enough problems getting through airport metal detectors.
Did I mention that I hate computers today?
Oh, fine. Since you asked...
Our network issues of yesterday weren't entirely resolved this morning. I got in the office and started testing things. Finally, the fine folks from our home office rebooted our server that has our local copy of exchange, the DHCP server, and all the rest of the important stuff.
That cleared up about half the problems. Then I sat down and worked on the hubs. We've got two Linksys (hock-spit) hubs, one NetWorth (hock-spit) hub, and one HP (snif) Switch. Along with various other gadgets and ding-dongs hanging off the rack. Couple of Cisco things, a few other gadgets for the T1s and DSL lines going in and out, and so forth.
I did some checking. Of our two sixteen port Linksys devices, two ports are uplink. That's thirty. From that thirty, one hub is literally half-dead - one whole row of ports, 8 of them, with the 100 Megabit light on, and no traffic or cables in the corresponding ports. Then of the rest, I've got about four ports that are just totally non-functional. That's twelve of thirty useless. There's also three ports which work at ten but refuse one hundred, no matter which trick I try (rebooting the hub, reseating the cables, using GOOD cables, all the rest).
And then, that NetWorth (Hock-spit) hub just flat died. No huge loss, as it's a 24-port tenner. But it was annoying.
And then I got into a short but pointless discussion with a fellow from the home office. "Well, we haven't got anyone technical at the remote offices, so I just want to replace all of the crap out there with some Cisco Managed Hub gadgets." He hates HP. While I have no love for the company on a personal level, I do have to admit that their hubs are stable as rocks. At the previous employer, I had almost 200 HP ports scattered through a couple of pieces of equipment. One was a 48-port tenner, and the rest were split between ten and hundred megabit ports - plus an HP 2424 switch. Not a single dead port in that stack, and some of that equipment was eight years old when I left.
These Linksys Hubs are just about to go into the trash, too. I've talked to the boss, and it looks like I can pick up a couple of HP ten/one hundred hubs for about $410 a pop - and they're 24 ports each.
That would help greatly.
The other thing that will help is tomorrow morning when I go in and pull the plug on about a dozen cubes that are empty but wired. No point in having an empty cube wired right into the switch.
And, I suppose I should confess - I was on Dr. Pournelle's site this morning and saw mention of Dia - a drawing program that was "Visio-Like" for Linux - but it's also got a Windows version.
I'll be blunt - I had very low hopes for this thing - I downloaded it, and frankly, when the largest file was about 800 K (I had to download a couple of other libraries), I was figuring I wouldn't really have a whole lot of capability there.
Downloaded, followed some of the instructions, and installed it on NT - I found that I got a couple of errors right off on startup - one complaining about a missing MS-something or other.DLL file, and another saying it couldn't find the labels.dll file no matter if it was in the right folder (the one it installed into), the current folder, or on the path folder. I also noticed that the File menu contained no option for saving the files I created. Nor for printing them.
I didn't put a whole lot of time into it, but I'll be honest - Wow is way too weak. I was stunned. A download of less than two meg, and I had a nearly-complete replacement for Visio... Slick, neat interface, plenty of images to drop in, and the ability to load XML images into new templates for those who find the included bits not enough. Now THAT'S impressive.
Now, off with me to stretch, and thence to bed. After I check up on the rest of the gang...
That reminds me. Bob Walder took Benson walking the other day. Now, anyone who is described as a "brain dead intestinal tract on legs" has my full attention. Mainly since that was my nickname for much of college. Actually, it was "Stupid Fart-Boy," but that's pretty close.
But Bob took Benson out this last weekend for a walk, and Benson apparently had a tough go of it. The poor fellow can apparently tell that there's a female of the species somewhere in town who is, shall we say, hot to trot. And so he's checking out all the young ladies of the neighborhood.
For some reason, reading Bob's description of Benson's activities reminded me of a Friday night in college, back at the bars, looking for... Well, female companionship, I guess. In many ways, most males of any species can identify with Benson's predicament. "I just know that SOMEWHERE ... Somehow... I'll find it..." MDASWWGE, indeed.
I guess the whole thing wouldn't have been quite so funny if we hadn't had a dog visiting the office Monday afternoon, just after I'd read of Benson's misadventures. Now this young fellow, who's name was, I believe, Bailey, was a yellow Lab. Both his mother and father were Chocolate, but this fellow was yellow. Though why they don't throw the poor fellow a bone and call it "butterscotch" or something, I dunno. He'd spent the weekend in a kennel while his family was out of town, and upon return, didn't want to be left home alone. So he got to spend the afternoon hanging out in our office. Very nice dog.
But there was a moment, while I was crawling on the floor looking for some parts that fell down, and I felt some snuffling around my posterior region. Like a fool, I attempted to stand up. I say 'like a fool' because I was under the desk at the time. And, since I'm in excess of twenty-eight inches tall, the dog got a little scared of me. Might have had something to do with the loud bang and me holding my head. Perhaps I over-reacted. But I'm blaming Bob. If he had bothered to note that Benson's smart enough to tell a person from female companions of similar species, I might not have been so skittish. I'd sue the man, but I have a hunch he'd squirt me with some fiendish concoction, and I'd end up attracting every Bull Mastiff in the Seven County Metro Area. And while romance is well and good, being romanced by a dog, be it by shin or other form, just isn't my cup of tea.
Thursday, January 18, 2001
That's a Mistake...
Back about ten years ago, my wife and I were newly married, and there was this strange little man trying to talk to Rudy Bostich, the then-current Junior Senator from the State of Minnesota. He was quite a riot on the commercials he'd shot, and he rode around on this converted school bus painted green and white.
After we got around to voting him into Congress, we realized that he was a fairly smart, principled, and decent man. Though his politics were occasionally just a little left of ... well, you come up with your own cliche here. He certainly seemed like a decent fellow. I liked him, despite my Republican upbringing.
When the fellow ran for Senate for his second term, he reminded us he was planning on serving only two terms. I remember meeting him at the State Fair two years ago and shaking his hand. I also remember he was a good four inches shorter than I am, and I'm not that tall.
I think he's primarily an honorable man, but he's made a mistake. I remember reading from somewhere (I think it was in James Michner's "Space") that people who get involved in Washington politics can't ever really let go. If they get voted out of office, they just find another job inside the beltway and keep watching, trying to nudge the wheels as they go around.
Paul Wellstone should have stuck to his word, and gotten out after two terms. He had my vote once, but no longer. Sorry, Paul.
Well, that was another day in my life I can't get back. Got in this morning, and within an hour, my main computer became part of a replication stress test. So that would be me, stressing, and the laptop, testing. Yup, I get it. So I spent the rest of the day copying eleven gigs of data off a drive onto another drive, then putting the first drive into another case, building yet another "server" (my second since I got there), and trying to get that going.
Actually things were going very well until the end of the day, and I think I just figured it out - I was working with a Dell box that went out of warranty back in 1999, and I was having problems getting it to recognize the two 30 Gig IDE drives in it. One came up fine, but the other was only 6 gig. Well, duh. I'm betting the BIOS limited the total drive space to forty gigs. Considering that the machine was probably built in 1995-1996, I'm betting that would be the problem.
And today I once again achieved that rarest of honors, professional certification at idiot camp again. You see, when I left the previous employer, I also left one of my favorite tools, Visio 2000. When joining my new company, one of the tools I really wanted, but didn't have, was Visio 2000. I looked around for a substitute, and found Dia - which I'm still going to work with.
But today, I was copying data from one server to another. Funny thing about being a member of the Microsoft Solutions Developer Network - Or whatever MSDN stands for - you have a subscription where you can download a wide range of Microsoft products. In fact, any Microsoft product, apparently, that's in the catalog. Well, Duh. Slap my face and call me stupid.
Or not.
I'm aiming to get a few chores done around here and then head to bed. Early, I hope, but we'll just have to see.
And I see Dr. Pournelle has a new page. The Hall of Shame. Good for him.
On the one hand, I do desperately wish there was something that could be done about spammers. Killing's too good for them. Way too good. I think the old barnyard rapist trick would do wonders - strip the fellow (assuming the idiot's male) naked, tie him to a post at his back, and then let a hungry young calf into the pen. Odds are very likely that the hungry young calf will eventually find something that reminds it of it's mother's milk-delivery system, and latch on.
If you've ever seen a cow's tooth, or watched a calf nudge it's mother for more milk, you'll get the general idea. If you haven't, well, just imagine something with about twice the muscles of the average thigh, holding a thirty or forty pound head up. Then imagine it kicking you. Somewhere. Anywhere.
The fools would be dead before lunchtime, if staked out at quarter to.
I've got my own bastardized solution. First, I've got about five e-mail addresses (and I don't even have my own domain yet). Some are freebies, and some I actually pay for. I use one of the freebies for feedback for this site, not so much as to keep mail out of my regular address, but because I can get to it anywhere, and that way I also know where it comes from. That was one layer of defense.
The second layer, I moved from Outlook Distress to Outlook 2K partially after the folks at Eudora went commercial (and the client got less and less stable for me), and partially because I've got more confidence in my ability to set up Outlook 2K rules.
With O2K, I've got a couple of folders. One's labeled "In-Box" and another's "Real In-Box" - I filter the crap out of the in-box, and anything that looks like crap (anything, for example, from the ghanamail.com address, or containing certain key words/phrases) gets moved directly to the deleted items folder. Other things with other key phrases go directly to a file I call "Temp Trash" - occasionally I pick through that and toss most of it into the deleted items folder.
I also have one rule which copies every single in-bound message to another folder. I go through that every couple of months and toss it all away. Just in case.
90% of the spam that comes in on my main address is used as templates for new filters. That way it thins things out even more.
But it's getting harder all the time to filter the crap. Even Jesse Berst, whom I used to read on occasion, has gone to the dark side. Even when I was unemployed last fall, I took a look at two places that were looking for sysadmins - they used "direct e-mail campaigns" and I said 'much as I like eating and living indoors, I can't do that'. There are times to do whatever it takes to make money, and frankly, I was ready to work fast food before I'd work for a company like that.
Mind you, if that's your choice in life, that's fine. Just don't bother spamming me. I'll get you.
Heck, way back in the dark mists of about six years ago, I wrote a script to spawn 254 ping processes, pinging some spammer who had drawn my ire. Immature, certainly, but that's what they get. Funny thing - after a weekend of that I couldn't find their web site. Wonder why that happened. Oh well. It's amazing how quickly and well one can learn certain computer tools (like shell scripting) and operating systems (like UNIX) when one wants revenge...
You've been warned. And speaking of warnings, should you be near Bob Walder when he's walking that dog of his, be very careful. Aside from the fact that Benson may well attempt to romance various parts of you, it will most definitely give you nightmares. Though I could have sworn that Golden Retrievers were a completely different breed. Then again, what can you expect from a man who doesn't like KFC... Of course, he may not know what that middle "F" stands for. I've long believed that it stands for "Fried" - but then again, YMMV. After all, you know what the K stands for. ;-)
And yes, I've diddled with CSS again. Hover over a link or two, and you might find what I've done... ;-)
AND BEFORE I GO - This, from Bob Thompson (thank you Sir) -
Symantec just sent me an alert that a new variant of the Melissa virus is making the rounds. For more information, see http://service1.symantec.com/sarc/sarc.nsf/html/W97M.Melissa.W.html or any of the other anti-virus software vendor's web sites.
Friday, January 19, 2001
The 43rd President of the United States Of America...
Isn't
he a handsome bugger?
Oh, hush you. I gave the previous occupant the same hard time when he was elected. Actually, his Vice President was a bigger target.
And while I did not vote for him (heck, most of us didn't), he is The President. While I may not like the man, I do respect the office. He's the President, and he deserves a chance.
I can hope that he will listen to the people he's selected. I can hope that he will realize that his election was just about as close as you can get. I can also hope that he will work to bring people together. I can hope that he'll learn from his mistakes. I can hope that he'll be a good leader, build consensus, and not make the mistakes that previous leaders have.
I fear that he'll help our economy into the tank. I fear he'll lack the leadership skills to bring people together over various issues, like in the Middle East, or in California, or whatever we're going to face in the next four years.
I don't have high hope for this President. I'm not at all impressed by the people he's selected. I'm not impressed by what he's done, what he's said, or whom he's worked with.
But that's my privelege as an American. While there's plenty of trouble to go around, we can hope that, at least for a few days, he'll be able to take our minds off the worries of the future.
The good news, if you want to call it that, is that we only go through this every four years or so. But you knew that.
First, two serious notes - I'm hoping Tom's son Landon is doing better, and it sounds like the Syroids are going to be gradually piecing their lives back together over the coming weeks. They're in our prayers. I know what Tom's going through - my son was much smaller, and had respiratory problems when he was first born. (and before you gripe about the page layout, etc., I'd like to point out that the page was done using notepad, and while I was learning HTML).
Second, if you pray, or are the kind of individual who thinks good thoughts of, and for, people, say a prayer or think a good thought for Kaycee. This young lady is tougher than most Marines I know, and yet she's still got a sunny disposition and is very inspiring. Whenever I click on the link from my portal to her page, I do so in a bit of excitement, and a bit of fear. I'm never sure what I'll find. After a few weeks of yo-yoing, today started good with a pretty positive post from her (after yesterday's epitath post I was a bit concerned), and then went rapidly into the tank. Please, think kind thoughts for this young lady - she writes a much better game than I could ever hope to. I think it's the passion of youth, versus the burn-out of approaching middle age, but she's one tough, and beautiful, young lady.
It's been a tough week. Lots of events that have many of us bouncing from wall to wall, ceiling to floor, and basement to rooftop, literally and emotionally. So I say "screw it" I'm going to have a little fun. I started my day with my Dilberito (BBQ, what else? I tried the Indian one, and I tell you, I was burping flames after two bites. Time to back off on the spices a bit there), and there went the live frog down the gullet.
All right, folks, seat belts fastened and tray tables in their upright positions - we're going to get wild and crazy through here for a bit and go veering like I usually do. Ready, set, yawn...
First off, a couple of photos of my computer room.
I inherited this mess, mind you. I haven't yet figured out what exactly to do with it. I'm thinking blow it up and start over. The shot on the left there is carefully cropped so you don't see the server under the desk there, and you can't see the beautiful black Dell Rolling Rack we've got just to the right there. I'd have done a "Thompson Turn-around" shot, but there's nothing but blank wall in that corner (go figure). The shot on the right is of my two main workhorse hubs - the Linksys (hock-spit) 16-port Workgroup Hubs, they're called, I believe. Regrettably misnamed, they should have been called, well, "Shit."
That should keep Mr. Kershner from feeling too terribly bad about his "mess".
And just for fun, a view out the window of my old office from my new office a little after 6:45 am. Yeah, I know. Get a life, eh? It was the best I could do with the angle and the sunrise and the twelve-inch wide windows. What's that? No, I don't think there are bars on the windows, why do you ask? ;-)
Next, a couple of neat little whines at the Vikes.
The Minnesota Vikings 2001 schedule and changes:
September 15 ---- Courage Center Junior Varsity
September 22 ---- Cub Scout Troop #101
September 29 ---- St Paul Blind Academy
October 6 ---- Spanish American War Vets (no subs)
October 13 ---- Crippled Children's Home
October 20 ---- Elgin Mental Hospital
October 27 ---- Girl Scout Troop #353
November 3 ---- OH Venereal Disease Clinic
November 10 ---- Lakewood Boys Choir
November 17 ---- Korean War Amputees
November 24 ---- Bye Week
December 1 ---- Happy Tots Daycare, St. Paul branch
December 9 ---- Brecksville Girls Club
December 16 ---- Shiloh Junior High School
(Special Pantywaist night)
December 24 ---- Hazelden Detox Narcotic Patients
December 30 ---- Hennepin County Detox detainees
**Rule Changes From Last Year**
There. Got that out of my system. Oh, well, since you've asked...
I was thinking this morning of my favorite T-Shirts. I used to collect the things, and there are now a couple I need to make and/or get. One of my personal long-term favorites (I still have it) is a smiley face tee shirt. The smiley face? Bullet hole right between the eyes, with blood running right down the face. I'm so cruel.
But there are a couple new ones I need. First, there's one I saw a long time ago...
|
BOMB |
And my newest idea, which is likely to be a violation of copyrights all over the place...
|
Body By |
|
HERSHEY |
Now, on a serious note, I realize that occasionally that world-famous ill person, Mr. Bob Walder, comes by this way to check out and see if I'm slandering him, his, or his activities.
Apparently yesterday, he and I got crosswise regarding a couple of comments I made about his best friend, Benson. Now, as noted previously, I must admit that I have a certain affinity for many of God's creatures (or whomever, but give me a bit of poetic license, OK?). But I hold a special place in my heart for any creature that goes by the nickname "brain dead intestinal tract", which Bob has himself applied to Benson.
But it seems that Bob thinks I'm demeaning Benson's activity around the female of the species. Far from it. Benson's activities around the fairer sex reminds me most poignantly of those wonderful days back in college, when many of us males (or "blokes" as they say over there) would do just about exactly the same thing. The only difference is that we (the humans) are usually hauled off to a locked cell somewhere to wait out the passage of time... Come to think of it, sometimes that happens with dogs, as well.
Now I see that Benson has a long-standing hatred for golden retrievers. Well, we match yet again. After near-legendary difficulties with women (whom, I have come to realize, were mostly blonde) in my early years, I ended up marrying a fiery red-head. Thus insuring that I would forever more be the one to walk about the house with tail between my legs. Hey, before you jump on me for it, let me point out that this woman looked at me darkly over the cat, while at the vet, and noted in a menacing voice "just remember, for $85 she'll take your fingernails as well..." And that's how my two boy cats became "it" cats, and I learned that should I ever choose to have a vasectomy, THAT TOO will come on a budget. Ouch. At least I still have the tail...
But I digress (but you knew that). As I told Bob earlier today, I can well understand Benson's dislike of the blondes of the species, though I think his fuss with "Fergus" and "Rupert" probably came more than anything from the name. Now Benson's current friend, "Angus" sounds like a fellow most of us would like to party with. Doesn't he, though? But "Rupert"? I should think the dog would pick a fight with you for soiling his spats or something, with a name like Rupert. My theory is that Rupert probably has to be more vicious than the other dogs just to be taken seriously. "Rupert" indeed. And "Fergus"? If he hangs around with Rupert, he'll likely get what he deserves as well.
But then, Mr. Walder makes the fatal mistake... He mentions "Sally the Border Collie (a treacherous breed) from next door:"
Oh, no. Say it ain't so, Bob. Mr. Thompson is still irritated at missing his shots at Santa last year, and he's still got the weaponry and ordinance. Knowing the persistence and ingenuity of the Scots, you, Mr. Walder, had best prepare, now, for a life on the lam. Once Thompson hears you maligning Border Collies, you're done for. Just run now.
But before you go, pass this one on to Winky...
There. One grenade lobbed.
Now, I've been reading Dan Bowman religiously, and his wife regularly, but I'm still confused. Shelley hadn't seen "It's a Wonderful Life," never had a full Turkey blow up in her kitchen (well, how would you describe how the kitchen looks after one of those beasts comes out? I'm the one who gets the dishes, and not even FEMA wanted to touch this thing when SWMBO has completed whatever's involved - personally, I'm thinking there's something that involves two falls out of three. Fortunately, the dead turkey doesn't fight too hard), and never saw milk in a bottle? Dan, did you build her out of X10 modules? Or was she brainwashed? I was going to try it on my wife, but she just uttered those three little letters to strike fear in my heart (and other places)... V - E - T.
That's two...
And JHR's back! With a well-thought-out piece on the power problems in California. Good grief. What scares hell out of me is that we're flirting with deregulation here. Although at one point this morning I could have sworn I saw a headline on one of the news sites showing that some are blaming the whole California energy situation on computers.
Let's see. We make the power companies sell their generating capacity. We cap the amount of money that they can charge for the product they sell, but then we allow the people selling them the products (the raw materials, if you will) to jack the prices to whatever they want. Then we blame the computers that people use. Uh, how's that again? I guess I missed something there. Oh, yeah. Logic. I see. Yes, you're probably right. Better to apply childhood logic to this sort of situation rather than use adult problem-solving methods, no?
Oh, no. Speaking of "no" Hell week isn't quite over yet. Tonight was the only night this week we didn't have something to do; and tomorrow morning at 9 am, we have a dentist appointment with the kids. Well, THAT was some PPP on my part. And no, that's not "Point to Point Protocol" - as any decent project manager knows, that's "Piss Poor Planning." And I'm sure, somehow, it's my fault. Oh well.
I guess there's a logic to that, somewhere. Now, I'm going to go watch a Jo Dee Messina video, then go to bed. Hey, she's a red-head too... But don't tell my wife.
Saturday, January 20, 2001
Good morning. It's too early to be up, I think, for a Saturday, but it certainly wasn't my choice...
It's a HUGE day in the Dominik Household this morning. Officially, we have now begun the Girl Scout Cookie Season. Since the Girl Scouts prohibit setting up web sites to sell cookies, I want you to know that I am not (contact) setting up (contact me) a web site (contact me now) to sell (contact me now if you need cookies) cookies (contact me now if you're local, or we can make arrangements) on the (we'll consider shipping, even) internet. There. That should work.
The good news is that, with four phone calls, we hit one answering machine and a couple of good-sized orders. The kid needs to sell fifty boxes, so we're hoping to get that part nailed yet this weekend, and move on from there. Ah, Girl Scouts. Did I mention that SWMBO is still telling us all that she once sold Three Hundred boxes? I do hope that someday SWMBOIT (She Who Must Be Obeyed In Training, for those of you who visit only occasionally) will surpass that record...
Oh well.
First,
the weekly Buck Hill shot... though this portion might get the heave-ho if
we can complete negotiations with those that manage our apartment building soon
- though I hate even the thought of moving, going down the hall and down one
floor, even if it costs us a nice quiet view and balcony, is worth it for the
extra space.
Anyway...
I was trying to explain to someone the other day why the whole situation with Tom, Landon, and the Syroids affected me so much. And it finally occurred to me.
When I was younger, I would hang around with a group of friends. Now, in rural Minnesota, we can't really talk about us being a rural gang or anything, and aside from chipmunk hunting, we weren't even all that violent. Yes, eight or nine of us would band together - some of the older fellows with BB guns, and some of us younger fellows with monkey tools. Such as the horn off an old car we found out in the pasture, and use that for the "pulverizer".
When I got older, I moved into a different group that revolved around my school activities, and then around people with similar interests.
Gee, what does that sound like?
You see, most of my friendships came from shared experiences, long talks, and lots of time spent with the other people.
Here, on the internet, our conversations are slightly odder, because sometimes (as happened this week) I, for example, will remark on Bob Walder's experiences with Benson and a walk on a snowy day. We exchange remarks back and forth, and have a pretty good time.
There's absolutely nothing wrong with calling someone friend even though I doubt I could pick most of them out of a police lineup. Of course, I might get into trouble with the Daynote police for revealing this secret, but according to Part 187, subclause 3, paragraph 4, sentence 3, "Photo of Daynoter posted on site can either be a bad DMV photo or retouched so as to look nearly nothing like the individual in question." But that's beside the point.
We're friends. That's the easiest way to say it. I identify particularly closely with Tom. He and I both have daughters in first grade who are very social animals. We both have sons (though mine is now four). Mine has put me through hell from Birth through bouncing his face on the floor. I know what he's going through, and I know how painful it is to be sitting there next to a small child you can do nothing for but smile and say "it will be all right."
I can honestly say that the geographic distances do not play a fact in this at all. My friends are as far away as my keyboard.
Few of us would know the other's voice on the other end of the phone, but that's got nothing to do with friendship. We share concerns for one another, and we laugh, cry, and cringe. Especially when Benson goes sniffing up some ... well, never mind.
But that's about as well as I can explain it to my mother, who asked the question. My friends are as far away as my keyboard. Instead of writing letters or e-mailing one another, we're having a discussion where others are free to wander in and out of the room as they wish. Sometimes we do some "me-tooing" and sometimes we do some "up-yours-ing" - but it's all in good fun.
You could almost imagine we were the legendary Algonquin Roundtable, but that's been done to death.
Hmmm... Watching VH-1's one hundred best artists, and out of the corner of my ear I hear Alice Cooper saying "...I thought Saturday Night Fever was one of the best albums ever." Whoa. That's sort of like someone grabbing the entire universe, shaking it, and saying "snowglobe!" (shakes universe vigorously). That just kinda bites the head right off the rock and roll pigeon, there, doesn't it?
Let's see, a little culinary update - I experimented a bit with making "chimichangas" today for my lunch... A "chimi" in this neck of the woods is basically a tortilla wrapped around fillings, deep-fried, and then smothered in some sort of sauce, then served. I wanted the "chimi" taste and the like without the deep-frying. My experiment worked, sort of - I took some of the leftover Chicken Taco filling we had left from the other night, put a little shredded cheese in there, added some refried beans, put the "proto-chimis" in a pan with high sides, forgot to grease it (no huge loss as I'd put tinfoil in it to speed cleanup), and then rolled them up. I sprayed the surface with a little liquid "spray butter", and after SWMBO's suggestion, dribbled a little bit of olive oil on and around them as well. Aside from setting the smoke detectors off when I removed them from the oven (I let them brown a bit too long, but that's the nature of an experiment, and besides, these smoke detectors will occasionally go off from candlelight), they didn't turn out too bad.
However, tomorrow is the day I'm REALLY pulling for - SWMBO has discovered low-fat recipes for both "moo shue pork" (your guess is as good as mine - I think it's basically pork fajitas, if that works for you), and my personal all-time favorite, Kung Pao Chicken. I can feel the ragged edges of a cold coming towards me, and frankly, that's the only thing I've got left to fight it off with - that and good, strong chinese mustard. I know that stuff works.
Now, I think I'm going to go try and nap... But as usual, I'm going to take a quick pass around the web...
Omigawd - sure enough. I come up with "Body By Hershey" and then, via Al Hawkins, comes THIS... "floated in a chocolate bath"!?!?! Gee, if they filled the pools like that around here, I'd learn to swim so much faster. I'd never need a towel, and, come to think of it, would probably spend most of my time face-down in the pool... Of course, after a few days, I'd be the size of the pool, but I'd explode with a big grin on my face...
Though if you've got the opportunity to think kinds thoughts, think them for Kaycee - she's out of surgery and has to lay still and let healing occur. Lot of that going around. While I'm no medical professional, the update I saw on her site for today does give me no comfort at all. But then, it's not there to comfort, it's there to inform. We can seek comfort in family and friends, and my friends are as far away as my keyboard. There are times when I wonder why this sort of thing happens - why the ones who burn so brightly, brilliantly, and inspirationally are destined to suffer as they do. I can only hope and pray that she will survive this. And if she does not, it is not because her will was weak or her desire failed her. It's because she was needed elsewhere for more important things.
As I am now. I'm off, to do a little thinking and praying... Too late to nap; those chimpanzees we're trying to domesticate have again broken out of their cages and have begun rooting through the house, looking for food. Seems I'm going to have to lock them up again...
Later: Humph. Double humph. Triple-overtime humph. Grrrr...
As a small boy, my grandmother and mother would say "well, you know, bad things always happen in threes." As I got older, I grew to believe that old saw. One advantage of being Catholic - one can find just about any semi-logical reason to rationalize anything they so choose. You get good at it, after a time.
So, I was thinking about it. Landon's leg breaking, and now Kaycee's hopefully short dip in health. And then, my site host disappearing for the second time in two weeks when I'd run for almost three and a half months without a problem. So, with The Eldest aiming to make more cookie calls this evening, I had to leave my research project (another temporary site to host this page while I wait for the Syroid's to stabilize their lives and get back on an even keel before moving to Saskat.net), I got off the phone.
She made one call to an answering machine, and then the phone rang. As we expected a fairly direct call-back, we had Rhiannon pick it up. Wasn't the cookie victims - er, customers - it was my oldest friend. Details are sketchy, but his father-in-law was apparently helping out on some building project in San Antonio, fell off ten feet of scaffolding onto his head, which struck concrete, and was out cold. He regained consciousness after ten or fifteen minutes, but they are airlifting him to the hospital to make sure.
So I went outside, and sat on the balcony. Yes, mom, I put my coat on, as it's currently below zero here (no complaints, we're down to minus one or two - nothing compared to December), and I sat there looking at the stars, bright against the midnight blue of the sky. The gentleman who landed on the sidewalk (or whatever it was) is a friend of mine, as well. We haven't spoken in a couple of years, but he's still a friend. And it disturbs me that a family would lose a husband, father, and grandfather in such a fashion. On the one hand, he was most likely doing something good for
It's human nature, I guess, to ask why. Although I think that's developed more of late, as our abilities to control the world around us have grown. I can't imagine that a caveman would ask any different a question; the difference is that we've got a lot of long answers. Instead of "Og fall. Hit head." we have "he fell onto concrete, lost consciousness for a period, but was able to identify both who he was and the people with him when he came to. However, we're taking him to the hospital by the fastest method available just to make sure he's OK."
None of this has done anything to aid in those who are sitting on the sidelines. We're left to offer comfort, support, and prayers. And damned little else. Being a do-er rather than a watcher, I prefer to get in and do things. I think that's probably why, in the last few centuries, when women were having babies, men were told to boil water and bring clean towels. Boiling water gave them something to do, and clean towels? Ditto (plus to wipe up the mess they made boiling the water.
Ach, well, so it goes. I find there's nothing so frustrating as to have spaceports down AGAIN - second time in eight days. That's it, I've had it, I'm going to find another host. I'll see if my ISP can't host this conglomeration until I can get an account set up with Tom on Saskat... Let's see, and get a domain registered, and... uh-oh, we just passed out of pocket money and moved into the "are you serious" range for SWMBO. Wow.
And she has just informed me that, in preparation for tomorrow evening's Homemade Chinese Food Extravaganza, she has made an exciting discovery - rinse your rice, it fluff up better. Who knew? Not I, certainly. The only fluffing I do usually gets me in deep trouble.
ARGH!!! Muzzled again! Damned Spaceports. Off to find a new home. I've had it with this. Keep watching this space. I'll let you know when I know where I'll land. When Tom gets the ship of Syroid more stabilized and Saskat gets moving forward, I'm going to collect the fundage necessary and see what needs to be done up there. At this point, the fellow's got his hands more than full taking care of his family, which is priority one to all fathers. I'll wait...
Though at least I see Barbara Thompson rose to the defense of her dogs when Mr. Walder maligned them. I told you, Walder - mess with them at your peril.
Sunday, January 21, 2001
Well, let's see. First Sunday since late August that we haven't had to worry about a Vikings loss. I can't tell you what a relief that is.
Next off, I should have you bookmark this page (right click and select Add Bookmark) - it's the non-Spaceports redirector from my other home page to this. I e-mailed my local ISP last night, shortly after 8 pm. Now, their stated hours on Saturdays end at 5 pm, but I thought I'd put the request in early for Monday. I wanted a little more space, and to clear my bandwidth requirements with them.
I asked for their permission to get more space because I'm limited to 5 megs there, and to check to see if the rather minimal bandwidth this site uses would be a problem. As I average about 7 megs a day, I thought I'd check and see what was cool with them. At 10:44 pm last night, I got an e-mail back from them...
Temporary is no problem at all. In fact, if the pages are viewed by a
large local group (civic club, church, organizations, etc) whereas they might want services from GoldenGate, we could set something up on a more
permanent basis. The 10MB traffic a day is over where we want personal sites to be, but you have been with us forever and we have tons of
bandwidth with our recent DS3 upgrade, so we should be fine. I've made sure the space is available at users.goldengate.net/~jdominik and I've
added a note to your account that we've authorized this usage. If it is for a Twin Cities group, go ahead and link to this graphic if you want:
http://www.goldengate.net/images/gispower.jpg
______________________________________________________________
GoldenGate Support Staff (support@goldengate.net) For further assistance, please contact us by email or phone.
(763) 784-2800
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I've been with them since 1996, I think, and I've never had a technical problem with them. The times I've had difficulty logging in it's been the phone company's problem. They've got dual DS3s out to different providers, so if one goes down, they're covered. They're a very good bunch. If you're in the Twin Cities metro area and need a decent ISP, check out Goldengate. They're not the cheapest ISP around, but I'm not in this for cheap; I'm in it for reliable. And they most definitely are - Absolutely the best. And if you do sign up, tell them I sent you... I get a credit if you stick around for a couple months, and I guarantee you won't be disappointed. They're a good bunch.
I'm going to work out something to get this lot, filtered and such, into a format that will be uploadable. I'm thinking what I'll probably do is two batch files - one to copy the files, and the other to delete the unnecessary Frontpage stuff - Spaceports does support FTP through Frontpage, which is the only thing I use it for - to get the site uploaded to Goldengate, I use CuteFTP.
Well, that part's on the
way. One of my readers sent me the picture, in honor of our Chinese dinner
experiment this evening. I groaned, but found it funny. SWMBO's
response - "yeah so?"
Today's experiment in home-made Chinese was a qualified success. After SWMBO went to work on the whole process, and completed it after a massive amount of chopping, slicing, and dicing (I'm telling you the number of bowls and such and the logistics involved made my computer room look positively organized by comparison - how she kept it all straight is beyond me, but then again, she's the expert), dinner was... underwhelming. Oh, the fried rice was OK; The Eldest consumed every bit of egg, carrot, and shrimp found; left the peas and most of the rice. Her Moo-Shoe was a big disappointment to her (I can't speak authoritatively - don't regularly eat the stuff).
The Kung Pao? Well, after I tasted it the first pass, I suggested increasing the dosage of the chili sauce... we tripled it from one teaspoon to three, and it was acceptable for the kids. Now, once they had theirs, I scooped a couple more spoonfuls in there - I think the original recipe called for 1 tsp, I was up to eight or nine after I got done - about half a bottle, and it worked. Needs some tweaking, but it worked quite well, and I now have two days this week where I can avoid Turkey Sandwiches - whoo hooo!
And today I've managed to prove that my cute little four-year-old son is either the reincarnation of a lunatic kamikaze pilot, or perfectly normal four-year-old. We were at the Y, where I worked out, poorly, for a time, then we hopped into the pool. Or, more properly, Jack ran into the first pool, which does a pretty good job of emulating a beach (except with one-inch ceramic tile on the lakebed), and drops to about three feet deep over a run of about twenty feet.
The second pool is connected to the first in the middle (on the long side) by a bit of an underwater walkway between the two. The depth at the connection is three feet deep. From there it drops to four feet at the ends. The third pool is eight feet deep, cold, and isn't connected - it's for those crazy people (like my wife) who believe in exercising in the pool. Vile habit, that.
But today, Jack tears around the edge of the pool, then stops at the edge of the middle pool. You know, the part where it's four feet deep? And then, with absolutely no forethought whatsoever, leaps in. I'm a good ten feet away (and can't swim), Ann was closer but had her back turned. Jack leapt in. I saw, from a few feet away, as his arms were going madly, and we finally got his head up over the surface.
Now, that wasn't the lunatic part. The lunatic portion came in when he realized the water was over his head, when he'd been told not to do that without checking with an adult. And he did it again. And again. And again.
I swear the kid's absolutely nuts.
Otherwise, one of those "Phil Hough"-type of Sundays - lazing around, catching up on reading, resting, and generally recovering from busy busy busy. I like that.
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P. Dominik. All rights reserved.
Opinions expressed herein are my own, and my fault.
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