Well, I’m thinking I should probably lay in a year’s supply of Sudafed Cold & Cough Liquigels and just start popping them like M&M’s. The amount of business development stuff I’ve actually accomplished this afternoon has been amazing—in between sneezing, blowing my nose, and hunting for clean tissues, I’ve emailed a whole slew of people on freelance leads, switched over my old pre-2001 Quark-based identity to the spiffy new InDesign version Jen designed for me (with rollout on the website to come), done two hour’s research for a consulting client, invoiced another job, and cleaned off the to-do list in front of me. All without succumbing to the siren call of NetNewsWire or Craigslist or the internets in general. It must be the pseudoephedrine or something. Unfortunately, the pills I took at 9AM wore off at about 4PM, because that’s when my nose-faucet started running again, so I’m back to a cycle of blow nose, sneeze, blow nose, sniffle, blow nose, sneeze, repeat.
It was because of this mucousy hell last night that I took two tablespoons of off-brand NyQuil at 9PM, and it felled me like an elephant gun—one minute I was talking coherently, and the next I was grunting at Jen as I passed out on the bed. I can’t say it does anything for sleep, though; I was half-awake at 3 AM having spacey, rambling dreams about aliens and my old neighborhood in New Jersey, and I suddenly woke up with a crystal-clear solution for a UI project I’m working on. It’s funny what cold medicine will do to the subconscious.
An entry Jason wrote reminded me to post a few of the pictures from our trip to the salvage warehouse a few weeks ago. I’ve been remiss on my Flickr duties lately, so I’ll have to get back on the job. Sorry, folks.
We went down the street to the Rite Aid for some cough medicine. My throat was feeling more and more gravelly, and my voice was getting lower and lower. We bought the off-brand NyQuil knockoff, and I took two tablespoons when we got home.
At this point, I’m feeling less and less able to function cohesively. It’s getting lighter and spacier in here, and I feel pretty groovy. I think I’m signing off now.
Jen took Friday afternoon to rearrange the living room to where four people can sit comfortably and chat with each other, which is a huge difference; it’s really refreshing to have some feng in our shui, at least where that room is concerned. It would be great to make major structural changes in there, but just about everything we want to do will cost major cash, which we don’t have on hand right now.
Saturday we hit the Home Despot and spent a little cash on supplies for the house. The yard here at the Lockardugan estate has been the bastard stepchild since autumn of last year; after the elm in the backyard was felled and all the rest of the trees dropped their leaves, I’ve ignored it completely. Meanwhile, the neighbors in back have a little senior citizen dude they hire in who shambles around with a rake and a broom, and over a few weeks’ time he got their yard cleaned up to where it made us look like trailer trash. (He mowed their lawn in January. They’re fucking with us deliberately, I know it.)
The first order of business was to rake the leaves, which were slowly oozing into (and killing off) our already anemic back lawn. In about fifteen minutes I put a mulch enclosure in, and got the majority of the leaves off the lawn. Next, Jen and I started pulling up some of the English ivy that’s overtaking the southwest corner of the lawn. English ivy is sort of how I imagine kudzu would be—pulling armfuls of it off the lawn only reveals more armfuls underneath. Apparently the Doctor was all kinds of hot for English ivy, because that shit is all up this be-yatch—there’s ivy hanging twenty feet off our trees. We cleared a section measuring 15’x30′ out (five bagfuls, total) and moved the existing logpile to the back corner. Next, we got the debris from the felled tree that was still spread across the lawn up, and stacked it in line with the rest of the wood, leaving the huge crosswise cuts that can’t be lifted for a date with a chainsaw. I’d imagine we have at least two cords stacked right now and another two cords in unmoveable wood to go. Then, I stopped over at the Cauzzis’ to help push the Galaxie back into the garage. That car is too damn fine (and rare on the east coast) to wind up looking like my Scout. Despite a low front tire, little battery power, and a soggy trunk, we were able to push, pull, wiggle, and coax it into the garage, where it should stay dry. When little Callie decided her Uncle Bill was just too scary to deal with, I packed up the Saturn and headed west for dinner: Potato-leek soup, which was mouth-wateringly good the first time Jen made it and better this time. I even sprung for a six-pack of Harp, which went down very well after the day’s activity.
I also picked up a pair of cheap Hi-8 cassettes for the Thrift Store Camera and within five minutes had tape rolling of our cats wandering aimlessly around the living room. Sears carries a no-name battery for $17 that I have to go back for this week that the engrish website claims will work on this camera. If I had a video card with RCA-out, I could rip it digitally, or use the camera as a webcam (hot geek webcam action!) but for now, I’ll keep it plugged into the wall.
Sunday we took a fistful of gift certificates to various home-decor stores in the mall and browsed through all kinds of expensive stuff we can’t afford. Who pays $350 for a set of bedsheets besides Liberace? I mean, really, what’s so different from a $40 set Martha Stewart hawks at the K-Mart? It ain’t the thread count. Maybe the Restoration Hardware kind is woven with golden silk or some other bourgeoisie thing that sounds good on the little cards they use to rationalize the 700% markup. “Handmade by a blind Nepalese monk with genuine free-range mountain yak assfur—as everybody knows, mountain yak is the smoothest, gentlest assfur known to Man, and worth more than its weight in gold.” In the evening we decided to make a dish Jen found called Scallops Charleston, which cost us all of about $10 and tasted wonderful, even though I didn’t broil it as well as I should have. Feeling pious after our day’s work in the yard, we busted into our remaining bottle of red wine—Mmmmm, red wine—and ate like grownups at our dining room table. Then, we enjoyed a glass of port on our couch in front of a blazing fire.
Meanwhile, the sore throat I woke up with on Saturday morphed into post-nasal drip and a rocking good head cold for Monday morning. Swell. I felt awful about infecting my consulting clients this morning (and considered rescheduling), but as it turned out, the wife of the pair has the same cold. They watched me do battle with Verizon and Quicken 2006 for a few hours, and fed me homemade chicken soup for lunch. Verizon won (their DSL modem is hosed) so I’ll return Thursday to fight the good fight. Also, Quicken 2006 for the Mac seems to be a big bag of shit, so I’d recommend staying with the 2005 version until Intuit gets they’ head out they’ ass.
I’m going to look at a Scout in the city this afternoon. From what I hear, it’s pretty rusty—but it’s a 1980, which means it was galvanized at the factory and (most likely) Ziebarted. It’s also a diesel with A/C. I don’t know where I’d put it, how I’d afford it (them checks still aren’t rolling in) or how I’d even get it to the house, but I’m going to look at it.
update: If there ever was a Scout in worse shape than mine, this was it. Basically, I could salvage the axles (Dana 44’s) and the transfer case (Dana 300), the transmission (possibly a B/W T-19), the rollbar, possibly the engine, the A/C unit and ductwork, and the tailgate. If I had a garage to part it out, which I don’t. Other than that, it’s a basket case.
Imagine if Suitcase loaded all your fonts and didn’t crash? Imagine if it didn’t take fifteen minutes to preview one single font face? Imagine if it was able not to crash when loading a corrupted font (or if it featured smart enough logic to prevent loading a corrupted font in the first place?) You’d have Font Explorer X.
Add in a vastly better UI, an ability to buy fonts a la the Apple Music Store (if you can use iTunes, this will be very familiar to you, but the available selection for sale is currently very slim), and stability, simple basic stability, and you have a killer font app. This software is beta, so caveat emptor. I have a library of 5600+ fonts, and Font Explorer X handles them all like a charm.
Goodbye, Suitcase. It’s been great knowing you, but it’s time to move on. Don’t call me-I’ll call you.