following a link on the MacNN site, I found iCal-mail, a handy little helper for all us folks who don’t or can’t use Mail.app as our default client. I use Eudora because it supports APOP, and I’ve always wanted to take advantage of the email alarm feature in iCal—now I can. After a quick install, I tested out the alarm feature and it worked flawlessly. Thanks, Mike.
Colors. Check this link out: it’s a color scheme selector. Very slick.
Huh. Elliott Smith is dead. That sucks.
You Can Leave The City, But You Can’t Leave The Jerks. Somebody broke into (well, opened the door I left unlocked—sorry) Jen’s car last night; they went through her change cup and left the door open. That didn’t make me feel good.
Tasty. Last night Jen and I drove into the city for one of our first catering tastings, at Sascha’s. New to this whole thing, we sat down and went over the menu with our helpful planner Tara, sipped cocktails and sampled a plate of hors d’oveurs. We also met Sascha, who popped in the room with one foot in a cast and the other in a leopard-print boot; apparently she had a slight dancing accident with a cute extra on the latest John Waters movie. We left with a menu selection, a contract, and a pleasant buzz. Next up is the Brass Elephant, scheduled for next week.
Sweet.On other fronts, Apple just announced new G4 iBooks. The fastest model (1Ghz) with Airport and a 60GB drive is a little under $1,500. What a steal. Especially considering this 3-year-old G3 Powerbook (400Mhz), in the configuration it’s at right now, is fetching around $7-800 used on eBay.
A. Looks like our basement flooded last night; Jen just called me to let me know. There’s a set of stairs down to the basement door, ending in a little concrete pit with a drain at the center. Water runs down the side of the house and into this pit. The drain is clogged with crap (and I have no idea where it drains to anyway), so the incoming water came under the door and across the basement floor. Looks like it’s not too bad, but that’s a pain in the butt. B. Along with that fun, we lost power again last night at about 10:30. As old pros at this stuff now, we lit the Dietz lamps again and laid down to read. It came back on at 9:30 this morning as we were climbing into the shower. C. I found myself scratching a particular spot on my hand last night, and thought that was odd. On further inspection, it seems I’ve got some poison ivy happening on both hands. Now, for most people, this isn’t a big deal, but for me, it’s like trying to rid yourself of the hair on your scalp—it just keeps growing back. I’ve doused it with calamine and I’m ignoring the millions of other itchy spots that have popped up now that I’m paranoid about the stuff spreading; if I don’t shake your hand you’ll know why.
Right the hell on. Brought to you by Senator Max Cleland.
Nominees for the Moist category:
- Antonio Banderas – Lis (sorry, can’t find the Helmut Newton pic you speak of)
- Jake Busey – Lis
- David Copperfield – John P.
- The late Doug Henning – Mine. (you can’t have Copperfield without Henning.)
My personal take on Jake Busey is that he’s sort of a jerk/jock hybrid (loved you in Starship Troopers, babe); Todd says he’s more of a residually famous person, like the Baldwin brothers. David Copperfield is immediately in the running based on Jazz Hands alone, and Doug Henning—what else can you say about a Canadian in legwarmers, a leotard, long hair, and that dopey smile?
*** STOP: 0x00000077 (0x00000000, 0x8175A800, 0xBFCFDCA0)
KERNEL_STACK_INPAGE_ERRORBeginning dump of physical memory
Physical memory dump complete. Contact your system administrator or
technical support group.
Looks like we’re probably (but not definitely) grounded by the storm, so we most likely won’t be going to Houston tomorrow. Dammit. I was really looking forward to meeting the Masso clan and watching our friend JP get hitched (and getting out of town, for that matter.) Sorry, friend. Luckily Southwest has a pretty cool cancellation/refund policy, so we may be able to get our dinero back, or at least get a credit for a future flight.
In other news, that company I ordered plaster washers from, and who sent me a confirmation email, has no record of the order I placed. When the dude on the phone told me this, I hung up in disgust, but will most likely have to call back and place an order over the phone to make sure it goes through. What a hassle.
(Update: Some dude called the house and mumbled something about not having me in their system because the order already went out, or something stupid like that. So I guess the stuff is on its way.)
I was one of the last retards out on the roads this afternoon, picking up some final things before heading home; I got food, beer, and clean-burning propane. I’m going to go dig out my camping gear and dust off the portable grill, just in case. We already have large tree limbs down in the back yard (as well as next to the Scout) and the power has blinked off about four times already—thank god for laptops.
Remember everyone, tomorrow is Talk Like A Pirate Day. Yarrrr!
This will make you think twice about any professional photography you see these days.
Self-Serve. My new grocer is an older store in a neighborhood that’s seen explosive growth in the last twenty years. As a result they’ve taken some major steps to attempt to keep up—some of which are questionable. They narrowed the aisles some time back, so that pushing a cart anytime between the hours of 7AM to 8PM is like being in the backfield of a NASCAR race. If someone takes a minute to review a product in an aisle, the store closes down like a clogged artery. Despite this, and the walking proximity of the Wal-Mart, they stubbornly keep the junk aisle open (that huge area directly in front of the entrance where they stack useful items like beach chairs, Halloween candy, and cooler chests) instead of razing it and opening up the layout.
My new complaint—and this applies to other stores as well—is the idea that self-serve aisles will save money. Notice I didn’t say “speed up customer service”, but save money. Store Management, in its infinite wisdom, decided that putting customers in front of a series of touchscreens, card-swipers, reciept printers, and speakers instead of a catatonic checkout employee would be cost-beneficial. Nevermind that most people still can’t program the clock on their VCR, let alone navigate the crap UI on the kiosk. I have no figures to back up my claims, but I would estimate that it takes at least twice as much time to check out as it did before—this in a store I want to spend as little time in as possible. Where do we stand while we’re waiting for Grandpa to figure out where the barcode is on the box of Mini-Wheats? Oh, right. In the middle of the tiny aisle. Where other folks have no way to get around us.
Here’s a memo to you, folks: At some point, continuing to push the work in the lap of the consumer (think: ATMs vs. tellers, phone menu systems vs. operators) is going to piss us off to the point where we don’t use your company any more.
Our friend Rob sent me a link to this website yesterday: www.mediainspiration.com. I haven’t had time to really dive into it, but it looks pretty good so far. Thanks, Rob.
We got a dozen crabs last night, covered the coffee table in paper and tore into them; with a sixpack of Coronas and some fresh corn, life was very, very good. I’m paying for it this morning, though—between a slight hangover and a steady diet of C02 fumes from the Scout’s broken exhaust, I feel like a doormat.
I did get the front door cleaned up and primed for painting yesterday; There’s some caulking and carpentry to be done but it should go smoothly. I’m also going to be a nice guy and build a simple storm window for the front… maybe.
Nate is out of the hospital and convalescing fine; donations can be sent to your favorite charity.
God damn it. I just want to be moved already.
Friday night, I was about as depressed as you can get. I got back to the house and Jen greeted me with a beautiful bouquet of gladiolas, a thick spicy steak, a glass of red wine and a plate of dark, choclatey brownies. I ate a full meal for the first time in a week, helped finish the bottle, and was asleep from 11pm to 10 the next morning.
Saturday we threw together a small party with a bunch of different friends; With a few exceptions, everybody was able to make it, and we were up until four in the morning talking, laughing, and enjoying the company. Thanks, everybody!
And, stupid me, I was having such a great time, I didn’t take a single picture.
For the past few days, while all the legal, financial, structural, and scheduling issues sort themselves out, I’ve been restless and distracted. There’s plenty to do around the house, and I’ve begun some of it, but I’ve not been able to finish much. I’m ready for change. I guess my current mental state really shows how ready I am to get out of the city, start my life with Jen, and generally get things going. I’ve been searching for shiny things to distract me temporarily from sitting around the house wondering and worrying, and yesterday’s post really reflects that.
It sucks when all the bones in your body are asking you to be creative in some way and you have the debilitating problem of not knowing what to do or where to start. I’m trying to bottle that up for when we move, but it’s hard not to get discouraged.
Hot on the heels of my VoIP post from yesterday, C|Net posted this article, Is VoIP Ready For Prime Time? They don’t seem to have such a rosy outlook for the technology, but for people like me, with two sets of parents outside the local area code and friends scattered about the country, [their estimated quote of] $20/mo. doesn’t sound too bad.
Todd did a little digging around and found this link to an article about our friend Terry Tate. I coulda swore he was a pro, but it appears I am mistaken.
Investment in the Future. Jen and I signed up for a class last November at Bin 604 for a pair of wine-tasting classes as our anniversary present. Yesterday we had our first class, learning about the different regions of Europe and their specific varietals. There was so much to cover it basically illustrated how much more there is to learn instead of making things clearer. (From what I understood, you could make a graduate program out of some of the larger French regions.) After getting a little tipsy in class, we visited the Barnes & Noble downtown to spend some money on design publications, picking up the Print Regional Design Annual and some other magazines, as well as a book on design typography/color/mood and a beautiful leather-bound journal for Jen.
Last night I found myself in front of the TV, trying to decide between a slew of bad programming choices, when my remote happened upon a Frontline report on the Gulf War. Now, I like PBS, but the Maryland equivalent of Public Broadcasting used to equate to a guy with an aluminum foil antenna powered by his car battery. Somewhere in the last six months they upped the juice on the transmitter and I can finally see the Antiques Roadshow, as opposed to listening to it through a squall of white fuzz.
What was interesting was that it had been produced sometime after the war and sometime before the current administration (the site says 1996), so the viewpoints were not skewed in any noticable way towards the current situation. At the time, I was still in college, and without cable TV, so most of the coverage was new to me. The timeline of events and behind-the-scenes information was fascinating. When the program was over at midnight, they left it off at the beginning of the ground war, with much still to cover. I’m definitely tuning in tonight for the next chapter.
We are laying on the warm bed with the fourth quarter of the Superbowl playing between our feet. Jen is sewing a bed for the cats with yarn and chamois and trying to ignore my goofy new haircut by telling me she loves me. Teller is asleep between her feet, oblivious to the Raiders getting schooled behind him. Penn is downstairs somewhere, probably on the hassock, his belly full of tuna.