Things I did on my Vacation – Day 2

And it came to pass that, though wearied by the epic battle with the Dustbunnies of Unusual Size, the fair Lady Kate was determined to defeat the evils that lurked in the Bathrooms Where Angels Fear To Tread (one of them demons fear to tread, too). Thus, she armed herself with the Cleaners of Righteousness and began her battle. With the Dread Beasts of Grime in one bathroom safely vanquished, the fair Lady Kate did need to transport her beloved Sir Tom’s faithful steed to the Young Men of Pep and Vigor for fresh saddle-oil.

Alas! The Young Men of Pep and Vigor lacked that most civilized of virtues, timeliness, and thus though the Lady and brought the faithful steed at the time appointed, an hour passed and half again ere the fair Lady Kate could return to her battles with the Evils of Uncleanliness.

But the fair Lady was not deterred, for was she not a warrior maid of the finest steel? And so it was that the terrible Stairwell of Doom was vanquished, its beasts of fierce kitteh-fur slain and their dusty remains disposed of ere long (though she did have to stop several times to sharpen the Sword of Vacuum once more).

Finally, the Fair Lady did venture into the lair of the Bathroom Where Angels (and Demons) Fear To Tread. Lo! though her muscles did tremble with weariness, the Sink of Despair was quickly restored to sparkling cleanliness, and the Toilet of Horror transformed into something one might choose to sit upon.

And then did the true horror of the Bathroom Where Angels (and Demons) Fear To Tread reveal itself, for Lo! the Fair Lady Kate did discover the terrible secret of this place, the source of the lurking miasma that haunted her days.

It was… yes… The Super Secret Kitteh Bad Pee Place.

Though despair blackened her heart, the Fair Lady Kate did not quail at the dread discovery. Nay, she did fetch unto herself more cleaning supplies and begin the greatest battle of all. But the Fair Lady was wearied, and the hour late, and her arms could not reach so far, so at last she retreated, defeated for now, but determined to continue the battle one she had procured that arcane device, a long-handled scrubbing brush.

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Things I did on my Vacation – Day 1

The day dawned bright (actually it didn’t, it dawned bleak, wet, gray, and cold, but let’s go with this for the purposes of narrative, shall we?) and the Fair Lady Kate did spring forth (yeah, like heck she did) and gird her loins for the dread battle to come.

No ordinary battle, this: the Fair Lady sought to vanquish the legions of Dustbunnies Of Unusual Size, dread beasts that have terrorized the folk of the realm for years uncounted (this part is true. If you ever have to choose between Dustbunnies of Unusual Size and Rodent of Unusual Size, go with the ROUSs. They’re much less vicious). And so, wielding the Broom of Righteousness did the Fair Lady Kate go forth unto battle.

The long, grim battle did rage all the day, until at last the final dread Dustbunny was slain.

And the Fair Lady Kate did think, “Oh bugger. Tomorrow is cleaning the Bathrooms Where Angels Fear To Tread.”

The battle is won but the war never ends

The battle against invading thistle in the iris and lily garden, that is. The prickly invaders are relentless, determined, and nothing can keep them back for long. No matter how I hack, slash, and tear them out by their roots, they return to choke out the irises and lilies, to overwhelm the garden with their spiky nastiness.

But for now, for this precious moment, the garden is mine again.

Another week, another round of madness

On the work front, they’re actually trying to get everything on the staging server there before the end of the week so I have – HORRORS! – almost a whole week to test the integration. Whodathunkit? Even better, I got into the nitty-gritty of the Team Foundation Server Report Server and built a report that should save the integration crew (both of them) about 8 hours collating the issues, changesets, and files.

Yes, files. For my sins I work with classic ASP, the web model that was supposed to have died over 10 years ago. Not in my world it didn’t. So of course, nothing is compiled or anything so sophisticated. Deployment means copying files around (because nobody’s managed to get the system automagically syncing the source control and the servers yet) and running scripts on databases. It’s still way better than things were when I first started this job a little more than a year ago – there wasn’t any source control and there wasn’t a test server either. Just a dev server that spent most of its time broken because of the stuff being worked on and the live server. Now things are a bit cleaner (and I can actually test things without stepping on people’s toes, asking them to patch something so I can do something else, testing live, or any of those other fun things) we’re tracking work in something a bit less awkward than fifty different excel spreadsheets (I’m not sure exactly how many there were – I never counted) and bit by bit we’re building something more or less systematic and functional.

On the home front, we have allergy central, The Husband is recovering from an argument with gout and can walk again, and the cats alternate between being demanding little bitches (yes, the boys too) and snuggling up and looking like fuzzy little angels. When they’re not on one of us demanding snuggles.

Oh, yes. And weekends are never long enough. Ever.

Nothing much happened today

Not that this is surprising or anything. I was falling over at work so I left early (thanks to yesterday’s uber-long day I only needed to be at work for 5 minutes to clock up a 40 hour week. I was there a bit longer than that), then slept for an hour or so when I got home. I’d probably have slept longer except the Bugger-cat was determined to have his good food and he wasn’t letting anything stop him.

Yes, I lead such an exciting life.

Long Day

I go to work early. Partly because I start to fade around 2 or 3 even when I sleep disgustingly late, and it makes sense to get in as much that needs thinking and a functioning brain before my body decides “hell no”. Unfortunately that means if I’ve got to stay late – like today when a release went out after 5pm (gotta love live web stuff. Can’t take it down when someone will be using it. Even if the “someone” is the company’s internal people who could work around things so long as we did it in a quiet time) so I didn’t get home until nearly 7. Yay for 12 hour workdays. Not.

It’s also my Mad Genius day. This means I write a post a day or two before and set it up to post early in the morning. When I get home in the evening I respond to comments. Today’s effort was a bit of an expansion of my thoughts on three of the panels I was on at Ravencon. Next week I’ll probably ramble about one of the other panels I did, unless someone in the writing world does something spectacularly stupid that I can rant about.

And on that note, it’s time I went to bed.

 

Progress, and a realization

The FTP problem is solved. For reasons known only to itself, the software that runs the backend of my hosting provider decided it would cache the error message. Once I cleared cache, I reset my password and all is happy.

This brought about a rather unwelcome realization. It is not the case that there are some software companies whose secret (or not so secret) goal is to tear the fabric of reality asunder and summon the Great Old Ones. This is in fact the stated or unstated goal of all software development. And I test it for a living – complete with the unstated goal that the software does not in fact warp reality to the point that Cthuloid tentacles curl around the straining edges of the space time continuum-thingy. Aside from anything else, it takes a boatload of LOX, several tons of brimstone, and a spit that would put skyscrapers to shame to properly cook the things, and then you need to find the brave souls willing to actually eat several tons of Cthulhumari.

No, much better to keep the gate between dimensions firmly locked. Padlocked. With extra thick chain and bonus spiky bits.

Now you know why software testers have a kind of graveyard humor about them. We only hope we’ll get to enjoy one when the time comes.

Roadblocks

So, after realizing I hadn’t posted anything here in forever (well, over a year), I figured I needed to get back to this.

Yeah. Right. Hello, life! My FTP access isn’t working (as in, the saved password is getting rejected) so I can’t finish updating (and ye gods the updates that are waiting on this thing…) or clean up my themes until that gets sorted. I tried to reset my password and the web host is telling me everything I do (even plain vanilla numbers and letters only) contains invalid characters. Support ticket created, and we’ll see what happens.

In the meantime, here goes a super-short post about absolutely nothing. Isn’t that nice…

 

Modernity

I have, after much delay, finally entered the modern world of telephony. Yes, I’ve finally retired the antique PDA (dead) and cell phone (dying) in favor of a shiny new smartphone.

Of course, being me, the first thing I did was load Temple Run 2 on it. That game is a very effective way to waste large amounts of time while giving yourself RSI issues. Fun though.

The second thing I did was load Kindle for Android. I still need to port over the spreadsheet containing all my lists that used to live on the PDA, but I have a phone that won’t crap out after a couple of calls. Go me.

Jokes Gone Sour

For the longest time I regarded politics with a kind of detached amusement: a joke that didn’t really affect me all that much. Over the last few years it’s become obvious that I can’t do this any more.

You see, once you’d elect your political jokes every few years, laugh at their worst idiocy, and ignore the rest. Now though, the communist propaganda arm (always the most effective of all the communist organizations) has infested almost everything, with the result that people now spout Marxist pedagogy without realizing what they’re doing – they don’t actually¬†know they’re talking pure Marx drivel. It’s what everyone who matters says or thinks.

When the USA was founded, the importance of a free press was held to be critical to maintaining a free nation. But what happens when the press is so thoroughly suborned they might as well be owned by the power brokers? It’s still technically free in the sense that there’s no higher power preventing publication, but when the higher power doesn’t need to prevent because everyone who matters in the media and entertainment world all follow the same Marxist twaddle, why would it bother? You don’t need to fear the watchdog while its asleep,¬† toothless, and you’ve bribed it with promises of steak.

Realizing that means accepting that nothing which hits the main media outlets can be trusted.

Nothing.

Stories that don’t fit the Marxist line will simply not be reported. You will never hear about major philanthropic work funded by oil companies through the major news and TV sources. Nor will you ever learn that in every single case where Israel is castigated for its actions in areas claimed by the Palestinian Authority, Israel is acting in response to an atrocity committed by Palestinian terrorists. Does Israel overreact? Sure. Their government is comprised of fallible humans. But I know of not one single case where Israel acted without provocation. The same can not be said of the Palestinian pseudo-political organizations, all of whom include the elimination of Israel and every Jew in the area as core dogma. You won’t hear about that from the major news organizations.

So what is someone who values her freedom to do? Whatever my path is, it doesn’t include either major political party. The Democrats are about as true to their name as your average People’s Democratic Republic, complete with a platform that would make your average Marxist weep with envy. And the Republicans… Ah, the Republicans. They too have been infested with Marxist twaddle and corrupted by the unending flow of Other People’s Money. Republican apparatchiks would happily sit as the eternal minority party as long as they have access to that spigot. In this, they are aided by the useful idiots of the Religious Right – those Republicans who are not content to be free to hold their religious beliefs: they must mandate that everyone else follow the forms their beliefs prescribe. It’s no different than banning supersized soda. The pseudo-Marxists responsible for that make the same claim as the Religious Right’s pseudo-Marxists: it’s good for you. We know best.

Except of course that they don’t. They’ve just proclaimed it so long and so loud that they’ve convinced themselves it’s true – and tragically, convinced a whole lot of others as well. If they truly did know what was best, they could be confident that living their lives would be enough to convince other people they had it right. Instead, they look down on those of us they’re trying to “help”, despising those who bend to their will and hating and fearing those who don’t.

The only thing they consider worse is the terrifying truth they dare not see: most people don’t care about them. Most people, even now, follow the old Jeffersonian line: if you don’t harm my body or my wallet, what you do is no business of mine. The corollary of course is this: if you do harm my body or my wallet, I will find a way to end the threat you present to me. When people decide that enough is enough, payment will come due.

I fear that it may already be too late to prevent that payment being exacted in blood.