May 20th, 2012
Would someone please remind me what I did to reset the path to my image library, because I need to undo it.
Would someone please remind me what I did to reset the path to my image library, because I need to undo it.
OK. I’ve grudgingly joined the 21st century. I now twitter. I own more domain names than I need. I have an i-phone…with video, so I could, if I chose, make a video of the Noble Dog Nails on his raft in the pool, or of him assaulting the pool noodles. I could then post it on YouTube. I’m on LinkedIn. I’m planning on getting a webcam so that I can Skype.
Today, I am going to chain myself to the dining room table and I’m not leaving until I have the PayPal cart integrated with the Fox-ee cart and all the pieces are working to make Mild Burning Symptoms go live. That’s my challenge to myself. I have a fresh pot of coffee, the i-phone is jacked into the laptop, and I am going to twitter the whole damn thing.
Feel free to follow along, kibbitz, advise, laugh or what ever. Gah.
On Saturday, I sat down at my laptop, notes and manuals to my right, coffee cup to my left. I wrote a brilliant recap of part two of the ANTM premiere. I uploaded it. I backed up some, but not all of my site, and, before I began the coding of Paypal into Mild Burning Symptoms, I decided that it would be advantageous to update the software that runs this site. I was wrong. I was wrong in ways I have still to count. To say that I blew up Girlyshoes would be an understatement like saying that George W. Bush wasn’t the best president we’ve ever had, and maybe not the brightest. It would be an understatement like saying that George Clooney and Brad Pitt aren’t too bad looking. It would be an understatement on a par with saying that Paris Hilton is maybe not the classiest girl to ever climb into a limo and onto a trustfundnista. Perhaps I am belaboring the point, but I fucked Girlyshoes right out of the world wide web.
I’m not a total dolt, and I was able to reconstruct my data base, missing only two entries. One (ANTM part one) I was able to find cached in Google. The other? Maybe. Maybe not.
I’m sorry that you’ve not been able to keep up with the fabulousness that is my pathetic life, but them’s the breaks. Hah! Get it? I broke my site.
God, I’m pathetic. And also tired. It took four days of constant help desk consultations on, not one, but two sites (my hosting company and the software company) to rebuild and repair Girlyshoes. And I still have to sit here and figure out the Paypal thing. All I want is to go back into my studio and sit at my spinning wheel. But no. I have to write code. And more code. And try not to fuck anything up again.
And then? More photos, more code, and launch the virtual garage sale.
In the meantime, the birds are mocking me. I hear them, and I see the seed levels go down in the feeders, but the little feathered bastards won’t show themselves while I’m out there watching. Mocking me, I tell you. And the squirrels? Oh, my lord. The squirrels have attitudes. These Miami squirrels don’t do dried corn. My brother’s squirrels up in St. Lucie County, they love corn. My guys? They turn up their furry little noses, and refuse to eat it. They didn’t eat the pumpkin seeds, either. I had to give a big bag of squirrel chow to my brother, because the fluffy-tailed tree rats only want peanuts and sunflower seeds. The little beasts eat better than I do. At least my hummingbird is faithful and doesn’t complain about her sugar water.
The dogs are unimpressed with this sudden influx of fauna. They bark a little now and then, just to establish their territory, but really? they don’t much care. The only birds who’ve come and made a regular stop are the mourning doves, and a couple of ring-neck doves. I like them fine, but I’m doing this for color and song, and the doves have neither. Oh, a little cooing now and then, but half the time, I can’t even tell they’re out there because they are the same grey brown as the dirt under the palms.
That’s it. I’m exhausted. And so, to bed.
I ran across this the other day, and I am fascinated. Aquariums that look like landscapes. It’s an aquatic variation on bonsai forests. But with fish. Swimming over the mountains. The Japanese have kicked our asses once again in the realm of the fantastic. And miniature. And tripping. Check this out, it’s the number one aqua forest in the world.
This is number 15. Awesome. Everyone seems to use neon tetras, but I could never get the little bastards to live and reproduce.
Geeky goodness, non? For those of you who, like me, were graphic designers in the dark ages before computers, I bring you the Museum of Forgotten Art Supplies. I think I have used everything in there, except the green eyeshade. I certainly still have a jar of Super White, a pack of rubylith, X-acto knives and blades, some of those exact Design markers, and sheets of press type and Pantone paper. I once had my house painted by handing the painter two sheets of Pantone and telling him to figure out the house paint equivalent. In case you are wondering, it was a conch-shell pink with aqua trim… PMS 270.
Finally, my college boyfriend who went on to do well, as opposed to the others who went on to drop off the face of the earth, has sent me a press release, and because I have a soft spot for Bruce, I’ll pass it along:
Los Angeles, CA— Turner Classic Movies will feature on Sunday, January 18 at 9:00pm (Pacific Time) the world television premieres of the new 2K digital restoration of Manhatta (1921, Paul Strand and Charles Sheeler) and the new photo-chemical restoration of N.Y., N.Y. (1958, Francis Thompson) on “Sunday Silent Nights.”
This TCM milestone broadcast of two abstract-experimental films restored by Bruce Posner and Anthology Film Archives, New York, will be followed on Monday, January 19 at 8:30pm (Pacific Time) at REDCAT with the Los Angeles premiere of Manhatta and N.Y., N.Y. as well as seven other restored film treasures at the Roy and Edna Disney/Calarts Theater in Walt Disney Concert Hall in Downtown Los Angeles.
The REDCAT screening will be presented by archivist, curator and filmmaker Bruce Posner, who will introduce the films and discuss the process of preservation and digital restoration for images at Lowry Digital, Brubank, and Cineric, Inc., New York and for audio and music at Chace Audio, Burbank, and Trackwise, New York. Posner was a recipient of a 2005 Special Citation from the Los Angeles Film Critics Association for his restoration of “Unseen Cinema: Early American Avant-garde Film 1893-1941,” the groundbreaking film-dvd retrospective released by Image Entertainment.
There is something funky going on. Is the work server denying me access to my blog, or my blog denying me access from work?
There is a difference, you know.
Since the original came from a blog written in Spanish, and my Spanish is limited to curses, sarcasm, menu items and finding the location of the nearest bathroom, I have to take RJ’s word that “this award was created to be given to bloggers who inspire others with their creativity and their talents, and for contributing to the blogging world in whatever medium. When you receive this award it is considered a “special honor”. Once you have received this award, you are to pass it on to 5 others. What a wonderful way to show some love and appreciation to your fellow bloggers!!!” I guess. I think a better way would be to leave comments or give me enough page views to make me more than a wiggly worm on The Truth Laid Bear’s blog ecosystem, or nominate me for an award like the Webbys that carries with it global prestige and money. Failing that, I accept this honor with my usual good humor and graciousness: “Thanks a lot, bitch.”
The rules for passing this honor on are:
And my top five are (and I have no doubt that none of them will post this or even acknowledge that I have tapped them for greatness, but WTF.)
So that’s it. I love these guys, and you should too.
I was noodling around in the links today, and first RJ finally did a meme I sent her so long ago I don’t remember, and then Marseeah over at The Pink Shoe did this meme. Which, just as she says, is a fine and entertaining sort of meme. I won’t tag anyone else, but feel free to play and leave a link in the comments when you do.
Here are the rules:
a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
b. Using only the first page, pick an image.
c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd’s mosaic maker.
1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One Word to describe you.
12. Your flickr name.
And here is what I came up with:
And let me say right now, that the results of this are pathetic.
The 123 Rules:
1) Pick up the book nearest you with at least 123 pages. (No cheating!)
2) Turn to page 123.
3) Count the first five sentences.
4) Post the next three sentences.
5) Tag five other bloggers.
On a typical site, you might then assign a template groups to a particular section, or weblog.
Upon install, a blog caled weblog1 is already created for you. It will contain one sample article and three sample categories, and you write your entries using basic entry fields.
Really. And the best part? Page 123 is actually in the section for which I purchased the book; the chapter on Expression Engine by the delightful and erudite Simon Collison. Whee.
I just saw this:
The story is full of embedded lyrics and the author obviously had a good time writing it.
What sticks with me though, is this: it is the 50th anniversary of NASA. I grew up just down the coast from Cape Canaveral, and the space industry has been a part of my whole life. My beloved cousin Milton worked on the Gemini project doing something with the space suits. From the very beginning, when a rocket launched, my whole elementary school would be trotted out to the playground, lined up and faced north, and with the little black and white portable tv in the classroom giving us the play by play, we would watch the vapor trail, and the bright flash of the booster separating from the body of the rocket. Then back we’d go into the school, to follow the rest of the story.
Perhaps those memories are why some of the short stories by Ray Bradbury resonated so deeply with me. In books like The Illustrated Man, there seemed to always be folks sitting on their porches on a clear summer night, watching the space ships take off from beyond the corn fields. Those stories seemed to be so close, just another year or two away from what was real in my life already.
When we drove to Newport for the summer, we would stop at a picnic area in Titusville, just across the St. John’s River from the Cape. We could see the rockets on their pads, and the giant buildings where the rockets were built. They were so big, we were told, that clouds formed in the upper reaches. I knew how to spell the word “gantry” and what it meant.
Why wouldn’t there be rockets beyond the orange groves and fireflies in the trees?
Sometimes, my padawan learner, you just have to scratch the itch.
I bought the Nikon. I have been shooting tons of pictures. Oh, lord, how I have missed an SLR. Of course, this purchase was directly responsible for my only resolution of 2008: This is the year I rid myself of unwanted weight, be it body fat or excess possessions. I spent new year’s day listening to the Moody Blues and making Mild Burning Symptoms a live website. There’s nothing there but an “I’m plotting great things” note, but I am in fact, plotting great things.
I will be dumping possessions all year. Art supplies, ephemera, artwork. I have sworn not to buy any new supplies for the entire year. No new cloth, fiber, beads, books or magazines. I will trade off old supplies for new, but only if I end up with less volume in the process. Speaking of which, anybody out there interested in about 30 years of Gourmet back issues? I think I’m only missing 6 or 7 issues in all.
It is no shock to constant readers of this blog that I am a gear head. A gear head from the first. And an aberration in my family, where nobody knows anything about cars. Well, there is a legendary uncle on my father’s side who used to come to Florida for the horses, arriving in some flash convertible with golf clubs in the back and leaving by hopping the train… but I digress.
Anyway. Cars. Love them. Love to drive them. Love to look at them. Loved this article about them.
I actually had some sewing room time this weekend, and some lolling about in the pool with the dogs. I started another tallis, and it should be ready for the holiday later this week. Tomorrow night I have to bake a honey cake. The RLA asked if I would be so kind as to make the traditional, dense, brick-like version this year, and I will happily oblige.
I did it. The Tante Leah pages are all up. The links all work. The categories work. The Photoblog is working.
A dip in the pool, and a little sewing.
And lots, lots, lots more photos in the Tante Leah section and the Photoblog.
Tonight? Martinis all around.
In this case, and believe me, I am as sick of these entries about the trials and tribulations of code writing as you all are, I have achieved a small break through in the photo pages, i.e.: the formatting is displaying more or less correctly, and the categories are right, even though the photos themselves don’t actually display… yet…but now I’ve lost the customization of my technorati tag cloud.
I’m sick of this code war. I’m sick of not sewing.
The RLA is facing losing his two classes this semester because the full-time faculty’s classes didn’t fill, so they have the right to usurp his. Of course, his classes fill because they are advertised as being his classes, and students line up to study under him. Duh. That’s why his classes are full and the full-timers aren’t.
I went to visit my mother this weekend, and she was…not alert, to say the least. But the aides laughed and told me that she’s a good eater, and she’s gaining a little weight.
At work, there is a storm on the horizon and change in the air, and none of it is good.
But tomorrow? Tomorrow is another day, and Star and the Surrogate Daughters and I are going to go to a Marlins game after work. They are playing (in the miserable cement heat sink of Dolphins’ Stadium) the Atlanta Braves. It is one of those amusing quirks of baseball that no matter how deep in the cellar the Fish are, nor how high in the standings the Braves are, that more times than not, the Marlins will beat the Braves. And that, gentle readers, is Why I Love Baseball.
The comments work. The links work. The search works. The archives work. Every entry has at least one category assigned to it. Whew. That was a lot of code and cigarettes, but it’s all up and running.
Now for the next part: the static pages, where I’ll put all Tante Leah’s Handmades, at least those which are part of the portfolio and already sold. This means going back into the Expression Engine dark forest. I’ll be searching for clues and pre-written code. I’ll be reading every page ever written about Expression Engine (all ten of them). I’ll be going back and forth between print outs of code that looks like it should work and the pages I’ve built from that code that don’t work. I’ll be editing code and I’ll be tearing my hair out. I’ll be cursing and testing and testing and cursing. And cursing and drinking and smoking and testing. It’s not really live, but you can take a peek at the first couple of pages by clicking on the link over there on your right. (Tante Leah’s Handmades)
And then, when that’s all working, it’ll be on to the re-imagined Cafe Press shop. I have t-shirts ready, and photos to go on notebooks, and all of that.
And then, it’ll be time to open the studio door and start sewing.
To my blog.
I did something to something at some time on Saturday and blew up my site. A mere $15 and desperate e-mail to tech support later, and my site is back…to where it was a week ago before I got the comments working right.
But here I am, back on the dining room table, banging out code and loving it. Sort of like loving getting tattoos. You know? When you’re done, it’s a beautiful thing and you forget the pain. Sort of. Until you get the urge to do it again.
On another, yet just as typical note, the wonderful Paul Gallo of the house of Gallofornia was here visiting over the weekend. Yesterday, I skipped work and the master made a muslin for me. Yesh! I have my own, personal, hand-made original Gallo fitting muslin. I can’t wait to get into the sewing room with that bad boy and some of the yummy nummy knits I’ve been buying lately from Gorgeous Things and Emma One-Sock.
But enough about joy, it’s back to code and pain. Oh. Yeah. Pain. By request, the Number Two Surrogate Daughter’s finished tat: