So I was a bit of a busy lunatic on Tuesday!

Woke up, had food, had coffee, got dressed, and then I managed to do something I hadn't done before. I'd submitted a ticket to have github added to the sites that are recognized by the user name tag. This weekend I've been cleaning out my inbox of email that I just need to read and dismiss. One of the emails was a checkin for an addition to the external sites recognized by the user name tag. "Huh," I thought. "Maybe I can just mangle some existing code to do what it's supposed to do." A little poking later, and there were some pull requests submitted -- my first for the project. For any open source project.

After that, I drove down to the appointed place for the team lunch (about a dozen of us, my manager's crew and aunt-manager's crew). The accessibility was not great. I later discovered that there was a ramp at the side, but during the lunch rush it would not have actually been traversible. The front door was barely traversible and I contemplated turning around.

Lunch was nice, not remarkable but a nice wholesome curry. I was at the brewers' end of the table with Brutus and the tall skinny blond bearded white guy with the pink notebook which says "BUTTS" on the front. Slightly remarkably, he's scornful of the 'real name' trend.

We popped down the block a bit for ice cream. My manager told us that we might get anything we wanted -- within reason, she wasn't going to authorize ice cream cakes. "But what if we wanted to share one?" I asked.

"If you want to, fine, but I'm not driving that."

"Do we need a designated driver for an ice cream parlor run?"

I wound up getting something involving coffee and almonds in a sugar cone, with a cupful of mini M&Ms, and went outside to dip my cone in my M&Ms and join the rest of the team. Sadly, and there is always one -- *PLOP*.

The guy behind the counter saw me carrying in my sad handful of ice cream and leaves, and asked me what flavor it was. He presented me with a new cone. I promised to be more careful, and went back outside.

We-all headed back to work, or in Aunt-Manager's case, back home with the baby. She will rejoin us sometime after the new year, easing back in.

I came in to find the word "solutioned" in my inbox, in yet another missive from That Incoherent Twit. #cupcake had words to say on that front; I contributed the ever-popular "efforting". Mr. Zune's monitor apparently really needed the caffeine.

My manager's husband is "handy". He claims the hot water heater is fixed. She claims it is not. I was vaguely reassuring, along the lines that the failure modes of an insufficiently hot water heater is generally less hazardous than the failure modes of an excessively hot and perhaps leaking one. This was so.

The night janitor came around after a while. He wished me a Merry Christmas. I wished him a Happy Solstice. So then I had to explain Solstice. Did I believe that God had made the sun? Er, that depends on what you mean by god. Did I believe in God...? ... Er. What did I do for Christmas? I must celebrate because I decorate? Oh, spend time with family? Did I have family? But no boyfriend? Well, I was young...

With my manager, I can describe Guide Dog Aunt as "a less militant atheist than Woodworking Uncle", heh. With the night janitor, our worlds are very different and I'm trying to not freak him out too badly.

Purple had to scram from work with some alacrity, but came by to walk me out. He picked some jellybeans. He hadn't been trying for cinnamon, but got some anyway. I could smell it from way over here. He said it was an improvement on garlic, as they'd had garlic fries for lunch. And they were delicious. I agreed that smelling like garlic at someone was only fair if the other party had also had delicious garlic fries.

He won't be in the office tomorrow due to an evil developer who is trying to develop some evil, and having to go to an inconveniently timed city council meeting to block it. This sounds similar to a meeting my manager had to go to. He'll be back on Wednesday.


( chat log, with some minor insensitivity about some locale-based jargon )

My tweets

• Mon, 16:56: Stylin' with a custom emergency team scarf. Cheap orange scarf, high-quality high-vis tape. http://t.co/5jZOuLYUGP
• Tue, 00:03: My fitbit #Fitstats for 12/08/2014: 4,197 steps and 1.8 miles traveled. http://t.co/gFMrr7ZfJa
• Tue, 00:33: Tumblr favorite: http://t.co/8H06QcyRiH (from madmaudlingoes)
• Tue, 03:44: RT @deadorcs: So if a Super Target & a Whole Foods had a baby, but it was raised by a drunken uncle in the Florida Keys...THAT is Trader Jo…
• Tue, 03:45: RT @NightValeRadio: NATURE FACTS: Nature will kill you and then make new things from you.
• Tue, 04:30: Photoset: johnteller: dressing a galaxy: Padme Amidala dressing gown “Padmé’s casual dressing gown features... http://t.co/QvUoFYm3H2

Lesser, compared to whom?

One of the great things about fictional multiverses is that sometimes, their universe is your universe, and if you want to do a thing which would ordinarily be a crossover or AU, it might even fit into the canon without altering the world in which they are, merely altering the universe they happen to be in.

Thus it was that I explained my fabulous hat to morbane (Sophie Hatter would whisper "fabulous trainwreck" to this collision between an Easter bonnet and a Pride parade) and we started plotting a thing where Sophie Hatter winds up in a Pride parade. Howell Jenkins is from Wales. Certainly a village in Wales might have itself an organization which might try to throw a Pride parade. Heh. Heh. Heh.


It's almost always a quieter day than it might otherwise be if Purple is out of the office. I wasn't entirely sure I felt like locating team members for lunch, even though when I have lunch with them I generally enjoy the process. So I tiptoed upstairs in the building off thattaway and joined lb's lunch table.

Beldorion was in the middle of some long-winded story or other which wound up being about knowing some guy who had been heavily involved in like doubleclick or something. One of the people I know less well at this particular lunch table started asking, well, don't you admire him?

Beldorion did not admire this guy. ( Read more... )

So there I was in IRC. The guy who had built the main IRC bot left the company some time ago, and someone else built a new one and then there was a funky data center migration issue (nobody knows what VM the thing was on originally, so after the migration, no one knows what server the thing went onto nor enough of the VM name to find it again, and if it belonged to an alumnus it may have been deleted) so the Lumberjack (a friend to #cupcake currently working out of a home office in Japan, who was recently talking about his need to build something or split a bunch of wood lying around) is re-setting-up a copy of the first guy's bot.

One of the features of the bot is financial market prices. You say ".stock GOOG" and it gives you Google's stock. This is about how that went:

Lumberjack: .stock AAPL
arewethereyet_bot: [ERROR 259 at LINE 57465534511 / NO ACCESS WITHOUT STANDARD FCP/1 20/GM.]
devpan_snarker: lol
( Read more... )

I take it as a distinct item of success that I declared that I wanted a particular dish with a side of fresh cucumber pickle salad and then went right ahead and did that thing. All that needed preparing was the cucumber, but this time I had the energy to do it and get the other groceries put away promptly (not just the cold stuff) and that was dinner. So often I want a thing, but then the energy expended to get it makes preparing it immediately impossible, and then I eat something else so I get the energy, and then I don't want that anymore at the next meal opportunity. So yay me for energy.


Tomorrow, the Party Commandant starts the plotting process for the team conference, at least, the part where we're having meetings. The wheel turns, and ages come and pass.