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azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
As scheduled, quite a bit of #cupcake ducked out from their desks around 5:30-ish on Tuesday. With a nominal effort at stealth, we assembled around the fire pit. I saw radius out looking for me on my way over, and showed him how to operate the fire in the fire pit. Rain had been collecting in the seats, so we brushed them off.

One of the reasons the gathering was more urgent than it might have been is that radius is headed back to his alternate universe home Down Under, perhaps this month but definitely by the beginning of next year. He'll be back around, as he's still Working Here, just ... working from there. So we are getting our cupcakery in while we have the chance.

Assembled included me, radius, the guy in the office next door to radius (a new #cupcake arrival), Purple, the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK whose office has the unnecessarily gendered bananas, the Dean and his younger kid, and eventually Mr. Tux. There was chocolate. There were marshmallows. There were graham crackers and Danish butter cookies. There was better chocolate. There were roasting forks. There were very valiant attempts at avoiding making any sort of obscene joke that the kid would pick up on when the marshmallow slid down the shaft of the hot dog sized roasting fork in a trail of white goo, and the subsequent introduction of the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK to his first s'more ever. Not everyone was careful to check the seats before sitting down, and the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK (he really needs a nickname, and I should check to see whether he's already been assigned one) got "wet bum". Happily, there was fire to help with that.

We gossiped. We told scary stories. A ... lot of them were dev or ops flavored. (Hushed ominous voice: "... and he thought he had a viable backup." *gasps*)

One of the guys had been thinking it would be too cold, and how would we keep warm? It turns out, fire is pretty good at that. I was wrapped up in two jackets and an ankle-length cloak, which also helped.

Dark chocolate salted caramel Ghirardelli squares are *fabulous* in s'mores. The almond toffee kind are also great. To Purple's dismay, the dark chocolate mint cream kind were not so great in that combination.

Purple had offered to give radius a lift home, and the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK got a lift as far East as Purple was going. We collected in Purple's office for a little more (warmer) gossip. Someone had a wardrobe malfunction -- the scruffy gay Canadian guy from the UK had forgotten his belt, and it turns out that when that happens, his zipper becomes migratory. We talked about the logistics of the Internet of Things (In Your Trousers), and whether a self-zipping fly was practical (no), and how you'd do a fly status monitoring thingy. Plus exploits.

We trooped out to the parking lot. I told radius and the s.g.C.g.f.t.UK about that time that my high school's academic decathlon team did (and then did not) get disqualified from the state competition (yet again), the Hotel Windows Are High Up edition, after the discussion about how many birds it would take to poop on a smartcar to total it. (A lot.) Purple had already heard that story. heh.

One of the little signposts by which I judge the world is the presence and/or nature of the customary goodnight hug. Typically this is not an event observed by co-workers. There have been times when the presence of observers has bent both of us in the direction of this not being a moment that ought to be presented for misinterpretation. This was not that kind of evening. After a fleeting side-hug (that friend to awkward teenagers everywhere) we were all on our merry ways.
azurelunatic: California poppies, with a bright blue sky and the sun. (California girl)
There's a love meme on, one of the self-nomination kinds that evades the third-person pronounery that I usually find so fraught in the nominate-others sorts. My thread: http://radioaches.dreamwidth.org/81108.html?thread=1190356#cmt1190356

Over last week the ant profusion at work was on the decline. I was cheered. I was still squishing them at a rate of about 4 per hour, but that was much better than previous.

Sadly, Polka-Dot Researcher has left the company; I'll miss her. She's been very sick for a while; she came back briefly with visible pain patches on her injured shoulder and then went back out again. I'm sure there's a story but I don't know much of it.

Rather a lot more of other things! )

My tweets

Aug. 2nd, 2015 12:05 pm
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Read more... )
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
One of the fun interludes of yesterday afternoon was helping [personal profile] inoru_no_hoshi test whether a headset worked for phone. Yay!

Went to bed early last night, and conked out sometime around midnight. Woke up at my "sensibly early" alarm, which is 9. Even dilly-dallying around, I was still in the office by 10:45, and the lack of any early meeting made me crank through some things. The person acting as release manager for the helldesk software finally got us logins to the piece of software which they have cram-jammed their issue tracking into. Fucking helldesk, including a call to HR. )

The snowed-in guys in MA told me about their hardware. I spent a surprisingly short amount of last night wandering around my corner of the building ogling my team's hardware for administrative purposes. Since Massachusetts is pretty far to wander, I emailed the MA guys directly, if vaguely as to the purpose (I'm doing this under the Acting Director's guidance, and for a purpose, but in case it goes badly I'm trying not to spill the beans, Boston baked or otherwise). One of the guys who share an office and work as a unit told me that his backup drive was possibly on its last leg, making alarming noises. This clearly would not do, so I placed an order immediately. You do not fuck around with things like that, you replace them before you have a data loss incident.

I was feeling fairly productive by the point that I told Purple that tomorrow, I'd be heading to lunch early due to a 13:00 meeting (because conference, because Thursday). Purple promptly said that it wasn't all that early and sent the lunch ping, then realized that I'd said "tomorrow". Heh.

Lunch was pleasant. Purple teased me gently about my sleep schedule, as last night it was almost diurnal-person. One of the guys had discovered that in the early days of cars, people crashed into things all the time. They were used to horses, which have robust anti-collision principles, and cars did not. Though the modern car is changing that. The discussion progressed to some weird places, man. )

further innuendo )

I had a meeting up top the hill with the Dean, about Movie Night. Mr. Sub-tle was still pretty elusive. But I had prepared with a list of all-time best, classic, and cult movies from Rotten Tomatoes, for suggestions for the 2nd instance. The Dean happily claimed those. Additionally, he likes the peppermint & white chocolate truffles.

Since I was going to be up on that end of campus anyway, I had brought a map and a handful of candy intended for people associated with the helldesk software. I'd meant to introduce myself to the person newly in release manager role, but he wasn't at his cube. I left a few things on the side of his desk. Then I went down to the (well-lit, as it was on the low side of the hill) basement with a handful of candy for the senior developer on the project, the sensible fellow we met at the rather terrible meeting in September. He was happy to see me, and happy to hear that I felt there was visible progress. He also does pay special attention when he sees tickets coming in from me. "I was raised in Open Source," I explained. Dear LJ, you brought me up right. I mentioned that I had finally got a login to the bug tracker, so I could do acceptance testing. Release on this one is next week. He did say something about next month's which has me intrigued.

I went to triage my email in the milkshake bunker. Mr. Zune joined me there, and we talked mostly hardware and statistics. Then we walked back.

I then launched myself into the wilds of SFDC. There was, as previously mentioned, swearing. But it went well overall, succeeding in four out of the five tests, and not being any more broken in the fifth test than it is in production already (for apparently unrelated reasons). One of the things I tried to do once I finished my own assignment was to attempt to tackle the ticket of the A-Team Leader, who is one of the not-so-technical administrative assistant types. (I am unusual among Virtual Hammer administrative assistants in that I come from an actual helpdesk and minor dev background.) Unfortunately, it involved triage stuff that my account, even on the testbed, can't apparently do.

My phone battery being horrible, I determined that I should try to get to the phone place before they closed for the night.

I hit step count pretty easily, and while I was moderately sore and took a little blue pill, I was not majorly, tearfully sore. Yay stamina!

Apparently ordering a laptop stand for Rocky was very thoughtful of me. He mentioned craning his neck and squinting at the laptop screen, and one of these problems can be solved with a $30 piece of hardware.

I pinged Purple, and we got out of there very close to a sensible time, I'd just to put a few things on the wiki. We didn't stand around chatting too long in the parking lot, either.

I had a hard time explaining to the guys why an Otterbox was not recommended for this phone at this time -- when you have a phone back that is out of spec with what the Otterbox is expecting by 1-2mm, the Otterbox will not take kindly to this. "It's being flaky," I described to Purple, and showed him the crack and where pieces are literally flaking off of the hard part of the thing.

One of my requirements in a phone case is somewhere to hook a strap. This one is sort of terribly placed, but reasonably secure.

So now I have a new battery and a new backup battery. And it was still early enough that I could get back to the west end of the bay and refuel before Costco gas closed for the night.

And now it is bedtime.
azurelunatic: part of a triangle filled with alternately black and red hearts, increasingly smaller in a sierpinski triangle pattern (hearts)
Sunday was not a great day in the department of menstruation. Specifically, it all decided to come out at a great rate. After I got to sleep from the whole electrical fire, I had to get up and ditch blood regularly. Sunday was a quiet day. Then I went to bed early and was more or less asleep for thirteen hours.

At lunch, I came to the gentle realization that one of the reasons that I had been so nervous about telling Darkside that [birthname] is not really one that I answer to anymore, is because I was not allowed to have preferences of my own around Shawn. Purple saw the dawning horror on my face and said many sweetly vicious things that prompted me to smile mistily and press paired fingers against his sleeve. [personal profile] norabombay mentioned, later, that a name change is a significant thing that comes with a nonzero chance of friends and family rejecting it, even people who ought to be close and ought to know better. But yeah, Shawn's shadow looms longer than previously thought.

lb saw a familiar face on campus, in the company of a recruiter.

My phone's battery has been not great. Alas.

The Stage Manager left me a donation toward my candy dish.

Today was one of those days where it seemed like all I did was talk with helpdesk. I also tried to do beta on some helpdesk stuff, but not all of the pieces were in order. Then I tried to put some stuff in the wiki, only to find that the wiki was broken. So I had to call helpdesk again.

The white sour balls may be possibly pear-flavored, Purple said.

He'd come in late enough to have a parking spot of opportunity. Mine was further down the same row, at the other end. We chatted for a while. My eyeshadow included some glitter, which had been catching the light and reflecting off my glasses, causing slight distraction. This was not a light source Purple would have guessed. He hugged me gently but thoroughly and we split. Tomorrow night is the deadline for some papers that have to be graded. He has a couple left.

I did get a good chat in with Nora, through the commute and into the grocery store. Then I came home and started laundry and cooked dinner and read some internet.
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
I was parking just as Purple was walking through the parking lot. He stopped and waited for me to extract myself from the car, then walked me in. It was a pleasant start to the morning.

The CSS wars continue. "Please advise." has been added to the Gallery of Hostile Signatures.

I arrived at work just as a meeting that I was supposed to be in was wrapping up. I didn't get to sleep until late, but I set my alarm for 10 minutes before the meeting so I could call in. But there was no number. So I emailed Madam Standards (whose meeting it was) and then the whole group, to ask for a number or if they could just call my cell from the conference room phone. But nobody remembered to. They did, however, realize they needed me, and assigned me a task in absentia which I had already started before the meeting even met. Logistics, meet me. Heh.

Lunch was with Purple's table. Lennon Glasses Guy now has vaguely better context for some of the random things Purple and I say to each other, because #cupcake.

When there is bell pepper and cilantro all up in the rice for burritos, I have started asking for the guy to use the rice from the Indian food station next door. Today I called it "uncontaminated rice", which was not the most tactful phrasing I've ever used. I'm not allergic because I don't swell up and die, but I taste that thing in the cilantro (stink bugs, not soap), and my stomach is unhappy with bell peppers in more than fragmentary form, and I associate the taste with badness.

The package has arrived with the customer. I had the emails sent to radius, not me, so he was the one to be all giddy about that.

Around 5, I realized that the Beacon (the lava lamp on the collaboration table) was not lit. I reckoned that there might only be two hours left, but I turned it on anyway.

I have had a situation going on with my right hand for the past couple days: I slept on my right shoulder wrong, which produced some upfuckery which has gone down to the flexor tendon in my right index finger (it's not like I use that all the time or anything). So I am being very ginger with my hand. Mostly I can't grasp with that finger when my arm is turned inward and bent at the elbow. Or at least I should not. So I am trying not to, because it was hurting. Whatever had gone wrong in my shoulder went *spang* sometime today and it feels normal there again, but my hand has still been somewhat tender and swollen. It's gone down over the course of the day, but I'm going to be gentle on it for another couple days.

More paperwork related to the swapover of certain management things, and oh god it's just a *pain*. Yesterday one of the people called me, and I got to speak gently but firmly about the importance of including gender identity and gender expression specifically by name in their anti-harassment document. While I largely adore my team and don't think we'd run into any such problem, it needs to be there to protect the people who really need the protection and don't have that level of knowledge and trust. I would hope they'd do the right thing anyway, but when you need that protection you don't always know, and [insert horror story from domain shop here]. And the lady on the other end of the phone started, I think, to see why it was important, and it is a document that they keep updating with the lawyers, after all.

Dear cisgender folks: one concrete thing you can do is keep an eye out for lists of people who ought to be protected, and make sure that trans* folks and other gender minorities are included where they can be. It's part of the onboarding process for me now. Check, then comment if it's not there.

My co-workers keep trolling each other with the dried durian. Sparkles got Rocky to huff air from the bag. Rocky staggered off groaning. Sparkles headed out of the building giggling. It's the gift that keeps on giving.

The fellow working from Home Office: Japan in #VirtualH has been doing botsmithery again. This time, the number of hours until beer bash. I've been running a day ahead, so I thought it was only 21 hours when the bot said 33. The Botsmith pointed out my error, and started muttering about timezones. I adjusted my math. 45. Okay. The bot was still 12 hours off. "Is it ignoring the PM bit?" I asked, because 12 is a magic number, and the math made sense if the bot thought it was 4am, not 4pm. That turned out to be the basic shape of the answer, though the details varied slightly. That's one of the things to check with datemath, if it's 12 hours off for some reason.

Fishie has taken a Goodreads book quote widget intended for a blog or webpage and is using it as a desktop widget. Then, since she wanted it to refresh on its own, she hunted down some javascript that would do that, and a refresh button, and jammed it all together. I'm so proud of her.

I checked in with Purple about where he was in the thing around 8. "Pretty close, about 10," he said. "Minutes," he added hastily. That was good, because if it had been 10pm he'd meant, I would have packed up my stuff and wandered over to give him a hug goodnight, roll my eyes at him, and head out to the parking lot alone.

It turns out that Purple and I can start from "Gosh, living in Alaska is gorgeous" to "No, even if it were lego-sized bricks, if it's square enough to work as a brick, it would hurt to poop it." Via the metal detectors in San Francisco City Hall. Conversations with us are weird, man.

I did laundry Monday. Today, since I was feeling slow and sore, I was low on steps. So tonight I sat myself down on the yoga ball and set out an outfit for tomorrow night while watching some Mythbusters. The new format is all right, I suppose, and the game episode was cute. I got my steps made. I checked my averages, and sure enough, it was up enough to progress my goals.


Jan. 8th, 2015 12:28 am
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
I started the day infeliciously, by sleeping over a meeting with a number of researchteam and an external vendor. However, by all reports it involved less signal than noise, and there are many further questions. I shall bang on it until candy falls out.

Another group contacted me for an internal pilot with another external vendor. I will also bang on that one until candy falls out. There was much cynicism in #VirtualH, with very little spilling over to #cupcake.

Vampire Teeth Dev, the officemate of Lennon Glasses Guy, rather charmingly seems to think I possess more knowledge about the actual whereabouts of Purple than the average guy at the lunch table. It is possible. This time, I had no extra knowledge, just I knew Purple's car was in the parking lot and he'd sent out the lunch ping, but I hadn't seen him yet. He'd gotten collared by someone else with a problem right after sending the lunch ping, was what had happened.

I spent the bulk of the afternoon screaming into wikis on a small number of topics:

* What is going on with the researchteam's SaaS thing?
* What is going on with the upcoming conference?
* Maps.

Mid-afternoon, a large selection of #cupcake descended upon my cube, and met Researcher Haystack. They then swept me off to the Milkshake Dungeon. I have been careful to get things which don't have lactose, which helps things. Purple discovered to his dismay that "heat this up a bit" for the blueberry danish involved a microwave. lb got a cheese danish with "one degenerate blueberry". I got a picture.

Teenage girls have a reputation for giggling. I have been a teenage girl. I believe that it is safe to say that a group of grown techdudes (give or take) watching/narrating/explaining/listening to a clip from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Food_Party can rival that.

My teammate Rocky, the 11+ -year man, has taken to setting whatever cup he happens to be holding on the corner of the further team table when he heads into the bathroom. This is a sensible habit. The problem comes in when he forgets he had been carrying a cup once he emerges. This is not actually a problem when it's a work-cup or a compostable one, but when it's a special cup, there's always the unfortunate chance that someone walking by might pick it up. (I don't know of anyone who would be asshole enough to take a clearly personal cup, but sometimes it's a swag cup and people do sometimes divest themselves of same, so it's not always clear.) This time it was a swag cup from a particular event, and I knew he wouldn't want to lose it. I also didn't feel quite like picking it up and trotting it over to his office. So I grabbed the blue tape.

Shortly after that, I was drawn out of my wiki-whacking trance by the sound of giggling, and an iPhone.

Read more... )

Madam Standards was trying to power through some stuff today. I poked my head around the corner of her office mid-afternoon; she was In The Writing Zone, but did want to chat later. I poked back just after five-ish, when she was so far into the zone she didn't seem to register me appearing at all. I went to get my own coffee refill, and grabbed a bonus mug with hot water, three bags of tea (mint, Earl Grey, and passionfruit, so at least one was bound to be reasonable), a couple packets of sweetener, a stirring stick, and one of the little cheeses. I slid it onto her desk and let her get back to it.

"How did you know?"

It's mint, apparently. I made a note.

Purple was working on stuff, and I was walloping at my inbox, so we stayed fairly late. Eventually the need for dinner became an issue. We did stop to chat. It was a lovely warm-compared-to-places-which-are-not-California (and not uncomfortably chilly for California) night under the waning moon with the soft song of at least three owls (two mostly in tune, one contrasting), backed up by at least three leafblowers, punctuated by bursts of police siren echoing back through the parking lot.

I learned that one joking term for the thing where two police cars pull up side-by-side into the cutouts of canyon-walled divided highways and roll down their windows to chat, is "cop-ulation". *groan*

The hug bonked my nose (gently but startlingly) with Purple's shoulder, which wound up silly.

I was tired and hungry, and now I'm mostly just tired. Nora's been sick. I'm cooking up some bacon, some for now and some for later. It smells good.
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
I stayed up a bit late Wednesday night because duty called. (Duty in the form of Yuletide. Love to Hippos.)

Thursday morning. )

The walk back was refreshing. I wore the Festive Hat, fully lit up. That always gets noticed. I put it away, though, as next was the Dreaded Team Meeting. I told Purple that depending on how it went, I might or might not spend some of the subsequent time sobbing under someone's desk with vodka.

The bad news from Wednesday was that my occasionally frustrating but always well-meaning grandmanager the Randomizer, who has been in and out of the hospital over the past year-ish, will be stepping down entirely, due to illness. Read more... ) So while I'm concerned for him on a personal level because he's ill and stepping down because of illness is never a happy thing, I have every confidence business-wise.

So I came out of the team meeting more hopeful than I had been going in, which was not the outcome I was expecting. No vodka-desking for me!

I had the package tracking notification that the latest package in Syne's BPAL decant circle had arrived, so I set off to the mail room with a small bag of the good candy. It is always recommended to bring bribes of an edible nature to the fine folks of shipping & receiving, because they crave that mineral appreciate it. It was at this point that I learned that the notification is slightly inaccurate for our setup, as the arrive notice is when it hits our post office, and then our team goes over there in the morning and picks up the mail, and it didn't hit the post office endpoint until noonish. So it would arrive Friday. I delivered the candy anyway, admired their bubble wrap snowman, and walked back.

Read more... )

Friday was another day. I woke up midway through my sleep cycle and discovered confirmation that the vendor was in the database. However, the mobile app didn't let me edit jack shit. I went back to sleep. When I woke up, I looked for a necklace, since the star necklace wasn't going to be a viable choice. The raven one looked good.

At work, the vendor was listed, so I spent a few minutes making sure the submission was set up and sent off for approval. Then I went to lunch, a few minutes after Purple's lunch call. Purple had not found time before work to get the tire seen to, but it's a very slow leak. No telling how long the nail has been in there.

I saw the table with Purple's usual crew. I saw the cluster of tables with a whole bunch of my team, including the rare sight of the Randomizer. I went with my team. Later, having finished my burrito and refilled my lemonade, I joined Purple's table. They understood.

I did a bit more candy-distribution. Having finished my bit of the terrifying procurement thing, I tracked down some software for Brutus Cochin (as that is a vaguely known thing and also vastly less expensive). The shipping & receiving guy came by with the mail cart, which included the latest decant circle. I had some more festive cheer for him. He hugged me.

Bash ensued. It took me longer to get there this time, and it was harder finding a table. I did score one, though! Purple joined me. "It's not like your hat is visible over the wall or anything," he teased. He claimed the sort-of-occupied-looking chair after I reassured him that the reason it looked sort of occupied was because I was scaring off chair-vultures. Radius and R joined us. R was late on account of a meeting, and then had to run off to wrap up before dashing off somewhere else. Radius had a bug to be stomped. Mr. Zune was off with family. lb was off with family. phone was home minding a sleeping possibly-teenager (we're a little uncertain as to the actual age of his kid). Later, Lennon Glasses Guy came by, and that was nice. Eventually we told tales of social engineering and various exploits and bugs we have known. Lennon Glasses Guy hadn't realized that I'd worked at the domain shop in the past, which was where two of my tales came from.

Midway through it all, I got an email that made me start swearing.

"Hi Azure, The user needs to be added to CC in order to make the ticket visible to them. Please refer the attached screenshot and confirm if we are good to close this ticket. Thanks, Helpdesk Guy."

Very fortunately, I am in a position where my input is respected as a bellwether of parts of my greater organization as regards this piece of fucking software. My response was brusque and to the point.

"Not acceptable. Tickets need to be visible to users not on the CC list."

Upon getting back to my desk, I added lb's Overlady, as she is the current torchbearer for our division's good fight. We've got her back, and the pitchforks. I feel like this one is important enough to hammer spikes in to any reasonably slowly moving surface and cling to them while yelling.

There has been a squeaking sound all up in our corner for days now. One of the facilities dudes has been investigating. Unfortunately his hearing doesn't go that high anymore. Most of my department can hear it. He located some vent louvers which were oscillating when they shouldn't ought to be, and a substantial leak from a pipe on the other end of the roof. The ventilation guys have been summoned.

Chatted with Rocky some. The time to be a dick about your nerf weaponry is not when you've just scratched someone's cornea. (This was a lead engineer in a place he used to work.) It was a rough work neighborhood. Rocky carried in a large nerf gun in a duffel bag, then introduced the engineer most likely to cause trouble to the business end of it...

Purple came by to head out. He chatted with Rocky and encouraged me to tell how Tay and I used to troll the roosters by crowing out of turn at them.

I'm not sure if Purple would describe himself as "a gamer", but via a link I sent him, he wandered into Tropes vs. Women in Video Games, and reported back that he was impressed and generally in agreement with a lot of things, even though not 100% in agreement (and 100% agreement is rare for him). Read more... )

Bash was dinner enough for Purple, so he generally declined the concept and headed home. I picked up some groceries.
azurelunatic: Log book entry from Adm. Hopper's command: "Relay #70 Panel F (moth) in relay. First actual case of bug being found" (bug)
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 [personal profile] 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.
azurelunatic: Axial tilt is the reason for the season. (Festive red & green text; diagram of Earth's axial tilt.) (axial tilt)
01:23 Friday, 05 December, 2014
Purple, Wednesday: Why is there sugar in your office?
Me: Frosting.
Purple: Ohhhhhh.

Manager, Thursday: Is that sugar?
Me: Yes. The lemon frosting for those cookies.
Manager: Ohhhh, and there's the lemon juice right next to it. ... I don't think anyone's ever made frosting at work before.
Me: Using breakroom butter!
Manager: *breaks down giggling*

22:40 Friday, 05 December, 2014
Today was the A-Team lunch to get briefing from some of the various facilities team. It happens quarterly. I had a few questions regarding the helldesk software. The new manager may be able to kick ass and take names.

I had been unable to find the festive headdress I was thinking of, but I did find another one. The one I was thinking of was sort of offensively festive. This one is merely very, very, very assertively festive. So much so that various people at work told me that I should start selling them. They have not, I believe, seen some of my other hats.

I may, in fact, have a bit of a hat problem. *eyes no fewer than three hats on top of the bookshelf*

Read more... )
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
BPAL of the morning: Blueberry Picking. There was a whiff of blueberry while wet, but the rest I couldn't quite identify. Not particularly high throw or long-lasting.

Got to work earlier than usual, to the surprise of everyone, including me. There was a lull in the rain when I set out. It gusted at me on the way to the coffee shop on the corner. It let up and was a bit sunny when I got out of the car. It spat rain in my face from several directions, little sharp cold droplets, not so much needles as tiny, cold stones. I used my coffee cup to shield my headset.

This was rain to confuse smart windshield wipers (apparently they make those nowadays, lb says; his new car has them, and they're a little off the speed he'd choose, but close) and mine are not smart. It flickered between gusts with droplets that already seemed to be flying flat and horizontal when they pancaked against the window, so fast I couldn't tell the edge of one from the next except as they rippled and then flew off in advance of the wipers, to just the hazing of drizzle, more of a fog, kicked up by the tires of the other cars.

Things feel slightly different at work, and in a good way. People are back from their Thanksgiving trips, and Sparkles is always high-energy, even when she's quiet. I feel like I'm getting more done.

There were some Twitter-related shenanigans -- well, actually, they were email-related shenanigans. Polka-Dot Researcher wanted the keys to the Twitter account. Read more... )

The guy two cubes down who is short and wears a lot of plaid and has a really wicked sense of humor was back at work, sounding slightly miserable. I gave him the overly hostile tissue box and the nickname of Sneezy. Every time he sees that box of tissues it cheers him up. Later, I got a new box for my cube and, as is now traditional, put a face to it. I'm not sure what emotion it's conveying, but it's definitely an emotion.

Helldesk shenanigans continue apace. Conspired with Mr. Zune briefly. Then lb came to retrieve me for a trip to the milkshake dungeon. We talked about the state of the helldesk as well.

There was a guest speaker. Due to the rain, it was rather more poorly attended than it might otherwise have been. I saw my friend Murraya (she of the overgrown mint and cat pics) sitting near the front to one side and settled down in her row. Purple joined us soon after. He and I were sort of unfamiliar but interested. Murraya was one of the people for whom this speaker had been invited.

This time, the backstage passes were envelopes taped under the chairs, with buttons inside. Since the rest of the row was empty except for Murraya, one of her presumed-teammates, me, and Purple, Purple looked under the other chairs at his end of the row. He found an envelope. Glee! In the general rustling and confusion, he told me quietly that he was giving it to Murraya, because she would clearly appreciate it so much more. And yes indeed. Yes.

The talk was delightful as usual. Mr. Sub-tle picks his guests well. There was the expected audience Q&A at the end, and Murraya got the mic second. With her heart and her eyes brimming over, she told Lynda Carter exactly how much it had meant to her to have someone like her available as a role model while she was growing up, and she owed her career as an engineer to the strength she found within herself thanks to that.

This was clearly the best question by far, but the other questions were decent.

Purple and I walked back together. Elementary school children are little shits. If you're shooting an alligator, make sure it's not a concrete statue at some point in the process. Purple had left his jacket on the chair between us. I headed back to my desk, and he ran back to retrieve his jacket.

Fishie's procrastination has been productive and has resulted in very viable progress on the other three essays that she's not procrastinating from. I remain proud of Fishie.

My second fishgrandbaby is on the way. I will be a double fishnan. (Not from Fishie, from a different, and somewhat older Fish.)

In the end, I only had to discard three of the creepy cookies. That's a fair go, from the plateful. I really liked the frosting, and will have to do it again.

In the department of white-people-gotta-talk-about-their-biases, Purple and I chatted about some stuff. Not like supermegaterrible, but biases and reactions and fears and some of the sorts of things people who are trying to be good and not act on their prejudices kind of don't always talk about. I don't really have anything smart or well-thought-through to say about that, because it was just us pinging thoughts back and forth while I went through and cleared old day-logs for their to-do lists, and he worked on code. Nothing super special except it's letting a little fresh air into the dank places that could use some cleaning, and cleaning generally goes a little easier when it's not just one.

Purple walked me out. It wasn't raining at that point, so we chatted in the parking lot. Apropos of that one story*, there was that time that his monosyllabic extrovert friend started dating, and warned his new girlfriend that he was clingy. She said it was fine. Two days later, it developed that for that level of clingy, no, it wasn't.

* Image: m/f couple lying in a bed facing away from each other, both looking slightly distressed, with text below.
Text. )

(Now, that is a relationship with spectacularly broken communication. It is not an example of the inherent and unbridgeable differences between men and women, it is an example of someone who has really doubled down on the no shop talk in the relationship concept, and someone else who is really super at worst-case scenarios.)

Particularly nice contented moments in a friendship include the "so this is what I was talking about at my end of the table at lunch today (while we were sitting next to each other)" conversation before splitting off to head home. The conversation on my end of the table involved how terribly awkward it would be to pocket dial someone and then have them overhear you talking shit about them. (Apropos of having recently pocket-dialed Purple.) Which resulted in me in fact telling Purple the two worst things I've said about him behind his back. Which were, for the record, that he's sometimes a bit of an asshole but I prefer it to the kind of asshole Figment could sometimes be, and then a brief tour of what I think of as "the Libertarian cycle" -- although it can probably be applied to other ideologies, but Libertarian is particularly prone to it due to Smart Kid Logic -- there are ideas that seem like a great idea until you see how they actually work in the real world. Though I couldn't exactly pin my finger on any specifics, and he does do a bit of ranting about things that he knows don't actually work entirely that way.

I'm getting the idea that I've simultaneously mellowed (my opinions of others, including friends, used to be rather sharper) and also that I seem to have lucked into a really kind of fantastic group of people about whom I don't actually foster a little burning resentment here and there.

It's getting easier and easier for Purple and me to go down the same mental track and wind up at the same station with the same music playing. This time it was The Bloodhound Gang's "Bad Touch", and we arrived simultaneously at the same part of the chorus. We were amused.

When we hugged goodnight, I leaned my left ear against his shoulder. He pulled me in tighter, and my headset beeped informationally at me. "Ack!" I said, or some similar statement. At least there was no one in the headset's memory to ... hug-dial? Is that even a thing?

(Mr. Antisocial Butterfly was quite loyal about the idea that someone might not consider Purple the best $NAME. Purple will always be the best $NAME to him. Purple is a very, very, very good $NAME. I'm just very cautious about the idea of letting a newcomer take the title, what with the existing competition.)

We hugged again, and this time we were both a little more careful and gentle.

The rain started up again on my way home. We need it.
azurelunatic: "enjoy Cock-Cola" (Cock-Cola)
My sleep schedule was unfortunate.

Left for work at 7am, rather than 6:30. This was not my best decision. I arrived at 8:30 rather than 7:15-8. Researcher Carmageddon said that traffic was ass for him too, so apparently it was more ass than usual.

Meeting happened, no notable disasters. Though we really do have to get internal people to label themselves better. (Ordinarily Researcher Carmageddon wouldn't have asked an internal person to introduce themselves, but it wasn't a familiar name.)

Desk shenanigans followed. The Hipster Researcher had engaged in desk-moving shenanigans; the chatter about the sudden appearance of a corner desk in the team table area attracted the attention of the Stage Manager and then my manager. While I had been aware that it was at least an unspoken no-no, apparently removing the second desk from a two-person office is in fact an actual no-no upon which managers will Frown. Also, facilities is supposed to do the heavy lifting. I filed a ticket.

Today was yet another instance of helpdesk "fun". My feelings are that the helpdesk software should go away entirely, the helpdesk staff should be re-educated, and the responsible developers should perhaps find another line of work.

Read more... )

I got a good chunk of transcription in. And then there was the team meeting. Unfortunately, they seem to have turned down the a/c, either on account of the repairs or the season. The room was hot, although my sleep-deprived state possibly contributed more to my nearly dozing off while the Grandmanager went through some stuff.

Mr. Zune and I decided that the guy on his team who I nearly accidentally clobbered with my cane that time, the one who is organizationally his eccentric bachelor uncle, should be henceforth known as his Overlord, as the guy gets to boss him around in time-honored Overlord fashion. When passing through Mr. Zune's department, I saw to my delight that Mr. Zune had indeed ordered a Caution: Bees sign for his teammate the beekeeper on the occasion of his wedding. It is now proudly posted on the beekeeper's office door. (And now I can actually ask "And your wife? And your bees?" in the same tone of voice for both when we get coffee at the same time.)

lb was still out sick, and Purple and R were still at the hackathon; radius and phone were either working from home or working from Australia or maybe in a meeting, so it was just Mr. Zune and me who went on the trek for ice cream. We compared scar stories and I introduced him to both the game prime/not-prime (by way of introduction) and the game lube/not-lube. He mentioned a very bad and perhaps apocryphal piece of sex advice as found on Reddit: Read more... ) So that's a thing that has been said on the internet. We saw R going thattaway on our way back. We said hi. Purple was at the next table over from her, so she promised to relay our greetings.

I managed to knock over a glass of soda. Fortunately, it was carpet-cleaning night anyway.

Eventually I decided it was time to go home. I figured the hackathon was probably still going on. I pinged R and asked her if she wanted some chocolate-covered espresso beans. She did not, but told me to ask Purple. Purple being notoriously hard to get ahold of via text, and this not being a world-shaking emergency that warranted calling, I didn't bother to check. I came by with my vat of the confection, and grabbed a couple paper bowls on my way down. Purple seemed happy to see me (when he registered my presence), and "This is probably a bad idea, but what the hell" accepted a few. I put them on the table, and added a warning label (as it's not immediately obvious what they are if you don't know, and accidental caffeine poisoning often offends). I hung out at R's table for a bit, then bade Purple goodnight. (I did not get any more caffeine tonight. I will probably want it tomorrow. I had sufficient caffeine today already. I did not have sufficient sleep. I did not have even half sufficient sleep. Purple winced.) (My weekdays feel oddly incomplete without saying goodnight to Purple.) One does not hug goodnight at this hackathon, and we did not.

I called [personal profile] zarhooie on the way home, yay!

Once I got home, I basically stripped, brushed my teeth, and hopped into bed. I may have made sure that nothing blew up in IRC, and emailed Purple to advise him that I had arrived home safely, but that was about it. I chatted with [personal profile] sithjawa, who had pinged me just as I was getting home, for a few minutes while horizontal, but conked out with alacrity for four hours before waking up hungry (as I had not bothered with a meal). Soon I will sleep again.

Tomorrow's big plans: door sign party with the Dean! I can't wait! Plus more transcription.
azurelunatic: melting chocolate teapot (418)
Today was my erstwhile Overlady's last day. She's leaving into what I might describe as a once-in-a-career opportunity. The office will be different without her.

I'd joined Purple's table for lunch as per usual. My Overlady came in and joined us as the last of Purple's crew were leaving, so it was just the three of us. The cafeteria quiets down after the rush has peaked.

There were a few last little administrative details. There will be another collection of them tomorrow, things I couldn't entirely face today. We hugged a slightly misty goodbye -- though it is a small valley, and there will be social things -- and I got the cards handed off or in the interoffice mail, all but the last one for the guy who's on-campus but in another building.

I held it together pretty well until Purple hugged me goodnight, at which point I got all squeaky and started leaking a bit. He comforted me and we talked shit about Shawn, as talking shit about Shawn is a pastime which often cheers me up. He is a good Purple. Read more... )
azurelunatic: "catch me if I fall", shooting star (catch me if I fall . . .)
Work actually started when I woke up and checked my phone, as the participant didn't get the invitation with the webex info because his email's been dodgy about calendar stuff from out of network. But they got to talking to each other shortly. Yay!

By the time I arrived at work (finally, some travails later), I was in a much less grim mood. The lunch table was outdoors this time. The Rollercoaster Tycoon, he of the preferential sweatpants, does not much like wasps. He described an ambition to don a fencing suit and kick a wasp nest. I advised him that something more substantial would be advised. Purple recounted an instance of running from a swarm of angry wasps with one on his butt repeatedly stinging him, which would turn into a softball-sized hive.

Software purchases have been going slowly; I think there's some woe on the procurement end somewhere. Alas.

After some time, lb and radius retrieved me and we talked strategy, elevators with unnecessary amounts of buttons, lb's upcoming talk at an internal conference, some interesting applications of some technologies that lb has his eye on putting together, childhood in low-population & isolated areas (radius beats me there), childhood pets, drinking coffee around goslings, and migraine auras.

It is amazing how many three-hole punches there are not in the workplace. I had toured the downstairs yesterday and found zero. I toured the upstairs today and found zero, plus Mr. Zune. I went over to the old building which usually has one in the mail room but there was nada. I eventually tried Moose Central, and found one there (finally). The facilities guys are going to literally chain down the new one.

It was when I was doing some more recruiting that I discovered that somehow, the Outlook junk mail filtering had come back on. I was searching for an email which had been generated by the antispam tool (because of course it's not in the single-sign-on, why would it be?) so I could monitor it to see whether it spuriously caught any more of the responses from our customers (or their mail systems). I tend to delete the reports from the antispam tool once I've handled them. So I was searching for my trash folder. I found one folder named Trash, one named Deleted Items, one named Junk, and one labeled Junk Mail. Turns out that two of these were inherited from a previous mail system and are not actually with a useful function in this system. (Of course. Despite them swearing that they would not fucking migrate our trash.)

And it was thus that I discovered that Outlook's junk mail filter had been on, in addition to the corporate filter outside our servers, since early October or something. And it had caught items which I had actually been supposed to take action on (fortunately that action was non-time-sensitive logging of general out-of-office items). I was furious, but managed to not actually swear on not!Facebook. If you count "jolly well", "I have no ever-loving clue", "I am seeing red", #besetbybees, and #collaboratethis as not swearing. Which I think my manager will. ("I find it moderately amusing that clicking your #besetbybees tag crashes the iOS not!Facebook app," quoth one of the Usual Suspects in the #collaboratethis space.)

Purple came to retrieve me just as I was finishing up some webex scheduling for the morrow. Apparently my chin was unexpectedly pointy when hugging him tonight -- just at the wrong angle versus his shoulder, we decided. I felt short. Us young folks with our hashtags and our selfies! "This isn't your lawn," I pointed out. It is a parking lot. We'll see if it can actually be re-surfaced this weekend, or whether rain will stop that again.

There has been a countdown running; I advised Purple that depending on what was going on tomorrow, I might or might not be scarce. It feels like all the administrative handoff things are done, there are some tasks that are for Thursday, and what is left for Wednesday is the human element. I'm ... not always that good at being human.

I generally prefer taking the internal roads as far as I can toward the side streets, instead of going straight from the parking lot onto a sometimes fairly busy street. And it was thus that I was flagged down by a co-worker who had stayed past the time when the campus shuttle stops running, and had parked somewhat further from his car than he was actually capable of walking unassisted. It turns out that he's also pagan; I will send him an invitation to the (very small and lonely) pagan group on not!Facebook.

NaNo progress: rocky.
azurelunatic: "So after we shot up the police station and set the habitat on fire, what did we do for an encore?"  (encore)
I think I'm not imagining this character. At least, I hope I'm not. I think he's from a Gordon Korman book. He's somewhere from his late 40s to very vigorous 60s. He's slender and moderately tall, a white dude with a leathery face full of smile wrinkles, with a Vonnegut-esque head full of curly hair shot through with white, though perhaps not quite as bushy. He keeps his head cocked to the side as if listening to a Call to Adventure that few can hear. At a crucial moment, he is ready to burst forth with some sort of Fuck Tha Man shenanigans.

Is he Gramps?
Is he somebody else?

I hope he exists, because I work with his doppelganger. We traded information on the helpdesk software and just how badly it sucks.
azurelunatic: A cartoon bee flying. Captioned "that'll give you, er, BEES."  (bees)
Morning did not treat me particularly well. My throat and my nose got into an argument, and I lost. The resulting coughing spree had me questioning my relationship with oxygen for a few hours. I was droopy, quiet, and woeful over lunch (and I opted for lunch with Purple's gang, rather than the invited speaker event, which sounded interesting but I was exhausted). The hot peppers in the dish weren't the best help. I did quiet organizey things in and around my inbox for a while, and printed some labels for my Overlady's section of the move.

Designer Sparkles had some things to say about transparency; she breezed by my cube and mentioned that I should go and like a thing on not!Facebook. Purple had been bothered by the same topic the night before. I slung some links around.

I wasn't feeling up to seeing what turtle goings-on there were. When Purple came over to retrieve me, there was a bit of a crowd inside, and enough rain outside that neither of us felt quite like that. We found a corner inside. I was still quieter than usual. Various people wandered by, including a few teammates, a friend on another team, and some guy I don't know in the slightest but I've seen him around so his face is familiar. That guy stopped and told me that I'd asked the best question the other day. I told him what had inspired me -- my dad had got access to a variable speed card reader, and you never tell a [Lunatic] "You can't possibly break that." NEVER. (It didn't actually break, but it did react alarmingly.)

We were heading back upstairs to get back to work when Purple got sidetracked in the kitchen. Come to find out, R and the Other Guy were there. So we spent another enjoyable while chatting. This included some disturbing Van Gogh-related imagery, and the revelation that yes, the girls in Frozen are technically Disney princesses, but princesses who on occasion feel gassy. Also, "the other guy who worked on The Book of Mormon" is a distinct selling point. Purple did say random things which resulted in me variously brandishing my cane at him. During one of those moments, there was a ducking and oopsing from behind us: I had nearly clipped Mr. Zune's managey-type person with my cane by accident. He'd come in search of the fussball players, who were already long gone. He ducked back out again. R's phone was on the dregs of its battery, but I had a chargey-box in my purse.

And then we did go back upstairs and get back to work. Though I did ask after the state of the facial hair. I'd been noticing that it's on about a three-day cycle. Apparently that cycle is anywhere from three days to two weeks, depending on morning meetings and other circumstances. So there's no actual plan to revert to the evil-alternate-universe version of himself in progress.

Purple stopped by my cube later. I was stuffing stuff in boxes. My "Caution: Bees" sign came up. It is a sign that belongs on the top of a box. Purple suggested that the ideal contents for a box which would contain this would be vibrators. This won him the boon of being the best [name] for a short span.

I pulled some of the gloves out of the glove-box to put in the emergency kit, prior to putting the glove-box in the moving box, and Purple's attention was drawn. He suggested that the box of gloves be displayed next to some other items to allow the proximity to cause alarm. I realized just the item, and brandished my bottle of lotion. That caused Purple to display antic delight. He then went yes-and, suggesting the bottle of caramel syrup alongside, for further confusion.

Somewhat after that interlude, one of the moving guys popped his face in my cube and evidenced surprise that there was someone working that late. He'd been coming to borrow a highlighter. I retrieved one; he was thinking not one of the fancy ones, one of the standard ones. So I dug up one of those. Everything on my desk is moving around and nothing is where it's supposed to be. It's very distressing.

On my way to go ditch a cup in the kitchen or something, Purple waved me over and showed me, among other things, Ze Frank's "Fitting In Cardboard", a short little film. After it was over, I looked at him and smiled, blinking my eyes slowly. Then I had to explain that no, it was just that I didn't really have words for the thing that I had just watched (which was good). And we also watched a red hot nickel ball slide through a giant gummy bear.

Purple had been meaning (for several days) to email his former officemate about the ownership of a phone that had been left in a moving box in the office. Since I'd been hearing same for several days, this time I loomed over him until he opened the window and started composing the email. Then I headed off to stuff some further things in boxes.

When Purple and I hugged goodnight, his hair was in the wrong place, so I got a faceful of it. This resulted in a little bit of tipping over (him) and spluttering (me). "Well, it's not wet, so that's a good sign," he said, after the part where I explained that it tried to go up my nose.

So then I had to tell the story of how Darkside first accidentally got fingers up my nose, and then wiped them on my shirt. (Purple would have done the same.)

My timing was crappy (considering the hour), but [personal profile] norabombay and I took five minutes to get a bit caught up. She's got stuff in the morning, but maybe she'll be around during the evening.
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Work: relatively calm, trying to get stuff done while things are not screamingly busy. A number of people are out of the office for various reasons. Purple's still out of the office for a week. I now have several balls of string. Heh, heh, heh.

Walking and stuff )

One of the guys is working on getting the LGBT* community there a little better connected and engaged. I like his drive and he's a good buddy. I can say, though, that as much as he means well and cares, he is not attuned to the nuance of not being a cishetdude in tech, because he is an executive assistant and while he is in a technical department, he spends more time with executives than techs. (And I am not best positioned to really know the situation on the ground, because while I am reasonably situated in my department, we are not the depths of dev-land, and I'm not sure that $OTHER-DEPARTMENT which-has-had-Incidents is necessarily representative (god I hope not).) Fortunately many of the other people in the LGBT* group (a lot of them also guys) are better attuned. Also (and I say this approvingly) sneaky bastards.

Events: We have to be subtle.
Exec: You, subtle?
Events, sounding comically wounded: I can be subtle!
(general laughter)
Events: Okay, so I'm working from home today? And have you all on speakerphone? And my partner just walked down the hall now? He is cracking up and says, 'You, subtle?!?!'

So that was a thing that happened.

There was the customary gaming group on Tuesday night. I wasn't sure how social I would be feeling, but it turned out that it was reasonably so, after other stuff wrapped up. I arrived to find everybody in the middle of long games. However, there was fish-business to attend to!

At this juncture, I would like to inquire of my friends who are much closer to the field of medicine than I am -- what advice would you give to a pre-med student in second year of university who had always been indifferent to medicine at best, had been pressured into the field by an overbearing parent whom they now resent for having done this, and who really profoundly dislikes the field of study? My thought is that if they can at all manage to, they should eject themselves with all available speed, and that it is unlikely to get better, that medicine is a gruelling field with horrible hours and that the chief reward is following your calling and making a difference to patients. And that if there is no calling and you don't get satisfaction out of making a difference to patients, that it's basically a miserable hellhole and you'll be in a mountain of debt and perhaps too burnt out to actually complete the degrees and land a job to help get you out of said mountain. Am I too pessimistic here?

Hugs do not need lube.

Apartment remains not-terrible. I did laundry and cooked some of the things that were in my refrigerator. Yay.
azurelunatic: Vuvuzela emitting sound waves in a black and yellow road sign style icon (noise)
I'm starting to lose track of my days again! I think.

Saturday: there was sleep. Also Mythbustery things on TV. I took apart the loveseat in order that I might have a little more room to pack. I later measured my cube: I would have to exert some creativity in making things work. So that was Saturday.

Tay is in town! You know, my sole biological sibling, despite the various family I have since adopted off the internet. She has moved to be with her partner, who has so far taken some pains to meet The Family properly, and seems a decent and polite young* man.

We-all had dinner with Guide Dog Aunt on ... Sunday? I think?

Tay plans to take her young man up to Alaska to meet the parents at some point in the not so distant future, because he is important to her and should get to meet the entire family.

Guide Dog Aunt shared some juicy family gossip involving some of the cousins from one of the other tentacles of the family. It seems that one of the ways to get Dr. Aunt Mrs. Uncle Davy to reverse her position on whether a particular young lady is good enough for one of her stepsons is for said stepson to knock said young lady up; to get her in the family way. Dr. Aunt Mrs. Uncle Davy is apparently now advocating marriage, and quickly, as strenuously as she was previously suggesting that this young lady was perhaps a lower bar than the cousin in question should be aspiring to.

I hope said cousin and his partner hold each other in the deepest of respect, trust, affection, and support as they enter this new time in their lives. They're going to need it.

* I'm bad at guessing ages; I'd say he's somewhere over 25 and under 45.

Most of Monday was a blur due to typing up notes from Researcher Under the Radar's** Friday meeting. I drove to work on Monday.

There was a lot of blur on Tuesday, partly due to putting together a nice little presentation for Researcher Under the Radar on his monthly meeting, the one that eats most of my Second Thursdays. The other part involved how various events are suddenly starting to happen again, kicking all the stuff into high gear. I took the train, having managed to get myself a nice commuter pass. I like the train. I don't especially like traveling during peak hours. I'm hoping to find a way to avoid that in my future. I managed to get some spectacular user error, and took the wrong train -- one that didn't stop in Millbrae, and then I didn't realize that the subsequent stop was post-Millbrae, and then expressed all the way to SF. Woops. At which point I had an hour before the return train, which I occupied with a sandwich and yelling at programs -- this time on behalf of Random People From The Internet, rather than myself or my team.

** The artist formerly known as my Junior Researcher is getting a new alias, due to him rather spectacularly no longer being the least in seniority. And he likes to drive fast, and I like quite a bit of the music of Abney Park. The current juniormost researcher may be Researcher Sweatervest or something. Watch me throw names around until one sticks.

[personal profile] norabombay and I started yelling at each other in the comments of her A/B/O primer, which will never not be a source of amusement and delight to me. gross canine biology applied to a/b/o ) I <> Nora, or maybe I <3< her -- either way, expect hilariously fond yelling and maybe hatesex if I can find the harness. (In a regular week, I swear to fuck we spend like at least five hours on the phone, modulo schedules. We know each other's wallet names and make a point to hang out every time we're local. We've known each other since like '97.)

Today (Wednesday) I took the train, again. No user error, but I think maybe off-peak for evening is a definite plan.

There was a lot of whacking around spreadsheets for planning for some upcoming festivities. I now have a price comparison spreadsheet for pizzas. I'm really pleased with it! Pizza is one of those weird things to compare across providers, because the offers are not horribly standardized. Read more... )

Sometimes in the busy swirl of All The Things, you need to enforce a moment to contemplate the ephemeral nature of that which is, and consciously let go of things that you have been carrying around with you but that you do not need. Sometimes in order to make that happen, you have to set up a calendar appointment so you don't get interrupted, and go outside and immerse yourself in natural elements, like sky and wind and earth and trees and fire. At these times, contemplating concrete ways that your life has recently changed or improved might be helpful, to figure out some feelings or cognitive strategies that once were useful, but have since passed into irrelevance.

Assume hilarity with the Renaissance Man as a constant, and you'll probably be correct. I am rediscovering all sorts of delightful anecdotes. Consider Mommie Alice's run-in with a poorly placed concrete pillar. Consider Mommie Alice and the pixy stick. (Right, it was Joshling who uttered the fateful words.)

Finally got the chance to call the BFF tonight. Hilarity with him is also a constant, but more polestar than compass. Read more... )
azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
(this was sometime in the past month or so.)

Mr. Zune & I were chatting. Along comes someone senior to Mr. Zune in his management stack; we've seen each other in meetings. The following is paraphrased but retains the general sense. Mr. Zune is a denizen of #cupcake, and thus sees me by my initials enough to stumble over my given name.

Mr. Zune: $BOSS, Azure -- erm, a.j.l.
Azz: Hi.
$BOSS: Nice to meet you, a.j.l. Say Zune. When you're done with a.j.l., why don't you c.o.m.e. to my o.f.f.i.c.e. to talk about that c.o.d.e.
$BOSS departs
Mr. Zune & Azz: *dying laughing*

I believe I approve of $BOSS.


azurelunatic: The Space Needle by night. Slightly dubious photography. (Default)
Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺

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