Argh, ouch.

Jul. 5th, 2012 10:24 pm
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The Eustachian tube on the right side of my head has become irritated.

I can feel it; I can feel it inside my head. It feels like a toothache from the back of my sinus to the back of my throat, and an ache in my neck.

It hurts, and there's nothing I can do about it.
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Primary achievement: still not dead.

Looked at the weather reports and decided not to go to the tournament on Saturday. Mostly because all of us were still coughing and drugged up. We got to the tourney site in time to help pack up, and to the feast site to help set up.

There was an Arts and Sciences competition, which featured painting a portrait in Italian style. I was handed the task of painting a portrait of Her Majesty. I had a couple of handicaps in this: I had white, blue, red, green and yellow paints, and the darkest mix I could get was a dark purple; they were somewhat gloopier in consistency than I am used to; I had to finish the last few details by candlelight; the table kept getting bumped by curious children; and I have face blindness, so I was painting a portrait from memory of a face which I could not picture to save my life.

I think the painting took about half an hour... maybe 45 minutes, go to whoa.

Miss A was snarking about how much she wanted to be a member of the Mouse Guard, and it was gratifying to see the look on her face when she and Miss S were summoned in court and given their Mouse Guard pouches.

Mim and I were somewhat more surprised when the girls' first duty was to bring us in front of Their Majesties, where Mim was awarded the Star and Lily (for her Guild), and I was made a member of the Order of the Cockatrice (for Linguistics, especially as applied to Heraldic Commentary and Consultation).

Friða also was hunted down and forced to join the Order of the Cockatrice. And at that there was general acclaim and much rejoicing.

When the Arts and Sciences was announced, it turns out that my portrait won, despite having no resemblance to Her Majesty whatsoever. Her Majesty even requested the portrait. The portrait which my girls and the elder daughter of B&B Kraé Glas painted of His Majesty was also given to him. He was very gracious.

Sara's Pelican ceremony was grand and dignified, and the hall was completely silent, except for the sounds of a very bored and tired toddler, but no-one held it against her or her family.

Today was simply too miserable, and we are all still too unwell, to have considered going to Bash, even if it weren't cancelled because of precisely that bad weather.

And although I'm still not recovered, and probably still sicker than anyone else in the house, the doctor's certificate has run out, so I'm back at work tomorrow to see if I can stick it out.
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Because my childrens' friends like to share, and my children like to share, and I have decided to be selfish.
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She sent me a $50 voucher from

I went searching for something I'd like, and found a veritable trove of books on Deep Linguistics, many of the really interesting ones starting at $250, and working up (I remember seeing one there with a price in 5 digits!)

But I found a couple of books, and another for Mim, and took advantage of a free delivery promotion as well. And the last has just arrived. I am now, after almost two months wait, the proud owner of Old Irish Paradigms and Teach Yourself Babylonian.

Who would have thought they wouldn't have those in stock?
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It has been a long time between drinks.

We went down the road, and Miss S was fascinated by water running in the gutter.

“It's a river!”

“No, it's a gutter.”

“Oh. What's a gutter for?”

As an Oklahoman is supposed to have said: “I wish it would rain. Not for me, I've seen it, but for my ten-year-old son...”


Jul. 5th, 2010 11:31 am
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Entered the Archery comp. If you don't count Misses A and S, and the newcomer who only shot one round, I came equal last with a lass using a bow with no nocking hook. Maybe I should practice or something.

I now have sore fingertips. And sore muscles, even though I didn't do much.

I was congratulated out of the blue on my Anglo-Saxon garb. Even though I had to keep re-winding my windingas.

Talked with people a bit.

Submitted the idea of my Cyrillic additions to Junicode. Previous comments on the bugtracker had indicated that the creator doesn't see the point of adding Cyrillic, though. Maybe having most of the work done will change his mind. And maybe I should add more of the archaic characters as well. Old Church Slavonic? Gothic that doesn't look like it was scanned straight out of the Codex Aureus?

Ah, well. Moriturus te saluto.
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Sipping mead in a warm house, listening to pleasant music skilfully played, doing illumination with creamy smooth paint and a fine small brush under strong light.

And the knowledge that tomorrow is a day at home.

*happy sigh*
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Last weekend we went to the Surveying Expedition. Everyone else has been talking about how wonderful it was. I, on the other hand, was annoyed by the flies, and the dust, and the wind, and the cold, and the heat, and the sunburn, and, and, and... I started off grumpy, which mood didn't really improve, I know I had Aspie attacks (but I have no idea how badly I insulted the people I was talking to at the time). I couldn't really talk to people, as there was always the question of where the girls were at any given moment. (Not that we had them on leashes, but it's not fair to let them run completely rampant, such that other people have to look out for them.

Summary: it was nice enough, I suppose, but I couldn't enjoy it. This is obviously a failing on my part.

On Jingo day we, and several of the old York St crew and families, went to the zoo. During this pleasant day, Duff lent me a book which by coincidence I had, the previous week, determined I had to read. So I read “Look Me In The Eye: My Life with Asperger's”.
If you want to know more about how Aspies think, about the way I think, read this book. Seriously. This book is literally used as a textbook when teaching mental-health and education professionals about Autism. There is a chapter on conversation and logic, which is simply perfect. And keep in mind the line: ‘When you've met one Aspie, you've met one Aspie.’
Albeit that John Elder Robinson has lived a far more exciting life than I have.

[ profile] mimdancer found The Big Bang Theory on sale during the week, and we have now seen the first of three disks. I really fail to see how Sheldon could be seen as anything other than an Aspie. He tries to be sociable, in his own way, but fundamentally doesn't get other people. And he knows it. He (sometimes) notices that people are upset, but usually doesn't know why. He talks on his own level, trying to be as accurate and precise as he knows how, not realising that the look on the other person's face is of bafflement. (Penny develops, quite quickly, an appropriate response: “Sheldon, you think you're being informative, but you're not.”) He gets enthusiastic about things which strike others as daft, at best, and he can't see why others aren't as fascinated as he is. He has routines and rituals, without which he is deeply uncomfortable. (Hamburger Wednesday, for instance, or his seat on the couch. The air of distress in his demeanour as he awkwardly searched for somewhere else to sit is a practically iconic scene.) I mean, I know the other three geeks, but I am Sheldon. He is the single central character to me, with whom I most strongly empathise, and the more I watch, the less I see of the egocentrism and arrogance that others have mentioned, and the more I see someone who has a specific and particular pathology, who knows what he can do, and who knows what he cannot.

I don't know that I am making any sense whatsoever there.

School starts again tomorrow. So does Kindy. So [ profile] mimdancer is looking forward to her first day off in months... and dreading using that day to clean up the bombsite the kids have left in the living room.

(I am sure that Mim would say that I have had days off during the previous fortnight, but it doesn't feel like I have. I can't offhand remember having one. So my holiday from work has been replaced with working looking after the girls. And my holiday from the girls will be looking after the children who inhabit university faculties. Let's just say that I don't really feel much relaxed or rested. I'm sure that Mim will step in here and point out that I've been a veritable slug, have had aeons of solitude and rest, and that I'm simply being a whinger. So it goes.)

I wonder what sort of bombsite awaits me at work.

Oh, and I have the name and phone number of a doctor for Asperger's, whom I shall contact tomorrow.


Jan. 14th, 2010 04:54 pm
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I'm going to see friends tonight, no matter that there'll be an amway/tupperware style sales pitch party thing on.

I'm going to see friends I don't see nearly often enough. I'm looking forward to it. Why in seven hells am I shaking?

Fuck off, adrenal system. I'm a grown-up. I'm looking forward to it.

I just need to stop shaking.

I can do this.
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So, last Friday — Friday the thirteenth — was sufficient to make Richard Dawkins superstitious.

First, I hear that there was a burst water main on Punt rd, and traffic was likely to be horrible.
Then, I am passed by a police car on its way to a car accident just up the road (and on my way), where a car had gone into a front yard over a brick wall, and ended up on its roof. This was not long before I passed it, and Hatzolah (the Jewish ambulance service) already had the driver on the lawn. That's all I saw as I passed, and I know no more of the matter.

Then, at work, I find there's a small crisis. The previous day I had investigated the troubles of one of my users, who had trouble with her roaming profile. (A common situation when the users go over quota and don't realise, which they don't with roaming profiles until it's too late.) As part of this problem, there was a directory which shouldn't have been there, where her profile was being put, which means she had two copies of her profile, which made her that much more over quota, and in my efforts to figure out what was going on, I made her account unusable. I asked the sysad what was going on, and he got curious and fiddled (with a very old, very complicated, very brittle Samba v2 (!) installation, and managed to break it, and several people were unable to log in. And for about a year, that Samba install has been broken, such that we couldn't actually join any computers to it, which means we could fix those users until the other problem was fixed. Luckily, he did, and fixed the other problem too. But the morning was written off. And the afternoon was given over to a machine with (I think) a virus which made the machine unusable, and while it did work in safe mode, the virus checker didn't, and and and arrgh.

And there was Drama in a certain list.

And I thought that was that.

Then on Saturday morning, I got a phone call from my Grandmother.

It seems that while I was having a dies horribilis, my Grandfather's ashes were being interred, and my family hadn't even bothered to tell me. Neither did my mother know about it until Friday evening. And my Grandmother was very upset when she discovered that I wasn't there because no-one had told me, which is why she called.

Leaving out any other family drama on that front, it feels very much like that branch of the family is writing us (my mother, sister and myself) out of it. And it seems that they aren't extending the favour to the third branch either. My cousin only found out and was able to attend because he coincidentally asked his mother the night before what she was doing that day.

I don't even know where he is interred, beyond ‘Eltham’.

Yes, I'm upset. But what really is pissing me off is that this isn't an isolated incident of forgetfulness: I had to chase them up to find out when the bloody funeral was, and when there, discovered that they had divvied it up between themselves. I wasn't even asked if there was anything I'd like to say. Only the children of that branch of the family got to speak.

I was willing to overlook it then, give the benefit of the doubt. But this just pisses me off. And I have had no contact from them since, either.

I intend to have a quiet word at Christmas. Let's see what they say.
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Let's see...

Saturday morning we rose early to get the kids ready so we could go to Kerry Greenwood's book launch for her latest Corinna Chapman tale. We were stressing a bit about this, as we had been hearing dire warnings that the Westgate and Kings Way would be blocked solid due to interminable roadworks on the M1. I tried to allow as much time as possible, and checked the traffic on the web, and didn't quite believe it when the route showed as green the whole way. Mim wanted to get back in time to go to her bellydancing class at 1:00, and decided at the last moment that she would forgo the launch so that she could get to one class in three weeks (last week we were at my Grandmothers, next week we will be at my uncle's farm past Alexandra). As it turns out, the way in was clear.

I was worried that the girls would behave themselves (given the mentions in the book of obnoxious kids and their obnoxious parents), but I think they did quite well. Miss S wanted to see the goings-on, and demanded to be held up (at which point she would shove her tiger in my face and ask “can you see a tiger?”), and she could smell popcorn, and wanted it, and generally was bored out of her skull and just wanted to explore. But she is four, and she didn't run too far, and came back when asked. Abi was probably bored too, but was quieter about it. And they've had an experience that not many kids have. But still. They started showing signs of low blood sugar, and flat blank refused to try the rose-water muffins (and I didn't get a chance to try any myself...) or christmas cake, so I went to the cafe next door and got them some cake there. That fixed the blood sugar, but they were still antsy after the signing, so we vanished. (Sorry, [ profile] bar_barra... without [ profile] mimdancer there, I didn't feel competent enough to risk my luck, even to find people to give goodbyes to.)

And Mim hadn't needed bother miss it after all. Not only did we get back in time for her to leave, there was a Sooper Special event on at her bellydance studios, and normal classes were cancelled. Notification? Why would you need that? Surely everyone is excited enough to be going to the weekend-long series of classes as to not even bother going to the classes, and not need to be told, no? No?

Needless to say, when Mim returned, she was very calmly spitting blood in blank-faced fury. If she had known this beforehand, she could have gone to the launch, met our friends, we could have had a chance to talk, but no.

That night we went to dinner with Mim's father, as he was celebrating his ‘anniversary’ with his girlfriend. We arrived at the restaurant right about the time the girls are usually going to bed. Mim's father suggested we sit over in the corner. We sat near him. Not that it mattered, because when his friends turned up they just sat in the kids' chairs, and we were shunted off to the corner anyway. Mim's father's friends, by the way, are some of the ugliest people I've met. Selfish, crude, cold, arrogant, pushy, ugh. I would be perfectly happy to never meet them again.The kids, when we got them out of there at 9pm, were exhausted, but had been well behaved considering. Mim's father's response was to inform us that ‘it's good for them’, and seemed perplexed at why Mim is so angry with him.

Sunday morning, Mim and the girls were going to go to a craft market in Mornington with MiL, but they decided instead to go to Mim's sister's place, to help look after her, as she was unwell. I went to the Kindergarten working bee, were I worked, and thence to the Scribes' Guild meeting. Where I handed over a GoA scroll, and Þorfinn told me he would recommend to the provost of scribes that I am ready to take on a Peerage scroll.

And then I went home, and we had pizza delivered, and we sat and stared into space, and then we went to bed.

Next weekend looks almost as full. And the weekend after that. And after that, and...

Um, yeah.


Oct. 19th, 2009 09:26 pm
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Sinus infection. Sinus headache was so bad this morning, I thought I was about to start throwing up. Distinctly unpleasant.

I am on horse tablets of Amoxycillin and something called ‘Clavulanic Acid’.

And thanks to a “please think of the children” moral panic, where the risk/benefit analysis was done by insane lobotomised monkeys, products like Pseudoephidrene with Codeine are simply no longer made. Excruciating sinus headache? Better hope that Pseudoephidrene with anti-inflammatories will do the job, or else Phenylepherine with Codeine, because that's all that's available. Turns out, it doesn't do the same job, and I've been headachy and vaguely nauseous all day, because I might take my twenty tablets of Pseudoephidrene and make a couple of moles of speed with it.

In the meantime, I have tripped over a bug in Xorg, whereby X stops passing mouse clicks and keypresses to its clients. Mouse still moves, but clicks do nothing. Keyboard still does something, but nothing gets passed to clients. (Switching to virtual consoles works, because this is outside of X proper, and when in the console everything works, because this has nothing to do with X. But nothing works inside X any more. And it seems that in Ubuntu 9.04 (in all desktop manager versions), they helpfully turned off CTRL+ALT+BKSP. (it can be restored, apparently, by typing sudo dontzap --enable), but luckily, logging on to a virtual console and sudo /etc/init.d/[kg]dm restart still works. Still ugly, but less bad than a hard restart. The chatter in the bug tracking communities says something about an IRQ conflict involving the NVidia driver, but that doesn't help me.
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On Saturday evening I went to a fundraising trivia night held for Miss S' kindergarten. Even before the evening started, as I was still introducing myself to the others on my table, the host came around asking ‘is there an IT person here?’

So amidst everything else, I got to discover that there was nothing wrong with the sound after all, but it helps if you turn the volume up on the amp, showed the presenters how to change the video presentation mode on a laptop, and diagnosed that the CD they were playing from was badly scratched.

And my table came second. Yay us.

Sunday, Miss A had a school friend over for a playdate. This is part of an ongoing project to help Miss A get over the biggest hurdle of being an introvert, and provide her opportunities to play with and get to know some of her peers, in a setting where she doesn't feel crowded out and ignored. We thought it went well enough: they decorated mini-muffins, they watched Loony Tunes and the Disney Robin Hood movie, they played in the park when the weather cleared up a bit.

Late last night, though... Mim and I had only been asleep for a short while when we were woken by sobbing and sniffling. Mim had given A some panadol before bed for a complaint of a sore ear and some decongestant for a runny nose, but this time she had a blocked nose, and was just plain miserable. To the point that rubbing vicks on her chest and letting her nose clear (and I could hear it clear) did nothing to lessen her gloom. And then the real reason for her distress. “K,” (the girl who had visited earlier), “doesn't like me, she won't play with me at school, she's always busy playing with other people... no-one ever plays with me...”

A is like her parents: she's an introvert. S is an extrovert; she'll happily make friends with anyone. A, on the other hand, is shyer, more reserved, more reticent. She doesn't like to put herself forward, and so can be easily left behind. Her teacher has said that she doesn't think there is a problem, as she works well with people in organised environments, such as class, or playdates, but in the playground is another question again. And it turns out that in the playground, A feels isolated and neglected and alone. We tried to convince her to try putting herself forward more, to ask people if she could play with them, but it's a hard slog. She's already in the mindset that they'll just say no anyway so there's no point asking, and I don't know that she could bear any rejections before success. She's so socially fragile that the first rejection would be confirmation that no-one wants to play with her, and be a reason to scupper any further attempts.

It's heart-breakingly hard. And it's a battle we can't fight for her, we can't even really help her with. We can give her all the advice we have to give, all the love we have, all the support in the world, but it all comes down to her self-confidence, versus the casual callousness of the schoolyard.

But besides that, her ear kept hurting. And she kept waking and crying. And we kept waking and trying to calm her. And eventually she ended up in our bed, taking over the entire middle, and keeping us awake with sniffling and elbows in the back.

She went to the doctor this morning, and it looks like she has an external ear infection. Antibiotics and painkillers, a day home from school, an afternoon nap, and I hope she is doing better tonight and tomorrow. Tomorrow especially, as after school she is rushing off to her second Girl Guides session, and after that rushing back to go to her school concert (where she and the rest of her class are to be munchkins, singing Ding Dong the Witch is Dead).

Ye gods, I hope I have enough energy.

But for someone who loves school and learning as much as A does, it was disturbing and sad that when she was informed that she would be staying home, her reaction was “Yay!”

She really is like her parents. Alas.


Sep. 5th, 2009 09:57 pm
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Took the girls to see Up today. Both were very excited, both were well-behaved, both liked the movie. So did [ profile] mimdancer and I. It's bittersweet, though. The start of the movie is the story of a life together... and how those childhood dreams got put off and put off... until it was too late. The kids were sad. The adults were quietly weeping.

But it's a Pixar movie, and therefore absolutely brilliant. Kevin the bird is not a human in a feathery suit: she's a bird. Doug the Dog is a dog, albeit one who can talk. But even being able to talk emphasised how much he is a dog. “I've just met you, and I love you— SQUIRREL!...”

Susi was quiet, laughing at all the right places, concerned at others. Abi was more actively involved in the story, leaping to her feet, standing in concern, occasionally shouting “No! Don't do that!”.

Earlier in the day Abi came in while I was putting my boots on and had a snuggle. She is looking forward to Father's day, as if it were Christmas day or my birthday or something. (She even woke this morning with a cry of “Susi! Tomorrow is Father's day!”)
As she was snuggling, she said “Daddy, you're the best father I've ever had.”
“I'm also the worst father you've ever had,” I pointed out.
She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Yeah,” she said matter-of-factly, “sometimes.”

Mouths of Babes.
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I now, thanks to [ profile] omnot, have a Dreamwidth account.

Crossposting to both, reading comments on both, next step to come up with some decent æsthetics. In my copious free time.
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Miss S spent much of this evening taking advantage of her new-found ability to blow up a balloon. She would blow up a balloon, then grab the sides of the neck so that it made a prolonged farting noise as it deflated, while she giggled with abandon. And then she did it again.

She had an immunisation session yesterday: a big one, MMR, Tetanus, and something else, I think. Other kids were coming out weepy, or crying, or were, like Miss S, completely fine. Mim reports that when she was about to be stuck, she said “I don't want to: it will hurt.” And she was given her first jab. And she turned to Mim and said accusingly “that hurt, mummy.” The other jab(s) went with even less incident, and then we had a play in the park and went home. One poor kid, however, obviously had a better imagination than the rest, and made the connection between going into the other room and the crying. She worked herself up into a fine hysteria over the imagined horrors awaiting, and literally had to be dragged in kicking and screaming.

As I type, Miss S is taking advantage of the acoostics in the toilet to sing the ABC song at the top of her voice, and Miss A is writing in her diary, and asking me how to spell words like ‘focus’ and ‘concentrate’. We keep telling her that she needs to focus and concentrate, and she now has a note in her diary to that effect.
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The thing with having a Remedy queue hovering at 45 jobs, with new jobs being pushed at least as fast as you can pop them, is that the thing becomes like a stagnant pool of sewerage, with a clear layer on top. The first layer is cool, clear fresh water, where the client is happy if you get to them quickly, and just as often easy enough to fix. But. The ones you can't get in time sink, far too quickly, until they enter the Dead Zone, that great swathe of jobs just off screen, after the first 8 which is all Remedy will show you in one screen. Rapidly aging, the clients behind them getting more and more angry, the jobs usually put off in the first place because they are badly described, or the client is uncontactable, or the job, you know, will be long and difficult and painful and thankless. This is past the thermocline. Now you're not in clear water any more, it's scalding hot, murky sewerage. Even looking at it makes you ill. And looking at it does nothing but make it fester more — there is nothing for it but to hold your breath and stick your arm in up to the shoulder. Knowing that by doing this that you're leaving the fresh jobs to fester themselves. Knowing that the more you grope around down there, that you might pull up a blockage, or you might slash your hand open on a jagged, rusty, tetanus-laden, diseased piece of metal: almost impossible to move, let alone remove, and only getting worse by the day. You promise yourself, every day, that tomorrow, tomorrow, you'll make the time to gird your loins, hold your breath, and get to that thing, and every time you watch the clock tick over to five PM again, and think back over your day, and can account for every minute, and not a one spare enough for this. And when you do just reach in and grab it, it turns out to have been a bear trap smeared in shit the whole time, and it's just been fermenting, ready to take your hand off at the wrist. And you still get the impression, somehow, that it's your own fault for letting it get that bad, even though you have no idea what more you could have done, from which black hole you could have pulled the requisite extra four-hour blocks of time.

Can you tell how much I'm loving my work right now?

The only saving graces are when I can manage to solve a problem, quickly and easily. When I figure out what was wrong at the root, and a swathe of issues all go away at once. When a client actually is grateful for what I've done, and impressed at my skill at doing it, and it's not some n00b expressing wonderment and my knowing how to bring up and use the command line in XP.

But mostly it seems like dredging through foetid shit with my bare hands.
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Mother-in-law/Landlord got her Land Tax bill today. Last year it was $8500 or so. This year it is over $20,000. She is, somewhat understandably, a little freaked. And as our low rent is dependant on her ability to subsidise us, so are we.

There are several varieties of virus/trojan/worm going around which have in common that they use the autorun.inf file as vector. The first time I ran into this, once I figured out what was going on, I was a little impressed. Now I just want to find 1. everyone responsible for making this possible, and 2. everyone who takes advantage of (2)'s culpable stupidity, and beat them all to a fine paste. Like Microsoft, I will put forward a reward to my finding these people. The reward is that you get to help me in the aforementioned beatings. There was one yesterday for which the user was continually in my face (“it's still not working. It's still not working. It's still not...”), until I re-ghosted his machine: completely nuked it fresh. This morning, he comes in saying that it's infected again. His USB key, the one I had scanned and thought was OK, had reinfected him. It had the autorun.inf on the key, and the infection itself was hidden as a boot-time system file, one set in \WINDOWS\ini (this directory should not exist), and the other in \WINDOWS\Fonts (there should be no executables in there, no *.exe, no *.dll. And the usual hidden dlls in \WINDOWS\SYSTEM32\ and \WINDOWS\SYSTEM32\DRIVERS. I really have better things to do with my life.

Why, in the name of all that's holy, does the autorun.inf have the power to insert arbitrary dlls into Windows Explorer (and thus effectively the kernel) just by sticking a disk into a drive? Why the fuck are you able to change the very way the file browser, and by extension, the OS operates simply by inserting a disk, before you've had a chance to agree to anything? Autorun.inf is useful for 1. autostarting a program (if you have decided to allow it to, otherwise either ask every time or simply don't and make people click on a link like they had to in the old days, and 2. changing the favicon for the device. That's it. Whoever decided to make it able to arbitrarily insert dlls into explorer should be strung up by their genitals and beaten like a piñata. Fuck!

And I read today that someone has pointed out that the .desktop files in KDE and Gnome have similar power (although not the all-encompassing power as in Windows, but its bad enough).

Creating the image for the labs continues apace. After an email pointing out that I didn't know where to even find half the things I had to install, and that I could find, I had no idea which bits to install, and what license servers to use, and, and, and... I had people replying that they were putting it in the file store as they were typing, or the precise path in the tangled mess which is the ECR repository where I could find the exact version with the proper hacks needed to work... Each major package adds another 1-2GB to the image. And in the interest of students from anywhere in Engineering being able to work in any lab in Engineering, they all have to be installed everywhere. There are about 10 of them. Give you an idea: one of them is MatLab. And it's not one of the biggest. This is going to be a monster image. Then we (I) have to start figuring out the Default profile, and setting up two of them so that the image can be used if the machine has to be used as a standalone instead of on the AD, and then seeing if all this crap still works when you log on as a user, and, oh christ can I get drunk yet?

On a complete tangent: LUST!

And completely unconnected, “... But that hasn’t stopped neoclassical economists from touting how great their theory is, nor from making pronouncements that indicate they still really don’t get it.” Shorter Steve Keen: NeoClassical Economists don't only not know what they're talking about, they either don't realise that they don't know, or else they're wilfully ignoring anyone who tries to point out that their assumptions are just as often completely insane.

What was once BoltWatch, and then became the Blair/Bolt Watch Project, has expanded its mandate and is now based at Crikey! as Pure Poison. “And you know what? It’s not just a duty - taking these guys on is actually a pleasure. The columnists we’ve been watching - and the ones we’ll be adding to the roll at Pure Poison, from both the left and right - produce volumes of the stuff each week. A lot of it is so disingenuous, misleading, nasty or simply nonsensical that it’s extremely satisfying to send up. All that’s needed is a space in which to do it, and an audience that’s been looking for an antidote to this sort of malevolent intellectual dishonesty.
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Had my birthday dinner at Mother-in-Law's on Saturday.

I am now the proud owner of a black Nintendo DS. If I make a real effort, I may get to use it when Miss A, Miss S and [ profile] mimdancer aren't. It came with a 'game' for eye training. M went shopping on Sunday morning, and now I also have the Shaun the Sheep game (which M has played through to completion...) and a Marvel Universe Superhero "fight" game, which is actually a Magic: The Gathering style card game in electronic form. I have not yet figured out WTF is supposed to be happening, let alone how to deal a single goddamned card into play.

Saturday night the girls stayed at Ninna's, and M and I went to [ profile] kitling and co's Midsummer Madness Party. We are not in our early twenties any more. Caught up with people we haven't seen, in my case, some in over a decade.

Sunday was Chanukkah dinner. Mimdancer has spoken about that.

Today I really start counting down to holidays. Some chasing up old jobs, some cleaning up, some setting up ready for people to take over in January.

Have been trying to update laptop for break. Short story: I have failed. )

At least some of the niggling little bugbears have cleared up. I'm pretty sure it wasn't worth the pain.