Choose up sides and take a nap

Someone asked me how much snow it takes to shut down northeastern Alabama. On January 23, the Great Alabama Snowfall of 2003, the answer was, this much. (What you hear in the background are my snow-blasé Yankee friends laughing their heads off.) Yes, this is the snowfall that provoked the messy detour to Atlanta that became the entry The McDonald's at 51a.

Hey, but this snowfall had big pointy teeth! Really! Grr!

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Two new features

Two new features implemented as of today.  I'd be funnier about all this, but I'm tired, in the middle of squashing an ugly bug I just found this morning, and my sense of humor went off to have a four-martini lunch somewhere around noon.  It's nearly four hours later, and it hasn't bothered to stagger back in to work yet.  Wanker.

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claustrophiliac cat

me: Edmund is doing scales in the hallway
Gareth: silly kitty
me: It's amazing how many notes a very determined cat can hit in one session of meowing at the wall
me: They're kinda annoyed with me at the moment.
I had to take the guest comforter in to be cleaned, and just got it back today.
Not only does their favorite sleep space no longer smell like them, it was cold from the car.
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nine of sixteen

It's always frustrating to try to write entries for when my mind's more occupied by the code of Quarto. It's difficult to come up with interesting things to say when your mind's current definition of 'interesting' is "oooooh! Now a quarto siteadmin can edit the general text message that's shown on the main Quarto admin screen!"

Tenzing, mastermind

Mom's folding up warm laundry. I like warm laundry. Edmund is stupid. He likes smelly dirty laundry, but then again, he has no taste. I realize that Mom-scent is intriguing, but warm, soft laundry is way better. Sometimes I think I'm the only one from this litter with any taste. Someone has to be sophisticated --

Befriend your local crack dealer

In this world, there are two kinds of yarn shops. The first are more prevalent; they have skeins and cones of yarn arranged in graceful rows of manufacturer, fiber, and colorway. They believe in browsing, newsletters, and knitting classes, and the employees proudly wear their hand-knitted clothing like the store samples they are.

Those are yarn shops.

But there is another kind - the kind buried not in the small-businesses section of southeast Huntsville, but buried in a sea of directions that start off like this: "Take Rideout Road until it dead-ends into Highway 53. Turn left and head toward Harvest. I don't remember how many flashing yellow lights you'll go through, but one of them's for McKee Road. Take a right, drive a ways, and we're on the left. We lock the front door while we're in the back, working with fiber, so it may take us a minute or two before we can get the door unlocked for you."

That, my friends, is a crack dealer in the guise of a fiber shop.