(no subject)
Despite my pitiful progress (half of an hour of what I consider billable time, out of two days of struggle with this convoluted kiosk-sofware), the client seems happy with me so far. Crossing my fingers so hard they hurt.
I'm calling it a night, for now. zantiphia is staying home to get shit done and I think I will, too. Important shit, like starting work on my very own mood icon set. Or maybe watching a movie . . . my eyeballs have been resting on this monitor for most of the past 48 hours.
I guess I don't have to figure out how to join usergroups. A few minutes' frantic searching turned up three geeky communities for me to post my embarrassing Lingo questions.
I guess they're not so embarrassing . . . this is some complicated shit, the client knows that almost as well as I do. But still, I'm happy to ask a question and have it answered by a fellow-geek in California minutes after I post it.
I have a question for the geeks who read this journal . . . this is definitely one that's too embarrassing for asking in a community. How do you get LJ to display brackets (or whatever those greater than-less than signs that wrap around each tag) in a post? The only way I could get it to work was to turn auto-formatting off and bold the opening brackets. There's gotta be a better way, I just don't know it.
Speaking of California, I was in LA this weekend. For my grandfather's funeral, not exactly a pleasure trip. I had fun anyway. The funeral service was solemn and sad, but the . . . sitting shiva, I think? The "wake" part was a really good time. My father's family is spread out all over- Indiana, LA, Seattle, Alaska . . . we don't hobnob once a year, like most families. We hardly ever get to see each other, actually. So I honestly had a really good time hearing all the tales people told about Klezmer bands, cute stuff my nephews were up to, training dogs for the Iditerod, interviews my brother has lined up (one of them is as Oh-My-Gods awesome as the company I'm working for this week), and all the other things my uncles and cousins and brother were doing lately.
We talked about Grandy, too. I spent a long time with Betty, one of his nurses, and she helped me make a list of his clients in the Beverly Hills office.
My brother still hasn't sent it to me, so I'll have to tell you the two I knew about before talking to Betty.
Leonard Nimoy (yes, the actor who played my favourite character on my favourite sci-fi TV show ever) and Marilyn Monroe.
I'm not making this up. There are plenty of books that describe the scene of Marilyn Monroe's death. On her desk was a note reminding her to see her eye doctor, Dr. Ed. My Grandy. Betty said that Marilyn was a very nervous, very sensitive womyn. Frightened of calling attention to herself, she would always ask Betty to sit with her in one of the rooms . . . not the main waiting room, where she'd be fussed over by the other patients! Betty talked with her a lot, but I couldn't get her to spill more beans about the sexiest American womyn of all time. Betty did say that Marilyn liked having my Grandy as a doctor because he was so kind, so sweet. She responded best to being treated gently. She wasn't a primadonna- that honour goes to James Dean. I'll tell you about him some other time.
Gods, I'm tired. I don't know if I can stay up long enough to watch a movie. I want to do something to reward myself, but I'm not sure what. Maybe I'll play a little Magic: The Crack Whoring. Or Mah Jong.
I'm calling it a night, for now. zantiphia is staying home to get shit done and I think I will, too. Important shit, like starting work on my very own mood icon set. Or maybe watching a movie . . . my eyeballs have been resting on this monitor for most of the past 48 hours.
I guess I don't have to figure out how to join usergroups. A few minutes' frantic searching turned up three geeky communities for me to post my embarrassing Lingo questions.
I guess they're not so embarrassing . . . this is some complicated shit, the client knows that almost as well as I do. But still, I'm happy to ask a question and have it answered by a fellow-geek in California minutes after I post it.
I have a question for the geeks who read this journal . . . this is definitely one that's too embarrassing for asking in a community. How do you get LJ to display brackets (or whatever those greater than-less than signs that wrap around each tag) in a post? The only way I could get it to work was to turn auto-formatting off and bold the opening brackets. There's gotta be a better way, I just don't know it.
Speaking of California, I was in LA this weekend. For my grandfather's funeral, not exactly a pleasure trip. I had fun anyway. The funeral service was solemn and sad, but the . . . sitting shiva, I think? The "wake" part was a really good time. My father's family is spread out all over- Indiana, LA, Seattle, Alaska . . . we don't hobnob once a year, like most families. We hardly ever get to see each other, actually. So I honestly had a really good time hearing all the tales people told about Klezmer bands, cute stuff my nephews were up to, training dogs for the Iditerod, interviews my brother has lined up (one of them is as Oh-My-Gods awesome as the company I'm working for this week), and all the other things my uncles and cousins and brother were doing lately.
We talked about Grandy, too. I spent a long time with Betty, one of his nurses, and she helped me make a list of his clients in the Beverly Hills office.
My brother still hasn't sent it to me, so I'll have to tell you the two I knew about before talking to Betty.
Leonard Nimoy (yes, the actor who played my favourite character on my favourite sci-fi TV show ever) and Marilyn Monroe.
I'm not making this up. There are plenty of books that describe the scene of Marilyn Monroe's death. On her desk was a note reminding her to see her eye doctor, Dr. Ed. My Grandy. Betty said that Marilyn was a very nervous, very sensitive womyn. Frightened of calling attention to herself, she would always ask Betty to sit with her in one of the rooms . . . not the main waiting room, where she'd be fussed over by the other patients! Betty talked with her a lot, but I couldn't get her to spill more beans about the sexiest American womyn of all time. Betty did say that Marilyn liked having my Grandy as a doctor because he was so kind, so sweet. She responded best to being treated gently. She wasn't a primadonna- that honour goes to James Dean. I'll tell you about him some other time.
Gods, I'm tired. I don't know if I can stay up long enough to watch a movie. I want to do something to reward myself, but I'm not sure what. Maybe I'll play a little Magic: The Crack Whoring. Or Mah Jong.