Things That Don’t Make The Holidays Brighter

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1. The Flashing ? Icon on your Mac.

2. DiskWarrior reporting 131 block read errors while trying to “locate directory data.”

3. The fact that I just spent $100 to have DiskWarrior tell me my drive was shot.

4. It’s not the backup that’s an issue (which I have), but that it is just the story files. All the applications and other widgets that I had set up are now probably gone. Thank goodness for being minimalist in the first place.

5. Oh, hey, wait. Lookee! “Step 6: Constructing optimized replacement directory.” This may not completely suck.

6. Verifying directory data . . .

7. And . . .

8. 721 folders had to be recreated. 499 files had be “moved to the ‘rescued items’ folder (which is the utility’s way of saying, “fuck if I can figure out where they belonged.”) 924 folders had an incorrect item count (which, in my experience with the old utilities means, there are files that are no longer connected to the tree and, well, sorry about that, but we’ll just adjust the item count for their folders so that you won’t miss them, really).

9. Previewing now. This might be the time when I upgrade to Leopard.

WIP

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A paragraph from this morning’s burst on INSTRUMENT.

“Balanchine would love to keep me out of the Library, but even he can’t inviolate the rules of the Library card. He can’t take it from me, nor can he keep me out of the building. As long as I don’t have an overdue book, he can’t touch me, which is one of the reasons I never check a book out. I wouldn’t put it past him to have someone mug me for it, just so he’d finally have his excuse.”

A Little Bit of the Hectic

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You would think, with Lightbreaker turned in and HARRY wrapped up, that things would be a bit quieter around here. But, eh, not so much. Melissa’s step-grandmother has just opted to not continue dialysis and so she’s in her final days. Getting Melissa down south for a last visit has been complicated by the fact that she had a final exam today for a class that has been devouring her for the last six months (which she could have postponed, but, yeah, I think we all knew that not a lot more studying was going to happen, especially with everything else that is going on), and gee! lookit! I-5 is CLOSED. First time in over forty years. The Apocalyptic Deluge of ’07 sent water over the road in Lewis County and there ain’t no real way to get from Seattle to Portland kids, unless you want to drive 440 FREAKIN’ MILES out of your way (a seven hour detour–on a good day, in decent weather, without every insane truck driver in the PacNoWest trying to get a load from there to here). Amtrak isn’t running either. So, after her final today, she packed and I just put her on a plane tonight. Hopefully Grandma is still coherent by the time she gets there.

Grandma, to her credit, is one of those tough old birds. When I talked to her on Monday to ask/beg/weep for her to do one more dialysis treatment (the doctors say that it’s about five days post that your kidneys start shutting down, which leads to, you know, the end), she gave me the voice. That TONE that says, “Listen to me good, young man, because I’m only saying this ONCE. EVER.” The voice said, “No.” And the voice also said. “I”ll be here on Thursday.” As if she has no place else to be.

I hear the game shows are pretty entertaining during the afternoon. Thank goodness for that levity.

We had just had a talk about me being ready to watch the kids on my own for more than one day, and I had told her I was game. I looked my wife in the eye and said, “Yes, ma’am. I know where the binkies are. I know which end needs cream and which end needs chow, and I know that sometimes things come out of one of those ends. That stuff, yeah, I’m not supposed to touch that. And I know that if they cry, I don’t need to cry too. That doesn’t help much.” And look, here I am. Me and the kids for four days. Wheee!

So, yeah, if responses are cryptic, nonsensical or simply not there, blame Solomon. He’s probably trying to find pbskids.org or boobah.com and is just whanging every key and button he can find.

The End of Harry

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The Twelfth Dream has been posted at Farrago’s Wainscot (it doesn’t look like one of the normal beginnings, but run with it for a minute; there’s a purpose to the madness); and so, the Oneiromantic Mosiac of Harry Potemkin is now complete. All the pathways are there, and the end has been looped back and tied off with a bit of thread from the beginning. I feel like Nicol Williamson in Excalibur: “It. Is. Done.”

Neal Von Flue has supplied a very fitting and striking final picture for us. This project is hugely indebted to him, and not just because he gave us fantastic art every month, but because–once upon a time–he said “yes” when I asked for a piece of art, and I kept asking and he, graciously, kept saying yes. You should wander over to his LJ––and congratulate him too. Also, was (is) a very class act in the editing department. He put up with a serial comma quirk of mine for twelve months, nudged me when I went too far astray, and kept me honest and focused. I probably would have run screaming into the woods somewhere around June if he’d been there to hog-tie me.

Without further furor, I will get out of the way and let you read. It’s a trip. Have fun.