"Qui plume a, guerre a." — Voltaire
From an article in Ananova’s indispensable Quirkies:
Leak at Nasa
A Nasa plea for urine donations has been leaked, leading to a flood of offers.The US space programme is seeking urine from workers at the Johnson Space Centre in Houston, Texas, so it can create the perfect space lavatory.
Heh heh. Johnson.
I’m not usually one to accept a blog challenge, but I regularly read Lorelle on WordPress, which has weekly blog challenges. This week’s challenge — “to blog about your computer setup as it was ‘then’ in the early days of your computer life, and how it is now, in your modern technology life” — really fired off my memory neurons (nostalgions?).
While I may have learned to type on my mom’s old Remington, I really learned to write on computers. Here’s a list of all my machines to date:
Looks like the Dove Travel Guide gave our window boxes a coveted five-star rating, because we sure are a popular B&B. This morning Mary Jo was watering the upstairs boxes when she noticed another expectant mother making a nest in one of them.
Not sure if this is the same momma who visited us a couple of years ago, or if she just told her friends about us. Either way, we’re happy to have her hanging out with us. No glimpse of the eggs yet, so maybe she’s just getting ready.
So far the cats haven’t noticed the new visitor, which is probably a good thing. If the chicks make a lot of noise, Gunny especially will go ape trying to see them. Which should be very entertaining to watch, if nothing else.
In response to rfe’s request on the D*I*Y Planner boards to see my staging area, here it is:
The piece has been in Mary Jo’s family for at least a couple generations, and she inherited it when her mom moved earlier this year. It fits perfectly under the stairs. On top is a Levenger three-bay recharging stand for our cell phones and my iPod. In the recharger’s drawer I keep my two belt pouches for lighter day-trips.
The hat is not mine (ahem). I’m still looking for the perfect hat.
Hope your inner history major gets a kick out of this, rfe! One of these days I’ll get around to photographing all my carry and posting it here.
I’m in a hotel room near Golden, Colorado today, after a day taking notes while sitting in a conference of science experts. Lots of ties being worn. I am tired, in part because my colleague and I didn’t make it to the hotel until 10:30 last night (plus two hours for the time change, plus all the life that modern air travel sucks out of you) and had to be up at OMFG-thirty. But also because I had to be concentrating for eight hours straight — except for the five minutes between when i got my lunch and the lunch speaker started his presentation.
Turns out I can type pretty well with one hand gripping a sandwich.
I haven’t flown in about five years, since our last trip to London. It was actually a fairly painless trip, as flights go. Plenty of overhead storage and a light atmosphere, mostly people returning from vacations. I had entertaining seatmates — a couple on their way to California for a family reunion. He was an old-fashioned hale fellow well met — a salesman, I was not surprised to learn. I like talking with people who like to talk. It’s one of the reasons I love taking cabs everywhere in Baltimore.
I brought my Airport Express so that I could try blowing up a little protective wireless bubble inside my hotel room. After a couple rounds of setup grief, I got it working and now I can lounge on the bed while I type and surf. I do like that.
Tomorrow morning we return. I can’t wait to drop off the car at the rental place — they were so slow last night that time seemed to be flowing in reverse. Hopefully the flight will be uneventful too.
Truly amazing. Here I am sitting in my hotel room and just created my boarding pass for tomorrow’s flight. (Window seat, boarding call 2. Things are looking up.) Truly wondrous times we live in.
Oh yeah, and today is Friday the 13th. Had a meeting downtown DC today. Got on the Metro in time to hear the conductor apologizing for delays due to rolling power outages, a sick person at Farragut West, a fire at Metro Center, DuPont Circle closed . . . sheesh.
Other than a long wait at Metro Center on the way home because they were single-tracking through the station, I had no problems today. Unlike many, many other commuters.
Personally, as a writer who gets paid pretty well to write for a living, I have always found the Cluetrain Manifesto to read sort of like “Howl for Virgins.” One of my favorite writing curmudgeons, The Ad Contrarian, just discovered the Manifesto and wrote a spoof that just absolutely nails it to the door.
The Cluetrain folks have one thing right: there are two conversations going on. One is among people who are engaging in commerce. The other is among people who aren’t. It’s pretty much that simple.
