Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.


Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").


decay & ruin
Biosphere II
dead malls
Irving housing

got that wrong

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

fun social media stuff

(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   reflexively sniffed
Thursday, August 21 2014
I had meeting with my Lightroom-Web-app client early this afternoon soon after thinking I'd fixed a few bugs. The problem with Lightroom's web API is that it can easily get confused about which window it is in communication with. The app works with interactions from both the Lightroom and web side, with each capable of setting up tasks for the other to pull from a queue and then perform. But when Lightroom loses awareness of the window it needs to talk to, it doesn't perform the tasks and then nothing happens. Oh well, at least the client wrote me another fat check for my grief.

This evening I put Celeste the Kitten in a cat carrier, loaded up the dogs, and drove to the Hurley Vet (which is considerably further away than it would be if they ever get a bridge installed across the Esopus on Wynkoop Road). Celeste needed the second shot of her three-shot distemper inoculation and Ramona needed to have that lump on her face examined. Because Celeste is such a cool kitten, I opened the cat carrier and allowed her to roam about the cabin as I drove.
Gretchen met me at the vet; she was coming from the Stockade Tavern and had just drunk a half beer, which (because it was happy hour) had only cost $2. The vet gave Celeste a full examination, including an ear cleaning. He pointed out that she was in the process of shedding her deciduous baby teeth. Her canines, which are like needles right now, will soon be replaced by proper feline canines. As for Ramona, the vet agreed that her facial lump was almost certainly a porcupine quill. He stuck a needle in the lump and managed to extract a tiny amount of greyish-pink fluid, which he reflexively sniffed. But it didn't smell bad, indicating that if there's an infection in there it's not a bad one. Still, he prescribed her a course of expensive ($60) antibiotics. The thing about that place is that you are sure you are getting top-notch treatment, but there's always sticker shock when you belly up to the desk to pay. Look at it this way: every time I use superglue to fix one of the dogs, I'm funding a proper sit-down meal with a bottle of wine in Manhattan.

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