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if I never eat another kale salad
Friday, November 4 2016
Miraculously, I paid no secondary (that is, defecation-related) price whatsoever for the unexpectedly-hot habañeros I'd eaten yesterday. Somehow my body had processed those peppers so completely that I could pass their remains without discomfort. Thanks, Obama!
[REDACTED]
The reporting system that I work with and have been elaborating for months now has a number of capabilities for processing large amounts of data that has been uploaded (in CSV files) in addition to its original capabilities (the creation of reports from data in the database using a handful of user-alterable parameters). One of the best features is the ability to run a series of SQL statements on reach CSV record uploaded, referring to values in each column with a token in the form #columnName. This allows my reports to function almost like a computer language, though a big omission is the absence of variables that can be set in one statement and then used later by others. Today I wrote an importer that could've benefitted from such features, but it turned out that I could get around needing them by simply including a bunch of subqueries in my SQL to lookup (and re-lookup) and values that had been set earlier in the process. It was a little ponderous, but it allowed me to write a very powerful import script entirely as statements of MySQL.
This evening I cut out of work a little early so Gretchen and I could go to Susan and David's place for a little pizza party. Gretchen made the dough before we left, and somehow she and Susan whipped together a pair of pizzas in the time it took me to bore David with tales of the recent voyage up the Rhone. (He'd asked!) The pizza turned out to be absolutely delicious, particularly the one with pepper rings and mushrooms on it. It wasn't just the crust that made it better than, say, Catskill Mountain Pizza; it was also the cheese. Susan and Gretchen had used Miyoko mozzarella, which is expensive but really does the trick. There was also a kale salad, and I had a little bit of it. It reminded me of the kale salads of my youth, an experience that traumatized me slightly and gave me a poor predisposition towards kale when I later re-encountered it in my 30s. Tonight's kale salad was no better than those kale salads of my youth, and if I never eat another kale salad it will be too soon for me.
Susan and David have yet to finish their downstairs project, which they've been working on for two years now. But at least the bathroom now works; for the first time ever, I was able to take a piss in its toilet tonight.
David had gotten me a big bottle of Southern Tier Double IPA, and after I drank all of that I still didn't feel like I was done drinking, so I fetched myself a mason jar of wine. The moment Gretchen spied me with that, I could tell she thought I was being excessive. But hell, it was Friday.
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