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Oystercatcher off Miramar

I was pretty pleased with this one; we went up to give Ada a promised-but-missed trip up to the Massey Memorial. On the way back to the car I managed to get an action shot of an Oystercatcher. Getting a moderately in-focus shot of a bird in flight has been a holy grail of mine for quite some time.

So, the Chromium Fedora repo has vanished. That’s… odd.

These packages have been temporarily removed, due to legal concerns with some of the included code.

I wonder what the “legal concerns” are? RHEL’s lawyers, or Something Naughty in Chromium itself?

Today in kiddie French we read Animal Farm for three year olds.

No, really.

The book was the story of le canard; le canard worked around the farm while the fat farmer lay in bed eating chocolates; le canard worked until he cried with exhaustion, at which point the other animals—la vache, les muttons, and a gaggle of others—stormed the house, threw the farmer from his bed, and chased him from the farm.

Then le canard returned to doing the work around the farm.

Probably the thing that stood out most from my first French lesson is the overloading of ça va; apparently there’s nothing it can’t do. Of course, trying to get this right in a room full of people where meaning can’t reliably be inferred as a result of the use of the rising inflection. Although that seems likely to be the least of my accent related crimes against the French language.

Peacock Costumes at the Sevens

This was easily the best Sevens costume, originality and cool-wise, I saw from the gaggles of people walking past work and our local coffee spots: Four women dressed as peacocks, with backs covered by a tail of real feathers. Nicely done, and something a bit different.

They’d also spent some time getting the noise of peacocks calling down to a fine art.

“Daddy, when you shave you look like a woman. When mans shave, they look like women.”

I guess I’ve been wearing stubble and short beards more than I realised lately.

Ada also undertook a first today; we carefully counted out sixteen dollars of fifty cent pieces from Pig[1], put them in a drawstring bag, carried them into town. From there Ada went into Unity Books and chose “The Nickle-Nackle Tree” as the very first book she bought with her own money, after first considering a number of other possibilities.

She wants to commemorate this by putting her name on the receipt and keeping it somewhere safe.

[1] Pig is, these days, generally stuffed with small change rather than delicious pretend lemon.

When you have more than a few Unix people together you will end up with vehement, and possibly violent, disagreement, over the Right Way To Do Things. This generally starts with Unix flavour, distribution (if relevant to Unix flavour), and then wends its way through the countrysides of editor wars, MUA disagreements, MTA squabbles, and, of course, mailspool layouts.

Once upon a time, I had a mail server used by people who would ssh into the server and use the MUA of choice, in text mode, as God intended. But then Complications arose. More people began to use it, people who did not like console MUAs. Further more, some of the users became trapped behind corporate firewalls who frowned[1] on tunneling ssh through said corporate firewalls.

So some way of providing access for GUI clients, webmail, and console clients, sometime sharing the same mail spool.

So uw-imap was installed, and it was, well, it only sucked a bit, and squirrelmail was installed, and it didn’t suck much. uw-imapd even supported SSL[2].

But time passed, and mailspools grew, and soon the users complained. Webmail was becoming unusable, unless you like spending minutes waiting for 20 mails to be rendered in a browser. uw-imap was starting to suck. A lot. It was time to find something that sucked less.

So yum stopped working on a couple of servers that were registered to servers with what appeared to be a login problem:

A yum clean all, the usual remedy to this one... achieves nothing. The server is checking in with the Satellite server, as far as Satellite is concerned, but yum fails on pretty much any operation. Here’s the weird solution: queueing an update in the Satellite server for that box, and then running

…pulls down the update, and then yum starts working again.

So there I am, listening to the radio, and what comes on but a creche ad for a chain of creches called “Paradise.” I’m sure it seemed like a great idea and all, but hearing repeated exhortations to “send your children to Paradise” just makes me think of cultists or baby suicide bombers.

This is not persuasive.

One of the best things about attending the Linuxconf is the renewed sense of enthusiam for my field (lightly dampened yesterday by battling with @#@^#%$!^% PulseAudio, which is the worst thing to be inflicted on desktop Linux in a long time, and today on arriving home to discover a household box had literally cooked itself, likely beyond repair).

A lot of the last near-decade has, for me, seen my interest in what I do wane, damn near finished off by two years of release management. I had become, well, barely a tradesman, practically an assemblyline worker; interested in doing my job properly, but largely devooid of a vast care factor beyond that.

The last while working on zLinux has helped considerably with that, and LCA has piqued my interest mightily; I want to get back into hand-rolling Postgres releases to play with the new features, I want to play with new technologies and tools and follow their development, not just because I want to be better as a craftsman of my job, but because I can glimpse my former interest in the art of what I do; of doing a thing for itself and that alone, rather than merely because it turns a crust. On that front, LCA is a huge personal success as well as providing me with a bunch of professional value, and that’s (hopefully) a genuine improvement in the whatsit of my life.