August is ending, and the new college graduates have started work in PR. The phone rings off the hook, but it brings me no news. Actual excerpt from actual mail:
"Dear Error! MergeField was not found in header record of data source.,
Following is the latest press release from Oracle..."
Science geeks, wannabe astronauts, interplanetary archvillains and Bad People of the Future are all warmly invited to attend.
I was hoping to serve Space Food Sticks, but they're defunct.
Excellent news. Just got off the phone with Will Doherty of the EFF. Adobe has agreed to withdraw support for the criminal complaint against Dmitry Sklyarov. Without Adobe, the government will have a hard time pressing charges. With luck, Sklyarov should be out of jail soon.
Anyone else coming to San Diego? We should have an Advogatomoot.
I'm so much bouncier after my holiday that Jeremy decided to take me on another one. I'll be working from our London office from August 6, then wandering aimlessly around France for a while, avoiding network jacks.
I'm planning to interview Troll Tech and SuSE, and any other European open source companies I can find. If that's you, and if you'd like some techno-journalistic attention, by all means mail me on rachel dot chalmers at the451 dot com.
Tiens alors!
Had a much-needed summer holiday in Colorado. I've never seen mountains before. These were very high. I saw a beaver, beaving, and a porcupine, doing whatever it is that porcupines do. I met a woman who has been married for 49 years, a sweet self-made millionaire from Tulsa, Oklahoma, a 10-year-old flautist and a red-tailed hawk.
I know what I want to be when I grow up.
It would seem that Kaycee did not, in fact, die. Sorry about that.
I promise to be more skeptical in future.
As for Douglas Adams and Eazel, no such luck.
Last night Kaycee died.
My cat Bebe probably just had toothache. She's had her teeth cleaned and one tooth pulled. Her bloodwork turned up nothing unusual, except one stress hormone, which was off the charts. In particular, she's FeLV negative, which is what I was worried about.
She Did Not Appreciate being at the vet.
When I went to pick her up she was huddled wild-eyed in the back of her cage, having hissed and swiped at the nurse when she tried to feed her. Ingrate. Slashdot-poster. I've never had so easy a time getting her in her box. She wanted out of there.
I think part of the problem was ambient noise. My vet got evicted last September, and is now running his practice out of his garage. It's a much better setup than it sounds, and my vet is wonderful, but the street noise and sirens - it's across the road from SF General's ER, and near the 101 overpass - may have contributed to Bebe's general air of psychotic rage.
She's resilient, though. She settled down within minutes of getting home, and was last seen swarming delightedly around the house like some crazed species of otter: the Mission apartment-otter, maybe.
No more fishy catbreath, yay!
My life would be far less complicated if I didn't like animals at all.
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