The hosting company for A Blog for All Seasons phoned this morning to apologize for its being offline for the last couple of days, something about problems with a legacy server. So, this post is a catch-up.
Yesterday, I was able to set up the infrastructure for a user group meeting within two hours. It reminded me of the lyric from “West Side Story”:
When you’re a Jet, you’re a Jet all the way
From your first cigarette to your last dyin’ day!
When you’re a Jet, let ’em do what they can
You’ve got brothers around, you’re a family man!
“Brothers” may be a stretch, but when a user group member asked if I could persuade a visiting Developer Evangelist to speak to our group at the last minute, not only did he agree, but I was able to find a venue and a sponsor for pizza and drinks.
The venue hosts wanted to hear the talk, and the sponsor is a local recruitment firm that wants to circulate their name to South Shore and Cape area developers. As for the speaker, I can only attribute his willingness to drive here from Hartford (a five hour round trip) to sheer, inexplicable generosity.
Having run into a few faux-macho boors* recently, it gave me a lift to deal with nice men for a change.
Speaking of presentations, which we were a paragraph or so back, I need to prep one for Tuesday afternoon. I am having a hard time getting started, but the weekend is clear, so I’ll get to it sooner or later.
Sneaking in a post to the Gardener’s Diary: it’s been sad watching the brave little tomato plants continue to fruit while the leaves wither away.
We’ve had too much rain for tomatoes, but just enough for newly seeded lawns.
This morning, I was the involuntary recipient of a lecture about how Fosamax ruins teeth.
Yesterday, I made boiled dinnah.
This is the exciting life I lead.
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*Part of the incomparable George Gilbault‘s legacy is a conversation some years ago in which he spoke disparagingly of executives who cut costs by laying off the bottom tier – and, thus, the most vulnerable – of their company’s employees: “Suure, fire the secretary. Tough. Macho.” It’s impossible to reproduce the disdain in George’s voice or his impeccable timing (he was among other things an accomplished musician and arranger), but it was something like this: Tough…..(inhale strongly)MAHcho (finish with a gentlemanly sneer).