
Duck at Native American Museum
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
If you’re gonna post a gallery of images on consecutive pages of a website, make sure I can get to the next damn image by clicking on the current one. I so do not want to waste time looking for whatever form of navigation you came up with.
This was not a good day.
I should simply refuse to participate in any appointment or event which requires me to utilize an alarm clock to wake myself. The only time I ever enjoy waking up early is when I’m going to the airport. Late night or early morning airports have a kind of haze about them. The muzak has been shut off. The cleaning crew is more prominent than the guys with the guns. You feel like you’re floating down the hall. People act like people, and not like employees, and the tension is all let out of the place like an unknotted balloon.
But anyway…
I had to get up early. I had conned persuaded Drew into driving me around so I could take pictures for one of Jon‘s projects.
[Note to self: download the damn pictures before you lose them]
So up early, I was. Very early, if you ask me. I had to have time to do laundry before Drew arrived, since all my pants smelled of cigarette smoke from the clubs this past weekend.
[Note to self: heater always dries clothes faster than dryer]
My shower was prematurely interrupted by a client calling to panic. And while I shared her concerns, and was myself worrying, there is very little I can do, since the people hired to handle this portion of the project are still within their standard time-frame. However, there is no good way to point this out to a client without coming across as though you had said “Fuck you! I did my part, so give me money and bugger off!”.
So it’s a difficult situation to begin with, that I can in no way remedy. But these projects said client has been giving me are my favorites (and best) among my recent work. So I must find some way not to lose same said client for something I no longer have control over. Like I needed another reason to be paranoid about my business.
Shower completed, and other minor disturbances in the force quelled, Drew arrived an hour late as per usual. However, all that quelling had caused delays on my end, as well.
Throw bag together, put on shoes, grab keys, grab coat, put on pants, lock door, take elevator down, take elevator up, grab glasses, take elevator down, and meet Drew.
I had checked the weekly weather report at the beginning of the week. “Shit. Shit. Cold Shit. Shit. Wet Shit. So I chose the least shitty day–today–and decided I would take pictures then–er–now. But damn if it isn’t cold. And not just nipple-stiffening cold, but windy as hell, as well. But since I’m going out to take pictures, I’m wearing only a thermal shirt and a light windbreaker, (’cause trying to work with a bag and a camera and lenses while wearing a padded suede jacket is just ridiculous).
So I was forced to use the most inhumane of human inventions: the alarm clock. I have a nearly irate client whose work I adore that I will not be able to satisfy. I’m left in no mood to shoot guns, much less photos. And the weather is so frigid I can’t even press the shutter properly because my finger has stiffened up.
But thankfully a nice man at the yacht club pointed out that I shouldn’t be shooting photos in a national park without a permit.
This was a bad day. I am so sleeping-in tomorrow morning.
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Again, in the vein of posting information that took me forever to find elsewhere:
I decided this morning to switch from simply downloading my email through POP3 to using SSL, which is more secure. I use Apple’s “Mail” program to check my email, under OS X 10.3. When you switch to SSL in Mail’s preferences, every time you start your mail program, it will warn you that it doesn’t trust the certificate on the server. You can click continue to keep using it. But this gets old very quickly… clicking ‘continue’ every time you start up Mail. So you find out what the server’s certificate is, (from your provider/ISP), and add it to your Mac’s keychain.
Everything that I’ve said so far is easy to find online. And I did all that. I went to the Keychain application, chose “import”, and imported the text file I had saved the certificate to. It imported just fine, and showed up in the keychain just fine. But every time I started mail, it was still telling me it didn’t trust the server. It was ignoring the copy of the certificate that’s in my keychain.
And that drove me fucking nuts. ‘Cause every website I found, including Apple’s own support site, says simply to “Import the certificate into the keychain”.
After much surfing, cursing, and kicking of the cat to relieve stress, I came across this page on Employees.org. Seems there is a very particular set of steps you need to take in order to PROPERLY install the certificate:
Now your Mail should stop complaining about certificates.
Seems the missing step was the “X509” bit. And the only way to make that setting was to follow this particular method of adding the certificate. It doesn’t show up if you simply use the “import…” option.
Anyway… my mom is out there right now wondering what the fuck this all means. Really… it’s a plot to make you feel old, Mom. Have you figured out how they get the movies on those little spinning disks yet? 🙂
If I’m feeling ambitious or bored tomorrow, maybe I’ll describe how to release the built in integration Mail seems to have with PGP.
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!