Month: February 2008

Crankypantsing

It’s Comcastic

Shelly

Our local cable provider sold out to Comcast. The switchover was at the beginning of January, and seems to have been pretty much a non-issue. Except! Now, I cannot log in to pay my bill online. My last cable bill (which is way overdue), was printed on Insight letterhead. It has my old Insight account number and contact information for, of course, Insight. None of which is valid for Comcast. I tried setting up an online account with Comcast, but their system doesn’t recognize my Insight account number.

WTF? I guess I’ll have to wait until I get home, and call Comcast. I have a very bad feeling that it will involve a voice response system that requires the inputting of an account number that I already know is not valid.

Comcast People, you really shouldn’t make it difficult for me to give you money.

Photography

Foo Dog

Shelly

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I was hoping that the snow we’re getting would provide a little bit of traction on the ice, but no. It’s actually slicker with the snow, than it was without it. When it was just bare ice, every place you stepped, your shoes melted a thin layer of it, which made it slightly sticky. As long as you stepped carefully, you’d be okay. The snow has basically added a nice polish on the ice.

Even the dog, who is half mountain goat, has trouble staying upright on this stuff.

Ugh.

And, it’s warm enough next to the building that the area just outside my patio door is still a swamp. An icy swamp. Mr. Foo Dog sits under the most drippy part, so he’s sporting a long beardsicle.

Genealogy

Apple-Cranberry

Shelly

I stopped at the grocery store on my way home yesterday, against my better judgment. I hate the milk-toilet paper-bread buying frenzy that possesses everyone when a storm hits. But, I needed cat litter, and I figured, if I was going to stop, I should pick up some veggies and rice, too. I wandered through the juice aisle, thinking I’d pick up some V8, when I got distracted by the cranberry juice. I suddenly remembered that I had half a bottle of sour apple vodka at home, and if you can’t drink during an ice storm, when can you drink?

After spending all day test driving GEDCOM-to-HTML converters, I’m completely brain dead, and thankful for my foresight in buying mixer. Aaah! I’m pretty sure that I’ve never, ever had such a damnfine tasty beverage.

As for the GEDCOM-to-HTML converters, ugh. I didn’t find one I liked well enough to fork over money for, and the free ones I tried didn’t make me happy, so I ended up back where I originally started. After making a few spelling corrections and fixing and adding information that some very kind relatives in Ireland sent me, I settled for just exporting the family tree directly from the database I use. I’m not in love with the format of the web pages it creates, but until I find something I like better, I guess that’s what I’ll use. If nothing else, I can be reasonably sure that it won’t convert living flags to dead (oops!). There’s nothing quite like prematurely killing off one’s relatives, eh?

Oh, and it’s still icy out, and not in a remotely pretty way, so I didn’t even try to go out and take photos. I think what that means is that there will be no PotD today.

Oh, andalsotoo! I did get to see the eclipse the other night! The sky cleared up very nicely. It was absolutely beautiful. Harriet wussed out on me after about 15 minutes, so she spent the rest of the time standing inside the patio door, staring disgustedly at me. I think she was convinced that I was up to No Good.

Photography

Roses

Shelly

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My cube neighbor also works part-time at a local grocery store. The floral department there was giving away left-over, past-their-prime roses from Valentine’s Day, so she brought some in to work. They smell amazing. Too often anymore, roses have been bred for blossom longevity, shape, and color at the expense of scent. Not these roses, though.

Genealogy

The Basquills

Shelly

I’ve gotten three e-mails in the last week from family members in Ireland who found my genealogy pages. I’m excited, obviously, but at the same time, it scares the hell out of me. I’ve been ambivalent about this family history project. On the one hand, I want to know, but on the other, gawdalmighty, the responsibility!

So, I’m trying to write an email to a 70 year old great uncle first cousin twice removed (he’s my grandma’s cousin). I’m having some sort of serious social anxiety attack, and it’s not pretty. And when I finish this email, I have to email a third cousin (named Sinead, I kid you not). She’s the great-granddaughter of my great-grandma Nell’s brother. And then there’s another Basquill who contacted me (don’t know how she’s related, but obviously, she is somehow).

Aieee!