![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Can't complain...
May. 12th, 2001 09:21 pm...except maybe for the day being way too short.
I started the day by dialing into a seminar that sounded pretty interesting when I read about it. I expected it to include a sales pitch for something, but typically, the folks doing the seminar have to part with some useful information to make the pitch slide down easier. All of the useful stuff was developed in the first five minutes, after which, well...I hung out for 15 more minutes, on the off chance they might be selling something I'd be interested in buying, but it was a "no-joy" kind of an effort. No biggie.
It gave me a chance to take a quick shower, buy some donuts and go visit a NASA retiree who used to monitor my former employer's adherence to their contract. I spent almost all of 1999 working very closely with this gent, and got to know him pretty well.
He's a fellow of the old school. He always sought to be fair above all else, and that's one of the reasons I really like him. I remember him helping me out when it looked like I was getting short shrift from NASA, and taking me to task when we fell down on the job (which wasn't often).
I went home about noon. Lee was not there, so I set about fixing the busted door jamb. I'd broken it a couple of weeks ago when I locked myself out one morning, and I've been using the dead bolt to secure the door ever since. Today, I chiseled out the busted part and replaced it. Total cost for parts (including some 2.5" screws) was under a dollar.
Lee must be getting truly tired of sleeping on the couch, so I set up the other bed in what is my "office" here in Pearland. The only problem with that approach was the requirement to move three bookshelves, a desk, and a folding table around to make room for the bed. Too, I'll have to do something about the not-so-stable cover that is in place over the attic accessway. I'm pretty sure it won't fall of its own accord, but it'd be nice to be sure. I'll risk sleeping in the bed tonight (Lee is already cutting z's in the big bedroom).
As part of the overall reorganization, I took apart my old 486SX, cannibalized its 2.5 GB hard drive, installed the drive in the Pentium I got a little while ago, and then reinstalled Linux. I am getting the feeling that the install disk I have comes with a really light version of Linux. I cannot, for example, find the lynx browser (must one really run X Windows to browse the web?), nor can I find the GNU C compiler.
In any event, when it asked me where I was (in order to determine what language to use for the install), I said Russia, just to see what kind of setup the install would give me. Most of the messages displayed during the install were in Russian, but the proof of the pudding will come when I first log into the system. Film at 11...
Talking about film, Revenge of the Musketeers is a pleasant French film on an old, familiar theme. I watched it a couple of nights ago and felt some of the French coming back, though it would take more than a couple of films to regain the massive proficiency I'd like to have. Last night, Lee, her friend Dave, and I watched Billy Elliott. I don't quite understand why, but after the film was over, she congratulated both me and Dave for being "man" enough to watch the film with her. Personally, I don't understand her reasoning; I liked the film a lot, even if the plot was flamingly predictable.
This afternoon, after the door and my office, and before Lee came back home around 5 pm, I watched The Prophet's Game. I rented it on the reputation of the lead actor, Dennis Hopper, and while this is not a great movie, it's watchable (if you're in the mood for a tortured-retired-cop-chases-copycat-serial-murderer potboiler). Somewhere in the middle, I went scrabbling for the tape's slipcase because there was something unnervingly familiar about the actor playing the woman cop assigned to babysit Hopper's character. She was Stephanie Zimbalist, who I last remember starring with Pierce Brosnan in Remington Steele back in the early 80s.
Lee brought home a video entitled Boondock Saints, which she describes as being somewhere between Reservoir Dogs (which I did not like, though it was a powerful film) and The Usual Suspects (which I did like). This ought to be interesting, but there's no time to watch tonight.
It's back to the grind tomorrow, and The X Files promises to broadcast the first of a multi-part season finale, having to do with the imminent birth of Scully's baby. (Jeez, look at the last few paragraphs, buddy...you are beginning to sound like one obsessed with video, and this last sentence makes you sound like of those pathetic soap opera addicts. Yikes!)
Most certainly, it has been a tiring day. G'nite, all.
Cheers...
P.S. Thanks to LJer fxflynn for catching the typo about the hard disk.
I started the day by dialing into a seminar that sounded pretty interesting when I read about it. I expected it to include a sales pitch for something, but typically, the folks doing the seminar have to part with some useful information to make the pitch slide down easier. All of the useful stuff was developed in the first five minutes, after which, well...I hung out for 15 more minutes, on the off chance they might be selling something I'd be interested in buying, but it was a "no-joy" kind of an effort. No biggie.
It gave me a chance to take a quick shower, buy some donuts and go visit a NASA retiree who used to monitor my former employer's adherence to their contract. I spent almost all of 1999 working very closely with this gent, and got to know him pretty well.
He's a fellow of the old school. He always sought to be fair above all else, and that's one of the reasons I really like him. I remember him helping me out when it looked like I was getting short shrift from NASA, and taking me to task when we fell down on the job (which wasn't often).
I went home about noon. Lee was not there, so I set about fixing the busted door jamb. I'd broken it a couple of weeks ago when I locked myself out one morning, and I've been using the dead bolt to secure the door ever since. Today, I chiseled out the busted part and replaced it. Total cost for parts (including some 2.5" screws) was under a dollar.
Lee must be getting truly tired of sleeping on the couch, so I set up the other bed in what is my "office" here in Pearland. The only problem with that approach was the requirement to move three bookshelves, a desk, and a folding table around to make room for the bed. Too, I'll have to do something about the not-so-stable cover that is in place over the attic accessway. I'm pretty sure it won't fall of its own accord, but it'd be nice to be sure. I'll risk sleeping in the bed tonight (Lee is already cutting z's in the big bedroom).
As part of the overall reorganization, I took apart my old 486SX, cannibalized its 2.5 GB hard drive, installed the drive in the Pentium I got a little while ago, and then reinstalled Linux. I am getting the feeling that the install disk I have comes with a really light version of Linux. I cannot, for example, find the lynx browser (must one really run X Windows to browse the web?), nor can I find the GNU C compiler.
In any event, when it asked me where I was (in order to determine what language to use for the install), I said Russia, just to see what kind of setup the install would give me. Most of the messages displayed during the install were in Russian, but the proof of the pudding will come when I first log into the system. Film at 11...
Talking about film, Revenge of the Musketeers is a pleasant French film on an old, familiar theme. I watched it a couple of nights ago and felt some of the French coming back, though it would take more than a couple of films to regain the massive proficiency I'd like to have. Last night, Lee, her friend Dave, and I watched Billy Elliott. I don't quite understand why, but after the film was over, she congratulated both me and Dave for being "man" enough to watch the film with her. Personally, I don't understand her reasoning; I liked the film a lot, even if the plot was flamingly predictable.
This afternoon, after the door and my office, and before Lee came back home around 5 pm, I watched The Prophet's Game. I rented it on the reputation of the lead actor, Dennis Hopper, and while this is not a great movie, it's watchable (if you're in the mood for a tortured-retired-cop-chases-copycat-serial-murderer potboiler). Somewhere in the middle, I went scrabbling for the tape's slipcase because there was something unnervingly familiar about the actor playing the woman cop assigned to babysit Hopper's character. She was Stephanie Zimbalist, who I last remember starring with Pierce Brosnan in Remington Steele back in the early 80s.
Lee brought home a video entitled Boondock Saints, which she describes as being somewhere between Reservoir Dogs (which I did not like, though it was a powerful film) and The Usual Suspects (which I did like). This ought to be interesting, but there's no time to watch tonight.
It's back to the grind tomorrow, and The X Files promises to broadcast the first of a multi-part season finale, having to do with the imminent birth of Scully's baby. (Jeez, look at the last few paragraphs, buddy...you are beginning to sound like one obsessed with video, and this last sentence makes you sound like of those pathetic soap opera addicts. Yikes!)
Most certainly, it has been a tiring day. G'nite, all.
Cheers...
P.S. Thanks to LJer fxflynn for catching the typo about the hard disk.
