Here's what we are looking at:
EXPENSES 6-12 MONTHS
$120 for the next round of bloodwork, either in 12 months or if he starts declining again, whichever comes first.
$100 for in-office euthanasia if necessary (I always want to have this amount on hand, even if he seems totally okay)
$60 for tending to his body respectfully.
$120 for what I think should be 3 months' worth of dry AND wet foods, and kidney-safe treats. (I'm having trouble with this math, since I don't know exactly how many servings are in this bag, or how much he will eat.)
$70 for his regular anxiety meds and lysine treats.
= $470 as a cushion against the most likely expenses over the next year or so, plus the non-negotiable meds and food, and the mercy fund in case he needs to be put to sleep.
$230 for an "optional" X-ray, which I very much want to get so we can check for other things like tumors. I REALLY want this quite badly, but it IS optional.
$400 for a full-body clean at Skulls Unlimited, like I did for Tazendra. This is genuinely optional. I'm not expecting this. Just the skull is $60.
= $630 extra, for stuff that would be good or cool to have.
TOTAL, that would be $1,100.
That is doable with a head start and help from y'all.
If you are comfortable donating a few bucks outright, I take paypal at email@example.com.
If you want something concrete, I will be posting some art stuff, listing some ponies on eBay, and maybe taking some small art commissions. I will try to get that stuff up on Monday, as well as bumping this post.
I am very optimistic after my talk with our vet today. I have a lot of hope, and overall this isn't looking too bad right now. I just want to build up a cushion so that we can keep him safe.
Thank you all for your kind words of support, which have been worth my stupid cat's weight in gold. It's good to see that there's hope. <3
Thank you for having my back, and his.
Here he is being stinky and beautiful:
He says thank you. <3
( Loads of photos and four videos )
When I was about fifteen, I participated in a thirty-mile walk to raise money for charity. The final checkpoint was a pub, and of course everyone went into the beer garden and lay down on the grass.
Now you know how when you've been exerting yourself, you can walk fine until you stop, whereupon your muscles seize up. Well, after lying on the ground for a few minutes I got up because I needed to go into the pub and find the toilet, and of course I could hardly walk. So I hobbled towards the pub door.
A middle-aged man walked up and held my elbow, saying, "Let me help you, my dear."
First thought: wtf?! Why has this creep grabbed my arm without asking?
Second thought: Oh! In these baggy walking clothes, he thinks I'm a girl.
Third thought: Wait a moment. That means that girls get this sort of treatment all the time and I'VE NEVER NOTICED.
It was seriously a life-altering moment.
We have time yet, though. We'll do dietary management as long as we can. But because I don't know how long we have, I am having to make preparations for sooner rather than later. Because I can't afford to be caught flat-footed.
I am going to ask some questions, get a price for some things I know will be necessary, and then I am going to throw a number out there and ask y'all to help me hit it so we can be sure to have his needs covered for the next little while, including one more round of bloodwork for a re-check in six months, and, unfortunately, for the cost of euthanasia + taking care of the body. I'm working on getting figures for that. I'll know more tomorrow and should have a more complete forecast by Monday.
I knew going in I probably wouldn't have him for that long. I'm okay. It hurts, but I can do this. I can't fix him, but I can be with him til the end of the line. I just want to make sure he's taken care of.
I'm hurting just as bad for my best friend, who on the same day I heard about Smooch, learned that her Puck, my favorite dog in the world, has terminal cancer and has around a month. I can't fix him either.
We are all so fucking helpless. Life is so beautiful, I love it, but it is also completely heartless, and while I will never hesitate to make this bargain again and again, loving our pets means losing them. They are our little outboard hearts, and that makes them so precious and us so vulnerable.
A lot of people are bumbling over this about the taxation. It is estimated to cost $27-million by the end of 2022 when the per-vote subsidy would be down to $1.75/vote and the whole programme will be reviewed. I do not think that taxation piece is really the big issue here however. Premier Horgan is saying that the parties needs the measure to weather the changes in the interim, but I find that to be a weak argument especially because it means he is essentially saying that the fundraising reality in BC is that a political party can either depend in unethical big money or government handouts with no middle ground; but there is a middle ground, it is called grassroots engagement. A political party that cannot build a base to support itself financially (or otherwise) should not exist in a democracy.
In case you forgot, I’ll be at Borderlands Books (my favorite place in SF) at 3:00 pm this Saturday to read to you from my new book The Uploaded, sign whatever you put in front of me, and to, as usual, go out for hamburgers afterwards.
(And if you’re extra-special-good, I may do a super-secret advance MEGA-preview reading of The Book That Does Not Yet Have A Name. Not that, you know, you shouldn’t be rushing out to your stores to buy The Uploaded right now.)
I will, of course, bring donuts after my massive DONUT FAIL in Massachusetts, which I still wake up in cold sweats about. I will bring you donuts or die.
Cross-posted from Ferrett's Real Blog.
Actually read this week:
- Smile by Emilee Martell (DSF)
- Farewell, Amanda by Buzz Dixon (DSF)
- Planet of the five rings by Marissa Lingen (Nature Futures)
- An Averted Tragedy by Brian Gene Olson
- Contractual Obligations by Jessica M. Kormos
- Nothing Between the Stars by R.W.W. Greene
What I've read: long fiction
Banishment by M.C. Beaton, which is the first of six apparently-fluffy Regency romances about six beautiful sisters and a malevolent stately home, recommended as a Yuletide fandom (thanks ceb for the pointer!) This one was indeed the promised fast, lighthearted read, in which the family lose their beautiful stately home and much of their wealth, and (some of them) begin to learn Important Lessons About Not Being Awful To Other People. And the first of the beautiful daughters finds true love, etc. The remaining five in the series are now on their way so I can find out just how malevolent the house gets ...
Now, I think I was completely wrong. I think that when you put the battery in, it *always* comes on. I just assumed that it would usually be off and didn't actually check that was true. So I got the impression it was lit *sometimes* on battery-connect, and connected that to the state it had before the battery was removed.
Wow, it's really easy to manufacture evidence for something even when you think you're avoiding that.
Presumably the "power on lit" is so that loose connections don't turn it off. OTOH, that would mean if it has a loose connection when it's being carried about, it might come on and drain the battery. Or maybe no-one thought about it and this just happened to be the case. Or maybe there's a regulation? I don't know.
You have Gnd, and N configuration lines each with weak pull-up. How many different values can you represent?
The most utterly naïve solution would be to encode N options by tying one of the lines to ground.
The marginally less naïve solution — and one that's very widely used — is to encode 2N options by tying any subset of the lines to ground.
However, if the configuration lines are independently bidirectional you can also tie them to one another. Denoting a ground connection by 0, n/c by 1 and commoned groups of lines by A, B, C, etc. the options with 2 lines become: 00 01 10 11 AA. With 3 lines: 000 001 010 011 100 101 110 111 0AA A0A AA0 1AA A1A AA1.
With 4 lines, things explode rather:
- 0000 0001 0010 0011 0100 0101 0110 0111 1000 1001 1010 1011 1100 1101 1110 1111 (=16)
- AA00 A0A0 A00A 0AA0 0A0A 00AA, AAA0 AA0A A0AA 0AAA, AAAA (=11)
- AA01 A0A1 0AA1 AAA1, AA10 A01A 0A1A AA1A, A1A0 A10A 01AA A1AA, 1AA0 1A0A 10AA 1AAA (=16)
- AA11 A1A1 A11A 1AA1 1A1A 11AA (=6)
- AABB ABAB ABBA (=3)
More generally, the number of options is BN+1, where B denotes a Bell number. My maths is rusty, but it looks like that grows faster than exponentially with the number of pins.
Is this a technique people actually use? Is there some reason I'm overlooking why it's a bad idea?
I mean, OK, I'll probably just use an EEPROM, but…
But autumn is upon us and I am feeling better enough that I've caught up to my Goodreads challenge of the year (which is just the same as last year rounded up, and I was a couple of books behind, having got loads ahead in the spring).
I also noticed that two years ago, I read a lot of dross that I picked up in the library, and last year I read mostly recommendations and it went a lot better, and this year I've read almost entirely recommendations and presents, and have enjoyed a lot more. I think I've been too busy reading random stuff that wasn't very enjoyable to listen to you lot.
So, here's my question - what's a book that 'everyone's read' that you would recommend? Imagine I've been living under a rock for the last ten years.
My contribution is 'The Bray House' by Eilís Ní Dhuibhne . It's Irish post apocalyptic fiction, and it's super popular in Ireland, the sort of book you find in guesthouses &c throughout the land. It's also brilliant.
“I’m not up for sex,” she told me. “I’ve had a lot of medical issues lately. It’s more painful than not to even try.”
“Cool,” I said, and we spent the day going to a street festival.
I woulda liked sex. But life happens.
“I’m in the middle of my seasonal affective disorder,” I told her. “You show up, I might not be able to leave the house. I might just curl up and cry all day.”
“Cool,” she said, and I was pretty morose but we cuddled a lot and eventually managed to go out to dinner.
I woulda liked to have a working brain. But life happens.
“I’m not sure I can make it through this convention,” they told me. “My flare-ups have been really bad this season. I might not be able to go out with you in the evenings.”
“Cool,” I said, and I went out for little hour-long jaunts before heading back to the room to cuddle them, then charging out again to circulate.
I woulda liked to have them by my side when I hit the room parties. But life happens.
I’m a massively flawed human with a mental illness. I need to have poly relationships that include for the possibility of breakdowns. Because if I need to have a perfect day before I allow anyone to see me, I might wait for weeks. Months. Years. And then what the fuck is left by the time I get to see them?
I know there are people who need perfect visits. They have to have the makeup on when you visit them, and they’ll never fall asleep when they had a night of Big Sexy planned, and if they get out the toys there’s gonna be a scene no matter how raw anyone’s feeling.
But I can’t do that.
My relationships aren’t, can’t be, some idealized projection of who I want to be. If I’m not feeling secure that day, I can’t be with a partner who needs me to be their rock so the weekend proceeds unabated. And if they’re feeling broken, I can’t be with someone who needs to pretend everything is fine because their time with me is their way of proving what a good life they have.
Sometimes, me and my lovers hoped for a weekend retreat of pure passion and what we get is curling up with someone under tear-stained covers, holding them and letting them know they will not be alone come the darkness.
We cry. We collapse. We stumble. We don’t always get what we want, not immediately.
But we also heal. We nurture. We accept.
And in the long run, God, we get so much more.
Cross-posted from Ferrett's Real Blog.
Judith has chicken, carrot sticks, dried mango, rice cakes, crisps, mini cinnamon rolls and jelly. Andreas has eggs, carrot sticks, dried mango, bread (plain), fruit winder, crisps and jelly. It'll do. (I've got sushi rice, eggs, chicken, mixed chopped veg and hummous, some mixed dried fruit and jelly.) We'll all drink water.
In other news we watched Toast, the autobiography of Nigel Slater, yesterday. It actually just covers the first half of the book, his childhood, and I was touched by how sympathetically it portrayed even the people he didn't really like, I'd recommend it whether or not you read the book.
Soooo I just got a note inviting me to speak at a seminar, about why blokechain is pants, to a small number of people who have money. I'm gonna charge for my time of course, but I can sell books there. Which means physical paperbacks I bring in a box.
Now, one of the great things about this self-publishing racket in TYOOL 2017 is 0 capital expenditure. Has anyone here done this, or anything like it? Was it worth it? Did you end up with a box of books under your bed forever?
The books are $3.03 each to print, but all author copies come from America (because Createspace is dumb), at some ruinous shipping rate to the UK. Assuming Kindle and CreateSpace pay promptly I'll have a pile of money on September 30, but I sorta don't right now.
Does anyone have suggestions as to how to approach this? Doing a talk with a box of nonfiction books - good idea, bad idea, no idea?
(I'll no doubt do a pile of flyers for people who haven't got cash on them right there. Who carries cash in the UK these days? Less people than you might think.)
( last days )
I started my new job the following Monday. I need to work out how much I should talk about that in detail here; for one thing it's looking to involve somewhat more blogging and social media presence as my professional persona than the old job did. Also I am still adjusting to living in Cambridge full time, which is probably another post, and I'm up to my eyes preparing for the High Holy Days beginning on Wednesday, so I am going to stick with posting about leaving rather than about arriving for now.
I have two:
(1) Keep Calm and Carry On: pretty much sums up my approach to life. People call me cold and calculated. But they do not know me, they just know the façade that I build up for their own safety and my own. Deep down I am a very emotional and very passionate person. I have learned to control my emotions (for the most part) and to apply reason and logic to my life. The phrase "Keep Calm and Carry On" is cliché and has earned a new sense of modern popularity after the WWII posters (that were never actually released through London) were discovered in a small bookstore a couple decades ago. For me, the phrase embodies my entire approach to controlling my passion and my emotion and apply logic. In face of being bombed, it would be a normal reaction for a passionate person to become emotional, but it is not reasonable, the reasonable person carries on and gets to safety.
(2) Per ardua - Through difficulties: this is the motto of Clan MacIntrye, the Scottish side of my family which falls along the linage of my grandmother. This is the family where the kidney disease follows, so the motto is chillingly fitting. The MacIntryres were proud people who served as hereditary pipers for the MacDonalds of Clanranald and paid regular and proper tribute to the Menzies' until rents became too unbearable in the middle of the 1800s. I have internalized this motto and I feel it is an accurate motto for the family that brings the genetic nightmare upon my family.
In other news:
- went to a Whitecaps FC game in Vancouver on Saturday all by myself. I was suppose to go with a friend I went to school with who lives in Vancouver now (and stay at her place on her couch) but she ended up getting food poisoning on Friday night and was in no shape for a game on Saturday. At first I pouted around the house and then I decided to go alone. I ate shit though, had to take the car on the ferry (both ways $72.50 a pop) and as much as I tried on Facebook, Reddit and even walking up to people who were scooping out scalpers I could not get rid of my second ticket. Oh well, more room during the game I suppose. Actually, it worked out well from my nice guy side, two young women were only able to get seats apart in the row and my spare seat was a gap between me and one of her friends, so I offered the extra seat to them.
- Sunday was moving day. I am now all moved into what is being called the cottage between me and Meganne. It was a rough day overall. Meganne was an emotional mess and became very sentimental near the end of the day. I was sad, very sad, but I had a job to do so I focused on getting it done. I also figured that my role in this emotional nightmare is to be somewhat of the anchor, so I plugged ahead and tried to make it as painless for Meganne as possible. Sleeping in new places sucks and I am finding night lights in the oddest places. It used to be an AirBnB, so that might be part of the reason why, but still, odd.
...more to come, with details and photos. I swear.
I knew musicals could cheer me up, but I’d never heard of one that gave me new tools to deal with chronic illness and depression. Yet when I saw Groundhog Day last Wednesday, I was so stunned by what a perfect, joyous metaphor it was for battling mental illness that I immediately bought tickets to see it again that Saturday.
I would have told you about this before, but it was too late. The show closed on Sunday. A musical that should have run, well, for as long as Phil Connors was trapped in his endless time loop only got a five-month run.
But I can tell you about it.
I can tell you why this musical made me a stronger, better person.
So let’s discuss the original Groundhog Day movie, which is pretty well-known at this point: Bill Murray is an asshole weatherman named Phil who shows up under protest to do a report from Punxatawney, Philadelphia on Groundhog Day. He’s trapped in town overnight thanks to a blizzard. When Phil wakes up the next morning, it’s Groundhog Day again. And again. And again.
Phil goes through several phases:
- Incredulous as he can’t believe what’s happening to him;
- Gleefully naughty as he uses his knowledge of people’s future actions to indulge all his greatest fantasies;
- Frustrated as he tries to romance Rita, his producer, but he’s too cynical for her and nothing convinces her to hop in bed with him unless everyone else in town;
- Depressed as he realizes that his life is shallow and there’s no way he can escape;
- Perplexed as he tries to rescue a dying homeless man but realizes that nothing he can do on this day will save this poor guy;
- And, finally, beatific as he uses his intense knowledge of everything that will happen in town today to run around doing good for people.
Naturally, that’s a great emotional journey. It’s no wonder that’s a story that’s resonated with people.
Yet Groundhog Day changes just one slight emotional tenor about this – and that change is massive.
Because when Bill Murray’s character gets to the end of his journey, he’s actually content. He’s achieved enlightenment where he enjoys everything he does, toodling around on the piano because he’s formed Punxatawney into his paradise. He laughs at people who ignore him. He’s satisfied.
And when Rita, who senses this change even though she doesn’t understand why, bids everything in her wallet to dance with him at the Groundhog Dance, the Bill Murray Phil is touched but also, on some level, serene.
Andy Karl’s Phil is not happy.
We spend a lot more time in Andy’s Phil’s headspace, and at one point he breaks down because of all the things he’ll never get to do – he’ll never grow a beard, he’ll never see the dawn again, he’ll never have another birthday. Anything he does is wiped away the next morning.
Bill Murray’s Phil gets so much satisfaction out of his constantly improving the town that his daily circuit has become a reward for him.
Andy Karl’s Phil is, on some level, fundamentally isolated. People will never know him – at least not without hours of proving to them that yes, he is trapped in this time loop, he does know everything about them. No matter what relationships he forms, he’ll have to start all over again in a matter of hours. There’s no bond he can create that this loop won’t erase.
And so when Rita finally dances with Bill Murray, it’s shown as a big romantic moment. And in the musical –
In the musical, Rita moves towards Phil and everything freezes in a harsh blue light except for Phil.
This is everything Phil has ever wanted in years, maybe decades, of being in this loop – and instead of being presented as triumphant, everything goes quiet and Phil sings a tiny, mournful song:
But I’m here
And I’m fine
And I’m seeing you for the first time
And the reason that brings tears to my eyes every fucking time is because this Phil is not fine – he repeats the lie in the next verse when he says he’s all right. Yet this is the happiest moment he’s had in years, finally understanding what Rita has wanted all along, and this moment too will be swept away in an endless series of morning wakeups and lumpy beds and people forgetting what he is.
Yet that mournful tune is also defiant, and more defiant when the townspeople pick it up and start singing it in a rising chorus:
And I’m fine
Phil knows his future is nothing.
Yet that will not stop him from appreciating this small beauty even if he knows it will not stay with him. Trapped in the groundhog loop, appreciating the tiny moments becomes an act of rebellion, a way of affirming life even when you know this moment too will vanish.
Can you understand that this is depression incarnate?
Which is the other thing that marks this musical. Because I said there was joy, and there is. Because when Andy Karl’s Phil enters the “Philanthropy” section of the musical (get it?), he may not be entirely happy but he is content.
Because he knows that he may not necessarily feel joy at all times, but he has mastered the art of maintenance.
Because tending to the town of Punxatawney is a lot of work. He has to run around changing flat tires, rescuing cats, getting Rita the chili she wanted to try, helping people’s marriages. (And as he notes, “My cardio never seems to stick.”)
When Bill Murray’s Phil helps people, it seems to well up from personal satisfaction. Whereas Andy’s Phil is thrilled helping people, yes, but his kindness means more because it costs him. On some level he is, and will forever be, fundamentally numb.
This isn’t where he wanted to be.
Yet he has vowed to do the best with what he can. He helps the townspeople of Punxatawney because even though it is a constant drain, it makes him feel better than drinking himself senseless in his room. He doesn’t get to have everything he wanted – also see: depression and chronic illness – and it sure would be nice if he could take a few days off, but those days off will make him feel worse.
He’s resigned himself to a lifetime of working harder than he should for results that aren’t as joyous as he wanted.
And that’s okay. Not ideal, but…. okay.
And I think the closest I can replicate that in a non-musical context is another unlikely source – Rick and Morty, where Rick is a suicidal hypergenius scientist who’s basically the Doctor if the Doctor’s psychological ramifications were taken seriously. And he goes to therapy, where a therapist so smart that she’s the only person Rick’s never been able to refute says this to him:
“Rick, the only connection between your unquestionable intelligence and the sickness destroying your family is that everyone in your family, you included, use intelligence to justify sickness.
“You seem to alternate between viewing your own mind as an unstoppable force and as an inescapable curse. And I think it’s because the only truly unapproachable concept for you is that it’s your mind within your control.
You chose to come here, you chose to talk to belittle my vocation, just as you chose to become a pickle. You are the master of your universe, and yet you are dripping with rat blood and feces, your enormous mind literally vegetating by your own hand.
“I have no doubt that you would be bored senseless by therapy, the same way I’m bored when I brush my teeth and wipe my ass. Because the thing about repairing, maintaining, and cleaning is it’s not an adventure. There’s no way to do it so wrong you might die.
“It’s just work.
“And the bottom line is, some people are okay going to work, and some people well, some people would rather die.
“Each of us gets to choose.
“That’s our time.”
And yes, Groundhog Day the musical is – was – about that lesson of maintenance, as Andy comes to realize that “feeling good” isn’t a necessary component for self-improvement, and works hard to make the best of a situation where, like my depression, even the best and most perfect day will be reset come the next morning.
And yes. There is a dawn for Andy’s Phil, of course, and he does wake up with Rita, and you get to exit the theater knowing that no matter how bad it gets there will come a joyous dawn and you get to walk out onto Broadway and so does Phil.
But you don’t get to that joy without maintenance.
And you might get trapped again some day. That, too, is depression. That, too, is chronic illness. We don’t know that Phil doesn’t get trapped on February 3rd, or March 10th, or maybe his whole December starts repeating.
But he has the tools now. He knows how to survive until the next dawn.
Maybe you can too.
Anyway. There’s talk that Groundhog Day will go on tour, maybe even with Andy Karl doing the performances. He’s brilliant. Go see him.
The rest of you, man, I hope you find your own Groundhog Day. I saw mine. Twice.
Perhaps it’s fitting that it’s vanished.
Cross-posted from Ferrett's Real Blog.
Then there was Bärli's parent's 40th anniversary. Bärli's family are so lovely. At one point there was a bit of a clash of understanding between Bärli's mother and Andreas, and both of them said to me they were worried the other would think they didn't respect them. But it was OK. And the whole family is so lovely and welcomign to us.
This weekend was huskyteer's birthday. Huskyteer is one of those people who is just so cool I can't imagine why they'd want to talk to me, but of course, also cool enough that they don't even think like that. Anyway, I can't think of a better person to introduce me to my first complete James Bond film (which I greatly enjoyed).
Now it is back to term, and I am doing so much! Band twice a week and karate, and Wednesday home ed stuff, and playdates. Remember how a year ago I was grumbling about never having time for me? Well, my people arranged it so I could, and it's wonderful. Thank you my people! I get two whole hours of cycling by myself, plus band (it's 10 miles away and I get a lift to Friday band but cycle on Sunday).
Rest of life round up:
Eating: sausage ragu with rice, made by the lovely jack
Reading: Just finished 'In My Own Time' by Nina Bawden, her autobiography, which is rather lovely. Her respect and love for the people around her really shines through, and she seems like such a nice person.
Playing: Argo. Not my cup of tea. Littles were playing Stratego, which I also can't get my head around, so I'm glad they have each other to play with.
Watching: Pororo. Cute Korean penguin and friend.
Coláiste Lurgan (Lurgan College) is an Irish-language summer school in Connemara; it has a musical project called TG Lurgan which does lots of brilliant translated covers. Here are a couple, worth watching even if you have little or no Irish 'cause they're obviously having such a good time with it!( videos )
(I'd run across them before, but eyebrowsofpower reminded me of them today.)
This link should take you to the audio player for The Moth, cued to a story, "Who Can You Trust", 12 minutes long.
The Moth, if you didn't know, is an organization that supports storytelling – solo spoken word prose – true stories. This story is told by Dr. Mary-Clare King, the discoverer of BRC1. It concerns a most extraordinary week in her life, when pretty much everything went absurdly wrong and right at all once. It is by turns appalling and amazing and touching and throughout hilarious.
It's worth hearing her tell herself before the live audience. But if you prefer transcript, that's here – but even the link is a spoiler.
So that is where I am right now.
This weekend I'll be heading to Vancouver for a MLS soccer game and then moving day is Sunday.
I will get more out shortly. Sorry to those friends who have I have been absent with these past few days, I just need to check out for awhile (and now I am checking in, so we're good).
So, for example*, if you can take out a subscription to the Financial Times online in about 30 seconds online, by clicking on a few options, then you should be able to cancel your subscription by clicking on something on your subscription details on their site. And they should not require you to email their support desk, reply with a second email explaining why you don't want it any more, and then answer a phone call wherein they offer it to you cheaper and then have to insist that, no, really, you don't want it any more.
The rule shall, instead, be that if ten random people take longer to unsubscribe than they did to subscribe that your home page will be replaced by a big flashing sign reading "We will treat you badly in the hope of holding on to your money."
Secondary rule: No introductory offers. Free trials are allowed (but must be easily cancellable, as above), but you can't offer new people a better deal than your existing customers. Introductory offers are a way of tricking people into signing up, and then hanging onto them when inertia stops them from cancelling/moving. Instead you must offer a good deal in the first place, which is sustainable, and which is easily compared to your competitors. I know this makes life harder for companies who are trying to hide long-term costs from their customers. I really, really, don't care.
*Or, possibly, exactly what happened to me at lunchtime.
And it's a matter of culture whether it's "when you check out code, you often need to make clean or make undepend somewhere to get it to compile" or "when you check in code, you need to find a workaround to make it build cleanly even if you've removed files".
Do people with more recent build tools than "make" avoid this problem?
However, after thinking it through carefully I eventually decided on one of the ways to makefiles cope with this correctly.
You still do "-include $(OBJ_FILES:%.c=%.d)" or equivalent.
But when you produce a .d file with gcc (usually as a side effect of producing a .o file via -MMD), add an extra line at the end of the recipe, a perl script which edits the .d file in-place and replaces each "filename.o: header1.h header2.h..." with "filename.o $(wildcard: header1.h header2.h...)"
That way, if any dependency has *changed* a rebuild is forced as normal. But only dependencies that actually exist become dependencies within the makefile. (Deleting a header file doesn't trigger a rebuild, but it doesn't with the old system either since the .o file already exists.)
I can share the exact script if anyone wants to see.
There's lots of things I love, things like webcomics and webfiction which might deserve attention. I eventually chose three I thought would make good stories.
Elements (experiments in character design), the tarot-like cards showing a character for each chemical element. They're just so pretty, each looks like it tells a story. I was sad the physical cards seemed to be sold out and never for sale. They were nominated two years ago, and I was sad to see not last year.
And two webcomics, Leftover Soup (from Tailsteak, the author of the awesome 1/0, ooh, maybe I should submit that instead), and YAFGC (Yet Another Fantasy Gamer Comic, like Oglaf, very not safe for work, but sort of in a surprisingly wholesome way).
Did other people manage to nominate things?
I am also basking in the disconcertingly competent assumption that, I expect to be able to, just get a story done, without a whole lot of putting it off. I'm not at all used to signing up to something with a deadline and not assuming I'll panic but it's worth it!
I looked at my notes from last year for "what might I be interested in nominating next year". It was mostly the same sorts of things. Although one was, "Steven Universe, if it doesn't exceed the limit of number of works", I guess that must have happened now :) Although I find it really hard to predict. I went to look up Vorkosigan, the universe I was surprised was still eligible when I wrote for it two years ago, and it looks like there's more than a 1000 fics on ao3 from before that, am I misremembering how eligibility/search works?
Not having any joy of google. Does anybody recognize it?
I mention this because the step after this is likely to be imaging. An x-ray will be $230, and I will need to ask for help with part of that, as well as for ongoing treatment if it's necessary/possible, or, god forbid, euthanasia. Care Credit is something I will not hesitate to deploy, but I would prefer to pay for as much of it up front as possible, to minimize future monthly payments. So if y'all could have my back on that when the time comes, I would be very grateful.
He has lost 1.8 pounds in the last year or so, most of it in the last couple of months, and if this weird bloodwork had cropped up without that, I wouldn't be as worried as I am. But with cats, weight loss on this scale is associated with very poor outcomes, so I am not tremendously optimistic. To put it in perspective, 1.8 pounds is the same as if I lost 40 pounds, proportionally. That's frightening. He was a cinderblock of a cat, built thick and powerful, capable of physically pushing me backwards when braced against something, and now he feels a little below merely average, and has lost a lot of strength.
This is somewhat tempered by the fact that I knew going in that he would probably live a shorter life since whatever inbreeding or genetic abnormalities led to his messed-up face are hardly likely to have stopped there, and I honestly only really expected him to live about 10 years. I was willing to take that hit that going in, and I am not sorry nor would I ever change my mind.
It helps that he doesn't appear to be feeling bad. It makes it easier not to worry, moment to moment.
So for now it's wait, and worry.
What I've read: poetry
I Speed Toward The Moon by Constance Hanstedt
At The Forestry Institute, Hanoi by Pepper Trail
Father Son Haiku by Kelvin River
Fallers by Alex Harper
What I've read: short stories
The Family Ghost by Jamie Lackey
Vervain, Grasshopper, Sun by Marissa Lingen
The Thing About Heisenball by Stewart C. Baker
Last Long Night by Lina Rather
While we were in Helsinki I noticed that Lois McMaster Bujold had another Penric novella out - and that it was in the middle of the existing novellas so she'd renumbered the series. I enjoyed it very much, both for the plot in itself and for the additional worldbuilding about the shamanic and sorcerous magic systems. Then I reread my way through the entire series:
Penric and the Shaman
Mira's Last Dance
What I've read: long fiction
Bookburners: Season 1 by Max Gladstone, Margaret Dunlap, Mur Lafferty and Brian Francis Slattery. If I'd read this as it was published weekly at Serial Box, I'd probably have listed each episode up in the short-fiction section. Instead I read one collected ebook with all 16 episodes. A New York police officer ends up getting drawn into a secret society of magical book collectors operating out of the Vatican, and joins the team in hopes of helping her brother. The overall arc plot gets resolved satisfyingly while leaving an opening for more, and I note that Series 3 is currently unfolding on Serial Box.
I finally read A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet by Becky Chambers and found it pleasant enough but less amazing than some of the hype had led me to believe. It's a good found-family series of minor adventures (in fact, in that sense it reminds me quite a bit of Bookburners) and I'm glad I've read it and will happily read more by Becky Chambers. But it didn't grab me in the way that e.g. Ancillary Justice or All Systems Red did.
Bewitching Benedict by C.E. Murphy came out last week. It's a historical-romance comedy of manners, which I really enjoyed, especially the grand farcical climax. I am hoping it does well so that the author feels like writing the books to pair off the rest of the eligible bachelors she's introduced here.
Listen to the Moon by Rose Lerner is another in her Lively St Lemeston series, this time focusing on a valet and a housemaid who have lost their jobs due to events in the previous books. There's a good job for both of them in the local rectory, but the vicar insists he only wants a married couple in post. Luckily they fancy each other like mad; it takes them a bit longer to figure out how to solve some trickier conflicts.
What I'm reading next
Well, now my degree is done, anything I like! Ahahaha.
A Taste of Honey by Rose Lerner just came out and is waiting on my kindle, which is what prompted me to read Listen to the Moon first. From my long-neglected physical to-read pile, I've pulled out The Scientist in the Crib by Alison Gopnik and The Checklist Manifesto by Atul Gawande.
As a reminder, I’ll be at Pandemonium Books and Games (which is an awesome store even in the absence of me) at 7:00 tomorrow to read to you, sign whatever you put in front of me, and probably go out for drinks and/or ice cream afterwards.
I hope to see you there! These donuts aren’t gonna eat themselves.
Cross-posted from Ferrett's Real Blog.