Monday, March 18, 2024

Gratitude Monday: blooms in the air

We’re at that point in Spring where trees and shrubs are beginning to bloom, and it would be both difficult and mean-spirited to not be grateful for that. So—here you go.

 










 

Friday, March 15, 2024

O bright heaven's son

Sunday is Saint Patrick’s Day, honoring the Fifth Century Bishop of Armagh, who is credited with converting the Irish to Christianity. Paddy’s the patron of Ireland (duh and engineers, and he protects against snake infestations and bites. Kind of an all-round player, he is.

Turns out that our man was never actually canonized by the Roman Catholic Church. Something to do with him living in an era when there was no formal process for it. Which doesn’t explain all the thousands of saints from the early Church who were made saints, but maybe his alleged opposition to snakes had something to do with it, the Vatican being what it is. He’s there by popular acclaim and his day is probably the most celebrated worldwide of anyone except for Jesus’ birth and death.

So, let’s have a little something for Pat.

No, not some drunken pub song about whiskey being the devil, we’re having “Be Thou My Vision”, to the tune of Slane, an old Irish melody. I couldn't find a good recording out of Ireland, so we've got this one.




 

 

Thursday, March 14, 2024

Parking lot (redux)

Oh, hey—look what I found. Another repeating pattern.

Enjoy.

 

 

 

Wednesday, March 13, 2024

Key interview question

Last week I interviewed for a product management position with the head of HR of a small pre-IPO software company. According to this person’s LinkedIn profile, she has a few decades, including V-level slots, with some legit, Fortune 100 companies. So I was a little surprised when she said:

“Oh, you were a product manager at [Megalithic Software Corporation]. The daughter of a friend of mine is a product manager there. Her name is X Y; did you know her?”

Uh, MSC has more than 150,000 employees, including several thousand PMs. Maybe a few thousand fewer staffers and a few hundred fewer PMs now, but still.

“Oh, I don’t think so. What unit does she work in?”

“I don’t know. But are you sure?” Voice becomes louder, pronunciation more distinct. “Her name is X Y.”

“No; sorry.”

Dunno if that ended my candidacy with that company, but I’ve not heard back from them since that call.

Tuesday, March 12, 2024

Parking lot

I’ve started an alternative walking route because I was getting a bit tired of the same-old, same-old. This one takes me by a non-denominational church that runs a daycare program. I got a kick out of these little cars, all lined up and ready for their little drivers.


 

Monday, March 11, 2024

Gratitude Monday: March winds

It was 41F yesterday when I went out on my morning walk. (An hour later than usual, because of freakin’ Daylight Saving Time, which has no earthly purpose other than to disrupt the world’s circadian rhythms twice a year.) But there was a brisk wind, which made it feel colder. Great walking weather.

The wind also made some interesting patterns flowing through the trees.


And there were splashes of color, with daffodils and forsythia.



The wind was even pushing the clouds around apace.

So, that’s my gratitude for today.

 

 

 

 

Friday, March 8, 2024

Ви виграв війну

Well, alrighty then—yesterday Sweden officially joined NATO, pissing off Vladimir Putin no end. (The walls of the Kremlin are no doubt covered in the Russian equivalent of ketchup. Which is probably blood.) To honor this, the 31st member of the alliance, we’re going to cruise to the Arctic Circle. It’s ABBA, singing “Waterloo”.

(And this brings me a disco nightmare.)

 

 

Thursday, March 7, 2024

The nominee

Well, alrighty then—the GOP has anointed its nominee for president. As if there was any doubt—because of course the law-and-order party of family values wants an adjudicated rapist struggling to hawk up half a billion dollars in bond money so he can appeal fraud and defamation convictions (what a great national security risk!); a serial adulterer; about to sit at the defense table in his first of four criminal trials; a thief; a dictator-manqué; an orator who stumbles over the words “reduce” and “Venezuela”; a father who still would like to hump his daughter.

Here's a photo of your average supporter of this paragon; I shot it on my way back from the polling station.


 

Wednesday, March 6, 2024

Getting out the vote

As you may be aware, presidential primary elections were held yesterday in a bunch of states. I commented about the difference between voter information provided by California and Virginia.

(Both parties actually blew me off—I got no flyers from either of them or their respective candidates. And, as opposed to California, there were only two party choices: Democrat or Republican.)

I’d missed the window for early voting, which is my preference, so yesterday morning I walked over to the polling place in a local elementary school. I was there around 0830 and let me say that there were about 10 or so poll workers, but I was the only voter.

You could have held World War III there and no one would have got hurt.

I suppose it’s because—with only two parties represented and an incumbent (I was going to say “unopposed incumbent”, but then I remembered Marianne Williamson and Dean Phillips; haaaaaaaaaaaaaa) for one and a right-wing, twice-impeached, four-times indicted, 91 felony counts, insurrectionist, grifting, racist, misogynistic, authoritarian, word-slurring nut job for the other, well—obviously iacta alea est.

As I was leaving, three more people pulled up to do their civic duty, and I say God bless ‘em.


 

 

Tuesday, March 5, 2024

Making choices

Last month I got several packets of voting materials for today’s primaries.

They were all from Santa Clara County, not from Virginia.




(Evidently Fairfax County can’t be arsed to notify your former voting jurisdiction when you register here.)

At first I was really excited, because it was the first time (I thought) the Commonwealth had ever sent any materials to help me be efficient at the voting booth. But no, it was California, which always sends out frankly TMI about the referenda, initiatives and candidates so you can make an informed choice before you cast your ballot.

From the former capital of the Confederacy I’ve received exactly nothing; they prefer that you have as little information as possible. (TBH, they’d prefer that you didn’t bother at all with making your voice heard, unless you’re wearing a red hat made in China.)

No worries—I voted anyhow.

(Only once. In Virginia, not California.)