Work on Quarto progresses.  Having firmly re-saddled myself a day or two ago, I settled in and got some real work done today.  Hence, the lack of entries (did you get lonely in the meantime?).  Probably most cheerworthy is the stunning fact that there is now something to actually <em>test</em>&mdash;in addition to user authentication and logging functions, I now have full user editing capabilities set up.

Most of the regular readers of this site know that domesticat's web server was down for a few days due to a very bizarre set of circumstances. Fewer of you know that I maintain a Hotmail drop box, which I use to protect my real addresses from spam.

Since I had a bit of warning that the server was going down last week, I sent out an email to friends saying that they should use my Hotmail dropbox until my @domesticat addresses were usable again.

Weekends at Brian and Suzan's are always interesting. Always. The conversations are the best part. After all, have you ever had this conversation over good barbecue before?

Ever wonder what people talk about while they're working on code? We're not nearly as mysterious as you might think. Generally we're bored, want lunch, wish our cats would stop pestering us, or really wish we could get something else done instead of what we're doing right now.

Every now and then, though, a conversation goes just a little off the deep end. Just keep in mind that Gareth owns omnipotent.net, the machine that domesticat.net (among many others) lives on.

"Oh dear God. The db people got to you"—said Danno, upon learning of my current activities.

"Crack dealers!" I said.

"When they say 'the first query engine is free,' that should be a tipoff…"No kidding. So here I am, sitting here, helpless, a junkie looking for her fix and staring this error down: "Supplied argument is not a valid MySQL result resource in…"

I omit the rest. Why bore you? Suffice it to say that I finally swallowed my pride and started hammering on database stuff today. Just a teensy little table, I said, just one, and I'll see if I can make it do what I want it to, and maybe I'll branch out from there.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen! You might be surprised to learn that, while you're standing there, yapping loudly into your cell phone while filling up your gas tank, the person sitting in the next car can hear what you're saying…

Before we go any further, let me tell you something, you wanna-be darlings of the fashion world: unless your name is Audrey Hepburn, you do not look good in capri pants. I do not care what you look like, who did your plastic surgery, or what company your grandfather founded. Unless you are Audrey Hepburn, yes, you look terrible in capri pants. On principle.

In fact, let me amend that statement. Even if you are Audrey Hepburn, you do not look good in capri pants, because you are dead and have been so for quite some time now, and this whole hopping-out-of-the-grave-and-dancing-around bit really needs to be kept to the better Buffy episodes, mmmmkay?