Printing without wires, Part III

I must be losing my touch. I got our LaserJet 2100M working with our new SMC Barricade router after entirely too much time spent working on the problem. Why wasn’t it working? I had configured the SMC for MAC authentication, on top of the other built-in protections, and hadn’t input the MAC address for the LaserJet’s print server. I figured that since I was connecting the LaserJet via a wired connection it wouldn’t matter, but apparently the SMC’s MAC authentication is good for both wired and wireless clients.

No matter. It’s working, and now we have both our printers accessible via wireless. I’m going to bed to nurse this cold.
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I’m not dead yet…

…just fighting a nasty cold that came on suddenly this afternoon, and buried under a pile of work. I’m also trying to minimize the amount of stuff I post to my blog in preparation for the move, but I will try to ping it daily to reassure you that I’m still alive. If you don’t see the blog updated, send out the search dogs. I’ll be the one buried alive in cold germ by-products.

Another link; another painting episode

Before I start this, I should note that I’ve been permalinked by Moxie. Which is pretty exciting for a married man pushing 30. (Look on the right hand side, halfway down, just under “Pop Culture Kingdom.”) And now she’s taking my advice about things to do with your blog when it turns 2! “Who knew my blog was a tad on the whorish side?”

I just now saw the post linked above, as it’s been a domestic weekend. After picking up Lisa on Friday from SeaTac (after receiving roses at the Cascadian concert, I pulled up in my tux and handed her the flowers), we spent yesterday priming and today painting the formerly wallpaper covered room. It’s now—ready?—a canaryish yellow (officially marketed as “Empire Gold”). Alas, paint is one of those things that reproduces itself when you’re not looking. Now I have to repaint all the trim, and eventually the wall above the top rail, and the door, and the ceiling…

Apartment dwellers everywhere, rejoice. You don’t know how much work you’re missing by not owning a house…
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We’ll be together

Lisa comes home tonight. It’s been a really crazy week and I can’t wait to see her. I’ve been practicing all week for the first real concert that I’ll sing with the Cascadian Chorale: selected choral dances from Purcell’s The Fairy Queen, with the Ballet Bellevue. It’s really different singing for the ballet. As our director points out, he’s got to remember 29 different tempi—if he’s off on the tempo, the dancer will be thrown.

I have to go straight from my performance to pick her up at SeaTac, so I guess I’ll be the only tuxedoed guy by baggage claim. Now if I can just find some roses it’ll be perfect.
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Scary obsessive compulsive organizer day

Following the sniper story to the Washington Post, I stumbled across this “Organizing Guide” that is scaring me a little bit. (Probably because our house is still a partly unpacked mess.) But the closet thing is, I think, the most out of control. If you follow some of the links in the closet article, you could wind up at EasyClosets’s online Java-based closet designer, complete with custom floor plan drawing tool.

The scary part is, I want to use it.
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Moving this site

Well, after 17 months of active use (and much longer ownership–I have content on this site dating back to 2000), I’ve finally bitten the bullet and spent some money on a professional Manila hosting service. I have really appreciated the free space on Userland’s server, but they’re not a hosting company and can’t be held to the same expectations for server uptime and so forth–certainly not for free. (It was the server falling over for two hours during the day earlier this week that sparked the decision.)

What does this mean for you, my loyal reader? I will post a link to the new site when it’s up and running, and will do everything I can to redirect traffic. The one thing I don’t know about is whether Userland will put RSS redirection into place on Manila, so if you’re subscribing to this feed, look for an item giving the new subscription address.

The timeline isn’t firm yet, but I expect the changes to happen in the next week. As a result there may be a quiet period on the blog so that I don’t lose anything during the migration process.
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Where is the next Nirvana?

Brent, in a relatively rare break from work (the man has been busy since NetNewsWire went beta), wonders where the next Nirvana will come from. Is it maybe the Strokes, the Hives, the Vines, and the White Stripes? I don’t know. I’ve certainly heard words to that effect from various sources.

But the thing that Nirvana did that made everything change was to break down the barriers that the music industry and the audience had created with genres. By grabbing metalheads who were hungry for a change after the self indulgence of Axl Rose howling “Live and Let Die,” alternative music listeners who were disappointed with the Pixies’ Bossanova, and yes, frat boys who knew all the pretty songs and liked to sing along, Nirvana built a huge audience around a youth culture that felt as aimless and trapped and angry as Kurt sounded.

All the Strokes have succeeded in doing is opening the floodgates for a bunch of bands that sound kind of like them. That’s ok if you like that sort of thing, but…

I think the real problem is radio, contrary to John Robb’s assertion that it’s dead. (John, check out the MIT station WMBR the next time you’re close enough to pick up the signal. Or tune in KEXP on the web and pretend you’re in Seattle. :)) With all the radio stations being operated by remote control by some guy in Cleveland or LA who only can remember about five songs at one time, there’s no way that the “O Brother” phenomenon could reach the enormous teen audience that might have taken it and made it their own. I know it was a huge success as a soundtrack, but I have to think the demographics for it skewed way upwards of 25.

I wonder whether there’s enough commonality left in the music listening audience to make another Nirvana possible, or whether the musical universe will just keep expanding infinitely, genres rushing away from each other at the speed of light, until all the energy of pop music is turned into entropy and loss.
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Support System

I think the correlation between music and quality of life is absurdly high for me. This morning I hopped in my car–okay, stumbled into is more accurate given the fog I was in–and turned on the radio. KEXP was playing “Dig for Fire” by the Pixies. Right on, thought I, and started driving down the hill. Then they switched to “Alec Eiffel”, then Frank Black’s “Tossed.” Alas, at that point their pledge drive pitch came back on (I’ve pledged, have you?). So I turned on the iPod and it was Daniel Lanois’ “For the Beauty of Wynona.” Then Violent Femmes: “Girl Trouble.” When I got to the office, Liz Phair’s “Support System” was playing.

How could one feel anything but sing and dance good after a set like that?

On why I should have gone to see Lou Reed

A lengthy, cynical review of Lou Reed’s performance at Bumbershoot that finds nothing to bitch about save his performance of The Raven. I love the shtick that the author and his friend work up over this one:

This offers the evening’s only opportunity to do shtick over the course of the song, and Ian and I traded barbs over Reed’s rendition:

Reed: “For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore Nameless here forevermore.”

Us: “Because she’s a dirty junkie slut who got what’s coming to her!”

Reed: “Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer…”

Us: “So I popped another bennie and fucked the drag queen like a dog!”

Reed: “Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before…”

Us: “And it was Andy inviting us to an opening in Soho!”

Reed: “Then the bird said, `Nevermore’…”

Us: “And he stole my TV the next morning for smack!”

You’ll have to read the review for Lou’s “pre-emptive strike” over this one, which makes the jokes look like child’s play.
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Yeah, I definitely need to add a Food department

I wasn’t going to blog any more today, but I gotta brag. I was talking to someone today about Lisa being on the east coast this week, and she said, “Oh, so you’re eating a lot of pizza, huh?”

Yeah, right. With Lisa out, I can cook risotto and pork chops and all the other food I really like that she doesn’t like on a regular basis. So that’s what I did. Basic white risotto with pancetta (from Boston, natch), rosemary, and sage. Grilled pork chops with a splash of balsamic vinegar. Fresh string beans on the side.

The pork chops are a revelation, actually. I left a few in a brine of sugar, salt, juniper berries, and peppercorns for about 48 hours and then grilled them. (Well, technically they’re pancooked, but the pan has grill ridges, so that counts, right?) The resulting flavor is too intense to describe. Tony can keep his birthday lapdance from Christina Aguilera; I’ll stick with my risotto and pork chops, thanks.

Remedying: Happy b-day, Tony

Correcting a long-standing omission, I’m adding Tony Pierce’s Busblog to my blogroll. This is not only in recognition of Tony’s coolness but also in honor of his birthday.

Tony is not only funnier than I am, he’s also more likely to be seen in the company of hot, barely legal women. So he says. Here’s hoping he gets his birthday wish:

…that’s one thing i’d like for my birthday. i’d like everyone to put aside all their bullshit fears surrounding good for just one day. real good. like everyone, if they want to eat cake that day, say the hell with the damn diet that theyve been on for half their life. eat a piece of damn cake.

right on!

and if you want to say hi to that pretty girl on the third floor, march up there and say hi. get her number even. quit listening to that same old stale voice that tells us that the things that we want somehow are either wrong, impossible, or in someway threats to our stable, miserable lives.

preach, preacha!

i have a dream, holiday gourds.

that we can all live together in peace?

no. that people can kiss each other at bars and in night clubs and their hearts flutter and their blood pressure goes up and they don’t need so much booze any more. i have a dream, my friends.

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Barista!

barista action figure with coffee cup accessories

Shel has been trying to tell me about Archie McPhee for a while now. Today Boing Boing pointed to them in reference to the Jesus Action Figure, so I followed their link. Now that I look at their website, I see why Shel was so insistent.

I especially dig the barista action figure (comes with multiple heads, a Tall and Grande coffee cup, and a barista apron!!). Fuzz, an action figure of a real 21-year-old McPhee employee whose general demeanor should be instantly recognizable to anyone from the Northwest, is also pretty cool.

More old friends on line

Esta pointed a while back to Joe Gross’s gig writing for the Austin American Statesman, but I didn’t follow the links. (Joe and I met on the Declaration, and I persuaded him to join me on Rag & Bone because I knew he had the skills and passion to take it to the next stage. Its longevity is due at least as much to his involvement as to my efforts.)

Joe’s column on music is available online, and his writing is as excellent as it ever was:

With the recent release of Nick Broomfield’s somewhat inflammatory documentary “Biggie and Tupac” (well, it hasn’t been released here yet, but I’m sure you saw something about it on MTV when it wasn’t showing soft porn on “The Real World”)…

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Esta: No red ears for our grandfather

Esta was in Lancaster County this weekend visiting our relatives and found my grandfather in great shape:

Pop Pop was more like himself than I’ve seen him since the accident. On Friday night we somehow got started talking about old farming methods, and he told stories for nearly 2 hours about planting and harvesting corn and pumpkins, and the shucking parties they’d have in the fall. If you found a red ear, you got to kiss your girlfriend! Even at 85, Pop Pop’s chagrin that he never found a red ear was quite evident…

Fifty-four year old blog

Yesterday Esta started one of the cooler genealogical blog projects I’ve seen recently: Great-Aunt Eva’s blog. She’s transcribing our maternal relative’s 1949-1951 farm journal one page at a time. It’s astonishing how much it reads like the happenings of a far distant past even though it’s only fifty-four years old. The entries aren’t floridly written; most are only a single sentence. But her voice still comes through.
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