Asymptomatic

There must be intelligent life down here

Ugh, Windows.

Well, it’s been an interesting morning. I’ve been lamenting the speed of my work computer for some time now, and have secretly wondered if there was perhaps a virus on it. I’ve been running antivirus software and updating virus patterns regularly since 2000, and haven’t found anything - until this morning.

I’m not even sure what the virus was. It was detected and quarantined and I didn’t really care, as long as the scanner picked it up. See, the real issue is that the version of antivirus that I was using was purchased in 2000, and I recently got a popup during startup saying that future pattern files would not be compatible with my old antivirus version, and that I should upgrade. Ok, fine, so I did.

Bees

After work yesterday, I was watching Abby and Berta play in the front yard when Berta noticed that there was a hole in the ground near the patch of dirt I turned over last year. I didn’t realize that such a small thing could lead to such a large front-yard mystery.

Waterless Router Project

Berta and I tried to watch the Bourne Supremacy on the XBox last night after Abby went to bed. I moved the MPEGs to a shared folder on the server, and started up XBox Media Center.

The XBox is hooked to the network wirelessly using the Netgear router that Pat got me for Christmas and a separate Netgear dongle thingie on the XBox side. Because of where the router is, the reception is blocked by power cables and other network wires. As a result, the movie was stuttering quite often.

Gramps

Mom wrote an entry about her dad, my grandfather, aka “Gramps”, on her weblog recently.

As she says, there is a great deal of construction on 322 near West Chester, and the major intersection there, which used to have zero traffic lights will now have at least three. Maybe if they were there when Gramps was driving that day, he’d still be with us. I don’t know. Like my mom, I often wonder about him whenever I pass through this area.

Stardust

Last night, in the middle of watching Amish in the City, I read the last of Stardust, by Neil Gaiman. I had started this book a long time ago, but at the time I was so stinking sick of fairies and the fae that I couldn’t get past the second chapter. Honestly, the word “fae” invokes such distaste for me and yet does not jibe with how I feel about the actual topic. It’s absurd.

Anyway, the book is not about the guy that you meet in the first chapter, but rather about his son, who was born to a cat-person (another thing I find distastefully commonly desirable - plushie folk) and promised that he would fetch a fallen star for the woman that he loves.