12:20:2002 Entry: "Ann : Well, it's off to the font mines."
Well, it's off to the font mines.
When I first ordered Suitcase last fall, it crashed on my new computer. It turned out my fonts (not MY [dingbatcave] fonts, but my third party fonts) were corrupt. The bitmap files were severely damaged. They worked fine on my other computers under older Suitcase v. 3 or 7, but they wouldn't work with the new versons of Suitcase. So I had to re-install them all, and recreate the bitmap files (thank heavens I *am* a fontmaker myself and already have Fontographer to ease this process) on the ones that I couldn't find the CDs for or that wouldn't re-install from one of those "unlockable" cds. Lengthy, laborious, tedious process. Well, guess what folder I never backed up? Yup...what the hell was I thinking? "Oh, why should I back that up--I already have all those fonts on the old computer. WRONG! I have the CORRUPTED ones on the old computer! What was I not thinking?
So that's what I get to do today...recreate a whole bunch of bitmap font files THAT I ALREADY WENT THROUGH ONCE BEFORE. Oh joy.
Still can't figure out why only my third party fonts were effected and not MY OWN fonts. Weird. Wonder if it's because they were in a different folder on the old computer? It baffles the mind.
So while I'm tied up for a long time doing this mind-numbing, wrist-blister and carpal-tunnel-inducing font processing, here's some random thoughts from the other day:
My blue-veined Maranta is doing much better, the leaves are growing and even folding up at night like they're supposed to that they didn't do when the plant was sick. Last week I clipped off all the old leaves, and found a small (quarter-inch long) little larva of some sort. Bug-lover that I am, it freaked me out because it failed to be a cute bug and became nothing but a parasite destroying one of my favorite plants. I didn't kill it though, just put it outside and let it fend for itself. But to top it all off, I then discovered spider mites on that plant as well. Stan commented that it was like Caligula, as Caligula came into our lives filled with parasites...fleas, mites, worms. He's now a fat, happy cat that would be perfect except for his prediliction for eating my houseplants (oh the irony)! Stan said that a lesser person would have had that poor Maranta out in the trash by now. But not me...I had to keep it alive. Bought some insecticidal soap on Saturday and it seems to be doing very well now. Actually, the discovery of all the parasites on that plant makes me feel better because now I know that it came with them from the greenhouse...its decline had nothing to do with me not providing it with enough water, or too much water, or too much light, or not enough. It was infested from the start.
While the computer disaster was happening on Thursday, I kept saying that I felt like Vincent Vega from Pulp Fiction when Mia Wallace ODs on him and he's frantically driving to his dealer's house to save her life. My life seemed to be that out of control and going that fast. It's strange when I'm having an extremely stressful situation, I try to a self-medicate it by putting it in the framework of indie pop culture characters.
The past several weeks I was listening to "Chapter a Day" on Wisconsin Public Radio. The book was "Basket Case" about an obituary writer, Jack Taggert, who does an obid story and personal investigation on a rock star's mysterious death. The obid writer was obsessed with death dates and knew exactly who died at what age. and always wondered if he died, how old he'd be and which famous people would share that age of death with him. I'm that way to a lesser degree. For the past year I kept thinking "John Lennon" because I was 40. Now that I'm 41, I have no idea who died at 41, that is, anyone famous that I appreciated. I've always found the concept of "The Stupid Club" a fascinating one when Kurt Cobain's mother supposedly coined that phrase when her son killed himself. What is it about being 27? Kurt, Jimi, Jim, Janis, Brian, and probably countless more that escape me at the moment. And what about Brian Jones and Jim Morrison both dying on July 3 (different years?) What's up with that? Really makes you wonder.
Haven't been getting good sleep lately, partly because of the computer mess and partly because IT'S TOO DAMN HOT. We only have an air conditioner upstairs which I use during the day when I'm working on my computer. We used to sleep upstairs until last summer when we completed the main bedroom downstairs. Fortunately, due to Stan's insulating, that is the coolest room in the house in the summer and the warmest in the winter, but it's still pretty hot. Stan wants the door closed at night because he doesn't like cats crawling on him. OK, this is where Ann and Stan part ways in their reaction to night-time upsets. The other night someone was shooting off fireworks in the middle of the night. I jumped out of my skin each time one went off and woke me up out of my sleep. Stan slept through the whole damn thing. Unfreakinbelievable. But get a cat jumping on a bed at night and Stan's all bent out of shape and complaining about them walking on his bladder, etc. I find a cat on the bed at night quite benign, if not even soothing. We used to sleep with cats at night, I tell him, when we slept upstairs and kept the door open. "Yes, but I didn't sleep well," he says.
So I got up at 4:30 because I was so hot in the bedroom. I went upstairs to check on the dogs. Plato was hot, so I turned the AC back on and took him outside to potty. I had no idea that fireflies were out at dawn! It was surreal. I'm so used to seeing them at dusk, but dawn? I guess I never had reason to get up that early before. I just wanted to curl up on our park bench and go to sleep there. It was 70 something outside and 80 something in the house. But I'm not a big fan of mosquitos, so I went upstairs to write instead.
Another ironic thing is that before the new year, Plato devoured chocolate, so I couldn't celebrate New Year's after that fiasco. Now my computer problem happens a few days before my birthday, so I can't celebrate that. What is this...an every-6-month crisis syndrome? And Labor Day, I'm dreading that. In 2000 Hieronymus fell down the stairs and in 2001 Natasha died. What's in store this year? I fear to think.
Girl! Focus on all the good things that have happened! It's too easy to focus on the bad!
Posted by Leann @ 07:02:2002:04:32 PM CST
Two modest suggestions to take the edge off the aggravation, a little. First, do you have one of those things you put around your neck like a bandanna, with magic crystals inside? First you soak it in water for half an hour before wearing it, and it cools off the blood in your carotid arteries and works like a charm. Or you can tie it around your forehead. You just get hours and hours of evaporation without any dripping. If you don't have one of those I'll send you one! Second, Bounce fabric softener sheet - tuck one in your belt or sticking out your jeans pocket and it keeps mosquitoes away. Honest. I tried it out this morning, sat in the back yard reading for a couple hours and didn't get bite one!
Posted by Pat Hartman @ 07:06:2002:11:32 PM CST
No, don't have the bandana...would love to try it!
Actually, this sounds very weird, but we can't use Bounce because our cat, Persephone, will pee on any clothes she finds that smell like it...we found that out the hard way.
Posted by Ann @ 07:07:2002:08:40 AM CST