I spent a frosty lunch hour at City Hall today, at a rally to support the striking OC Transpo bus drivers and mechanics.
I don’t even care if the City’s offer was fair. No trade unionist with any sense of what it means to be a trade unionist could possibly, in good conscience, have voted yes under those circumstances. It has nothing to do with the offer and everything to do with the tactics used by Mayor Larry.
Speaking of Mayor Larry, it seems he found yet another thing to be profoundly bad at: labour relations. He was so sure he had his finger on the pulse of the members of ATU Local 279 that he wasted weeks trying to bypass proper channels and circumvent a legitimate collective bargaining process.
He spent his time and energy on everything but legitimate collective bargaining: waging a smear campaign against the union’s leadership, campaigning for public support, taking out full-page ads in the papers, commissioning a public opinion poll, lobbying the feds to take sides, and ultimately forcing a vote that only proved he was wrong. Again.
Mayor Larry has a history of getting his own way by circumventing legitimate processes. Look at how he got his job: bribery and influence peddling (trial pending). I’m grateful to the bus drivers and mechanics for not letting him get away with it this time.
Everybody who spoke at today’s rally was calling for an immediate return to the bargaining table and a fairly negotiated end to this strike. It’s what we all want, whether we’re bus passengers, bus drivers, car drivers, business owners, employers, students, whatever. We all want the buses running.
Hopefully Mayor Larry wants it enough to start respecting the process now instead of continuing to avoid it. Time will tell.
Thanks to Scott Tribe, who generously offered to upgrade my blog for me today, I’m now the proud owner of a WordPress 2.7 blog.
This upgrade wasn’t entirely glitch-free either, but it was infinitely more successful than the last one.
Scott and I connected through Skype during the upgrade – he talked and upgraded while I listened and typed.
Unfortunately, after the upgrade I could no longer log into my blog to edit it or add to it. Scott hadn’t run across this particular glitch before, and he felt bad that he couldn’t stick around and sort it out right away, but he had somewhere he had to be. He referred me to April Reign at Bread and Roses.
She quickly pinpointed the problem – the automatic installer plugin needed to be deleted. And then she found another little glitch in how my theme was displaying, and we fixed that too.
Then the bells rang and the angels sang and the birds flew out of the trees and landed on our outstretched hands and the sheep danced the dance of sheer jubilation. I wish you could have seen that. It was really something.
I haven’t had a chance to play with the new features yet, but I’m already thrilled with the upgrade. I can’t thank Scott and April enough. I want to bake them cakes and knit them mittens and send them kittens.
Speaking of kittens – in case you missed it the other day while my blog was lying all bloody and battered in the gutter, here’s a picture of Duncan on the first anniversary of our mutual adoption.
The plan was to upgrade WordPress – my blogging platform – because I wanted the latest version, primarily for security reasons. And also because if you’re current, you get new features and add-ons. And also because my trackback feature had broken and I hoped an upgrade might fix it.
I was already several versions behind because every time I planned to upgrade, I chickened out at the last minute.
I spent much of Sunday doing backups, because you should always back up your files before messing with stuff. There were several places I could do backups: from the admin part of my blog, from my web host’s site control panel, from Fantastico, and from my good old familiar FTP software.
You can never be too safe, so I performed all four backups several times each. Because I’m paranoid. And also because I was procrastinating about that fateful moment when I would push the critical button, because I had a Very Bad Feeling about how this was going to go.
In the process, I discovered a flaw in FTP: it won’t display or download more than 2,000 files in any directory. I had 3,000 files in my WP-content directory.
I spent hours downloading and testing other FTP programs, all of which shared this same flaw, so finally I FTP’d my files using filters, one letter at a time through the alphabet.
It felt so primitive.
Then I procrastinated some more because of the Very Bad Feeling. (The problem with gut feelings like that is you don’t know whether you’re being paranoid or psychic.)
Finally I drank two glasses of shiraz, threw caution to the wind, and pushed the stupid button.
Seconds later, Fastastico, the auto-installer, cheerfully told me the upgrade was complete.
“Wow,” I said, “that was easy.”
A little too easy.
I hit the refresh button on my blog, and instead of seeing my friendly sheep peering down at me, I saw an ugly error message about some fatal error with Tag Warrior. (Tag Warrior is a blog plugin.)
Fastastico then provided me with a list of eight simple steps for restoring my blog.
Most of the steps involved deleting all remnants of my blog. This didn’t feel good. The sixth step was to empty all my databases. That made me queasy.
The seventh step was to import my backup.sql file from my hard drive into my blog’s database using phpMyAdmin, which lives on the server.
It chugged along for a bit before it failed.
It said my backup file was too large. I checked the documentation: it was four times larger than the program could handle. (What kind of idiot program lets you create a backup it can’t use and then doesn’t even warn you??)
On Monday I opened a support ticket with my web host, which they ignored.
I tried a few things. None of them worked. I began to despair of ever finding a solution. I began to wonder if my backups were corrupt or incomplete. I began to wonder if my 800+ blog posts were gone forever. I began to question whether I would just throw in the blogging towel if that were the case, or if I’d start over again.
Throughout all this, I was having unrelated technical difficulties at work and on the Mac (it kept dropping its wireless connection to the internet via my PC and then piggy-backing itself onto my neighbour’s really slow network.) I was getting cranky.
But also throughout it all, people kept sending me messages of encouragement, jokes, links, poetry, pictures, videos, suggestions and offers of help. It kept me sane and I thank you for that. You guys are the best, and I’m not just saying that either.
On Tuesday night I finally picked up the phone and called my web host in wherever they are and spoke to a real live human being named Carl. He was friendly and helpful and competent and within 20 minutes he’d imported my backup.sql file and performed step 8 for me. Bells rang and flags flew and fireworks went off and people danced in the streets and my sheep came frolicking back into view and peered down at me!
I was giddy with relief. I told Carl I loved him. Today I even phoned his boss and told him how wonderful Carl was.
Lessons Learned:
Time is elastic. Two days can seem like four when something that matters to you is in peril.
You should deactivate all your plugins before you attempt to upgrade your blog.
You should keep up to date with your blog upgrades, so that automated upgrades won’t fail. If you wait until you’re many versions behind, you’ll have to do it manually.
You should always have a backup, a Plan B, some good friends, nerves of steel, and plenty of wine on hand.
That’s my advice to you. As for me, I will never ever attempt to upgrade my blog again. I’ll just leave well enough alone and if it ain’t broke, I won’t be trying to fix it.
I got this annual recapping idea from Rachael at Yarn-a-go-go.
January
Duncan and I adopted each other, I went on a business trip to Toronto, and Mayor Larry thought he was a rock star when he got booked on charges of bribery and influence peddling.
February
I won second prize in a beauty contest. Ha ha! No I didn’t. I won second prize in the 2007 Canadian Blog Awards for Best Post. My band, The Blue-Eyed Hermits, was formed and I finished knitting the Three-Year Sweater.
My sister and I escaped the winter from Hell by visiting my dad and Merle in Florida. Duncan, meanwhile, vacationed on Elgin Street with the Fourth Dwarf. Spring finally sprung. I started going to the gym every morning before work. Ottawa’s drug problem was getting a lot of attention. Duncan removed his winter underwear and I knit some baby stuff.
May
May was an unusually uneventful month. I went on a mini vacation to southern Ontario and Mayor Larry started a blog. I didn’t run the marathon again this year.
I took 5 and a half weeks holidays. I spent two weeks of it taking art and guitar courses in Haliburton . Ottawa’s crime rate fell (sheer coincidence, I assure you). I fell in love and Duncan peed on the object of my affection’s shorts.
August
I threw my back out and finally created a piece of art I liked. Blogging ennui settled upon the Ottawa blogging community like a fine grey dust, I lost two tickets to the folk festival, and we had an illuminating discussion about little pink pills. Zoom made headlines.
I went to the Neil Diamond concert, watched hopefully as the Conservative government came within a whisper of toppling, got lucky at the Chandler Swain Christmas sale, endured the bus strike, stood up to a bully, won some beavers, bought a Mac, created art for an art show, spent Christmas Eve at the Shepherds of Good Hope, made turkey, leftover turkey, turkey sandwiches, curried turkey and turkey soup, and went to Janet and Kate’s New Year’s Eve party.
Posted by zoom! on December 31, 2008, at 1:37 pm |
I was out for dinner at Pub Italia with Rebecca last night, and she asked about my New Year’s Resolutions. I hadn’t even thought of resolutions this year. I don’t always make resolutions, and I certainly never keep them, but I at least think about them.
But here I am, right down to the wire, scrambling to think of ways I could deprive myself to make my life even better in 2009.
I’m kidding about depriving myself. I used to have those kinds of resolutions. You know – giving up stuff I loved because it was bad for me or forcing myself to do stuff I hated because it was good for me.
Not anymore, though. I’m taking a revolutionary new approach to resolutions. From now on, my resolutions are all about helping myself do the things I want to do. For example, I want to spend more time in creative pursuits, so I’m going to take an art course. And I want to write a book, so I’m going to try to figure out what to do about that. (But I’m stymied. I know how to write and I have everything I need except a really good idea. I just don’t know how to get one of those to come bubbling up to the surface.)
So what about you? Tell me your resolutions. What do you want and what steps are you going to take this year to get it?
By the way, on a completely unrelated note, did you ever wake up in the morning and discover that while you were sleeping somebody else replaced all the tinfoil burner guards on your stove? Don’t you think that’s hot?
Posted by zoom! on December 28, 2008, at 11:18 am |
GC and I always play Punch Buggy when we’re out and about. You may have played some variation of Punch Buggy in childhood, but we’ve developed a more sophisticated and elaborate version for grown-ups.
Here’s how it works.
If you see a volkswagen bug, you punch the other person and shout “Punch Buggy!”
If you see a yellow car, you punch the other person and shout “Bananarama!”
If you see a Smart Car, you punch the other person and shout “Smartypants!”
And if you see a faux wood-paneled car, you punch the other person and shout “Woody!”
If you are sharp-eyed enough to spot all FOUR of these things before the other person sees even ONE of their own, you score a Grand Slam and you become the Punch Buggy Grand Master Poobah and there are fireworks and prizes and the other person has to be your slave and do your bidding for 24 hours and give you $30.
A Grand Slam is a theoretically possible but unlikely event.
One reason it’s unlikely is because woodies are very, very rare. In fact, in all the months we’ve been playing this game, we’ve never seen a woody. Until now. On Boxing Day we were driving through Chinatown, and there, parked on the side of Nanny Goat Hill, was a faux wood-paneled station wagon. I could hardly believe my eyes. I rubbed them. I blinked. I double-checked. There was no question. It was a genuine woody. And GC hadn’t seen it.
“WOODY!” I screamed. I was so excited I almost forgot to punch him. (Honestly, if we ever get into a car accident, it will probably be a result of all this pummeling and screaming that goes on inside the car.)
GC couldn’t believe it either. We were both in awe. We pulled over at Raw Sugar to drink coffee and calm ourselves down. Then we got back on the road. We were both in hyper-vigilant mode.
I would love to be able to tell you that this story culminated in a Grand Slam for me, but it was not to be. I spotted a Punch Buggy moments later, but GC got a Bananarama before I could find a Smartypants.
Posted by zoom! on December 27, 2008, at 11:41 am |
Christmas Eve
On Christmas Eve GC and I worked our weekly shift in the soup kitchen at the Shepherds of Good Hope, serving up tourtiere pie and cauliflower soup and pastries.
Things were slow in the soup line, and there was a Christmas Eve Mass out in the parking lot at 8:00, so we stepped outside to watch.
I’ve been to Mass a few times before, but it was always a little too heavy on the pomp and ceremony for me. This one seemed more inclusive and down to earth. The priest wore a baseball cap. There was a bonfire in a metal barrel and we sang Christmas carols, and there was a part where you shake hands with all the people around you and say “Peace be with you.” I can’t remember if that’s a standard part of Mass, but I liked it.
Only a hundred or so people showed up for dinner. Anybody with anywhere else to go for Christmas was already gone. After they ate, a couple dozen people lingered around the TV to watch The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. I was glad they were safe and warm for a couple of hours at least. Shepherds is wonderful, but I wish everybody had somewhere better to go for Christmas.
Christmas Day
On Christmas Day, GC and I made Waffles with a Mountain of Fruit for brunch.
Mudmama and Papa Pan and Sprout dropped by for an unexpected visit. Sprout’s a toddler now. He’s a perpetual motion machine, but in a mellow, easy-going kind of way. His parents take turns sitting down and socializing while the other one shadows him, taking things away from him, removing things from his mouth, and stopping him from smacking the brand new Mac with a wooden spoon.
After they left, my son, James, came over and we made goofy movies with the web cam. This is James. (He’s still surprisingly single, by the way. For those who think all the nice, good-looking, straight guys are taken, click to enlarge.)
We had a traditional Christmas feast which included turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, gravy, a medley of roasted yams, beets, red onions, carrots and parsnips, very special mashed potatoes, and a gingerbread cake with whipped cream. As usual, we ate around the coffee table because I still don’t have chairs.
GC lit the Hanukkah candles. (They were much smaller and prettier than I imagined. For some reason I always think of religious ceremonial items as big and ornate.)
First Christmas
This was GC’s first time celebrating Christmas! I think he liked it. He got all ho-ho-ho about Christmas shopping and singing carols and stuffing stockings and decorating the tree and wrapping presents and everything.
This was also Duncan’s first Christmas and I think he liked it too. He seemed genuinely interested in his gifts, and was especially enchanted by a set of catnip mice from GC.
From now on, I will no longer refer to Duncan as The Cat Who Never Plays. He tossed those mousies around and skidded across the floors after them with great enthusiasm and remarkably little grace.
I got lots of wonderful gifts for Christmas too, including an aromatherapy nebulizer I’ve been wanting, The Shock Doctrine, pyjamas with sheep on them, a bath sheet, Smarties, a wooden crow, Catopoly, a bottle of Bailey’s, a book about female street artists, and some wind-up grandpas who beat each other with their canes!
All in all, it was a most excellent Christmas and I’m happy I still have another week of holidays left before I have to venture back out into the world. I’m hoping the bus strike will be over by then….but then again, I’m an incurable optimist.
That’s it for today. Tomorrow I’ll tell you all about the woody I saw yesterday.
Posted by zoom! on December 23, 2008, at 4:51 pm |
I have a question for those of you who write fiction. Do you know who your characters are, what your story’s about, and how it’s going to unfold before you start writing it? Or do you just dive in blindly, start writing, and see what happens? In other words, do you write because there’s a story you want to tell, or do you come up with a story because you want to write?
I spent a frosty lunch hour at City Hall today, at a rally to support the striking OC Transpo bus drivers and mechanics. 
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