My hands are like flaccid flippers

Yup, rock climbing again.

Yup, overdid it again.

Decided not to climb, and instead 'just' bouldered, working on grip technique. For 90 minutes. Ow.

For some reason I kept bashing my left knee into the wall. Just my left knee. It feels like it's a big sack full of hamburger, all soft and squishy. Mmmm... ice.

My hands are like flaccid flippers

Yup, rock climbing again.

Yup, overdid it again.

Decided not to climb, and instead 'just' bouldered, working on grip technique. For 90 minutes. Ow.

For some reason I kept bashing my left knee into the wall. Just my left knee. It feels like it's a big sack full of hamburger, all soft and squishy. Mmmm... ice.

This is why I don't get much sleep

Last night, around, oh... 1am or so, ginkgo busts out the following:

Me: So I pointed (Name deleted to protect the innocent) to the torrent site to get the Doctor Who episode he missed last week, and he said "My god, there must be almost every episode on here." I almost responded with "Pert'near"[1].

She: Don't you mean "Pertwee near"?




[1] Pert'near is a SW VA expression that is a contraction and bastardization of "pretty near". ginkgo's family and my family both have roots that end up within a couple dozen miles of each other in that area, and somehow this phrase has survived.

This is why I don't get much sleep

Last night, around, oh... 1am or so, ginkgo busts out the following:

Me: So I pointed (Name deleted to protect the innocent) to the torrent site to get the Doctor Who episode he missed last week, and he said "My god, there must be almost every episode on here." I almost responded with "Pert'near"[1].

She: Don't you mean "Pertwee near"?




[1] Pert'near is a SW VA expression that is a contraction and bastardization of "pretty near". ginkgo's family and my family both have roots that end up within a couple dozen miles of each other in that area, and somehow this phrase has survived.

Email coping mechanisms

Okay, so now that my Inbox hit 2600 unsorted msgs today, dating back to January 2006 (that's before we moved up here, note), I decided to roll up my sleeves and take care of this crap. I've been deleting like a madman - I have trashed *SO MANY* stupid jokes sent by family members. I've moved all pics sent by friends and family that were, like, actual pictures and not ZOMG! LOOK AT THIS! images to iPhoto, properly tagged and bagged. I'm down to 1400msgs or so, and still culling.

Now... what to do with them when I'm done? Traditionally, I've meticulously sorted them into folders (I have about, oh... 90 or so, all nicely hierarchical and organized), but a) this is a pain, b) this cuts up conversations among many people into a plethora of snippets in different folders (which I hate). But, the alternative has always been to just... lump them. And that seems like such a nightmare. I've been doing it this way since 1990 or so, and I have a basically complete record of all non-trivial, non-spam email since 1992. (Yeah, scary huh? It's interesting to use it as an ad hoc diary of sorts, to go back and reread conversations with friends then and now, to see my own words and thoughts, and how they've changed... it's kind of terrifying, yet neat.)

Was watching Merlin Mann's inboxzero talk at Google though, and he suggests exactly that: one, and exactly one, folder for all email worth saving, named 'Archive'. Once I was able to get my intestines to stop spasming at the idea, he had a good point... we have these little things called 'search' and 'metadata'... so why not use them?

I realized he is, as he often is, quite spot on. Why should I put *any* work into organizing my mail, when I can search through thousands upon thousands of messages generally faster than I can manually look for what I want? When I use search *anyway* to look for things, why do I have it set up to artificially limit where I'm searching?

So what're y'all's coping mechanisms?

Email coping mechanisms

Okay, so now that my Inbox hit 2600 unsorted msgs today, dating back to January 2006 (that's before we moved up here, note), I decided to roll up my sleeves and take care of this crap. I've been deleting like a madman - I have trashed *SO MANY* stupid jokes sent by family members. I've moved all pics sent by friends and family that were, like, actual pictures and not ZOMG! LOOK AT THIS! images to iPhoto, properly tagged and bagged. I'm down to 1400msgs or so, and still culling.

Now... what to do with them when I'm done? Traditionally, I've meticulously sorted them into folders (I have about, oh... 90 or so, all nicely hierarchical and organized), but a) this is a pain, b) this cuts up conversations among many people into a plethora of snippets in different folders (which I hate). But, the alternative has always been to just... lump them. And that seems like such a nightmare. I've been doing it this way since 1990 or so, and I have a basically complete record of all non-trivial, non-spam email since 1992. (Yeah, scary huh? It's interesting to use it as an ad hoc diary of sorts, to go back and reread conversations with friends then and now, to see my own words and thoughts, and how they've changed... it's kind of terrifying, yet neat.)

Was watching Merlin Mann's inboxzero talk at Google though, and he suggests exactly that: one, and exactly one, folder for all email worth saving, named 'Archive'. Once I was able to get my intestines to stop spasming at the idea, he had a good point... we have these little things called 'search' and 'metadata'... so why not use them?

I realized he is, as he often is, quite spot on. Why should I put *any* work into organizing my mail, when I can search through thousands upon thousands of messages generally faster than I can manually look for what I want? When I use search *anyway* to look for things, why do I have it set up to artificially limit where I'm searching?

So what're y'all's coping mechanisms?

It's a sad, sad day...

... when the hamsters have to turn to gay prostitution.





That *does* say "No payin', no gayin'" right?

It's a sad, sad day...

... when the hamsters have to turn to gay prostitution.





That *does* say "No payin', no gayin'" right?