I have a project I call “Clubcar.” It had its genesis in my frustration at the pathological inability of a group of coworkers to chose a lunch destination, coupled with our general dissatisfaction with the day-to-day functioning of most other automated decision systems.

It was also a complex enough problem that it seemed a good way to learn Rails. Because it was my first Rails project I was as yet unfamiliar with many Rails idioms and practices. I reinvented a few wheels that really should have been patterns.

I am now going back and spending time cleaning up the code base and extending it to allow more than just the original group to use it, since several people have expressed interest in it.

One of the wheels I invented was authentication. Since a wider audience needs a much more robust authentication (and authorization, but that's a separate issue) system, now is a good time to rip out my simple implementation and use one of the off-the-shelf solutions with far more features, and far fewer bugs.

And here's the rub. By far, the most popular solution, acts-as-authenticated (and its REST-ful progeny: restful-authentication) are primarily code generators. The expectation is that you'll use them in a new project to generate the models, views & controllers that make up your authentication system. This has presented two problems, one practical, and one philosophical.

The practical: since my system already has all of these things, I tried to carefully shoehorn the generated code into my existing framework. It was a mess, I felt I'd painted myself into a corner, and the project stagnated.

The philosophical: while I was despairing and frustrated over the shoehorning, I began to wonder: why is the Rails community as a whole, which has “DRY” (“Don’t Repeat Yourself”) as a mantra so enamored with code generation? Even if it's not you writing the code, it is still repetition that makes the project harder to maintain, makes it harder to incorporate fixes and features from later version of the tool, and seems to fly in the face of not only DRY but good object-oriented design as well.

I set the project aside. In returning to it (now that I need to amuse myself on the train again occasionally.) I decided to once again look for alternatives.

I have stumbled upon Authlogic, a plugin that seems to be written by someone who shares my misgivings. It's also extremely well documented, highly configurable, and has a complete API for extension.

Fair warning: I haven't actually started moving my project to Authlogic, and I may yet find some fatal flaw. But I'm very much looking forward to trying it out, and if I do happen to find a flaw, perhaps I can patch it, and everyone using it can benefit immediately, not on their next project!

ETA: I just sent the author some fan mail, because it makes me that happy!

There are far too many words for me to write here, and I’ll never get it out if I try to capture them all. Keeping it short: The candle that burns at both ends burns twice as bright, but half as long. Horus succumbed to chronic renal failure today. Hoka Hey, little man.

Chiara and I are spending this weekend in Monterey / Carmel / Pacific Grove hammering out wedding details. To me this is poetic for on this day our relationship becomes “legal.”

18 years ago today, we had our first date. February 8, 1991 was the Snowball.

I don’t yet know if she realizes this fact, but I do know that she doesn’t expect me to remember.

Today will be fun!

ETA: She didn’t remember. I win! Off to taste some cake.

For the past few months, I’ve hoped that this evening I’d have something about which to gloat. But since about this time last night, I’ve had the immortal words of the inimitable Terry Gilliam, as delivered by an understated Bobby D on a seeming endless loop in my head:

“Listen, kid. We’re all in this together.”

There are likely to be many on the side on which I’ve been standing who are looking to destroy those on the other side, as a manner of repudiating the thinking and damage done in the last eight years. I fully expected to be one.

This morning my realization that I wasn’t in that camp prompted me to remember a well-respected Republican admonishing:

“Why, madam, do I not destroy [my enemies] when I make them my friends?”

It’s going to take every one of us to roll up our sleeves, pull the wheel, and turn the Ship of State off the suicidal course on which it has been directed for the last 8 years.

Let it begin with me. Yes we can.

This afternoon I tendered my resignation. I leave behind a great group of people on the cusp of major to stratospheric success. It was a very hard decision, but my destiny lies elsewhere.

The top half of the page at left isn’t as true as it’s been in the past, making the decision all the more difficult. But the bottom half sings a profound truth.

I was not looking for a new gig. But a few kept landing in my lap that I couldn’t pass up. I’ve accepted the senior developer position at Emmet Labs, an early-stage social platform startup in San Francisco.

There are many reasons this excites me: learning a lot while working on interesting problems in a cool (metaphorical) space surrounded by fascinating (and occasionally famous) people in a dynamic and passion-driven environment. That’s where I thrive!

Obviously there are a lot of other, less exciting emotions tied to the coming and the going, but I feel the need to keep this entry short. Perhaps I’ll catalogue them in a future post.

...This time with 4 part harmony and feeling.

I’m putting together another all-abilities, all-ages, slow as molasses, stop & smell the roses bicycle ride over the Golden Gate Bridge on Sunday, June 22.

When:

Sunday, June 22th (next Sunday, not the day after tomorrow). My plan is to start at my house at noon or 1pm. If I’m riding alone, I can probably be at the bridge in 30 minutes, but connecting with people will modify that, and the schedule for this ride is necessarily a bit flexible. I’m also open to other ideas (see below)

Who:

Anyone who has a bike, can manage to stay (mostly) upright on it, and wants to ride across the Golden Gate (C’mon! It’s fun! You should do it at least once!)

What:

Riding a bicycle across the Golden Gate Bridge. Also, you might want to consult your doctor about ADHD, and/or cut down on the fine herb clouding your short-term memory.

Where:

At a minimum, the Bridge, but see below

My Treo 650 was acting a little strange during my travails in travel on Tuesday. Wednesday morning it got even weirder, and by noon it stopped working at all.

I’m in Miami for the week, and I feel a bit vulnerable without having the ability to connect with folks, either at home, in the family, or people I want to see/meet here.

But beyond that, I don’t know what to do moving forward. Palm is dead as a platform. The rumored impending release of the 3G network iPhone would be absolutely perfect, except:

1. The rumor is completely unsubstantiated, it started as an off-hand comment by Walt Mossberg, and is fueled entirely by wanton wishful thinking
2. I need something now, not in a month or two
3. It would mean giving a(nother) red cent to AT&T after they:
   1. flagrantly and recklessly colluded with the NSA to violate the law and our Constitutional rights.
   2. decided all of your personal information? yeah, that’s now “Marketing Information” they're free to use (and sell) as they see fit.
   3. etc, etc, etc…

It’s that last one that is so problematic. I feel completely hypocritical even considering an iPhone. Yeah, sure, Android, um, see #2 above.

In preparation for a demo that could lead to a huge opportunity, I worked two weeks straight, most nights until midnight, sometimes until after 2am. No rest for the wicked weary on the two weekends, I just plowed straight through.

I’m done, back banging on the stuff on which I should be working, and I was very much looking forward to a respite this weekend.

There’s just one minor glitch. The problem I left on Friday evening is sticking in my craw. It’s interesting. I know I should leave it until Monday, but here I am logging into the VPN to grab the file so I can at least map out how I think it should be solved.

Hopefully that will exorcise this demon, and I can go back to enjoying a weekend with my sweetie.

[This has been rolling around my head for a few weeks, and I’ve been chomping at the bit (until my site redesign was finished and MT was working again for me) for the time I could write it.]

I play at being a misanthrope. It’s not all charade, there is certainly a fair bit of my character that is completely anti-social, and while I’ve come out of my shell in shocking and scary ways in recent years, I’m still rather introverted.

But at the deepest level, the essential kernel, I am an optimist. A humanist. A romantic.

There hasn’t been much fuel for that spark in the public space in recent years, in fact in most ways we haven’t been sliding toward oblivion so much a stampeding toward it.

And yet, as I observed the political process recently I’ve found myself experiencing some odd emotions. While reading reading Jon Taplin’s Blog I put my finger on it. The odd sensation I couldn’t quite grasp was hope.

I feel hopeful. Not that we’ve turned around and are headed in the right direction, but that maybe we’ve turned a (slight) corner. That some more people are starting to ask hard, important questions. That people might actually be willing to put aside differences, and dig in for the herculean task of rebuilding everything the last 8-10 years has torn down.

I fully expect these hopes to be dashed. We, as a nation, have been coddled and encouraged to stick our heads in the sand for too long for it change overnight. And the siren song of blissful ignorance is powerful. But, if the cards fall well, that dashing could be delayed until after January. Several months of hope could do me (and many of us) a world of good.

Edit: I finally figured out what was breaking the crossposting of this entry. The original draft of this entry, had I been able to publish it, would have coincided perfectly with the speech about which everyone is talking. It’s gratifying to see so many of us feel the same way.

I know it’s more of that blinding hope, but I can’t help but feel that the choice before us is between the politicians of the past; and a statesman, the likes of which we haven’t seen in a generation, who will lead us into the future.

Please believe me. I’ve tried. I will grant that some of those attempts may have been half-hearted, but I was weary, down-hearted. I didn’t think that I could do it (and I’m still skeptical), but I can’t live this lie, maintain this charade any longer, and so this voice cries in the wilderness, hoping someone out there can help me out of jam of a mental block:

I need a replacement for Franklin Gothic Extra Condensed:

One with an honest italic (not just slanted romans). One that will contrast as beautifully against my body font (currently a simple Bodoni Book, with both lining and old-style numerals as appropriate) without clashing.

You see, I don’t want the world, I just want your half.

My current front-runner is Agenda Semibold Extra (or Ultra, I haven’t decided yet) Condensed (Italic):

[ I've decided to remove the samples for Agenda, you can find it if you care, but as I said in comments in the cross-post I realized I liked it a lot less once this was posted.]

While it is quite nice in its own right, it's too round, lacks the subtle, oblique stress that (was one of the elements that) drew me to Franklin Gothic, and the lack of a branch terminal on the spine & bowl mating of some forms (“b,” in particular) doesn’t sit well with me. It doesn’t feel as . . . classy. You see, I’m still hoping for a long-lost italic cousin to come out of the woodwork.

I can’t seem to shake that sense. A little help?

[While this may not be the first time I've heard this song since certain facts came to light (to me), it's definitely the first time I've considered the lyrics:]

Really, who but a candidate for a doctorate in astrophysics (now properly defended) could write such a heart-wrenching song about the perils of relativistic space travel?

I know I've had my suspicions over the years, and, sure, it could be argued there are other interpretations (I'd expect nothing less from such a master), but this coincidence is too strong to ignore.

Dear USPS:

Look, I know things are busy for you right now, so you probably won't even hear my cries over the din of all of the mail you're processing, however I have two comments:

1. "package tracking" != "delivery confirmation!" Please stop trying to confuse the issue
2. "Express Mail" my fat, pale, hairy ass!

In short, my package should have been here overnight 1 week ago (even giving you the benefit of the doubt). I have no visibility into your process. I just want my damn package!

no love,
E

---

Dear Random Cyclist Who Likes to Draft Me on Moffett Park Blvd.:

First off, I am greatly honored by your obvious trust in my abilities, but I have two questions for you as well:

1. Dude, seriously, what the fuck? That shit is dangerous done with people you know how to anticipate, but a random stranger? Yes, yes, I'm in awe of your mad skillz and your obviously far stronger cojones, but what the hell is wrong with you?
2. We've done this a few times now, you know I turn left at Borregas, do you not realize that when I look behind me I'm trying to gauge the likelihood of being mauled by a death machine as I enter the lane? Seeing your smiling face blocking my view is not helpful.

In short: thanks, now please back the fuck off!

No Love,
You Don't Even Know My Name

---

Dear Random Other Cyclist I'd Never Seen Before:

I'm sorry my passing you was such an affront to your machismo that you felt you had to be a complete prick about it. But let's compare:

1. I passed you, on the left, letting you know I was there, ("On your left")
2. You passed me, on the right (seriously, are you dense?) with nary a peep, at a stop sign, where you immediately made a left turn across my path!

I nearly ran right into you, asshat! If I'd been aware of what you were about to pull I might have out of spite. I hope your manhood has been vindicated. Now kindly cut that shit out.

Whatever.

For once, I'm using that metaphor for something positive!

After a most delectable Thanksgiving dinner[*], I contemplated the carcass of the bird and said "We can't just throw that out," (You can take the boy out of New England, but you can't take New England out of the boy) "I'll make stock!"

So I gathered up a mirpois, some additional aromatics, and some leftover herbage, and put the bird on to boil.

[Note to future self: wishing either of your 8Q stock pots are large enough to handle 4lbs of carcass doesn't make it so. If you plan to do this again, buy a proper stock pot!]

10 hours of boiling, scumming, and topping off later the bones had given up quite a bit of collagen, but there was still some left. On the other hand, it was 1am and it would take about an hour[**] to cool the stock to the point it could safely be stored in the refrigerator. So I pulled it, strained it through cheese cloth and started the cooling process.

When I finally dealt with it, I found that while it wasn't as gelatinous as it might be, it was most assuredly more than a mere broth! Success![***] I then dutifully broke out the muffin tins and portioned it into 1/2 & 1c amounts, plus a few pints and into the freezer it went.

And now, with Chiara off at a baby shower, I went to the kitchen to contemplate lunch. Once there I was hit with a revelation like a bolt of lightning:

Consommé!

Another mirpois (diced this time), one of my frozen pints, a little salt, a little pepper (ok, a lot of pepper. Probably too much, my nose is still running) and some egg noodles I didn't know we had. (Yes, I threw it all together into the pot at the same time, sue me.) Finished with a squeeze of lemon juice.

In a word, sublime.

[*] I think Chiara's tired of me raving about the carmelized onion & balsamic gravy that she couldn't eat, but really, everything we ate was fantastic. That gravy, however, was a mind-expanding substance.

[**] In the other stock pot, surrounded by ice, with two frozen nalgene bottles full in the middle to speed the process. That's all AB's idea.

[***] Ok,I also found it to be a bit murkier than I might like, probably meaning that I cooked it too high and didn't scum as effectively as I should have. It was also curiously lacking in schmaltz. Oh well, for a first (solo) effort, it wasn't bad.

The plethora of emotions this brought to the surface was a bit surprising, actually:

Unfortunately, I can't find one from the "correct" perspective.

Represent, yo

(via Play this Thing)

I'm sweaty, smell faintly of smoky beeswax, and I have (mild) first degree burns on my hands and forearms.

I also feel giddy, and more centered than I have in a long time. Even though pretty much everything I tried failed, most of it spectacularly.

I just suffered a strong sense of cognative dissonance this morning reading David Byrne wax poetic on Justin Timberlake's Madison Square Garden concert [about 2/3 of the way down, "JT on HBO"]. I would have assumed . . . Well, I would have assumed that he was as closed-minded as I am.

Sure, I could write it off as simply one artist's appreciation for the craft execution of another. But that would miss an important lesson here: one of the things I admire and respect about Byrne is the gusto with which he tries new things!

As an artist, it benefits him greatly to be able to embace the new. But the same could be said for all of us as human beings.

RSS is a long, protracted exercise in letting go.

. . .And a constant reminder that I need more practice.

I just listened to the following, meme tags never end up with a list this good:

"Five Man Army" — Massive Attack
"Don't Stop Me Now" — Queen
"Down Under" — Men at Work
"The Dead Heart" — Midnight Oil
"Parsec" — Stereolab
"Cecilia" — Simon & Garfunkel
"Stretch Out and Wait" — The Smiths
"Stuck in a Loop" — Devo
"If You Want To Sing Out" — Cat Stevens

Sure, it's not my perfect list, nor is each song necessarily the best choice from that artist, but each one of them has me moving in my chair in degrees varying from a little bit to full-on embarrassing.

I think I'll pull a Teletubbies: Again! Again!

The first thing I noticed about the paperback copy of The Code Book that I picked up recently was that it just felt wonderful: the cover, the inner page paper, everything. This is the most tactilely satisfying book, paperback or otherwise, I've had in very long time. I believe this is independent of the subject matter, which has completely fascinated me since I read "The Gold Bug" at the age of 8 or 9.

In slight contrast, C gave me a (hardback) copy of the latest novel by one of my favorite authors (Rant, Chuck Palahniuk), and while I'm also enjoying the feel of it, I strongly suspect some of that is the enjoyment I'm getting out of reading his prose.

Edit: Ok, so Rant took a a turn for the "Bwah?!" near the end, and while I still enjoyed it, (and it didn't diminish my tactile enjoyment) I feel compelled to say that. Oddly enough, this particular turn is one of which I'd be much more tolerant (and might actually enjoy) coming from another author.

[For the really impatient, you can just skip straight to dessert.]

I've been remiss, but work has been Crazy! A few of you already know this, but for those that don't:

Chiara and I took part in an event ruse last Saturday. She has already described the event fairly completely, I just feel compelled to point out that in presenting the puzzles as faits acomplis, she makes them seem much easier than they were. Much of our time was spent figuring out how to attack each clue, and what the puzzle might ultimately be.

After collecting plastic eggs all afternoon, the final step of the final puzzle spelled out "ARE YOU READY TO PUT YOUR EGGS IN ONE BASKET(,) CHIARA(?)" I had knelt beside her to "read over her shoulder" while she transcribed the message as Kate read it. At least, that's what she thought. Finally, questions were popped, the enormity sunk in, and champagne flowed.

Yes, the entire event was a ruse. And everyone involved, save one (miraculously), knew that.

So, how did this incredible, over-the-top, crazy afternoon come to pass?