Frenzied Daddy

The worst thing about taking anti-depressants is something I was worried about before I started taking them. It’s hard to trust my emotions now, without worrying that I’m off my meds or that my meds aren’t working. But I can honestly say, “yes, Mom, I’m taking my meds” and also say that this Summer’s end has downed me more than any other I can remember. Every little thing feels like a symbol of the end of summer, from Miss K’s pudgy little hand reaching down and pulling the seeds of a dandilion head, to the sun setting just beyond the green tree on the other side of the house to our west, to the cooler nights and windier days.

I usually say that I like the change in the weather, not just sunny days, not just rainy days, not snowy days– the variety in the weather. And, generally speaking, that’s true. But this summer has seemed so short, and the sunny days not appreciated enough (yeah, even the 107 degree days!), that this summer is over before I’ve even felt like it’s started. And this is also a message about my elder daughter’s adolescence; that I’m not appreciating it while I’ve got it, and soon she’ll be double-digits and then she’ll be off to college.

In a meloncholy mood today. Other things going well. Vacation’s over and work is full of … work. Talk to you guys soon.

We’re here for vacation. Posting may be erratic, or may be terrific. Stay tuned.

I heard Boy Named Sue again on Charlie; it prompted me to find out who wrote it.

Shel frickin’ Silverstein.

I was laughing about this unicorn taking a stroll, when I decided to find the lyrics to one of my favorite children’s songs. It’s called “the Unicorn Song,” surprisingly enough, and it explains why the unicorns aren’t around today (they were playing unicorn games and didn’t make it onto the ark). And who wrote this?

Shel frickin’ Silversten!

One of my favorite of his poems was “Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout (Would Not Take The Garbage Out),” and I thought he was just … a funny poet, for kids, you know; a kid’s guy, like Raffi, but edgy, twisted. But every month I’m stumbling over him in new ways. Adult ways. Scary ways.

I had one of his books around here; I think I wound up selling it back to the bookstore. It was an example of me buying a book that I think Miss B would like (well, ok, that I hope influences her enough to keep her from being completely mainstream), but Miss B didn’t show any interest in it. Maybe I ought to find another copy. Or at least some good music.

Oh and by the way, that thebards.net site has some great free celtic mp3s.

b_dragon

Originally uploaded by rgilmanhunt.

Miss B presented me with this lovely dragon before she left for her grandparents’ house for the weekend. Dang, I have a talented kid.

Oh f’r crying out loud. Some girl Miss B’s age climbs over a driftwood barrier, up three feet of rock wall, and over four feet of plexiglass – to pet the cute little meerkats. And the vicious feral meerkat, rightfully so, bit her finger.

Rather than getting the kid her six belly-puncturing rabies shots, they euthenized the entire meerkat family; five animals, an entire display. Of course, after they were dead, they could be tested- and no, they didn’t have rabies. Let me tell you; not that she would, she’s been in Zoo Camp for five years and she knows the rules, but if Miss B were to pull that stunt, she’d get the rabies shots. And I would too, because where was I while she performed her acrobatic meerkat feat?

grimnor

Originally uploaded by rgilmanhunt.

This is our cat Grimnor. When the people who lived in our house before us moved, they moved across the street. Their cat had kittens, and we would up with one of them. He was our first male cat.

He’s a strange cat. He doesn’t like being picked up and cuddled. He walks kind of hunched over, as if he were raised by raccoons. He likes the dog grooming the back of his neck. And he doesn’t really want attention unless he’s in the mood; and if you lay on his couch, he will run to the couch and meow incessantly until you pet him. But don’t pick him up, or he’ll run off.

I don’t remember if I mentioned it; but I’ve garnered another “client.” — Full time working for a big website, with three other contracted programmers and a system admin. I’m also reading Joel at Reddit trying to get programming/business tips, because I made Arghwebworks more of an official business.

Shane and other non-technical types, keep reading, I won’t get too deep.

I keep seeing references to this book, “Design Patterns” by a group called the Gang of Four. I’ve been coding in PHP for over six years now, and I don’t consider myself “too bad” when it comes to Object Oriented programming. I can see it, recognise it, and even do it.

But holee-crap. I started reading about different patterns of Object Oriented Programming, things like ’singletons’ and ‘factory methods’ and ‘visitors’ … and suddenly my vision blurred, the desk slid sideways and tilted to the left and my cheek was pressed against the floor. Reading these descriptions is like being plunged back into college and Philosophy courses where Kant or Wittgenstein are using language in a way I’m not really ready to read.

I’m missing a whole layer of understanding that I need to grok what they’re saying in the book. And as it happens, my Object Oriented code isn’t really all that object-oriented; it’s just a bunch of old-style (procedural) code wrapped up and pretending to be object oriented. I think. I don’t really “get it” but I think that’s accurate :S.

I’m not saying I suck or anything- some of my code is pretty decent. Nice even. But this whole ‘design patterns’ thing is really … flexing my brain in a way I haven’t experienced since college. Fifteen years ago.