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That Meaty Feeling

I took my bike for a quick rip around the block today. First time this year.

It began with an accidental front-tire wheelie in the driveway. An anxious moment there as I got my feet under it, cringed and caught the bike frame between my knees. I dreaded the bang and screech of metal-on-metal behind me where stupid meets van, but it never came. I was petrified, struck stiff with my back tire a couple feet in the air, spinning in near-silence until I gingerly twisted away to lower the bike down to the ground.

Foxing a look around the neighbours’ to see if I’d been spotted, I slowly started to breathe again.

“Umm, ow?” Unsure of what had happened, my eyes followed the taut line of the street, down the gentle slope typical of the island, to the busy shops of the harbour. Slowly, the muggy calm and I found each other again in the warm embrace of another humid Summer evening on the Atlantic seaboard. Deep inhale, and none the wiser. “Didn’t even hurt,” I thought as I cool-beaned it back up the driveway.

I am fifty (50) days smoke-free today, more-or-less. This is just about the time I needed to make significant progress in excising the ashen aura that permeates. Cleaning my garage out day-by-day, the layers of stink in that winter ashtray were starting to get too close for comfort and I jumped on my bike for a break. Fresh air, clean air, just air, and exercise were calling my name.

It strikes me as funny now, if the fresh air had actually called my mobile phone, perhaps that wouldn’t have snuck onto the bicycle by way of my pocket, only to be discovered with the first good bit of mustard I spread thick on the pavement.

“What’s in my pocket? Is that my keyring falling out? Phone!? Brake!! Wrong brake!!!”

Two yards into my journey and I’ve already nearly fragged myself before I got past the family van. But pride can be mended and my cell phone is not bended, so I put that somewhere safe for awhile and away I go.

I have a gentle slope to the street out front, just enough to ride the brake, the rear brake to a standstill, my line-of-sight getting out and around the neighbour’s front porch. I spy the docks at the harbour. There are headlights on the street between here and there, but far enough down to not matter now and nothing the other way. I’m off!

My home is not on the corner but the neighbour has no yard. It slips past and now my first left turn. The first breathing of the wind made by my passing lights over my cheek and I find the gear I need to begin to push hard down the block. I’ve been watching F-1 so I’m of a mind to hurry and I brake late at the stop sign. I didn’t see the eyes of that fellow in the navy blue truck as he twitched his foot on the brake midway through his right turn to join the street I’m on. I stop cleanly but not quite completely before my sign. So awkward.

My heart goes out to him. To have gotten scared that the other fellow couldn’t handle his ride, only to then jerk the jalopy out in the middle of the street because he couldn’t take the pressure of our close encounter. I let him off easy, averting my eyes and getting back on the hop in a bit of a rolling stop.

Ack. Forgot to gear up at the stop. Out of practice. I’m halfway to the next stop before I get any power down through the back tire. I take it to the end but stop defensively for this one. The approaching intersection is onto a broad street, a back-way connector of the main North-South and East-West corridors through the city. It sees much traffic and I steer clear of giving anyone a scare traveling through. It’s clear and I go again. Ready for it this time.

I take the bike off the line and around to my left like a shot. One pump of my legs doesn’t take the tire very far but all of my explosivity -if what little oomph I can manage today qualifies for such a dangerous sounding potential- pours into acceleration. I gear down again, again, again, keeping each leg pump at the edge of too-hard, pushing through, gaining speed. The force of it lifts my bottom from the seat. Now there’s my old friend back to play, a low whistle past my ears, a wind. I remember the fifteen more gears I haven’t reached yet and it’s over. Gearing up to make the last left turn.

As I come around, a truck is ponderously advancing toward the intersection. Then, stops. There in the middle of the street, far ahead of where the intersection sits, by at least 10 yards. He’s almost in front of my house.

“Oh come on! What is he stopping there to do, blocking the street on purpose? Why is he sideways like that?”

My fight or flight response kicks in and I’m making a rapid dive through my memories on the hunt for who jerks around a blue truck in town. Meanwhile I’m on both brakes now, but I want to keep rolling to maintain some forward momentum in case I need to book it down to the water. In hindsight, this is likely not a viable escape plan, but I digress. That truck isn’t blue. My neighbours have dropped their green truck into reverse and their smiling faces greet me as I roll up and on by, the driver waving me on through behind and before he finishes backing into his driveway.

That being both a bicycle ride and done I jump off, drop the kick-stand and let go, breathing fast. I wonder how much of it is adrenaline and how much exertion. Searching out some liquid, each step sends a ping deep into my brain, letting me know my thighs, knees, calves and ankles have pending comments about what they just went through. I tell myself to stretch first the next time I get on the bike and carefully do quick partial stretches. The damage is already done.

I shake that off and take a deep breath while I grab at both walls, my arms straight out to the sides, feeling the pull in my center as my lungs expand to press against the muscles of my chest. A thought of growing strong. Pushing hard, to build strength. Adding muscle. Savouring the pain of it. Effecting change. Getting strong. Muscle. Meat. Me. Umami.

Thanks, once again, go out to Greg McVerry for providing the writing prompt for this post at Quick Thoughts.

The Gummy Bear of Imprecise Articulation

Twitter was aflutter yesterday over a venture capitalist’s tribbling on human capital. He asserted: there exists a class of engineer whose valuable outputs are an order of magnitude more valuable than other engineers. He proceeded to thread descriptions of a dozen characteristic attributes and behaviours which occur more frequently than average, in his experience, among members of the class.

Thereafter, amidst uproar, many commenters closed ranks and outed themselves as unitarily valuable engineers. Still others mocked the VC’s attempt, ascribing many more and numerous unsavoury characteristics to what quickly became a steaming dung pile of worst co-worker ever stories. It was reduced to farce. It was rife with bitterness. Meanwhile a few innocents took it on the chin as they agreed with the VC in the public forum. Poor saps.

Quick, let’s recap:

VC wants to let people try on his rose-coloured glasses, fails magnificently, and we are left with the fan dripping shit everywhere. Some tea with that guv’nor?

Meanwhile, this gem …

A true 10x engineer will have a callous on their right pinky finger from terminating so many lines of code. A 100x engineer will have a callous on their left pinky finger because that’s where the semicolon key is in a dvorak layout.

Ryan Cavenaugh

… and I’m just here with my Ergodox like … I can change where those keys are so I don’t get any callouses …

Then I see what’s about to happen, and I say it out loud, to myself -so it really, truly, sinks in-:

Don’t.
Say.
A fucking.
Word.

Thanks go out to Greg McVerry for providing the writing prompt for this post at Quick Thoughts.

What is Degrowth?

I found a reference to degrowth while browsing IndieWeb chat logs a few days ago. An article authored by Heinz Wittenbrink titled Degrowth und Indieweb.

I have an imperfect knowledge about degrowth, and an imperfect understanding of what the author wants me to know of degrowth.

The article is auf Deutsch. Ich verstehe das nicht sehr gut.

So I borrow that word.

Because what I want it to mean, makes sense to me.

What does degrowth mean for you?

Browser Quit: Smell ya later Chrome

I found my mouse pointer disappeared whenever my mouse moved inside the Chrome window. Worked fine outside.

This was yesterday or the day before I guess.

Yea, I could get it going, I’m sure. But I was looking for an excuse ever since they started forcing me to login to Chrome all the time. Among other things. It got creepy. (note: works now after doing … something).

It’s – since the Alphabet spin-up. Or I saw it coming on the day I learned about the motivators to spin up Alphabet. The Google brand disconnected from the originators passion just then.

Now Google is a profit driven, corporate giant. Like a crab molting from a smaller shell. You may still be seeing it mid-molt. You know what’s next though, don’t you?

I was a Vivaldi user before I switched to Chrome – when my work became full-time web-dev.

That’s not my work now though. Well, not full-time.

It’s Firefox time.

Can I change that pink/blue color in the inspector when I look at CSS rules though? Because really, that’s the main thing that stopped me from switching before now.

The annoying thing now is all those saved passwords that are not in Firefox. It will take a little while to sort out.

Worth it.

Running Heather Moyse Heritage Park

I did some complete stretching then ran for about … hmm. 45 seconds perhaps?

I didn’t take the go-’round way lol. It’s Heather Moyse Heritage Park.

I ran the park trail.

Halfway

I walked a 1/2 lap around the 1/4 mile (400m) and dropped my sweater there.

I walked the rest of the lap.

I ran the track to my sweater.

I walked the track and trail back to the stretching spot behind the benches, and did some cool-down stretches.

Then I walked home.

This was a couple days ago.

My legs haven’t felt that in a long time! I ran alot, 1992 – 1998.

Daniel walked, stretched, and ran too. He could have run for much longer than me.

But I was faster!

I found street workout via calisthenics -> street workout.

Look Who’s Ducking

From the Making of Dads’ Breakfast

HTTPS://CJWILLCOCK.CA/DADS-BREAKFAST-MAKING-OF/

Sign the releases.

Release early.

Release often.

k

I further took down the font-size of table text in the Gutenberg editor, from fourteen (14) to twelve (12).

.wp-block-table{
        font-size: 12px;
}

#nocrop

I put the fence back up after the apple tree knocked it down about a decade ago. Didn’t stick in the corner. Back at ‘er.

I knew it was bad when I realized that …

I had made a mistake too!

What time zone is it? Duh.

Et tu, Facebook?

I tried to add all my places-lived to Facebook, from empty through 35 years of moving around and remembering rough dates.

You haven’t lived until you’ve broken Facebook.

I have fourteen added in a row, with the fifteenth showing me the block.

I moved back and forth a bunch, to one home-base. That is naturally, the same location that I list as my hometown above.

I hit something that displays HTML formatting, e.g. <br /><br />. Rare I guess, to have that much valid history to queue?

I guess that depends on whom, or what, is doing the considering.

-cjw

I prefer to preserve the privacy I still hold over exact calendar dates of my moves. I send to Facebook, each move in the calendar year as an enumeration beginning January N, where N starts at 1 and increases each time it is used. This keeps events in the same order, without forcing me to tell a convincing lie by estimating differently.

The lesser of two evils, in my considering.

-cjw

UPDATE: 27 mins later …

I’ve removed all the duplicates. Still blocked from adding locations.

I guess Facebook assumes if this message is being sent, it isn’t possibly a person and they stop helping me out. The ‘Help Center’ link isn’t actualized there because the HTML got caught in a filter and entity-encoded.

JavaScript can’t do this

++this.ring_pointer %= this.sample_width;

I want to firstly increment, and then take the modulus as the value of my variable.

Instead:

this.ring_pointer = ++this.ring_pointer % this.sample_width;

sup, duck?

From the Making of Dads’ Breakfast

HTTPS://CJWILLCOCK.CA/DADS-BREAKFAST-MAKING-OF/

My tables in the Gutenberg editor have cells that are too full to fit the tableau.

I took the font size down two pixels (2px) from sixteen to fourteen (14).

.wp-block-table{
	font-size: 14px;
}

noize’s realm

I got a little side-tracked while figuring out the computer and didn’t notice the time. https://chris.willcock.ca/

Duck, We Should Talk

When I copy text to my clipboard, and paste it into a table cell using the Gutenberg editor, a space is automatically added at the front of the text I paste.

What?

I hit paste. I carefully remove that leading space that WordPress seems to think is necessary.

Every. Time.

Nothing To See Here Duck

It would be swell if the page-break block in WordPress allowed me to specify a piece of content that would appear as page-footer & page-header on subsequent page-fulls.

The various page-break blocks should share their content, so that changing the content in one, changes content in all others to match at the same time.

At present, the page-break block has no configurable options at all.

Dads’ Breakfast: Commit 998df0135f

From the Making of Dads’ Breakfast

HTTPS://CJWILLCOCK.CA/DADS-BREAKFAST-MAKING-OF/

You are welcome to view this commit via github, sourcehut, or author’s original.

I use two (2) flatscreen LCD monitors at my writing desk. Both monitors are 1080p and leave me some room around the default block widths in the Gutenberg editor. These have a maximum width of 31.77% of my viewing area. I’m looking for nearer to half as a minimum return on my monitor-dollar.

I preserve some negative space around the tableau but impose a little bit more room for tables and various things, by applying the following CSS to the editor:

@media (min-width: 1280px){
	.wp-block{
		max-width: 800px;
	}
}

@media (min-width: 1600px){
	.wp-block{
		max-width: 960px;
	}
}

With this change, on any screen with two-thirds (2/3) the horizontal resolution of a monitor like one of mine the block widths increase from 47.66% to five-eights (5/8) of the viewport width. At screens five-sixths (5/6) mine the block widths increase from the 41.69% of the viewport width imposed by the previous media query -up from 38.125% at default WP size- to three-fifths (3/5) of the viewport width.

The ratio of viewport width to block width changes as the viewport width increases. I’m keeping the tableau on desktop to a comfortable one-half (1/2) of a 1920 pixels wide viewport. YMMV.