Creating a couple of websites and a blog is more than an adventure. It is enough to make a strong man weep and the purely pragmatic turn superstitious. When logic fails, you contemplate the arcane; You considering going out to find a chicken to slaughter in order read its entrails until your computer repairman points out that the goo will probably gum up the keyboard. You try Holy Water instead and short out the system.
After having worked on what should have been a simple project for days, and days, AND DAYS, and weeks, you eventually bring out the heavy artillery, approaching the computer with a necklace of garlic and brandishing a wooden stake.
The daring will attempt to circumnavigate the help files only to discover that none of the questions in the FAQs page cover your particular inquiry. Meanwhile the search function makes you ponder the universe of cyberspace and ask yourself such questions as: “what is reality?” Eventually, you doubt the meaning of words and your knowledge of synonyms. Still you need the information so you search under delete to find it is not registered. Remove? Nada. Erase: Rien de chose.
Undaunted you try to find another function such as upload in the not-so-helpful help files and, finally, get an answer from search that tells you
· the limitations of uploading,
· the file sizes allowed,
· and the type of files that are permissible;
but notably not how to upload a file. Icons yield no results; the menu offers none of the above, such as simple prompt.
You send off increasingly frantic e-mails to beleaguered support staff, who probably wonder about the infinite number of ways an educated person can scramble relatively simple software. At the end of the day, you both -- support staff and bewildered webmaster -- go home to make appointments with your respective therapists who, in turn, laugh all the way to the bank.
The naïve will try another web site, only to discover the vagaries of the first far outweigh the mysteries of the second…the third, and the fourth. The brave will go into the source file and discover the wonderland of HTML, and if they are lucky, they will make it out alive.
The advantages of the internet for industry become more and more apparent the longer you work on your website. Your hairdresser profits as he or she tries to find a means to use the last remaining strands on your head to cover the bald spaces left after you’ve torn most of your hair out. Your doctor, the pharmacies and the drug companies profit as you get prescriptions for tranquilizers, antacids, and sleep aids, and if you are of that ilk, your liquor store owner grins as you walk in the door with a dazed and glazed expression on your face, as he says: “Working on the internet again, I see.”
Computer repairmen are delighted as you get yet another version of the same old virus and finally you install a revolving door for ease of access. The local computer store salesperson scowls as he or she helps you replace your keyboard or your monitor for the umpteenth time, the last having been mangled when you attacked it with a hammer.
Until finally, you find the “key” in a sudden flash of inspiration. Let your five-year-old do it, and “voila” the website is complete.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Get by with a little help from my friends . . .
Trying to get this blog and a couple of websites up and running has been one of the more traumatic experiences of my life. I try to set up music and end up with ruddy great white space on the page. I try to remove this and can find no instructions. Elsewhere, I try to insert some instructions in HTML, do it right, but it doesn't work. Sigh.
Last week's difficulty was getting a donate button on the website I have designed for a 501(c)3 that deals with wildlife conservation. Seems simple enough, go to pay pal, get the appropriate HTML code and paste it in. What I ended up with rather than a nice tidy little button was a bunch of goobledy gook in HTML, printed out on the page.
Support for most of these sites is next to nonexistent, and help files often no help at all unless you can divine the tag or keywords under which is it logged. Although most these organizations try to provide assistance, often the response is: "I don't know", "can't do it", or "have you tried our help files?" And one can well imagine they are probably tired of getting frantic e-mails from this adventurous imbecile who has more ideas than know-how.
Enter now, our heros, Elaine Klonicki and John Wood, who rescued me from myself. John Wood provided the donate button and the wherewithal to do it, and Elaine Klonicki gave me both moral support and an idiot's lesson in blogs. Visit their websites Elaine at: http://www.klonicki.com/, blog: www.klonicki.com/blog and John's I believe can be found at http://www.johnwood.com/.
While I get by with a little help from my friends . . . . Now if anyone can help me get that ruddy great blank spot off this blog, I'd be eternally grateful.
Last week's difficulty was getting a donate button on the website I have designed for a 501(c)3 that deals with wildlife conservation. Seems simple enough, go to pay pal, get the appropriate HTML code and paste it in. What I ended up with rather than a nice tidy little button was a bunch of goobledy gook in HTML, printed out on the page.
Support for most of these sites is next to nonexistent, and help files often no help at all unless you can divine the tag or keywords under which is it logged. Although most these organizations try to provide assistance, often the response is: "I don't know", "can't do it", or "have you tried our help files?" And one can well imagine they are probably tired of getting frantic e-mails from this adventurous imbecile who has more ideas than know-how.
Enter now, our heros, Elaine Klonicki and John Wood, who rescued me from myself. John Wood provided the donate button and the wherewithal to do it, and Elaine Klonicki gave me both moral support and an idiot's lesson in blogs. Visit their websites Elaine at: http://www.klonicki.com/, blog: www.klonicki.com/blog and John's I believe can be found at http://www.johnwood.com/.
While I get by with a little help from my friends . . . . Now if anyone can help me get that ruddy great blank spot off this blog, I'd be eternally grateful.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Beasty Boy's back
Not all unhappy endings are unhappy.
Some are not endings at all.
Beasty Boy is back of his own volition. After two days fending for himself, the fox decided that he liked it better where the food was. He woke me up at 5 o'clock in the morning clawing at the door. We, of course, celebrated with me stuffing him full of food, as much food as his little tummy could tolerate. Meanwhile, he climbed all over me he was so glad to be home.
But he's a wild one still.
He got his name, Beasty Boy, quite simply because he is so beastly. He has no couth at all. He has all the energy of a puppy without any of its manners or discipline.
Mind you. He does not respond to his name, and that's one of the things that differentiates the domestic from the wild, the ability to grasp the concepts of names. Even a cat, who rarely responds when called, acknowledges the use of its name with a twitch of its ears, and then may condescend -- if it's in the mood -- to come to you.
With Beasty Boy there's nary a twitch. After yesterday's joyful reunion, today he was usual beastly self using me as a chew toy and I'm glad he's home.
Some are not endings at all.
Beasty Boy is back of his own volition. After two days fending for himself, the fox decided that he liked it better where the food was. He woke me up at 5 o'clock in the morning clawing at the door. We, of course, celebrated with me stuffing him full of food, as much food as his little tummy could tolerate. Meanwhile, he climbed all over me he was so glad to be home.
But he's a wild one still.
He got his name, Beasty Boy, quite simply because he is so beastly. He has no couth at all. He has all the energy of a puppy without any of its manners or discipline.
Mind you. He does not respond to his name, and that's one of the things that differentiates the domestic from the wild, the ability to grasp the concepts of names. Even a cat, who rarely responds when called, acknowledges the use of its name with a twitch of its ears, and then may condescend -- if it's in the mood -- to come to you.
With Beasty Boy there's nary a twitch. After yesterday's joyful reunion, today he was usual beastly self using me as a chew toy and I'm glad he's home.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Working with wildlife rehabilitation is not all cute little fuzzy animals. Sometimes you have a sad day. Today was just a day. The fox escaped that came in in May; he was about 4 months old and it was at least 2 months before he was due to be released. As a matter of fact, he hadn't been completely weaned. He wasn't being bottle fed, but he still drank milk from a bowl. Even though I kept trying to wean him, I'd always after a couple of days start giving him milk again. He just wouldn't get enough nutrition otherwise. Often if you have "slow learners," as this one appears to be, you have to keep them over winter.
This isn't the first time he's escaped, and it always happens the same way; someone decides to mow their lawn. I've talked to all my neighbors and asked them to tell me if they're going to mow so I can move the fox inside, but they don't seem to understand how long you have to keep an animal if they come in as an infant. I gather they thought since I'd asked them a month ago that they didn't need to worry about it know. The problem is that you don't just take care of them for a couple of weeks while they are cute and cuddly; you keep them for months and month, and you usally have to maintain them until they are nearly grown, for up to a year.
This fox was getting wild, so perhaps he'll survive. The first time he escaped, I caught him as he came trotting up the path. The second time he came back half-starved after three days. The problem is: this time, he was big enough to have hurt himself if he squeezed through the gap between the gate and the post. He may be torn up and if he's bloody, his chances of surviving through the night aren't nearly as good. The smell will attract predators. Meanwhile I have a family of four raccoons living in a woodpile in my yard, and papa -- a fifth raccoon and a loner -- still shows up nightly to see if there's anything good to eat.
This isn't the first time he's escaped, and it always happens the same way; someone decides to mow their lawn. I've talked to all my neighbors and asked them to tell me if they're going to mow so I can move the fox inside, but they don't seem to understand how long you have to keep an animal if they come in as an infant. I gather they thought since I'd asked them a month ago that they didn't need to worry about it know. The problem is that you don't just take care of them for a couple of weeks while they are cute and cuddly; you keep them for months and month, and you usally have to maintain them until they are nearly grown, for up to a year.
This fox was getting wild, so perhaps he'll survive. The first time he escaped, I caught him as he came trotting up the path. The second time he came back half-starved after three days. The problem is: this time, he was big enough to have hurt himself if he squeezed through the gap between the gate and the post. He may be torn up and if he's bloody, his chances of surviving through the night aren't nearly as good. The smell will attract predators. Meanwhile I have a family of four raccoons living in a woodpile in my yard, and papa -- a fifth raccoon and a loner -- still shows up nightly to see if there's anything good to eat.
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