Feorlen's Other Blog

Once again, my mailbox got corrupted. Makes me want to hand it all over to Google and get out of the email hosting business (such as it is, with three mailboxes.) But Certain Users are objecting.

In the meantime, I have this:

Reconstructing cyrus mailboxes in Mac OS X Server 10.3 or later

I hope you never need it. I’m posting it here so I can remember where to find it.

The office Dictator of Food has decreed all items in the refrigerator must be signed and dated else they face termination with prejudice. I already put my name on most things, but it’s kindof a pain to figure out where to write something in sharpie pen on a package already covered in writing. I’ve lost items before because my name was not prominently enough displayed and it was mistaken for shared food.

So…

I went and bought myself a custom date and message stamp:

Now, with the help of some extra address labels, I can mark my lunch in an appropriately officious manner.

It was finally a clear day so I went for a walk through the hills. Next to the guest house where we are staying on campus, there is the Miramare train station and a path leading further up the hill.

There is a park of sorts in this steep area on the hillside. The first half is through trees, a few in the middle of the stairway. The stairs are old, but not that old, as there is a utility cable buried along the path. You can see it in spots where the stone wall has collapsed.

But in some places there are older stone steps surrounded by newer construction, so clearly they have been there a while. The finish and color of the old stone match those around Miramare so perhaps they are from the same period. There are about a million stairs up the hill, but the view is spectacular. There is a clear spot where you can see for kilometers around the Gulf of Trieste. If I can stitch together the panorama I’ll post it.

Further along there were a few small farms, an old stone well and then you come out on the outskirts of Prosecco where there is a community playground by a pond. I followed the road into the village to have a look around.

I was stopped on the street by an African guy carrying a big gym bag, who seemed to only want to wish me a good day. In English, in the middle of an Italian farm village. My brand new white sneakers and fleece jacket must have given me away. As soon as he said he was from Nigeria I knew I was in for a story.

He said he lived in Monfalcone, a town some kilometers away, and it’s very difficult you know to make a living when one does not have a work permit. So he and his friends bring some small items in from Rome to sell to make a few euro. At 7 euro for a package of socks I was not going along with it. Living in San Francisco pretty much cures you of giving in to sad stories and goods for sale of dubious origin. So I wished him good day and went off in a totally different direction. As quickly as possible.

Prosecco had more signs in Slovenian than down the hill and it is closer to the border. My Trieste bus map isn’t so good out there so I’m not really sure how far or in which direction. I had intended to walk to to Villa Opicina but I didn’t see a path except by the narrow highway. High speed road, stone walls on either side, no clear pedestrian path. I’ll explore that another time on the bus.

I took a tiny unmarked road down the hill, crossed another highway (Strada del Friuli) and continued down what looked like an oversized goat path which around here often passes for a public street. I was in Contovella. The road was paved, which gave hope for it going through somewhere. The other option was highway, so I figured why not.

I somewhat questioned that decision at various points, particularly when the road was closed for construction. Along the way there were several narrow staircases down the hill, some more scary than others but none had railings and the steps were not exactly in good repair. One was a private path, another was clearly well used by the trash left behind. All through here the road was a cliff on one side and the hill (or stone retaining wall) on the other. There was a vehicle that went off the road decades ago, now rotting in a tree.

Down the road I continued, squeezing past the barriers around the idle construction zone, where a new section of retaining wall was being built near some expensive looking houses. The road widened into a proper street here (although still narrow) with houses and small apartment buildings. Eventually it went back under the train tracks and let out in the center of Barcola.

I got a bottle of water from the same shop I went to yesterday, hung around in the park for a while (remembering to bring extra tissues for the public toilet!) and headed back out to Grignano.

I’ve been spending way too much time poking around online looking at census data. Yes, after 72 years that stuff you filled out is released to the public. It’s actually pretty cool and it encourages me to actually pay attention next time the census comes around.

After I got done finding my grandparents, great-grandparents and all their siblings and spouses in the 1910, 1920 and 1930 census data, I started looking around at other things. It took some work but I found both streets we’ve lived on in San Francisco, the only place I’ve lived where old buildings are everywhere.

I found our current apartment in the 1920 census. I was not able to locate it in 1930 but I found the records for others in the same building. I can’t figure out how to locate the right area of the city in the 1910 census, so I don’t know anything from then.

In 1920, Hugh Haffey, his wife and their adult children lived here. Hugh’s occupation was noted as a “Watchman”, one son worked at a laundry, another was an elevator operator and a daughter also worked at a laundry.

Most of the households I found in this building for both 1920 and 1930 were couples with children, as many as five. All were renters. In 1930, apartments in this building rented for $27-30 a month.

Our apartment is about 700 square feet, with a large kitchen and dining room, a modest bedroom and a large parlor. There are also two closets in addition to the bathroom. We use the parlor as a bedroom and the bedroom as a computer room. The dining room is what would now be considered a living room (although I use it as a work area mainly.) There is no fireplace and the building has no garage or driveway.

Now every family wants to have one bedroom per child plus multiple eating, sitting and working areas so modern houses are huge. Much larger than I’d prefer, actually. (Who wants to heat and clean, not to mention furnish, 6000 square feet?) But from what I can tell this was a average family dwelling for those of modest means. Not spectacular, but not horrible either.

Several years ago I visited the Lower East Side Tenement Museum in New York, one of the apartments on the tour was about 350 square feet and housed a large family plus a home dressmaking business, with a shared toilet in the hall. Another person on the tour humorously commented that add a coat of paint and it looked like some of the several thousand dollar Manhattan apartments he’d been shopping for.

I’ve been researching various parts of my family, with the end goal of submitting an application for Italian citizenship. We’ll see how that goes. At any rate, looking at old documents is interesting. It’s amazing how many different ways a census enumerator can mis-spell a name.

My grandmother shows up in various sources three different ways, none of them her actual given name (as it seems nobody used it.) Since the census doesn’t require any formal documentation, they take whatever you give them. I’m thinking it’s the same with Social Security as well, because they don’t have her birth name either. Oh, and Social Security tends to list the actual place of death (like a hospital) and states seem to use last place of residence instead.

Interesting things turn up. I remember a carved ashtray stand my father said was made by his uncle. In the 1930 census, I found an uncle with the occupation of woodcarver in the furniture industry. His brother, my grandfather, worked in a radio factory.

I vaguely recall a name mentioned in my youth that I thought was my great-grandfather. It seems I didn’t quite get it right, as it instead was his wife. Who lived much longer and remarried. At some point the whole family moved to New York, down the street from the girl who would become my grandmother. There were several documents that at first seemed doubtful because of name or date problems, but I was certain as soon as I looked at the actual artifact image and saw the address. For example, the eldest Laiosa girl of the 1920 census was, ten years later, found a few doors down living with her new husband and his father.

I have an image of the ship’s passenger manifest where my maternal great-grandfather came to New York, with a woman who may have been his sister. What happened to Maria Grazia Laiosa I may never know. Perhaps his single still living child (now 89) may remember, but then again not. I sent my father a copy of Giovanni’s draft registration and naturalization petition cards to give to her.

There are other observations on the nature of public record repositories. The state of Ohio started collecting birth records at the state level somewhere in the middle of 1908. I know this because I have to try several different agencies in attempt to locate my grandfather’s birth certificate. My first go didn’t do so well, so I’ve submitted a request for his elder brother for whom I have a more certain place of birth. Also the fees for copies of records appears to be arbitrary. New York City is hideously expensive and Columbiana County Ohio will do it for a self-addressed stamped envelope and the cost of the copy machine.

And then there is my mother’s family. In the 1930 census I found the household of my grandparents including my uncle, not a year old. But listed as my grandfather’s parents were two people I’d never heard of and my aunt says were related in some mysterious fashion. Four adults, two parents and two “sons” came to the United States from Eastern Europe, possibly at different times and with a collection of different names given to different officials. I don’t think anybody alive now knows exactly how these people are related.

If I’m going to go much farther, I’ll have to start getting documents. It will likely be less expensive to just go to New York and park myself in front of the microfilm reader than pay the search and copy fees trying to locate the right things. Fortunately my Italian family didn’t move far from Brooklyn for many years.

There was a lot of noise today about how much advertising the Yes on Prop 8 campaign was targeting at website visitors from California. Such that many people are pretty pissed that even their own websites were serving advertisements.

I checked spinnyspinny, the only site I have that uses Google advertisements, and nearly every one I saw was for Yes on Prop 8. How irritating. I promptly re-configured my account to block ads from their website and within an hour they were no more.

We went to the new and improved California Academy of Sciences today, the first day of regular public admission. Yesterday was free and it was a total zoo. But we are members, so this is not a problem. We got there extra early just in case, but it was actually not that bad.

For those who are all about the pictures, here they are.

Someone came out with a Burmese python, so I got to play with the big snake and talk herp so that always makes it a good day. When we finally got in I knew I wanted to see the roof and the rainforest, so with the rainforest exhibit not open until 10:30 I headed up to the roof instead.

The roof looks like a collection of random groundcover plants, pretty much everything was selected to be short. It looks pretty well established and supposedly from here all it will need is maybe the occasional supplemental water when it gets too dry. I know when I tried container gardening my shallow pots dried out really fast, so we’ll see how that goes. But it was damp enough that some mushrooms volunteers have already showed up. There is one patch left unplanted to see who stops by for a visit. It was pretty foggy all day so I don’t know how many people really wanted to go stand on the roof, but I expect I will go back. I’m interested to see how it changes over time.

The big reason I wanted to go opening weekend is that I had heard about the specially formulated glass used in the windows. It’s supposed to be perfectly clear and neutral, so it doesn’t skew the colors of the view outside. I won’t say I couldn’t tell there was glass there, but it was a nice view. I wanted to see it while it was still clean. On a sunny day there will certainly be tons of natural light, although on a typical dreary day there are enormous lights over the rainforest and aquarium tanks to keep everything healthy.

I wandered around randomly exploring the building and taking pictures. I brought my so-so digital camera and used the walking stick as a monopod, one of my favorite features of that particular model. You aren’t going to be using a cable release with it, but it does help in low light. And most exhibits behind glass are not going to work with the flash. This worked surprisingly well, although it’s difficult to position the camera when it’s affixed to a big straight stick. I may borrow Dillo’s little bendy tripod and try it with that.

The big adventure of the day was the rainforest exhibit. First, I had to get in, which was challenge enough. I went to get in line and was offered a timed ticket as a crowd control tactic. But when I arrived back at the appointed hour, all it got me was an invitation to stand in the now-longer line for entry. Just as I got through the containment vestibule (to keep the critters in) Dillo sent me a message asking for the snacks I had in my purse, but once inside I wasn’t coming out until I was done. Not to stand in that line again.

I slowly wandered my way up, looking at all the interesting things, until I got to the canopy exhibit at the very top. There was a huge crowd of people standing around the elevators looking cranky and sweating in the heat. While I was standing there both elevators broke, leaving everyone wondering how we were going to get out of the oppressive heat. (Having lived too long in the southeast, it was warm but hardly a crisis.) Eventually the monitor in charge got permission to let everyone down the emergency exit stairs but this dumped everyone out into the already crowded aquarium rather than the bottom of the rainforest tank where we were supposed to be. It took some hunting to find the way so I could actually see the rest of the exhibit.

I spent some time in the library, which I hadn’t really seen much at the downtown museum. I didn’t know I could get a library card! I of course promptly signed up for one and then looked around at the collection. I sat down to page through Of Pandas and People, a biology textbook written with an Intelligent Design agenda. I’ve heard about it but have been unwilling to buy a copy to see what the fuss was about. The authors are pretty unapologetic in their position that ID is a legitimate contender for explaining the origin of life, claiming that the widely accepted understanding of evolution is merely another theory, among many. Their primary argument is that complex life forms are so well-engineered that they could not possibly have developed incrementally by slow change over time, so there must be an intelligent creator. But it’s not about religion, you know.

I checked out pretty much everything except the planetarium, because I couldn’t get in. There is a lack of physical sciences, which is disappointing but about what I expected. There is a large exhibit on climate change, for some reason collocated with the few dinosaur specimens and other more recently extinct species.

Another big deal about the new green building is the food, not your typical museum dreck but actual recognizable food. It was pretty much like eating at the Ferry Building, in both selection and price, much better than plastic cheese nachos.

Some months back I hacked my WordPress akismet plugin to log all comments to my spinnyspinny.com blog. I’ve had 915 comments posted. 900 of them are spam. Of the 15 real comments, 10 are mine. 656 of those are from one ip address: 200.63.42.136. 102 of them are on a single message, the first one I posted when I set up the blog.

For those 656 spam comments from one address, there are 655 unique authors with 655 email addresses and 656 websites. Clearly somebody had a mistake there. And they aren’t all with the same setup, as the most common user agent has only 521 hits and the rest are from 9 others, all some Mozilla variant for Windows. Whoever this is, they are spamming all my posts more-or-less the same. Spam comments are from only about the past month, with a big spike around the Labor Day holiday weekend. Then, it appears, someone went on vacation until the 17th.

Since we moved to the new apartment about two and a half years ago, I’ve been making do with one improvised workspace after another. Couch, bed, kitchen table, anything. I had a desk before, but it was a re-purposed shelf that ended up reverting to its original function. I haven’t just gone out and gotten some $25 Ikea thing because I need to be able to adjust the height down so I can actually type. This weekend I finally got it all together:

I started pulling out boxes I haven’t looked in for years and moving things from overstuffed shelves into my new space. I’m only half done but just getting all the scattered desk items to one location has improved the place. I can have both current computers available and the motley assortment of gizmos (do any of these PCMCIA ethernet dongles actually work?) are all in one place.

In the process I cleared out two file boxes of junk, mainly old magazines. I opened up dozens of unread CDs and DVDs from old Apple mailings — I think I have enough coasters for party drinks for years to come. Panther developer seed, anyone?

I went to see the Slow Food market and demonstration garden, in front of City Hall. I pretty much walk past there on the way to the gym, so it’s hard to miss. I hadn’t gone to look at the garden yet, construction started right after Pride cleared out and it will be there a few more weeks. The garden is nice, with raised beds of both native plants and home garden staples done as dense companion plantings. I believe it was all done with organic techniques.

There was a small stage for presentations, where I heard about the group that built the demonstration garden and are also installing home backyard gardens in San Francisco neighborhoods as a pilot program. I asked how they intend to make their program accessible to the rest of the city who, like me, don’t have a yard of any sort. The suggestion was find a neighbor who would let you garden in their backyard, which was less than helpful a suggestion. They want to eventually move on to productive gardens on public land and I can support that. But right now it’s more like publicly funded nice backyards for San Francisco property owners, already an elite group in a city where very few people can have a garden. I’d like to see what they are able to accomplish.

The market is a collection of stalls with local food products, mainly fresh produce, each with one or at most a handful of items. Yesterday I bought some dry farmed tomatoes, which were gone when I came back today. I didn’t get to sample the prepared foods because I was there too early, and by the time I got back today the ones I was interested in were gone. There were a lot of empty stalls, although still plenty of people.

I like the idea of slow food, and sustainability generally, although I get irritated at the excess attitude that sometimes comes with it. For example, to discourage buying bottled water there were filtered water stations. If you didn’t have (or buy) a reusable bottle you could get water in a biodegradable cup (with the admonition to save it for refills.) As I was getting my bottle filled I heard someone behind me, obviously unaware of what was going on, loudly announce her disgust at the water station handing out “plastic” cups. Because no real environmentally aware person would ever use plastic. For anything.

After my visit I went around the corner to the nearest Subway and got myself a fast-food sandwich. Because it was reasonably healthy (compared to the Burger King down the street) and the right amount of food for a reasonable price. I wasn’t interested in standing in line for twenty minutes for what was basically a fancy organic version of festival food, anything I actually wanted to try being no longer available.

I don’t have a lot of patience for attitude from those who try to convince me I’m a Bad Person for not agreeing 100% with their vision of how things should be done. I drink city tap water and like it, I don’t need expensive bottled water or fancy filter systems. San Francisco tap water is damn good and I grew up with some horrid stuff in Florida.

When I did have a garden I used a combination of techniques including chemical fertilizer, because that’s what worked for me. One of my neighbors quite pointedly turned her nose up at an offer of fresh herbs because they weren’t all organically grown. Another claimed that feeding your family non-organic food was child abuse. I’d love to cook everything from fresh produce bought from the farmers market, but I can’t and still maintain a professional job. When I did, it was because I didn’t have a choice. I baked all my own bread too, with a sourdough starter because flour and water are cheap and packaged yeast is not.

I’m all for showing the best of what you have to offer, but I don’t need to be dragged into another political fight over ideology. I would like to see Slow Food be more approachable for normal people who just want to learn something and try a few different things without having to sign up for the whole activist lifestyle. The market was a good start at that but there is still a ways to go.