The blog home of Jeff Putz

Last night, we saw Kristin Key do a set here in Orlando (Instagram, YouTube). If you are unfamiliar with her comedy, a lot of it revolves around lesbian culture, stereotypes and such, and it is absolutely hilarious (this is a great story). Late in her act, she starts to take questions, and comes up with some of the most hilarious stuff, spontaneously, and she posts these clips online. So good.

As you can imagine, coming to Florida in the midst of the bizarre war on... sidewalk rainbows, there is some comedy there. But toward the end, she got a little serious, and expressed the sentiment that one of the most effective things that you can do is exercise what she called "joyful defiance." I like that.

Algorithms and cable news reinforce rage and anger, because it keeps you plugged into them. The "side" that seems to be against anyone who does not fit in their box of faux-normalcy wants to marginalize and shut down. But what if, despite the buckets of haterade, those being targeted are in fact exercising joy? Sure, it has the side effect of pissing them off, but it also means that at some level, the outcomes they're after are not achieved.

I know that a lot of my friends are struggling right now. It's not a great feeling to be treated as though you don't belong, don't deserve equal treatment and seemingly aren't valued as a human being. I'm not going to say that I don't know how we got here, because I do, but the disappointment in that part of the population that allows or advocates for this marginalization is heavy. But the old adage that you can't take certain things away from people may be applicable here when it comes to joy.

Last night was joyful. I've definitely never been in a room with that many lesbians, but like any group that leans queer (see also: countless coaster enthusiast events), there was joy, high-fives, hugs and a lot of shared experiences and empathy. Honestly, I never experienced that much love in church, where allegedly you're supposed to be about love. It felt about as opposite as possible to the world online, or a congressional hearing.

We can't lose our joy. I've never understood where the energy comes from to sustain hate, but joy is energetic. We need more of that, please.

I'm sure I'm repeating myself on this topic, but I really believe that one of the things that can burn you out, make you tired, make you want to disengage, is the scenario where you are giving way more than you take. I'm not saying that this isn't a noble goal, or even something that you can't derive joy from. But there are definitely times when the balance gets so out of whack that it grinds on you.

Parenting may inherently be one of these endeavors, but having children is a choice. I'm not saying that the give/take ratio can't be messed up, or that you can't feel the burn, but I do think it's something that you're more obligated to deal with. It does seem to come in waves, and they all grow up eventually, at which point you might miss the "excess give."

I know I was there with work earlier in the year. These days, I feel like the world itself is asking more of me, and I'm in no position to give what is required. And I am materially giving more than I take for the purpose of securing a better late-life, since younger me felt like I would live forever.

I just know that I shouldn't feel this tired.

Next month I have to choose a renewal term for the reserved resource instances that CoasterBuzz and PointBuzz run on. For that part of the expense, I can save about 55% per month if I commit to three years. A year ago, I committed to one year for 35% off, but that was after updating from the basic tier to the premium tier, which was necessary because of the increased load. In any case, the three-year scenario reduces cost by about $62 per month, or $744 a year. It also gets me back in line with what I was paying for the basic tier, which has less memory. And all of it is cheaper than when it was on Windows instead of Linux, which I switched a few years ago.

Both sites saw an increase in traffic overall last year, and I was starting to have intermittent memory issues, which is why I scaled up to the bigger instance and one-year commitment. My total costs are about $300 per month, and if I do the three-year, it'll be closer to $260. People say, "But you can get a site for [this much] with [some service]." They're not wrong, but given my line of work, and the fact that there are I think 16 different sites/apps running, making all of that robust isn't free. Everything is redundant and resilient, there's caching, there are off-app background jobs, an Elastic index for search, etc. Being cloud-based, I can scale all the parts up as needed without redeploying anything, too. And I'm pretty proud of the fact that average response times are under 20ms.

Believe it or not, there was a time when ad revenue (and club memberships) grossed as much as $2,000 per month, and with way less traffic (that's about $3,300 in today's dollars). Those were the days! That's why I didn't bother working consistently in 2004 and 2005, and wrote a programming book and did some volleyball coaching in that time. Because of the Google ad monopoly, there is no real competition, and there are more sites than ads that can be shown. The economics completely suck now for independent publishers. Video is probably worse, because it's also Google (YouTube), a single platform that won't even write you a check without a certain threshold of subscribers and watch time, meaning that there's an enormous long-tail of people posting their stuff while Google keeps the money.

Prior to the pandemic, for a decade, ad revenue varied seasonally, but generally fell between $500 and $900 each month, which was more than enough to cover the costs. Then 2020 hit, and it took a momentary dump, before recovering later in the year. 2022 came down though, in half, with a range of $250 to $450, then 2023 went down to $180 to $380. 2024 recovered a little, but then this year hasn't even hit $300. And keep in mind, my PointBuzz partner Walt gets half of the PB share. And this is while CB page views are up an insane 77% this year, though I don't know how much of that is robots, because the analytics also say that users are up 400%. PB page views are down about a third, but I don't really trust Google with any of these numbers. So it's a pretty sad state of affairs these days.

So with the upcoming renewal, and just being in midlife, the question popped into my head... how much longer do I do this? I started PB (then Guide to The Point) in 1998, and CB in 2000, so I've been doing this for a very, very long time. A number of regulars to the sites have died over the years. I went to a wedding some years ago where we realized that many of us met because of the sites. We did a few hundred podcast episodes before it was cool. I interviewed CEO's and industry legends. I went to a ton of media events. I've made so many friends, scattered about the country. We had a ton of events back in the day. I hosted other coaster sites for free for awhile. By most measures, the best days are behind us.

Then fold in the fact that I'm just not into any of it the way that I used to be. I don't want to use working at SeaWorld as an inflection point, because it's too close in time to the life reboot with a new-ish child and marriage. Priorities changed quite a bit. I live next door to arguably the best theme parks in the world, and mostly go to them to eat and drink. Industry consolidation hasn't been great for quality (see: Six Flags/Cedar Fair). Honestly there aren't many rides that are truly unique, and those that are (Guardians, Velocicoaster, Hagrid's) are here. The idea of traveling for the purpose of riding does not appeal to me, not when I can go places and see historic things. When I engage on the sites, it's mostly about the business of the industry, and sometimes about technology. A lot of the site regulars are in the same boat.

With all of that said, it's not that all of this doesn't serve me. Maintaining the forum app is something that I enjoy, even though there are fewer and fewer things I feel like I need to do with it. Without a "real world" application for it, I probably wouldn't maintain it. All of that infrastructure, which has a ton of available overhead, can also host whatever stuff I want to mess around with, at no additional cost. My personal music cloud runs on it. This blog runs on it, too. In a way, I'm subsidizing an Internet technology playground for myself. That is valuable to me. I don't mind sticking with it for a few more years. I'm also too stubborn to cede yet another community (or two) to the platforms. The audience that sticks around finds value in it, and prefers it to the platforms. I'm not exactly sticking it to Zuck, but it's something.

In my talk about lighting programming at the software level last year, I mentioned how my earliest interest as a teenager came from a specific light fixture model, the Vari-Lite VL2, that I saw in all of the music videos at the time. There was something really iconic about that blocky moving light. I went to some shows in the years following that used them, as moving lights became more and more ubiquitous at rock shows. It's funny that, for me, this thing that was intended to make light, but the object itself had a textural visual appeal to me. Other kids were aroused by cars, but lighting instruments did it for me.

This sentiment is still prevalent in the way that I'm wired. For example, I'm enamored by the patterns and designs found all over the newer part of the Coronado Springs resort, where we stayed in July. The textures are everywhere in the tower building. Look at this wall of lamps in the lobby, not just in the way that they're arranged, but in the texture on the lamps themselves.

I can't explain why it appeals to me so much, I just know that I dig it. Middle Eastern tile work also elicits a similar response from me. It's a subtle but peculiar feeling in my head that is some form of joy, but it's hard to explain. There are other ways that we respond to visual stimuli, like the way an attractive person may cause arousal, but that's easier to explain because it's rooted in our instinctive drive for procreation. I don't know what purpose this serves for us.

Here's an even weirder one. There's something satisfying about road cases. You know, the things that they pack equipment in so it doesn't get damaged when it moves from one venue to the next. I own a case like this.

The elegant simplicity of road cases appeals to me. The spring-loaded handles stay flush and don't stick out until you need them. The twist locks... those sure are a brilliant mechanism. Opening and closing them is satisfying. You don't even take the equipment out of the bottom of the case, it just sits on it so that you never actually pick up and move the equipment directly. And how cool are rivets?

And it's not just simplicity or patterns that appeal to me. A properly rigged camera location looks like chaos, but the thing that ends up on the screen looks precise and controlled.

Lights are all over the place (you can't see the one lighting the barrels), wires and cables go everywhere, fabric and reflectors are hanging around to shape the light, and the camera itself usually has a bunch of stuff that looks sloppily connected to it. I can't explain why that's amazing. I was recently in a theatrical venue with all of the work lights on, and I was borderline over-stimulated by all of the things that I could see.

I don't know if "visual texture" is a thing, but I know that I like to see it.

I think that I'm starting to see that too much of my contentment is wrapped up in excitement for the promise of things in the future. I'm not saying that you shouldn't look forward to things, but it's possible for that focus to swing too far in that direction. It pushes out the ability to appreciate the moment. And what's happening now is a gift, that's why they call it the present.

It's a hard adjustment to make. I know that I'm capable of being present, and sometimes it comes to me in the simplest ways. Sitting next to Diana watching TV, or interacting with one of the cats. My various bits of equipment may not always lead to finished product, but sometimes just touching it, and marveling at what it does, is enjoyable. Sometimes, even sitting outside with my lunch, alone, taking in the blue sky, can make me smile. I don't need to be on vacation to be content (though it sure helps).

Exploring this idea, about feeling content in the moment, also reinforces my theory that "will power" is generally bullshit. People like what they like to do. No amount of mind games with yourself will change that. It's not natural to force yourself to do things that you don't want to do, and it doesn't make you a better person for trying. Stop holding yourself to that standard, because it's not your standard. When it comes to contentment, sure, grownups have to do things they don't want to do, but get that done and get back to the things that make you content right now. You don't get a cookie for acting like you enjoyed doing something that sucks.

Despite running roller coaster fan sites for a very long time, believe it or not, I was apprehensive about riding coasters until I was 13-ish. Even then, I think there was sort of a psychological barrier that I still don't understand. Like when Magnum opened at Cedar Point (I was 15), it really, really made me nervous. But in my mid-20's, when I started the sites and realized I was an adult who could buy season passes, there was excitement about new rides, but no hint of apprehension. When Millennium Force opened in 2000, I was 26, and watched the construction so closely that I had modeled the entire ride experience in my mind. It was so detailed that my first ride went exactly as I expected it to go. What a strange brain I have.

Fast forward a couple of decades, and now my 15-year-old is starting to ramp up. He's actually fairly obsessed with the rides and technology, playing with operations simulations online, and 3D representations in NoLimits. But it has been a struggle to get him on certain rides. When he was much smaller, he would enthusiastically get on Tower of Terror, but now he would rather not. He's never been on Rock-n-Rollercoaster right next to it, either. And for all of the times we've been to SeaWorld, I couldn't get him on Mako, which in my opinion is the second best coaster in town (behind Guardians, of course).

But yesterday, finally, while visiting SeaWorld with a friend, Simon did Mako. Twice. Obviously after the first time, he realized that it was something to enjoy, not fear, but I resisted telling him "I told you so." When I picked him up, he said that he doesn't think he could do Millennium Force because those lap bars don't seem adequate. I explained to him that after 25 years and millions and millions of rides, no one has fallen out yet... why does he think he would be the first? "That's fair," he said (he says that a lot lately).

We've talked about quite a few rides out in the world that he thinks look interesting, but didn't really want to go on. I've told him that I would be happy to take trips to see some in real life, but he's gotta commit to actually riding stuff. I'm not sure if we're there yet, but it's encouraging. On the flip side, it makes me think back to the trips I took in the oughts to a ton of parks, and I can't say that I'm excited about the idea. There are a lot of reasons, including flying (the process, not the act of aviation), lines, weather and such. Toward the close of that decade, I started to lose interest in all of the travel-for-coasters because really the experiences aren't different enough to merit the voyage. And I say that knowing that there are a few parks I could probably ask for comps and my friends would graciously provide them. Also, and Simon expressed the same frustration yesterday, we're so used to the operational level of Disney that anything less feels annoying.

Still, there are a few parks that I think I would really like him to see in real life. I'm realizing that this window is closing quickly as he races toward adulthood.

Wednesday night, we saw Garbage at Hard Rock Live here at Universal Orlando. I am not sure of my math, but it was the eighth or ninth time that I've seen them live. It might have been the last.

I first saw the band on November 17, 1995, at Peabody's Down Under in The Flats in Cleveland, which according to their book, is only the 12th show they had ever played. The story goes that the band was conceived more as a studio project by the boys, but the record label insisted that they tour. I remember young Shirley Manson pacing around on the stage, something that she still does, but at that time she seemed timid and uncertain. She's talked about that in countless interviews since, about the way she was constantly being judged (along with every other woman in rock at the time), but she has long since run out of fucks. I think that's one of the reasons that the band endures.

Thirty years is a long time to be doing anything. The boys are all over 60, and Shirley is almost 60 with two hip replacements. Mind you, none of that is evident when you see them on stage, and they are more fierce and tight than ever. The lady up front is also singing better than ever. Still, she announced that after this tour, because of the shitty state of the music industry, this is probably their last headlining tour. More vaguely, she suggested that this was the end of... something. It's not clear if that meant performing, writing, recording or all of the above. I've since read that in the VIP Q&A they did earlier that day, one of them did suggest that they will probably not stop writing, but have no specific plans. This is why you buy albums from your favorite artists, and don't keep giving money to Spotify.

I remember hearing "Supervixen," the first song on their debut, a few months after I graduated from college, but I'm not sure where. It was not officially a single. But then I saw this video on MTV (yes, the "M" used to stand for music!) for "Only Happy When It Rains." There was this redhead with a ton of eye makeup in this blue dress and shit-kickers, and I though, "Who is this?!" My first wife, Stephanie, was still in school down in Ashland, and I remember that we brought some of her friends up to that first show. I think I took a little joy in having a bunch of college hotties meet at my house, where I hadn't moved out yet, wearing fishnets and club gear. I did not take joy in the fact that my car was leaking coolant into the passenger foot well, but my new friend was a good sport about it. Ah, to be a poor recent college graduate.

The videos for "Stupid Girl" (the chevron dress) and "Milk" (Shirley standing in the wind?) also stick out in my mind. The albums came three or four years apart after that, and I saw them on every tour, including them opening for Smashing Pumpkins in arenas. Bleed Like Me coincided with my separation, and the title track I recall felt like a reminder that everyone is going through their shit. Shirley was in a state of self-loathing, and the band wasn't getting along, and that's when they went on their hiatus. It would be seven years until Not Your Kind of People came out. In that time, I had moved coast to coast and back, remarried and had a child.

Of the post-hiatus albums, it was the sixth album over all, Strange Little Birds, that I like the most. It was noisy and weird relative to what I was used to, but still definitely Garbage. The last song on that one, "Amends," might be one of their best songs ever, to me at least. I mean, listen to it. It builds up, takes a break, builds up again and ends on this solo vocal that just hurts. And lyrically, I think it's actually kind of optimistic, the idea that you can reconcile parts of your life and move on. To me, this is the quintessential Garbage song. It uses all of their muscles. Oh, and this was during Shirley's pink hair phase, which I thought was pretty cool.

The last two albums are just OK. A few tracks on each stand out, but the albums struggle to compete for an unusual wave of great albums in the last few years. The lyrics in some of the songs are overtly political, instead of more "poetically political," like earlier work. Following the social media accounts of the band, which I think are mostly maintained by Shirley, it's not really surprising, because she is deeply frustrated with the world, something she referred to several times during this week's show.

It's hard to wrap my head around the idea that my entire post-college life has had Garbage in it. Other than Tears For Fears, who is also still making (really great) music, I can't imagine ever going to see anyone I listened to in high school. The only pre-2000 bands that I've seen after 2000 are Toad The Wet Sprocket (Epcot), Everclear (Epcot) and indirectly, Alanis through her musical (would like to see her though). The only thing that consistent in my life that I can think of is running the web sites, for 27 years.

The set list for this show had a lot of deep cuts, and it included 21 songs over almost two hours. I hadn't heard many of those songs live ever, and according to setlist.fm, three of the songs made their live debut at this show, the first on the tour. Only two from Little Birds, but that's two more than the last time I saw them in 2022 with Tears For Fears. I loved hearing "Not My Idea" and "Why Do You Love Me" because of their pronounced guitar bits. Some of the happier songs made it too, like "Parade," "Cherry Lips" and "When I Grow Up," which was Shirley's call to make your life extraordinary, and their last song.

I also deeply appreciated the lighting design, in part because I have a dotted line in my lighting journey to the designer. Almost three years ago, I pinged @gigilights on the 'Gram, because I learned that she had done quite a bit of work with the band. I asked the possibly ridiculous question, "Where do I start?" if I want to learn about design and programming. She referred me to MA Lighting's products, and after a year of experimentation and a very long wait for the German company to make more, I bought my very own console in April of last year. I haven't done as much as I'd like, as I also took a turn into CAD drawing lighting rigs in Vectorworks, but I really enjoy trying to figure out how to make lights do stuff.

I'm not sure what happens next to Butch, Steve, Duke and Shirley next, but their music produced a huge body of feels for me. I'm two decades-ish behind most of them in age (Duke is 74!), and it's encouraging to see people that age being so vital. Middle age seems less scary that way. Kinda like they made being alone during my "in between" days less scary. Whatever they do or don't do, they've had an extraordinary relationship with us fans.

Yesterday, Diana and I went to Epcot for lunch, as our favorite time of year, the Food & Wine Festival, has started. It was crazy busy, which I would expect later in the day, but not at lunch time. It was also hot, in a gross way, so we didn't stay very long. We started in the Odyssey building, where in recent years they've had wings and beers and ciders. I had the plant-based "chicken," which was meh but in a great sauce, and a cider flight. There weren't a lot of tables, but Diana found one, giving us a chance to sit and look through the passport for other things we wanted to try over the next few months.

I notice there's a guy leaning over a table next to me, and I hear him talking with his phone propped up on the table. I assumed that he was just video calling someone, but on second glance, I realized that the only thing on the phone was him, and with the red icon, it appeared that he was live streaming himself. Eating. I desperately wanted to know how many people were interested in watching a guy eat by himself at a theme park. I'm sure it's a non-zero number, which is enough to make me kind of sad.

The Internet is an amazing, potentially democratizing technology, because it evens the playfield in being able to make things and share them widely. It's true for everything from selling stuff to distributing a feature film. It does frustrate me that so much of this is now dominated by platforms, but as someone who was able to pay their mortgage for years in the pre-platform era, with an unreal amount of advertising revenue potential, I can say first hand that at least the same pipes connect any person with anything out there. That's powerful.

The guy live streaming lunch wasn't hurting anyone, I know that. The loads of ephemeral "content" (the word used for anything that isn't art, journalism or something else useful) is mostly harmless, unless you consider the growing inability of people to go a minute without doomscrolling harmful. What bothers me is the two-sided economy of people who think that they're interesting enough to broadcast and the people who want to spend a lot of time watching it. And while there are some number of people who benefit from this, mostly it gives free stuff to the platforms to surround by advertising. It seems like attention whoring, and that's icky.

When I bought my first semi-pro video camera, I was intent on telling stories, but not my stories. The world is filled with fascinating people and situations that have nothing to do with me. In the cases that I've turned the camera around on me, it seems pretty boring. But this "personality media," for lack of a better term, dominates not just the Internet, but much of linear cable TV. Again, it seems like attention whoring, which lacks humility, curiosity and empathy. Aren't we missing a lot of that already, in our society?

Fortunately there are a lot of bright spots. The makers, science educators and tech enthusiasts that I watch put out a lot of great video, and those are not "content creators." They're inventors, teachers and journalists. Many of them host what they do, but they tend to be interesting personalities, and they're mostly telling stories. I wish that more people would aspire to that level, exercising humility, curiosity and empathy. What we don't need is another dude screaming at his phone telling us he's our boy doing some shit that everyone will forget in minutes.

On June 12, 2016, a man entered the Pulse nightclub on Orange Ave. here in Orlando, and killed 49 people, while injuring 53 more before he was killed by police. I would imagine that this horrified most Americans, but it was extra real and frightening if you lived here. It was the first time I ever scoured Facebook for the "marked safe" posts from friends. It was the worst mass-shooting in American history until the Vegas shooting the next year.

The community came together in extraordinary numbers in the days after. A makeshift memorial popped up in front of the Dr. Phillips Center, and the first of several vigils was held there. An estimated 50,000 people showed up for another around Lake Eola, where the bandshell was eventually painted rainbow colors. The massacre was extra hard on the LGBTQ and Latino communities, as one would expect. The Tony Awards had a very somber tone, as it felt strange to celebrate art (Hamilton, no less) after a tragedy of that scale. I imagine that most of the country moved on in the coming weeks, but locally, I'm not sure if the edges will ever be dulled. Anecdotally, it seems like everyone here was not more than a degree or two away from a victim.

Over the years, there has been a lot of talk about a permanent memorial, a foundation that has since disbanded and debates among community leaders and government about what to build. The club and its distinctive sign are still there, and there's a continuous cycle of notes, flowers and such left there. There's also a crosswalk painted with rainbow colors. Somehow, this has become a controversial issue.

Last week, the Florida DOT came in the middle of the night and painted over the rainbow. This was apparently by order of the governor, who said that roads couldn't be "commandeered for political purposes." Unsurprisingly, people came out and chalk painted over the crosswalk. Eventually some people painted over it, and FDOT painted over it again.

One could argue that if the law prohibits the markings, then that's the law. It wouldn't be the first stupid thing that the state spent time and money on. But when Desantis insists that it's a "political purpose," what does that mean? Is remembering 49 people who were gunned down political? If it is, then virtually every memorial everywhere is political. Is spreading messages of love and kindness political? Only if you're a sociopathic asshole, I suppose.

In these stupid culture wars that are designed to demean and threaten people, not to mention distract you from actual problems, there's a subculture of people who appear to fear rainbows. You know, the things that every kid first draws with their first box of crayons. They live in a bizarre world of their own, where they truly believe that queer people somehow pose a threat to them, and even more ridiculously, are trying to recruit people into their "lifestyle" (with rainbows!). There are a lot of levels of willful stupidity to unpack there, but to paraphrase Yoda, fear, anger and hate lead to suffering, and it ain't the white heterofolk who are suffering.

There's a wider trend where some folks are anxious to classify people and cast them out for being different. It's gotta stop.

(image from Orange County Government)

I keep talking about how I'm not doing the "maker" activities that I used to. Dare I say that I have found some amount of identity and purpose in doing those things. I'm bothered by the inaction, and I can't exactly figure out what it is in my head that causes it. It's odd that we have this concept of free will and consciousness that suggests that we can do anything. But we can't.

As I write this, I'm in the place that I find myself in frequently on the weekend when Diana is working. There are a half-dozen things that I think I want to do, and I can't start any of them. This cycle has been going on for months. To my credit, it's a focus when I see my therapist, and I think that I am making some progress. If I were to try and distill it down to something, it would be that classic fallacy of, "If I can just [condition A], then I can [condition B]." For a lot of folks, that probably goes like, "If only I were rich, then I could do anything." That's not me though. I know that "B" is any of those half-dozen things, but I'm never exactly sure what "A" is. I'm not even sure that it's a tangible condition as much as it is things occupying my ADHD thought spiral brain.

Maybe it doesn't even matter what's in there, because I think that there are ways to make it go away, or reduce it enough to break the cycle of inaction. Music helps. Having things to look forward to is also a good thing, if somewhat counter to the act of being present. That 5mg of THC before bed makes sleep possible. Social interaction seems to whittle down the noise temporarily as well. And sometimes, the thing seems so essential to do that I dive in. It feels like that used to be the thing that drove me, but with time everything seems to compete. I suppose some of that is routine work and parenting.

I think I'm turning a corner. I wrote a little code this week, and while it's hard to keep in it, at least I'm doing it. The passage of time seems to be an emerging motivator.

The primary thing that I use my phone for these days is the New York Times Games app. I'm bored with social media time wasting. I play the mini and full crosswords, Wordle, Connections, Strands, Tiles, and even the new Pips. What I just started recently was Spelling Bee, which for some reason I tried years ago and didn't care for it. It's straight forward enough, as it shows you seven letters, and you have to make as many words as possible, always including the center letter. Word length I believe drives score, and each puzzle has different score levels depending on how many words there are. Puzzles with more words require you to get more words to reach the top level, which is "genius." Who doesn't want to be a genius?

I made some assumptions at first about what was easy or hard, but after three weeks, it turns out those assumptions were wrong. In fact, I can't tell you exactly what makes it possible for me to reach genius. I'm on a four-in-a-row streak this week, but in prior weeks I usually hit that level two or three times. I thought that more available words would be easier, but that isn't the case. I think it's the combination of letters available, as they relate to my vocabulary, that are the deciding factor in terms of difficulty.

For example, last week there was a puzzle with 71 possible words, using the letters I, A, U, N, G, C and R in the center. I got to amazing, with 40 words. You can rattle off quite a few because of the "-ING" that can be formed, but every root word needs the R. I was pretty excited to get "accruing" and "uncaring," which use all of the letters. "Ingraining" also felt like a win. But I was still 47 points off genius (272), and I ran out of gas.

But even with a puzzle that had 30 words, I had a similar result. Y, O, I, H, A, L and D in the center. Genius only required 83 points, and I was still 24 short. My brain kept getting stuck on "holiday," which was the first word I guessed. There is an "-LY" suffix that can be used a bit on this one. That's what you look for, prefixes and suffixes, the latter of which is often helpful because you can use many root words that end in "e" unless the suffix is there.

It's fascinating though to see how your brain does pattern recognition, and how it can be different depending on the patterns. I know that there are diagnostics that can measure a person's ability to recognize patterns, but I suspect that the endless variations on what constitutes a pattern means that those tests might not be entirely useful. It's like the difference in people where some navigate by way of landmarks, others by way of spatial relationships (I'm the latter).

Oh, and I may lose sleep if I can't at least get "amazing," the level just below genius.

About a year and a half ago, I wrote about my first experience using AI tooling to write code. My expectations were low, but with a very narrow focus on trying to accomplish one thing, largely driven by math I don't know, it eventually got me to where I wanted to be. It would have been more trial and error without it, and in retrospect, I'm not sure if it saved time. These days, people are predicting the end of the software engineering profession, or at least, a radical change in it that requires less people. I'm more skeptical, because among other reasons, AI is not wise and doesn't understand concepts as readability, maintainability, etc. It learns this stuff from existing code, and if you've done this for any length of time, you'll know that most code isn't very good. This is also a very old code base, and while some of it is solid, some of it's janky. I imagine that's also true of most code bases out there. It's amazing that computers work at all.

Still, I decided I would try implementing a new feature in POP Forums, specifically an "ignore" feature, so you can not see posts by certain other users, leaning on the AI as much as possible. As much as I'd like to try to do this as if I were new to coding, I don't know how I could fake that. Instead, my attempt involves playing dumb about approach, and going from there. Next steps were what I know from experience to do, so frankly I'm throwing it a bone here. I used JetBrains' Rider IDE, with the Github Copilot agent using GTP-4.1.

Chapter 1: What's the approach?

I started by asking this:

How can I implement a feature that allows a user to ignore posts and topics by other users? The ignoring is based on a list that the user maintains. Ignored topics in all of the topic lists (by forum or recent) appear in a muted color, and posts appear collapsed in a muted color, though the user can click on them to view. The implementation should use existing conventions for data access and project organization.

It responded with a data model that assumed I wanted to match ignore ID's on topics, which I did not. It also included an extraneous ID and time stamp. It also listed some API endpoints and Vue markup, neither of which I use anywhere in the main front end (though it's used in the admin). It gave some example method signatures for the repository level, and CSS that ignored the fact that I was using Bootstrap. So basically, it doesn't know what context to consider.

I gave it context, pointing to existing code, and it kept chatting back abstract examples. I finally told it that wasn't helpful, and it dropped the examples and gave me a narrative:

Understood. For your scenario, integrate the ignore logic into your existing data access and view model construction layers. Fetch ignored user IDs for the current user, and when building view models for posts or topics, set an IsIgnored flag if the author is in that list. This keeps the logic consistent with your current architecture and ensures the view receives all necessary info to render ignored content appropriately. No changes to the SQL table are needed based on your description.

This is wrong right up front. You don't put logic into data access, so that's bad advice. Meh, OK, I'll move on to see what kind of action it gives me with code completion.

Chapter 2: Let's save and get data

I started by defining the database table in a SQL script and the simple model class with UserID and IgnoreUserID. The autocomplete suggested "IgnoredUserID" instead of "IgnoreUserID" to match the database. Even though by convention I capitalize "ID" everywhere, everything it generated refused to do this. I asked it to generate a repository class to Add, Delete and GetList, using Dapper (the mini-ORM library I use) and the extension methods used in other classes (simplifies getting connections and stuff). Aside from not capitalizing "ID," the get list was totally wrong. It sort of looked right, but it put a return value to use "AsList()," which is not even a thing. When I told it this, it told me that yes, it's not a thing. Why did it suggest it then?

Then I tried to coax it into doing a join with the user table to get the name as well, for display in the user's list of ignored users, and no prompt seemed to get it there, even after I defined a new model to include the name. Next I asked it to get a list of UserID's that represented the intersection of the user's ignore list and a list of UserID's passed in as a parameter. That list comes from the posts that will be displayed. I told it to use the method that gets user signatures as an example, and it nailed this first try. Mind you, I basically told it how to do it, so it sure better get that right!

The service layer is mostly a wrapper around the repository, but not the method that gets the list of ID's to ignore. To match the convention of the signatures, avatars and such, it takes the user and list of posts as parameters, which means it has to use the UserID from the former, and get a list of ID's from the latter. I tried several ways to tell it how to do this, and each time, it gave weird results that didn't return what I asked. It also didn't check to see if the user was null, so it didn't even know to do basic null checking.

Chapter 3: Front end

I expected this to be easy for the machine, but it didn't go to the solution I expected without me being prescriptive. I started with this:

Using Bootstrap and as little custom CSS as possible, how can I make the div starting on line 22 be collapsed and replaced with the text "ignored?"

This was admittedly not a great question, because it lacked the context that I wanted the user to be able to click on it and expand the div to show the hidden post. It suggested a simple "if" in the view. Then I made it clearer:

I want the markup to still be there regardless of isIgnored, because my next question will ask how I can click on the ignored div and make it un-collapse.

It gave a solution to render both, but ended on, "The next step can add interactivity to toggle visibility." OK, so why not just give that to me then? I cycled with the robot three more times, trying to refine a solution that was "elegant" and "only required a little CSS," but it wouldn't give me the Bootstrap solution, which is just a matter of adding attributes to the div and button markup. Finally I just asked it outright, "How can I do this with Bootstrap Collapse?" I was intentional about this line of questioning for two reasons. First, I wanted to act as if I didn't know that there was a specific Bootstrap solution for this, as someone who didn't have experience with it. Second, I wanted to see if it had any deep contextual understanding of the Bootstrap library. This matters because so much of software is composition, using existing solutions from frameworks and libraries to make a thing. In this case, it was steering me toward inventing something instead of using what already existed.

I didn't bother asking the AI to help with the user's maintenance of their ignore list.

Conclusion and observations

As I said earlier, a lot of people like to debate the value of AI in the world of software engineering, and I've been generally skeptical of what it can do. That hasn't really changed. There are a lot of people who spend a lot of time and energy trying to convince others that AI coding (or worse, "vibe coding") is a game changer and huge productivity booster. Others even believe it makes humans obsolete. If you question these beliefs, you usually get the response that "you're doing it wrong." The one study that tries to measure time savings actually concludes that coding takes longer with AI.

For a very long time, when you couldn't figure something out, you searched the Internet for solutions, which led you to blogs and, more often than not, questions on StackOverflow. AI should be a good replacement for that, and to an extent it is. What I keep coming back to though is that it often suggests code that doesn't even compile, or recommends method calls that don't even exist. I suppose that's a variation on the "hallucinations" problem in other AI use cases. It confidently makes stuff up. My admitted confirmation bias is that the lack of ability to reason and exercise wisdom creates hurdles for AI to be what people want it to be.

I'm not down on the technology though. I think a lot of the problem in this context is that AI is treated like a panacea for which chat bots are the solution. The fix is to make them more contextual, which is to say integrate them with compilers and feed them specifics about related libraries and frameworks. There also has to be a better feedback loop with the humans who understand what is "best" in terms of technique. I think we're a long way off from making machines demonstrate wisdom and creativity, and the garbage in, garbage out phenomenon applies. Human and documented context can help. Self-training as a machine seems unrealistic, for now.

If I think about what tools over the years have helped with productivity the most, it starts with the refactoring tools. I remember the first time I used Resharper with Visual Studio. It was like playing chords on a piano, only it was keyboard combinations, to improve stuff in a hurry. Automated build mechanisms, testing frameworks and a hundred different open source libraries all made coding faster, and better. I'm not sure if AI, as we know it now, can be an abstraction over coding, but combining it with advancements in languages may help get it closer to that. For now, it's a leaky abstraction, because you need to understand how it works and how to game it to make it even a little effective.

I've seen a couple of folks suggest to me that life looks great for me, from where they're sitting. This is just a reminder that everything you see online is a fraction of what life is actually like. It's not that I'm trying to misrepresent myself, because I'm totally out of shits to give about what anyone thinks, but I certainly filter what I'm willing to share. The truth is that this year has been one shit show after another for us. The good parts that you see are the relief bits.

Everyone is dealing with something. Try to keep that in mind and don't be a dick.

Part of my Monday ritual is going out for lunch, usually to Chipotle. It helps me kind of ease-in to the work week, have a moment for myself, while I read up on tech news. There's a new location amidst Disney's college program apartments, slightly closer to me and without many traffic lights. Today, when I pulled in, a young woman was coming out with her burrito, and got into her car next to me. I couldn't help but notice that the little Toyota Corolla, possibly the same year as the one I had last, was filled with what I assume was all of her worldly possessions. Her license plate was from California. Given the location, it's probably reasonable to concur that she was here to work for the rat and move into one of these spots.

The whole scene made me kind of excited for this total stranger that I'll never see again. I could see it in her body language, that she was out of her element, but at the same time, she was in a completely new place where it felt like anything was possible. Just describing it, and relating it to my own life, feels exciting.

My relationship with new adventures and possibilities is complicated. Pivotal times in my life fit into this bucket, and despite any uncertainty or discomfort, they were exciting. Starting college was likely the biggest of these times, but starting my first few jobs were also like that. Certainly moving to Seattle, with a baby on the way and new wife, is the biggest of new adventures. Moving to Orlando was a close second.

But I also got into ruts that were hard to break out of, which I now better understand to be a symptom of autism. I know from my own post-mortem of my first marriage that I was stubbornly set on staying put in the area, when getting out of Ohio was probably what I needed more than anything. I sat in several jobs that were clearly dead-ends and not interesting in those days, too. There were a lot of routines I had that felt safe and comfortable in, and I think that closed me off to what could have been.

Midlife has brought me to a place where I crave new adventures and possibilities, but I'm crippled by realities and risks that may or may not be real. Most of this revolves around the need to have enough financial security to get my kid into adulthood and set up our third act. People refer to that as retirement, but as I wrote a few weeks ago, what I'm really looking at is the ability to work only on things that bring meaning and purpose. A friend of mine calls it the "fuck off" career stage. All of the chaos and uncertainty in the world makes that future look even murkier.

So when I saw that young woman from California, I felt connected to her situation. I realize that so many of my dreams, the school dreams especially, must indicate a desire to have those opportunities again. Or maybe I want do-overs, able to approach them with knowledge and wisdom I didn't have before. Maybe I want that kind of sustained high associated with those transitions. I know a lot of people talk about the feelings of starting a new school year, or kissing someone for the first time, and while those are powerful and intense feelings, transitioning into a big change of scenery is something else.

I don't know what this sort of thing might look like, and regardless, I don't feel like the time is right. I mourn those opportunities. I mourn that I can't think of them, and that I think I can't exercise them. Meanwhile, I look at things like a couple buying a drive-in movie theater and think, why can't that be me? I don't know. Fear and anxiety turn off opportunity.

The optimist in me believes that what I'm really doing is being patient. Being able to shake things up feels inevitable, and it's just a matter of time. Not a lot of time.

On July 4, our energy gateway, which is basically a switch to manage solar, battery and grid electricity, stopped measuring the various inputs and outputs. What this means is that, in the event of a grid outage, we couldn't use the battery and solar. As a reminder, the reason this is necessary is so as not to back-feed power into the grid when line workers are potentially working on it. This is the second time it died, and possibly from lightning. Stuff happens. At least the solar was still being used, as I could see the utility meter spinning backwards, meaning our excess generation was going back to the grid.

But again, Tesla Energy is slow as hell. It's all under warranty, but getting them to actually dig into the problem and then schedule someone to come out and look at it took a total of six weeks. As with our previous experience, the techs who come out to do the actual work are fantastic. It's the dumb bureaucracy of the company that makes everything take forever. The last time was much worse, with call after call, being stuck off-grid, etc. Where I got lucky this time was that the tech happened to have the right part on his truck (the sensor module). He also proactively noticed that one of my inverters was not sending telemetry back to home base, which is used to measure the output guarantee of the solar. He didn't have any parts for that, but indicated that they'll work that problem separately.

The strange thing about wanting the backup is that we've used it exactly once, for a few hours, when Hurricane Milton came through last October. Most of the nearby infrastructure is underground, so it tends to stay up pretty consistently. Beyond that, it has kicked on during some minor brown-outs for a few minutes, but that was it. I guess it's like any property kind of insurance. You almost never need it, until you do.

I guess I could say that Tesla was better this time, but I wouldn't classify them as good. The only reason we used them for the solar was because the battery was going to be "free" from auto referrals a decade ago in our Model S days. I use the quotes because we still had to pay for the installation and extra hardware. I thought, cool, it'll all be one system, and it will share the app that the cars use. There are a ton of other vendors now and most of them use local installers who also provide support and maintenance.

My inner data nerd is also without six weeks of usage and generation data, which isn't great.

Last night, we were hanging out in our spare room with a couple of foster kittens that we're watching. Poor things got returned to the shelter after the adopting family found that their child was crazy allergic to them. These little guys just want to cuddle when they get sleepy, and they're the sweetest things.

Imagine being a person that isn't capable of having that sort of moment with kittens, or puppies, or human babies. Those are the people running our government now.

Imagine being a person that wakes up every morning, not with optimism or a desire to improve the lives of others, but to show contempt for people they don't know or understand, intent on punishing others for not fitting in their box. Those are the people running our government now.

Imagine being a person that has had exceptional opportunity in life, but feels so entitled that they must ensure the people without opportunity remain oppressed. Those are the people running our government now.

Imagine being a person that believes facts are points of view, where science, data and evidence will not sway them from the things that they want to believe. Those are the people running our government now.

Imagine being a person that thinks that some people are more American than others, not based on any legal definition, but on the basis of skin color, ethnicity, sexuality or political affiliation. Those are the people running our government now.

In normal times, I would probably feel bad for people who are like this. I'd like to think that I'm an empathetic person. But when people like this are actively hurting others, and doing harm to our reputation, basic decorum and democratic norms, it's nearly impossible to exercise that empathy.

Seeing as how I'm a completionist at certain trivial things, it made me squirm that we haven't yet been on the Disney Treasure, which launched in December. The ship took over the Fantasy's Caribbean itineraries, usually a week long, so that's part of the reason for the delay. The last 7-night we did was just before the holidays in 2022 (not counting some one-off Fantasy voyages to the new island). But we figured a week in August, just before school started, made sense. Whether it was east or west (we did east) didn't matter, as none of the ports on either one are super interesting. I wish they had San Juan on the east route, since it's in the neighborhood.

The Treasure is the second of four Triton-class ships (I guess they're now referred to as Wish-class, but whatever), so its layout and overall structure is nearly identical. What's different is the themes and layouts in the venues, and the decor almost everywhere. While the Wish took on more of a classic fairy tale theme, this one leans into more modern Disney IP and theme park stuff. It starts with the grand hall atrium, which is themed to a Middle Eastern style that, as you'd expect, uses Aladdin and Jasmine as the brass statue. It is overwhelmingly better in my eye, because the amount of detail is so deep. The columns have all of these hand-crafted tile murals, and you'll find the onion-shaped arches in everything. The chandelier is particularly impressive.

After getting our dinner time adjusted, and a hot stone massage for me, we tried to at least see all of the venues and their differences. The first big change, and my favorite, is that the central venue used for a variety of things, called Luna on Wish, is Sarabi. It has a lot of warm, earthy tones and African inspired styles, but otherwise is similar with a video wall behind the stage and a very similar lighting rig. Before the week was done, we would see musicians, a magician, a really great comedy show inspired by Indiana Jones stories, and I managed to get on stage, quite by accident, playing some Star Wars trivia. The guy who won was a bigger nerd than me.

On deck 4 around Sarabi, you'll find the same two movie theaters, with only slightly more comfortable seats than the Wish. On deck 5, there's the multipurpose Triton Lounge, also the same and mostly used for trivia, drawing classes and such. In place of the Keg & Compass sports bar, you get the Periscope Pub sports bar, which is vaguely a 20,000 Leagues theme, I think. It has a ceiling where you can see sea critters swimming over you. This is also where they have all of the beers, but the excellent staff there were more than adept at making great cocktails.

The piano bar on deck 3 on this one is called the Scat Cat Lounge, and it has a better layout than its Wish equivalent, with the bar backing to the atrium windows and offering an atrium bar, which the Wish doesn't have. Next door, in place of the Hyperspace Lounge is the Haunted Mansion, and it's awesome. There are some robust videos online that show the making of it (also check it out for the Coco dinner show and Moana theatrical show), so I won't go deep into it here. Being a fan of the ride on either coast helps, but regardless, the effects around the room, along with the sound design and lighting, are a huge achievement. Simon was particularly enamored with everything in the room, so he had quite a few of the bottled mocktails available there. One of our Dominican bartender friends that we've met on two previous cruises was also there, so it was great to catch up.

The common area venue there, which is odd on these ships because it's flanked by the high end retail shops that are closed in port, is a Jungle Cruise inspired bar and performance area called Skipper Society. Again, if you're a fan of the ride, you'll find all kinds of stuff there to make you smile. There is nightly music here, sometimes trivia and other activities, so it's more like the D-Lounge on the previous ships than it is a bar. The furniture is particularly cozy in this one. It's the one place that get extra busy in spurts, because it's not adult exclusive at any time of day. It has no doors.

The coffee shops on 4 and 5 are essentially the same as the Wish, though these are called Hei Hei (the rooster from Moana) and Jade Cricket, a Mulan reference. The themes match as you would expect. Hooks Barbery, the place to get a haircut and shave while sipping an old fashioned (smoked!) is on 4, and along with the salon and Bibbidy Bobbidy Boutique, are about the same. The main dining in 1923 and Worlds of Marvel are also the same as on the Wish. I didn't go to the kids club open houses, but Simon reports that Vibe, the teen club, is essentially the same. I saw that the Hero Zone, the indoor gymnasium, if you will, is about the same as well, and features the Incredicourse certain days.

Also the same, in a negative way, are the adult arrangements and promenade. They still stash the Cove area for adults, with an infinity pool, bar and coffee bar, way aft on deck 13. It feels totally disconnected from everything, and we spent like 15 minutes sitting in the water there. I still wish they grouped the adult bars together as they do on the other ships, because if one is crowded, you can just roll to another one. They're never all crowded. I will say that, to their credit, the bars are more family friendly during the day, which is why Simon spent so much time in Haunted Mansion. My other gripe is the lack of a continuous loop promenade deck, which is particularly valuable on these longer itineraries. Being able to walk that loop a few miles is great when eating is kind of a sport most of the time.

We did a mixology and martini tasting again this cruise, both of them in The Rose, the bar that precedes the upcharge fancy restaurants, Palo and Enchante. It's intimate because they can only park about 10 people at the bar, otherwise people doing Palo brunch would be walking in between people and the bartenders. An amazing bartender, Natalija from Croatia, walked us through some stuff that I haven't seen before, and we have new things to try at home at some point.

Our second night of dinner was in Plaza de Coco, which of course references the movie. This is the Arendelle venue on the Wish, but it's dinner and live music while you eat. The menu is, I'm told, authentic Mexican food (I'm not an expert), and I love that they serve fresh, warm tortilla chips instead of bread. The musicians are excellent and I really enjoyed the performance. After a series of excellent tables for the Frozen show, unfortunately we were literally as far as possible from the stage this time. Not ideal, but not deal breaking.

On Monday, we did brunch in Palo, had our usual dishes, and needed a nap afterward. I really like the experience, because it is what most would consider "fine dining," especially in terms of impossibly good service, but it's food that picky people like me will still eat. Our waiter was Ukrainian, and we had a brief chat about his family, which has entirely relocated to Italy, where they are safe. It's upsetting to hear those stories, in part because I guess there isn't much I can do. I can't imagine having to relocate my entire family, leaving everything behind, to escape war. If there's one consistent thing about cruising, it's the opportunity to view the world through the eyes of people from other parts of the world.

We generally don't go to very many of the theatrical shows anymore, because we've seen most of them a bunch of times. In fact, Beauty and the Beast plays here as well as the Dream and Fantasy. While the Beast transformation is excellent, we have seen it. And the old jukebox shows are meh, though they seem to be phasing those out. The signature show here, however, is Moana, and it is really extraordinary. I say that as somewhat of a theater snob. The current cast is shockingly good, because I expect some kind of ceiling for a cruise ship (where Actors Equity and IATSE don't exist). The principal players are also mostly Pacific Islanders, though oddly not the guy playing Maui, as best I can tell. The transformation of the giant puppet of Te Ka to Te Fiti is really great. It reminded me a little of seeing King Kong on Broadway (total spectacle, but forgettable plot and music), just on a smaller scale. I'm not normally easily impressed by theater tech, but this was amazing. The lighting was also the tightest and most interesting I've seen on a ship, and it served the story. A lot of love went into the stagecraft.

I won't bother you with a lot of other details, because it's pretty boring if you're not me. These cruises to the Bahamas and Caribbean are not what I categorize as "adventure" vacation, where you visit a bunch of new places and see amazing things and culture and art and whatever. If you're cruising around Europe, or anywhere else really, sure, that's adventure. But this sort of thing for me is a chance to completely turn my brain off and not have to be accountable for anything at all. Someone cleans the room twice a day, I can get good food and beverage at any time (which is all included, except alcohol and specialty coffee), there is literally some activity to do at all times if you want, and if I want to nap with my stateroom door open while the waves crash against the hull, I can do that. Everything is freakishly clean, and the way they schedule everything, people are generally spread out so instances of crowding are rare. And as I've said before, with families retiring after dinner or the second theater show, hanging out in a quiet bar and meeting people is easy, casual and not crowded.

Disney cruises are not getting any cheaper, but I will say that the quality has continuously improved. It was never low, but I think it's getting better. That's surprising partly because I have to imagine that staffing these ships has to be challenging, given the long hours day after day. They finally got wise to the fact that tattoos, beards and authentic hair are not actually threatening, so they no longer limit themselves the way they used to. It takes a certain personality to do that work, and the people taking it on are really, really good at it. Think about the friendliest people you've encountered at a Disney theme park, and level them up and put them in every role. That's what you'll experience. And yes, gratuities are not part of the base cruise fare, but I have no hesitation giving the recommended amounts. We've even singled out bar staff to tip.

Unfortunately, I woke up with a sore throat on Thursday, which did not fade. Friday it turned into a sinus thing that was even more uncomfortable, so by the time I left on Saturday morning, I was pretty miserable. Not an optimal way to end things.

I'm not sure when we'll be on this ship next, because again, we don't do 7-night itineraries often. We will do the next ship, the Destiny, next year. It will be deeply Marvel influenced, and they haven't yet revealed everything about it yet. The only thing I know for sure is that the atrium will be African/"Wakanda" themed with Black Panther as the statue, and it too will have Haunted Mansion.

We received a good surprise in the mail today. It was a check from Progressive for $500, the recovered deductible for the car that was totaled in the Epcot parking lot nearly a year and a half ago.

I wrote about the accident when we got the estimate, but the short version of the story is that Diana was leaving a mostly empty parking lot when a Disney maintenance truck driver clipped the back right corner of the car. There's no universe where anyone other than that driver was at fault, and if you watch the video below, it's very WTF. I'm glad it wasn't more serious and that Diana wasn't hurt. The estimate was $17k, which was high enough to consider it a total loss. The car was almost six years old and paid off.

Progressive was great, and got us paid very quickly, allowing for a solid down payment on the next car, but I'm still bitter because I'm sure that car could have lasted many, many more years. Guess what, a six-year-old EV runs pretty much like a new one. Even the brakes were essentially new. The battery range was down a little, but not in an even remotely meaningful way. We could still not have a payment. Also, the loan for the replacement, while not large, is a shitty 6.4% because of the rise in rates at the time. Some quotes were 8% or more!

But to add insult to injury, Disney cut a check and sent it directly for a few bucks to cover the extra day of rental that we needed beyond what insurance paid for. Worse, cashing it meant agreeing to a non-disclosure agreement about the accident and release them from any further claims (even though the video was already on the Internet). If you know me, it's likely expected that there was no way I'd go for that. I recently started to consider filing a small claims case to get the rest of the deductible, plus statutorily permitted interest and court fees.

Progressive's web site said that they had given up trying to get the deductible a few months ago. But then today, a check appeared in the mail for the $500. No need to sue.

That's the end of the story.

It's that time of year for my annual physical, and the labs are in. Shocker, triglycerides are high, though down from last year, at 290. Normal is under 150, and 150 to 200 is considered borderline. Every other metric is right down the middle "green." Things I need to pay attention to, like kidney and pancreatic health, prostate, possible cancer markers, etc., are all perfect.

That's totally frustrating. I've been in this mode for years. Medications either have no effect or they cause side effects. I'm fairly certain that it's tied to genetics and my weight. The latter is rough, because even in the best shape that I've been in, with more than average exercise, I've only been 15 pounds lighter than I am now. With good routines in terms of food and walking 2 to 4 miles a day, I can get about 8 below where I am. I don't know if I'm a candidate for a GLP-1 variant, but I'm willing to try it if I am.

This does mean somewhat higher risk for cardiovascular "events," but a number of studies show that the risk kind of plateaus over 150. With everything else, including cholesterol, in the right place, I'm generally OK. As much as I don't like checking boxes, it would still be nice to get this one.

The observations made in response to my QA posts were interesting. Unsurprisingly, there is a lot of lived experience out there. What is surprising is that a lot of people commit to strong opinions about what the "right" process is for software development.

This is an area that I find myself conflicted, as I have my opinions as well. But what I have learned is that the right thing depends completely on the context. I'm sure this may bother folks who are very Type-A, consultants, or otherwise box checkers. I find that those camps tend to be inflexible, and care more about their prescription than they do the outcomes.

I know this is obvious, but there are an awful lot of variables to consider. Company size, budget, individual experiences and capabilities, culture, industry, legacies of all kinds... no two situations are the same. When I say that I learned this, I mean that I learned it the hard way by being prescriptive about process, without regard to context, and got it very, very wrong.

There are a lot of themes that are universally right, but I've never really enumerated them. Themes are less specific, and allow room for context. For example, smaller, self-organizing teams might be a theme. Fewer, tightly-scoped meetings are a theme.

But the biggest thing that I come back to, when it comes to process, is to treat it like a feature itself. That means define the problem and (mostly) agree on that definition. Write down the acceptance criteria, so you can tell whether or not the process is solving the problem or arriving at the desired outcome. And above all, let it change and evolve as you discover new things about it.

That last part is the thing that I rarely see. It's the box checking problem, with disregard for the context. We've come to accept all kinds of ceremony and convention in our line of work that doesn't actually serve the desired outcome, which is shipping great software. "Planning poker," I'm looking at you.

Everyone wants to write a book about the correct way to do stuff. It might be abstract, but correctness is contextual. Being a good manager doesn't mean following a step-by-step manual, it means getting the context, and ruthlessly adapting (or rejecting) the process to meet the situation.