Dreamt of grammars and swordmaking

Yesterday my grandfather passed away. My brain is a little weird right
now; we haven’t been close in twenty years but he played a big part in my
childhood. I’m looking into possibilities for flying back for the funeral
and to help out family. In the meantime, routine has been a comfort.

I finished felling the inseam of P’s pajama pants and started the
waistband. Civil is somewhat vindicated both by Ekaterin showing
appropriate fury and Cordelia directing Miles’s attention away from winning
and toward just being a decent fucking human being. At work I tried a bunch
of ways to get my shoddy backup of the ldap server reinstated, but
eventually had to fall back on just restoring the configuration, and
figuring out how to put the user data back later. P had lunch with K at
Google to gather some ground truth on what working there might be like.
That put him and the car on campus, which was good for a hug, and for
hitting the store again on the way home for blueberries, half and half, and
smiley tots because those are the only kind that aren’t seasoned with onion
powder. Jerks. Home, dinner (P put some of his pad grapow on a pizza shell
with tomato sauce and it was apparently a hit), crossword, Flash.