2.0i

Well! Finally finished, an’ wha’ a lang strange journey it hae been! Eh!. I’m glad I did it. I wanted to learn wha’ a’ the fuss was a’ aboot. I can see some usefu’ness in communicating wi’ a’ owr customers aboot programs, new items in the collection an’ a’ tha’. It would have been mair pleasant had some of the thingys worked as expected. I had the most frustrations with the RSS feedies an’ the MOLDIes. I guess ye cauld say I wa’ 2.P0ed! Which brings tae mind my dear auld Granda. I’ve mentioned him before an’ his fondness for a drap o’ the stuff. He could be found most of an e’enin at the local pub. In he would come wi, “Hey Jimmy! A pint o’yer best bitters!”. A’ the pubmen in Glasgow are called “Jimmy”. Then he’d set wi’ his cronnies crackin’ tales or playing darts. “Oh! My glass is dry!” and up frae anither. But when he cames back the games o’er or the stories finished an’ Granda’s missed the ending. Weel! Grandas’ nae fool. “I’ve twa muckle hauns an’ a right steady gait. I can bring twa glasses and ne’r spill a drap!”, says he. Besides, think how economical it will be not wasting a’ tha’ time walking back an forth. So its’ “Hey Jimmy. Twa glasses if ye please.” “Twa?” says Jimmy. “Oh aye” replies Granda. An’ so it went a’ nicht, ‘til it got tae be a regular thing. The next e’enin in cam’s Granda and Jimmy speaks Up. “ Twa pints?” “Oh, aye!”, says Granda. An sae t’was e’er after. “Twa pints?” ”Oh, aye” – “Twa pints?” ”Oh, aye” --“Twa pints?” ”Oh, aye”
D’ye ken?

Moldi oldies!

I tried the MOLDI connection and searched through their collections. Found several copies of my favorites RLS titles and a few videos (non fiction) that looked interesting. Was successful in checking them out, but when it came time to listen or view them.........nothing! It seems that most of them don't work on our Library computers! Heidi was very helpful with this predicament and suggested trying an MP3 version or just opening them at home. I

have yet to revisit them, but will give it a try.

All this reminds me of hearing the tales of great great uncle Archibald. He was known throughout the land as a devout miser. He wouldna’ spend a penny he didna’ need tae. He was the one who stood alain in the breach on Culloden moor as the Hielanders fell on either side. S‘truth they fell, but t’was from the reek. The man never bathed. Talk about moldy! Hoots Toots! When asked why he never used sic’a thing as soap, Archey answered, “I’d hae tae purchase it! An’ wha’ guds soap wi’out water and a basin tae put it in an’ a gud brush tae scrub wi’? Eh! There’s nae end tae the spendin’ when aince ye trot down that path.” By his own logic he saved all tha’ sil’er by gaing wi’out. It saved his life at Culloden for naebody would cam’ close eno’ tae strike’im. Archibald earned his livin’ as a piper, which was a wee bit risky after th’ ’45. The British so’diers were decorating a’ the trees w’pipers, but aince agin, Archies personal hygiene saved his neck. Nae’body wanted him hangin’ aboot th’ place. He was also vera’ near sighted, but as ye can guess, refused tae purchase ony specktaecles. It proved tae be his doun’ fa’. One day a wee lass gied him a wink and asked him tae cam’wi’her tae’ pipe in her village. She hinted there might be a bit o’ usquabae for him as well. Arch could ner’ resist the lassies an' was owr-fond o’ a bit o’ usquabae - sae af’ they gaes. Up spakes the lass, “Oh’ here’s the tricky bit! Let me tak’ yer pipes an’ lead ye’ across th’ burn.“ Oh, but she wa’ paukie! Her wee messin drapped a banna peel under Archies foot an’he slip’et in the burn an’ drowned! The lassie sold the pipes fra’ a gud’ bit o’sil'er, bagpipes being quite scarce a’tha’ time. Ah, weel! At least Archie finally got his bath!

Casting the first pod.......

I decided to explore all the pod-directories, but only had much success with podfeed.net. I was looking for bagpipe related poddies, no surprises there! Had quite a bit of trouble locating the RSS feeds (which brought back a lot of bad memories from and earlier thingy) . The only one which actually worked was a musical pod (Celtic music of course) which I have been able to listen to much to my coworkers delight. I can see how these pods might be useful to inform patrons on library services, but my mind always slips towards the arcane. All this talk of pods reminds me of that great auld motion picture” Invasion of the Body Snatchers”!! Wha’ a great flick! I especially liked the ending where our hero hears of all things “Amazing Grace” being played on the bagpipes! It’s nice to see someone happy tae hear bagpipes. “We’re saved” says he, “It must be the Black Watch cam’ tae rescue us frae a’ these vegetarians “ . Well………..no, not exactly. It’s just a fresh batch of pods, an’ ain’ has yer’ name on it! Sweet dreams

EtTube, Brute'????

I found the YouTube experience to be quite entertaining. I have used it in the past to find examples of tunes being played on the bagpipes. This time I was searching for information on haggis hunting techniques. There were quite a few clips of people running through the heather chasing the pur’ buggers aboot. This method exhibits vera pur’ technique, to say the least! Nae a haggis were ever captured. It’s stealth and cunning that does the trick! There was a wonnerfu’ an’ exceptionally rare shot of an actual haggis snagging! Tak' a squint at this! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lP7dKQQRTFs Wha’ a fine specimen it is tho'. Look at the color of it’s coat. Tis' Grand!
I was also vera’ surprised tae see a wee viddee of ma third cousin on my sister’s aunties side in the Yahoo viddies. His name is Brutus Wilkes Booth MacLeod. His Da was a Shakespearian actor in Glasgow. Brutus is quite the practical joker, on’y just a wee bit short on common sense an' a far sight mair on gud taste. He vidy’oed hi’sel’ climbing a ladder while wearing his kilt, an gied ever'ain an eyefu'. Maggie Cameron was the last person he tricked into holding the ladder. She was so upsetted she yanked the ladder awa' an' left Brutus dangling in the tree tops. He drapped doon expecting his kilt tae act lik' a parachute, which it didnae', an' he braked both his pegs. When the doctor removed the camera from where Miss Cameron had stowed it, all the parts of her in the viddey were gone. Ah weel! at least we hae some pictures of Brutus when he caud still smile! http://video.search.yahoo.com/video/play?p=kilt+ladder&ei=UTF-8&fr=yfp-t-809&tnr=21&vid=000170978671

Tool Time!

I puttered around the old PowerTool box and signed up for a G(golly)email account. Mair things to check. I thought this was makin’ my life easier! I like power tools, hand tools too. Do a bit o’wood working when I can spare the time fra’ a’this typing and Twittering an’ sich. I especialy like to make Stickley styled furniture. I bought up a load of unused oak library book shelves at one time and have made several nice pieces of furniture. The last was a Morris chair based on a Gustave Stickley design. I have even dreamed aboot making bagpipes. I was doing some research on this an’ talkin’ wi’ some pipemakers and they let me in on a wee secret. Bagpipes are not made! They are GROWN!!! “Hoot toots, "says I," tha, canna’ be!” “Oh, aye”, says them an’ tae prove it they gi'ed me a wee bagpipe seed (for a mickel sma’ investment, but I think t’was worth it). “Tak’ this home an’ bury it in the grou’n on a moonless nicht and water it every other day fra’ a month” says they “and soon ye will have’ yer ain bagpipe tree!!! “ Here is a photo of the wee seedy (actual size an' a bit bigger for detail). The moon’s fu’ now sae I’ll have tae wait a bit. Man, man am I exciteded.

Oh! An' Another Thing....

I was experimenting with some of the genealogy tools. Scots are great ones for their genealogy. There is a great scene in “Kidnapped” where Davie Balfour meets Robin Oig-son of Rob Roy MacGregor . David mentions that he does not know much about his family and Robin utters something touching aboot his being "only some kinless loon that didn't know his own father." Robin is quite the one for words, eh! Anyway, I tried “My Heritage”, “Geni”, and “Amiglia”. One I couldn’t get into, but “I’ve got a grand memory for forgettin’ ” sae I canna tell ye which it’twas. The genealogy tools seemed nice but not much help with any of my searches. I can see how they would be great if customers coming in to do research used them and we could look at what they have together. We have worked with some of the other tools in the short list already so I feel that I’ve done my bit here.
All this talkin’ aboot genealogy reminds me of my Gran’da’s cousin Seamus (twice removed on his sisters’ mother’s side). One night he awoke tae an a’fu keening. He was sure it wa’ a frisky haggis crooning for a cuddle. So he tak’ his new Kodak Instamatic camera and went oot tae photograph the wee rascal. It was pit mirk an’ a moonless nicht so he aimed the Kodak at the ruckus an’ clicked the shutter. There was a general scuffle as the creature departed. When the camera spit out the photo, Seamuss realized that he had surprised a Wyckie with a sma’ set o’bagpipes. The photo is a bit fuzzy, like a’ the other famous pictures of Big Foot and Scotland’s own Nessie! So it must be the genuine article. An’ noo' it’s on the internet so it must be true!

Somebody call a Google Doc(tor)!

While working with Google Docs my computer suddenly went on a spree! Absolutetively no response. I'm not sure if I lost anything except my peace of mind. I need a bit of culture to cheer me up, so lets visit with A. E. Houseman again!!!

Is My Team Plowing

Is my team plowing,
That I was used to drive
And hear the harness jingle
When I was man alive?"
Ay, the horses trample,
The harness jingles now;
No change though you lie under
The land you used to plow.
"Is football playing
Along the river shore,
With lads to chase the leather,
Now I stand up no more?"
Ay, the ball is flying,
The lads play heart and soul;
The goal stands up, the keeper
Stands up to keep the goal.
"Is my girl happy,
That I thought hard to leave,
And has she tired of weeping
As she lies down at eve?"
Ay, she lies down lightly,
She lies not down to weep:
Your girl is well contented.
Be still, my lad, and sleep.
"Is my friend hearty,
Now I am thin and pine,
And has he found to sleep in
A better bed than mine?"
Yes, lad, I lie easy,
I lie as lads would choose;
I cheer a dead man's sweetheart,
Never ask me whose.

Ahhhh!! Thats better. Nothing like a cheery poem.