I have two webservers, on separate machines, on separate networks. They are identical. I want them to respond, in round-robin fashion, to the same domain name — host.domain.com. How do I set this up in DNS? Turns out it’s actually very easy:

host.domain.com  IN  A  192.168.1.1
host.domain.com  IN  A  10.1.10.1

The DNS server (BIND, in my case) will serve up the “next” IP address for host.domain.com every time it’s queried.

Takes 10 seconds to configure.

Brian Bauld graciously provided the following photo of the big Catherine Hennessey shindig on Saturday. You can shop Brian’s B-Line Books store as a measure of saying thanks.

Clockwise from the top-left, the photos are as follows:

• Brian’s wife Valerie (far-left), Susan Mackenzie talking with Paul and Jane Michael and Kim Devine.
• Valerie, Catherine Hennessey (in the hat), Karen Mair showing off her fantastic deal of a purse from the 70-mile Coastal Yard Sale, me.
• Catherine’s sister Betty, Catherine holding her shoes, purchased in Florence.
• Ivan Dowling singing up a storm (two onlookers unidentified).
• Ivan moves from singing to dancing while Catherine’s brother-in-law Claude (white golf shirt), several Orfords, and several anonymous guests look on.
• The Cake. Courtesy of the chefs at the Delta Hotel. Notice the flowing fruit river.
• An anonymous arm talking to Don Stewart, me, Gary Carroll (looking every inch like Cary Grant), Valerie, Susan Mackenzie, Jane Michael.

I have no problem whatsoever with the Governor General taking an entourage through Russia and environs and spending $1 million of our money to do so. However I do take exception to her comment, quoted in the Globe and Mail:

“I think the visit is important to the people who are coming… to show Canada as it really is,” Ms. Clarkson said.

I have no idea what Canada as it really is actually is, if fact I’m not sure such a concept could be done justice to. However I’m fairly confident that the Governor General’s entourage of intelligensia is not Canada as it really is, at least not in any way approaching a broad, honest reflection.

Let me note, for the record, that KCRW is an excellent radio station. I’ve been listening to their web stream almost constantly for the past week.

Our friends at Aliant [warning: crazy and confusing website] describe the Motorola V60c, in part, like this:

The 60c opens to show a large keypad, electro luminescent display and superior ear-to-mouth ratio.

Emphasis is mine.

Setting aside the question “what exactly does that mean?”, it occurs to me that the same description might be used to describe the qualities of a good lover.

Which is only appropriate, I suppose, as phones are sold more like sex than technology these days.

I was downloading an evaluation product from Real Networks this afternoon, and noticed, with some delight, the following section on the form I was required to fill out:

This may be the first honest evaluation form I’ve come across.

Every time I see the headline for this story, it reads “Phony teens hit Montague area.” I can’t get the image of a rowdy group of wannabe teenagers descending on Montague for some caper or another out of my mind.

There’s not much I can add to the explanation and discussion of the Trackback system. Other than this: I’ve always thought of Trackback as the calculus of the weblog work — a set of concepts so completely foreign to me as to exist beyond the realm of understanding. And thus best ignored.

Today, though, something snapped, and I suddenly understood Trackback perfectly, probably because I had an opportunity to use it.

If you have behaved like me, and run scared from Trackback in the past, I suggest you revisit it. I’m going to implement it fully, both coming and going, on the homebrew blogging platform I call home.

Like Justin, I’ve used Quicken for Home and Business to do the accounts for Reinvented for the past 5 or 6 years. It’s basically regular old Quicken with some businessy things like Accounts Receivable and Invoices added on for not-too-complex businesses like mine.

None of my accountants like Quicken, mostly, it seems, because it’s not a classical double entry bookkeeping system. Accountants like double entry bookkeeping systems because in Accountant World the Holy Grail is “adding up.” Everything must add up — accounts must balance — reconciliation is key. Apparently double entry bookkeeping is a system designed to prevent things from being able to not add up, which I suppose was a good idea when accounting computers were powered by steam. But I’ve never understood quite why the metaphor had to be carried into the digital accounting world where presumably, at least on some level, the “double” part of “double entry” is a conceit that could be done away with through clever programming.

To date I’ve staved off a switch from Quicken to something more traditional (like QuickBooks, or Simply Accounting) despite accountant protests.

Which is all to say that Justin’s musings about his own finances, especially his contracting with a consultant who will take Quicken files and advise clients on their setup, is fascinating, and perhaps the first financial writing I’ve ever encountered that bears any relation whatsoever to my own life.

Pick up any of the “personal finance” magazines these days, or read the weekend business section of the newspaper, and the unceasing mantra is completely retirement-centric — it’s all about RRSPs, RESPs, mutual funds, tax deductions, the stock market. None of this has anything to do with the price of celery, and although I can understand the need to set up nest eggs, the obsession with money in the future has always seemed absurd, especially when the obsession with money in the future becomes so pervasive as to interfere with the enjoyment of the present.

This means (a) that I will die penniless and (b) that Oliver will have to pay for his own college. I hope it also means that (c) we’ll have more fun, less stressfully, along the road to death. All of us.

My favourite part of Justin’s missive is his concluding paragraph:

Once I’ve got a month of better Quicken use under my belt, and I’ve combed over 2003’s transactions, I’ll consult with a CPA. My short term goal is to begin paying quarterly income taxes! And from there I want to reduce my five-figure credit card debt. So much of Quicken is designed to urge you to invest and track your investments. For now, my investment is me, and I need some investment tracking.

The 200 block of Sydney Street was uncommonly alive this evening, with a well-attended 70th birthday gala for Catherine Hennessey on one side of the street, and a wild indoor/outdoor gathering on the other.

Catherine (the consort, not the Hennessey) and Oliver have been recovering from a flu-like illness, so I was flung off by myself into the night. Arriving what I thought would be fashionably early at 6:45 p.m., I found the Hennessey gathering in full swing. I also found that I was the youngest person in the room, by about 40 years. Well, maybe 30. Okay, 20. Let’s just say, I didn’t feel that I was hanging out with my peer group, whoever they are.

Regardless of the demographics, it was a hip-happening party, and I emerged, none the worse for wear, 5 hours later. Which is an unusually early close-up for a Catherine Hennessey party, but then again, we’re all getting older.

Oddly, give the demographics, I saw many familiar faces: the Dowlings, Thompsons, and Boylans were there, interesting all (Ivan Dowling sang a lovely rendition of a song that everyone but I recognized, to much applause). Karen Mair was there, without husband Jack. Don Stewart and Kim Device, Beryl and Chris Cudmore, along with Chris’ mother Beth. George Kapelos from Toronto, who I haven’t seen since the big Canadian Living lobster shoot. I think Elizabeth Baird was there too, although I’m not sure. The Hamblys. David and Susan Mackenzie. Ritchie Simpson and Kendra. Gary Carroll and his friends Brian and Valerie from Amherst. Paul and Jane Michael. Many Orfords. All of Catherine’s sisters, of course, including honourary sister Claude. Karen Lipps and Ole Hammerlund. Wade MacLauchlan. John Tupper. Duncan McIntosh. Shauna McCabe. And untold others I didn’t meet, or whose names I can’t remember or spell.

A giant birthday cake was presented (somehow sister Betty and brother-in-law Claude got covered in chocolate icing as part of this proceeding). Innumerable interpretations of Happy Birthday were sung (along with a delightful presentation of hits of yesteryear on the electric piano by an excellent player, punctuated by a capable yet dreadful rendition of Feelings, complete with a switch over to “vibraphone mode” on the piano, which forced me to leave the room).

About halfway through the evening I was sitting in the living room, and caught a reflection in the front window of what appeared to be several naked people dressed only in feathers, glowsticks and Christmas tree garland, all standing holding drinks in Catherine’s kitchen. Have the demographics taken a wild turns towards excitement, I asked myself.

As it turns out, this was not, in fact, a reflection, but an actual event, happening outside and across the street: some sort of wild gathering of young people spilling out on the sidewalk. Catherine was alerted and, with the happy coincidence that Oliver’s present to her was none other than a glow stick, opened the door and rallied the partiers to her cause. Alas they stayed on their side of the street, and we on ours.

It was a good night.

Happy Birthday, Catherine.