(A brump, in case you wonder, is a brain dump, a virtual vomiting of many disconnected thoughts and impressions all in one go. You probably won't have heard the word, since I just made it up. Although that's not 100% reliable, since I've made up a number of words over the years — I'm an incurable neologist — that other people have sworn blind they already knew. Parallel evolution? Perhaps.)

My nursing home simulator has been coming along slowly — more slowly than I or my boss would like, although I did have a week off doing other bug fixes, and there have been an assortment of complications. Right now it's happily prescribing and administering drugs to my simulated geriatrics, and I'm playing around with the dark nooks and crannies of the medication management software, finding things that my more experienced cow-orkers never knew, or had long forgotten, about how things work. My boss cheered me up mightily by saying out of the blue that he thought this was a valuable tool, because it was allowing us, the programmers, to see what looked like real live data, instead of the weeks- or months-old anonymised data dumps we usually had to rely on. Just looking at the Administrations page and seeing a live history of administered drugs, rather than the garish "overdue" alarm clock icons we get normally, was an odd but encouraging sign.

Meanwhile, I'm working on other stuff. Canon Lore is in a pretty good state now with teffania Canon at the helm, but I have a bunch of bug fixes I need to send to her. The LaTeX work for Mr Death looks like it won't be hard at all, if I knuckle down. And there are one or two other little projects, backburner tasks, that mainly exist to keep me from getting stuck on one problem for too long.

This Saturday is the Boy Wonder's ½th birthday. Six months — really? It seems like a week ago the loungeroom was crowded with a plastic wading pool and my son arrived, asleep and happy, as the city slept. And now he's too big for his bouncy hammock and eerily close to crawling by himself, which suggests that walking, talking and dropping out of college to become a bass guitarist can't be far away. He'll always be my baby boy, though, even when he's towering over me and asking for the keys to the hovercar.

Sunday, of course, is Mother's Day. Why does the SCA keep scheduling weekend events on Mother's Day? They're working on fixing some bugs in the laws at the mo'; I'll have to remember to suggest that they change the rules on May Crown Tourney so that people with real live families can have a slightly better chance of getting a weekend to themselves. The Queen will approve; her Mum is good value, and — ten years ago at least — was a bit of a spunk too, now I think of it. (And her dad was a colour blind psych lecturer who repainted their house by himself, and it showed; strange family, but nice.)

Oh, Saturday is naturalredhead's birthday party. Must mention this to the Beloved. Hey, Beloved! Saturday is naturalredhead's birthday party! There we go. Not sure if we can go along; depends on munchkins.

Ummm... that's all I can think of. Sorry, nothing to make schizophrenic Republicans froth at the mouth today; they'll just have to amuse themselves. Hey ho.

LJ now has a "Ban [user] from commenting in your journal" option. Thank the gods! Pardon me while I sweep out any and every comment by a certain brain-addled cluephobe from my LJ. I don't have time to put up with the level of stupid he generates.