Author: koalie

Oh the irony

I’m a bit edgy today so I decided I’d had my share of coffee. I went for herbal tea instead. A colleague remarked the oddity and I explained anxiety kicked in every time I was looking at my todo today, hence the herbal tea. On my way back a door burst open right next to me. Instant panic! My hand flew, spilling the burning content of my cup of tea in the air in front and on the carpet. At least, nobody was injured.

E-mail stuck in Outbox

For the past couple of months I’ve been annoyed with Opera e-mail sometimes being stuck in Outbox, at the “Authenticating” stage. Sometimes. Hence the annoyance. Sometimes it works fine for days. And sometimes it doesn’t. I don’t know what triggers it. I wish I knew 🙂 Assuredly I can’t be the only one experiencing this! I’ve looked and searched the Web, forums, Opera knowledge base and support pages.

I’m using Opera 9.64 on mac OS X 10.5.7 and outgoing e-mail talks to an SMTP server over TLS.

I just found a workaround that is not very satisfactory, but good enough so long as it does the trick: disconnect/reconnect wi-fi, try again, worky. <sigh />

I also found that even if the stuck message is removed from the Outbox, Opera will eventually deliver it. Sadly the original timestamp is not kept. So if I found another way to send that message, people will still receive it again. Later. <re-sigh />

I changed how Opera handles e-mail a couple of months ago, so that might be it. I used to ssh to a machine and Opera talked to localhost to pop and send.

Associations mots / images

En passant devant un cordonnier ce matin, je me suis rappelé qu’étant petite, j’associais l’image d’un cordonnier qui rafistolait des chaussures au mot “coordonnées”. D’ailleurs, je croyais que le métier c’était “coordonnier”, et lorsque ma mère parlait de “donner ses coordonnées”, je ne voyais vraiment pas le rapport.

Je me souviens d’une autre association rigolotte datant de la même époque, peu ou prou. C’était lorsque mon père courait après mon frère et moi, en nous menaçant d’une raclée, l’image que j’avais en tête était celle du papa courant en cercle derrière ses enfants, une clé démesurée a la main. Ça m’amusait au moins autant que ça nous amusait de faire courir mon père, qui lui aussi s’amusait à nous courir après. (Avertissement: La raclée n’était qu’un pretexte au jeu, pas une menace réelle.)