Efficiency is Independence
I'm a retired architect building systems that don't need "Big Tech" permission to exist. I run a full web presence, mail stack, and security layer for a dozen users on 1GB of RAM. No Docker. No bloat. No bullshit.
The Engineering Repositories
The Artist's Gallery & Manuscripts
Painting
Willow's Whisper~2015 • Acrylic on Canvas
This acrylic on canvas portrait utilizes a naturalistic color palette to create a sense of harmony between the subject and the outdoor environment. The artist employs a shallow depth of field effect by keeping the facial features in sharp focus while the background foliage is rendered with softer...
Manuscript
blastoffGenre: Speculative Fiction
I loved kids.
Especially toddlers.
Thinking back to my first baby, I did mine and his first "Blast off".
Pretty simple I guess.
Just count down from 3 to 1, yell Blast Off!
and pick him up and twist him around in the air a bit and occasionally "get" his belly.
The screams of laughter were addictive to me as much as him.
I did this with all my kids and it grew to all the nieces and nephews and friends.
At one point there were 7 kids lined up to blast off.
Made for a long night of laughing litt...
Especially toddlers.
Thinking back to my first baby, I did mine and his first "Blast off".
Pretty simple I guess.
Just count down from 3 to 1, yell Blast Off!
and pick him up and twist him around in the air a bit and occasionally "get" his belly.
The screams of laughter were addictive to me as much as him.
I did this with all my kids and it grew to all the nieces and nephews and friends.
At one point there were 7 kids lined up to blast off.
Made for a long night of laughing litt...
Poetry
The Soldier's Home.by Robert Bloomfield
My untried muse shall no high tone assume, Nor strut in arms; - farewell my cap and plume: Brief be my verse, a task within my power, I tell my feelings in one happy hour; But what an hour was that! when from the main I reach'd this lovely valley once again! A glorious harvest fill'd my eager sight, Half shock'd, half waving in a flood of light; On that poor cottage roof where I was born The sun look'd down as in life's early morn. I gazed around, but not a soul appear'd, I listen'd on the th...