1 comments?

For a bit of software with as much development muscle behind it as blogger has, you would think it could distinguish between the number 1 and all the other numbers, then make "comment" singular or not. In fact, here you go blogger folks, the fix in one line:

<?php

$commentLabel = ($numComments == 1) ? "comment" : "comments";

?>

And if you don't use PHP, I know that Java has an equivilant. ASP and C++ ought to, but I don't know. If doing it server-side is a big deal, here's a client-side, Javascript implementation, using my native jQuery:

$('span.comment-link').each(function() {

var numComments = $(this).html().split(" ")[0];

if(parseInt(numComments) == 1) {

$(this).html(numComments + " comment");

}

else {

$(this).html(numComments + " comments");

}

}

That oughtta do it. It's not tested though, so use it at your own risk.

Anyway, I'll be moving development of my book over to my personal blog. My intent was to generate some sort of traffic over here, make something interested that would help people want to come around every so often, but I don't think it quite fits.

All the best to you all,

-Benjamin

Chapter One: Snow

The wind howled deafeningly. Snow swirled through the forest as if the spirit of the sky itself was falling, unable to resist the tempestuous fury. Everything in the forest with life had taken refuge as best as it could. Animals lay deep in the backs of their burrows and thickets, birds clung to their nests. Only the trees were left exposed, forced to stand against the fury, or bend to the wind.

The forest was not unaccustomed to storms, but this one was remarkable. It seemed to Dren that the storms in Lockewood Forest were getting worse lately. From where he sat he could see almost nothing but the driving snow through the mouth of the little cave. He had been out hunting when the storm seemed to fall upon the forest all at once, without warning. The rabbit he had been tracking had led him directly to the cave, which had been formed at the bend of a now dry creek. As Dren had made his way into the cave, the rabbit had scurried up in to the knot of tree roots and soil that made the roof of the cave and disappeared.

He never actually captured anything, he didn't even have much of a weapon. There was almost no chance of his home-made bow being strong enough to drive an arrow into an animal's hide, and his arrows didn't fly straight enough to aim. He mostly liked following the animals, finding out how close he could get to them before they trotted away. It was a good way to escape the pressures of the constant schooling, training, and chores which seemed to occupy fully his real life. He was 15 years old, in the first year of his apprenticeship as a bookkeeper. Dren enjoyed his training, partly because of the break in routine from school. Instead of going to 7 classes a day in subjects he didn't always find meaningful with other children who, would rather be somewhere else, he could now spend at least half of his days doing something he found interesting around people who seemed to like the things they were doing. The downside was that he had less time to himself. As a simple school student, he had had a couple more hours each day to explore the forest. Now that his outings were more rare, and often cut short, there were even more important to him. The forest was his best friend and had heard all his deepest secrets, dreams, and fears.

He had been able to come hunting today because it was a festival day and the schools and businesses were closed. There was to be a parade, and Dren wondered how the festivities were faring in the unexpected early winter storm. He looked out into the whiteness, trying to decide if the storm was lifting. He thought he could see some trees across the riverbed, and the wind seemed to be calming down. He thought he might start back to town when he saw a somebody moving through the whiteness. The gray figure was walking with the wind at its back, wearing what seemed to be a long, hooded cloak. Dren began to shuffle his way to the mouth of the cave, concerned that one of the townsfolk was lost in the white-out. Dren knew the woods very well, and was deeper than he believed most people ventured unless hunting or gathering wood. As he stepped out of the cave, he marveled that the wind and snow had stopped nearly as suddenly as it had began, and the sun was already pressing its way through the lifting clouds. Dren looked around for the figure but saw no one in any direction. He looked on the ground and saw no tracks in the snow except for his own behind him, leading from the cave. He climbed up the river bank and looked around again, but saw only fresh snow, trees, and some bits of bushes the wind must have blown around. Shrugging his shoulders, Dren turned down the hill had began the walk home.

In the Name of the 10th

You are all invited to join Bach and I in St. George for a Brazilian Churrasco Dinner at "Made in Brazil". This commemoration of 10 years of "Herding" may even be paid for if it can be arranged in the short term. Give me the month you can make it and then we will work on establishing the day. It has been proposed that other celebrations could coincide such as St. Patrick's Day, Easter, Tax Day or other such lovely occasions. Please respond forthwith.

Sir Hungry Guy

The chronicles of Mark Clemens, Part I

"The best way to overcome writer's block is to simply write. The best way to overcome writer's block is to simply write. But write what?" Mark loved pens. He liked nice pens. Good, sturdy, substantial pens with a nice, clean, thin line. He had a thing for tools of just about any kind, but there was a special place in his heart for quality pens. Any time something important happened in the modern world, pens were present. The pen was the instrument that finalized virtually every agreement between people, companies, and countries. Pens had started and ended wars, countries, families, countries, friendships, treaties, and imaginary worlds. Mark loved to feel the power of undefined possibility embodied in a simple cylinder with ink in it, to imagine what that simple object could somehow do. Imagining was one thing, however, getting all that stuff out was a challenge he hadn't quite anticipated.

"Just write," he thought. The pen was on the paper. The little ball had set down a .7 mm dot of ink and was waiting to roll itself around to lay down some more. "No thought is totally random," Mark thought. "Every crystal starts somewhere, on something. Trees have seeds. Ideas need inspiration." He did not suffer from a shortage of ideas, that was for sure. His head was swimming with nonsensical bits of fantasy and fact that would not stick to one another. He tried to reach out and grab a piece, but each time he did it seemed to swim away out of reach.

Mark took the pen off of the paper, leaving the little black dot sitting between the first and second lines on his first sheet of college ruled paper. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, giving up on trying to push his thoughts around. As he relaxed, the bits of ideas seemed to swirl a little slower in his vast mental soup. Mark imagined he was watching from a distance, a sort of storm chaser on the hunt for tornadoes. He'd spotted an impressive one and was waiting to see what it was going to do. If he looked closely he could see each individual particle swirling around and around, propelled by a force that was itself invisible. He began to realize that the particles were slowing down, and when he looked at the whole tornado again, it had began to take a different, not yet definable, shape. Mark watched, trying to make sense of the form. The swirling slowed even more as the form defined itself. All at once, Mark was sprinting towards it with all the energy he had. The shape did not flee, but waited for him. He leaped the last few feet and tackled the thing, holding it tightly in his harms. His eyes flew open, he sat up. He picked up the pen, put it back on the paper, and began to write.

Weekly Post: Free Grand Slam

So I decided that with the revival of the blog that I was going to commit to a weekly post. As for a subject how does free food sound? Denny's is hosting a free grand slam day tomorrow 6am-2pm be there or be square.

Well I won't quite leave it at that. Life is a complicated process and things have been weighing heavily on me lately, I am hoping to bring about some more changes in my life, but also am looking at helping business improve.

Best wishes to all of you and I hope you make it to 27 as I have now done.

Oh boy

What an adventure.

Life continues to be unpredictable in most ways except for the most critical. I have employment that is sufficient for our needs, a solid family, lots of support from family, friends and neighbors, and we go to Church every week. These are the things I can count on. Everything else, however, is always a mystery.

I have employment. Where that employment is at any given moment is often a surprise. Superguy said he's working at Mishap Studios. I'm not. That's right, the entrepreneur in me (just as I learned how to spell that very odd word), decided to take a break, step back, and assess what it means to be an entrepreneur, and revise my philosophy on the topic. So now I have a job. Strangely enough, many of those ideas that I had always associated with business ownership, like "freedom" and "financial independence," turned out to be almost completely absent from the position I held. To complete the irony, I have both of those things in greater abundance in my current position than I had when I was a co-owner of my own company. I'll probably go back to entrepreneurism some day, but I'll do it right next time. Ha ha. Mishap continues, however, and I wish them, and Superguy, the best out there.

I have a solid family. The dynamics thereof are always in flux as kids grow and personalities develop, and "phases" come and go. Child number 1 is absolutely 100% (or more) girl. She's so princess-ey that I wonder how she could come from tom-boy Ashley or mucky-farmer me. I can attest that the Nature side of the equation holds its own well. Number 2, on the other hand, is all boy. Fingers in food, dirt in hair, snow (of any color of the rainbow) in mouth. Tret is as high-maintenance as 7-month-olds usually are, but is cute enough to make up for it. And Ashley has what Bro. Christensen at the Institute would call the Egyptian Flu. That's where you're sick for 9 months and then turn in to a mummy. Due for complete (re)-mummification around the end of September. This disease is always an adventure.

This sounds rather like a Christmas letter.

I was digging through some stuff my Mom pulled out of her attic and left in my garage (because I guess since I have a basement to put it in she wants her house back), and I found three copies of the map to the time capsule. It does say, very clearly, that it is to be retrieved in 2011 (not 2006). My-oh-my how time files. Could've been last week that we pulled it down prematurely. But that's enough of that.

Hope this blog works out better this time. And I hope you are all doing well. Keep in touch.

To Ked: She asked me directly if I knew any eligible guys. I'm not becoming a "get this guy married off" kind of person. Just thought you should know. And she's nice.

Tchau!

Resurrection

My dear fellow Herd members I wish all of you a happy 10th anniversary of Herd-dom. Since I don't have any date of creation I will simply say that 10 years ago this "school year" we formed a lasting establishment whose web presence has been lying dormant for pretty much a year. I am calling out to you now to reestablish this link through this blog.

As an update from me I am in Cedar City after a difficult decision to move back and working with Mishap Studios as an office manager and iPhone programmer. I hope to make progress with them and inroads in my self education of programming. I have two apps currently available on the app store and hope for many more in the future.

Please rejoin us as we embark on a second decade of existence. As a few more milestones I connected to this "school year" 15 years since 6th grade a year I met Nathan and Bach. As I said 10 since our organization, 5 now since the last of us returned from his mission coinciding with first of us embarking on his next mission. Many other milestones have been etched on all of our memories some of those more clear than others. Let us go forward continuing to make memories together.