The call.

I clearly remember the phone call. 14 years ago today. I was sitting over an afternoon coffee with a bunch of MIT geeks — and “Dave”, who collected antique saxophones — at an office in Columbus. We were discussing the matter of my car having been stolen that morning from the secured parking lot of an insurance company. The company for whom we were all engaged and who, ironically, provided my theft insurance. The phone rang. “Dennis, come home.” Hanging up the phone, I explained the situation to the team. “Dennis, you are not lucky today.”

The winter walk wasn’t really an option.

Not having a car was sort of an issue. The irony of having worked on the system that allowed my insurance agent to say: “Sorry, I can’t accept the claim of theft on your car for at least another 2 weeks or until the police confirm it.” was not at all sweet. But I was a dog and managed to find an independent agent working late into the evening in some hideaway village who was willing to, thankfully, materialize my claim into something with four wheels.

The next bits are sort of fuzzy.

I remember the ceremony. I remember standing there in the funeral home next to him. I remember the smell. I remember his friend stopping by to give his condolences; his story about them jumping from a train with leaves of freshly farmed tobacco tucked into their shirts during the depression. I remember thinking it must have been a hard life. I remembered singing Twinkle Twinkle in his lap when I was 4. I remembered fishing; looking for worms the night before with a flashlight on freshly watered grass. I remembered being a child; I remember saying thanks after goodbye. I remember a lot of things about him but mostly I remember his unfailing character. I remember not having visited his house after he died; I spent the vast majority of my childhood there; my first home.

The thing is, all these memories reinforce the idea that a person is only someone if they can: 1/ positively influence at least one person in their life, and 2/ actively work to ensure the continuity of 1. Number 1 is easy, we’ve all done that. Number 2 takes a lot of time, effort, realization that things change, and the ability to react when they do. So, I guess what I appreciate most about my grandfather is that he was able to keep the family together (to this day) by adapting and — unless my grandmother says otherwise — silently accepting the conditions they we put upon him. No matter what the burden.

The chemistry.

All families are basically the same I suppose. There are the fools & idiots; there are the givers and there are the takers. Seeing that my family leans towards the »we laugh at everything but mostly ourselves« side, what really surprises me — and makes me the most proud of mine — is that 14 years on, we can still call us “us.” We may have lost our glue but we certainly didn’t lose our chemistry. If that’s not a testament to legacy, I’m not sure what is.

Thanks.

A few moments ago (while adding something else to the neighbor’s field) I noticed a mouse in the same place as last night and now I’m wondering: was the corpse a gift or a threat?

Everything has a meaning.

If you are a masochist (or your boss is a sadist(*); or your project made you one; or you have the ambition to be so) and need to set up job queues through Zend Framework with a MySQL database. Here’s how it’s done.

Precursor: finding any practical information/tutelage about Zend_Queue is nearly impossible. The documentation is complete shite – sorry; it just is.  After fiddling around with it, I finally have a working model. Thought it worthy of ye good ‘ol fashion blog post.

Before you start, you’ll need to have a database available and add two new tables. You can hunt for the necessary DDL in the framework itself or just visit the source.

Let’s make sure we have the configuration set up correct. Notice the queue settings here.

For this example, I’m going to assume you are working in a fresh Zend Framework project. Even if you’re not — and God bless your soul if that’s true — it should be simple enough to figure out how the bits fit together.

; file: application/configs/application.ini

[production]
; ...
resources.frontController.params.displayExceptions = 0
; ...
queue.driverOptions.type = "pdo_mysql"
queue.driverOptions.host = "localhost"
queue.driverOptions.username = "howtoqueue"
queue.driverOptions.password = "howtoqueue"
queue.driverOptions.dbname = "howtoqueue"

Next, let’s do some initialization in the bootstrap:

<?php

// file: application/Bootstrap.php

class Bootstrap extends Zend_Application_Bootstrap_Bootstrap
{
  /**
   * Set up the queue
   *
   */
  protected function _initQueue()
  {
    $options = $this->getOptions();

    // Create an adapter for our queue and register it.
    $queueAdapter = new Zend_Queue_Adapter_Db( $options[ 'queue' ] );
    Zend_Registry::getInstance()->queueAdapter = $queueAdapter;

  }

}

Zend_Queue_Adapter_Db is pretty straight-forward. It’s the marshal of the Queue that we’re about to work with.

Sticking with simple, I’m going to use a very simple class to contain data for emails. This is exactly the problem I was facing earlier today: in-process emailing sucks balls. Adding a queue sucks balls just a little bit less (it dials your snafu-potentiometer up a notch, etc.) I needed a plug-in solution that JFW; here’s the nitwit POPO:

<?php

// file: library/EmailPopo.php

/**
 * Detractors beware: I already know this is stupid.
 * Keep insults at only the most personal level.
 */
class EmailPopo
{
  // The stuff
  private $_data = array();

  // Get something from the stuff
  public function __get($key) {
    return $this->_data[$key];
  }

  // Add something to the stuff
  public function __set($key, $value) {
    $this->_data[$key] = $value;
  }

}

Now that we have all the ingredients in place to post something to our queue, let’s do something about it.

// file: application/controllers/IndexController.php

require_once "EmailPopo.php";
public function indexAction()
{
  // Get the queue adapter
  $queueAdapter = Zend_Registry::getInstance()->queueAdapter;

  // Get a queue we can smack around
  $options = array( 'name' => 'emailqueue' );
  $queue = new Zend_Queue( $queueAdapter, $options );

  // Create a silly email
  $email = new EmailPopo();
  $email->date = time();
  $email->from = "minnie.mouse@disney.com";
  $email->to = "mickey.mouse@disney.com";
  $email->subject = "I want a divorce";
  $email->body = "Letter's in the mail.";

  // serialize and shrink the POPO
  $message = base64_encode( gzcompress( serialize( $email ) ) );

  // Send it.
  $queue->send( $message );

}

There’s nothing really special happening there. We create our email instance, plop in the details, zip it up and submit it to the queue. Poop simple.

Finally, here’s how to extract the messages:

// file: application/controllers/IndexController.php

public function queueAction() {

  // Get the queue adapter
  $queueAdapter = Zend_Registry::getInstance()->queueAdapter;

  // Grab the email queue
  $options = array( 'name' => 'emailqueue' );
  $queue = new Zend_Queue( $queueAdapter, $options );

  // Read 2 messages.
  $messages = $queue->receive( 2 );
  foreach( $messages as $message ) {

    try {
      // Decompose the email
      $email = unserialize( gzuncompress( base64_decode( $message->body ) ) );

      // see what happens when something goes snafu...
      //throw new Exception( "testing failure" );

      // ************************
      //
      // Do your magic here
      //
      // ************************

      // All's well, we can just delete the job
      $queue->deleteMessage( $message );

      echo sprintf(
        "Sent email to %s (time: %s)<br/>",
        $email->to,
        new Zend_Date( $email->date )
        ); 

    } catch( Exception $ex ) {
      echo "Kaboom!: " . $ex->getMessage() . "<br/>";

      // At this point, the message is still
      // available in the DB but will not
      // be processed by future receive()'s

    }

  }

  die( "Done" );

}

For the record, after running through the loops to get this working, I realized that Zend_Queue was a complete overkill for the task at hand.  Having been away from PHP for a while, I see why I left. The folks behind these tools mean well, but what a mess. What a bloody, bloody mess.

Fin

 Grab the source …

(*) Slavko: a masochistic boss would be a perfect boss. Corrected.

Also, I’m pretty sure I just saw two crickets humping.

The things you see when your eyes are open.

As I look around the landscape, I see so many start-ups from here that just seem to have their shit together.  It’s not just that they’re making stuff that actually works, they’re also doing it sexy. I stole that term. Allow me to explain.

Let’s talk for a bit about vox.io. They’re a new company who recently had a rather understated (albeit sexy) write up on TheNextWeb.com. Further down, we see a reference to a (non poo poo) alternative. Curiosity getting the better of us, we go have a look.

Borscht!?!?

I have no idea how the food strategy is working out for those guys but it’s like I’m looking at something from another era; the days where tech talk sold and nothing else mattered. They’re likely feasting like no one before them and I’m certain their solution is a technological marvel. However, I’m seeing something that was cold porridge for 2004 bloggers. Sorry about this, but food references? I just can’t get past it. If we’re compairing apples to apples (which we’re not), I’ll be eating the pretty one. This is borscht compared to one hellofa fine looking, no-nonsense, engineers-were-locked-in-the-closet, tastey, run-it-on-your-grammas-486 work of mastery.

This wasn’t (perhaps) the best example but I like borscht and sensitivity got the better of me. I’m simply looking at what comes out of Slovenia and relegated to comparing it with (again, sorry) food stuffs.

Just off the top of my head, here are some other examples of mastery:

• Celtra does stuff with ads that will make you stop watching porn –for a while at least.
• outfit7 makes slapping animals –and to my daughter’s delight, Santa –a pastime activity.
• Pipistrel confuses and excites me.
• theflowr.com is the facebook your boss won’t mind.
• zemanta is making the world less stupid.

The list goes on. The point is: these are all complex concepts presented in a simple, digestable package AND they’re all masterfully executed works of art. There’s something in the water here; it should be exported.

Hello.

Carbonite!

They have this tradition here in Slovenia where carbonite is placed in a barrel, soaked in water, and then tapped with something hot; a stick-on-fire is apropos. The explosion is something akin to a canon. Now, normally all goes on without a hitch. Until a Canadian shows up. If you haven’t already guessed it, this is not what’s supposed to happen.

Enjoy the show.

My day job — these days — is hacking Java. Well, that’s an understatement. I’ve been writing what is best described as some form of multi-platform, embedded system for a MysteryProjectThatImSwornToSilenceOver with some really cool people WhoImNotAllowedToMention. It’s an audio-visual experience involving joysticks and touch-screens; it keeps my left brain in tune. My night job is, well, multi-lobal funk.

I’ve been working with Matej on Envelopa.com for about 6 weeks now. We have a few users; a couple of screencasts; and a fairly stable code base considering it was mostly written in some fuzzy daze. We’re about to launch Envelopa in Slovene (more to follow shortly) and an API is also code-complete.

The latest technical bits were amazingly simple to roll out. We took the bits we could use out of Zend Framework (Zend_Translate, Zend_Cache and Zend_Rest_Controller for the api) and popped together the last run in a matter of hours. The API (how hard can an API for envelopes be?) took a day  including documentation and a pretty kick-ass tutorial if I do say so myself.

The thing is, Matej and I talk just a few times per week. We discuss who-will-do-what and when-it-will-be-done. We set some constraints but we’re pretty liberal with them. (By the way Matej, you still owe me a bottle of Canadian for winning the last “who finishes first” challenge.)  We say things like “Wouldn’t it be cool to have themes?” or “API? Well, guess that makes sense.” or “How fast can you do a screencast?” and we move. My day job plays about the same albeit with some rather tougher limits.

I guess the point is that it’s cool to work with good people. People who can effectively challenge and motivate; who aren’t intimidated by a human’s ability to deliver when booze is on the line.  I like those kind of people, with or without the daze.

It was our first trip to Canada as a family. Nataša and I were a bit nervous. Travelling overseas with a one year old is not for the faint of heart. But! It was necessary: my family hadn’t yet met our daughter Nyree and it had been years since I myself had been back. As it turned out the trip was a little-more-than extraordinary. It was something you’d almost expect to see on an American Soap Opera.

I grew up in a relatively small town (note to self: you really got stop living in small towns) in Southern Ontario. My family was at times middle class and at times not. My dad worked for a local steel company at the start of the 80s and then — when that company went belly-up — he went to work “on the lines” at General Motors in St. Catharines (a slightly less small town). After ~30 years and a rather severe heart attack, he’s still there. My dad is an awesome man.

The single hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life was asking my dad if he’d be okay with me tracking down my natural father. We never had this sort of conversation in my family. I guess it’s because nobody dares ask such pointed questions on the risk that somebody else will get upset, even if it’s for the greater good. I guess that’s why it’s called “family”. The fact is that I didn’t even know my natural father’s name or, well, anything about him. If it wasn’t for my daughter, it’s likely that I would have never known.

My memory’s a bit muddy but I believe it was just 3 days before we were to return to Slovenia when I decided to ask about my father. It had been on my mind for months prior but, well, that “I shouldn’t hurt anyone” point held me back. Needless to say, the conversation with my mom lasted about 20 seconds. The chat with my dad was probably even shorter.

We were off. With his name in hand I headed to the phone book (I’m a neo-classical detective) while my mom, oddly enough, headed to Facebook. Despite it being some time in the late evening, I managed to reach a couple of people. The conversations were a bit odd. “Hi, my name is Dennis. I’m looking for Dennis. Do you know where I can find Dennis?” One kind soul named Debbie actually pointed me in the right direction. Thanks Debbie! With his phone number in tow I headed off to my mom. I found her staring at her monitor. She had found him. It was odd. Facebook, God bless your little-endian soul. Now I knew everything. His phone number, and through that, his address … even had a few fuzzy images to absorb. It was time to introduce myself. I made the call. “Sorry, you have me mistaken with somebody else”. Click. Devastation.

Never surrender? I headed off to a local photo shop to have some prints made of myself, my wife and my daughter. With a lot of jitteriness (that’s a word, right?), I even managed to write a simple, hand written letter. “I’m not looking for anything but you might like to meet your granddaughter while we’re here. I’ve included some photos.” A quick drive over to the white-pages address, a stop for a Coke at the pub across the street (talk about convenience!) to ease the nerves, a super-quick tiptoe to the house. The letter was held up in the screen door. “I’ll let gravity make the call.” I fled and waited.

We met at the shore of Lake Erie. Well. At a parking lot near the shore of Lake Erie. It took a few minutes to get over the initial weirdness of the situation but after that, we were cool. I now officially had two dads. It was like talking to my older twin. Funky! The biggest shock came about a minute in to our conversation. “Well, Colleen is _____ and the boys are _______.” Colleen? Boys? I have (natural) siblings? Breath Dennis, Breath.

Two years and a few thousand kilometers between, I still find myself reliving those moments. And as my “Poops” approaches his 60th birthday, I can only offer my Dads this simple gift: Thank you.

Received this painting from my niece yesterday. The girl’s got skill.

Thanks for the new desktop Arwen!