Prior to version 3.0, new installations of WordPress set up the first username as “admin.” If you’ve been upgrading your blog software at regular intervals, you may have the latest version yet still be blogging as “admin.” Using the default name makes it a bit easier for hackers — instead of having to guess or crack two pieces of information, they can assume the username is admin and concentrate on the password.
Unfortunately, you can’t change your username from the WordPress dashboard. Here’s how to do it without having to edit the database or dip your toes into MySQL.
Click for full size.
(And no, that’s not my car. The truck was in the lane next to mine as we waited for a traffic signal.)
Originally written January 24, 2005
Downtown Birmingham, Alabama. It’s the narrowest little place in the world, tucked into a space that was once a shared staircase between the two buildings that flank it: Pete’s Famous Hot Dogs.
You open the door, which takes up almost the entire front of the building, and you go inside. There’s the grill and the counter on the right, the wall on the left, and just enough room for an average-size person in the middle. Behind the counter are Gus and Kathy, dispensing hot dogs and soft drinks in bottles.
This is growing in my front yard. That’s a 12-inch architect’s scale in the picture, to give you some idea how huge it is.
Yes, we have had a lot of rain lately… why do you ask?
Andrew Lightheart (@alightheart on Twitter) is a fascinating person to follow. He’s an Englishman currently living in Singapore (but about to move back to England), and his life is an exotic mix of UK/Asian references. It’s because of Andrew that I bought my elephant teapot. And now, by way of Andrew, I have a new breakfast food!
Beans on Toast.
Meet Electra.
This lovely lady graces the top of the Alabama Power Building in downtown Birmingham. Follow me to meet those who keep her company and to hear about her secret romance.
- My two doggie girls curled up as closely to my feet as they can get while I work. Instant toe warmers!
- Those same doggie girls in protective mode, barking loudly at the landscape truck across the street. Intruders! Almost in our yard! Mom – be careful!!
- The luscious smell of chicken stock simmering in the kitchen. Soup for dinner. Mmmmm.
- Iced tea. With mint. Or mint iced tea, I’m not particular.
- Air conditioning. Heartfelt thank you, Mr. Carrier. –>
- Computers that work flawlessly and just get the job done.
- Friends and family. Support. The occasional nudge to keep me in line.
- Twitter.
- You. 
Santa Fe, New Mexico: March 2000
Photo: Einar Einarsson Kvaran for Wikimedia Commons (Creative Commons license)
It’s early yet. I’m going home today after a buying trip, but I still have a little time. I’ve come down to the Plaza, thinking that I might be able to find some good pottery or jewelry from the Indian vendors on the Portal of the Governor’s Palace. I got here at 8:30 or so and only a handful were set up. Nothing spectacular, nothing that really speaks to me. Well, there was a big turquoise heart pendant that looked promising, but it also looked expensive. Let’s wait and see what else is offered.
I wander down the block and then across to the Plaza proper. There is one vendor setting up in the park, across from the portico; she has silver jewelry, it looks like. Anglo, or maybe Spanish. I find a bench in the park, sit in the sunshine where I can watch the portico. There is one vendor who has been there earlier this morning but isn’t there now. Looks like pots peeking out from under a blanket. Maybe she will arrive soon and I will go back and look.
I sit there, in the early morning sun, and people-watch. The air is comfortable — probably upper 40s, low 50s — and the sun is warm and bright and fills my soul with delight. I am sitting here in the New Mexico sunshine, storing up the light to take home to the gray winter of the Southeast. A Spanish pair are beginning to set up now, near my bench, and I watch as they begin to unload their truck and set up tables.
He comes from the other way, across the Plaza from my right. Tall, slender but muscular, white cowboy hat, jeans and jacket, and a face filled with the wrinkles of a lifetime’s sunshine. He sits on my bench and says “Good morning!”
