Word to the wise: Get to know your technology.
It can save you a few bucks and maybe even months of procrastination.
Last summer, I set out to make my daughter and son-in-law a 1st anniversary gift — a collection of recipes they'd enjoyed at our house.
Problem was I didn't want to retype them all. And I didn't want to just photocopy and staple them together.
So .... since the first year's traditional gift is something paper, that's what they got: An IOU.
Before long I ordered "Readiris 12," software that would enable me to magically scan the recipes and they'd turn into editable files.
Cool.
But first, I'd have to read all the how-tos for my scanner and for the Readiris.
I still haven't.
Luckily (if you call feeling stupid lucky) I didn't have to.
The scanner is pretty intuitive for the basic picture scanning I've wanted to do over the last few months. So, there's been very little reading involved.
Then, a couple of weeks ago, I was searching my desktop for something and came across a familiar word -- Readiris.
I looked to my left to make sure the software I'd bought was still snug and unopened on the shelf. It was. All I could conclude was that it came with the MacMini 3 or 4 years ago.
Geesh.
Yesterday, I finally decided to get started. I turned on the scanner, hit its little icon, and all this fabulous stuff came up on the desktop, including a thin strip of tasks it would do.
What's this?
OCR?
Great.
Optical character somethingorother.
Even the scanner had come with the ability to turn articles, recipes, you name it, into text I can play with.
If I'd only known ....
A DAY AT THE BUFFALO ZOO, by TJ SCHUHLE
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Back to those CDs
Unlike my driving routes, audiobooks have remained a constant as my drive to work continues. I just looked back to see where I left off the last time and noticed an addition and a correction are necessary.
The oops: I referred to the Holocaust-related book I'd picked up as "The Elephant Keeper." Those of you who noticed were too polite to point out that it was really "The Zookeeper's Wife." (And, yes, there are many references to the Holocaust, but more importantly, it's about the Warsaw Rebellion and the Polish Resistance. The early chapters reminded me of the beginning of "The Life of Pi," because they're set in the zoo and full of neat information about animals. It was extremely interesting and educational, but at the same time such a personal story that, had it really been a book, it would have been hard to put down.)
The addition: Worse than the Obama portrayal by the guy who read David Plouffe's book was what he did to the women. Michelle Obama and Hillary Clinton both sounded like Jessica Rabbit, and Plouffe's wife was breathily reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe.
On to the newer books: I don't want to tell you just how overdue the CDs have been when I've returned them to the library. Why I continue to take 2 out at a time is a mystery. Let's just say my fines are helping the library through a difficult funding period.
The 2 new ones, due Thursday, are "Thanksgiving" by Janet Evanovich and "The Lacuna" by Barbara Kingsolver. I've always liked Kingsolver's stuff but would have picked this anyway because of its connection to World War II. Might as well stick with the theme, I figured.
I started with that one and found the story engaging, the dialogue often amusing, and best of all, Kingsolver's gifts so fully present that occasionally I wondered if she was the first to put those two or three words together in that particular way.
But, still, there came a moment — on the way to visit my mother last Monday — that I wanted something lighter; so I switched to "Thanksgiving." It was a funny romance that reminded me of books I read a million years ago. When it ended, I wanted to know what happened next.
Now I'm on CD 9 of 15 (I think) of "The Lacuna," and even though it's fiction, the setting she creates for her made-up characters, is based in fact. So, Lev Trotsky and painters Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera come to life in it. The words of Kahlo and the main character's mother (who dies in a crash on the way to a Howard Hughes event) are laugh-out-loud funny at times.
With six CDs left and four days before I work again, it's shaping up to be a hefty "donation" to the library by the time I've finished listening — and procrastinated a day or two about returning these books.
The oops: I referred to the Holocaust-related book I'd picked up as "The Elephant Keeper." Those of you who noticed were too polite to point out that it was really "The Zookeeper's Wife." (And, yes, there are many references to the Holocaust, but more importantly, it's about the Warsaw Rebellion and the Polish Resistance. The early chapters reminded me of the beginning of "The Life of Pi," because they're set in the zoo and full of neat information about animals. It was extremely interesting and educational, but at the same time such a personal story that, had it really been a book, it would have been hard to put down.)
The addition: Worse than the Obama portrayal by the guy who read David Plouffe's book was what he did to the women. Michelle Obama and Hillary Clinton both sounded like Jessica Rabbit, and Plouffe's wife was breathily reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe.
On to the newer books: I don't want to tell you just how overdue the CDs have been when I've returned them to the library. Why I continue to take 2 out at a time is a mystery. Let's just say my fines are helping the library through a difficult funding period.
The 2 new ones, due Thursday, are "Thanksgiving" by Janet Evanovich and "The Lacuna" by Barbara Kingsolver. I've always liked Kingsolver's stuff but would have picked this anyway because of its connection to World War II. Might as well stick with the theme, I figured.
I started with that one and found the story engaging, the dialogue often amusing, and best of all, Kingsolver's gifts so fully present that occasionally I wondered if she was the first to put those two or three words together in that particular way.
But, still, there came a moment — on the way to visit my mother last Monday — that I wanted something lighter; so I switched to "Thanksgiving." It was a funny romance that reminded me of books I read a million years ago. When it ended, I wanted to know what happened next.
Now I'm on CD 9 of 15 (I think) of "The Lacuna," and even though it's fiction, the setting she creates for her made-up characters, is based in fact. So, Lev Trotsky and painters Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera come to life in it. The words of Kahlo and the main character's mother (who dies in a crash on the way to a Howard Hughes event) are laugh-out-loud funny at times.
With six CDs left and four days before I work again, it's shaping up to be a hefty "donation" to the library by the time I've finished listening — and procrastinated a day or two about returning these books.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Wow, and another month slips by ...
It's been a busy one, too. But enough about that ...
The challenge this week has been keeping up with the fly population. What began as:
"Pursuit of the Cluster Flies, Summer 2010," has segued into the more frustrating "Average Annoying Flies Saga of 2010."
I think, but can't swear to it, that attics in pre-1900 houses are a pre-requisite for admission to the wonderful world of cluster flies. So I'll explain, in case you have something more modern: Cluster flies are the logiest, laziest phylum of flies on the planet. They may even be stupid. They travel in groups and are most comfortable on windows and sills. They inhabit clean homes as readily as dirty ones, or I wouldn't be admitting to this.
I woke up to an infestation in the kitchen one morning and prepared to do battle. I don't want to say I was disappointed, but the job took all of 5 minutes -- as I dispatched the families on 3 kitchen windows, 1 lavatory window, 1 kitchen window and 4 living room windows. Like I said, lazy and logie. A perfect match for me somedays.
That incursion left me with a dozen or so Average Annoying Flies, which I am slapping into eternity as quickly as possible. But, there are moments when they're flying around that I swear they procreate mid-air. Logic dictates that if you have a dozen and slap a dozen you're left with zero, zip, nada.
I should be so lucky.
As we all know, there's something to be learned from each of life's challenges. In this case, I've learned:
1.) Fly guts are the best remedy for procrastination when it comes to window washing.
2.) Large numbers of small pests can bring out the warrior in the most pacifico people.
3.) It's important to b e thankful for what you've got: Fruit fly season is worse.
Also, in case you're interested, I've learned that a well-loved frog can live for 8 years -- or maybe longer.
What's the connection?
Froggie — The pet of a local senior citizen I know.
She told me about Froggie a couple of years ago, detailing that he was a free-range pet (roams the house like a cat, minus the fur and fleas), who she fed flies from the tip of her index finger, wiggling it around so that Froggie wouldn't suspect it was a corpse.
After that, I decided to jar and freeze my cluster flies so Froggie would have something available for those cold, wintry, flyless days.
When the latest infestation began dotting my windows, I thought about Froggie but didn't really feel like harvesting them that carefully.
Until yesterday.
That's when I put a dozen or more freshly slapped flies in a Ziploc snack bag, packed it in ice, and took them to Rotary to ask whether her husband would delivery them for me.
Alas, Froggie is no more.
He said it was a "considerable loss," and I sent my condolences to his wife.
Where do I turn in the face of such tragedy?
Craigslist, perhaps?
"Free: Freshly fricasseed flies looking for frog in need of refreshment."
The challenge this week has been keeping up with the fly population. What began as:
"Pursuit of the Cluster Flies, Summer 2010," has segued into the more frustrating "Average Annoying Flies Saga of 2010."
I think, but can't swear to it, that attics in pre-1900 houses are a pre-requisite for admission to the wonderful world of cluster flies. So I'll explain, in case you have something more modern: Cluster flies are the logiest, laziest phylum of flies on the planet. They may even be stupid. They travel in groups and are most comfortable on windows and sills. They inhabit clean homes as readily as dirty ones, or I wouldn't be admitting to this.
I woke up to an infestation in the kitchen one morning and prepared to do battle. I don't want to say I was disappointed, but the job took all of 5 minutes -- as I dispatched the families on 3 kitchen windows, 1 lavatory window, 1 kitchen window and 4 living room windows. Like I said, lazy and logie. A perfect match for me somedays.
That incursion left me with a dozen or so Average Annoying Flies, which I am slapping into eternity as quickly as possible. But, there are moments when they're flying around that I swear they procreate mid-air. Logic dictates that if you have a dozen and slap a dozen you're left with zero, zip, nada.
I should be so lucky.
As we all know, there's something to be learned from each of life's challenges. In this case, I've learned:
1.) Fly guts are the best remedy for procrastination when it comes to window washing.
2.) Large numbers of small pests can bring out the warrior in the most pacifico people.
3.) It's important to b e thankful for what you've got: Fruit fly season is worse.
Also, in case you're interested, I've learned that a well-loved frog can live for 8 years -- or maybe longer.
What's the connection?
Froggie — The pet of a local senior citizen I know.
She told me about Froggie a couple of years ago, detailing that he was a free-range pet (roams the house like a cat, minus the fur and fleas), who she fed flies from the tip of her index finger, wiggling it around so that Froggie wouldn't suspect it was a corpse.
After that, I decided to jar and freeze my cluster flies so Froggie would have something available for those cold, wintry, flyless days.
When the latest infestation began dotting my windows, I thought about Froggie but didn't really feel like harvesting them that carefully.
Until yesterday.
That's when I put a dozen or more freshly slapped flies in a Ziploc snack bag, packed it in ice, and took them to Rotary to ask whether her husband would delivery them for me.
Alas, Froggie is no more.
He said it was a "considerable loss," and I sent my condolences to his wife.
Where do I turn in the face of such tragedy?
Craigslist, perhaps?
"Free: Freshly fricasseed flies looking for frog in need of refreshment."
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