toys and blood
well, today was an interesting day. I got moved out of my office and into a cube. Of course, faced with a stack of bins four high, my first priority was to get my computers all online. Of course! Clearly, you start with the fun stuff. It wasn't too much trouble; I only have three computers at work. (Two Windows machines, and one FreeBSD machine.) And one of the new machines was my brand new laptop. And oh yes, by the end of the day I did get my cube cleaned up.
I also got another toy at the very end of the day. A copy of Dragon NaturallySpeaking 8: it's speech recognition software that runs under Windows. It's been around for years, but it's one of technologies that just keeps getting better without anyone paying attention.
Voice recognition software used to be the stuff of sci-fi shows. I still remember a Star Trek episode from the 60's starring Teri Garr. One of the sci fi elements was a typewrite that typed anything she said. Perplexed by the gadget, she stands there trying to get the machine to stop typing, saying "Stop it .. stop it!" -- which the machine of course dutifully types.
I noticed the software because of several mentions by writer David Pogue. Pogue has stress injuries that prevent him from using a keyboard. Pouge is the poster child for NaturallySpeaking: using the software, he writes two columns for the New York Times every week and he writes a couple of books every year.
So I got NaturallySpeaking, but he didn't come with Teri Garr. Darn!
As you might guess, I'm writing this entry with NaturallySpeaking. Of course, which you don't see is how long it took to me to write this. It's kind of like trying to type when you're drunk; you spend two or three times as long as you should because because you have to keep correcting mistakes. Well, at least I do. Some friends of mine actually like it when I send them e-mails when I don't correct anything, because that gives them a much clearer idea of just how smashed I am.
For example, in this paragraph I'm not going to correct anything and we're going to see how it does. Well, how about the
, because I don't really have anything more to say in this paragraph. (And that blank line is the fault of NaturallySpeaking)
So I'm not sure which is worse: people who appear to be talking to themselves themselves, but are really on a cellphone, or me sitting here talking to my new computer. And I wonder if the tequila and OJ that I'm drinking will make this all work?
I guess it will fine to use this software when I'm in my new apartment, because then no one will see me talking to myself. (But those of you who know me will know that I'm doing it.)
Oh, I almost forgot about the blood promised in the title!
Yes, the blood. It came from an unlikely cause. I was tying to clean the kitchen floor. I don't like cleaning the kitchen floor, because the floor in our kitchen seems to get dirty about 15 seconds after we clean it. We should have replaced the flooring years ago, but it's one of those multi-hundred dollar expenses that never seems to take priority over more useful things like, say, oh, an SLR digital camera. Or this nifty speech recognition program.
Anyway, k had asked me to please clean the floor tonight. So, me being a good husband (despite the fact that I'm leaving her in four weeks), I got out the mop and proceeded to start cleaning the floor. The mop handle was apparently made of metal, the fact I discovered after it snapped in half - right next to my left index finger. I'm not quite sure what happened, but the metal somehow took a bite out of my finger. It certainly bled enough.
But the worst part was when I put it under the water to wash it off. Oh My God... oh my god oh my god .. Lots of swearing. Lots and lots of swearing. At high volume. The cut itself didn't hurt that bad, but the water on it was worse than any pain I can think of in the last five years. The last thing I remember anything being that painful was the time I cut my finger trying to slice a bagel. (Yes, they make bagel holders for a reason.) They used a giant needle to numb the pain.
I yelled for k. She said she'd heard something happen, but was waiting for me to call her, because, as she put it , "Sometimes, when I come running down, you are not always immediately happy to see me."
Well. I think I'm going to survive. Maybe. If y'all don't see a new entry for me in the next seven days, call the undertaker.
I also got another toy at the very end of the day. A copy of Dragon NaturallySpeaking 8: it's speech recognition software that runs under Windows. It's been around for years, but it's one of technologies that just keeps getting better without anyone paying attention.
Voice recognition software used to be the stuff of sci-fi shows. I still remember a Star Trek episode from the 60's starring Teri Garr. One of the sci fi elements was a typewrite that typed anything she said. Perplexed by the gadget, she stands there trying to get the machine to stop typing, saying "Stop it .. stop it!" -- which the machine of course dutifully types.
I noticed the software because of several mentions by writer David Pogue. Pogue has stress injuries that prevent him from using a keyboard. Pouge is the poster child for NaturallySpeaking: using the software, he writes two columns for the New York Times every week and he writes a couple of books every year.
So I got NaturallySpeaking, but he didn't come with Teri Garr. Darn!
As you might guess, I'm writing this entry with NaturallySpeaking. Of course, which you don't see is how long it took to me to write this. It's kind of like trying to type when you're drunk; you spend two or three times as long as you should because because you have to keep correcting mistakes. Well, at least I do. Some friends of mine actually like it when I send them e-mails when I don't correct anything, because that gives them a much clearer idea of just how smashed I am.
For example, in this paragraph I'm not going to correct anything and we're going to see how it does. Well, how about the
, because I don't really have anything more to say in this paragraph. (And that blank line is the fault of NaturallySpeaking)
So I'm not sure which is worse: people who appear to be talking to themselves themselves, but are really on a cellphone, or me sitting here talking to my new computer. And I wonder if the tequila and OJ that I'm drinking will make this all work?
I guess it will fine to use this software when I'm in my new apartment, because then no one will see me talking to myself. (But those of you who know me will know that I'm doing it.)
Oh, I almost forgot about the blood promised in the title!
Yes, the blood. It came from an unlikely cause. I was tying to clean the kitchen floor. I don't like cleaning the kitchen floor, because the floor in our kitchen seems to get dirty about 15 seconds after we clean it. We should have replaced the flooring years ago, but it's one of those multi-hundred dollar expenses that never seems to take priority over more useful things like, say, oh, an SLR digital camera. Or this nifty speech recognition program.
Anyway, k had asked me to please clean the floor tonight. So, me being a good husband (despite the fact that I'm leaving her in four weeks), I got out the mop and proceeded to start cleaning the floor. The mop handle was apparently made of metal, the fact I discovered after it snapped in half - right next to my left index finger. I'm not quite sure what happened, but the metal somehow took a bite out of my finger. It certainly bled enough.
But the worst part was when I put it under the water to wash it off. Oh My God... oh my god oh my god .. Lots of swearing. Lots and lots of swearing. At high volume. The cut itself didn't hurt that bad, but the water on it was worse than any pain I can think of in the last five years. The last thing I remember anything being that painful was the time I cut my finger trying to slice a bagel. (Yes, they make bagel holders for a reason.) They used a giant needle to numb the pain.
I yelled for k. She said she'd heard something happen, but was waiting for me to call her, because, as she put it , "Sometimes, when I come running down, you are not always immediately happy to see me."
Well. I think I'm going to survive. Maybe. If y'all don't see a new entry for me in the next seven days, call the undertaker.