Manual Typewriters to Flying Robots

I was thinking about robots the other day. No, really. I was thinking about robots. Weren't you?


Anyway, I watched a video of Vijay Kumar presenting his work on autonomous flying robots from TED. I was suitably impressed. I even understood about 12% of the technical talk, which is pretty high for me. I watched as the robots flew about, dodging obstacles and constructing frame structures. Then there was the big musical finale, a group of flying robots playing instruments, picking out the James Bond theme. It wasn't particularly good, but definitely recognizable.


It was the finale that got me thinking. What would I want robots to do for me? Certainly not play musical instruments, but what else? Well, load the dishwasher, for one thing. The task wouldn't be much different than in Kumar's video, as robots flew to a stack of magnetized Lincoln Logs, picked them up and maneuvered them into place. They'd have to be careful with the wine glasses, though, and they'd have to be sure to get out of the dishwasher before the rinse cycle started.


It'd be great if they could spot and pick up all the things we forget and leave lying about the apartment. I just found my pliers in the kitchen cupboard. I lowered a shelf, using the pliers to remove and replace a stubborn shelf support, and must have set them down as I began loading glassware on the shelf. I would never have remembered where they were, unless a handy robot flew by and spotted them for me. Same goes for my husband's socks.


Anyway, then I started thinking about all of the things that are automated today but were manual once upon a time. For instance, our cat loves to chase a laser light around the room and it's very entertaining for us as well. A few months ago, we got an automated laser toy. The toy rotates in an irregular pattern, moving the laser as it goes. The cat knows where the light comes from and tries to figure out how to make the light come out by herself. I laugh at her, but inside I'm thinking, "Am I so lazy that I can't hold a tiny laser pointer for my cat?" I don't really want an answer to that.


Dialing a telephone has been semi-automated for years; in fact, I haven't "dialed" a phone in decades. I'm old enough to remember having only one phone in the house, attached to the wall and with a handset that was attached to the base by a long curly cord. It had a rotary dial and took actual seconds to dial a seven-digit number. That's right - seven digits. Now you know how old I am.

And typewriters. I learned to type on an electric typewriter, but used an old manual machine in my first office job. Both machines had actual inked ribbons wound onto bobbins, and keys that could, on the manual machine, jam up if you typed too fast.

Let's talk about making copies. Today, if I want an extra copy of a letter I've typed, I'll print an extra copy, and in our home, the printer is about 50 feet away and wireless. A decade or so ago, I would have stepped over to the copy machine to make the extra copy. But back when I started working, our copies were wireless. We had to plan ahead if we wanted a copy, because we would use carbon paper, sandwiched between two sheets of paper. In fact, if we "cc'd" someone, it meant we did what "cc" stands for - we created a "carbon copy."

And I have to say it - we had to get up and walk over to the television set to change the channel - all four channels.

Of course, my son has always had a computer (he was teaching his fellow kindergarteners how to use the machines in the computer lab at school). We've had a mobile phone since he can remember. His world has always included these things and has never included a living John Lennon. He most likely doesn't remember a wall dividing Berlin in two or working pay phones.

It's not that I miss the old, manual stuff. I'd much rather use a food processor than grate a bag of carrots or potatoes by hand. I appreciate being able to call my mom from Hawai'i and have it sound like I'm next door. I love my hybrid car, my energy-efficient light bulbs and my plasma TV. But I also get satisfaction out of baking bread (okay, I use a bread maker) and knitting by hand.

But autonomous flying robots are pretty cool. Gotta get me one!

Nothing a good pot of soup won't cure

There's something magical about soup, in my mind. We - the hubster and I - just finished a nice supper featuring a big pot of homemade butternut squash soup. It didn't hurt to have a few slices of homemade honey wheat bread alongside.


I was thinking about soup today. I know, I know...but thinking about food puts me in a happy place. And soup is special food.


It's warm, usually. It takes a while to make, usually. I can make a quick pot of soup, but why? Part of the attraction is the slowing down. Chop this, simmer that, taste and season. Repeat.


Soup generally doesn't take my full attention, either. It takes me a while to work up to it, but once I get started, I can step in and out of the kitchen as needed.


I love the smell of the house when soup simmers on the range, and the smells change as the ingredients begin to come together into soup. First, the nutty scent of melting butter in the pot, then the fresh spicyness of onions and celery. As those soften, I get out a little jar of roasted garlic and add a scant teaspoon to the mix - not too much!


By the time the ingredients are assembled and the soup is bubbling toward completion, the whole place smells like autumn. Then a sprinkle of nutmeg, and I'm dreaming of pumpkins and looking forward to Thanksgiving with my son and daughter-in-law.


Texture is another important quality of soup. Brothy soups are my husband's favorites - the more broth, the better. Me, I like thick, chunky soups. I have been known to use a stick or immersion blender to puree soups, but I think the texture is improved by using a potato masher instead. Lumpy is good.


Tomato basil soup has long been my favorite to make, but tonight's butternut squash soup may well have taken over first place. Here's the recipe - tell me what you think.


Connie's Butternut Squash Soup
2 tablespoons butter
1 medium onion, chopped
2 stalks celery with leaves, chopped
1 scant teaspoon chopped garlic
1 quart chicken stock, divided
1 bay leaf
1 butternut squash
Salt and pepper to taste
1/2 to 1 cup cream or evaporated milk
Nutmeg


Melt butter over medium high heat. Add onion and celery and cook, stirring occasionally, until onions are soft and translucent. While onion and celery cook, peel and seed squash; cut in 2-inch chunks.


Add garlic, 2 cups chicken stock and bay leaf to pot. Add squash, season with salt and pepper. Bring to boil, then cover and simmer 20-30 minutes, until squash is tender. Add more stock as needed.


Remove and discard bay leaf. Mash squash in pot until thick (or use immersion blender). Slowly stir in cream or evaporated milk, alternating with stock, until soup is the thickness you prefer. Sprinkle liberally with nutmeg. Taste and adjust seasonings.


Serving suggestions: Top with toasted nuts or seeds (sunflower seeds and almonds work well), croutons, or a dollop of sour cream or plain yogurt, and a sprinkle of freshly grated nutmeg. Good with hearty bread on the side, perfect for wiping your bowl clean.


Makes 4-6 servings.

Guest Commentary: A Dog's View

My name is Libby, or so they tell me. I am 2 or 3 years old (never ask a lady her age), a tri-color Basset Hound. I possess a nice, classic basset hound shape (if I do say so myself), with soulful brown eyes, capable of melting hearts and seeking extra treats.

This person called CJ came to my territory last week and has just turned my life upside down. I mean, first she walked in like she belonged, right up to my crate, a-cooing and a-talking. She opened the gate and held out her hand like I was supposed to…what? Sniff it? Lick it? Huh.

First of all, she is not my people. She doesn’t smell right, which is very important to a hound. And secondly, where are my people? Alert! Sound the alarm! Which I did, loudly and emphatically.

It was no use trying to talk me out of alerting the town that a stranger was here! You can be as nice as you like, person, but you’re not my person. You’re not even…Hey! She left! I need an audience if I’m going to perform. So I followed her down the stairs.

Pretty soon my people came home. Funny, but they seemed to like her. Huh. It would have been nice to be properly introduced, people! Some folks have no manners.

The next day, my people left and this CJ person stayed behind. Although it wasn’t so bad, since she seemed to know where my kibble is stored and where the leash is. It was pretty funny watching her try to figure out the harness. I got her good and messed up, putting my head through the wrong loop and then stepping on the leash and not moving. Hee-hee-hee!

We finally took a walk. She said it was short, but Lord! Her legs are so much longer than mine. The corner is a long ways away, and there’s a lot of pavement between here and there. Lots of good smells, too. And while we’re on the subject, why are the best smells in picker-bushes? I mean, I have a delicate proboscis (what? I have a very good vocabulary for a dog, thank you.) and I don’t care to get it pierced.

I have enjoyed one thing – this CJ person gets working on something and seems to forget about everything and everyone else. This is particularly handy since she seems to think I am not allowed on the couch. (Well, I’m not…yet.) Anyway, she gets distracted often enough that I can get in a decent cat nap on the sofa before she notices me and starts getting bossy again.

And speaking of cats…The two felines who share this abode will need to have their cattitudes adjusted, because I am not going anywhere. They may think they’re special, but a little hissing and the fur raised up on your back doesn’t scare me, sister. Besides, I happen to know what they seem to have forgotten—they’ve been declawed! Hee-hee-hee.

I cannot believe this CJ person. Today was hot – that’s h-a-w-t! – a real scorcher. Can you believe it? She went and brought a kiddie pool and tried to get me to climb in! Don’t know what off-brand canned food she’s been eating, but I have my dignity. I am not some Labrador or Setter, flopping in the water and chasing Frisbees. It was pretty funny, though, when she thought she could lift me into the pool. Hey, lady – it takes a lot of kibble to keep this girlish figure! She’ll be hurting tonight.

Whoa – red squirrel! Come a little closer…closer…Dang! Got away.

Where was I? Whatever. Apparently my people are coming home tonight and this CJ person can just go back where she came from. I’ll be so glad to have my people back. But they better not have cheated on me with another dog. That’s just not right. I mean, I’ve been faithful. I’ve tolerated this CJ person, but haven’t loved on her…much.

Well, I’ve got to go now. It’s awfully hard to write – I have to use the “hunt and peck” method of typing, having no thumbs or articulated digits. I just have time to jump on the sofa, toss the pillows off (aren’t they “throw” pillows?) and slobber on the hardwood. Gotta get this place in shape for my people!

Take care, Libby

PS – I am thinking about a name change. Right now I’m leaning toward “Duchess.” I think that’s suitably regal, don’t you? Squirrel!

How to cram ten pounds of potatoes into a five-pound sack

Let me start by saying that I am delighted. My wonderful husband of thirty years is now living with me. In the same city. In the same apartment. I'm going to pause and savor this.

Now, the tricky part: how to combine the contents of a 1700-square foot house and an 1100-square foot apartment into a 1200-square foot condo. I keep doing the math, but...

What, exactly, am I willing to live without? While I like to think that I am a person of simple needs, the reality is that I own wa-a-ay too many clothes and shoes.

I've been going through my wardrobe with a critical eye. Like many women, I have fairly complete wardrobes in several sizes. This makes it tough to pare down, because there are favorite items in each size. If something is too small, I think that soon I will lose weight (again) and be able to wear the slacks/dress/swimsuit. If something is too large -- never mind, that never happens.

At present I am having a bit of success in culling out the too-small items for donation to charity. Next: divide the wardrobe into warm and cool weather and pack away the out-of-season clothing into storage. This is also tough, since we all know that we might need the shorts, tank tops and flip flops in March for that spontaneous trip to [select one: Vegas, Hawaii, Jamaica], and there's always a week of unseasonably cold weather in June. Still, I can do this.

I am more successful paring down my kitchen. I will give away the mismatched, barely serviceable pots and pans I picked up at second-hand shops for the apartment and return to using the good stuff - no problem there. The new place has more kitchen than anything else, so I just know I'm going to be very happy!

Actually, I'm looking forward to downsizing. The question is whether I can keep from upsizing again. The answer is...doubtful.

Flying Lessons

I saw more than my fair share of airports in 2010, not that I'm complaining.  I thought a bit about airports, airlines and flying in general a couple of days ago, returning to Chicago from the long holiday weekend back in Cleveland. Actually, I spent most of my time thinking about the items that travelers carry aboard airplanes.

Here's what I typically take:

• A large shoulder bag with enough room for my purse, books and necessities
• Reading material. In theory, flying is a great way to keep up with my reading. Perhaps it's just me, but there seems to be more books, magazines, papers and blogs that I'd like to read, but less time in which to do so. I have a stack of books by my bed and another by my easy chair. I am constantly jotting titles and authors on lists for future reading.
  
  So I tuck a few items in my carryon and let myself enjoy a few minutes while cramped into small spaces with inadequate lighting and deafening sound levels. For longer trips, I like to load up my ipod with ebooks - much less weight to drag through airports, less bulky to shove under the seat in front of me, and no worries about inadequate lighting. Unless I forget to charge the ipod before I go.
• A shawl or wrap - the longer the flight, the colder the cabin seems to get
• A snack - Seems silly for a short flight, but I have had flights delayed or canceled and been stuck in airports with either no food for sale or only very pricey items available. This is a life saver.
• A laptop bag (duh)

MOMS KNOW BEST When my mom travels, she packs her "necessary bag." This includes everything she could possibly need/want during her trip, including wine, cheese and crackers. Need to sew on a button? Mom's got a sewing kit. Paper cut? Here's a bandage. Headache? Aspirin at the ready. Since she usually travels by train or car, she can get away with carrying things forbidden on planes, like a knife for the cheese and a corkscrew for the wine.

I try never to have to gate check a bag. Seriously, I don't want to be in the line of people who cannot wait to get off the plane, then queue up along with sides of the gangway (freezing, usually), blocking the way of others trying to leave because we purposely packed so as not to have to gate check anything. Phew! Sorry - got that off my chest.

Airports - you know what would make airports much better? Multiple power outlets in passenger waiting areas. In the Fort Lauderdale airport earlier this month, I searched a four-gate area for a power outlet. There was one (1) - behind the gate crew desk. Where does the cleaning crew plug in a vacuum? Not that the carpet looked very clean. In other airports, you can locate an outlet but must sit on the floor, your back to a pillar or window, to use it. I'm sure it made sense even fifteen years ago, when most of us did not carry electronics on our persons, but not today. The same with airplanes - what about making power available in economy class? How awesome that would be! =sigh=

I like flying, but airlines have made it harder to like. So many restrictions, rules, fees. Still, flying is often a convenient mode of transportation that makes possible my husband and I living and working in separate states. If I couldn't fly, I'd be able to see him less. So thanks, Continental, United, American, et al. Keep 'em in the air, keep 'em safe. I'll pack lightly and be courteous to my fellow travelers. And I'll try to remember to charge my electronics before I leave the office.

Lions and Dragons and Monsoons, oh, my!

November is an interesting time in Singapore. A visitor might expect hot, humid and sunny weather, being so near the equator. What a visitor finds, though, is a bit different. Oh, not the hot and humid part - the weather definitely delivers in that regard.

It's the sunny part that's amiss. During late October/early November, the smog index climbs due to intentionally set forest fires in neighboring Indonesia. The winds carry the resulting smoke to Singapore, blocking out the sun and affecting the air quality.

Once the air clears...Surprise! it's monsoon season. Expect overcast skies and rain daily. This morning it poured buckets. You know, I thought about bringing an umbrella with me. Fortunately my colleague brought a spare.

I have seen sunshine twice since arriving on Sunday. I just checked the long-range weather forecast - it calls for 88 degrees (F) and thunderstorms daily for the next ten days. Really?

On the other hand, Singapore is delightful. Lovely gardens, bustling streets, modern buildings and a striking cultural blend make the city truly fascinating. I love the contrasts here - for instance, the University of Chicago School of Business is housed in a 19th century Chinese mansion, situated in front of a sleek glass and steel office building.

I took a stroll my first day in Singapore and turned onto Orchard Road. It was like walking in Times Square or Las Vegas. Christmas decorations bloom along the street, including a full-sized sleigh and reindeer. Wendy's and Starbucks reside alongside electronics shops, custom tailors and Indian restaurants. Borders and Subway, Hard Rock Cafe and California Pizza Kitchen, Chili's and Marks and Spenser. It's a small world after all.

Ask anyone who has been here and they'll tell you - Singapore may be the cleanest place in , the world. Changi Airport is by far the most beautiful, well-maintained airport I have ever visited, all gleaming stone and metal. It is also incredibly quiet, in my personal experience. Of course, arriving after 1 a.m. may have been a contributing factor to the lack of noise.

I hope to explore the island more extensively this weekend, visiting the new Double Helix bridge, the Merlion (or the lion vomiting into the bay, as my colleague says) and Little India. I see shopping in my future, as well as many photo opportunities.

Singapore is a fascinating place, with so much to offer the traveler. I'm glad to be here and looking forward to learning and seeing so much more.

These are tears of joy, really!

Today my son married his sweetheart. I watched with pride as he and the pastor strode down the walk, under the trees and brilliant sunshine, to take his new bride's hand and begin the next great adventure together. I held it together (thanks to waterproof mascara). It was magical.

Surrounded by their best friends and two extended families, my son and daughter-in-law celebrated in style. They thought of everything, including biodegradable confetti. Vases filled with fresh peaches were fragrant centerpieces, and guests were encouraged to use the handy paper sacks to take one or two home with them.

Strings of photos graced the mantle - snapshots of their separate lives, darling children, on one string, then a record of the time since their worlds intersected. Okay, I may have shed a tear or two here, too.

My husband and I laughed, danced, hugged and kissed our way through an exquisite evening, and two families merged. What a joy to know my boy has found love, with such a wonderful woman. Today I gained a daughter. I've always wanted a daughter [pause for more tears].

I danced...a lot. My old feet are cranky and creaky now, but so what. My son and I danced together. I might have cried again here. You got a problem with that?

I know this isn't my best writing. It's probably due to the tears now in my eyes, and the lump in my throat. This post isn't my best work, but today's events were the result of some of my best work ever. We raised him and sent him out into the world, and he came back to share his joy with us. I'm the happiest person on earth tonight. And I'm still crying. Thanks for letting me share my joy with you. 

It was a dark and stormy night...

New idea! My mom (God bless her, she's 71 and thinks she's 40) is bored. She has read every book by her favorite mystery authors and has resorted to grabbing armfuls of books from the library shelves just to try something new. She was lamenting this to me last week, complaining that she was unhappy with how the books were written - characters without an ounce of character, thinking and acting in ridicules ways, skating along unbelievably thin plot lines.

Now, for years we both, like everyone else you know, have said, "Some day I'm going to write a book." I even started writing one (but that's another post). So last week I suggested we write one together. It could be about a woman living in the north woods of Michigan, her daughter living in the big city and their differences (and similarities) while discovering and solving a crime.

Mom got very excited--"We can do this!" she cried. "'It was a dark and stormy night...'"

"Oh, please." She could probably hear me rolling my eyes over the mobile phone. Then I said, "Okay, but here's how it starts: 'It was a dark and stormy night.' She paused, her fingers hesitant above the keyboard. 'I can't believe I just wrote that old cliché. Am I losing my touch?'"

Mom laughed, then cautioned, "Except I'll be writing longhand."

It was my turn to laugh. "No worries, mom. You write the first chapter and send it to me. I'll transcribe it and write chapter two. Let's see what we come up with."

If nothing else, we'll have a little diversion to keep us occupied for the rest of the summer. What are you doing for diversion this summer?

About eight weeks ago I moved from Cleveland to the Chicago area to take a new job. Quite an adventure - moving 350+ miles away from friends and family, from the house we built and the city I had come to know and love through 23 years of living.


Now I'm in Illinois and my darling husband is in Northeast Ohio. We've never been this far apart for this long in almost 30 years of marriage, and let me tell you - it's tough. I mean, you expect to miss the person you're closest to, but it happens in funny little ways.

Like missing the ballast on the other side of the bed, and the sound of his breathing when you wake with a start at night. Like learning to make single serving meals (or get used to lots of leftovers). Like having someone to split a pizza with, go to a movie with and discuss the doings on your favorites TV shows.

Don't get me wrong - I "do" alone better than most of my married friends. I'm perfectly comfortable going out alone, exploring a new part of the country and learning my way around. I'm independent and I'm comfortable with myself.

But I have neither had nor wanted a single life for the last 30 years, and the sudden transition is difficult. So we try to find ways to be together as often as possible, at least a weekend every two to three weeks, sometimes more often. I'm racking up the frequent flyer miles, because the six- to seven-hour drive eats into the time I can share with family and friends back home.

On the plus side, I'm working again after eight months of unemployment. We're catching up on bills and savings again, although it's tough making up that much ground. I'm making new friends, I work for a great company with terrific benefits, and I live in a beautiful area.

So, yeah. I chose this path - I chose to work, to live apart from my family and to start a new adventure - and I'd make the same decision again. But every once in a while, I think I'm allowed to throw a little pity party for one.

Okay. I'm over it. Thanks for letting me vent. Let's talk about something else, shall we?

An Organized Mind is a Dangerous Think

"An organized desk is the sign of a sick mind." Remember that chestnut? I , too, laughed away my organizational skills (or lack thereof) for years. But over time it became apparent that I needed to get a handle on my desk, car, sewing room, etc.

So I read all the self-help books and tried all the systems. I tried color coding files, which actually helped, for a while. I used blue for projects/assignments, red for critical deadlines, and green for administrative tasks like expense reports and time sheets. After a while, though, I'd be too busy to get up and find or order the right colors, and then I was back to plain manila folders, scattered everywhere.

I tried setting up a tickler file system, which I now realize was too complicated. I tried keeping "to-do" lists, which also helped for a while. Except I kept forgetting to put things on the list, or I'd put things down like "Make a to-do list" or "Eat lunch." I kept trying to include things I would do or had already done so that I could mark something as completed.

Each time I tried a new system and then abandoned it, I felt like a failure and became more sensitive about my disorganization. Then one day I was talking with a colleague about personal areas for improvement and I mentioned being disorganized. She was shocked and said, " But you're the most organized person I know." What???

I laughed nervously as she explained. "You always have whatever I need, your work is timely, you proofread and edit carefully. So what if your desk has a lot of paper on it? The papers are necessary for your job. You never lose anything, and I can find things when you're not here."

And she was right. I was so used to seeing myself as disorganized that I didn't notice that all my failed efforts at organization had actually paid some dividends. Sure, I gave up on using other people's systems. Just because the systems worked for someone else didn't mean they'd work for me. But each time I tried something new, I adjusted and improved.

I think I'm better organized now, but I really have to work at it. About once a week I try to catch up on filing, so it doesn't completely get away from me. I've carefully organized my electronic files in folders that make sense to me. I am getting rid of the stuff that accumulates over the years. I mean, do I really need to save the name badges from the conferences I've attended? No, I don't.

And now I'm a proponent of organizing things in baskets or bins. A new trick this year for holiday decorations: instead of gathering all the bells in one box, all the garland in another and all the candles in yet another, I packed the decorations for the mantle in one box, layered a holiday towel over top, then packed the decorations for the piano in the next layer. Then - get this - I labeled the box. I'm so excited!

Career counselors tell us we need to be aware of both our strengths and our weaknesses (or developmental opportunities, as I think of them). Among my strengths: an ability and desire to see all sides of an issue before making decisions, strong written and oral communication skills, and a creative mind. Among my developmental opportunities, continuing to improve my organizational skills, take more thorough project notes, and wanting to give people the benefit of the doubt for too long (or is that a strength?). All in all, I like to think these balance out on the positive.

What are your developmental opportunities? Do you wish you could build stronger relationships with colleagues? Be a better proofreader? A better employee or employer? A better partner? Can you do one thing differently that will help you improve? What will you do differently today? And now I'm going to clean out the laundry room cupboard and organize the contents in plastic baskets. With labels.