Tubby Hubby THursday

... a day late. My work has been occupying the bulk of my time recently, so other more enjoyable pursuits have fallen by the wayside. BUT, in order to not let a good idea go to waste (as is my wont) I've decided to share a tidbit I've picked up. Those of you with smartphones know the joy of predictive text. My keyboard of choice is Swiftkey. It provides three (usually excellent) guesses at what I'm trying to say. It not only predicts what word I'm currently typing, it will try to guess what word I'm likely to type next. Don't ask me how it does this because I'll probably guess magnets. My scientific ignorance aside, it's a VERY handy tool, but it does sometimes make some odd guesses. I'd never thought much about it until I came across this comic at XKCD.com (used and modified without any permission whatsoever):

If it doesn't seem very funny it's because it's not. I've truncated the final panel in hopes of keeping our blog mostly "G" rated, but it poses an interesting question: When given the opportunity and no real constraints, what does my go-to technological sidekick think I'm most likely to say? While typing the three guesses appear in a row directly above my keyboard. In general the middle guess is the primary; if I hit space my phone will insert whatever word appears there automatically. The one on the right seems to be the next most-accurate, followed by the one on the left.


I've run three tests, one each for the guesses on the left, right, and middle. All I'm doing is mashing the next predicted word that comes up in that slot until I hit a period or it continues into an infinite loop. 


Middle (main): "I am a beautiful person."


Right (secondary): "If you're a star, but the best of all time to meet your family and I have to say."


Left (tertiary): "The following item is in a bit more about it, and I am not a bigger club, or the information you have a look."


Well there you have it. Jesse's three "typical" sentences. I don't know that I've ever uttered or texted the phrase "I am a beautiful person," but my phone seems to think I need some self-affirmation from time to time. As for the others, I didn't say they'd make sense. I only said magnets.


NOW, comes the audience participation: If you have a smartphone with a predictive keyboard like this, please post a comment with what your phone thinks you'd like to tell the world. I'll be interested to see what comes up. Feel free to offer interpretations/explanations/excuses/apologies along with your sentences.


If you don't have a predictive keyboard, Swiftkey is the best one I've found and only costs a couple bucks. That's less than the cost of 30cc's of gasoline, so pony up. Click here to download it for Android. Sorry, no iOS/WP7/BB love, but go see what you can find and POST THOSE COMMENTS! Check back every so often. There could be some good stuff.


PS: If any of our MANY (i.e. 3) readers is wondering what happened to "The Retroactivity" post from last week, I got to doing it and realized I have almost nothing to say (and certainly nothing entertaining to say) about past events. For whatever reason it didn't seem worth pursuing. If you'd like me to do it, post that in the comments as well and I'll be happy to oblige. Otherwise onward and upward.

The Retroactivity

Jesse says:

This week's Tubby Hubby THursday feature will come in the form of a retroactive Husbaught-insertion. I invite you to step into my time machine. I'll be going back and adding my Present-day Husbaughts to several of our old blog posts over the next few days.

Join me, if you will, and enjoy a romp through the last three or so years of my marriage. I suggest you start from the beginning and read until you can't anymore. Or don't. The choice is yours.

Her name is Ruby

We love her so much already.

Since the minute she was placed in my hands.

She really is a joy!

As you can see she is bald as can be, has rosy cheeks, and a battery life that could keep us up all night. 

All day too.

It all began with an envelope. I started saving my money months ago and I finally accumulated enough to seriously look into cameras. Hubs (this guy) was so kind as to do some research and took me to a couple of electronics stores to handle some cameras. I became mesmerized. I wanted one. Now.

We finally found the perfect one and jumped on the deal, once again, thanks to hubs. (Props!) We purchased this beaut and hurried and got ready while anxiously waiting for the email to arrive telling us she was ready for pick up. When that email arrived we (or more accurately, I) hurried and got ready to race to the store and pick her up! (Ok, need to clarify here. When Danielle says "hurried," we're talking "wife-time." The conversion rate is 1 Wife-Time hurry = 17 Are-you-ready-yets in husband [or what I like to call ACTUAL] time. For reference, 1 Wife-Time NON-hurry = 2 Husband-time naps.)

When she was placed in my hands, my heart stopped. She was beautiful. I didn't have a clue what to do with her, how to change her lenses, how to clean her, or all the features that she came with, but I was in love. We  (SHE) named her Ruby. I was hoping for the name Blogtar the Destroyer, but since this was Wife-money being used I kept my yap shut.

We've now had her for almost two weeks, still don't know what we're doing with her, but are sure having a lot of fun.

Jesse's Final Thoughts: Special Husbands-only edition.

Women, look away. Seriously this is just for the husbands.

Are they gone? Good.

Guys, if your wife says she wants something that you also want, play it cool. Be super supportive. Encourage her to save her money, help her research, give suggestions, look for deals, etc. Then, when she's ready to pounce, you get a free whatever-it-is! Also you get husband-points for being all supportive and whatnot. Now I just have to get my wife interested in motorcycles.

Funny Friday: Softball Strikes Again

Let me preface this "Softball Narrative" as written by my father. I have in fact received permission to share this rather humorous story on the blog to be remembered forever. My mom and I find this even more entertaining as my dad is ever poised, under control, and does not put himself in awkward situations nor do awkward things happen to him (unlike my mother and I). So please read and enjoy the one time my dad's life was more embarrassing than ours!

Ok... after a 35 year hiatus from the ball diamond, my mind and some of my body decided to show up for softball tonight. I started right field, where someone of my particular abilities should be, and began my newest "most embarrassing moments."  The other team quickly assessed my skill set and sent me a barrage of flies and grounders that I either missed completely over my head, between my legs, or better yet: hit me in my mitt, my knee, chest, eye, and other unmentionable places. I did a couple of face plants and who knows what else. And of course I really shined on the base path--quick mind but forgot my feet and legs as i stumbled towards first base; and I later found that one of my toe nails is a quarter of an inch higher than all the others and colored a nice shade of blue going to purple going to black. And then I had to run from first to home all at once--I was looking for the oxygen mask (or at least some nitrous!) before I passed out. Very comical evening---My Little League coaches would have been so proud. But.....had a GREAT time and will be back next week!! THANK YOU Sponsor Metcalf Mortuary (who can take care of me when I keel over some night!), Coach Dan, and all the team members for being so kind and supportive to me tonight! Go Team!! 

Apparently there is no hope of me ever being graceful! At least I come from two people with a good sense of humor, and lots of great stories!

Out on the Town

Jesse's parents came to Dallas to visit during the first part of May. We had them for just over a week and had a blast! Unfortunately Jesse had to work most of the week so of course I put them to work around the apartment and we squeezed in as much playing as we could.

Husbaughts in red.

We were lucky to get to celebrate my birthday while they were here. 

We were treated to Olive Garden

 and then my awesome husband 

("This Guy") This Guuuuuuy!

spoiled me with gifts. 

 

One of our most anticipated destinations of our "staycation" was the Dallas World Aquarium and it did not disappoint! If you are ever in Dallas this is a must-see in my and my opinion.

Follow me to awesome photo faces!

This bird is tiny and absolutely adorable.

Manatees!

Teenie tiny monkeys. So Fascinating!

These are Pygmy Marmosets. They are so small. *How small are they?* They're so small that if they were iPods they'd be shuffles. Ba-dum.

This sign lies. That sloth wasn't crossing anything. Except maybe his arms.

Feeding the birds Tuppence a bag!

Random plant 

 

This shark just decided to sit on the top of the tunnel and stare at everyone passing through.

Oh yeah, and he's super creepy looking! What shark has LIPS!?

It's behind me, isn't it?

Yes this octopus has a giant hamster ball in it's tank. We even watched him crawl into it.

And the piéce de résistance... monkeys with mustaches.

Well since that is a ton of pictures, you have now seen it! I just saved you a trip!


And unfortunately I didn't pull out my camera as much as i should have so here's the rest of our trip in a very brief picture summary.

We put Doug to work making chairs.
He kept saying he was happy to build them but I still felt a little bad!

We did a few crafts. Jesse is sporting the "Yarn Princess Leia Buns"
Help me Martha Stewart, you're my only hope.

We introduced Jesse's parents to sushi. And oh boy was it amazing (at least for us!)
My folks, as well-traveled as they are, had never had sushi before this. We felt obligated to introduce them to "high society." It... didn't take.

They tried to act like it was tolerable but obviously their faces lie!
We did get a "I would be willing to possibly trying it again" from Momma Rich but that's about it! haha

We also went to Six Flags which was fun! I try to pack as light as possible at amusement parks so I didn't bring my camera but we had a great time, until of course we got rained out!

Let's just say we had a fantastic week! Now we know a few sites in Dallas so we welcome any and all visitors with open arms! *hint hint*

The Future

Dear Readers,


My wife has been gradually indoctrinating me into the culture of the Blogosphere and such ideas as Tuesday Tidbits, Funny Fridays, Wordless Wednesdays, etc. In the spirit of belonging, I've decided to invent my own feature heretofore known as "Tubby Hubby THursdays." No, I'm not necessarily tubby. Yet. Let's call it future-proofing. And in that spirit I present to you: The Future.

The problem I see with "The Future" as we have long called it, is what I will herein name "the chasm."

No, not a literal chasm by any means. There is an uncrossable technological chasm that stands between us as a race and what we see as The Future. Ironically, this technological chasm is actually human.

Let me explain.

When we use our phones, computers, subways, coffee machines, and what-have-you, they do things for us. Some even do wonderful things. My phone (which by tech standards is not yet a dinosaur, but rather something of an extinct wooly-mammoth) can, at my whim, find me directions to the nearest Vietnamese restaurant, buy me tickets to a movie, bring up the engine-block specifications for a 1972 Chevy Monte Carlo, or amuse me with videos of cats doing decidedly un-catlike things. This, by anyone's standards, is an impressive feat, but it doesn't feel like the future. Why? Because of the expectations injected into my brain by science fiction. I was brought up to think that someday I wouldn't need my phone to give me directions because MY CAR WOULD DRIVE ME THERE AUTOMATICALLY. I was indoctrinated with the thought that someday, some wondrous day, I would be able to speak and my kitchen would cook. That I could make utterance, and my home would illuminate. That I could, with a word, make manifest my smallest whim through some plenipotentiary metallic man-servant. This future is not here.

The nebulous benchmark against which I hold all new technological advancement precludes me from ever considering myself to dwell in this ill-defined future I have concocted. I have set up a standard so high as to necessitate a truly brobdingnagian leap in technology to impress me sufficiently to the point that I could consider myself a denizen of the mythical Future. A phone that can take voice commands is great, and the incremental improvements that trickle out to better these services over time bring us crawling toward our ultimate goal as humans to be able to do many many things while having to ACTUALLY do next to nothing.

Ahh. Progress.

But the unavoidable obstacle standing between us and this Technological Utopia is not necessarily the technology itself, which is always improving and ever-growing. It is in the inherent limitations of man. My phone can give me directions to the nearest Vietnamese restaurant because there was at some point a man or team of mans that, in the machine's native language, instructed it on how to do so. My technology can respond to my desires only insofar as someone, somewhere has anticipated that need (or want, more likely) and set up a range of parameters within which my machine can act to fulfill my wish. My phone can "listen" to me tell it to do something, and if it can do it it will. It's when we step outside of these parameters that the limitations are found. I ask what the weather will be like tomorrow and it tells me. I ask which shirt to wear that day and my phone, desperate to please, shunts me to a Google search of "What shirt should I wear today?" This is not what I wanted.

Now I fully understand the limitations of input from which my phone suffers. It has an internet connection, a camera, and various sensors for motion or orientation, but it is not aware of what is in my closet. At the risk of diluting my original point, I would like to submit that closet-knowingness is not a technology I'm prepared to pay for, but in The Future, every piece of technology would be intertwined creating an ever-present, semi-omniscient being that can readily pick me out a shirt AND THEN IRON IT. You may have noticed I make a small but important distinction between the future and The Future. The one being the inevitable rolling-on of days and years that drags us to a yet-distant Now. The other being this dreamed-of creation of our collective imaginings that includes such ridiculous things as jet-packs, robotic maids, and closets that pick your shirts THEN IRON THEM. I want it known that I do live in the Now, and I love it. But there is a part of me, a small but ever-present part of me, that constantly longs for the technology of The Future. A day when my dinner table will do my dishes for me. A day when my couch will adjust itself to mine and my wife's desired firmness at the same time. A day when I step into and back out of a room that is both in my house and wherever else I want it to be. These leaps made at the same time would force my jaded mind to remit and allow itself the unheard-of indulgence of recognizing itself as residing in "The Future." Until then my phone can get me through the day.

Almost.

It's Raining.... It's Pouring

The Event

Hello, my friends. Jesse here. Today brings you the unique opportunity to catch a glimpse of what it's like inside the brain of me, the husband. The guy. The dude, if you will. I apologize that there are no pictures to illuminate my story. I can only hope that my words are sufficient to paint a picture and portray my feelings.

Enjoy:

My wife, being of the stay-at-home variety recently, has been on a kick of planning and preparing a wide range of what I like to call “real meals.” These meals are differentiated from their less substantive brethren by things like multiple food groups, glass plates, and eating at the table instead of in front of Netflix the way it should be (I’ll leave ambiguity as to the antecedent to the phrase “the way it should be” to allow the reader to interpret whether it should be at a table or in front of Netflix. Close friends will know what I mean, strangers and acquaintances can infer as they like for the moment.). As a side effect of this, my wife's newfound love of housewifery, I’ve been subjected to a greater number of green things on my plate than I have previously found comfortable. Some of them, to my surprised relief, have been quite good. Others have pressed me through an experience that could only be described as herbivoric.

Those of you with whom I am familiar will know that I’m no great lover of salads, but certain combinations of specific varieties of leafy things drenched in the viscous opacity of the right kind of topping have proven themselves at least palatable if not totally desirable. Recently, however, I had one of those herbivoric experiences which, in addition to being utterly repulsive in itself, may have been to the permanent detriment of this movement I’ve been making toward a more “balanced” diet. Danielle had prepared a perfectly lovely “real” meal on glass plates, sitting at the table, featuring a variety of foods which under other circumstances would have been mentioned here, but have been forgotten entirely in the wake of my salad-related trauma. We sit down, eager to dig into this latest culinary creation born of my wife’s recent abundance of free time. We say a quick prayer, and begin simultaneously the meal and the accompanying recounting of our day. “How was your day today? Did you have a good day today or a bad day today? Well what kind of day was it?” (With apologies to the creators of Seinfeld for an assuredly imperfect quotation) After a few minutes of happy noshing and a couple of stories exchanged my fork brings to my mouth the scourge, the bane, the ruin of my day: A single, undrenched leaf of baby spinach.

I have no aversion to baby spinach per se. Danielle and others will tell you that, should salad be unavoidable, baby spinach is actually my preferred delivery system for whatever dressing I’ll be eating at that meal. But one leaf of baby spinach on its own changed things. I was suddenly aware that in my mouth was not a bite of salad, but a leaf. A piece of a plant had found its way from nature to my tongue unimpeded and unflavored. Helped, even, by my own treacherous fork. The bitter grit and pungent fibers of that one terrible leaf began working their dark sorcery from the moment it passed my lips. My mouth, nay, my whole being rejected it immediately, but for the love of propriety and in consideration of my dear wife I continued to chew. My incisors, canines, and molars all worked in unison to destroy forever this vile intruder. With a final gulp I put the beast to rest, but the damage was done. The memory would live on, seared into my subconscious, forever emblazoned on the most prominent part of my brain. A complex in its nascent form, waiting to mature and grow into… what? A fear? A psychosis? An idée fixe?

Alas, dear reader, we may never know the full extent of the damage done. We can only guess what the ramifications will be. But be warned. If you take nothing from my ramblings this day, remember this guiding principle: Salad is not food. Salad is what food eats.