If you need to leave soon and want to charge up your Android before you go, you can turn it off and plug it in.
In contrast, as soon as you plug in an iPhone, it turns itself on. As soon as an iPhone reaches a certain level of charge, it turns off low-power mode. This is just one way the iPhone tries to out-think you.
But smartphones really aren't that smart yet.
Friday, November 22, 2019
Turn Silent Mode Off
I suppose that long-time users of iPhones are used to this by now, but to an iPhone neophyte, the idea that you turn the noise OFF by turning "Silent Mode" ON was counter-intuitive. It required parsing double negatives, and confused me at first. Several months in, I still find myself consciously parsing:
"Silent Mode On, OK, turn off the loud alert... Silent Mode Off, so I can get my on-call alert. That's right. Right? OK."
Apple always had an arrogant skewed sense of usability. From the start, the interfaces always looked simple, but they could give new users a quiet desperation sense that they must be stupid to not understand them right away.
"Silent Mode On, OK, turn off the loud alert... Silent Mode Off, so I can get my on-call alert. That's right. Right? OK."
Apple always had an arrogant skewed sense of usability. From the start, the interfaces always looked simple, but they could give new users a quiet desperation sense that they must be stupid to not understand them right away.
Friday, August 02, 2019
Roccbox
How many pizzas would we have to make during a blackout to rationalize the $700?
https://www.gozney.com/us/products/home-pizza-ovens/roccbox/
https://www.gozney.com/us/products/home-pizza-ovens/roccbox/
Tuesday, March 12, 2019
Guillermo Andres Zeballos 1933-2019
Guillermo Andres Zeballos did what grandparents do best: spoil my kids rotten.
He indulged them, always--feeding them from his inexhaustible supply of Pepperidge Farm cookies, taking them out to Barnes and Noble for yet another book they didn't need. Even when Alzheimer's robbed most of his abilities, his face lit up when he saw his grandchildren, and they knew they were loved.
This, perhaps, is not unusual among grandparents. What was unusual about him was his incredible patience.
He came to visit us when Zoe was a toddler. He sat with her while she played. He walked with her among the dull grounds of our apartment complex. He waited while she examined every twig and weed and piece of gravel. He stayed by her side, faithfully, as she wandered in whatever direction she cared to go. He let her take her time--take his time--far past the point when I would have dragged her to play inside so mommy could do something less boring.
This was a true gift to an exploring mind.
My father-in-law was a scientist, a professor, a teacher. We all know that the best teachers teach through example. I'll never forget what he taught me in that walk he took with a tiny little girl: his simple demonstration of true devotion, and true love.
He indulged them, always--feeding them from his inexhaustible supply of Pepperidge Farm cookies, taking them out to Barnes and Noble for yet another book they didn't need. Even when Alzheimer's robbed most of his abilities, his face lit up when he saw his grandchildren, and they knew they were loved.
This, perhaps, is not unusual among grandparents. What was unusual about him was his incredible patience.
He came to visit us when Zoe was a toddler. He sat with her while she played. He walked with her among the dull grounds of our apartment complex. He waited while she examined every twig and weed and piece of gravel. He stayed by her side, faithfully, as she wandered in whatever direction she cared to go. He let her take her time--take his time--far past the point when I would have dragged her to play inside so mommy could do something less boring.
This was a true gift to an exploring mind.
My father-in-law was a scientist, a professor, a teacher. We all know that the best teachers teach through example. I'll never forget what he taught me in that walk he took with a tiny little girl: his simple demonstration of true devotion, and true love.
Wednesday, January 16, 2019
tuna fish sandwich transcendent
It's my longstanding policy not to buy potato chips. Too many calories per pleasure compared to, for example, chocolate. And too expensive per pound.
I do like dark, "Kettle Roasted" chips. And I love potato chips with tuna fish. I almost never have that pleasure, because I almost never buy chips. But last weekend, I had a potato chip craving, and bought a bag of Cape Cod Kettle Roasted chips. Market Basket even kindly had them On Sale.
This morning, my loving spouse made tuna fish with chopped celery. I slid some onto Tuscan Wheat bread (also On Sale.) There were still potato chips left, so I packed them too.
Driving to work, I was looking forward to that ultimate lunch: tuna fish sandwich--with potato chips!
It's a long commute. I listened to my current library audiobook: "A Wrinkle in Time". Meg is in the kitchen. She is making a tuna fish sandwich. She gets sweet pickles out from the refrigerator.
Pickles! Damn it! We had pickles too! I could have put them in my sandwich.
Oh well.
I shall have to wait for another day for perfection.
I do like dark, "Kettle Roasted" chips. And I love potato chips with tuna fish. I almost never have that pleasure, because I almost never buy chips. But last weekend, I had a potato chip craving, and bought a bag of Cape Cod Kettle Roasted chips. Market Basket even kindly had them On Sale.
This morning, my loving spouse made tuna fish with chopped celery. I slid some onto Tuscan Wheat bread (also On Sale.) There were still potato chips left, so I packed them too.
Driving to work, I was looking forward to that ultimate lunch: tuna fish sandwich--with potato chips!
It's a long commute. I listened to my current library audiobook: "A Wrinkle in Time". Meg is in the kitchen. She is making a tuna fish sandwich. She gets sweet pickles out from the refrigerator.
Pickles! Damn it! We had pickles too! I could have put them in my sandwich.
Oh well.
I shall have to wait for another day for perfection.
Friday, January 11, 2019
Scotland
In my brain I want to go to Scotland. It would be a more affordable vacation than Hawaii, or going back to visit in-laws in Chile, especially during the eclipse. It would be less affordable than another New England camping trip--and we didn't even manage that last summer.
Scotland would have some similar scenery to Iceland without being quite as expensive or having the inconvenience of learning another language.
I like single malt Scotch.
I have a cousin living in Edinburgh, though she might be moving back to the States soon.
Are they called Scots?
They have pretty islands in Scotland. In fairness, there are some pretty islands off the Maine coast.
I have a kid about to go to college, next September. She'll need financial aid.
And another kid who'll go to college after that.
I'll probably have to wait 10 years to go to Scotland.
My cousin probably won't be living there then.
It is good to be frugal, and earn a decent salary, and not to have any serious worries about money.
Still. I wish I could travel.
To Paris, to see the Louvre: I may have been there when I was 3 years old, but I don't remember. I'd like to go back to Venice, to find out what that painting was that I saw in the 1990's and can't find on any Internet archive. Supposedly of Saint Rocco, but the cherub had a lewd knowing look in its eye--the scene had wisps of a fancy bordello. To Tuscany to eat another savory chickpea-flour pancake. To Africa--Botswana, or Camaroon, or Some Place--Some Place Very Different. To climb Mt Fuji and tour Kyoto. I want to see the Alps, if not the Himalayas.
But Scotland would be nice. Scotland would do. Could I rationalize it? Could it fit into my budget?
Scotland would have some similar scenery to Iceland without being quite as expensive or having the inconvenience of learning another language.
I have a cousin living in Edinburgh, though she might be moving back to the States soon.
I went to nursery school in London. I listen to the BBC a lot. I watched a TV show and some movies that were set in Scotland. People in Scotland have a cool-sounding accent.
Are they called Scots?
They have pretty islands in Scotland. In fairness, there are some pretty islands off the Maine coast.
There are castles in Scotland.
Scotland would be a more fun reason to renew my passport than simply knowing we might want to drive to Canada someday.
On Instagram, my friends and relatives post photos of California and other various beautiful spots in the Americas, of Europe and Asia. I post photos taken when I'm stuck in traffic on Route 3 South. There are some pretty wetlands visible from the highway, and interesting shadows in the cement barriers and underpasses, and plucky weeds--some with purple flowers--sprouting up through the asphalt. Still, it would be nice to have, I don't know, actual scenery.
And another kid who'll go to college after that.
I'll probably have to wait 10 years to go to Scotland.
My cousin probably won't be living there then.
It is good to be frugal, and earn a decent salary, and not to have any serious worries about money.
Still. I wish I could travel.
To Paris, to see the Louvre: I may have been there when I was 3 years old, but I don't remember. I'd like to go back to Venice, to find out what that painting was that I saw in the 1990's and can't find on any Internet archive. Supposedly of Saint Rocco, but the cherub had a lewd knowing look in its eye--the scene had wisps of a fancy bordello. To Tuscany to eat another savory chickpea-flour pancake. To Africa--Botswana, or Camaroon, or Some Place--Some Place Very Different. To climb Mt Fuji and tour Kyoto. I want to see the Alps, if not the Himalayas.
But Scotland would be nice. Scotland would do. Could I rationalize it? Could it fit into my budget?
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