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    Oliver Twist

    Because of the numbering system I use to save photos for my blog, I know last week’s dish on ice cream (ha) was my four-hundredth WordPress post. I’m not one to track statistics but unexpectedly, reaching this milestone begs the question: Will I make it to #500? Mind you, it’s not about staying in the game. Topics worth my exploration are endless and creative writing is a welcome escape. No, today begs a much more relevant question: What about artificial intelligence (AI)?

    If I could meet you readers face-to-face in the Amazon rain forest I’d whisper a secret password for all to hear.  Then when I use that password in a post, you’d know it’s actually me, Dave, the human, and not some updated version of HAL 9000 doing the typing.  Surely you wonder, as I do, when will AI get so good at authoring documents, so genuine, you won’t even realize you’re reading something untouched by human hands?

    “Hello, Dave.”

    Before we go any further, I think “AI” sounds awfully impersonal.  I suppose impersonal is appropriate for a silicone wafer and a pile of circuit boards.  I just think we need a friendlier word for it; something we humans can better identify with.  How about “Oliver”?  Oliver is the third most popular boy name of 2023.  Oliver Twist was one of Charles Dickens’ most beloved characters (and AI will certainly be a twist on the way we ask for and receive information moving forward).  Let’s nickname it (him?) Ollie.

    Wikipedia’s article on artificial intelligence (yes, there’s already an article) says one of Ollie’s primary goals is problem-solving.  Okay, that digests well.  But then you see goals like reasoning, learning, perception, and social intelligence and your stomach flips a flop.  My reasoning and perception are tools I use for this blog.  If Ollie develops those same tools, it’s only a matter of time before Dave 1.0 (me) is replaced by Dave 2.0 (machine).

    Let’s go back to ice cream for a second.  Let’s say you want to read an opinion piece on ice cream.  If you have AI at your disposal, you could say, “Hey Ollie, write me a post about ice cream, 600 words or so, with arguments in favor of plain old ice cream over sundaes, bars, and other frozen treats.  Reference a few commercial ice cream brands, a few local brands, and finish by talking about the most expensive ice cream in the world.  Oh, and speak the page back to me in James Earl Jones’s voice.”  Then you’d hit the ENTER button and who knows?  Your screen might light up with something remarkably similar to my last post in Life In A Word.

    Also consider, Ollie will have his own opinions on what you read.  After you ask about ice cream, he may spam you with posts on healthy lifestyle.  He also may counsel you about spending your time on more important topics.  Like world peace.  Newsflash, Ollie.  We’re all trying to figure out world peace.  How about you put your circuit boards together and come up with a post on that?

    Here’s my point.  If you have Ollie you don’t need me.  In fact, you don’t even need the WordPress platform.  You could simply slip on a VR headset and ask for a post with just the right topic, tone, reading level, length, and restrictions. It’s like placing an order at the drive-thru of a fast food restaurant.  Seconds later, what you asked for is right there in front of you (no paper bag necessary).  And if Ollie “reads” all four hundred of my posts, he’ll write it pretty much the same way I would. 

    At the rate I’m posting, I’ll publish blog #500 in about two years.  Two years.  Considering all we’ve covered today, how advanced will Ollie be in two years?  Enough to put WordPress out of business?  Enough to where you can generate your own Life In A Word posts by simply entering a handful of carefully chosen criteria?  I hope not.  I’m having a good time with you people (especially those of you who also write blogs).  Maybe all of us should pick up and move to the rain forest.  Then we could pass our handwritten pages around and keep this artificial intelligent party going.  Someone make sure Ollie doesn’t get an invite.

    Some content sourced from Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

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    Cream of the (Dessert) Crop

    A week ago last Tuesday, Salt Lake City hosted its first ever drone show of “fireworks”, replacing the traditional explosives residents have come to expect over the downtown park. The drones create colorful shapes and animations in the sky – even giant words – as well as a pretty good impression of the blooms and starbursts of fireworks. But let’s be honest: drones don’t replace fireworks.  The same can be said for the frozen treats aiming to be more popular than, say, a simple serving of ice cream.

    On the heels of Independence Day, America has another celebration coming up.  National Ice Cream Day is the third Sunday of July in our country (and July itself National Ice Cream Month!) The “holiday” was signed into public law in the mid-1980s when Congress apparently had nothing better to do.  So how do you and I “celebrate” ice cream?  No clue, other than a Google search to figure out where to get a free scoop.  And if you think ice cream is a poor excuse for a holiday, consider, the first Saturday in February is Ice Cream for Breakfast Day… which pretty much confirms every day of the year is some sort of “Day”.

    A stroll past the freezers of ice cream in any grocery store boasts an impressive variety of spins, including cones, sandwiches, pies, and bites. Ice cream is split by bananas, cherry-topped into sundaes, blended into shakes, cloaked as “gelato”, and even fried into crispy-covered bites.  I ask you, who buys all this stuff?  Sure, as a kid I had a thing for Eskimo Pies (because my mom bought them) and later on I ate my share of Dove Bars (because my dad loved them).  But feet to the fire, I’d rather spend my pennies on the best version of plain ol’ ice cream.  I have my favorite brand (and you have yours) and time and again it ends up in my grocery cart instead of any of those other treats.

    For a few years there I got caught up in the Cold Stone Creamery concept, where your serving of ice cream is placed on a marble slab and combined with “mix-in’s”.  It was (still is) a trendy take on ice cream.  But after just a few visits I realized the draw was the mix-in’s more than the ice cream.  Safe to say Cold Stone doesn’t use a brand of ice cream anyone would consider “gourmet”.  They know what brings people through the doors: marble slabs and mix-in’s.  Cold Stone’s rival is even named Marble Slab.

    For anyone growing up on the West Coast in the 1970s, the one-on-every-corner ice cream parlor was Baskin-Robbins.  Their ever-changing selection of thirty-one flavors guaranteed slow perusing, even if the final choice was vanilla or rocky road nine times out of ten (okay, I’ll grant you peanut-butter-and-chocolate too).  Today, Baskin-Robbins is still going strong, but I think most people prefer the flavors of whatever local parlor is closest to their house.  And let it be said for the millionth time: Vanilla is and will always be the king of ice cream flavors.  Simple, delicious, and versatile.

    “Dreyer’s”, in fact

    As for the commercial brands in grocery store freezers, Dreyer’s “Grand Ice Cream” is trying very hard to make its offerings your favorite.  They smartly purchased www.icecream.com and dressed up the website as a tribute to ice cream, but let’s be real: they’re just pushing their own products here.  My favorite brand is still Haagen-Dazs but get this: Haagen-Dazs is now a subsidiary of Dreyer’s.  Whoa.  Give it a few more years and Dreyer’s may turn into the Amazon of ice cream.

    If you like to spend big on ice cream like I do (Haagen-Dazs is not inexpensive!) you might consider Cellato, a brand from Japan.  Cellato makes particularly fragrant gelatos, mixing in white and black truffles from Italy, champagne, and caviar.  Their “white night” flavor is topped with an edible gold leaf, two exquisite cheeses, and a sake-like paste.  The price of a single serving?  $6,380 USD, making it the most expensive ice cream in the world.  Might as well make the airplane seat to Japan first-class for a dessert like that.

    Cellato’s pricey “White Night”

    In closing, a very happy National Ice Cream Day to you!  However you choose to celebrate this Sunday, you don’t need Cellato.  You don’t need Coldstone Creamery either.  For me, the entire ice cream aisle at the grocery store might as well be reduced to the Haagen-Dazs flavors.  Those, and the choices at my local ice cream parlor satisfy my craving.  In other words, forget about the drones.  Traditional fireworks will always be better.

    Some content sourced from the CNN Travel article, “Don’t drop it: World’s most expensive ice cream costs $6,400”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

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    Power of the Purse

    On a daylong trip to the shopping mall last week, my wife excused herself from my daughter and me and disappeared into a Kate Spade boutique. Forty-five minutes later she emerged with a purse, proudly declaring her new tote to be “discounted on top of the sale price”. As I’ve learned over many years of marriage, buying a new purse is a big deal for women, akin to slipping into the leather seat of a new sedan. After all, her purse is in hand almost as much as her smartphone.

    The Kate Spade “Flower Jacquard Stripe Faye Medium Satchel”

    If you’re a guy, don’t ever, EVER make the following statement about a purse: It’s just a bag.  When I was a young and naive husband, it took me several bags – er, purses – to realize a) a new one will always be on the near horizon, and b) a purse contains the very essence of a woman’s life.   There’s a lot in there and a lot going on in there – stuff we guys are better off not knowing about. Kind of like the women’s restroom.

    In our defense, we guys can only relate from the perspective of the pedestrian wallet.  Our “purse” is a whole lot smaller, stored out of sight versus over the shoulder, and designed to hold a minimum of essentials.  In these terms, wallets and purses could be considered polar opposites.  Not to suggest bigger is better, mind you.

    My style of “purse”

    My wife’s purse has countless zips, snaps, buttons, and hidden compartments, each of which she designates for specific items.  She’ll go “here” for a pen, “over here” for some loose change, “out here” for the car keys, and “right here” for lip balm.  And I’m not even talking about the main space.  When you open the main pocket of a purse, it’s a dark, cavernous void suggesting a passageway to another world.  I don’t venture in there very often – usually just to help myself to a little of my wife’s “cash stash”- and then I always get caught.  No… no… not red-handed but rather after the fact, because I don’t put things back exactly as I found them.  My wife knows precisely how her purse is laid out, so I can never deny her accusation of, “HEY!!! Have you been in here?”

    Every now and then my wife goes fishing for a something in her purse and can’t find that something.  This process is a joy to behold from the safe distance of the kitchen table.  She knows whatever she’s looking for is in there somewhere; it just won’t surface.  So she fishes and fishes to no avail.  Sometimes she’ll resort to pulling out half of her stuff just to see what’s underneath.  Other times her hand goes in so deep, half her arm disappears.  With this in mind, I should know better than to go into my wife’s purse.  I mean, there could be a wild animal in there!

    When my wife moves into a new purse, it’s another process worth my witness.  Everything comes out of the old bag (darn it all, Dave… PURSE!) and piles up on the counter.  Then almost everything goes back into the new one (in exactly the same places).  What’s left behind on the counter could fill the shelves of a curiosity shop. Ancient starlight mints. Expired gift cards. Pens from businesses we’ll never use. Faded receipts. And photos so old, you can’t help but say about the person, “Man, didn’t they look great back then?”

    A wallet is a wallet, but a “purse” – in more technical terms – is a shoulder, satchel, sling, quilted, clutch, minaudiere, hobo, wristlet, beach, or even, yes, “wallet”.  I’m sure the list goes on from there.  As for size, my wife’s satchel preference probably rates an “M” on a purse scale of XS/S/M/L/XL.  Too big to hold in the hand but too small to double as a changing room.  She’s tried a few times go bigger or smaller but inevitably returns to “just right”.  Goldilocks would’ve approved.

    Little “Louis Vuitton”
    Look closely…

    My wife’s birthday is this Sunday.  If you read last week’s post you know I hinted at a rather expensive gift for her.  Instead, I think I’ve found something a little more affordable.  A purse, of course (don’t tell!)  It’s a yellowish-green Louis Vuitton, in the style of a handbag, with the bold pattern of the designer’s signature initials.  Gorgeous.  Admittedly, I have two concerns.  One, the bag (PURSE!) runs $69,000 USD.  Two, it measures 0.03″ wide, or barely visible to the human eye.  Yep, we’re talking an XXXXXXXXXXS from a 3D printer here, with it’s size described as “grain of salt” or “eye of needle”. It’s almost worth the cost just to see my wife try to move into it.

    Some content sourced from the CNN Style article, “Handbag ‘smaller than a grain of salt’ sells for $63,000”.

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    Once in a Red Moon

    I try to keep my blog topics timely, inspired by the come-hither headlines of my news feed, shouting, Click me! or No, click ME!  But it’s not often – once in a blue moon, in fact – where I talk about what happened last week and what happens next week inside of the same topic. The calendar positions us perfectly today to do just that. So let’s talk rubies.

    My first introduction to the four “precious gems” was probably when I started going to the movies.  Diamonds Are Forever was as much about the title jewels as it was about James Bond.  Romancing the Stone – the first movie my wife and I ever saw together – was a swashbuckling pursuit of a giant emerald in South America.  The “Heart of the Ocean” pendant from Titanic was the biggest sapphire I’d ever seen (until someone reminded me it was actually a blue diamond).  And rubies, of course, became something magical through Dorothy’s red slippers in The Wizard of Oz.

    The “Star of Fura” ruby

    Last week, the largest ruby ever mined – 55.22 carats – came to the auction block at Sotheby’s.  For a cool $35 million it could’ve been yours.  Named the Estrela de Fura – Portuguese for the Mozambique mine where it was discovered – the “Star of Fura” was twice as big in its native form a year ago, then cut down and polished to the glistening red rock you see here.

    Rubies aren’t made to be broken but world records are, and this one was shattered.  The previous largest ruby, known as  The Sunrise, was “only” half as big (25.59 carats).  To me, The Sunrise looks about as big as a red M&M.  The Estrela de Fura looks like a strawberry.  The most expensive strawberry in the world, that is.

    Green?  Make that red!

    If rubies are your thing, keep an eye on Mozambique.  Ruby mining is relatively new to this country in the south of Africa, with the first significant discovery of the gems made in 2009.  Less than fifteen years later we have the record-setting Estrela de Fura.  Surely an even bigger ruby can’t be far behind.

    Moving on.  This week begins the month of July (and the second half of 2023) which means we have several reasons to see red.  America’s Independence Day includes a lot of red, whether the flag or the fireworks.  Sunbathers will see the color on their skin more often than they’d care to.  Strawberries are ripe and in abundance.  The month’s zodiac sign is cancer (the crab) and crabs are often red.  And July’s birthstone is, of course, the ruby.

    Now’s a good time for some ruby trivia, the fun facts you most likely don’t already know.  The first one is my favorite for your next social gathering:

    1. Rubies are actually sapphires by definition (all mined from  the same crystalline form of aluminum oxide known as “corundum”).  In other words, rubies are simply rarer, red-colored sapphires.
      Don’t touch!
    2. Rubies have symbolized power and protection throughout human history, as with decorated warriors in battle (or slippered Dorothy in the Land of Oz).
      “The Hope”
    3. You’ve heard of the (blue) Hope Diamond but how about the (red) Hope Ruby?  The Hope is 32 carats, cradled in a ring and highlighted with just a few diamonds.  Same name, yes, but different gem, color, and setting.
    4. The most desirable (read: costly) rubies have a hint of blue in them, which contributes to the rich deep color known as “pigeon’s blood” red.
    5. A 10-carat ruby is typically more expensive than a comparably sized diamond.  Why?  Supply (and demand).  You just don’t find as many large rubies as you do diamonds.
    Red sapphires, aka “rubies”

    So there you have it: everything you need to know about rubies just in time for the month we celebrate them.  I’d be remiss (translation: “in trouble”) if I didn’t mention my wife’s birthday, which is next week as well.  Yes, her birthstone is the ruby, and “darn it all” I had the perfect gift idea if I’d only known about last week’s Estrela de Fura auction sooner.  These opportunities come along but once in a red moon.  Sorry honey, I need to be a little more on the ball.  Guess I’ll hang onto our $35M for next year’s birthday present.

    Some content sourced from the CNN.com article, “Largest ruby ever to come to auction sells…”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

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    Rolling in the Isles

    With the world “opening up” again, my wife and I often talk about places we’d like to visit. Some of them are more accessible now that we live near the East Coast. One in particular is further away. But coincidence or not, the five locales tempting the travel bug in me have one thing in common.  Every one of them is an island.

    #16 at The Masters in Augusta, GA

    Let’s get my first choice out of the conversation straight away, because it kind of stretches the definition of “destination” and “island”.  I want to go see a round of The Masters golf tournament in Augusta, Georgia.  If you’re not into golf you won’t understand the fuss, but trust me, when you’ve watched this competition on television every April since you were a kid, the place becomes a shrine of sorts.  The Masters never played into our decision to move to South Carolina, but the course is suddenly only forty-five minutes from my new front door.  So why is it an “island”?  Have you been to Augusta?  The Masters is like finding a bright green emerald in a bowl of gravel.  Let’s just say it would be complimentary to describe the rest of Augusta as “plain vanilla”.

    There are no bad photos of Hawaii

    Now for the real islands.  The first two fall on a lot of must-see lists: Hawaii and Ireland.  Hawaii is no less appealing even though South Carolina makes it three hours further than from where I used to live.  I’ve only seen “The Islands” on my honeymoon and on family trips (decades ago) so I know this time around would be decidedly more adventurous.  Not that I want to bungee-jump into a volcano or anything; rather just take a closer look at all Hawaii has to offer.

    Ho-hum… just another town in Ireland

    As for Ireland, it feels a lot closer when you live up against the East Coast.  If I had x-ray vision I might see the Blarney Stone from these parts.  My wife and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary with our first trip to the Emerald Isle, where we saw a lot of Dublin and only a wee bit of everything else.  We tossed a coin into the Trevi Fountain to be sure we’d go back, and… oh wait, right… that’s Rome.  Anyway, something we did in Ireland back then – whatever it was – instilled the yearning to go back someday.  And we will.

    Mackinac Island’s Grand Hotel

    Island #4 – Mackinac – sits neatly between the two peninsulas of the state of Michigan. The “Crown Jewel of the Great Lakes” has been on my must-see list ever since I watched Somewhere in Time in college in the 1980s.  Yeah the movie’s a little corny, but it’s utterly romantic and it stars Jane Seymour, so cut me some slack.  More importantly, Somewhere in Time shows off Mackinac’s Grand Hotel in all of its past/present glory.  No, I can’t afford the stay at the Grand (rooms start at $500/night) but I’ll settle for one of the B&B’s on the island and spend my money on other stuff instead.  Like a horse-drawn carriage tour with my wife (Mackinac has no cars).  Or a round of golf on the only course in the country where the trek between the front nine and the back is, again, by horse-drawn carriage.  Or a brick of Mackinac’s famous fudge.  Whatever the draw, I’ll endure two connecting flights, a couple hours of driving, and a quick ferry ride, just to experience Mackinac’s throwback delights.

    I’ve saved the best for last (well, at least, I think it’s the best).  If I ever make it to France, I’m heading straight to Mont-Saint-Michel.  “St. Michael’s Mountain”, which I’ve blogged about here, first captured my imagination when professional sandcastle builders (yes, there are such people) built a replica on the beach where I grew up, and again when I studied architecture in college. 

    Mont-Saint-Michel
    The beach-sand version

    The whole island setup is just so remarkable: nothing but a walled village of shops, restaurants, and other structures, connected by cobblestone streets ascending up, up, up to the Romanesque church and abbey at the pinnacle.  Only 29 residents at last count.  The surrounding tides ebb and flow, so at times Mont-Saint Michel is an island and at other times not so much.  And about that abbey on top.  The first cornerstone was laid in 1023, making Le Mont 1,000 years old this year.  All that time and I’ve never ever seen it?  Mon dieu.

    One of Ireland’s many Aran Islands

    If I make it to my five “islands”, I might have to add just one more.  Ireland is paying people almost $100k for the “gift” of an island off the western coast of the country.  There are twenty such islands.  The catch: you have to refurbish whatever structures you find and you have to live there.  Shelter yes, but food, water, power, and fellow humans are maybe’s.  Yeah, I won’t be rolling with any of those isles.  Let’s just start with that golf course down the street from me, shall we?

    Some content sourced from the CNN Travel article, “Ireland will pay you $90,000 to move to a beautiful island home”

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The sky is not completely dark at night. Were the sky absolutely dark, one would not be able to see the silhouette of an object against the sky.

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