Sunday, March 23, 2014

Remembering Ms. Trosko

     March 22:  While doing my daily writing yesterday, the name of the English teacher, Dorothy Trosko, popped into my head.  I had not thought of Ms. Trosko for a few years.  In fact, I had to refer to my yearbook to get the correct spelling of her name.  There was two photos of her in the yearbook.  One is shown here and the other was a group shot of the English Department faculty.  I somehow remember her being a larger physical presence in that group photo.  I also recall her being older than how very young she appears in both these photos.  It was her presence in the classroom that made her seem larger and older.  That and the fact that I was a mere 17 years old when I knew and last saw her. 
     Ms. Trosko was a tough teacher or at least that was her reputation.  I was not excited when I learned she was to be my English teacher in my senior year because of that reputation.  She made students work and held them to high standards.   But, as is often the reality in such cases, the reputation was over exaggerated.  She ran a firm classroom and was indeed demanding.  While in her class, I realized the reputation was not warranted.  Looking back at her class now, I give her kudos for pushing us to and beyond our limits to make us better writers.  The best leaders push people beyond what they believe are their limits.  It doesn't matter if you are working as a project manager at Apple and Steve Jobs was your leader or if you (read me) was a high school senior know-it-all and Ms. Trosko was your writing teacher.  What more could one ask for from a teacher?  Is this not the essence of excellent teaching?
     I love and hate the internet.  I love that I can type in "Dorothy Trosko Stevenson High School Livonia" and get information back in a blink of the internet.  I hate that what I got back was an obituary and death notice.  I learned that Dorothy Mary Trosko was born on August 26, 1939 and passed away on February 23, 2010:  she was 71 years old... too young.  I hate that I was thinking about reaching out and thanking her for the influence she had on me four years after she passed.  Such is life.  Such is life at my age.   
     In 1971, when I graduated she was 32 years old and 14 years my senior. The photo here was from the 1970 Stevenson High School Yearbook:  my junior year.  She was 31 in this photo.  She looks like she could have been a student. 
     In reading her obituary, there was a line that struck a deep chord in me.  "She served as a powerful role model, and treasured boxes of letters filled with gratitude from former students."  I should have written one of those letters long ago.  I suppose that is what I am doing now.
     There is a lesson here.  If you think fondly, have warm memories, or appreciated the contributions someone made in your life, tell them.  Tell them the moment you think about it.  Write them, email them, call them, or tell them in person.  It doesn't matter.  They would appreciate it, especially if it is someone that you have lost touch with or haven't connected with in years.  When the thought comes into your mind, listen to what the Nike folks are always touting and, just do it.  You will be glad you did and the person will most definitely appreciate hearing from you.  I speak of this from experience both as a recipient and initiator of such contacts.
     Here is the funny thing about my Google search of Ms. Trosko, the fourth listing in the search was my February 2012 8th Anniversary Letter.  I mentioned Ms. Trosko in that letter much like I have here.  
I do not believe I ever got more than a B in any of her assignments.  It was quite frustrating.  I tried harder to no avail.  I do believe she taught me how to write a paragraph.  No other English teacher stands out in my memory.  Perhaps, that is where the seed of all this was planted.

Just like yesterday, she just popped into my head.  Unlike 2012, I did search her name.  I do believe she taught me how to write a paragraph.  It was frustrating then, but am so grateful for it now.  Before 2012 and yesterday, I really had not thought enough about Ms. Trosko and her influence on me.  
     In my May 2005 letter, Memorable School, Memorable Teachers, I presented a quiz to easily conjure up the names of special people in our lives, especially those that we may no longer be in regular contact with.  I present it again as it is worth referring to every now and again:
Take this quiz: (mentally)

1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world.
2. Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.
3. Name the last five winners of the Miss America contest.
4. Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer prize.
5. Name the last half dozen Academy Award winners for best actor and actress.
6. Name the last decade's worth of World Series winners.

How did you do? The point is, none of us remember the headliners of yesterday. These are no second-rate achievers. They are the best in their fields. But the applause dies. Awards tarnish. Achievements are forgotten. Accolades and certificates are buried with their owners.

Here's another quiz. See how you do on this one:

1. List a few teachers who aided your journey through school.
2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.
3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.
4. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special.
5. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.
6. Name a half dozen heroes whose stories have inspired you.

Easier? The lesson? The people who make a difference in
your life are not the ones with the most credentials, money or
awards. They are the ones that care.
     These are the ones we should be thinking about and thanking.
     Ms. Dorothy Trosko was one of those people in the second half of this quiz.

     Thank you Ms. Trosko!

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

May 7, 2003: Our Rental Car Burns to the Ground



This was written before I started to write my monthly letters and this blog.  I thought I would post this amazing story.

     Last night, Jim Davis and I traveled from NYC to York, PA.  Our warehouse design consultants, St. Onge, were having their annual conference on Supply Chain Management on May 7-8 which we are attending.
     Yesterday was Colgate’s annual meeting at the Marriott Marquis in Times Square.  In the afternoon, they have an employee’s only version of the meeting which is both informative and quite entertaining.  Our plan was to leave from there around 5 p.m., pick-up a rental car from Avis a few blocks away and hit the road.  The cost of a rental car for the entire three days was less than an Amtrak ticket for one of us, which was our usual mode of transportation to York for previous visits.  So, we were both saving the company money and giving ourselves control and flexibility in our schedule.
    When we went to get the car, I noticed a Maroon Buick Rendezvous in the lot.  I told Jim that he should ask for that rather than the normal mid-size fare Avis would have given us.  The Avis lady told us it was an extra $9 a day, and we took it.  We were surprised and impressed to find that the Rendezvous was brand spanking new.  It had only 26 miles on the odometer.  So, feeling good in our cushy ride, we left the Avis location on 42nd between 9th and 10th Avenues, wormed our way through traffic to the Lincoln tunnel, and head out toward Pennsylvania on I-78.  The weather was nice; we were cruising and chatting about everything from work to family to general blah blah blah.
     Armed with directions from Yahoo Maps, we were moving right along until we got near Reading, PA.  The directions, as both Yahoo and Mapquest can sometimes be, got a little confusing.  We were supposed to follow US 222 South and US 422 East, sometimes on one, sometimes on the other, and sometimes on both as they were merged.  Each of these segments was like .7, 1.2, .3, 6.4 miles.  It was not clear and we ended up about 15 miles off track.
     We decided to get a map.  So we stopped at a Wawa, an improvement to the 7-11 chain reportedly started by an Armenian.  All they had was a thirty page atlas style map of Pennsylvania for around $15.  We needed it, so I bought it.  Upon finding the right page, it became clear how we got lost.  Around Reading was a spider web of roads, like any moderately sized town, but in this case every other one was named either US 222 or US 422.  No wonder Yahoo Maps was confused and less wonder that we were confused and got diverted.  We laughed plotted our route and moved out.
      We lost about an hour in all both for travel time and looking for a place to buy a map but we were having a nice time and would still get to York around 9:30 or so.  We took US 222 south to Lancaster and then Route 30 west toward York.
     On route 30, the climate control system started acting strange.  It went to high all by itself, which was odd since the system was not automatic in anyway.  The fan would shift from high to low and back to high again.  It, obviously, got our attention and we tried to adjust it to no avail.  Finally, we decided, what the heck, just turn it off.  While the dial could easily be turned to OFF, the fan did not shut off.  OK, we thought, we have a warranty problem on our hands.
     Next a mist started coming out of the vents, like an antifreeze leak in the cooling system I had experienced with another GM product in the 70’s.  It started getting worse and started smelling.  I turned on the map light and it was foggy in the cabin, so we opened the window, to clear the air.  I then looked down at my feet and saw a small orange flame just above my toes.  I told Jim, “The car is on fire.”  He glanced over, saw the orange glow, and said “I am pulling over.”  He kind of cut someone off and we ended up on the shoulder on a most pleasant spring evening.
     We jumped out of the car.  I looked and saw the fire and an ooze of molten rubbery sludge dripping down from behind the dash board onto the floor mats and carpet.  I tried to put the fire out with the floor mat, but the swatting action actually seemed to fan the flames fueled by the continued ooze of molten insulation.  It was surprising how much was dripping down.  I was squatted down like a catcher trying to swat the flames.  Jim was behind me like an umpire providing guidance.  The cabin began to fill with thick smoke that had that awful smell of burning plastic.  Then, Jim noticed that a glow from under the hood that indicated that the engine compartment and suggested, “Let’s get our stuff and get away from this car.”  It seemed like very sound advice as the fire continued to spread.
     Jim was moving the luggage as I was calling 911.  By the time we got about 100 yards from the car, the entire car was aflame.  I was trying to explain to the 911 operator our predicament and where we were.    We knew we were on US 30 between Lancaster and York, but we didn’t know between which exits.  All we saw was a sign announcing that there was a MacDonald’s, a Wendy’s and a Subway at the next exit.  The 911 operator did not find this information particularly helpful.  She also did not understand the full extent of our predicament.  Jim reminded me later that I said, “You don’t understand, the car is completely engulfed in flames and thick black smoke is pluming up thirty feet!”



     People on both sides of the expressway were stopping to see if we were OK and if we needed help.  They were very nice.  Later when we were reflecting and thankful for on not being hurt and the car not being one that we owned, we were also thankful that none of these nice people were hurt in a secondary accident.  One nice lady informed us that she called 911 with much better location info and just then the operator I was talking to asked if I was the car totally on fire near the Prospect Road exit in Columbia.  I just responded “I assume that is us.  Even if there are two cars on fire, just dispatch the police and fire department.  Whoever it is needs the help.”  She told me the police and fire departments were on their way.  They could take their time because it was clear that the car was going to be a total loss.
     Traffic was completely stopped in our direction as people were afraid to pass by this inferno.  Traffic in the other direction was down to a trickle due to gawkers.  We kept backing up, especially when the first police car arrived and stopped another 100 yards behind where we were standing.  Then, the rear tires popped followed shortly by the gas tank rupturing.  Neither was nearly as loud or remotely as big a flash of flames as TV and movies have led us to expect.  Next I noticed a young man taking photos.  He said he had a digital camera.  I gave him my e-mail address and he promised to send me the photos.  The photos came a few months later with an explanation that being a graduating senior at Penn State, he was busy graduating, moving etc.  I am glad he remembered and sent the photos!  A little photographic evidence helps this story out. 
     More police and fire department arrived from both sides.  Traffic was stopped on both sides, but the show was over.  The fire was actually dying down when the fire department put it out.  The car was a total loss.  Everything that wasn’t metal was burned.  The windows were gone.  It was unbelievable and the whole experience was definitely surreal.  We called our wives.  Jim’s wife kept repeating, “You’re kidding me” and Judy kept saying “Oh, my God” as we went through the story.  It is definitely a tale we will keep telling.  The car went up in flames so fast Jim wondered “if the car was made out of the same materials they make fuses out of.”



     We were interviewed by both the police and the fire chief as they had to file reports.  The fire chief wanted to know if we were smoking in the car, which we definitely were not.  I did tell him that we had fired up the hibachi and were grilling some burgers.”  The officer asked us if we had anything of value left in the car.  As we had gotten our belongings out, I replied “nothing but the Rembrandts we had just bought at a roadside stand.”   Both these guys had a great sense of humor.  
     We called Avis as it was their car.  I told the Avis lady what happened.  She asked if I had the rental agreement.  I responded no.  She asked if I could retrieve it from the car.  I told her, “you are not fully understanding the situation here.  The car is completely engulfed in flames.  The rental agreement is toast.”  She then basically told us who we had to contact a local agency the next day during business hours.  Yokay then.  
     A police officer offered to give us a ride.  We were happy for this as our means of transportation was now a burned out metal shell.  We jumped in the patrol car and off we went.  We went two exits and the officer was pulling off.  I said, “our exit is another five miles.”  He said, “this is the county line, I am not authorized to go further.”  Really?  So, I called Ned our St. Onge contact.  Luckily, his phone rang just as he was about to shut it off for the night.  He happily came and got us.  Thanks Ned.
     We then checked into the hotel and we decided that a night cap was in order.  We went to the bar, ordered our drinks, and enjoyed them while watching a report on the 11 pm news of our rental car burning to the ground.
     Luckily, no one was hurt.  Thankfully, it was not one of our cars, though we still feel bad about this happening to a brand new car.  We are both are stuck with the image of the smoke coming from the car, the flames by my feet, the black goop oozing out from behind the dash (today I noticed I had some on my shoe that will probably never come off), and seeing the entire vehicle totally in flames.  We are also totally amazed at how quickly the fire spread.  Unbelievable.

Monday, March 10, 2014

March 2014: New York City




The Chrysler Building from our hotel
For the first few years of this letter and occasionally since, March has been the month where I write a travel letter.  Since the Great Recession, my travel wings have been clipped.  Truth be told, I still have that wanderlust just not the budget or business need.  This month I am again writing a travel letter.  My destination is someplace I used to live for seventeen years:  New York.  In actuality, we lived in Connecticut but I worked in Manhattan.  Most of the time when asked where I was from, I answered New York. 
I liked living there.  No... I loved living there.  The town and country contrast and contrast really appealed to me.  We had a home in Wilton, CT and my office was on Park Avenue in Manhattan.  That never stopped being cool.  It is still cool.
It's not like I do not like living in Chicago now or that I do not relish my time in Detroit.  Both places are wonderful... but there is something unique and special about New York.  Oddly, I was not really sure about moving to New York.  While I was born in Boston, I really only recall living in Detroit and lived there until 1990.  It was all I knew.  I loved and am quite proud to be from there. 
Moving to New York, while being a great career move, was iffy.  The housing market was far more expensive and the place seemed too big, complicated, and obnoxious.  Mostly, this impression came from movies and TV and the very few times I had actually visited. I knew other people loved it but I was apprehensive.
That all changed when I first got there.  I fell in love with the city the first weekend I was there.  What a great place.  I wondered what the heck I had worried about.  It was both good and bad.  The good simply overshadowed the bad.
While walking around the city
We were in New York City the weekend of February 21-23.  It was a great weekend.  We flew in and out of LaGuardia but spent all our time in Manhattan.  It was the longest time I have spent in Manhattan since Aram and Anoush's wedding in 2009. I enjoyed being in the great city again.  I wish, in part that I still lived around there.  But. I know in reality that chapter is over.  The probability of having to relocate there is not high.  Anything is possible.  It is just not probable.
We were there for a wedding, the son of close Armenian friends of ours from Connecticut.  It was fun to see all our everyone.  For us, it was having the old gang back together again.  For them, we were the only addition.   
We walked around Friday and Saturday during the day.  It was good to hit some spots we used to frequent.  It was not surprising to see that some places were no longer there. 
Here are some reflections of the trip.
Smart Phones and Phone booths:  I have not thought about pay phones or phone booths for a long time.  I never see them.  I think there is one somewhere on the College of Lake County campus where I teach in the evenings.  In the New York, I saw pay phones in three different locations.  I did not see anyone using them.  My guess is they would not be there if they weren't generating some revenue. 
An October 31 article in the New York Post revealed some interesting facts.  It seems there are still about 5,500 pay phones in Manhattan which is down from 8,260 in 2008.  I guess seeing pay phones in three different locations was not such a rare sighting after all.
While the number of pay phones are decreasing, the advertising revenue from them is, oddly, up.  The city collects 10% of the revenues from calls and 36% of the revenues from ads.  

Ad revenue from phone booths has risen 18 percent, from $14.1 million in 2008, to $16.6 million as of January 2013, based on data compiled by the budget office.

Ads are the main reason that pay phones are still around.  They form part of the mini-billboard landscape in the city.  The revenue is worth millions to the city so they are interested in not only maintaining the revenue but trying to grow it.  The city is working with the thirteen pay phone suppliers in the city to modernize the pay phone concept to include wifi and smart screens.  I would guess fast charging stations would be a plus too. 

Colgate:  I visited Colgate.   The only person I informed ahead of time was leaving the day we arrived on a trip to China.  So, I simply called my old friend and partner in supply chain crime Jim Davis.  He was in the office and available in the late afternoon.  I had not been in the headquarter offices since 2009. 
I wanted to see folks in the Latin America Division of which I was a part of and Global Supply Chain where I had a functional dotted line.  To my delight, they were both consolidated to the same floor.  It seems Colgate staffing levels have decreased as has been the case in many Fortune 500 companies since the Great Recession.  They now occupy about two thirds of the space they used to occupy.  If they go any lower they may risk losing their name on the building. 
I was lucky to run into a variety of old colleagues in the 45 minutes I was there.  It was more than I thought I would have seen late on a Friday afternoon for the short time I was there.  It was very nice to see everyone.  It felt good to be back but most definitely it was a closed chapter.

Giambelli's:  One place I was sorry to see no longer there was Giambelli 50th a long standing Italian mainstay in Midtown.  It was around the corner from Colgate and one of the first restaurants I saw when I was first there in 1990.  I made a note upon first seeing it to try it out.  I ate there maybe six or seven times.  It was very good and it was also very expensive. 

Giambelli was founded by Francesco ''Frank'' Giambelli, who died in 2006 at the age of 90. He was born in 1915 in Voghera, outside Milan, Italy. Frank came to the U.S. in 1954 to open Giambelli's Ristorante, originally located on Madison Avenue and 37th Street; it relocated to 50th and Madison Avenue in 1960. In 1995, during Pope John Paul II's trip to New York, Giambelli's served the Pope and fifty Cardinals at the Cardinal's residence. The cuisine was northern Italian. The interior had off-white walls, light brown banquettes, picturesque paintings, Classical bronze statues, and riotously colorful floral arrangements. One account said that a long-stemmed rose was given to each female guest.

Mr. Giambelli was always there.  I knew him mostly in his 80s.  He didn't move fast but he was always there in a suit and tie.  It was his place.  He was proud of it and it was a great dining experience.  He greeted me every time like I was one of his best customers.  I was not, but it really made me feel special. 
I have two great memories of this classic and classy restaurant.  First, I went there for lunch with a Colgate colleague from Mexico.  Even though it was not an expensed lunch, we just wanted to go someplace nice and Italian.  This was to be my treat to thank my friend for something he had done for me.  We walked in and Mr. Giambelli greeted me, as usual, like his best customer and my friend was impressed.  I was feeling very good.  Mr. Giambelli personally seated us and told me of a very special appetizer he wanted me to taste.  He told a waiter to bring us some.  Cool.  It was very very good.  We had our lunch which was equally good.  I asked for the check and when it came, I reviewed it.  Holy smokes, the appetizer was like $40... for lunch.  Here I thought Mr. Giambelli was being so nice.  He was but he also deftly got me to raise my ticket.  Well done Mr. Giambelli.
Another time, when I was working in Global Procurement, we had a Global Meeting of the Procurement leadership in the company.  The meetings were held at the Piscataway Technology Center.  One evening, we all piled in a bus and were not told where we were going.  The bus trundled into Manhattan and we were supposed to go to on a dinner cruise.  It would have been a great evening except for the fact that they dinner cruise boat had no record or knowledge of our reservation.  Yikes.  There were like fifty of us, it was dinner time, we were hungry, and we had no reservations.  There were not a lot of nice places where you could just drop in with 50 people. 
Jack DiMaggio called Mr. Giambelli.  No problem.  By the time the bus got there, the tables were arranged in the loft and we had a prix fixe menu that was fabulous.  What a restauranteur.   Well done Mr. Giambelli.

The Waldorf Towers from our hotel
The restaurant is not only closed but gone.  It it torn down.  The Lost New York blogspot informed me that the site was taken over by the MTA for a construction project.  The invoked the Eminent Domain law in 2009 and took it over.  Both the restaurant is closed and the building is gone.  It exists in the memory of its patrons.  In reading the blog, the memories are strong and heartfelt. 
Nothing lasts forever.  This may be more the case for local stores and restaurants than other businesses.  They are dependent on several things for their survival.  There is the, first and foremost, the energy, vision, drive, charisma, and business acumen of the owner.  The owner breaths the spirit into these places and gives them personality.  It is this personality with which customers make their relationship with the business and the owner; there is often no distinction.  Needless to say, that product and service also must delight customers.
The second factor is the market.  The business landscape is always changing.  Chains operate more efficiently than sole proprietor stores and restaurants.  Small businesses find it harder to survive.  They are more able to do so in large cities especially in New York where chains have a more difficult time with their model because of both property and labor costs.  

Mayor de Blasio:  New York has a new mayor:  Bill de Blasio.  He is a different than the past two mayors:  Giuliani and Bloomberg.  He is a democratic and from what little I have read and seen, he seems like a pretty left wing Democrat.  It will be interesting to see where he takes the city.  I understand his desire to help the lower economic strata.  I am sure that the benefits of the resurgence of the city did not trickle down to them enough.  I am certain their lot has been worse since the Great Recession.
It is almost certain that he will steer the municipal ship in a different direction than either of the last two mayors.  The fear is that he will alienate the wealthy tax base of the city.  They will flee the city if they are too concerned about taxes and fiscal policies.  If they are powerfully rich enough, they may take their companies with them to Connecticut, New Jersey, or perhaps even out of the Northeast altogether.  The loss of this tax base, which my anti de Blasio friends already say is happening, could have the city returning to what it was in the 70s and 80s.  That would be horrible.
I will have to wait and see how this plays out.  I must say that his rhetoric is not conciliatory or inclusive thus far.  He criticized Bloomberg in his inaugural address.  Most people in my demographic and wealthier took that as a rude harbinger of things to come. 
In New York this weekend, there was a news story about de Blasio.  It was not about what I have just expressed.  It was about how he ate pizza.  It seems that the media was taking exception to him eating pizza with a knife and fork whereas real New Yorkers simply eat pizza with their hands.  Really?  At that moment, I was on de Blasio's side.
Not to be confused with the New York
State of mind
That New York state of mind:  This notion of the New York state of mind is something captured in song, literature, and film.  There is that certain something, the I can’t define it but I know it when I feel it, air about the city.  It is as much of what ties people to the place as all the exciting places to go.  It is the romantic allure of the city, but a romantic allure that is a bit gritty and tough.
I am not sure if I really ever had that New York state of mind.  I thinking I would have actually had to live in the city to have it fully.  I am also sure that people that are always talking about it probably don’t have as much of it as they profess.  But, it is there.  It is real and however much infected me, I enjoyed it.
It is a rat race.  It can be crazy.  But, the people are better than their reputation in other parts of this country.  Sure, there are folks that are pure caricatures of what one expects, if all they know is the New York of sitcoms and movies.  It is actually exciting when you meet these characters. 
I want to say it was my city.  But, it wasn’t.  I felt like a passerby, an observer.  Maybe it was more like I was part of city for the time I lived there.  There was a lot of history before I was there, and there will be a lot more.  I am sure people in other great cities of the world feel the same way.
There was such a wide range of poverty and wealth, obscurity and celebrity, all around.  Yet, I was comfortable with my lot.  There were always people infinitely richer or poorer either in wealth or character and they were all about. 
There is a New York state of mind.  However much of that I have, I value.  It was good to be there.  I would love to visit more often.


Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Blog Post done Using Voice Recognition

I'm attempting to write my first voice dictated blog. I am talking into my iPhone because when I tried to use my iPad voice dictation capability was not available.
The only keys that I will use are the return key and the  Space key. I am dictating each sentence one at a time.  If I make a mistake I will leave the sentence as it is entered by the dictation or rather voice recognition and then we record it again.
I am kind of excited to do this.  I was excited when voice recognition was first available I want to Julio cell phones.  What I was trying to say was that I was excited when the voice recognition was first available on the earliest cell phone I had.  I tried to use force recognition as often as possible to send texts Knowing early on that it would be a good feature to text hands-free.  Voice recognition is really not that good back.  Most of my text came through like they were written or dictated in Klingon.
This is kind of a big move for me.  I am beginning the 11th year of writing my monthly letter and my fifth year of blogging.  -based hand write everything first.  What I meant to say was that I used to handwrite everything first.  Then, I would type what I had handwritten and as it.  Now I type everything and simply edit it.
When dictating a text message or in this case a blog, It is really important to enunciate every word clearly into speak in this even keeled a monotone voice as possible.  voice recognition does not do well when I trust crew off at the end of the sentence as I often do when I'm speaking with people.  LOL what I meant to say was a voice recognition does not capture everything when I trail off at the end of a sentence.  Voice recognition also does not get any vocal variation or Nuance.
Praying hand writing is certainly something I am used Two.  Dictation is an entirely different mental process.  I am sure overtime I could get used to it.  But I have to tell you right now it's a different experience. I think I am purposely speaking in shorter sentences and then seeing what I wrote.  It seems to be going faster than either handwriting or typing.  I suppose that makes sense.
I will not edited.  I meant to say that I will not edit it, This dictation.  I want to show all the little typos and missed phrasings and wrong words.  I thought there would be a lot more miss phrasings and misinterpretations but I am surprisingly speaking very clearly and carefully.  The's making for one of the more boring blog best I have ever posted.  I meant to say thus.
This was a fun experiment.  I am not sure I will do it on an ongoing basis.  One thing however certain.  If I ever do this again, I will then go back and edit the text using the keyboard.  This time I was just having a bit of fun.
Talking about blogging about nothing, Arathi Pugin will have a field day with this one.  Clearly voice recognition does not do well with Armenian names.