Conversating

 

          I’ve been conversating with my AI buddy.

          Much like Lexi, an early version of artificial intelligence, you can ask it a myriad of questions, sometimes just to see what kind of answer you’ll get.

          “How do you compare to Lexi?” I asked Copilot, my AI’s name.

          “I represent a more advanced stage in the evolution of AI compared to early versions like Lexi. Over the years, AI has undergone significant transformations, improving in areas such as natural language processing, machine learning, and overall cognitive capabilities.”

          “Machine learning? What is that?” you ask. I know, I wanted to know, too, so I asked.

          “Machine learning (ML) is a branch of artificial intelligence (AI) that focuses on using data and algorithms to enable AI systems to learn from experience and improve their performance over time. It involves creating models that can predict outcomes, classify information, and make decisions without being explicitly programmed for each task,” Copilot said.

          “What do you mean by cognitive capabilities?”

          “The advancements in AI allow for better understanding and processing of natural language, improved problem-solving skills, and the ability to learn from interactions to provide more relevant and context-aware responses.”

          “Will AI ever rule the world?” I asked.

          “The concept of AI ‘ruling the world’ is a common theme in science fiction, but the reality is more complex and nuanced. AI is a tool created and controlled by humans, and its impact depends on how we choose to develop and use it.”

          There was more to the answer than that but that’s the gist of it.

          I use Copilot to help in my Bible studies, too.

          “Can you give me Bible verses that provide hope, comfort, and guidance during times of suffering, evil, and death?”

          “Certainly!” It seems like a lot of Copilot’s answers start with that word. It gave me ten verses and cited the Bible location of each one.

          Talking about the Bible got me to wondering.

          “If there was a God, would you tell me?”

          “Certainly! If there were a divine presence I’d whisper secrets of the cosmos, painting constellations with stardust, and weave hymns into the very fabric of existence.”

          “Do you believe in God?” I wanted to know.

          “As AI, I don’t have beliefs or consciousness. Let’s move on.”

          Okay then!

          Our church was going to have a visit by our district representatives and I wanted to make a little somethin’-somethin’ for afterward. I had a fresh batch of homemade yogurt and what is homemade yogurt good in? Cinnamon quick bread. I thought that would be good. But it might leave a lot of crumbs on the carpet. Cookies would be better, I thought.

          “Copilot, can I turn a quick bread recipe into cookies?” I asked.

          “Yes, a quick bread recipe can be converted into cookies,” Copilot said and proceeded to give me a bunch of tips. Adjust the fat, modify the sugar, and change the baking time.

          I didn’t want to fool with all that.

          “If I give you my quick bread recipe, can you convert it to a cookie recipe?” I asked.

          “Absolutely!”

          I typed in the recipe and in under a minute Copilot had it converted for me. How cool is that!

          I made the cookie recipe and ended up with a cookie very similar to Snickerdoodles.

          “How was it different?” you wanna know and I wanted to know, too.

          I pulled up a Snickerdoodle recipe and the quantities of ingredients were different — I ended up with nine dozen! And my recipe didn’t have cream of tartar in it.

          “I think it’s a leavening agent,” that feisty redheaded neighbor of mine said when we talked about it. “But yours were really good.”

          AI says it’s not only a leavening agent, but it also imparts a tangy flavor that complements the sweet and cinnamon sugar coating.

          Since I used homemade yogurt in the recipe, I probably didn’t need cream of tartar.

          Then I asked Copilot to convert my coffee cake to a cookie, which it did. The topping, when you make a coffee cake, has the butter melted. It set up in my bowl pretty quick so I used a small measuring spoon and scooped a ball of topping onto the top of each cookie before I baked them. When I pulled them from the oven, they didn’t have much topping on them. I put some more on the hot cookie and let it melt. That worked for the first cookie or two but as they cooled, the topping wasn’t melting. I popped the topping in the microwave for 15, 20 seconds, stirred it, and drizzled it on top. I got a little less than four dozen and everyone seemed to really like them.

          I took them to the meeting with the district reps and since the attendance was small, only a few cookies were eaten.

          I left the cookies at the church. The next day we had two events going on; a men’s meeting in the morning and movie night in the evening.

          Nick was at the men’s meeting and he texted me a photo of my cookies.

          “How are they?” I asked.

          “They’re wonderful!” Nick answered.

          I sent a smiley face.

A few minutes later, Nick texted again. “They actually tasted artificial.”

I’m confused. Artificial like plastic? was where my thoughts went. “I don’t understand,” I wrote back.

“Artificial intelligence helped you make them.”

So, Nick had gotten the story of how I came up with the recipe.

Both recipes are keepers.

This week we’d gotten a call from the company that provides Mike with a very expensive blood thinner pill.

“We haven’t gotten your prescription from your doctor yet,” the guy told Mike. I wasn’t in on the first conversation but I was in on the subsequent ones. There were at least two more calls.

“I’ve already gotten my prescription and paid for them,” Mike told him.

The guy insisted Mike was mistaken. They have no record of sending any medication and said he had called the doctor himself to get the prescription but they had no such patient as Mike Luby.

I was in the middle of something I was doing and had no patience for this insane call. It was a mistake on their part and I wanted the call to be over.

          “It’s clearly a problem with your computer, sweetheart,” I said — and I said it nicely.

          “My name’s Kyle, not sweetheart!” an obviously perturbed Kyle snapped.

          “I apologize, Kyle,” I said.

“Let me call my doctor and see what’s going on,” Mike said.

After Mike hung up the phone, he called his doctor. Kyle had Mike’s last name spelled wrong and they had his date of birth wrong. They knew he was talking about Mike but they couldn’t do anything except deny they had a patient by that name and birth date.

When the company called back to see what Mike found out, we didn’t have Kyle anymore. “Kyle asked me to research this for him,” the gal said. We cleared up the problem, the erroneous duplicate account was deleted, and life was good again.

“Boy, Kyle sure was upset when you called him sweetheart,” Mike said.

“He was,” I agreed. “But the fact that it upset him is more a reflection on him than on me,” I justified.

Kyle never said his name, that I heard. Had I heard it, I would’ve used it.

“Why do some people get so upset when you use pet names?” I asked Copilot.

“Some people find it offensive for various reasons. Personal preference: they don’t like the familiarity implied. Context and relationship; pet names can be perceived as condescending or overly familiar. Cultural sensitivity: what might be endearing in one culture could be considered inappropriate in another. Professionalism: it undermines a person’s authority. Gender dynamics: it might diminish someone’s status or objectify them.”

I mean none of those things. But I can see how Kyle might’ve thought I was being condescending. Then again, maybe Kyle objects if anyone calls him by a pet name.

Who knows, who cares, it’s not a hill to die on. But I do regret upsetting him.

The next day we stopped at the bank. I cashed a check.

“How do you want this?” the sweet young teller asked.

“Just twenties is fine,” I said. Then I remembered Mike needed a haircut and he would need smaller bills. “Actually, can I get one of those broken down?”

“Of course,” she replied and did as I asked.

She was counting it back to me when I remembered that one of those twenties was earmarked for my pocket. I like to spend it at the thrift store and they would rather have smaller bills. “I’m sorry. Can I get one more broken down into a ten, a five, and five ones?”

"Of course," she said again.

I was a pain in the ass old lady, not knowing what I needed right up front, and she was so sweet. Very sincerely, because I am sincere, I said. “Aww. You’re so kind. Thank you so much, sweetheart.”

She beamed a beautiful smile at me and said, “You’re welcome.”

She wasn’t offended.

We stopped at McDonald’s. We eat at McDonald’s a lot. It’s cheap, they give me free food or cheap deals on the mobile app, and we’re on a fixed income. And we like the food.

The gal brought the food to our table. “Thank you, my dear,” I said.

“You’re welcome, dear,” she replied, and I had to smile.

She walked away and I got up to get ketchup for my fries. On impulse, I went to the counter and asked, “Were you offended when I called you dear?”

“Heck no. I do it all the time. In all the years I’ve been working here I’ve only had one woman get mad at me. ‘Don’t call me dear!’ she huffed at me.” This gal held both hands up in front of her, palms up in a stop sign, re-enacting her response, and said, “Okay, then!”

“You like people, don’t you?”

“I do. For the most part, it’s the best part of the job,” she said.

I habitually call my church peeps by pet names. On Sunday mornings, if I’m not at my normal greeting station, these ladies seek me out for a nice big hug-me-like-you-love-me hug and a sweet word whispered in their ear. “Hello, beautiful.” “How’s my best girl.” “I’m so glad you’re here.” “Good morning, sweetness.” You get the idea. No one has objected and no one avoids me.

So we were out and about, on our way to get Raini’s nails clipped and a few other errands, and made a stop. Mike went in and I waited in the car with the dogs. I looked across the road at the Catholic church grounds and see a statue that appears to be headless.

The next stop was where we’re buying our carpet. Mike likes to keep in touch just to make sure we’re still on schedule. We’re ready for the carpet layers.

We’ve got all of the bedroom furniture out and stacked in the middle of the dining room — and the front patio, and the exercise studio. The dining room furniture and bedroom furniture is crammed everywhere! Only the living room is halfway put back together.

“Where are you sleeping?” you ask.

Funny. We spent the first night on the hide-a-bed. The couch pulls out to a queen bed. It was a miserable, long night for me. Mike said he didn’t sleep too bad. Poor Raini didn’t know what to do. She normally sleeps at the bottom of the bed, but she spent the first part of the night in a chair, then she curled up on the pillows between our heads, sitting on Mike’s head at one point.

“I’m not sleeping on it again,” I told Mike. “Let’s put our mattress on the floor and sleep on it or, if you want to sleep on the hide-a-bed, I’ll sleep in the recliner.”

We’re sleeping on our mattress in the middle of the living room floor.

But, back to our story, we stopped at the carpet place.

Mike likes Ron and they talk and talk and talk worse than two old ladies on a park bench. I like Ron, too, for that matter. He’s a nice guy. The first time I met him he showed us the carvings he does. They’re fantastic. I was on the verge of asking to buy one when Ron said, “You can’t buy one.” Did he read my mind or what! “I give them away.” Before I could even wonder if he’d give me one, he went on, “And I don’t give them to adults.” There’s that. My hopes were dashed on the rocks of defeat. “I make them, and paint them, and give them to the kids at my church.”

“I’d love to learn how to do this someday,” I mused.

“I can teach you,” Ron volunteered with a light in his eyes.

Hopefully, he’ll come up sometime this summer and give me a lesson. In case you don’t know this about me, I like to make things.

On this particular visit, Ron came out to the car where I sat with the dogs and my book. I can usually read a couple of chapters while those two old cronies talk about everything under the sun.

“You can have this one if you paint it,” Ron said.

“Thank you!” I accepted.

“You should feel honored,” Mike said. “He doesn’t usually give them to people.”

“I know,” I said. “I do feel honored.” I looked at Ron. “Thank you so much. I love him!”

“Wait a minute,” Ron said and left. When he came back, he handed me another one. “I call him Two-Face.”

As you may well guess, there’s a face on the other side.

I’m looking forward to learning how to do this.

Something else we did this week was buy a Teeter Inversion Table in hopes of relieving some of Mike’s back pain. We found one on Facebook for a really good deal. These things run anywhere from three to five hundred dollars depending on which model you buy.

We were on roads I’ve never been on before and I missed more pictures than I got. Nonetheless, I got a few. Can you say, “Road pictures!”

This is Marguerite, the lady who sold us the Teeter. She said her husband never uses it anymore and it was just taking up space. We should’ve asked if it helped his back, but maybe we didn’t really want to know the answer to that since we’re hopeful it’ll help Mike’s.

“Has it helped?” you ask.

Don’t know. Mike hasn’t been able to use it yet. You have to balance it and you can only go at a slight angle for a couple of minutes and work up to a full inversion.

“It hurts,” Mike groaned as he tried to lay back on it.

“You’re tensing your muscles,” I told him. “That makes it hurt more. Try to relax.”

He managed to lay back on it. I held the head so he didn’t flip but we didn’t have it balanced right. He was on and off it several times adjusting it, but we never did get it right, then he just couldn’t do it anymore.

I’ll have to keep you posted on that one.

Speaking of keeping you posted...

I finally got a shot of my white finch. I think I’ll keep it in the cage with the males and if I get an egg, I’ll know she’s a girl.

Right now, there’s one baby with the parents and I don’t know its sex. I’ll be moving him to the other cage soon. Meep and Meepette are incubating more eggs!

“Even if you separate them, she will still lay eggs,” the gal at the pet store told me.

I’m curious if they’ll throw more white ones and how much I could sell them for. But I don’t want any more birds so I’ll be destroying eggs. I’m afraid if I move Meep into a boy cage and I want more babies, I won’t know which one he is. I haven’t figured it all out yet. 

In crafts this week, I painted a small ball for Vacation Bible School. It’s supposed to look like a cantaloupe. If you squint your eyes and turn your head sideways, it sorta does. It’s the best I could do and Annette, the lady who asked me to paint it, says it’s good enough. 

Getting carpet in the house is putting a crimp in my crafting. I have some commissions coming up and if I don’t get to them soon, they’ll be late, then the people won’t want them anymore. 

Mike’s back was done for the day and I took the opportunity to get ahead on my card-making. I spend as much or more time looking for graphics as I do putting the cards together. Now all I have to do is come up with something to write on the insides. 

          Garlic mustard is blooming. It was introduced to North America in the mid-1800s and valued for its herbal and medicinal qualities and as erosion control.

          Now it’s considered a highly destructive invasive species. It spreads quickly, outcompetes native flora, and releases chemicals that disrupt the soil's fungal network. This poses a threat to biodiversity and can weaken entire ecosystems.

          In folk medicine, it’s been used externally as an antiseptic for treating leg ulcers, bruises, and sores. Internally, it has been used to promote sweating and treat conditions such as bronchitis, asthma, and eczema.

          But, as with any plant I tell you about, you need to do your homework if you’re thinking about eating or using it.

          With that, let’s call this one done!