Auto Correct for Speaking

           You'd think with Artificial Intelligence they’d have thought of everything, right?  Then riddle me this: Why aren’t people more intelligent? I wouldn’t even care if it was artificial.

          In fact, I’d like to volunteer to become more intelligent. Maybe they can use me to invent Auto Correct for Speaking.

          Oh, sure, we all gripe about what auto correct does to our texts. It changes “I will call you” to “I will claw you” and “His wife is Morgan” to  “His wife is Morbid,” forcing us to scan every word we speak before we press “send.” I’ve blogged about the horrors of auto-correct here and here.

          But I need this for my mouth. Just this week I heard a man speak, detected an accent, and happily asked what country he’s from. Ah, but he was born here. What he had was a speech impediment!  Yes, I am still embarrassed for being such a clod.

          Then I gushed over someone new, only to discover we had already met.  She frowned; obviously she hadn’t made much of an impression. I felt terrible. Remiss. Thoughtless. Stupid.

          So either I need a time machine so I can go back for two minutes and avoid such blunders, or I need to have more intelligence so I don’t make them in the first place.

However, you can watch my wonderful life hacks here, which (I hope) do not contain any foot-in-mouth examples.

Fanning the Flames

          You guys know that I do a bit of public speaking, right?  And I think I mentioned that in October I went to Nauvoo, Illinois with St. Bob, to speak to a big Singles’ Mega-Conference, right? (My topic: How to find humor in adversity—I have been preparing for this speech MY ENTIRE LIFE.)

          And I love Nauvoo. It literally glows with the Spirit of its history—an early Latter-day Saint settlement that became the jewel of the Midwest. Today it’s much like Williamsburg, a great place for families to visit where they can see yesteryear’s artisans at work.  And you get little freebies at every shop—the bakery, the printing press, the blacksmith, the brick maker, etc. Plus we have a gorgeous temple there. If you look closely, you can see us standing beside it.

          But of course this wonderful experience cannot go without a snag or two, since I take Joniopolis with me wherever I go. And during my second talk I suddenly got a hot flash.  A major downpour hot flash. An I-think-I-could-take-my-pulse-in-my-eyeballs hot flash. I’m instantly drenched and I’m sure my face is the color of a stoplight. 

          (I might add that these hot flashes are because I’ve been in a six-month clinical trial to reduce my breast cancer tumor, and though the injections have worked magnificently, the side effect is hot flashes.)

          Luckily I was wearing a jacket. So in the middle of my talk I said, “Okay, I’m having a killer hot flash. Sorry, but the jacket goes.” Thank goodness I wasn’t wearing just one thick sweater or something. Good grief—the things we do for the cause of science, right?

          I continued my speech, and then afterwards a wonderful thing happened: One of the women in attendance gave me her fan!  Her own, personal fan!  

          We laughed, we fanned, and I felt loved. It was such a generous, sweet thing for her to do. Believe me, I will never go on the road without it!

          You, too, can give a great gift to someone—I have books for everyone at wonderful prices, perfect for Christmas!