http://howto.cnet.com/8301-11310_39-20121528-285/how-to-update-twitter-or-facebook-with-siri/

@Qman – great idea. I’ve downloaded the Steadicam App, which is actually called Luma and will do a test this weekend and post here.

Hope all is well.

http://store.razerzone.com/store/razerusa/en_US/DisplayCategoryProductListPage/categoryID.56228400/parentCategoryID.35208800

I’ve been using it all year and it’s holding up and it’s not annoying. Because it’s a gaming mouse it’s precise, and it can run wired or wireless.

The basic problem is that using a really coarse grind “wastes” a lot of coffee, so normally I grind a bit finer to stretch the coffee, and only go for coarse if I’m trying for super taste or if I’m using a French press (I usually use drip).

Did I ever show you my Aeropress? It’s not too expensive, very fast and makes an incredibly smooth tasting espresso-like coffee with no noticeable acidity, making the taste seem weak because we’re trained to associate acid bite with strength. While you can add hot water to make an Americano, when you use the Aeropress coffee straight and add sugar and some milk or half and half you move in the direction of coffee ice cream, sweet and really tasty. Check out this page for more info: http://aerobie.com/products/aeropress.htm

In July 2010 I visited Tuscany with my family, often awaking before dawn to keep up with my daily journal-keeping duties. This excerpt titled “I Can Sleep When I’m Dead” was written pool-side at Relais Villa L’Olmo in Impruneta.
Arose about an hour ago to catch the sunrise over the vineyards of Tuscany. Struggled with one of those two-part aluminum Italian coffee-makers filled with ground vacuum-pack from the Co-op, checked the email from the states and took a seat on a small terrace with journal and camera. Fresh air, cool and still. Birds chirping. Morning Doves coo. A rooster crows. Earlier, the crows squawked.

Cup of coffee now half empty and cooled. Smooth taste. Aroma of consciousness. Tastes like paradise. Set down pen to stand and stretch arms over head and behind my back. Bees already busy in the lavendar. I hear a motorcycle passing in the distance and adjust my seat to more directly face the valley which rolls off to the right, sloping down to the west.

The shadows of the morning sun fade now as the Mother Earth Godess climbs higher. The contrast between light and dark green reduced and just a sliver of shadow sloping to the east as she continues her ascent. I’m still seated in the shade, though I know that her direct rays will soon wash over me, warming the chill of the dawn, but not enough to reenergize my cup, now cool and nearly empty. Inside, a toilet flushes to signal that my family is waking up. Probably Erik, 7, our other early-riser.
The roses bushes shimmer in a slight breeze, the petals mostly wilted. Pause to sneeze: am I allergic to rose, or just the thought?

The rooster crows less frequently now. Geometric patterns of ancient agricultural lands please the eye. The morning light dapples the olive groves which parallel the vineyards. Patchwork and connected. Recently mowed high grass adjoins stands of what what I’ll call cedar trees–the characteristic look of Tuscany–resembling green candle flames burning perfectly vertical in still air. A dog barks. Over my left shoulder the sun light now brushes the tops of the olive trees, fruit of same still months from maturity.

Warming rays reach the peach, plum and fig trees lining the pool patio. The toilet flushes again and I hear the shower start. I’m probably too late to slip back into bed. The caffeine is in my veins as the morning rays reach the nape of my neck. The flame of desire within continues to burn and probably will all day, perhaps to be satisfied tonight after a day in Florence.

I smell the sage and lemon balm. By 7am more local noise tells me that the world continues to awaken. I’ve been up for nearly two hours. A window in the lodge to my right cranks open with the sound that calls for a shot of WD-40. Thoughs on paper expended, I probably should go inside and change my shirt, though it’s unlikely I’ll sleep. Too much life to live.