What the hell is it about this time of year? Why does it screw with me so bad? Am I suffering disappointment that the summer is over and I didn't do most of what I wanted to do? Am I just hitting the Seasonal Affective Disorder wall once again? Or maybe the layers of my life have just piled up in an inopportune pattern, and I'm feeling walled-in again. What does that mean? Let me give you an example:
So my son has been having some problems adjusting to kindergarten. I'm completely sympathetic, because he's dealing with a bunch of the same crap that I've had to deal with in my adult life, to my consternation. He's the new kid, because his class is full of kids who went through daycare and pre-K together, so he feels like an outsider. This makes him sensitive, irritable, and easily frustrated. He not only has to learn a new school and a new schedule, but he has to learn how to break into a tight-knit community that is not particularly welcoming. This is just like when I started managing this team. hard to get in, easy to feel shut out, incredibly frustrating and just..sad.
Anyway, so to help him out, my wife and I have been trying to regulate our behavior, trying to use a positive tone to manage the kids' behavior. This works great, and we've actually gotten results, but after doing exactly the same thing all day at work with supposed adults, it's freaking exhausting. I don't know how long I can keep it up. I mean I'm trying to force myself to completely change my outlook that I've carried around probably since I was in Kindergarten. I knew it would be hard, but why in the world would having an outward positive orientation cause my normal negative orientation to spike? Am I just doubling up on mood disruption because of the season? Because of work? What the hell?
Time has also become a problem. There just isn't enough of it. How did I do so much stuff this summer in any given day. I used to have time to work, then come home, eat dinner, and go for a walk or a bike ride. I used to hike on the weekends. Where did that time go? It seems like now, it's all I can do to sit down for 15 minutes when I get home before I'm off doing something else, cleaning or cooking, or driving kids around. Oh yeah, there's the difference: I'm cleaning. Over the summer, getting outside and moving was the priority. Housekeeping, not so much. I have got to get myself outside. Some corny thing I read earlier this year said that exercise doesn't take time, it makes time. I hate it when corny stuff ends up being true.
Finally, I've ended up treading water again. Or running in place. I'm having the same job-based identity crisis I've had multiple times per year for who knows how many years now. It goes like this: what am I doing in this place? oh yeah, they keep cutting me checks and asking me to solve problems, and I keep spending the money and solving their problems for them. Repeat ad nauseum, plus about 10 years. It's not that I don't accomplish anything. I've done some awesome stuff this year. I tied up loose ends with peer and employee relationships. I've gotten some people off their butts. I got myself off of my butt, and lost more than 60 pounds. I've proven myself to myself, but all on these small-potato accomplishments. I'm successful at a career I didn't want. I've made some progress in a couple of hobbies. I'm approaching a better-than-average degree of fitness (but look at the sad state of the average). I can still look at all that and say, "so what?" I have a thirst for Greatness, and it hasn't gone away. I don't think I want it to. I don't (can't won't) think that Records Management can be my ultimate destiny.
I keep thinking it's just some depression coming back, and then I realize that if it's coming back, it's because I haven't made any fundamental changes to the things that bother me about my life. I regilded the cage, is all, did some chin-ups in the doorway. the door's still closed, and I'm no closer to learning to fly. The answer to all this is the same as it was last year: it's on me to make a change, and it's going to be really difficult. "Not this" is not a sufficient career plan, and never has been. I absolutely must figure out what I want to be when I grow up, and become it. Transcend it. I've become all too familiar with the alternative.
Showing posts with label whining. Show all posts
Showing posts with label whining. Show all posts
Monday, October 13, 2008
Friday, August 8, 2008
train broken, look for finger
Portland, supposed Mecca of green living and universal mass transit (unless you start looking at surrounding communities, the rug under which Portland sweeps its dirt, but never mind about that), has shut down Light Rail into downtown for pretty much the entire month of August. Now, I understand that they're doing something invisible, yet incredibly important on one of the bridges, and I certainly understand that Tri-Met, the local transit organization, faces the same woeful budgetary restrictions that all local transit organizations constantly wail and gnash their teeth about. What I don't understand is how Tri-Met, along with really the rest of Portland, can be so damn obliviously hostile to pedestrians.
To me, there's a hierarchy in people on the move, with pedestrians, who are getting from place to place emitting only flatulence and having the potential to kill or maim pretty much nobody on that trip, at the Tip Top. Next, bicyclists, who have sacrificed some personal safety, convenience and environmental impact in exchange for speed. Next, mass transit, which generally relies on volumetric measurements to come out ahead on safety and environmental impact, and is scarcely faster that biking or walking, but at least you don't have to break a sweat. At the low end of the scale, of course, would be anyone in or on a motorized vehicle. They essentially don't care about the impact of their transportation (relative to the other options) in terms of environment, cost, or safety, so long as they don't have to come within a foot of another human being on their way in to work.
With all that in mind (and providing the caveat that this hierarchy changes considerably in a city without robust public transportation, biking, and walking infrastructure), I can not for the life of me understand why this project with the train is not designed to encourage people to walk across the river. In fact, aside from having shuttle buses take people from train-to-train, I don't think the project was designed at all. They just did what they did, and figured fuck 'em if they're getting off the train and going across some other way. They've closed sidewalks without reason. They've routed paths through intersections with walk signals that take as long as it takes me to walk half of the distance from my office to the train. They neglected to mark the walkway across the river appropriately for a multi-use path, resulting in dangerous conditions from a-hole bicyclists speeding past pedestrians.
My question is, why? Why, in a country with an obesity problem, are we making it easier to take a shuttle than to walk? If someone can walk, why not reward them for doing so by thinking about the incredibly low-cost measures that could be taken to make it pleasant and easy? Move the barrier around the construction equipment five feet back so the sidewalk can stay open, for example. There isn't even anything taking up those five feet behind the barrier. Instead they "invested" in an employee to stand at the crosswalk telling people not to go that way. Or maybe time the trains according to when there's a dropoff at the start of the walking route, then add a reasonable trip time before departure. I'm the fastest walker on the bridge, and there's always a train leaving about 3 minutes before I can get to the stop. It's probably full of people who have been waiting since they got there after the last train, 15 minutes earler. My solution has been to keep walking, which is great in terms of fitness, but still irks me in terms of being treated as a third-class transit customer.
Screw all that. I'd walk all the way home if it wasn't 12 miles one way.
To me, there's a hierarchy in people on the move, with pedestrians, who are getting from place to place emitting only flatulence and having the potential to kill or maim pretty much nobody on that trip, at the Tip Top. Next, bicyclists, who have sacrificed some personal safety, convenience and environmental impact in exchange for speed. Next, mass transit, which generally relies on volumetric measurements to come out ahead on safety and environmental impact, and is scarcely faster that biking or walking, but at least you don't have to break a sweat. At the low end of the scale, of course, would be anyone in or on a motorized vehicle. They essentially don't care about the impact of their transportation (relative to the other options) in terms of environment, cost, or safety, so long as they don't have to come within a foot of another human being on their way in to work.
With all that in mind (and providing the caveat that this hierarchy changes considerably in a city without robust public transportation, biking, and walking infrastructure), I can not for the life of me understand why this project with the train is not designed to encourage people to walk across the river. In fact, aside from having shuttle buses take people from train-to-train, I don't think the project was designed at all. They just did what they did, and figured fuck 'em if they're getting off the train and going across some other way. They've closed sidewalks without reason. They've routed paths through intersections with walk signals that take as long as it takes me to walk half of the distance from my office to the train. They neglected to mark the walkway across the river appropriately for a multi-use path, resulting in dangerous conditions from a-hole bicyclists speeding past pedestrians.
My question is, why? Why, in a country with an obesity problem, are we making it easier to take a shuttle than to walk? If someone can walk, why not reward them for doing so by thinking about the incredibly low-cost measures that could be taken to make it pleasant and easy? Move the barrier around the construction equipment five feet back so the sidewalk can stay open, for example. There isn't even anything taking up those five feet behind the barrier. Instead they "invested" in an employee to stand at the crosswalk telling people not to go that way. Or maybe time the trains according to when there's a dropoff at the start of the walking route, then add a reasonable trip time before departure. I'm the fastest walker on the bridge, and there's always a train leaving about 3 minutes before I can get to the stop. It's probably full of people who have been waiting since they got there after the last train, 15 minutes earler. My solution has been to keep walking, which is great in terms of fitness, but still irks me in terms of being treated as a third-class transit customer.
Screw all that. I'd walk all the way home if it wasn't 12 miles one way.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
what gives?
OK, so why would it be that, right when Portland becomes a focal point for food enthusiasts across the nation, the food here starts to suck? The number of mediocre-to-revolting restaurant experiences I've had over the last two weeks or so exceeds the total number for the previous year. What gives?
Granted, half of those problems stemmed from eating at a mall food court, and therefore hardly count, but the other half occurred at establishments that I have come to count on for decent grub. The first (and only one I'll mention by name) occurred a couple weekends ago at Laurelwood. The wife and I found ourselves with a free evening, so we thought it would be good to drive over to Laurelwood's new location on Sandy.
We stepped inside to be greeted by a hostess holding one of those obnoxious flashing pagers. I was a little skeptical that such measures were really necessary for a party of two, but I took it like a good complacent customer and we went to sit at the bar. I was pleased to see that they had a Fresh Hop IPA on the specials board, and I was very excited to give it a try. If only that wonderful sense of anticipation could have lasted a few moments longer, but alas, the beer was served, and it had pretty much zilch in the way of hop aroma or flavor. It had plenty of bitterness, of course, but I could have ordered literally 75% of their brew menu if that's all I was after.
The new bar looked great, but they have added TVs everywhere you look, so the Beavers game was playing in one focal point, and the Ducks game in another, so of course, rather than looking at the digs, everybody was glued to the tubes. The brewery was visible through the back of the bar, but you could really only see one of the tanks, not even close to as cool as the surgical-gallery-like view of the operation in the old place. Sigh. Another brewpub decides to go for quantity over quality. Sure enough, I looked over the bar, and they had bottles of Laurelwood beer lined up, ready to go.
Eventually, our pager buzzed and flashed, indicating that our seats were ready. I looked around the dining room adjoining the bar, expecting, as a party of 2, to be seated at a 2-seater booth or small table. Nope. Once we were able to stand in line (what was the pager for, again?) long enough to get the hostess's attention, we were led back to a larger room with a row of tables along the wall and a bunch of roughly-shaven yuppity young parents standing around a kids' area. The waiter led us to a table where a man was standing over his kid, who was sitting in a chair wiping boogers on every available surface. The waiter actually had to go up to this guy and say, "excuse me" before the guy scooped up his brat, and moved, shooting us and the waiter a dirty look. There was, I shit you not, an actual booger sitting on the table. The waiter thoughtfully placed my menu down beside it, rather than on it, then wandered off, leving me to deal with the icky booger-removal chore. Whatever, I have kids, I can handle it. Never mind that I came here without my kids, like on purpose, just to escape for a few precious hours from having to wipe anybody's anything.
I ordered the flatiron steak with parsnip mashed potatoes. The potatoes were exactly what I was hoping they would be, creamy and parsnippy. The steak came sliced, as I would have expected. The problem was that the person doing the slicing had obviously never seen a flatiron steak before, and had sliced it the wrong way, resulting, as anyone with any meatlore would expect, in very tasty, but completely tough and chewy slices of steak. A bit of chefly incompetence would not have bothered me much, had I not been seated where I was, or had I not ordered a completely different style of beer (Hooligan)that inexplicably ended up tasting precisely like the Fresh Hop Ale I had just finished. This was not a mixup, just the way it was. By design, I have to assume. I could even have tolerated that, had we not been seated right next to a couple with two kids, both of whom did all the screaming and gobbing that my kids would have done had I chosen to bring them. EVEN THIS I could have tolerated, had I not had to use the restroom, which was a serious trade down from what they had in their old place. The bathrooms in the old restaurant did not smell like pee, even on busy evenings with lots of kids. They had more than one unisex bathroom in play, as well. You could expect to just waltz in and pee with no wait, then wash up and return to your table to finish your sentence. Bah! The new place was the opposite of that, pee-stinking, single, and tucked back inconveniently from both bar and restaurant.
The service didn't measure up, either, but once I managed to chase down the waitress, tackle her to the floor, and wrest the check from her clenched fist, ignoring her screams of protest, we were able to leave.
So, I'm sad to say that I won't be going back to Laurelwood anytime soon. I anticipated great things from their new location, but all I got was this lousy nostalgia.
Granted, half of those problems stemmed from eating at a mall food court, and therefore hardly count, but the other half occurred at establishments that I have come to count on for decent grub. The first (and only one I'll mention by name) occurred a couple weekends ago at Laurelwood. The wife and I found ourselves with a free evening, so we thought it would be good to drive over to Laurelwood's new location on Sandy.
We stepped inside to be greeted by a hostess holding one of those obnoxious flashing pagers. I was a little skeptical that such measures were really necessary for a party of two, but I took it like a good complacent customer and we went to sit at the bar. I was pleased to see that they had a Fresh Hop IPA on the specials board, and I was very excited to give it a try. If only that wonderful sense of anticipation could have lasted a few moments longer, but alas, the beer was served, and it had pretty much zilch in the way of hop aroma or flavor. It had plenty of bitterness, of course, but I could have ordered literally 75% of their brew menu if that's all I was after.
The new bar looked great, but they have added TVs everywhere you look, so the Beavers game was playing in one focal point, and the Ducks game in another, so of course, rather than looking at the digs, everybody was glued to the tubes. The brewery was visible through the back of the bar, but you could really only see one of the tanks, not even close to as cool as the surgical-gallery-like view of the operation in the old place. Sigh. Another brewpub decides to go for quantity over quality. Sure enough, I looked over the bar, and they had bottles of Laurelwood beer lined up, ready to go.
Eventually, our pager buzzed and flashed, indicating that our seats were ready. I looked around the dining room adjoining the bar, expecting, as a party of 2, to be seated at a 2-seater booth or small table. Nope. Once we were able to stand in line (what was the pager for, again?) long enough to get the hostess's attention, we were led back to a larger room with a row of tables along the wall and a bunch of roughly-shaven yuppity young parents standing around a kids' area. The waiter led us to a table where a man was standing over his kid, who was sitting in a chair wiping boogers on every available surface. The waiter actually had to go up to this guy and say, "excuse me" before the guy scooped up his brat, and moved, shooting us and the waiter a dirty look. There was, I shit you not, an actual booger sitting on the table. The waiter thoughtfully placed my menu down beside it, rather than on it, then wandered off, leving me to deal with the icky booger-removal chore. Whatever, I have kids, I can handle it. Never mind that I came here without my kids, like on purpose, just to escape for a few precious hours from having to wipe anybody's anything.
I ordered the flatiron steak with parsnip mashed potatoes. The potatoes were exactly what I was hoping they would be, creamy and parsnippy. The steak came sliced, as I would have expected. The problem was that the person doing the slicing had obviously never seen a flatiron steak before, and had sliced it the wrong way, resulting, as anyone with any meatlore would expect, in very tasty, but completely tough and chewy slices of steak. A bit of chefly incompetence would not have bothered me much, had I not been seated where I was, or had I not ordered a completely different style of beer (Hooligan)that inexplicably ended up tasting precisely like the Fresh Hop Ale I had just finished. This was not a mixup, just the way it was. By design, I have to assume. I could even have tolerated that, had we not been seated right next to a couple with two kids, both of whom did all the screaming and gobbing that my kids would have done had I chosen to bring them. EVEN THIS I could have tolerated, had I not had to use the restroom, which was a serious trade down from what they had in their old place. The bathrooms in the old restaurant did not smell like pee, even on busy evenings with lots of kids. They had more than one unisex bathroom in play, as well. You could expect to just waltz in and pee with no wait, then wash up and return to your table to finish your sentence. Bah! The new place was the opposite of that, pee-stinking, single, and tucked back inconveniently from both bar and restaurant.
The service didn't measure up, either, but once I managed to chase down the waitress, tackle her to the floor, and wrest the check from her clenched fist, ignoring her screams of protest, we were able to leave.
So, I'm sad to say that I won't be going back to Laurelwood anytime soon. I anticipated great things from their new location, but all I got was this lousy nostalgia.
Friday, November 2, 2007
at long last
The longest two weeks in my recent memory will come to an end this evening: my wife will be coming home tonight.
It was not a horrendous trial parenting solo for two weeks. It was certainly a pain in the butt, it was tiring, to be sure, aggravating at times, but I've definitely been through worse.
I've compared the experience to single parenting, but I think that most single parents have it easier than I have this week and last. Usually, the kids are off to visit the other parent for part of the week. For me, no break, no scheduled time when the responsibility wasn't there. That's really what wore me down, it wasn't one day or another by itself, but the repetition of the same thing over and over with no moral support from another adult. Three days parenting on my own is a novelty. Two weeks was a pain in the ass.
The upside of all this is, now that it's almost over, my mood has improved greatly, making it that much easier to finish this last day.
Yay!
It was not a horrendous trial parenting solo for two weeks. It was certainly a pain in the butt, it was tiring, to be sure, aggravating at times, but I've definitely been through worse.
I've compared the experience to single parenting, but I think that most single parents have it easier than I have this week and last. Usually, the kids are off to visit the other parent for part of the week. For me, no break, no scheduled time when the responsibility wasn't there. That's really what wore me down, it wasn't one day or another by itself, but the repetition of the same thing over and over with no moral support from another adult. Three days parenting on my own is a novelty. Two weeks was a pain in the ass.
The upside of all this is, now that it's almost over, my mood has improved greatly, making it that much easier to finish this last day.
Yay!
Thursday, October 25, 2007
a curmudgeonly Halloween rant
I went to a Ubiquitous Big Box Store yesterday (no, not The Great Satan, the other one) to look for some Halloween decorations. I wasn't looking for anything fancy, just some cardboard bats and maybe a black cat or two. Something to hang on the wall or put in the window to amuse the kids and get them in the mood for the only holiday celebrated in the US that does not yet totally disgust me. I figured there would be a selection of old-school stuff and the more modern plastic horror-movie crap that I could ignore.
To my consternation, there was not one thing in tyhe damn place besides some of their store displays that was not either:
1) cutesy-poo (glossy big eyes, long eyelashes, fat rosy cheeks, covered in glitter and '70s harvest colored paint),
2) movie and/or TV-themed, or
3) made of plasitc, with some sort of electronic noise-maker inside, and exuding one or more imitations of bodily fluids.
All these things lacked any subtlety, spookiness, or actual decorative value whatsoever.
I fear that Halloween has finally, after ecades of concerted effort by the Made in China holiday industry, gone so far over the line that I will start to hate and dread it from here on out.
All is not lost, of course. We will make our Halloween decorations this weekend from good, honest construction paper, crayons, and perhaps some googly eyes. No plastic voice box screaming out ridiculously unfunny Halloween puns required.
To my consternation, there was not one thing in tyhe damn place besides some of their store displays that was not either:
1) cutesy-poo (glossy big eyes, long eyelashes, fat rosy cheeks, covered in glitter and '70s harvest colored paint),
2) movie and/or TV-themed, or
3) made of plasitc, with some sort of electronic noise-maker inside, and exuding one or more imitations of bodily fluids.
All these things lacked any subtlety, spookiness, or actual decorative value whatsoever.
I fear that Halloween has finally, after ecades of concerted effort by the Made in China holiday industry, gone so far over the line that I will start to hate and dread it from here on out.
All is not lost, of course. We will make our Halloween decorations this weekend from good, honest construction paper, crayons, and perhaps some googly eyes. No plastic voice box screaming out ridiculously unfunny Halloween puns required.
Monday, October 22, 2007
a long week or two
So my wife left yesterday on a two-week business trip out of town. Today will be my first full single-parenting day of 11.75. It has been OK so far, but I wonder how things are going to seem a week from today, after I've done the same routine for 7 days with work my only source of interaction with other adults (to the extent they can be called that).
I'm viewing it as a long slog and hoping that it might be a good thing for me and the kids to get more time together. If only I didn't have all the pesky other stuff taking up that time, like chores, cooking, cleaning, driving, shopping, etc, it would be a lot more tenable.
Either way, it is what it is. We'll get through it and move on to the next major inconvenience.
I'm viewing it as a long slog and hoping that it might be a good thing for me and the kids to get more time together. If only I didn't have all the pesky other stuff taking up that time, like chores, cooking, cleaning, driving, shopping, etc, it would be a lot more tenable.
Either way, it is what it is. We'll get through it and move on to the next major inconvenience.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
sad, happy
I'm very sad today because my brother is leaving again for Thailand. Although I'm bummed that he's not around, his visit made me feel better about several things. I feel better about a lot of the decisions I've made in my life that have led me to do what I do, live where I live, and work where I work. I'm not always entirely happy about any of those things, but really, they're OK for now. Maybe some things could change, and maybe at some point I will be doing something I love for a job, and living someplace I feel connected to. I would like for what I do, where I live, and where I work to all be about the same thing. I would like for my life to be more focus and less distraction, essentially.
But for now, my life is functional. I have a few activities that I really enjoy, and people I enjoy doing those activities with. The rest is just a distraction.
The fact that a short visit from my brother, during which we didn't even see each other every day, can have such an effect on how I view my life, has highlighted for me how pivotal some relationships can be in a person's life. For me, those relationships are about family. I don't think I'm very good at expressing this sort of thing to the people that matter to me.
But for now, my life is functional. I have a few activities that I really enjoy, and people I enjoy doing those activities with. The rest is just a distraction.
The fact that a short visit from my brother, during which we didn't even see each other every day, can have such an effect on how I view my life, has highlighted for me how pivotal some relationships can be in a person's life. For me, those relationships are about family. I don't think I'm very good at expressing this sort of thing to the people that matter to me.
Friday, June 22, 2007
soccer results
0-6, our loss. It was an all-out asswhoopin. I can't imagine a more humiliating defeat to have suffered, especially as this was the last game of the session.
It appears that I will be uninvited from yet another soccer team. I believe that this will be the last one, as I am about to just say fuck it and move on to some other activity. I like to play soccer, but I hate dealing with all the politics or whatever the issue could be. When you ask directly whether or not a team needs you for the next session and you get an evasive answer, perhaps that's an indication that it's time to find a different activity or undertake some massive personality renovation or both.
I think I'll start biking.
It appears that I will be uninvited from yet another soccer team. I believe that this will be the last one, as I am about to just say fuck it and move on to some other activity. I like to play soccer, but I hate dealing with all the politics or whatever the issue could be. When you ask directly whether or not a team needs you for the next session and you get an evasive answer, perhaps that's an indication that it's time to find a different activity or undertake some massive personality renovation or both.
I think I'll start biking.
Monday, June 18, 2007
so...the brewing.
I brewed. Still no word on how successful it might have been. It did not go as planned. I was assisted by someone that I should have known better than to invite. I allowed him to make stupid mistakes and then failed to adequately control the resulting problems. All my bad, I'm sure. All not his fault, just the way it is. shake head, swallow rage. continue on.
Long story short: too much water means not all the wort would fit in the carboy. This was most upsetting. On my own, I would have just worked it out, but with a guest glued to my ass, I just said screw it and figured I'd let the chips fall where they may. Specific gravity ended up no higher than 1040, maybe a hair or two lower. I pitched the yeast at too high a temperature so that I could just finish up and have a moment's peace. Fermentation had not started by the time I left for work today, 16 hours after pitching the yeast. gah.
The recipe (ill-fated though it may be):
about 5 lbs light malt syrup
1/4 lb crystal malt (40l)
1 oz or so Chinook hops, the last of the hops from my plant last year (15 minutes)
1/4 oz or so Fuggles hops (15 minutes)
1/4 tsp Irish Moss (15 minutes)
1 oz pelletized Cascade hops (5 minutes)
~2 lbs raw honey (added after the wort was taken off the heat, while someone else was adding too much water to the carboy)
San Francisco Lager Yeast (liquid, pitched at about 87 degrees)
This is supposed to be a Cream Ale. The wort has a nice honey flavor. If it ferments, it might be good to drink. If I'm not getting any action by tomorrow, I might have to re-pitch.
Long story short: too much water means not all the wort would fit in the carboy. This was most upsetting. On my own, I would have just worked it out, but with a guest glued to my ass, I just said screw it and figured I'd let the chips fall where they may. Specific gravity ended up no higher than 1040, maybe a hair or two lower. I pitched the yeast at too high a temperature so that I could just finish up and have a moment's peace. Fermentation had not started by the time I left for work today, 16 hours after pitching the yeast. gah.
The recipe (ill-fated though it may be):
about 5 lbs light malt syrup
1/4 lb crystal malt (40l)
1 oz or so Chinook hops, the last of the hops from my plant last year (15 minutes)
1/4 oz or so Fuggles hops (15 minutes)
1/4 tsp Irish Moss (15 minutes)
1 oz pelletized Cascade hops (5 minutes)
~2 lbs raw honey (added after the wort was taken off the heat, while someone else was adding too much water to the carboy)
San Francisco Lager Yeast (liquid, pitched at about 87 degrees)
This is supposed to be a Cream Ale. The wort has a nice honey flavor. If it ferments, it might be good to drink. If I'm not getting any action by tomorrow, I might have to re-pitch.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
crazy/stupid
Somehow it seemed like a good idea to have people over two days in a row on a weekend when I planned to brew beer. Day 1 went OK, I survived anyway, but day 2 looms, and it's the one with the brewing.
Day 1 highlights:
Enough parentheses for today?
Day 1 highlights:
- Kal Bi (turned out awesome, described by my father-in-law as 'Hawaiian style,' which I took as a compliment).
- Raspberry Rhubarb topping for ice cream (on the fly, with vanilla paste and bourbon, probably the best thing I made).
- Sashimi (hard to cut right, but damn, it tasted good).
- Laulau made with pork jowl bacon (my idea) and real luau leaf, steamed in banana leaves.
Enough parentheses for today?
Friday, June 8, 2007
soccer results
Score: 7-4, loss for us. Started the game with no subs for men. Played 18 mintes the first half, more regular shifts the second after we picked up a sub. The team manager pointed out that women could sub for men. This blew me away, since I've never been on a team with more women players than men. You wouldn't think it would make that much of a difference, but two games in a row, it definitely has. Last week, I went in after we found ourselves at a 5 point disadvantage (entitling us to an additional player on the field), and was called back so a woman could go on. Fine by me, it just never occurred to me is all. Bitchy looks resulted. My bad, I guess.
This week, the whole thing about women subbing for men came up. I admitted that it had just never occurred to me, etc, and bitchy looks resulted. Sheesh.
I'm pretty sick of the whole passive-aggressive soccer management thing. I just want to show up and play. I don't care if everyone on the team likes me or wants to be my buddy, I'm just there to play. If somebody wants something from me, I wish they'd just ask. Dan, they could say, you're not subbing enough. You're yelling too much, STFU already. You're old and slow. Get some wind or sub out. Whatever the bitchy little problem might be. Perhaps I'm just obnoxious while playing soccer, but I try to have a good attitude, talk it up, help out, be polite and show good sportsmanship. I'm the oldest guy on the team (by about 10 years to look at the rest of them), so maybe I'm just not cool enough for school. The thing is, without somebody having the cobbles to actually say what they want from me, I don't know, and my only choice is to just do my thing.
This week, the whole thing about women subbing for men came up. I admitted that it had just never occurred to me, etc, and bitchy looks resulted. Sheesh.
I'm pretty sick of the whole passive-aggressive soccer management thing. I just want to show up and play. I don't care if everyone on the team likes me or wants to be my buddy, I'm just there to play. If somebody wants something from me, I wish they'd just ask. Dan, they could say, you're not subbing enough. You're yelling too much, STFU already. You're old and slow. Get some wind or sub out. Whatever the bitchy little problem might be. Perhaps I'm just obnoxious while playing soccer, but I try to have a good attitude, talk it up, help out, be polite and show good sportsmanship. I'm the oldest guy on the team (by about 10 years to look at the rest of them), so maybe I'm just not cool enough for school. The thing is, without somebody having the cobbles to actually say what they want from me, I don't know, and my only choice is to just do my thing.
Monday, June 4, 2007
So Simple...
I like to order one of the simplest espresso drinks imaginable: 4 shots over ice. It has 2 ingredients (unless you count solid and liquid water as two ingredients), ice and espresso. It should be deadly simple to make. I do it at home all the time using either cold coffee or "shots" made using a French Drip device (like they use for Vietnamese iced coffee).
The recipe:
pour 4 shots over a full cup of ice.
This is actually how I order it most of the time, after multiple instances of being handed a cup full of lightly brown water with ice slivers slowly disappearing. Even being so specific, it still doesn't come out right most times. Today the problem was that the shots were pulled too long, resulting in weak, overly bitter espresso (a common problem, I must admit) that was so hot, and that collected into such a large volume, that it melted almost all of the ice, resulting in a watery drink.
Why do I keep ordering it? Because it's worth it when done right. Also, it's sugar free. I usually add some half & half, and if it's made right, the cream floats on top of the beautifully black espresso, mingling only slowly into a nice rich brown. The drink is bitter (but not acrid) and creamy, again, very simple, but the simplicity is the essence of the whole thing, unlike all the drinks that have froth and foam and caramel and milk and whipped cream and oh, wait, did you want some espresso in there?
I'm not above drinking the occasional chocolate milk disguised as a mocha, butI don't always want my coffee to taste like a candy bar, and if I want the whole thing to be cold, well, there I am again, ordering something that I can only hope will be right. It makes me wish for customer-operated espresso machines, where I could pull my own shots, measure out my own ice, and the success or failure of the drink would be on me.
The recipe:
pour 4 shots over a full cup of ice.
This is actually how I order it most of the time, after multiple instances of being handed a cup full of lightly brown water with ice slivers slowly disappearing. Even being so specific, it still doesn't come out right most times. Today the problem was that the shots were pulled too long, resulting in weak, overly bitter espresso (a common problem, I must admit) that was so hot, and that collected into such a large volume, that it melted almost all of the ice, resulting in a watery drink.
Why do I keep ordering it? Because it's worth it when done right. Also, it's sugar free. I usually add some half & half, and if it's made right, the cream floats on top of the beautifully black espresso, mingling only slowly into a nice rich brown. The drink is bitter (but not acrid) and creamy, again, very simple, but the simplicity is the essence of the whole thing, unlike all the drinks that have froth and foam and caramel and milk and whipped cream and oh, wait, did you want some espresso in there?
I'm not above drinking the occasional chocolate milk disguised as a mocha, butI don't always want my coffee to taste like a candy bar, and if I want the whole thing to be cold, well, there I am again, ordering something that I can only hope will be right. It makes me wish for customer-operated espresso machines, where I could pull my own shots, measure out my own ice, and the success or failure of the drink would be on me.
Friday, June 1, 2007
Marathon Day
Yesterday was the day from hell. I woke up before 6, got myself to work (which, in retrospect, was the most peaceful part of my day), worked my way through my glorious career, took the train back to my car, drove through the daily grind of rush hour a-holes, picked up my daughter (I just had time to change into shorts), and drove to my son's school, where the preeschool/daycare play was to be staged.
Now, I'm not the sort of parent who finds every school function just so precious I can hardly contain myself. In fact, unless my kids are on stage, I find the whole thing pretty horrifying. Maybe that makes me a bad person or a bad parent, but I think it just means that I'm saying what most of the rational people in the audience are thinking. Whatever. The whole thing would be about twice as tolerable if the following things could be eliminated:
- Ass-murdering chairs: If I have to sit for two hours watching kids performing at their best and teachers mumblin through introductions, please consider my butt when planning the event. I don't like being in pain. When I am in pain, it makes sitting through a performance by children (which I do find valuable for them), well, painful. I don't think that's what you're going for.
- Scheduling: I know it's hard to find a time that works for most people, but maybe school events could be kept to 30 minutes and scheduled later in the evening? Please? I need to eat. My kids need to eat. Being somewhere for 2 hours starting at 5:30 is a monumental burden on my already hectic schedule.
- Planning: for the love of creamed corn, please tell me what you want me to do. I don't have time to guess. I can find the time to do really whatever you need me to do, whether it be making costumes or sets or just showing up at a particular time. What I can't do is guess about where I'm supposed to be or what I am suypposed to be doing. Put it in writing. I spend my days filtering out tons of extremely irrelevant data to get at the important bits. I sometimes can't shut that off once I leave work. If there's something posted on a wall somewhere, don't pretend it's of vital importance. If it's that important, write it down on a piece of paper and make sure that the piece of paper gets directly between the grasp of two or more of my fingers.
So, aside from these expected annoyances, the play went pretty well. There was supposed to be a BBQ afterward, but I hadn't planned to go to it. I had a soccer game to play right after. I was planning on being late to the game, but hoping to get there as soon as possible. I figured the kids would be able to get something to eat at the soccer place.
As the play progressed, with the little kids doing their thing before the older kids, I noticed that a bunch of people were walking around with food. That didn't seem to fit the schedule they'd posted, but whatever. As the thing came to a close, I noticed that the crowd was getting thinner and thinner. Turns out that people whose kids had already performed were heading right over and eating, then staying over where the food was. This meant that, becuase my boy's class was very last, I got to sit through everyone else's kids' performances, while they cooled their heels elsewhere, eating literally all the food.
Now again, I wasn't planning on eating there, but I found the whole thing incredible rude and inconsiderate. What was wrong with these people?
Having lived through my son's performance as a dragon who lived in a cave, I sped north to the indoor soccer facility, stopping along the way for money for the kids to get food. I got there in time to play in the second half. One half of a game is pretty unsatisfying, I have to say, especially when you lose really badly.
Once home (about 8:45 pm), I scarfed an avocado and some other food, then watered plants, cleaned up after the dog, who had found a whole package of fig newtons and eaten it, got the kids ready for bed, watered the backyard plants (have to get that drip system set up and the faucet replaced), made the boy's lunch for today, poured myself a finger of Old Forester, and flopped long enough to watch 15 minutes of Studio 60.
Then the boy was up. Then the dog needed out. Then I had to get coffee going for today.
I finally made it to bed, not too long after I should have. Then those Fig Newtons (whole grain with extra fiber, of course) started brewing in the dog's gut. She needed out. She wanted in. She needed out NOW!! She wanted in. This went on for 45 minutes or so. I finally got to shut my eyes at midnight:30, none too soon if you ask me.
Maybe if I can get in a solid 8 of sleep tonight, the whole day will seem funny to me tomorrow.Wednesday, May 30, 2007
depressed or just unhappy?
So I get depressed. I guess. I've never actually talked to a doctor about it or anything, but sometimes (more than others), I just can't freakin stand it anymore. Depression is a sickness, I've been told, and I know that's true of chronic depression, but maybe, I keep saying to myself, maybe sometimes it looks like depression, but a person is just not happy. I keep telling myself there's a difference, and it goes like this:
Depression is feeling crappy and sad all the time, whether you have a reason to feel that way or not. It's an inappropriate feeling of sadness. Unhappiness is a legitimate feeling of sadness. If your dog dies and you feel depressed, that's not a disease, that's normal. No pills for you. If you're happy about something one day, and you hate that same thing and it drags you down the next, that's some sick shit and you could perhaps benefit from medication.
Now in my opinion, most of the depression people are popping pills for right now is actually not pathological. People live lives that are inherently unsatisfying, but that they're told are the ideal, the be-all-end-all of American existence, The Dream. So even though they hate it and it makes them act like assholes at work, on the road, in public places, and at home, they keep doing it. I keep doing it. And it makes everyone unhappy.
So the choice becomes whether to continue with the practical-yet-soul-crushing process of doing stuff you hate, but with the addition of some pills that make you happier about it, or to actually change. The problem: even when you try to change things in a way that will make people's lives easier, they don't recognize or appreciate it. I will expound more on this topic in later posts. Suffice it to say, it is the core of my dissatisfaction with my professional life.
Depression is feeling crappy and sad all the time, whether you have a reason to feel that way or not. It's an inappropriate feeling of sadness. Unhappiness is a legitimate feeling of sadness. If your dog dies and you feel depressed, that's not a disease, that's normal. No pills for you. If you're happy about something one day, and you hate that same thing and it drags you down the next, that's some sick shit and you could perhaps benefit from medication.
Now in my opinion, most of the depression people are popping pills for right now is actually not pathological. People live lives that are inherently unsatisfying, but that they're told are the ideal, the be-all-end-all of American existence, The Dream. So even though they hate it and it makes them act like assholes at work, on the road, in public places, and at home, they keep doing it. I keep doing it. And it makes everyone unhappy.
So the choice becomes whether to continue with the practical-yet-soul-crushing process of doing stuff you hate, but with the addition of some pills that make you happier about it, or to actually change. The problem: even when you try to change things in a way that will make people's lives easier, they don't recognize or appreciate it. I will expound more on this topic in later posts. Suffice it to say, it is the core of my dissatisfaction with my professional life.
Projects
I will be listing posts detailing some of the many projects I have in progess or waiting in the wings. There are a lot of them. I am a homeowner stupidly devoted to doing everything myself. Here are the ones I can think of right now:
- Sell 2 1966 VW Bugs in various stages of disrepair
- Build a new gate out of the bamboo I've had sitting in the carport for well over a year now
- Grout the tile in the mudroom
- Clean up after demolition of the 3-sided shed that was behind the carport
- Install the high-end oven currently sitting in the back room
- Repave the driveway
- Replace horrible carpet in the backroom with something better, preferably bamboo
- Buy and install a cooktop to accompany the high-end oven
- Replace horrible counters with something that looks and works better
- Replace horrible kitchen cabinets with something that looks and works better
- Replace every fixture in the bathroom with something that looks and works better
- Completely tear down and redo bathroom floors, walls, and tub
- Clean & treat the deck
- Replace the outdoor faucet in back
- Install a drip watering system in the back yard
- Readjust the drip system installed in the front yard to make sure everything gets watered
- Bottle current batch of beer
- Buy a new PC (the old brown Dell just ain't what she used to be)
- Build one or more new raised garden beds
Improve the compost setup- Pull weeds front and back
- Cull small or diseased plums
- Prepare jars and storage area for jam projects
- Throw away everything possible from under the carport
Install lights on deck awning- Get a new hammock
- Clean out cars
Put pruned forsythia branches into yard waste- Design and install a shelf for plants in the back room
I'm sure there are more things. I simply can't bear to add anything more to the list. Some of those are fun. Some of those are an impending nightmare. I don't have time to do any of it, what with work, driving my kids around to and from school and other activities, watering, cleaning up after 2 adults and 2 (freaking messy) kids, listening to backtalk, and trying to stay sane by doing things that I enjoy, such as playing the guitar and ukulele, playing soccer, drinking beer, cooking, etc.
All the things on this list are things that I have at least a general idea how to do. They're all productive things with higher practical value to me and my family than riding the train in to the city and hanging out in an office building, but the job has a much higher monetary value, so I do that instead. Why? Because in order to be able to pay for materials and other costs associated with all those activities, I have to trade away the time I would need to do them. Does this make sense? In some cases, the project wouldn't even have been necessary if I had had adequate time to take the steps necessary to prevent the problem from occurring in the first place.
This whole thing is strictly for suckers, but nearly everyone does it, or something even more onerous. To me this way of life is the very essence of stupidity. I didn't design it, and I don't know how to fix it, but I still have to live with it. My only hope is to be able to exploit enough money out of the whole scheme to be able to escape from most of it by finding a situation where a higher percentage of the work I do contributes directly to my benefit. I have to own it.
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