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Above the garage we have this room I like to call "the studio". It's a space about 24ft wide by 22ft deep. I think it was listed as a "game room" when we bought the house. When a friend needed a place to stay after his divorce, it was known as “Josh’s place”. When my wife was pregnant with our son, it became known as "the junk room", the dumping ground for everything that was in the room formerly known as "our office" and now known as our "son's bedroom". During his toddler years, it was all but lost to us. I'd brave the dust and piles of random stuff to escape into a book or drink a beer and listen to music undisturbed. Slowly but surely I reclaimed the room, chipping away at the junk that was put up here (95% of it mine admittedly), donating some things, throwing away others, or simply finding a decent home for the rest. My wife surrendered her claim to the space and started calling it my "man cave" (she's getting her own office in our home impending remodel).
About five years ago, I started thinking over the space.
I am not one to have a "man cave" in the grunting, crotch-scratching, poker-playing, football-watching, beer-guzzling sense. That image actually bothers me. I needed something else… something that had the Victorian feel of the rest of the house, but allowed for technology in a complimentary sense… something that reflected my "jack of all trades" tinkering mindset… and something that looked like it had been here for 115 years… or more.
With that thought in mind, I recalled the feeling of awe I experienced when my wife and I were touring the various rooms of Hearst Castle. A few of the rooms, Hearst purchased in Europe, had them meticulously disassembled, and then reassembled them inside of a newly built room in his mansion. Most of his other rooms were “gathered together”… this is my definition, but essentially, what they all had in common was a feeling of age. Permanence. History. It was as if the rooms were built in the twelfth century and had been lived in ever since, it’s inhabitants gathering things on their travels and bringing them together in these rooms over generations. I felt I was walking into rooms that were a few hundred years old, not ones that were less than a hundred. There was something to be learned here.
I also had been introduced to the term "steampunk" by a friend of mine. Shawn said "What? You've never heard of 'steampunk'? Holy crap, Bryon!! You of all people I know should know what steampunk is! You are one and you don't know about it? Wow!" He was flummoxed. Shawn was one of a handful of people who had known me since childhood and he was completely right. I have been a steampunk my entire life and I didn’t even know it.
So I toured some more houses and museums, took and reviewed photos, searched online, and looked into this “steampunk” thing seeking a design for “the studio”. I did some sketches and gathered ideas together as photos and notes in my computer. I did a lot of this. Heck, I still am.
As some of you know, I was fortunate enough to come into some free lumber. Not a lot, mind you, but I stumbled upon enough weathered lumber to use in the studio and give it that sense of age and weight. There were several white oak 4x6s chunks around 2.5 feet long and three 2x6s at 5.5 feet long. There were also some large pieces of mahogany, 3x16 and 5.5 feet long inches long. I got lucky. To me, these were the components necessary to build my bar.
My grandfather gave me his 1960’s vintage Shopsmith about nine years ago to help me fabricate the parts necessary to maintain an old house. (Thanks, Grandpa!) This tool, above the others I have acquired, is invaluable.
My ideas started making the leap from my brain to paper and even into physical shape... but I wasn't content with simply buying things at the local hardware and furniture stores.
Hardly. I started building.
First, I tore out the closet and built a cellar (aka “cold box”). Then I installed beer faucets and started building a bar. Embarrassingly enough, that was about a year ago. I’ve tweaked some designs, cut some lumber, and re-tweaked some designs. Along the way, I have made a few strategic purchases at hardware stores and antique shops, getting this bit of hardware or that interesting piece of furniture, all the while taking reference photos when something “spoke to me”.
Now I find myself staring at a "meta-project", a project of projects: "The Studio". It has become a collection of projects that will not be complete until all of the sub-projects are they themselves complete. I have become more aware of my incomplete project workload recently, so this realization bugs me. I have added this new project to the nigh infinite list in an effort to start whittling away at it.
Hence, "The Studio pt 1" begins.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Fiction: The Alley
Turning right down the alley, I jogged toward Hickory Street, trying to keep as quiet as I could.
"Hey! Guero! Going somewhere?" said a voice behind me to my right
"Yeah," I replied, not turning my head to look at the source of the voice, "Some guy is following me. Jump him instead."
"You think you're funny, Homes?" the voice replied, somewhat irritated. "Micky, stop this punk!"
A hulk of a man stepped into my path at the end of the alley--Miguel McDonnell.
I picked up my pace, figuring I could fake to one side and get past him on the other. Remembering I had watched this guy play a few years of high school football, I wasn't very sure of my plan.
Miguel's face was coming into focus, a fleshy moon pocked by acne scars and freckles. He puckered his face in anger, puffy wrinkles enveloping his eyes.
I started sprinting right at Miguel, edging slightly to the left. He lifted his arms, sighed heavily, and dropped into a slight crouch, matching my leftward drift and getting ready to absorb my impact.
Just before colliding, I swerved to the right. He had anticipated my feint, and grunted loudly as he lunged at me, his arms reaching for my torso. Still running as fast as I could, I whipped my hiking staff in a downward arc at his head. He must not have seen the staff as a threat because the impact hit solidly, nearly knocking me over. I stumbled sideways, and saw him slumping over backwards out of the corner of my eye.
The lack of a noise from Miguel told me he would not be chasing me. I might be in the clear if I could keep away from his friends. I did, however, hear his friend start talking in unintelligible quick phrases, so my luck was starting to turn.
Rather than running out onto my street and drawing more attention to myself, I crossed Hickory and continued parallel to it down the alley toward Grape Street. My new route would take me an extra block out of my way, but the alley was dark and their car was facing the wrong way on a narrow street; they would have to circle around the block to cut me off. I also figured I could cut through Old Lady White's yard if things got more complicated.
"Hey! Guero! Going somewhere?" said a voice behind me to my right
"Yeah," I replied, not turning my head to look at the source of the voice, "Some guy is following me. Jump him instead."
"You think you're funny, Homes?" the voice replied, somewhat irritated. "Micky, stop this punk!"
A hulk of a man stepped into my path at the end of the alley--Miguel McDonnell.
I picked up my pace, figuring I could fake to one side and get past him on the other. Remembering I had watched this guy play a few years of high school football, I wasn't very sure of my plan.
Miguel's face was coming into focus, a fleshy moon pocked by acne scars and freckles. He puckered his face in anger, puffy wrinkles enveloping his eyes.
I started sprinting right at Miguel, edging slightly to the left. He lifted his arms, sighed heavily, and dropped into a slight crouch, matching my leftward drift and getting ready to absorb my impact.
Just before colliding, I swerved to the right. He had anticipated my feint, and grunted loudly as he lunged at me, his arms reaching for my torso. Still running as fast as I could, I whipped my hiking staff in a downward arc at his head. He must not have seen the staff as a threat because the impact hit solidly, nearly knocking me over. I stumbled sideways, and saw him slumping over backwards out of the corner of my eye.
The lack of a noise from Miguel told me he would not be chasing me. I might be in the clear if I could keep away from his friends. I did, however, hear his friend start talking in unintelligible quick phrases, so my luck was starting to turn.
Rather than running out onto my street and drawing more attention to myself, I crossed Hickory and continued parallel to it down the alley toward Grape Street. My new route would take me an extra block out of my way, but the alley was dark and their car was facing the wrong way on a narrow street; they would have to circle around the block to cut me off. I also figured I could cut through Old Lady White's yard if things got more complicated.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Fiction: Packing Up
[here's a quick writing exercise to get the synapses firing on the other side of my brain.]
I knew I had to visit Badger next, but I also knew I would regret it in more ways than one. For starters, Badger wasn’t just his nickname, it was his personality. He seemed to be perpetually angry with any person who entered into his lair. Second, he shared his lair with Tiffany, an ex-girlfriend of mine. Once we had been going out for a while, she realized I was set in my ways and wasn't going to fall for her manipulations. She said she had to go, though I didn’t know she would go two blocks over and wind up with the guy who runs the liquor store. Personally, I think she discovered Badger was all settled in, made decent money, and wasn’t going anywhere. Finally, there were the guys I saw sitting in their cars.
I ran upstairs and, without turning on the bedroom light, pulled aside the curtain to get a better look down at the cars on the street. By the looks of the black sedan, it was an unmarked police car of some kind. The cops--or maybe even federal agents--were still sitting there watching and waiting. I couldn’t see much of the other car, but I knew what little I saw earlier well enough; a green street racer with a few of the gang bangers I had pissed off still probably sitting inside. "Damn!" I didn’t hear its tuned exhaust or booming bass echoing off the old buildings down the street, so it had to be a couple doors down still. If the cops didn’t believe me and the gangers were still after me, I had to move.
I carefully eased the curtain into place, pulled my backpack from the bedroom closet and stuffed some clothes and my hiking boots in it. Good thing I had repacked my gear after the last trip with the guys. I flicked on the light switch and closed the door. At the base of the stairs, I grabbed the aluminum bat from the coat closet and shoved it in the pack too. My hiking prep routine kicked in and I grabbed some energy bars and started filling the water bladder in my pack.
“Dammit! I’m taking too long.” I don’t know how I looked when I walked down the sidewalk and entered my condo—I tried not to look across the street at the cops and pretended not to notice the gangers down the street—but my panic was starting to manifest now. My hands were shaking when I turned off the water and sealed up the water reservoir.
“Laptop! What did I do…?” I spun back toward the front door and grabbed the bag I dropped there on my way in. My backpack and laptop bag were too much to carry, but I didn’t know where I was going or when I would be coming back here. A shadowy form, silhouetted by the light filtering from windows across the street, was slowly opening the gate. Hustling back to the kitchen, I shouldered my pack, picked up my hiking staff, and carefully opened the door.
Slipping outside, I locked the door and carefully pulled it closed. I tried to listen for the guy at the front door but all I could hear was my pulse pounding in my ears. I ran to the back gate and opened it into the alley. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be caught dead in the alley this time of night, but if I didn’t risk it, I’d probably be found dead here anyway.
I knew I had to visit Badger next, but I also knew I would regret it in more ways than one. For starters, Badger wasn’t just his nickname, it was his personality. He seemed to be perpetually angry with any person who entered into his lair. Second, he shared his lair with Tiffany, an ex-girlfriend of mine. Once we had been going out for a while, she realized I was set in my ways and wasn't going to fall for her manipulations. She said she had to go, though I didn’t know she would go two blocks over and wind up with the guy who runs the liquor store. Personally, I think she discovered Badger was all settled in, made decent money, and wasn’t going anywhere. Finally, there were the guys I saw sitting in their cars.
I ran upstairs and, without turning on the bedroom light, pulled aside the curtain to get a better look down at the cars on the street. By the looks of the black sedan, it was an unmarked police car of some kind. The cops--or maybe even federal agents--were still sitting there watching and waiting. I couldn’t see much of the other car, but I knew what little I saw earlier well enough; a green street racer with a few of the gang bangers I had pissed off still probably sitting inside. "Damn!" I didn’t hear its tuned exhaust or booming bass echoing off the old buildings down the street, so it had to be a couple doors down still. If the cops didn’t believe me and the gangers were still after me, I had to move.
I carefully eased the curtain into place, pulled my backpack from the bedroom closet and stuffed some clothes and my hiking boots in it. Good thing I had repacked my gear after the last trip with the guys. I flicked on the light switch and closed the door. At the base of the stairs, I grabbed the aluminum bat from the coat closet and shoved it in the pack too. My hiking prep routine kicked in and I grabbed some energy bars and started filling the water bladder in my pack.
“Dammit! I’m taking too long.” I don’t know how I looked when I walked down the sidewalk and entered my condo—I tried not to look across the street at the cops and pretended not to notice the gangers down the street—but my panic was starting to manifest now. My hands were shaking when I turned off the water and sealed up the water reservoir.
“Laptop! What did I do…?” I spun back toward the front door and grabbed the bag I dropped there on my way in. My backpack and laptop bag were too much to carry, but I didn’t know where I was going or when I would be coming back here. A shadowy form, silhouetted by the light filtering from windows across the street, was slowly opening the gate. Hustling back to the kitchen, I shouldered my pack, picked up my hiking staff, and carefully opened the door.
Slipping outside, I locked the door and carefully pulled it closed. I tried to listen for the guy at the front door but all I could hear was my pulse pounding in my ears. I ran to the back gate and opened it into the alley. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be caught dead in the alley this time of night, but if I didn’t risk it, I’d probably be found dead here anyway.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Living in the Future, pt 1
Do you ever sit back from whatever you're doing at a particular moment in time and observe what you were doing? You know, from a perspective removed from the here and now? Like some outside observer looking in on your own life? Every once in a while I do and it sort of amazes me, not what I'm doing, but the things themselves.
Looking at the gadgets around me, I find it really staggering that my phone probably has more computing power than my PC ten years ago (I may still have that PC!). For that matter, I remember how cool I thought it was to get my first cellular phone. Do you know what it could do? It could make phone calls! ::gasp:: Come to think of it, I think it also made the opposite ear warm with its radio emissions and could sterilize a rabbit at ten yards! (I know, I know, cheap jokes.) What else is around me? Hmm...
This laptop I am working on is pushing 18 months old and people usually remark "that's a big laptop" in shock upon seeing it. I smile and assure them "it's not just a laptop, it's a desktop replacement. This thing's got horsepower, a BluRay and a widescreen!" They just look at me and say "Oh." before finding somewhere else to be. While they may not be impressed, I sure as hell am. I can watch a 1080p movie while on a trip. I can crunch some numbers in seriously big spreadsheets. I can render fractal graphics and export animated video sequences in moments. Just try to do that in a few hours with your ol' Pentium... 486... 386... 286... XT/AT. XT/AT? Whoa! That's a blast from the past. Heck, my XT/AT had an actual selector switch to run in accellerated mode. You think I ever turn that switch off? You're right. I never did. NEH-EH-VUR! Oh... speaking of that XT/AT, I upgraded the video card in that sucker eventually, so I could display multiple shades of green! In hindsight, I think it was just dithering... like I am now... back to my point. Living in the future is so freakin' cool.
I have an iPad to my left, opposite my Windows Phone 7 HTC phone to the right of my laptop. I enjoy using the iPad as a reading platform, and plan to make better use of some new(-ish) apps. Yet, even as a glorified book and/or newspaper, it's great. Plus, if I get too tired to really focus on something and viola, I can zoom in for a closer look. (ewe, I feel that creeping on.). The phone is pretty good as a phone, but the other functions seem somewhat hobbled when compared to my "old" HTC Tilt2 Windows 6.5 phone. Even so, both devices provide me with access to enormous amounts of information and data. Data that I can't live without. At least, I think I can't live without it.
In contrast, my upbringing was grounded in some basic tenets that many people my age probably didn't get to experience. For starters "my upbrining was grounded" is a somewhat humorous choice of words... mostly due to my idiocy combined with somewhat strict parents. (I digress. Again.) I learned some valuable hands on skills from my parents and both sets of grandparents. Basic carpentry, woodworking, metalworking, machining, cooking, camping, drafting, and other hands-on skills. Hah! Hands-on. I had a vivid memory this morning of splitting wood with a sledgehammer and steel splitting wedges! It's not the work that shapes the boy into a man, it's the endless frustrations experienced while splitting eucalyptus firewood. (Eucalyptus is a pain in the ass to split.) I still lean back on some of those skills as a bit of therapy. A cathartic release. Also, when I'm done using whatever skill I have engaged on a project, there's usually something tangible to show for it. I can look at the bench seat to my left and know I built it with my own hands... and some power tools.
Spending my days working within the digital realm is a little less rewarding. Sure, I take pride in the work I (and my team) generate, but when the computer is turned off, or I'm talking to someone less technologically inclined, the accomplishments amount to little more than an oversized paperweight, some cheap parlour tricks, or a punchline to a weak joke. Yet I stubbornly keep at it because I love working in the Information Technology realm. Working in the brewing industry makes it that much better.
Having grown up in the '70s and '80s, I grew up around home computers, and as an adult, it seems that my life around computers makes dealing with today's technology that much more like second-nature. I "ask" it for something and I get what I wanted.
Now if I can only remember where I put it.
* This entry ended up being more negative that I was intending when I started, but I am going to let it stand. Perhaps, when I get around to writing "pt 2", I can steer the story back into a positive light. For now, it stands as is.
** Also, this was written as I really started to fade towards sleep... must go now... zzzz.
Looking at the gadgets around me, I find it really staggering that my phone probably has more computing power than my PC ten years ago (I may still have that PC!). For that matter, I remember how cool I thought it was to get my first cellular phone. Do you know what it could do? It could make phone calls! ::gasp:: Come to think of it, I think it also made the opposite ear warm with its radio emissions and could sterilize a rabbit at ten yards! (I know, I know, cheap jokes.) What else is around me? Hmm...
This laptop I am working on is pushing 18 months old and people usually remark "that's a big laptop" in shock upon seeing it. I smile and assure them "it's not just a laptop, it's a desktop replacement. This thing's got horsepower, a BluRay and a widescreen!" They just look at me and say "Oh." before finding somewhere else to be. While they may not be impressed, I sure as hell am. I can watch a 1080p movie while on a trip. I can crunch some numbers in seriously big spreadsheets. I can render fractal graphics and export animated video sequences in moments. Just try to do that in a few hours with your ol' Pentium... 486... 386... 286... XT/AT. XT/AT? Whoa! That's a blast from the past. Heck, my XT/AT had an actual selector switch to run in accellerated mode. You think I ever turn that switch off? You're right. I never did. NEH-EH-VUR! Oh... speaking of that XT/AT, I upgraded the video card in that sucker eventually, so I could display multiple shades of green! In hindsight, I think it was just dithering... like I am now... back to my point. Living in the future is so freakin' cool.
I have an iPad to my left, opposite my Windows Phone 7 HTC phone to the right of my laptop. I enjoy using the iPad as a reading platform, and plan to make better use of some new(-ish) apps. Yet, even as a glorified book and/or newspaper, it's great. Plus, if I get too tired to really focus on something and viola, I can zoom in for a closer look. (ewe, I feel that creeping on.). The phone is pretty good as a phone, but the other functions seem somewhat hobbled when compared to my "old" HTC Tilt2 Windows 6.5 phone. Even so, both devices provide me with access to enormous amounts of information and data. Data that I can't live without. At least, I think I can't live without it.
In contrast, my upbringing was grounded in some basic tenets that many people my age probably didn't get to experience. For starters "my upbrining was grounded" is a somewhat humorous choice of words... mostly due to my idiocy combined with somewhat strict parents. (I digress. Again.) I learned some valuable hands on skills from my parents and both sets of grandparents. Basic carpentry, woodworking, metalworking, machining, cooking, camping, drafting, and other hands-on skills. Hah! Hands-on. I had a vivid memory this morning of splitting wood with a sledgehammer and steel splitting wedges! It's not the work that shapes the boy into a man, it's the endless frustrations experienced while splitting eucalyptus firewood. (Eucalyptus is a pain in the ass to split.) I still lean back on some of those skills as a bit of therapy. A cathartic release. Also, when I'm done using whatever skill I have engaged on a project, there's usually something tangible to show for it. I can look at the bench seat to my left and know I built it with my own hands... and some power tools.
Spending my days working within the digital realm is a little less rewarding. Sure, I take pride in the work I (and my team) generate, but when the computer is turned off, or I'm talking to someone less technologically inclined, the accomplishments amount to little more than an oversized paperweight, some cheap parlour tricks, or a punchline to a weak joke. Yet I stubbornly keep at it because I love working in the Information Technology realm. Working in the brewing industry makes it that much better.
Having grown up in the '70s and '80s, I grew up around home computers, and as an adult, it seems that my life around computers makes dealing with today's technology that much more like second-nature. I "ask" it for something and I get what I wanted.
Now if I can only remember where I put it.
* This entry ended up being more negative that I was intending when I started, but I am going to let it stand. Perhaps, when I get around to writing "pt 2", I can steer the story back into a positive light. For now, it stands as is.
** Also, this was written as I really started to fade towards sleep... must go now... zzzz.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Tasting Notes: Mikkeller Single Hop IPAs, pt 1
Before I get started, I should probably explain the concept of Mikkeller's Single Hop IPAs... or at least my understanding of why they were made. Hops make an IPA, and there are many different kinds of hops out there for the brewers of the world to experiment with. Mikkel took the experimentation to its natural conclusion: create a base IPA beer recipe then change out the hops to showcase the unique characteristics of a particular hop. Pretty damn cool if you ask me. (I've done a similar experiment with yeast strains in a couple of carboys of the same homebrewed stout, and I was pleased with the results.) Anyway, on to the tasting notes...
First up was the beer I had with dinner tonight: Mikkeller Tomahawk Single Hop IPA. I forgot that Tomahawk is another name for Columbus, which has a higher alpha acid percentage ("bitterness" to make it easy). That bitterness carried through past the other flavors on my palate... meaning it blew away my palate, makng everything else harder to taste. Pairing it with the somewhat bitter Lacinato kale—the veggie in tonight's dinner—was probably a mistake, as the nuances of bitterness and flavor were mostly lost. As I like to drink my beers on the "warmer" side, I should have let it warm up to about 40 degrees F. Also, I think the "best by" date is exaggerated for the international market, which further exacerbates the lost subtleties of the hop characteristics of this beer. I know better... drink IPAs fresh, slightly warmer than the 'fridge temp, and in a good tulip glass to accentuate the hop aromas. Sorry Mikkel, I know this beer is good, but I didn't treat it properly. [RateBeer.com: 98 pts]
Tonight's second beer is Mikkeller East Kent Golding Single Hop IPA. I'll start by saying I made the same mistakes with all six of the Mikkeller Single Hop IPAs I have left (drank a few back in late December). Now that I gotten the "baggage" out of the way, I can say that I really enjoyed this beer. I can taste "through" the age to what this beer was when it was fresh: another fine beer. The bitterness was less than the Tomahawk (duh!), with a subtle fruity-hop sweetness still present. There is a bit of grassy hop flavor present, but I'm struggling to get the rest of the flavors quantified from my "flavor-memory" of an hour ago. [RateBeer.com: 90 pts]
Since I decided to indulge the tasting notes request, I figured I should add a third beer to tonight's list to round it out. Normally I stop at two beers on weeknights, sometimes having just one, but tonight, well, what the heck! The third beer is Mikkeller Nelson Sauvin Single Hop IPA and... uh... Wow! Nice, especially given the "baggage" that I know is dragging down this beer. I'm tasting... grapefruit and... hmm... something tropical in the hop flavors. The malts, like the other beers listed above, are present but not overpowering or massive like in an Imperial IPA. I am glad I'm drinking this now, as the beer is on the downward slope of its flavor peak. Among the three beers tonight, this is the best in my opinion. [RateBeer.com: 98]
Tonight's Tasting Notes soundtrack (highlights):
- Ramasutra - Daisy
- Enigma - Seven Lives
- Nikkfurie de la Caution - Thé à la menthe
- Nine Inch Nails - The Good Soldier (instrumental version)
- Add N to (X) - Poke 'er 'ole
- Crystal Castles - Alice Practice
- Oingo Boingo - Ain't This the Life (from the vinyl "Urgh! A Music War")
Just a Note
I am blocking out Monday evenings as my time to write. Maybe I'll even write on alternating Friday evenings too. It's barely a start, but it's something. I listened to a podcast from "Writing Excuses" on the author's responsibility to the reader and it motivated me. Then Kevin politely nudged me and some other friends. I have also gotten involved in a new writing project with Steven and Ed (more on that later) and it has further motivated me. Let's see if I can stick to the plan and have more than 40 posts in 2011.
Monday, February 28, 2011
I Don't Like Mondays
I don't like Mondays.
Seriously. I dislike them.
Honestly speaking, though, I'm not going to go on a shooting spree like Brenda Ann Spencer merely because "I don't like Mondays". I am also not going to write a song about it, partly because Bob Geldof beat me to it years ago, but most especially because I don't have a shred of musical talent. Instead, I'll write a blog post about it.
For me, Mondays mark the end of a good thing and the beginning of a thing less desirable. Obviously, to a great number of you, going back to work fits this definition, but I'm not necessarily referring to the obvious. I am referring to the transition from the wonderfully cathartic outlets of the weekend back to the manic hustle that is my work week. That transition is why Monday is drawing my contempt. Occasionally the transition doesn't hit me until I've been at work for an hour or so, but usually the reality hits sometime within a few minutes of waking up. You know, it's the "damn, I have to wake up, get my son and I moving, and haul our butts where they need to be" realization. (My wife has long since left the house.)
To me this transition is especially rude, because its counterpart, the shift to a weekend's unwinding, is slow. The transition to the weekend mindset is like sliding into a steaming bath or hot tub. Sure, it might hurt a little at first, but once you've eased yourself in there... whoa... you know it feels good. In contrast, the Monday transition marking the end of the weekend is probably much like looking over at your empty beer glass surprised to see one more swallow of beer, only to find out the hard way that some jerk has poured in a finger's depth of malt vinegar into it. Well, since I was the jerk in that scenario, perhaps I need to come up with another analogy (though in hindsight, it was pretty rude, but it was also pretty funny). I think you get the point. Mondays are especially annoying when they show up disguised as a Tuesday or some other day of the week.
Sure, getting into the "day off mindset" is sometimes as fast as walking out the lobby doors at work on a Friday night, but normally it happens sometime during the late afternoon Saturday. That leaves a little over a day to enjoy my "weekend". If I get a call from work, the time to relax gets more compressed, in direct opposition to the concept of relaxing.
Perhaps I simply need to unbolt the responsibility of work and go on a vacation for a week. Vacations have a way of undoing a few Mondays.
* Thanks goes to Steven E. Schend for suggesting today's subject. I told him my intention and he supplied the title, which led me swiftly to the introduction.
** Also, I love my job. I just need to unwind once in a while.
Seriously. I dislike them.
Honestly speaking, though, I'm not going to go on a shooting spree like Brenda Ann Spencer merely because "I don't like Mondays". I am also not going to write a song about it, partly because Bob Geldof beat me to it years ago, but most especially because I don't have a shred of musical talent. Instead, I'll write a blog post about it.
For me, Mondays mark the end of a good thing and the beginning of a thing less desirable. Obviously, to a great number of you, going back to work fits this definition, but I'm not necessarily referring to the obvious. I am referring to the transition from the wonderfully cathartic outlets of the weekend back to the manic hustle that is my work week. That transition is why Monday is drawing my contempt. Occasionally the transition doesn't hit me until I've been at work for an hour or so, but usually the reality hits sometime within a few minutes of waking up. You know, it's the "damn, I have to wake up, get my son and I moving, and haul our butts where they need to be" realization. (My wife has long since left the house.)
To me this transition is especially rude, because its counterpart, the shift to a weekend's unwinding, is slow. The transition to the weekend mindset is like sliding into a steaming bath or hot tub. Sure, it might hurt a little at first, but once you've eased yourself in there... whoa... you know it feels good. In contrast, the Monday transition marking the end of the weekend is probably much like looking over at your empty beer glass surprised to see one more swallow of beer, only to find out the hard way that some jerk has poured in a finger's depth of malt vinegar into it. Well, since I was the jerk in that scenario, perhaps I need to come up with another analogy (though in hindsight, it was pretty rude, but it was also pretty funny). I think you get the point. Mondays are especially annoying when they show up disguised as a Tuesday or some other day of the week.
Sure, getting into the "day off mindset" is sometimes as fast as walking out the lobby doors at work on a Friday night, but normally it happens sometime during the late afternoon Saturday. That leaves a little over a day to enjoy my "weekend". If I get a call from work, the time to relax gets more compressed, in direct opposition to the concept of relaxing.
Perhaps I simply need to unbolt the responsibility of work and go on a vacation for a week. Vacations have a way of undoing a few Mondays.
* Thanks goes to Steven E. Schend for suggesting today's subject. I told him my intention and he supplied the title, which led me swiftly to the introduction.
** Also, I love my job. I just need to unwind once in a while.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Chap Hop Bout
Well then. I shudder to think of how long it has been since I posted something here. :shudder:: Now that I've gotten that out of the way, I will share something that brought a bit of humor to my day...
First, if you have no idea what Chap Hop is, then I recommend you watch the next video to get the fast introduction:
If your musical tastes are anything like mine, you took a perverse pleasure in that! Now that you've had a brief encounter with Chap Hop, watch this:
Professor Elemental has thrown down the gauntlet and I sincerely hope Mr. B The Gentleman Rhymer comes out of his corner with gloves on and in good form.
Gentlemen Rhymers, this bout is abiding by Queensberry Rules, and I expect a few rounds before the match is called. Fight!
First, if you have no idea what Chap Hop is, then I recommend you watch the next video to get the fast introduction:
If your musical tastes are anything like mine, you took a perverse pleasure in that! Now that you've had a brief encounter with Chap Hop, watch this:
Professor Elemental has thrown down the gauntlet and I sincerely hope Mr. B The Gentleman Rhymer comes out of his corner with gloves on and in good form.
Gentlemen Rhymers, this bout is abiding by Queensberry Rules, and I expect a few rounds before the match is called. Fight!
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Update Update
I don't know about you all, but some days it can really suck being busy. Too busy, that is, to really get out and participate in that thing called "life". I have been working some long-ish days lately and, by the time I get home, my brain is threatening to leak out of my ears as some over-used liquid (or a gel). By the time the weekend rolls around, I am more interested in spending time being with my family and friends or working on the backyard... more interested in that than updating the blog. Yes, it has suffered a bit. It seems that family and friends who are more distant have suffered a bit as well, so I felt it was due time to update the blog to include everyone in the happenings.
Work - Yes, my job has its rewards, but when too much work stacks up—for a myriad reasons—it can be a bit stressful, if not downright painful. I'm chugging through things, delegating tasks, outsourcing others, and have even identified a new position I need to fill. (The Muse says I must stop talking about work... so I will comply)
Family - My wife is done teaching for the year and is moving to a different (and I daresay more affluent) school. A good summer's rest has been well earned. Our son is transferring schools to now attend the same school my wife teaches at. This should save time for everyone! He is enjoying Taekwondo classes, now on his second colored belt.
Friends - Among the "guys" (which also happens to include the wives/fiancees/girlfriends) we have been drawn closer by the sudden death of Shawn. We don't yet know why, but hopefully that will come in due time. "Fenn", you're missed! Everyone else, please know you can share whatever is on your mind!
Projects - ACK!!! A list of what is perhaps the meat of this post—or merely an "index" of posts to come—here is what I'm doing as a bit of stress relief:
Work - Yes, my job has its rewards, but when too much work stacks up—for a myriad reasons—it can be a bit stressful, if not downright painful. I'm chugging through things, delegating tasks, outsourcing others, and have even identified a new position I need to fill. (The Muse says I must stop talking about work... so I will comply)
Family - My wife is done teaching for the year and is moving to a different (and I daresay more affluent) school. A good summer's rest has been well earned. Our son is transferring schools to now attend the same school my wife teaches at. This should save time for everyone! He is enjoying Taekwondo classes, now on his second colored belt.
Friends - Among the "guys" (which also happens to include the wives/fiancees/girlfriends) we have been drawn closer by the sudden death of Shawn. We don't yet know why, but hopefully that will come in due time. "Fenn", you're missed! Everyone else, please know you can share whatever is on your mind!
Projects - ACK!!! A list of what is perhaps the meat of this post—or merely an "index" of posts to come—here is what I'm doing as a bit of stress relief:
- Fountain - The fountain is nearly complete, requiring some adjustments to the "return" pump gallons per minute as well as the float switch that serves as a safety to prevent the pump from emptying the fountain into the alley behind our property.
- Backyard landscaping - Thanks to a lot of pent up stress in need of some form of release, as well as some much needed help from Sterling Landcare Co., the yard is getting closer to completion. The patio needs to be leveled with a final layer of decomposed granite before I can set the bluestone and bricks. Nearby, the vegetable and herb garden is several weeks old and starting to offer up its bounty (a bit), netting us strawberries, sweet basil, and French marjoram. Green bell peppers, eggplant, butternut squash, baking pumpkins (probably too many), leeks, zucchini, chamomile, spearmint, and pineapple mint are all still settling in. Other plants will be added as we complete the entire garden plot... it's probably about 20% built out. (I've even considered aquaponics to conjoin the fountain/fish pond and the garden... and then slapped myself for considering another complex backyard project)
- Coldbox - Okay, so there's not a lot of progress here, but I keep considering a few tweaks here and there... better hinges, a furred out frame on the latch side, finish work on the hinge-side frame, a better cooling system (or at least a way to fully chill the kegs separate from the bottle cellar), vintage temperature guages, and quick disconnects for all the keg lines.
- Bar - Now that the cabinetry is in, it's easier to see the shape. With a mini-refrigerator inside, plus a wine 'fridge and the cellar next to it, the beverage supply is handled. I need to complete what would normally be the drip tray system (but in my case is an assembly of copper piping and assorted fittings) to manage any stray drips and runoff. I also have to get a bunch of hardware from various sources... enough info on this to be it's own post... like several of these items
- Tools - My 1960-vintage Shopsmith Mark V, the most important tool in my shop, broke about three months ago. I've been so damn busy that it took me until this week to order and receive the pieces I need to get it back up and running. I'm looking forward to fixing it on Saturday... after I spend the day at work cutting over to a new SQL cluster.
- Beers - Sure, I've posted some tasting notes here and there, but I've been pretty lax about that. Sorry. Usually by the time I'm done drinking them, I don't feel like posting about them (or maybe just can't see myself focusing long enough on the weaving keyboard and shifting screen to actually complete it). I will do better on this. I've got more tools at my disposal now, so it should not be as difficult (or at least I'll have fewer excuses).
- Music - I have been neglecting this area worse than most others. Sure, I love music, but I have so much that getting new music hasn't been a priority. However, I did find time to see a Beats Antique and The Mutaytor show at the Belly Up Tavern. I bought a couple of CDs while there and will have to share some of that—as well as other great music—through blip.fm now that I have an account. I also got Abney Park's "Aether Shanties" for Christmas (thanks Hon) to go with my nearly complete "Vault" collection of Abney Park tunes. Other stuff has been catching my ear now wand then.
- House remodel planning(!) - yeah, me ("Iron Man") and my family are in the process of planning for a remodel. The house needs some repairs and there are certain things that we just simply don't like, so we're going to fix them. The "new" portion of the house will get a complete overhaul, becoming a two story structure that looks like it has always been part of the house... as opposed to the strange collision between an 1895 Victorian farmhouse that is being "violated" by a 1970's California ranch.
- building my first steampunk computer keyboard. It's been sitting dormant for about four or five months, but I started tinkering with it in the late nights lately. I like the progress.
- restoring my rolltop desk, while hiding a full computer in it, and modifying some monitors to look like they have been part of the workstation since the 1890s. I hope to add more surround speakers and enough gadgetry to make H. G. Wells' spirit grin.
- building some steampunk speaker stands for the Sapphire and Onkyo surround speakers on my Onkyo 7.1 system. The prototype looks good so far, but needs some additional wood, brass, gilding, and finishwork to be complete. I may have to add an amp to get the "B" 5.1 speakers online too.
- refinishing the old chess table that keeps getting thumped by my left elbow tonight
- getting the Liberty & Company Thebes Stool professionally repaired, restored, and refinished (and completing my amateur reproduction, now that I have my Shopsmith parts)
- determining if the inherited '60s/'70s era rocker is an early Maloof piece or not... either way, I like it.
- rigging up the temporary home theater in the studio (so we can have TV and movie entertainment up there while the house is being remodeled)
- building the faux beams and arches for the studio, incorporating the mid-twentieth century Marcus Designs statues I picked up at a local antique shop.
- converting another oak whiskey barrel into the studio bathroom's sink pedestal (complete with new glass "bowl-style" sink.
...and the most important step... - converting the studio over to a temporary living space for the family while we remodel the house
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Project: Cold Box, pt 2 & Bar, pt 1
It's been a while since I posted anything on the status of my projects. Since I have so many "irons in the fire" that one of my friends has started calling me "Iron Man", I'll share just one... well, maybe two... in a way: the "Cold Box" Project and the associated bar.
A lot has happened since I last posted anything about the cold box project. The exterior got some drywall, "mud", and preliminary decoration. I drilled a few holes in the insulated panels so I could route CO2 and beer lines through the wall and out of the barrel ends. Well, the gas is currently sitting behind the bar and will eventually end up inside the bar... or given a Victorian treatment and displayed proudly as part of the bar.
At present, those two faucets are pouring Arrogant Bastard Ale and Stone India Pale Ale. The parts list is currently:
- Oak barrel - since the barrel was no longer liquid-tight, I got it free. With the ends cut off and glued up, they make nice ornaments for a bar.
- Faucets - the brass finish faucets come from Micromatic, as do all the other pieces and parts behind the scenes.
- Tap handles - the handles are just that... antique door handles with a threaded hole that just so happened to be the same thread as the handle mount. They were found in a box in my garage when we bought our house.
- Kerosene lamps - they were a cheap $3.00 find at Goodwill.
- "Tool holder" - really, it's a matchstick holder for a fireplace. Again, a cheap find at $1.00. I repurposed it for the bar to hold a bottle opener, a corkscrew, and a "sporkener" I picked up at Magic Hat brewing Co. on my last vacation.
- Railroad lantern - This was a Christmas gift from my grandfather. It has been converted from kerosene to electricity, but it is still really cool. Thanks Grandpa!
The bar itself is currently made up of three unfinished oak base cabinets I picked up at Lowe's (reasonably priced). The bar top is currently two massive slabs of mahogany I salvaged from an old pallet. Yeah. An old pallet. From France. Circa 1945. The pieces that make up the bar surface are 65" x 15.5" x 3". The bar's "arm rest" is made of the other two sides of the ol' rectangular pallet. They're a bit smaller at 64" x 7" x 3". I've resawed them into the front and side cantilevered raised section of the bar. Interestingly enough, these smaller pieces have some significant wear and weathering that, when combined with small amounts of dryrot and insect damage, give the surface the appearance of many years of service in the bar. Perfect!The front of the bar (the ugly back of the cabinets) is currently obscured by two cherry veneer covered desk ends. As things progress, they will be replaced by some salvaged oak 4" x 6" posts and 2" x 6" planks. The mahogany will be finished with oil and a light sealant. All the oak will probably get a stain to complement the mahogany... unless it looks better oiled and sealed too.
What you can't see in the photos above are the other details I have planned. As of this writing, I anticipate building a canopy over the bar to store glasses, show off some sort of stained glass, and provide the requisite moody task lighting (like the example at right). I haven't selected the posts quite yet, as they need to be stout.
Around the outer edge of the cantilevered section of the bar, a band of LED lighting will provide more accent lighting. I don't know if I will mount it inside of some polished brass or copper tubing, but I'm considering it.
Where the cantilevered area joins the rest of the bar top, I will install some brass strips I found on our property. I stumbled across two large pieces of brass; the biggest, at 44" x 1.75" x 3/16" (with a shorter brazed-on 'L' section) will allow me to put an edging to provide more visual interest. The second piece of brass is close to the first in dimensions, but was found buried in the backyard; a significant (though not impossible to remove) coating of corrosion leaves me wondering what I will end up doing with it.
More later as the work progresses. I'll share updates in "Project: Bar, pt 2".
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