No way! Michelob?!

Look, I feel compelled to state my credentials because I am about to say a few things that will rankle the hides of fine beer connoisseur the world over. I really, really love good beer and, on occasion, awful beer. But I can tell the difference. I think I've been blessed with a fairly discerning nose and palette. When I was an undergraduate I had several bookshelves lines with empty beer bottles within which were placed rolled-up slips of paper displaying my review for that particular bottle. The majority of the positive reviews went the Boston Brewery's Samuel Adams beers and the occasional Sierra Nevada (Cascade hops being the notable overlap between Sam Adams and Sierra Nevada; no more distinctive flavor has ever been brewed in my opinion), local apple cider, and of course the venerable Samuel Smith beers (please, will someone buy me a pint of Sam Smith's Oatmeal Stout?!)

OK, the first thing I have to say is that Michelob (yes, that Michelob) has made a fine beer in Michelob Celebrate, which they sell in 24 oz. Christmas gift boxes. It claims to be a "superior lager brewed with real vanilla beans and aged on bourbon barrel oak." Here's what it delivers: an indifferent mouthfeel, a mediocre amber, and a blast of semi-sweet vanilla with a beautifully counterbalanced sophistication of aged oak. That, together with a pleasantly spicy alcohol (10%) and a pleasantly un-Michelob-like bitterness, makes for an extremely enjoyable beer. Note that I said "beer" as opposed to the barley wine offered by the likes of Samuel Adams Triple Bock. While Michelob's Celebrate appears to be marketted in such a way as to compete with the likes of the Triple Bock "barley wine", it is merely a lager, albeit a a very good lager. Despite what I've said about its apperance and mouthfeel, it has a complex flavor with strong notes of vanilla and oak (oh, what a heavenly combination!) while sill retaining enough bitterness and dryness to refrain from criticisms of selling out to the mas market for which Michelob has a dubious destinction. All in all, kudos for a very enjoyabble concoction.

OK, having staked my beer connoisseur reputation on Michelob Celebreate being a rather nifty beer, I will further imperil my reputation by making this second observation: you too can "create" a fine beer with a similar flavor profile by a few tricks that are apt to fool even the expert. Take yourself a decent amber ale (i.e. Flying Dog Amber Lager), add to it about 3/4 ounce fine bourbon whisky (i.e. Maker's Mark), and then a half teaspoon or so of vanilla extract (imitation "vanillin" will do just fine). Pour all these into a snifter and you will be amazed at the remarks: "cask conditioned," "hand crafted," "old-world...." If only there were a way for the maker to forget that he "concocted" this fine beer, he would then be able to enjoy it the more therefore. But that's okay because beer was made to be shared with friends. Make your friends a vanilla-oak beer cocktail and they shall enjoy it in your stead and you shall shed a connoisseur's prideful tear with the satisfied empathy due the gracious host.

Wine's NOT Fine

I poured about a half glass of wine right on my open laptop. I was watching a DVD in the dark while eating pizza and drinking a little wine. It's a weird combination, but it gets even weirder. See, I happen to like a little Sriracha "rooster sauce" on my pizza. As it turns out the bottle of hot sauce and the bottle of wine are both about the same diameter so when I reached out for the hot sauce and gave it a good inverted shake over my slice of pizza I discovered that wine is highly conductive....

...and so my laptop stopped working which gave me a great excuse to take it apart. It works now. Well, I am pretty good with my hands! (My night vision could use some help, though.)

Holiday Wrap-Up

Oh, pun most certainly intended!

This has been a busy and pleasant Christmas season. This post will be a sort of too-long synopsis, another in my series of long diary entries.

Friday 12/23 was crazy-busy starting with an aborted attempt to visit the gym. I already had on my work-out shirt when FriendB called me out the Elephant Bar for a beer. I had to get out there in time to get a table for happy hour so I just left on the shirt and put on a pair of jeans. All well and good, but the shirt is one of these tight, stretchy thingies and I felt a little self conscious. Why? Ever notice that as Americans get fatter and fatter they are concomitantly wearing more and more athletic wear? Something's wrong there. These days, I’m not terribly chubby, but I still got a chip on my shoulder about the proliferation of athletic wear. So much for integrity!

I just had time for one beer and then headed out to Costco with my sister. I picked up a Chronicles of Narnia book set for the kid sister, a jumbo box of OxyClean for dad and his wife, a jumbo jug of Tide detergent for mom, beef jerky and bucket-o-peanuts for friend and Ziplock containers for sister. What can I say, money's tight. But you know, everyone got something they could really use this year. What did I get? Ties and a motorized tie rack. And you know what? The ties were actually really good and the tie rack is actually something I wanted!

After Costco I ran over to my church for the single's group dinner. I was starving so I mostly spent the evening grazing the buffet table. I was asking someone there about a lady we hadn't seen for a while, someone's who's been having a tough time getting her life together. Well, she turned around and asked me if I thought I had a (spiritual) gift for counseling. I don't think so, but the question took me aback because I was thinking something along those lines that same morning: I'd been reflecting that I've taken on something of a counselor's role in past relationships. Food for thought....

Then after the dinner--already about 10pm--I rushed over to see FriendD whom I'd already promised to visit that day, albeit not so late! Well, on my way over I was feeling a little bad because I think she wanted to see me to give me a Christmas gift whereas I didn't have one for her being as money's tight. So I said a prayer asking God that He provide an opportunity to somehow bless FriendD that evening as a way of giving something back to her. Lo and behold I spent the entire night ('till 5am) helping her finish making the scrap books that she was going to give to her family for Christmas. Wow, God is good no?!

There's more. Unbeknownst to me an old friend of mine from MIT was in town and came by that evening. She also stayed all night and we talked and reminisced and had a great time. I told her about my prayer and what a “coincidence” it was that FriendD needed help that night. She was touched and moved. Wow, double blessing!

Saturday was the usual tight-rope act of going around and spending just enough time with everybody that they don't get jealous of each other and feel slighted--my dad's extended family, my mother (parents divorced and can't be in the same room) and kid sister, the older sister, and friends. Came home about 11pm and crashed. I had barely slept a couple hours the night before.

Sunday we arranged for my mom to meet us at my sister's place for our gift exchange at 5pm. She showed up early, there was no one home, she left, got mad and refused to see us. So much for SisterM's (little sis', lives with mom) Christmas. Sad, but it's just another example of the petty silliness that's really typical in my family. At times it rends my heart, but it didn't ruin the day. In the evening we met at a friends house for the friends' gift exchange and it was good times all around---round after round!

Monday another old friend from my aviation days whom I hadn't seen for a couple years called me and told me to be ready in an hour. Why? He had an extra pass to Mountain High and an extra snow board in the trunk. Well, um, ok. So we get up there and I’ve never been snowboarding in my life. Now, the first time I went skiing I picked it up really fast and had a blast, so I was expecting a similar learning curve. I was very wrong and now I can rightly say I am a committed skier! It was a blast, though, and I’m grateful for the opportunity. My birthday’s coming up in a week and the local resorts will give you a free lift ticket on your birthday. I’m pretty sure I’ll be heading up next week, but I may have to go solo—as usual.

On the way up to Mountain High my MIT friend whom I’d reunited with Friday night called me up. I’d asked her if she wanted to come to the shooting range with me Thursday, but she called to ask if we could make it Tuesday. Turns out she and two of the other people she’s staying with all wanted to go and none had ever fired a gun. I barely slept a couple hours Monday night, but on Tuesday morning there I am bright and early with an arsenal in the back of my truck! These guys had a blast and so did I. My friend and I had some wonderful conversation while stuck in rush hour traffic on the 405. As I joked later, I think we solved about 20% of the world’s problems during that time!

When we came back my friend’s friend with whom she was staying made us dinner and we had a great time. The best part was meeting her little daughter who, as she made me quite aware, will be three years old in January! She was a cutie and I think I spent most of the evening playing with her. Sometimes I think I’m not so good with kids, but at times like last night…well, all I can say is wow, I gotta get me a munchkin one of these days! The kidlet and I got along just fine.

*Sniff*, Rewind, Play...Again

Ron Howard makes the kind of flics that turn on my waterworks. On the Cinderella Man DVD there is a Bonus Feature that shows us some of the scenes that wound up on the proverbial editor's cutting room floor. The one that moved me so as o to mention it on this blog proceeds thusly: the main character Braddock, once a prize winning boxing champion now reduced to fitful day jobs on the dockyards, steps through the front door of his family's apartment where his wife has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, presumably waiting for him. She wakes, he smiles, he turns his pockets inside out and places a handful of coins on the kitchen table as he passes wordlessly into the bedroom. The camera, looking over his shoulder, shows him contemplating the clean sheets on the bed for a second before he lies down on the floor next to the bed face down so as not to dirty the bedding with his coal dust covered work clothes. The wife comes in and says something like, "Honey, we can always wash the sheets." Realizing that her words have fallen on deaf ears--for he has immediately fallen to sleep in his exhaustion--she quietly kneels down and then lies down, sidling up next to him on the floor.

Wow. Beautiful. I am speechless.

God send me a woman who would wait for me to arrive, who would take me into her bed whether pauper or prince, who would comfort me even as fate presses my face to the lowliest ignominy.

And God make me a man strong of heart, strong of will and strong of hand to provide for Her and ours; a man who would count himself lucky for a space on the floor next to her bed.

I Could Have Been Angry

I could have been angry. After all, my sister's dogs have destroyed over $300 worth of my stuff over the years. But this time it wasn't just so much "stuff." They got into the garage and ferrreted out a little stuffed penguin to which I'd attached no little sentimental value. It was to be a gift to the other half of an ill-fated romance.

In the end, it was better that the dog have some fun with it rather than having it sit in a shoebox. So I wasn't angry. I just chuckled at the irony of it all.

C'est l'amour.

(Lucky shot. You can just make out Charlie.)

The Car Clinic

This seems to be another post in the series "What Have I Fixed Lately?" I replaced the rear engine mount on an '88 civic hatchback last weekend. I might be replacing the fuel pump on an '81 Honda Goldwing motorcycle this coming weekend.

The church I attend has a singles ministry called "Serving Singles" which I've been making a concerted effort to be more involved with. I've been helping one of the guys there with the Car Clinic. It's a great idea, I think. We put out a sign-up sheet and about once a month we spend a Saturday working to change brakes, oil, universal joints, engine mounts, water pumps, alternators, starters, pretty much anything I feel confident we can finish in a day. Auto repair being so expensive, it's a neat way to bless some of the single sisters.

And please, whatever you might think about gender stereotypes, a blessing's a blessing, right? Hmmm...the clinic was set up before I started getting involved, but it does seem to me there's a tacit understanding that only the sisters should sign up. Something to think about: supposing we had a long list of folks--guys and women--would we be more inclined to grant priority to the women? I guess there's a feeling that the guys are better able to fend for themselves when it comes to auto repairs. In general, there's probably some truth to that. Then again, at a time when fewer and fewer guys seem to be handy with a wrench, maybe not. Then there's the financial issue. We have a lot of single moms and a number of widows. As between these folks and the single guys I'm inclined to think that, generally, the latter group can better weather the expense of an unexpected mechanic's bill. I would be open to the following: encourage everyone with a genuine need to sign up and just trust that those who sign up will do so because they could really use our help. If that happens, then those folks will be blessed, irrespective of gender. I might suggest we take this approach. I'm rather new so I need to be sure to be tactful about proposing changes.

In all candor, though, there's something in me that takes a good deal of satisfaction in playing the role of the Knight in Shining Armor, and I make no apologies for it.

Coca Cola ate my keyboard

There's a lot of mythology out there about the corrosive properties of Coca Cola. Most of it is hooey; the corrosive effect is largely exaggerated, but not entirely. Someone spilt some coke on my keyboard and the syrup, over time, ate through several of the copper traces on the PC board under the keys. As a result a couple of the keys stopped working altogether and I had to break out the soldering iron. Don't know that anyone cars, but here are some pics of the repair.



Here we have a nice picture showing the "hammers" of the weighted action. Each hammer consists of a piece of heavy wire of different lengths, the heavier and longer wire hammers corresponding to the bass registers. Electronic keyboards usually have small, light keys with little of the feel of a conventional piano's action. There's a place for them in the instrumental cornucopia, but I've never liked them. Mine is a so-called "electric piano" which has a full-sized keyboard with individually weighted keys to mimic the feel of an acoustic piano. I would have it no other way.

I like this picture because it shows how the electronics figure out how hard you press the keys to control the volume of the note. Super-cheap keyboards play notes at the same volume irrespective of how hard you press the keys. I used to think perhaps they accomplished the volume-sensing feature by utilizing a piezo-electric sensor or the like, but it's really so elegantly simple, I feel stupid for not having thought of it before. The velocity at which the key is pressed down is sensed by measuring the time interval between the closing of two switches. In the picture, they are the pairs of black dots seen on the orange rubber membrane. The switches are places one behind the other in such a way that they close in succession as the key approaches the bottom if its stroke. The faster the key is traveling, the faster the key will traverse the small amount of travel between the first and second switch. There you go.

The switches seen in the picture above are really just carbonized patches of rubber than contact the exposed traces shown in the picture to the left (black horizontal lines arranged in rectangles along the bottom of the PCB). What happened is the coke syrup settled on the thin traces shown at the end of the orange and red jumpers furthermost left in the picture. Eventually, this broke continuity along a couple of those traces and I had to jumper them as shown.


And that's pretty much it. Good as new.

Wine's Fine

Now, I don’t have any sources to quote, but all of us have read/heard the stories about a glass of wine keeping the doctor away. Undoubtedly, there is more than pseudoscience going on here. Moderate wine drinking = health benefits. What the causal relationship is, however, is another matter. I’ve read, among other theories, that it may be nothing more than the relaxing, stress-reducing effects of alcohol that may be behind the health benefits. Whatever the mechanism, it can’t be disputed that a glass of wine is beneficial if only because it is one of life’s most wonderful simple pleasures.

With that said, and in due candor, I am writing tonight under the effects of a bottle of young Shiraz wine of dubious vintage. Now, let me admit upfront that this is a bottle of “Two buck Chuck” (Charles Shaw) wine sold exclusively by Trader Joes at the humble price of $2 per bottle. Before you let out a bourgeoisie *sigh* let me tell you this much: most wines are just plain too sour and astringent (tannins). This Charles Shaw Shiraz is no wonder-wine either, but perhaps because of its young age, it is a tad sweet and so avoids that mouth-puckering onslaught of tannins and sourness. Ok, it’s not very complex and goodness knows I’m blessed with a palette for distinguishing all those wonderful flavor variants like berries, pears, apples, chocolate, etc. It would be so much more decent if it only had a bit of oak going on. Even so, it is delightfully light, crisp, slightly sweet and thoroughly drinkable. Not complex, but satisfactorily tasty. For $2, it’s a rare pleasure indeed. Highly recommended. And apropos of nothing, I used to love merlot; I’m now so sick of it that anything else is apt to taste good, no matter how bad!

One more thing: um…there’s a glass of ginger ale and gin sitting next to me. I’m afraid I left that bottle of shiraz behind a while ago. In my defense I drank that bottle over dinner and baking a cheesecake (oh, I see another blog in the making!). The gin…well, I can’t explain that away so easily. ‘ night ‘night.

Charlie

Charlie is about a year old. Several months ago he came into our lives and just decided to stick around. He's very attached to his owner. He's bubbly at times, like when you poke him, but mostly he's pretty quiet. He mostly spends his days just lying around and kicking back with his owner.

My best guess is that Charlie is either a mammary tumor or a lipoma. He could also be a hernia, but I doubt it. I understand that there are several different types of hernias in dogs named according to the area they affect. In puppies, the most common hernia is the umbilical hernia, but it tends to reduce or go away by 6 months of age. This dog is a few years old. Inguinal hernias are also common, but Charlie doesn't seem to be in the right location to be one of those. Inguinal hernias appear in the groin area. I can't push Charlie back into the abdomen which leads me to believe he's probably not a hernia of any description. Certainly hernias can become incarcerated (trapped) or even strangulated (blood cut off), but I'm guessing either of these conditions would probably have manifested some other symptoms by now.

Ok, so Charlie probably is not a hernia. Is he just a lump of fat, a lipoma? I dunno. I think vets usually remove these and send them to the lab or they do a biopsy to find out. Lipomas, I believe are usually harmless, though occasionally they can become cancerous. I'm given to understand that lipomas can develop anywher, but all the pictures of surgeries I've seen seem to remove lipomas from well below the skin. Charlie is very close to the surface.

How about a mammary tumor? Well, I understand that spayed female dogs (especially when spayed as puppies) and male dogs almost never get breast cancer. This one is an unspayed female. The problem is you can't determine if the tumor is malignant or if there's been a metastasis without a biopsy and tests.

At the end of the day, Charlie's been with us for a good long while now and his owner seems to be oblivious to him. I'd say that's as good as any indication that Charlie's bark is probably fiercer than his bite.

Patriotic Pangs

I'm an American through and through and I love my country passionately. How do I know? I've been going to the gym, I'm as fit as me genes will allow, it's 1am in the morning and in spite of it all I would kill for a Big Mac right now!

Saturday night I accompanied my friend to her company's Christmas party. We got all dressed up and we had a great time. As a joke I bought a small bottle of gin which I threatened to bring along in case it got boring! Good thing I left in the car because my friend conspired to get me in line for a full body frisk, courtesy of the security guards hired for the prom that happened to be taking place at the same venue on the same night! She convinced them I was a chaperone and I was not a little surprised when a big bald-headed scary looking guy got a little too familiar with my *ahem* better half. She told them we were there for the prom and I couldn't very well contradict her, could I? It was just a wee bit embarrassing! I got back at her, though, by joking around with her boss. Touché!

(I need to get a hold of the pictures she took of us so I can put them up here.)

And speaking of McD's, and pardon the language, this excerpt from some dude's blog struck me as funny:

Everywhere you could turn in the store there was big ass pictures of cut up apples and it seemed like most of the various food packaging they gave me contained advertisements for this shit. Which bothered me because I don't want to be sitting there eating my motherfucking Big Mac and fries and have to look up and see some healthy shit any more so than some teh ghey person wants to go to wherever they eat (the California Pizza Kitchen?) and see people eating manly shit like hamburgers.
(http://www.byroncrawford.com/2005/06/healthy_shit_at.html)

Three's Company

How come I didn't read this article earlier?!

______________________________________________

Oooh, I get to meet someone new and interesting! She's a friend of a friend of a friend and what I know about her fits on a small Post-It note. Meeting for coffee this weekend. Now, to be honest, she was presented to me with the idea that we might make a good romantic match, but I'm excited just to have some interesting conversation with a potential friend.

Funny, some folks find the prospect of meeting someone this way a bit unnerving. Me, I love it! It's fun and I'm excited about it. I'll tell you what's scary for me: meeting people at a big, loud, raucous party. Between the claustrophobia and the urge to cover my ears--as much to fend off the insipid conversations as the loud music--I'm just not cut out for those kinds of shindigs. (That's so very ISJF, I think.) But get me into a conversation with one or two other folks about something interesting and you’ll see me pontificate with a passion inversely proportional to the amount of ale left in my glass! I think three is the perfect size group.

(Hmmm, I wonder...if she's very curious she might have found this blog already....)