Good as any, Better than most

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

BOOM!

The gallon of mead that I’d stopped fermenting, was NOT stopped.

I’ve been watching it continue to bubble and carbonate.  Last week I decided that there was no way it was done, considering the number of bubbles I could watch forming.  Sunday, I headed over to the Wine and Hops shop to get another rubber stopper.  I was going to put a water lock back on it, and let it ferment some more, not under pressure.

I removed the cap, and mead geysered out of the bottle.  I’m not talking about the little spray you get from a shaken beer can.  I’m talking about a plume of foam nearly 4 feet tall.  I jammed the airlock in quickly, and foam was shooting through it, out the tiny holes in top.

I probably ended up with a pint and a half of mead lost, when the foaming finally stopped.  I can only imagine what would have happened if the jar had shattered.  I’d probably have plate glass chunks embedded in my walls.  Or it would have cut my head off.

The color looks good so far, a nice amber shade.  All three containers have a different color, even though the 3 gallon and 1 gallon had the same treatment.  The geyser 1 gallon is the darkest, probably from its week of slow anaerobic fermentation.

The room where they’re stored sure smells good now.  At some point in the next week, I’ll have to take another sample, and see where the alcohol level is sitting.  And the taste, of course.

Friday, October 06, 2006

Whoops

No story yesterday, work was pretty invasive.

I spent 11 hours at work, nearly 3 of which were just untangling power cables and putting some remotely managed power devices in place.

I don’t have any lead on the story, I usually write what I’ve posted minutes before posting it.  I’ll try to get a double dose up for next week if I can.

Thursday, October 05, 2006

Pushy Salespeople

"Hi, I’m blah blah from Norlight”

“Hi”

“We currently have a package for voice data and internet access, do you have a bundled provider?”

“No, we have separate providers for all of those things, and prefer it that way, because if one goes down, the others still work”

“well, we provide all these services with guaranteed problem resolutions, and I’d really like to talk with you more about them”

“We are happy with what we have, and are under contract.  We aren’t going to switch anything.”

“Could I setup a time where I could meet with you, and discuss this further”

“I’m not sure why you’d want to do that, we aren’t switching”

“I’d really like to go over the services we can provide, how does Thursday sound for you?”

“We’re not switching.”

“Would an afternoon or morning time work better for you”

“Look, you can come meet with me, it’s not going to do you any good, and is just going to waste your time.  Thursday at 11 is fine.”

Really, what are people like that thinking?  I agreed to a meeting simply to waste their time.  I’m not switching our plans.  I don’t even have the ability to make that choice.

I hope he brings me free literature that I can throw away in front of him.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

We Have Mead!

Well, sort of.

I racked the mead from it’s primary fermentation vessel to secondaries last night.  I stopped fermentation on 1 gallon, and racked the other 4 gallons in new carboys.  Still bubbling like crazy in it’s new home, so all should be well there.

Actively fermenting mead is difficult to siphon.  It will effervesce in the tube, and eventually you’ll have to start the siphon again.

The gallon I added potassium sorbate too is pretty tasty.  It’s at ~3.75% alcohol by volume.  DW and I shared a (rather large, plastic) glass of it last night, and it was much better chilled (added ice cubes, how elegant) than it was warm.  I think it’s still a little too sweet for most people, but you can definitely tell where it’s going.  The maple flavor is fantastic, and doesn’t taste syrupy.  I think I’ll keep that gallon, and let it age a bit.  I’m a little concerned that its still fermenting, and I’m going to have a glass explosion, hopefully that’s not the case.  I’ll keep it in the gallon jug its in now until it’s time to bottle everything.  Hopefully that doesn’t ruin any flavor when I reopen it.

It’s still an amber color, just a bit lighter than it was when I started the process.  I’m glad that I tried this.  Hopefully it all remains potable, and will make nice Christmas gifts.

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

-insert emo here-

Age isn’t something you can really watch happening.  It’s the sort of thing that sneaks up on you, little by little.  One day, you stop listening to the Pop music station.  The next, you stop watching Teenuramas on television.  You start making sure your bills are never late.  You only use sick days when you’re actually sick.  You care more about your lawn.

Then you realize, that youth has fled, and you’re old.  You’re driving a Buick or Cadillac.  You’ve got a plan for when you can retire, and just sit back and yell at kids.

Walking at the mall becomes your morning ritual.  You loudly tell your family members what they’re doing wrong.

And then you die.

See, there’s no way around that last thing.  You can follow some other path, but you will eventually die.  Everybody does.  It’s one of the things that’s the same about everyone.  Eventually, no matter how hard you struggle, or don’t struggle, you’ll die.  You can leave a legacy, you can have children, but you’ll be dead.  And eventually, even your legacy, and your children, will all be dead and gone too.

Remember, what you have, is all that you have. 

Monday, October 02, 2006

A general dislike

I went to the Milwaukee Zoo with my wife, her brother, his 2 kids, his new wife and her niece on Saturday.  The 7 of us piled into their Yukon.  I generally disagree with SUV’s, but when you have 7 people, I can concede the point.  It was roomy and comfortable.

I spent the morning walking around, and being Uncle Patrick.  At some point, swinging the kids, and lifting them, something pulled in my upper right inner thigh.  It’s probably a groin pull.  Now every time I shift my right light, it feels like someone is punching me in my testicles.  I aggravated it yesterday mowing the lawn (hopefully the last time this summer, since the gas can is empty, and I don’t want to have a full one sitting all winter to gel up).

I also determined that I don’t really like the zoo.  It smells like kept animal.  The animals also don’t look at all pleased to be locked up.  Again, it’s a general dislike, not a firebombing sort of hatred.  Next time I’m asked to go, I’ll pass.

I made some chili yesterday too.  And by some, I mean 2 gallons of it.  When I make chili, I always seem to go a little overboard.  DW divided it all up into containers last night, and now my fridge looks like a Tupperware graveyard.  I guess I know what I’ll be having for lunch for the next 3 weeks.  I love chili, but my propensity for making too much is the reason I only make it every 6 months or so.

I should really look into a good way of freezing it or canning it or something.

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Mine.  Chapter 1 Part 4

Mort was a tall man, taller even than his father.  He shared his father’s serious countenance, and sharp features.  Augmenting his hawklike nose, were piercing ice blue eyes, the only feature he had inherited from his mother.  The people of the land respected him as much as Norwin, due to his fastidious and meticulous ways.  He was fair, and respected everyone for their attributes.

Yet, there were few in Grippa that could meet his gaze.  Most that tried, felt as if Mort was peering directly into their soul, their feelings and thoughts all laid bare for his perusal.  They would hold his gaze for a few seconds, and the feeling that Mort could see everything about them would engulf and override any other thought.  People that interacted directly with him daily, quickly developed a habit of talking to his chest.  Of course, the fact that Mort’s chest was the same height as most men’s eyes helped this seem natural.

In addition to his height, or perhaps in direct contrast to it, were Mort’s speed and lithe movements.  Most large people are a bit ponderous in their movements, always seeming to be careful not to squash those around them.  Mort moved with a fluid grace.  Trained heavily in combat since he was a small boy, every move he made seemed to flow into the next.  Mort was easily the strongest person in all of Grippa.  He had won the Test of Strength contest held every year at the Grippan Faire since he was 14, no one else even coming close to his feats of prodigious strength.

At 24, Mort had not even peaked physically.  He continued to train daily with every known weapon, and without any weapon.  As the eldest child, it was expected that he would take over the baronet of Grippa when his father no longer performed those duties.  Mort was well versed in every aspect of the land.  He had long since learned everything his tutors, both mental and physical, had to teach.  His former weapons masters would spar with him, sometimes in multiple pairs, honing their skills, and still be clearly overmatched.  His former tutors, instead of testing him with bits of language, or philosophy, or math, would come to him when they had need of a mind greater than their own.

Mort was, in truth, the epitome of a mythical Hero, come to life.

Onieda called him Mooky.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Wake Up!

Back in ‘97, some friends and I used IRC a lot.  It was almost like an addiction, had to chat.

We broke up our Starcraft playing with chatting.

We’d chat about chatting.

mIRC, the client of choice, has a built in feature for sounds.  You can type /sound blah.wav, and it’ll play blah.wav for you, and anyone else that has the sound.

We had a sound called wakeup.wav It was this incredibly loud, annoying guy screaming “Wake up”.  We would play it for each other when trying to get someone’s attention, if they happend to be home, but not actively at their computer.

I could really use that sound this morning.  Since I left work yesterday, I’ve slept ~12 hours.  I’m still tired.  Tonight, my cohort and I will be upgrading one of the software packages we use at work, and it’s probably going to take until midnight.

I have a feeling I’ll be needing the sound, and a pot of coffee by then.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Ripples

The mead is doing well.  It has a nice foamy top, you can see small bubbles working their way up from the bottom, almost like a boiling pot.

I think I’m more excited about the process, than the actual outcome.  I’m sure eventually, it won’t be exciting.  It probably won’t be exciting if I make another batch of it, or a wine, or a beer, or anything that ferments…

For now, I can just sit and watch the bubbles.  They race up, zipping from the point they form, until they burst at the top.  It’s like a soda, with unlimited carbonation.  It looks completely unnatural, but I know it’s what yeast has been doing for thousands of years.

I left work at 1pm today, and played a little on the PC, and slept off and on.  I think the late nights are getting to me finally.

Monday, September 25, 2006

Tragedy

Boy am I dragging this morning.

Started brewing up the first batch last night, and ended up having to boil some extra water out of the maple syrup.  Woe.  Woe is me.

I misread the scale on my hydrometer, so instead adding enough water to hit the targetted 1.12, I was at 1.02.  I had to siphon off 2 gallons of the mix, and add another gallon of syrup (thanks ^T for getting me 2!), and got close to the number (hit 1.11).

So, here I had 2 gallons of brown water.  The only pot I have big enough for 2 gallons is a 10 gallon behemoth I make chili in.  On our stove, you almost can’t boil water in it, it’s so big.  We dumped the water in it, put it on 2 burners, and let it heat. 

And heat

And heat

And heat

3 hours later, it was boiled down enough to fit into a normal sized pot, so I transferred it over, and got some actual boiling action.  Another hour in that pot, and finally, I had a quart of syrup.

And a house that smelled vaguely like a sugarbush, and felt like a tropical rainforest.

The liquid in the carboy is slowly turning into a black and tan, only it has 3 layers.  The layer on the top is about 2” of almost white foam.  Below that is a layer of dark tan, and the rest is the rich brown color of the original must.  The water trap is trapping.  The yeast is growing.  All systems are a go.  In about 2 weeks, I should have some sort of mapley alcohol.

Friday, September 22, 2006

Hobby

I’ve always wanted to have a good hobby.  I’ve tried a few, and kind of tinker at some.  I love wood-working, but don’t have the space to do it.  I like home theater, but don’t really have the money to upgrade what I already have.

So, I’m going to do some homebrewing.  I don’t really drink beer or wine, so that leaves me with malt beverages.  My first run is going to be mead-like, only made with maple syrup instead of honey.  I like the taste of maple syrup better than honey, so hopefully I’ll like maple mead better than normal mead.

The upside to this, is that it’s something I only have to “work” on a few hours.  The rest of the time the product just has to sit and make itself potable.  Now that’s my kind of hobby…

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Mine.  Chapter 1 Part 3

The smell of fresh baked bread greeted Onieda as she strode into the main hall.  She noted her father’s place setting already being cleared by the drudges.  Her siblings had not yet arrived to break their evening fasts, so Onieda sat at her place.  She loaded her platter with warm slices of bread, and a few scoops of khilot.

The oatmeal like paste named Khilot was a dish only served in Grippa.  A mix of several indigenous plants, roughly chopped, it took several weeks to prepare a single batch.  Only with great care, and specifically timed addition of ingredients, can it be made.  It is said that a single spoonful of khilot can fuel a strong man for several days of labor.  Grippan healers use flakes of dried khilot to bring wasted patients to health in hours, instead of weeks.  Someone, unaccustomed to its properties, eating a small bowl, becomes infused with energy and strength for days.  The effects of Khilot are widely known, and the trading of the traditional paste forms the base of Grippan economy.

Onieda topped her helping with red berries, and sighed in contentment at the flavor.  Even after eating khilot three times daily since she turned 1, it was one of her favorite foods.  A child of privilege, she consumed more of the paste in one sitting, than a wealthy healer would use in a year.  Long ago, Onieda stopped feeling the zing of energy at each bite.  The bowl she ate now, seemingly affected her no more than a bowl of normal grain would affect any other person.

She simply enjoyed the taste.  She hadn’t kept track of each meal, and so, as she finished her meal, she had no way of knowing that she had just consumed the last few ounces in five tons of khilot over her lifetime.

Five tons of this nearly legendary, magical food.  Wars had been fought over a few pounds of khilot.  In countries that didn’t share a border with Grippa, an ounce of khilot would trade well for a carriage, and a team of horses to pull it, lifetime wages for a coachman, and driver, and feed for the team.

The khilot she had always eaten was fresh, taken in the first pulls of each batch.  The drying process weakened the effects, so fresh moist khilot is the most effective and potent.  A Grippan child was always fed fresh khilot for their second year.  Most of them grew to despise the bitter, caking taste of the mash.  Onieda had not.  When she turned two, and her parents stopped the ritual feeding, baby Onieda had coliced.  The only food that she was able to keep was khilot, and so, she had always had khilot.

Today was no different, inasmuch as Onieda’s eating habits went.  The paste was followed by the bread, covered in melted butter.  The bread was followed with a small morning ale.

As she stood, her eldest brother, Mort, entered the hall.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Mission Statement

How to write original material, day after day?

That’s the question I asked myself a couple of weeks ago, when I decided to start posting.  I have these ideals, that I’d like to entertain any possible readers (and I know who all 3 of you are), even when I really don’t have anything to say when I type these out.

I have several thousand little stories from my childhood that shock and amuse.  I’m writing that story that I post on Thursdays (pretty much no lead time, I write the part I post, just before I post, so you’re seeing raw first draft material.

And then there’s days where I’m just going to bitch about work, either allegorically, or specifically.

I’m going to limit myself on posting about my time wasting hobby of playing World of Warcraft.  I’m not going to try and be a place people stop for global, technological or current news.

I will try to be entertaining though.  At least once a month.  When it’s precipitating.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

When in Rome…

I’m just a cog.  A cog in a wheel.  A wheel on an axle. An axle in a machine.  A machine that has no idea it has cogs.

Aren’t we all just cogs?

Everything we do, everything we think about is just some action to achieve a desired effect.  Our actions, regardless of what is intended, causes reactions.

Everything, everywhere, is only there, because of some action.

I’m just a cog, in a wheel, and so are you.

Monday, September 18, 2006

Tra la la, la la la.

Finally, a weekend where I didn’t have to drive, or go anywhere, or really do anything.

I skipped out on 2 birthday parties, and a family reunion, and felt kind of bad about it.  I feel much better today though, after a weekend of puttering around the house, putting up shelf brackets getting the jungle I call a lawn cut, playing Warcraft…

I also made some beef short ribs on the grill.  They were OK, but as I was eating them, I kept wishing they were pork.

Speaking of food, the diet is going well, I’m down 16lbs from where I started.  I’ve basically stopped drinking soda and milk (can you believe milk is 100 calories a cup?), and have just been eating a little less.

If I can keep it up, I will fit in my old dress pants in a couple months, and won’t have to buy new ones.  That’ll be awesomeness.  Yes, awesomeness.

Peas!