My Blog

June Mead

Miles_Grey — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 18:14:47 GMT

The labels are all wrong. The batch numbers are incorrect - these are Meads 12 & 13, not 9 & 10 (the latter being two of my one-gallon test batches mentioned in the previous blog entry). I date my mead based on when the yeast was pitched, but put the labels on as soon as I put them in the carboys. In the case of these two, I put them in the carboys just before midnight on 29 June, but I guess the late night confused me a little, leading me to believe that it was 30 June and the yeast would be pitched on 1 July. Right, on with the things that actually matter. The two carboys in the center of the picture are my June meads (the other two you see at the edges of the picture are my April meads). I figured I'd continue with the boiled/pasteurized experiment for another month, and these two carboys are the result. Again, both use the same honey at the standard three pounds per gallon ratio, and both use the same yeast (White Labs WLP-720 liquid Sweet Mead Yeast), with the same amount of Yeast Nutrient and Yeast Energizer added to both worts. I don't have all the info on the honey - I bought it from another brewer in a 5 gallon plastic jug, so all I really know is that it's a medium honey with a very nice flavor. (Yes, of course I tasted it!). When the picture was taken, the worts were still above 100 degrees and needed to cool before I could pitch the yeast. To the right, if you looke closely you can just see the expedient I use to prevent contamination while waiting for the wort to cool: I've put the stopper into the carboy and covered the hole in the stopper with the little red plastic cap from the fermentation lock. That prevents the cooling wort from pulling in any of the water from the fermentation lock. Notice that the wort on the right looks darker than that on the left. As before, I believe this is because the boiled wort has a lot less particulate matter suspended in it. Thus, you see deeper into the wort. With the pasteurized wort, the suspended particulates (mostly light-colored beeswax) scatter the light at a much shallower depth. I expect that both will be the same color when bottled, but I could be wrong on that regard as well. After all, boiling the worth may have caused some changes to the honey itself, so it is entirely possible that the boiled wort really is darker than the pasteurized one. Only time will tell. Because May's meads are the real comparison test intended to determine the differences in flavor and aroma in the finished meads, I don't feel obligated to bottle both of June's meads at the same time. If the boiled wort turns out to look clear enough to bottle at an earlier point in the process and it doesn't have that raw, yeasty taste that young meads can have, I will bottle it then and pass around a few sample to a few guinea p . . . I mean, taste testers. This is more of a hope than an expectation, but the possibility does make me happy. After all, that could mean that I'll have a new batch ready to share a couple of months earlier than I expected. Now that would be a real shame. Again, only time will tell.

Three Little Meads

Miles_Grey — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 18:13:43 GMT

This entry is just here to show a picture of the three on-gallon test batches of mead that I mentioned in my 26 May blog entry, "Mead, mead, mead, mead. Lovely mead! Wonderful mead!" The picture was actually taken on 11 June. The labels are very visible providing the pertinent information: The meads were started on 21 May 2008 using Chinese Pistachio honey; the wort was pasteurized (by heating to 170 degrees for 20 minutes); and three different Lalvin dry yeasts were used (71B-1122, EC-1118, and D-47). The labels don't mention that I used the fairly-standard ratio of three pounds of honey per gallon of wort. I don't have a scale, so I "weigh" my honey by volume. Honey weighs 12 pounds per gallon, so a quart of honey is three pounds and a cup is 3/4 of a pound. As you can see, there is a thick layer of sediment at the bottom of the jugs. These small batches seem to have clarified much more quickly than the 5 gallon batch that I started a week earlier. That could just be an illusion resulting from the smaller diameter of the one gallon jugs. In other words, there may be the same amount of particulates per unit volume suspended in these test batches, but because you're looking through far less mead, there is less total particulate to block your view. I still haven't racked these or the two 5 gallon batches. I'll do that in the next week or two. The boiled wort mead has clarified rather quickly. Age always improves the flavor of a mead, and bulk aging in the carboy does a better job at that than aging in the bottles. Because I normally use a pasteurized wort, I judged when it was time to bottle based on the clarity of the mead. I just waited until it looked like all the particulates had settled out, then racked it and bottled it. With the boiled wort clarifying so quickly, it leaves me to wonder how soon I should bottle it. For this particular batch, I will wait and bottle it at the same time as I bottle the pasteurized mead. That way, the only variable will be the difference between boiling and pasteurizing. But what if it turns out that a boiled mead can be bottled earlier, needing less than the 7-12 months (or more) of carboy aging that I've always used? Well my next blog entry (which I plan to post just a little later today) should help answer that question.

Mead at Four Weeks

Miles_Grey — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 15:18:41 GMT

Four weeks have passed since I started my experiment to comparison test mead made using a boiled wort and a pasteurized wort. While it did seem to take just a little longer for the pasteurized wort to start fermenting actively, the difference was perhaps a day. Based on bubbles in the lock, both fermented equally vigorously for about the same amount of time. I am a bit concerned that the really active fermentation ended after about two weeks, because a batch I had started the previous month (April) continued for three weeks. However, the April mead not only used a different honey, but I used 20 pounds as opposed to the 15 pounds used in the May meads. More to ferment, so perhaps the longer fermentation should be expected. Now it's about time to rack my test batches of mead, though I'll probably wait another week or two. But notice the picture. You can probably read the label identifying the one on the right as "Mead 7" and the one on the left as "Mead 8." Mead 7 is the boiled wort. That Mead 7 appears to be a darker brown than Mead 8 is obvious in the picture. What isn't obvious is that Mead 7 also appears to be somewhat more translucent. Thus the difference in color might be simply because more "stuff" remains suspended in Mead 8. Something else that isn't really visible in the picture is the sediment. You can see the raised ridges that are characteristic of the 5 gallon carboy. In Mead 7, the sediment reaches to just above the bottom edge of the bottom-most ridge. The sediment in Mead 8 reaches a little above the top edge of the bottom ridge. As a rough guess, that means there's about 1/4 inch more sediment in the pasteurized mead while it also appears to have more sediment still in suspension. I neglected to take hydrometer readings when I started, so that comparison is likely to be useless. After all, though the recipe for both is identical, the pasteurized mead probably started with a honey/water ratio that was a bit higher than the boiled mead. How so? I skimmed the scum off of the boiled wort for an hour, which removed the various proteins and solids suspended in the mixture, along with some small amount of the concentrated honey/water mix. With both worts, I topped them to five gallons in the carboys. Even ignoring the small amount of honey that was removed with the scum in the boiled wort, I removed the scum. That same stuff remained suspended in the pasteurized wort, displacing some volume of liquid. In the end, it will settle out and be discarded. Which means that there was that much less water added to the pasteurized wort. If you think of the suspended stuff as little marbles just taking up space and which will be removed at the end of the whole process, it makes sense. In case you're wondering, of course I will taste both of them when I rack them. Doesn't every mead maker?

Castellan

Miles_Grey — Tue, 03 Jun 2008 10:11:00 GMT

This past weekend was Northkeep's Castellan. My current contract job is in Bartlesville. For five days out of the week I'm in my apartment here in the Northkeep Canton of chemin Noir, so it seemed like a home event for me. As are most events for me, this one was a lot of fun. The speed fighting of the meat grinder is always interesting to watch and it's something that I've only seen at Castellan. Maybe another group has something like it, but that means I probably haven't been to their event. I didn't watch too much of the fighting - the shade I found didn't have a good view. But that I saw was just excellent fun. With the way the meatgrinder works, the fighters can't lay back and wait, so it's very fast and aggressive - despite the heat and humidity. The "body parts" rapier also makes for some very interesting bouts, and it was fun to watch. Sir Angus' vigil was during the afternoon, and I understand that just about all the food was wrapped in bacon. Almost everything's better wrapped in bacon. I managed to miss out on the food, though I visited the vigil a couple of times. I felt bad because I forgot about the vigil and had brought no gift of any sort. Then there was the feast. I can't say it was the best feast I've ever had, but I have to say that it's the first feast I've ever attended where almost every thing brought out was good. I say "almost" because there was a cauliflower dish that was edible but not good. Mind you, that's saying a LOT coming from me. Normallly, I HATE anything with cooked cauliflower. Everything else was good or very good. I admit that I just popped the whole little bundle of bacon-wrapped green beans into my mouth and didn't really taste the green beans, but I like green beans anyway. As we were warned in advance, court was long. But for some reason, it didn't seem overly long. Perhaps the pace was just right that it didn't seem to drag on, or perhaps it was Mistress Elizabetta becoming a Pelican with all the children coming up to see the ceremony up close that made me forget about the length of it all, but I enjoyed court, and I didn't even play the Vivat Game. Well, I WAS still a little too hot to be knocking back much Scotch during court. After court, there wasn't really a Hafla, but the Centurions had a shot bar with any tips going toward a Free Melee event they're trying to fund. Sadly, I've been fighting a cold and discovered in short order that my stomach wasn't going to let me knock back much at all. I did manage to look like I was drunk by falling to the ground twice. My night vision is terrible, and I was walking toward a very bright light in both cases. The first time, I stepped down with most of my foot hanging over the edge of the sidewalk. The ground beside it was a couple inches lower, and I went down to my knees - luckily on the grass. The next time, I stepped right into a big hole. It has to be 2' in diameter and was knee deep on me. I was walking along and suddenly there was nothing under my foot, then I was sprawled out on the ground. Too bad there wasn't video of that one. Because of my cold, I called it quits at the untimely hour of 0130. I had not set up a tent, so I slept in my van. I contemplated heading home then, but figured an extra body would be of use in the morning. And in the morning came the rain and the wind and the weather. Wow! I think at least six tents ended up in the dumpster. Baron Ian's hub-and-spoke round pavilion was holding up well until the wind came in at something over 60 mph and snapped the centerpole like a twig. So we slogged though the mud, muck, and rain cleaning up everything. A little before we finished, the sun came out. To me, the vehicle tracks across the grass really looked like a bunch of tracked armored vehicles had been romping around. But, to be honest, the only time I wasn't enjoying myself was when we were standing around wondering what to do next. As long as there was work to be done, I was having fun. But my feet still feel like they're wet, and I have to clean the mud out of my boots tonight or they'll never be dry in time for Eldern Hills this coming weekend. Once again, I have to say it was a fun event. I do find that most events are fun. They're my escape from the mundane world which can be so very mundane. Usually, there isn't any one thing about an event that makes it for me. Rather, it's all about the people with whom I am priveleged to spend a little time. All but the most dour of attendees (a very rare bird indeed) contribute to my joy, and I consider being allowed to help out to be an honor, whether it's fetching a chair for one person, serving feast to dozens (I didn't do that at Castellan), or dragging a shattered tent off to the dumpster.

Just a little miffed

Miles_Grey — Thu, 29 May 2008 21:28:12 GMT

(Three blog entries in less than a week - that's a lot for me!) I'm a bit miffed about this one. My home is in the Barony of Wiesenfeuer. As it happens, from Wiesenfeuer, the Barony of Vatavia in Calontir (Wichita, KS) is about 60 miles closer than are the Baronies of the Steppes and Elfsea. I attended an event in Calontir recently and have been entertaining the idea of attending a few more. It turns out that the proximity of Vatavia also had occurred to Wiesenfeuer's Chronicler. In order to better serve the populace of Wiesenfeuer, she thought it would be a good idea to join Vatavia's email list. That would allow her to pass along to our Barony information about events and happenings in Vatavia that might be of interest. With those thoughts in mind, our Chronicler applied to join the Vatavia email list. To no avail! She was told that she would have to make do with the normal calendars available elsewhere, and that once *she* had demonstrated sufficient interest in things Vatavian through semi-regular attendance of events, then perhaps they would deign to allow her to join their mailing list. Of course I recognize that a group has every right to limit access to their mailing list. But this seems to be taking things a bit far, particularly given the number of times that Vatavians have attended our events - indeed, it was a group from Vatavia who were the first winners of the Iron Star. Perhaps I'm being a bit hasty. Perhaps she didn't identify herself as Wiesenfeuer's Chronicler or explain her reasons for wanting to join the list. But still, it just irks me. With the price of gas and the fact I'm not a fighter (yet), I had been wrestling with the thought of attending Vatavia Valor instead of Gothic Wars. Yeah, that's just *not* going to happen now. If I don't head out to Gothic, I'll stay home and brew a special batch of mead instead. But I think I'll use this as motivation to get ready for Gothic by attending fighter practices to strap on the loaner armor and get a feel for swinging a stick. Even putting together my own armor. I'm a bit older than most newbie fighters and a bit slow of reflex, but I can carry a spear or even a shield - a *large* shield - at war. Should it turn out that I don't develop any real skill despite my best efforts, well *someone* has to lose well in tournaments! Who knows - I might end up being decent at it. But I'll never know unless I try. If I really hate it, I'm sure some group could use a barely-used set of loaner armor. :-) Mead and Melee! Woot!

Steppes Warlord timing

Miles_Grey — Wed, 28 May 2008 23:46:33 GMT

The timing of Steppes Warlord this year was a bit interesting to me. Friday 23 May was the 24th anniversary of my graduation from college. Monday 26 May was the 18th anniversary of my getting married. It was in college that I first learned of the SCA and began playing. I would never have rejoined the SCA (which I did in early 2004) if I had remained married. I guess I should have partied a little harder or maybe even had my own little celebration, but being the center of attention just isn't my style. Besides, how can any of that compete with parties for Laureling and Knighting? Or with a Hooch Fountain! Now THAT is doing things in style. That Fountain of Hooch is an idea I'd like to plagiarize, but the logistics of it all seem somewhat daunting. Another idea I'd love to appropriate for my own use is "Midnight Meat." I don't know who came up with it originally - I just remember seeing our previous King (Ulsted) and his Herald (Brian) wandering around after midnight at events serving various meats to anyone who wanted it. There's no way I could afford to do either with my current job. I really hope I find a better-paying job here in town before long, 'cause I'd really hate not to be able to afford my normal donations to gift baskets. I've already had to stop giving much of a donation at the gate when I go to events, and the budget won't let me go to Lilies. The drive back and forth each week between the house and the apartment fritters away my time and eats up entirely too much money. Such is life. Well, enough complaining. I had a lot of fun at Steppes Warlord. As always, there wasn't enough time to sit down and talk with everyone I'd like. So have fun everyone, and I hope to see you at an event soon!

Mead, mead, mead, mead. Lovely mead! Wonderful mead!

Miles_Grey — Tue, 27 May 2008 00:38:17 GMT

Well, I've always liked the mead that I make. I guess it's a Good Thing to like your own product. That's really the only reason I started brewing - to make mead. It's so hard to find good mead. So few wineries make the stuff, and most of what you find in liquor stores just isn't worth buying. It also takes 9 months or more between the time you start a wine-type mead and it being ready to drink. Even then, a few more months of aging is good. So when Baroness Muriel started pushing brewers to enter the brewing contest at Beltain, I figured I'd give it a shot. I won. The competition wasn't very stiff, though - I was the only entry. Thus, I didn't think much of that, despite assurance that it was very good and would have won even against plenty of competition. They were even happy with my documentation. It wasn't really good documentation, but it did show that the exact ratio of honey to water that I use dates back to at least the 13th century. Well, this weekend was Steppes Warlord, and they had a brewing competition. I figured it couldn't hurt - they didn't require documentation this year (though will change), and were allowing modern-style beverages as well. I was very pleased and surprised to learn that my mead was seen not only as the best mead, but received "best in show" as well! I had already decided that I was tired of running out of mead. Shanna, my most vocal "customer," has had to walk away disappointed entirely too many times! So I set a goal of starting at least one new 5-gallon batch every month. I actually started two identical batches last month (both with more honey than I usually use). I also started 13 gallons this month - two five-gallon batches and three one-gallon batches. I'm using this as an experiment. For one of the full batches, I boiled the wort for an hour, skimming off the scum. For the other, I used my normal approach of pasteurizing the wort by heating it to over 170 degrees and holding it there for 20 minutes without allowing it to boil. Otherwise, the two were identical and used the White Labs Sweet Mead Yeast. The three one-gallon batches were also pasteurized, but I pitched a different dry yeast into each. All are from Danstar and are yeasts used for mead by other brewers. Which means that, in about 9 months to a year, I'll have five meads that will need taste-testing, all made from the same honey, all made to the same ratio, but each different from the others. In the past, I've read that the mead ferments better and clarifies much faster if you boil it, but that it retains much more aroma and has a more complex flavor if you pasteurize it instead. Well, unless something goes awry, we'll be able to put that to the test. So far, I haven't seen any real difference in the fermentation. It probably will be a few months before I'll be able to see if there's any difference in the rate of clarification. Then the decision will be how soon we should try tasting it. If I push it a little, it could be done at Gulf Wars. But there are plenty of events during the Spring eventing season - I could wait and do it during any of the many Baronial events in the Northern Region, or even really strain my patience and hold it until Steppes Warlord or some other event that has good attendance from across the kingdom. Of course, if the ten gallons of mead I started last month turns out to be good (and not too sweet - I'm worried about that), it might be easy to wait until a full year has passed. So for all those who have enjoyed my mead in the past and look forward to more, you'll have to have a it more patience, but I really hope to begin having mead in abundance in about a year. My recipe isn't a secret, nor is it difficult. I'll be happy to share the details with anyone who's interested. Just ask.

A little heat on the mailing list

Miles_Grey — Sun, 03 Feb 2008 20:33:31 GMT

The following story is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. And the guilty, though heaven knows they don't deserve it. This is going to be a long one, folks, so just bear with me. If you're not in the SCA, some of this will be foreign. So here I am in Calontir. The local Barony is a very active and very service-oriented group, and they have Populace meetings every week! Most of the people are a delight. Most. Ah, but there must be exceptions - perhaps just so we can be made aware of how wonderful everyone else is. You should also be aware that I'm new to this Kingdom and Barony - I've attended three Populace meetings and joined their email list. There's a couple new to the area, having moved here from the east coast, and completely new to the SCA. The lady - we'll call her "NewLady" - was trying to locate a pattern for an Italian Rennaissance gown and, as far as she knew, she was having no luck with little help coming from the local Barony. An exchange about Rapier in the SCA, which NewLady couldn't have missed, left the impression that much of Calontir is not a late period group - at least that's the impression I got. I'm sure this left NewLady with the impression that the reason she wasn't getting a lot of help was because no one was *able* to help, in part because of this lack of interest in late period. It turns out that some of the help was offered at the Populace meeting (which mundane life prevented NewLady from attending - she works nights). She posted a message to the Baronial email list - it was public, so I breach no etiquitte by reproducing most of it here (I can't figure out how to format it so it appears as a quotation): - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I did some searching, and after finding some SCA people on the SCA-Garb site for advice, I was able to get a few pretty good sites for patterns, and when I can I am going to try to make an Italian Renaissance gown, circa 1490-1509. If anyone is interested in the gowns patterns or whatnot, email me and I will forward along the info. I wasnt able to get any advice from anyone here in the barony, making me think that no one here is interested, or makes this era of garb, but just in case you want to try it out, I can send you what I have. I am a beginner at sewing and will probably stink at making one, but I am going to try anyway! - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Well, it turns out that her SPAM filter had filtered out several replies and that some help had been offered, but she was unaware of it. But when I read this message, I saw only that someone didn't receive much help, that she was blaming no one, and that she was willing to pass along the information to other people. Keep in mind, this is a total newcomer to the SCA and to this part of the country. So what response does she get? A "Lady" - we'll call her "ExperiencedLady" - who received her AoA 15 years ago and has received the Kingdom's AoA level Service and Arts awards, posts the following helpful reply: - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I'm glad you found a pattern NewLady and that you are offering to forward the information that you found, that's very generous. But I must respectfully disagree with this statement "I wasnt able to get any advice from anyone here in the barony, making me think that no one here is interested, or makes this era of garb,". Mistress [name] had offered to help make a pattern for you at meeting on Thursday but you were not there. Not to mention offers and suggestions by [name] and [name] for assistance and my list of Costumers who have extensive knowledge of that time period. Please be considerate of the feelings of baronial members who offered help and suggestions before you claim that you didn't receive help or advice. It was given but it seems you did not accept it. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Perhaps I was wrong - please tell me honestly if I was - but this angered me. Greatly. No, I was livid. And I replied. Perhaps unwisely, but I had been in contact with NewLady via personal emails and I new she was already put off by one earlier brusque response and was already wondering if the SCA was the place for her. I had assured her that this wasn't the norm. Well, then this happens. So I answered, it was a long answer, and it was harsh. It's too long to post here. But it did include this little tidbit: - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - If I hurt any feelings, then GOOD! They deserve to be hurt. We do NOT treat newcomers like this, at least not in any of the SCA I've been privileged to be a part of. We help them, and if they make a mistake, then we chide them gently and IN PRIVATE, not on a PUBLIC MAILING LIST for all to see! Newcomers are our future, and, more importantly, they are NEW. They do not know us and they do not know our ways. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I felt I had made myself clear. Oh, but ExperiencedLady remains convinced she did nothing wrong. Her reply on the Baronial list: - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - After your impressive tirade, I'm not really sure why you would think my response was harsh. I was polite, to the point and I didn't imply that she was an idiot, a shrew, that she should shut up and get lost or that her postings would be a reason to leave the SCA. It would appear there were email issues that are now being addressed, NewLady & [name] have figured out what has happened and that is good enough for me. If my light chastisement (and it was light) of Tara is enough to offend your enjoyment of this list and the SCA then perhaps you need to step back and look at why you participate. My response or more specifically I didn't deserve your tirade. A response similar to mine telling me that I was being unfair would have been acceptable. She was informed of the offers on the [Barony] list where she made her inquiries, responses were posted on the [Barony] list, most of the barony would have been aware of the offers. It was a logical conclusion that she was informed of the offers, especially after she expressed glee about it becoming a class when someone else asked to be included in the pattern making? Did you bother to read the threads pertaining to this subject or did you use this as another opportunity to decry how mean Calontir is to out-of-towners? I did not participate in any of the recent debate threads (except to voice my opinion on buffalo wings) but I did read them. In fact I enjoyed them. I love a good debate. I did not read a dislike of late period personas. I did read several complaints that fencing is not welcome in Calontir despite several suggestions that through hard work and less grousing (okay I added that part), fencing could occur in Calontir. Perhaps your energies would be better directed there. You mentioned being unsure if you had met me before. I met you at last Thursday's meeting, I shook your hand and welcomed you to the barony and mentioned that I enjoyed your postings. I still enjoy your postings but I'm uncertain as to why you see windmills in every thread. If you still feel the need to chastise me in relation to this postings, I will happy to address this in person at Thursday's meeting or off-board but I will not post another response to the list other then "replied to privately" Long time Calontir and one time newbie who made mistakes and was chastised too ExperiencedLady - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Well. Isn't that just special. I'm a big boy and can take some criticism, so please tell me where I was wrong, or if I'm correct in believing that ExperiencedLady was way out of bounds, particularly with that final reply.

Kittens and Tea Bags

Miles_Grey — Fri, 18 Jan 2008 04:09:26 GMT

I just thought I'd pass along a little story about my kitten, Mittens: Tuesday night, I made a cup of tea for myself. I was planning on doing some email while sitting in bed, so I carried it into the bedroom and set it on the bedside table. Well, unsurprisingly, I fell asleep before the tea was half gone. Ordinarily, that wouldn't be worth mentioning. But this time was just a tad bit different. In the middle of the night, a strange sound awoke me. I was certain that I heard a thump and the sound of water splashing. I turned on the lamp and noticed the tea cup was lying on the floor on its side with distinctive brown splash marks eminating outward from the brim. "Mittens, you've done it again!" I thought as I got up and sopped up the cold tea with a white hand towel. White cotton. Now soaked with strong tea. I'm thinking that towel is permanently stained. But the story does not end there. Oh, not at all. When I was cleaning up the mess, I thought it odd that the tea bag was nowhere to be found. "Perhaps I didn't leave it in the cup after all," I thought in my groggy state. But of course this did not prove to be the case. After all, it was probably the dangling string and tag that attracted the little terror's attention in the first place. Sure enough, when I wandered out into the living room in the morning, I found the tea bag. Actually, I should say I found the remains of the tea bag. Apparently, Mittens had dragged her prey out of the bedroom and then proceeded to savage it in the living room. My first clue was a pair of strange, brown piles that looked rather powdery. They were damp and didn't smell bad - that they looked a bit like coffee grounds had me worried for the health of my cat herd. As I gathered up the odd substance with paper towels (and I hope the carpet isn't stained), I noticed what looked like a piece of tissue and a plastic spoon laying on the floor nearby. Mittens likes plastic spoons, often carrying them off as if they were prey, and she has discovered paper products - not to the extent that Sam did when he was a kitten (and still does on occasion), but enough that I was unsuprised. But when I picked up the "tissue," I suddenly realized I was holding the eviscerated remains of a tea bag. The light went on in my brain, enabling me to identify the two odd piles of damp, brown fragments as the tea from inside the bag. I had used Lipton tea - the type with the "Flow-Thru" bag in which the tea is divided into two separate portions, thus explaining the presence of *two* piles of damp, brown tea leaf bits. Of course, the way she tilts her head and mews is so damned cute that it's impossible to stay mad at the little demon. I guess I learned a valuable lesson though; a lesson about kittens and tea bags.

Global Warming - it really makes me hot under the collar

Miles_Grey — Mon, 23 Jul 2007 02:30:22 GMT

Let's just start this with a simple question - what gas contributes the most to the "greenhouse effect?" The answer is at the end of this little rant. I'm a nerd. Well, I guess these days, the "correct" word is "geek." That's why I've taken to using the word "geekonerdian" as an adjective. I tend to be of a scientific mindset. So I am amazed by this whole Global Warming nonsense. Mind you, I don't doubt that the earth is warming. Indeed, I expect it. There's solid proof that an approximately 1,500 year climate cycle goes back at least 250,000-400,000 years, and good evidence that it goes back millions of years, superimposing itself upon ice ages and the 'tween ice age thaws. I've read up on the stuff, and I see that there was a pre-Roman cold period, that the Roman Empire blossomed and flourished during a decidedly warm period, that the Empire collapsed with the onset of another cold period, Europe threw off the Dark Ages with the Medieval Warm Period, and the Little Ice Age gripped the world from about 1350 to about 1850. In general, it seems to take something like 250 years to transition from one period to the other, and then that period reigns for about 500 years. Carbon Dioxide and temperature coincide very well, but the correlation is exactly backward from what those who are trying to foist off anthropogenic warming on the gullible masses. In the past, Carbon Dioxide levels have LAGGED the higher temperatures by 200 to 800 years. In the past, the warm periods (and the Medieval Warm Period was WARMER than we are today) have been a Very Good Thing for mankind. Weather patterns became more stable, the winters were warmer, requiring less fuel to heat our dwellings, and the arable belts of land expanded with the northern limits of most crops being pushed further north. Look at the last warm period - the Medieval Warm Period. Two clues to the difference: Good wine was grown in England, and the Vikings settled (and named) Greenland, growing crops and grazing their sheep and cattle. Neither is possible today, because it is still too cold. If past trends are any indication, regardless of man's activities, it's going to get warmer. The Global Warming Alarmists still bandy about the "Hockey Stick" temperature graph, a piece of bad science that has been completely debunked for years. Al Gore puts out "An Inconvenient Truth" while making millions of dollars by selling Carbon Offsets. (Hes on the board of directors of the biggest company selling carbon offsets, cashing in - big time - on the fear he is causing.) We're told that increasing levels of Carbon Dioxide in the atmosphere will cause more warming, yet those in the field of astronomic spectroscopy tell us that the current levels of Carbon Dioxide in the atmosphere already absorb 100% of the IR radiation that it's possible for Carbon Dioxide to absorb. These are scientists who attempt to determine the chemical composition of various astronomical objects by analyzing the emission and absorption lines of the light spectrum coming from them. Infrared light, like visual light, spans a range of wavelengths. Just like a color filter on a camera absorbs only a portion of the visible light, carbon dioxide can only absorb a few narrow bands of infrared light and, once it has absorbed all the light in those bands, it can absorb no more no matter how much more carbon dioxide is in the atmosphere. We're already there. Additional carbon dioxide will contribute NOTHING to global warming - but it WILL act to both fertilize plants and reduce the amount of water those plants need. If you study the photosynthesis reaction, you'll realize that a plant that needs less water produces less oxygen, but because more plants will grow, this is more than offset. Global Warming. It's real. It's happening. And it is natural. There's not a damned thing we can do to stop it, and, based on history, it's a Good Thing anyway. I reach this conclusion not by being told the Way It Is, but by doing research, seeking the facts, and drawing my own conclusions. So, about that greenhouse gas. Water vapor is responsible for somewhere between 60% and 95% of the so-called "greenhouse effect" (the estimates vary). Carbon dioxide contributes a maximum of 20% of the effect. The Global Warming Alarmists don't want you to be aware of this little inconvenient truth because the vast majority of water vapor in the atmosphere is the product of nature.

Windoze: The Dark Side

Miles_Grey — Thu, 21 Jun 2007 22:22:43 GMT

Help me, Obi-wan! You're my only hope!

OOPs: What a mistake!

Miles_Grey — Wed, 20 Jun 2007 18:51:35 GMT

Once again, I've run head on into those aspects of Object Oriented Programming (OOP) that I find most . . . troubling. Indeed, I begin to wonder if OOP actually means "Obfuscate Objectionable Programming." Of what do I speak? Simply put, OOP (in particular, C++) actually REQUIRES that you do things that, in the past, would have resulted in your code being rejected out of hand by any peer review, with so much red ink all over the printouts that there would be more red than black on the page. I have a very good book, "C++ Coding Standards," that guides the programmer to adopt the "best practices" for writing good C++. Well, right up front in the Preface, we're told that Single Entry, Single Exit is now gauche, passe, arcane, extinct. Instead, we're to follow standards that "directly promote simpler and shorter functions that are inherently easier to understand and to make error safe." Another of the old-school Though Shalt Nots that is now not only considered acceptable, but mandatory in "good" C++ is the use of procedure pointers. Of course I've used procedure pointers in the past. I've written Motif and GTK GUIs, and one of the basic concepts necessary to make such GUIs work is the callback procedure. For example, if you want a button on your GUI to actually DO something, you have to tell it what to do. The way you do it is by registering a callback procedure that gets called when the button is pressed. But this is done in such an explicit, straight-forward fashion that one would actually have to work at it to confuse his or her fellow programmers. In Motif, for example, you used the X Toolkit function "XtAddCallback()" to register your callback procedure. The parameters to this function make it quite obvious what you're doing. You know, I could go on about this, but, in truth, I've already committed great sacrilege by daring to question this sacred cow. I'll make a couple quick observations. In the book, "C++ Coding Standards," item 6 tells us, "Correctness, simplicity, and clarity come first." The summary says, "Correct is better than fast. Simple is better than complex. Clear is better than cute. Safe is better than insecure." Yet we see confusing use of templates, procedure pointers, and so many other deviations from this mantra all in pursuit of the Holy Grail of Encapsulation that I have to struggle not to scoff openly whenever someone makes reference to this these concepts. The bottom line is that, much like the Microsquash Windoze Driver Framework, C++ and Object Oriented Programming are an attempt to force programmers to do things correctly by the very nature of the language itself. The problem is that bad programmers are still smart people, and bad programmers WILL produce bad programs no matter how much the language or Operating System tries to prevent it. The best answer is for organizations - and programmers - to impose good, solid programming standards upon their workforces, themselves, and their peers. The much-hyped dream of code reuse has simply not materialized, because programs are written to deal with unique situations (else you would have bought some commercial application), and anything (other than relatively simple utilities) you try to make generic enough to be reused easily becomes either too non-specific or too unwieldy to address the situation for which you're writing the software. Good software will never be produced by trying to make languages - or Operating Systems - idiot proof. Good software is produced by good programmers - or mediocre programmers working under the supervision of good programmers. Even with good programmers, companies/organizations must develop standards to ensure consistency among their programmers. I have yet to see ANY evidence that this entire Object Oriented push has resulted in any more code reuse or any better-written software than programmers produced before it became the next Big Thing. But then, one must realize that Object Oriented Programming is nothing new. All of the concepts were developed back in the 60s. The problem is that OOP almost always produces software that is inherently inefficient, so it languished in obscurity until technology gave us cheap memory, cheap hard drives, and fast, cheap processors. Only then could this bad idea be foist off upon so many seemingly intelligent people. The converts to this new religion are easy to spot - they're the programmers who speak with a gleam in their eyes about the promise and possibilities of this new technique. Such people are always certain that those of us who have labored for years maintaining the crap such zealots churn out just haven't seen the light, and if only we could see the One True Path, we would come around. Spare me the headaches your almost-unmaintainable spiffy stuff is sure to ambush me with as we maintenance programmers inherit your offal. Bring me hard numbers that demonstrate the superiority of your Brave New World, and I will convert. Until then, kindly put it where the sun doesn't shine and save your glowing rhetoric for the naive fools who haven't had to clean up the excrement you've foist off upon us. You'd think folks would heed the obvious warning. The acronym for "Object Oriented Programming" is OOP. If you pronounce that acronym as a word, it sounds like the utterance one might make when he or she has made a mistake. Well, the one suitable for polite company.

Much ado about nothing

Miles_Grey — Thu, 31 May 2007 19:58:04 GMT

Nothing is the problem precisely. I'm experiencing a feeling of anticipation or need - a desire to write or speak about something, but without the slightest idea what it is that I need to say. It's not a sense of loneliness or a desire for companionship. It's exactly as if I had something important to say. Rather like when you're engaged in conversation and you're developing a point, then someone or something distracts you and, when the distraction has gone, you cannot remember even the topic, let alone where you were in the discussion. You feel that irritating . . . ache, yes - "ache" is the perfect word. The problem is it won't go away. The feeling is there, but I don't have anything to say. Even writing this uncharacteristically short blog entry about nothing does nothing to assuage the feeling that I have something to say. If ever the expression "words fail me" was applicable, this is the case.

C++: Even more of the same

Miles_Grey — Fri, 25 May 2007 21:08:59 GMT

Caution: In this blog entry, I delve into some of the nerdy intricacies of the Software Engineering world. I've been a programmer ("Software Engineer") since 1988. Since 1992, most of my work has been "maintenance" programming of real-time simulation software (and I mean HARD real-time). The only place where anything remotely Object Oriented could be used was in the GUIs. We're talking Unix/Linux with Motif GUIs running as separate processes (often on a separate machine), interfacing with the simulations through shared memory. Without delving into details, suffice it to say that this work was done in FORTRAN and C. A while ago, I turned on max verbose mode while compiling one of my C apps and, much to my surprise, I discovered that my style of program unit declaration is the now-deprecated Kernigan and Ritchie format. I mulled that over for a few moments, as the following thought formed and rose in my mind: "Uh, sorry about that, bitbreath, but Kernigan and Ritchie invented the damned language, so exactly where do YOU get off deprecating ANYTHING they did?" I really don't like C to begin with. I've often said that "C" is an acronym . . . it means "Crap." After all, it represents a step back towards assembly from the languages that came before. But don't let that fool you - I'm actually quite good at C. I usually draw a comparison to Tom Selleck's character in "Quigley Down Under." At the end of the movie, he tells his surprised adversary, "I said I didn't have much use for one. Didn't say I didn't know how to use it." So now, I'm doing some C++ work, and I've been told that macros are considered Very Bad in C++. Bjarne Stroustrup himself tells us, "The first rule about macros is: Don't use them unless you have to. Almost every macro demonstrates a flaw in the programming language, in the program, or in the programmer." You have to realize, he's not talking about function-like macros alone. Oh, no, he's including things like the familiar "#define PI 3.14159" Wow. Then I'm reading the book "C++ Coding Standards" from Stroustrup's own "C++ In-Depth Series," and on page 43, I run across instruction informing me that I should ALWAYS write internal "#include" guards. Hmm. And what form do such guards take? " . . . a header file 'foo.h' should follow the general form: #ifndef FOO_H_INCLUDED_ #define FOO_H_INCLUDED_ // ... contents of the file ... #endif " Well. There's that macro. One can quibble, saying that no value is being assigned to FOO_H_INCLUDED_, but that would be nothing but a quibble - many programmers use and depend upon "valueless" macros. So WHAT does that say about the C++ language, that Stroustrup himself advocates using such macros. I'll clue you in. If you know C, you know that "++" is the increment operator. Thus, if C means "Crap" then C++ means even more Crap! In the foregoing, I've demonstrated this using the words of the language developer himself.

Whining about Wine

Miles_Grey — Tue, 22 May 2007 19:27:48 GMT

As I mention in my profile, I'm conservative. So for about the last four years, I've carefully avoided purchasing anything French. This included French wine, which meant I had to find other sources for wine. In the past, I had not really enjoyed red wines, but while attending a wedding I sampled a glass (or two) of Fat Bastard Syrah. I really enjoyed it, and was pleasantly surprised to find that the same grape/wine variety is usually called "Shiraz" by American and Australian vintners. In short order, I discovered that Australia produces an astonishing number of Shiraz wines. I'm far from a rich man, which means I don't buy much wine above $20 a bottle for ordinary consumption, but if the bottle is under $20, I just buy it and try it. I found Yellow Tail Shiraz to be acceptable, but found two that I really like: Black Opal and Rosemont Estates. Since you usually get a discount when you buy a whole case, that's what I do. I haven't bought a case of Black Opal yet, but I just started working on my second case of Rosemont Estates Shiraz. One bottle is missing. I didn't actually drink it myself - I took it to the SCA event this weekend (Eldern XXIX, the Baronial Championship event for the Barony of Eldern Hills) and left it with some friends while I attended feast and court. While it was mostly gone, there was a little bit left. I rather expected that - Shiraz is not a sweet wine, not by any stretch of the imagination, and most SCAdians prefer their wines sweet. Mind you, Shiraz is only moderately dry - Cabernet Sauvignon leaves it far behind. But I find that it's a nice, full-bodied wine with just a little bit of the bitterness one expects from a red. Oh - excuse me. I have to take a phone call . . . Well, that was a bit rude of me. I apologize. Now where was I? Right - I was rambling on about wine. So this all means that I've decided my favorite red wine is a Shiraz. Then I noticed on the news that the French elected a new President, Nicholas Sarkozy, by a margin of 53 to 47. President-elect Sarkozy ran on a platform that included much closer ties with the United States. In his victory speech, he spoke of friendship with the United States. In celebration of what may prove to be a new era of friendship between my country and France, I stopped by my usual liquor store and bought a couple bottles of French wine. The first was a bottle of Fat Bastard Syrah. For the second, I accepted the recommendation of the guys at the liquor store for a wine similar to a Shiraz. I can't remember the actual name, but it's from the Rhone region. I tried the Syrah first, and was thoroughly disappointed. The wine was thin and bitter. Instead of a nice, robust flavor that fills the mouth, this wine was weak and insipid. To be technical, it was altogether yucky. I didn't finish the bottle. Some days later, I approached the Rhone wine with a bit of trepidation. I chilled it very carefully so it would be in the normal optimum range for a decent red wine - about 60 degrees (Fahrenheit, of course - for the temperature challenged, that's about 15.5 degrees Celsius/Centigrade/European funky temperature). This bottle did not fail to disappoint. It was a virtual clone of the first. Even worse, these two wines were no cheaper than the Rosemont Estates Shiraz I normally drink. I'm sure that if I keep hunting, I'll find a nice French wine that I'll really enjoy. But, honestly, why bother? Back when Jacques Chirac was doing his best to alienate Americans, I discovered delightful Australian wines that I really enjoy. If I'm going to experiment, I really should be sampling American wines. There are excellent and affordable wines out of California and Washington. But it is disappointing to make the gesture only to discover that the quality of the French wine has either declined during my hiatus or my tastes have evolved. Either way, I'm not keen to waste my money on more thin, bitter swill. I believe I'll uncork a bottle of that lovely Australian stuff tonight. After I start the stabilizing process for the wine that I'm making, that is. As if that's a lot of effort - cut open a couple bags of stuff, pour them into the carboy, and stir vigorously. Cheers!

Personalities, or a Tale of Two Peers

Miles_Grey — Tue, 15 May 2007 22:57:21 GMT

This will seem a little stilted. I'm striving to keep anonymous the people involved. Besides, it's fun to try to make a post about the SCA in more period style. Last weekend, I attend "The Lysts at Castleton." The site is simply stunning. Don Shamino is to be praised highly for creating this place and sharing it with us. It is this event that called into contrast how different two Peers can be. Allow me to relate the tale; first I must set the stage. Some months ago, a certain Peer traveled from afar to attend the investiture of a new Baron and Baroness to rule in fief over these lands. As the distance traveled to attend was long and wearying, it seemed mete that we citizens of this Barony should demonstrate our appreciation in tangible form. I was far beyond the boundaries of our Stellar Kingdom at the time, attending to matters of business. I could not detect that anyone had taken on the task of organizing this effort, so I undertook the effort via correspondance, sending missives to the populace. I sent forth a personal message to one who would know what tokens we could offer to the Peer, and received a reply in short order. It came to pass that an official coordinator was appointed, and I laid at her feet all I had arranged. Naturally, being pleased that this Peer would visit our humble lands, I added some few small contributions of my own. The investiture was a success. Because I had made some other donations to be awarded to the Barony's champions, our good Baron and Baroness insisted on announcing that I had done so to the assembled populace. Much to my embarassment, this meant that my name was mentioned several times. A few months passed. My heart was sore troubled. It had been long since I had attended a revel. I was languishing, aching for that unnameable, heart-lifting joy, that sense of relief and release I can find only in attending one of the Society's events. Having missed a local event, the pangs had grown great indeed. With unstead hands, I perused the Blackstar in hopes its pages would give me news of that which I sought. On the calendar page, I seized upon a big event not too far from home with much joy. Plans started forming in my fevered mind as I turned to the event announcement page. Alas, my joy was but shortlived. This big event was to be in the Levantine style. This is a style which I relish normally, but there had been so much of the Levant of late, I found the idea intolerable. I marked that the calendar made mention of nother, much smaller event, scheduled for that same date. The distance was great. "This I cannot do," I thought. Expecting to dismiss the event out of hand, I turned to the announcement. "Lo!" I thought. "What's this I see? It cannot be! But it matters not, for this event is so far afield that I cannot attend - I simply cannot." But try as I might, I could not turn the page. There, in large font, temptation beckoned like a siren's song. The vile temptation of those words could not be turned aside. "Traditional English Feast!" I was transfixed. It made no sense, but there was naught I could do to break the spell. I would go! And so I journeyed far to this event. Though the long journey meant I missed much of the day's activities, 'twas the feast which I desired. I was most pleased with the food and fellowship, and resolved that I would make known my satisfaction through works. Thus, as the tables were cleared, I ventured into the kitchen, asking if I might assist. 'Twas an impressive mound of dishes that needed attending, and we fell to with alacrity. Several times I had need to leave the kitchen. Each time, I passed that same Peer who had traveled so far to attend my Barony's investiture. Thus, I was most pleased that I had undertaken the long journey myself. Several times I passed the peer in the course of my labors. At this moment, it is fitting that I offer a description. I am not a small man. In height, I top a fathom by fully half a foot. My hair is dark, my complexion somewhat swarthy, and my eyes are bright blue. My beard and moustache are trimmed in a rather unique style. My raiment included a red tunic trimmed in gold. 'Tis not a muted red, and it reaches to my knees. My face was slightly flushed from the exertions and my hair was probably a bit unkempt. Yea, verily, I stuck out like a neon sign at an Amish barn-raising. That the Peer did not address me was only slightly troubling. Many wished to bend the ear of this person. Yet I comforted myself with the knowledge that none but a blind person could have failed to notice. This was the Peer's home. It was not thought of recognition that drove my efforts - it just seemed fitting and proper that I should assist. But, surely, a Peer could not fail to notice that such a conspicuous stranger was lending his efforts toward a successful event. So I journeyed home in contentment. A few months passed, and I journeyed far to attend the Lysts at Castleton. The setting and the event lift one's heart. I was most pleased to see that the same Peer was present at this event. Indeed, I saw to it that a vivacious young lady that I know and was aware had met the Peer came into the Peer's presence. There was a joyful greeting and some happy small talk exchange between the two. Some time later, I approached the Peer in a setting with fewer people around. I rendered a friendly greeting and an attempt at light conversation. It took some moments before I realized that there was no interest in conversation. This vexed me sorely. I bid farewell and departed, not wishing to trouble the Peer any further with unwanted attention. Perhaps an hour before I arranged the meeting of the Peer and the Young Lady, I had approached another Peer. As this Peer's lodgings were a lighthouse, I asked, "does your ladder go all the way to the top?" I was much surprised when this Peer invited me to step within and examine the interior of the lodging, encouraging me to climb the ladder and see for myself. This Peer did not allow me to depart without engaging me in some conversation, during which I learned the potations this Peer prefers. I left the lodgings most pleased that I had been so favored. Now, some days later, I reflect upon the contrast between these Peers. Before that day, I had neither seen nor met the second Peer, yet in those few moments the Peer secured my loyalty. It cost the Peer just those few moments and those few words. The first Peer . . . not only lost my loyalty, but my respect as well. I do not regret the efforts I made in the past, for they were proper. I am but a simple brewer. But it is within my skills to produce a potation that the second Peer finds most palatable. This very night, I shall begin producing that brew. It is my hope to present it as a gift to this Noble person. Toward the first Peer, I respect the rank. Ah, I am but one of the little people, just a brewer, and it matters not what I think.

An irritating word

Miles_Grey — Fri, 11 May 2007 15:50:05 GMT

A friend has begun a foray into fire dancing and started talking about it the other day. She used the word "poy" as if expecting I would know what it means. Well, I do. Spelled "poi" and pronounced "poy" (rhyming with "toy"), it means a food made by baking, grinding, and fermenting taro root. So I started looking around to see the etymology of "poy" in fire dancing and fire spinning. It turns out that it's also the Maori word for "ball," and that fire spinning is derived (in a rather tortuous fasion) from a Maori performance art involving the spinning of balls attached to ropes. In digging, I learned that only a minority of Maori can even carry on a conversation in Maori, so the reason for selecting this word for the burny bit on the end of a staff, chain, or other implement began to make even less sense. Then I learned that, in Maori, each vowel represents the end of a syllable. So it seems that fire dancers and spinners have co-opted a Maori word, yet haven't bothered to learn how to pronounce that word. Basically, it shouldn't sound like you've just surprised a Jewish person! In fact, think "Pokemon," drop the "mon" off the end and replace the "k" with a syllabic pause. It's a two-syllable word that should go something like "po-ee." But that still doesn't answer the original question - why the hell are we co-opting a Maori word in the first place? Is it something like the affectation of saying "je ne sais quoi" when you've discovered that your vocabulary is woefully inadequate but you're unwilling to admit your ignorance, so you say it in French? ("Je ne sais quoi" translates to "I don't know what.") Further, from what I've been able to find, the burny bit used in fire spinning and fire dancing is usually a pad or wrapping made of wide, flat kevlar-and-cotton wicking or a monkey fist knot made of kevlar-and-cotton rope. Only the latter resembles a ball, and it would be more accurate to call it a knot. So if we really want to toss around Maori words, wouldn't it be more appropriate to dig up more accurate words, such as "harakeke" (flax) or "paraerae" (flax twisted into a pad). Then the term "ahi paraerae" (fire pad) could be used to be even more descriptive. Instead of calling the spinny fire stick a "staff" (boring), for consisitency, shouldn't it be called "ahi patu" (fire club) or even "rahui" (torch)? To top it off, while the fire spinners toss around (and mispronounce) their single Maori word, it looks like they didn't bother to look up the word for rope or snake, so THAT piece of apparatus is simply called a "fire rope" or "fire snake." Puhleese! Why not just call the thing "burny bit?" Or fire pad? How about this one - are you ready - instead of using a word that is understood by seventeen people worldwide (and which means "some kind of Hawaiian food" to millions), why not use the very straightforward word "wick?" After all, "wick" means a cord or strand of loosely woven, twisted, or braided fibers - or any similar device - that conveys fuel to flame by capillary action, and it's a word that hundreds of millions of people understand. It also has the distinct advantage of being difficult to mispronounce, unlike poi, and it accurately describes the burny bit, unlike poi. Oh, but I guess that would just make too much sense, and that wouldn't be artistic enough. Hmm. But when you're looking to buy the materials to make your own burny bits, you look for "wicking." Here's another idea - why not use words like pad, wad, knot, rope, wrap, etc? I rank this irritating affectation right up there with the talking heads on TV pronouncing “Chile” as “Chill-ay” but “Mexico” the way we Americans always have. It’s either “Chill-ee” and “Mex-ih-co” or it’s “Chill-ay” and “Meh-hee-co.” Grrrr. Worse, from what I've been able to dig up about Maori, “poy” is *always* wrong – it’s a two-syllable word with a distinct separation between the damned vowels. Further, "poi" had NOTHING to do with fire - it's either a damned ball or it's something you eat at a luau. "Ahi" is the Maori word for "fire!" <gasp><pant> <calming down> Ahem. As if any of this matters. But I really do find this sort of thing as irritating as when people put on an affected air and say, “Well, it just has a certain je ne sais quoi about it.” That little French phrase just means “I don’t know what,” so the speaker is covering up for having either limited vocabulary or limited imagination by resorting to a neato-sounding foreign language while admitting he or she is clueless. Naturally, stopping by a coffee shop for a latte drives me crazy, too. “Latte” is the Italian word for “milk” – imagine how surprised a patron would be if the clerk gave him exactly what he asked for (a glass of milk). An Italian would ask for “espresso i latte” or perhaps just “espresso latte,” but never for “latte,” unless a glass of milk was really the desired beverage. The fun one is when people have to ask for a “breve latte” – “breve” meaning “half-and-half” while “latte” means milk, so you’re asking for half-and-half milk. So these are silly things that bother me. A lot. Even though they're really no big deal. And shouldn't bother me. But then, isn't a blog exactly the place where you're supposed to blow off a little steam about things that bother you?

Attitude is Everything

Miles_Grey — Thu, 10 May 2007 17:15:56 GMT

I've noticed that people wax philosophical in their blogs. So I thought I'd do the same for a moment. In my life, I've noticed that attitude is everything. Everything good in my life required that I fight, work hard, or struggle. Now in my mid 40s, I realize I'm starting to forget many of those struggles - they just fade into the background noise that has formed my attitude. As has everyone, I've faced disappointment, faced death several times, failed at many things, lost any number of jobs, had a car and a house repossessed while unemployed, had 5 vehicles totalled while I was in them, had a marriage of 13 years end in divorce, etc, etc, etc. If I were to list the specifics of the many unpleasant things that have come my way in life, most would find it quite depressing. I have to admit that there are times when I get a bit depressed. But through it all, I've maintained the attitude that it will all work out OK, and that things will be better in the future. Now the logical part of my mind (since I'm a professional computer geek, that's most of my mind) tells me that it is very possible, if not probable, that the future will not be better and that things may turn out very poorly indeed. After all, we all must die, and that's not exactly something most anticipate with relish. But that's too theoretical to weigh me down for long. All I have to do is look back at the litany of Bad Things and Very Bad Things that have happened in the past and I realize that, in my life, things have always turned out OK. Not necessarily great, but I'll take OK over a sucking pit of despair any day. I've seen envious people, and those who are depressed because things haven't turned out better in their lives. But as I told the marriage counselor we visited in the vain hope of saving the marriage, those attitudes just don't make any sense to me. Each of us is dealt a hand of cards, and you have to play the cards you were dealt. It doesn't do any good to be envious of those who were dealt a better hand, because that hand is not YOUR hand. I would love to have some slight amount of artistic talent - to be able to draw, paint, or sculpt; or to play an instrument well, compose music, or be able to sing. But I look over the hand I was dealt and realize that it is completely lacking any cards in those suits. So I accept that and play the cards that I do have. I have no clue how your life is going to turn out. I don't have a clue how my life will turn out. But all my past experience tells me that my life is going to be good. Not that there won't be any trouble - based on past experience, there's a whole heap of trouble lurking along the road down which I must travel. But I will meet that trouble, I will deal with it, and I will move on. Life is good, and, as a Christian, I believe that when the journey is over, it will be even better. I'm always happy to lend an ear to a friend who's feeling down. I can understand temporary depression, because I've been there. I understand that some depression is chemical and requires pharmeceuticals. But a continual Eyore attitude is beyond my comprehension. I will help lift you up when you're feeling down, but if you dwell under a perpetual dark cloud, I will eventually leave you behind. That's because the road ahead of me is mostly bright and sunny. I would be a fool to let anyone drag me off this good road to travel a muddy, rutted track leading toward a roiling mass of storm clouds. Whether your road is sunny is dependent entirely on your own attitude. Hardship will enter every life. Some will face more, some will face less, but all will face some. Some people will face storms they cannot weather. But when storms break over a soul equipped with a good attitude, the odds are far greater that that soul will still be afloat when the storms pass, just like a ship in good repair is more likely to survive a gale than is a leaky rustbucket.

Getting to Know You

Miles_Grey — Thu, 10 May 2007 00:17:14 GMT

So this one, you paste the questions into a message to me, fill it out, send it to Me. I think the idea is that you'll be a bit more free with your answers if nobody else is going to read it. We shall see. Then you post it to your blog, as I have done here. The condescending bit at the beginning here is up to you. 1. Can you cook? 2. What was your dream growing up? 3. What talent do you wish you had? 4. Favorite place? 5. Favorite vegetable? 6. What was the last book you read? 7. What zodiac sign are u? 8. Any Tattoos and/or Piercings? 9. Worst habit? 10. Do we know each other off line? 11. What is your favorite sport? 12. Negative or Optimistic attitude? 13. What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me? 14. Worst thing to ever happen to you? 15. Tell me one weird fact about you: 16. Do u have any pets? 17. Do u know how to do the macerana? 18. What time is it where u are now? 19. Do you think clowns are cute or scary? 20. If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be??? 21. Would you be my crime partner or my conscience? 22. What color eyes do you have? 23. Ever been arrested? 24. What is your favorite drink? 25. If you won $10,000 dollars today, what would you do with it? 26. What kind of bubble gum do you prefer to chew? 27. What 's your favorite place to hang at? 28. Do you believe in ghosts? 29. Favorite thing to do in your spare time? 30. Do you swear a lot? 31. Biggest pet peeve? 32. In one word, how would you describe yourself? 33. Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you?

Coopers Original Series Dark Ale

Miles_Grey — Tue, 01 May 2007 19:59:00 GMT

This is a homebrewing beer kit, my favorite kit so far. Every second or third beer that I brew is this beer. I use a can of Coopers Dark Malt Extract (unhopped) to provide the additional sugars needed to produce a 5-6 gallon (US) batch. At bottling time, I add 3/4 to 1 cup (180-240 ml) of corn sugar for carbonation. This produces a black beer that is not bitter - there's enough hops so you know you're drinking beer. It has a rich, strong flavor and full potency. Being a casual brewer, my hydrometer is unused, so I can't tell you the actual strength. Kit beers don't give you as much control or flexibility as all-grain brewing does, but you can have your wort in the primary in under 2 hours, and you're done with cleanup in less than 30 minutes. I brew beer because it uses the same equipment as does mead.