more computer foolings

I successfully installed a DVD burning drive, in about fifteen minutes. The most difficult part was unplugging the power cord from the back of the drive in the cramped space of the mini-tower. Now I can easily backup the digital photography that has been occupying HUGE amounts of space on the 80gb hard drive.

XM satellite radio: how did I live without it?

I finally succumbed because of the baseball: every team, every game, all season. And I'm loving that. Increasingly, though, I'm enjoying the regular radio programming. Example: Ethel, channel 47, is one of the 100% commerical free music stations. Their last five songs: two Modest Mouse songs, then a Pogues song, then a random Sublime song, and now Primus. Fun stuff.

Jose Canseco's Big Shitty Book: Juiced

I just finished reading Canseco's 284 pages of whining, self ego-stroking, tell-all babble. What a piece of crap. I shouldn't even have bothered, and in fact, had no plans to bother, until I saw it sitting on the new arrival shelf at our local public library. I did have to snicker at his notes that he didn't care what people thought of his book, as long, of course, as they paid full price for it. Ha, ha.

He spends most of the book on a central theme: I'm a human, everyone is a human, but boy, am I just about the greatest human to ever grace baseball with my presence. He whines a lot about his performance not being what it could have been, had he not been injured, but he also whines about people saying he was always injured. He insists that steroids, properly administered (he refers to himself as The Godfather of Steroids, also The Chemist), don't increase risk of injury. So how does he explain his persistent injuries? Well, he doesn't: he mentions some of them, like the three back surgeries, but insists that steroids where why he recovered. He pooh-poohs, without any explanation or stated basis, the idea that Ken Caminiti and Lyle Alzado's deaths were steroid related. His only basis for this is a sort of contorted reverse logic: because there was no scientific proof that steroids caused either death, therefore, it is clear that they did not. Hmmmm...

Canseco repeatedly claims he was framed, then railroaded into taking a plea stemming from a barfight where he claims he didn't preally hurt anyone and acted only in self defense by putting his hand out to motion to someone to stop. (Context: he also mentions that he holds black belts in three martial arts: Japanese Karate, Tae Kwon Do, and Muay Thai.)

He insists that his probation violation for failing a drug test was clearly the result of someone swapping urine samples with him. This, at the end of a 284 page book extolling the magical virtues of steroids, and The Chemist's proud use of them?

He insists that he is not only the nicest guy ever, but that he is also not a domestic abuser. This despite admitting that during one argument where his then wife was sitting in the front seat, he reached in front to grab her by the hair to get her attention? That in another incident with another wife, he and she were driving down the road fighting and screaming in SEPARATE cars, and, oops, wouldn't you know it? Their darn cars collided.

He talks about being a fun-loving, easy-going, cuddly guy, then explains away his arrests for carrying loaded firearms on hospital campuses, beating his wives, and just happening to have a machine gun nicknamed "Street Sweeper" in his closet that he was going he kill himself with (he put the gun down on his bed, and decided to cuddle his infant daughter instead. It was left unclear whether he put away the machine gun before cuddling with his daughter.)

Canseco repeatedly refers to his own superhuman abilities, and how amazing he was, and at one point, says he was the greatest player in baseball. He's especially proud of being the AL Rookie of the Year in 1986, and of his 40/40 season: 42 home runs, 40 stolen bases, resulting in his being voted the unanimous American League MVP in 1988. Yes, this is something to be proud of.

But the greatest player in baseball? The most amazing physical speciem to grace the game? A poster boy for why steroid use is so great for professional athletes? HUH? Let's review his somewhat checkered and inconsistent career: he led the league in home runs only twice: 1988 (42) and 1991 (44). He hit over 40 home runs only one other time: 1998 (46), which placed him third on the league.

What else did he do in 1998, you might wonder? He led the league in strikeouts, with 159. (He struck out 1942 times in his career, in 7057 at-bats.) His career batting average is .266; in only three seasons out of seventeen did he hit over .300, and one of these, 1985, with a .302 batting average, he only had 96 at-bats in 29 games.

Canseco go on and on about his running abilities, especially for someone so large and muscular: for example, he brags repeatedly about running the 40 yard dash in 4.3 seconds, and at one point, makes the preposterous claim to have run it in 3.9 seconds (page 231). After those 40 steals in 1988, his next highest total was 29 in 1998, then 26 in 1991, and then only four other seasons did he have more then 10 steals. He was only in the top ten for steals one time, in 1988, when his 40 steals placed him fourth in the league.

How ridiculous are his claims about running? Well, for starters, he only lists his times in the 40 yard dash, a distance/event that the IAAF, track & field's international governing body, doesn't even recognize or record (The shortest distance the IAAF recognizes for world-record purposes is an indoor 50 meters, or about 54 yards, per this excellent article on the official site of the U.S. Olympic Team.) That article goes on to debunk the mythic 40 yard times that many NFL players put up.

In my research, I can't find ANY serious claims that ANYONE has EVER run the 40 yard dash faster than 4.15 seconds, even with extremely questionable timing methodology.

Oh, apparently, Canseco is explaining his ridiculous 3.9 second claim as a typo.

Even more fun/ny: in this article he's quoted as saying he ran a 3.39 second 40-yard dash!

This isn't to say that Canseco's book is entirely without merit: it did bring the topic of cheating through steroids to the attention of the public and the snoozing congress, it also speaks to the undeniable truth of racism in baseball. Sadly, though, Canseco is such a fucking ridiculous clown that the couple of important messages he has are lost in the fog.

why computers really aren't such a great thing:

1) because they stress me out.
2) because I foolishly rely on CNET to be worth a damn.

I agreed, on the suggestion of Dr. Smartypants, to install an additional RAM module in our desktop machine (a somewhat clunky emachines T2484 that is a couple of years old.)

We were at Fry's at this ridiculous sale on May 20, which included such super buys as internal DVD burners for $39, with no fucking irritating rebates. We also got a 512mb DIMM RAM module for $49, with a $30 mail-in fucking irritating rebate.

So after looking at the RAM for a little over a week, I finally decided to try to install it, since I am butting up on Fry's fucking irritating 14 day return policy on computer equipment.

So I installed popped open the case (ignoring the emachines tamper sticker, since we're well past the warranty period anyway), installed the memory module in the empty slot in what seemed to be a process far too easy to be true, closed the case, and booted up. You can guess the pre-lunchline: it was, indeed, far too easy to be true.

The machine started up fine, but didn't recognize the new memory. (Still only showing 256mb.) So I cracked it open again, and tried re-seating the memory: still no recognition. Then I did the minimal troubleshooting that CNET's SHITTY guide to installing new memory recommends: I unseated and re-seated both the existing and the new memory modules. (Yes, all of you wiseasses out there: I did carefully ground myself EVERY time before I touched either of the memory modules.)

Crisis ensues: now the machine won't boot up at all, and instead emits a LOUD, prolonged (two to three seconds) beeping noise on startup. Sigh. I resign myself the the new memory being defective, crack open the case again, and pluck it out.

Crisis now at catastrophe level: same result, even with the existing, factory installed memory the only memory in the machine. I congratulate myself for backing up all of the most critical data before engaging in this fool's errand, and make a crisis phone call to my trusty computer expert, Mister .'.

I leave Mister .'. a whiny voicemail, and decide to go research my problem a little further. Well, it only takes me about twenty seconds of reading a competent guide on installing memory, on crucial.com, to come across this critical point, clearly expressed in two different places:

Push Hard
When the ejector pins snap up around the module your memory is installed.
...
Use your thumbs to press the module into the slot. Press hard! It takes about 20 lb of pressure to get the module properly inserted in the slot. When you hear a "click" and both side ejector clips snap up around the module, you know it is installed correctly.

Indeed, I've now seen elsewhere on the web that it can take up to 40 pounds of pressure to properly install RAM modules, and most sites recommend 20 to 30 pounds.

To finish this already boring story: I cracked open the case for baout the tenth time, and yeah, when you really apply pressure, they seat fine, and work great. The computer is now veritably clipping along with 768mb of RAM. Hoo-ha!

Dear Day's Inn:

Submitted via their online form, regarding their hotel on West Diversey in Chicago:

Hello, I just thought I'd let you know that because your 800 phone staff declined to match or even come close to a rate from your own website ($63/night), I cancelled my previously booked reservation ($79.95/night, reservation ########), and booked a better rate at another hotel. So much for "Unbeatable Rates"!

pi

3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693993751058209749445923078164062862089986280348253421170679

who doesn't love to calculate pi to 32 million digits? i only did two million, which took one minute, fifty-nine seconds.

i'm also happy to report that my 700m has no dead pixels!

beer and feet

today S and i bottled the Downspout Stout (unoriginal, i know, but i had to pick something to start calling it. suggestions are invited.) it's really more like a porter, FULL of coffee flavor, slightly sweet, and tiny hints of roastiness. yum. yield was almost four gallons, so volunteers are needed for drinking!

in other news, anyone know these feet? they should be returned to their owner ASAP, as they seem in serious need of help of some kind. please advise.

hotel reds

sent today:

[dangr-us letterhead here]

Red Lion Hotel
Salt Lake Downtown
161 West 600 South
Salt Lake City, UT 84101

Red Lion and WestCoast Hotels
Business Office
W. 201 North River Dr.
Spokane, WA 99201

6 May 2005

To whom it may concern:

I recently had the opportunity to stay at the Red Lion, Salt Lake Downtown, April 29 - May 2. The staff was excellent, the location ideal, the views of the Wasatch Range extraordinary, the free WiFi convenient, and the rooms comfortable: I will probably never return. Most things in the hotel were as good as they could be, and for this class of hotel, quite excellent. However, the pervasive cigarette smoke in my two different rooms was intolerable, and exacerbated my asthma for much of my three day stay in Salt Lake City.

Some background: in advance of my stay, I called and requested a non-smoking room. I was told this would not be a problem, since the hotel was at 40% capacity for that weekend, and I would not be assigned a smoking room unless I requested one. On arrival at the hotel, I requested a room with a view of the mountains to the east, if there was something available that was non-smoking. The desk employee, who was extremely friendly and efficient, gave me a room in the main tower, on the top floor (9th) in that building, with a breathtaking view of the mountains. I was delighted. I settled in to prepare for my business the next day, and then went for a walk around Salt Lake City.

On my return, I noticed the room seemed quite smoky. I was surprised by this, since the hallway itself wasn’t smoky. I discovered the primary source of the smoke was the vent above the mini-bar. I opened the sliding doors to the small balcony to air the room out, and hoped it was a fluke. On my return from dinner, it was again quite smoky, but leaving the balcony doors wide open seemed to let enough air in to mitigate it. This was a workable solution until it became clear that cigarette smoke was billowing in from other balconies: apparently, people were considerate enough to not smoke in non-smoking rooms, but not considerate enough to realize that the balconies were very much in a shared airspace.

It was late, and I was tired. I decided to just close the balcony door and deal with the stale, foul smelling smoke coming in through the ventilation system, rather than invite plumes of fresh, foul-smelling smoke from as many as a dozen other balconies. The next afternoon, my business partner arrived, and immediately on entering the room, asked me if I had a smoking room. I agreed it was disgusting, and went down to the front desk to see about changing it. The front desk was busy with arriving guests at the time, so we went to our business appointments and dinner, and I went back to the front desk that night. The woman at the desk was friendly and understanding about it, though she expressed surprise that smoke would be a problem, since the 9th floor was, according to her, an entirely non-smoking floor. Nevertheless, she happily agreed to move me to another room, and within minutes, I was moving my things to the sixth floor of the main (north) tower.

While this room initially seemed better, it quickly became clear that the entire hotel was going to be a problem for smoke, since people on nearly every floor were on their balconies, at one time or another, smoking. In other words, I could not leave my balcony doors open to get the delightful fresh air; instead, all I would get was the foul, noxious cigarette smoke of other guests. Indeed, my next-door neighbor was smoking on his balcony, as were at least ten other people on various floors around me.

I had another couple of very minor complaints: the pool and spa, advertised on the hotel’s web page, was (apparently perpetually) in a state of remodeling. The tub in the second room backed up to several inches of standing water during my shower on Sunday morning. But in truth, these were minor irritations, the likes of which can, and do, occur at any hotel. The smoke being everywhere, however, was the worst I’ve ever experienced at any hotel in the United States.

Some of it probably has to do with the hotel design: the nice curve which allows for beautiful views for so many rooms also means that the airspace is more shared than might be the case on a flat wall. I do understand that, as a business, you need to provide accommodations which are acceptable to all of your guests. I further understand that this means smokers and non-smokers. However, it seems that there are a couple of things you could do to lessen the problem: first, it’s crazy to have non-smoking floors above smoking floors, both for ventilation purposes, and the outside balconies. If smoking was explicitly prohibited (and accordingly signed) in the rooms and on the balconies of all lower floors, say, first through fifth, then it could be allowed on the upper floors, six through nine, with much less impact. Better still would be to prohibit smoking (and post corresponding signage) on all of the outside balconies on at least one of the (five? six?) sides of the hotel. Ideal, though admittedly a significant undertaking, would be to completely prohibit, and sign, smoking in all areas of one of the two buildings (either the north or the south building.)

I am not telling you how to run your business, any more than I would expect you to tell me how to run mine. Rather, I only offer these suggestions as workable ways to make your hotel vastly more pleasant to guests, who, like myself, are very sensitive to smoke, as well as those who simply don’t like it, and don’t want to expose themselves or their families to it.

In the next six to eight months, I expect to return to downtown Salt Lake City for business between ten and fifteen times. Were it not for the smoke problem, I expect that I would return regularly to the Red Lion, as I was genuinely delighted with most other aspects of the hotel, especially the staff, location, and scenic view. Unfortunately, if the smoke problem remains as it is, I will not return, nor will I recommend it to friends and colleagues.

I look forward to your response(s), by return letter or e-mail, and thank you very much for your time.

Sincerely,
[dangr]

beer! (what else?)

was at brew it up! both last night and today. the Csar's Tar (imperial stout) and Skydiver Barleywine were both outstanding, and there is an excellent Belgian red style called Arik the Red on, also wonderful.

today i went down at happy hour with J, with the explicit mission of scheduling some brew-on-premises lovin', and we are set. on 5/20, we'll be brewing a modified version version of their Trade Winds IPA, with a fully customized hop bill, full of such lovelies as Galena, Columbus, Centennial, and Chinook. yum! (screw the Goldings, Fuggles, and Cascade.)

salt lake goodness!

i'm pleasantly delighted with SLC. the views are shockingly anchoragua-like (especially vivid since The Good Senator joined me this weekend, and we couldn't stop commenting how much it was like the Alpenglow of Moose's Tooth fame.)

we drank a whole lot of beer at several brewpubs (links to reviews likely to follow), i went to a very pleasant AAA baseball game friday night, and we basically had a good time.

we had to move hotel rooms, since all the fucking rude assholes blew their smoke into our room, via vents and balconies. fortunately, both rooms shared a SPECTACULAR view of the mountains to the east. the views in SLC, generally, are breathtaking. i'm falling in love with this city, quickly, and surprisingly. it's similar to colorado springs, in that when you drive around a corner, you're just blasted with amazing mountain views. in the springs, though, you only get them to the west. in SLC, you get them to the north, and east, and south, and southwest, and northwest. and due west, you ask? the great salt lake. (stinky, but pretty.)

confidential to all the disgusting women at trolley square: big stupid tall ugly heels with jeans? you're not hot. you're just foul. go crawl back under your rock.

the house hunt continues in earnest: looking like we really want to stick to the central city/downtown/Liberty Park area.

confidential to all the monied yuppies who are driving the housing prices up in Sugarhouse: you're lame. the neighborhood is sterile and boring (compared to many other areas of SLC), it borders on the freeway and a disgusting strip mall, and it's about as far away from SLC as you can get and still be in SLC. hot tip: just go to Sandy, buy a seven bedroom house, a Volvo turbowagon, a purebred golden retriever, and overpriced, anorexia-inducing gymnastics lessons, and get it over with.

overall: very entertaining, fun, laugh-filled, successful trip. (the empties are clanking against one another on the desk as i type this.)

ultra marathons

reading the newspaper this morning, i ran across yet another article on Dean Karnazes, the ultra runner whose recent book, Ultramarathon Man , is just hanging on to the NY Times Best-seller list for Hardcover Non-Fiction, at #34.

i've read lots of coverage of Karnazes recently, who without question is super badass. his goal has long been to run a 300 mile ultra marathon without sleeping. this seemed a pretty good goal, and he's attempted it a couple of times at least, once running 262 miles.

well, this seemed pretty damn impressive to me, until this morning when i read, for this first time, about Pam Reed, an ultra runner from Tucson who not only has already run 300 miles , but also has won and set a women's course record in what is widely considered one of, if not the, most difficult running race in existence, the Badwater Ultramarathon , a 135-mile run from Badwater, Death Valley, the lowest point in the country, to the slopes of Mt. Whitney, the highest peak in the lower 48.

without taking anything away from Karnazes, who is certainly amazing (and a freak, like Reed, and like all ultra runners) it's hard for me to understand why i have heard minimally about Reed. is it that Reed hasn't written a book and gone on a 40 city promotional tour for it (i don't think so: i'd read all about him before the book and the tour). or is it gender?

bank troubles

bad day in bankland: today I was notified that my online account access has been suspended for Wells Fargo. and Regions Bank. (but they kindly offered to let me unlock my online access by inputting my ATM card number and PIN.) and UnionPlanters Bank. and M&I Marshall & Ilsley Bank. (where the hell is that? looks like the UK.) and "Bank of the West" wrote on behalf of WaMu (how nice of them!).

and to top it all off, I can't use ebay anymore because i've used false or misleading contact information. (ebay was so worked up about it that they notified me twice.) dang.

who falls for this shit? apparently enough people to make it worth the time of the scammers, since these seem to be increasing every day.

thoughts on the new papa: Pope Benedict XVI, a.k.a. God's Rottweiler; Nazi Youth and multi-talented Nazi soldier

So, let's review:

• He was a Nazi.
  
• BUT BUT BUT! he deserted.
  
• Well, yeah: in late April or early May 1945. For the historically deficient among us, the Germans surrendered on May 8, 1945. Hitler killed himself on April 30, 1945.
  
• Ratzinger was in Hitler's Youth, but got the benefits thereof (not being jailed, persecuted, or killed for refusal to pariticpate) without most of the obligations (attending regular meetings) when the first of many patrons, a Nazi mathematics professor, arranged for him to receive tutition scholarship payments without having to attend meetings and gatherings.
  
• Then Ratzinger served in the flak, or German anti-aircraft corps, guarding a BMW engine aircraft plant.
  
• Then they went a couple of other places: Unterföhring, northwest of Munich, and briefly to Innsbruck.
  
• From Innsbruck, his unit went to Gilching to protect a jet fighter base and to attack allied bombers as they massed to begin their runs towards Munich. At Gilching, Ratzinger served in telephone communications.
  
• After his unit was released from the flak, he was drafted and entered the Reichsarbeitdienst (RAD). Apparently Ratzinger's main duties were setting up setting up anti-tank defenses (read: landmines and minefields) to prepare for the expected Russian/Allied invasion; however, the RAD has such varied duties as supplying frontline troops with food and ammunition, repairing damaged roads, constructing and repairing airstrips, constructing coastal fortifications (including the Atlantic Wall), manned fortifications, and helping to guard vital locations and prisoners.
  
• Non-combat roles included training as anti-aircraft units and deploy,emt as RAD Flak batteries. (Sound familiar?)
  
• Several RAD units also saw ground combat on the eastern front as infantry. As the German defenses crumbled toward the end fo the war, more and more RAD were committed to direct combat. In the final months of the war the RAD formed 6 major frontline units, which saw heavy fighting.
  
• Ratzinger was released from the RAD, and promptly was drafted into, and entered, an infantry unit. He was in the infantry until his desertion.
  

BUT BUT BUT no sweat: even potential critics are falling over themselves to apologize for his Nazi past: "Membership in the Hitler Youth doesn't disqualify someone from being Pope," Efraim Zuroff (a 'Nazi hunter' and director of the Israel office of the Simon Wiesenthal Center.)

Well, okay: but how about Hitler's Youth, then a Nazi anti-aircraft unit, then a Nazi laying minefields against an Allied invasion, then being in the Nazi infantry?

Planned next installment: from Nazi youth, to hypocritical elitist intelligentsia. (Fun fact: Ratzinger speaks ten languages, including German, Italian, fluent French, English, and ecclesiastical Latin. Fun sidenote: Ratzinger, in the heady days of Vatican II, when he was considered a liberal, once denounced the use of Latin at Mass as archaic, but now he digs it, and reportedly plans to give his first homily in Latin.)

baseball!

i love it. it's the only sport i bother to follow, and it defines early summer days like this: bright, sunny, 80 degrees, mid-april, with the A's vs. Angels game on the radio, 0-0 in the bottom of the 8th inning, runners first and third.

i went with E & K to the A's home opener last monday night, to see them get their ass handed to them by the Blue Jays (10-3.) the game was a lot of fun to go to, despite the abysmal fans we were sitting around in the cheap ($10) seats. the most represented population seemed to be stupid little hoodlums, who clearly didn't know anything about baseball other than it provides tough gangsta caps for them to color in all black with sharpies and wear backwards. several stupid, rude assholes in our section smoked constantly despite people asking them nicely not to (which would have merely complied with the rules at Oakland Coliseum, oops I mean Network Associates Coliseum, oops I mean McAfee Coliseum.) and for that matter, the Coliseum's smoking policy results in the entire View Level (read: cheap seats) concourse being like a pub. oh, actually, you can go to any pub in Oakland and revel in the smoke-free atmosphere since 1995. i think i'll send the Coliseum a nastygram.

homebrew: Decomposed Saint IPA! (and Terri Schiavo)

S and i bottled the homebrew yesterday. (well, actually, i did most of the bottling, as he had to drive his kid back to the kid's mom's house.) it turned out sweet and strong, with an unnaturally high final gravity (1.026). notably, though, we didn't put in nearly enough plain water to the primary fermentation, so this probably contributed to bizarrely high gravity readings.

about a week ago, the time had come to name the beer. i wanted to name it something pretty messed up (those who know me can email me for the story). S balked a little, and we discussed a story he says he saw in the news about the pope, that if his body lies in the grave for three years, and they dig it up, and it isn't decomposed, then it's evidence of his being a saint. so we named the beer Decomposed Saint IPA. (if you can believe it, this was a little less spooky than what i wanted to name it.)

here's some information on this idea of el papa and other would-be saints defying the laws of science and nature:

slate.msn.com/id/2116395/:
"If John Paul II is eventually canonized, he might not have to worry. Some Catholics believe that the bodies of saints are "incorruptible." That is, they never decompose."

that Slate page links to a seriously bizarre page about "Incorrupt Bodies of the Saints", which links to another bizarre, as well as silly and longwinded, rant, found by clicking on the "Terri Schiavo, Saint?" link. i don't even want to provide hyperlinks here, since i don't want to make it easy for them to track back to my blog. i also don't want to be directly responsible for your having wasted four to six minutes of your life reading that crap that you'll never get back.

all digital wedding photography!

a couple of weeks ago, i photographed a wedding. (entirely in digital, which i think is the way the entire industry is doing to go in the next few years. i'm a little shocked it isn't already going that way.) i can do it MUCH cheaper than traditional photography with the lack of overhead from film, processing, and a darkroom, and so i can pass that on to the client. for example, this last weding ended up costing the clients $568, for almost six hours of photography, and around 2,000 images. (no, that's not a typo: 2,000.)

i just finished the basic post-processing (separating wheat from chaff, red-eye reduction, selecting certain photos i think are particularly interesting, etc.) whew.

a little more for tonight, and then some sleep!

p.s. if you or someone you know is getting married, i'll travel to interesting places for no or little additional cost! (no additional cost if i can justify the travel as a fun vacation for me, and a little additional cost if it's an exceptionally expensive place to find accommodations.)

recent beer reviews!

under my (other) nom de plume, Warmstorage, i review lots of beers and brewpubs on a couple of different sites. of late, i've mostly been reviewing on beeradvocate.com. a few recent reviews:

Sierra Nevada Brewing Company (aka The Mothership), Chico, CA (reviewed : http://www.beeradvocate.com/beerfly/user_reviews/140/
Beermann's Beerwerks, Lincoln, CA: http://www.beeradvocate.com/beerfly/user_reviews/8817

(both Sierra Nevada and Beermann's Beerwerks were visited, imbibed with, and reviewed cojointly with The Good Senator .)

Sierra Nevada Bigfoot Barleywine: http://www.beeradvocate.com/beer/rate_results/140/2671/latest/0/warmstorage/
Sierra Nevada Best Bitter Ale: http://www.beeradvocate.com/beer/rate_results/140/8169/latest/0/warmstorage/
Anchor Brewing, 1997 Our Special Ale (Christmas Ale): http://www.beeradvocate.com/beer/rate_results/28/2880/latest/0/warmstorage/

homebrew!

i'm fretting quite extensively about the IPA that S and i homebrewed on Friday (he took the day off of work to brew: there's a man who has his priorities straight!)

it was the first batch i've brewed in a long time, and the first time he's ever brewed. more worrisome to me, i've always brewed with other, more experienced brewers, who were in charge of when the inevitable existential and logistical crises developed. being the lead brewer was pretty nerveracking.

good things:

• we got it all brewed, without totally destroying the kitchen in the rented home he just moved in to about two weeks ago.
  
• it's the correct general color
  
• it started with a VERY vigorous fermenting action
  
• i have yet to be made sick by it

bad things:

• i dropped the carboy (thankfully, we spent the extra $20 for a high tech, plastic carboy!) while aerating it, spilling probably a half gallon.
  
• the disinterested guy that sold us the homebrew equipment didn't bother to point out that the high tech plastic carboy needed a smaller rubber cork for the airlock, so the homebrew spent its first 24 hours of existence with ziploc bag taped over it for an airlock.
  
• we only had a 15.1 liter pot to brew in, so we were volume limited, and i didn't add enough plain water to the fermenter, so we only have about 3.5 gallons fermenting in the 5 gallon carboy.
  
• the fermenting action has dropped dramatically, leading me to worry incessantly.
  
• S's house is FUCKING COLD, so we've had to turn on the heat to keep the fermenting temperature warm enough, which makes the front living room area of his house unbearably hot. so i closed all the vents in the house outside of the room where it's fermenting.

i'm toying with re-pitching yeast tomorrow if we don't get some fermentation action.

in other notes, The Good Senator is in town, and we spent most of yesterday brewpub touring. links to reviews to be posted soon.

back to worrying about the homebrew, and reading Papazian's The Complete Joy of Homebrewing.

annualcreditreport.com

for fun, i used the new FACT Act free credit report service last night, to see what random things have popped up on my credit reporting since i last checked it, about a year and a half ago. it's a decent service, although, bizarrely, i failed the security check questions asked by Trans-Union and Equifax, and so was only able to view my Experian report.

imagine my surprise to see a collection account for an old T-Mobile bill ($46) that i already paid off once for nuisance value. i'm on hold now with the fucking new collection company, and since i can't figure out what bank i wrote the check on (it was about two years, five addresses, and several banks ago) i guess i'm going to pay it off AGAIN for nuisance value. sure makes me mad, but it makes me even angrier to have it marring my otherwise good credit.

this time i'm going to CC the letter to the president of T-Mobile and see if I can get them to confirm that it was, in fact, paid off this time.

i know these rude, curt, terse bottom feeders are really just regular people doing their shitty, barely above minimum wage jobs (and in fucking florida, at that.) i know this. . .
but fuck, can't you just give me an address to send a check to for $46.39, so i can pay this fucking thing off? why do you need to transfer me to two different people, and then call me back? why?

back in saccaminnow
back now in the house that i grew up in. it's a little odd, and a little comforting. i've been running, and riding, and walking a lot (the upside of not having our car here: J is driving it up later this week from san diego.)

while there are certainly parts of san diego that i'll miss (yes, it's pleasant to go look out over the ocean), there are so many that i won't: traffic; image-obsessed, plastic people; absurd cost of living; the right wing reactionism. it was awfully nice to walk around in december and january in shorts and short sleeves, though much of san diego's supposedly "perfect" weather is, as noted by me before, just smart (and untrue) marketing.

a series of physical and gastrointestinal ailments, and two bad colds in two weeks, have left me way off of marathon training pace, and doubting whether i'll be in good shape for a may marathon. since the travel schedule only calms somewhat in the next few months, i'm likely to reschedule training and a marathon for Utah, when i can do it right. in the meantime, the likely plan is to keep exercising and stay in good shape, so that i'm not starting over when i do begin active marathon training again.

plans on the middle burners include a bike tour (with J) down the Oregon and northern California coast, seeing how many brewpubs and wineries (if not vineyards) we can hit without going very far out of our way. i just bought the brand new edition of Bicycling the Pacific Coast by Vicky Spring and Tom Kirkendall, the acknowledged bible of this bike route, which i also used when i rode from Saccaminnow to San Diego in spring 1995.

that ride was on the cheap, and totally self-supported: i was loaded down with a sleeping bag, several changes of clothes, etc. this time around, our older and creakier bodies are requesting that we do it much less on the cheap. while we're certainly not planning a true "credit card tour", we are going to stay mostly/entirely in places with roofs, and not carry pounds and pounds of food, and find a laundromat a couple of times along the way, so that we can mostly carry extra socks and underwear, and not multiple changes of clothing. i expect it to be a hell of a lot more pleasant ride, and probably every bit as scenic.

now i'm going to go strip, sand, and stain five pieces of furniture. it's nice to have a garage and driveway to work with again!