Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Interview with Dogfish Head founder
Today's installment of Here & Now on the Boston NPR outlet had a 5 minute interview with Dogfish Head founder Sam Calagione, it starts at about the 8:40 mark of the podcast. He explains how craft brewers have been affected by increasing grain prices and our unfortunate experiment with ethanol subsidies and using food for motor fuel.
The interviewer could've done a better job, but Calagione, as always, does a great job of explaining what separates craft beers from typical macrobrew. He also lays out in simple terms why changing the market for rice and corn hurts brewers who use barley and hops.
Their show archives use links to Real Player (welcome to the 20th century, why don't you just distribute the show on wax cylinders?), but I'd suggest pulling up their podcast directory and grabbing the show there.
The interviewer could've done a better job, but Calagione, as always, does a great job of explaining what separates craft beers from typical macrobrew. He also lays out in simple terms why changing the market for rice and corn hurts brewers who use barley and hops.
Their show archives use links to Real Player (welcome to the 20th century, why don't you just distribute the show on wax cylinders?), but I'd suggest pulling up their podcast directory and grabbing the show there.
Carrier
Ruth and I just geeked out to the first two hours of "Carrier" on PBS. If you're not watching it, start right now (or check your local listings, yadda yadda yadda).
To quote my wife, "I have the coolest job!"
To quote my wife, "I have the coolest job!"
Irrelevant skills
Today what we need is a widely distributed short film explaining how to use a cell phone without looking like a jackass. The hardest (perhaps impossible) task would be finding a narrator for the 21st century, a voice that would bring the same tone of absolute unquestionable moral authority to today's diverse audience that "Disembodied Newsreel Man" brought to the pre-TV age.
Obviously, there's only one choice.
If he can convince people to drink the-beverage-that-will-not-be-named, I have no doubt he can drag us all into a new age of cell phone civility.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Theo and the giant squash
Another photo of Theo and I; this one is probably about a month old.
The Green Grocer is a wonderful organic/natural grocery up in Portsmouth where I buy a lot of the fruits & veggies I use to make Theo's baby food. I could get some of what we buy there for less at a chain grocery, but for many specialty items their selection is better. In the case of food, I'm willing to pay more to shop at a locally owned business that provides stellar service and sells locally sourced products whenever they can. Not to mention that all their fresh items and bulk grains are far better looking and tasting than what I get prepackaged from local stores.
On that particular visit, Aly pointed out the MONSTER (almost 12 pounds) butternut squash in their produce bins. Like any small retailer, they're at the mercy of what's available from farmers and distributors. We had a laugh about this gourd that practically outweighed the baby, but I don't think she actually expected me to buy it.
But after thinking for a moment, I realized that I usually process almost 10 pounds of carrots or apples or squash for Theo's baby food -- this wasn't much more and might actually be more convenient than buying two smaller squash. Plus, how many of their other customers could use that much squash without watching half of it go bad? They might already be pondering eating the cost (pun intended) of that monster; so what better way to support a business I like than to relieve them of some hard-to-move inventory I'll actually use?
So when I told them I'd take it, the word passed quickly among the staff. Someone is buying THE SQUASH. John suggested a picture for their newsletter, which is the shot I linked at the top of the page. Theo was a bit tired that day, so the only goofy smile was provided by yours truly.
A couple days later, THE SQUASH became a gallon ziploc bag of frozen squash puree cubes, with enough left over to make a pasta sauce for the adults to enjoy.
Here's one of the pictures I took once we got it home but before it faced the oven and the immersion blender.
The Green Grocer is a wonderful organic/natural grocery up in Portsmouth where I buy a lot of the fruits & veggies I use to make Theo's baby food. I could get some of what we buy there for less at a chain grocery, but for many specialty items their selection is better. In the case of food, I'm willing to pay more to shop at a locally owned business that provides stellar service and sells locally sourced products whenever they can. Not to mention that all their fresh items and bulk grains are far better looking and tasting than what I get prepackaged from local stores.
On that particular visit, Aly pointed out the MONSTER (almost 12 pounds) butternut squash in their produce bins. Like any small retailer, they're at the mercy of what's available from farmers and distributors. We had a laugh about this gourd that practically outweighed the baby, but I don't think she actually expected me to buy it.
But after thinking for a moment, I realized that I usually process almost 10 pounds of carrots or apples or squash for Theo's baby food -- this wasn't much more and might actually be more convenient than buying two smaller squash. Plus, how many of their other customers could use that much squash without watching half of it go bad? They might already be pondering eating the cost (pun intended) of that monster; so what better way to support a business I like than to relieve them of some hard-to-move inventory I'll actually use?
So when I told them I'd take it, the word passed quickly among the staff. Someone is buying THE SQUASH. John suggested a picture for their newsletter, which is the shot I linked at the top of the page. Theo was a bit tired that day, so the only goofy smile was provided by yours truly.
A couple days later, THE SQUASH became a gallon ziploc bag of frozen squash puree cubes, with enough left over to make a pasta sauce for the adults to enjoy.
Here's one of the pictures I took once we got it home but before it faced the oven and the immersion blender.
Monday, April 21, 2008
This doesn't happen much anymore
But I'm so happy to have Photo Booth when it does. I didn't think he'd get an early nap today when we got home from swimming and he was still awake. But after finishing his lunch bottle, he went right to sleep in my arms.
Old blogger, new blog
My friend Tom Litchford, in addition to his own fine blog, has joined the group blog at Military Spouse magazine, where he's also a columnist for their print edition. I like seeing the blogroll under "People I actually know" get longer.
In addition to being a far more thoughtful blogger than yours truly, he's a fellow Navy spouse/new dad/coffee drinker/beer lover/cat owner/beard wearer/Big Ten grad. Now that I think about it, I just hope that after reading him, you all begin to miss profanity and a sporadic posting schedule enough to come back here.
In addition to being a far more thoughtful blogger than yours truly, he's a fellow Navy spouse/new dad/coffee drinker/beer lover/cat owner/beard wearer/Big Ten grad. Now that I think about it, I just hope that after reading him, you all begin to miss profanity and a sporadic posting schedule enough to come back here.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
My theories have support
Although, I don't really think the producers knew who all the cylons were this far back.
Why Hillary Clinton will never be President
As explained by the guy with three missing teeth and a lazy eye who was hanging out at the bus stop outside Stop & Shop this afternoon:
"See, once a family has lived in the White House, they can't move back into the White House. It's the law. Naw, see, Bill Clinton was already President. They're married, so it's like they're together, they're the same person. It's the law."
Someone give this man a computer and he'll be a top political blogger by Memorial Day. No doubt.
See what you're all missing when you drive around to run errands, instead of walking?
"See, once a family has lived in the White House, they can't move back into the White House. It's the law. Naw, see, Bill Clinton was already President. They're married, so it's like they're together, they're the same person. It's the law."
Someone give this man a computer and he'll be a top political blogger by Memorial Day. No doubt.
See what you're all missing when you drive around to run errands, instead of walking?
When Google Analytics goes wrong
The #1 Google search sending people to this site over the past three months is "furry boys".
Yep, there's my site, six links down on the first page of results.
I'm torn. Part of me thinks I'm happy for any visitors my mental wanderings attract. The other part of me thinks Eeeew eeeeeew! Eeeewwwwwwwww!
Just about the time I came to terms with this, I realized that the number two search was "diapers movie".
I haven't followed any links in those two searches, BTW. Just the thought of them has me rushing to the shower to bleach my brain.
Yep, there's my site, six links down on the first page of results.
I'm torn. Part of me thinks I'm happy for any visitors my mental wanderings attract. The other part of me thinks Eeeew eeeeeew! Eeeewwwwwwwww!
Just about the time I came to terms with this, I realized that the number two search was "diapers movie".
I haven't followed any links in those two searches, BTW. Just the thought of them has me rushing to the shower to bleach my brain.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Chicago Police Department forced to put down Kim Cattrall
It's a shame, really, but you can't have aging sexpots wandering around alleys in a residential neighborhood.
Alabama lawmen harrass amateur baker
If I told you a state could outlaw baking bread, you'd say I was nuts. After all, they can't stop people from buying crushed grains, yeast metal pans. Even if they passed the law -- good luck enforcing it.
Well, that wont' stop the state of Alabama.
I'm not going to post the link here for various reasons, but according to online forums one of the people quoted in that story has been visited by Alabama's bakery police, who aren't too happy about his yeast-related activities. It sounds to me like they're just trying to put a scare in people who would flaunt their prohibition on amateur bakeries, because if they were planning to send in the SWAT teams with a warrant, they have all the probable cause they need from that article.
If you're thinking I've lost it, because clearly the story is about a home brewing hobbyist and not a baker at all -- then I would ask why the law should see any difference between the two? Grains, water, yeast and heat are combined to force a chemical change that creates an all new food product that dates back to the dawn of civilization.
Of course, one source of the ongoing stupidity is clear from the article -- too many people who would rather police the fate of other people's souls when they should be examining their own.
But as I usually do, I'd rather put the blame on bureaucratic inertia and the unfortunate majority in this country who've never seen a problem they couldn't fix with some extra government interference. We just never learn.
The number one lesson, though, is that it's OK to break a stupid law -- people are doing it every day -- but don't rub Big Brother's nose in it. He bites.
Well, that wont' stop the state of Alabama.
I'm not going to post the link here for various reasons, but according to online forums one of the people quoted in that story has been visited by Alabama's bakery police, who aren't too happy about his yeast-related activities. It sounds to me like they're just trying to put a scare in people who would flaunt their prohibition on amateur bakeries, because if they were planning to send in the SWAT teams with a warrant, they have all the probable cause they need from that article.
If you're thinking I've lost it, because clearly the story is about a home brewing hobbyist and not a baker at all -- then I would ask why the law should see any difference between the two? Grains, water, yeast and heat are combined to force a chemical change that creates an all new food product that dates back to the dawn of civilization.
Of course, one source of the ongoing stupidity is clear from the article -- too many people who would rather police the fate of other people's souls when they should be examining their own.
But as I usually do, I'd rather put the blame on bureaucratic inertia and the unfortunate majority in this country who've never seen a problem they couldn't fix with some extra government interference. We just never learn.
The number one lesson, though, is that it's OK to break a stupid law -- people are doing it every day -- but don't rub Big Brother's nose in it. He bites.
The Gospel according to LOLCat
Saturday, April 12, 2008
"...if we lived in Grand Theft Auto-ville..."
I linked her blog post in my reading list, but for those of you who might ignore those links, I wanted to reinforce that you need to read Lenore Skenazy's column "Here's your MetroCard, kid."
As I told her, I hope that I show the same composure, good sense and trust in my child as our kids grow up.
Of course, her parenting heresy brings out the nannies, ninnies and meddlers.
In a way, it's comforting to know there are so many paranoid parents out there. The children who learn independence and how to push their boundaries will be the leaders and innovators of the future; They're going to need plenty of worker bees who value security and dependence while harboring an unhealthy fear of the unknown. Today's parents are ensuring a steady supply of the worker bees far into the future...
As I told her, I hope that I show the same composure, good sense and trust in my child as our kids grow up.
Of course, her parenting heresy brings out the nannies, ninnies and meddlers.
In a way, it's comforting to know there are so many paranoid parents out there. The children who learn independence and how to push their boundaries will be the leaders and innovators of the future; They're going to need plenty of worker bees who value security and dependence while harboring an unhealthy fear of the unknown. Today's parents are ensuring a steady supply of the worker bees far into the future...
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Something all my commenters can agree on
I finally watched the season premiere of Battlestar Galactica last night. You all can argue over the 12th model and what beers they brew in the Galactica's fan rooms. I gotta say that I love where the storylines are going right now. So far they're right up there with the escape from New Caprica as far as combining the deep & philosophical with the action packed.
Let me get things started with some controversial statements...
1. Baltar has to think that they DID execute him, because he obviously went to horndog heaven where he's drowning in worhipful poon.
2. Apollo has apparently never heard the term "Stop-loss."
3. It's not a matter of IF they make it to Earth -- it's a matter of WHEN they make it to Earth. As in, will it be in our far future? or past? Or will the humans and Cylons make peace and the show ends as they settle into Earth orbit, not knowing what year it is?
4. Rosalyn is the other Cylon.
That ought to get you started...
Let me get things started with some controversial statements...
1. Baltar has to think that they DID execute him, because he obviously went to horndog heaven where he's drowning in worhipful poon.
2. Apollo has apparently never heard the term "Stop-loss."
3. It's not a matter of IF they make it to Earth -- it's a matter of WHEN they make it to Earth. As in, will it be in our far future? or past? Or will the humans and Cylons make peace and the show ends as they settle into Earth orbit, not knowing what year it is?
4. Rosalyn is the other Cylon.
That ought to get you started...
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
For Michelle
Just for you, I'll say some nice things about Anheuser-Busch Companies Inc., St. Louis MO.
As a homebrewer, I couldn't make half of the beers they do, even if I wanted to.
They distribute and own a piece of Red Hook, who make some great beers.
They import Leffe Blond, which is one of Ruth's favorites.
"Here's to good friends, tonight is kinda special, blah blah blah Lowenbrau."
Grolsch bottles are handy for homebrewing.
They haven't messed up Hoegaarden yet. (Ok, that wasn't very nice, actually, but I'm trying!)
And it's not that I'll refuse to drink a Budweiser. I'm not a snob.
You like wine, so I know you have taste buds -- stick around and we'll drink the A-B marketing spiel out of your vocabulary yet!
As a homebrewer, I couldn't make half of the beers they do, even if I wanted to.
They distribute and own a piece of Red Hook, who make some great beers.
They import Leffe Blond, which is one of Ruth's favorites.
"Here's to good friends, tonight is kinda special, blah blah blah Lowenbrau."
Grolsch bottles are handy for homebrewing.
They haven't messed up Hoegaarden yet. (Ok, that wasn't very nice, actually, but I'm trying!)
And it's not that I'll refuse to drink a Budweiser. I'm not a snob.
You like wine, so I know you have taste buds -- stick around and we'll drink the A-B marketing spiel out of your vocabulary yet!
"May I add just a word about good, wholesome beer?"
Another post delayed by sick baby.
Budweiser may be swill, but I really enjoyed hearing this recording of August A. Busch Jr. welcoming the return of 3.2% pseudo-beer to distribution on April 7, 1933.
[Soapbox ON]
It's too bad that the fundamental mistake of prohibition -- a misguided belief that government action can force humanity closer to any one person's arbitrary "ideal" -- is probably MORE prevalent in the US today than it was then.
[Soapbox OFF]
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
My Rules of the Internet
OK, I don't have a hard-and-fast list of these, but one just came to mind as I was talking with James. Call it...number 437:
Any other writer's ignorant anti-scientific rambling is a sign of the apocalypse, as cro-magnon intelligences try to return us to the dark ages.
MY ignorant anti-scientific rambling is undeniable truth and most likely the discovery of a vast conspiracy against me. When was Science ever right about anything anyway?"
Any other writer's ignorant anti-scientific rambling is a sign of the apocalypse, as cro-magnon intelligences try to return us to the dark ages.
MY ignorant anti-scientific rambling is undeniable truth and most likely the discovery of a vast conspiracy against me. When was Science ever right about anything anyway?"
Required reading
I meant to link this last week, but it fell through the cracks while addressing my son's puking-related program activities.
Dan Savage's mother died last week. He wrote her a wonderful farewell in his column that reminded me yet again why he is one of my favorite writers.
Dan Savage's mother died last week. He wrote her a wonderful farewell in his column that reminded me yet again why he is one of my favorite writers.
Monday, April 7, 2008
For everyone who complains I've had it too easy
If this post is disjointed, you'll have to forgive me. I haven't been this short on sleep in a while.
Friday morning started like many others -- I congratulated myself for waking up before my Theo-brand alarm, only to hear him start to rouse before I'd even made it to the coffee pot. Still, complaining that he didn't give me any morning time to myself would be futile as well as ungrateful on my part, because the last few weeks he has been letting me have 8 hours of sleep in a row.
I grab formula for Theo, coffee for Daddy and we head to the couch. Theo pushed the bottle away with 3-4oz left in the bottom. This is all too normal for him; if nothing else, Spud has taught his miserly Daddy not to get upset over wasting powdered milk.
In a not-so-normal move, the moment I turned him around for a burp, he deposited all the formula and a few chunks of last night's dinner square in my lap.
"Huh," I said to him. I was too shocked to come up with anything else. But he's puked before, so following standard procedure I changed our clothes and took him downstairs to see if he was hungry.
All the parents out there with extensive puke-related experience are going to notice all the mistakes I made from this point on. Please just laugh at me amongst yourselves and resist the urge to tell me about my shortcomings in the comments, because I already feel like crap and have a ceiling-high pile of laundry here reminding me of my mistakes...
Suffice to say the rest of the day was a blur of puking, changing clothes and trying to get something to stay in his stomach. The craziest part was, he wasn't bothered at all by any of this. He would just puke, look at me, and grin from ear to ear, then go back to whatever he'd been interested in before. On the plus side, he was smart enough not to pick up stomach contents and use them as hair product.
After a couple more episodes of "Daddy didn't like that shirt anyway," Mommy brought home some pediatric kool-aid at lunchtime, which helped a lot. [NOTE: In an attempt to avoid one registered trademark, I just fell back on another. Duuuuuurrrrrr, screw it.]
The pedialyte and some rice cereal stayed down all of the afternoon, which calmed the little voice inside my head that was encouraging me to call the doctor before the clinic closed while also inspiring me to add a little bit of formula powder to the same formulation at dinnertime. Oops. Dinner and lunch go everywhere, and now the clinic is closed. No problem, we'll just put something back in his stomach, right?
So after yet another cleanup, I put him to bed with a few sips of pedialyte and a couple swallows of rice cereal. [Yeah, remember what I said above about realizing now that I was dumb? Feel free to laugh.]
I sent Ruth off to watch the season premiere of BSG with some friends, and sat down to calm my own stomach (When did I eat last? who knows) with a couple black bean tacos and some instant noodles.
...And 10 minutes after finishing, realized that those WEREN'T hunger pangs in my stomach. After doing my best imitation of Theo (except I did it over the toilet! yay me!), I was actually OVERJOYED. "Oh thank goodness this has probably just been a stomach bug!" Parent logic is like that. So I went to bed a little before 9, and thank goodness spud slept straight through, so neither of us woke up until after 8.
Theo woke up acting perfectly normal -- happy to see me, but STARVING. Still not noticing the pattern from yesterday, I gave him a full bottle. Then a half-hour later, as normal, I fed him some breakfast, sticking with the pedialyte and cereal.
This time, most of it ended up on my shirt, until I put him down in his crib to clean myself up, when he went Vesuvius all over his sheet and anything else within a couple feet. An archaeologist could have found everything he ate that morning, plus cereal from the night before.
Then the kid pretty much went catatonic, lethargic, staring-off-into-space. I called the clinic weekend number, confirmed that I'd been a dumb-ass and received their blessing to take spud to the ER, because the clinic can't do forced rehydration.
Luckily we're only about a 10 minute drive from the hospital. Even though the kid clearly wasn't acting like himself at this point, I was never really worried. I could tell he wasn't dangerously dehydrated, but I knew if we didn't get him looked at and get some expert input into my mistakes, he could get there.
The ER went as well as I could've possibly hoped. We'd brought homework and a computer and beverages, girding ourselves for the "hurry up and wait," but ended up being there less than 90 minutes, with no long waits to speak of. We gave him a couple oz of pedialyte in the waiting room when he got grumpy, which perked him up quite a bit.
He never did smile at the doctor or triage nurse, but I wouldn't have big grins for a lady shoving a glass tube into my rectum either. Just not my kink.
The Doc and nurses reassured us that we'd done the right thing, that dehydrated babies are a bad thing and we shouldn't hesitate to call or bring him back if he didn't seem to get better.
They also made me realize, without saying so directly, that what DIDN'T help the situation was Daddy's paranoia that the kid would somehow starve to death in a matter of hours without calories in his tummy. For almost 11 months my world had revolved around getting every possible calorie into this little person's mouth -- now I'm supposed to just STOP? Until I heard it from the doctor and read it in the instructions, it seemed like crazy talk.
Since he'd already kept 2-3 oz of pedialyte down for an hour, we were at least able to skip the "feed him with an eyedropper" stage. The rest of the afternoon was spent filling a bottle with 2 oz of pedialyte every 30 minutes and giving it to a hungry boy, who would spend the following 30 minutes crying and fussing because he was still hungry. NOT good for Daddy's psyche, but I administered plenty of hugs and didn't budge. Midway through the afternoon he grinned at me, back to his old self and started playing on his own like nothing had happened.
By bedtime we were able to give him just a little bit of very diluted formula, a process we repeated through the night. He's been getting me up a lot the last couple nights to put something in his empty stomach, but he's still not as hungry as normal (and I now know better than to push it).
If he's not back to normal by tomorrow, there will be a trip to the pediatrician, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there. Sigh. It's 11:30. I should eat some breakfast.
[UPDATE: At James's suggestion, I'm posting a photo. This one is from Saturday afternoon but it's still an accurate portrayal of our moods this morning.]
Friday morning started like many others -- I congratulated myself for waking up before my Theo-brand alarm, only to hear him start to rouse before I'd even made it to the coffee pot. Still, complaining that he didn't give me any morning time to myself would be futile as well as ungrateful on my part, because the last few weeks he has been letting me have 8 hours of sleep in a row.
I grab formula for Theo, coffee for Daddy and we head to the couch. Theo pushed the bottle away with 3-4oz left in the bottom. This is all too normal for him; if nothing else, Spud has taught his miserly Daddy not to get upset over wasting powdered milk.
In a not-so-normal move, the moment I turned him around for a burp, he deposited all the formula and a few chunks of last night's dinner square in my lap.
"Huh," I said to him. I was too shocked to come up with anything else. But he's puked before, so following standard procedure I changed our clothes and took him downstairs to see if he was hungry.
All the parents out there with extensive puke-related experience are going to notice all the mistakes I made from this point on. Please just laugh at me amongst yourselves and resist the urge to tell me about my shortcomings in the comments, because I already feel like crap and have a ceiling-high pile of laundry here reminding me of my mistakes...
Suffice to say the rest of the day was a blur of puking, changing clothes and trying to get something to stay in his stomach. The craziest part was, he wasn't bothered at all by any of this. He would just puke, look at me, and grin from ear to ear, then go back to whatever he'd been interested in before. On the plus side, he was smart enough not to pick up stomach contents and use them as hair product.
After a couple more episodes of "Daddy didn't like that shirt anyway," Mommy brought home some pediatric kool-aid at lunchtime, which helped a lot. [NOTE: In an attempt to avoid one registered trademark, I just fell back on another. Duuuuuurrrrrr, screw it.]
The pedialyte and some rice cereal stayed down all of the afternoon, which calmed the little voice inside my head that was encouraging me to call the doctor before the clinic closed while also inspiring me to add a little bit of formula powder to the same formulation at dinnertime. Oops. Dinner and lunch go everywhere, and now the clinic is closed. No problem, we'll just put something back in his stomach, right?
So after yet another cleanup, I put him to bed with a few sips of pedialyte and a couple swallows of rice cereal. [Yeah, remember what I said above about realizing now that I was dumb? Feel free to laugh.]
I sent Ruth off to watch the season premiere of BSG with some friends, and sat down to calm my own stomach (When did I eat last? who knows) with a couple black bean tacos and some instant noodles.
...And 10 minutes after finishing, realized that those WEREN'T hunger pangs in my stomach. After doing my best imitation of Theo (except I did it over the toilet! yay me!), I was actually OVERJOYED. "Oh thank goodness this has probably just been a stomach bug!" Parent logic is like that. So I went to bed a little before 9, and thank goodness spud slept straight through, so neither of us woke up until after 8.
Theo woke up acting perfectly normal -- happy to see me, but STARVING. Still not noticing the pattern from yesterday, I gave him a full bottle. Then a half-hour later, as normal, I fed him some breakfast, sticking with the pedialyte and cereal.
This time, most of it ended up on my shirt, until I put him down in his crib to clean myself up, when he went Vesuvius all over his sheet and anything else within a couple feet. An archaeologist could have found everything he ate that morning, plus cereal from the night before.
Then the kid pretty much went catatonic, lethargic, staring-off-into-space. I called the clinic weekend number, confirmed that I'd been a dumb-ass and received their blessing to take spud to the ER, because the clinic can't do forced rehydration.
Luckily we're only about a 10 minute drive from the hospital. Even though the kid clearly wasn't acting like himself at this point, I was never really worried. I could tell he wasn't dangerously dehydrated, but I knew if we didn't get him looked at and get some expert input into my mistakes, he could get there.
The ER went as well as I could've possibly hoped. We'd brought homework and a computer and beverages, girding ourselves for the "hurry up and wait," but ended up being there less than 90 minutes, with no long waits to speak of. We gave him a couple oz of pedialyte in the waiting room when he got grumpy, which perked him up quite a bit.
He never did smile at the doctor or triage nurse, but I wouldn't have big grins for a lady shoving a glass tube into my rectum either. Just not my kink.
The Doc and nurses reassured us that we'd done the right thing, that dehydrated babies are a bad thing and we shouldn't hesitate to call or bring him back if he didn't seem to get better.
They also made me realize, without saying so directly, that what DIDN'T help the situation was Daddy's paranoia that the kid would somehow starve to death in a matter of hours without calories in his tummy. For almost 11 months my world had revolved around getting every possible calorie into this little person's mouth -- now I'm supposed to just STOP? Until I heard it from the doctor and read it in the instructions, it seemed like crazy talk.
Since he'd already kept 2-3 oz of pedialyte down for an hour, we were at least able to skip the "feed him with an eyedropper" stage. The rest of the afternoon was spent filling a bottle with 2 oz of pedialyte every 30 minutes and giving it to a hungry boy, who would spend the following 30 minutes crying and fussing because he was still hungry. NOT good for Daddy's psyche, but I administered plenty of hugs and didn't budge. Midway through the afternoon he grinned at me, back to his old self and started playing on his own like nothing had happened.
By bedtime we were able to give him just a little bit of very diluted formula, a process we repeated through the night. He's been getting me up a lot the last couple nights to put something in his empty stomach, but he's still not as hungry as normal (and I now know better than to push it).
If he's not back to normal by tomorrow, there will be a trip to the pediatrician, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there. Sigh. It's 11:30. I should eat some breakfast.
[UPDATE: At James's suggestion, I'm posting a photo. This one is from Saturday afternoon but it's still an accurate portrayal of our moods this morning.]
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Homebrew diary: Irish red ale
Yeah, so this kit has been sitting a while, I originally wanted it for early spring but now it's looking like a Memorial Day brew. So be it. This was a Midwest extract kit that I supplemented with 2.5 lbs of 2-row in a mini-mash.
I'm really getting in a roll on these. I was at just over 4 hours from lighting the stove for the mash to carrying the full carboy to the basement, and that included giving explanations to a pal who was hanging out to watch the process. I had a couple issues with temp control on the mini-mash, but I think I kept the pot in a good temperature range; time will tell, as I completely forgot to pull a sample to taste (Hydrometer is broken so I'm flying by the seat of my pants right now).
Aside from that boner, I was fully prepared -- no rushing to mix extra sanitizer or forgetting any tools this time -- and barely had to consult my notes along the way. Post-boil, I only had to add about a half-gallon of water to the carboy to get to the 5gal line. Cooling over 4.5 gallons in the sink is getting more challenging, especially with no snow on the ground to pile into the sink. I still came in at about a half-hour, but that required a ton of ice and more stirring than I was comfy with.
So now that I feel like I have this all under control, it's time to finish constructing my MLT, and go all-grain. Why make it easy?
I'm mostly kidding. Even once I experiment with all-grain, I still see myself making some extract batches, for example when I want to make a couple cases of beer for a party or just for pounding back on the porch. I see myself dividing the hobby into "experimental/challenging" brews, which I'll make all-grain, and "beer I make so I don't have to buy it from the packy," which will probably be extract.
On the other hand, one of my brew-fathers told me that he doesn't find all-grain to be any more of a PITA than extract and he's more or less stopped with extract entirely. So maybe I'll do the same...
Anyway, it looks like an expensive month, as I need to buy the hardware to finish my MLT, a refractometer (screw the hydrometer, paper-thin glass tubes and my clumsy ass don't get along), and probably a wort chiller. I also have a few small items I've been meaning to pick up , like a wallpaper tray for sanitizing siphons and some extra plastic tubing so I don't have to keep removing and reattaching the same plastic tube to other pieces of gear for racking, bottling, etc. Right now, unless I buy the tubing, it's just a matter of time until I crack the siphon or the bottling wand and put it through my hand. There's your happy thought for the day.
Plus Ruth's birthday is in 2 weeks along with tax day. Yikes...
I'm really getting in a roll on these. I was at just over 4 hours from lighting the stove for the mash to carrying the full carboy to the basement, and that included giving explanations to a pal who was hanging out to watch the process. I had a couple issues with temp control on the mini-mash, but I think I kept the pot in a good temperature range; time will tell, as I completely forgot to pull a sample to taste (Hydrometer is broken so I'm flying by the seat of my pants right now).
Aside from that boner, I was fully prepared -- no rushing to mix extra sanitizer or forgetting any tools this time -- and barely had to consult my notes along the way. Post-boil, I only had to add about a half-gallon of water to the carboy to get to the 5gal line. Cooling over 4.5 gallons in the sink is getting more challenging, especially with no snow on the ground to pile into the sink. I still came in at about a half-hour, but that required a ton of ice and more stirring than I was comfy with.
So now that I feel like I have this all under control, it's time to finish constructing my MLT, and go all-grain. Why make it easy?
I'm mostly kidding. Even once I experiment with all-grain, I still see myself making some extract batches, for example when I want to make a couple cases of beer for a party or just for pounding back on the porch. I see myself dividing the hobby into "experimental/challenging" brews, which I'll make all-grain, and "beer I make so I don't have to buy it from the packy," which will probably be extract.
On the other hand, one of my brew-fathers told me that he doesn't find all-grain to be any more of a PITA than extract and he's more or less stopped with extract entirely. So maybe I'll do the same...
Anyway, it looks like an expensive month, as I need to buy the hardware to finish my MLT, a refractometer (screw the hydrometer, paper-thin glass tubes and my clumsy ass don't get along), and probably a wort chiller. I also have a few small items I've been meaning to pick up , like a wallpaper tray for sanitizing siphons and some extra plastic tubing so I don't have to keep removing and reattaching the same plastic tube to other pieces of gear for racking, bottling, etc. Right now, unless I buy the tubing, it's just a matter of time until I crack the siphon or the bottling wand and put it through my hand. There's your happy thought for the day.
Plus Ruth's birthday is in 2 weeks along with tax day. Yikes...
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