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...
Monday, March 31, 2008
"There's no smiling at OCS."
Now that the Navy has moved Officer Candidate School back to Newport from Pensacola, the Providence Journal has published an 8-part series about the ins and outs of the Navy's least known commissioning program and profiled some of the candidates and staff.
Even for folks like Ruth and I who already knew more than we wanted to about OCS, it's a fascinating series. It's usually very difficult for me to read and watch a huge package of articles like this, but it was well worth it in this case.
But don't just listen to me -- Ruth has greatly enjoyed the series both as an OCS grad and as a photographer. She's very impressed by how well they've represented the OCS experience.
BTW, Ruth was in good shape when she reported, and has always been strong for her size, but because of injuries to her knees and hips suffered during the rigorous program it took her 62 weeks, most of them spent in rehab and getting even stronger than she already was, to complete what was at the time a 13 week program.
[NOTE: I changed the last paragraph because my original phrasing didn't explain why she was there a long time, which left open the possibilities that someone would think she was a dirtbag or just someone that reaaaaaly loved living in a dirty WWII barracks in Floribama -- something one of the doctors accused her of, believe it or not.]
Even for folks like Ruth and I who already knew more than we wanted to about OCS, it's a fascinating series. It's usually very difficult for me to read and watch a huge package of articles like this, but it was well worth it in this case.
But don't just listen to me -- Ruth has greatly enjoyed the series both as an OCS grad and as a photographer. She's very impressed by how well they've represented the OCS experience.
BTW, Ruth was in good shape when she reported, and has always been strong for her size, but because of injuries to her knees and hips suffered during the rigorous program it took her 62 weeks, most of them spent in rehab and getting even stronger than she already was, to complete what was at the time a 13 week program.
[NOTE: I changed the last paragraph because my original phrasing didn't explain why she was there a long time, which left open the possibilities that someone would think she was a dirtbag or just someone that reaaaaaly loved living in a dirty WWII barracks in Floribama -- something one of the doctors accused her of, believe it or not.]
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Homebrew diary: Copper ale bottling
I'm actually posting this about a week late, as it's mainly for my own reference, but I suppose those of you with RSS might see it.
The copper ale was the batch I brewed & transferred to secondary in a big hurry at the end of February right before we left on our road trip, so it's been settling in the secondary for almost a month. It probably needed it, as this was my first "mini-mash" batch; my lack of proper equipment left me with a lot of tiny grain bits in the boil. I didn't see them while I was racking, and the bottom of the bottling bucket was plenty clear.
I got 43 bottles out of this batch. I've checked my measurements several times, so it's pretty clear at this point that I'm sacrificing a six-pack or so to the trub on the bottom of the primary fermenter. Getting those extra six bottles either involves more complicated racking/pouring/filtering, or taking more trub to secondary and bottling -- since I like the amount of work I'm doing right now and the quality of the end product, I'm not going to bother.
I don't have a hydrometer after an accident last week, so I'm flying blind until I put in another homebrew order in a few weeks. However, the sample we tried from the bucket was EXCELLENT. If previous batches are any indication, this should be a fantastic beer in a month or so.
The copper ale was the batch I brewed & transferred to secondary in a big hurry at the end of February right before we left on our road trip, so it's been settling in the secondary for almost a month. It probably needed it, as this was my first "mini-mash" batch; my lack of proper equipment left me with a lot of tiny grain bits in the boil. I didn't see them while I was racking, and the bottom of the bottling bucket was plenty clear.
I got 43 bottles out of this batch. I've checked my measurements several times, so it's pretty clear at this point that I'm sacrificing a six-pack or so to the trub on the bottom of the primary fermenter. Getting those extra six bottles either involves more complicated racking/pouring/filtering, or taking more trub to secondary and bottling -- since I like the amount of work I'm doing right now and the quality of the end product, I'm not going to bother.
I don't have a hydrometer after an accident last week, so I'm flying blind until I put in another homebrew order in a few weeks. However, the sample we tried from the bucket was EXCELLENT. If previous batches are any indication, this should be a fantastic beer in a month or so.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Public service announcement
You may have problems in court if your attorney is an unemployed leprachaun.
A coda
Our Easter brunch for Ruth's friends and fellow students who don't have any family in town (that's "Geo-Bachelors" in Navy lingo) was a resounding success. I will be eating ham sandwiches all week, but that's a cross I'm willing to bear.
I also have multiple volunteers for homebrewing assistance, which I'll be taking advantage of later in the week.
However ... to follow up on my "EXPENNSIVE BROWNIES!" post -- the brownies were, in fact, well worth the second mortgage ... but since two unexpected desserts showed up, they were COMPLETELY SUPERFLUOUS except as fodder for a funny story. I guess I'll be feeding my brewing assistants this week...
I also have multiple volunteers for homebrewing assistance, which I'll be taking advantage of later in the week.
However ... to follow up on my "EXPENNSIVE BROWNIES!" post -- the brownies were, in fact, well worth the second mortgage ... but since two unexpected desserts showed up, they were COMPLETELY SUPERFLUOUS except as fodder for a funny story. I guess I'll be feeding my brewing assistants this week...
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Wherein I keep my cool...
So we're having Easter brunch here tomorrow (potluck, thank goodness). While planning with Ruth today I realized that what I'd thought was maybe a half dozen people was going to be more like twice that many, and only one person is bringing a dessert.
No problem, I figure I'll make brownies while I'm warming up dinner tonight.
So when I have everything but the mix together and ready to go, I open the box of brownie mix and discover, to my dismay, that this was the one thing in the pantry I didn't throw out when we had parasites a couple months back. Eeeeeeeeewww. And one more sign that I still fail at being houseboy.
No problem, Ruth is putting Theo to bed so I'll run to the grocery.
So I get to the store, grab a box of our fave Ghirardelli brownie mix and take it to the least busy register.
I greet the checker with my usual friendly "Hi, how are you," and she looks at me like I'm a filthy hobo who just ran out of the house in his worst clothes to buy brownie mix. Of course, she's an older lady, with a red dye job and an Uncle Buck mole, so maybe everyone in this lane gets the free evil eye.
As she's ringing the brownies, I swipe my bank card and start the dance of many button presses necessary to use my bank card as credit. As I do, I hear her say -- You'll have to fill in your own "Old lady from New England with a long relationship with Joe Camel" accent here:
"THAT'S AN EXPENSIVE BOX OF BROWNIES."
For real? That's your conversation starter tonight? Um...$3.79. Yeah, OK, I think to myself, so they're not store brand or whatever, but check that label. WALNUTS. In the MIX. And they're using chocolate from a company that's really good at, you know, making chocolate. Something important in brownies, the last time I checked.
I look up from the card machine to see her looking at me expectantly, as if her eloquence is about to send me running for Duncan Hines. Wanting (Lord only knows WHY) to remain polite, I smile and reply
"Yeah, they're really good."
At the same time, I win the game of "memory" required to recognize my card at this grocery. She pulls the receipt and tries once more to rescue me from the fudgy, nutty penury I'm about to eat myself into. Shaking her head in disappointment, she says,
"EXPEEEENNNNSIVE BROWNIES."
For about half a second, a completely foreign RAGE tries to force its way out of my brain, screaming things like "YES! MY FAMILY HAS ENOUGH MONEY TO SPLURGE OCCASIONALLY ON BAKED GOODS!" or "THANKS FOR JUDGING ME! EVER CONSIDER THAT I'M TOO FUCKING HEAVY TO EAT THESE MORE THAN TWICE A YEAR, SO WHEN I DO I'D RATHER NOT EAT CHALK?"
But I realize...this is obviously a miserable person. I was as friendly to her as anyone could've been all day, and all she can do is convene a session of food court over my dessert choices. She probably hates this job; I'm sure I would, at 7pm the night before Easter.
Heck, maybe she's even hoping that starting a fight with this hobo will get her fired. And why give her that pleasure? I fold up the receipt, grab my jewel-encrusted box of brownies and look her in the eye, smiling the whole time.
"Thanks! Have a good one!"
No problem, I figure I'll make brownies while I'm warming up dinner tonight.
So when I have everything but the mix together and ready to go, I open the box of brownie mix and discover, to my dismay, that this was the one thing in the pantry I didn't throw out when we had parasites a couple months back. Eeeeeeeeewww. And one more sign that I still fail at being houseboy.
No problem, Ruth is putting Theo to bed so I'll run to the grocery.
So I get to the store, grab a box of our fave Ghirardelli brownie mix and take it to the least busy register.
I greet the checker with my usual friendly "Hi, how are you," and she looks at me like I'm a filthy hobo who just ran out of the house in his worst clothes to buy brownie mix. Of course, she's an older lady, with a red dye job and an Uncle Buck mole, so maybe everyone in this lane gets the free evil eye.
As she's ringing the brownies, I swipe my bank card and start the dance of many button presses necessary to use my bank card as credit. As I do, I hear her say -- You'll have to fill in your own "Old lady from New England with a long relationship with Joe Camel" accent here:
"THAT'S AN EXPENSIVE BOX OF BROWNIES."
For real? That's your conversation starter tonight? Um...$3.79. Yeah, OK, I think to myself, so they're not store brand or whatever, but check that label. WALNUTS. In the MIX. And they're using chocolate from a company that's really good at, you know, making chocolate. Something important in brownies, the last time I checked.
I look up from the card machine to see her looking at me expectantly, as if her eloquence is about to send me running for Duncan Hines. Wanting (Lord only knows WHY) to remain polite, I smile and reply
"Yeah, they're really good."
At the same time, I win the game of "memory" required to recognize my card at this grocery. She pulls the receipt and tries once more to rescue me from the fudgy, nutty penury I'm about to eat myself into. Shaking her head in disappointment, she says,
"EXPEEEENNNNSIVE BROWNIES."
For about half a second, a completely foreign RAGE tries to force its way out of my brain, screaming things like "YES! MY FAMILY HAS ENOUGH MONEY TO SPLURGE OCCASIONALLY ON BAKED GOODS!" or "THANKS FOR JUDGING ME! EVER CONSIDER THAT I'M TOO FUCKING HEAVY TO EAT THESE MORE THAN TWICE A YEAR, SO WHEN I DO I'D RATHER NOT EAT CHALK?"
But I realize...this is obviously a miserable person. I was as friendly to her as anyone could've been all day, and all she can do is convene a session of food court over my dessert choices. She probably hates this job; I'm sure I would, at 7pm the night before Easter.
Heck, maybe she's even hoping that starting a fight with this hobo will get her fired. And why give her that pleasure? I fold up the receipt, grab my jewel-encrusted box of brownies and look her in the eye, smiling the whole time.
"Thanks! Have a good one!"
Friday, March 21, 2008
A not-so-modest proposal
Public Health Risk Seen as Parents Reject Vaccines -- NY Times
I've read a bit of anti-vaccine propaganda as I was researching cloth diapers and baby carriers. I also got to read about the oft-related practices of "family bed" co-sleeping and why your baby needs to nurse until they enter high school, but that stuff doesn't really affect me or my kids, so to each their own and the less said about it the better; it is breakfast time after all.
So having read what these parents have to say in their own words, when I read articles like this, I just think to myself that I'd rather hang out with flat-earthers or evolution deniers, who are at least more up-front about hating science, the enlightenment, the expansion of knowledge and the whole idea that humans can make the world better for themselves.
In fact, would it be so bad to clear out a big island somewhere like Madagascar, and dump both groups in caves with some lit torches and pointed sticks? Maybe in a few thousand years, when the survivors have invented seagoing vessels, they'll be equipped to rejoin the rest of us.
The current residents of Madagascar? We can move them to the suburbs to take the nice houses and good jobs left behind by these stone-age throwbacks. I'm guessing they'd actually appreciate them.
I've read a bit of anti-vaccine propaganda as I was researching cloth diapers and baby carriers. I also got to read about the oft-related practices of "family bed" co-sleeping and why your baby needs to nurse until they enter high school, but that stuff doesn't really affect me or my kids, so to each their own and the less said about it the better; it is breakfast time after all.
So having read what these parents have to say in their own words, when I read articles like this, I just think to myself that I'd rather hang out with flat-earthers or evolution deniers, who are at least more up-front about hating science, the enlightenment, the expansion of knowledge and the whole idea that humans can make the world better for themselves.
In fact, would it be so bad to clear out a big island somewhere like Madagascar, and dump both groups in caves with some lit torches and pointed sticks? Maybe in a few thousand years, when the survivors have invented seagoing vessels, they'll be equipped to rejoin the rest of us.
The current residents of Madagascar? We can move them to the suburbs to take the nice houses and good jobs left behind by these stone-age throwbacks. I'm guessing they'd actually appreciate them.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
It's like a four-day holiday if you play it right, kid.
Today I'm teaching Theo about "March Madness" and "busted brackets."
I've already warned him that everything I'm talking about will make a lot more sense when he can skip work and get drunk.
I've already warned him that everything I'm talking about will make a lot more sense when he can skip work and get drunk.
Things I never thought I'd say, IM edition
"Sorry I had to turn off the computer. I was losing a battle of wills with a 10-month-old."
Here's what they think of you
WARNING: Politics ahead.
If you're not yet fed up yet with the size, scope and attitude of government in this country maybe Hawaii's smarmy, preening self-important Rep. Neil Abercrombie (D-Arrogance) can change your mind. If nothing else, I have to appreciate him for expressing the government's opinion of itself so clearly.
You'll have to bring up NPR's audio player to hear the story. He starts talking at about the 1:35 mark and goes on for almost a minute. Also note the spirited applause as he finishes.
Don't ask me my opinion of the ethics reform at issue here; I'm always skeptical of the ability of the powerful to police themselves. But if you don't think to yourself "Throw the bums out" (all 535 of them) and "A pox on both their houses" after listening to this, I don't know what else could convince you...
If you're not yet fed up yet with the size, scope and attitude of government in this country maybe Hawaii's smarmy, preening self-important Rep. Neil Abercrombie (D-Arrogance) can change your mind. If nothing else, I have to appreciate him for expressing the government's opinion of itself so clearly.
You'll have to bring up NPR's audio player to hear the story. He starts talking at about the 1:35 mark and goes on for almost a minute. Also note the spirited applause as he finishes.
Don't ask me my opinion of the ethics reform at issue here; I'm always skeptical of the ability of the powerful to police themselves. But if you don't think to yourself "Throw the bums out" (all 535 of them) and "A pox on both their houses" after listening to this, I don't know what else could convince you...
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Some jokes never die
I realize I should be posting about the roadtrip the boy and I just took, but there's other things to be done; I just want to point out that jokes about the long neck of Merton Hanks are ALWAYS funny.
Carry on.
Carry on.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
We made it
Not really news, since more than half my readers are here with me, but still, good news. All went well. He hates his car seat -- after he woke up for the day, he insisted on stopping every couple hours, but we still managed to make the trip in 14 hours, exactly as I'd hoped.
We made it in just before the crappy weather started, and now that snow and sleet have started in earnest, we're not going to see Theo's great-Gram today, which was the whole reason for the trip. Too bad, but we'll be here long enough that we can still make it down...
We made it in just before the crappy weather started, and now that snow and sleet have started in earnest, we're not going to see Theo's great-Gram today, which was the whole reason for the trip. Too bad, but we'll be here long enough that we can still make it down...
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Wish us luck
I'm leaving overnight tonight on a 760 mile trip, just me and the boy. I figure there's a lot more one-parent trips in our future so this one is practice. Let's hope the Penn. Turnpike is nice to us...
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Comments on my news feed
The articles in the sidebar are the last 10 articles I've added to my Google Reader Shared Items feed. I often wonder if anyone bothers to read them, so I figured maybe if I added a permanent place for people to post comments about them, I could find out.
Just a note about these links: Usually I'm posting them because I find them funny, insightful or interesting (in that order), but I have nothing of value to add that would justify a separate post. If I do agree/disagree strongly with an article I'll usually say so in the main blog. Don't interpret the presence of a link as agreement with or approval of the sources or opinions you might find in that link.
With that said, post away. If by some happy chance this thread grows too long to be useful, I'll create a new post and reset the thread.
Just a note about these links: Usually I'm posting them because I find them funny, insightful or interesting (in that order), but I have nothing of value to add that would justify a separate post. If I do agree/disagree strongly with an article I'll usually say so in the main blog. Don't interpret the presence of a link as agreement with or approval of the sources or opinions you might find in that link.
With that said, post away. If by some happy chance this thread grows too long to be useful, I'll create a new post and reset the thread.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Free political consulting
After having three or four people send me Jimmy Kimmel's response to his girlfriend's wandering ways, and watching this parody (My opinion -- not as funny as the original, but funnier than Kimmel's) I think I know the one way Hillary can come back to defeat Obama.
One guitar + "I'm fu@king Bill Clinton" + YouTube = Nomination! It's your only hope, and I better get credit for it when you move back into the White House...
One guitar + "I'm fu@king Bill Clinton" + YouTube = Nomination! It's your only hope, and I better get credit for it when you move back into the White House...
The shortage is officially over
I walked into Wal-Mart yesterday (Yeah, yeah, hate me if you must but it's all we have for certain things) and checked out the video game section, as usual...and surprisingly, found the locked display case PACKED with Wii.
[plural of Wii? Anyone? I can't get myself to put an 's' at the end of the word]
A couple folks were stocking the game shelves, and they told me that they have more Wii in stock now than they've EVER had -- the only shipment they got during Christmas was nine that were all gone in minutes. They blamed the distribution network that landed all of them in California and spread them from there, leaving none for stores on the edge of the east coast. Can't blame Wal-Mart for that, really -- if you can sell your entire stoock of a product with no effort whatsoever, why cut into your margins shipping them cross country?
I've played enough Wii that I know it's just a matter of time before I pick one up, but first I want the cash in hand. We have too much going on right now to spend the $249 on the console, never mind the hundreds of $$$ in required accessories...
BTW, while talking about video games -- I've now played both Guitar Hero and Rock Band -- PURE PIXELATED CRACK, the both of them. Evil evil evil.
[plural of Wii? Anyone? I can't get myself to put an 's' at the end of the word]
A couple folks were stocking the game shelves, and they told me that they have more Wii in stock now than they've EVER had -- the only shipment they got during Christmas was nine that were all gone in minutes. They blamed the distribution network that landed all of them in California and spread them from there, leaving none for stores on the edge of the east coast. Can't blame Wal-Mart for that, really -- if you can sell your entire stoock of a product with no effort whatsoever, why cut into your margins shipping them cross country?
I've played enough Wii that I know it's just a matter of time before I pick one up, but first I want the cash in hand. We have too much going on right now to spend the $249 on the console, never mind the hundreds of $$$ in required accessories...
BTW, while talking about video games -- I've now played both Guitar Hero and Rock Band -- PURE PIXELATED CRACK, the both of them. Evil evil evil.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
You have questions, we have a brand positioning statement that positively correlates with your market segment's preferred product framing
I was just reading Stan Hieronymus's take on the Miller Lite Brewer's Collection. I should take pains to point out, as Stan does, that Miller does not expect me to look at or think twice about their beers, much less drink them.
However, that doesn't stop me from shaking my head with despair at his email interview with Miller:
First, it’s important to note that these are not intended to be craft beers and are not targeted at craft drinkers. These are craft-style light beers. Additionally, “all malt” is one, but not the only, criteria that defines craft beer. The Brewers Association describes craft as beers brewed with a traditional process using malted and specialty grains, hops, water and yeast to deliver the aroma, taste and appearance characteristics not typically found in mainstream beers. That’s what we’re delivering — a unique consumer taste experience not typically found in light beers and consistent with craft-style beer.
What Stan doesn't quite say outright, presumably out of courtesy (lucky I have none) is that the whole point of Miller introducing "Craft-style light beers" obviously has nothing to do with creating a quality product or convincing their fans to expand their taste in beer.
In the end, their internal justification for these products is no doubt to temporarily boost margin growth by slapping the trendy "craft" label onto a slightly more expensive container of the same old grain adjunct beverage -- see also the words "Ice" and "Red" back in the mid-90s.
But of course, I'm far too cynical to think that's their only goal.
In Miller's perfect world, each of the 85% of people who drink the standard macrobrews will walk into a beer store to buy Miller Lite and see the familiar Miller Lite label on one of those "craft beers" he's been hearing so much about. He'll remember how he didn't think that Sam Adams he had at his brother-in-law's party last year was half bad, so he'll pick up a six pack.
He'll drink a couple, and decide that they're pretty good, for dark beers -- but that they're not so much better than his Miller Lite that he needs to spend more money on them. In the end, the next time he's out with his buddies and has the chance to drink an Otter Creek or Allagash or Flying Dog or Lagunitas, he's going to say "Oh, yeah, I tried one of those 'craft' beers. They're alright but I think Miller Lite is just as good."
And the Miller Brew Marketing corporation smiles, as research shows they've watered down the "craft beer" label sufficiently to keep smaller breweries from pulling any decent portion of their market share. Soon enough, the "Brewer's Collection" vanishes from shelves and distributors everywhere as Miller decides to reinforce their core brands by investing an amount equal to the total annual revenue of five smaller breweries in a series of ads for "The High Life."
UPDATE: People who know more than me call these sorts of stories "conspiracy theories" and "wacky shit"; and granted, I don't see C-suite execs at Miller signing off on a business plan that comes down to "We want to make our upstart competition look bad by associating them with inferior product."
But on the other hand, if a doofus like me can identify "decreases consumer interest in craft brands" as a beneficial side-effect of following their usual strategy of slapping trendy labels on product barely discernable from their flagship brands, why wouldnt' they reach the same conclusion?
However, that doesn't stop me from shaking my head with despair at his email interview with Miller:
First, it’s important to note that these are not intended to be craft beers and are not targeted at craft drinkers. These are craft-style light beers. Additionally, “all malt” is one, but not the only, criteria that defines craft beer. The Brewers Association describes craft as beers brewed with a traditional process using malted and specialty grains, hops, water and yeast to deliver the aroma, taste and appearance characteristics not typically found in mainstream beers. That’s what we’re delivering — a unique consumer taste experience not typically found in light beers and consistent with craft-style beer.
What Stan doesn't quite say outright, presumably out of courtesy (lucky I have none) is that the whole point of Miller introducing "Craft-style light beers" obviously has nothing to do with creating a quality product or convincing their fans to expand their taste in beer.
In the end, their internal justification for these products is no doubt to temporarily boost margin growth by slapping the trendy "craft" label onto a slightly more expensive container of the same old grain adjunct beverage -- see also the words "Ice" and "Red" back in the mid-90s.
But of course, I'm far too cynical to think that's their only goal.
In Miller's perfect world, each of the 85% of people who drink the standard macrobrews will walk into a beer store to buy Miller Lite and see the familiar Miller Lite label on one of those "craft beers" he's been hearing so much about. He'll remember how he didn't think that Sam Adams he had at his brother-in-law's party last year was half bad, so he'll pick up a six pack.
He'll drink a couple, and decide that they're pretty good, for dark beers -- but that they're not so much better than his Miller Lite that he needs to spend more money on them. In the end, the next time he's out with his buddies and has the chance to drink an Otter Creek or Allagash or Flying Dog or Lagunitas, he's going to say "Oh, yeah, I tried one of those 'craft' beers. They're alright but I think Miller Lite is just as good."
And the Miller Brew Marketing corporation smiles, as research shows they've watered down the "craft beer" label sufficiently to keep smaller breweries from pulling any decent portion of their market share. Soon enough, the "Brewer's Collection" vanishes from shelves and distributors everywhere as Miller decides to reinforce their core brands by investing an amount equal to the total annual revenue of five smaller breweries in a series of ads for "The High Life."
UPDATE: People who know more than me call these sorts of stories "conspiracy theories" and "wacky shit"; and granted, I don't see C-suite execs at Miller signing off on a business plan that comes down to "We want to make our upstart competition look bad by associating them with inferior product."
But on the other hand, if a doofus like me can identify "decreases consumer interest in craft brands" as a beneficial side-effect of following their usual strategy of slapping trendy labels on product barely discernable from their flagship brands, why wouldnt' they reach the same conclusion?
Monday, February 11, 2008
Any comment?
I totally believe this is true, if only because the smartest person I know lives in Boulder.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Sure I'm hip. Watch how I wipe baby puke off my chest.
Found via FARK, the Amazon "Car Lust" blog defends the minivan.
Having lovingly imagined himself a premise with absolutely no basis in reality -- calling it a strawman would be an insult to straw -- the author mounts a spirited defense of a vehicle which, judging by Target parking lots everywhere, needs absolutely no defense at all.
In the minivan's intended market of families with children, there is no stigma attached to minivans whatsoever -- it's practically expected that you will add this exalted member of the family before your second child arrives. Every option from the navigation system to the number of cupholders are discussed by bragging fathers who embrace the minivan with no less reverence than they would their bachelor muscle car. Mothers pore over safety ratings, making sure all their friends know that not even a speeding locomotive could harm their little miracles. I have three close friends in the "Odyssey Club" and have been mocked for not buying a minivan.
"Universally scorned?" Only in the author's hometown of DesperateForABlogPostville.
I've taken my share of shots at minivans as totems of the suburban wasteland, but we still considered buying one, because the family is only getting bigger from here. After all, I'm sarcastic and desperate for jokes -- not a moron.
We've rejected the minivan not to maintain our mythical hipster cred, but because we're frugal, and it would be silly for us to spend a premium of thousands a year in sticker price, insurance and gas mileage on a vehicle we'd truly need a few times a year.
Note that even Amazon's blog author, needing a rationale for minivan ownership, only comes up with "road trips." For us, that's why Hertz exists; spend hundreds a year renting a utilitarian second vehicle when we want it, instead of thousands a year watching it depreciate. It's one thing for two-income families or the ever-more-mythical "family of five," (more power to them) but for us? I'll watch my bank account grow along with the kids, thanks.
It's probably more accurate (but so much less conducive to writing a blog post) to say that the minivan is used by the childless as shorthand, a symbol of all the other reasons they mock people with kids.
Having been one of those mockers, and now as a daddy for almost nine months, I can say without a doubt that I was right then and I'm right now. Those childless folks should mock us. Even parents like my wife and I, who consciously reject the child-worshipping modern parenting culture of materialism and mindless catering to the little snowflakes, act like complete dopes in public and private on a daily basis.
I can't believe our unmarried/childless friends will still talk to us and the minivan owners are suspicious, wondering if our pre-parenthood brain chip implants were successful. We'll just have to put up with the funny looks from both groups.
The minivan gets a bad rap in this country--it is almost universally reviled as a symbol of dweebish parenthood and mindless suburbia, a scarlet letter attached to soccer moms' chests...Okay, so minivans are universally scorned. But why? What are the minivan's crimes? The only crime I can see is that it's too good at its job.
Having lovingly imagined himself a premise with absolutely no basis in reality -- calling it a strawman would be an insult to straw -- the author mounts a spirited defense of a vehicle which, judging by Target parking lots everywhere, needs absolutely no defense at all.
In the minivan's intended market of families with children, there is no stigma attached to minivans whatsoever -- it's practically expected that you will add this exalted member of the family before your second child arrives. Every option from the navigation system to the number of cupholders are discussed by bragging fathers who embrace the minivan with no less reverence than they would their bachelor muscle car. Mothers pore over safety ratings, making sure all their friends know that not even a speeding locomotive could harm their little miracles. I have three close friends in the "Odyssey Club" and have been mocked for not buying a minivan.
"Universally scorned?" Only in the author's hometown of DesperateForABlogPostville.
I've taken my share of shots at minivans as totems of the suburban wasteland, but we still considered buying one, because the family is only getting bigger from here. After all, I'm sarcastic and desperate for jokes -- not a moron.
We've rejected the minivan not to maintain our mythical hipster cred, but because we're frugal, and it would be silly for us to spend a premium of thousands a year in sticker price, insurance and gas mileage on a vehicle we'd truly need a few times a year.
Note that even Amazon's blog author, needing a rationale for minivan ownership, only comes up with "road trips." For us, that's why Hertz exists; spend hundreds a year renting a utilitarian second vehicle when we want it, instead of thousands a year watching it depreciate. It's one thing for two-income families or the ever-more-mythical "family of five," (more power to them) but for us? I'll watch my bank account grow along with the kids, thanks.
It's probably more accurate (but so much less conducive to writing a blog post) to say that the minivan is used by the childless as shorthand, a symbol of all the other reasons they mock people with kids.
Having been one of those mockers, and now as a daddy for almost nine months, I can say without a doubt that I was right then and I'm right now. Those childless folks should mock us. Even parents like my wife and I, who consciously reject the child-worshipping modern parenting culture of materialism and mindless catering to the little snowflakes, act like complete dopes in public and private on a daily basis.
I can't believe our unmarried/childless friends will still talk to us and the minivan owners are suspicious, wondering if our pre-parenthood brain chip implants were successful. We'll just have to put up with the funny looks from both groups.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Why I'll still be eating sushi
TIME: The Danger of Not Eating Tuna
The EPA's limit is the acceptable limit of safety, which includes a 10-fold safety factor. That's not a risk level. That's the accepted safety level [0.1 mcg of mercury per kg of body weight per day]. That's 10 times lower than where the EPA determined that risk was occurring — which is a prudent safety limit to be certain that there is no risk. So, for example, if six pieces of tuna sushi a week would put you at the limit, that means you would have to eat 60 pieces to get to the level where the EPA determined risk is occurring.
Also, it's important to note that the EPA set its safety limit based on the potential risks to infants and newborns, not based on the effects in adults.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
"Elderly actor/politicians don't pick trophy wives without a plan, son."
Now that Fred Thompson has dropped out, I just had a great idea ... when/if Hillary wins, can she appoint Jeri Thompson "First Lady?"
BTW: I've been looking for an excuse to mangle that movie quote on the blog for MONTHS. Ruth and I have joked that Thompson would be running away with the nomination if he'd just spend less time talking about his conservative credentials and Reaganesque viewpoint; instead, he should've showed up at campaign rallies, said "This is my wife. If elected, I promise to have her standing in front of me at all public events." Then he says, "Russians don't take a dump without a plan," gets back on the bus and heads for the next stop. LANDSLIDE victory, guaranteed.
And really, would that strategy be any sillier than what any other candidate is doing?
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
More advertising
Budweiser's commercials are now bragging that they have bottlecaps that keep air out of the bottle.
Coming up next: "Budweiser's exclusive beer-containing glass will keep our beer from spilling out of the case and soaking the inside of your refrigerator!"
Coming up next: "Budweiser's exclusive beer-containing glass will keep our beer from spilling out of the case and soaking the inside of your refrigerator!"
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