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that’s what i do


Ouch. My hips are still sore from last night’s sleep – a product of getting old, I fear. Never before did the “activity” of sleep take any toll on my person, but, with age, it seems that, on the wrong mattress, I can wake up feeling like I’d slept on a pile of rocks. It tells me that, sooner or later, I’ll be unwilling to put up with it, and be willing to part with the dosh for a new bed – but, until that day comes, I’ll keep that money in my wallet and deal gingerly with the hips that result. But, we’re not here to talk about my less-than-graceful aging… or, are we? Huh. Maybe we are, after all.

Keaton’s awake, after a long afternoon nap – she’s currently taking her books from the wicker basket I use to collect them, one-by-one, re-littering the floor I cleaned a few hours ago after putting her down. It’s been a good day for me. While not breaking the chain of sabbatical do-nothingness, I at least took a pry bar to the weakest link and made show of an effort. I mowed the lawn, something I’d been needing to do – and that needs to get done before we leave for Hawaii. I also finally got around to razing my summer garden to make way for the makings of a winter one. I tore into the viney tomato plants with gusto, sad to see them go, but amazed that the bumper crop they decided to leave me with. I pulled off a couple pounds of ripe red fruit, and paper-bagged another six pounds or so in hopes they’ll ripen off the vine (the internet says they will, and who doubts the internet?). Yes, I expended all that effort today – before noon even. Don’t worry though, I spent the next few hours lounging on the couch alternating between reading and napping. Just as it should be.

Sharaun is out picking up the last few ingredients we need to make tonight’s experimental dinner. See, while at Oktoberfest, I happened to eat a bowl of delicious “Deftige Gulaschsuppe mit Hausbrot” at the Schottenhamel tent (that’s goulash soup with house bread, for us ‘mericans). So did I love the hearty stuff, that, upon returning home, I scoured the net for a recipe that looked faithful to my memory of its awesome flavors. In time, I found a recipe which looked about right – and even had some historical text prefacing it which mentioned Bavaria and Oktoberfest. Seemed right to me, so I printed it up and asked Sharaun to give it a try. I’ll let you know how it comes out, since I know you must be keenly interested.

I swear I’m uploading pictures tonight… but until then, here are some pictures Jeff posted from our time at Oktoberfest – I think anyone can view them. Enjoy.

Until later.

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fathering gold


What’s that they say about a man’s home being his castle? It’s true – I’ll tell you now. As I sit here, the final bits of daylight streaking Wednesday’s cloudy sky, I’m all alone (save for the cat and the pasta on the stove, if they count). Sharaun’s with Keaton at church. I, an occasional heathen, chose not to go. I know, I know, I shouldn’t forgo it, but… I did. So I sit here once again, with the windows open wide to catch the failing sun before it’s gone, Radiohead’s new LP loud on the speakers, and some bachelor-style pasta aboil on the stove. I can put an ‘a’ before “boil” and make it a fancier verb, right? I think you can do that with any verb, technically, if archaically at that. Anyway, I’m’a do it and you’re’a read it… and that’s about it, K? Let’s do this thang.

Seriously though, I’ve explored the theme of how much I love my “home” before on this blog, but moreso lately the whole theme keeps replaying in my head. Pretty sure it has to do with the fact that, during these last few days of sabbatical “downtime,” I’ve not strayed far from the comforts of the place. Cloistered tight within the walls, satisfied to waste the wonderful days reading and listening to music and lounging. I know, you’re saying, how many dang times can I write about “being lazy and listening to music?” A lot, apparently. For reals, though, I am having a truly good time… even if I do have a slight tinge of guilt about wasting so many fine outdoor hours. I feel I’ve earned some time to atrophy and watch the dust motes drift, I just do. In fact, the way I feel right about now, nothing could pry the smile from the corners of my mouth – I just feel good; happy; contented; in clover.

Speaking of Radiohead’s new album… What? Oh, I wasn’t? Hmmm…. well, shutup then. Speaking of Radiohead’s new album, I find it fantastic. And I’m confident that, with the two-plus hours of unadulterated listening time I have before me now, of which, by the way, I’m already taking full advantage, the thing will continue to grow on me. Man, I hope the comma/clause thing I have going on in that sentence is valid. You should get this album. It’s free, what do you care? Seriously… go and download it from anywhere… it’s all over the internetsites out there. If you have trouble finding it, this link should help. Good listening to ya.

Before I leave the subject, though, and because the message boards I frequently lurk on are alive with Radiohead chatter this day, I wanted to just pass along a hilarious quote from a looong thread about In Rainbows. This quote, I’m afraid, holds Nostradamus-esque signs and portents for how my own listening party will likely tonight, mere minutes from now, I’ll wager:

Well, after an evening of Radiohead holiday, reality slaps me in the face as my girlfriend walks in, politely listens to “15 Step” and “Bodysnatchers,” and then asks me to turn it off so she can watch that reality show about the restaurants that suck until the one guy comes in and makes them not suck, while making people cry.

Seeya tomorrow, Radiohead.

Moving on.

One of the fondest memories I have from my days as a kid is throwing a bottle to sea. A note I’d written, with help from dad, rolled tight and tucked inside, I can remember rearing back and tossing it off the end of the pier with all my might into the breakwater. My dad suggested both my brother and I do it, something to do together for fun. I don’t know what it is, but there is something distinctly “manly” feeling about throwing a message in a bottle into the surf. I suppose it evokes the survivalist archetype ingrained in the male psyche, or somesuch Jungian nonsense… Regardless, as activities for young boys to do with their dads go, it ranks up near the top to me. We used the resealable clamp/stopper-type bottles, you know, the ones with the ceramic/rubber stopper on the metal hinge thing you push down against the neck for the tension seal.

Even though I don’t remember the exact contents of the notes us young castaways tossed asea that day, I do remember including our addresses and an admonishment to any potential finders that we’d love to hear from them. I remember walking to the very tippy-top of the pier and chucking the thing into the coming waves, watching them bob in place for a bit before losing sight of them in the wash, hoping they’d make their way out to the deeper waters and maybe catch a swell that’d carry them to some foreign land. Man, what a great “bonding” thing to do with your kids, eh? Kudos, pop – that was fathering gold right there. Never did get a response from those bottles, I suppose. Likely they ended up in tidepool on the beach near the pier, never really going anywhere – but, that didn’t matter to me. I’m gonna do that with my own kid(s) one day… I promise. Way cool.

Awww crap, I thought it sounded familiar… last paragraph here. Three and a half years ago… must be running out of memories.

‘Fore I go, I was randomly reading posts again… here’s another bit I found funny and had forgotten writing altogether. Third paragraph into this one. A piece of string… still laughing.

Goodnight.

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waiting for rainbows


Mmmmmargggh… turning to stretch the tight knots from my neck, knots formed in the lazy contortion I’ve been holding for the past hour or so, stretched awkwardly across the loveseat reading my book. Through the window I hear the clink and clack of treaded heavy machinery, they’re busy building something-or-other new just down the hillside a bit from our place – a Mormon youth hangout… or something. Sharaun left a little while ago to do some shopping, Keaton’s napping.

As I wrote about yesterday, I made marinara sauce. I think it came out OK, but I was surprised that the near five pounds of tomatoes only yielded enough sauce for perhaps one four-person meal. At first when I saw the recipes online for freezing larger quantities of sauce demanding twenty pounds of fresh tomatoes, I didn’t believe it; now I know. At lot cooks off, after both seed and skin are discarded. Either way, I’ve got enough for a meal – I guess that’s cool.

My second goal for yesterday (today, as I write, but that’ll just mess with your head) was to “mill” some of the wheat seeds (which I also intend to plant) into flour. After some research, I decided my best bet for an “accurate” idea of what goes into making flour was to use a mortar and pestle to hand-mill the grains. Aside from setting up a donkey-powered milling stone in the backyard (a bit grandiose for my needs), I figured this would give me the best notion of the effort required. Too bad I don’t have a mortar and pestle, huh? Owell, I figure something out – and carry this “to do” onto the next day, I suppose. Anyone have an old-style mortar and pestle lying around they’d let me borrow? Let’s move on to things which are… sadly… likely not much more exciting (sorry).

Well, I must be honest: I’d have even thought I’d’ve written about it before now – but, hey, I’ve been gone. I’m referring to, of course, the whole Radiohead “LP7” revelation of the past week. Those who frequent the internet may have heard about this by now; heck, even those who still cling to ink-on-paper style information dissemination should’ve, by now, heard: Last week, Radiohead announced that their long-awaited new album, up until that point referred to by fans simply as “LP7,” but now officially titled In Rainbows, was not only complete and ready to be heard, but was to be sold exclusively (sort of, looking past the details) online. What’s more, the band would set no fixed price for the “record.” Buyers can, amazingly, name the price, down to, and including, zero, they wish to pay for the work – which, again, is available (for the time being) solely as a digital download. The news blazed across the internet, and even made the Wall Street Journal.

For me, the news was brilliant. Just returning from Germany and learning that a brand-spanking-new album by one of my all-time favorite bands of modern-times would be in my grubby little hands (or, on my grubby little hard disks, or, something) in a few days was news to smile over. For me, thought, the decision about how to obtain said work was one to ponder. The place where I “get” music now (which, as an aside, is a perfectly legal place where I trade hard-currency for musician’s hard-work…) would of course have In Rainbows available for 100% zero-dollars as soon as it became officially downloadable from Radiohead’s site. But, it seemed silly to “steal” something that the band is, if optionally, giving away.

Furthermore, I likely respect Radiohead more than most other acts around today – even to the point of giving me a willingness to pay them for their sounds. So, the decision was made: I’d go the “official” route and buy the music from their site. I decided against the ~$80 “discbox,” which would ship, in physical form, with an entire album’s worth of additional new songs sometime early December (I’ll use my favorite legal download site to obtain the extras, I suppose), and went instead with just the digital download of the material available immediately. As for price, I settled on $8 US. I entered less than half that in pounds sterling (stupid Bush), and received my confirmation code via e-mail seconds later.

And now, for tonight at least, I’m bound to this internet even moreso than than usual – as the hours tick by and I wait for my “activation code” to download the album. It’s already 4am October 10 in the UK as I write this, and the webpage says the downloads should become available sometime “UK morning” on the 10th. On a forum I frequent, someone e-mailed the webpage support address asking for a more pinned-down timeframe for the digital release, noting that “UK morning” is fairly vague. The response he received was a simple sentence of three words: “Vague is good.” Bitchin’. That is so Radiohead.

Sometimes, when I lack inspiration for writing, I’ll use the “random posts” section of my sidebar (over there, on your right) to leaf through some old entries. Every once in a while I find something I’d totally forgotten I’d written, and get impressed (more often, I find something I’d totally forgotten I’d written, and get un-impressed, to be more properly self-deprecating). Like the 2nd-to-last paragraph in this entry, about the guy trapped under a tractor and his dog. That plain cracked me up, and I have no recall of penning it. Guess that’s what happens when you write meaningless crap for four years plus (I missed this year’s sounds familiar four-year anniversary, but it happened back in September – congrats to me).

Let’s hope for four more. Goodnight.

[Late-breaking Radiohead update: It’s 11:23pm and I ended up downloading the entire thing off some sharing-site link posted to a forum before I ever got my “legit” download link from the inrainbows.com site (that came at 11:40pm). The internet: it happens faaaast. Now to load on the iPod and give it a whirl as I drift off to sleep.]

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home-time


Well, back from Oktoberfest and seemed to have picked up a small bug in the process. I started feeling iffy on the plane back, my head getting congested and just feeling altogether drained. Saturday I was OK, friends came over and we watched football all day, but sometime over Saturday night into Sunday I awoke with a fever and felt worse. Sunday I spent the entire day wasting away on the couch nursing a fever and seeming only to sleep and sweat. Sunday was the peak though, it seems, as yesterday the fever was gone – leaving only the fatigue and that I-was-sick “weak” feeling in its place. This morning, Tuesday, I feel nearly 100% – and so I figured it was a good time to step back into the blogging circle. Lucky us. Let’s do it then.

Anyway, I’m currently starting off the beginning of the first of two chunks of much-looked-forward-to sabbatical “home time.” With a mere month left in my extended time away from work, I’m happy to say that nearly all of that time is un-booked, un-reserved, un-planned. If you can’t tell, I’m quite happy about that. This morning I got up around 7:30am, readied for the day, and was in the living room with all the blinds pulled open and morning sunlight streaming through the windows while XM’s “Deep Tracks” station served up classic nuggets from the likes of Santana and Stones. Yesterday I lounged around to classic rock and read hour upon hour upon hour, finishing some 300 pages of my current tome to lilting guitar and frenetic percussion. I’ve got the house open for the breeze, and a pot of coffee brewed. I could, and quite possibly will, do this all day.

Well, that’s a bit of a fib, as I do have “plans” for some of my time today:

#1: Figure out how to “mill” (or “grind,” as most would say) some percentage of the winter wheat seeds I bought into flour. I plan to turn some portion into flour now, plant some, and save some. I know it may seem silly to make flour from the purchased seeds, as it pretty much seems to bypass the whole grow-wheat-to-make-flour thing, but I want to go ahead and try to have a sourdough “starter” ready and active by the time I (hopefully) get my grown wheat to seed and eventually milled into flour itself. That way, I’ll have a bread starter that’s 100% from the crop (in my mind, at least). The goal here, as a reminder to myself, perhaps, is for me to understand the “cost” of a loaf of bread. From cradle-to-grave, so to speak. What all goes into making bread. I’ll let you know sometime in the new year how it went; before then if it tanks completely.

#2: Turn the five pounds of tomatoes I yanked yesterday from the gardenbox into fresh marinara/spaghetti sauce, which I’ll then freeze and save for later use. I went out and picked everything remotely red or reddening yesterday, and gave a sad pause at the rampant growth I’ll have to tear-down to make way for my next experiment in agriculture and times-past: winter wheat. And, because this is turning into a new paragraph…

I can’t help but feel a bit of pride. Sure, for all the things I planted, I really only got a decent yield on the tomatoes (not counting a couple smallish cucumbers, one tiny bird-ravaged crop of strawberries, and the two or three okra buds I caught), but, overall, I’m happy with how the plants took off. The corn died, the watermelon did nothing, and the peppers grew and never fruited – but I still somehow feel good about what did grow and thrive. Maybe it just shows that any black-thumbed jackass can grow tomatoes, eh? Anyway, here’s a side-by side to give you an idea of just how awesomely (some of) my garden fared:


Before.


After.

I guess that’s about it for today…

This was probably a little boring… sorry about that. Look for new pictures from Oktoberfest and of Keaton to be added to the gallery pages later this week. Until later, love y’all.

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a day in a tent


Twelve and a half hours in the tent yesterday. Twelve and a half. In an hour after the doors opened and out when they turned off the lights and security came around to clear house. It was a day at Oktoberfest, to be sure.

We arrived at 10ish and barely got a space inside (we missed the holiday opening, which was an hour earlier than we expected). But, thanks to a sympathetic waiter and a begrudgingly accommodating German and his companion, we scored a wonderful spot directly beneath the bandstand. Soon, our German tablemates forgot all about the invading American host which was our party, and by noon we were fast friends.

As the day plodded on, the room got increasingly warmer and wetter, the collective heat of near 10,000 bodies permeating the air. We marched on through liter after liter and oompah after oompah as the long hours were filled with delicious beer, delicious food, and incredibly friendly people. Some of us outpaced others, but on the whole our party consumed a staggering fifty liters of beer. For you Americans, that means the eight of us (plus our two German tablemates) quaffed a standard keg and then some.

Surprisingly, the drawn-out day aided in setting a naturally moderate pace, and combined with the food breaks, I’m happy to report that everyone walked out under their own power and made it back to the hotel safely. And yes, it was a sound and welcome sleep that took us once there.

And now, as I thumb-blog these very words, we’re back at the tents again, sitting outside this time to escape the crushing sauna of indoors, each enjoying another fine liter of helles bier.

And so it begins again.

Shawn and I rode the roller-coaster, I tried my hand at the shooting game, and we all did some shopping for souvenirs. So far then, the day is good. With today being our Oktoberfest denouement, it seems a fitting close.

Until later then, please excuse the typos, and wish us luck at the tents.

Auf wiedersehen.

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Cheers from Oktoberfest

No post-accompanying image today, blogging from the BlackBerry means text-only. Hope you’ll excuse me.

First day at Oktoberfest and we went kinda hard at it. Hoping to nurse my way through today so as to avoid death. I slept relatively well, owed, likely, to our land-and-go-directly-to-beer strategy. It was a good night afternoon and evening though, and I went to bed well-fed and head-swimming. Today, day-two, I made a conscious plan to take it easier, as I don’t want this trip to be one continual hangover.

The weather here is gorgeous, and I’ve donned my shorts for our day-two outing today to Kloster-Andechs, the monk-beer place. We lounged around Andechs for most of the afternoon, after a short hike up to the hilltop sanctuary. It was complete unburdoned heaven. Nowhere to be, and no time to be there. We sat, ate, and laughed over beers.

Probably the most off bit of our meanderings thus far, however, is that we haven’t even been to the tents yet. And, we’re not even sure we’ll head down tomorrow, either – as current thinking has is seeing more “local” beerhouses tomorrow, and doing the tent thing on Wednesday and Thursday. Bottom line is thatwe have no firm plans, and prefer it that way – helps maintain the air of relaxation.

OK then, until my next occasion to blog – cheers from Munich!