Beer Me Not

Ben Franklin is quoted as saying that beer is proof God wants man to be happy. I must be doomed to misery. Try as I might – I cannot develop a taste for beer. Last night I met one of my best friends at a sports bar to watch the UT rout of Ol’ Miss. Given the setting and the activity, I decided to do the culturally normal thing and drink beer. So beer it was.

I knew I could not tolerate any of the darker beers, so I went for a lighter (not light) beer – one so unbeery it comes with an orange slice. The orange helped, but I still did not like it all three times (I felt obligated to keep ordering since I intended to stay at the table the entire game) I ordered it.

One entire game (plus pre-game) and three beers. Yes, I really do not like it. Beer drinkers will know how true that is.

I have several friends who brew their own beers, regularly experimenting with recipes. They know the language of beer fluently. My beer vocabulary consists of two words: bloated and bitter.

It all comes down to taste. I prefer most liquor to beer. I will let my friends find their hoppyness where they may. I’ll find mine with gin. 

Spiced Rum Cake

In the midst of a cooking frenzy, I asked my roommate to run to the liquor store to pick up some rum for a particular drink I was going to make. He called from the store and asked what kind; I naively replied, “any.”

He came home with spiced rum. Not at all anything I could use in the planned drink. So I had to come up with something to use that rum –I am too cheap to waste things. It had been a while since I made a cake, so I decided to investigate recipes for a spiced rum cake. The internet and my cookbooks offered myriad suggestions, but I opted for something simple and quick.

 Version one was good, but I knew I could improve on it (it left off the amount of spiced rum to put in the glaze). The texture and flavor of the cake lacked what I expect from a cake, so I tried again with my own adjustments. Version two came out much better.

 

The recipe is quite simple:

Cake:

1 box white cake mix

1 box (4 serving) vanilla instant pudding

½ cup water

½ cup spiced rum

½ cup oil (I use olive)

4 eggs

1 tsp ground allspice

½ cup chopped or slivered nuts

 

Glaze

¼ cup butter

½ cup sugar

¼ cup water

¼ cup spiced rum

dash allspice

 

Preheat oven to 325°. In a large bowl, combine cake mix, pudding mix, water, oil, eggs, rum, and allspice. Beat until combined. Grease and flour a bundt pan. Spread nuts around the bottom then pour in the batter. Bake for 50-60 minutes.

 

When the cake comes out of the oven, leave in pan. Boil butter, sugar, water, and allspice glaze ingredients for 5 minutes, stirring constantly. Remove from heat and stir in spiced rum.

 

With the cake still in the pan, poke holes in the cake – I use a chopstick. Pour hot glaze over the cake. Allow the glaze to soak into the cake before turning it out onto a plate (about 5 minutes).

 

Memory Lapse

As happens almost every year, I moved from one office location to another. Because of construction, I had to store everything but those items I used on a daily basis.

 

When I finally had the opportunity to move into my new office a few weeks ago, I discovered two boxes of my office supplies had disappeared. People who know me know I have something of an office supply fetish, so I invest my own money in having supplies that actually work as opposed to those that often come in the public sector where the cheapest bid wins. In those two boxes was a couple hundred dollars’ worth of materials. Because everything was stored in an unsecure location, I figured someone decided they liked my office supplies as much as I did.

 

I let the appropriate people know and whined to everyone else for the following three weeks.

 

Today I got a call asking if my box had a certain couple of items. I confirmed that it was my box.

 

When I asked about them, I was told where they were found.

 

Then I remembered that was exactly the place I put them so they would not be “stolen.” I hate when that happens.

 

Finding the right hiding place proves to be a challenge – especially when the best ones are so good they are forgettable – especially two months later.

 

After work, I quickly incorporated the found supplies into my office arrangement. I will stop whining and pretend nothing happened while I happily staple with my good stapler and hole-punch with my good hole-punch. Maybe no one will notice – except those who read about it.

Cooking with Julia

One thing few of my friends know about me, is that while cooking a meal, I often mentally give myself reminders in my best (internal) Julia Child voice. When I want to do something special, her voice lends a degree of authority and confidence to what I am doing. Watching her show today (and knowing about her spy-connected work in World War II), I consider only a powerful person who transformed cooking in the United States. From her pioneering show on PBS, entire networks have flourished.

 In addition to the everyday (gourmet) cooking style she presented (even including mistakes in her shows), she recaptured the idea of cooking quality foods at home in a time when “box” foods were the wave.

Beyond just demonstrating the cooking techniques, she also had that particular voice. Although she was a California native, her voice presented as something foreign and unique. No matter how mundane her cooking seems today in that flood of cooking her success inspired, she stands unique in the history of food television.

 

         Perhaps one overlooked trait that Child brought to television was her sense of humor. Whenever she would forget the technical word for an item, she would substitute a description, “the thing that [blahblahblah].” Her unscripted dialogue included lines that sometimes required her to bail herself out. A favorite from her “omelette party” episode was:

“Oh, here comes my mother-in-law, I’ll give her a liver omelette."

Which led to a lengthy explanation that mother-in-laws were too much maligned, but then, she did not have one herself. Too often people find humor in the datedness of the show. Stopping there misses the wit of the brilliant woman.

 Maybe we have learned that we cannot cook like Julia and remain healthy, but we have to give her the props she deserved for changing the way we think about cooking at home. Many of us now have a vocabulary of cooking terms much broader than was in the American lexicon in the early 60’s when she started her show. She made us believe that we could cook gourmet meals at home, not rely on a professional chef at a restaurant. Few people have had such an impact on our culture.

 The next time you eat at my house, or eat something I prepared, remember that Julia voice in my head giving me directions.

 

The Circle of Life

The circle of life

Of a pen.
Of a waiter.
In a moderately priced cheap restaurant.

When I arrived home tonight and began pulling the day’s collection of stuff from my pockets, I realized, to my horror, I had stolen the waiter’s pen.
My first thought was, “I should drive back and give it to him.”
My second thought was, “I gave him a very good tip.”
Which was followed by, “Does that make me elitist?”
I honestly considered driving back across town to give the waiter his pen back. It was a nice pen, and I am the pen guy.
In meetings I have the pens arrayed in their rainbow order (I get called out by some co-workers if I don’t) so that I can color-code my notes. As a very visual (and hyperactive) learner, color coding helps me remember what I write. Whether I ever look at it again or not, when asked a question about the meeting, I can mentally scan my notes for certain color text and recall what was discussed.
I am also a pen-snob. I like only certain kinds of pens based on their size and the feel when writing. My handwriting can indicate that I should have been a doctor, but with the correct pen, my writing actually presents a certain elegance on the page. Such is the writing I imagine when I mentally glance across the pages to refresh my memory.
Within seconds, I decided that the waiter had most likely snagged the pen from some poor soul who had left it on the table after signing the credit card receipt, so I did not drive back and leave it there. It will be a pen that will be set out on my desk that some student will take shortly after the start of the school year.
That is the way things work.
It is the circle of life.
Of a pen.
Of a waiter.
In a moderately priced cheap restaurant.

Chick-fil-A and Me

I have been surprised by the breadth of reaction to the entire Chick-fil-A story. What I expected to be a minor news story in a limited, targeted media swath has turned into all out media war on both sides. In the middle of it all, the core message behind the boycott has been lost. Instead of a business’s donation to documented hate groups, which is the central issue, the message has been co-opted to be about free speech.

 

Dan Cathy, the president of Chick-fil-A can say whatever he wants. It is his right as a citizen and a businessman. We too much value the fundamental rights to put a muzzle on anyone who speaks out with an unpopular opinion. Without such speech, little that we take for granted today would exist.

 

However, Mr. Cathy’s donation of over $2 million to groups that have been identified as hate groups moves the conversation entirely out of the free speech realm. His support of groups that spread information that has been proven false with the expectation that if they scream it loud enough, often enough, it will become true, moves from speech to harmful action. Such libelous statements are not protected and enter the arena of behavior that can be challenged in a court of law. Those who naively assume that the reaction comes solely in response to what he said need to actively research the history of where Dan Cathy’s donations have gone. He can speak his beliefs as much and in whatever forum he chooses, but he does not have the right to act in a bigoted way that supports a direct harm to any person.

 

I started my personal boycott of Chick-fil-A long before any of the current media frenzy began. Friends of mine (a heterosexual husband and wife) went through the process to open their own franchise. After recounting the prayer meetings and challenges to their faith they had to endure to be considered for a franchise, I decided I could not support such a business. Though they are long-time church members, the level of questioning my friends faced approached that of an ordination panel for a minister. Such requirements of Chick-fil-A cross the boundary from Christian-based to theology-driven. Those who clamor for freedom of speech may wish to consider the nature of that theology before they rush out for the next chicken sandwich.

 

Some people will continue to support and some will boycott. Whatever stance they take should be based on a fully informed decision, not the reaction media frenzy or political ideal they imagine they support. The Twitter and Facebook feeds have been filled with too many uninformed statements by people who did not check what they had to say before saying it.

 

So, speak out, Mr. Cathy, all you wish. You lost my business years ago and as long as any profits from the company make their way to proven hate groups, you are doing nothing to win back my business.

Seeking Apologia

The Christian faith has a long history of apologetics. Many turning points in the history of the church occurred with the publication of various martyr’s apologetic. We do not often hear these arguments today. Despite profound differences in theology between and within denominations, the foundation of the Christian faith remains fairly settled and people are rarely challenged to prove or defend that they are Christian.

I would like to see more genuine political apologetics. Over the last decade as both dominant political parties have staked out more extreme positions, little genuine discourse has been offered to justify the radical and fringe views other than that the view proves the greatest distinction that can be drawn to the stance of the other party. Rather than offer reasoned discussion, political debate quickly deteriorates to name calling vilification. We diminish the value of any idea different from one’s own by diminishing the person proposing it to a label. Calling that person a [insert favorite insulting epithet here] eliminates consideration of the idea no matter how worthy. Instead of reasoned dialogue, emotional vitriol dominates political theatre. Facts are inconveniently boring. Unfounded fear mongering is convenient drama.

As each side has migrated to its own pole, libraries have been composed regarding policy and position from each side. None of the books I have read (or scanned) reaches the depth of insight I believe achieves apologias. Most serve to further the distrust of the other side or to extend the author’s fifteen minutes and offer nothing of substance. I sometimes wonder if party leaders understand how to communicate core beliefs and let them stand along without placing different (not even necessarily opposing) ideas in a threatening context.

Strategies that rely on destruction of opposition make me question the vitality of any idea that it cannot stand alone. In the natural world, the weak and wounded are culled (usually by becoming lunch for the strong). We should be demanding ideas that thrive on their own merits without relying on debasement of any competing concept. Present an idea. Tell my why it is good. Trust that I can determine what idea works best.

Sometimes when we listen and debate the merits and not the fear-factor, we find that some combination of competing ideas creates the optimum solution. Rarely does “either-or” offer an option better than “both-and” or some combination of features of each. The use of fear to manipulate discussion to the emotional level only serves to isolate and divide. Forcing thought into the amygdala instead of the cerebral cortex eliminates any chance for problem solving or solution focused thinking.

I fear too many of the current leaders have worked themselves into intractable positions with no vision of how to work themselves out. The simplistic answer is to throw them all out and demand better. The realistic answer is for the moderate-middle to rise up and force those we have elected. We must demand clarity and action from our leaders. Demand that they adopt the apologias and clearly delineate their ideas, argue merit, and use facts to win the debate. Together we can have the best.

Justice, Vengeance, or Something Else

Because of the energy-savings program at work in the summer months, we work four ten-hour days each week instead of five eight-hour days. As a result, I was home for the deluge of media – both social and mainstream – coverage of the theater shooting in Aurora, Colorado. Everyone had an opinion about what happened, what could have prevented it, or what mental illness the shooter must have had. By the evening news, much of the originally reported information had been revised or corrected. Nevertheless many of the tweets, posts, and even online news articles remained accessible with the faulty information.

Common in all the media were calls for justice. Depending on the bent of the media, the level of rancor around the call for justice ranged from “string him up” to “life in a mental institution (because only a crazy person would do such a thing).” The more I listened to the discourse, the more it became clear that no one talked about justice: everyone imagined some form of vengeance.

venge•ance [ven-juhns]  noun

1. infliction of injury, harm, humiliation, or the like, on a person by another who has been harmed by that person; violent revenge

2. an act or opportunity of inflicting such trouble.

3. the desire for revenge.

         From Dictionary.com

Vengeance comes naturally when we have been harmed by a known entity. The nature of the attack in Aurora threatened us all because it occurred in a situation common to almost everyone. People doing something people do every day suddenly found themselves caught in a situation beyond what a normal imagination could invent. We all felt the threat and found ourselves imagining that we could have been in that theater and wondering how we would have reacted.

We want to hurt the person who destroyed our sense of safety in a mundane activity.

We falsely latch onto the idea that vengeance guarantees that such an event will never happen again. History shows us that similar events happen repeatedly with new twists inspired by technology available in the time. Our entire penal system works on the principle of vengeance; if vengeance truly worked, far fewer people would be incarcerated.

jus•tice [juhs-tis]  noun

1. the quality of being just; righteousness, equitableness, or moral rightness.

2. rightfulness or lawfulness, as of a claim or title; justness of ground or reason.

3. the moral principle determining just conduct.

4. conformity to this principle, as manifested in conduct; just conduct, dealing, or treatment.

5. the administering of deserved punishment or reward.

         From Dictionary.com

So many of the commentators felt they used the fifth definition of justice when they proposed penalties for the gunman. They failed to meet the definition by speculating without full knowledge of the story. They reacted to the events as the initial presentations captured the emotion of the events as recounted by survivors or assumed by commentators in watching the cell phone videos some took as the event unfolded.

We do not know if the shooter is mentally ill. We do not know the motivation. We do not know volumes related to the case. In the coming weeks and months, because the police captured the (alleged) shooter alive, we will likely be able to develop a more complete understanding of the story. Even so, a clear explanation of why or how the event came to be may never emerge.

Human nature desires concrete answers to events that shatter routine. When they do not emerge, we seek solutions that make us feel better. Vengeance serves that purpose. Justice, when viewed in its fullness, rarely alleviates our pain, so we turn to more drastic measures found in vengeance. I do not blame any of the commentators for their jump on the vengeance bandwagon. We feel better when we imagine the worst possible thing that can happen to a person who does such a heinous act. I simply think we need to be honest in our vocabulary. Justice does not always make us feel good. Vengeance often does.

When I believe I have been wronged, I never imagine justice; I only imagine vengeance. When I talk about it, I call it justice, but it is not. Justice, as a central principle of the United States, is the political word to say. Vengeance, though, orders my thoughts and wishes. It is not as ugly as we imagine; how often do we actually enact vengeance on those who have done us harm? When all plays out, I usually settle for justice. My mind, of course, still considers vengeance, and I let the situation drift into history with all the might-have-beens.

Justice in the Aurora shootings will be hard to define and even harder to enact. Too much pain and suffering extends beyond the walls of that cinema. All of us who go to a movie will, for a period (we have short memories), look at the arrangement and those sitting around us differently. The lives ended and the injuries incurred cannot be redeemed through one maleficent person – regardless of the punishment we inflict upon him.

We can, for a time, relish our darkest thoughts. Eventually we return to the world in which we live. In it we understand the shortcomings of friends and coworkers and we love them for their quirkiness and we compensate for it in planning our daily work. Vengeance has its place, but let us be cautious that it does not become a defining characteristic. Let us embrace justice, even when it fails to satisfy our base needs, and let it define who we are as a people.

How Did That Get There?

I bought a new iPod for my recent road trip so I could download my entire music library to give myself the full range of music to match whatever mood I found myself in. Over the course of the trip, I made it through a variety of genres and in each one, more than once as an unfamiliar song began to play, I asked myself, “where did that come from?”

 

To be honest, I have not completely listened to much of the music in my library because I like free stuff. My 15.2+ days of music consists mostly of purchases I have made over the years – either digitally or on CD and transferred. Still there are a few dozen albums I raided off the free downloads on Amazon and other sources (LEGITIMATELY!).

 

The problem with most of the Amazon free downloads is that they are sampler albums from many smaller studios. Some of the artists they feature are quite good and may well make it into mainstream circulation at some point; however, far too many of the artists will never make it out of their garage. Most of the songs that made me scratch my head at how they came to be in my library came from these albums. One takes this risk with freebies.

 

Of course there are a few of the collections in the library that I listened to on repeat at one point and now wonder what I ever heard in the songs. Conversely, some of the collections have grown in favor with time. And of course there are the classic standbys that are as good today as when they came out.

 

I enjoy the way the standby classics transport me back to earlier events. Certain songs I hear transport me to high school while others take me back to the dorm at college. One in particular takes me to a San Antonio dance club in 1986 (I Wanna Be a Cowboy). The power of music never ceases to amaze me in the ways it can alter my mood, recall memories, and cement new experiences into memory that any other medium.

 

Free stuff is too alluring for me to resist, so I will continue to download the good, bad, and ugly as it becomes available. You never know when that rejected song will be the one most perfect for a special occasion.

 

Or which one will have me again scratching my head.

Fiat's In-Car Espresso Machines To Debut In Italy

Fiat's In-Car Espresso Machines To Debut In Italy:

'via Blog this'

Rarely do I see a news story that restores my hope for human innovation as much as this one. I may  have to go for a Fiat if these ever become available in the United States.

I have made multiple 21+ hour road trips. I'm thinking packing the right ingredients for the machine and a few adult diapers and I will be set for another lengthy trip.