Cider Chronicles Episode III

As time for bottling my golden elixir draws nigh, I thought I would write about just how exactly I got to where I am in the brewing process. I do this for two reasons and neither one of them is any of your business. ;-)

We start with the juice. I started with 2 gallons of store bought apple cider from my local grocer. Pasteurization need not rule out a particular brand of apple juice, but should the juice contain any preservatives it is not fit for hard cider. Pasteurization has a negative effect on taste and nutritional content, but it has no destructive effect on the fermentation process. Preservatives in store bought juice will cause your cider to rot before it ferments. This being my first rodeo, I thought I would start with a base commercial juice (pasteurized) and add my own fresh juice for flavor. I added 6 lbs each of Rome and Granny Smith apples to my cart and headed for the lab.

Using my Juice Man Jr. I liquefied 12 lbs of apples into roughly one gallon of juice. I know this isn't the best method of juicing but I don't have a press and decided to use the tools readily at hand. After it was all said and done I learned three things from this juicing process. The first was the Rome apple seems to contain far more fiber than the Granny Smith and yields about 25 % less juice. The second is my Juice Man was not designed to juice that much fruit in one sitting. The motor got a little hot (warped plastic) and the juicing screen needed to be cleaned with great frequency (especially with the Rome apples). Though this method had the desired end, I will pursue other means to get my juice in the future.

I dumped my 3 gallons of juice into my cleaned and sanitized primary fermenter (a 6 gallon bucket with a locking, air-tight lid and a hole for an air-lock). Research shows a consensus, in belief, that wild yeast in fruit produces unpredictable taste results in cider. It is better to curb wild yeast growth from the start. I used campden tablets to achieve this end. Campden (sodium metabisulfite) releases sulfer dioxide when it is dissolved in liquid. Sulfer Dioxide will kill bacteria and inhibit wild yeast development that is naturally present in fruit. The tablets I picked up from an on-line supplier impart 75 p.p.m. of sulfer dioxide when dissolved in 1 gallon of liquid. This is a very low concentration of an antimicrobial preservative. I crushed a couple of the campden tablets and tossed them in with ¾ tsp of yeast nutrient. I let that sit, covered, for 24 hours at room temperature (78 degrees) to allow the sulfer dioxide to do its business on the wild yeast.

Before adding sugar on day 2, I took a couple of readings with my hydrometer so I could get an idea of the alcohol content possibilities before and after adding sugar. With my must in its natural condition, my readings and calculations put it at around 5.2 % on the possibility scale. 5% alcohol doesn't have a great shelf life so in the pure interest of making my cider last longer and southern frugality I sought to raise it. See, if I raise the alcohol concentration to 10% I get the bang of two drinks for the price of one. And you thought all us rednecks were sum kina ignorant. 3 cups of sugar brought my must up to a starting gravity that would give my cider a 9.7% A.C. possibility. I know there are other types of sweeteners that can be used to raise A.C. but I wanted to keep it simple and, “ Go easy, because this is my first time”.

With the starting gravity in an acceptable range it was time for yeast. There are so many types of yeast out there that it was hard to choose. I ended up going with a yeast called Cote des Blancs made by Red Star. I chose this yeast because it was described as a “good yeast in the champagne family for a semi-sweet cider”. I opened the packet and sprinkled its entire contents over the top of the must. I let the yeast hydrate for 5 minutes, on top of the must, before stirring it in. The final step was to snap on the top, fill the air-lock with a bit of water and throw the bucket in my upright basement. You know the rest of the story.

What's that? I should have wrote about this first and then followed with the other posts in consecutive order! Ain't you never seen them Star Wars picture shows? Some people got no appreciation for creativity. ;-)

I had talked earlier about my previous juicing method being unacceptable; my remedy is to get my own fruit press. After taking a look at the prices for some of these relatively simple contraptions, I will be building my own. So if you see smoke coming from this direction, call the fire department.

Talk to ya soon.

Rot in hell

Came across this article today: A mother was arrested on suspicion of murdering her newborn daughter by putting the baby in a microwave oven. If she is the culprit, I hope she burns. The article also mentions another story -

In 2000, a Virginia woman was sentenced to five years in prison for killing her month-old son in a microwave oven. Elizabeth Renee Otte claimed she had no memory of cramming her son in the microwave and turning on the appliance in 1999. Experts said that Otte suffered from epilepsy and that her seizures were followed by blackouts.

This got my blood roiling and made me think about Andrea Yates, John Couey, Carla Lockwood, and the list goes on.

There is no hell hot enough, nor a punishment fitting to make an individual pay appropriately for these types of atrocities. Americans have allowed the justice system to become a pathetic, twisted, apologist, bed-wetting, mockery of a shadow that it once was. When one gives evidence of the complete disregard for the most basic, the very foundation of all rights – the right to life; they have proven themselves a cancer. They have established themselves an animal and have relegated the right to their own life by refusing to acknowledge that others hold the same claim. There is one single and just solution. Death. Sickness is not an excuse. You don't study them, you don't sentence them to 15 years in prison, you stop their oxygen and carbon dioxide exchange. Murder of any human is heinous, but the murder of innocent children really drives me over the edge. These cowards should be tied to a chair and wired for sound.

How in the hell can anyone harm a child?

Ramblings

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows that the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That's how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died
Everybody talking to their pockets
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
And a long stem rose
Everybody knows...

Just listening to a little Leonard Cohen and thought I would share. This is what slightly off-kilter folks listen to. Now you know.

I picked up a couple of books today in an effort to improve my writing. I am now the proud owner of Strunk and White's, “The Elements of Style”. This book is compact but a quick scan shows it to be full of excellent writing rules and tips. It is going right next to my dictionary once I finish reading it. Then maybe I won't think I need to check my fly when someone tells me I have a dangling participle.

The second book is “The 3 a.m. Epiphany”, by Brian Kiteley. This text contains around 200 writing exercises and the title boasts “Uncommon writing exercises that transform your fiction.” I don't have any works of fiction to transform, but I thought the book looked interesting and who knows maybe I will have a short piece of fiction that is not too embarrassing to post.

I already know that I like, “The Elements of Style”; will keep you updated on the Epiphany, especially if I have one. A multi-epiphany would be great. Now where did your mind just go?

Talk to ya soon.

A redneck and his crayon

I like to doodle a bit. Just thought I would throw up a couple of scanned doodles I enjoyed doing. I found an excellent book on the subject that can show even a redneck how to at least make something recognizable. How to Draw Lifelike Portraits from Photographs, by Lee Hamond. I wouldn't say they are anywhere near lifelike, but at least they don't look Klingon. :-)



The hardest part about this second one was convincing the wife it was all in the name of art. No, it isn't my wife you pervert. The photo came from an old issue of Playboy. Do you have any idea the resolve it took to go through all of those magazine photos until I found just the right one? Dedication, my friend. Dedication. ;-)

A long way to go before I can call it art, but it's enjoyable. See, I told you this would be a hodge-podge site.

Helvering V. Davis and no SSA for You!

After reading the kind comments from my friend Dave Bean, over at My Green Hell, I set out to find a little about Helvering v. Davis. Because when he said not to forget about it, I figured it might be a good idea to see what it was I shouldn't forget. I don't mind admitting I am ignorant on a subject the first time I hear about it, but it is down-right embarrassing if it comes up again and I still am dumbfounded. So I set out the pound my naivety into submission and learn something about this case. I also thought that I would drop a few links here for others who might want to learn a little more about Social Security and its history.

I have to warn you though, it gets as ugly as homemade soap.

First article I found was this one, over at LewRockwell.com (added to side bar) . This article gives an interesting perspective of events surrounding the trial and the author reflects their impact on the outcome. Good read.

Go here to see the certiorari, for Helvering v. Davis, which contains the “Opinion of the Court”.

The problem is plainly national in area and dimensions. Moreover, laws of the separate states cannot deal with it effectively. Congress, at least, had a basis for that belief. States and local governments are often lacking in the resources that are necessary to finance an adequate program of security for the aged. This is brought out with a wealth of illustration in recent studies of the problem. [n9] Apart from the failure of resources, states and local governments are at times reluctant to increase so heavily the burden of taxation to be borne by their residents for fear of placing themselves in a position of economic disadvantage as compared with neighbors or competitors. We have seen this in our study of the problem of unemployment compensation. Steward Machine Co. v. Davis, supra. A system of old age pensions has special dangers of its own if put in force in one state and rejected in another. The existence of such a system is a bait to the needy and dependent elsewhere, encouraging them to migrate and seek a haven of repose. Only a power that is national can serve the interests of all.

I can't help but wonder if the written decision, being rife with stupidity, was not some covert signal that some executive arm twisting was going on(such as that mentioned in the Lew Rockwell article). I mean come on, the final sayers on the intent of the laws of the Constitution wrote THAT decision which is completely at odds with other rulings this same court had handed out prior to this one; all it was missing was – ' The opinion of this court can best be summed by those hallowed words – "From each according to his ability. To each according to his need."

I also found Flemming V. Nestor, another court case that reaffirms that the citizen has no right to Social Security. Here it is quoted in brief:

2. A person covered by the Social Security Act has not such a right in old-age benefit payments as would make every defeasance of "accrued" interests violative of the Due Process Clause of the Fifth Amendment. Pp. 608-611.

(a) The noncontractual interest of an employee covered by the Act cannot be soundly analogized to that of the holder of an annuity, whose right to benefits are based on his contractual premium payments. Pp. 608-610.

(b) To engraft upon the Social Security System a concept of "accrued property rights" would deprive it of the flexibility and [363 U.S. 603, 604] boldness in adjustment to ever-changing conditions which it demands and which Congress probably had in mind when it expressly reserved the right to alter, amend or repeal any provision of the Act. Pp. 610-611.

The 1960's ruling is not a shift in this set of justice's outlook. Prior case rulings from these Stalinists show where they stand.

It is bad enough that fork tongued collectivist dogma sold the idea, then they turn around and throw despotism in the stew for spice - “It's Great Uncle's now, you have no right to it. Whatever it is deemed you require, your benevolent dictators may bestow upon you at that time.”

If you aren't pissed off, you aren't paying attention. Don't know who said that, but it's the truth.

Thanks again Dave for pointing out that case. One more grain of knowledge in my tiny packet of sand. ;-)

Socialist Security

I go out to the old mailbox today and find a letter of correspondence from our benevolent Social Security Administration. It is my annual report, letting me know that I and my employers have paid in enough money for me to be eligible to receive “benefits”. It looks like I am currently being taxed around 6.2 % of my salary for the benefit of getting some of it back at the retirement age of 67. They were kind enough to list what I should get at different ages of retirement, along with what my family may receive if I were to die today. Now as you can imagine, I am getting all warm inside from knowing that my handlers are saving money for me; putting it up today for my financial tomorrow as I am incapable of doing this myself. I continued to read and imagine my shock when I came across this line:

“*Your estimate benefits are based on current law. Congress has made changes to the law in the past and can do so at any time. The law governing benefit amounts may change because, by 2040, the payroll taxes collected will be enough to pay only about 74 percent of scheduled benefits.*”

Allow me to translate the above into redneck for you:

“Those numbers you just read above, don't mean squat. Whenever we feel the need to cut off your retirement pudd, we can and will do so. We have already bankrupted the system by not only robbing Peter to pay Paul but we put Peter in a miniskirt and pumps and have turned him out for 2$ a pop. The number we gave you of 2040 is a B.S. number too, it is really closer to 2018. But we figure since you believe all the other numbers we put on this page you will go for that one. If you are depending on us, boy are you screwed”


So, where is 'ist' after the word social – Socialist Security?

Remember that big dictionary on my desk? It defines socialism as (1.) A political and economic theory and movement for the reform of society by the substitution of the collective for the individual ownership of capital and property.

Let's compare that definition with what some of our Nation's leaders had to say about Social Security. Now I am not the sharpest knife in the kitchen drawer, but it looks like there might be a parallel or two here:

"This law represents a cornerstone in a structure which is being built but is by no means completed--a structure intended to lessen the force of possible future depressions, to act as a protection to future administrations of the Government against the necessity of going deeply into debt to furnish relief to the needy--a law to flatten out the peaks and valleys of deflation and of inflation--in other words, a law that will take care of human needs and at the same time provide for the United States an economic structure of vastly greater soundness." -F.D.R. August 14, 1935

"It has long been recognized as an inescapable obligation of a democratic society to provide for every individual some measure of basic protection from hardship and want caused by factors beyond his control. In our own country, the obligation of the Federal Government in this respect has been recognized by the establishment of our Social Security system. . . . The passage of the Social Security Act in 1935 marked a great advance in our concept of the means by which our citizens, through their Government, can provide against common economic risks. . ." Harry S. Truman -May 24, 1948

And here we have L.B.J. proudly announcing Medicare:

"Thirty years ago, the American people made a basic decision that the later years of life should not be years of despondency and drift. The result was enactment of our Social Security program. . . . Since World War II, there has been increasing awareness of the fact that the full value of Social Security would not be realized unless provision were made to deal with the problem of costs of illnesses among our older citizens. . . . Compassion and reason dictate that this logical extension of our proven Social Security system will supply the prudent, feasible, and dignified way to free the aged from the fear of financial hardship in the event of illness." Lyndon Baines Johnson -January 7, 1965

"The fortieth anniversary of the Social Security Act celebrates an important milestone in responsible public service. I continue to be impressed by the steady responsiveness of the Social Security program to the changing needs of our people. . . . I warmly commend the employees of the Social Security Administration whose efforts are such a positive influence on the lives of countless fellow citizens." -Gerald Ford August 9, 1975

"The Social Security program is a pact between workers and their employers that they will contribute to a common fund to ensure that those who are no longer part of the work force will have a basic income on which to live. It represents our commitment as a society to the belief that workers should not live in dread that a disability, death, or old age could leave them or their families destitute." - Jimmy Carter December 20, 1977

Interesting, no? You can read more of these quotes directly from this page at the SSA site.

So what do we do? President Bush and his ideal of partially private investment of social security doesn't even sound good on paper. You see, we are currently paying for those retired now and if some of our funds are diverted to private accounts then the missing money has to come from some where. The government (currently) is paying the retirees old-age benefits (they already paid into the system) and the only way Uncle could continue do that, with Bush's proposition, is to borrow (bad mojo), print more money (bad mojo), or raise taxes (hell no). More government control in the business sector is also something I want to avoid like the plague. Social Security needs to be abolished. Check out this article over at the Mises Institute for a proposal that has merit. (Mises added to sidebar)

Like all of those of the greedy persuasion, I just want my money so I can do with it as I see fit. I don't need paternalism, I need to be left alone. I can handle it because (wait, let me check...yep) I have just confirmed that I am a grown man.

I neglected to talk about those that receive these benefits that have never paid into the pot, illegal aliens, et all. I didn't talk about those things because they are corollaries to the root of the issue -Social Security is fundamentally flawed. Freedom and collectivism cannot coexist.

Thanksgiving

“For each new morning with its light,
For rest and shelter of the night,
For health and food, for love and friends,
For everything Thy goodness sends.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson

The night is late. The turkey and all its accompaniments are eaten or stored away. I finally have a quiet moment to contemplate on what this day means to me and just what am I grateful for.

I am thankful for health, so that I can provide for my extraordinary family. I am thankful for the love of a marvelous woman who has given me more joy than I know how to express. I am thankful to live in the land of my fathers. I am thankful that men brave in both word and deed took up pen and sword to endeavor mightily for the cause of Liberty. I am thankful that there are men and women who live today that still believe in Liberty's beauty and raise their voices so others might hear and see that the struggle is not over, nor will it ever be. I am thankful that it isn't to late to grasp the tiller and correct our course. I am thankful for the friendships I have made throughout my life; they have brought me solace in the hard times, someone to laugh with in the good, taught me invaluable lessons and made me a better man by telling me the things I didn't want to hear, but needed to. God has greatly blessed me and I thank Him.

Surfin the night away

Doing some reading tonight:

First, I have to send you back over to My Green Hell. If you haven't book marked him yet, what the hell'sa matter with you? Not only can he rip up political wind bags (both foreign and domestic) but the man can cook too. I will make sure he is on my cell-block in the gulag. ;-)

I stumbled across this site while doing a bit of research. It falls into the history category and you will find and I quote the site's main page “A Hypertext on American History from the colonial period until Modern Times” This one is going in the sidebar.

A blog that looks to have promise. The Liberty Papers – The main page quote at the top caught my attention (they seem to rotate) - “A democracy is two wolves and a small lamb voting on what to have for dinner. Freedom under a constitutional republic is a well armed lamb contesting the vote.” Benjamin Franklin. For some reason that just appeals to my redneck sensibilities.

I am off to try and figure out how to add a picture or two here. I can then prove that my friends don't have the patent on ugly.

Talk to ya soon.

Entitlement...What's yours in mine

There is a plethora of wonderful things about this country that I am truly thankful for and I would live in no other country on earth. But, there are plenty of idiots out there that don't have a clue, don't care to know, and are doing their damn best to suck the life out of you, me and everyone who thinks that you deserve what you can earn – by the sweat of your brow and the applied intellect of your mind.

This Little & Ives, Universal Unabridged Dictionary that sits on my desk defines 'entitle' as (2.) To give, carry, imply, a right or claim to.

This anti-noetic concept of self entitlement , coupled with a complete lack of accountability is absolutely ripping this country apart. The contract of success does not come with an enslavement clause, indenturing those who “can and do” to those who neither have the ambition nor drive to pick themselves up, seize an opportunity and hang on with steadfast tenacity until they too grasp the proverbial brass ring of prosperity.

Instead, like a 3 year old child, they lie in the middle of the street and scream obscenities at the misfortune that society has wrought upon them. They are unhappy in their job; they are not earning the wage they deserve; they don't have health care, a nice car, a better place to live; can't send their children to college and the list continues without end. They bewail success because in their twisted perception - who has any more right to have 'it' than any another.

Well, allow me to disabuse those of you who adhere to this outlook:

You are not entitled to a particular job or any salary you think you merit. In American society you are free to negotiate for your wages and benefits. If both parties can not come to an amicable agreement, you are free to go and attempt to negotiate with another prospective employer. You are not free to chain yourself to their desk until they hire you or call 20 or 30 of your friends to show up and lay siege to the workplace until someone relents to your demands.

You are not entitled a paycheck from the U.S. government because you are able to exchange oxygen for carbon dioxide and produce children at also, my expense.

You are not entitled to dictate the moral confines that society will adhere to.

You are entitled to say nearly anything you wish; you are not entitled to an audience.

You are not entitled to live free from offense.

The American ideal was never intended to turn the “land of opportunity” into the land of “subsidized existence”. True freedom is a hazardous prospect. An ideal where you are free to do as you choose, to make your own way as you see fit as long as it interferes with no other's pursuit of their version of happiness. If that course leaves you rich, hungry or anything in between - you reap the consequences of your actions. That is freedom!

If these pursuits leave you quivering, wet and appalled, if you would rather lie on your back and curse the Fates than drop shoulder and labor along with us, so be it – just lie there and expire quietly so those who would brave liberty's arena can step over you and drive on.

Whatever you do, keep your hands out of my pockets and your mouth off of my tit. And screw you Spock; the needs of the many do NOT outweigh the needs of the few. Charlatans on the "hill", I don't care if they did elect you, these aren't your rights to give and take away. Don't piss down my back and tell me its raining!

"A free people ought...to be armed...."

So last night, I throw something out to the little lady. With a grin and a joking tone I said, “You know honey, there is a gun show tomorrow. I was thinking you could just drop me off in the morning on your way to church and pick me up on your way home.” Expecting her to laugh and send me back to my room without supper, I was floored when she said, “Sure, babe.” and the world stood still for a moment.

I decided to test the waters one time to be sure of what I had heard, “So what time do you want me ready and A.I.S?” Now, now is when the jeering mockery comes and she tells me to get a grip or something of the like.

“Can you be ready to go by 9 A.M.?”

What the...

You have heard of psychological warfare, I'm sure. At that moment I wouldn't have been surprised to hear the voice of Hanoi Hanna burst from my living room speakers saying, “How are you G.I. Joe? Go to the gun show and enjoy it. Nothing bad can come of this.”

No list of demands, no honey-do addendums and no call to the round table for discussion. This was looking serious indeed. I spent the rest of the night waiting for the “approach”. You know what I am talking about. The nonchalant gait, the sigh as she sits herself down in my proximity and says something like, “So...Since you are going to this show, do you think you can...” *insert any task(s) short of knitting a sweater for my mother-in-law* It never came...

I got up this morning with a sparkle in the eye and a spring in my step. I got dressed and was promptly dropped off on the front stoop of the civic center and I was on my way. My reasons for visiting the show, other than sheer enjoyment, was to make a trade. I had a darling piece of work called a Kimber Custom Classic .45 ACP. This is a great weapon and one I would recommend to anyone looking for a 1911 in all its glory. The only problem I had with her was she was too big to conceal properly. Wardrobe would have to be significantly changed to hide that full length vixen and I don't fancy adding a tie-around-the-waist sweater to every ensemble I might choose (or any for that matter). Solution - I had to let her go. So with a couple hours to scan the field, I checked my weapon (they require that a tie wrap be placed from inside the trigger guard to the rear of the slide), paid my entry fee and entered Santa's wonderland.

To borrow a line from Mr. Thoreau - “ Instead of singing like the birds, I silently smiled at my incessant good fortune.” There were tables upon tables of pistols, rifles, shotguns, knives, books, and every other field related accessory one might desire. A place a person like myself could spend an entire day exploring (and annoying a lot of salesman with incessant questions).

I put my hands on a lot of pistols trying to find one that felt just right. You see, I have hands like a lumberjack and many of the ultra-compact models didn't have enough grip real estate to wrap all of my fingers around. Now I enjoy a challenge, but facing down a deranged booger-eater with 1.5 fingers flapping in the wind is not one I am up for. After two entire circuits of perusing, my eye settled on a Para-Ordnance P12 .45. It was used but I had no problem with that. What I did have a problem with was the tie wrap that prevented me from racking the slide to check the internals. I never liked blind dates growing up and I was not about to purchase/swap for a weapon I couldn't put my beady little eyeball all up, down and sideways. It took a mischievous wink and an “I'll show you mine if you show me yours” to get the gentleman to make a quick snip. The Para looked in decent shape. She needed a good stripping and cleaning but this dame was coming home with me if I could swing it.

I come from a long line of tight-wads. It has been said of my Father that he could hear a dollar drop in a snow storm and I see that as a compliment. So you see, it's in my blood. I put on my dealer's smirk and the bartering began. I wanted a dead swap. I had no desire to pay any money out of pocket and that was the only way she was coming home with me. In the south, bartering is not only a past-time, some folks will get down right offended it you don't. He called me cheap, asked if my wife didn't give me enough allowance to throw some money into the trade, said I was robbing him, said I was putting him in an awkward position, I think he even might have talked about my Momma. I countered in kind – no money, seven kids to feed, had a bad heart, worried about illegals, and that I really did know who my Father was. It ended with him snorting in mock disgust and relenting. I am sure he was smiling as he put his Kimber under the counter and I turned to find the cashier. Background check completed, I had my new toy and about 45 minutes to kill while waiting for my wife to return. I used that time to pick up some ball ammo and a pancake holster for my new addition to the family. The Mrs. picked me up where she dropped me off and we went back home.

I took my new toy out to the field and put 50 rounds through her as I asked multiple water filled milk jugs, “Are you Sara Conner?”. I had a few problems feeding rounds because of a filthy ramp and it looks like I am going to have to get a new recoil spring, but I have to say that I am a happy camper.

I think there will be no demand for recompense from my wife. But, I know this will be filed away in her memory banks as ammunition for a future disagreement. How is it that women can't remember to change the oil but remember “the time you...” ;->

A great day all around.

Dave Bean takes flamethrower to Parliment. News at 11.

Had a few minutes to get some reading done and just wanted to send you on over to My Green Hell, as Mr. Bean is on fire! The intelligence, common sense and razored wit train makes a pleasingly squishy sound when it rolls right over despotism attempting to make a stand on the track.

All aboard the Bean Express! Read his most recent post (Socially Responsible Tyranny) and then read it again if you need to. Dead on accurate and if you don't see parallels where we live, have someone slap you because you are comatose.

Yes, Babe.

Well, if anyone has read the comments under my last post, the cat is out of the bag. The first poster (ucicu2), who I know quite well, mentioned notifying my 'Boss Lady' if I didn't take it easy on the sauce. That is correct folks, I have a very significant other. I am married to a wonderful woman who has enough patience and understanding to put up with this here pain in the arse. Those two qualities alone make her a catch, but she is hot as hell to boot! On top of all of that good fortune, she has seen fit to give me two rooms in the house. I have the garage and the little room I am typing from. (No, it's not a closet so shut up). She does make me keep the door closed so her friends won't see the stacks of books, strewn wires, tools, disassembled electronic gear and empties. To a person of a hyper-curious nature, these are rooms of invaluable treasure and endless entertainment (well to me they are anyway). The hot glue gun alone has kept me amused for a couple of hours by itself. No, I wasn't sniffing it – she makes me close the door. Remember?

Marriage has taught me many lessons along the way and a few hard fast rules that were quickly learned when periods of forced abstinence were used as a battle tactic. Calloused hands just ain't the same, Jr.. And life isn't always fair, suck it up and drive on; you have to set your priorities. I got mine straight and I plan on using it as often as possible...

The phrase, “Yes, babe” at times becomes the only acceptable answer. I have one perfect example to put this is perspective. I have recently put a bit of tile down on the back porch area for the Mrs.. After grouting said tile, it was time to scrub off the grout haze and clean the tile so it could be sealed. So I say to myself, “The hell with getting back down there on my knees and scrubbing all that tile. I will just sweep it and go rent me one of those floor buffer/scrubbers from the Depot.” After checking prices and weighing the cost vs. reward ratio, I hop in the car and shoot on over to pick it up. My wife, being the hard working type, informed me she planned to use the buffer, when I was finished, to scrub the tile in the kitchen. I had to pay for a minimum of four hours anyway, so it sounded like we had a plan. I told her she should be able to knock out the kitchen in less than an hour cause it's much easier with the buffer and a scrubbing pad to get at the embedded dirt.

I returned home and promptly got to work. I knocked out my scrubbing in the back and wrapped the cord back around the handle. I pulled the beast back in the house and yelled to the wife that her buffer was in the kitchen. I used the buffer for about 2 hours and so while my little lady worked on the kitchen, I figured I would have time to head back outside and give the tile a lite pressure washing before sealing it.

Alarms should have sounded and lights should have flashed when she came out and said she couldn't get the buffer to start. Being in the middle of another job, I quickly explained that she had to press the safety release button on the side while holding either the right or left handle switch closed and I went back to work. She nodded that she understood and be bopped back into the house. Within five minutes she was back outside, hands on her hips and a dire look in her eye. Uh oh. I figured I better shut the pressure washer down and give her my full attention. Upon doing so, this my ringing ears did hear, “You told me that thing was easy to use. You said all I had to do was press the safety button and squeeze the handle and it would work!” AMBUSH!

Internal dialog: “O.K. this is your back yard. Your closest exit is immediately to your right and 3 paces away. She isn't carrying any sharp objects this time, so if you feint to your left and then shoot right for the exit you just might make it.” But then I remembered I had to come back home at some point so I would remain, warily, where I stood. “Stand your ground men. Rig for heavy seas and the smoking lamp is very obviously lit!” I answered with a practiced neutral look and a noncommittal “Uh, huh.” The conversation continued thusly:

“Well it wasn't easy. I started it and it shot across the floor and broke the pantry door. Then it bounced over and broke the leg off of the kitchen table. I tried to stop it but it wouldn't shut off. YOU said it was easy!”

Confused I asked, “What do you mean it wouldn't shut off? All you have to do is let go of the handle.”

“I did let go of the handle. It wouldn't shut off and it wouldn't stop running into things. I had to unplug it to get it to stop!”

“What are you talking about? You aren't making any sense.”

I stomped inside and found mayhem and destruction. I also found the reason the buffer wouldn't shut off. She had only unwrapped half of the cord from one side of the handle. The other portion was firmly noosed around the other “go” handle. I turned around to explain this, with a couple of witty and sarcastic comments for spice, only to find that she had turned the waterworks on. Damn it. What kind of man is going to berate his woman when she is all teared up. “You said it was easy!” she said again. I could have fought this one out and won. "Remember," my brain said (probably the lower one mouthing off). "pick your battles and keep your priorities straight and you won't be having to lock yourself in the bathroom with Victoria and her Secrets nearly as often."

Standing there I began to picture what this fiasco must have looked like and I couldn't help but laugh out loud. After my fit of mirth, I grinned and answered “Yes, baby.” After a moment, she too smiled a little, and all was right in the world. Well, except for the closet and the table leg. I fixed the closet, repaired the kitchen table and in the interim I had somehow jumped up into the “sweetest man in the world” category. So you see, you get lemons you make hot and steamy... lemonade. What did you think I was going to say?

No, I am not telling you if I got any you pervert.

Talk to ya soon.

The Cider Chronicles Part II

My cider is in the secondary fermenter which happens to be a six gallon glass carboy with an airlock on top. I live in Florida so setting my fermenter up in a basement is pretty much out of the question. (Yes, I know there are basements in Florida but I don't have one. I'll dig it if you stay and bail it.) But, I have an old refrigerator out in the garage that has a shot thermostat and the seals on the water tubing that supplied the ice maker are also toast. The compressor is completely functional, the fridge just won't stop running once plugged in. What a perfect box to store my liquor. Even if the thermostat worked perfectly, its highest setting (warmest) is still too cold to allow fermentation to progress at a desired rate, but I found a fix for that.

The temperature problem was easily remedied by getting a Johnson Control temperature controller. This little gadget is self contained box and comes with a length of tubing and a temperature sensing bulb. I ran the thin tubing through the front door seal (basically close the door over it) and the box hangs on the outside door handle. The box plugs into the wall outlet and the fridge plugs into the controller. There you have it, an upright basement! I set the dial to 60 degrees F and walk away. The unit has something like a 3 degree temp. differential so the compressor doesn't get overloaded by frequent starts and stops. Set at 60 the controller kicks on the fridge when it gets to 63 and shuts off when temp. drops to 57. A nifty little box and if you shop around and don't mind used, your wallet won't suffer a whole lot.

Toughest thing for me in this new endeavor is waiting for the cider to age. I tasted the cider blend before placing it in the primary fermenter. I tasted it again when the time came to transfer it to the glass carboy (secondary). Now, I have to wait for at least 3 weeks before I get to sample my experiment again. Ha, or so I thought. I often make a trip out to the garage to just take a gander at that golden treasure as it sits in my fridge. The controller has yet to pass its reliability phase so I feel that temperature checks every 3 or 4 days are prudent. I also study the cider with a critical eye to see if anything is there that should not be. So during my visual tonight, what did I see? Mold! That's right, two small specks of dark colored mold about six inches down from the top of the carboy (but not in or near the cider). I dropped a few curses and stomped around the garage looking for something to throw at the neighbors cat (well, not really but I was peeved)

My plan was to start with a small batch of 3 gallons because the first time (usually not just) is when something will go wrong due to inexperience. I would shed a tear if I lost 3 gallons, but dumping 6 might cause an embolism. The only drawback to the 3 gallon approach is there is only enough cider to fill both the primary and secondary fermenter half way. The primary fermenter is not a major concern for contamination because the aggressive yeast/sugar reaction and resulting CO2 production greatly lower the risk of a ruined batch (Cider tasted fine after primary fermentation so I am inclined to go along with this line of thinking) Secondary fermentation is where I was most worried of contaminates ruining the batch. The next batch will be at least 5 gallons to reduce the real estate available for those damn illegals, I mean contaminates, to make a home.

Return from sidebar. I stomped back inside to jump on the info express and find out if my life long rule of , “if it don't taste rotten, you can eat or drink it” applied or I was going to have to water my lawn with my first brew. Sure enough, I was not the first poor sap to have this experience. The answer across multiple sites was the same – can't be sure until you taste it. Now that, I could do. I cleaned and sanitized my primary fermenter and transferred the cider from my carboy back into it. During the transfer process multiple tastings were required to ensure quality, and I am happy to say that my cider is doing fine and back in the fridge in its new plastic, air-locked home. The level of cider is a mite lower than previously but hey, I had to be sure!

“Hey! How did it taste bonehead? I followed your rambling this far and you haven't told me if it was good, decent, or you would rather suck gas through a garden hose than drink it again!”

It tasted good. There, you happy? It had an apple toned champaign taste, without the carbonation. It was medium in dryness and that is about as sophisticated as I can get for you. If you want all that, “earthy undertones with a rosy nose” crap you will have to head to one of those upstate yuppy bars where you can swap pedicure horror stories with the other metrosexuals.

Talk to ya soon.

The Spice of Life

I had mentioned before of my “phone guy” occupation, well to be a bit more specific, I install and troubleshoot network and telephone equipment for residential and commercial customers. “Can you hear me now?” In my first post I had mentioned that given the choice of any occupation, I would choose Professional Traveler and this is as close as I can get right now. My cubicle is a van and the roads are my passageways. It is a position that suits me because, as in the words of the Allman Brothers, “ Lord, I was born a ramblin man” (In more ways than one it seems).

My travels take me to interesting places and new discoveries of all kinds. One thing I love to explore and search for is great places to eat. Today I happened across a small place that I found excellent. When trying new places, I am drawn to the smaller establishments, the mom and pops or 'the hole in the wall' types. They are usually less crowded, more personable and their smaller floor plans put me that much closer to the exits ;-). I have not been to an Indian restaurant in America and the building I happened to be working in was right next door to a brand new Indian Cuisine joint.

The Spice of Life, it was called and I made a B-line for it after packing up my tools. I walk in the door and this little old Indian lass immediately smiles and says, “Will you be having the buffet?” My cautious optimism showed in my grin. Buffets are like anything else, they can be great, mediocre, or serve slop that would make a Navy Mess Specialist look like Justin Wilson. Ah, but I digress. The buffet was a small one, which in my book is a mark in their favor, as quality and quantity don't often mix. After a quick look over the selection I nodded, picked up a plate and started treating my pallet to some fine Indian Cuisine.

I ate Paneer Pakora. Paneer is a type of cheese common in Indian cooking and Panner Pakora is a type of cheese dumpling that is deep fried - they were great. Joining my new dumpling friends were a healthy scoop of Bombay Aloo – potatoes cooked in a spicy sauce, a bit of Egg Curry – hard boiled eggs in a spicy curry sauce, a leg of Chicken Roganjosh – dunno what was in it but it was tasty. As a plate cleaner, I had a few pieces of Naan (flat) bread. Underneath it all was a bed of basmati rice. It was superb, I sampled each one first before I tore into it with reckless abandon. The little old lady came over several times to ask if everything was o.k. and she gave me a little background on some of the dishes I was eating (now that I think back, maybe it was the growling at her patrons who edged to close to my table that kept her coming back). You will not get that at a chain restaurant - the cordial and engaging owner that is; I growl at lots of folks.

The second plate contained more of what I had in the first and an added sample of some type of shredded cabbage dish but I can't remember the name. No complaints on the second plate whatsoever. I polished the meal off with a small bowl of Kheer (spiced rice pudding) and a couple Gulab Juman. The rice pudding was excellent but the Gulab Juman was a little sweet for my taste buds. Gulab is some type of pastry ball that is served in a very sweet syrup.

It was a great experience and now I have a new place marked to have lunch when I am in that area. So a pox on house Mc'Donald, and lord Burger King! In the words of Mr. Cowper - “Variety ’s the very spice of life”

Talk to ya soon.

A must read

I am sure many have heard the famous quote:

"If ye love wealth better than liberty, the tranquillity of servitude than the animating contest of freedom, — go from us in peace. We ask not your counsels or arms. Crouch down and lick the hands which feed you. May your chains sit lightly upon you, and may posterity forget that ye were our countrymen! " - Samuel Adams

Go to this site and read the entire speech delivered at the State House in Philadelphia on August 1, 1776. It is a moving oration and its truths remain constant!

http://douglassarchives.org/adam_a29.htm

Enjoy.

They went that way

I thought I would bring the caliber of my blog up a notch or two by adding a couple of links to a few folks that I respect and enjoy visiting. I plan on making this a continued effort as I come across sites that I like – there are fewer than you might think. Mr. Barry Eisler is a best selling author of a great series of books containing a multifaceted character named John Rain. Did I mention that Mr. Rain knows more ways to kill ya than Paris Hilton knows low-light positions? If you want a good read, pick up an Eisler book.

Then we come to Mr. Bean; there isn't a whole lot I am going to say about this gentleman as I don't want to ruin the surprise. I have never met him personally but I would definitely buy him a beer or six should we ever cross paths. Don't let his Rebel Yell fool ya, this man is sharp. (Don't tell him I told ya though :-))

If you want to go to a one-of-a-kind site on self defense, I recommend no nonsense self defense. These folks know what they are talking about and this site if full of enough useful information to keep a layman like myself busy for some time. They will not give you directions on how to construct a Kusari gama, get all dressed up in black silk P.J.s and take out an army of booger eaters. But, they will give you honest, clear and accurate information on protecting yourself and the ones you hold dear. These folks have been there and done that. No T-shirts, sorry. They are good people and you can only learn by going there.

That should be enough to get ya started. Talk to ya soon.

An apple a day

So I have started in on a new experiment; one that I already enjoy to no end. I have joined a brotherhood of men that stretches back through history. I am making my own beer; hard cider to be precise. Having traveled a bit here and there, it was not difficult to come to the conclusion that this massed produced swill called “American Cider” tastes more like a wine cooler than the cider our European friends and , I expect, our forefathers brewed. Being of the “do it yourself” ilk, I think I can do it better (which translates to - taking alot longer than I originally thought, costing more, breaking things and trying on new curse words for size) and the 'drinking my way to perfection' part outwieghs all the do-it-yourselfer woes. But first, a bit of history for your viewing pleasure.

It seems hard cider was found worthy of mention back as far as 55 B.C.. While Mr. Julius Caesar was out on a leisurely, conquering stroll across Kent, England, he found the locals throwing back a few tall ones of the apple variety. The Romans, not known for their piety or abstinence, took to the drink quite readily. Having the Romans stumbling across cider, it's not hard to see how its popularity spread quickly across their area of influence.

Then we come to the land of our fathers, the good ole' U.S. of A. It seems that it was considerably harder to grow beer staples compared to apples (apples were not an indigenous fruit) that hard cider quickly grew in popularity to easily become the most desired alcoholic drink in colonial times. Hell, because of the harmful bacteria contained in drinking well water, causing many a stomach to protest, and given the marvelous effects that fermentation has on certain bacteria, hard cider came to be preferred to water in many settlements (now there is a time and place I could visit and stay a while :-)). Our second president used to drink it at breakfast to settle his stomach and I am telling you, Johnny Appleseed didn't plant all those trees for the cobbler.

Cider was rocking and rolling along until the temperance movement. That's right, a bunch of “we know what's good for you and you don't have a clue” types got together and decided to put an end to this depravity once and for all. (Sound familiar?) It looks to have started in Baltimore by a group of friends whose lives were in the skids because they couldn't control themselves. These folks took a pledge, called themselves Washingtonians and went on the warpath. Quickly gathering radicals and extremist to their cause, their influence grew until they had farmers cutting down entire orchards of the devil's fruit. This looks to be the roots of the latter prohibition movement and it only got better from there. ;-)

So you see, I accomplish many things with this undertaking – a celebration of my American heritage and a belated protest to all those wadded panties of the Washingtonian persuasion. I have 3 gallons in a secondary fermenter now and will let you know how things progress. Until then my grocer's beer supply will have to do. Cheers!

What the?

Here we go again; another person who thinks he has something that merits reading. Another one of those damn bloggers that is sending our nation into ruin faster than Anna Nicole Smith can up-chuck a large pepperoni pizza. So, I imagine you are asking with a malcontented sigh, “O.K. Who is this knucklehead?”

The answer to that question is quite simple; I am one Alan Deal.

Not enough of an answer? O.K. You asked for it. I am a southern boy who by some miraculous wonder has reached the ripe old age of 32. Now when I tell you that I live in the fine state of Florida, some will cry “Southern Hell! Florida ain't no southern state, it is a damn displaced state of the Union.” If you are a politically correct southerner, I expect you would call Florida 'geographically challenged'. While at times I might agree with you, I have to say that you can be southern and live in Florida. “How the hell canya do that?”, you might ask.

Well, I have pushed a plow, held the box while my father shook a renegade swarm of bees into it – so we could put them in a hive, wrestled cows, warmed powdered milk to give to calves bought at auction, grown and picked okra, blackberries, pole beans, tomatoes, strawberries, corn, and lots of other edible delicacies, been out in the middle of the night with a flash light and a gig poking frogs and throwing them in a bucket – cleaning said frogs in the back of the truck as we returned to the house (occasionally testing both the aerodynamic properties and impact patterns of inedible parts on front doors and stationery objects), cleared property, split wood, dip snuff, ran fence, shot furry critters, cleaned and ate'em and I did then and still do call going to a cluster of retail outlets - “going to town” so if that ain't country...

Now that I have proven my southernness :) , I can continue. My occupation of choice is professional traveler but since I can't afford that I have settled for a phone guy. Ambiguous I know but that will just have to do for now. A huge reason for starting this blog was simply to write. As I am sure you can tell, I have the only the most tenuous grasp on the English language. So, I figure if I practice at this here literacy stuff, I am bound to get better at it. This blog will be a hodge-podge if you will (hell, it will be if you won't), a stew of topics and ideas that strike my fancy at a particular time. I am also hoping that this will serve as an outlet to vent frustration on various topics and people. That's right, there will probably be times that I rant like hell. I have found the perfect captive – my PC. On that note, I ain't PC on my PC – so if you find something offensive you are welcome to click one of those buttons up there that take you to your happy place. I think that is enough for a brief intro.

Talk to ya soon.