Me Darlin' Mrs and I spent the weekend camping in Beaver Creek Valley State Park. This is an absolutely gorgeous park in the very Southeastern corner of Minnesota. It is geologically different from most of the other parks as it was formed not by glaciers, but indirectly by their meltwater runoff. It is a valley about 100 feet below the surface of the surrounding rolling farmlands and the park's creek is fed by a spring that flows from the rocks that form the eastern side.
There is a single road that runs the length of the valley and sit on either side along it. This is an advantage that you don't normally get in state park campgrounds; you aren't crowded together with neighbors mere meters from you in all directions. BCV campsites are spread apart and afford you some quiet and solitude, something I dearly needed after the previous nasty week at work. I don't need to go into the details, but when you receive and email stating "No service interruptions are expected," this doesn't necessarily mean good things will happen...
As we have already hiked all the Hiking Club trails, we have now taken up the Geocache Challenge the parks are hosting. So we are on our second go around in visiting all the parks and we'll be looking for the little ammo boxes via GPS (thanks again, Matilda!) Our typical State Park venture consists of getting to a park, setting up camp and then hiking or geocaching before dinner, eat, sleep, get up and either break camp for another park or run off to nearby park or parks to participate in whatever activity we're currently up for and to scratch them off the list. A lot of driving around, no time spent looking into the parks, just a quick run through and collect the stamp, thank you.
This weekend was different. We stayed put and just hung out, moved slow, took naps and walked around the beautiful scenery enjoying the fine summer weather. I took my technologically beaten soul and wrapped it in ash leaves and soaked it in the cool, clear spring water of the park. This is one of my favorite parks and it is highly recommended. I'm much better now, thank you.
Just in time as I'm on call again this weekend and I just received another email that has the line "No service interruptions are expected."
Oh Goody...
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Today is a good day to die...
...burger.
The best line from a totally fascinating post from a Thai restaurant owner.
I've changed the way I eat, and I've lost weight because of it. The real change isn't from the reduction in calorie consumption, but from the way I look at what I eat. That Crapplebee's monstrosity doesn't look the least bit enticing -- to me it is as appetizing as three day old road kill on a plate.
(h/t Norwegianity)
The best line from a totally fascinating post from a Thai restaurant owner.
I've changed the way I eat, and I've lost weight because of it. The real change isn't from the reduction in calorie consumption, but from the way I look at what I eat. That Crapplebee's monstrosity doesn't look the least bit enticing -- to me it is as appetizing as three day old road kill on a plate.
(h/t Norwegianity)
Sunday, June 07, 2009
Gah
So a server died on reboot while patching and the Mrs. had the car. I biked in the misty rain (for which I and the garden are duly grateful) to the remote data center to fix flaky server. Not the way I wanted to spend my Saturday night, but I liked the bike ride since it burned off all the grumpiness before I got to the server room and I was able to calmly work on the machine and slowly ride back in the rain.
I like biking in the rain at night. The streets are abandoned after 23:00 in Richfield so I can use as much of the road as I like. I just wish there was a decent place to get a beer around here after an emergency run like this. You know, something to take the chill off...
I like biking in the rain at night. The streets are abandoned after 23:00 in Richfield so I can use as much of the road as I like. I just wish there was a decent place to get a beer around here after an emergency run like this. You know, something to take the chill off...
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Murphy was mean to me...
...but I sorta deserved it.
I took the new (old) mountain bike I bought from KM out to Murphy-Hanrehan's MTB trails with a co-worker of mine on Thursday evening. Now, I've never done single-track before, and my trail riding really consisted of fire roads and very little of that.
All right, I'm really a freakin' newbie MTB'er, happy?
Anyway, I went and hit the Beginner and Intermediate trails whilst following Jeff. I was lucky in that Jeff is experienced enough to know how to treat a rookie (but forgetting to bring his shoes with cleats helped a bit too). Riding a MTB on single-track is a quite a different experience after riding rigid commuters and straight, paved streets (no, duh!). The Boingy Factor is something that I needed to take into account when attempting to apply power to the bike while climbing, for example. A fat guy on a sprung bike loses power when he stands up to pedal and the front shock absorbs most of the energy, though of course standing up in a fully wooded single-track isn't such a great idea in the first place and your humble narrator figured that out in rather short order...
I wanted to start this sport to improve my bicycle handling in general and I can see that I was correct in my assumption -- now I need to apply this in practice. Quick downhills to right angle turns to short, steep climbs while avoiding roots and rocks and the increasingly encroaching trees does make one pay close attention to what one is doing. I was able to follow through the first round without incident and that brought my demeanor from cautious and alert to straight up cocky. After completing the first lap of the Beginner/Intermediate, I was ready for a second go.
Only emotionally -- mentally I was tired (patching this week has meant some late nights) and physically I was balancing on the onset of bonk as my lunch was long gone and the aforementioned lack of sleep, but I didn't notice. Endorphins and adrenaline is heady cocktail for the tyro, and I was set for another go. I wasn't so stupid to think that I could take on the advanced, but I wasn't afraid of what I knew (or thought I knew).
The second time through was going well, but I was going faster and I was slipping through turns that I hadn't missed before. Cockiness and bonk is a toxic mix indeed and I knew that I should slow down, but I didn't care -- I was doing just freaking fine! Hell, I was ready to pass Jeff! We made to the halfway point where the Intermediate meets the Advanced and we stopped for a breather and I believed that I was doing better than Jeff in that I wasn't nearly as tired (cue ominous music). We started out again and I started noticing the pit in my stomach wasn't necessarily just excitement. Since we're only a mile and a half from the entrance, I didn't care and I would push through regardless.
This is when thing got stupid (things, of course, meaning me). I pushed too hard on downslope and started losing it on a turn, panicked a bit on the recovery and then fogged on brake/shift move and clipped a tree with a handlebar, which gently sent me into the woods.
Ow.
I picked myself up and grabbed the bike, both being serviceable and continued on. My (over)confidence now rightly shattered, my bonk started to force me too far in the other direction and I became too cautious. I was more worried about the condition of my shifting when I missed a turn, overcompensated and then had another tree snagged the other handlebar, sending me sprawling once again.
Ow.
This time the rear brake was a bit wonky, but we were close enough to the finish to not be too concerned and I limped, figuratively and literally, to the parking lot and back to Jeff's truck where he I was gently schooled about bonking and trail riding. Lesson learned, my friend, as I have the scrapes (nothing horrible) to prove it and the endorphins from the ride to ignore any pain. Crikey, it's like other stupid things I've done (hockey and rugby), I can't wait to go again...
I took the new (old) mountain bike I bought from KM out to Murphy-Hanrehan's MTB trails with a co-worker of mine on Thursday evening. Now, I've never done single-track before, and my trail riding really consisted of fire roads and very little of that.
All right, I'm really a freakin' newbie MTB'er, happy?
Anyway, I went and hit the Beginner and Intermediate trails whilst following Jeff. I was lucky in that Jeff is experienced enough to know how to treat a rookie (but forgetting to bring his shoes with cleats helped a bit too). Riding a MTB on single-track is a quite a different experience after riding rigid commuters and straight, paved streets (no, duh!). The Boingy Factor is something that I needed to take into account when attempting to apply power to the bike while climbing, for example. A fat guy on a sprung bike loses power when he stands up to pedal and the front shock absorbs most of the energy, though of course standing up in a fully wooded single-track isn't such a great idea in the first place and your humble narrator figured that out in rather short order...
I wanted to start this sport to improve my bicycle handling in general and I can see that I was correct in my assumption -- now I need to apply this in practice. Quick downhills to right angle turns to short, steep climbs while avoiding roots and rocks and the increasingly encroaching trees does make one pay close attention to what one is doing. I was able to follow through the first round without incident and that brought my demeanor from cautious and alert to straight up cocky. After completing the first lap of the Beginner/Intermediate, I was ready for a second go.
Only emotionally -- mentally I was tired (patching this week has meant some late nights) and physically I was balancing on the onset of bonk as my lunch was long gone and the aforementioned lack of sleep, but I didn't notice. Endorphins and adrenaline is heady cocktail for the tyro, and I was set for another go. I wasn't so stupid to think that I could take on the advanced, but I wasn't afraid of what I knew (or thought I knew).
The second time through was going well, but I was going faster and I was slipping through turns that I hadn't missed before. Cockiness and bonk is a toxic mix indeed and I knew that I should slow down, but I didn't care -- I was doing just freaking fine! Hell, I was ready to pass Jeff! We made to the halfway point where the Intermediate meets the Advanced and we stopped for a breather and I believed that I was doing better than Jeff in that I wasn't nearly as tired (cue ominous music). We started out again and I started noticing the pit in my stomach wasn't necessarily just excitement. Since we're only a mile and a half from the entrance, I didn't care and I would push through regardless.
This is when thing got stupid (things, of course, meaning me). I pushed too hard on downslope and started losing it on a turn, panicked a bit on the recovery and then fogged on brake/shift move and clipped a tree with a handlebar, which gently sent me into the woods.
Ow.
I picked myself up and grabbed the bike, both being serviceable and continued on. My (over)confidence now rightly shattered, my bonk started to force me too far in the other direction and I became too cautious. I was more worried about the condition of my shifting when I missed a turn, overcompensated and then had another tree snagged the other handlebar, sending me sprawling once again.
Ow.
This time the rear brake was a bit wonky, but we were close enough to the finish to not be too concerned and I limped, figuratively and literally, to the parking lot and back to Jeff's truck where he I was gently schooled about bonking and trail riding. Lesson learned, my friend, as I have the scrapes (nothing horrible) to prove it and the endorphins from the ride to ignore any pain. Crikey, it's like other stupid things I've done (hockey and rugby), I can't wait to go again...
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Wow
Jet Cyclist Hits 73 MPH and Lives to Tell the Tale
Motor madman Bob Maddox is back with a twin-engine jet bike that makes the raucous rocket he rode last year look tame.
He recently bolted a dual-exhaust pulse jet engine to the side of an ordinary bicycle, donned a leather jacket and helmet and then held on tight as he peeled off a 73-mph run down a deserted back road. And we thought he was crazy when he hit 50 mph on one of his single-engine contraptions last year.
“When you get up to 60 or so, you’re thinking ‘I really don’t want to know how fast it will go,’” he told Wired.com.
I could strap the jets to the Dumvee...
Please Look When Turning
I just might be biking by...
Jeeze Louise people, pay attention. Damn near bit it three times this morning.
Jeeze Louise people, pay attention. Damn near bit it three times this morning.
Monday, June 01, 2009
Matilda's castoff
Matilda contacted me about a trade after hearing of my little buddy's demise. She offered to trade a GPS that lie unused for a ride to pick up a bike. "That sounds fair," thinks I and then I look at what they are picking up and my curiosity gets the best of me. I'd never seen a recumbent tandem bike before and happily took up her offer.
We meet at their house early Saturday morning and get to Calhoun Cycle to pick up their new baby. Wow, what a neat bike. Now what I know about 'bents you could put in the back seat of the thing and still have room for my prodigious posterior, but that's a funky set o'wheels. Matilda's sweetie is the captain and they roll the bike out the back for the test drive -- the rear brake is spongy. They notice that the housing is not in the braze-on in the back so the cable is re-run. Still, no go so the verdict is to stay until 11:00 when the mechanic comes in to do a tune-up.
So we pass the time looking at the "weird" bikes; 'bents of all types and sizes, Big Dummys, Hammertrucks (a sorta hybrid 'bent with a Longtail) and folders from Dahon and Brompton. We oohed and aahed over the salesman's Pugsley. I even test rode a 'bent trike. Coffee was drunk and bike routes ridden and wished were discussed until the wrench had tuned the bike and they were ready to go.
Matilda's sweetie had never ridden one and took his first wobbly pedal strokes to get the feel of the thing (pictures are on Matilda's site), then both were loaded on to get the feel and the grin on Matilda's face after the initial ride around the block had me seriously considering getting one of these fer the Mrs and me...
I wished them luck and sped off on their way; I later received an email saying they made it and there were no scrapes and that they were still speaking. I'm sure that they were elated: the weather was perfect, the trails good and they've a new bike.
What could be better?
Thanks again, Matilda. Thank you for the GPS, the coffee and a chance to watch you two grinnin' fools and your new toy. I'm sure you'll smoke the Tour de Tonka now.
We meet at their house early Saturday morning and get to Calhoun Cycle to pick up their new baby. Wow, what a neat bike. Now what I know about 'bents you could put in the back seat of the thing and still have room for my prodigious posterior, but that's a funky set o'wheels. Matilda's sweetie is the captain and they roll the bike out the back for the test drive -- the rear brake is spongy. They notice that the housing is not in the braze-on in the back so the cable is re-run. Still, no go so the verdict is to stay until 11:00 when the mechanic comes in to do a tune-up.
So we pass the time looking at the "weird" bikes; 'bents of all types and sizes, Big Dummys, Hammertrucks (a sorta hybrid 'bent with a Longtail) and folders from Dahon and Brompton. We oohed and aahed over the salesman's Pugsley. I even test rode a 'bent trike. Coffee was drunk and bike routes ridden and wished were discussed until the wrench had tuned the bike and they were ready to go.
Matilda's sweetie had never ridden one and took his first wobbly pedal strokes to get the feel of the thing (pictures are on Matilda's site), then both were loaded on to get the feel and the grin on Matilda's face after the initial ride around the block had me seriously considering getting one of these fer the Mrs and me...
I wished them luck and sped off on their way; I later received an email saying they made it and there were no scrapes and that they were still speaking. I'm sure that they were elated: the weather was perfect, the trails good and they've a new bike.
What could be better?
Thanks again, Matilda. Thank you for the GPS, the coffee and a chance to watch you two grinnin' fools and your new toy. I'm sure you'll smoke the Tour de Tonka now.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Kevin's Kastoff
becomes another addition to my stable...
Kevin was selling a mountain bike at HCHQ for a reasonable amount. Since I don't have one and have wanted to start trail riding, I thought that this could be a nice way to enter into the sport. I was also a good boy and donated a bunch of bikes and frames to Mr. Michael in an attempt to clear up the veloclutter that had become unmanageable. The combination of clearing of the clutter, the low price and my incessant whining convinced the ever-loving, patient and beautiful Mrs. Yam to allow me to purchase the bike.
Of course now I need a new helmet, shoes, cleats, pedals, wardrobe, SUV, plane tickets to Moab, etc...
Maybe I'll just pop down to SD and visit Snakebite's project when that comes to fruition instead.
Kevin was selling a mountain bike at HCHQ for a reasonable amount. Since I don't have one and have wanted to start trail riding, I thought that this could be a nice way to enter into the sport. I was also a good boy and donated a bunch of bikes and frames to Mr. Michael in an attempt to clear up the veloclutter that had become unmanageable. The combination of clearing of the clutter, the low price and my incessant whining convinced the ever-loving, patient and beautiful Mrs. Yam to allow me to purchase the bike.
Of course now I need a new helmet, shoes, cleats, pedals, wardrobe, SUV, plane tickets to Moab, etc...
Maybe I'll just pop down to SD and visit Snakebite's project when that comes to fruition instead.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Disaster averted
And by disaster, I mean my camping trip being called off.
Me darlin' Mrs. made with the phone earlier last week and found someone to work for her on Saturday night thus freeing up our weekend. A free weekend consists of grabbing dog, gear and growlers and going away to sleep in the Great Outdoors somewhere. This time somewhere was up on the North Shore -- the northest of the North Shore, the last three parks before you run out of America and are hip deep in the Great White North.
We packed the car Friday and started out early Saturday morning, rolling away with the promise of a beautiful weekend. Of course, most of the Twin Cities was doing as we were and 35 North was pretty busy. Seeing the rush of humanity as we sped north, it was decided to stop in Rush City to gas up and avoid the stupidity and traffic of Hinckley. Pull over, gas up and a "Hey, Hon. How about you pull over to the hose and I'll top off the tires." 35 pounds, need a little. 22 pounds, stupid alloy rims, can't hold air. 40 pounds, 4 lug nuts, good to see it holding air...
4 LUG NUTS! Oh, crap. One of the studs was stripped and the nut was missing.
"We're goin' back," I announce with a sick stomach. My trip was ruined. That's all I needed, the thought of watching the rear wheel bouncing into the ditch was enough to make me spit nails, but canceling my camping trip was the thing that really soured me. I don't know how long it had been missing as I don't drive, but I have checked the air in last couple of weeks, so it may have been fairly recent. Nonetheless, a full car and a wobbly wheel doesn't make for a Happy Driving.
I console myself and Mrs. Yam with thoughts of BBQ's and bike trips. I tell her I'm glad I saw this before she had an accident on the way to work. I'm attempting to call White Bear Subaru to see if they can get us in today (yeah, good luck with that) and save the weekend. I'm fussing and fuming in the passenger seat when me Mrs. says, "I wonder if they're open?" pointing at a joint called TNT Repair that has the doors open and a guy in the bay working on something. We pull in and we describe what's happened and he squats down and says, "Yup, I can fix that." The Mrs has a cooler head and better eye than I do when I get steamed up...
An hour and $95 dollars later, we're back on the road and we're as giggly as school girls with elation. We make it to Duluth and Fitger's to replenish supplies (Witchtree and the Berry/Cherry Pale Ale, both excellent) and out up 61 to a State Park that would have us, which turned out to be Cascade River near Grand Marais (the lack of spot was not surprising, it being a holiday weekend and all). We managed to get one of the last spots and it was across the path from some guy who ran his generator all evening. I guess "getting away from it all" means "watching TV somewhere else." We started a fire, cooked up dinner and watched the sky darken and the stars come out all to the tune of sputtering Honda. Luckily, at 9:30 his show ended and they went to bed and the sounds changed to a giggly group of guitarists and the birds.
Sunday was visiting the two northerly parks (Judge C. R. Magney and Grand Portgage and a stop at the Grand Portgage National Monument. If you've been there, but not recently, you'll probably be as surprised as we were to see the new Visitor's Center. It's really gorgeous. Hikes, but nothing strenuous as we have an aging dog and my knees are still healing from gardening on my week off (more later).
Stopped at the Gunflint Tavern in Grand Marais for some lunch and something to wash the dust from our mouths when we ran into the owners, Jeff and Susan. We're regulars, or, at least, as regular as someone who lives 250 miles away can be and we've chatted with them whenever we're up there. They'll come down to the Cities for shows and when they come to The Cedar, Mrs Yam will comp them tickets and a couple of beers. They're good folks. They were just stopping by when we were there and they invited us to their place for some wine on the deck. I'm glad our paths crossed as they have a lovely place and they are marvelous company on a beautiful evening.
We went back, barely making the 10:00 PM campground time limit and decided that a campfire was more effort that we were able to dredge up and we just went to bed. Leaving Monday morning is always sad, but we found that if we drive sensibly (take our time) and avoid freeways, the good feelings from a weekend away stay with you much longer. It's funny how driving back down 35 can sap your vital essence, so we took highway 23 from Duluth to 61 and stayed away from the madness. Really recommended.
All in all, this was one of my favorite ways to spend a weekend and we had a loverly one to boot. We also purchased another of the State Park Passport club packets, so we're off to see all the parks again. This time, as we've already done the Hiking Club, we're going to to the Geocaching they have in all the parks now. Unfortunately, my trusty Garmin seems to have given up the ghost after going from coast to coast and across Canada. Six years and thousands of miles it has been my companion; on my hip while hiking, on my bike or in the car, it has never failed me. But the years and the falls, water and getting stepped on have all taken their toll and my little buddy isn't feeling well. So, no geocaching at the parks until I replace it -- and other purchases await (e.g., gutters, windows, etc.)
That's okay, I'll come back. I always do.
Me darlin' Mrs. made with the phone earlier last week and found someone to work for her on Saturday night thus freeing up our weekend. A free weekend consists of grabbing dog, gear and growlers and going away to sleep in the Great Outdoors somewhere. This time somewhere was up on the North Shore -- the northest of the North Shore, the last three parks before you run out of America and are hip deep in the Great White North.
We packed the car Friday and started out early Saturday morning, rolling away with the promise of a beautiful weekend. Of course, most of the Twin Cities was doing as we were and 35 North was pretty busy. Seeing the rush of humanity as we sped north, it was decided to stop in Rush City to gas up and avoid the stupidity and traffic of Hinckley. Pull over, gas up and a "Hey, Hon. How about you pull over to the hose and I'll top off the tires." 35 pounds, need a little. 22 pounds, stupid alloy rims, can't hold air. 40 pounds, 4 lug nuts, good to see it holding air...
4 LUG NUTS! Oh, crap. One of the studs was stripped and the nut was missing.
"We're goin' back," I announce with a sick stomach. My trip was ruined. That's all I needed, the thought of watching the rear wheel bouncing into the ditch was enough to make me spit nails, but canceling my camping trip was the thing that really soured me. I don't know how long it had been missing as I don't drive, but I have checked the air in last couple of weeks, so it may have been fairly recent. Nonetheless, a full car and a wobbly wheel doesn't make for a Happy Driving.
I console myself and Mrs. Yam with thoughts of BBQ's and bike trips. I tell her I'm glad I saw this before she had an accident on the way to work. I'm attempting to call White Bear Subaru to see if they can get us in today (yeah, good luck with that) and save the weekend. I'm fussing and fuming in the passenger seat when me Mrs. says, "I wonder if they're open?" pointing at a joint called TNT Repair that has the doors open and a guy in the bay working on something. We pull in and we describe what's happened and he squats down and says, "Yup, I can fix that." The Mrs has a cooler head and better eye than I do when I get steamed up...
An hour and $95 dollars later, we're back on the road and we're as giggly as school girls with elation. We make it to Duluth and Fitger's to replenish supplies (Witchtree and the Berry/Cherry Pale Ale, both excellent) and out up 61 to a State Park that would have us, which turned out to be Cascade River near Grand Marais (the lack of spot was not surprising, it being a holiday weekend and all). We managed to get one of the last spots and it was across the path from some guy who ran his generator all evening. I guess "getting away from it all" means "watching TV somewhere else." We started a fire, cooked up dinner and watched the sky darken and the stars come out all to the tune of sputtering Honda. Luckily, at 9:30 his show ended and they went to bed and the sounds changed to a giggly group of guitarists and the birds.
Sunday was visiting the two northerly parks (Judge C. R. Magney and Grand Portgage and a stop at the Grand Portgage National Monument. If you've been there, but not recently, you'll probably be as surprised as we were to see the new Visitor's Center. It's really gorgeous. Hikes, but nothing strenuous as we have an aging dog and my knees are still healing from gardening on my week off (more later).
Stopped at the Gunflint Tavern in Grand Marais for some lunch and something to wash the dust from our mouths when we ran into the owners, Jeff and Susan. We're regulars, or, at least, as regular as someone who lives 250 miles away can be and we've chatted with them whenever we're up there. They'll come down to the Cities for shows and when they come to The Cedar, Mrs Yam will comp them tickets and a couple of beers. They're good folks. They were just stopping by when we were there and they invited us to their place for some wine on the deck. I'm glad our paths crossed as they have a lovely place and they are marvelous company on a beautiful evening.
We went back, barely making the 10:00 PM campground time limit and decided that a campfire was more effort that we were able to dredge up and we just went to bed. Leaving Monday morning is always sad, but we found that if we drive sensibly (take our time) and avoid freeways, the good feelings from a weekend away stay with you much longer. It's funny how driving back down 35 can sap your vital essence, so we took highway 23 from Duluth to 61 and stayed away from the madness. Really recommended.
All in all, this was one of my favorite ways to spend a weekend and we had a loverly one to boot. We also purchased another of the State Park Passport club packets, so we're off to see all the parks again. This time, as we've already done the Hiking Club, we're going to to the Geocaching they have in all the parks now. Unfortunately, my trusty Garmin seems to have given up the ghost after going from coast to coast and across Canada. Six years and thousands of miles it has been my companion; on my hip while hiking, on my bike or in the car, it has never failed me. But the years and the falls, water and getting stepped on have all taken their toll and my little buddy isn't feeling well. So, no geocaching at the parks until I replace it -- and other purchases await (e.g., gutters, windows, etc.)
That's okay, I'll come back. I always do.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
About time
Read the good news:
As Jim notes, "Oil will only be cheap when we can't afford it." This will go a long way in helping the country prepare for when the economy becomes upright and oil starts its inevitable upward spiral. Perhaps, just perhaps, we'll be a bit more ready.
I find it interesting that the auto companies have given up the fight against the fleet-wide standards; I guess that coming to D.C. with cap in hand and a change in management was just the thing needed to break the logjam.
The Obama administration today plans to propose tough standards for tailpipe emissions from new automobiles, establishing the first nationwide regulation for greenhouse gases.
It will also raise fuel efficiency targets to 35.5 miles per gallon for new passenger vehicles and light trucks by 2016, four years earlier than required under the 2007 energy bill, sources close to the administration said.
The measures are significant steps forward for the administration's energy agenda by cutting greenhouse-gas emissions that contribute to climate change and by easing U.S. dependence on oil, most of which is imported.
As Jim notes, "Oil will only be cheap when we can't afford it." This will go a long way in helping the country prepare for when the economy becomes upright and oil starts its inevitable upward spiral. Perhaps, just perhaps, we'll be a bit more ready.
I find it interesting that the auto companies have given up the fight against the fleet-wide standards; I guess that coming to D.C. with cap in hand and a change in management was just the thing needed to break the logjam.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Another post vaguely related to my tagline...
A sad story
A little boy is dead because someone just couldn't wait for them to cross the road. If the driver is found guilty, I hope that there's some substantial jail time.
Buffalo boy struck, killed by vehicle passing cars on shoulder
Associated Press
Updated: 05/12/2009 08:47:18 AM CDT
A 3-year-old boy is dead after authorities say he was struck by a vehicle passing cars on the right shoulder in north-central Minnesota.
A little boy is dead because someone just couldn't wait for them to cross the road. If the driver is found guilty, I hope that there's some substantial jail time.
Friday, May 08, 2009
No Bike to Work Week for me
I'm off from work next week and I'll be gardening. But y'all don't need me -- get on yer damn bike and ride.
And not just fer a week, neither...
And not just fer a week, neither...
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
A post vaguely related to my tagline...
Speed kills:
We don't know the details yet. But I imagine Doug Georgianni as another struggling, underpaid guy trying to find that illusive Arizona dream. Now he's dead, a young 51. Three months ago he took a job servicing the speed cameras on Phoenix freeways. Sunday night, while parked on the Loop 101 near 7th Ave. in a marked Department of Public Safety photo enforcement van, Georgianni was shot multiple times. The suspect, since arrested, is a white male (of course) driving a Chevy Suburban (of course).
I never completely understood the loud controversy over speed and red-light cameras. Metro Phoenix has a horrendous problem of major traffic violators, fatal and often spectacular wrecks and pedestrian killings, many hit-and-runs. Meanwhile, the religion of tax cuts and Arizona's unwillingness to fund its public sector to keep up with population growth mean there aren't enough traffic officers. The problem is made worse, of course, by sprawl, huge freeways and eight-lane "city streets," plus a population driving giant vehicles they can't really control on streets with increasing numbers of pedestrians. Even the former Catholic bishop came to grief this way, and in his character-revealing response of driving away from the victim like so many other 'Zonies had done.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Scones
I continued my foray into baking by stepping into the world of scones yesterday. Scones are nothing more than really rich biscuits with the addition of eggs and cream to the dough. It makes the dough harder to handle because it's sticky and I didn't want to get them too "floury" by covering everything with flour as I did with the biscuits.
I added a cup of frozen blueberries to the dough (2c flour, 5 tbsp butter, 4 tsp baking powder, 2 eggs, 2 tbsp sugar, 3/4 cup half and half, 1 tsp salt) after cutting the butter into the flour. This added to the tackiness of the dough since nothing was warm, but I managed to get the thing out of the bowl and onto the counter. Kneading the dough was difficult and I eventually got it somewhat dome-shaped. I then cut six wedges and got them (not without a struggle, mind you) onto a baking sheet and into a hot (450°F) oven. They were initially baked for 8 minutes, but they weren't quite done in the center, I suspect due to the frozen blueberries releasing their moisture, so I put them back in for another 3-4 minutes.
Surprisingly ugly, but really, really tasty. Me darlin' Mrs. was quite enthused with the results and later in the day, had all manner of other additions for future scones that I needed to bake for her. All in due time, sweetie...
We finished them off today -- they keep well. They weren't warm, but they were just as moist as when I pulled them from the oven yesterday. I'll make these again, but with all of the high-fat items, maybe not too often. I do understand why scones are priced why they are now, though. With practice, I'm sure I'll become more adept at handling the dough, but they really can be labor intensive.
I added a cup of frozen blueberries to the dough (2c flour, 5 tbsp butter, 4 tsp baking powder, 2 eggs, 2 tbsp sugar, 3/4 cup half and half, 1 tsp salt) after cutting the butter into the flour. This added to the tackiness of the dough since nothing was warm, but I managed to get the thing out of the bowl and onto the counter. Kneading the dough was difficult and I eventually got it somewhat dome-shaped. I then cut six wedges and got them (not without a struggle, mind you) onto a baking sheet and into a hot (450°F) oven. They were initially baked for 8 minutes, but they weren't quite done in the center, I suspect due to the frozen blueberries releasing their moisture, so I put them back in for another 3-4 minutes.
Surprisingly ugly, but really, really tasty. Me darlin' Mrs. was quite enthused with the results and later in the day, had all manner of other additions for future scones that I needed to bake for her. All in due time, sweetie...
We finished them off today -- they keep well. They weren't warm, but they were just as moist as when I pulled them from the oven yesterday. I'll make these again, but with all of the high-fat items, maybe not too often. I do understand why scones are priced why they are now, though. With practice, I'm sure I'll become more adept at handling the dough, but they really can be labor intensive.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Bliss
After a winter of studs, salt, rime and the general test that is winter commuting, the past three rides are utter and complete bliss. The Red Menace is still down for the count as the rusty chain overshadowed the other ailments hidden in the oxide-ridden drivetrain, e.g., the broken bearings. The DumVee's chain is a corroded mess even after what I though was careful maintenance; clean thoroughly and lube it up before storing it in the garage for the winter. But, alas, I must have missed something, so no Dumvee yet. So, after catching a ride from me darlin' Mrs for a couple of weeks, I decided that since the roads are now clear, I'll dust off the Bleriot and take that to work.
Oh wow.
From cranking on creaky bearings and a semi-solid chain with studs of the winter beater to the smooth as Macallan 25 of the Bleriot is a shock to say the least. The weather is wonderfully mild (even though I like winter a lot) and a welcome change from the long bitter season that is rapidly waning. 45 and sunny? Yeah, I could get used to that...
Oh wow.
From cranking on creaky bearings and a semi-solid chain with studs of the winter beater to the smooth as Macallan 25 of the Bleriot is a shock to say the least. The weather is wonderfully mild (even though I like winter a lot) and a welcome change from the long bitter season that is rapidly waning. 45 and sunny? Yeah, I could get used to that...
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Success!
I finally made a bread and didn't mess it up.
Lemme back up. I used to cook for a living, back in another life. Cook, not bake. The pastry chefs I worked with were, in my eyes anyway, gods. I would finish my prep work and watch them mix or proof or make loaves or whatever with utter envy as I could not bake. Hell, I'd screw up pancake better 'bout half the time. So, flour and I agreed on a truce where I would be allowed to make gravy and pancake batter, but nothing else. It was as if I had some substance on my skin that reacted with flour to make failure.
I even messed up the no knead recipe that Jim posted. Twice. Both attempts came out more like barely leavened hard tack.
I can't bake. I take it personally because I like to consider myself capable in the kitchen; I know techniques and recipes by heart and I can pretty much make anything. Except bread and that hurts. I'm incomplete and I want to scratch that last itch -- breads, pie crusts and quick breads.
I've decided that I will bake a loaf of bread consistently, create a pie crust from scratch (hell, I even rendered my own lard) and make biscuits. This isn't only not impossible, but it happens every day. I can do this.
Today, I decided that I would try to make biscuits for breakfast. Using the information from this article which strips away the mythology, the folklore and gives a straight up account of what biscuits need. An engineer's view, sorta. I understand (mostly) the chemistry and what is happening when food is prepared (if you want to know more, Harold McGee's book is a great read.) Avoiding the "my Gramma does it this-a-way" articles and getting to the basics was just what I needed. I followed the ideas presented and with flip and a flash -- I had a dough I could actually handle. The only variations were that I didn't bother to cut them out with a glass or a cutter, I just made six square buscuits and that I put flour on everything; my hands, the counter, the rolling pin, the dog, etc.
That may have been the trick.
I used lard, so the Mrs. wasn't too keen on them (she really dislikes all manner of pork), but I'm going to try again tonight with butter to see the difference. I'm just thrilled that I finally got it right. I've purchased the Tassajara Bread Book and I'll work on his recipe until I get that right, too. I'm heartened enough now to be disappointed again later.
Update
The biscuits also worked with butter. I made sure to use cold butter and I put the shortened flour mixture back in the fridge for ten minutes before handling the dough. With bicuits down, here come the scones! WooHoo!
Lemme back up. I used to cook for a living, back in another life. Cook, not bake. The pastry chefs I worked with were, in my eyes anyway, gods. I would finish my prep work and watch them mix or proof or make loaves or whatever with utter envy as I could not bake. Hell, I'd screw up pancake better 'bout half the time. So, flour and I agreed on a truce where I would be allowed to make gravy and pancake batter, but nothing else. It was as if I had some substance on my skin that reacted with flour to make failure.
I even messed up the no knead recipe that Jim posted. Twice. Both attempts came out more like barely leavened hard tack.
I can't bake. I take it personally because I like to consider myself capable in the kitchen; I know techniques and recipes by heart and I can pretty much make anything. Except bread and that hurts. I'm incomplete and I want to scratch that last itch -- breads, pie crusts and quick breads.
I've decided that I will bake a loaf of bread consistently, create a pie crust from scratch (hell, I even rendered my own lard) and make biscuits. This isn't only not impossible, but it happens every day. I can do this.
Today, I decided that I would try to make biscuits for breakfast. Using the information from this article which strips away the mythology, the folklore and gives a straight up account of what biscuits need. An engineer's view, sorta. I understand (mostly) the chemistry and what is happening when food is prepared (if you want to know more, Harold McGee's book is a great read.) Avoiding the "my Gramma does it this-a-way" articles and getting to the basics was just what I needed. I followed the ideas presented and with flip and a flash -- I had a dough I could actually handle. The only variations were that I didn't bother to cut them out with a glass or a cutter, I just made six square buscuits and that I put flour on everything; my hands, the counter, the rolling pin, the dog, etc.
That may have been the trick.
I used lard, so the Mrs. wasn't too keen on them (she really dislikes all manner of pork), but I'm going to try again tonight with butter to see the difference. I'm just thrilled that I finally got it right. I've purchased the Tassajara Bread Book and I'll work on his recipe until I get that right, too. I'm heartened enough now to be disappointed again later.
Update
The biscuits also worked with butter. I made sure to use cold butter and I put the shortened flour mixture back in the fridge for ten minutes before handling the dough. With bicuits down, here come the scones! WooHoo!
Friday, March 13, 2009
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)