Merry Christmas 2015

Halloween '15 Pumpkin

Ein Kleiner Deutsch Biergarten

My wife and I visited München several years ago. I had recently discovered the world of homebrew and had been branching out into new styles. German beer seemed fascinating. I loved the way every major town seemed to have their own style, and servers in each town might get huffy if you ordered a rival town's beer. For example, going to Köln and ordering an Altbier (the style from neighboring Düsseldorf) was supposed to be anathema. While we were in München, I noticed that nearly every restaurant and hotel with enough space had a special garden for the bar patrons. It was usually surrounded by a little fence and had climbing vines over the gates. Very, very gezellig. As the sun went down and we wandered through the cornfields to the only open restaurant in the area, these beer gardens started lighting up in the gathering gloam. The moment was magical. Five years and two children later, I started looking into transforming our little patio into somewhere we could enjoy the gezelligheid of the German beer garden. 

Nothing But 8-Bit Blue Sky From Now On

I'd recently finished a little work on the garage, which included installing some weatherproof speakers on the wall facing the patio. I stood outside to enjoy the stereo, but one thing was distracting me from my water-resistant aural bliss. The exterior of the garage looked terrible. Undefinably blue-grey paint was flaking off the siding. The white trim was all scaly and less white than I would like. I spent the rest of the fall '14 and early spring '15 painting it with Summer Sky blue paint from Metro Paint. It cost maybe $35 for 5 gallons and it looked pretty good when it was finished.  
My friend Nick from Ineptech came over to check out the result and suggested doing a mural on the wall. 

How To Make A Pedalboard From A Suitcase

I was playing with a Stoner Metal unit at the time. I hated setting up pedals and cables every time I went over for practice. All I really wanted was to drink beer and grind out some slow heavy jams. What I wanted was a pedal board. I'd seen some slick consumer grade stuff, but they always seemed a little over-priced. I decided to craft my own. 

Here's where it all starts. The beginning. The letter A. Step 1. Get a suitcase. I got mine for $12 at Rerun in NE Portland. 

Three Things We Love Are Made By Crazy Persons

We go through a lot of different products at home, most of which are pretty boring. Generic graphics, bland packaging, unremarkable copy on the front, nothing to draw a second look. Though on occasion, something will catch my attention. It may be an unusual design or a label covered with type worthy of an Ayn Rand novel (tiny), or even a news article about the founder of that product's parent company. It seems that being compulsive liar, a manic street preacher, or even demolition derby-style driver doesn't preclude one from making a solid product. Here's a few of our favorite products by people with whom we wouldn't want to be caught in an elevator.

3. Bragg's Liquid Aminos

My wife is pretty fond of this stuff. She uses it a lot in Asian recipes as a substitute for soy sauce, especially when we're expecting some of our glutarded friends over for dinner. It claims to be lower in salt than soy sauce, though it actually falls somewhere between regular and low sodium soy options. So what makes this product unusual?

Paul Bragg, founder of the company. Bragg's Wikipedia page is a lengthy list of contradictions between personal claims and public record. He claimed that following his regimen should allow people to live to the age of 120 though Bragg himself died at the stated age of 95, and later geneological research indicates that he was more likely 81 years old. He advocated deep breathing, water fasts, organic foods, distilled water, juicing, and exercise. He was also fond of adding N.D. and PhD. after his name in published articles though census records indicate that he finished one year of high school. Bragg is not exactly the first self-promoter to deal lavishly with his past, even if some of the claims were easily disputed. He was neither the son of a farmer nor the eldest of 16 children. He did not actually participate in the 1908 and 1912 Olympics as a member of the U.S. Wrestling Team. He was a high school PE teacher and life insurance agent before starting a new career in raw food promotion and publications on health. If you want more information on how to live forever, the label of the Liquid Aminos bottle is covered with amazing offers on various mail-ins for health publications.

2. Dr. Bronner's Magic Soaps

I like this soap. I haven't tried all the liquid soap available, but I do have a strong distaste for liquid soap that either a) leaves a film all over my skin after desperately trying to scrub it off; b) comes along with that shower puff thing; or c) both.   Dr. Bronner's removes oil from my face without leaving anything behind other than an intense but short-lived peppermint aroma. It's also pretty concentrated so I don't usually use more than a few drops. The soap comes in other varieties, but I've only ever used the Peppermint. If the other variations are as intense as the peppermint, I would love to try them as well. This company believes in Fair Trade. They believe in Ethical Sourcing. But...

Dr Emanuel Bronner was more than a little idiosyncratic. While promoting his Moral A-B-Cs in Illinois in 1947, he was arrested and admitted to a mental hospital. He received a few rounds of electro-convulsive therapy before eventually escaping. Some of his moral teachings and belief system have been immortalized on his soap products. The labels are intense. They feature tiny repetitions of "Listen Children Eternal Father Eternally One!" and a lot of borrowing and blending from various religious and political works. PDFs of the labels are available on Dr. Bronner's website. He even ascribes some of his nonsense to famous historical features, viz. "We can no longer live half-slave, half free. We unite the Human race in All-One-God-Faith or perish by half-true hate! For we're All-One or None!" - Abraham Lincoln. (quotation marks from the actual bottle)

1. Dave's Killer Bread

This is awesome bread. It's hearty, it's just the right combination of soft and chewy, it comes in a bunch of great varieties, even dessert (the Sin Dawg). It's made locally in deep SE Portland, has all the right adjectives and none of the wrong additives. The company is in the habit of hiring rehabilitated felons. Cool right? But...

Dave Dahl, the company's co-founder, has had some trouble with the law. Wikipedia says he was in and out of prison for 15 years for methamphetamine-related offenses before starting Dave's Killer Bread. More recently, he was arrested after a friend called the police to intervene in a mental health crisis Dave was having. Dave fled the scene, hit a police car and after a chase, rammed another vehicle after being cornered. He was found guilty except for insanity.

Update: Dave's Killer Bread was recently sold to Georgia-based food company Flower Foods for $275 million dollars. They publicly state they will maintain the same business practices as before the buyout.

the dad i know

These may not all be accurate, but they are how I remember them. 

- The dad I know would drink and curse and smoke cigars. He also stood guard in the church parking lot. I imagined the day I could stand guard with him. Derek and I used to drink half frozen lemonade on a hot day and talk about how we couldn't wait to drink beer with Dad.

- The dad I know came home from work to kill a rattlesnake in the doghouse with a shovel. Then he skinned it and put it on his hat. 

- The dad I know played baseball at Palomar. I still have the grey hoodie to prove it. This may be part of the reason I played baseball in high school. Or he may have just gotten the hoodies in exchange for piling a bunch of manure on their field.

- The dad I know had a handful of different jobs while we were growing up. He was a carpenter. He drove a fertilizer truck. He drove a combine in the field across the road. I brought him lunch there once. He milked cows at night. He welded, he painted, he designed, he executed. 

- The dad I know could be hard in his discipline. But he once chased us around the kitchen island until he couldn't keep a straight face and we all got out of being punished. He also once set my brother Derek and me against each other with pool noodles until we beat each other into realizing what a genius he was. Some nights he would come into our room and talk to us after he had handed out some punishment and apologize. 

- When something breaks, the Dad I know would get his hands dirty, swear, worsen whatever he's trying to fix, but he'd figure it out. If I ever buy a motorcycle, it would be because of him. If I ever build a car in my garage, it would be because of him. If I ever own a firearm, it would be because of him. I read stories to my own kids in different voices and accents, incorporating their names as the characters because that's what he did. My music collection is shiny and costly because of him. Because the dad I know would drive us into town to pick up a new album from Stevie Nicks or Tom Petty. I can't listen to Endless Summer or Clapton Unplugged without images of driving in his brown and white Ford truck or the grey and black Suburban. I love to drive, to see new parts of the country because of him. Rachel and I spent our honeymoon doing this. The dad I know is my model for manhood.

- The dad I know had crazy death-defying stories from his childhood. Stories where he screwed things up, where he made mistakes, where he couldn't climb the rope in gym class, where he traded a motorcycle for a stolen car, or a car for a stolen motorcycle. Stories where we felt his humanity. These stories were important to us, even if we held them up to him when we screwed up too.

- The dad I know spoke to us in four languages. Our household was a muddied mess of onderzetters, listo?, and fucha fina. Now I teach my kids words and phrases in English, Spanish, Dutch, Frisian, German, French, Russian, and American Sign. Because of this. 

- The dad I know is tough. His favorite pizza topping is wasp. No amount of physical pain could make him cry. The first time I saw Dad cry was when when his mother no longer recognized him. The second time I saw Dad cry was when we buried his father. This was the first time I realized I wouldn't have him around forever.

- The dad I know is full of advice. Some of it bad, "If it flies, floats, etc", some of it wistful, some of it surprisingly risque, but a lot of it well-intentioned, or even useful, like doing a job right the first time.

- The dad I know likes gadgets, and taught me that money isn't just for saving. It can be for spending on things you enjoy as well.

- The dad I know would drive too fast when Mom wasn't in the car. But Mom does this too when Dad isn't in the car.