A new level of furious

Since the accident I have had to control my emotions, especially watching my temper. I tell myself that killing/maiming/beating the shit out of people won't help, no matter how much they deserve it. 'He needs killing!' may be a justifiable defense, but it's not a good idea.
But all that rage has to go somewhere, right?

I've always advised people to vote with their wallets. Don't like what a certain business is doing? Take your money elsewhere and tell your friends, (and why!)

Today's object of my wrath is Regal Cinemas. Like many other folks, I took my family to see the new Star Wars. Regular readers will note I have a checkered past with them. Half the time there have been problems with the captioning system. I'm not kidding. Every other movie I've gone to I've had to get my money back or given comp tickets. But what are they going to do, give me free passes for life? This will not do.

In the past I've experienced dead batteries, faulty wiring, improper synchronization of the craptions. (Wanna read the beginning of the movie at the climax? That's what I'm talking about.)
Today looked like more of the same, shoddy batteries,even though the manager insisted they were new. How new is open to interpretation.
After missing the first few minutes of the movie, the manager Fran Kaufold and I returned to the theater with a new headset. She had to go back and get a THIRD Pair.
But something was up with the replacement. Only the left side of the glasses worked. This translates to half a sentence. Would you enjoy a movie that they only said the first three or four words of dialogue? 
I'm past slamming my fist on the counter. Yelling isn't going to solve things. Informing the manager of her questionable ancestry doesn't fix the problem.
As I've alluded to in the title of the post: I've reached a scathing level of deadly calm. I thanked the manager for doing what she could and I would take it from that point. So where am I at in terms of emotional stability? I'm thankful I didn't have anything within reach that I could have used to break bones.
So, return home. Take a few minutes to calm down. Think about a solution. I keep coming back to take your money elsewhere. That changes me, it doesn't encourage them to change.
In the past I've complained at the ticket box office. That gets me free tickets.
I've written the corporate office. That got me a letter of apology and more tickets. I don't want free tickets. The problem needs to be fixed. My wish is to sit with my family and enjoy the same movie without interruptions. Together. That's not so hard, is it? I feel bad for those people who I disturb while getting out of my seat.
This has gone on long enough. After talking it over with my family we're going to take our business elsewhere. AMC offers close captioning. It's farther from us, but if that's what it takes... I'm also going to go to a couple of deaf monthly meetings and try to get a read on things. Perhaps organize something.

Christmas stories

My 7th grade Art teacher taught more than Art. The last day before Christmas break, Mr. Armand Mednick would gather the students around and tell us the stories of how his father smuggled him out of Belgium as a child concealed in a suitcase, or when his father burned his birth certificate in front of him, to hide his Jewish heritage from the SS. He told us tales of concentration camps and the people who suffered at the hands of the Nazis. He often wore long sleeves to cover up his serial number tattoo. I only recall seeing it once. He had to roll up his sleeves while we were working with clay on a pottery wheel. At the time I wasn't sure if he was ashamed or embarrassed about the numbers. He didn't like to talk about them. Looking back, I might theorize he didn't want to give them more weight or importance in his life. I would go so far as to say he treated them like a mole, something to be mostly ignored. At that young age I could understand what he endured, but the 'why' didn't fully sink in for a few years.
So when people talk about rounding up Muslims, deporting or even outright killing them, I'm reminded of that last time certain people were rounded up because of their race or religion.

Japanese interment camps. Concentration camps. Gas chambers.
Because that really worked out well the last time.

Here's a thought: Allowing fear to control your mouth and trigger finger only serves to incite more fear and violence. A self-fulfilling prophecy. You want to turn frightened people into terrorists? Continue on this destructive path and you will have more bombings and riots than you know what to do with.

There is a solution. Welcome these refugees. Treat them with compassion and they will respond in kind. Oh, but there are secret agents, terrorists in with the refugees! "They'll take our wimmun an our guuunnss!"
Just what I expect from an angry, scared fear monger. Get a grip on yourselves.
Now, are you listening? Let's say for a moment you're right. There is a Daesh terrorist (who's just as scared and prejudiced as you are.) ready to cause destruction.
Fortunately they are just as smart as the allegedly educated loudmouths over here in 'Murica.
Here's how they did it back in WWII. There was a problem of what to do with the captured Nazi soldiers in the closing days of the war. The answer was genius as it solved several problems. 
Problem: There was a man power shortage in the work force. 
Solution: Put them to work. Treat them fairly. Show the men a better way of providing a life. Many of the prisoners didn't want to go home after the war.
When anti-German sentiment was at an all time high, they took prisoners of war and turned them. Yep. More than a few went native. Don't believe me? Here's one story. Here's another. 
I encourage you to read those two links all the way to the end. There were rough patches, but in the end, the benefits outweighed the costs.
Now, you can keep on spouting the hate and war mongering, we all know where that leads, or you can choose to take the high road and show everyone what it means to be American. 
I'm not so naive to believe that there aren't any anti-American sentiments in any refugees. But I know the way to beat Daesh is to not play into their hands. They want a war. They have a death wish. Killing is easy, but it's also permanent. Once you start, you can't go back.
Dial that fear back and show people what true courage looks like. 

Count down

Two-thirds of my brood finished their finals yesterday. Musketeer number two felt she passed her calculus, but didn't ace it. This is good news because often times she underestimates things like that in order not to get her hopes up. When she is one of a handful of students who pass the exam, there's that little squeal of surprise followed by a sigh of relief.
I was dropping off a package to Fed Ex with my youngest when an epiphany occurred. Stop lights are actually the moments when we have time to recollect all the things in our scatterbox brains.
Daughter #1 is in college. Daughter #2 will be graduating this spring. That leaves #3 with only a few years of high school left. 
What I'm feeling is the first pangs of empty nest syndrome. Watching the kids grow up to spread their wings. I'm near the end of bringing them into adulthood.
Except it doesn't really end. It simply moves on to another stage of growth.
Enough of this retrospective bull.
Got your Christmas shopping done? I'm getting the hang of it finally. Cards went out the weekend after Thanksgiving, including the birthday cards in January. Our family has more than it's fair share of Capricorns for some reason.
Today I'm going to work on my last gallon of mead. There is filtering to be done. I'm up to 28 bottles of various flavors. When it comes time to bottle this last batch of blueberry, (some time in January) I'm sure it will be over 30. There's a tiny bit of sediment on the bottom of each bottle. Way less than before, it goes to show that I've a bit more refining to do. Which reminds me, I need to label these buggers before I forget what's in them.
With the coming of the New Year the wife and I have resolved to make big batches of the recipes that proved popular with the taste testers. I spend roughly 100 dollars per five gallons of mead on ingredients, mostly honey.
If the Apocalypse happens, (WW III, American Taliban, Skynet or zombies.) I'm sure my next career will be making libations for whoever is in charge... Except those robot overlords, I'm fairly certain they prefer 10W-30.
I'm fixing to hold another tasting event down town at the end of January. Learning from the last time, I'll try to get some cards printed up and see about getting the right people to show.
This is the year Centaur Meads gets off the ground. We won't be selling, but definitely laying the ground work and getting production started.

What is happening

Tonight the new Star Wars movie will premiere. We won't see it and I don't want to hear anyone tell me about it. My family will get around to it very soon.
Another thing crossed my desk: NASA is getting more money than they asked for.
You can go ahead and read the transcript but let me try and boil things down to the main points.
We're going to Mars. A goddamn manned mission to Mars. About freaking time. There was a time when I didn't think I would live to see humans step out into the solar system. A recurring theme in my life is, 'If you want something bad enough, you will find a way to make it happen.'
Europa is going to happen. Jupiter's moon, Europa, is an ice covered world with an ocean under it's surface. Wherever there is water, life usually follows. Congress stipulated that the Europa mission must have a lander and a way to drill through the ice. Challenge accepted.
In my ever vivid dreams when they lower a camera beneath the ice, one of several things might happen.
A shrimp-like creature will zoom past the lens.
A terrifying tentacle will strike out and rip the camera off the probe.
Or nothing will happen.
I sincerely doubt Europa's ocean is devoid of life.
I also doubt there is some Cthulu-type leviathan down there waiting to kill us. (I hope.)
It's more reasonable to expect small plankton and amoebas. Which would be a miracle in itself, but let's get there first. 
The Orion Spacecraft and the Space Launch System are now in full swing. 
Together with the private sector space agencies,  Space X, Boeing and Virgin, we can finally step out into the solar system.
Remember what I mentioned in an earlier post: whoever goes out into space will control the solar system. Not too long ago I thought the Chinese might beat us to the moon. Their goal is to put a base on the moon in the very near future. Remember: they're very good at five-year plans. Here's what they have planned for the near future.
We've all played Monopoly as kids. Think of it this way: If China sets up a base on the moon, it will control access from Earth to our neighboring planets. China is doing the equivalent of buying the St. Charles and St. James sections of the board. Sure, we can launch our rockets from Earth to the other planets, but it will be so much easier to do it from the Moon or one of the Liberation points.
Visual aid time:

Now I can't get that song out of my head

Liberation, or LaGrangian points (with apologies to ZZ top.) are areas in between two planetary bodies where gravitational forces cancel each other out. Theoretically a space station would have to exert very little energy to remain at, say... the point between the Earth and the moon. Both bodies would exert equal amounts of gravity, in effect balancing the space station between the two masses.
In science-fiction circles, L1 through L5 are considered optimal for a future space based rocket platform. There is also some solid science to back it up.
Now what if the Chinese decide to build a base on that small blue dot in the picture? They would control those points closest to them.
Don't think it could happen? Take a look at your history. Those countries that control the ports, controlled the flow of goods.
If the Chinese get to the moon before us and establish a good settlement, don't be surprised if they decide to rename the moon.
If that sounds far fetched, go ahead and Google 'New Amsterdam'. History is always written by the victors.

making the best of it

Like everyone else, I find myself running around trying to get stuff done. It seems there aren't enough hours in the day. This can cause a bit of tension, especially among loved ones. We're all feeling the holiday stress. The trick is to not take it out on those close to you, no matter how much they deserve it. I like to think that I dial it way down and try not to go full nuclear on people. My wife may snigger and point out how wrong I am for this assumption. That's part of her job description: pointing out when I'm  wrong and to keep me honest.
In all this holiday madness, I like to look for the silver lining. Our Christmas is going to look a little lean after all the little emergencies that cropped up. The bright side is I have a new door in the house. I'm thankful my brother-in-law dropped by to help us and offered his advice about installing it properly. My family is warm and safe because of him.
A friend's car broke down last night and I went out to help him fix it. We learned a bit about putting serpentine belts on, but for some reason we couldn't quite make it happen. I suspect the larger problem is we're not that bright despite figuring out how the tension wheel works. The belt always fell off when we got to the point of putting it on that last flywheel. I got them home safe and hope they were able to get it repaired. It could have been raining, thankfully all we had to deal with was the cold wind.
This week I'm helping clean a store on the far side of town. As near as I can figure it, Lowe's is having a grand re-opening of all it's San Antonio stores. We're going around and getting everything in tip-top shape. Tomorrow I have to be there at 6 AM. I haven't measured the distance... no wait, I can look it up. Be right back. Ah, just over 20 miles. The tricky part is going through the traffic. Sure that's not a problem before the sun comes up, but the way back is full of construction and rush hour. Where's the bright side in that? One girl on our crew is a full 54 miles from home two towns over. It made me momentarily appreciate the traffic.
I'll be going to bed early, despite the giggling from my daughters. I'll take what I can get.

A new door

This morning the family and I began taking the busted patio door out in preparation for installing a new door. Starting with this:

Photo taken between the first and second cup of coffee.

My crew, a family project

Here's what I learned:
Shop Vac's pick up safety glass pretty good.
There is no such thing as a straight line in construction.
Staples are regularly used to put in patio doors. 
They installed the old patio door backwards.

We're having bulk collection in our neighborhood on Monday, so putting a door frame out on the curb isn't that unusual.
When I made a run to the store for extra shims, the vultures were already picking through what I left out front. Keeping a smile on my face, I asked the picker/vulture/scavenger if he could move his car out of the way so I could leave. I do and don't have a problem with these people. On the one hand, I'm not going to use the stuff again. They're just recycling. The flip side is they're picking through my garbage like it was nothing. It personally grosses me out. There is a reason I threw it out,guys. 

Smile for the camera

This is one of those chain reaction projects. Notice the torn off siding. It's asbestos from the seventies. Now I know what you're thinking: That stuff will give you cancer, which is a partially correct answer. If it was pulverized into dust and got into my lungs, then we're talking the big C.
The only thing we disturbed is a bunch of spider egg sacks. Oh, and I found a mummified skink. Should of gotten a picture of that one. Now we'll have to replace the siding. Rebuilding the porch moved up a few notches on my 'To do' list. We should replace the windows while we're at it. At least the one near the porch. Slowly, but surely we are turning this house of straw into one of bricks.

This is so Santa can get those presents in.

Almost done

We had a little trouble putting the shims in, but eventually we got the doors to close properly. French doors secured to the studs in the wall. Door knob on and a door latch on the inactive door. We had to call it a night because we were losing what passed as daylight. Cloudy, drizzle plagued us all day. I was hoping my tools didn't short out while we worked.
Tomorrow I'll put the trim up and so some creative engineering with the plywood to protect the insulation. There will even be pictures, I promise.

Pictures!

Finally occurred to me to e-mail the pictures to myself. One smack to the forehead later, I began this post.

This one was from when we vacationed in Florida prior to Thanksgiving. We stayed at a house in Seaside, Florida, with cousins. To show my appreciation, I brought some bottles of mead to share. This is what the pineapple ginger looked like as the sun set over the bay.

There are no words

 I'm going to use that for a thumbnail when I start my Kickstarter to raise money for the meadery.

So yeah kids, Dad is going to talk about meads. Go back to reading your Twilight fan fiction. Shoo...

Saturday, before my patio door shattering, I was on the porch filtering and bottling the latest batches of mead.

We took the new pump through it's paces and it acquitted itself nicely. this was the first bottle to come out.

See through awesome

That's the pumpkin spice. Here are it's brothers. All told there are 11 bottles. Two of which are 1.5 liters and cold crashing in my fridge for the next 12 months.

Now taking suggestions for a name

Doing the math, this batch of pumpkin spice mead came in at 22% ABV. Taking a sip between filling bottles told me it was very good. A pumpkin and nutmeg taste with a kick. Smooth, crisp and easy to swallow. No metallic bite. Now imagine how well it will age in one year. Oh, yeah baby.

The next two were problematical. These two refused to clear despite correct readings. 

Don't let appearances fool you

The one on the right, the pear, weighs in at almost 19% (18.995, but who's counting?) the blueberry/pear came in at almost 8%. Still respectable, but this is the first single digit ABV I've hit. While the blueberry combo is sweet and goes down easy, the pear is a bit on the dry side with a little metallic bite to it. Typically that will smooth out during the aging. Don't ask for samples, these are going to sit for one year. So says the deaf mead maker. There is a pure blueberry one that I had to tinker with, so it's a few months behind the others. It took some research to find out what went wrong, next time I'll use a different method to introduce the fruit.

So what do I need from you guys? Why, to help me name them, of course!

something new

It's never boring around here.
While I was checking my e-mail and my youngest was watching TV, the back door spontaneously shattered. I shit you not.

I think a bug landed on it

I heard what sounded like a can of soda being opened. Followed by my little girl stating, 'I didn't do it.'
She was in my peripheral vision so I knew she was at least eight feet from the back door.
Time for a quick fix with what I have around me.

Eat your heart out McGyver.

 The wife returned from dropping our oldest off at work and immediately got on the phone with our insurance. They won't get back to us till Monday. I work faster than that and I'm deaf. <sigh> It looks like I'm going to get some plywood sheets and nail it up tomorrow. 
We were just talking about getting a new door, I didn't know it was going to be that soon.