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Next on tap for the non-alky spot in the warehouse’s kegerator? Hibiscus soda!

I love root beer, but the ingredients are expensive, and I’m still on the fence about adding caramel color to make it more appealing to the masses. So what other sodas can be kegged? Numerous ones – though I’m not a straight-up cola fan, and am generally not into fruit sodas either. However, our other brewer on the premises suggested a hibiscus soda – not unlike a common Mexican summer drink, oaxaca or sweet waters – made with jamaica (hibiscus), lime, cucumber, strawberries, or other summery ingredients. After checking out several recipes, I opted for the simplest: dried hibiscus blossoms, sugar and water. The test batch, completed Tuesday night came out with great color and flavor – even working with a recipe that listed “sugar: amount to taste”. I already liked hibiscus in herbal tea – this just brings it to an evening drink with the carbonation. It also competes with the trendy pomegranate drinks, since hibiscus is also high in Vitamin C.

The keg is carbonating for several days with 4 gallons of water – on Monday, I’ll make up what is essentially the hibiscus soda syrup in one gallon of water to be added to the keg and carbonated for an additional 3-4 days. That makes it ready to go for 4th of July weekend – and the following weekend’s art show. Here’s the basic recipe in case you feel like trying it – the non-keg, quick’n’dirty way to carbonate is to make it with half the water and top up with club soda:

Hibiscus Soda

2 quarts water

1 cup dried hibiscus blossoms (at groceries stores in the West, or in Mexican markets)

1/2 cup sugar

Boil the hibiscus blossoms in the water for ~4 minutes. Let steep another 10-15 minutes and strain. Add the sugar and mix thoroughly. Carbonate and pour over ice. Makes 2 quarts (duh).

One of my strongest memories of my maternal grandfather was of him fishing. He loved to fish, mostly with rapalas, and to this day I could probably pick out for you what he considered the best rapala for rainbow and german brown trout. I of course learned to fish, though I haven’t used the skill in years – which is OK, since trout is not one of my favorite dishes. However, most of his visits to see us included long afternoons by a river or lake, complete with one cooler filled with sandwiches and drinks, and the other empty and waiting for the fish that almost always filled the cooler. Like all fishermen, his stories grew with time, although the photographs did his skills justice at least in number of fish caught, if not in size of each fish.

Bragging about catching fish is normal, but he had one skill while engaged in fishing that my brother and I found decidely NOT normal. One of his favorite spots near my parents’ place was a lake regularly stocked with fish due to its proximity to a fish hatchery. The lake wasn’t particularly interesting to kids, but it did have crawdads. Crawdads, as the smaller, blue collar version of lobster, were not worth good fishermens’ time to bring them home and fix them for dinner. But my brother and I could poke at them with sticks in the shallow water at least, with their claws swiping hazily at our efforts. But when my grandfather would discover one, he would scoop it up without a word, toss it in his trucker style hat, and plop the hat back on his head. He’d look at us and say, “What? That’s what you do with crawdads!”

Shocked and a little awed at the man who exposed his scalp (for his hair was starting to thin in his 70s) to the pinchers of the small beast, we’d tug on our mom’s shirt, to get her to explain this behavior. More than half the time, she hadn’t seen it, and so didn’t understand our confused looks. The crawdad would be kept under the hat for a while, and returned to the water soon after.

I still don’t know why he’d do that – other than to stop the fussing of his grandkids for a good half hour. And when I see crawdads now, I have a tendency to believe their first use is as something to keep under one’s hat, at least long enough to confuse children.

The new garden is going pretty well – with lots of bare spots as I think carefully about what to fill up the remaining space with. There’s a section for herbs that includes some Iranian varieties gifted by a fellow gardener (because who would refuse Iranian tarragon?), peas twisting around the fence, a scattering of greens that is fighting off some determined insects, basil that can’t grow fast enough for my taste, potatoes, onions, brussel sprouts and nasturtiums doing quite well, and multiple types of peppers and tomatoes that are fighting the irritating flea beetles. Sometimes organic gardening rules feel like a serious handicap, although usually it feels like cutting out additional work.

This is mainly true as we consider whether to raise beans. Since the green bean in black bean sauce recipe has been perfected (to be posted soon), it’s a nice fantasy to imagine bringing home healthy green beans and garlic from the garden to be mixed with black bean sauce, other seasonings and served over Texmati rice (my stomach is growling already). But if there is one thing I am being warned away from planting, it’s beans. Specifically, the bean beetle (I suspect it is the Mexican Bean Beetle described here) is a terrible scourge – serious enough that some gardeners propose that everyone make a pact to not raise beans for one year, just to discourage the insect. Others recommend an intensive plan of covering the plants in a tent of red tulle (red, I am told, lasts longer in the UV rays than white tulle. No other colors were discussed.) that you must quickly and covertly enter when harvesting beans. Stories of dive bombing beetles, of beautiful beans that disappeared overnight, of a garden plot turned practically brown with the thick layer of bugs all have me thinking I may have to give up on beans in this plot.

My only hope at this point is a friend’s suggestion: why not find a beetle-resistant variety of bean? I suppose we’re not too picky: just something with the texture and general taste of a fresh green bean. But the internet isn’t yielding any answers – most research into producing beetle-resistant beans has been limited to soybean crops. But if I could find a good resistant bean, I’d be all set – though I’d probably try the red tulle plan too just to be sure.

In the meantime, spinach, the garden’s first crop in most years is ready to eat! After this weekend, we’ll be able to start having summer salads and use herbs too. I can’t wait to see the crazy brussel sprout stalks shoot up, and tomato flowers forming. A drip irrigation system is in the plans and if I can keep up with the volunteer sunflowers and other weeds there will be much to enjoy out of the garden this year. Having sunlight kicks ass.

The warehouse project is going pretty well, with a good group of people, lots of project activity, and almost at the black line for finances. Our next big question is, do we go non-profit? In an ideal world, our LLC could go to classes on how to do this, ask questions about what we need to do to be in line with all the laws and regulations from an experienced teacher, and hand in a single application packet with a small fee once ready.

I am told this is not how it works.

We are lucky that one member has done some background research on what we need to do, what laws are really important to research, and what benefits and difficulties we can expect. But it will take calling different offices to ask questions, probably some legal counsel, some changes in how finances are handled, and probably more work for me as we change our spreadsheets and procedures. The benefits would be helpful however, and so we’re slowly moving forward. In the meantime, if there are any experts out there on moving to non-profit status in the Centennial State, let me know.

So for the past couple of years I’ve spent a few days in south Texas brush country – enjoying friends, hot weather, and a huge dose of gracious hospitality. It’s always a treat, with one exception. This is fire ant territory. Now there are several kinds of fire ants, and I respect the boundaries encouraged to avoid the large, threatened species of fire ants (that pack a bite bad enough to send you to urgent care). Those ants are actually pretty reserved, they want to do their work and you to leave well enough alone.

OK, so ALL ants want that. But the little, red fire ants in the area have determined that EVERYWHERE is their territory. And for whatever reason, when people step on their territory, they have favorites, those whom they look the other way for. I am not one of those people.

Last year, I had bites that looked like these all over my digits and ankles. They itch, burn, swell, weep, and generally don’t heal for weeks. My wounds are healed now, but I did my part to research what I need to do differently next time:

• don’t wear open toed shoes (bummer in the heat, but doable)


• don’t step on their mounds (I LOOK, but they must be everywhere!)


• fire ants do not like cinnamon. A perimeter of cinnamon around areas you are sleeping can help. (aha!)

So this is progress. And I plan to bring enough cinnamon next time to dose my feet and all around my tent to keep out the territorial insects. That is, until last night’s dream:

I dreamed last night that I put down the cinnamon, and was having a grand time with friends nearby when I looked over at my carefully poured powder perimeter. The ants were frolicking in the cinnamon, and to my astonishment, laughed at me: “Fool!” they said in their tiny ant voices, “You chose the cheap, false cinnamon, cassia bark! We love the stuff! It is true cinnamon, the Ceylon cinnamon that is abhorrent to us. HAHAHAHAHA!” 

I guess I better bring both kinds, just in case. And stop listening to Sam’s “true cinnamon” rant.

WHY could you not save my address book somewhere in a computing cloud before I reinstalled Windows????????????? I no longer have anyone’s email address who hasn’t contacted me in the last three weeks. #$%@%*@%@#

I could talk about the blizzard right now, in which there should be 8-19 inches of snow on the ground by 6am tomorrow, but it’s so overdone. What is under the snow is more interesting, and is greatly aided by the snow: the brand new, 200 sq ft (but looks more like 300 sq ft by eyeballing the dimensions) SUNNY garden plot!

After cajoling and flattering as much as possible, I was told that there was zero chance of moving to a sunnier plot within the idyllic community garden where I spent the last year. In fact, five of the twenty members had requested the same thing, and yet no one was willing to move from the slightly sunny plots. If 25% of the garden is dissatisfied with the amount of light, that should be a sign: cut down the damn southern trees.

Lucky for the trees, I chose the rational option: I switched gardens. The garden director took pity on me and found me a spot in the next nearest garden, a sunny plot that was recently vacated by a gardener who took very good care of the plot. That last point was repeated to me by every gardener in the vicinity that I have met so far – it’s hard to know whether this is to reassure me that I am getting a good bed, or to reinforce that there are expectations of anyone inheriting such a high quality cache of soil.

So, goodbye to the pretty crocuses, the wrought iron fence that the peas climbed up all spring, the raised beds and pretty memorial roses. I did leave the plot better than I left it: with sturdy rows of onions to harvest later, and a cover crop of winter wheat to add organic material to the soil. My new garden, which really is only farther from home by maybe 0.2 miles, still definitely reachable by bike; is different in the extreme. All plots, which are considered 400 sq. ft. in size (I signed up for a 1/2 plot, twice the size of my old raised bed), are in full sun. There are probably 400 of them and they are in ground, not raised – giving the appearance of having stumbled upon a vagrant’s camp. There are always bits of fabric or plastic to cover early plants, hay bales scattered to create a buffer zone between plots, fences made from random sticks, tattered Tibetan prayer flags and lots of friendly dogs around. But a busy garden is a better garden – gardeners answer questions, they admire crops, and they look out for attacks from wildlife, insects, and (apparently the big problem in this area) drunk teenagers and greedy lazy organic food lovers.

Already I’ve met several of my neighbors, and they’re all quite friendly. There are new options for fancy drip irrigation systems, all heavily subsidized by rebates from the city. I have more than double the space I had before, and it’s ALL IN SUN. That last item alone makes me thrilled to join the new garden tent-city, with visions of fields of basil dancing in my head.

The increasing snow outside, however, makes it difficult to tackle the new list of to-dos: build a fence that might delay deer, double-dig the soil, and plant the first sugar snaps and greens for the early spring. Research drip irrigation systems (they can’t even be used until late May – freezes happen past Mother’s Day here), keep an ear open for getting some free well decomposed manure, and pick up a wonderful donation of several Walls-of-Water or similar item from a friend’s mom who knows her stuff and is just that kind. I am so ready for garden time – even if it’s done in between snow storms for now.

Over the weekend, I both gave and received strange gifts. Both were appreciated more than any gift certificate, and neither will stick around long. It wouldn’t surprise me if more gifts ended up this way this year since most of us will not be receiving any contract bonuses that represent more than the average yearly salary of a schoolteacher.

On Friday, the warehouse was the site of our first art show. It was gratifying to have a reasonable turnout of maybe 80 people, 12 artists showing work, and a pretty successful donation bar. It continues to blow me away how well the warehouse group gets things done – and without ego getting in the way of everything. This will be a monthly event, so it simply needs some positive word-of-mouth & continuing energy to clean up the warehouse each time, and we’ll be set.

At the art show, I had the opportunity to present Mike (winner of the prize for “why does this dog look like my friend”) with his prize: 1 quart of my latest batch of homemade root beer. I have to applaud Mike for accepting this prize, since it was the most adventurous recipe yet – a 50/50 blend of white sugar and light amber maltose for the sugar source. While I expected that the yeast would fall in love with the maltose, I underestimated how deeply the two would fall, and it had by far the biggest head of foam of any batch. It also was far less sweet than previous batches – with a scent of yeast as opposed to sarsaparilla, vanilla, or any other ingredients I put in. Despite all this, Mike was pleased to try something so different, and I now have a better idea of what sugar mix to use for the next, 5 gallon batch. There’s some friendly pressure from our resident homebrewer, who wants to ramp up the root beer production for our next event. All I need is an extremely cheap source of honey….know any non-commercial or liquidating (pun intended) beekeepers along the Front Range?

The gift I received was even stranger. On Saturday evening, relaxing with one of my favorite root beers and friends, I got a call from an unknown number. I didn’t pick up, since sitting at a dinner table with others hardly seems like the time to pick up one’s phone, but I did listen to the voicemail at the next opportunity. A gentleman with a penchant for beards had left me a message apologizing for Sam’s state of relative facial-hair-less-ness, and described the scrappy bits that exist on his chin in exquisite, albeit unappealing detail. Turning to Sam with the most puzzled look on my face I’ve had in months, I asked him why my favorite cartoonist would possibly be calling me to apologize for how “the downy blades on his chin remind you of leftover spaghetti stuck to the pot”. Turns out, David Malki has offered to call his fans as a surprise to find out what they are like, and Sam had orchestrated just such an event. This also just happens to coincide with my frequent remarks to those who know me that he would be perfect for a conference I work for that happens to need more funny people. So, at my friends’ insistence, I went outside to call him back. We had a slightly awkward conversation about spaces and warehouses for artists, the facial hair spectrum, and thoughts on our relative cities. After casually mentioning the conference I work on that Mr. Malki would be perfect for, he said he’s been trying to work on his public speaking skills and so would consider it for the future. (Hooray!) We ended our conversation: me back to friends with strange ideas for gifts, and he to looking at a potential new artist studio. And we both had more interesting weekends for it.

Conan O’Brien and Andy Richter are back together again!! Back when Conan first signed the contract for taking over The Tonight Show, I argued to anyone who would listen that given the jump in salary and budget for Conan, he should beg/plead/kidnap Andy to come back. Unfortunately or fortunately, Andy Richter’s work since leaving Late Night has been a little too subtle to last very long, leaving him otherwise unemployed. But put the two together in a staring contest and you have pure comedy. Others may have scoffed that either wanted to work together again, but money (or a better time slot) talks, and this will be good news for late night. YEAH!

A friend of mine posted a link to an adoption page for a dog from a shelter. It’s not that she wants the dog, as far as I can tell, I think she just found it appealing. When I looked at it, however, I immediately noticed a similarity to a friend of mine from STL. Sam agrees, after examining the photo that the likeness is uncanny. I have a feeling if you know this friend you would agree immediately, but that’s not what I’m curious about. I want to know WHY THE HELL A RANDOM DOG CAN LOOK LIKE SOMEONE I KNOW. I can’t pick out a particular feature that nails it for me, but if you do figure it out, post in the comments below, and I’ll try to get a prize of some kind to you. And, importantly, there is no insult intended – I think it’s a nice looking dog, for its breed combination, and the friend isn’t bad looking either. It’s just weird.

I just finished Fawn M. Brodie’s book, No Man Knows My History. This biography of Joseph Smith II, founder of Mormonism, is fascinating for both its contents and for how it impacted the author’s life. While raised as a Mormon, and considered a respected biographer as she gained access to the Mormon archives for her research, she lost her Mormon faith. (You can go ahead and make the assumption that her book is not appreciated by many in the Mormon faith). The Mormon archives are one of the few places to find a lot of material on Joseph Smith’s life, so I appreciate that she had access long enough to get a lot of the carefully researched material into book form; but I can imagine it was frustrating to lose faith in writing a biography of the person so well respected as part of your religion. Also, you might notice that this is one of those books that the reviews on Amazon either give 5 or 1 stars to. Again, this is because while it is a well written and fascinating biography; Joseph Smith’s life as presented in the book hardly makes one think well of him, and your perception of the man and the religion would surely color your opinion of a book that presents him as someone who received revelations that seemed to almost always benefit himself before others.

I must admit, having extraordinarily convenient revelations is an excellent way to secure things you want as well as reinforce how well-connected you are to god. Also, having sacred objects that no one is allowed to see, but only feel through an opaque sack is also an excellent way to show you are holy. Thirdly, telling a young woman that god told you to make her your spiritual wife ASAP or else you would be slain by an angel is apparently a way hot pickup line in the 1840s. (And BTW, god said “don’t tell the first wife about this, babe.”) If anyone has success with this line in the present, please let me know, I’m very curious.

One of the author’s strengths lies in explaining how popular explanations for life in the American Frontier worked their way into Mormon belief. For example, meeting large groups of native people, who built houses, weapons, objects of beauty, and other things believed to be European inventions was completely confusing to the settlers. It was not uncommon for many settlers to believe that the Native Americans were actually descendants of one of the lost tribes of Israel, and furthermore, that a white person returning them to the Christian faith would ensure that the converted natives would turn white skinned. Wow. I can’t imagine the explanations used to tell Native Americans why they would want this.

There is much I don’t know about Mormon faith. And I am would believe that much of the Masonic-influenced ceremonies have changed greatly from Joseph Smith’s time. But Masonry had a resurgence in popularity around the same time that many of the ceremonies in the temple began. This section on the original ceremony for a man joining the Mormon priesthood and donning the sacred undergarments was very interesting:

“The Masonic square and compass were cut into the garment on the breast and a slash was made across the knee. In the beginning the cut across the knee was apparently deep enough to penetrate the flesh and leave a scar, but this practice was eventually abandoned as a result of protests from the Mormon women. There was also a slash in the garment across the abdomen, symbolic of the disemboweling that would be the fate of anyone who revealed the sacred secrets.”

 excerpt from No Man Knows My History, by Fawn M. Brodie

Smith had recently become a Free Mason along with most of his trusted leadership, and was deeply interested in the rituals associated with the group. However, I am willing to assume that the difficulty in finding out more about the sacred undergarments today (as a non-Mormon friend of mine in Salt Lake strives to do) is a result of dire consequences warned to new Mormons even now if you reveal any sacred Mormon secrets. Sorry anyway, Brian, and good luck.

• When you procrastinate something you’re expected to have ready for a meeting, you look foolish.
• Hives can be caused by anything. I.E., your doctor can’t tell you whether your virus, probable bacterial infection, or a new, unknown allergy is why your head is swelling, sore and itchy all at the same time.
• Hives leave by the swelling and blotchiness slowly traveling downward…so if today your upper eyelids are puffy, tomorrow your under-eyelids will be puffy, and then your cheeks, and you’ll be generally scary looking for a three or four day period.
• Aspirin does not go well with low blood pressure. Unless feeling like passing out all day is your bag. On a positive note, ibuprofen does not seem to share the same effect.
• Medical science is still unsure how to tell when a regular cold becomes a bacterial infection. So, the decision to use antibiotics when you’ve felt sick for several weeks is still a gamble. (15% are bacterial, but an additional percentage seem to heal faster with antibiotics).
• Long-term mohawks have a peculiar growing pattern in which the short hair immediately next to the ‘hawk grows faster, and in unpredictable directions. Owners of said mohawks are sometimes resistant to getting a trim, since they don’t regularly see it.
• Listening to the Blagojevich recordings will not give you any juicy bits to share, just make you additionally disgusted at the corruption.
• When you’re offered a job that isn’t a good fit on the same day that 68,000 jobs are lost across the country, your best option is to take it and put up with it.

Last week, I took a trip to Michigan to see two close friends, and the days were balanced between finding fun things to do together (Detroit’s Roller Derby is a lot of fun, as are Detroit’s dive bars…) and realizing that this is a city on a downward slide into decay. Michigan leads the states with 9.6% unemployment, and just about every other building I passed in the city was boarded up. Entire neighborhoods were seemingly abandoned by city services, with no working streetlights or even stoplights.  It is true that Detroit has cut back on city services because there isn’t the budget for it. A guy on the street asking for change told me he hadn’t eaten for two days. Visiting one friend at work in the Cadillac Building (a towering building with over 40 types of marble in the decor), the ground floor of the building was turned over to be the waiting room for Detroit’s Unemployment Services. Every day, she told me, every chair is filled. And the snow falls and falls and falls, seemingly without end sometimes.

We had a depressing debate, actually, about whether the rest of the country cares enough to save Michigan from what seems like a state-wide economic failure. I worry that every other state won’t want precious funds going to a state that seems too far gone, but my friends who live there optimistically believe the opposite. For the sake of their jobs and safety, I hope there can be a turnaround, even if the new jobs coming in aren’t part of the Detroit automobile industry.

All the same, it was great to spend time with some friends I rarely get to see and see their new digs, their new plans, and help them feel more comfortable in the long Michigan winter. People there are quite friendly, and I love asking them to point out where they live on their anatomical [right palm] state map. And even in a city that appears to be dying, there was a fascinating trick to Detroit buildings: from the outside, most of them look dark and small, but once inside, they are spacious, brightly lit, and often full of people. Hopefully the city too can turn a similar trick.

There’s been a lot of action at the warehouse/Big Project lately. In 25 days, we erected a loft approx. 800 sq ft in size, including stairs and railings (well, most of the railings). We bought furniture, put up art, created a bar, and put out a spread worthy of the Queen. OK, so the Queen never showed for our NYE Open House. But it was still a pretty fantastic event, with about 150 people attending, demonstrations of the plasma cutter, fire performance, homebrew, good music, and champagne. We were extremely lucky that we were seen as a hot new event – and that those who attended were generous with donations to help cover our expenses and the cost of constructing a loft (wood = not cheap, even if our labor was “free”). Even the clean-up wasn’t too bad! All that being said, I think all of us are glad that we’re better known in the community and that everything went off without a hitch. Now it’s time to get to use our spaces as we intended – for projects we didn’t have space for before. Well, at least, after we paint the loft and stairs and put down grip tape on the steps and finish the railings and maybe improve the bathroom…

I woke up this morning to read in the paper that there was a shooting at my brother’s work. I immediately called him, since the vague article suggested there was an employee fatality. He answered, pretty shook up. They sent all the employees home after the shooting at 7:30am. While he wasn’t in the building at the time, he was walking up to it, and heard the gunshots and watched people burst out of the building in panic. He’s OK, but one of his bosses died. The shooter, also an employee, was killed in a firefight with a police officer down the road. There’s a lot of messed up details and he’s pretty upset that someone could go off the rails like that on a pretty good boss. It sounds like there were a lot of witnesses. I hope counseling is provided for all employees who need it. It’s a small community, and it is likely that both people were well known by most of the town.  I hope they support each other with dealing with this unexpected violence.

UPDATE: My brother is still pretty shook up. Many co-workers have quit, making his job more stressful, and he had to remove graffiti left by the shooter. All the employees are supporting each other, though. He may still decide to quit (he had lots of valid reasons before this happened), which he has my full support on.