| You Are Guinness |
 You know beer well, and you'll only drink the best beers in the world. Watered down beers disgust you, as do the people who drink them. When you drink, you tend to become a bit of a know it all - especially about subjects you don't know well. But your friends tolerate your drunken ways, because you introduce them to the best beers around. |
One memory that comes from my very first Estrella War, Estrella VI, is a simple one. A group of us were walking along the road that surrounds Estrella Park, along the side of the mountain. We stumbled upon some luminarios, paper bags filled part way with sand, holding a lit candle, lighting a dirt and rock road leading up the mountain.
After following the road, we came across an amphitheater perched part way up the mountain, overlooking the event. The amphitheater held a crowd of people surrounding a large fire and belly dancers. Now, anyone who has been to Estrella knows there are many encampments with fires and belly dancers. However, this was the very first time I'd ever seen this, and to this day, the only party that has occurred on that mountain.
Now days, belly dancers and bonfires, like many things at Estrella, are so common place and familiar that they rarely rise any interest anymore. However, there was a time when Estrella was new, and these things were very exciting and magical. Sometimes, I miss those times.
On Sunday, though it was a little windy, I went for an eight mile ride along the Rillito Parkway. What made this ride Frenchy, however, is that when I reached Saint Phillips Plaza, the wine shop there, 58 Degrees, was open, due to new store hours. As a result, I bought two bottles of wine, both Tensley Syrahs, stuffed them into my backpack, and rode back.
Of course, what would have made it more Frenchy is if there was a bakery -- er, I mean boulangerie -- where I could have bought a nice baguette. In addition, I should have bought a Châteauneuf du Pape instead of the Tensleys, and placed all of it into a rusty wire basket on the front of the bicycle, rather than in my backpack. I then could have ridden back all slow and meandering with cigarette hanging out of my mouth. Oh well, you can't win them all. :)
Not to digress, but the Tensley tasting room was one of our favorite stops when we went on a tour of central coast wineries earlier this year. They have a small corner in a joint space with Carina Cellars in Los Olivos, near Santa Barbara, CA.
Tensley is the epitome of a boutique winery in that the cases that they produce of any particular wine usually number barely in the hundreds. It is nice to see that they have distribution in Arizona.
As someone who has worked in internet and technology related fields for close to 15 years, I've gotten a lot of chain letters. In fact, funny, sad, stupid, or threatening, I have learned to despise them all over the years and rarely give them any attention.
Recently, however, I was sent one from a friend who had never sent me one before. I hesitated for a second, and then thought, "Okay, I'll read it."
When I read it, I was quite touched by it. In fact, to be honest, in good Wil Wheaton-esque fashion, I cried like a sissy boy (but don't tell anyone).
This presented a dilemma, should I actually forward the thing on, against my internet morals and better judgment? I simply did not know what to do.
What I finally settled on was posting it here. That way, it does not fly around the email space clogging up servers, and if someone really wants to read it, they can come to my site.
So, here it is in all its glory. I do not know who originally wrote it, so I cannot credit them.
The Cab Driver
A terrific story....causes one to stop and think!
Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. When I arrived at 2:30 a.m, the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, and then drive away.
But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.
So I walked to the door and knocked. "Just a minute", answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.
There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.
She kept thanking me for my kindness. "It's nothing", I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated".
"Oh, you're such a good boy", she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"
"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.
"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice".
I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. "I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long." I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.
"What route would you like me to take?" I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.
We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now"
We drove in silence to the address she had given me.It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.
Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.
I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair. "How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.
"Nothing," I said
"You have to make a living," she answered. "There are other passengers," I responded. Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.
"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said.
"Thank you."
I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift?
What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.
We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.
But great moments often catch us unaware - beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT 'YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, ~BUT~THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.
You won't get any big surprise in 10 days if you send this to ten people.
But, you might help make the world a little kinder and more compassionate by sending it on.
Thank you, my friend...
Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance
When the event is over and everyone is packing up, there is a strange feeling in the air, as mundanities creep back in. Often times, people are only half in garb, and many of the landmarks, like tents, lanterns, flags, or roping, that marked your way for the week are disappearing.
For example, sometimes, your hear non-medieval music for the first time in a week. In fact, one year, I remember the Presidents of The United States of America playing out of Simon's VW van, as we combed the emptied camp for cigarette butts.
Another memory of cleaning up afterwards was from my first Estrella. I remember this odd feeling as we carried the fire pit, that had been out constant night time companion, over to the trash can, to be thrown away.
Sometimes, a feeling can come over you as you tear down a tent that had been your home for the week.
Finally, one of the oldest "after Estrella" traditions that was a staple of our early years was going to Burger King afterwards to reflect on and re-live the event.
I've been listening to Basic Brewing Radio, a podcast devoted to homebrewing. Recently, on that podcast they looked at the subject of Hot Side Aeration (HSA).
HSA is the idea that the introduction of oxygen to a wort before the wort is cooled can cause a rapid increase in oxidation. The idea in controversial and there are some that say that it does not affect the homebrewer.
Basic Brewing Radio followed an experiment to test out the idea. The people performing the experiment brewed up a lightly hopped, generic ale, introducing oxygen at two points: after lautering and after the boil. They then split the batch into four parts: a control sample with no oxygen introduced, a sample with oxygen introduced after lautering, a sample with oxygen introduced after the boil, and a sample with oxygen introduced at both points.
I do not wish to steal their thunder and give away the results of the HSA experiment. As a result, I encourage readers to listen to the episodes:
Part 1: http://media.libsyn.com/media
Part 2: http://media.libsyn.com/media
Part 3: http://media.libsyn.com/media
This is my accent:
| What American accent do you have? Your Result: The West Your accent is the lowest common denominator of American speech. Unless you're a SoCal surfer, no one thinks you have an accent. And really, you may not even be from the West at all, you could easily be from Florida or one of those big Southern cities like Dallas or Atlanta. | |
| The Midland | |
| Boston | |
| North Central | |
| The Inland North | |
| Philadelphia | |
| The South | |
| The Northeast | |
| What American accent do you have? Take More Quizzes | |
Julie and I just love New Zealand Sauvignon Blancs, particularly from the Marlborough region. What do they taste like? Well, sometimes I see the word "gooseberry" to describe them. To be honest, though, I have no idea what a gooseberry tastes like. When I think of New Zealand Sauvignon Blancs, I think of citrus, particularly grapefruit.
One other thing we like about New Zealand Sauvignon Blancs is their afforability. This makes makes them even more attractive. At less then $20 dollars and often less than $10 per bottle, they are easy to buy by the case.
It seems that we are not alone in our love of New Zealand Sauvignon Blancs; Wikipedia says the following about them:
In the 1980s, wineries in New Zealand, especially in the Marlborough region, began producing outstanding, some critics said unforgettable, Sauvignon Blanc.... One critic said that drinking ones first New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc was like having sex for the first time. "No other region in the world can match Marlborough, the northeastern corner of New Zealand's South Island, which seems to be the best place in the world to grow Sauvignon Blanc grapes."
Ten miles may not seem like much on a bicycle, but it was a milestone for Julie and I. We went on a ten mile ride on Sunday, along the Rillito River Parkway.
Half way through the ride we stopped a Saint Phillips Plaza, where they have a farmer's market on Sundays. We got a cup of coffee, a little lunch, and talked with other bicycle enthusiasts who also stopped to check it out.
One couple in particular, who had ridden much further than we did, talked about their experiences as bicyclists. They commented on how over the years, their bicycle seats had gotten smaller. In fact, they had a collection of seats ranging in size from large to small. This came about, of course, because the seats on our bicycles are quite large -- in fact, overly large -- and build for comfort, and theirs were tiny. We had a good laugh about it.
Speaking of bicycles, my friend Brian has an awesome bike blog called Brian's Bicycle Banter. In particular, check out the photography on the site. It is something that he is quite good at.
Last Monday, Julie and I went to see the The Australian Pink Floyd Show, a Pink Floyd tribute band, at AVA Amphitheater, here in Tucson. It was a great show.
The thing about these guys is that they are spot on musically, especially in the guitar work, and they put on a stage show that is very Pink Floyd like: lasers, lights, "Mr. Screen," inflatables, animated movie clips, giant mirror balls, and so on. They also play songs that Pink Floyd have not played in concert for years. Especially nice were the songs they played off of Animals, such as Pigs (Three Different Ones).
The stage show, though Pink Floyd like, has some Australian things mixed in. For instance, in many of the animated clips, kangaroos show up in some of the Pink Floyd iconography. In fact, during One of These Days, a giant inflatable Kangaroo popped out of the stage, rather than a pig (though they did have an inflatable pig earlier in the show). The washed out cell phone picture above shows just that.
After the show, on the band website, I left the following review:
I'd heard of these guys a number of years ago, and always wanted to see them. I'd been to the 1994 Pink Floyd show in Phoenix, and heard that these guys put on something pretty comparable.
To be honest, though, I was totally surprised. The show was not only good; it was amazing. It was like being a a Floyd show, but more intimate.
Admittedly, though, I was a bit worried with pictures of pink kangaroos on the website. I thought the show might be campy.
I have to say that it was not campy, at all. The energy and intensity was what I expected for a Pink Floyd show. And, the pink kangaroos? They did not feel out of place, at all. In fact, they were a nice subtle surprise.
