. . . I am second to none, thankyouverymuch. This from Beervana, regarding the sale of several "craft" brewing companies.

Folks, I've been predicting this now for, what?, two years and I said then that in, oh, about two years, we'd start to see this kind of thing unfold. And, ta dah!, here we are.

God, now I sound like some smart ass douchebag know-it-all (can't resist the douchebag part; I'm reading Anthony Bourdain's new book and he uses the word in every other sentence.) Really, I'm not. Just glad to have SOMETHING good to say about myself after a long day during which I believed I knew nuthin' 'bout nuthin' specially history. Sob snurfle.

So I shall depart now to pat myself further on the back, while carefully not drinking any water because the flooding here has knocked out our water supply. So, hey, a beer will do. Or a bourbon. Or . . . 

Note:  I originally wrote this post in late January by way of explaining why I've (intentionally) slowed my otherwise fanatical pace of blogging. I've decided to keep it up front as a "sticky" post. Other recent posts are below (as are about a bajillion older posts.)

The  Gaye/Cleveland/Benson song has been  running through my head lately. Apparently it's the soundtrack to my goal, such as it is, for 2010.

Which is: I'm hell-bent on finishing the book this year. I'm only half-way through the research and writing, and right now I'm feeling a bit hamster-wheelish, but  . . . (No, the song doesn't have much to do with my goal or my work, but a soundtrack is good, right?)

I know, I know: You're wondering: "What the HELL has she been doing? Why isn't she finished?" Rightly so. I've been working on this book since early 2007 --- minus the 18 months I lost to trying to regain the use of my right arm. (Jesus. When I look at it that way, I feel like I'm working at the speed of light.)

But as I've noted before, I do all my own research and writing and I have a "life" beyond my work --- and so it takes me a long time to write a book.

So, determined to finish the book this year, I've got to stay as focused as possible. (I had lunch with two friends yesterday and felt guilty about not being at home working. Sigh.)

I'm also giving myself a crash course in the politics of contemporary food: I'm a historian, so I can tell you what happened a century ago, but I'm not clear where we Americans are now.  And I've gotta figure that out so I can speak coherently to meat, both past and present. (Which I did this week when I talked to two reporters about meat in modern America.)

So on any given day, I'm engaged in two projects that consume most of my brain power. Which means: something's gotta give, and what's "giving" is my blogging time. Which means the blog is more-or-less on hiatus until (I hope) April. I'm still here, but . . . I'm not, if you know what I mean. (*1)

I'm using Twitter to keep myself connected to the larger world (especially the politics of food as we know it in the U.S.) So: I'll be in and out of the blog and more regularly at Twitter (hey! whaddya waiting for? get a Twitter account!). (*2)

Should you miss me (I wish), there's plenty here to keep you occupied. (Click the "other projects" link at the top of the page.) (Yes, since you ask, I am a wordy, ruminative soul.)

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*1: If I weren't such a wordy, long-winded woman, I'dve done what most people in my situation do: Just post a single blog entry announcing that I'm on hiatus for five months. But --- something interesting might come along! And I'd feel compelled to provide my two cents worth! And then where would I be?

*2: I remember when I first heard about Twitter that many pundit types asserted that Twitter meant the end of blogging. I can see why they thought that: god knows Twitter is MUCH faster/easier than actually writing a series of sentences and paragraphs. Instant gratification in a way that blogging is not. Still, I love the blogging format and the intellectual rewards it provides. But I'm not kidding myself that I've got time to write the new book AND blog 5 or 6 times a week.

Okay, bad title. But wanted to surface for a moment to say hello to those stopping by either because of the Ridin' Dirty interview or the Bite-Size Edits launch (for that, see here or here). (*1) (The Bite-Size thing, by the way, is, um, addictive, as I discovered when I gave it a whirl. Just what we all need, right? Another internet addiction!)

As I noted in my "hiatus" post, ordinarily I blog at a maniac pace, but I'm currently taking a blog-break so I can finish writing my new book. (Because, yes, I finally realize that I'm not Super Woman. Which is okay because her costume is definitely not to my taste.) But as I also noted in the hiatus post, there's a whole lotta reading material here.

If, for example, you're hunting for more of my opinionated opinions on the subject of drinking, click on "Rational Drinking" in the categories on the left, or click on the "Other Projects" button at the top. Now go! Read!

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*1: To emphasize a point about the Bite-Size Edits excerpt: The text I'm offering at the site is from a rough draft of the manuscript, with emphasis on the word "rough." Think of it was crap flowing from my brain to the keyboard, uneditd. In no way, shape, or form should it be construed as polished prose.

Trust me. This is all related. Lex, who blogs at Scholars & Rogues, posted a thoughtful comment in response to the Caitlin Flanagan garden brew-haha (is that how that's spelled). See it here. One of his points rang true at our household this week. Lex writes that

But given the economic reality of America, very few of these children will actually better their socio-economic situation by really cracking the books. The private sector hasn’t created a job in a decade now; recent college graduates are looking at massive unemployment numbers; and the jobs generally available can be done by trained monkeys.

I've noted here my concerns about the future of the American economy, especially the fact that in terms of research and intellectual development, the U. S. is being out-paced, quickly, by other countries, most especially China.

That concern came home --- literally --- this week. Unless you've been lost in space for the past year, you know that the "economy" is in trouble and that's especially true at the state level. Eg, California teeters on bankruptcy, Utah has put some state workers on four-day weeks, and so forth. One institution that's taking a hit these days is the "state" university. When times get hard, state legislators cut university budgets.

My husband is on the faculty at the state university here in Ames (Iowa State, to be precise). Last year, university administrators were told to cut the budget and this week they finally released the plan for Round One of the cuts. (They were just told to expect millions more in cuts, so presumably Round Two is not far behind.)

The deans in the College of Liberal Arts, the school that houses my husband's department, decided to divide its departments into four groups. One group --- consisting of sciences --- will continue to function as conventional research departments. (The faculty will be rewarded for its research and, to a lesser extent, for its teaching.) The other three groups contain the departments that have been "demoted" to a mostly or a strictly teaching function. Two groups will still be allowed some research time.

But one group gets none. Those departments will function as strictly "service" departments. No more new faculty. No research. Most likely no majors or upper level courses. My husband's department --- philosophy --- falls into that group.

He's trying to be, um, philosophical about it. But he places the blame not on bureaucrats, not on state legislators, but on George Bush and Dick Cheney. He argues that during their eight years, they sold off the country's future, got us into horrific debt (which, obviously, we were already in before GW was elected), and created today's mess: We're abandoning substantive education, ceding a future of intellectual development, inventions, technology, and so forth to, mostly, the Chinese.

Leaving us to squabble over things like whether kids should spend a half hour a day planting tomatoes and pulling weeds. 'Cause that's what people do when all the important stuff's been decided: fight over the crumbs of pie, while the winners feast on the pie itself.

You gotta love surrealism, especially when it's live! In person! Happening now! As in my past few days:

As you may know, we midwesterners just experienced a giganto-super-wallopy snow storm. The snow and wind started Tuesday afternoon and stayed with us until Wednesday afternoon (at least here in Iowa). Fourteen inches of snow, forty mile-per-hour winds, etc.

Which would have been okay, except that I was supposed to fly to Los Angeles on Thursday morning for a speaking engagement. When the airport shut down Wednesday morning, I got, um, a little worried? Would I make? Should I even try? And what to do if I can't make it? (*1)

To cut to the chase (because someone else's travel woes are about as interesting as someone else's home movies), I got up Thursday morning at 5 am and decided to give it a try. The temperature was  five degrees below zero, the streets had barely been plowed, the interstate was, as the weather people say, 100% snow and ice covered.

Took me 90 minutes to make a trek that usually take about 45 minutes (which, frankly, wasn't bad, given the circumstances). Made it to the airport without mishap. (Thank god. Because sliding off the road and into a ditch in sub-zero weather is not my idea of a good time.)

Boarded one airplane. Landed. Boarded a second plane.

Voila! Hours later I was gazing through the plane's window at --- palm trees, sun, warmth. And about an hour or so after that, I was in the hotel's rooftop, outdoor pool, swimming laps before my speaking gig. That, my friends, is the surrealism of modern life. (*2)

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*1: Being the conscientious soul that I am, I rounded up a substitute in case I couldn't make it: My dear pal and all-round-fabulous-human-being Anat Baron, the producer and director of "Beer Wars," agreed to take my place if need be, short notice and all. How great is that?

*2: Said surrealism is, to be honest, a tad exhausting. By the time I got back to Iowa last night, I was wiped out, especially thanks to a serious interstate traffic snarl of indeterminate nature that turned my forty minute trip back from the airport into an hour and 45-minute nightmare. And then I had to get up this morning and drive back to Des Moines for a previously planned engagement.

Man, we're having a blizzard. Serious snow. Went for a long walk earlier and enjoyed the hell out of myself. I love walking and I love walking in snow. (*1)

Speaking of which: Last year, my ten-year-old boots finally shot craps. All I wanted another pair just like them (they were Merrells) but, of course, the company no longer makes that model. (Of course. I mean, if it's a great product, why keep making it?)

So in October I started hunting for a new pair of snow/cold boots. Did an in-house test-drive of several. Kept coming across a kind made by Bogs.

Frankly, they looked so insubstantial that I kept skipping past. But after trying, and rejecting, a half dozen or so other brands of boots, and after seeing Bogs on offer from reputable companies, I decided to do a little investigating. The company claims its boots are insulated down to forty below (!) and waterproof. Truth be told, that sounded too good to be true, especially given their appearance: most winter boots are clunky, leathery, hardware-laden affairs, but these are sleek, streamlined, and minimalist.

But I found some at Zappos, and as we Z. fans know, it costs nothing to try shoes from Zappos. So I ordered a pair.

They fit. (Major deal with me: I'm 5'10" and most shoe/clothing manufacturers don't bother with tall people.) They were comfortable. I wore them a couple of times in freezing temps and my feet definitely stayed warm.

But today was the Big Test: Would my feet stay both dry and warm during an hour-long walk in seven inches of snow? YES! And because I got the tall model, my calves and ankles stayed dry, too.

So. Will they last ten years, as my last pair did? I dunno. Check back with me in, oh, four, five years.

Meanwhile, Bogs is now on my list of Things I Love, and I'm equipped for winter: My ten-year-old coat (basically this coat, but the old model) is fraying at the cuffs but otherwise up to the task. (I dread the day I have to replace it. I love the damn thing. Plus it actually comes to my knees.) (I'm thinking of trying duct tape on the cuffs.)

And last year, I finally finally finally found a serious winter-weather hat. This guy. Perfection. It's warm, water-resistant, and the brim is bigger than it looks, which means it keeps winter sun off my face. (I have CLL and am fair-skinned, to boot, so sun is not my friend.) So. The weather outside is frightful, and our, um, furnace is so delightful. But I'm ready for winter.

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*1: Walking is good for heart, body, and soul. Plus it's the most efficient way to get from Point A to Point B.

How's that for use of slash marks?

The lovely Bryan Kolesar at BrewLounge is once again running a brew-round-up, in which he asks various beer types to opine about the current and future years. His own take is here. Part One of "others'" views is here.

Elsewhere in the net-o-sphere, the equally lovely Stan Hieronymus has added more thoughts on his views about "lists." Leave it to him to be, well, thoughtful. Lew is up to his usual, so you should take a gander. Why? Because I like him. (Not, mind you, that I know the guy. I just like his smarts, talent, and wit.)

The folks at All About Beer finally (as in finally) have their new website up and running, so that's another place to visit.

Jay Brooks, a guy whose interests range far, wide, and in between, has a marvelous post about Gregg Hinlicky's portraits of brewers. The image of Fritz Maytag is a marvel. (Full disclosure: Fritz and I are friends, and the portrait captures the man's spirit and intelligence.)

Reminder: only a few days left to submit your beer photos to the 2009 contest. Tim Beauchamp has a number of posts worth reading (he's a ranter after my own heart).

And if you've ever wondered "What ARE the dimensions of a stainless steel firkin?" --- wonder no more. Tom has the answer.

If you've read this blog for more than two minutes, you know that I'm all in favor of informed discussion and debate, which means I'm all in favor of what are usually dismissed as "scholars." You know: those pointy-head types who spend inordinate amounts of time studying a subject so that when they open their mouths to discuss their subject, what comes out is substance rather than fluff.

However, I adore scholars who then make the effort to share what they know with the rest of us. (The alternative being to remain closeted in their university offices, sharing knowledge only with other scholars.) People like that used to be called "public intellectuals," but I think of them as benefactors. Or saints, depending on my mood.

Anyway, that's why I'm a fan of Chris Raines. Chris is a professor in the Department of Dairy and Animal Science at Penn State. He's the model of a new kind of scholar: one who is not afraid of blogs, Twitter, and, gasp, making connections with ordinary people like me.

His blog, Meat Is Neat, epitomizes what scholars can (and, in my opinion, should) be doing with their expertise: sharing it in simple language that non-experts like me can understand. A prime example (no pun intended) is his recent entry on e-coli and grass-fed beef. If you have any interest in the current debate about food, food safety, and environmentalism, you should take a gander. (Hoof it over there? Paw through it?)

Chris is also a master of what Twitter can and should be. He's there as @iTweetMeat. Enjoy!

I'm not a beer aficionada (I'm a historian, folks; not a gourmet). The whole beer-as-object-of-devotion-and-adulation thing is annoying as hell. Don't ge me wrong: I appreciate well-made beer, but as a fetish, well . . . Anyway, this today from Alan at the Good Beer Blog. Now Alan is something I can see as an object of devotion/adulation, me being a serious fan of contrarianism.

Astute Reader Dexter sent me this link. And now I KNOW he's astute, because he knew I'd appreciate it, because he gets what I do for a living and he realized that this would ring true. (Big round of applause for Dexter, please.)

This essay is hilarious. Why? Because it completely nails, and I mean perfectly, totally, completely nails why authors have to work so hard to promote their books: 'cause the publisher prolly isn't gonna do much because, well, read the essay.

Although: I was  fortunate with the beer book. The publicist originally assigned to it left for another job a month or so before the book came out. Which left me and my book, well, stranded. (Because everyone else in the department was already working on other authors' books and publishing PR departments are chronically understaffed. It's the nature of the beast.) (*1)

So then a new guy came on board and, uh, did, um, well, nothing. (Nice guy but worthless.) No surprise, he wasn't around long.

But about a year six months after the book came out, one of the department's underlings got promoted and took over my book and he did more for it  than anyone had prior to that. He was amazing. Wonderful. Heroic. I wanted to mother his children. He was everything any author could want.

And, yes, you can see this coming: He left to take another job. 'Cause that's how it goes in the wonderful world of publishing.

And that's why writers like me bust our asses to blog, use Twitter, write op-ed pieces (see the "Other Projects"  link at the top of the page), blog some more, etc.  Because we've got to promote our books, because, say it with me, no one else is gonna do it.

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*1: This, by the way, is not a criticism. Shit happens. Plus, I LOVE my editor and therefore I LOVE my publishing house. It was my choice to publish the meat book with them. I will stay with them as along as they'll have me. Unless my editor goes to another house. Then, hmmm . . . I might change my mind.

"Ranty McPanty," courtesy of the lovely Ell in Oz, who used it in a comment on an earlier post. I do love a good rant.

Hey, I'm happy President Obama won the Nobel. But now the media-chattering begins and I vote for the following observation as the Most Inane of the Day. The New York Times notes the award and then says:

But while Mr. Obama has generated considerable good will overseas — his foreign counterparts are eager to meet with him, and polls show he is hugely popular around the world — many of his policy efforts have yet to bear fruit, or are only just beginning to do so.

Uh, hello? The guy's been president exactly (more or less) nine months. Human being take that long to form. Peace policies typically take years. If some of his efforts are already beginning to "bear fruit," well, I'd say that's amazing. Especially given that the previous president had eight years to fuck things up.

Useful ruminations from Jacob Grier on why Twitter is worth it. I agree with his list (*1) And have to say that "socializing" was definitely not part of the equation from me when I started. Yes, I was trying to figure out how to get my books in front of people.

Like Jacob, I've ended up getting to "know" people I otherwise never would have known (or known about). Most important, however, Twitter has significantly expanded my intellectual realm of possibilities. And I mean significantly. I've run into and benefited from people a host of fields (science, journalism, lit crit, younameit). Plus I've been able to follow the ongoing "debate" among and between the food people in a way that I probably would not have without Twitter.

So . . . there you have, from me to you, at the end of a long day during which I continued my efforts to break the back of this chapter.

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*1: Jacob was one of three two people who urged/persuaded, me to try Twitter. The other two were Jeff Alworth at Beervana and David Nygren at The Urban Elitist.) (Which, no, he's not updated recently. I gather he's involved in the move-and-remodel from hell.)

. . . we awoke, we remembered the day before --- and we began the long journey toward hope. I commemorate this day every year by re-reading "Alabanza," a poem by Martin Espada. I first heard it in 2003, read by Espada himself. As with any poem, it is best read aloud.

So, President Obama thought he'd launch the schoolyear with a message to the nation's children. What a great idea, I thought to myself. After all, I grew up spending schooltime writing letters to the president, hearing letters from him read in class.

But apparently some people think this is an outrage. That somehow President Obama plans to use his "air time" to foist a nefarious political agenda on innocent kids. Frankly, I can't bother being outraged over their outrage. I'm too busy being heartsick about it.

Has it come to this? Are we a nation so divided that the president of the country, a man legally elected to lead us, can't talk to the nation's kids? It's horrifying and heartbreaking. But here's the saddest, most painful part: Those kids whose parents object to the speech are learning a lesson anyway. A big one and it's this:

Kids, fear anyone who isn't One of Us. Because it's Us against Them, and you are first and foremost one of us, and only secondarily and occasionally an American citizen (and then only when it's convenient to Us).

Got that?

For those of you who are following along: Jack is now in San Antonio, living with family. Good news, that, because he can't quite live on his own yet. As near as I can tell, he's back to his usual feisty self (at least based on several e-mails I've had from him recently). Bare minimum, he's sick of people fussing over him (not, ahem, that anyone plans to stop doing so). He told me he wants to have a t-shirt printed that says

Thanks for your concern, but I'm not disabled- I'm just crippled.

Anyway . . . He has a ways to go before he's fully recovered, but he's doing okay.

This just in from Astute Reader Dexter, our man-not-on-the-beach in Hawaii. As a one-woman walking/talking guinea pig, I concur. (I drink alcohol every day and exercise five to six days a week.) (Currently dealing with a truly nasty case of swimmer's elbow, I might add.) (No! Not drinking elbow. Swimmer's elbow.)

I grew up in a "Kennedy" household, so Senator Kennedy's death has been much on my mind --- along with memories of his two older brothers. Pretty much anything that's needed to be said has been said, although of course that won't stop me from making two points.

First: The "end of an era"? I don't think so. In many ways, I think we're only beginning to see the fruits of the Kennedy "legacy" that has unfolded over the past thirty years. Think of all the contributions from women who no longer need to think "No, I can't," and are passing that idea on to their own kids.

From every African-American who thought "Yes, I can" --- and made sure the next generation did, too.

From all those kids who didn't die in Viet Nam and so helped raise the next generation.

From every person who lived in a wheelchair, found doors that opened, and so were able to contribute to the world's well-being.

My second point is more of a question: How many of the nation's elected officials --- senators, representative, state legislators, governors --- watched all those thousands of people file past the coffin and wait hours for the hearse and stand outside the church, and, as they watched, asked themselves

If I die tomorrow, will anyone wait hours to see my body? Will anyone stand at attention as my hearse passes by? Will thousands of people who never met me mourn my death? Am I a leader who strives for the good of all, or am I working only for the enrichment of myself? And which is the mark of greatness?

Well, since I dragged Tim's name into this --- I owe it to him to make sure he gets heard. So read his full comment here. Scurrying away now to blush. (I don't deal well with compliments. . .) (Childhood thing.)

Not really. I mean, yes, this is a drive-by posting. But it's not number 387.

I'm still off on my fishing expedition (ie, writing the new book). (WHY do I keep referring to it in terms of fishing? I've never been fishing in my life.)

Anyway --- slow blogging will continue until such time as I've broken the kneecaps of the current chapter. And waded through the 79 books and 300 articles and all the primary research for this chapter. This would be SO much easier if I didn't have to, ya know, do research. If I could just make up some random facts. But it is what it is, and I'm going back to it now.

By the way: what the hell happened to summer? One minute it was here; the next minute the trees are turning yellow. Sigh.