I Am, Apparently, . . .

I am tired. As in to-the-bone weary. Worn out. Exhausted. Plus the air is saturated with pollen and my sinuses are the current rulers of my cranial roost.

This all by way of explaining why not much blogging action lately. No, I'm not abandoning my rapid-form approach to blogging, and am thinking about a longish series I want to write about the future, ecological matters, and revolution.

But at the moment, I'm . . . tired.

And prefer to conserve what little energy I have for meat-book writing rather than blogging-writing. (Cranked out a thousand words today, about which I am happy.)

Damn. Confession feels goooooood. I feel better already, and, best of all, have expunged some of my not-blogging guilt. (Hey, you can take the girl out of the Catholic fold, but alas, it's tough to take the Catholic out of the girl. Guilt is mine for life.)

To which I add this: Getting old is okay, as far as things go. But one aspect of the process I resent is the loss of stamina. In my heyday, I was the Stamina Queen. Now? Not so much.

The upside is that at least now I'm willing to admit I'm exhausted. Major breakthrough. Major.

Want To Buy A Brewery?

You can! For a small fee (really, it's small). And it's only sort of a brewery. A few days ago, I got an email from Todd Kimmell, who owns what he believes is the oldest brewery structure in the United States, a building that dates from the late 1600s. Here's a chunk of the email he sent me, which includes links to more information, including a real estate listing (the place is for sale). (Yes, think of me as your multiple-listing agent):

In the late 70s and 80s, a New Jersey historian named Dr. Henry Bisbee plotted out the grounds of the first governor of West Jersey's late 1600s mansion, including his various outbuildings and neighbors, near the Delaware River in Burlington, NJ.

He had the help of civil engineers and other historians, and used old photos, drawings, written descriptions, and especially deed surveys from 1745.

The only remaining building from the 1600s was the brew house, which had been doubled in size and turned into a domicile about 1770, and added onto further approximately 1850-1870.

The brew house, known locally as Ivy Cottage is oddly situated and oddly shaped... only if you look at it as a Georgian home. As an outbuilding from the late 1600s, it is neither oddly shaped nor oddly situated. It makes perfect sense.

My wife and I bought the place because it was an oddball Georgian home near the river, and we could watch people along the Promenade and boats on the Delaware River from our second floor bedroom.

When I pulled the ceiling down in the dining room, I found construction techniques and materials that I'd never seen before.

I'd grown up in Squire Cheyney's 1740s house in Cheyney, PA, and had been in and out of renovations and restorations of similar structures my whole life.

This was different. Broad boards hit with an ax and spread apart, then nailed up to sizeable beams with very large, very early nails. Then, the whole thing was mucked with a thick coat of plaster. I knew [builders had] mastered horse-powered or people-powered lath, skinny lath, pretty early, so this had to be WAY early.

He goes on to say that after more demolition, he and his wife discovered that

more of the house clearly showed the drastically different construction methods and materials between the late 1600s brew house and the mid 1700s Georgian home built up, over and around it.

I believe this makes Ivy Cottage the oldest brewery in America. Jamestown might have post holes identified as where the brewery might have been, and our beloved Yuengling will always be the oldest continually brewing brewery, but it is a comparative snot nosed kid next to Ivy Cottage.

More information (including the real estate listing): By the way, I have NO idea if this really is the oldest standing brewhouse in the country, but hey, it sounds good!

Jacob Grier on the Many Faces of "Intellectual" Work; Or, Living the Life You Love

Jacob Grier just posted a lovely essay (that I bet he wrote off the top of his head, damn it. Why can't I do that??) on the pleasures of the "working" life. "Working" as in what used to be called "manual labor."

His jumping off point is this essay in last Sunday's New York Times magazine. It hit home with me, as does Jacob's essay. I've had what can only be described as an, ahem, diverse work history. I endured a mercifully short-lived career doing clerical work. Quel nightmare: I can't stand the 8 to 5 bit; hated, and I mean HATED, the office politics crapola. (This was waaay back in early 1970s, when men ruled the office and women, working their menial jobs, clawed at each other and hoped the men would whisk them away.) (For more on this, see "Mad Men.")

But I spent far more years in "manual" work. Blue collar work. (Or, as the sociologists call it when said work is being performed by a woman, "pink collar" work. Ugh. What a phrase.) I waited tables for years (about fifteen total). Worked for a city street department, mostly running a jack hammer (at which I was quite good).

Worked as a union carpenter for four years. I was (and to a certain extent still am) fabulously strong. Need someone to haul two sheets of plywood up two flights of stairs? No problem! All that waitressing also came in handy: I had far better organizational skills than the men I worked with.

But, I discovered, I had zero spatial skills and was a lousy carpenter. What learned from all those years was this:  I was bored. I had nothing against the work, and absolutely nothing against the people I worked with. Indeed, to this day, I miss hanging out with busboys and dishwashers.

I had to face facts: I was slowly, but surely, dying. The work was not me. I don't function well in "groups." (And still don't.) I am bored by work that requires using my hands (unless it's cooking). Have no patience for fixing stuff, yard work, etc. I mean, if I have to do it, no problem. I can do it. Hand me a screwdriver and I'll figure out what needs to be done.) (The tool, I mean, not the drink, which is icky beyond words.

So I went off to college, thinking I'd find my true calling. And, after a few fits and starts, did. (See the bio and "My Life As A Loser")

The point, such as it is, is this: I admire and appreciate "work" in all its forms, but understand that many people indavertently end up doing work they hate. The most painful part of teaching at university was dealing with 19-year-olds who'd been shoved into college by well-meaing adults, when what those kids wanted to do was cook, or repair engines, or make things, or paint walls, or whatever.

What they wanted to do, in short, was the kind of work that modern American society too often scorns, but which is, for many people, satisfying and engaging and creative.

The good news is that some people figure it out. They strike their own path, regardless of what others expect. They figure out what makes their brains --- and their souls --- happy.

So to Jacob I say: Here's to you. If I were in Portland, I'd raise a well-made drink, preferabably one created by you, in your honor.

Spending Less on Alcohol = Evidence of Smarter People?

This from Jeremiah McWilliams at Lager Heads on the ways in which economic woes are changing consumer spending on alcohol.

The short version is that people are spending less --- ie, hunting for "value --- and that they don't plan to revert to old habits once the recession ends.

I've got another take on it: maybe people are simply coming to their senses. (No pun intended.) Let's face it: in the past decade or so, alcohol makers have come up with zillions of ways to part fool from their money. "Premium" vodkas. Appletinis. Nauseating "mixers." Other wierd shit-in-a-bottle-that-tastes-horrible-but-costs-lots-and-therefore-must-be-good.

And of course the alcohol makers came up with the stuff because, ya know, there were plenty of fools (armed with credit cards) ready to be parted from said money.

The report also notes that people are spending less on alcohol when they go out. But again: perhaps people are simply wising up. I mean, did anyone NEED to visit bars with a $300 cover charge?

Answer: No. (*1) So --- perhaps "reduced spending" on alcohol is simply evidence of increased wisdom.

_____

*1: I'm reminded of a scene in a Sopranos episode when AJ complains that he's always broke because he goes out every night and the Big Name champagne he's expected to buy every at nightclubs sets him back a few hundred bucks.

A Guy After My Own (Fat) Heart

"Fat" is so unhip. So so so unhip. Just like me. That's not why I like fat. (After all, what's the point of trying to be unhip? The minute you try, you're not, if you know what I mean.)

I like fat because fat is good. Good for you; good to eat. Sounds weird, eh? Especially in these don't-eat-that-it'll-kill-you days. But the human body wants and needs fat. Just like it wants and needs cholesterol.

Of course what it wants/needs is REAL fat and cholesterol, not the fake shit that'll kill you. And which does not taste good.

So I'm delighted to find a kindred spirit in the form of Zachary Cohen, who urges us all to eat more fat. Plus, his blog is one of those only-in-the-age-of-the-internet things: a blog devoted to the "emerging American meal."

Although to be precise, the blog is itself a spinoff of a television program Zachary is producing, "Farm to Table." Good stuff all around (especially for me, who am spending much of my time thinking about American food, albeit in a historical perspective). Give it a look.

Media Meltdown = Chaos = Innovation?

This is one of those follow-the-thread things: interesting commentary/reporting about newspapers from Dr. Denny at Scholars and Rogues, who quotes from a post written by Dan Conover, who engages in some fascinating future-casting. Dr. Denny quotes one of Conover's main points, and so will I:

A client looking to invest in media asked me earlier this month for advice on what might replace failing newspapers. My response? There are plenty of interesting ideas in play, but the first meaningful test won't come until a major American city loses its only metro daily. So wait.

Methinks he has a point. Indeed, his point is so obvious that I suspect all of us have overlooked it. Anyway, take a look at his entire post if you have time. He's gone waaaaaaaaaaaay beyond the "how we gonna charge for online content" debate and into some serious thinking about the actual technologies (intellectual and otherwise) that might be used to create new models of "journalism." As Conover says

Journalists tend to think of the future in terms of their jobs, and from that perspective "What's next?" is another round of layoffs. Sorry, folks. Do the math. But take a slightly longer view and "What's next?" is a decade of experimentation, opportunity and chaos

Make sure to hang on to the end of his essay for his cartoon cartoon rendition of the Media Meltdown of 2008. And when you're finished with all of that, check out the excellent comments posted in response to Conover. So --- whaddya waiting for? Get on over to Scholar and Rogues and Xark and get reading!