A good long month of being between things, brewing a couple beers, having Lis hanging out and watching Finn, basically being on vacation for a month and we’re off to the races. We’re here, in Chicago, doing it all again.

Lis got a job across the highway from her old job, which – in part (I feel) – drove us East in the first place. Had an opening in the loop but took this one because it was more her ‘speed.’ Time will tell.

Finn is being sat by his grandmother (who has followed us to this great Midwest city) Mondays and Thursdays. This all started today, so time will tell in how things shake loose. So that means I’m back at SPG. Life in the job lane.

What is next has me worried. I feel immense pressure to have a real career. Teaching maybe. Research needed.

More soon.

EDIT: I should have included a picture.

2013-06-24 17.07.33

Looks like we’ve made it

Posted on

July 8th, 2013

Category

been up to

Moving is tough enough. Moving cross-country is pretty rough. Moving halfway across the US to your mother’s place with baby, the breadwinner (ie not me) looking for new work and a new place? The reason why I haven’t posted in a while. We are back in IL. At the time I write this, we’ve found a place between Ravenswood and Lincoln Square in Chicago. We’re moving there soon, next week or the week after.

I’ve brewed twice, once with my father-in-law: the first attempt at a ‘House’ beer. I’m pretty big into Belgian sour-farmhousey things, so that was the first stab. It’s got Rye, Wheat (unmalted and malted), pilsner, and two pounds of Michigan born honey. I pitched the first runs of what could be my ‘house’ yeast – the alluring White Labs Farmhouse Blend. From first samples, it’s nice. Second beer was with brother-in-law (sister’s husband), who will likely be my brew-bud from now on. My efficiency was garbage both times, so the tinkering shall begin.

Finn is growing up so fast. He’s been a crazy good kid, safe for the instantly-throwing-something-when-done-with-it phase that has plagued us for the past month and a half now. Playing at the park well, being really independent, and always keeping us laughing.

We’ve fixed my mother’s place; replacing overhead lights, painting two rooms (soon a third), putting up ceiling fans, (as a boss/prof used to say) opening a can of whoop-ass in the garage, donating used items, throwing away unneeded items. I’ve worked as much as I can, pushing sleep back, pitching to a new client, and generally kicking butts.

I’ve got more, but I’ve got to get back to cleaning and dry hop the house beer. Expanded posts on each subject soon.

In Transition

Posted on

June 20th, 2013

Category

been up to

You start at zero, basically. For those old enough to either have children or really appreciate what it’s like to have them you understand. No one really knows what the hell they are doing, and if they say they do – they are lying. I’ve felt like running down a too-steep hill – that clomping almost-falling barely catching yourself kind of way – for the first year. Just when you feel like you have a remote semblance of understanding, a new milestone is reached and the proverbial wrench comes wading in.
2013-05-09 16.17.09
Thing is, I’m not a terribly spectacular dad. We don’t do flash cards, or spend an hour here or there hammering lessons on what color a horse is versus a zebra. I don’t push him to speak to me, and usually find myself mumbling whatever nonsense back to him. We speak in fart noises and “mab mab mab”s. Fun cut with the danger of bodily harm is routine.

But I do care for my son. I watch what he eats. I make sure he’s as safe as possible while still being adventitious. We go on walks, and allow him to find his own fun at the park. We learn how to pick up after ourselves, and how to treat animals. I like to have fun and play, but also drive a hard-line when it comes to doing things he shouldn’t (stay out of the GD cat water). So while I’m not force feeding him lessons on the growth patterns of butterflies, or hung up on his inability to speak, we find and work out other ways to progress. He’s walking and running and playing on his own, puts things away when he’s done, likes to read (so much as he can), in a class with kids twice his age, and loves to watch out the windows.

And look, I’m an okay person. Not super great, but I don’t want him to think my slouching mediocrity is a life goal. Maybe I’m too hard on myself, but I’d rather instill some kind appetite for success. It’s never interested me, and I’ve been horribly lucky on not becoming a slug – but I’m more of a remora. Gliding along not causing too much a stir and living off the hard work of others. Those who I attach myself to don’t mind me, so I skirt along. Maybe that is why I feel like I’m so hard on him, or why I want him to so independent. Because when you couple that I feel like I’ve not done anything to stake my claim and my daily fear of passing on my flooded pessimism, ADHD, mild depression – it’s hard not worry. I want him to be better.

Maybe I’m a ‘Bad Father.’ I always go to sleep wondering how I can do better. I’m bad at it sure, but as with everything – it takes time to get good. If you’re a dad reading this, know that you are bad too, everyone is – just learn from your mistakes and lament on your pitfalls. Make things right, be honest.

Maybe by the time he’s tucking me into bed I will master it.

Why I’m A Bad Father

Posted on

May 11th, 2013

Category

been up to, Fatherhood, reflections

It may not come as a big surprise to many. I’m an asshole. Well, I can be. For some reason a previous co-worker and growing dear friend of mine brings it out in horrible, crude ways. The flood gates open in my brain where I keep my brash thoughts locked away. Normally it splashes the shoes, but neither of us end up hating each other. A verbal push and shove, who can go farther.

I ended up a massive, cavernous billowy anus one afternoon.

“When do you give up Travis?”

“What man?” His smile broke at its edges. His eyes lock mine the way a brother locks on when it’s grown-up time.

“Ya know, like when you give up the dream being an actor.” A desperate scoff floats out.

I know he was boiling, a ‘huh’ puffed out – he couldn’t process it. He walked away, saying how I was a dick or such an asshole over his shoulder.

Why was I suddenly so cruel? I had seen him in a show that was well done. He was active and always doing work. Going back now, I wanted to know for myself. When was it okay for me to give up my dream. When do I know I didn’t make it. I needed to know where someone else’s unbroken finish line was strung.

We’ve only gotten better friends, but that question digs at me. A slow screwing into my subconscious, I’m reminded every time I see my accordion binder full of old college work,when I was in love with a dream. Now it’s a cloud, looming that I’m no closer than before and I’m nearly this close to thirty. Travis is happy as a clam working on Million Dollar Quartet as a relief to some of the headliners. I write about food, and get paid to do so.

I guess we both answered that question.

Resonance #2 – “When do you give up?”

Posted on

May 7th, 2013

Category

reflections

I haven’t written here in a while. Part because I’ve been busy and doing other things to fill my time and part because I’ve wanted to move this thing to the ‘ja.’ sub domain, but after a failed late night attempt midweek and some more reading I’ll take another stab this weekend.

Baby world: Finn and I have really clicked. He listens really well, is happy most of the time and very loving.

Beer world: Have a handful of yeast I would like to plow through, but the cloud of us maybe moving in late May has put it to a halt. Rye Pilsner, Orange Wit, and Berliner all kegged.

More soon.

Still Alive – April 2013

Posted on

April 19th, 2013

Category

been up to

A simple question. 11 years ago (at least), it was a passing question from a dental assistant before the father of a long-time acquaintance and my dentist poked around in my mouth. I had never thought about it before. Never once had I wrenched my jaw open after a night’s sleep and rubbed my bulging jaw muscle. Never once had I noticed the fluffy pain resonating around my teeth like a pillow well into the late-morning.

“No, I don’t think so.”

Of course I was wrong. My mother grinds her teeth. My sister does, although both mostly show whilst enraged – it conveys exactly how their stress shows itself, manifesting in a crunching not unlike that of tectonic plates, mountains falling into valleys and the hills smoothing themselves out with time. How did I not know I was along for the ride? I’d been taking psychostimulants since the middle of third grade; slow release, low dose – I’d had it all. When coming down from a long day of Ritalin you move from one being to another. While on it, you are this other person, so when I was asked if I had ground my teeth – I didn’t know it wasn’t ever a focus of mine. As soon as the pretty smock-clad woman left the room, it all came flooding in. I’d been grinding my teeth for so long I didn’t know it was irregular – all the while brooding over it, I caught myself milling my enamel.

And so began my internal fight on was or wasn’t I grinding my teeth. As I aged it came and went. My stress displayed itself in other ways: throwing up, stomach pains, obsessive tongue-to-tooth rubbing, and the like. But now it’s back. In a time when I have to show restraint, where I have to go from happy and sad just as fast as my almost-toddler son, it’s back. After naps, my molars are locking, my teeth feel as though they are being pushed into their Silly Puddy-feeling gum-bed. I’d never had a dentist comment after, but – strangely – I’ve wanted them to, to confirm my insanity. I want them to notice the smooth topped molars my ever-searching tongue does. During my waking hours I try to keep my jar apart – in fear of unknowingly grinding away and for relief of last-nights clinch-fest or the inevitable bear-trap wrenching when my son climbs on his toy chest one more damn time.

I still come back to that question.

Where I’m laid back in the dense pleather foam chair, floating three feet from the floor with a woman’s hands in my mouth asking me if I grind my teeth. I think of that break. That ever-lasting dead air between her question and my stuttered answer: did I?

This is the first of a series of reflections where I pick up a piece of my brain and follow the string back to where either I or someone else effects either I or someone else.

Resonance #1 – “Do you grind your teeth?”

Posted on

March 18th, 2013

Category

reflections

Where have I been? Oh lord. Usually I’d try to do some writing after Lis has fallen asleep, but recently I’d been working on learning code better. Adding and clarifying a lot of things I’ve partially known, or skirted by until recently. Codeacadamy is super easy and straight-forward, I dare say even my mother could plow through the html and css lessons there.

What else?

Finn turned one. I brewed a few beers. And not much else really.

2013-02-15 16.57.57

We, of course, have got a ton of snow this year. We’re more than double the average for season, getting most of that in one storm. Finn is playing by himself a lot more, being really independent as well as knowing when he’s been naughty or doing something he shouldn’t be (doesn’t mean he won’t do it). Another ‘fun’ thing he’s taken to is not letting us feed him which can be intensely frustrating, likely the most we’ve dealt with thus far. Yeah, sounds whiny, and I’m sure we’re super lucky for this to be the hardest, but giving him finger foods basically amounts to hot dog slices, peas, corn, pretzels, and packaged baby snack foods. He barely eats when he feeds himself too, so getting is tummy to hit ‘F’ has been a trial. Besides this speed bump, he’s a super happy kid and I’m forcing myself into walks for his and my mental health as well as a bit of my physical health. This Winter has been tough on getting out, feeding myself on time, and even hygiene has taken a some-what of a back seat to parenting, work, and quiet time.

As far as brewing is concerned 2013 is revving up to be a huge year. The year’s first brew, the Blonde/Pale is kegged and I’m inching my way through it. The coriander may have been slightly overkill, as I’m getting a lot of ‘pepper’ spice and grass with less of the lemon I had been looking for. Recently moved my first lager into secondary for cold storage at a buddy’s place, A Rye Pilsner – the second beer brewed this year. The most I’m excited for is the Berliner Weisse that is currently fermenting, brewed mid last week – this beer will be getting its own post here soon so I’ll keep it brief. Just yesterday, in conjunction with a group brew of 45 gallons of Oktoberfest (which I didn’t want into), I brewed off the orange laden Wit; with the rinds of 6 blood oranges added to the boil and 12 skins going into a “tea” and added after fermentation, I think it’ll have a nice bright flavor. During my brew day, a friend and homebrewer in the club made a collaboration brew, a Gratzer – a 100% oak smoked wheat beer, we even scored traditional polish ale yeast to ferment with – another super exciting brew I cannot wait to open in early spring.

More soon, keep chugging along.

What have you been doing?

Posted on

March 5th, 2013

Category

been up to

Mostly because I know I need to write here is what is happening with the homebrewing.

In kegs:
5 gal Blended yeast cider
5 gal Bourbon oak aged porter

Fermenting:
5 gal Belgian Pale/Blonde
3 gal Belgian Pale/Blonde (champagne yeast and brett b blend)

And it’s that one I’d like to focus on some in this post. For the starting brewer yeast is nearly an afterthought, as most homebrewers progress yeast becomes a larger brush to use on the canvas. Switch it up some, heck maybe some funky critters or a punch of lacto. I’ve got to say, I can understand why the Roeselare blend has a sherry strain in it. The Champagne yeast has blasted through the sugars I set before it and left the soft round flavors of the Slovenian hops,  brought new light to the spices, allowed the funky fruit of early brett to shine through in this perfectly drinkable beer. I’ve pulled a lot of samples before, but none as tasty as this. The other ‘standard’ Belgian yeast is ‘fine’ but not intriguing and interesting like the small batch is.

What I’m alluding to is to explore more. Try things and let fear bother someone else, because creating things that surprise you is always an adventure.

Beer update – Jan ’13

Posted on

February 1st, 2013

Category

Beer

Twenty-something is an impasse of immaturity and adulthood. There is a good reason people say “early twenties” or “in their thirties.” There is a good reason categorically, we’re placed between “early,” “something,” and “late.”

At each decade of our lives we’re stuck in this ‘get old’ or ‘seem too old.’ It’s the same reason a fifteen year old hates the world as much as a twenty-five year old wants a fancy things as much as thirty-five year old wants to be recognized at work as much as a forty-five year old faces their grim future. We aren’t who we were five years ago, but we don’t want to be who we will be in five years, so we end up conflicted. It’s the same reason a thirty year old at a college house party full of undergrads is awkward  or a new-hire never truly looks comfortable in their new dress slacks.

But twenty is awkward. Filled with messy childbirths, clumsy marriages, and elbowing at the edges of self-sufficiency. Are we actually adults or are we just playing one in real life? This is what grown-ups do right?

The older I get the more convoluted the insult “just grow up” seems.

Twenty What Now

Posted on

January 20th, 2013

Category

reflections