There are some days when you just want to wallow around in an argument that you had yesterday. You start by re-reading a text or email that was sent to you, or you replay that argument over in your head. Then you start thinking about all of the, “I should’ve said…”
You do this kind of behavior for fifteen or twenty minutes and before you know it, you’ve put yourself in a bad mood for the rest of the day.
The below article was sent to me from a co-worker. When you feel yourself going down the negativity-road remember that positive action is the choice that will set you free from negativity.
Positive action is only a single, momentary choice away from a negative mindset.
Make that choice and suddenly you are free of the negativity.
When you are feeling cynical, dismayed, angry, frustrated, decide to abruptly interrupt that pattern.
Point your considerable amount of energy in a positive direction.
Whatever may have already happened, there is nothing at all that says you have to continue on a destructive trajectory.
You have every reason in the world to turn it all around with positive action.
Imagine how great that transformation will feel. Know that it is absolutely within your power to make it, immediately.
When you’ve sunk into the deepest depths, even a tiny positive change can feel like the best thing ever.
Make that change, feel its goodness, its rightness, and build on it.
Activate the control you have, utilize the choice you have and transform a negative perspective into positive action, positive power.
Take the energy you’ve paid dearly to generate, and turn it all toward something beautiful.
— Ralph Marston
A subscriber wrote me and said that there wasn’t a link to yesterday’s video. It appears it was only embedded on the site. Click here if you care to see the video.
(And I’ll have to remember that for next time.) Thanks.
“Live each day as it were your last.”
“Live like you were dying.”
“What would you do if this was your last day on Earth?”
These are all quotes that we’ve heard, but chances are none of them stuck unless the doctor just told you that you have cancer. Well, that’s exactly what happened to comedian Steve Mazan.
After Steve was diagnosed with liver cancer, he went through the 5 stages of grief. When he finally got to the acceptance stage, he decided he was going to go after his lifelong dream of being on David Letterman.
You can see his story in the video below. But just in case you don’t have time to watch it, Steve has a couple of messages for you. The first is, “Bad news, I am dying. But I have more bad news, you’re all dying too.”
How does that make you feel? Probably not as bad as the next quote where Steve says, “If your not chasing your dream, you’re already dead.”
For some of us it’s hard to define what our dreams are. I know in my mind when I die, I want people to know what I thought about this world. I want people to remember me as a good dad and good lover, a bad-ass writer and decent pool player. So that’s what I’m trying to do with my life right now as much as I can, whenever I can. Hanging out with my kid and fiance. Writing. Playing pool. And living the dream.
Or click here.
It was brought to my attention that the links to Jaya’s songs didn’t come through on the email, so here they are in case you’re interested. (If it doesn’t work this time, you can just type Jaya Wallace into Youtube and it will pop up.)
I have a 7 year old daughter and she wants to be a singer. Let me take that back, she wants to be a, “famous singer.”
When I’ve tried to tell her all the ups-and-downs of being a famous singer, all the hard work that you have to do and how much she has to learn, she has responded with, “It’s my dream dad.”
When she’s says that, it makes me feel like who am I to start pissing on her seven-year old dreams? Even if I don’t really like the idea of her career choice, I feel like I should support her where I can.
(In case it isn’t obvious, the reasons I don’t like it is because: there’s a likely hood of drug use, fame = loss of privacy, slander and general hatefulness of people toward celebrities. I just don’t really want those things for my daughter.
However, I know there’s an upside too: She could have the ability to potentially uplift millions of people with her music. People equate music and songs to particular times in the lives, so she’d have that influence as well. She gets to cut her own career path. And if she wants to be a, “famous singer,” I get to give her her first music lessons to get started.
She has written several original songs already at her young age and a couple of them are actually pretty good. She begged me to make a video of her singing and put it on YouTube, which I did. I then shared it and now she has dozens of “views” and “likes” on Facebook.
But all she was worried about the day after we uploaded it was, “How many views does it have now dad?”
“I don’t know, let’s look it up…50,” I said.
“Really 50?! Wow! I’m so happy. I can’t wait until it has 100!” she said.
“Really Jaya? All your worried about now is getting to 100?” I said.
I can see the monster growing and at my core I really don’t want to encourage it. But as a person who writes a lot about career and personal development, I feel like I’d be being a hypocrite if I didn’t at least do what I can to help her. So I’m going to post her videos here for people to see. I had about 1500 subscribers the last time I looked at my list, so even if only 5% of my readers view the video, it will put her over her, “100 views,” goal.
The only thing I can see happening now is that she’ll set her next goal at 1000 views. And that wouldn’t be so bad if the, “sharing,” starts being organic and not just because dad did all the work besides the singing part.
It’s funny because as I’m writing this, I’m thinking of two people who I can contact about singing lessons and background music. I guess my views are already changing.
Here are both of Jaya’s videos: Here’s her first one. We’ll Always Be Together Now.
Here’s her second one, Standing On Top of The World.
If you view it, give it a “Thumbs Up,” she’ll be excited even it if it only gets 5 or 10. (And thank you in advance.)
I’ve been writing a series of very short articles on my other site (called www.careerofhope.com ) that is about weird business ideas that are making people money.
If you think you have a good business idea, chances are you do. One thing for sure is your idea can’t be any crazier than some of the ones that I’ve been reading about. This is a recap of the last three articles I’ve written on my other site. Here are a few ways people are making money that we would not have thought about:
Recycling and Up-cycling used moving boxes
www.boxcycle.com is a nationwide site that encourages people to recycle and buy used moving boxes. The site’s mission is to educate people that recycling boxes only helps landfills a little, whereas if we reuse them we have a more beneficial environmental impact. The site makes money when you order the boxes online and go pick them up at 100’s of participating locations.
Boxcycle started in San Francisco, but is available in most states. Just go to the site and enter your zip code. I did notice they are not available in Honolulu, HI yet, but they were available in the other six or seven states I entered into the box-finder filter.
Think your idea’s crazy? Have some faith in yourself, do your homework to get yourself prepared and most importantly of all—START! Like now.
The next “Weird Ways People Make Money,” is The Wedding Wagon in Las Vegas. The idea behind the Wedding Wagon is that anyone should be able to get married anywhere they want for an affordable price. How affordable? How about $129.00? (Flowers usually cost more than that.)
The Wedding Wagon is a fully decorated wedding on wheels. An Officiant and photographer will meet you at your location. The back of the van opens up for an elegant backdrop and that’s where the couple takes their vows.
Now granted, this business is in Las Vegas which is often called, “The wedding capital of the world.” (Side note, one of my brothers was married at Red Rock Canyon just outside of Las Vegas. The marriage didn’t last long though because unfortunately she went back to doing drugs.) Moving on…
Vegas weddings can be fun and whimsical. There are drive-in weddings, “Little Chapel” weddings and even weddings with an Elvis impersonator as the Officiant. This type of business model is great for Las Vegas, but what about other geographical locations around the U.S.? Would this idea work?
I happen to know a lady named Samantha who does, “pop-up weddings,” in St. Louis, MO. A pop-up wedding is usually a small wedding at a restaurant, park or scenic viewpoint where the bride and groom can invite their close friends and family, have a quick ceremony, have a little food and then get the heck out of there.
My friend who does these types of weddings usually charges about $2500 and has a 20 person max. All food is included and you also get a person to officiate the wedding. This is about 12 times cheaper than the average cost of a wedding these days, which is roughly $32,600.
The point is there are all kinds of ways you can make money. One of the many ways is through weddings. Whether it’s through pop-ups, DJing, Officiating, being the photographer, or the cater, weddings are usually once (or twice) in a lifetime events that people don’t mind paying for.
An interesting point here, the original guys who started The Wedding Wagon sold out. They thought they would franchise the idea. Unfortunately they didn’t plan the exit very well and then went to Shark Tank to try to sell the idea. If you’re interested, you can click here to see the rest of the story.
We’ve all had that, “Why didn’t I think of that,” moment. Well this next weird business idea is so far fetched that I think almost everyone would have dropped it like it’s hot in the planning stages – but we all would have been wrong.
The Potato Parcel is a company that ships potatoes to your doorsteps. And these aren’t just any potatoes. These potatoes have messages written on the with Sharpie markers. Some of them have pictures attached to them as well. Those are called Potato Pals.
Need a Mother’s Day gift? How about a potato that says, “Love you mom! From your little Spud.”
Or how about, “Happy Birthday Babe! Now cook this up for me.” I’m pretty sure this wouldn’t go over in my house and the website specifically says not to eat the potatoes.
Do you think this business is crazy? Well they sold over $200,000 worth of potatoes their first year and you can watch the video of two Sharks from Shark Tank fight over the idea.
The point of these quick articles is to show you that no idea is too crazy if you know how to sell and market something. Now get out there and figure out what your Potato Parcel is.
As you probably heard by now, Chuck Berry passed away this weekend on Saturday March 18th, 2017. He was born in St. Louis, MO and lived in a suburb just west of St. Louis for many years.
I remember being in 3rd or 4th grade singing, “My ding-a-ling, my ding-a-ling, won’t you play with my Ding-a-ling-a-ling.”
My mom said something like, “Doug, that’s not an appropriate song for a kid to sing.”
“Why not?” I said. “It’s just about a bell on a string.”
“No it’s not,” she said. “It’s about a man’s ding-dong.”
I remember from that day on knowing that the song was a double-entendre and that I couldn’t sing it as freely as I used to, especially around adults.
Flash forward 30 to 35 years and the news of his passing. First thing I did was put on his Ding-a-Ling video where he’s singing somewhere in Europe. What the YouTube video doesn’t show is that Mr. Berry just showed up to the show minutes before going on stage, which he was known to do. The host and producers were nervous he wasn’t going to make it.
I think his thought was, You don’t pay me to be here early, you pay me to perform at a certain time. I got here on time, I played, now I’m done, give me my money—in cash, and I’ll be on my way.
So I’m watching him on YouTube with my daughter as he’s getting ready to play the Ding-a-Ling song and he’s calling out the key of the music to the band. He introduces the song and says something like, “This is an innocent song made for kids in about the 4th grade. They have an innocent mind. It’s us adults that ruin everything…”
Meanwhile he’s flipping off the camera as he’s talking about how, “You guys are number one, you’re number one…” someone yells from the crowd and Chuck says, “Oh come on people, I have to hold my guitar pick with these two fingers, this is the only one I have left. See that’s what I’m talking about with the whole innocent thing…”
Berry then goes into the lyric about how, “When I was a little bitty boy, my grandmother bought me a cute little toy, silver bells hangin’ on a string, she told me it was my ding-a-ling-a-ling…” and then the whole crowd started chanting it back at him.
My seven year-old daughter asked, “Why are all those people singing back about a toy?”
I said, “You think it’s about a toy?”
She said, “Yeah, that’s what he said.”
Being who I am, I just couldn’t let it go at that. I didn’t even think about how my mom ruined the song, or I should say, tuned me in to what the song really meant. So I said, “Well Jaya, some people call a man’s penis a ‘Ding-a-ling’”.
“What? A penis?! Oh my gosh!” Then she started laughing uncontrollably as the verse had come around again and all the adults were chanting, “My ding-a-ling, my ding-a-ling, won’t you play with my ding-a-ling-a-ling!”
Seeing Chuck Berry play live was on my bucket list. He played once a month at a bar in the Delmar Loop area in St. Louis called Blueberry Hill. Tickets were only $20, but you had to pick them up at the box office and they sold out the same day they went on sale.
My ex-wife got us tickets for either our anniversary or my birthday, about seven or eight years ago. I was pumped to see him. I remember him coming out in his white Captain’s sailor hat and a long sleeved button-up shirt. His beautiful daughter, who’s a hell of a harmonica player, was with him, as well as his full band. He said a brief introduction and then slid into his classic Johnny B. Goode guitar lick and it was on! The crowd was pumped and was dancing, big smiles all around as he finished that song and went right into Roll Over Beethoven.
A couple more songs into the set, his daughter grabbed the mic that Chuck had just finished singing into and did a mean harmonica solo. She was up there jamming on the harp and movin’ and groovin’ her feet and then Chuck started singing right into the empty mic stand.
His daughter ran back across the stage and held the mic up to his mouth until he was done with the verse and then put it back in the mic stand. Everyone kind of laughed, including Chuck and his band.
Chuck laughed it off and played around on the guitar for a minute and then hit a couple licks and went right into Roll Over Beethoven again. Everyone in the crowd looked at each other a little confused. The drummer and the bass guitarist just smiled and shook their heads, but they went along with it and kept playing.
When they were done Chuck turned and said something to the bassist’s. The bass-player said something back…probably to the effect of, “You played that one twice…”
Chuck started laughing real hard and came back to the mic and said, “Sorry about that ladies and gentleman, I guess I just really like that one.”
At the time this concert happened, I was in a Master’s degree program for creative writing. I thought I was going to be the next Mark Twain or David Sedaris as far as essayists went, so I wrote an essay of the night and laid on every detail of how Chuck had messed-up. (There was a couple other singing into an open-mic /harmonica situations.)
I presented the essay to my writing group a few days later and immediately got crucified.
“You can’t write this about Chuck Berry. He’s been a legend for over 50 years,” one person said.
“He’s done more for rock-n-roll than almost any one person who’s ever lived! Elvis practically stole his style and presented it as his own. If it wasn’t for Chuck Berry, who knows what we’d be listening to these days,” another said
I decided not to publish the essay after listening to the critique. I had mentioned in the original essay that he was still doing the duck-walk all the way across the stage. He also did the move, which I called the Galloping Guitar where he keeps one leg straight out and bounces across the stage with the other leg and it kind of looks like he’s riding his guitar like a horse. Chuck also jumped up and did the splits almost all the way to the ground and pulled himself up just using his core muscles while holding his guitar—and oh yeah, I forgot to mention, HE WAS IN HIS EARLY 80’s!
Looking back on it, I’m glad I didn’t publish the original essay. Chuck Berry, even in his 80’s, was a better dancer and guitar player than I will ever be and I’ve played the guitar for over 20 years.
Yes, a lot of his songs introductions sound the same. (Listen here if you want.) But it’s easy to criticize someone else’s art, talent and skill. These days it’s hard to even get started in your art because people have instant access through social media and there are plenty of people out there who will tell you how much you suck.
(Of course the flip-side to that is, people put out their stuff before they should these days.) In Chuck’s case, he was doing music before (and longer than) most of us have been alive.
Some of the articles you will read, if you search them out, will talk about his run-ins with tax evasion. Or the he had camera in the women’s bathroom at his club. These stories are true and if you want to find out more about that feel free to look them up somewhere else.
My thoughts and memories about Chuck Berry aren’t about all of that. I love walking down the Delmar Loop and seeing his name on the star on the St. Louis Walk of Fame right in front of Blueberry Hill, the same place that I saw him years ago. I love seeing his statue right across the street from Blueberry Hill holding that Gibson guitar and in a pose that you can tell is just 100% Chuck Berry.
I also love knowing that the circle of life has spun around once again with me, my mom and my daughter with the Ding-a-ling song. And I like the fact that part of this essay has gotten to see the light of day again, even if it took Mr. Berry passing away to reevaluate the piece, knock some dirt of it and then rework and recycle parts it.
Chuck Berry influenced me in many ways and I hope my daughter will be able to say the same thing later in her life. One thing I know for sure is the next time her and I walk into Blueberry Hill together, I’m going to make sure that I point out the big fat Gibson that’s sitting in the display case next to the front door and I’m going to say to her, “You see this guitar? This guitar was Chuck Berry’s. You know, the guy who sang the ‘Ding-a-ling song”?
And I hope in 20 or 30 years from now she will be able to do the same thing with her kids.
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Recently I have had a couple of people ask me, “Hey Doug, did something happen to make you give up writing? I haven’t seen anything out of you in a long time.”
“Life’s happening,” is what I usually say.
There has been so much going on in my life that I have put writing aside for a while. Here’s my dirty laundry list of what’s been happening recently:
–Some people may not know this because I haven’t written much about it, but my ex-wife and I got divorced last year after being separated for two years. We are both doing well and are getting along just fine. We have a seven year old daughter to raise so we try to make it as easy as we can on each other.
–The lease on my apartment is going to end at the end of March, so my girlfriend of two years and I have been talking about moving in together. I think both of us had a mild panic attack when we realized how much stuff we both have. Two months come and go pretty quick, so I’ve decided to take a six-month extension on my lease and move at the end of summer. This allows both of us enough time to get physically and mentally ready for the move.
–I blew up my car. I had a 2002 Honda Civic that I bought from a friend when she moved to the Middle East. It only had 12,000 miles on it when I got it and it lasted me 12 years.
–I also have a 2003 Chevy S-10 that has a $8000 paint job and was body dropped with airbags. I can’t drive it in the winter because the air-ride fittings leak air when it’s cold. Once my car blew up, I decided to take out the airbags and replace the air-ride system with traditional shocks and springs, which were lowered a little. That cost $1500 plus $900 for a rental while it was being fixed. I don’t know about you, but $2400 is a bit of a hit to my wallet.
–This brings me to the election. (looooong sigh…) As we all know, Mr. Trump won the election. In case you forgot, I’m the Day-shift Training Manager for a place that employees 1600 workers who work for the Affordable Care Act, aka Obama Care. I am in charge of 800 of those people’s training. So now that the Republicans are trying to repeal the law, there is a lot more uncertainty around here. Everyone’s asking, “How long do we have?”
I say, “We have 18 more months until the end of the contract. We will have to see what happens after that.”
But I can tell you upfront, I am not waiting until then to find something else to do. I am applying for everything I can now, because I’m not going to be caught with my pants down.
–I have wanted to start my own business for a long time. I started working with a business coach last year using her system. It’s time for me to renew her licensing agreement. It costs me $300 a year to use her materials, which would be fine if I were using them, but I haven’t been. I’m thinking about giving myself three months and if I haven’t got enough clients to cover the cost, I’m going to let it go.
–I’m going back to school, “pool school,” that is. What is pool school? It’s basically a 3-day billiards workshop where you work with a Master Level Instructor. I have wanted to do this for about 25 years, but never had the time or the money. I’ve been reading a lot about accelerated learning. One of the things I’ve found out is, if you want to learn something fast you have to work with a teacher or coach who can give you instant feedback on what works and what doesn’t.
It’s a little scary for me to throw down money on myself for something that seems frivolous and unnecessary. But I’ve been playing pool now for over 35 years. I’ve been at exactly the same level since I was about 16 years old. I figured I will be playing the game until I either can’t walk or I can’t see, so why not get some professional instruction?
–Finally, I just booked a trip to Colorado at the end of March for my girlfriend’s birthday. My daughter is really excited because she has had the chance to meet some of her, “new cousins,” that are right around her age and they live just outside Denver. She’s excited about getting to camp-out in the living room with tents and all. I’m pretty excited about being able to see Colorado with all its green-glory. I haven’t been there since the circus started and I’m interested to see what that looks like.
–I have heard some writers say, “I didn’t choose writing, writing chose me.”
I don’t necessarily feel like that. I was slightly dyslexic growing up. I never had good handwriting. I didn’t like to read until I was an adult. I never had to write until I was around 30 years old. Even when I was younger and I fantasied about being a famous writer, my mom would say, “Go out and live life. Then you may have something to write about.”
Often when I feel burned out on writing, I’ll take a long break from it and let life happen. Then I come back I feel a little more refreshed. Writing seems more interesting then. I just hope my readers remember who am; which is one other reason I write, so that people can remember me when I’m gone.
I look forward to writing to you more this year. Have a great day.
I ran the MO Cowbell Half-Marathon on Sunday, which was my 7th or 8th official half-marathon. I’ve lost count.
I say, “Official,” because when I ran a full-marathon (26.2 miles) in 2010, I ran between 13 to 20 miles every Saturday for three months straight. Over the past six years, I have ran at least one official half-marathon; some years I’ve ran two. However after each race, and I use that term loosely, I ask myself, Why am I doing this?
Every year for the last six years I have signed-up for a race three or four months out. I usually do the bare minimum to get into running shape. This means doing two to three mile runs once or twice a week. Then when I’m about six weeks out from the race, I’ll start running a little further on the weekends adding about two miles to my long runs on Saturdays until I’m up to about eight or nine miles.
Of course the real-run is 13.1 miles, so I’m usually under-prepared for the race. Then the week before the race I will hardly run at all. This is not recommended.
“The proof is in the pudding,” means the results you get out of something are from the work you put in. My lack of training shows in the result-times most years for me. I’ll struggle through the race, but I do finish. The times aren’t impressive. Usually I’ll finish between 2 hours and 40 minutes to three hours. I then hobble back to my car swearing at myself with each step.
I then spend the next two days limping around saying things like, “Next time things will be different. I’ll run more and I’ll get back into the best shape of my life.” Most years I usually do the same thing that I did the last training season and usually end up with the same race results that I had the year before.
I will say that in 2010, I took my training much more seriously. I ran three or four times a week. I had a coach. I quit smoking. I logged 20+ miles a week. Bottom line, I trained hard and took it seriously.
There have also been a couple of years out of six that I was in pretty good shape, meaning I could run four or five miles without stopping. One of those years I finished this same race in 2 hours and 18 minutes—which is my best time so far. It was also the only time in my life that I ran 13 miles without stopping except at a couple of water stations for 10 or 15 seconds to get a drink.
This year’s race was much different. I felt like I was getting major blisters on both feet at Mile 6. I stopped at Mile 7 to pee in a bush, then sat down on a rock wall, pulled my socks off and looked at my bare feet. The blisters were starting to form and they were both quarter-sized. Oh well, I thought as I started to put my socks and shoes back on.
Up to this point I was pacing with the 2:40 pace group. For those who don’t run, you can tell your pace group by volunteers who run the course with long sticks with times posted on them. If you hang with them the whole race, you should be about on pace with what the number/time says on their stick.
I saw the lady holding the 2:45 stick go by me while I was sitting down checking my feet. I put my shoes back on and started running. About two minutes after that, I saw the 2:30 pace-lady run past me.
That’s when I realized that I must have gotten turned around on the course. I didn’t know what mile marker I was at and I had a brief moment where I thought, Do I turn around and go back?
Then I thought, I still have a long way to go with these blisters and I don’t care about this race. I paid for it. I know no one else cares at all what I’m doing. And if I found someone with a golf-cart that would take me back, I would go back right now.
So I just kept running.
The surprising thing is about two minutes later I came back to life. I found a little spot in my shoes that wasn’t as hot on my foot as it had been rubbing my arches where my blisters were. I bared-down and made sure my foot didn’t slide off that spot and I kept on trotting.
The people around me were keeping up a slightly faster pace than I was which in turn made me pick up my pace. I ran for about three miles without stopping until I got to a long hill. It was too much for me mentally, so I walked up the hill and then ran for four or five minutes down the other side of the hill, then walked again for two or three minutes.
By the time I had hit Mile 12 I was wiped out. The last time I ran this race I ran the last mile in nine minutes. This time it took about fifteen.
When I got to the finish line I passed-up where they were handing out medals and went straight for the beer tent. The lady working there said, “Here sit down. You look like you could use a beer.”
I thanked her and slammed my beer down in about five gulps.
“You look like you could use a refill,” the lady said handing me another beer.
I thanked her and said, “You can see where my priorities are, I didn’t even pick up my medal.”
“Whatever makes you happy,” she said.
By the time I finished my second beer my Facebook running buddy showed-up with her family. She got herself a beer and I explained to her how I got turned around somehow.
She said, “Well go get your medal.”
“Nah, I don’t feel like I deserve a medal this time,” I said.
“What? That’s crazy! Go get your medal.” she said.
“I’m good. I think my official time might say, ‘Cheater,’ when they look at the computer screen.” I said.
A few minutes later I heard the announcer say, “I’m sorry folks, we are out of medals. Just sign up at the tent and we will send you one.”
My friend said, “Go sign up.”
“Eh, don’t worry about it. I’m good.” I said.
As I was hobbling back to my car, a 70-something year old man saw me limping and said, “How did you do?”
“Well I saw you pass me,” I said shaking his hand as his whole family laughed.
I took the next day off from work and went “floating.” Floating in this context involves getting into a sensory deprivation tank filled with warm water and 800 lbs. of Epsom salt. There are no lights or sound after a few minutes of getting in the tank. You are left alone with your thoughts for 90 minutes.
When you run long distances you sometimes forget that things rub against each other leaving it a raw—like your shirt against your nipples. It didn’t take long to remember what rubbed against what when I got into the salt bath. Once the salt hit my nipples it stung so bad that I almost had to get out. But I let the pain wash over me and muscled through it and after a couple of minutes the pain went away.
Thoughts ran through my mind faster than a deer being chased by wolves. I thought about people who I hadn’t thought about in years. I thought about five different businesses that I could start tomorrow if I just could pick one. I saw blinking blue lights and heard swirly sounds that weren’t really there. Occasionally my foot would hit the side of the tank and I would come crashing back to reality.
I went back to work the next day, limping with each step and trying not to bust my water-filled blistered feet. I opened my email and there was a message that said, “We are judging by your time that you didn’t receive a metal. We are sorry but we didn’t realize we were short on metals until we ran out of them at the finish line. But don’t worry, we are sending you one!”
Great! I thought. Now the only thing I can think about is, Will mine have the word, “Cheater!” engraved on it?
The funny thing is, I don’t even care about the medals from each race. I keep them in a cardboard box that is in the closet where my heater and air-conditioner are. For me it’s about getting out there, doing some form of exercise and competing with your mind that you are going to finish no matter how much it hurts.
But no matter what the medal does or doesn’t say I promise you this, next year things will be different.
Today is the first day of autumn equinox. (If you’re reading this post from your email, it was yesterday.)
Now I could bore you with facts like:
-Today is also called the September equinox which happens the moment the Sun crosses the celestial equator – the imaginary line in the sky above Earth’s Equator – from north to south.
-The equinox happens either on September 22, 23, or 24 every year. This year it’s on the 22nd at 10:21 am E.T.
-On the date of equinox, night and day is practically the same length, 12 hours all over the world.
-This is the reason it’s called an “equinox”, derived from Latin, meaning “equal night”.
But it’s not really my style to just let the facts do the work. I want to talk about something that’s really important. I want to know, who was the person that thought pumpkin spice was the best thing to put in beer?
It seems like such a hipster thing to do.
But alas, with one quick Google search you will find out that pumpkin beer has been around since at least the 1600’s. This was for practical reasons. Settlers were not always able to get barley to make malt, so they had to use what they could to get the fermentable sugars that they needed to make beer. Pumpkin, and even parsnips, were readily available to meet the settler’s needs.
The settler’s wrote a song in the 1640’s addressing their displeasure at having to use pumpkin to make their beer. (Side note, this is considered America’s first discovered folk song that was rediscovered in the late 18th century.)
Instead of pottage and puddings and custards and pies,
Our pumpkins and parsnips are common supplies;
We have pumpkin at morning and pumpkin at noon;
If it was not for pumpkins we should be undone
… Hey down, down, hey down derry down….
If barley be wanting to make into malt
We must be contented and think it no fault
For we can make liquor, to sweeten our lips,
Of pumpkins and parsnips and walnut-tree chips.”
I’m not a huge fan of pumpkin spiced anything except for pumpkin pie. So unless pumpkin-spiced beer was the only beer available on Earth, I’d be fine never touching pumpkin-spiced anything ever again.
Recently TV’s most loved/hated chef Anthony Bourdain said, “I would like to see the pumpkin-spiced craze drown in its own blood.”
I have to say I agree with Mr. Bourdain. I just looked up a list of pumpkin-spiced foods that are available in 2016…and…uh…uh…I might have changed my mind a little.
I’m taking a firm stand here. I don’t want pumpkin-spiced anything unless it cookies. And pie. Or Bailey’s Irish Creme. Or Krispy Kreme Donuts. Or Starbucks lattes…ummmm pumpkin spiced lattes with Bailey’s Irish Creme and donuts, yum!
Ok, maybe I don’t agree 100% with Anthony Bourdain. But I’m sticking with the fact that I want brewers to keep pumpkin-spice out of my beer.
The directions below will help you drink your pumpkin beer responsibly. Enjoy the autumn season.