Out of Balance on Purpose?

It's been a lovely weekend. Best weekend in months. We visited my parents and grandmother for my dad's and grandmother's birthday weekend. We checked out a wine festival, took a motorcycle ride, visited Blue Bird Gap Farm, had birthday dinner, roasted birthday oysters, had birthday breakfast, picked up two different counter tops from two different discount home centers, took a hay ride, and got our Halloween pumpkins. That was in less than seventy two hours. There was also a half a day of work in there, for Deanna and myself, and the fielding of work phone calls for the duration of the trip. We also took Quinn worm digging and fishing for the first time.

Suffice it to say, we vacation like it's our job. We even joked that it was good that we got all the family stuff in in one weekend, so I could get back to the business of building our house in every free moment. Now I know I brought this on myself. And I'm not complaining. Really, it feels normal. But I know it's not. Ironically the whole time I'm convincing myself that as soon as the house is finished, I'll begin my life of leisure. Gardening, surfing, riding, exercising, reading, you know.

I'm afraid this level of production is becoming addictive. Returning to some balance will be like kicking a habit.

Just an observation.

Really, is that all you could get done?

The more news I hear, and the more days I live, the more convinced I am that our politicians are lazy. I've said before, I'm pretty liberal. However, I also have common sense and believe in incremental change. I thought Obama would be more liberal, but I don't blame him for going middle of the road. It was the only road he could take. I do blame him for not admitting that. I also blame him for not calling the Tea Party out for what they are; irresponsible, and ill informed. Experts agree, listen to them! Cut spending, raise taxes, end of story. Sure I don't want to lose my mortgage interest deduction, but if it's the cost of doing business, so be it. Tax the rich, hell yeah! They've been untaxed for a decade and I don't feel any busier at work. And yes, they are my clients. Directly!

I wrote my congressman, and he wrote back. Problem is, it's pretty clear he didn't read my email. I'd have thought he had better staff than that.

My only hope is that the republicans nominate some reactionary nut job, Obama has a free term to accept reality, and we move forward. Knowing our collective luck, some middle of the road Republican will win the election and spend 4 years trying to win reelection. Maybe all presidents should be limited to one term. Give 'em six years.

Labor Pains

No, I'm not about to make a comparison between the suffering of the worker and the suffering of the mother.

I really enjoy reading, and re-reading Matthew Crawford's Shopclass as Soulcraft. However, like most writing regaling the virtues of the common worker, or the romance of the farmer working the land. It is written by as man who is primarily a Philosophy Fellow at a Universty, or a writer with a home farm etc. The points they make are valid, provocative, and interesting. However there are a couple of key things missing.

First, the gentleman farmer, cabinet maker, or motorcycle, or auto repair shop owner is not only a tradesman, but a businessman. Someone with sensibilities that far surpass the turning of soil or wrenches. Someone, who could probably, from that position explain a thing or two not only to a shop class, but a business, accounting, economics, or psychology class for that matter.

Second, as the gentleman--whatever etc etc, there is a certain implication of another form of income. This seems to insulate them from the pains of the laborer. Or at least they don't comment on it. This is the omision that interests me. I am by no means a carpenter. I work in construction, but I'm as likely to have a drafting pencil, or a telephone in my hand than a hammer. Still the economic environment, and my willingness have conspired to put me in a position of the sledge hammerer, or the concrete sawyer as often as not. And I'm building my own home on nights and weekends.

The observation that I want to add, besides good work being a framework for a good life is that hard work hurts. From the incidental abrasion, to the run-in with the router, to the nagging tennis elbow. Work hurts. I'm 31, my kid brother is 24 and we share the sensation of numb forearms and fingers in our sleep.

The work is satisfying. It's rewarding. Building homes, or boats in my brother's case, is fascinating at times, and at least not borring at others. It fascilitates critical thought, and independence. It also destroys the human body. I love to write, play the guitar, and ride my motorcycle. For each of these I need strong, feeling hands. I have to build houses to pay the bills. I hope one of the hobbies starts to pay off soon.

Since I'm fortunate enough to split my time at work between management, and labor, I can probably make the good times last. But I, like those in more labor intensive careers will have to recon with reality one day. Bodies are like the things we build and service. They wear out. Maintenance,and caution are important, but on a long enough timeline all machines fail. That could not be clearer than to one who builds or repairs things.

The tingling, the numbness, the pain--they become familiar, like close associates, in some way. But deep down we all know, one day it will just hurt too much to continue. That is a sobering thought.

Waiting hobbies

I was drinking one of my father-in-law's home brews the other night and I got to thinking about the waiters among us. My father-in-law is not the only home brewer I know. One of my closest friends keeps me in soda kegs of beer almost all year.

I'm not a brewer, but I am a gardener, and as such I feel that I've joined the fraternity of waiters, or those who enjoy waiting hobbies. Maybe we are drawn to these activities because they are dissimilar to our modern lives. By definition, the work most of us do (for money) is best done as quickly, expediently, and with as little left to chance as possible. So in our spare time, we are inclined to participate in activities that demand patience, deliberation, and some luck.

I vaguely understand brewing, but I get gardening so I'll hang my examination on the procedures therein.

Preparation of the bed or growing medium is critical, labor intensive, and so far removed from the reward, many faint at heart falter here. It's also a bit of a purification process. Even when executed in the February chill, if you are doing it right, you will sweat out some of the beer you drank contemplating becoming a gardener. Soil amendments, particularly for the organic grower, are often stinky, inconvenient, and expensive, or otherwise hard to come by. This is truly an opportunity to invest a great deal of energy and emotional capital for the privilege of possibly reaping no harvest. This is the first step in mitigating risk that is completely out of your control.

Planting; the Zen moment. Some find it tedious, and it is, but it can be done without sweating. Planting also affords one the opportunity to admire one's prior efforts ( a critically important part of waiting hobbies). Planting is also a small opportunity for personal input. There are guidelines for planting patterns, spacing, and technique, but you can ignore or alter them at your peril. And hell, this isn't the first opportunity for things to go wrong, so failure could not possibly be traced back to your impulse to spell your dog's name with your turnip seeds. I mean do you want to be able to read it before or after thinning? Will you thin? Is thinning for losers that don't love their seeds enough? I love planting because, even if my preparation has me destined to fail, I still have no idea that this is the case. Some call the season spring, I call it hope!

Waiting; oh the waiting. It's not that there's nothing to do. You can water, but not too much. Go ahead fertilize, but not too much. This is the season of correction. If it looks like you're blowing it, you can add fertilizer, or water, or do less . . . no do more . . . no do less . . . .

Weeding; should not be its own stage. To garden is to weed, eternally to weed. However, weeding is really a way to assuage the agony of waiting. Weeds and vegetables can flourish together, to a point. I know that my obsession with weeding is based entirely on one thing: VANITY!! In my experience vanity is a key component of waiting hobbies. Waiters love to show off their efforts suspended in time. Jar after of jar of fermenting liquid, bed after bed of ordered seedlings; a picture of potential. My manicured beds are a testament to my potential. Or they are a distraction for the incesent worry that some ailment will befell my plants, and I will be seen for what I really am: average.

Conquest; nature has yielded her bounty to your will. Harvest is bitter sweet. The waiting is over. The quest has come to a close. The flower has been picked. Like that young lady that was way out of your league in college, you've discovered bountiful looks aren't everything. The melons are there, but how many melons does anyone need. In truth though harvest is another season of gloating. When you deliver the surplus to your friends and neighbors, you can smile as smugly as a benevolent fraternity president, or something.

In truth harvest time is just like pouring the first draught from a fresh batch of home brew . . . What can I do better next time? And so it goes.

Idea

The nuclear disaster associated with the earthquake and tsunami in Japan is a true tragedy. An equal or greater tragedy will be our collective recoil from nuclear power.

Nuclear is not perfect, but wind kills birds, gas is finite, oil kills poor nations (the locals anyway), and green house gasses kill everyone.

My idea: New reactors on Superfund sites. The not in my backyard factor is not an issue. New reactors can be safer than existing ones, and when we screw up, well . . . It's like spilling coffee on your painting shirt.

I know, it's slightly naive, but it's no more naive than thinking there is enough oil, coal, or clean air to heat, cool, and comfort all of us.

Thoughts on Employment

I've had two conversations in the last two weeks that have pretty much blown my mind. Both conversations were related to employment.

Last week, I was talking with My good buddy Pedro, who I don't get to speak to as often as I'd like. He and his wife have left sunny California to relocate to Boston. Pedro is in between jobs and enjoying a little QT with Kimya, his daughter. He said it took him almost two weeks to get the law buzz out of his brain (he's an attorney). I was thinking he was going to say it was just so intese that it consumed him.

Basically though, he indicated that it was stressful, tedious, often borring, and an experience riddled with self doubt. I was shocked at this, because when I find my job engendering exactly the same feelings, I often chastise myself for lacking Pedro's stick-to-it-ivness. He did press on to Law School while I basically fell into teaching, summer camp, and then construction, with a dash of beer and travel. When tedious, or high pressure projects get me down, I find some odd pleasure in convincing myself that I deserve it, because I was too lazy for law school. Not so apparently, no matter the effort, the result seems the same.

Then, just today, my boss and I were discussing some of our clients who seem like they could die at any time. He just blurted out, "that's why you've gotta just keep working forever." I questioned this logic, adding that it might have been our rich client's high powered careers that stressed them to within inches of death. My boss disagreed, he implied that work was our reason for living. I almost automatically blurted, "Are you kidding, work is the one thing that gets in the way of my happiness, I can think of litterally 100 fun things I could be doing right now, and it's raining." Now that might not be all true. My work certainly finances my lifestyle. And it keeps me out of trouble. And it was raining.

Particularly at a time when there are many people that want work and can't get it, I don't want to come off like a whiner. On the contrary, I'm not bitching about my job. I'm just fascinated really. Jobs are like mothers in their irony. I can bitch about the ridiculous stuff my mom says, but no one else can. And you better not try to take either one away.

Humans do lots of odd things. Things that seem odd or insignificant on the surface may have a deeper meaning. These two aforementioned conversations have just made me wonder about that caveat. Maybe it should just read: Humans do some odd things. Things that seem odd or insignificant on the surface probably are, but if someone is willing to pay you for doing it, That's Great!

To Call a Thing by its Name

I called someone out tonight. I don't feel any better.

A client of mine was looking for a house, I informed him that I might be putting mine on the market. When he asked how much I'd be deducting for the "Mexicans" next door, I said, "that sounds a little racist." He said, "what? you don't want to deal with a racist?" and hung up.

My neighbor is not Mexican. He's from El Salvador. And not that it should make a difference, but he is a good friend of mine. That may be what gave me the courage, or conviction to say something. As I sit here seathing, I'm troubled by two things. One, I'm not adamant enough about racism. And two, I'm frustrated that I have to be on the lookout for it.

I will be the first to concede that there are dipshits among us. I'll also assert that they tend to follow no ethnic conventions. It's pathetic to assert that someone's mexicanness, or whiteness, or blackness, or asianness makes them do anything. If someone is an asshole, let's just accept that it's a personality flaw--not some genetic defect.

And so I fail on a regular basis. I don't call people out enough. And I am equally frustrated that I have to call people out at all. Unfortunately, I fear racism will alway be with us. It's a cheap form of insecurity. If you are racist you don't have to admit that you have no self confidence, you only have to demean others.

I can't solve the insecurity issue. But, I can commit to be more assertive. To call a thing by its name . . . If you hide behind the generality of ethnicity, positive or negative, and you are in my presence, you will hear about it. And if you are weak enough to have to hang up, or walk away, I'll not be ashamed. I'll be pleased to know that you've consented through silence that you are lacking.

Ground has been broken

The house in Duck project has begun. Who knew that on the weekend I borrowed the Bobcat from my buddy Carlos that it would need three hydraulic hoses? Aside from that small setback, things are moving along swimmingly.

It is amazing how monotonous driving a Bobcat for six hours straight can be. Even more amazing is how easy it is to forget how monotonous building a house can be. Even more amazing is seeing something you do everyday become something so unfamiliar. At times, I think unreasonable expectations are what build houses. Some builder in his office imagines how long something should take, or how much it should cost, and finds someone to make it happen. I "make it happen," everyday, but on the weekends, with my own project, I cannot speak anything into reality. I have to make it reality.

Every busted tool, every setback becomes a personal obstacle. Watching the minutes tick by, and seeing the schedule I made for myself fail to be met, I'm fascinated; and appalled. The best layed plans . . . as they say.

And so, the second house I will build from the ground up begins. It's so different from the houses I 'build' for work. It seems like I should use a different verb. And so, the second house that I will live begins. With approval from the Dept. of Environmental Health, we will proceed to a real live building permit. With that permit in hand, I will have permission from the Town of Duck to build a house, or bleed a house. Whichever the case may be.

Egypt

I do not pretend to understand the ins and outs of global politics. I've spent time in Palestine/Israel, however you refer to it. It's a volatile region. I've visited Egypt also. There are a lot of poor people there. The fact that demonstrations there are going on and have not degenerated into absolute carnage is impressive. There are a lot of people there that are entitled to be very angry.

Suffice it to say, important things are afoot. I understand the necessity of my government to show restraint. However, it's a little embarassing. As it should be? With diplomatic cables leaked, it's obvious that diplomacy is a little more like a soap opera than anything else. The Bush administration ran around cramming Western Style democracy down people's throats. I'm not sure invading countries to spread democracy is the right approach. I'm also not sure waiting to see if the protestors will be successful before we support them is the most prudent action either.

In the end it's weighing short-term stability against long term stability. Or maybe it's not. It's easy to use an ally with a terrible human rights record and throw them under the bus when it becomes convenient or necessary. The real difficulty is building a relationship with a country with different intersts and goals than yours, and having to stick it out, because they are not easilly dismissed because of inconvenient aspects of their national character.

I pray for stability in the region however. As easy as it is to cheer revolution; instability in the Middle East, or anywhere for that matter breeds violence. As the saying goes, You've gotta break a couple eggs . . . You can make omelets now with egg whites, from a carton. Oh that countries could evolve as fast as kitchens.

On Smugness

My wife and I spend a lot of our idle time laughing at those around us. I feel bad about it sometimes. But usually, people are doing really dumb stuff, and deserve it. I'm not sure that we can do anything about it, or that we want to, but this is my confession of sorts.

I laugh a lot at the expense of people who don't appreciate luck. I tend to think that luck has about 75% influence on what happens to all of us. So people that muse about how much better off they'd be if they were left to their own devices, without some intrusive government, or family, or other entity holding them back absolutely crack me up. Seriously, I love things like roads and bridges, and unemployment insurance, and food stamps. When my luck runs out, I'll use 'em

I do things that are absolutely ridiculous, I know, sometimes I know when I'm doing them, but I cannot help myself. So, I will self deprecate, before I ridicule others.

I do the following:
Have a beard
Have a leather jacket that I do not use exclusively for riding my motorcycle
Have a motorcycle
I whistle musical scales
Don't eat meat, unless you're serving bacon wrapped bacon
Buy organic products that come in boxes
Listen to NPR
Once read a book about Oak. . . Yes the wood
Swear at my child, not near her, at her. . .and not always under my breath
Have a sailboat . . .made of plywood
Listen to Country music
Love Ace of Base
Think I'm hilarious when I'm drunk
Have a blog


Other people entertain me by doing the following:
Wearing white sunglasses (particularly straight dudes)
Listening to Indie Rock
Comparing baby milestones
Insisting that Gay people are somehow "other" than themselves
Insisting that the government does nothing that helps them
Insisting that the government is the one thing standing between them and utter success
Littering
Failing to recycle
Thinking they are hilarious when they are drunk
Not moving over while driving past cyclists
Not working
Spending more money than they have
Not knowing how much money that have
Scratching their balls. My balls itch too, I just have the decency not to scratch them in public.
Wearing skinny jeans inappropriately.
Wearing anything that reveals a muffin top.
Being condescending a-holes.

OK, so this has been cathartic, though I'm not sure I'd say useful, or valuable in any way. The other people list is longer. I guess that's an indication that I have farther to go before I reach enlightenment. Or maybe enlightenment is being able to say that someone is ridiculous and not feel bad about it. I'll get back to you.

Rockfish

The following post may be fictional, though it is written in the first person, say for dramatic effect. Also, no real or fictional characters' identities will be revealed. I'm still researching some legality issues.

I may or may not have gone fishing for striped bass this weekend, and this may or may not be what happened when I did or didn't go fishing.

We left late, it didn't seem necessary to push it. The ramps were crowded, the fish had been thick for about two weeks. Rock fish aren't the easiest fish to catch. Not like Tuna, for example, which are essentially a swimming mouth. But, the fish were so plentiful, everybody was catching them.

So, after an hour long steam out of Oregon Inlet North up the coast we arrived at an undisclosed location off of Kill Devil Hills. It was however, not a secret. We were sharing this stretch of water with no less than one hundred thirty small boats, and two commercial boats dragging trawls. It was, in a word, ridiculous.

In spite of what we will call "pressure on the stock," people were still hooking fish. We were not.

However, our attention was drawn to an area of activity, and as we focused our efforts there we notice some rock fish that appeared to be dead, floating on the surface. They were not dead--well not quite. They were dying, some bleeding from the gills, some with disfigured fins, some just looked stunned. We pulled a couple out of the water for a closer look. They were bycatch. They'd been discarded by one of the commercial boats in the area.

Now I don't mind fishing. It can be fun. However, I prefer catching, and what I really prefer is eating. As a sort-of-mostly-vegetarian, I love fish, and I eat a lot of it, because I cannot find any health or moral concerns in eating fish harvested with a hook and line. So, when I saw several semi-live fish that looked exactly like what we were expending quite a bit of effort and fuel to catch, I said to myself, "get that fish!". I had to play it cool however, my companions really enjoyed the art of angling, and the method mattered to them as much as the meat.

Upon inspection, we determined that the floaters were alive, and encounters with trawlers notwithstanding, healthy. As we pulled in and measured the second fish, we simultaneously hooked two fish. We lost one, and reeled in the other. It was right at the twenty eight inch limit, so we threw him back, not too much worse for wear, I might add.

After that, we didn't hook anymore fish for a while. And a trawler cruised right through the middle of the entire fleet. Just as he cleared the crowd, he pulled up his trawl, and proceeded to dump maybe one hundred dead or dying rock fish over his stern. And so my buddies and I were at a moral crossroads. Well, they were. I'd moved onto figuring out how I was going to cook the fish I was definitely not too proud to take second hand.

And so the fiasco began. We caught our limit, in a manner of speaking. Beautiful, powerful, majestic yummy fish, cast aside by stupid fisheries regulations. We proceeded to pick the largest fish we could find, filled our fish box, and enjoyed the rest of the day. We even hooked another fish, reeled it in, removed the hook, patted it on the ass and sent it home to get bigger for next year. That is of course unless it's murdered by some trawler.

The bottom line however, form the perspective of the hippie eater (me), or the conscientious anglers (my friends), is that this is more than sad. It is a shame. Certainly we are all part of the equation.

So, with brevity and nuance, I conclude. Commercial fishing is a way of life, fine. From the research I've read, sport fishing is not putting undue pressure on stocks. The problem is in the commercial method, and the regulations. Trawl nets are efficient alright. Efficiently destroying habitat and fish stocks. And for what, greasy bait fish for pet and livestock feed, and god knows what else food scientists can sneak it into.

Fishing, commercial or otherwise, may need to be done exclusively with hook and line, and I'm not talking about long line. Let the boat drag as many hooks as her crew sees fit to untangle from stern and outriggers. That would drive the cost of wild caught fish sky high. Fine. So be it. You want cheap fish, farm it. Get a fishing license. What about the animal feed. Cows do not naturally, and should not eat fish, or corn for that matter. They also shouldn't eat the ground up brains of other cattle, but that's a whole other issue. Cows eat grass. If that makes their meat unpalatable or expensive so be it. We've convinced ourselves that we are owed the luxury of cheap meat. The habit is not only killing us--heart disease--but destroying our environment.

I'm not so naive to think that I have all of the answers, and I'm not sure what the answer is. I do know though, that fisheries regulations that create a situation like the one I may or may not have participated in this past weekend, are bad regulations. Of that I am convinced.

He Doesn't Even Know if He's Making any Money

In the constructin industry, and I imagine many others, the statement that someone doesn't know if they are making money is a substantial insult. The implication is that, the job or the business is too complex for the individuals understanding, and therefore, because of his or her mental simplicity, they couldn't even tell you if they were in the money, or in the red.

My job is to know where my company is, and I would hope that this would translate into my private life, but it doesn't. I'm trying to design and build a house for my family, and I couldn't tell you where I am right now. It's not that it's costing me money. We've not spent too much yet. It's that I've taken a gamble with time. A friend and myself are trying to produce the drawings using CAD. My buddy uses CAD everyday to design water systems and site plans, and I design structures everyday, but can't use CAD. So, we figured we'd join forces and save some time for me in the long run. The thinking is that drawing in CAD is not faster than drawing on paper, but that revisions are much faster.

The problem is the learnign curve, the variables. I've already made so many changes that I'd have gone broke buying eraser pencils. And the tedium of 3D conventions on a one dimensional screen are mounting. And right now, I can say I feel for the framer in over his head trying to make a job pay and not knowing if it will.

I know these drawings will look top notch. I know we will get them done, and I know altering them will be immensely easier than hand drawn revisions. But I can't tell you if in the end I'll break even on the time equation. And though I know my buddy and I will survive this, it might have been better to use up my friend credits on some issue of greater gravity.

So, we'll keep working. Will we come out ahead? Only time will tell. Even then, it would take a pretty creative accountant to evaluate whether it was the most efficient course of action or not.

One thing is for sure, and I'll take this into account the next time I'm observiong someone else that isn't sure what's up or down, ther is no other option than to press on. And because of that, the result will be the same, regardless of the method. And because of that, this could happen again, and these questions will persist.

I guess in construction that's why everyone wants a fixed price rather than a cheaper price. Very Few are willing to share the risk. "Mark it up if you've gotta, but give me a price." In many ways, I'm selling certainty, it really has little to do with product or price.