Collaboration.
One hears about it in business and creative contexts all the time. Two entities working toward a common goal. Sounds pretty positive, right? It is always portrayed as such. Look at the opening paragraph (as of 6/14/11 at Noon) from wikipedia, the most collaborative of sources, on this most buzzy of words:
Collaboration is working together to achieve a goal, but in its negative sense it is working as a traitor.[1] It is a recursive[2] process where two or more people or organizations work together to realize shared goals, (this is more than the intersection of common goals seen in co-operative ventures, but a deep, collective, determination to reach an identical objective) — for example, an intriguing endeavor[3][4] that is creative in nature[5]—by sharing knowledge, learning and building consensus. Most collaboration requires leadership, although the form of leadership can be social within a decentralized and egalitarian group.[6] In particular, teams that work collaboratively can obtain greater resources, recognition and reward when facing competition for finite resources.[7] Collaboration is also present in opposing goals exhibiting the notion of adversarial collaboration, though this is not a common case for using the word.
Wow, sounds like the solution to all the world's problems, right?
It's unfortunate that we never discuss the downsides of collaboration.
I've been thinking a lot recently about some career goals and the major distinctions in my mind between writing as an endeavor and a host of other things that also tempt as possible career options: (Architecture, Event Planning, Experiential Branding/Marketing.)
One thing that stands out is that writing , by its nature, does not HAVE to be collaborative. The written or spoken word is something I can manipulate by myself. I can craft a sentence, I can create a theme, I can prove a point, solely by the work of my own hands and mind, if I choose. All those other disciplines, and the vast majority of careers out there require the collaboration between boards, vendors, managers, installers, etc.
The first big problem with these ventures is that in working together, one can easily lose efficiency. If you're a rapid producer, a multi-tasker, and a quick thinker, collaboration often means slowing down for the rest of the group. Now, sometimes, obviously this can lead to more careful reflection and critical thought, but it often just leads to not getting---things---done, while consensus is reached via arduous discussions. Especially if one knows how to do the task at hand, deliberation between members of a group can be the albatross around your neck.
The second, less recognized problem, is that when collaborative thought becomes a goal, it has the danger of being an end unto itself, and not serving the product, but rather the participants. Good ideas do not necessarily come from a multitude of sources. Sometimes a good idea crafted by one person is just the best idea. But the goal of collaborative thought can't leave that good idea alone. It has to make sure all voices are represented in that idea and may contaminate it with other lesser notions for the sake of inclusivity. Any number of projects I've worked on have been lessened by the layering of other personalities' opinions onto the final product, solely for the sake of nurturing egos. I'm even including the unnecessary injection of my own ideas, which aren't always the best ones in the room.
All this is not to say that collaboration is inherently worse than going it alone. But in our society, it's worth reminding ourselves that sometimes the Marlboro Man is OK, working out there on the range. He's got his task and can get it done without intervention from the masses. And this is coming from an extrovert who both likes to be around people as much as humanly possible and works well with others when necessary. But most of the time, I would prefer if you gave me a task and let me go about my day. I'll get a lot more done without anyone else in the room.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
Considering Fences
The fence could be the perfect emblem of American ideas about property. Theoretically, one can tell so much about a property owner and their view of the world with this one little architectural statement. Do they believe they "own" the land? How do they feel about outsiders? Do they believe they have a responsibility to the public? How do they feel about beauty?
At a fundamental level, a fence is a wall. A wall can keep things out, a wall can keep things in. A wall can define space. A wall can create privacy. A wall can protect you against the elements. A wall can just be a piece of art, a beautiful thing to look at.
A wall can be all of those things in varying degrees.
Thinking about fences the same way, every fence we see should theoretically be different. But more often than not, the fence is just something you pick up at the Home Despot, for the bottom dollar price. Everyone has the same five designs all over the country. There are minor variations, sure, but witness:
I really like to judge people by the fence they put up. And most people FAIL.
Because there are such beautiful, distinctive opportunities out there... We could do so much more with this little piece of wall that is the first thing you see when you approach the home. Why do we rely on the cheap crap that the marketing department at the big box stores decide is the least common denominator... most likely to sell the highest number of consumers? As price tags go, upping your fence from the mundane above to the unique elements below isn't that costly. It's just a matter of design.
But this whole post was really inspired by an email I received from Cape Cod Fabrications, a metal shop in, you guessed it, Massachusetts. These are a couple of the images from their site that inspired my rage, because this is what the American home should look like:
That last one is my favorite. The tube steel members are each separately embedded in the ground (I assume). But look at how something can be so "strong" and so transparent at the same time. Ok, admittedly, that's going to be a pricey one. But ultimately, shouldn't this be more important than the ginormous master bathroom that you spent $75,000 on?
Its a place where you take a dump for goodness' sake!
Priorities, man.
At a fundamental level, a fence is a wall. A wall can keep things out, a wall can keep things in. A wall can define space. A wall can create privacy. A wall can protect you against the elements. A wall can just be a piece of art, a beautiful thing to look at.
A wall can be all of those things in varying degrees.
Thinking about fences the same way, every fence we see should theoretically be different. But more often than not, the fence is just something you pick up at the Home Despot, for the bottom dollar price. Everyone has the same five designs all over the country. There are minor variations, sure, but witness:
The Split Rail:
The Wrought Iron
(or makeshift aluminum version thereof):
The Picket:
The Stockade:
The Chain Link:
I really like to judge people by the fence they put up. And most people FAIL.
Because there are such beautiful, distinctive opportunities out there... We could do so much more with this little piece of wall that is the first thing you see when you approach the home. Why do we rely on the cheap crap that the marketing department at the big box stores decide is the least common denominator... most likely to sell the highest number of consumers? As price tags go, upping your fence from the mundane above to the unique elements below isn't that costly. It's just a matter of design.
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| Image Courtesy Production Fenceworks |
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| Image Courtesy: Cape Cod Fabrications |
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| Image Courtesy: Cape Cod Fabrications |
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| Image Courtesy: Cape Cod Fabrications |
That last one is my favorite. The tube steel members are each separately embedded in the ground (I assume). But look at how something can be so "strong" and so transparent at the same time. Ok, admittedly, that's going to be a pricey one. But ultimately, shouldn't this be more important than the ginormous master bathroom that you spent $75,000 on?
Its a place where you take a dump for goodness' sake!
Priorities, man.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Another Heat Wave Cocktail
The first day of summer is still June 21st right? The Wiccans didn’t go and change the summer solstice on us, right? Has the earth tilted off its normal axis and nobody noticed? Did someone delicately dislodge Pennsylvania from the contiguous states and we’re currently floating toward Bermuda? Was Al Gore just telling us the truth?
Let me clarify… Philadelphia is now experiencing the second heat wave of 2011. IN THE SPRING. It’s only the beginning of June and I’ve resorted to three cold showers a night. It’s supposed to be 98 degrees today.
I thought the Mint Julep would get me through this abominable meteorological insane anomaly. But I was simply wrong. Crushed ice simply wasn’t enough. I had to resort to… dare I say it… frozen blender drinks.
But I draw the line at FROOFY frozen blender drinks. Nothing tart and sickeningly sweet, nay, I need something thirst quenching. Something refreshing. Something that's still a teensy bit manly. Something with an undercurrent of… bourbon.
Bourbon in a frozen drink? “Preposterous!”, the masses cried. “Sacrilege!” exclaimed the orthodoxy. “Heretic…” said the city’s bartenders under their breath.
Well, throwing convention to the wind, I tested and tested until I landed upon the perfect mix. It should be noted that I tested quite a few and skipped dinner last night to bring you this late breaking news, so if my judgment is impaired, you’ll have to let me know after doing a trying one yourself.
Long Day on the Tanker
2 cups crushed ice
3 oz bourbon
2 oz triple sec
3 mint leaves
5 oz of Pink Grapefruit Juice
5 oz of Pink Grapefruit Juice
Pour into a tall glass and drink… but not too fast.
The House Rules has already endured 6 discrete brain freezes to bring you this concoction.
But you may be thinking, “Long Day on the Tanker?” Does the author have a history on the high seas of which we’re not aware?
No, the name is in honor of my sister, of whom this drink reminds me. She spent many a young summer working on the oil tankers docked after delivering a load of crude to Sunoco.
A late teen/young adult girl working on a oil tanker? “Preposterous!”, the masses cried. “Sacrilege!” exclaimed the orthodoxy. “Heretic…” said the roughnecks under their breath.
Exactly. She’s beautiful and boisterous. Masterful and muliebrous. Confident and… coquettish. Wait, she’s totally NOT coquettish, but she’ll get a kick out of that when she reads this.
She’s the one I turn to when I need a simultaneous kick in the ass AND a nurturing condolence.
(Hmmm... in retrospect, it should also be noted that the multiple "Long Day on the Tankers" I've had tonight are probably making me more sentimental than I am in real life.)
(Hmmm... in retrospect, it should also be noted that the multiple "Long Day on the Tankers" I've had tonight are probably making me more sentimental than I am in real life.)
So, “Long Day on the Tanker” it is. But you can call it a “Long Day” if that’s too much of a mouthful for you.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
RowHouse Magazine and Blog
They say that opposites attract. I would tend to agree when it comes to romantic partners, sparring partners, and covalent bonds between atoms.
But when you're talking about other bloggers, like minds attract. There's not the same competition as in the business world and the folks out there are generally really excited to trade information and cross link. Building a network of bloggers that touch on the same subjects just makes it easier for readers to find the info or opinions they're looking for as well.
So I was very excited to find RowHouse Magazine and their associated blog. Operating out of Philly but covering topics all over the East Coast, the folks at RowHouse have some great content. Check em out...
Row House focuses almost exclusively on the issues revolving around row home living, which is all about compact space and community living. When the Mrs and I read some of the various home and garden rags, we often scoff at such descriptors as:
"Muffy and Reginald needed to downsize as their 2.5 children moved off to college at Vanderbilt, Cranbrook, and Arcadia respectively. So they scoured the market until they found this 3500 SF home on 1.5 acres of land. It was a serious compromise to their spatial needs and the feng shui principles that affect the wellbeing of their cat named Mr. Giles, so the couple hired Fifi St. Lorraine to help with the interior decorating of their broom closet."*
If you're not scoffing, please stop reading now and go look at Architectural Digest.
The Mrs and I are SWIMMING in our 1600 SF row home on 1/16th of an acre. Even with our 65 lb dog, weekly parties, and room for itinerant guests for months at a time. 3500 SF, a crunch? Please. We can't even keep half of our house clean. The last thing I would want is MORE space.
Rowhouse features a lot of great photos and ideas for living "small". Check some out below.
All photos credit: Row House Magazine
*Not an actual quote. But seriously, if you needed that footnote, you probably need to also stop reading the rest of this blog and head over to Architectural Digest. They've got a feature on Elizabeth Taylor's house, postmortem, which is weird on many levels. If you head over there and see vomit on the screen, that's mine.
But when you're talking about other bloggers, like minds attract. There's not the same competition as in the business world and the folks out there are generally really excited to trade information and cross link. Building a network of bloggers that touch on the same subjects just makes it easier for readers to find the info or opinions they're looking for as well.
So I was very excited to find RowHouse Magazine and their associated blog. Operating out of Philly but covering topics all over the East Coast, the folks at RowHouse have some great content. Check em out...
Row House focuses almost exclusively on the issues revolving around row home living, which is all about compact space and community living. When the Mrs and I read some of the various home and garden rags, we often scoff at such descriptors as:
"Muffy and Reginald needed to downsize as their 2.5 children moved off to college at Vanderbilt, Cranbrook, and Arcadia respectively. So they scoured the market until they found this 3500 SF home on 1.5 acres of land. It was a serious compromise to their spatial needs and the feng shui principles that affect the wellbeing of their cat named Mr. Giles, so the couple hired Fifi St. Lorraine to help with the interior decorating of their broom closet."*
If you're not scoffing, please stop reading now and go look at Architectural Digest.
The Mrs and I are SWIMMING in our 1600 SF row home on 1/16th of an acre. Even with our 65 lb dog, weekly parties, and room for itinerant guests for months at a time. 3500 SF, a crunch? Please. We can't even keep half of our house clean. The last thing I would want is MORE space.
Rowhouse features a lot of great photos and ideas for living "small". Check some out below.
*Not an actual quote. But seriously, if you needed that footnote, you probably need to also stop reading the rest of this blog and head over to Architectural Digest. They've got a feature on Elizabeth Taylor's house, postmortem, which is weird on many levels. If you head over there and see vomit on the screen, that's mine.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Sheet Straps for the Sleep Talkin' Man
I've recently discovered the blog, Sleep Talkin' Man which is among my new favorites. In the morning, the Mrs and I have a brief moment to sit down while she finishes her breakfast and I sip my coffee and we log in to discover what Adam, the Sleep Talkin' Man said last night in his sleep.
This morning's gem?
"Put those finger-toes away. Put them away! Freak of f***ing nature. Ugh. Finger-toes, don't you pick things up with them! Ew. That's just not right. You start using them like hands, I'll chop your f***ing arms off. Then you'll be stuck with them. That'll teach ya ."
You can listen to the audio of that particular beauty here.
It also frequently reminds my wife of the things I said in my sleep the previous night. Now, we haven't taken to recording them, but according to her, I'm often as colorful although probably not with the sheer volume and lucidity with which Adam seems to speak. Last night apparantly I declared:
"Nobody puts Baby in a Corner"
Let me start by making it perfectly clear that I am no fan of "Dirty Dancing". I had to watch it once for... I can't believe I'm saying this... a ballroom dancing class that I took in college. Embarrassing: Both the movie and the admission of what I took to fill a athletics requirement at PSU more than 10 years ago. The one upside is that I know how to Meringue, Foxtrot, Waltz, Swing, Rumba, and Tango which has served me well at really odd times in my life.
(Like when my entire family went on an abominable cruise last year and in a drunken craze decided to take over the Latin club on the Lido deck at 1 AM. Of the whitest dancers ever to grace the "Criterion Lounge" dancefloor, at least I knew enough steps to look marginally matched with my wife who is steeped in Latin culture.)
So why I would quote "Dirty Dancing" on this particular evening is a mystery.
But every since I started on a new round of prescription mood altering drugs, I've been talking even more animatedly in my sleep. Tossing and turning, shouting, sitting up in bed, thrashing through the covers at the foot of the bed for unseen assailants, unwanted swinger parties, dogs, and bees. (Seriously, I'm not exaggerating about any of those.) My wife is blessed by God with deafness in one ear, so she can just sleep with her good ear down in the pillow to ignore me. If that's not an indicator that we were meant to be together, I don't know what is.
But lots of people struggle with this. At a recent dinner party, we broached the subject and discovered of the 5 couples there, 4 had an identical situation. A loud animated sleep talker married to a long suffering spouse.
One of the MANY disadvantages of a sleep talker, is that in their animated thrashing and spinning and tossing and turning, they often pull the fitted sheet off the bed. Which is a self perpetuating cycle, because then, caught up in the elastic binding and trapped between the mattress and fitted sheet, their dreams turn to being tortured as a CIA member, being buried alive, being forced to wear an ascot, whatever. And the trashing gets even more spastic.
Plus, it makes it harder to have a pretty bed every morning.
So, for those of you who fall in the 4 out of 10 Americans with vivid dreams and corresponding night calisthenics, go invest in some of these:
They work. And your bedmate will thank you. Adam, the Sleep Talkin' Man, if you happen to stumble across my blog, I would suggest you DON'T buy these. We at The House Rules don't want anything to interfere with the natural progress of your dreams and the bòn móts they produce.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Fire Pit in Philadelphia
Before we even fixed up the patio out front, my first thought was FIRE PIT!
Of course, no one wants an outdoor fire pit in the heat wave we just experienced, but the weather seems to have abated. So when I stumbled upon this post at The Hardware Aisle, I was smitten.
Landmann makes a lot of great outdoor fire and grill equipment. But the Ball O' Fire really sets my heart aflutter. Originally $340.18, its currently on sale at Amazon.com for $192.04 with free shipping.
And for those of you curious, or for my neighbors who are all "Oh, Hell NO, he can't have a firepit on our oak tree lined block of 75 year old wooden row homes.", I submit the following quote from the Philadelphia fire code.
F-307.4.3 Portable outdoor fireplaces. Portable outdoor fireplaces shall be used in accordance with the manufacturer’s instructions and shall not be operated within 15 feet (3048 mm) of a structure or combustible material. Outdoor fireplaces shall be constructed of a noncombustible material that is completely enclosed by solid or mesh material. The maximum openings of the mesh material shall not exceed 1 inch (25. 4 mm) measured diagonally.
[Exception: Portable outdoor fireplaces used at one- and two-family dwellings.]
I don't even have to keep it 15 feet or 3048 mm from my house! I can put it 3047 mm from the house. I can jamb that great Ball O' Fire right up to the property line and party wall between my house and yours. Don't push me! I'll risk burning down both of our houses and even the rest of the block just to prove I CAN. I grew up on a farm, B*****s! We start forest fires for fun (and agricultural, landscaping, and environmental purposes). But that's not the point, it's still fun! You ever strapped a tank of kerosene on your back and stood in the middle of a brush fire, spraying fuel like you're peeing grain alcohol, just to show that flame who's boss?!? Huh? Have you? I didn't think so.*
*Dear wife... as you read this, please keep in mind that I'm just talking smack. I won't put it on the property line. I'll keep it as far from the house as the patio allows. I'll keep a fire extinguisher on hand at all times. Heck, I'll even wear a flame retardant suit during the colder months if I'm allowed to have this. Please?!?!?
Of course, no one wants an outdoor fire pit in the heat wave we just experienced, but the weather seems to have abated. So when I stumbled upon this post at The Hardware Aisle, I was smitten.
Landmann makes a lot of great outdoor fire and grill equipment. But the Ball O' Fire really sets my heart aflutter. Originally $340.18, its currently on sale at Amazon.com for $192.04 with free shipping.
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| Seriously, a BALL OF FIRE. Seriously. |
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| Nice Opening Mechanism |
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| User painted with Rustoleum Copper Finish |
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| Goodness Gracious. That's epic. So very epic. |
F-307.4.3 Portable outdoor fireplaces. Portable outdoor fireplaces shall be used in accordance with the manufacturer’s instructions and shall not be operated within 15 feet (3048 mm) of a structure or combustible material. Outdoor fireplaces shall be constructed of a noncombustible material that is completely enclosed by solid or mesh material. The maximum openings of the mesh material shall not exceed 1 inch (25. 4 mm) measured diagonally.
[Exception: Portable outdoor fireplaces used at one- and two-family dwellings.]
I don't even have to keep it 15 feet or 3048 mm from my house! I can put it 3047 mm from the house. I can jamb that great Ball O' Fire right up to the property line and party wall between my house and yours. Don't push me! I'll risk burning down both of our houses and even the rest of the block just to prove I CAN. I grew up on a farm, B*****s! We start forest fires for fun (and agricultural, landscaping, and environmental purposes). But that's not the point, it's still fun! You ever strapped a tank of kerosene on your back and stood in the middle of a brush fire, spraying fuel like you're peeing grain alcohol, just to show that flame who's boss?!? Huh? Have you? I didn't think so.*
*Dear wife... as you read this, please keep in mind that I'm just talking smack. I won't put it on the property line. I'll keep it as far from the house as the patio allows. I'll keep a fire extinguisher on hand at all times. Heck, I'll even wear a flame retardant suit during the colder months if I'm allowed to have this. Please?!?!?
House Obsession
House Obsession has moved. I really dig the blog and want everyone else to as well. Here's the new locale:
http://www.houseobsession.com/
I've updated my link on the home page. One day, I promise to get my own fancy domain name too...
http://www.houseobsession.com/
I've updated my link on the home page. One day, I promise to get my own fancy domain name too...
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Stinkbug Eradication Techniques II
Stinkbugs!
They're still in the news and they're still all over our houses. The House Rules post on Stink Bug Eradication Techniques has been, by leaps and bounds, the most popular post in our brief history. But a number of readers who come to the site looking for helpful information on eradicating these nuisances are always quite perturbed when no offer is given. The comments full of vitriol are enough to make you wonder why a stinkbug would WANT to hang out in these folks' houses. (I guess its somewhat understandable given that it is the third or fourth hit on google when searching "Stinkbug Eradication" or "Stinkbug Extermination". Popularity does not necessarily equal intellectual content, folks. In fact, there is usually a reverse corollary. Alas, popularity comes with a price.)
But now, I think I finally have a real eradication technique for the big whiners out there. Personally, I thought the idea to eat them was highly effective, but it did lack a simple harvesting method, which the following video also covers...
You can also see the same trap here on WJAC TV out of western PA. This is of course big news in Johnstown.
Meanwhile we're dealing with this crap in Philly...
They're still in the news and they're still all over our houses. The House Rules post on Stink Bug Eradication Techniques has been, by leaps and bounds, the most popular post in our brief history. But a number of readers who come to the site looking for helpful information on eradicating these nuisances are always quite perturbed when no offer is given. The comments full of vitriol are enough to make you wonder why a stinkbug would WANT to hang out in these folks' houses. (I guess its somewhat understandable given that it is the third or fourth hit on google when searching "Stinkbug Eradication" or "Stinkbug Extermination". Popularity does not necessarily equal intellectual content, folks. In fact, there is usually a reverse corollary. Alas, popularity comes with a price.)
But now, I think I finally have a real eradication technique for the big whiners out there. Personally, I thought the idea to eat them was highly effective, but it did lack a simple harvesting method, which the following video also covers...
You can also see the same trap here on WJAC TV out of western PA. This is of course big news in Johnstown.
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| http://www.wjactv.com/video/28028425/index.html |
Meanwhile we're dealing with this crap in Philly...
I briefly thought this might make Johnstown look pretty damn good right about now. But then I realized I'd rather die by homeless stabbing than boredom. So I'll stick around here for a bit longer.
Verge Garden- Part 6- Progress Report
The Verge Garden has largely turned out to be all that I thought it would be*. When the Mrs and I step out of the Subaru Outback (cause you can't live in our neighborhood and NOT drive a Subaru Outback), we tred upon the fresh herbs and the wafting aromas of chamomile, thyme, pennroyal, and oregano harken us back to the days of yore. Seriously, I think that little bit of aromatherapy helps with the hangover.
Here's how it looks today:
If you're considering recreating such a garden at your locale, I can especially highly recommend three plants in the garden which have performed exceedingly well.
The Pennroyal, shown above, grows like gangbusters and smells like mint when you crush it. It has a nice low growing habit. It is very dense as well, which makes it resistant to weed infiltration.
The Mazus Reptans, shown in the center above, is also a really fast spreader. We're past the blooming stage, but it has a nice delicate white flower. No smell, but it is also very dense. It truly looks like this in full bloom.
The Lawn Chamomile, on the corners above, is incredibly dense, like Kentucky Blue Grass. A great smell when walked on. It doesn't flower, or not much, according to sources, but looks like this when it does.
Overall a success. *Although the neighbors, despite my assurances to the contrary, are afraid to step on the plants. But I guess that's just a way of reserving the parking spot in front of our house without resorting to orange plastic cones like those trashy South Philadelphians.
Here's how it looks today:
If you're considering recreating such a garden at your locale, I can especially highly recommend three plants in the garden which have performed exceedingly well.
The Lawn Chamomile, on the corners above, is incredibly dense, like Kentucky Blue Grass. A great smell when walked on. It doesn't flower, or not much, according to sources, but looks like this when it does.
Overall a success. *Although the neighbors, despite my assurances to the contrary, are afraid to step on the plants. But I guess that's just a way of reserving the parking spot in front of our house without resorting to orange plastic cones like those trashy South Philadelphians.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Mint Julep
"It's Hot as Crazy People Outside". This is what my wife and I have said to eachother in the past and are saying to eachother every five minutes during the current heatwave that is hitting the east coast. 95 degrees at 7:00 PM on the first day of June. That is not kosher.
We started using this phrase when we lived downtown and noticed the marked increase in people talking to themselves in the park every time the heat became oppressive. We assumed that they were homeless people with mental issues (aka Crazytown). In retrospect, they may have been people on bluetooth headsets. Doesn't really matter, I regard them equally as nuts.
(If you are a mental health professional or social worker or other liberally minded person reading this blog and taking offense to the above paragraph, let me point out two facts. First, you should read the full content of the blog before commenting with righteous indignation. You'll probably find that there's a whole mess o' fish to fry in the offensive non-politically correct category. Do you really want to jump into that? Second, since I've started taking anti-anxiety meds, I am among the many with mental health issues. So I fall under the clause of "Insert Racial/Sexual Pref/Class/Whatever Descriptor Here calling other insert same descriptor here people insert offensive descriptor here" clause. You can't touch that without being offensive yourself. Sup.)
The irony, as my wife will tell you, is that nothing makes me crazier... and I mean scratch your own eyes out with a meat fork because you think it'll somehow help... than hot weather.
Anyways, we don't have air conditioning in the house, so the only solution, as to many of life's problems, is a good stiff drink. If you pick the right one, it can not only help you forget that you're ball-tastically sweaty, but can actually help cool you down at the same time.
Enter the Mint Julep.
Long known by sweet smart sultry southerners, they are the only thing getting me through this evening.
Here's the dig:
Mint Julep
12-14 mint leaves
1 heaping teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon water
Crushed Ice
2 1/2 oz Bourbon
Splash of Creme de Menthe*
Mint Sprig for Garnish
In an old fashioned glass, muddle the mint leaves, sugar and water until a fine mush is formed.
Fill with crushed ice. Only crushed ice will do here. Use an ice crusher, a blender, a meat tenderizer, a masonry hammer, or your Grandma's china gravy boat. It doesn't matter, just get that ice crushed, and don't dally.
Add bourbon. The House Rules can only afford copious quantities of Old Crow, but if you've got something better, by all means, fill er up. *Now this one is somewhat sacrilegious, but add a splash of Creme de Menthe. There's something so refreshing about Creme de Menthe in small quantities that no amount of extra mint and sugar can provide. Stir.
Top off with the rest of crushed ice and a sprig of mint.
Sip on the porch in front of fan, alternating with long draws on a cigar and y'all can make it. I hope.**
**As of the time of posting, the author is on number two, but hopes that by number three the ball-tastically oppressive heat will be undetectable.
We started using this phrase when we lived downtown and noticed the marked increase in people talking to themselves in the park every time the heat became oppressive. We assumed that they were homeless people with mental issues (aka Crazytown). In retrospect, they may have been people on bluetooth headsets. Doesn't really matter, I regard them equally as nuts.
(If you are a mental health professional or social worker or other liberally minded person reading this blog and taking offense to the above paragraph, let me point out two facts. First, you should read the full content of the blog before commenting with righteous indignation. You'll probably find that there's a whole mess o' fish to fry in the offensive non-politically correct category. Do you really want to jump into that? Second, since I've started taking anti-anxiety meds, I am among the many with mental health issues. So I fall under the clause of "Insert Racial/Sexual Pref/Class/Whatever Descriptor Here calling other insert same descriptor here people insert offensive descriptor here" clause. You can't touch that without being offensive yourself. Sup.)
The irony, as my wife will tell you, is that nothing makes me crazier... and I mean scratch your own eyes out with a meat fork because you think it'll somehow help... than hot weather.
Anyways, we don't have air conditioning in the house, so the only solution, as to many of life's problems, is a good stiff drink. If you pick the right one, it can not only help you forget that you're ball-tastically sweaty, but can actually help cool you down at the same time.
Enter the Mint Julep.
Long known by sweet smart sultry southerners, they are the only thing getting me through this evening.
Here's the dig:
Mint Julep
12-14 mint leaves
1 heaping teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon water
Crushed Ice
2 1/2 oz Bourbon
Splash of Creme de Menthe*
Mint Sprig for Garnish
In an old fashioned glass, muddle the mint leaves, sugar and water until a fine mush is formed.
Fill with crushed ice. Only crushed ice will do here. Use an ice crusher, a blender, a meat tenderizer, a masonry hammer, or your Grandma's china gravy boat. It doesn't matter, just get that ice crushed, and don't dally.
Add bourbon. The House Rules can only afford copious quantities of Old Crow, but if you've got something better, by all means, fill er up. *Now this one is somewhat sacrilegious, but add a splash of Creme de Menthe. There's something so refreshing about Creme de Menthe in small quantities that no amount of extra mint and sugar can provide. Stir.
Top off with the rest of crushed ice and a sprig of mint.
Sip on the porch in front of fan, alternating with long draws on a cigar and y'all can make it. I hope.**
**As of the time of posting, the author is on number two, but hopes that by number three the ball-tastically oppressive heat will be undetectable.
Living the Good Life Instead
Not that blogging isn't tremendous fun. But its been a while since we've posted here at the House Rules. Mostly due to our vacation time away from the computer. We're almost inclined not to tell our readers the name of the location because it was so epically perfect and we don't want the secret to get out. But, alas, we're givers. We cannot help ourselves.
We spent a little more than a week traveling down south to Beaufort, South Carolina. Beaufort, (Bee-you-fort), South Carolina as opposed to Beaufort (Bow-fort), North Carolina. Located about halfway between Charleston, SC and Savannah, GA on the coast, Beaufort is the perfect mix of town & country, history & modern culture, wildlife & nightlife.
We'll have more for you shortly. Including a post filled with judgey judgey thoughts about Southern front porches (What NOT to do, mostly). But for now, we wanted to explain our absence. Once you go on a vacation this awesome, its hard to get out of this mode:
We spent a little more than a week traveling down south to Beaufort, South Carolina. Beaufort, (Bee-you-fort), South Carolina as opposed to Beaufort (Bow-fort), North Carolina. Located about halfway between Charleston, SC and Savannah, GA on the coast, Beaufort is the perfect mix of town & country, history & modern culture, wildlife & nightlife.
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