Your Beast of Burden

You can take away a man’s dignity but you can’t work his fields and cows.

Family legend has it that the old family farm, which my grandparents ultimately sold (yet another example of the ongoing death of all small family farms), was an original land grant plot parceled out as government payment to a veteran of the Continental Army.

My grandparents didn’t inherit this property. They acquired it sometime in the late 1950s, after my father had been born. I haven’t dug that deeply into the Moorheads’ lineage, so I don’t know offhand the level of our involvement in the American Revolutionary War. “Moorhead” – head of the moors – is Scottish by origin, hailing from the lowlands – Glasgow region. (That might explain something about my family’s temperament.) And the Lowland Scots immigrated in the 1700s, so it’s possible. And that group supposedly immigrated voluntarily to New England cities, and were supposedly of the more professional and merchant classes. Dunno why my family ended up farming. I assume it was more lucrative back then.

But it checks out with my own genetics test, which pinpoints a high percentage of my bloodline coming through Pennsylvania. And Philadelphia is a specific city called out in the Lowland Scots’ immigration paths. So this all aligns roughly: At some point when the country was young, the Moorheads came to Pennsylvania and migrated west to Ohio.

Anyway, back to the farm.

When the farm was acquired, it included some items with the property. The specific item of note for the purpose of this post is an ox yoke. It’s very old, naturally. Remember, the plot of land was very old, and always used for agriculture, and presumably it dated back to the original owners. That part’s oral history. Like so much of family history, it can’t definitively be verified. But if it’s true, it’s a cool story.

The yoke always hung in the farmhouse, then my grandparents’ retirement house, then it passed to dad. And just recently, he granted me stewardship. As the last blood-born male heir to the Moorhead line, it needed to be honored appropriately. And I had just the spot for it.

Thanks to the AirBnB movement, there are a lot of rustic-themed mounting options. For this application, I chose an iron pipe with applicable fittings. The idea was to compensate for the ceiling joists not being centered over the archway.

Ta-daa!

Since my grandfather refinished it, any monetary value it might have is strictly personal. But that’s all right with me, since it fits the nostalgia bill properly, like the old farmhouse shotgun.

May it survive to pass to the next generation.

–Simon

Here There Be Zombies

The cultural zombie phase was fun, for a time. Then I started to notice that a segment of people actually believed they were real, or could be. And I’m not talking about that creepy part of Voodoo and their supposed zombifying drugs. I mean, some people actually thought that the majority of the population turning into violent flesh-eating monsters was a possible apocalyptic outcome for humanity. Zombies became less fun, knowing that not everyone was going along with the gag.

Personally, I thought the fantasy had gained so much traction because it scratched a certain violent desire in all of us to be morally permitted to kill other people…because they’re not people per se, but still the physical form of people, and that lets us justify it. I can’t shoot a neighbor I don’t like, but if that neighbor became a zombie well, that would be okay. Because not only am I now allowed to kill this neighbor, but I’m obligated to. For the future of humanity.

Yeah, that’s totally normal to find in one’s crawlspace.

Moving on, I have a crawlspace. Not just any crawlspace, but a dungeon of a crawlspace. Like the kind from those Evil Dead movies. But instead of a trapdoor, it has a full size vertical home interior door. Because the prior owner had dug out a portion of the crawlspace (supposedly to breed worm colonies for fishing bait – sure, whatever). Admittedly, it does make access to the bathroom plumbing much easier, but damn is it creepy. Compounded by the bizarre assortment of objects remaining within, like a work table above which hangs a single lightbulb. And discarded women’s undergarments. And rusty blades. You get the idea.

The door is also shabbily hung, with no backstop trimming to close it properly. I’ve been meaning to fix that so it seals tight and keeps the mice out.

But rather than tackle a practical project, I decided instead that this doorway to hell needed decorating. I thought about the classic Divine Comedy quote, but that didn’t quite seem to fit. No, it needed something more embedded within Americana. Like zombies, for instance!

It’s fun what you can find on Amazon these days!

Then combined with some hardware hanging around the garage and food coloring, and…

No, that wasn’t enough. More creep factor needed. After some contemplation, I hooked up an electronic actuator to tap the door and wired it into a motion-activated plug. Now, when someone approaches the door to investigate: “tap” “thunk” “tap” “thunk”…teehee.

I might not be a zombie myself, but I think this project will at least make others consider I’ve lost my mind regardless.

–Simon

Pumpkins (Part 4)

It’s been a while since I had a good pumpkin harvest, and while my yield contains pretty small specimens, ravaged by squash bugs, it’s still better that most years past.

It’s a pretty pile of fall colors, perfect to usher in the season.

–Simon

The Decline of Restaurants: An Anecdotal Observation

[Note to self: add this to the Quantitative Philosophy Index when it posts]

Remember those times when eating at restaurants was fun? I had attributed this to a combination of not having to eat mom’s boiled vegetables and not possessing any financial knowledge of a restaurant’s expense. Childhood, in essence, was the best time to eat out at restaurants.

But now, it’s usually disappointing. And there are so many more dining options out there than what was available to me as a kid! There has to be more to it.

So I sat down and compiled an arbitrary list. Here goes:

Given that the experience quality is defined by 5 operators:

  1. (A) Base cost of restaurant food
  2. (B) How much I’m expected to tip
  3. (C) How good I am at cooking
  4. (D) Novelty of eating at a restaurant
  5. (E) Perceived quality of restaurant food

Then:

D+E-(A+B+C) = Quality of the experience.

As these are mostly relative measures, attempts at quantification prove difficult. This approach also fails to represent why restaurants were fun before but suck now. No – a timeline representation is needed for this one:

Now I’ll point out some observations having thought back through this timeline:

  • The novelty of eating at a restaurant started high as a child, then declined as an adult as I could make the personal choice any time I wanted. This trend continued until COVID lockdowns, when the option was taken away, peaking after places began to reopen, following a drop to prior levels.
  • The perceived quality of restaurant food again started high as a child, generally maintained its allure through adulthood, seemed even better when it was less available during lockdowns, then drastically collapsed thereafter, following the industry’s maladaption to post-COVID labor costs and all that it impacts along the way. American businesses never cut profits, so restaurants instead turned to lower quality ingredients and even less-skilled labor.
  • Also, to further counter rising business costs, restaurants raised prices, and very quickly indeed.
  • Then, restaurants and the dining culture turned to collective guilt and overhauled tipping expectations. The tip itself, based on a percent of the meal’s cost, shouldn’t change if the base meal’s cost is increasing to offset overhead. In theory, the workers would see a proportional increase in their compensation as a result. Yet now we’re expected to give them a greater percentage, out of our own pockets. I don’t need guilt added to my dining experience, nor an additional expense to further raise the final expected cost.
  • And all this might be tolerable if I didn’t know how to cook. But I do, and my standards are often higher.

That said, here’s a final observation to further drive home the point: All of these dynamic variables chronologically, mostly, intersected a couple years back, which I’ve visually represented as the “Approximate industry failure point”. This was the moment at which dining out became almost entirely non-viable for me.

Everyone will have their own version of the graph, and perhaps restaurants still make sense to some people. But unless either the quality and novelty of fine dining drastically increase, or costs go way down, I don’t see this industry as a cost-effective source of entertainment for the foreseeable future.

–Simon

Gazpacho

This was really tasty. I had had cold soups before, but found them unsettling and unsatisfying. Soups shouldn’t be cold.

But I had cucumbers and tomatoes on hand. Why not give it a go? After all, I have Alton Brown now at my digital culinary disposal. Seemed like a good starting point. Here’s his recipe: https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/alton-brown/gazpacho-recipe-1937573

With some slight modifications: powdered cumin, because Liz doesn’t much care for it. And serrano peppers instead of bell, because that’s what I had. But otherwise, it’s pretty true to the recipe.

Also the portions were a tad modest, so I’d increase it in the future. But I supplemented it with garlic bread and that did the trick. Will definitely try again when I have an overabundance of summer veggies.

–Simon