In his new book, Breakneck: China’s Quest to Engineer the Future, author Dan Wang contrasts the engineering society of building stuff in China with the lawyering society of delaying and litigating things in the United States. The comparison seems apt and I recommend the book.
It seems obvious the United States is bogged down with lawyerly concerns, beginning with the current president. Donald Trump has weaponized the Justice Department to serve his every whim. Likewise, he has a large stable of attorneys representing him on countless legal matters. More than any person I know, the president is the living incarnation of “lawyering up.” How is that working for most Americans?
The problem I see is the president’s approach results in China getting way out ahead of the United States in technology development important to our global future. China’s embrace of renewable energy alone will make them a formidable power going forward. They who control energy can control a lion’s share of the economy. The president should get out of the way and enable the country to embrace renewable energy now.
The downside of lawyering up is we can’t develop technological innovation to create a society in which we all want to live.
The crops were mostly in along the interstate highway during a Saturday trip to the state capitol. It seems a shame to grow corn and soybeans on so many acres, yet that’s what Iowa farmers do. A few were tiling their fields, another unneeded intervention designed to marginally increase land outputs. Next year, they will do it all again.
At home, the major land preparations are finished on my 0.62 acre. I mulched the leaves from deciduous trees and let the mealy textured product fall where it might to put minerals back in the soil. I suppose it could be bagged and put into compost, yet decided against it. Whatever else I get done in tearing down the garden this year is not urgent.
When I returned from Des Moines, the two main seed catalogues had arrived by U.S. Postal Service. Between now and January I will plan the 2026 garden and place big orders for seeds. The basics are known — tomatoes, hot peppers, cruciferous vegetables, squash, celery, fennel, and cucumbers — of course, garlic has been planted. It’s the variations in genetics and extras that are most interesting this season. I’m of a mood to try new things.
Our family does not celebrate Thanksgiving. The way our child put it, there is too much bad information around what it represents. They have a friends gathering around that time, and the two of us are deciding how we will spend the day which was drilled into us as custom since youngest memory. If we are home, there will be a special meal of wild rice, a butternut squash, Russet potatoes, baked beans, and a freezer full of vegetables. Plans are not settled and if we are not home, everything will remain good until we are.
There is a caesura in home life activities as work shifts indoors for winter.
In addition to taking care of health and surviving, there are three main activities planned for colder months. The daily work block for writing is my first priority. I continue to want to finish the second book before spring. Next is what I will call the “Big Sort.” That means going through all the boxed belongings to gain visibility of what is available for the autobiography as well as for living our life in Big Grove. Some downsizing to clear clutter seems appropriate. Maybe next spring there will be a yard sale. Finally, on warmer days which seem more frequent during this time of global warming, I want to go through the garage and make a better organized work space. I have a start at it, but come spring I want a place ready to make stuff. If I can complete these projects, that would be enough for one winter.
2025 has been a positive year despite the politics. As we turn toward winter, a lot remains to make this a better life. I am working toward that end.
There is no acceptable rationale for the United States to conduct more nuclear weapons testing. I was surprised when I heard the president took to Truth Social on Oct. 30, to post he had “instructed the Department of War to start testing our Nuclear Weapons…” The president says a lot of crazy stuff, yet I was scratching my head over this one.
The global moratorium on nuclear testing is a mainstay against the dangers inherent in the existence of nuclear weapons. The question should be whether the world can bring a complete end to nuclear testing by ratifying and putting into force the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty. The president would take us in the opposite direction.
Mine is not the position of a few activists. Literally millions of people, around the globe, have stood up and fought to bring a complete end to nuclear testing.
According to Daryl Kimball of the Arms Control Association, “The journey has been long and difficult, from the citizen-led campaign that prompted Kennedy and Khrushchev to sign the 1963 ban on atmospheric blasts… to the campaign to push Congress to halt testing in 1992… and secure the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty in 1996.”
Nuclear testing should remain “taboo.” We should resist the president by contacting our U.S. Senators and Members of Congress and telling them so.
No other nation is testing nuclear weapons. Nor should the United States.
~ Submitted as a letter to the editor of the Cedar Rapids Gazette
My spouse’s trip to her sister’s home extended into a third week. A typical behavior when I’m home alone is going through the pantry to see what new ideas I can experiment with while my mate is gone. I found we have a LOT of quinoa. Some I bought on discount at the home, farm and auto supply company before the pandemic, and the two boxes came from mail order. I decided to cook a quart of it in vegetable broth and see where things went.
Quinoa bowl ingredients, including less than half the prepared quinoa.
I discovered a quart of uncooked quinoa makes a GIGANTIC amount of cooked. I tried some after cooking the batch and found it quite good by itself. It’s a nice change from other grains. I did research about using it and came upon the quinoa bowl. There will be a lot of those during the next week to ten days.
The premise is basic: use a base of cooked quinoa and mix it with other things. First up was a Mexican-style quinoa bowl. I used quinoa, canned black beans, homemade salsa, onion, and bell pepper. The vegetables were raw, and everything else cold. I put the ingredients in a bowl and mixed, and voilà: dinner is served. It hardly made a dent in the quinoa. As far as taste goes, I rate it 8 of 10.
Quinoa bowl.
These are going to be quick, simple, inexpensive, and tasty meals. Now the search for other inspiration begins.
My way of cooking macaroni and cheese changed. After some unsatisfying experiments with making it vegan, I now use cheese and butter when I am home alone for dinner. It is on the menu only one or two times per year, so I want it to be satisfying and memorable when I prepare it. I took inspiration for my most recent iteration from Massimo Bottura’s Kitchen Quarantine series during the coronavirus pandemic. Bottura layered the ingredients in a baking dish and I had an Aha! moment.
I have been a mixer. That is, the sauce, noodles, and other ingredients are placed in a bowl and mixed together, then moved to a baking dish and topped with something before baking. Bottura taught me to layer instead, which had never occurred to me. It could be life-changing. Here is what I did.
I preheated the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and greased a baking dish. Next I made a béchamel sauce with four tablespoons each of butter and flour. These two ingredients make a roux, which is cooked a couple of minutes. Milk is added with constant stirring until medium thickness, or it coats the back of a spoon. I embellished the simple sauce by grating some nutmeg into it.
Boiled pasta was ready to go. Either cook it for the dish, or use leftovers. This time, I emptied partial containers of different kinds of dry pasta until I had two cups and cooked until al dente. My thinking is the pasta should be similarly sized, yet that is a personal preference. There are no rules.
Get the cheese ready. This can be anything the cook wants. I like a sharp cheese and used four ounces of white extra sharp cheddar, half a cup of feta, and four tablespoons of grated Parmesan. I had thought to use Gruyère and bought four ounces made in Wisconsin for the project, but it didn’t pass the taste test. If it were Swiss Gruyère, it would.
Next is the layering. A thin layer of sauce on the bottom of the baking dish to cover. Next the pasta spread evenly. Distribute the chunks of feta evenly, followed by the cheddar. The rest of the sauce goes on top, and then into the oven for 30 minutes.
At thirty minutes see where we are. I pulled the dish out and sprinkled the Parmesan on top. I turned the oven up to 400 degrees and let it bake until the crust began to turn brown. The result is in the photograph. Based on the taste, I am now a layer guy.
Mac and cheese is an old dish. In Medieval times it was pasta layered with cheese and baked, not unlike what I did. In the 18th and 19th Centuries, English and European cooks began using a béchamel sauce mixed with cheese (a.k.a. Mornay sauce), and mixing it with the pasta before baking. Let’s not even talk about those Kraft mac and cheese boxes that originated in the 1930s (Mixers, not baked).
My native impulses had me arrive at a rustic-style product that was the antithesis of processed food. If I learned anything by being a part of the local food movement, it is that this kind of dish is what I want.
If I’d have known the Emerald Ash Borer would take out our two ash trees, I would not have planted them. Yesterday I described the process of removing them.
The sparrows didn’t notice they had been felled. They continued to perch as a flock on the leafless branches. I saw a squirrel checking out the base of one stump. They nest in the Autumn Blaze maple tree and used the dead branches as a bridge to get to the large tree in our neighbor’s yard (On the left in the photo). They would start from the nest, walk across the tall branches to the Bur Oak, to the dead branches of the ash, and then to the neighbor’s tall tree, all without touching the ground. I created a gap in this pathway. The squirrel did not indicate any thoughts on the matter.
Now begins the real work. Anyone can fell a tree: cut, cut, cut… TIMBER! Now is the time for good people to take our saws and make it into firewood and brush. If I had a chipper-shredder, I would make mulch from the brush. For the number of times per year I would use a chipper, the expense is not worth the reward. I got my safety glasses out, filled the oil reservoir, tightened the bar, and ventured out to work after donning my steel-toed boots.
Despite the lack of rain, this has been one of the best autumns I remember. It is a pleasure each time I step outdoors and take it all in. With everything going on in the world, we need that type of solace.
Autumn is the time to get the chainsaw out and clear dead trees from the property. A neighbor and I felled two ash trees killed by the Emerald Ash Borer. The occasion gave me a chance to wear the steel-toed shoes I got to work in a Kentucky steel mill back in the day. They even have metatarsal protection.
Steel-toed shoes with metatarsal protection.
I took the first tree down by myself. It took some time to determine where I wanted it to fall. I made a notch cut in that direction. It is important to take the time because as the old saw goes, measure twice and cut once. I made the felling cut and the bar and chain of the chainsaw got stuck. I must have done something wrong.
Hitch to the yard tractor.
I stopped and disconnected the bar from the motor assembly, and was able to pull it out. Not the chain. No problem. I went to the garage and got out my rappelling rope, tied one end around the tree about 12 feet from the ground, and the other to a carabiner attached to the rear of the yard tractor. I positioned the tractor on the cement driveway so there would be traction and gently tugged the tree until it fell over.
First ash tree felled on Wednesday.
My neighbor arrived and we worked together on the second tree. This one had grown with a yoke separating the two main branches. If I felled the southernmost branch the wrong direction, I might take out the neighbor’s fence. We positioned the yard tractor and tied the rope to the tree about 14 feet above ground. I made the notch cut and then my neighbor got on the yard tractor and put tension on the rope. As I made the felling cut, he increased tension, although he lost traction because of the leaves on the ground. No worries the tree fell in the intended direction.
Two tree stumps.
We felled the other main branch and called it a day.
This was the most difficult part of the operation. Going forward, I plan to spend about an hour a day cutting the trees up. I made a place for a brush pile and will salvage two relatively straight limbs to use to stack firewood outdoors and off the ground. I will burn the brush pile when conditions are suitable, and hope to find a home for the firewood. A lot of neighbors are flush with winter firewood presently.
It will take me a week or two to clean up the yard. That part I can do by myself. Autumn days were made for a fellow and his chainsaw.
When we moved to Big Grove Township, I took out a map and compass and drew a circle to indicate where we wanted to live after beginning work on the southwest side of Cedar Rapids. Having lived in the city previously, returning there was not a positive option. We looked at potential homes within the circle, including a couple in Williamsburg — a good distance from work. The housing market was tight in 1993, with homes sometimes selling the day they went on the market. We ended up buying the lot where we built our home, and for multiple reasons, it has been a good setting for our lives.
My commute to work was 18 miles or 25 minutes. Why would I live so far from work? I wanted to maintain a separation between work and my family and creative life. Back then, I embraced the automobile culture and that aided my decision. Early on, I learned the importance of a buffer between my two lives.
Until entering the military I had lived in a city or community that either was walkable or had reliable, inexpensive public transportation. In Army basic training and officer candidate school I lived in a barracks with everyone else. When I received my commission, I moved to officer quarters at Fort Benning. I could still walk to classes yet when I arrived in Germany, I would need a vehicle. I bought a yellow pickup truck in Georgia and had the military ship it to Europe.
When I arrived in Mainz in 1976, the kaserne where the troops were stationed was in another city called Mainz-Gonsenheim. Martin Luther King Village, where officers, non-commissioned officers, and their families were housed was too far away to walk to work. Some of my fellow officers who were married did not care to live in military housing at all and picked rentals in other nearby villages. They found separation from the military was good for their family life. It is a lesson that stuck with me.
I have been cognizant of the difference between city and country living for most of my adult life. In many ways, increasingly in the age of internet communications and mobile devices, city vs. country is a false distinction. That is particularly true in Iowa where country folk trade grain internationally and need to stay in touch with markets all over the globe. What is the difference between Wall Street and Martelle? Not as much as people would have us believe.
There is something to be said for the automobile culture that dominates rural areas. As a gardener, I need supplies from multiple vendors, including soil mix near Tipton, and fertilizer near Monticello. Driving to these vendors saves money in terms of a potential dealer mark up on the items. Similarly, if I need groceries, in a vehicle I can bypass the local grocer and drive to a store more suited to my needs. We rely upon having a vehicle in a small, rural subdivision.
Our neighborhood is walkable, if by that one means enjoying the solitude of nature. I’ve been talking a daily walk ever since I could no longer jog on the trail. Even at sunrise I encounter others I know who walk or jog on the trail, so there is a sense of society. Some of those folks have been neighbors since we arrived in Big Grove Township in 1993. Having a nearby state park is not really the meaning of having a walkable community.
In Germany I needed a vehicle to get to work. At the same time, I lived near the main railway station and all of downtown Mainz was within walking distance. When I had free time, I would walk by myself or with a friend all the way down to the thousand-year-old Mainz Cathedral or to the opera house. If I needed groceries yet didn’t want the the American fare at the post exchange, a German grocer was located near the train station. I did not have an intimate relationship with the city, yet I learned to wear proper walking shoes there.
My maternal grandmother lived in downtown Davenport where she could walk to get most things she needed, well into her 80s. She got basic groceries at the Walgreens near her apartment. She continued to work as she aged and there were several work sites near her apartment. Growing up on a farm in rural Minnesota, the family took the horse and wagon to town when they needed something. Otherwise they made do in place, without leaving the property. She brought that farm culture with her to living in a large city.
The draw a circle on a map method of picking a place to live worked out for us. Now that I retired, we live in a quiet, safe place where two or three trips a week to town is sufficient. If I didn’t have a Powerball gambling habit, there would be less trips. I retain the automobile culture, yet inexpensive delivery of almost every commodity needed for living is readily available. Once we cut loose from the vehicles, I found life is even more livable than it is with them. That is important when picking where to live.
It seems clear we will have to live with artificial intelligence, like it or not. As Scottish data scientist and senior researcher at the University of Oxford Hannah Ritchie posted on Monday, “AI could really change things. It has the potential to not only improve the accuracy of (weather) forecasts but also to run them more quickly and efficiently. That then makes them better and cheaper.” Okay… I’m listening.
At the pre-2025 National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, weather predicting got very good. I could look at the weather radar on my computer, identify where the storms were going and with what intensity, and then figure out how much time I had to mow before rain started. Because of great weather forecasting, I was almost never wrong. How much better can it get? With the administration’s cuts to NOAA, the machines may be necessary to continue progress, and according to Ritchie, it looks like they have the potential.
For me, the AI game changer has been organizing basic life tasks. On Oct. 10, I wrote:
I’m four days in using AI to help plan a more productive day. With its “Balanced Day Plan,” I immediately eliminated a background concern that there is too much to do and not enough time in which to do it. I am fond of the saying an air traffic controller can only land one airplane at a time. So it is with tasks I have before me. AI finds a way to get it all into a day. If it can’t, it tells me. This serves as a stress reliever, helping me focus on the task at hand, and I do a better job with it. For example, I need to drink more water to stay hydrated. …This pursuit is just getting started and my best hope for AI lies herein.
From there, my life has taken wing. It is curious what a tonic eliminating worries can be. While AI has been great at getting my organizational juices flowing, I have already come to a high water mark with the machine, and from here I can proceed on my own.
I took the “Balanced Daily Plan” and translated it into language that fits in my world. I updated my existing, pre-AI Daily Plan to include the most salient points identified by AI. I was concerned about adequate hydration, so I highlighted in blue some words where my new hydration schedule would occur. I generalized the pomodoro work block process, with three blocks in the morning and two in the afternoon. I was careful to create plenty of space to do necessary tasks and recover once they were done. I decided to move to the kitchen about 3 p.m. and work there until dinnertime. AI helped me to recognize how a day could be structured, something I was not doing with any effectiveness on my own. Now that I re-wrote my regular schedule, I am free to go on my own, and will.
During the pandemic, stuff had a way of accumulating without being adequately addressed. This includes all of the areas in which I work at home. Think of the basics: food, shelter, and clothing. Each of them was a disorganized space where I had no idea what was possible. I got bogged down by stuff accumulated in each area. To get started, I queried AI about the vast quantity of t-shirts scattered throughout the house. The machine result helped organize the collection enough to know what I could be wearing for different purposes, and store the ones not in immediate use in labeled boxes. That had been hanging over me, yet by using AI to do the project I relieved stress and worry about it.
From here it became easier. I cleaned out the refrigerator and found a vast quantity of pickled items. Unaware, I overestimated how many pickles I could eat in a year. The pickled vegetable situation got away from me. I did not use AI for this sorting. The t-shirt project had primed the pump for any type of organizational project. Now I look for those projects to fill some of the space outside pomodoro blocks. This will apply to my workshop, writing space, the kitchen, garden, and all of the defined spaces in our home. This is what I mean when I say my life has taken wing.
AI is not going away. I expect to use it as a tool when I find a project puzzling, poorly designed, or inadequately resourced. No one knows the future of AI despite all the public rhetoric. It is far from easy to use and keeps crashing on what I believe are easy tasks. For the time being, it is one more tool in my workshop to help make life better. That and a few pickles to snack on and I can make it a day.
When my spouse is away, I haul a small boombox upstairs and crank the volume up. I find myself digging out old compact disks and audio cassette tapes, listening to Iowa Public Radio more, and tuning into the local classical music station. Classical music is more interesting on the radio than in other media because of the announcer. While I wouldn’t call it “going wild,” it’s as wild as I get regarding music these days.
How I prepare Mexican food is different when she is away. When cooking for two I avoid use of ingredients that contain capsaicin, a.k.a. 8-methyl-N-vanillyl-6-nonenamide. According to Wikipedia:
Capsaicin is an active component of chili peppers, which are plants belonging to the genus Capsicum. It is a potent irritant for mammals, including humans, for which it produces a sensation of burning in any tissue with which it comes into contact. Capsaicin and several related amides (capsaicinoids) are produced as secondary metabolites by chili peppers, likely as deterrents against eating by mammals and against the growth of fungi. Pure capsaicin is a hydrophobic, colorless, highly pungent (i.e., spicy) crystalline solid.
It’s hot. Lots of people don’t care for it or are allergic to it, including family members.
When we are together I get my spice by adding hot sauce as a condiment. When I cook and dine alone, I’m free to add it while cooking. Mexican fare is flexible in preparation so the lack of heat while cooking has not been an issue. My process for using chili peppers continues to change. I wrote about the basics in 2019:
The recipe for hot sauce evolved over time from one Juan San Miguel explained in 1977 when we both garrisoned in Mainz, Germany. Those were days before a four-foot section of assorted hot sauces became standard in supermarkets.
I lost contact with him yet the recipe persists. It is a rare day when there is no hot sauce in the ice box.
We carried the condiment in plastic milk jugs and put it on our army rations while on maneuvers in the Fulda Gap. It made our eyes water and changed regular food into edible fire. We laughed a lot in that peace-time army… and ate sandwiches of bread and hot sauce. I continue to make it mostly the way Juan taught me. (Meditation on Hot Sauce, Oct. 20, 2019, Paul Deaton).
This week included making hot pepper paste, dehydrating Cayenne peppers for red chili flakes, blending jars of powdered hot peppers from the pantry to use in shakers, and using a fresh jalapeno when making enchiladas. I found less is more: reducing the number of preparations to just a few that will be used. October is the month to do this as hot peppers are the most abundant late harvesting vegetable. Getting all this kitchen work done while she is gone is a plus. Even I had to wear a KN-95 face mask while mixing the powdered hot peppers. I should be wearing a pair of surgical gloves yet don’t and my hands sting for several hours after preparing fresh chilies. I know I’m alive.
A typical difference when I am eating alone is taco filling. The main recipe I use is a blend of black beans, kale, onions, garlic, bell peppers, tomato sauce and Mexican oregano. When cooking alone, instead of tomato sauce, I make a sauce of dried guajillo chilies. These chilies are not that hot but when allergic to capsaicin, any amount is too much.
Enchiladas are in the refrigerator waiting to bake for dinner. Tuesday is for tacos when I’ll use fresh chilies. I am not a heat nut, yet have a more developed use of chilies grown in the garden than most Iowans. The use of chilies characterizes my kitchen-garden.
Journey Home 
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