DEBRIS.COMgood for a laugh, or possibly an aneurysm

Hemp is an amazing plant. As I’ve written before, it grows easily without pesticides and makes high-quality food, fiber, and pulp. Get the scoop from the Hemp Industries Association.

Just in case there’s a question of my motives: I don’t smoke pot. This isn’t about drugs; it’s about the health of the planet. Hemp grows like a weed and could revolutionize commercial agriculture, but the Bush administration wants to outlaw it because the plant contains traces of THC.

As an illustration of the wrong-headedness of the DEA’s unhealthy fixation on Cannabis, hemp advocates point out that poppy-seed bagels contain traces of opium. But nobody in the Bush administration is trying to legislate your bagels out of the market. Why? Because it would be ridiculous. About is ridiculous as classifying hemp granola bars as “controlled substances.”

Today, though, the news is good. For a change, common sense has won. As the AP reports,

Rejecting one front of the government’s drug war, a federal appeals court ruled Friday the United States cannot ban the sale of food made with natural hemp that contains only trace amounts of the psychoactive chemical in marijuana. The decision overturns the Drug Enforcement Administration’s ban on the domestic sale of hemp food products.

See more coverage in the Chronicle’s story, Bush push to expand drug wars shot down by Ninth Circuit ruling:

The court said the DEA had no authority to reclassify hemp as a dangerous drug without first showing that it has a “high potential for abuse.”

In Awash in Pinot Noir, the LA Times describes a winery like none I’ve ever seen:

Working out of three rented rooms on the second floor of a Palos Verdes Estates shopping center with a staff of five part-timers and a college intern, [Castle Rock Winery’s owner Greg] Popovich buys wine on the spot market, paying a consulting winemaker a per-case fee to blend and bottle it in rented space in Napa Valley’s Calistoga. He then ships it to almost every state in the country through a network of independent distributors.

It’s wine without the winery. Without the vineyard. Without the winemaker, even.

Sam Adams Brewing Company used to outsource manufacturing of their lager, before they had a brewery of their own. An A-B employee friend of mine sniffed that Sam Adams couldn’t really be considered a real beer for that reason. But at least the Sam Adams folks had a recipe! The brewing was contracted out, but the final brew was not left to the whims of the hired help.

I mean no offense to Greg Popovich. In fact, I applaud him for selling $10 wines — anybody willing to challenge the epidemic idea that California reds have to cost $20/bottle is doing the right thing as far as I’m concerned.

I guess I’m stuck on the (admittedly outdated) idea that wines should be made by a family businesses with their own land, their own facilities, their own winemaker, their own mission. The idea of buying bulk wine and mixing it together somehow doesn’t conjure images of handcrafted vino.

Then again, nobody ever promised me handcrafted vino for $10/bottle.

Still, the idea of commodity wine just isn’t very appealing. The same thing applies to mass-market bread, coffee, olive oil, beer, and any of the other gourmet foodie-foods that have already enjoyed their renaissance.

Ironically, commodity Pinot probably pretty good anyway. Excuse me while I step out to Trader Joe’s… I’ll need to make this decision empirically.

All I wanted was a new water heater.

OK, well, I wanted a new water and I wanted it to last for 20 years. That doesn’t seem so difficult. In theory, all you’d have to do is:

• Install a second anode.
• Install a curved inlet tube.
• Upgrade the drain valve.
• Flush the tank every two years.
• Replace the anodes every five years.

But in practice, water heater science is not the aspiration of most of the guys who sell or install them. Or as one wholesaler said, “Anode? Why on earth would you want to change the anode?”

Then, too, there’s the fact that California’s regulations for water heaters have changed twice in six months. As far as I can tell this has had the effect of putting just about every model of water heater on permanent backorder.

We have the misfortune of needing a “shorty,” a slightly less tall model of water heater. This cuts the selection to, let’s see… one. We had one model to pick from. So, on the bright side, we didn’t need to spend any time agonizing over which of the one available model to purchase. But it took two weeks to locate one of the one model that we could actually buy.

The new unit doesn’t have a curved inlet tube. Our plumber was unsure whether a curved inlet tube could be installed, so I let it go. That was one of my must-have modifications, but I’m all about compromise, especially when not compromising might mean taking ice-cold showers for two months.

The anode upgrade turned into a bigger project than I imagined. What should have been a five-minute task turned into an hour’s hard work — for me! Most people, they let the plumber in the front door, and then they write a check an hour later. That’s the extent of the involvement. But not when it’s my water heater — somehow I ended up sitting in the driveway for an hour with a wood rasp, trying to reduce the diameter of the plastic fitting on the new combination rod to make it fit into the new tank.

So my hands were raw and I’d been breathing aluminum shavings for an hour, and then the plumber knocked out the old heater’s exhaust pipe with his head. Which meant I had to crawl into the attic, which I hate, and hold the chimney pipe still while the plumber re-attached the exhaust pipe from below.

Sometimes I think my personal hell will be to work tech support for a company that uses Outlook Express. But other times, like today, I realize that my personal hell will involve crawling around in my attic, getting tangled up in Romex, laying painfully across studs with all my body weight supported by three or four little two-inch-square patches where bones touch wood. One hand will invariably be pressed into a pile of fiberglass insulation. And don’t forget the dust cloud — fiberglass dust is mandatory in this hell. Or in my attic, whichever; they’re the same.

While I was up there the plumber related that he’d fallen through a client’s ceiling once. I had that to chew on that while trying to crab-walk out of the passageway pictured here, eyes watering, feeling scratchy everywhere, wondering how long it takes to catch asbestosis. All in all I think I’d rather have been troubleshooting Outlook Express. Especially at the moment when I scooted along a narrow piece of plywood and winced as an enormous splinter buried itself in my ass.

We had a timer installed on the well pump today. The “Pump Man” related that he’d just installed the same timer the previous day, for another solar-power home.

“So you’re on a Time-of-Use meter, right?” he asked. I was pleasantly surprised that he knew the electric-utility lingo. And then he declared, “That means you pay three times as much for power as I do.”

Erm. That’s true, in a sense, but it misses the point entirely. If you want to boil the essence of grid-tied solar power generation down into one sentence, a five-second elevator pitch, then the cost of peak-hour electricity is exactly the wrong thing to emphasize. It’s misleading. TOU pricing is actually a benefit for solar users, even though it sounds expensive.

“Well. The point is,” I began, making the distinction that what the pump man had offered was not the point, “the rig of my roof will pay for itself in about 10 years, and then I get free power for 20 years.” That’s the elevator pitch: free power for 20 years. And it’s Earth-friendly.

The timer ended up being a simple thing: power goes in 24x7, but no power comes out between noon and 6pm. This should be a big help in reducing peak-period usage.

During a recent sunny afternoon, I checked the meters, expecting to see a healthy surplus of emissions-free electricity feeding my power-greedy neighbors. But instead I saw that I was eating up every watt of available power, even though the only identifiable draw was the refrigerator. The problem was the well pump. It’s only a 1/10th horsepower but apparently that’s enough to essentially zero out my PV array.

On a recent daytrip to Bodega Head, we hiked down a steep trail to the beach to spend an hour exploring the tidepools. And to occasionally get chased out of them by a big incoming wave.

The official trails runs along the ridgetop in the right third of the panorama. The descent is easier than it looks from above, which probably explains why we so rarely see people at the bottom.