1. Don’t shout… converse! Social networks are not your personal advertising stream, they are ways to connect with others of similar interest and build relationships which you may not have otherwise had the opportunity for. This means engaging in conversations with your network; listening AND speaking. Twitter is not a bullhorn, Facebook is not a one way street. If you are looking to use these sites to their advantage, you MUST stop shouting your message and take the time to listen to your audience; begin engaging in conversations around your space, and soon you will find that perfect cadence which your audience is looking for.

What does this mean in more concrete terms?
For Twitter, it means you need to watch your follow list and absorb what is being talked about. It means putting out your opinion and ideas about other’s updates. It means taking a look at your own feed and not seeing one way posts just pushing out your message, but rather seeing @replies and discussions occurring.

For Facebook, it means replying to comments left on your updates. It means commenting on other’s updates. I am sure you can extrapolate this all for other networks as well… the key is to engage in dialog; after all, networking is a two way street.

2. Provide context to your updates! Without any context, many updates lose all their value. Imagine an update that only says “Wow, what a busy day!”, where’s the value there? Ok, I can surmise that you are having a busy day and may not have time to talk to me about something trivial. But imagine how much more value that update would have carried had some context been applied like “BUSY DAY! Working on new social media strategies”. Now I can see that you are indeed busy, but more importantly your project may be something I can help with or would be interested in seeing the results from, even reusing it if appropriate; so I may tweet back “@you Hey! I’d love to help or see what you come up with, let’s collaborate!”… and bingo, now we’ve got a conversation and possibly even lightened our collective workloads by collaborating.

Too many times have I seen Facebook status updates similar to: “worst day EVER!” or “Not sure I can handle this”, with no further context. Not surprisingly, there are often somewhere between 5 and 20 comments on that status, all effectually asking the same question back: “What’s going on?”. Rarely, however, do I see the original poster reply back with any explanation of the context surrounding the first update. This leaves all their friends in the lurch, so to speak, reaching out to try and help, but without context there is no way to know what anyone could do. Now imagine that same update as”Not sure I can handle changing my tire on the freeway”. Immediately friends can identify something tangible to assist with, and the poster may even see a comment come back like “tell us where you are and we’ll pick you up” or “I have AAA, and will call a truck for you”.

Context, my friends, is important. It can mean the difference between radio silence from your followers, and an overwhelming flow of support helping you do things you never knew you could accomplish. Really, the line between the two is so small, it may just be the difference of a single word in your update that opens the floodgates of conversation or assistance.

3. When someone asks a question; reply. I hit on this in number two, but it bears repeating and being called out on its own. If someone comments on your update or @replies to one of your tweets, do the courtesy of replying. Even if the reply is “I don’t know”, at least you will be engaging in conversation and showing that you are listening to your friends and followers. This also goes back to number one as well, where if you aren’t replying, you are in that paradigm of shouting your message and telling your followers that you’re not listening to them. By not replying, your followers will begin to think that you aren’t interested in conversation, that you’re only interested in pushing out your message. If your followers get to that point, you’ve just lost any benefit you may see from playing in the social media spaces, and even worse, will likely begin losing followers to the point where the audience for your message has dwindled to completely ineffectual levels.
The net result of this: if you ignore your followers, they’ll ignore you.

This week has been fairly busy in the Social Media world when it comes to shakeups. First it was the news that Forrester (an independent market research firm) began telling its analyst employees to either take down or redirect their personal blogs to the Forrester main site (as referenced in the article here: http://thesocialcustomer.com/Home/15561). The idea Forrester was going with here is that market analysis is intellectual property owned by Forrester and that should be under the control of the company. We’ve seen this corporate behaviour before when ESPN cracked down on its employees in the same fashion, stating that “Personal websites and blogs that contain sports content are not permitted” (reference the BrandBuilder blog for more details).

What we are seeing here are corporations overly worried about governance, and looking for the easy way to control perceived property. Rather than embracing the employees who are displaying a passion for the industries they represent, allowing them to flourish, and drive forward as thought leaders in their space, these employees are now being constrained and stifled by corporate mandates; driven through the funnel of their governance into a single space where the company has its security blanket of control in full force.

It won’t take a genius to figure out how I feel about that. But that doesn’t mean I want the pendulum swinging to the other end either.

Take today’s news of the new BBC Director -mandating- that all journalists employed by the BBC begin using social media. See Mashable’s coverage here for the story and links to sources: http://mashable.com/2010/02/10/bbc-social-media/

While I appreciate that Mr. Horrocks believes in at least using the content with attribution, I can’t imagine how his staff feel about being mandated to use social media now. Yes, I believe there IS a place for social media in the newsroom. Yes, I think journalists should be paying attention here and not ignoring the information trending through Twitter, Facebook, Youtube, etcetera. But I don’t believe that should warrant a mandate either.

Any policies which demand action on any side of the spectrum here are destined for failure; either you will fail at controlling your employees with a tight enough reign, or you will fail to ensure they are engaged in the spaces you want them to be paying attention.

I have said this before about other things (like tattoos, TV shows, or even working from home), but Social Media isn’t for everyone. That doesn’t mean Social Media is the devil either. People all learn differently, work differently, and consume information differently. When corporations adopt policies allowing their employees the freedom to engage in the venues and areas in which they as individuals find passion, THAT is when you will see great successes. Not everyone will be excited by social media outlets, just like others are not excited by more traditional avenues of content consumption. But when you allow those people with the passion to find their niche, your company will grow as the thought leaders in your industry, and as the communities grow and each individual you employ becomes those respected subject matter experts in their related fields… soon, your clients will see your brand as the knowledge experts.

THAT is something you can not force through policy or mandates. That is only something that can come from the social communities in a purely organic fashion, and only with proper care and cultivation over time. Stifling your employees on EITHER end of the spectrum will not empower them to excel in your controlled space or adopt new methods of working. Empowering your employees happens when you allow them to follow their passions and work in their own ways.

Of course, I would be remiss if I didn’t call out my own company’s brilliant policies surrounding social media involvement. Yes, I work for IBM Rational Client Support as a knowledge manager with a focal role in social media/web2.0 initiatives, and yes IBM has what I consider to be one of the best social media guidelines around: http://www.ibm.com/blogs/zz/en/guidelines.html

And others seem to share my respect for IBM’s progressive policies, like Olivier Blanchard from his BrandBuilder blog article referenced above, and Casey Hibbard in her article on the SocialMedia Examiner here.

I figure, if a company as large and diverse as IBM can successfully implement such open policies surrounding social media, why can’t yours?

And lastly, a disclaimer as is appropriate: The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions. The words I write are mine and mine alone, please don’t attribute them to any person or company other than me.

For the past two year, I’d been contemplating a few concepts for more tattoos loosely based around how my life has changed since we left California and moved to Oregon. Part of that concept was realized in my Craftsman/Mission style number 13 house plague in black and gray on my upper inner forearm. For me, this was a great realization of the work Jean and I have done on our new home, as well as a celebration of 13 years of marriage (anniversary date is July 13th). But something about it left me wanting… it felt somehow incomplete, as if it needed more balance. So, I opted to add in another design I had been thinking about for the past two years: an Arts & Crafts stained glass design called the “Pasadena Rose”.

Both Jean and I fell in love with the design immediately after installing the two wall sconces which incorporate it in our living room. For me, the design connects the dots of our move from Southern California, to the “Rose City” of Portland. It also displays my love for the Arts&Crafts / Mission / Craftsman design movements which are popular in both  SoCal and Portland.

Like all my tattoos, this one has a deeper connection and meaning for me than I can adequately convey in plain words. The best way I can describe it is this: tattoos for me are stamps on the steamer trunk of my body; they tell the tale of my life in iconic form.

In this latest case, it is the stained glass “Pasadena Rose” on my forearm:

Click the picture for the larger view

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Lastly, here is my Picasa gallery showing some of the tattoo work I’ve had done: http://picasaweb.google.com/acdntlpoet/Tattoos?feat=directlink

More work can be seen on the WaywardCelt gallery here: http://waywardcelt.com/coppermine/thumbnails.php?album=16

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Today, I was honoured to have been the first in what will become a regular series of interviews with various people involved with my employer, IBM Rational Client Support. You can read the full text of my interview here: https://www.ibm.com/developerworks/mydeveloperworks/blogs/nfrsblog/entry/meet_jason_o_donnell4?lang=en

On a purely selfish note, I would love to hear your feedback about this interview:

• Did you like the questions asked? The answers?
• Is there something you thought may have been missing?
• Do you see any value in learning more about people within a company which you may be a client of?
• Does this help de-mystify the company and bring in a more personal feel to the face of an organization?
• Are there ways you think this could have been done better?

I’ll explain further why answer to these questions are important to me….

In the interest of full disclosure and transparency: I am a content contributor as well as directly involved with the just-launched interviews initiative on the Notes from Rational Support Blog. Additionally, I will likely be taking over driving these interviews and posting to the blog, hence my interest in your feedback about the structure, etc. My interview being the first to run was kind of a bit of a cheat since Kelly Smith (@kellypuffs) and I are collaborating on the initiative. In my defense, I tried to get someone else first, but work cycles just weren’t available to do so, as such Kelly fell back on me as an easy standby so we could start the weekly cadence of interviews sooner rather than later. That said, I am still proud to have been spotlighted!

What REALLY gets me excited about this series though? Not the fact that I was spotlighted, but rather the anticipation of how all the future respondents will answer the interview questions (we have about twice as many questions than what I answered, none being ‘required’). I am absolutely looking forward to the variety of insights into both the organization as well as the individuals presented. Being so new to the organization myself, I find amazing value in the stories presented by the old-hats as well as the new ones. Seeing the organization and experiences from so many different points of view has always helped me shape my own understanding of the business and learn from both past mistakes and successes. I see this series as another way to learn even more personally, while also helping our clients see the more personal side to what can often be a faceless organization.

Of course, being one who likes instant gratification, this is going to be a hard one for me to keep to only a weekly cadence, and I am hoping the demand from the readership tells me the same thing. But that is the key to good blogging: keep a steady cadence with content your readership wants, and will keep coming back looking for more!

Speaking of which, I made an odd discovery about myself yesterday: apparently I obtain a small sense of validation from being re-tweeted. And it actually makes perfect sense to me. After all, a re-tweet is essentially someone else saying: “see what this person posted, yes I agree with it and think it is valuable enough to pass on”. And that makes me feel like my ideas, or even just my words, carry some minor value in the social media spaces in which I have begun playing. It is nice to get that sense that I am doing something right.

Positive feedback is a wonderful motivator.

While I know the value of a website, it seems dad just figured out exactly what it can do for him. About two months ago he was contacted by a gentleman who had found dad on his website and indicated he was interested in purchasing one of his paintings. They communicated a few times, and finally met up yesterday for a private viewing of a few of dad’s paintings. Dad walked away from that viewing having sold three of his largest paintings for a few thousand dollars each. He called to tell me the news within minutes of arriving home. Rarely have I heard dad so giddy, but I guess a bit of a financial windfall like that will perk anyone’s spirits, especially right before the holiday.

You want to make a retired painter happy? I think I finally found the formula… it involves patience, talent, and a whole lot of luck.  Merry Christmas, dad.

Lastly, for those of you who haven’t seen his work before, go ahead and click on over to www.ODonnellMarineArt.com
I think you’ll enjoy what you see there… though I am indeed biased of course; not only because he raised me, but because I also own four of his originals. And no, mine aren’t for sale 

I’ve always found my patience tried when pushed to repeat myself, so I would fall back into a pattern of reusing information I previously provided. Oddly enough, however, it took me YEARS before I began actually reusing content for one of the questions I am most commonly asked: “What whiskies do you recommend?”

So, two years ago, I answered that question in the form of a blog post on my whiskies tasting group site: www.3DrunkenCelts.com

Since it was around the Christmas holiday, I framed the original post in the context of gifting whiskies to someone else, but the concepts and recommendations are still solid if you are just buying for yourself.

This year, I am going to fall back on the best practices I’ve learned over the years and simply reuse my old content, as it still holds up today:

• 3DC: Need help buying a whisky lover a Christmas gift?

So, jump on over to my tasting group’s site at the link above and read through my post on buying whiskies as gifts… and maybe even take a look at Raz’ recommendations for non-whiskey whiskey gifts too. Who knows, you may just find that perfect something for the perfect someone, or just for yourself

While this was not entirely catastrophic, it did give us the excuse to finally replace our little Mr. Coffee with a proper drip machine that would bring our Stumptown roasts to full flavour. After some solid refreshers on my previous research (I spent a full year researching my purchase of the Rancilio Sivlia and Rocky combination for my espresso setup), I had narrowed our choices down to 2 within hours: a Capresso MT-500 or a Technivorm Moccamaster .

Further discussion and a final trip to a local kitchen store, Kitchen Kaboodle, resulted in us coming home with a Technivorm Moccamaster Thermal carafe drip machine:

Such a beautifully simple drip machine. It has only one switch with two settings: on and off. No timer, no clock, no bells and whistles. The brilliance of the machine is the power it wields, as it is one of the only machines on the market which will actually heat the water to the perfect extraction temperature of 200 degrees Fahrenheit. It is also one of the very few machines (possibly still the only home drip machine) which can boast an SCAA certification/approval for meeting its standards.

Now, with the old coffee maker in the garage, I have disassembled it in preparations and attempts to see if I can rebuild/mod it into a steampunk style Mr. Coffee at the suggestion of a good friend. If I am successful, you can expect a full process write up on this blog.

Of course, while we were at Kitchen Kaboodle, we also ended up replacing our 13 year old Hamilton Beech 7-cup food processor with a new, larger Cuisinart Custom 14 cup food processor:

I think that should pretty much settle any future kitchen appliance purchases for another 10+ years. If we had kids, these two appliances would be handed down to them when we pass; they are built that well!

With that, I’ll go have another cup of Stumptown, perfectly brewed at 200 degrees Fahrenheit. Ah coffee, how I love you!

Right off the bat, let me say that the time spent at war with friends was well worth the effort…. I had not been looking forward to this war as I had others. No sense of excitement for the tasting was washing over me, nor was I looking towards the 1700+mile roundtrip to get there and back. It wasn’t until the Sunday before when I figured I was committed to it, since that was when I had packed my bike in preparation. And it wasn’t until Tuesday before that I was 100% sure I was going…

Click the link below for the full story…

Wednesday night I fell into bed around 6pm with the intent of waking at midnight to begin my long ride from Portland to Taft, Ca. (near Bakersfield). True to my alarm, I woke, showered, and dressed for my ride.

The bike was already packed and ready to go, so all I had to do was warm her up and do my last pre-flight checks before heading out. Backing out of my garage, I noted the time on my dash as 12:30am spot on. (I’d left that early, as I’d timed the ride to bring my arrival as early in the afternoon Thursday as possible to give me time to unpack and nap before the parties started.) I was already in my cold-weather gear, with grip warmers blasting, so I made my way to the freeway and rolled on the throttle to get up to the speed I’d carry for the next 850 miles.

The downside to leaving so early, is that the scenery is all black. A shame, really, when riding through the gorgeous landscape that is the west side of the Cascade mountains in Oregon. Of course, the upswing to this is that this portion of the trip seems to go more quickly, as your mind is tricked into not recalling the hundreds of miles under your tires by virtue of the -same- scenery the entire way.

I made great time, and passed throughShasta around 5am. Right on schedule. The downside here is that I was under prepared for the 34degree temps going through Weed and Shasta. My gear is solid down to 41degrees (cold but manageable), but 34 at 80mph windchill was just downright painful. Luckily, by the time I hit Redding, things had warmed into the high 40’s and a 30 minute rest allowed things to top 50 and get me warmer to continue.

Luckily the rest of the ride continued that warming trend and allowed for a more pleasant journey. Topping out around 77 degrees, I was able to finish the ride and pull into camp at 1:30pm, smack dab on the 13 hour mark. Exhausted, but excited, I pulled into camp and greeted the only two there thus far: Eoin and Raz. A beer later, I realized I needed to unpack and park the bike before continuing any drinking, otherwise the bike wouldn’t get parked until Sunday afternoon!

A quick unpack of the bike (made easy by the fact that my saddle bags and top-box quickly disconnect in full and can be used as luggage), and I was back in camp and down another dram of whiskey. And that was the start of an emotional rollercoaster of a war….

Remember that ‘nap’ I had planned on taking; the reason I had left so early? Yep. Never happened. Too many people I hadn’t seen in over 2 years to reconnect with, too many drinks to be had, too much fun catching up, and too enjoyable just relaxing to nap. And that continued all through the night, until sometime after Sir Mathias’ ribs on the grill were but a memory, did I stumble my way into the tent and pass out… but not before noting that it was 4:15am or so. Yup, 28 hours, 850 miles, and countless drinks after I had first awoken from my slumber in Portland, I was now bedding down in Taft.

Friday arrived, and I slunk out of the tent around 10:30ish to a blazing sun. With nothing on my docket, I lazed around camp until such a time as my hunger pangs began (though stymied by a soda and a few drams of whisky of course). The sad site of watching Sir Mathias and me shuffle our way towards, and then through merchant’s row on a quest for lunch must have been a sight to behold. The day’s ride prior was taking its toll on my body, and the night’s festivities hadn’t exactly helped the cause either. What brought us both back to life, though, was a nearly 1foot long bratwurst with onions, peppers, and sauerkraut. Newly revived, but still moving slooooooowly, we moseyed through merchants and then back to camp, where I stayed for the rest of the afternoon until the camp potluck that night.

As always, when camping with the 3DC, our potluck was amazing. It is so wonderful to camp with not only such a wonderful group of people, but people who also know how to cook and eat! I can’t recall all of the wonderful dishes presented, but I know at least one had whisky as a key ingredient, as should be expected in the 3DC camp. For fear of leaving any one dish out I won’t make mention of any others… suffice to say, I had a bite or more of all, and left camp on walkabout just to try and work some of all the amazing food off; some serious carb loading must be the only thing which got me through the rest of the night.

After a bit of walkabout around war, visiting friends and generally camp hopping with whiskies (love to the Crimson Spade for allowing me to crash around the fire pit whilst Raz stood guard at the vigil across the way), we wandered back to camp fairly early in the evening as we knew a wonderful fire would be awaiting us there. And we weren’t disappointed. Around 15 to 20 people were at the fire when we arrived. Many drinks of whiskies, and Sakes, and homebrews from out of camp later and the herd began to think slightly, just in time for Sir Mathias to pop some Tri-tip on the grill. And all of my joking about only flipping the meat once aside, the tri-tip was fabulous. When it is that late and you’ve been drinking that much, a little bit of protein is well appreciated!

Of course, this is whenSir Mathias, who I will now refer to as Changer, had some free time…. and we all know what idle hands are. Somehow, during my time talking with (and happily distracted by) Lasairfhiona, Meala, and Kissa, the beginning of a running joke was made. I tuned in just after it all started, and was blind sided to learn I was the butt of it. Well enough, the target always moves, so I played along and laughed so hard over the next 2 hours that my sides/ribs literally ached because of it. By some turn of fate, Kissa avoided the entire camp finding out she was a “shit-sandwich fluffer” as was being extolled by Lasairfhiona, in the -best- possible way of course…. lucky ones they are Instead, the camp rallied around the newly formed game show entitled “What’s up Seamus’ Ass?” (which works best when you imagine a studio audience completing the question, “Are you ready to play…”). As I come to find out, apparently my ass has been harbouring a Russian nuclear submarine, amongst other interesting objects. Sometime later, it seems, both Diver Dan and Scuba Steve were enlisted in an expedition to locate the scuttled sub, which resulted in some odd news style commentary and interviews around the campfire. All I can say at this point is that it is probably a good thing I was inebriated and don’t have as good a recollection of it all… otherwise I might well be embarrassed.

This all continued well into the early morn until we all finally made our way to our respective tents and turned in, myself around the 4to5am mark again…. So, for all of you on Facebook, who have been seeing people’s status as “wondering….. What’s up Seamus’ ass”, well you now know not only who Seamus is, but the story ‘behind’ it all.

Saturday morning came, and I extruded myself from the tent around 10:30am… having completely forgotten about the prior night’s running joke, until I heard the theme song being sung to me by those who happened to be in the camp just then. Ah, love, can you feel it? The remainder of the morning and earliest part of the afternoon was spent sitting around and relaxing whilst chatting, until a few minutes before two when we all walked to the battle field for Kolfinna’s memorial service.

From here I need to digress: Duchess Sir Kolfinna Kottr was taken from us on Oct. 1st due to complications from H1N1. Kitty, as she was known mundanely, was a person who touched the lives of an immeasurable number of people, myself included. She was more of an acquaintance to me than a friend, though I am absolutely a better person for having known here even tangentially. She was, however, much closer to a number of my friends in the Society; friends whom have felt her passing tear more than just a friend from them. Because Kitty was so involved and such a part of the SCA, as not only a twice reigning Queen, but also a Knight of the highest caliber, a large scale memorial was planned for the Saturday afternoon at Great Wester War on the battlefield where she presumably would have felt most comfortable.

This is the part where I feel a bit of a sham; I accompanied my friends to the battle field and arrived just as the service was beginning. Another friend was Heralding the ceremony, and I could hear the pain in his booming voice, which tore at my resolve and I began to tear up. Looking around me, at the multitude of people (literally as far as my eyes could see), I saw too many people close to me feeling so much pain at the loss of their dear friend, that my resolve was crushed. I turned, told the one person I could find who would understand that I was leaving, and I walked back to camp stifling my tears, reprimanding myself for being over dramatic, but not wanting to disrupt the memorial with my blubbering, all the while feeling a bit silly for crying. See, in my mind, right or wrong, I simply didn’t know Kitty well enough in comparison to so many of my other friends that I didn’t deserver to standat her memorial and cry. Yes, we all have a right to grieve, but my grief is tempered by the fact that she and I didn’t share the bond that she shared with so many of my other friends. The best I could do to honour her at that point was to walk away, cry on my own, and process in my own head. On my way back to camp, I think I realized that it was the grief and pain of those around me that really hit me in the soft spot. To see my friends hurt so much really cut into me the same deep manner that Kitty’s passing cut into them.

When I returned to camp, I found a sole member sitting and reading. I sat, as the tent was too hot, and the chairs were convenient and shaded. Genevieve asked a few questions, which I tried to answer guardedly, but failed to do so to any great extent. I am very appreciative of the time she took to talk with me though. I can only imagine at this point how little sense I may have been making. Too many thoughts, too many unanswered questions, etc. She is a saint for listening to me I am sure. She was saved by the bell when others began arriving back from the memorial and I excused myself to the privy for a bit. On my return, after a splash of water on my face, I’d mellowed out enough to be in a group of people again. As before, the camp sat around in the shade drinking the afternoon away, though this time with a bit more somber/sober of an atmosphere hung over us all.

Time passed, as it does at war, and soon Raz, Fergus, Eoin, Sean, Justin, and I were dressed for the evening and on our way to the Atenveldt Royal encampment to host our 3DC Annual Whiskies Tasting event. We worked through a few minor snags at the beginning, the main one being the decided lack of tables in their camp (easily rectified), and setup all the bottles which had made their way to our camp before hand. When all was said an done, I believe the final count was 32 bottles. Once again, we pulled off a 30+ bottle tasting without heavy promotion.

As the night progressed, what started (at least for Raz and I, and possible Fergus) as a tasting we were sure would fail and weren’t really looking forward to, turned into an outstanding success by the end. I had actually shirked a large portion of my implicit 3DC responsibilities and really just sat around the outskirts of the tasting, talking quietly with others; sometimes about whiskies, but often not. By the end of the night, I found myself actually please with the tasting and actually happy about how well it was received by all who attended. Of course, in my enjoyment of the event and through my varied conversations with friends not seen for years at that point, I had failed to track the time. Because of that failure, I had let down a dear friend by breaking a promise to attend her vigil (for the laurel peerage) dressed as a tranny. While I feel -horrible- for such an oversight, I am glad to have heard that she had at least one other tranny show up, so she didn’t go tranny-less at her vigil.

The tasting actually lasted far longer than expected, and by the time we were heading back to our own camp, the entire war seemed to have wound down. Not that we were ready to call it quits yet, so I, with Meala on one arm and Eilidh on another, wove back to camp with grins on our faces. Despite what I may think, I have a feeling they were just holding me up and allowing me to believe I was escorting them back to camp Finally arriving, we settled in by the fire once again to wind down the night. There really is nothing better than good friends around the fire; except maybe good friends around the dinner table…. which means at some point late in the night/early in the morning Raz broke out the bratwurst for that perfect after-partying-snack that we were craving.

Making my way into the tent at the end of the night, I made a point to look at my phone for the time before passing out; 4:49am. I am sure I was asleep with 10 minutes, but for ease we’ll call it 5am…. next I know I am woken by a warm sun heating upthe tent, indicating to me time to rise, and my body agreeing. Figuring it was the typical 10 or 11am, I rose and began the ritual of packing to go home.

Putzing around, I cleared out the tent I had shared with Raz, and meticulously repacked my bike for the long journey ahead of me. Halfway through I recalled that my phone batter was close to dying, so I co-opted a plug from Fergus’ truck to lay a charge for the ride home. That’s when I noticed the time… it was 9:30am and I had been working for a solid hour. Yup, that means I got 3.5 hours of sleep. And that kind of scared me, because my body wasn’t telling me it was tired. At all. So I contemplated for a bit and determined that either I went back to sleep immediately, or I began the journey home asap. I opted for the later, as there was no way I would be sleeping soon; best to start the 850 miles/13 hours back home….

Rather than get out of there as fast as I could, though, I dawdled and wasted time. I was having a very hard time leaving. Not only did I not want to say good bye to dear friends once again, but I seriously was not looking forward to the ride back home, even knowing the earlier I left, the better. Finally, at 11:30am I mounted up and rolled on the throttle, leaving Great Western War in the dust.

The beginning portion back home was suitably warm, but not hot. Enough so that the ’sleepys’ hit a few times just based on the temp and drastically boring landscape of central valley California. By the time I reach Redding, things were cooling down enough that I put on my cold weather gear in anticipation of even more drops in the next few hours. For the ride through Shasta, things stayed at a fairly warm temp, enough that I wasn’t wearing all my cold gear and hadn’t turned on my grip warmers… that came later once I stopped in Yreka to wipe the bugs from my windshield and gear up completely, as I knew by this point, the low temps were just going to get lower until I got home.

And lower they got. By the time I hit Roseburg I was shivering again, dealing with temps below what my gear can handle. By this point I was also starting to get very tired, but knew I only had another few hours to go. So I pressed on. My legs had been aching since Redding, and the bottoms of my feet were bruised by the pegs since Sacramento, though my muscles had just really started screaming at me just outside Roseburg. I was also starting to get hungry as I hadn’t eaten since a chicken sandwich since my stop in Westerly around 2pm. It was now around 10:30pm. And I was in the throws of exhaustion. I know this because I was yelling at myself in my helmet, something I have never done. That, and I made it as far as Albany (50 miles from home) and just couldn’t push further, so I stopped at Denny’s for a late night restroom break, food, coffee, and a stretch. That was midnight. After a half hour rest, I hopped back on the bike and trudge through the final hour to home. Probably the single longest hour of my life. When I got home, I immediately showered and then passed out next to Jean, who later told me I snored for a bit, then dropped into the deathly silence of deep sleep.

I awoke Monday morning to an aching body, still reeling from exhaustion. It took all my effort to do a few loads of war laundry and just sit on the couch recovering (read drinking a metric ton of water and taking Aleve). Tuesday was a bit better, though still shaking the lizard brain issues and working towards string together more complex thoughts than “food” and “water”. Wednesday was back to work at 5:30am, as is typical, though I found it far more difficult than usual due to the fact that my bed time had recently been what my wakeup time now was… but, I am finally feeling human again today, as can be seen by the fact that I have just blogged with more verbosity than this entire year combined… is this an indication of things to come? Will NaNoWriMo look tempting again? Who’s to say… as itstands I am just glad to be home once again.

If you’ve made it this far, you deserve the following:

This is a fun Photo Article from the LA Times regarding the GWW XII event:
http://www.latimes.com/theguide/events-and-festivals/la-society-creative-anachronisms-events-pictures,0,3261780.photogallery?index=la-society-creative-anachronisms-event-photo1

Additionally, there are a few minimal pictures I took over the course of the event, when I remembered to do so: http://picasaweb.google.com/acdntlpoet/GWWXII#

Enjoy, I know I did. Far more than any one man has a right to

(Whiskies of the World, 2009)

(To follow along the timeline of events, use Twitter search to locate all our Tweets posted with the #3DC tag: http://search.twitter.com/search?q=%233dc )

A panoply of emotion washed over me before my departure for this year’s event. My excitement was still present, yet not as palpable as in years past; I was muted by an underlying exhaustion from a looming deadline, one which I was determined to ignore once I locked the door to my house….. click the link below for more!

My expectations for this year’s event were lower than they’d been in the past. I knew well in advance that the economic climate would result in lower attendance from the paying public as well as distilleries and distributors, etc. Of course my expectations for the fun to be had outside of the grand tasting were just as high as ever.

My friends, I am here to tell you, the weekend did not disappoint!

Friday really got off to a slow start for me. Out the door at noon, after working some that morning, saw me at Don’s bar (Caper’s Café) in PDX waiting for my flight. A few good random conversations about the upcoming tasting started to really get me in the mood for things to come. And the Bushmills that was waiting for me as I sat down didn’t hurt either A quick flight later and I found myself in Oakland waiting on Raz to land. I was actually a bit smart at this point and sat down in baggage claim and got a solid 45 minute nap in between reading. A good prep for the long night I knew was to come.

And that long night didn’t disappoint. In typical 3DC fashion, we donned our utilikilts (well, Fergus and I did) then found and took over a corner portion of Nihon, a self-proclaimed sushi whisky bar, which surprisingly enough could indeed be easily called one or the other without compunction. Once we’d filled our gullets with fish, sake, and beer (oddly enough), we made the tough choice to head to the Irish Bank to really get the night going.

Everything started well at the bank, but we quickly found ourselves being hushed by our waitress Zoe, at the bequest of management. Mind you, we were in the back room, signing Irish traditional songs, in an Irish pub, and buying lots of booze… you’d think management would understand that. Awe well, we just continued signing and ordering drinks, and the threat of getting kicked out seemed to pass.

As normal, we ended up back at the hotel quite late, still enjoying the night. Fergus immediately began opening up some small flasks and challenged us to guess what each contained. Admittedly, I was something like zero for 3, while impressively, James nailed them. Seems he hadn’t quite destroyed his palette yet. At around 2.30am we finally turned in, and the giggling commenced (I had hoped to have the video link available here, but –someone- hasn’t uploaded it yet). Like 12 year old school girls we are…

Saturday morning came all too quickly, but with relatively little pain. My previous 3 years’ worth of experience paid off this time around and allowed me a pleasant, if not tired morning. After gathering the crew and milling about the Whisky Shoppe, we made our way to the traditional Irish coffee and Lark in the Morning run. Having not yet checked the store hours, we arrived about 45 minutes early, and so opted to wait it out at a pub down the road where we enjoyed the worst Irish coffees I have ever had, and a rousing round of Whisky trivia from the game Sean had purchased just an hour before. (We had so much fun with the game, I returned and bought a copy for myself!)

After Lark in the Morning, it was back to the Bank for a –quick- and small bite of lunch, then to the hotel to get ready for the evenings festivities. Suits donned, we hopped the cabs to our next tradition: a light dinner at Kennedy’s (an Irish pub and Indian restaurant). Yes, typically Indian foods wouldn’t be advisable just prior to a whisky tasting, but we’ve never been ones for convention, and to be honest, it has never caused us a problem. The key is a –light- dinner; just enough to satiate you for the next 3 hours until you’re on the boat and can maintain a solid balance at the buffet there. Plus, I like to think that a bit of curry livens up the palette and gets you ready to really dig into the tasting. I AM starting to sense some dissention among the ranks regarding Kennedy’s, so that may well change next year.

Once dinner was complete, we trekked down to see the Museum Mechanique, and moseyed amongst the tourists as Fergus was on another mission to find more tiny flasks to use during the tasting as storage for some of the better drams. Fresh out of luck, it was time to head to the boat and queue up for our 5:30pm entrance time.

The line was shorter than years past, as was to be expected this time round. The economy seemed to have culled the crowd down to just the serious aficionados and the lucky few who haven’t felt the tightening of the belts.

Once on board, the fiscally conservative times were felt even more dearly. There were not quite as many booths set up this year, though the two decks were still both utilized; that, combined with a lower attendance made the event feel sparse.

Personally, that initial impression set my tone and temperament for the evening to a more muted experience. I focused directly on just the tastes and didn’t bother talking to any of the ambassadors, distribution reps, or any others manning the booths. Instead, I would shoulder my way into a booth, obtain a pour, and then immediately back out to a location where I could set my glass down and take some quick notes without being jostled or feeling like I was in someone’s way.

And now, what you’ve all come here for:

Jason/Seamus’ tasting notes from the Whiskies of the World Expo, 2009.

Keep in mind that my notes are a bare minimum due to the structure of the event (ie, this is a meandering from table to table event, not a seated tasting), and as such my notes are typically made whilst maneuvering from one table to the next, trying not to spill… Additionally you will note how my tastes became slightly more amiable throughout the evening and my tasting notes less detailed, but more flowery.

Tullamore Dew, 10 year

Nose: Very sweet, almost floral.

Flavour: nice mild oak, a caramel sweetness follows.

Finish: very short and simple.

Viscosity: 3

Boldness: 1

Length of Story: 1

Personal Taste: C

Compass Box, Hedonism Maximus

Nose: some iodine followed by a richness

Flavour: a lot of spice, followed by a modest apricot at the end.

Finish: slight oak, and a very long finish

Viscosity: 4

Boldness: 4

Length of Story: 4.5

Personal Taste: A-

Tomintoul, 31 year

Nose: iodine and rubber

Flavour: anise, light clove, cornstarched rubber

Finish: vanishes quickly, ends with a note of gnawed toothpick.

Viscosity: 4

Boldness: 3

Length of Story: 1

Personal Taste: C+

High West, 21 year Rocky Mountain Rye

Nose: general spice, then a more solid clove, followed by medium sweetness

Flavour: more spice, and the expected rye sweetness

Finish: a bit sour, gently ends with sweetness reminiscent of sherry wood finish.

Viscosity: 2.25

Boldness: 4

Length of Story: 3

Personal Taste: B-

Bols Genever, gin

Nose: LOTS of juniper (I have a lot to learn about gin, as all I get is the berry)

Flavour: more juniper, slight bitterness.

Finish: still juniper

Viscosity: 3

Boldness: 4

Length of Story: 2

Personal Taste: C+

Glen Rothes, 1985

Nose: mild brininess followed by mellowed oak

Flavour: sweet followed by the same brine on the nose.

Finish: rich, then a mild oak, followed by a slight caramel

Viscosity: 3.5

Boldness: 3

Length of Story: 3

Personal Taste: B+

Auchentoshan, 3 Wood

Nose: rich oak (possibly French oak?)

Flavour: deep oak layered complexity, sweet like the Balvenie double wood, but more refined.

Finish: layered and lingering oak, sherry wood on the end.

Viscosity: 3.5

Boldness: 4

Length of Story: 3.75

Personal Taste: B

Auchentoshan, 18 year

Nose: spice, followed by stale iodine

Flavour: immediate iodine, then sweet like a Speyside, followed by solid richness

Finish: more richness of subtle oak

Viscosity: 3

Boldness: 4

Length of Story: 3

Personal Taste: B-

Auchentoshan, 12 year

Nose: typical 12 nose for a Speyside, oaky, spicy, and rich

Flavour: sweet rich fruit

Finish: spicy richness similar to the Jameson’s Distillery Reserve

Viscosity: 3

Boldness: 4

Length of Story: 3

Personal Taste: C+

Johnnie Walker, Green Label

Nose: Floral sweetness of plum, cut grass, and apricot

Flavour: just oak. Tastes like a low-end whisky, single note dram.

Finish: worthless

Viscosity: 3

Boldness: 3

Length of Story: 2.75

Personal Taste: D

Aberlour, a’bunadh

Nose: “My nose is done”

Flavour: ginger/cinnamon, spice, iodine, rich but crisp

Finish: cask strength closes the story early

Viscosity: 3.5

Boldness: 4

Length of Story: 3.75

Personal Taste: B

Scapa, 16 year

Nose: sweet and floral with fruit, almost like the J/W Green label.

Flavour: mild and light, sweet, tastes like the Green label should!

Finish: fades slowly, gradually with oak and fruit

Viscosity: 2

Boldness: 2

Length of Story: 3

Personal Taste: B+

Tomintoul, 27 year

Nose: -no notes taken-

Flavour: -no notes taken-

Finish: -no notes taken-

Viscosity: -no notes taken-

Boldness: -no notes taken-

Length of Story: -no notes taken-

Personal Taste: B

Compass Box, Eleuthera (purchased at the Irish Bank after the Grand Tasting completed)

Nose: -no notes taken-

Flavour: iodine and mild peat, some smokiness

Finish: -no notes taken-

Viscosity: 2

Boldness: 3

Length of Story: 3.5

Personal Taste: B+

I actually left the tasting about an hour earlier than in previous years. That should tell you something about my mental state and how the entire event came off to me. While I had a grand time, by 9pm I was over it and ready to move on to the next bit of fun.

That next bit, for me at least, is to head out to a nicer dinner. That started the first year when we stumbled into the Boulevard for dinner, and continued on for the next two at various other restaurants. This year Yan and Deb headed back to the Boulevard, while a larger crew was set on just heading back to the bank. I was ready for something else though, and conned James and Cat to accompany me to a new place, just down the street from our hotel (as it turns out).

We had a lovely, and relaxed dinner at the E&O Trading Company, which was very special for me as it gave me some quiet one on two time with Cat and James. One of the problems with a big group at a 3DC gathering, is the relative little time we all have to connect at any deeper levels; dinner Saturday night has kind of become that time for me where everything is a bit quieter and smaller, and I can enjoy the company in a more intimate fashion.

Of course, after dinner, the three of us walked back to the Irish Bank, where the rest of the group was waiting for us (having just arrived and seated nay 10 minutes prior). More drinks were quickly ordered and before we knew it, song erupted and a jovial time was being had by all; including Zoe and Tulasi who seemingly became our private wait staff. No shushing this time around as management was not on the premises, so we were free to whoop it up as we always do. After a bit, John Glaser darkened the doorway to a roaring round of applause and cheering.

John has become a bit of a friend to the 3DC and has been generous and gracious in sharing his knowledge and wisdom, oft times to some lively disagreement or purely contrarian jabs from Fergus, Raz, and myself. He still seems to get our sense of humour, and apparently enjoys us all the same, as this is the second year he has accepted Fergus’ invite to meet us at the Bank after the tasting to wind down (or up) a bit.

This time around, Fergus didn’t disappoint, and produced the last bottle of cider he had made, keeping the Dregs so that John could have a taste and those two could chat about finishing whiskies in cider barrels. Surprisingly, John stayed well past the time he had initially indicated he would. He always seems to do that around us… J

Having had quite enough to drink, and quite a long day already, I attempted to head back to the hotel room earlier than normal. I was able to make it out of the Bank with a little chiding, and even made it down the alley way heading to the hotel, when my progress was waylaid by seeing James off in his cab, and encountering Raz heading back to the Bank after seeing Cat to her room (poor thing was really bad off by the end of the night due to a nasty cold-type illness coming on).

I’d thought Raz was done for the night when he walked Cat back to the hotel, but I was surprised to see he actually still had some life in him… That really was all the urging I needed to turn around and go back to the Bank with Raz to close it out. And close it out we did.

Sunday morning again arrived well too early, though once again, lessons learned in past years came through for me in this one, and I was up and feeling great. No hangover and was hungry for breakfast, which was dealt with at Lori’s Diner.

From breakfast, the crew headed into China town for some shopping and general touristy stuff. That’s where we started breaking off and heading home, as Fergus took Eric and Sean to the airport, and Cat started her long drive back south, leaving Raz, Deb, Yan, and I to kill some time before Raz and I had to get to the airport.

To fill the void, we started heading to Yan and Deb’s hotel room for some sake, but were stopped short as we passed by and subsequently turned and entered a tea shop offering tastings. I am unsure how long we really spent there, but we must have gone through a series of at least 10 different teas to taste and walked out of the shop with a few bags of leaves and a LOT more knowledge than we entered with. In typical 3DC that serendipitous and yet random tasting experience proved to be another of the highlights of my weekend.

Followed closely to the tea tasting was enjoying the view from Yan and Deb’s hotel room while we all imbibed in some sake that they happened to have left over from earlier in the weekend. And damned if those two don’t have impeccable taste in sake. It was such a treat and wonderful way to close out our weekend in the city.

Of course, like every year, our weekend must come to an end, and with that Raz and I headed back to the hotel and made our way to Oakland airport on BART. Sadly, our normal drinking spot was under renovation, so we were forced to have a final drink at the Chili’s in the airport once we’d made it past security.

The flight home was only endurable by virtue of the complimentary wine Alaska provides. Otherwise the oversold flight would have been torturous, as I had the ill-fortune of an aisle seat making even a nap a difficult proposition in a small CRJ-700.

Sadly, once I returned home, it was back to the grind stone of work. Because things have been so busy for me, it really has taken me nearly a month to finish this write-up with any sense of completeness. I know there are a ton of stories I am forgetting at this point, but in all honesty, I just don’t have the wherewithal to write anymore even if I could remember them.

Stay tuned…. I am still hopeful that Raz and Fergus will finish their own write-ups one of these days. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll all get to experience the frivolity that is 2 giggling adult men at 3am after far too much whisky.