Pressure Drop

Pressure Drop

 

The “Weather Channel” has started naming winter storms.  I don’t want that kind of acquaintance with weather systems.

It snowed 8 inches today after raining all night.  The street, the drive, the walk, and the yard are turning into a chunk of ice in the overnight temp of 8 degrees.

I’m inside with Toots and the Maytals, Robert Palmer, UB40, and Big Mama Thornton.  My damaged knee won’t hold me up to dance anymore, but I’m doing my best.

When the barometric pressure drops the knee hurts.  The only response is a little music and a sure faith in the springtime.

On a totally unrelated note:

Take a look at the web site for Huntsman Tailors on Saville Row London.  They  inspired the “Kingsman” shop. 

Craft Be Cherished, Rules Be Damned

Craft Be Cherished, Rules Be Damned

cbcrbd

Not exactly what you expect to be printed on a beer bottle cap is it?

Last night’s Du Claw ” Bare Ass Blonde” brew  delivered its tiny homily like a kick the head.

I’ve been living clamped so tightly on the edge of pain, following orders, prescriptions, rules, that I haven’t had time for craft.  Writing craft, ink craft, silver work, or the simple craft of living life.

That bottle cap  now has a magnet on the back of it.  When the glue is dry it’s going on the fridge door.

At my worktable I took another moment and reloaded my favorite fountain pen.  Why write with a scabby ball point when a whole rack of luxurious pens and beautiful inks are sitting on the desk in the next room?

Nothing Beats A Bare Ass Blonde

Nothing Beats A Bare Ass Blonde

Du Claw Brewing’s Blonde Babe

After a long dry spell, I’m finally able to enjoy beer again.  Instead of small smile of a return to normalcy tonight’s hopeful trip to the newly renovated package goods store in the strip mall left me a bit befuddled.

 

Instead of finding a cold 6 pack of Killian’s Red I was confronted with row upon row of bizarrely named beers, ales, and ciders.  Then there were to ‘soda pop mixed drinks in a can’.  What ever happened to Jack and Coke?   Who want’s to drink something named “Sweet Baby Jesus?”  When I was in college it was “Screaming purple Jesus” and it was made in a new 30 gallon trash can with grape cool aid and grain alcohol.  Now it is a chocolate peanut butter stout.  What the hell?

There were brews by every pun based piratical name.  There were brews named after tires.There were brews named for dogs and their every .  There were brews named about  I don’t want to spend my evening with a good book and anything called “Old Leg Humper”!  Not unless he looks like Johnny Depp and takes turns reading to me in between humps.

 

Luckily for me the store stocked bottled offerings from the Baltimore based Du Claw Brewing Company.  Even though they are the purveyors of “Sweet Baby Jesus” they also still make “Bare Ass Blonde”, a nice pale ale with a little tingle to it.  My favorite Du Claw beer is “Misfit Red” but they’ve kept that on tap only.  It’s also too early in the season for “Mysterium” Belgian spiced ale.

 

When the weather breaks I am going to have to crawl out of my snowbank and make a trip to the local “Du Claw” brew pub  for a growler of something good.

 

Downtown Trains, Sleet, Sunday Night

Downtown Trains, Sleet, Sunday Night

Last blog posts were so long ago.  Seems like another lifetime.  Looking back I’ve had this blog through several lifetimes.  It started out learning HTML.  then it became a place to silently scream about watching someone die of Alzheimer’s disease,  then it became a healing tool when I wrote every day for a year about the automotive distraction that is “Top Gear”.

 

Then I came down with a serious bout of thyroid failure and  forgot about this place entirely.

The arrival of the domain name bill shook me back into paying attention.

Since I don’t think there is a living soul that  comes by this dusty corner of the web anymore,,I think it’s time to pick it up again.  Time to heal from the latest learning experience that life has handed. out.

 

Although the calendar says it is March,sleet and snow are piling up outside and tomorrow will be a convivial folly of tossing ice melt at an ice house explosion.

 

Tonight is a night for rummaging through the fridge looking for the last ale and finding only a jar of  “Moonshine Cherries”  leftover from a Christmas party.  It’s about shuffling through old playlists and remembering Rod Steward in his leopard skin spandex phase.  It’s about laughing at the new Reunite wine commercials on television.  It’s about remembering someone saying to me. “You know my money and your money could be so happy together.”

Here’s to you, here’s to me and for what we foresee…………..