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May 20, 2003

Sierra Nevada Pale Ale

One of the oldest and certainly one of the best U.S. craft beers, not to mention one of the world's must-taste beers according to All About Beer Magazine. No idea how many are on the list, but I've had 59 of them. I'm tempted to print it out and keep it as a field guide.

The sainted wife and I stayed home home today at the behest of her uterus, which had kept one of us up all night playing "On your mark, get set, never mind!" until the wee hours of the morning. In case you're wondering, that person was not me. I slept like a baby, albeit one who had an cranky mother, a mother who woke it every hour or so to express her dissatisfaction with what I assume were things like the state of the bedsheets, the ambient temperature, or the Middle East. I woke only to the level of a dim semi-conciousness, one where I could respond without actually having to think. I learned to communicate effectively while not actually waking up ages ago, in college. It's amazing what a well timed "Ngh?" or "Yunh!" can do to make a woman think one is paying attention to a particular conversation in the middle of the night.

Or at high tea, for that matter.

So we stayed at home, in case "hurry up and wait" became "gotta go this instant". We'd long ago decided that the best possible baby scenario would be to have Ngnat at daycare when her brother arrived, so off she went. And back she came, in the late afternoon, to a house totally free from new brothers. No sudden discovery of sibling rivalry, no trip to the hospital to see the ruination of all her hopes and dreams. We went to the library, instead, where I assiduously searched for picture books where the author, in a fit of uncreative desperation, had decided "the hell with the words, I'm tired of the words, I'm just going to use a public domain children's song instead."

Most of these are by the children's book equivalent of Neal Adams -- "Draw Pretty, Write Bad!", but Ngnat loves them nonetheless, demanding one of them be read/sung to her as the last book before bedtime. We've covered Baa, Baa Black Sheep, Yankee Doodle and Down By The Station, among others. They're not real easy to find; it's not like the library has whole shelves devoted to the genre.

We watched a little league practice after the library. Ngnat insisted. She likes watching the tweener boys play ball, which is exactly what she calls it. She also likes climbing on the bleachers, at least until she falls, whereupon she cries and the other parents looked at me as if I had been shoving bamboo splinters underneath her nails. I picked her up and carry her back to the car, back to the new books for the library and the sucker she had carefully stowed sticky side down on the back seat.

From her perch against my chest, head carefully tucked into the hollow of my neck" "You're my best friend, Daddy."

Yes, very sweet, but she also tells her mom that at the drop of a hat, especially when it's close to bedtime. She tells the toddlers she plays with in the library the same. She assures the cats that, come what may, they are tops in her list.

Of course, with me, she means it.

Posted by Bigwig at May 20, 2003 12:34 AM | TrackBack
Postscript:
First time visitor to House Hraka? Wondering if everything we produce could possibly be as brilliant/stupid/evil/pedantic/insipid/inspired as the post you just read? Check out the Hraka Essentials, the (mostly) reader-selected guide to Hraka's best posts, and decide for yourself.
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