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May 09, 2003

Smuttynose Portsmouth Lager

The beer of the night, of course, which Meryl probably thought was gone for ever and good riddance, Meryl not caring too much for the general theme, you see. Hopefully she, and you, shouldn't forget you, it would be rude, is a fan of complicated sentence structure. Yep, nothing like archaic sentence construction and ill-informed ruminations on alcohol to really spike the traffic numbers.

To be fair, though, the beer of the night posts are almost never strictly about the beer, serving instead as a catch-all for the unthemed, (sadly unthemed, to my mind) events of the day. I sent them on sabbatical due to reasons of the clock and the pocketbook, there not being enough time in the day to get around to them for a while, nor enough money in the wallet for me to afford a new beer to review every night.

Also, many beers come in six packs, as you might have heard, and while I was reviewing one bottle its five brethren were taking up space in the elderly dorm refrigerator that has been my unofficial beer cooler for the past ten years.

"Make room! Make room," they cried. Later they cried "Make water! Make water," but that's a story for another time, a time I'm sure will never come.

As well, rare beers, even the singles, cost a shocking amount, so there have been times when I was faced with a soul-rending choice between beer and a new picture book for Ngnat, or beer and a new book with altogether too few pictures for myself.

I've learned to patronize the library again. < shudder >. Ngnat always has to go potty there, and nothing gives me the heebie jeebies more than sitting her down on public toilets. I feel that I now know a little something of what Howard Hughes went through, just before the end.

As far as time goes, mine has been cut short by a woman who insists on nesting constantly. Were we ospreys, the nest would have passed amphitheater size long ago. Last saturday I mowed the lawn, went to the nursery, returned and planted new azaleas, hydrangeas, snapdragons, some tall purplish things and mint that I snuck in for juleps later in the summer, put together the extremely complicated wheel barrow gifted to me by the father-in-law, dumped leftover dirt into the creases of the hill behind the house, extended the brick edging for the plant beds around the house, staked roses and sanded down Ngnat's new bookcase. There was also a major trip to the grocery store in there somewhere.

I worked like a Mexican. I also ate like a Mexican, having asked the staff at the nursery where they had gotten the odd yet delicious looking lunch they were partaking of. After initial translation difficulties, they pointed me towards the new carniceria on 55, carniceria evidently meaning "bunch of gigantic latinos who stare impassively at gringos who try to order take out".

I had something with "carnitas" in the description, and a Senorial, a non-alcoholic carbonated Sangria. Both were excellent.

This weekend,so far, there will be more, I am to steam clean the carpets, upstairs and down, as well as at least one sofa. There's also the outdoor floodlights over the garage to replace, and the bookcase to finish. It at least is almost done, needing just a final smoothing of the paint before I take it to Ngnat's room. Its initial appearance was a shock to Mrs. Pregnant, I having treated her as Bush does Congress and bought it with neither advice nor consent, but it solves the picture book on the floor at night problem in Ngnat's room that had been driving her to distraction. Her being the Sainted Wife, rather than Ngnat, who is perfectly happy having everything at hand in case a book is needed in the wee hours of the morning. The color, a lovely dark pink that the can calls English Tea Rose, has done its job in mollifying her as well.

Not that it matches anything else in Ngnat's room, mind you. I need this baby to come before that gets noticed.

Posted by Bigwig at May 9, 2003 01:05 AM | TrackBack
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