Strange brew.
Who cares how time advances? I’m drinking ale today.
Know who said that?
Edgar Alan Poe.
It sounds much more poetic this way. Originally, this post would have been titled something like, “White Trash Sunday” or “What Would Homer Simpson Do?”
But alas. We are sooo much more refined than WTS or WWHSD. So much so, in fact, that our across-the-street-neighbor came over to ask, “Just exactly what are you guys doing?” That could have been because at that particular point in time, we had pulled the hard plastic blue kiddie swimming pool out of the belly of the garage and filled it so we could cool our feet AND the beer cooker in the driveway, while sitting in lawn chairs.
Oh dear.
It was WTS.
But a very fun WTS. Hank taught some friends how to brew beer. And there were many contributors. From our neighbor, Paul, some hops.
And from the home brew store, some more hops. But not freshies, like those up there.
Some manly stirring utensils and an operator or two,
And of course, the typical discussion of the nutritional value of and physical characteristics formulated into beer. While eating guacamole.
And finally, the praying over the beer, for its safe two- or three-week journey from primary to secondary, and finally into the keg.
We sure know how to spend a Sunday. We polished off the day with a festival of wings and BBQ a little later, summing up the day over conversations of ayurveda and deadlifts.
Oh yeah. We cover it all, man.
