The Moment of Truth

After four weeks of spine-tingling anticipation and anxious glances, today was the day of reckoning. Would all the time, tears, patience, and smelly green things lead to fruition in the form of a delectable alcoholic beverage? Or would it all be for naught, that one sneaky dog hair having ruined the entire precious batch? It all came down to this.

We held our breath as the lid was pried open. The hiss of escaping pressure was a reassuring sign; so was the clear amber color as Carl poured the first glass. "Smells like beer", he said after a tentative whiff. Then he took a swig and I swear to you the man started to glow. A grin broke out from ear to ear that would put the Cheshire cat to shame. Beaming triumphantly, holding the glass aloft, he crowed, "I've made beer! And it's damn good, too! I am AWESOME!" Congratulations, Carl, on joining the illustrious ranks of the Homebrew Army; your mom and I are both very proud of you.

The rest of the week wasn't nearly as eventful. I went to school, Carl recovered from a head cold, and Bubba moped at home. It was once again sunny this weekend so we took Bubba for a hike up in the hills behind town, catching glimpses of Mt. McLoughlin over the far edge of the valley and following deer trails through the woods. Back at home we made blue cheese burgers with locally raised beef, cheese from the next town over, and bread baked down the street. Everything's better in Ashland.