Flights & Fanciness.

What's better than enjoying a beer with your loved ones? Enjoying THREE beers with your loved ones!

(Or, if you are under age 21, enjoying a glass of juice and a jolly conversation with your loved ones.

(Or, if you are under age 21 and have diabetes, enjoying a glass of juice and a shot of insulin and a jolly conversation with your loved ones.

(Or, if you are under age 21 and have diabetes and hope to go into a diabetic coma so you can meet a handsome ER doctor, enjoying a glass of juice that you have spiked with a few packets of sugar and a jolly conversation with your loved ones and the fact that you are still on your loved ones' insurance plan.)))

I had the privilege of enjoying what they call a "flight" of beers at a restaurant with no fewer than three of your grandparents not long ago, and it about made my eyes pop out of my head. Luckily, they did not. And if they had, there was a good chance they would have landed in a glass of beer, which would have killed the germs. RIGHT? RIGHT??

Staying Hydrated.

As you well know, children, staying hydrated is an important part of having a happy and healthy vacation. Just to make sure we're all on the same page, let's review what exactly hydration means.

"Hydrate" comes from the name of the Greek monster "Hydra," who flailed wildly in the water and grew two new heads any time one of its heads was cut off. That is why today, when people drink a lot, they lose control of their limbs and see double.

We in the Lemieux / Clark / Garrity clan work hard at staying hydrated, no matter what the circumstances.

And we're not at all particular about where our hydration comes from, so long as it does not come from the tap.

Disclaimer: Please hydrate responsibly. Operating a motor vehicle while overly hydrated can lead to getting really mixed up about directions and also crashes. If you're expecting a child, go ahead an hydrate, as long as you're expecting that child for dinner or an afternoon playdate. If you're pregnant (and I hope you'd tell me if you were!), don't even think about hydrating (unless you're French, in which case you can probably drink a glass of wine every now and then without people totally freaking out at you).

The Curious Case of the Fancy Beer.

Your father is not usually a fancy man. But every now and then, he'll surprise me with some unexpectedly fancy behavior. This weekend, for example, he was drinking a perfectly un-fancy Schlafly pilsner. Normal, right?

But then he poured it into an absurdly fancy glass and started sipping it like a lady-man.

And I was like, huh?

 

P.S. What's that bowl of bean dippy-looking stuff in the background? What's boiling on the stove? Check back tomorrow for all the juicy details about the dinner that began in the pantry and ended in tradgedy... the Case of the Ugly Dunklings*.

*Yes, I know standard English calls this food "dumplings." But sometimes I like to switch "dump" and "dunk." It's pretty fun, kids. You should try it.

How to Beat the Corporations at Their Own Game.

Children. In case your father and I are dead and you are forced to live on your own without telling any adults about your predicament, rather than risk being separated in the state's foster care system, I have some important advice for you.

When washing the clothes, please note that the corporations that make laundry detergent try to trick you into using far more than you need for a single load by making caps much larger than a "single serving" of detergent.

Proof: this diagram included (in a very out-of-the-way place) on the back of a detergent bottle.


So save yourselves some serious money. Only use a fraction of the detergent, and get your clothes just as clean.


Another way to feel as if you are beating corporations at their own game is to put on pajamas and drink a beer in the middle of the afternoon, while rereading a favorite novel, even though you feel as if you should read one of the thousands of great novels that you haven't yet read.


I don't know if this has any actual effect on the corporations, but I'll let you know as more research becomes available.

Meet Your Grandparents! (Lemieux Edition)

You know how your maternal grandparents are in the future, but you've probably wondered what they were like in the past (or, for me, the present). So here's an overview of what everyday life was like for Cindy and Albert (whom you will undoubtedly call some cute-but-kind-of-annoying names coined by Auntie Danielle's older and more precocious children and about which I harbor not the least bit of resentment, even though she has always gotten to do everything first because she's older and a part of me maybe thought we would outgrow that at some point in our lives).


First of all, it's important to know that Cindy's hands get cold easily. Luckily, Albert has uncommonly warm armpits, so if they stick together, they can both achieve something like a reasonable temperature. And isn't that what true love is all about?

Secondly, your grandfather has a real fondness for measuring. He can hardly enter a new room without taking down its dimensions, in case he might need them in the future to resize a piece of furniture or make adjustments to his tax records.


Third, it should be noted that your mother's abiding love for beer can be traced directly to these two*.


Finally, I feel it is my duty as a communicator of truth to confess that your grandfather is so averse to the thought of waste that, upon removing a cracked wooden toilet seat from a bathroom in his house, he added said seat to the fireplace, that it might have a second life as part of our heating fuel.


I wish that incident had been a dream, but alas! When I awakened the next morning, my digital images offered no such balm to my mind. I hope this post gave you some things to think about, children. Like maybe how it might be kind of nice if it turns out we adopted you.


*I almost typed "these two lushes," but if they're both lushes, wouldn't that make me a double lush? And lord only knows what that makes you, children. Wait a second. Where did you say you were going tonight with Poni and Coaster**?

**Based on current trends, I can only assume children's names will get weirder and weirder in the future.

Everyday Lifer in the Big City (Part 2).

After a long day of intellectualism* in the garden**, my friends and I retired to an apartment, where we nourished our bodies with wheatgrass pellets and purified water.



We then engaged in a pastime that was all the rage just then (2012): gazing into devices for hours.




Except me. The whole thing mostly just confused me, actually. But I'm not from the big city.



*drinking
**beer garden

Everyday Lifer in the Big City (Part 1).

Children, I missed a day of informing you about my life. But with good reason: I spent the last four days in New York City, which was known as "The Big Apple" to people who had never been there until it was washed into the sea by global warming.

The first stop on my grand visit was a day of work, because life is not all fun and games, children. Here I am doing my freelance writing while a cat befriends me despite my clear dislike for her. (Her name is Mister Schweems, which caused me a great deal of confusion, but she is, in fact, female.)

This is your Auntie Lucia, grading her students' papers. How studious are we!


But once the work had been dispensed with, the (real) fun began.


My friends and I visited a rooftop beer garden so fancy I had no choice but to wear a feathered fascinator to fit in!


And of course, fit in I did. For this was no ordinary beer garden. It was an intellectual beer garden. As you can see.

An Adventure.

I know I don't write much on this blog about what goes on outside the confines of our humble home, but if I'm honest, children, we actually do leave the house on a daily basis (for the most part). For example, just the other day, we left to pick up some choice beverages at the liquor store.


Immediately upon going outside, your father noticed something bright and glorious in the night's sky.


"What could it be?" said he.
"Why, that must be Venus and Jupiter, dancing their 'beautiful waltz' in the heavens," said I.
"But how canst thou know this?" said he.
"Forsooth, I did hear of these events while listening to NPR," said I.


Truly, the planets were things of beauty to behold. And so was the beer we got. Only some of us had a little trouble trying to get it to work properly.





Siiiigh.

Your Father Is Home!

After his trip to Tulsa, your father returned safely and soundly to our abode on Saturday night. And naturally, there was nothing he wanted to do more than unwind with... a beer and a bourbon? Really? At the same time, John?


Okay, sorry. I didn't mean anything by it.


(Sheesh.)

A Cautionary Tale (Re: Moderation).

Dear children: I mention on this blog from time to time that I have a taste for a certain alcoholic beverage made with hops and yeast. But sometimes I get carried away and enjoy a biiiit too much of that lovely drink.

And here's what happens the next morning.

So, children, consider yourself warned. Nobody wants to spend the whole day in the fetal position inches away from where she tore off her party clothes the night before (see armrest) in her haste to get into pajamas, especially if she lives with the kind of person who would (admittedly after offering to get her popsicles and bringing her water) document that situation.

Gloves are off, John. You better not do anything you don't want the whole Internet seeing.

In the Spirit of the Season...

Happy Valentine's Day, children! In honor of the day, I'll write about three of the things I love most: your father, beer, and poems.

1. I like my beer opposite of how I like my men: stout, dark, and rich.

2. What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it swells! How it dwells on the Future! -- how it tells of the rapture that impels to the swinging and the ringing of the bells, bells, bells*...

3. Look at that. Not only does your father wash dishes like a champ, he makes them tessellate in the drying rack. Am I a lucky lady, or what?


4. ...to the rhyming and the chiming of the bells*.



* My apologies to Edgar Poe.

Some Verse.

Two poets, both alike in dignity,

In my fair kitchen, where I lay my scene,

From liquor store and from the grocery,

One is a beer and one is tea that’s green.

From forth the tasty drops of these two drinks

Another poet finds her will to write;

Why wake at all without these two, methinks?

And how to start the day or end the night?

The quaffing of your mother’s constant thirst,

And the clearing of her brain’s daily smog,

Which happens in the early morning first,

Is now this entry’s traffic of her blog.

(And you thought poetry was dull and bland—

Not when it springs forth from your mother’s hand!)

Beer Bottles Get Cold, Too.

Most parents would sound the horn of complaint when it comes to the mismatched socks all dryers seem to leave behind. Not us, though. Why? Because we've figured out a way to put those socks to use AND make everyone's life better (and no, I'm not talking about sock puppets, though I can see why you assumed that).


See? One easy maneuver and Mom's hands stay warm while she drinks AND the surface of the dryer gets that much less cluttered. I don't like to throw the word "genius" around, mostly because this was your dad's invention.


But I guess that just means I married a genius.