The Myth & The Majesty

This is a beer with a story. Almost a year ago, my parents went to Tacoma, Washington, for a conference along with several of Dad's cohorts. One of said cohorts -- who is not a beer guy -- won a rather pretty stainless steel growler filled with beer. Remember that part where I said it was almost a year ago? Yeah, keep that in mind. Dad went to another conference this week (a local one this time) and that same guy was there. And he'd brought along his gifted growler. "Hey, I know you like this kind of stuff ... Why don't you take this?" When he got home, we all had a pretty good laugh at the (again, rather pretty) growler and speculated about the beer. A year old in a growler? Probably not going to be a great experience, even though the guy was sure to point out that he'd kept it in the fridge this whole time. Guess what? It's delicious. Seriously, really tasty. A clean IPA with a smooth finish and ... I'm impressed. And as impressed as I

When I was a kid, my parents moved a lot, but I always found them. - Rodney Dangerfield You know what? This isn't a fun topic. I don't enjoy moving. I am well aware that I am not alone in that feeling, and perhaps that's why I've struggled for the last four weeks to finish this dumb post. From the packing and the loading and the cleaning to the more packing and loading and cleaning, it's a tedious, un-fun activity. Sure, there are high points (the rediscovery of lost things can be fun, and I enjoyed the heck out of purging entire boxes of stuff) but in the end you're still exhausted and your things are still in disarray. And my stuff? It's all in disarray. If you're lucky, you then get to take said things to a new place and begin undoing all that work you just did. If you're not lucky, said things sit and wait, hopefully in a place that's dry and relatively temperature-controlled. (If you're really unlucky... well, use your ima

[I wrote this a couple months ago but didn't immediately publish, for reasons which will soon become clear.] It's November and my life is about to change. It's my second day in Denver. Lakewood, actually, right this second -- although I haven't stopped moving since I got here. The weather is still unseasonably warm and Thanksgiving is a week and a half away. I've found my way to another coffee joint -- five bucks gets a bagel and coffee, the rental fee to sit still for a bit to process the week. I'm trying to figure out how to quit my job. I've been offered a job in Denver that I cannot turn down. It's a return to the engineering I so desperately miss. Even better, it's in a town I've been wanting to move to since I was 22, staring at the world with wide, unfocused eyes. This trip didn't start that way. Originally, I was coming down to visit Alaska and take a break. The camp had me stressing out and after getting an earful, he'