And what’s with an IPA called Grave Dancer not being piney and dank? Feels like a missed opportunity.
I got the Grave Dancer, though, because one of my Grandmas died last week, and my sense of humor has this strike me as funny.
It’s weird, because I live in a culture where my fucking ex-girlfriend from high school can find out where I live, but I lost touch with someone who was kind to me for the first twenty years of my life. At a time when kindness seemed to be in short supply.
So I feel unsettled about that. My sister put some clarity on the subject for me, when she told me ‘Grandma Mary was the only one (of our grandparents) who was into being a grandparent.’
Right. Everyone else was…not into being a grandparent. I don’t blame them entirely: as an uncle, I don’t know how to be an uncle. There haven’t been any classes on it, and I don’t think I’m very good at it. I certainly try my best, but there is undoubtedly a gap between what a good uncle does and what I do.
But Grandma Mary was into being a grandparent and I will miss her.
As the Dancer warms up, it feels as little less sharp. Not exactly sweeter, but not as intense, either.
Glass two runs the same flavor profile. I appreciate the skill it takes to do that; I am not as thrilled with the guava flavor, coupled with the lack of depth but the Grave Dancer isn’t a bad beer by any means. Instead, it’s a great example of a beer that is not for me, but definitely for someone else.
Today’s second pint is put on hold, due to my credit card being hacked. We’ll get back to it next week.