7pm To Your Health

I arrive at my destination a little late, the result of a touch too much excitement at the card shop. It’s alright; I know some people at a table on the right and there’s a game in progress so I can stroll on up for my beer, if you will. I decide (after a horrific sampling of Gilgamesh’s Cranberry Saison, truly an affront to liquid everywhere) upon Leavenworth’s Whistling Pig Hefe.

And that’s when I see Sparky. Back when I was doing the 52 Weeks theme, I saw him all the time; big dude with a beard to make ZZ Top envious and John Lennon sunglasses, he seemed like one of those men who was probably pretty low key in most areas of his life, but at a social place like a bar flourished. He likes beer, conversation, is pretty damn smart and affable: what’s not to dig on? A rarity at Bailey’s; he doesn’t seem to care so much about which beer he’s drinking, so long as it’s good and the staff have figured out his tastes (IPAs, for the most part.)

So I over to say hi and catch up. He tells me about his job, which is going well, so well that he was able to visit a dentist to get a bunch of work done, and a doctor for the first time in seven years. The nurse checks his blood pressure. Then a doctor (and my eyebrows go up.) Then another doctor (‘oh, shit’.) THEN an E.K.G. machine.

‘Holy christ, dude!’

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “turns out my BP was 180/10 and I didn’t know what that meant at the time but it turns out they thought I was having a heart attack on the spot.”

‘But you’re…’ I gesture to him

“Oh yeah,” he says, waving it off, “I wouldn’t be telling you about it if everything wasn’t kosher. I’m just one of those dudes who’s prone to hypertension. Some meds, and I’m alright.”

Damn.

So I tell him what’s going on with me (moving, etc), he reassures me that in “six months, when all the piddly shit is done, you’ll love it,” which is good to know.

To your health, sir; may you keep it long.

52 Weeks 49: Leavenworth Nosferatu

I pretty much had to get this beer because of the name. Next week it just wouldn’t be as much fun to drink.

Tho’ honestly, it’s not that much fun to drink right now. For a red ale it feels a little thin in the body and has quite the bitter punctuation afterward. I can’t help but think that I’m just missing something with this beer, though. Maybe it’s intentionally tilted towards IPAs? But neglecting the body of a red ale-that just seems out of whack, you know? I realize the name is something to live up to, but I’d rather sink my teeth into this beer than have it the other way around.

I’m drinking it in a hurry, so I can have another. I don’t feel I can be blamed for this.

Reflecting generally makes me pensive. Birthdays, New Year’s Eve, anniversaries; I tend to look at  things in such a way that tilts toward the grim. I’m going to try and change this for the coming event. I can’t say that things have turned out the way I thought they would when I started this project but I’d like to try and frame my viewpoint in a way that lets me see the benefits this time.

If change is a constant in the Universe (and let’s just say that it is) then that makes the rough times easier to endure, the better days sweeter to enjoy, and maybe the ability to let it all be what it is and let it go when things are said and done. I don’t mean to get too metaphysical; some of the hard truths of my unemployment are there right in front of my audience. But it isn’t all bad and I would like to approach the next three weeks with that in mind. 

A man just walked into the joint, navy blue fleece with a white logo on the back and a baseball cap, unhappily demanding a shot with a $100 bill. When he found out there was no liquor to have, he bought someone at the bar a drink in an exasperated way, tipped five bucks, and left. Outside the bar he had what appeared to be a fruitless discussion with another man in a white jacket and baseball cap (but no blue logo, which would’ve been delicious) and disappeared. 

In comparison, I’m having a pretty good night as I happened to be at the bar when this gentleman ordered his drink, so I got the beer. A Hale’s fresh hop ale, which is smooth and biscuity. His loss is certainly my gain, so I’m giving a little ‘thanks, man’ to that random stranger. Someday I’ll have $100 to break and by god I’ll buy someone a beer with it. 

And finally, a brief apology to my readers; I had Friday’s post all set up and I just forgot to publish it. Of course, this comes right after I have a conversation with Jim about respecting your audience. The timing is perfect, right? Just like when the color announcer in a football game tells you that the Seahawks haven’t thrown an interception all game, you just know that the next play Hass is tossing it to someone he shouldn’t. 

Ah well. I’ll post it soon.