I haven’t fully addressed the changes in layout, but yes: there have been several. I have a friend who tells me I have to keep things minimal and be true to my art.
But this friend needs to realize that blogging, while fun, rewarding, relatively low in doucheness, and creative outlet that it is, also needs certain things to survive.
Certain garish, I’m-listed-on-such-and-such a thingy type of things that –unless you’re an accomplished web designer– are going to look at least a wee bit cluttered.
But anyway– yes. I have three columns still but now both are pushed to the far right in every way except core beliefs. I tried to put as much graphic-related stuff in the far right one. So, how’s it lookin’? Does it take forever to load? Is it cleaner? Easier to navigate? Do tell.
Not so many words, but a few action shots of Monsieur Meow’s latest Enterprise of Oomph: making beer!!
That’s right: we’re having an urban boho moment of sorts, listening to some Afro-Caribbean discoey jazzy thing, chillin’ out after having made yeast into more than just fun-guys, and with cute baby sitting back and eating "appoh" –or "maZAHna!" when he’s feeling ambitious.
Feel free to barf, although you are warned: the beer actually came out pretty good.
Behold a few Meowhold scenes:
This, kids, was the yeasty sediment that was at the bottom of the brewing barrel. Yummy.
To be honest, this was a strange process to behold. One of the things that kept going through my mind is the fact that somehow someone had to spit into ancient barrels of grain or something, so that yeasties would sprout up and do their thing.
And that would be a spigot, chiding that when it points to the right, it is, in fact, closed.
Which, funny enough, seems to be kind of a theme for today.
Anyhoo…. yes. That’s a funny little plastic spigot and it was very useful and handy and whatnot except for when we got to the last inch and a half of liquid. Then it was pretty useless.
Aren’t you glad you now know this fact?
The beauty of bottling.
I’m telling you– it was fun.
Do you like my mediocre action shot? I like it.
We filled forty-five bottles. My fingers are beer-pruny. Should I be worried about my hands being intoxicated?
What about the counter? Many droplets of beer met an untimely demise and brave comrades were lost. I would have licked the counter, but I didn’t.
These are the things I might later regret disclosing, huh?
And finally, the bottles answer to a Higher Authority, thus having much in common with Hebrew National hot dogs, which oddly enough sound really good about now, even though I had quite a filling dinner.
Nothing fancy, no. Just pasta and sauce and meatballs and salad, really, — simple stuff. But yummy and filling, yes.
Don’t they look like they are holy bottles, somehow? Humor me.
And now off to two or so weeks of r&r for these beauties, while the carbonation kicks in and it really fully tastes as sparkly as the beer we all know and love. Wooo!
There you have it: BEER.
This blog post probably knocked a couple points off your IQ score but seriously– you my dear readers can spare a few points. Britney Spears? Not so much.
Auf wiedersehen. I shall fade to the sound of polka tonight.