Been a few days...

Well today I bottled 2 cases of a 3-hop IPA, and bagged up 118 wings to marinate for the contest on Saturday. I have a couple leads in the job hunt, but nothing that's knocking my socks off just yet. Since I promised twice and haven't delivered I'll give a brief recount here of my first tangible memory. I hope this is at least a bit entertaining, if not the glimpse into my early psyche that I'm sure you all are hoping for...

When I was just about to turn three, my parents went to take a look at at house that they would eventually buy. I know that they seriously considered another house, one that was located on a farm, but the location and affordability, along with a certain amount of charm helped this 3 bedroom brick ranch win the day. The house is located on an acre of wooded property, half of which is a steep hill from the front porch down to the the street. The back half is cleared in the center with a barn, and at the time, a compost heap/dog-run sans dogs. Like I said, it was quite charming. My memory consists of seeing the house for the first time, and going into the backyard where a little boy was playing with a fire engine. This wasn't your average toy, this was a beautiful thing that people are too dumb to manufacture anymore. Not only could you sit in the fire engine, but it had pedals! It also had a ladder that could be elevated and turned with the help of a couple nifty looking cranks. The best part - all metal! My little heart raced in anticipation. I wanted to get in that thing and take off, sirens blazing! My guess is that the other child was about three or four also because he wasn't having a bit of the whole sharing thing. I asked my parents if I could go in the fire engine and they said that I had to ask permission from the little boy. He said maybe when he was finished. I knew that we didn't have all day - my parents weren't going to wait around just so I could have a turn on the most awesome piece of machinery I had heretofore laid my eyes on. I distinctly remember asking why his parents didn't make him share. My parents explained that he didn't have to and then the rest dissolves into a haze of frustration and tears.

What strikes me now is the absence of my brother from this memory. Knowing him, he might have thrown the kid out of the fire engine just to teach him a lesson, but I've never remembered him being there, and he doesn't remember it either. Pity my parents aren't around to ask...

Well that's the first therapy session, not too explicit or painful, those memories will surface as time progresses. Stay tuned for news of the contest, (again Saturday from 12-2 at Sweetbytes in Ambler, PA) and I'll most probably be cooking something tasty for Mother's day.

Cheers!