Marmalade Daydreams

Alright, so I may have had lofty ambitions for that last post, but they've long since dissolved back into their component neurotransmitters, awaiting the next stir of the neural swizzle stick. Let it simply be said that it's been a week of surpassing goals that I set for myself, from making tele-turns down the sheer face of High Rustler to outperforming my target score on the GREs. Sunday night, to clear a little room in our brew-fridge, making space for my espresso-infused Imperial Aspirations Stout I bottled before Utah (which I've avowed to be the last batch I make without fresh ingredients), I finished the last 4 ounces of the first beer I'd ever made, Steiny's Trippel Threat, brewed almost exactly a year ago. It was seriously good; it had matured from a citrusy, spicy abbey-style ale into almost a barley-wine; flavors of port rose up that I rarely find even in the strong ales of the best breweries. Quite happy. Happy enough that I can put off griping about a dentist stealing the leadership of Turkmenistan and fantasize about Iranian ski vacations until I'm a little less exhausted. Bedtime.