Shoes, Ships, and Sealing Wax

Swing

Last night we went to the brew pub "down the street" (it is actually about 3 1/2 miles away, but only two turns) to hear a swing band. My sister and brother-in-law were going because my BIL knows the trombone player.

I'm very glad we went. The band was good (I'd have called them more R&B than swing...but that's a distiction that's probably too fine to worry about), the food was good, the beer was good. I don't dance a bit, but that didn't stop me from making fun of the people who did...they were a rhythym-less, soul-less bunch. All the men looked like middle-aged orthodontists and the women looked like...I dunno, orthodontists' wives who'd just gotten their hair done. The kind of women who wear khaki slacks, twin sets, and loafers to the grocery store.

What I mean is, upper class respectable people. Not like me.

The brewery had a summer brew on tap, a wheat blueberry that I thought was quite nice. A definite chick beer; I haven't met very many men who appreciate such sweetness in beer. BIL said it tasted like a blueberry muffin, but then he's a IPA fan...hoppier the better...while I want malt. They also brew a stout I'll have to try, but at 6-something percent alcohol, it will have to be an earlier evening. I had trouble making it to 11 pm without falling asleep as it was, but I did. After the last several weeks, it was quite an accomplishment. Kinda affirming, in a way.