FU 2014!!!

Each year after all the drama and chaos that comes with end of the year holidays and associated festivities we anxiously look forward to the do over/fresh start of the New Year.   We think back on the year remembering all the good times, not so good times, what we did, didn't do, and wish we did.   We then vow to make changes so that the New Year is even better than the last.  It is will also be the year we follow through with all our resolutions.

My 2013 was beyond hectic and crazy, not only did the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas seem incredibly short, but my brewer-husband, Kevin, was consumed with all the plans, permitting, equipment, and construction that was (is) needed for the brewery in addition to working his full time job.  He had little or no time for our everyday home life responsibilities.   The majority of responsibilities we used to share then fell on me to do (..and still does) along with me working my full time job.   I was more than ready for a New Year. 

   

After all the Christmas presents had been opened and I could finally sit back and relax, I too started reflecting on things that had happened over the year.  It was then I declared that 2013 would be “that  year “.   You know the year, the one that when your old and you and your spouse will reminisce and laugh and make comments like “ it is a wonder we survived without killing each other”.  Unlike 2013, 2014 would be the year that I would finally be organized, it would be less chaos, less stress, laundry done routinely, I would blog regularly, and of course I would do the obligatory  lose weight, exercise, and get healthy.   Goodbye chaos and stress, hello carefree, organized and sexier me (from the weight loss, exercise, and getting healthy).   

 It became very clear 90 days into 2014 that 2014 had no intention on allowing 2013 to take “that year” in my history title.   Not only did 2014 trump 2013 for chaos and stress, but also knocked 2000 (the year my father died) down to being the second worst year of my life.

   I should have been aware of 2014 plotting against 2013, when the week before Christmas I found out that my Uncle David had a mass on his lung that was most likely cancer.  My Uncle David was only 10 years older than myself and was more like a brother to me than an Uncle.  The thought of him having cancer and possibly dying seemed implausible.  David possessed a young carefree soul like Peter Pan and the man never seemed to age.  David had just reconnected the previous year with his son he had with a former girlfriend.  She had moved away with their son when he was three leaving no way for David to find them.  His son was now in his early twenties and married with a family of his own.   David and I had grown even closer since I moved to Savannah, now that we only lived few hours away.  More importantly he was going on his twenty year anniversary with, Janet the women that gave his life the love and  the stability he didn’t have as a kid.   David’s life was finally in a good, happy, and content place, he could not possibly die now!! Surely modern medicine could get rid of the cancer or at least give him a few more years.

   As 2013 counted down its last few remaining days it attempted a last ditch effort to secure its “that  year” title.    David had to be hospitalized due to breathing difficulties and along with that came the confirmation of cancer, one that was very aggressive with very low survival rate.  The doctors however gave us the hope of more time with a medical research trial that he qualified to participate.  The doctors were excited to have him in the trial since he was younger and otherwise healthier than the majority of people with that lung cancer.   He was released from the hospital and sent home on December 31.    David’s  best friend from childhood,  his remaining surviving siblings an older brother and sister, his son and his family, along with my family including my brother and my mother (his sister In-law)  all converged upon him.   Each of us brought there by our family bonds, love, and the fear of losing him.   We all knew we had let too much time pass between seeing those familiar smiles from our past and guilty of getting too caught up in our own lives to notice.  The same loving family bond that brought us together also dissolved away any hard feelings or strangeness that may have existed by living such different lives so far apart for so long.   The house he returned to that day was filled with an atmosphere of hope, love, memories and gratitude for time.   During those days I know time passed yet it felt like we were exempt from it, as if we were somewhere between 2013 and 2014.   It was if we were in a time that did not belong to either year.    It would be 3 days before 2014 would find us in that time void and force us to return to our own daily lives and for cancer to also claim the man I thought would live forever.

Despite losing David to 2014, I still held on to the belief that 2014 would still be able to become a great year of great things.  It was just off to slow start thanks to damn cancer and 2013.  Besides how bad could 2014 be, after all it did let us linger in that time void with David.  It had help us to come to terms with losing him a little easier.   

Apparently 2014 was just setting me up.   It didn't let us linger in that time void.   2014 was too busy plotting blindside devastation and heart break to not only secure its place in my heart of records to be “that year” but also its place in the heart of many others.     

April 1, 2014, my niece Brianna, only 17 days away from that monumental 21^st birthday, died suddenly and unexpectedly in a hospital in Texas.   My niece had joined the Army and was stationed at Ft. Hood. She had called me on a Thursday complaining she was sick with a cough and fever.  Friday she called to let me know they were admitting her to the hospital ICU and they were going to put her on a ventilator to help her breathe.  Saturday she still had a fever, but it was lower and her blood oxygen levels were getting higher.   Sunday the fever had broken, her lungs were clearing and healing.   The doctors felt she was well enough to be weaned from ventilator starting the following morning and we all felt she was on the road to recovery.  Except on Monday morning her heart would stop, and then would stop three more times, then on the fourth time the medical team was not able to get it beating again.   Every test they ran from A to Z when she was first admitted had come back negative.  It was not a case of Legionnaires disease or the flu.  The heart ultra-sound and heart catheterization procedures that had been performed to figure out why her heart was stopping did not reveal a cause or show a problem.     There was no reason, no cause, and nothing to blame.  There was no time void, no cancer, only questions.   Maybe we will know more later since they continued to search for answers after she was a gone, but I don’t think they will find a reason. 

Her Mom and Dad, despite being divorced since Brianna was around 8 months old, had both been there with her.  They did not have the chance to see her blue eyes open wide with shock to find them both standing next to her at the same time.   Her parents both lived in SC and had arrived at the hospital after she had been placed in a medical induced coma while on the ventilator.   Brianna’s husband of less than 9 months, also in the Army, had recently been deployed to Korea.  He was sent home through the Red Cross as fast as possible, but was unable to get to her before she passed away.    Her death came as a shock to everyone, including the doctors and nurses.  

The relationship I had with my niece was one that I struggle with words to describe.  The word special does not convey or begin to touch on the connection.   I loved her unconditionally.  There was nothing that she could have ever said or have done that would have ever made me not love her.   Even in death I could not hate her for dying.   My heart harbors a lot of frustration, hurt and anger for feeling like she was stolen from us.  It is these types of feelings when someone dies with so many questions,  that people will direct their blame and hurt toward God.    God let her die.   Everyone I knew and some I didn’t had prayed for her to get better, but she didn’t.   Did God ignore us?  Shouldn’t I blame God?

Brianna left behind so many that loved her that needed answers, needed to blame, and just needed to be angry.   There was her younger sister that had driven Brianna to madness when she was little and then become her closest friend that she worried about and missed horribly when apart.  There was the friend she had known since was five.  The same friend who she loved so much that the hurt and frustration of her being in relationship with a guy that did not value, respect, protect, or appreciate her had them on temporary nonspeaking terms.   There was her friend that had traveled across the country twice to be with her once when she completed boot camp and again when she needed a piece of home with her in Texas.   There was so many new friends and old friends whose lives she touched, each in different ways.   There was a new husband and his family who had also fallen in love with her.    There was Grandparents, Step Dads, a Step-sister, Cousins, Uncles and another wonderful Aunt that helped guide her through this crazy world.  There was Maw-Maw, and for her, Brianna was her sunshine.  There was her Father who Brianna thought had hung the moon.   

 It was my brother, her father that made sure many of us didn’t turn our angry hearts and blame to God.   After doing all that he could for Brianna in Texas, unlike the urgent and anxious drive to get to her the drive home was just a long drive.     The drive gave him time to think and when he got home he posted the following to Brianna’s Facebook page.

  “…..Well like most everyone I have talk to we are all mad Brianna was taken away. But on my 19 hr drive yesterday all I could do was think. So I thought of all the joy and love and laughs Brianna gave me. So I instead of cursing God I thanked God for giving me such an amazing time with her. Don't get me wrong I want her back but now I am just glad I did have this time with her. She had a lot of conflict but now it's over and we have an angel that will look after us like she did when she was here.”'

How could I blame God now?  My Brother was right, God put her in my life and I hers.  I could be mad at the hospital staff, but they did everything they could to keep her here.   In a conversation I had with a friend after losing Brianna, they had made the comment that it was going to be a rough year.   It was then I realized it was 2014 that deserved all my hurt, blame, and anger.    It made perfect sense, at least to me in my own way of managing grief and irrational thoughts.   2014 had planned this all along, so as not to be out down by 2013 and to secure its place as “that year” to never be forgotten.     It could have been left to 2064 to take her away, but instead it was 2014.   Asshole.

2014 to date has yet to care about my pain.   Instead it continues to create even more chaos and havoc as in some sick act of triumph,  by making time tick away a faster.    2014 has kept  Kevin even more tired and busy by  making sure brewery construction deadlines, schedules, and projects are barely made or pushed back, thus leaving me often  alone to learn how to live without Brianna, while trying to keep up with three kids, my full time job, laundry, bills, appointments… You know those annoying everyday life and responsibilities.  My once idealistic New Year resolutions of organization and flat abs have given away to merely surviving 2014.   

 Every time I laugh instead of cry and every morning I get out of bed to defend those I love from  what  else 2014  may have  in store, I like to think that I am giving 2014 the middle finger , with a big  ol’ Fu*K You !!

Brianna Fleshman Baxter 1993 - 2014Brianna's Memorial Video

David L. Fleshman 1963 - 2014

Top Ten Things I learned at GABF

10.     Brewer tickets are better than 

Willy Wonka's  Golden Tickets 

            They get you access to real toilets vs porta-potties

9.  Never judge a beer by it’s color

8.   1 oz samples of 3,100+ different beers  

is more than enough to find yourself 

sufficiently over the legal limit

7.     You don’t have to be a 

          ballerina,  toddler, or female 

to wear a tu-tu

              

6.  By the end of the sampling sessions

         it is like your are  walking around in a

      mine field of beer farts

5.  The only place where the men’s restroom line

is 3x longer then the women’s

4.     A cute girl or an ugly girl with great boobs

  will 9 out of 10 times 

get a pour over the restricted 1 oz. sample if a guy is serving

3.   95 % of brewers have facial hair

2.   When someone says “you have to try this”

 with no reason but a smile

      It is gonna taste  bad!!

1.     DO NOT DROP YOUR GLASS

Unless you like  thousands of people looking at you and yelling “ahhhhhhhhh”

A BEER EPIPHANY

  I make no secret of the fact that, despite being a brewer’s wife, I have very limited knowledge of craft beer in general and even less of a palate of what constitutes a good beer from a bad beer.    I  admit I used the Great American Beer Festival (GABF) in Denver, Colorado this past weekend as an excuse for me to escape my job, kids, messy house, and all responsibilities in general and just to spend a little alone time with my husband.   I had come up with 1001 different reasons why I thought it would be good for Kevin and me to go.  Turns out I didn't need any of them, cheap plane tickets and a weekend of drinking beer was enough of a reason for him to agree to the trip.  

The trip for me almost did not happen do to sick kids, but thankfully my mother, a retired nurse, was loving and foolish enough to take care of them and encouraged me to go.   Stepping on to the plane in Savannah I was feeling a little guilty leaving them behind, however by the time our plane landed in Denver I was over the guilt and ready to enjoy the long weekend of freedom.

To say that the GABF is a craft beer lovers paradise is an understatement.  Tickets for the three day event sold out in a record time of 20 minutes online.    The GABF website reported there was 3,100+ beers in the festival hall, 49,000 attendees (includes ticketed attendees, brewers, judges, volunteers and journalists) and 624 U.S. breweries serving in the festival hall (46 more breweries than 2012).     Given the number of breweries and all the beer being served, I felt like someone that had taken a  6 week foreign language class and was then dropped off in the country to fend for themselves.    I understood some of the language that was being spoken, but not enough to take part in the discussions when Kevin would speak to other brewers/beer lovers..     After an hour  into the first day of the festival, and having tried a few beers and not really liking any of them,  I began to think of excuse to plot my escape when suddenly I had a beer epiphany.

My epiphany came from the words of a beer sign describing  a brewery’s Raspberry Lambic Style Pale.  The words on the sign seemed illuminate and be written just for me “...sure to please even the most picky of palate.”  That’s me, I am a picky palate!!!  That first 1 oz sample was an unexpected surprise.   It was a fruity, sweet, slightly sour, and utterly wonderful.   Could it be true?  Could I have actually found a beer that I liked?  I of course had to try it for a second and third time just to be sure.   I then began to wonder and question my entire craft brew reality.  Was it possible that just maybe there was more beer styles other than fruity  ones out there I would like?   Have I been beer discriminating based on their names or looks?   I then went on a personal mission of craft beer enlightenment.  

The strange foreign land I had found myself in transformed into an exciting wonderland of beer style exploration.   I discovered that   I don’t like milk stouts and any beer that contained the word smoked in its description.   You would have thought that when the brewer of an especially “smoky” brew made the comment “you’re a brave girl” as he handed me the sample I requested, would have been a clue that it was a very ummmm…unusual brew to put it nicely.    That was my second and last “smoky” brew I would try.   It tasted something like a bad smoked BLT sandwich.    I also ventured into the world of sour beers.  The sour style of beer was either a hit or miss with my fledgling palate.   The majority of the sours I tried seemed to be a little too sour for me, but a beer ideal for those adults who loved sour candy as a kid.  The beers I  liked the most and often going back to seemed to be the wheat beers.  My  ideal brew was one called Agave Wheat.   It had the sweetness of fruity beer, but the smoothness I liked in wheat beers. 

 By the end of the GABF I found myself speaking a little of the natives’ craft brew language and even smelling the beers before I sipped.   I am not sure if what I was sniffing for is what true craft brew folks smell for or not, but I was able to determine with a sniff if I was gonna like the beer or not and that was good enough for me.  

I have a new appreciation for Kevin and his ability to create great brews; it’s both a science and art.  There just maybe hope that one day that this craft brewer’s wife will be able to speak and understand the beer language.   For now I am just excited that I can venture into a store and pick out a craft beer without having to result in calling Kevin and asking which one I should get.   I now have my own craft beer styles I like.

A Little Sav. Craft Brew History

I first must apologize about the length between blog posts.  The problem is there is only one of me and with a full time job, three kids, dog, and a husband that works a full time and is also trying to keep up with the growth of Coastal Empire Beer (CEB) I have very limited me time (aka blog time).  My duties as brewers wife has seemed to double thanks to Kevin’s “free” time going to equipment and building layout designs, brewing demands, and tis the season for beer festivals.  Did I forget to mention we finally have a real brewery home in Savannah now?    Anyway.  If  I am not dealing with kids and dirty laundry I am helping out with t-shirt sales and orders.   Even though I have a mountain of laundry and totally exhausted from wrestling the kids into bed, since Kevin was out at a beer event, I took some time to read up on articles about the Savannah craft beer scene.   I thought I would report a little bit of  the history of craft brew in Savannah, at least in this century, and clear up some misconceptions that CEB is new area start up Brewery .

Moon River Brewing Company opened in 1999 and took over the former Oglethorpe Brewing Company .   Moon River (and former Oglethorpe Brewing Co.)   brewpubs were/are not considered to be “true production” breweries  in the articles.   The reason is due to Georgia law that only allows them to distribute their beer in kegs, and only recently did the limit of off premise sales get raised to 5,000 BBL.   Owner John Pinkerton, as president of the Georgia Craft Brewers Guild, has been working to get the laws changed in Georgia to be more in line with the states that surround us.   Pinkerton has also won a gold medal at the GABF for his beer, the GABF is the considered by most to be the second most prestigious US Beer Competition behind the bi-annual World Beer Cup.

The first craft production brewery (in this century)  was Old Savannah Brewing Company.   They operated from around 2004 to 2006.   The true first production brewery took four years to finally open due to all the red tape, permits, and ordinances they had to navigate as a first timer.  They also had to learn to try and sell beer in a town that hadn’t fully embraced craft beer at the time. The brewery produced award winning beers and had great reviews initially. but The brewery shut down in 2006.  They won a World Beer Cup Bronze medal in the English Extra Special Bitter category.  It is rumored that they shutdown due to partner fighting.

Then in 2011 along comes  Coastal Empire Beer Company.  We are a contract brewery.   The difference between us and the recently opened South Bound Brewery comes down to business models.   When Kevin decided to open the brewery with his brother Chris the biggest concern they both had, given the economy, was taking on such a huge financial  risks.  It came down to how to best keep their families financially safe.  Chris and Kevin interviewed and met with several breweries that had extra capacity to brew the beer.   

The misconception that many have is that Kevin just simply handed them a beer recipe to brew brew or even worse that he didn't even come up with the recipe on his own and just said hey I want you to brew a beer for us so we can sell it.   That is so far from what happens.  Kevin being the brewmaster is very involved and travels over to the contract brewery on brew days.   That attention to detail has won Kevin 2012 and 2013 medals from the US Open Beer Championship and CEBC has held title of People’s Choice for Best Beer at Savannah Craft Beer Festival three years running. 

Thanks to Kevin’s and Chris’s smart financial plan of starting out as a contract brewer, they now have a solid base as they move the production of the beer to their new Savannah location.

Savannah  welcomed South Bound Brewery that opened up earlier this year on E. Lathrope Ave.  Savannah will also be the future home to Service Brewing brewery.   Service Brewing is a veteran run business and I have to admit with a retired uncle and brother from the Air Force and a niece in the Army, I think it’s pretty cool. 

Now you know a little of the most recent (at least discoverable in my time restricted research)  and the history of  craft brew in Savannah .   Even if this is just on my blog that not many people read I wanted people to know about the true area visionaries and production brewery that paved the way.

Old Savannah  Brewing Co. even though your gone you are not forgotten.  

.    

Thank you  to John Pinkerton  for working to help get law reform in Georgia when it comes to craft brew!

On a side note Kevin and I will be going to the GREAT AMERICAN BEER FESTIVAL in Colorado this weekend.   I can’t remember the last time Kevin and I had a weekend alone with no kids. I will try to keep you posted, but I may not be any condition to blog..but find me on twitter.   I may not be the biggest fan of beer and for the life of me I can’t remember the difference between all the different types,  but I am a huge fan of the ciders.    I know I am the worst brewer’s wife ever.  

CLEANING SUCKS

I am one aggravated, frustrated, tired, and in a serious need of a mani/pedi brewer’s wife. I have not posted anything in a while because I have been spending that time trying desperately and unsuccessfully to organize and beautify my home. I no longer want to live in fear of unexpected visitors at my front door, I want toys, batteries, and random crap to have its own place to call home other than the floor, I want my daughter back to sleeping in her own bed, and most of all I want the printer out of the living room!!!

I have a new respect for single working Mom’s. I do realize I am not single and that I am married to a wonderful husband, however he is your typical male and not to mention when you’re trying to make a business successful he is often doing other things that need to get done instead of dealing with the everyday routine house cleaning stuff. On top of trying to just get my home organized I must keep my “extreme over active creative disease” in check.
Side Note: I am happy to report I have managed to complete my project of woodland creatures that I spoke of a few posts back. Please see photos of the completed project(posted to associated blog entry) that I am happy to finally get done. It only took me two years to finally get my daughters room to look like it belonged to her and not a guest room. I wanted to also paint the furniture white, but that project will need to wait. 

While I was spending time painting Adalyn's room the rest of my house paid the price. This was no more apparent than the main bathroom, aka the kids Sponge Bob Bathroom. In the 3+ years that we have lived in this house my husband has cleaned the main bathroom I would venture to guess twice and to my knowledge has yet to ever clean the master bath. I am not sure why I would expect him too considering his history.

When I met Kevin he had actually just bought a house in Charleston, SC and when he relocated to Atlanta for work he decided to rent it out instead of selling it. Being the wonderful girlfriend that I was at the time helped him clean up the house and ready to be rented. Kevin is not one to concern himself how things may look, but just whatever it is that it is functional and usable and the master shower in his house was no exception. (the reason why the printer is in the logical location of our living room) As I took cleaner to what I thought was a frosted shower door, turned out to be a shower door that was uniformly covered in soap scum and hard water deposit. I was both awe struck and horrified at this discover and was even more amazed to learn that he had not cleaned the shower in over the course of the year that he had owned the home. Really?? Yuck. Like most women, I dismissed it as bachelor behavior and age. I was so wrong.

I am not a neat clean freak by any stretch of the imagination. I HATE cleaning. I hate even more is the unfair balance of cleaning in my house. The nastiness has to reach a level of undeniable yuck in order for my husband to take the initiative to clean. He does unload and load the dishwasher and wash the pans and in his logic that is cleaning the kitchen, never mind the white cabinets need to be wiped off along with the counters and appliances. It is the same logic that applies to pretty much all the chores in the house that need to get done. He will do the laundry and on occasion actually sort it into the various assigned baskets, but very rarely does the laundry actually get put away where it belongs. He thinks I am crazy when I say something about needing to wash off the baseboards. Is this something that men develop genetically or a learned behavior?

As I was scrubbing and bleaching out the kids bathroom my “extreme over active creative disease” along with my scientific brain came up with a nature vs nurture experiment that could not only shift the cleaning scales to one more balanced in my house, but in their own homes when they get older. Now that my boys are 6 and 8 they can now do some of this cleaning that I hate so freaking much. My experiment will be one of long term and the results will not be fully known until I have a conversation one day with their future wives. My plan start out by assigning them certain chores associated with various rooms and work up to them eventually cleaning the entire room on their own. I have already started Phase I of this experiment and making them help me conquer chores that is directly related to them like putting away their clothes. It went fairly well with minimal complaints and tears, but it got done. Once I am able to get them to do those types of chores without fighting and complaints I will move on to additional phases and to eventualy to a TOTAL HOUSE CLEANING REVOLUTION. This should be a very interesting experiment (one that will require extreme patience, determination, sense of humor, and a lot of luck and prayers).

 MOTHERS LET US UNITE 

FOR OUR DAUGHTERS AND FUTURE DAUGHTER IN-LAWS!!!

MAKE YOUR BOYS CLEAN!!! 

LET THE SCALES OF CLEANING BE FAIR AND BALANCED!!!

Wanted Cheap Manly Car

My brewer husband is not only a brilliant beer creator, but also let’s just say very fiscally wise.  He comes from a family of numbers.   His mom is now a retired accountant and his Dad has a PhD in math.   It is in Kevin’s genetic code.   I like to shop while he likes to save so we balance out perfectly and apparently have started to influence each other.   This is perfect when it comes to big purchases like a house, appliances, and in this case a car, because we meet in the middle.  Not to over the top expensive and not so cheap we are living in a tent.    

Since the vehicle that Kevin primarily drove has died, we must purchase another one.  My main criteria (other than the usual reliability and safety) for this next vehicle is what I refer to as the manliness factor.   I am not a car snob by any stretch of the imagination.  It has nothing to do with the cost of a car, but more with its rugged nature and power.    When Kevin and I first met he was driving this big old Ford truck with two gas tanks, several dents, peeling paint, and crack sun bleached dashboard.    He looked pretty sexy driving it and that comes from my deep rooted WV genetic code.  Truck = Sexy.   Growing up where you have a lot of mountains, snow, and mud you need a vehicle that can tackle any job.     I hated when we got rid of that truck, but growing family we needed something bigger.     Kevin actually drove our mini-van for a while, and that has manliness written all over it, says “man loves his family enough to drive a mini-van” and that is sexy.   When our work commutes changed and he had the longer drive he started driving the more fuel efficient Subaru Forrester and sadly him driving it did not have the same manly sex appeal and attractiveness as did the old white Ford Truck.   The Subaru dying now made it a necessity to get a new vehicle.   I am on a mission to find a vehicle to bring back a little of that old truck sexy spark. How hard could it be to find a “fiscally wise” and “sexy manly car “possibly be?     Really hard.

It is amazing to me that people are willing to pay 30Kplus for a new car!!!   Really?   Why?   Don’t get me wrong I want to be Kevin to be the sexy cool kid too, but at what price.    I could see maybe if I was some multi-billionaire and 30K was like having 3K now and it was just no big deal to drop that kind of money.   I think of all the other stuff I could do with 30K like add a screened in porch, get rid of the damn white cabinets in my kitchen and upgrade appliances, take a trip overseas, pay down mortgage, etc.   The list could go on and on what I could do with 30K instead of buying a car to get to point A to point B.  Kevin’s damn fiscally wise personality was starting to look pretty sexy in a little used four door car.     It is not that I would not want a nice shiny new car, I just don’t want to sacrifice my life to have it.    Once I started to get over the sticker shock then you have the sales people to deal with that stalk you once you step foot on their lot.

 

I can’t stand sale tactics and I can’t hide my facial expressions that show it.   I hate when the car sales folks ask questions like what kind of payment do you want? and what color do you like best?    I like green and keeping it. Great now I am starting to be the fiscally wise one. When did that happen?  What happened to sexy?

The salesman seems to think they just need to put you in that car and just drive it you will have to buy it then because it is so awesome.  No I don’t want to test drive it until I know that I want to buy it and getting me to drive it isn’t going to make me fall in love with it and that I have to have it at all costs.  I have stuff to do.  I don’t have hours to waste for you to convince me I need that car.    No thank you.  Just give me your bottom line and if that is not what I am willing to pay then no harm no foul move on to your next sales victim.  

The sales people we encountered yesterday reminded me of vultures.   At one point while I was looking at cars I wanted to turn around and tell the guy to stop following me and if I see one I need more information on I will come and ask you.     What was worse is this same salesman was followed closely behind by another salesman.  It seems Kevin asked another salesman a question and I am not sure how car salesman law works if the salesman that asks “can I help you” first or the one that answered the question  gets the sale.  I don’t know and really didn't care.  It was just annoying.  Say anything and they both would pounce on me.   One salesman kept pointing out stupid crap like the “wonderful color, power steering, and  power locks”.    It took everything in the world I had NOT to say one of the following: “ooh fancy,  they must call you Captain Obvious, no really that is what the button on the steering wheel is for “.    I guess the look I gave him probably conveyed all that I wanted to say, but didn't because he looks at me and ask “what kind of features are you looking for?”   I look at him and say “stop, go, and very cheap”.  I traded sexy for cheap at the first sticker I saw.    Then the guy really does ask  me next if  I am looking for a certain color.  I would have given 10 points for sarcasm, but he was completely sincere.  Yes Captain Obvious it must not only stop, go and be cheap it must be cherry red.   I was nice and just said no and said “ let’s put it this way the car I am driving now it still has manual locks and windows”.    At this point a good salesman would then realize that in order to make the sale he better find a car that he can give us a really good deal on.  He pointed out several of the “best deals on the entire lot”.     The experience of car shopping reached an entire new level at the next dealership.   We are looking at this particular dealership who runs ads about their certified trade in’s and the salesman is even talking to us about how they make sure every car they sale is top notch.  We find a possible candidate the price is ok and little more mileage then I wanted, but does have a little of that rugged sex appeal.  Kevin is checking out the third row seat that was folded down on itself in the SUV and discovers an unusually large cache of car fresheners.    I am sure the same thought that just crossed your mind was the same one that went threw mine.  A lot of car fresheners = dead body.    I may watch too many shows like CSI and Law and Order.

I have no clue where Kevin and I go from here.  I guess keep looking and find something not to cheap and not too expensive.  At least now when I see my husband driving down the street in a beat up sedan I will think...."Ohhhh that is one fine sexy fiscally responsible man".

Beer, woodland creatures, poop, and Hello Kitty PJ's

The title of this post pretty much sums up the chaos that is my life at the moment.   It seems that beer sales have picked up for CEBC, and that is freaking awesome.  That also means that Kevin will have to make more trips to the brewery in order to brew the beer.   It will be so nice once the brewery is up and running on Ross Rd here in in Savannah, so that he will  no longer have to travel to the brewery that we have contracted with to utilize their equipment.   Often times these trips are short notice and dependent on the contract breweries schedule.   Something that many of us lack in our lives is time and balance.   It seems that once you find that balance and you are getting into a comfortable groove and you finally feel like you got a handle on everything then life creeps up and reminds you…nope you don’t.   For me that reminder came in the form of little woodland creatures, poop, and my  Hello Kitty PJ’s and as for the beer  part of it I am using it to save me from myself.

Let us start with little woodland creatures.   I suffer from extreme over active creative disease.  I don’t have time for this disease, but I cannot deny it and the only cure for outbreaks of it is to indulge it.   The outbreak started with finding the most adorable bed ever for our daughter  Adalyn, who loves stuffed animals. It is a bed that is a giant stuffed bear.  Yes you read that right…it is a bed that looks like a giant stuffed bear…complete with these paws that you can wrap around you .   I will post pictures once I am done so you can get the full effect.  The bear seemed kind of lonely and out of place.  Not because of the crazy bright yellow walls (I let my husband pick the color on his own…big mistake) it just seemed sad.   I decided to bring some of the forest to this bear bed to make it feel more at home.   I am in the process of creating this world with fairies, a raccoon, bunnies, birds, flowers, tree, and an owl .   I am 85% complete.  This past Saturday while attempting to not make the bunny I painted look like a crazy blood sucking bunny, even though Kevin was “watching” the kids, the following happened:  Adalyn cut her hair (possibly helped by one of the boys), decided to change her own pull-up and was helpful enough to place the poop in the potty with her hands, she also decided to decorate the hallway walls, she colored 50% of her body with purple marker, and decided to open all the play dough.   Apparently the boys were supposed to be keeping an eye on her while Kevin was doing laundry or doing beer e-mails (most likely playing some game on his phone).   Four days later and I am still finding play dough in some odd locations and I still need to get more magic erasers to tackle the walls.  I have been trying to find a an hour or two after work to attempt to get Adalyn’s  wall done and so the bear bed  is happy in it’s new home.   Needless to say it has taken a toll on the rest of my house and the family’s diet.   Apparently kids can get tired of eating corn dogs and chicken nuggets.  

I reached my breaking point of sanity yesterday (Tues) when I got up to start a day that included taking Adalyn to the doctor for a runny nose that has not gone away in three weeks, getting the kids off to camp, and getting a report reviewed for work.    Kevin went to his “real” job early so that he could get off work in time to take our oldest to speech therapy at 5.   What Kevin failed to notice on his way out of our neighborhood was  the 30+ trash cans that lined the street, many of which people will put so far out into the street you have to swerve around to avoid hitting.    Kevin failing to notice the trash cans and that we did not put out our own trash can out and calling me so I could then resulted in me hearing the trash truck and looking out the window to see ours was not on the street.   I see the trash truck heading up the street across from us, so I go flying out the front door, grab the trash can and haul ass across the street so that I can beat the  truck before it makes its turn to come back down and do the other side of that street.   As I park my trash can at the end of the drive at house that is for rent I am feeling all kinds of victorious only to be defeated by the realization I am wearing my Hello Kitty PJ’s and the guy that lives across  from the house I deposited my trash is looking at me in what I can only describe as scared curiosity.   I may or may not have been talking to myself out loud at the time.    I had to laugh and totally fumbled some lame excuse to the poor man that had to witness me in my Hello Kitty PJ’s.    

Did I mention Kevin and I are down to one car since his died Friday coming back from some beer meeting in Atlanta?    Needless to say things are crazy at my house and my need to undertake over the top creative projects has left Kevin and I both short on time and patience.   Kevin was not planning on going to the Great American Beer Festival (GABF) in Denver this fall, and was just submitting beer for the competition.  I knew Kevin would not be willing to go just anywhere, especially in October since that will be in the middle of brewery construction.  You just reach a point you just need a break and the GABF was my key to ESCAPE.   It was a done deal for me when I checked the price of plane tickets and found them for a crazy cheap price and the fact it would be my birthday weekend there was no way Kevin could say no.    I even managed to con my brother into coming to help my Mom watch the kids that weekend.    The idea of a weekend  ALONE with my husband, beer, and not having to make sure kids are not doing something to cause harm to themselves or each other it totally makes  the chaos and craziness a little more bearable.   I am using my escape anticipation excitement to push through and finish the bear beds habitat by this Friday (knock on wood) and ignore the complaints that will be lodged for another few night of corn dogs and or chicken nuggets, heck I may just order some Chinese take out to celebrate.

**The moral of this post is when you find yourself chasing trash trucks in your PJ’s  it’s time to plan your escape and preferably one where you can drinks lots and lots of different kinds of beer..even if I will look like a walking tomato, but after the 2nd or 3rd beer I wont care.  (see previous posts about my reaction to drinking for clarity)