[123] Screed City

[123] NOTE* This is from two days ago but didn’t send to everyone…BEWARE

04/04/2022 Monday. Kitchen Microwave. Beaver Haus. Lower Granville, Vermont.

Tacos for dinner. Very tasty. Chopped some logs at the Compound all day. Then at dinner the Publisher made a joke about tortillas. The end. Just joking. That is the Publishers version of what I was going to write tonight. She thinks she is soooo funny. Little did she know that is exactly what I was going to write.

The tacos were great! Pork grinding and shrimp. An apple salsa. Cheddar cheese. Homemade tortillas. No beans though. Which hurt Grit's feelings somehow. I mean, kids love beans. The musical fruit. G requests them sometimes. And they don't request very much. We log dogged all day long. Kind of. There was a Tickler emergency that needed to be dealt with so I didn't get to the Compound until around 2p. But then it was chop-chop for four hours. I mean, I was supposed to go to Portland yesterday, but it got delayed until next week. I think. We will see. H got a watch for his birthday though. Brother Luke told me. Which means I think he will like the hover soccer ball. I mean, it seems like pure junk, but who knows? It might be a blast.

Yesterday I went to Waitsfield to get some exercise. Like a dumb-ass I went to the Shaw's to get 50% beef first instead of going to the hardware store which was the main reason I went to Waitsfield in the first place. I mean, I needed a lid and a bucket. For brewing reasons. I forgot it was Sunday and Bisbee's closes at 3p on Sunday. So, although I had a trunk full of half-priced beef and 20 lbs of sugar, I had to drive to Waterbury to get my brewing bucket and lid and syphoning tube. Which was another reason that I was going to the hardware store. I mean, I have become quite obsessed with brewing at the moment. Reusing yeast. Tweaking the recipe. The temps. Et cetera. But Waterbury. The big city around here aside from Middlebury. I mean, I was already in Waitsfield, I wasn't going to drive to Middlebury. That would have been just very dumb. I mean, the hardware store is on the outskirts of town. Auchy. Or something. Auchboneroo. Auchamillion. I mean, it is a chain hardware store the kind of sucks. Butwhatever. I went in. Some kid yelled at me:

"Can I help you find something!" I yelled back.

"I need a syphoning hose and a bucket and a gasketed lid!" He was going one way down one aisle, I was going up another way up a different aisle. He finally caught up to me. It took one look to see he was something weird. I mean, very cute, but also non-typical. Like me. He took me to this display area that had a pump-style syphoning tube. I thought it was kind of alright, but not what I was looking for. Then he took me to the buckets. He gave me a five gallon bucket. Then he said:

"We don't have gasketed lids. All we have are these!" He was very loud. I looked at the lids. One of them was a twist on lid that had a gasket. I did some thinking and said:

"Well this has a gasket! I think it might work!"

"Great!" He yelled at me. Then he disappeared for whatever reason. I went around looking for hosing. Found what I wanted. Cut myself a six foot hank. Took the hose and the bucket and the lid to the counter. He met me there. He started to ring me out. Some guy came in and asked for a propane refill. The loud kid yelled "Give me one second!" Then to me:

"Do you know the number on this hose!?" I yelled back:

"It was $.99 cents!" Then he yelled:

"Okay, can you show me!?" We walked over to the hoses. I showed him. He looked at the number. He kept repeating to himself "202-140. 202-140. 202-140" All the way back to the register. Then he rung the hose up. Then he yelled:

"How many feet do you have?!" I yelled back:

"Six feet, I think!" Then he came around the side of the counter and yelled:

"We can measure against these floor tiles! They are one foot a piece!" We measured the hose. "Six feet!" He yelled. Then he took the hose around the corner of the counter. Typed the number in. Then for some reason he decided to put the lid on the bucket. Which, I mean, it was kind of difficult because it was tight I guess, but man, he really did a number on the thing. Banking it, smacking it on the counter, hitting it with his fists. At some point he wore himself out. I mean, literally. He was breathing heavy. I didn't want the lid on the bucket, but I felt bad about all his hard work so I took the bucket and put it on the ground and used my knee to secure it. Which, I mean, he should have done in the first place, but he didn't. Instead he did a Rocky Balboa maneuver as the bridesmaids say. I paid. Too much. I mean, I immediately felt like a fool. The lid was $15. And not only that, but I knew I was going to drill a hole into it. Butwhatever. Daddy needs his Tickler juices. The kid yelled at me to have a nice day. I yelled right back at him the he should have one too. Then I left. Drove back to Lower Granville. Put the groceries away and wrote for a few hours.

Oh, that is not entirely true. I had a sugar wash boiling before I left. When I got back it was ready to be jugged, as the brewer's say. So I drilled a hole in the wildly expensive bucket lid. Did a clean job. The technical term for cleaning the bucket and lid. I mean, I sanitized as well. I mixed the wash with three gallons of cold water and eight teaspoons of champagne yeast. Then I put it in the brewing room. Formally Professor Curly's office. I mean, she aint ever coming back, so I guess it is my office now. Boo-hoo-hoo. I mean, whatever. She isn't using it right now. She is in Germany for christ's sake. And then she has this movie thing. I mean, I don't think I will see her for a while. Not true. I will see her in a couple weeks at the reading at PS/NY.

Anyway. I put the airlock in the hole I drilled. Put a squirt of water in the thing. Then left it alone. To do it's work. In the morning I woke up. Went straight into the brewing room hoping to see some bubbles bubbling. Nothing doing. Then I got nervous. I checked the lid. And guess what? The fucking thing moved on me. The twist top did not do it's job. In fact, I don't think it ever was going to do it's job. I got sold a very expensive bill of goods. I mean, I hate wasting money, so this kind of put me in a foul mood. But I recovered. I realized that the Ticklers I had been brewing were ready to containerized. So I thought about this. Realizing I could switch lids. So I got to work trying to get ready to do some syphoning. Which, I mean, what a fucking mess I made. But I did it! I did a great job! I mean, kind of. I now have four gallons of fresh Ticklers. Waiting around to be drunk. A settling yeast that I can start a fresh batch with tomorrow. And a useless very expensive lid. That is now complete garbage. Whatever.

I mean, why it was an emergency though is that I used up all of my containers. Which is all good an all, but I still got ten gallons of the good stuff brewing. And soon I will have another four gallons going. Like tomorrow. So, I mean, I was supposed to be at the Compound chopping logs, but I wasn't. Scott wasn't answering his phone. The Publisher wasn't answering her phone. I said, to myself, fuck it. I am going to Middlebury! Those guys can suck it!

I drove to Middlebury. Taking the back roads at East Middlebury. Driving by the reindeer farm. I drove to the TJ Maxx. Went inside. I mean, my god! Things were looking up! I mean, there were four of the same gallon jugs I bought there before I started this brewing mayhem. I couldn't believe my luck. Also, there were four glass gallon jugs that looked really pretty. That I can put some Ticklers in "For Company." I mean, I had to run to the front doors and get a shopping cart and run back before someone else snatched them off of the shelves. I got back just in time. There was some lady eying the things. I swooped in and grabbed them all. Filling up the entire cart. I mean, I was so excited about it that I didn't even bother to stop at the sassy shirt section and see if there was anything new. I mean, I checked out. The lady said:

"Did you find what you were looking for and more?!" I was about to say:

"Yes, that is exactly what happened!" But she had to take a phone call. So I was denied. I mean, how rude. I mean, she asked me if I needed a bag or if I was just going to wheel the stuff out to my car. I said "You can do that?" I didn't know you could take the shopping carts out of the TJ Maxx. I mean, next door at Hannaford's I know you can, I just didn't think that TJ Maxx had the same policy. So, I mean, that was cool. I wheeled the stuff out to Junior Mint. Put it in the trunk. Took the cart back. Then I noticed the 100 other carts next to their front doors. Then I felt stupid for never putting two and two together like any bridesmaids would do. I went back to the car. Got in. Drove to the hardware store by the coin-op car wash. I parked and went inside. I found some water colors I plan to use to work on this cover of this book I wrote. I looked and looked for bucket lids. Nothing doing. I had to ask the people at the counter. The one lady came out from behind the counter and took me to the lids. There were no buckets though. I didn't need a bucket though. Then I bought the stuff. Drove Junior Mint across the street. Treated him to a nice spray-down. Got back on the road. Got stuck behind a truck that was blowing a cloud of dust. I mean, I really hope it wasn't salt. I mean, I had to laugh at how poor my timing was. I mean, the only thing that would have been worse would have been if it started raining. But that is only kind of true because being stuck behind salt dust was way worse than a rain storm. I wasn't worried about the dirt in the raindrops. It wasn't a vanity thing that I took Junior Mint to the spa. I mean, it was function. Not form.

I got back to Beaver Haus. Took all the jugs inside. Called Scott. He said he was log-dogging. I ate a taco. Two tacos. Made some coffee and hauled ass to the Compound. Put my gloves on and started chopping. Grit was there. Reading a book. The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. She thought it was hilarious that one of the characters described another character as "An over-grown dwarf that shaved his beard." And then I said:

"Remember when you taught Dosa how to crawl under the gate of the goat enclosure at my house?" She was indignant.

"No! I did not teach her! She figured that out herself!" Then I said:

"Yeah, but she learned it from you!" And she disagreed.

"Huh-uh."

"I'm just saying that Dosa is really smart is all." Then she disagreed again.

"No sir. She was just laying in the field in the sunlight instead of the shade."

"Well, maybe it was nice. She was probably cold."

"Nope, she wasn't. I touched her, and she was hot! See." And then I lost the argument.

Then her mom came home. With some soda-pop and some peanut butter cups. Grit was home sick from school. A cold has been floating around now that covid is over. I mean, I guess we are back to normal. Everyone getting sick all the time because humans are dirty, dirty petri dishes that don't wash their hands and everything is covered in turds. I mean, I suppose I will get it too. Butwhatever. I got an appointment on Friday to get Junior Mint's tires the old switcheroo. When I called JD I said:

"Hey, um, so I need to get my tires the old switcheroo. Do you have any time this week?" I mean, he thought it was funny. I mean, the guy isn't the worse, just as long as you don't talk politics. I mean, I am sure he will blame Biden's America for why I need to get my tires switched out because the Winter is over, and he can suck it, but on the phone he was very nice and even laughed at my joke. I mean, more proof I should never talk politics on this thing. I mean, the less you know the better. People are stupid and I include myself in that generalization. I mean, my politics are spot on. But nobody wants to hear them. Although:

Abolish Turnstiles!

Hurt the rich!

The rent is too damn high!

Anyway. I have about a million things to do tomorrow and this week. So it is good that I am not in Portland. But money! Can't someone just give me money? I work really hard, I swear. I just don't do the work anyone wants me to do. I mean, I have about 40 more logs to chop tomorrow. I mean, there is 200 gallons of the tree juice that needs to be boiled down. I mean, the holding tank is about to do an Old Faithful. Sweet Gold! I mean, really. The thing is bursting at the seams. But I think tomorrow or the next day is the last juice spurt from the maples. They are looking like beef jerky at this point. Like Charnia. Flapping in the breeze. I mean, I am afraid for Scott to go down there in the morning. He might open the valve and get blown to Mad River Valley. Speaking of which, those assholes never got back to me about Screed City Radio. I need to get on that. I mean, it looks like I might have some time now. Okay. Tomorrow. Always tomorrow.