I have had the Journey song, "Don't Stop Believing" stuck in my head ALL DAY LONG. I kid you not. As I type, it's reeling in the back of my brain like the handle on a meat grinder. I am about to be driven to distraction. I am about to. . .
break open another Troeg's Dream Weaver Wheat Beer. I'm afraid the song "Dream Weaver" is not sticky enough to displace Journey, though. Blast it all. If I could only. . .
hold onto this feeling.
Attended an eight year old's birthday party today; there were all these young children running about in fairy wings and stuffing red velvet cake with black-green icing into their mouths. The icing covered an Eight-dollar Bill Cake, embossed with the birthday girl's head. Also on the cake platter: three or four cupcake coins in the front. I hear that we will see evidence of this bright and delicious cake tomorrow at noon. They tell me this is something I can look forward to, since Thanksgiving is still some days away. It's the next big thing.
Don't Stop!
Oh, man. This is worse than the hiccups.
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Hold the presses, tootsies. We're onto another Troegs, but it's the Hop Back Amber Ale. Oh, my, but it is deeelightful. "A complex beer," I said in an educated tone, and Martin said with a satisfied, gleeful mouth: "We got the sampler pack out back."
Thanks be for good beer. Oh, my. Martin is singing "Don't Stop" with alterate words now. I may not be able to calm my frayed nerves.
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