Polk's 5 Stages of Craft Beer Life

  

  We've come a long way as beer drinkers the last few years and as our ranks steadily grow and our palates change with them, I look back on how we've come to be where we are in 5 stages. Now, granted, these are sort of simplified and reflect my personal journey in beer but I have no doubt you will see part of yourself in each one.  The pride we have in what we put into our glasses now comes from a place of our beer birth drinking macro lagers, the toe dipping exploration of the different styles, becoming a full on convert and then a hard core preacher and judge of what other people drink before finally reaching the nirvana of understanding that acceptance is the key to all.

  Like I said, simple, but a trip every craft beer drinker has taken in one form or another. Some are taking different ways to get there, but understanding that the path to enjoying life and indeed, your beer is never ending and being open to that kind of growth and change will make it an enjoyable one for all of us.

1. Denial
  In the beginning, there were lagers and ales. Perhaps we stole a sip from our father's bottle or a relative gave us a drink and laughed when we made a face at the bitter, sharp flavour we were unaccustomed to. For so many of us, our very first experience with beer isn't something we even remember and we move to those teenage years where intoxication is the only goal, flavour a far off consideration compared to the thrill of scoring a case and getting drunk at a bush party or in someone's basement.
  My own first experiences with beer were as a side to the whisky I chose for its "cool" factor and ability to get me hammered quick. Beer was what we drank once we were good and liquored up. This changed as I started to get older and beer transformed into a more social drink, still trying to get drunk, but finding hard liquor not as much fun once I hit my 20's.
  All through this, craft beer wasn't really on the radar, but as the scene was shifting and as local and imported choices of different styles made their way to the liquor store, we would deny ever wanting such weird stuff, touting the "Real men drink real beer" mantra and shutting down any conversation of trying a fruity, dark or any other beer that wasn't straight up beer.

  To be sure, Sleeman's Honey brown and the occasional British dark ale would sneak in when that one friend would make you try it, but for the most part, we just ignored the existence of any choice and kept on with whatever was our traditional and known choice...but things were about to change.

2. Exploration

  It begins without thought or foresight. Maybe you were at a friends house and out of your regular beer. Perhaps you found yourself at a party or a bar and someone just bought you a beer and you didn't want to be rude. Or maybe you just got curious and finally decided to see what the hell the fuss was all about. All of these or 100 other reasons could be how you started to explore the wider world of beer, but at some point you stopped caring about just getting hammered on the same old stuff and reached for the unknown.

  Today we take for granted the myriad of options and 260 plus craft breweries with taprooms and educated staff to help us try new things. Not so long ago, none of this existed and the tiny craft and import section at the local liquor store was like an exotic wasteland you went into unprepared and unarmed. For me, it began with a few "Guy's Nights" parties when the ladies would be away and we would have Beer around the World themes, each guy bringing a dozen beers not from our normal purchases and sharing them together. We'd still get drunk but once in awhile we would stumble across a new beer that caught our attention. This would be added to the rotation as a special beer and while our macro lager, 24 buying days were not done, the need to find new flavours and seek out interesting things for Untappd started to take hold and we were off. It became almost a contest to see who could find the most new beers and this tepid, toe in the water exploration soon led to the next stage, which sets the rocket alight and we ascend to new heights.

3. Conversion

  For a lot of us, the craft beer revolution was a slow build, a gradual addition here or there of a few new beers or styles as we still drank macro lagers. As the time went on and we began to visit more breweries and connect with like minded folks in real life and online, we started to feel part of something special, something unique and that appeals to anyone. We start to actively look for ways to get new beers into our glasses, we start to plan trips and meals around finding new breweries and places to go. We begin to feel like the money we spend on that 24 of Coors Light every week is being wasted as we eschew it more and more for a craft choice. The basic lager sits in the fridge longer each time, getting drank only when everything else had run out.

It becomes a bit of an obsession and as the macros fade into the background, slowly disappearing from our fridges, we turn and find ourselves becoming acolytes and preachers of a new gospel of a church made of hops and barley.  Eventually, you buy your last case of macro beer and something changes inside, you feel the burn of a fire you want to spread and you turn to the world, alight with energy and a new way to live.

4. Evangelical

  There comes a time for almost every craft beer drinker when you feel the pull of a need to share your love. You post pictures online, perhaps write about what you taste and then share that with the world. You bring a mixed dozen of your favourite craft beers to a party because you cant drink that 'macro swill'. You start to talk about your friends beer choices and deride them if they still drink Blue or Coors or any other non craft beer. You rail against Big Beer buying your favourite craft brewery and swear you will never buy any of their beer again because they sold out. You engage in lengthy debates about government policy and grants to help the industry grow and dream of cracking a higher percentage of the market. You check dates on your cans obsessively and post rants about pseudo craft and forget about one fundamental fact that helped drive you into craft beer in the first place...fun.
  You wanted beer to be fun and it has become a zero sum game of getting that latest, hard to get release and mocking what your friends and family drink. You start to feel like you've lost something on this particular Road to Damascus and begin to come down from your mountain top, enlightened and educated but also with a vision of the future and taking a new path, one of being a true lover of beer and of those times we have to enjoy each other.

5. Acceptance
  The final stage, the one hardest to reach for many Craft beer lovers, is this one. Learning to accept and let people drink what they like can be a difficult path to find, grown over with the sure knowledge that we know a better way and should shout it from the roof tops. Becoming an advocate and an acolyte are two very different things and as I've moved through these stages, it became easy to tap that righteous anger and superior feeling you get when you first fall in love to try to push the needle and force others to see the world as you do. It is easy to slam a fist on the table and openly mock people and their beer choices, forgetting that at one time, we too held fast to our macro lagers, not knowing what the future held.
  We started to drink better beer because it was fun to do. We went to events, visited breweries and met interesting people who had the same interest because we found it ourselves. Sure, we followed others who came before us, but the decision was ours. We sometimes forget that this journey started with one sip of one beer that made you stop and wonder what was happening. We lost sight of the joy felt at finding a new flavour or style that helped shape who we are now. We seek to recapture that moment so many times, we forget that everything was supposed to be about enjoying life, not judging others or chasing things to posses them.
  Be an advocate, an ambassador and a voice of passion. But approach every moment with joy and not scorn. Let light in where there is darkness when asked but be not the scowl of judgement on what other people drink. Give suggestions, share and be open to new things yourself. Be honest and let stand your opinion, with the knowledge that all of our palates are different and no one responds to mockery with acceptance.
  The end game is always to enjoy our beer without being an asshole about it. Pour, sip and ponder life while spending time with people you love. Respect the choices of others and always make room in your fridge for different things. Life is too short and often too hard to let that kind of stress in when it comes to beer.
  Have fun and be cool.

Cheers!
Polk


 

Who Changed? You or Your Beer?

 

It happens every year. Your favourite seasonal release is eagerly awaited and talked about with rising anticipation on social media. Maybe you plan a special trip to the brewery or anxiously scan their website or your LCBO app for the moment it appears in stock.  Your glee at its eminent return is finally met with fruition on release day when you acquire and then prepare for a return to the glory of yesteryear. Pouring carefully so as not to spill a drop, your happiness grows and you take your first sniff and sip...and are left pondering what your purpose in life was and what the hell did they do to my beer.
"It's not the same"
"They changed the recipe"
"It used to be so Juicy/dank (or whatever)"
  The beer nerd in me sometimes agrees and we look to the brewer for answers. Did they change something about the recipe? Cut corners on costs or perhaps it was the new equipment/staff? We want accountability and ask these questions privately and often very publicly. When you anticipate something for so long and then it doesn't measure up, you are disappointed writ large. I get messages from friends all the time about how this or that beer has changed. I experienced it myself with the year to year release of Mill Street Brewing's Vanilla Porter, finding it falling from my favourite beer in 2015 to a watered down mess in 2017. But did it really change or is there a more plausible explanation. While Labatt's acquisition of that particular brand had me walking past them on principle, they didn't suddenly forget how to brew great beer just because they now answer to the lizard people of macro beer and pseudo craft.

Did Great Lakes change the hop bill of Lake Effect or Karma Citra? Unlikely, in fact if you ask them, they'll tell you it's the same beer, year after year, Mike Lackey doesn't skimp when it comes to quality and you can see every time you crack open a GLB product. This is true for the majority of our Ontario Craft Brewers and their commitment to making good beer. I am not naïve enough to think that it never happens, but I think the reason we are seeing more people questioning their beer is much more personal.

  Maybe we are the ones who've changed.
  There is little doubt in my mind that my palate has grown. My ability to perceive flavours I didn't know existed 3 years ago continues to amaze me and when I talk about beer with my pals, we are getting deeper into it every time. Is it possible that as we grow and change as beer drinkers, our perceptions of past releases is tinted with rose coloured glasses. My first foray into IPAs left me hating them, all pine tree bitter and nothing else was what I got out of it. But for the sake of Untappd and logging new beers I kept at it, pour after pour. Slowly I began to perceive the citrus notes, the complex relationship between the malt body and the hops used. Did they suddenly make Headstock better or did I understand what was in my glass because I had worked to train myself to? There is truth to learning flavours, I grew up with a pretty boring approach to food and drink, simple was best and I didn't venture far from the cores of middle class meat and potatoes, so to speak. As I've grown older, I have tried to open up to new culinary experiences and with beer it has been even more dramatic. Where before we would look to a sixer as a way to escape reality, we now turn to our fridge for flavour, texture and an experience to transport our taste buds to a magical place. We want our beer to be special, unique and offering us a chance to transcend from the everyday. But from your first stout to the 15 % Bourbon barrel aged bombers you'll find as the snow flies, you have changed and that has to be part of the conversation.

  For me with Mill Street in 2015, the Vanilla Porter just clicked one day. It went from being a bitter coffee to a smooth dessert in a glass. I bought it every week and lamented its disappearance as the spring came around. My pursuit of great beer continued and when the next year headed for its last few months, I couldn't wait to get my favourite beer back. Spying it on the shelf, I bought a few and headed home with great joy. Turns out it was short lived and I was left with a bad taste in my mouth and a beer that I felt let me down, Truth was I had learned so much about myself through my beer in the year that despite my memory, it was the same beer but I could perceive it differently now. The growth of our own ability to pick out flavours and textures has to be part of what we discuss when we talk about the changing nature of any beer. The influx of new and very creative craft beer makers has challenged our long held notions of what is normal and we are confronted with things we couldn't have imagined not so long ago.
  This isn't to say that variations and changes don't happen. There have been instances when I have had a beer that doesn't measure up and I always check with the brewery privately to see what's up. Most will be straightforward, a conversation is always better than a confrontation in my books and they are still a business trying to sell beer and grow their market share. So it doesn't do them any good to put out substandard beer or treat an inquiry with disdain. Do some of them do those two things? Sure, but they don't last long and the quality of your product and the way you treat your consumers flies along the craft beer pipeline really quick. Certain brewers are avoided just because their attention to detail or lack thereof is well known and time will bear out the pretenders.
  I try to approach every beer with an open mind. I want to understand what the brewer is doing and if they are on point with the style they have chosen. My memory of a beer is often tinted with the happiness of the first time I had it because it was so new. That IPA you gushed about last year led you to try so many more and now you have a better grasp on what to expect. Maybe when you had it this year, it was still a great beer, but the wow factor was gone. Your personal growth didn't change the beer but it did change how you perceived it. I am living proof that we can and do become when we are more attuned to what's in our beer. Going from only perceiving the outside to digging deep and learning what true flavour is there.
  First love is always bittersweet, be it human or beer. So take a moment and look inward to see what has changed about yourself in the last year and then go deeper into the beer. A true examination requires you to be honest and understand what the pursuit of the perfect pint has brought into your life. You know more than you think you do and that knowledge has given you insight you didn't know you had. And as always, remember that it's just beer...try and enjoy it while it lasts!


Raise your glass and your standards
One Beer at a time!


Cheers!
Polk

The Move

1987 Rob was a better dresser than 2016 Rob.

 Few events stand as life changing to me as much as our 1985 move from the gritty East End Hamilton neighbourhood to a relatively suburban Stoney Creek mountain one.  Growing up in the shadow of the steel plants shaped much of my character with its blue collar values, front porch sitting neighbours and the feeling that the whole community was looking out for you. The Move came at a time when our family was settling into its happiest time, yet it shook my life to the core.

As with any 12 year old, news that we were leaving all my friends and familiar landmarks behind was not greeted with enthusiasm. Who wants to leave their life and start over? Especially when you are like me and crave the simplicity and normalcy of routine. My best friend, Kevin, lived 4 houses away and we spent our free time on our bikes exploring the streets of the surrounding area. Adventure awaited every day and we felt safe no matter where we went. All that changed with a single move that led to some of my biggest triumphs and loves of my life, as well as some of my worst decisions.

We arrived in that semi detached house on Fuller Court soon after school finished and began to settle into our new lives. I had discovered a passion for hockey the previous few years and it was here that it blew up into a full blown obsession. The history, stories and numbers of the NHL gave me a foundation for stability and I grew attached to everything about the sport. I would spend hours in my room researching statistics and memorizing the players. With only 21 NHL teams, it was a simpler time and I immersed myself in everything hockey. Strapping on skates for the first time and taking to the net still remains a vivid memory and while my brief 5 year foray into actually playing hockey was filled with more defeat than victory, it stays with me as one of my happiest times. My talent never matched my heart but I soon found that those who cannot execute as a player drift towards coaching and that is where I found my calling, for a brief time at least. Our family became a Hockey one and we had a blast being part of that community for many years. This was my safe place, my refuge and these memories will always be close to my heart.

Old School Goalie!

My parents tried to ease the transition from our old neighbourhood, often bringing Kevin to stay overnight. But as any kid will tell you, when you are removed from the daily routine of hanging out, there comes a distance that cannot be filled. Not being part of the pulse of the old neighbourhood means you lose touch with the shared experiences. Drifting, I began to cut myself off from the world and live more inside my own head. I had a fantastic ability to create vivid imaginary worlds and inhibit them. With my love of books, I was never at a loss for material. The school year loomed and while I was in love with learning, the thought of being the new kid terrified me. This was a long time before any sort of anti bullying campaign and I knew what happened to the new kids. The larger problem occurred when it came to the actual school work. Several false starts and miscommunications about what I was actually supposed to be accelerated in led to a wasted few months and despite my best efforts, I started to struggle and that was new to me. I had been part of an advanced curriculum at my old school and remained so at my new one, but something had shifted in the transition. My grades remained high and my expectations hadn't changed, but the thrill of getting an A+ started to fade a bit.

I found out years later that my parents had discussed letting me return to the old neighbourhood to live with my grandparents because my depression was so deep. My struggles felt so huge and I was unsure what to do. I still get that feeling of sadness in my chest when I think of how lonely I was. But, as with most things when you're young, life changed. I met a kid from the next court over and slowly made friends at school. It was in trying to fit in that I first used humour, especially the self deprecating kind, to make myself part of the majority and it was then that I began a sideways drift towards what would be a lifelong battle with my self image. But in the meantime, I was finally happy. Our family was becoming part of the new community, especially at the arena, and life was once again appearing normal.

That time we met Gordie Howe!

The last two years of grade school present no real stand out memories. I functioned well as part of the leadership group in class and I remember mostly joyful experiences. We played road hockey, explored the ever expanding growth in our area and enjoyed many happy family times. But part of me never felt wholly present living there and despite everyone's best efforts, I yearned for a past that didn't exist anymore. Graduating from Grade 8, I tried and won a scholarship to a prestigious private high school in Hamilton and rather than continue with the friends I had made in the last two years, I decided to once again be the new kid. Looking back, I have no doubt that I was engaging in what has become a real theme of my life, Starting over. The feeling that if I just change everything about my circumstances, my life would be better. I lasted a year in that school before transferring to the local public high school because I couldn't fit in with the wealthy crowd that ran Hillfield. It was becoming obvious that I had no idea what I was doing and my grades began to drop. I started seeing school as an interference in my life rather than a help and even starting skipping class. My social network started anew, but with less than the best kind of results. No one knew what to do and while many tried to help, I was no longer listening. A theme that will present itself again in my life, many times, with the same results.

It's been almost 30 years since these events and most of reminiscing is of the happy kind, but that notion of changing everything and fresh starts remains. The next part of my life shaped the direction I would take for close to a quarter century. One decision took me off the path that most people, including me, thought I was on. One choice and I descended into over two decades of self medication and poor choices. It was a future wholly of my own volition and it started with The Party...but that tale is for another time.  

Through the Darkness to the Light

The blackness of depression and white hot panic of anxiety are always near me. Without warning they can flare up and make any day a struggle. If you live with these twins of despair, you know what they can do to you. Clouding your judgement and making even the simplest things difficult.

The other day was a good one...until it wasn't. I cannot fully explain what triggers my emotional response sometimes and it is with much trepidation that I even type these words. The dark and empty feeling when you cannot make sense of the world around you can trap you in a spiral of doubt and shame that is hard to pull out of. Add alcohol to the mix and it can burn hotter and longer than you intended to let it.

In the old days, I would respond to this mood by trying to drown it with cheap beer. I've talked about not going Full Polkaroo before and it is part of my journey through craft beer that I must acknowledge every time I crack open a new one. I no longer want to be that guy, so my response to the trials and tribulations of everyday life are much more thoughtful and measured now. At least I hope they are.
Earlier this week the clouds rolled into my mind and I couldn't shake them off. Nothing really was the cause, but I felt the crushing weight return and I was at a loss. Instead of responding with copious amounts of booze, I decided to wait it out. I had grabbed three tall boys of my favourite beers and considered just downing them to ease the pain, but I couldn't do it. My appreciation for a well crafted beer means I don't want to waste even one on trying to cover my feelings. As I stared at the cans in front of me, I tried to imagine what it would be like to not care about what I drank and just pound beers until I didn't feel anything anymore. It is a scary thing to know how far you can go to try to escape yourself, But as I have grown in the last year and learned about myself, I discovered a reserve of strength inside and put the cans back in the fridge. Not wanting to pound one beer in anger on a bad day was a triumph to me and it helped to lighten my mood.
It took the better part of two days for the sun to shine in my heart and while I knew I was off the rails, there was nothing to do but wait. I'm impatient at the best of times and that was part of the problem before. I knew that popping the top on ten or twenty Brava lights would make me feel better right now and that was all I needed. But the false happiness of those beers was soon followed by the realisation that my problems hadn't gone away, I was now hung over and still faced my own demons. The fact that I could enjoy my one beer and not give in to those old feelings was part of what helped my come out the other side in one piece. I enjoyed each of those beers in time and I was so glad I hadn't just pounded them mindlessly. I've learned that sometimes the best beer is the one you don't drink.
Bad days come to all of us, but it is our response to them that counts. Being aware of my own problems and not hiding from them is part of what I am doing in becoming a better person. I say it all the time, but it deserves repeating...Craft beer saved my life and I am grateful for that. I will continue to sing its praises and enjoy the wonderful and innovative flavours I find when I open the next one. Brighter days beckon and with summer coming, I am excited to see what's next.


Raise your glass and your standards!


Cheers!




Shooting Videos with the Drunk Polkaroo

I've often said I have a face made for radio. The older I get, there are fewer people that get the joke. "What's radio?" they say, slowly back away from my ancient technology. But as I continue my Year of Beer, I want to try new ideas and expressions, so it with that in mind I am starting to make short beer review videos on the YouTubes. I know there is no "the" at the beginning or an "s" at the end, but that's how we tell us old timers apart from the rest of you.

When posting a photo and write up on Instagram or the blog, I have the ability to rewrite and polish my work. Sometimes I do edits later on if I notice something is just not working or spelled wrong. With video, that is a little harder. You can only open a beer one time and in the case of many of my brews, I only have one of them to drink anyway. But I like the rawness that video provides. It pushes me to focus on every aspect of what I do with the beer, from the opening of the bottle to the last drop in the glass. Yes. A glass. Every time. Come on guys, it's not hard, but please stop drinking out of the bottle. You are missing so much. I wrote about it twice, here and here.  Check them out. They both will explain why I always pour my beer into a glass. That subject is becoming like the 1993 Leafs for me, I just can't give it up.

Back to videos. I started with a few simple pour videos, using an old digital camera until I realised my phone has better resolution. I don't have a stand for it yet, so I made my own out of some scrap wood I had lying around in the basement.

A little crude, but it gets the job done.

I think it is time to step it up in the camera department and will venture forth to find an affordable but good webcam. That will make editing a little easier and probably improve the quality.

I use my Wall of Beer as the backdrop, but will eventually be filming all of my reviews and video blogs at my bar, which after 10 years I am actually going to build. For my "research". Man, beer is pretty awesome when it motivates you to get projects done. Just make sure you drink after you build or it might be a little lopsided.

That's a whole lot of fun on one wall.

I really want to capture all the sights and sounds of opening, pouring and tasting a beer, so playing with some different formats and techniques will be something we can do together. Subscribe to my YouTube channel, here, and follow along as I talk about beer and no doubt so much more. I can only promise that I will keep searching for the Perfect Beer and with that a better life. I am not going to lie, watching a video of myself is a little odd, but I do love all my Fat Guy shirts and am glad they are finally getting the exposure they deserve.

Happy Monday to you all and I'll see you later on the Internets.

(Again, I know there is no "s". Just testing.)





If you enjoy the blog, follow along on the Facebooks. 

(Now I'm just messing with you)

(But follow along, lots going on there too)

Thanks again for the support and Cheers!



Why Do We Have So Much Stuff?

I'm running out of room. Something has to go.

When putting away the Christmas decorations yesterday, I was struck by just how much stuff we have acquired in the almost 10 years we've been in our current home. It feels like it fills every spare corner of the house and garage. Not in a hoarder like fashion, but with a chaotic organization that we alone can understand. It isn't messy or dirty, it just sort of sits there.

I do downsize from time to time. Using the internet to sell some of the better items we no longer need and failing that we donate it to local charities. I go to the dump with the stuff that is broken or just plain worn out. But it seems we still have so much.

Some things survive the purges because of sentimental value or the fear that maybe I'll need that later. I know we all probably have those items that we just can't part with because it may prove useful in the future and we take it from place to place, never actually needing it. Our crawlspaces are full of things we cannot let go of and don't know why.

I have an old bottle of Orange Crush I found when I was a kid and I've taken it with me as I've moved all my life. It has been wrapped and packed 11 times in the last 24 years and serves very little purpose except I liked the design when I was a young boy and can't toss it out. It sits in a box somewhere. That's just silly.

There are things in totes that haven't seen the light of day in more than a decade and yet are important enough to survive the big spring and fall cleanings we do every year. Lugging them from their spots under the stairs or on shelves in the garage, checking the contents and then putting them back is a semi-annual ritual we keep alive. That seems ludicrous.

I don't want to imply that we should toss stuff with true sentimental value. If something is dear to your heart because of a love one or a cherished memory, then by all means that is treasure to you and not junk. The stuff I am referring to is those items that exist in a halfway zone between useful and useless. Old kitchen gadgets, knick knacks that collect dust and only get moved to put out the holiday stuff or any myriad of "vintage" consumer electronics that seem to clutter our basements. These are the things that need to go. We can downsize without going to extremes. It is possible to find space for cherished objects while still getting rid of stuff that no longer fits who we are.

I cannot even begin to imagine what my friends and family with children must go through. Having witnessed the influx of new things at Christmas makes me wonder where it all goes, given how much they already seem to have. Most parents have a good grasp on what their kids play with and are very active in keeping the toy room at acceptable levels of stuff. Many make it a life lesson with the child helping to decide what they want to keep and then teaching them the value of donating it to those less fortunate. Good stuff to teach your kids, but I bet they hang on to some things just because.
Most of us live in a pretty affluent community. By this I mean we are not living in the slums of Calcutta or subsistence farming in Africa. We live in the west and even at my lowest point, I never worried that I would starve to death.  Don't get me wrong, I know people right here in Canada live in substandard conditions and have real worries about food, but I am lucky that those I love have places to live and enough to survive. Poverty is a real problem and I wish it could be different. Consider yourself lucky and blessed to live the life we do. We might not be in the 1%, but we are better off than most of the world. Struggling with bills, repairs and the unexpected costs of life are commonplace among us, but no one is homeless and we all know we can rely on each other for support if things go bad. So when I talk about stuff and its accumulation, I understand it is by definition a First World problem.
So let's make 2016 the year we try to get a grip on our homes. Look around and be critical.
Do you really need it?
Does it serve a purpose?
Why do you want it?
What does it make you feel?
I want to be relentless in my pursuit of making my life simpler. I don't want to lug around bins of useless junk every time I clean the garage and neither do you. Part of reclaiming my life is making space for new memories and things. As I begin to venture forth from Polkaroo Manor, I will undoubtedly purchase brewery related souvenirs. Branded glassware is my most likely target and if I want to display them, I need room. I hope I won't buy anything to put in a box and stick under the basement stairs. that would defeat my whole purpose. So I will make a real effort to get rid of stuff that I have outgrown or that simply just needs to go.
My shelves are filled with "collectible" beer bottles, that has to stop. I only have so much room and cannot keep every new beer I try. This will prove difficult because I want to keep any unique design or label I find. Perhaps I can find a middle ground. I have pictures of each brew and it might be time to print them out, get some frames and display them on the wall at Merle's (more on my home "bar" another time). I'll keep the ones that are really awesome and if I find one that I want to add, a different one will have to go.
 The basement and crawlspace will be next on my list and I promise to be ruthless in downsizing. If it is covered in dust and hasn't seen the light of day in the last year, maybe it is time to go.
 The garage is organized for the winter and I have no desire to spend days in there purging things while the mercury cruises to minus temperatures. But when spring rolls around, I will load up the Jeep with the stuff that does nothing for us anymore and off to the dump I will go.  I have big plans for a home brewing station and workshop in there, so useless junk that is in the way will have to go if I want to have enough space.
Lofty goals inspire me to accomplish things. I have set the bar so low for so many years that the slowly building momentum of reclaiming my life seems to be moving at a more rapid pace than it really is. I try not to revert to a shell of anxiety and fear as I downsize and get rid of stuff. I can see the light of day approaching and I want our home to be a reflection of who we are and a place where all are welcome.
Now if I can just find the Crush bottle.
Cheers!