For the exclusive convenience of my husband, I’ve added a link on my sidebar to Catholic Beer Review. I have my reservations about doing this. I mean, I don’t even like beer. And this is a mom blog, not a beer blog (despite evidence to the contrary). And, well, the author lists Jane Austin movies among his favorites. It’s not that I mind it if a man likes Jane Austin, but there needs to be enough testosterone-laden interests to balance that or I just get really uncomfortable. I admit it, I’m a sexist.
But Bill seems to be enjoying the blog, young as the blog is, so I’ve put the link up so he can find the site fastest. It’s another way to guarantee that he comes to my blog first. Even if I don’t talk about beer. Much.
Yesterday, while reading this blog, Bill was waxing sentimental about some beer, and I was listening, like the good wife that I am. It might have been better for him if I hadn’t been listening, because he throws out the acronym IPA and then proceeds to define the acronym IPA as though I didn’t know what it meant. Now, had I merely walked in on a conversation with someone else and not been listening to the subject, I might have confused IPA with IPO and pondered a moment if we had free cash available for investment. Acronyms are such a guy thing.
But since I was listening, and he was clearly talking about beer, I was completely insulted that he felt the need to tell me what an IPA was. I reminded him that we’ve been married for nearly twelve years, and that surely he didn’t think I was so dense that in all that time I hadn’t picked up the meaning of those letters. Now, I don’t know what makes a beer an India Pale Ale any more than I know what makes a beer a stout or a lager or a pilsner, but I do know what the initials stand for, for crying out loud.
He continued with his story, but all the beer talk reminded me of a conversation I’d had with my seven year old the previous day.
“Bill, I have to interrupt,” I said. “Billy asked me yesterday if beer was liquid bread…”
I could see a certain gleam in his eye.
“And since bread was good for you, wasn’t then too beer good for you…”
The guilt was pretty obvious now.
“I told him the law clearly stated he had to wait until he was 21, no matter how “healthy” the product.”
“OK, he got that from me. We were watching a video on You Tube…”
He got that from you? Really?
I’ve posted the offending video. Beer and legos: talk about the corruption of minors. I think I need to fire the babysitter.
I think I need to stop blogging about beer.