Beerbecue Daycare: Day 5 and Lessons Learned

Day 4 was July 4th. Beerbecue Daycare closes for Federal holidays. So, on to Day 5 and lessons learned.

We could never afford me as a stay at home parent (even at my current salary): Going out every day for lunch and craft beer is not cheap. In fact, the Haybag politely suggested that perhaps Day 5 could entail lunch at home and a beer from the fridge. So, I got $20 of take-out from Pork Barrel BBQ and drank a Devil’s Backbone Vienna Lager from the fridge. I spent the rest of the afternoon drowsily admiring my fiscal restraint.

Maybe just one...

Maybe just one…

With my special edition Beerbecue Daycare facial hair, sunglasses, and my generally disheveled look derived from my need for a haircut, slovenly sartorial decisions, and inconsistent showering, I look like a degenerate…with a Baby Bjorn: Melissa’s hair stylist saw me walking around, and commented to the Haybag that with the Baby Bjorn I reminded her of the Hangover. I don’t think it was a compliment.
There is one guy here whose looks one should aspire to. I missed the mark.

There is one guy here whose looks one should aspire to. I missed the mark.

I was unable to infiltrate a stay at home mom group: I never really saw one. At Pizzeria Paradiso, I did hear a woman order a margarita over the racket of several kids, but that does not a mom group make. Besides, interaction with the fairer sex is not my strong suit. Had I actually tried to infiltrate one, I probably would have made some awkward joke and received some blank stares a la high school…college…law school…life.

Babies are self-absorbed sociopaths: Listen, I don’t want some protracted comment from some idiot about how poorly I understand basic psychiatric diagnoses (I’m looking at you 500-word Nietzsche rant guy), but clearly Clara meets several of the criteria for dissocial personality disorder: Callous unconcern for the feelings of others; disregard for social norms, rules, and obligations; and very low tolerance to frustration and a low threshold for discharge of aggression.

She demonstrated this behavior consistently, but never more pronounced than when I met the Sports Glutton for a beer at the Curious Grape (a short walk from our place). She was blurting out babbling baby non sequiturs without regard to topic or who was talking, squawking loudly in a situation that clearly called for a conversational tone; and writhing, squirming, and throwing baby ‘bows the whole time I held her. Hopefully she grows out of it.

And now for the beer…
Vienna Lager

This decorated beer is a Vienna Lager, appropriately named “Vienna Lager”. It pours a clear amber, with a fairly dense head that hangs just long enough to get used to it (like it leaves its toothbrush at your place and has a half a dresser drawer), then suddenly it’s all like “It’s not you. It’s me.” And it’s gone without a trace. It smells like a beer (that’s all I got. 2.0 was screaming for more pureed pears). It’s got a nice toasted bread and slightly sweet malt character with some caramel peeking in. The bitterness is pretty low (only 18 IBUs), but it’s just enough to finish nearly clean and crisp with a slight malt sweetness lingering.

The slight sweetness of the brew goes nicely with the sweetness and caramelization of the piggy. I had it with a mustard-based sauce, but I imagine it would work with about any sauce.

The Haybag: Yes. Get $20 of takeout. That’s exactly what I was thinking.

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