How's it coming with the breathalyzer? I read your post(s) and recalled how "way back when" drunk driving wasn't looked upon as such a heinous sin in the eyes of society, nor smoking either (unless it was the devil weed, marijuana). If you got pulled over "3 sheets to the wind," you more than likely got taken to the town jail to sleep it off - or even driven home and the keys given to your spouse/parent/left in the mailbox. If you were only 2 sheets to the wind, and were suitably civil and grateful, you could get away with a stern verbal rebuke and a forceful injunction to "Get yer ass home and don't let me see you like this again." "Like this again" was silently acknowledged by all to be about 2 weeks.
I cowboyed a bit in high school, working on nearby ranches summers and weekends. A big feller even at 15, I didn't look much out of place when I went along with the regular hands to take in a bit of nightlife at one local watering hole or another. As long as I didn't get too rowdy, I was welcome to drink elbow-to-elbow with those grizzled, sunburnt, squinty-eyed old pards.
And they could drink. Oh, Lord, they took up their glasses and bottles with a will and looks of grim determination. "Shut up and drink!" I was told if I tried to start up a conversation in the cool of the evening. Not till a decent amount of liquor had flowed past their lips and a goodly amount of diamond stars had tumbled onto the ebon kerchief of the night sky could a game of pool be suggested or a laugh roused with a pithy anecdote.
But, they couldn't drive for shit. Come closing time the more-ambulatory members of the party started shifting their buddies toward the door. Sometimes a really laborious process, getting the man-sacks filled with ill-set meat jello into the rig(s) could feel like it was taking hours. And sunrise and the foreman waited on no one, so he who was deemed most able would take to the wheel and do his best to cut the 45-minute drive on winding dirt roads down to 15. Surprisingly, hardly anyone ever died or was injured.
It didn't take me long to figure out my best chance of survival was if I was the one behind the wheel (the term "designated driver" hadn't filtered its way into our hinterlands yet). I devised a plan that I reckoned wise and practicable: whereas it was my normal wont to imbibe strong drink to the point where recreational vomiting occurred and I became unable to uncross my eyes; instead, my cunning plan bade me to periodically deliver a good, solid finger flick to the side of my nose. If I could feel it, I was good for another drink; if my nose was too numb to register anything except the vibration from the violence done to it, it was time to switch to soda pop.
It wasn't a perfect system. There was a time or two when I found myself in the driver's seat, coughing from the fetid exhalations of my unconscious compadres crowding me from the right and behind, seeing double... everything. But oh, sunrise was coming, and I had a duty to my friends. I had to get them and me home before the breakfast bell.
So I would hold one eyelid down with a fingertip (it wouldn't stay on its own), which cut my choices of road in half, then tack-and-fill as best I could until I got us to the bunkhouse. That was safe and responsible driving. And I patted myself on the back more than once for being such a civic champion.
What changes in acceptability have you noted over the years?
Oh, and on the subject of "What I did today": The krausen dropped on my split pea wash. Yay! I dipped it off to fill a Better Bottle, then stuck that out on the snowy deck to clear. Added sugar and water to my peas, a little baking soda because the ph was 3.2 (I got a new meter) and am hoping to see activity before long.
One thing: I forgot to de-gas it before racking it. The racking process consisted of dipping pitcherfuls out, then pouring them through screened funnel into the bottle. Will that and the clearing de-gas it enough?
Posted: Mon Jan 06, 2014 7:27 am
or maybe it's a ......no, I'll just have to wait like everyone else 
