Hi. My friends, Dan McFeeley and the Mead Bubeh, introduced me to Vicky and Oskaar recently. Some of the stories they told about this forum were so funny I thought I'd drop in and say howdy to the rest of the GotMeaders. Hey, and Dr. Sigmund Von Meader looks in here sometimes, too. At least, he used to. Hello, Dr. Siggy! :wave:Let's get together for drinks! I've got some stories from the Id you wouldn't believe!
I'm a mead lover and a very spiritual, er, person. Been making and drinking the golden drop now for - how long? Maybe a millennium (I know, late bloomer). I busted my way out of a bottle of Jadwiga just recently, and the story of how in 1620 I was duped by a Polish countess into sliding down said bottle, only to have her triumphantly slam the cork down, I'll tell you another time. Suffice it to say that I've always been susceptible to handsome ladies, especially buxom, hot-tempered red-heads. I spent the centuries profitably, though, studying the art of brewing and getting a little more up to date in my method than my old friend, Sir Kenelm Digby. Sometime I'll tell you stories about him, too. Snared me a copy of "The Compleat Meadmaker" out of a time warp I made to occur. From Kenelm to Kenneth, it's been a long and arduous journey.
At least I had that Jadwiga to keep me sane. Honey back then was superior: rich, with fresh, primeval flavors. Brewed with water from those unpolluted rivers, the mead was superb. I studied and sipped mead. Kept an eye ever open and an antenna ever out for just the right combination of circs. When spiraled time and ordered chaos coincided at the right astral conjunction, I took my chance and broke out.
Well, the main thing is, I'm out, and embodied again. Got the itch to brew mead, but maybe I'll just read around this forum for a while before undertaking any new projects. Dealing with bottles and corks gives me the willies these days. (I'm sure you all understand.)
When materialized, I'm just a tall, dark, and handsome sort of guy with a large nose and an attractive foreign accent; cultured, having lots of friends and lots of money. People get the impression I have big-time job because I live in a big house. I'm closed-mouthed about my daytime activities (and my nighttime activities), which leads to amusing speculation among my neighbors, and dates, about my working for the CIA or maybe the Mafia, or possibly Microsoft. I'm mostly enjoying my freedom right now. Give me a loud party with lots of crazy people, well irrigated with mead, and I'm happy as a sandboy.
ccasion18:
Still, there are nights, especially when a fat white moon hangs over the world, silvering the thousand roses in my garden, and the perfume rises all around, when I choose to sit out on the patio with just my dog, Pfreida, for company. Pfreida will gnaw on a mastodon bone she snatched up as we fled the confining bottle, and think her inscrutable thoughts. I'll smoke a Romeo y Julieta, quaff a little cyser, brood over some very old Assyrian things, and plan what I'll get up to next day. I mean, a busy Djinn and his dog need a little quiet time, sometimes, right?
Later,
Djarred
I'm a mead lover and a very spiritual, er, person. Been making and drinking the golden drop now for - how long? Maybe a millennium (I know, late bloomer). I busted my way out of a bottle of Jadwiga just recently, and the story of how in 1620 I was duped by a Polish countess into sliding down said bottle, only to have her triumphantly slam the cork down, I'll tell you another time. Suffice it to say that I've always been susceptible to handsome ladies, especially buxom, hot-tempered red-heads. I spent the centuries profitably, though, studying the art of brewing and getting a little more up to date in my method than my old friend, Sir Kenelm Digby. Sometime I'll tell you stories about him, too. Snared me a copy of "The Compleat Meadmaker" out of a time warp I made to occur. From Kenelm to Kenneth, it's been a long and arduous journey.
At least I had that Jadwiga to keep me sane. Honey back then was superior: rich, with fresh, primeval flavors. Brewed with water from those unpolluted rivers, the mead was superb. I studied and sipped mead. Kept an eye ever open and an antenna ever out for just the right combination of circs. When spiraled time and ordered chaos coincided at the right astral conjunction, I took my chance and broke out.
Well, the main thing is, I'm out, and embodied again. Got the itch to brew mead, but maybe I'll just read around this forum for a while before undertaking any new projects. Dealing with bottles and corks gives me the willies these days. (I'm sure you all understand.)
When materialized, I'm just a tall, dark, and handsome sort of guy with a large nose and an attractive foreign accent; cultured, having lots of friends and lots of money. People get the impression I have big-time job because I live in a big house. I'm closed-mouthed about my daytime activities (and my nighttime activities), which leads to amusing speculation among my neighbors, and dates, about my working for the CIA or maybe the Mafia, or possibly Microsoft. I'm mostly enjoying my freedom right now. Give me a loud party with lots of crazy people, well irrigated with mead, and I'm happy as a sandboy.
ccasion18:Still, there are nights, especially when a fat white moon hangs over the world, silvering the thousand roses in my garden, and the perfume rises all around, when I choose to sit out on the patio with just my dog, Pfreida, for company. Pfreida will gnaw on a mastodon bone she snatched up as we fled the confining bottle, and think her inscrutable thoughts. I'll smoke a Romeo y Julieta, quaff a little cyser, brood over some very old Assyrian things, and plan what I'll get up to next day. I mean, a busy Djinn and his dog need a little quiet time, sometimes, right?
Later,
Djarred
