My husband and I are homebodies. I make no apologies for
it. When he's not making IT magic or I'm not researching my latest
article, we're here - right here on Mayne. Surrounded by aging pine trees and
gnawed oaks, sprouting jonquils, pastures with too little grass for four feisty
horses, two rambunctious albeit passive dogs, a fluffy (we'll just leave it at
that) kitty and the two of us. I like it that way. There's no effort in happy. It just comes as easy as rain.
Last weekend, research demanded a brewery visit. The
article - which will be featured in Georgia
Connector - will offer my best picks for beer festivals in the coming year.
The best really isn't a hard choice, but naturally, you start with
what's in your own backyard.
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| a cold night and he rescued me |
To get the crowd feel, we patiently stood in the winding
line outside Terrapin Brewery in Athens for over an hour Saturday night,
watched as we were undoubtedly two of the (at the most) ten people representing
the baby boomer generation while the hundreds that stood by us were barely out
of diapers. They came from everywhere, and they kept coming for two hours. Girls, guys, dogs - and dogs. The dogs dressed in Mardi Gras beads had a particular spark in their step.
I remembered those college years, where the Saturday
night outing was a major event that usually took days of preparation in order
to pull off. Hugging close to girl friends, laughing the appropriate laugh at
the appropriate time, knowing who to follow, knowing what not to say, not to
drink, not to wear - it all was a dance that left me left-footed then.
Evidently, these girls have evolved. They had the moves
down. The forced giggle, the lean on the right foot, the hand on the guy's
shoulder, the arch of the eyebrow - and that was before they even had beer.
Once inside, with the provided glass accessory, they mingled, laughed, taunted,
shifted (very little), hugged, gestured, and wandered with nomadic moves - I
was exhausted. I was here to research the brewery, not have a lesson in the
societal movements of the twenty-something generation, but how do you get one
without the other.
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| come dressed for mardi gras |
Although some things have changed (tons of spandex and
shorts in winter and accompanied by the right pooch), the basic woman (and guy for that matter) on the prowl has
not. Even my husband could foresee each feline's next move (spotting her target
with incredible recognition), mainly because he remembered that the progression
worked much the same then at Villanova as it did thirty years later at UGA. Put
a glass in a woman's hand and she's superwoman, but of course, only if you have
the mingling, laughing, taunting - and on and on - down pat. Life hasn't
changed that much; it just wears less clothes.
Yes, I took the tour at Terrapin and viewed quite a
hometown operation, one that is four-times bigger this year than last. I
sampled the seasonal Moo-Hoo, liquid infused with a chocolaty-milky smack. Two thumbs up! I
fought the crowds in the sample line as well as the deluge in the bathroom line.
I people-watched, dog-watched and beer watched.
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| one of my picks for evening's best dressed |
It was fun for an otherwise home-body that rarely
withdraws from Mayne.
Got to see how the
younger crowd can still take over a room. I was pleasantly
not shocked. Take a girl; add a glass,
and it's the perfect accessory for conversation, prowling and wishful thinking.
With or without my glass, I had it all even before I braved the line.
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| just take a load off and enjoy! |
