Novembooze!

Oh snap, it's November! How'd that happen? Who cares—I finally get my town back, now that Salem's two-month version of Halloween is finally over.

To say I've been dreading this month of Discipline Year would be too dramatic, but I will admit I'm not excited about it. November means no alcohol, which means no relaxing with a glass of wine or a bottle of beer once the workday is done, which I do most evenings while making dinner or catching up with one of my many beloved, crappy TV shows… When does the next Bachelor start? That train wreck goes down so much smoother with a large glass of red.

I picked November for my prohibition because a) Thanksgiving will make it more of a challenge, b) it's thirty days, like rehab, and c) I liked the sound of "Novembooze".

I have to spend this afternoon in the city, which is fortunate, as it'll upend my schedule and hence my daily habits, so hopefully I won't be missing my glass-of-something come five or six, when I start getting dinner put together. Losing the comfort of the habits—wine, sugar, coffee, watching TV—is the hard part. Getting used to a little crutch being gone sucks, but it only sucks for a few days, until you've replaced it with something else. I have a lot of Angry Birds levels to catch up on… Maybe I'll swap a drink for that. Ah, mindless vices.

There is one possible exceptional circumstance built in to this month's mandate, however. On the off-chance I get word that Blaze wants my latest proposal, I will let myself have champagne. But it's far more likely I'd get a revision request first. So an official acceptance, should I get one, likely won't happen this month. And even if it did, maybe I'll be good and celebrate with something else. Cheez Doodles, perhaps. Because I keep it classy.

Anyhow, expect fewer random tweets between five and seven p.m. from me and my evil twin this month.

Cheers!

Beer Recommendation

Though anyone could guess it after spending just thirty seconds on this nobody-blog, I will reiterate this point again: no one gives me stuff for free or pays me to mention it. Any name-brand things I recommend here are unsolicited endorsements of stuff I genuinely like.

Onward! I wanted to put in a plug for some beer that's recently shown up at my bodega (aka the corner store where I routinely appear around three in the afternoon twice a week to buy family-sized jugs of cheap merlot—yes, I am a writer). It's a newish seasonal brew from Sam Adams, called Noble Pils. I heartily concur with something the manfriend said when he first brought it home and cracked one open—I've never been particularly blown away by a Sam offering before. Their beers are generally above average (in both taste and, sadly, price), and I'm proud of them as a local enterprise. But this is the first beer I've had of theirs that is truly excellent.

I won't bore you by rehashing what I might find written about the brewing process or ingredients. I will also fess up that I'm having a bottle of it right now, and that I preceded it with a large hunk of brownie, eaten directly off the spatula over the sink. This is probably not a recommended food pairing. But anyhow, here's what I think: Noble Pils is light without tasting watery, has a faintly spicy tang to it, and I bet it tastes even better in the summer than it does now, in the midst of a blizzardy January in New England. Also, it is a gooorgeous color. Pantone 136C. Call me phallic, but I usually prefer to drink my [non-stout] beer straight out of a bottle, but for this one I'd make an exception, because it's just the prettiest honey color you've ever seen.

That's it, really. If you spot Noble Pils in a packie near you, you have my full encouragement to bring it home.