Shit Happens
Friday. A team building afternoon at the bowling alley today, something that's been planned and then postponed a number of times. Bowling is something I did when I was in school, a member of my university team, bowling many a game each and every week for years and years, but stopped when another project grabbed my time (and money) and attention. They had pizza and beer and I ate pizza and drank beer (but not a whole lot of beer) and took pictures under very weird lighting conditions. This was a bowling party, you understand, and for all my early years spent in a bowling alley, I've never seen one where they used disco lighting and projected music videos at top volume on a screen lowered from the ceiling just above the pin setters. It went with pizza and beer, I must admit; still, a first for someone who thought he knew something about bowling.
It is now ten in the evening, the head reasonably clear, although I've just poured a cup of sake.
What in the hell is with all this sake?
I have no idea. If you can add disco lights and music video to a bowling alley, you can add sake to the usual red blooded mix of beer, wine and whiskey. Not sure it makes any difference. So far I'm in the cheap sake phase, although I've started drinking it at room temperature as often as heating it. My guess is sake freaks consider hot sake for beginners: a slight warming above room temperature is tolerated, perhaps, but never blasted in a microwave oven.
If I find I'm drifting into the high end of the sake spectrum as I once started with Red Mountain Burgundy many years ago in San Francisco and eventually found myself one day comfortably differentiating Mouton Rothschild from Lafite in Napa, then I'll know I've obsessed myself into a dead end I've visited before. A sip of sake, a slice of cheese on a cracker: these are reasonable diversions. I've become more appreciative of reasonable diversions. If it turns into finding empty sake bottles in every nook and cranny of my apartment, well, shit happens.
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