A Lesson in Brewing Volcabulary

I recently found myself experiencing something that many women who live in Portland might experience at some time. Hopefully, they do not. I pray that my words here might make a difference and save some other pathetic bride-to-be from the almost made-for-tv-movie situation that I recently found myself in.

Like many a Portland resident Grant, as many may know, loves to brew beer. Fortunately, he is good at it because I would hate to have to fake enjoyment for the rest of my life when imbibing in his various concoctions. And even better, this will cut down on the cost of alcohol at the wedding! (yes, I know, but let's agree to call me "thrifty" instead of "cheap".)

Well, his recent jaunt to Mexico this summer did not allow him the opportunity to brew, and when he got back he really wanted to get back on that wagon train. So a few weeks ago he started the brewing process. If you have never experienced it I have to tell you that there are few sights more humorous than watching a grown man walk around in rubber boots with a giant wooden spoon that a giant might use for eating his Wheaties! Brewing is a pretty messy process, with lots of ingredients and big fires coming out of propane tanks and bags of hops. Another important ingredient is yeast, which is what ferments the beer. After you make your yeast culture (which is in itself a bit of a science project), you put it into the liquid you have made and let it ferment. Temperature, as I have learned, is an important part of this process. So is making sure that the beer is not exposed to too much light. Grant usually keeps the beer during this process in a glass container in our guest room, with the door and the blinds closed.

I left Grant brewing one happy weekend and came home later in the evening. As I walked inside I noticed the door to the office was open, and the giant glass container of beer was no longer there. I assumed it was done, and asked Grant about it. He said no, he had decided to put it in the closet to make extra sure no light affected the beer.

"The closet in the guest room?"

"Yes."

"The closet with all of my work clothes and gowns for autioneering?"

"Yes, but it shouldn't be a problem."

"The closet where I am keeping my wedding dress?"

(slight elevation in volume here)

Pause

"Oh. You bought your wedding dress?"

With swift steps I walked into the guest room. I didn't even need to open the door, because there was a puddle of beer on the floor.

"Grant, could you please come in here?" (Greater increase in volume)

When Grant joined me I learned the term "blowing off". As in, when a beer is fermenting the yeast can sometimes make it very active. So active that the beer "blows off". Picture a whale taking a breath of air when it comes to the surface and you'll get a picture of what happened. In the closet. Where I keep my wedding dress.

Now some women may have freaked out, but as I have learned over the years I am the person you want to be with in a crisis situation. I get cold as ice and move quickly to do whatever needs to be done to rescue anyone around me from disaster. Including my relationship.

"Get out of the way" I said calmly as I began to remove clothes from the closet by the armful. Taking them all into the bathroom,which has the best light, I began to examine them one by one. Sure enough, the beer had blown off directly under my best dresses, which included my wedding dress. Even though it had been wrapped in plastic, a fair amount of beer still got on the dress.

Did I mention he was brewing a dark beer?

Grant, to his credit, was profusely apologetic, and not sure of what to do at this point. Despite the fact that I hadn't so much as raised my voice he acted a little afraid of me. (Good.) What he didn't know (because he hadn't seen the dress, until that point) was that one of the very reasons I had picked this dress was because I didn't want it to stain easily, like a silk or satin one would have. As I have said before on this blog, I am not the most graceful creature, and I was sure that I would trip and spill something on myself.

I took the wedding dress and began rubbing it gently with a clean wet towel. The beer began to disappear. (I think Grant was holding his breath at this point.) After a total of maybe 2 minutes it looked virtually spotless. The fabric underneath had a slight light tan stain, but I was pretty sure that would come out with dry cleaning, which, I am happy to report, it did. Only one dress was really damaged in the incident, and I had pretty much worn it to death. Grant paid for the dry cleaning, of course.

So, for all the future brides of Portland, if your sweetie brews make sure that he KNOWS where your wedding dress is BEFORE he starts brewing. Yes, he might sneak a peek. Who cares. He's man. It's a dress. It doesn't even register in his brain until your body is inside of it. And it could save you a lot of stress. Oh, and for all you fellows who brew: a dark towel around the outside of the container will block the light as effectively as putting it in a closet. And you may still have a fiance when you are done!

The End!