I don't remember who that was who had the kombucha blowing up in his kitchen back home, but I owe him a beer or two. He offered me a beer more than once but at the time I had made a pact with my best friend who had just had surgery and couldn't swallow that I wouldn't have a beer until he could have one too. A month later we shared a beer, him in MD and me in ME.
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This made me tear up. You’re a good guy.
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I want to think again of dangerous and noble things.
I want to be light and frolicsome.
I want to be improbable and beautiful and afraid of nothing
- - - as though I had wings. Mary Oliver, Starlings in Winter
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