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Over the weekend, I both gave and received strange gifts. Both were appreciated more than any gift certificate, and neither will stick around long. It wouldn’t surprise me if more gifts ended up this way this year since most of us will not be receiving any contract bonuses that represent more than the average yearly salary of a schoolteacher.

On Friday, the warehouse was the site of our first art show. It was gratifying to have a reasonable turnout of maybe 80 people, 12 artists showing work, and a pretty successful donation bar. It continues to blow me away how well the warehouse group gets things done – and without ego getting in the way of everything. This will be a monthly event, so it simply needs some positive word-of-mouth & continuing energy to clean up the warehouse each time, and we’ll be set.

At the art show, I had the opportunity to present Mike (winner of the prize for “why does this dog look like my friend”) with his prize: 1 quart of my latest batch of homemade root beer. I have to applaud Mike for accepting this prize, since it was the most adventurous recipe yet – a 50/50 blend of white sugar and light amber maltose for the sugar source. While I expected that the yeast would fall in love with the maltose, I underestimated how deeply the two would fall, and it had by far the biggest head of foam of any batch. It also was far less sweet than previous batches – with a scent of yeast as opposed to sarsaparilla, vanilla, or any other ingredients I put in. Despite all this, Mike was pleased to try something so different, and I now have a better idea of what sugar mix to use for the next, 5 gallon batch. There’s some friendly pressure from our resident homebrewer, who wants to ramp up the root beer production for our next event. All I need is an extremely cheap source of honey….know any non-commercial or liquidating (pun intended) beekeepers along the Front Range?

The gift I received was even stranger. On Saturday evening, relaxing with one of my favorite root beers and friends, I got a call from an unknown number. I didn’t pick up, since sitting at a dinner table with others hardly seems like the time to pick up one’s phone, but I did listen to the voicemail at the next opportunity. A gentleman with a penchant for beards had left me a message apologizing for Sam’s state of relative facial-hair-less-ness, and described the scrappy bits that exist on his chin in exquisite, albeit unappealing detail. Turning to Sam with the most puzzled look on my face I’ve had in months, I asked him why my favorite cartoonist would possibly be calling me to apologize for how “the downy blades on his chin remind you of leftover spaghetti stuck to the pot”. Turns out, David Malki has offered to call his fans as a surprise to find out what they are like, and Sam had orchestrated just such an event. This also just happens to coincide with my frequent remarks to those who know me that he would be perfect for a conference I work for that happens to need more funny people. So, at my friends’ insistence, I went outside to call him back. We had a slightly awkward conversation about spaces and warehouses for artists, the facial hair spectrum, and thoughts on our relative cities. After casually mentioning the conference I work on that Mr. Malki would be perfect for, he said he’s been trying to work on his public speaking skills and so would consider it for the future. (Hooray!) We ended our conversation: me back to friends with strange ideas for gifts, and he to looking at a potential new artist studio. And we both had more interesting weekends for it.

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