Excitement Over My New Book!

November 17, 2008 at 7:48 am (Authors, Books, Bottles, Brother John, Carboy, Family, Mead Making, poetry, Siphon, Uncategorized, Wine Making) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )


By Eydie Wight

Welcome Back Brother John and Kathy

First I’d like to say, “Welcome home Brother John and Kathy!” I may work in a hospital but it’s the LAST place I’d want to spend 24/7 time for nearly two weeks. Especially, in Kathy’s case, being poked with needles, tied to monitors, and a being a guinea pig to the whims of residents who HOPE this medicine or this test will fix the problem that they HOPE they have figured out. Medicine is not an exact science but it is an exasperating one! And, in Brother John’s case, days of sleeping in a chair, not being provided with a place to shower, having to eat cafeteria food and Kathy’s leftovers, and making sure that doctors realize they have to wash their hands just like inferior people all can make you just want to curl up and have a Twinkie. Brother John will have to expound on their adventures in ICU land.

Announcing My New Book Of Poetry!

On Thursday I officially turned my book of poetry over to the printers! I am obnoxiously excited and beg forgiveness for shameless self promotion but this has been my dream for so long. Number one on the old bucket list! I had been working pretty hard the last several weeks to get everything in the correct form. I’m not very computer literate and the pictures I was trying to place kept jumping all over the screen, growing larger and smaller at whim, knocking my text right off the page, or disappearing entirely. Last Saturday was a cold, drizzly day so I worked steadily on the book, progressing from page 17 to page 65, typing in poems I only had in hard copy, searching for elusive photos I KNEW we had somewhere in the big Rubbermaid vat of photos, picture CDs, and negatives, and writing the “thank-you”page, content page, and cover pages. Then, I hit a whole slew of poems that needed to be typed into the format and I was so tired. I was whining to Sammy and he came up with the idea that they could be copied from a poetry site I belong to. And then he somehow hit the “X” button. Now, despite what I have been told over and over again, I hadn’t saved any of my day’s work. Yup, back to page 17. I stomped around the house cursing, I slammed the refrigerator door and kitchen cupboards, I finally grabbed the keys and ran out into the rain. I drove to the top of the ridge and sat in the car and pounded the steering wheel and cursed some more and wailed and boohooed. Then I drove back home, made a pot of strong coffee, and re-entered everything. By 4:30 AM the darn book was done except for proofreading and a little editing. Poor Sammy made me the biggest, most beautiful breakfast in the morning.

So, Thursday we drove to the printers. I had everything on disk, which I copied, including a copy for the fire safe. I had a hard copy (one in the fire safe too). The meeting went smoothly and well, even though I had to pop a couple of Mylanta and wished for a much stronger deodorant. I had a little trouble actually handing over the disk and hard copy. My fingers just didn’t want to let go. I did ask them to make sure they tucked in my poems before bed, didn’t let them go out and play in the rain, and if it wasn’t too much trouble, maybe sing to them just a little. Yup, they think I’m a crazy lady. So, December 1st my poems will come back to me in perfect binding form with an ISBN and a price tag. I may have to break out the Scotch. I DID break out the Apple Jack after we left the printer.

It may have been the high spirits, it may have been the Apple Jack “spirits”, but on the way home Sammy had to forcibly restrain me from using the pellet gun on the large inflatable turkey someone had decorated their yard with. I have a deep, abiding dislike of inflatable yard decorations. This dislike leaves pet peeves in the dust and borders on inflatable serial killer rage. First the inflatables started popping up at Christmas. Then I saw inflatable spiders, ghosts, and a seven foot tall Frankenstein at Halloween. Now the turkey. I don’t want to make light of anybody’s right to tacky lawn decoration, but they do make my trigger finger itch.

Take A Look At Our Beautiful Young Mead!

Speaking of alcoholic beverages, the mead is bottled! At the moment the pantry is empty of carboys. We bottled a case of small beer sized bottles and a case and a half of fifths. Young as it is, the Minsi Mountain Mead has a mellow, somewhat earthy flavor. Not too dry, not too sweet. Now it should age for at least a year. We’ll see…

Each year I try to knit several little Christmas gifts. This year I was so excited because I found a knitted slipper pattern that had belonged to our Granny. I remember those slippers. Every family member had a pair in whatever colors Granny happened to have yarn scraps enough for. They were great for skating down the hallway. I can’t remember which cousin it was (I’m thinking cousin Tim) who had the bright idea to lemon pledge the hall first and then skate down it wearing the Granny slippers but that worked GREAT! Kids, try this at home. (I mean knitting slippers but the hallway slide part is pretty good too!) The slippers are an easy pattern to make. (You can follow the pattern here: Granny’s Knitted Slippers but come back when you are done!). I made my first pair the other night after 40 years of slipper less knitting. I chose a thick brown wool and then knitted a narrow cashmere trim to line the foot opening. Unfortunately the kittens think my slippered foot is the best play toy ever invented. I may have to knit them their own pair. They keep dragging the slippers all over the house at night. Usually a soggy chewed on slipper finds its way into the bed during our day sleep.

I can’t believe that Thanksgiving is nearly here. I still haven’t finished all the fall projects (like winterizing the shed where the outside cats sleep and sorting through the flower seeds I harvested.) I do have the heater running in the cat shed and the old comforters washed and set out on the shelves in there. Big Fat Sherman refuses to leave the shed in the winter so he has a litter box even though the whole world could be his litter box. I have neurotic cats.

I remember one Thanksgiving when my second husband Greg was alive. He was quite a good hunter and had shot a fine big turkey with the shot gun. I skinned it, cooked it with all the trimmings (mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, sweet potato casserole, corn, pumpkin pie) and made myself a nice lunch to take to work. Greg and Roger had gone to mom and dad’s for Thanksgiving and stopped by afterward to see me at work and brought ANOTHER whole plate of food! I had been working with one of the hospital residents who was from Russia and had never had a “true American Thanksgiving” I had spoken of the food in glowing terms during the shift and decided, since I now had two dinners, to share the one I had brought with him. I heated everything up and eagerly awaited his opinion. Well, it seemed that I hadn’t gotten all the shot out of the turkey and the resident’s first experience of an American Thanksgiving resulted in a broken tooth and a first visit to an American dentist. Also, I had over microwaved the mashed potatoes and he had to chisel his way through them. The stuffing like wise was “bone dry” and as he struggled politely through it I thought I was going to have to give him his first American Heimlich maneuver.

We had a little bit of a snow shower as Sammy was driving us to work last night. Combined with my double header of “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” and “The Wizzard of Oz” that I watched before coming into work, I’d have to say I’m getting into the holiday spirit. There’s nothing like holiday movies, a nice fire in the wood stove and (you guessed it) my pajamas to make me a happy girl. Add a little snow falling outside, put a cup of hot tea on the coffeetable and some Granny slippers knitting in my hands and I’m a very happy girl.

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The Siphoning Technique.

August 18, 2008 at 6:51 am (Carboy, Mead Making, Siphon) (, , , , , , , )


Here you can see how to siphon!

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Our trip to the wine store for equipment.

August 3, 2008 at 8:00 am (Bottles, Bungs, Carboy, Fermentation Lock, Hydrometer, Mead Making, Nutrient, Potassium Metabisulfite, Siphon, Strainer bag, Yeast) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )


By Eydie Wight

My husband Sammy and I were having a really good weekend. We had had a long, gray, spate of “not winning the lottery” (again), having our septic system spew raw sewage out into our beautiful corn crop (human poop does grow good corn-not safely edible corn-but good corn), having our safety net of painstakingly horded cash mysteriously disappear from its hiding place, having the air conditioning go out in the car three times while at the same time listening to the musical grindings of the brake rotors in the other car, and having our kitten Ophelia become very ill very suddenly. Our motto for awhile there had become, “Let’s kiss the ass end of this day goodbye.”

But, we were having a really good weekend. Saturday we decided to finally make the hour drive to the beer and wine making store. We held hands and talked of pleasant things like our proposed mead making and the possibility of another trip to the Bahamas next year when I reach 50. I had a list of things we needed for the mead. I always feel better when I have a list. When I drop dead some day it will be with a list in my hand with all the items crossed off. On the drive to “the city” Sammy called a friend who he hadn’t been in touch with for a long time. The two of them, Sammy and Ramey, used to have an acoustic duo. back in the 70’s. I have a picture of the two of them on my locker at work. When people ask me, which one is your husband, I either reply, “the fuzzy one” or “the Dan Fogelburg looking one”. Ramey I call “the Glen Campbell guy”. Anyway, Sammy and Ramey talked until we had reached our destination and then we parked and sat and they talked some more, catching up on 30+ years of news.

We finally figured out that the entrance to the store was actually down an alley. As we drove down the alley Sammy stopped, backed up, and said, “Hey, did you see those drums? Somebody put a snare and a tom out for trash.” I said, “well, you can’t pass up looking at that, we could use some drums.” So, Nine Inch Nails sticker and all, the drums were loaded into the car.

As we parked in front of the store we saw a van with a Bucknell wrestling sticker. We looked at each other and at the same time wondered how our young friend Luke was doing. He is an honors student, fantastic musician, savvy wrestler, and he goes to Bucknell. We miss him. We entered the world of “everything you need or want to have to make really ostentatious and hopefully drinkable beer and wine” and stood gaping like fish out of water. Buckets, carboys, wine yeasts, wine nutrient, yeast energizer, siphons, fermentation locks, bottles, corks, potassium metabisulfite, strainer bags, bungs, hydrometers, thermometers. And we saw young Luke there with his dad! After hugs all around he told us he was there shopping for the ingredients to make his own probiotics. Well, we were assisted in our purchases by a knowledgeable and personable kid who is probably old enough to drink but young enough to get carded for the next 10 years of his life, and headed out. Outside the store we called Lew, an amateur wine maker I work with who had generously offered to lend us two carboys and some other equipment.

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