claybair on thu 18 oct 01
Hey Kelly,
Forget the background check!
Next time you teach at that nearby parochial school you may have to submit
to a exorcism!->
Gayle Bair
Bainbridge Island, WA
http://claybair.com
Snip>
p.s. I have spent the week teaching clay to kids on an inter-session break
at a nearby parochial school. I showed them some pictures and we made
gargoyle masks today; demonic creatures with horns, tongues, and all manner
of sinister appendages. one had a mouthful of worms. They had a great time,
but I am not sure Sister Visiting Principal was entirely amused.
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claybair on thu 18 oct 01
About the same time Gregg was living on the commune I was vacationing in Bar
Harbor, Maine.
We stayed one night in a house where there was a cute little brown jug in
the garage. We were tempted to take a swig. We bought it and brought it
home. As I poured out the contents a mouse body also exited. I'm sure he
died happy.... I'm also glad I didn't take a swig! Gives me the creeps to
think how close we came to taking a swig... uggghh!
Perhaps that is the magic ingredient that knocked Gregg on the floor!->
Gayle Bair
Bainbridge Island, WA
http://claybair.com
gregg lindsley wrote>>
Many years ago, in 1969,a few of us who were
living on a commune way out in the woods in outside of
Ithaca New York went to visit a older man who lived
even farther out than we did who had bees and stories
of being hit by lightning so many times he could power
a neighborhood all by himself. We found this
interesting and made the treck. He told us stories of
lightning traveling around the inside of the little
cabin he lives in, and other odd tales of electricity.
He then served us a a few fingers of a light brown
liquid in a small clear glass, and called it mead.
Since he had bees there, that made sense. We'll we
drank it and in two minutes, couldn't walk, talk,
see, think or anything else! Whew! Anybody get the
number of that truck?
We'll after picking ourselves off the floor and
making it home, I thought, WOW! if that's mead, i want
to learn how to make it. So I got recipies and tried
and tried, and guess what. Not even close. Tasted
great and made you feel good, but nothing even close
to whatever that was. Today I make great Mead, which
often takes two years to clairify and get great legs,
but it's not what that fella served us. After much
runination, I figure it was that little 'ol white
lightning he served us. And it could have been out of
a little brown jug, but i don't remember.
_____________________________Gregg Allen Lindsley
_____________________________Earth and Fire Pottery
________ 10325 Brookside Dr
Whispering Pines Ca 95426
> Send postings to clayart@lsv.ceramics.org
>
primalmommy@IVILLAGE.COM on thu 18 oct 01
When I worked as a folklorist, I became familiar with the weird, wonderful culture of moonshiners and coon hunters in parts of the south. The "old boys" had it down, knew how to age their whiskey in charred barrels; some of the best stuff around came out during prohibition. (The little brown jug was the decanter of choice before the days of mason jars, and I suspect the "i love thee" song reflects that...)
The younger moonshiners too often take shortcuts, or run their still through a car radiator where the wild, airborne yeast makes a corrosive soup that leaches lead into the whiskey.
I was taught by one old master of the trade the two things that have served me well: How to do the back-of-the-forearm, one-fingered loop in the jug handle to raise it properly to the lips (I'd have to show you) and -- most importantly -- he said, "just make your adam's apple bob up and down a few times, wipe your lips and say "ahhhh", without actually swallerin any. I wouldn't drink a stranger's whiskey for love ner money."
Even without an adam's apple I managed to fake enough gulps of "stump hole liquor" to convince a few moonshiners that I wasn't from the bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. The days of the little brown jug and the big copper kettle still are long gone, though... one old timer in the green swamp of north carolina gave it up and started growing marijuana instead...
Yours, Kelly in Ohio -- only 40, and so much smarter than I was 10 years ago that I can only imagine what enlightenment awaits at 50...
p.s. I have spent the week teaching clay to kids on an inter-session break at a nearby parochial school. I showed them some pictures and we made gargoyle masks today; demonic creatures with horns, tongues, and all manner of sinister appendages. one had a mouthful of worms. They had a great time, but I am not sure Sister Visiting Principal was entirely amused.
_________________________________________________________________
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Check out the most exciting women's community on the Web
http://www.ivillage.com
gregg lindsley on thu 18 oct 01
Many years ago, in 1969,a few of us who were
living on a commune way out in the woods in outside of
Ithaca New York went to visit a older man who lived
even farther out than we did who had bees and stories
of being hit by lightning so many times he could power
a neighborhood all by himself. We found this
interesting and made the treck. He told us stories of
lightning traveling around the inside of the little
cabin he lives in, and other odd tales of electricity.
He then served us a a few fingers of a light brown
liquid in a small clear glass, and called it mead.
Since he had bees there, that made sense. We'll we
drank it and in two minutes, couldn't walk, talk,
see, think or anything else! Whew! Anybody get the
number of that truck?
We'll after picking ourselves off the floor and
making it home, I thought, WOW! if that's mead, i want
to learn how to make it. So I got recipies and tried
and tried, and guess what. Not even close. Tasted
great and made you feel good, but nothing even close
to whatever that was. Today I make great Mead, which
often takes two years to clairify and get great legs,
but it's not what that fella served us. After much
runination, I figure it was that little 'ol white
lightning he served us. And it could have been out of
a little brown jug, but i don't remember.
_____________________________Gregg Allen Lindsley
_____________________________Earth and Fire Pottery
________ 10325 Brookside Dr
Whispering Pines Ca 95426
> Send postings to clayart@lsv.ceramics.org
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