February 2, 2008 :: Losing one's head. Brickstore Pub, Decatur

Ooh, Belgian beer. Well, I'm channeling Blake here - because I think that's what he's saying above, and I really don't care much for the little pints of bitterness he likes to order when we go to fancy-schmancy beer places. I'm all for a nice wheat. A fruity white. Even a heady, heavy double-chocolate. (You can't see, but that's what I've ordered here.) In fact, he's usually a PBR/Hi Life/Michelob Ultra kind of guy, but when faced with a menu of the epic nature that the Brickstore Has (I counted 30-some on draught, 100 more in bottles. Geesh.) he'll break out the beer-snob's nose and we'll pointedly discuss bubbly head size and nutty undertones. We're such dorks.

We took a nice little walk through Decatur this morning to get here. It's a cute place. Evokes a bit of a crazy, hipsters-with-toddlers vibe that kind of creeps me out, but probably only because I get little flashes of our own possible futures when I see the tattooed moms and dads earning their artfully disheveled hair from 4am wake-up calls rather than 4am bedtimes. To me, its heartening, a little sad, and a little scary. As usual, I'm torn.

Anyway - on a weirder but coordinated note, a friend and I were once walking through the adorable Decatur square one afternoon and came upon a stylish young woman strolling solemnly (she may have even been crying) pushing a stroller. When we approached, I noticed it was empty.

Now that broke my heart.

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