More beer

Today was the halfway point in time of my mug club challenge at the Moan and Dove. Since the last update, I've had some tasty stuff:

• Nostradamus
  
• Ommegang Three Philosophers
  
• DeKoninck blond
  
• St. Bernadus Abbot 12
  
• Delerium Nocturnem
  
• Val Dieu tripel
  
• Piraat
  
• Cantillon Rosé de Gambrinus
  
• Einbecker Ur-Bock (bottle)
  
• Bluebird Bitter (bottle)
  
• Bürgerbraü (bottle)
  
• La Moínette(bottle)
  
• Harviestoun Olde Engine Oil (bottle)
  
• North Coast ACME IPA (bottle)
  
• Schnenkerla Marzen (bottle)
  

But I'm only up to 65; there are 144 total, so I should have 72 at this point. I've been saying for a while now that I need to pick up the pace; I'm only a little bit behind, but I should really try to get ahead of this game. It's supposed to be fun, anyway, not stressful.

Conversation at the bar tonight turned to cats, and while some people liked cats and some people disliked cats, all present agreed that they were good for relieving stress, one way or another.

Dreams

My dream last night wasn't so weird, but it's unusual that I remember them. I probably wouldn't mention it except that everyone else seems to be doing that today.

Anyway, I was Paul Krugman's roommate. I couldn't quite figure out what house it was, but it seemed perfectly natural to be sharing a house with him. My brother arrived and we started setting up a model rocket launch, but indoors, and using the stairs to the basement as a launching pad (how this was supposed to work was entirely neglected). The rocket didn't have the usual igniter or even a firework-style fuse, but a small switch to flip at the base. We didn't want to be near that, so I was rigging up a string that went from the switch, over a couple of rafters, and up to the door of the stairs where we would stand. But it kept not working, and I asked Mr. Krugman how much of our investment in rocket fuel we were losing to inflation.