Beer Club Victory!

If you're one (the one, thanks Mom!) who reads this blog regularly, you may have noticed the lack of new material lately. With every intention to add to the list of entries and document my life's goings-on (mostly so that I remember every detail for my therapist,) I'm afraid I have been slacking. Actually, I've been busy... busy accomplishing my greatest "achievement" of the entire year! Yes, it's true. After eleven painstaking months, I have finally become a member of the Flanagan's Pub Centurion Club!

As I mentioned in a previous blog post, members of this exclusive "club" have successfully sampled 100 different beers from the vast selection of brews at the local pub, Flanagans. Those who succeed in this task then become an official mug-holding member, as the award for such a feat is a handmade, personalized beer mug in which to enjoy their beers # 101 and on. Like a celebrity's photo grandly hung in a restaurant where he once dined, my trophy, um... mug will be on display behind the bar. And I couldn't be prouder! My hope is that my mug, a symbol of this accomplishment, will inspire every happy hour-goer, social drinker and functioning (or non-functioning) alcoholic who enters its empire.

While my Centurion Club pursuits come from a beer-loving gal looking for an excuse to get together with a dear friend, the accomplishment of completing the task, in a way, represents something more. It seems that this year has brought its fair share of challenges. Yes, I realize that everyone has their ups and downs in life, and there are so many more people worse off than me. This is why I choose to embrace this small accomplishment, my beer club membership, as a symbol of my faith that I could reach this "lofty" goal and also of my determination to finish it.


I was just remembering the time I went hiking with my dad when I was 18. My dad has always loved the outdoors and is notorious in the family for choosing and dragging us down the longest path, up the highest hill or through the most treacherous terrain (especially on vacations,) and this trip was no different. However, about three miles in to our five mile (it felt longer, trust me!) hike, the nastiest, darkest, most ominous thunderstorm like nothing I had seen, started rolling in. Caught totally off-guard, we were lucky to find a shelter high up on the hill nearby. Now, even as a girly-girl teenager, I wasn't one to squeal if my feet got wet or my hair got messed up. However, this wasn't just a quick spring drizzle, this was a full-on, raining sideways, check-the-weather-channel-to-verify-what-you-just-witnessed amazing storm. And I have to admit, I was a little scared of being so exposed and so vulnerable to the elements. The black clouds were moving very quickly and we knew that it would pass soon, so my dad and I hunkered down in the corner of the wood frame structure trying to shield ourselves from the pelting rain and wind. Eventually, after 20 minutes in that shelter, the rain eased up enough that we were able to continue on with the hike.

Now, years later, when things seem difficult and it feels like my luck will never change, I think of how we literally "weathered the storm" that day. And as cheesy as it sounds, I know that, eventually, the "storm" will pass and things will get a little easier. I just need to wait it out the best I know how. Either that or the storm will leave me beaten, battered and facedown in the middle of a muddy ditch. But, I prefer to think of the first option. And at least I'll have my hard-earned, membership badge of pride, my beer club mug! Because I'll need it!

'