Mead, Writing, and Strawberries

You remember I told you I'd tell you how the mead came out? We made a second batch last night, one jug of "original" and one of strawberry.  Strawberry ferments so fast the pinhole in the balloon whistled all night with escaping gas.

Here is the original batch being filtered.

Here is Miss Boo tasting a strawberry.  Believe it or not, this turned into a happy smile.  She likes strawberries.

So does Bud.

...and he likes Fruity Puffs, too.

Here's a glass of the finished mead.  It smells--and tastes--like flowers; it has, however, no delicate flower-like kick.  A glass of it goes down pretty smooth and will affect you about as much as the equivalent amount of whiskey.  Viking hooch indeed!

Here is Littleman, in a shirt that Daddy's cousins from Germany sent us.  Littleman is newly 3 months old; the shirt is size 4-6 months and it fits perfectly.

 He also doesn't understand that 3-month-olds are not supposed to 1) roll over 2) spin around on their stomachs 3) try to crawl or 4) insist on sitting up by themselves.  (Most interesting baby in the world, remember?)

 Here is what the living room looks like when Mama's been cranking out novel chapters all weekend.

 Here is another strawberry face.

Here is the desk when Mama's cranking out novel chapters.  It's going to be good, I swear.  Even if it will be under a pseudonym.

Cheers,

Breanna