At least it's still a little bit harder to achieve sainthood than to become a knight of the british empire. San Jaun Diego. Well almost - this was only the canonization. Only took 400 years to get admitted into this exclusive club. This is assuming you're one of the people who believes that Jaun Diego ever existed in the first place. Won't say he didn't, but it's perhaps a bit too convenient to have all these religious miracles happen at the same time the Spaniards come to town with their "Convert or Die!" message.

Only now I start to take seriously the guy yesterday. From Tennnessseee or Ahrkansaw or someplace like that. His family runs a music store, a lot like mine. Then Mars came to town. I've come to terms with the big GC, but Mars is a loose cannon in this game. He was telling me a bunch of the tactics they used to survive. You see Mars is a lot more like a traditional music store than GC, but a chain with public stock just the same. The tactics this guys' family used won't work for me. High-end craft guitars. Gryphon's got that locked up. I need a handful of nitches (Hey, I'll spell it any way I want) that nobody else wants. Don't worry - I'm working on it.

Haven't been many of them. Maybe four at most. Fourties something men, usually with long hair. They pass by on the street and instantly zoom in on the '72 Gibson in the window. Stare at it for about 30 seconds, and then look inside. Refuse to look me in the eye and wave me off if I approach them. They look around - and then go back outside and stare at that guitar. Then walk away. Exactly as I would have done... Today one came back. Wanted to play it. OK. Plunked out a few notes (literally) - then handed it back. Exactly as I would have done. Mumbled a few meaningless words designed to reveal as little about oneself as possible. Then walked away again. Now this kind of customer I understand... He might not buy the guitar, maybe he can't afford it today. But he'll be back every few months to look in the window as long as he lives within driving distance.

The beer has been bubbling away for two days now. The foam is starting to subside. Now comes phase two. It needs to be tucked away for a month or six until it's done. Can't let air in. Oxygen is bad for beer if it gets too much. But those little yeasties are busy eating sugar and letting off alcohol and carbon dioxide. Have to be able to vent off the carbon dioxide or it will blow up. Luckily there's a device for this task. An airlock. It's a double-bent tube with an inch of water poured into one of the bends. Voila. Pressure creates bubbles, which bubble through the water and escape. Air stays out. So tonight I'm draining the cookpot into water cooler bottles fitted with airlocks. Then just forget about it until stops bubbling a few weeks or months down the road. Could drink it right now. It's real beer this very second. Time just makes it better. Hmmm. Think I will...

Technically this beer is a lager since I made it with lager yeast. There are religions that spring up over what variety of yeast to use, and a purist would never make lager in the summer in California. Lager likes to be 65 degrees - or less. No problem. I can chill it for six months. I've done this before. But check this out - if you make lager in the summer in California and don't chill it, it's called steam beer. Think I'll just leave it out of the chiller and make me some steamy beer.

Wow. Not quite ripe steamy beer and Mrs. Smith's cherry pie. Did I mention I was a hedonist? Maybe I'll put it in the water cooler bottles tomorrow...