We'd had a lovely evening, sans children (thanks to the G-ma and G-Pa).
Simple dishes that tasted 'oh so good' (quite healthy too).
And the discussion rolled around to yeast.
Yeast? (Like, as infection?)
Yes "yeast" as in what a person would find if they googled it and were interested enough to read through the Wikipedia entry. Because, somewhere in there, you'd come across "Kombucha". (Pictured below from the "Wikipedia" entry for those of you who really don't want to "geek-out" on the sh--).
Then... talked about the five kinds of sugar (from memory that was/is slightly drunk at the time...blame the yeast...base-fucking level of life-form), we talked about the five: lactose, sucrose, glucose, maltose, and fructose.
(As a kid, having your arm stuck with a needle for what seemed like all-day-long to take the glucose tolerance test has you paying more attention to what's what in the world of sugar besides just the crystals...)
Back to "Kombucha" - not "Kombucha".
Yeah, there's a difference, and it makes for one hell-of-a cross cultural lesson if you really want to get into it...
What's it got to do with yeast?
"Everything...because yeast is a (scrolls back up on the Wikipedi page) fungi. Fungi is part of a supergroup or superkingdom. We're talking life... not just the kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species kind of crap we were supposed to have learned in high school or something... yeast is a basic form of life, on the microbial level!" (like
I've he's even got a frikin' clue as to what I'm he's talking about).
(We still a little tipsy here)
Wifey was a bit irritated (but not quite irate) at this point.
"We were talking about yeast!!"
"Huh? Yeah! A basic life form. One of the most basic, found just about everywhere. We're gardening, right? Okay, we're at least trying...if we want to fix the soil, we can mycofiltrate."
Now, she's probably pissed in at least two ways.
"Myco-my-what? What the fuck you talking about?!" (Rough translation)
Needless to say, the spare iPad was really helpful in getting points across and showing that
I (cough) "he" might have had a fucking clue as to what I (fuck it) was going on about (Stamets) because I had coughed up the dough to buy the book that was recommended to me from someone I'd happened to have taken a walk with last time I was back in the hometown-kind-of-place and... never mind.
Our evening ended, at this point, in her heading off for the tub/shower after a brief argument about the
fucking "dear" TV...something I am convinced is quite useless and a total distraction.
Unless we really do need to be distracted from each other. No...don't go there.
(This half-almost-drunk-post is dedicated to Corinne... a person who has more moxy than the lot of us).