Once in a while I enjoy drinking a few beers with the intent of catching, as one says, a good buzz, in order to take the mind off of many of the sobering thought constructs that haunt the mind with regular occurrence. Though such was not always the case. Drinking that is. Refusing to partake in the bliss of ignorance, participating in at least semi intelligent independent thought, well that was picked up somewhere between conception and now, though perhaps the fertilizer and the egg came to carry the notion. Once one comes to be, horse, drink that water, the thirst will satiate the soul. A few puddles were stumbled upon in my escape.

I actually quit drinking alcohol for the first time at age 16. Eleven years of teetotaling. Then that geographical location of Australia came to be under my soles for a year or so. Those Aussies had cured me within 30 days of arrival! Small town Australia, some have playgrounds outside the pubs. I once watched the elementary school principal punch out a female sheep shearer. Her front teeth were already missing before the altercation. I digress without even have laid a structure, let alone a foundation. Shallow puddles.

I can only guess that the Pope approved it. The six pack I had picked up a couple of Fridays ago that is. Reminds me of a song. Why support corporate monoculture when diversity breeds cosmic complexity?

Holy Water With 5% Alcohol?

Corner of Clarke Drive and East 6th Ave. WWJD?

I digress again. Have I lost direction without having laid out any bearings? My 6 pack needs some company to encompass the narrative. How about a glass. Not any glass will do. Could some paganism mix with the holy liquid? It just so happens that the circa 1st to 3rd century AD Roman glass flask I ordered online had graced my snail mail inbox the same day my six pack would get knocked back. I found it on a Danish website for under $200 CAD. Besides, I am a second class citizen now in an apartheid state called Canada. House arrest by Mein Fuhrer. A bit of savings in my pocket.


Talk about crusty. 1900 year old crust. About three beers in I thought to myself, “surely a buzzed carpenter could improve upon the presentation.” Let the couple hours of a future many more begin. Ancient glass restoration is a secret society. In my single member society beer is the initiation ritual.


Patience, it was needed. I am not sure if I ruined the “patina” of the object, nor do I really care. Interest and initiative, it will make life more enjoyable and interesting. Apparently the addition of copper and possibly lead is what gives the glass its green hue.

One will never become monetarily wealthy performing carpentry for a living, though philosophical pondering may make one rich beyond belief. Blogging, it may cost one thousands of dollars and hundreds into thousands of hours of ones time with zero return on “investment.” Again, philosophical pondering. So, if anyone out there wants some tips on how to clean up ancient glass, form your own secret society! Or just ask, I would be happy to share.