We have a plethora (a plethora, I tell you) of means to communicate these days: email, social networks, instant messaging, texting on cellphones… you name it. It’s gotten to the point where a) a lot of us have thumb injuries and repetitive motion issues in our wrists and b) the language consists of the modern version of that old advertisement “F U cn rd this, U cn gt a jb” for Speedwriting(tm).
What comes in the mail consists mostly of advertising and bills.
When was the last time you got something fun in the mail? When was the last time you got a letter? Let’s put it this way: 50 years from now, no one (and I do mean no one) is going to put out a book (electronic or on paper) entitled “The Complete Collection of Newt Gingrich’s Tweets.” There will also not be an excited headline reading, “Steven King’s Grandson Finds Lost Blog.”
There are no secret diaries, letters, or hidden boxes of little bits and pieces now. We are splayed out for all to see. The only way to keep something hidden is to write it down and put it under the bed. Seriously. I cannot imagine what love letters are like now; I suppose they consist of a text reading “You?” with the reply of “Yes, you?” or something like that.
But this is a plea for the simple ‘sit down at the table, pull out a piece of paper (with or without lines), and envelope and stamp and write a letter. Chatty…heartfelt…funny…all the little things and happenings of the day. With drawings if you like, and enclosing a photograph (God help us – an actual printed on photographic paper photo. Egad), or a newspaper clipping, or a picture of a new dress ripped from a magazine with the words “I love this!” written on it. Or a sample of fabric.
Trust me – for people who have totally given up on finding the one gift that the other person does NOT have and will not get this holiday season, regular ‘snail-mail’ correspondence is the right size, the right color and will definitely please.
This past week, my younger daughter put up a note on her Facebook page about smelling ale and it making her want to bake bread. And I thought, “hunh…is there enough yeast still left in beer or ale to do that?” Now, scientifically, what happens with beer or wine for that matter is that the yeast that gets put in eats up all the sugar, produces CO2 and alcohol as a byproduct and once the alcohol level gets high enough (for the particular strain of yeast – all of them are different and some wine yeasts can produce as much as 15% alcohol by volume before they conk out), the yeast get killed off. 
A lot of people would like to raise some sort of livestock – whether it’s chickens or pigs or lambs or whatever – but they are stopped by lack of experience and fear. Actually, raising animals is pretty simple (not necessarily easy – which is a whole different deal):
