Complex Numbers

Stuck in Committee

I found more new-to-me breweries today.

But let me start by recapping yesterday.

The town I was in was, if you care to look at it on a map, Wytheville, VA. I'd never spent any time in it before, but it's exactly what I expected from a small town in the mountains: two stoplights, 500 people, 600 churches, and a rustic nonfunctional clock on the courthouse.

And, as I noted, two breweries. Here's the funny part, though: as far as I know, the breweries aren't related. But one is called 7 Dogs, named after seven dogs the owner had rescued (with, fortunately, a nod to the rescued cat who kept the dogs in line).

The other is named Seven Sisters. Yes, this is important because they both had the number seven in the name. But as I approached this second brewery, I pondered: would it be a reference to actual sisters, or to the star cluster variously known as the Seven Sisters, the Pleiades, and Subaru? Because as you know, I'm a sucker for anything astronomy. And I drive a Subaru.

So I was pleased to see a nice big print of the Pleiades as I entered.

And yet, the beers were named traditionally women's names. Like Rosie, Julia, Edith, etc. Which is fine; it's good to have a theme. But one thing disappointed me: there was no beer named Kate.

You see, I like to order tasting flights, which usually consist of 4-6 sampler-sized beers. The missed opportunity was that I could have had my Kate, and Edith too.

I will just pause while you absorb the greatness of that joke.

Ready?

Okay. So, after passing out and sobering up, I spent the better part of the day driving across Virginia, to the east, all the way to the Richmond area, as prompted by my random number generator. Nice drive, great weather. I don't get to the southern part of my state very often, and never before along an east-west route. It could just as easily have landed me back in West Virginia, or Ohio, Kentucky, or Tennessee. Or maybe even a Carolina. But instead, it kept me in Virginia. Fine. Such is the nature of randomness.

Here, I found a couple of breweries in Chester, which is a city south of Richmond but north of Petersburg. No, it confuses me, too; as far as I'm concerned, all those cities and everything else in the vicinity is Richmond. There really ought to be a rule: unless there's a significant river (the James doesn't count) or a lot of trees and/or farmland in between, just fucking merge the cities.

If you still don't know what the hell I'm talking about, try Google Maps again. I've been drinking.

Just one thing of note on the drive:

I saw a wake of buzzards.

By "buzzards," I mean turkey vultures, cathartes aura, my namesake and the closest thing I have to a spirit animal. It's not unusual to see turkey vultures around here, but usually, they're loners. This is one reason why they're my spirit animal. Sometimes, you'll see a bunch ("wake" is apparently the official collective noun for turkey vultures) of them hanging around, but that's rare. So it surprised me when I saw not two, not three, but five of them just chilling together. I had the windows down, but I didn't see or smell any carrion in the vicinity, so maybe they were just having a chat. Nonsocial birds being social.

Now I see that they're only called a "wake" when they're munching on a carcass. As these weren't, there are various possible collective nouns.   "Committee" seems to be the leading candidate. A committee of turkey vultures.

But I digress.

Did the Universe send me a committee of vultures as a Sign? A Message? Well, no, of course not. But that doesn't mean I can't remark on how cool and unusual it was to see a committee meeting.

Ugly-ass birds, but they're magnificent anyway.