Selling some Wares

Late last year, I saw a friend in Texas and noticed that her nails looked awesome. She said they were actually nail wraps (like stickers, NOT stick-on, plastic nails). She showed me how to use them, and it was fun. These are sold through a company called Jamberry, which is kind of like an Avon/Pampered Chef thing, a direct-sale company. It turns out her sister is a consultant, and now I am too!

After grouting/deep cleaning: one little chip

Jamberry seemed a little challenging the first time I put them on, but as promised, the second time was smooth. In a nutshell, you cut the sticker you want off a sheet, hold it in front of a heater/hair dryer, place it on your nail, smooth it down with a cuticle pusher, then trim/file the sticker down, then heat and smooth again. I love having my nails painted, but since I'm a big DIY-er, they tend to chip in 2 days. My first-attempt Jamberries stayed on over a week, including me re-grouting the bathroom and scraping off stray grout with my nails.

I've been a bit skeptical of direct-sale companies for a while, mainly because I'm usually not a fan of the whole sales-party thing. But my grandmother sold a home decorating product, and was also an Avon lady, and she won diamond rings and trips and loved it. And it was just because she would drop off a catalog and talk to people - no big parties or heavy sales.

So, in my effort to keep challenging myself and trying new things, I signed up to sell my new-found nail art myself. I wasn't quite sure how to get started, but the problem solved itself: my boss noticed my nails and asked me to host a party at lunchtime as a kind of team-building thing (it's a small office of almost all women). A few weeks later, I packed up my cotton balls, polishes, sample Jamberries, heater, and other supplies, and headed to work.

Second try

The party went well overall - I was a little nervous and it was definitely odd being in charge/telling people what to do when those people included my bosses. Instead of fighting this and trying to take charge more, I just decided to go with my own flow and make it more of a communal event, with us all helping each other. It went well, and several people decided to buy product. It was fun to watch the commission reports come in - I've never worked any kind of sales or commission before.

My next time out was a small party for friends at my house. Again, I took the more casual approach and used it as a change to catch up with people I hadn't seen in awhile, and if they wanted to try the nail wraps, they could. It wound up being a lovely afternoon.

I've just been asked to do my third party - a gathering for a co-worker and her teenage daughter and various mom/daughter friends. I'm looking forward to hosting a party in this slightly different atmosphere - someone else's turf and friends.

Am I going to quit my day job? No. With two parties, I've made just enough to cover what I originally put in to get started - not a windfall. And I'm still not a salesperson; I'm really fine with not making more on this project. But I'd told myself that after three months, if I wasn't into it, I'd quit, and I don't see any reason to do that just yet. It's turned out to be an interesting challenge and a fun social activity.

And now, for the pitch! Intrigued? Click here to visit my independent consultant page. Feel free to send me any questions via my email address on the web site, or through this blog.

Learn more:

• Web: http://companies.directsalesaid.com/

Dancing the Night (Well, 45 Minutes) Away

I love dancing. It's a passion I didn't know I had until sometime in college probably, spurred on by my bestie who had a penchant for busting out choreographed moves while hanging out at our apartment. Some favorites were Lose Yourself ('the sprinkler' was key here) and I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) (which as everyone knows, is topped off by actually falling down by a door).

My love for dancing grew at the end of late nights out in bars when I moved to DC, spurred on by some sugary cocktails. After a few years of that nonsense - and meeting my husband, Justin - my public dancing was whittled down to mostly weddings (and some wedding-related events). But I've maintained my original joy of dancing around the house, getting the dogs all riled up and working up a sweat in the process.

Me and Justin, hot messes at a friend's wedding

I also love Dancing with the Stars. It's my one and only reality show obsession. It's got a benefit besides entertainment, too: whenever I watch, I get motivated by the dancers' incredible abs and glutes and ride my exercise bike while watching the stars twirl around the ballroom. It also really made me want to learn how to actually dance - as in a coordinated, more sophisticated-looking way than what has been described by a friend as 'interpretive dance moves' (but is really a bunch of flailing - albeit very fun flailing).

So I recently snatched up a Groupon for a series of dance classes at a local dance studio, which included two private lessons and a variety of four group lessons. We decided to start with the private lessons, the first of which we drove to on a cold Monday night, battling rush hour. Not the best circumstances to get my toes tappin'.

Nonetheless, we went into the stale looking waiting room, with obviously fake flowers and a general tan-ness. A friendly receptionist checked us in, and we waited for our instructor. A few minutes later, a suited-up man with sweat beads around his hairline and a plastered-on smile came and greeted us with a firm handshake. I was a little turned off by this whole first impression, obviously.

We went upstairs to a lofted practice area, and he started by asking a few questions about our goals. Then he started the music and it was go time. Over the next 45 minutes, we did a few steps each of four dances: foxtrot, waltz, and swing, and club step. The instructor would show the basic steps to Justin, then to me, then we would do them ourselves with the instructor guiding Justin's arm, and finally with him letting go and letting us try to keep up on our own for a bit. This had mixed results - neither of us have much have a sense of rhythm or coordination. However, Justin is a martial artist, and his control over his footwork was amazing - I got kind of annoyed by this. Wasn't I supposed to be more graceful and in control as the lady? It was not so.

Our instructor relaxed the fake smile and turned out to be nice enough, although the beads of sweat that were now running down his face were kind of bothering me. I noticed too that his suit was worn and faded, his shoes a few dances past their prime. The whole place started making me sad. Justin asked him how he got into teaching dance, and he said he's studied dance in college but basically couldn't find a job in it so he worked for a while at a video store and then found this dance studio. This did nothing to make me feel less sad at this place.

The end of the lesson was the weirdest part. We were taken into the 'education consultant's office' for a meeting about what 'program would best work for our goals.' What followed was a closed-door meeting in a small office with someone who would have been equally at home selling timeshares. It was a cold sales meeting, with him trying to pressure us to buy a $1,200 dance lesson package (and you weren't able to buy them in increments - it was the package or nothing). We expressed that we really just wanted to learn a few things, and didn't think we needed all that, which extended the meeting by another 10 minutes. We finally nodded and said we'd think about it, and were allowed to go on our way.

We went back just once more, for our other free private lesson. Things went similarly - I do feel like I learned just enough basic steps to feel a little more coordinated on a dance floor at a more formal event, but the experience wasn't worth paying that much or trying to make room in our schedule for a weekly commitment. We do want to try other less-salesy environments, though - stay tuned for that as we intend to explore a local community center's dance classes soon.

Anyone have recommendations for a good, casual, inexpensive dance experience in the Metro DC area? Or just a good dance class story to share? Post in the comments or send a message to theapprentess(at)gmail.com!

Learn more:

• Web: There are a variety of free dance lesson videos on YouTube - just search!
• In person: We haven't had a great experience thus far, so I have none to recommend. Check out your local Yelp or other review site!

Hiking a Glacier

Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Ice

The journey took 10 years. When I first left Texas and moved to Washington, DC, I thought I would never be able to withstand the winters here, let alone anything up above the Mason-Dixon. A few years later, I met my future husband - a native of Buffalo, of all places. It was quite nearly a deal breaker.

I learned to enjoy the fluffy white snow on visits to his family - from inside a warm house, a Labatt in hand, and only for a few days at a time. I have never participated in skiing, snowmobiling, snow-tubing, or any other sport that happens when temperatures drop below 40.

So how did I wind up standing on a glacier in Iceland in February?

It started over a year ago, when Justin and I decided to take our next international trip in the winter, when we could take advantage of off-season fares. This, of course, meant we would not be going anywhere with umbrellas in the beverages.

I don't remember how Iceland first made the shortlist. I had heard it was nice, and had thought I'd like to go someday; but we specifically wanted to branch out from North America and Europe, where we'd been on our last few big trips. Even if it weren't technically both of those things, lying right on the rift between tectonic plates, I ruled out the idea of Iceland in February - surely it was unthinkable, the land uninhabitable for tourists.

And then the photos kept popping up on Pinterest, and there were talks of the Northern Lights shining more brightly than ever. And I thought, what's more different than a land of midnight sun (and noontime dark), where Vikings ruled and there is still a firm belief in trolls? The final straw was an excellent Black Friday deal. We booked, we packed warm clothes, we went with a fairly unscheduled agenda and an open mind. We strolled into a tourism office while wandering about the capital the first day, and my dear husband saw a brochure for glacier hikes, and said, "I'd really like to do that." He rarely has any special requests when traveling.

And that is how I found myself standing on a 200 foot thick sheet of ice with only tiny metal spikes on my shoes keeping me from sliding down one of the world's remaining glaciers into an endless crevasse, down to where only trolls could navigate. I guess you could say I did it for love.

We arrived to the tour company's office around 11:30am, plenty early for our noon tour. However, there was a sign saying it was closed until June. Luckily a man popped his head around the building as we were getting into the car to drive up to the glacier, hoping we'd just run into them there, and said that we did indeed need to just drive to the glacier named Sólheimajökull. We went a few more miles up the road and turned onto a gravel road full of potholes - our car was not equipped for this. Justin stayed strong and soon enough we pulled up next to a row of 4x4s, one a van with the same guy we'd just seen (I want to know what shortcut he took) passing out waterproof pants and hiking boots.

We were issued our crampons, metal frames with spikes on them that lace onto the bottom of your boot, like old-fashioned roller skates. These tied onto the shoe with what was essentially a very thick shoelace. This was not comforting to me - that was what would keep me attached to the ice, instead of plummeting to the bottom of a crevasse?

Justin getting his crampons fitted as Sólheimajökull looms in the back

After suiting up, the guides took us over to the edge of the ice and gave a quick overview of what to expect - basically walk up a bit, stop for any interesting sights/geological explanations along the way, stop on a plane about 1.5 hours up, and then wander back down for a total of three hours on the ice.

Let's do this!

I felt fine until the moment my foot hit ice. It took a few minutes to get used to the feeling of the crampons, and I found I did not trust them at all. I immediately felt my chest restricting, and its message was clear: I choose flight.

But I stuck through! I just kept looking forward and at my feet, not out at the shrinking horizon. I stepped over a small crevasse and looked down at least 40 feet, right into the eye of the beast. I kept going, and learned about the glacier from our helpful guide along the way.

I took a college geology class, but the only thing I remembered about glaciers is that they carve out valleys and that they're melting. Looking out towards our cars, the guide told us that when summer tours had stopped in August, the glacier reached all the way to where we parked. That was startling.

The glacier used to go up to the cars

I am so terrified in this photo

He explained that glaciers move, too - they're just not moving (i.e. getting replenished from more snow at the top) fast enough to keep up with the melting. Glaciers form when snow falls at the top of the glacier, where it's too cold to melt. Over time it compresses into ice, and then gravity starts pulling the ice down a mountain, where it carves it's way over thousands of years. The glaciers in Iceland are relatively young at only a few thousand years. But the actual turnover rate is about 100 years - the ice down at the foot had started as snow just a century ago. This means that occasionally, in a melted spot or at the foot, they'll find a 50 year old sled or a 90 year old boot.

His stories could sometimes be hard to hear; the temperature was about 30 degrees, but every few minutes a fierce Arctic wind would hit, whipping up under my coat and hood, and throwing my balance off. His words would drift off in the wind as I ground my crampons down tighter into the ice.

And yet before I knew it, we had reached the flat part of the glacier that would be as high as we would venture. We wandered around, exploring the ice. The guide had warned us at the beginning not to step on snowy areas - if the snow was sticking, it likely meant there was a hold underneath. A hole that could reach up to the full 200 feet deep. He pointed out a few of these - called "moulins" (windmill in French) for some reason - and aggressively stabbed his ice pick in it to show that the snow would fall away, uncovering a pit beneath. Not reassuring.

Moulin - looks like an ashy pool of death to me

But the exhilaration of conquering the fear and making it to the top started to take hold, and getting back down again was a breeze. I felt like I could do anything in that moment.

Sitting in a warm coffee shop at the base of the glacier at the end of the hike, I felt like I'd done something really special, something I wouldn't have thought I'd enjoy, and did. Our entire trip to Iceland was a revelation - when properly insulated with good winter gear, I didn't mind the cold so much. I definitely want to do more adventurous travel activities - where have extreme hikes and rugged tours been my whole life? Your Apprentess could definitely stand to learn more about geology and nature up close (although I may have to stick a little closer to home for the next ones).

Learn more:

Web: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glacier
Tours:

• Icelandic Mountain Guides: https://www.mountainguides.is/day-tours/glacier-tours/?ref=fb2 
• Glacier National Park (Montana) Virtual Tour (a bit warmer and more accessible!): http://www.nps.gov/glac/photosmultimedia/virtualtour.htm

Sachet-ing to Lavender Class

I recently checked out another LivingSocial class: Making Products with Lavender. Making flowery perfume products isn't my normal thing, and I was flying solo for this one, so I wasn't too sure how enjoyable this was going to be. But I forged ahead, dear readers, for Science. Sweet-smelling, purpley Science.

The crowd in the waiting area was much as I had expected: groups of females. I was surprised at the number of inter-generational attendees though; it appeared as if there were several mother-daughter duos. Since myself and almost all of my friends hail from places far from the Mid-Atlantic, I kind of forget that anyone around here has a mother. I was starting to feel a bit sad about my far-flung family when I found that the woman sitting right next to me was another solo, perpetual class-taker. I felt better.

This could have also been due to the anxiety-reducing properties of lavender, which I'd heard prior to the class. The instructor, a local lavender-farm owner with her mother and sister, explained that it actually has quite a few purported natural remedies. My favorite, for it's trivia value, which has been verified through an extensive internet search consisting of a single Google, is that the Romans carried it to war to use on their wounds for its calming and antiseptic properties. The most useful information though was that it helps some people with motion sickness. As someone who used to be able to read novels in the backseat or ride endless roller coasts and now sometimes gets carsick driving myself home from work, I couldn't wait to try that out.

Learning about the properties and many past and current uses of lavender was the highlight of the course. While the instructor was speaking, we used a burner and pan set up on the tables in front of us to melt wax and make a solid perfume; dried lavender to fill up a sachet; and lavender essential oil to make a linen spray. None of this was particularly difficult, but it kept my hands busy while I was getting educated on the herb's history.

We also learned a bit about how to use lavender in cooking. While it might sound odd, you may have actually had it before: lavender is used in herbes de Provence, a seasoning medley commonly used on chicken in French dishes. We received a sheet with several recipes using lavender in jam, lemonade, and pound cake, and were advised that putting dried lavender branches in the grill with chicken or fish would give it a delightful flavor. I tried it the next day and it gave me a delightful small fire.

Overall, it was an enjoyable hour on a Saturday morning. I don't know if I'd recommend it for the cost, since I feel like buying oils to make other products isn't exactly the same as creating lavender products from scratch. But I was able to read a magazine on a recent road trip while holding a sachet to my nose, with no motion sickness! Maybe it was worth it after all.

Learn More:

Web: www.sevenoakslavenderfarm.com/
Classes: www.918FStreet.com (Washington, DC)

Helping a Pal as her Wedding Day-Of Coordinator

My work pal Allison got married last year to another co-worker, Dave. This was a very fun and significant wedding for me in two ways. One, I have cube right next to Allison and thus see/talk to her more than just about anyone except my dear husband, Justin. She first told me about Dave asking her out in January 2010; a few weeks later they were crazy for each other. I had watched their entire relationship unfold, so it was wonderful to see them so happy as they exchanged vows.

It was also a big event for me because they asked me to be their day-of wedding coordinator. Now, this was easy because Allison is incredibly organized and has a very classic, elegant taste - she was born to plan a wedding. So there weren't a lot of obstacles on the day of. However, I did work my butt off.

Quick background: I used to be horribly unorganized. Too much focus on seemingly unnecessary details has always stressed me out, I enjoy a bit of spontaneity, and the aforementioned ADD made me very distractable from any plan. I was able to make it through high school losing things, forgetting homework, and showing up late to everything. But when I went to college, it was a whole new ballgame, and after a tough first semester I had to start adapting. It didn't happen all at once, but sometime after I moved to DC post-college and officially had only myself to rely on, I became a planner. I sometimes get sick of my own need to organize and plan - but it was really sink or swim, and helped me get a decent job, get my personal finances in order, and plan some awesome vacations. Fast forward to now, and I have been asked to plan birthday parties, trips, and work events, and even helped out with a few weddings. Starting with Allison's.

The job started out a month or so before the wedding with a walk-through at the venue and a lunch "meeting" (where we spent some time discussing the wedding and more time rehashing the latest episode of Mad Men). We went over general layout, the timeline for the day, and who would do what (florist doing centerpieces, baker delivering a cake, my role).

On the big day, I got to the venue at 1pm and set to work putting out place cards and some other small items. I greeted the vendors and made sure they had what they needed (they all did). Most of the day was spent taking care of the little things: strapping a baby seat to her nephew's chair for the reception, finding little missing items, communicating schedule changes. These things seem minor, but since I didn't have a day-of coordinator when I got married, I can appreciate the different it makes to someone. When you're already thinking about a million things and overwhelmed with emotion and just trying to take it all in, you don't want to have to remember to get someone to get a baby seat out.

When the ceremony time came, I directed each of the wedding party members down the aisle, then scurried to my seat. During cocktail hour it was just double-checking things were all set, and then during the reception I sat where I could see the bride, so if she needed something she could just wave. The question that I've noticed always comes up is when and where the photographers will eat their dinners. We got that settled, and I still had plenty of time to enjoy my meal and chat with our mutual friends in attendance.

I stayed on the clock until the boxes were being packed up at the end of the night. I LOVED it - because my favorite things are being helpful, feeling important, and running around a lot. And staying behind the scenes - when I was directing the wedding party down the aisle, I had to stand kind of at the back of the room where everyone could see me and it was my least favorite part. I should have worn some dark brown to help me blend in with the mahogany doors.

Where was my date during all this? He had a job, too: he was recruited to film the ceremony for them using a little Flip camera. I knew he would do a great job, and trusty engineer that he is, he got there early to plan the angles of the tripod (marking the feet positions with tape) and documented other key moments throughout the night in addition to the ceremony. We became known as the "working couple" at the event.

But we had a blast, too! We danced and imbibed and ate delicious food. I was sore on Sunday from all the dancing. I doubt this is part of the job description for most paid wedding coordinators, but since we did this as a favor, I assumed I should pay myself in alcohol and made a killing.

It was really an honor to be there for them, and I'm so glad I was able to make their day better by taking care of the little stuff. Being a wedding guest is fun, but I really enjoyed being a wedding guest with a purpose.

Crown Molding Fail

In my quest to try everything, I've really got to try to find it free when I can, or I may wind up trying the soup line too. I remembered seeing signs for free workshops at the Home Depot, so I signed up for a 1.5 hour course on the basics of crown molding installation.

I consider myself a do-it-yourselfer. I haven't mastered every power tool yet, but I like fixing up old furniture with a sander and some fresh paint, finding old kitchen cabinets at the Habitat for Humanity ReStore and making it into a bathroom storage piece, and general handiness around the house. So I thought it would be fun to add crown molding to the list.

The good news is that I feel fairly confident that I could hang our crown molding. The bad news is that I certainly didn't learn anything from the class.

I showed up right on time - 1:00pm on a rainy Sunday afternoon. I stopped at the customer service desk to ask where the class would be held, imagining an industrial-looking classroom with sawdust on the floor somewhere. They directed me to Doors. I arrived at Doors to find a single 6x3 folding table with some pieces of crown molding, a miter saw, and a regular saw - but no signage or instructor. Well, no signage other than the table cloth that clearly opposed the message of do-it-yourself.

I looked around and saw another woman looking confused. We connected and starting chit-chatting about home improvement while waiting for the instructor.

Around 1:15pm, a stressed-out gentleman appeared, reading through a stack of notes that had to be at least 25 pages long - and by reading through I mean that he was on the first page. He asked if we were there for the class, and when we nodded, nervously chuckled and said, "It'll be just a minute while I look over the content, they kind of threw this on me last minute..." Not a great sign.

We chatted more, and another eager student arrived. All of us seemed to have done some work on our house ourselves. Finally, around 1:25, Nervous Teacher asked us what our objectives were for the class. We all said, "Um, learn the basics of crown molding." He nodded, and went back to his notes.

1:30 rolled around and he started speaking, startling me from my deep thought about if my blog post was worth this much time with no educational gains. He said, "The first step in crown molding installation is to measure. Measuring is very important. There is a saying, 'Measure twice, cut once.'" Dramatic pause where he looks at each of us proudly, really letting that one sink in. "Let's practice measuring."

I look at one of the other women, the most DIY-accomplished sounding one, and see her jawline is set. I really want to bolt - and she beats me too it! She dismisses herself with a friendly wave.

Nervous teacher has now gone off to get some boards for us to practice measuring. He returns; it is 1:40pm (class is scheduled to end at 2:30). He starts to speak again, and is interrupted by someone from his department, asking where a customer can find something. They chat for a few minutes. He looks back at us. "So it is important to measure. Measuring is the first step. I will set this up for us to measure."

That's as far as I got before I could not stand it and left. I KNOW, I should have stayed for the story. But I guarantee you that after quickly glancing at the pieces and then some consulting the interwebs after I got home - I know more already than I possibly could have learned in the remaining 45 minutes, at the rate we were going. Wait a minute...was the table cloth a hint that they are trying to keep us ignorant, so we pay for their services?

Learn more:

• Web: http://www.thisoldhouse.com/toh/how-to/intro/0,,214981,00.html
• Classes: http://workshops.homedepot.com/workshops/home (Nationwide)

Sniffing Hops

I have many friends-of-friends who homebrew, and many more who know their way around a fine craft beer. I used to be just fine with a case of PBR until we went on an amazing adventure to Germany and there, Oktoberfest - after which I've never been able to stomach a domestic big-name beer. I don't mean to sound like le douche; I assume everyone has something like this. Perhaps you've never been able to buy shoes at Target after getting your first Jimmy Choos. Or something. Is that still a popular fancy shoe brand?

Anyway, if you aren't familiar, homebrewing is the popular past-time of brewing your own beer at home. In the U.S., it is legal as long as you don't brew more than 100 gallons a year for one person, or more than 200 for two or more people. And you can't sell it. But if you want tasty beer to drink at home and trade with your homebrew buddies - or barter with your friend who makes artisanal soaps - you're all set. 

I like cooking and I like good beer, so I signed up for a class offered through LivingSocial, one of the group couponing wunderkinds. They have their own event space in DC, which I hadn't seen before, and they hold a variety of classes, from wine tasting to pole dancing to the art of bonsai. Accompanying me was my husband, Justin, a fellow fan of good brews and also of self-sufficiency lest there ever be an apocalyptic event that leaves us living in the woods to sew our own clothes and make our own booze. 

The venue was much cooler than I had anticipated. The facility took up the whole 6+ floors with classrooms and event spaces, plus a subterranean bar. The building was beautifully restored - I couldn't find the year but it seemed like early 20th century to me and had subtle art deco touches scattered throughout. The halls were dark with rich blue lighting bouncing through the stairwells around the central elevator. It felt cool, important. 

Our instructor was a guy named Mike who started homebrewing in college just short of a decade ago. He had such success that he's written for a variety of industry publications and has his own book coming out soon. He also writes a blog called The Mad Fermentationist. Mike knew his shit. 

The middle one did not look that awesome and glowy in person

The long classroom-style tables were set with a handout and three small beer samples. The samples were delicious, although I was a bit disappointed to find we didn't receive any tips or references to how to create these beers throughout the course. Instead, the beer samples seemed to be there to appease us. The other students were all hovering in the 25-35 range; about one third were furloughed government workers (as determined by a show of hands). 

Mike fired up a presentation on the two large TV screens at the front of the room and proceeded to fly through a very superficial overview of the homebrewing process in 90 minutes. He had a mad-scientist style set up at the front with a bubbling pot of water to steep grains in, some jugs with tubes in them that would be used for siphoning the beer out of the hoppy, grainy water and then cooling it off, and containers of grains and hops for us to smell. He used the set up much like a TV chef, showing us one step and then asking us to pretend it had been an hour and it was time for the next step. I appreciated the effort, but I don't feel like he showed us anything I couldn't have conceptualized otherwise. For example, I am quite familiar with the way steeping something in boiling water works. 

I dazed off about halfway through the presentation. This was no fault of Mike's - he was an excellent presenter and clearly well-educated on his subject matter. It just got a touch too reminiscent of high school chemistry for me, and the ol' mind started wandering, and next thing I knew I'd missed the part where the bubbly liquid actually became alcoholic, which many would argue is the key part of a beer.

The most interesting part to me was finding out more about this subculture of homebrewers that live among us. I've known people who enjoy homebrewing, but I didn't realize that there are multiple clubs and meet-ups and other social events geared around people who live to turn hops into suds.

Overall, I think the course would be great for someone who had some exposure to homebrewing (maybe had bought a book and started thumbing through it) and wanted face-time with a master to ask questions. For someone with no experience, I left feeling no more prepared to make my own beer, but definitely more educated about where I should start if I did want to. For now, I'm happy to leave the brewing to Mike and his brethren (and the fine folks in Germany).

Learn more:

• Web: www.TheMadFermentationist.com
• Book: How to Brew, John Palmer
• Classes: www.918FStreet.com (Washington, DC)