v. sprang or, often, sprung; sprung; spring•ing; v.i.
1. to rise, leap, or move suddenly and swiftly: a tiger about to spring.
2. to be released suddenly from a constrained position: The door sprang open.
3. to issue forth suddenly or forcefully: Oil sprang from the well.
Or #4. Sparkling water sprang from the can. It sprung a leak.
Citation: Definitions excerpt –
Random House Kernerman Webster’s College Dictionary, © 2010 K Dictionaries Ltd. Copyright 2005, 1997, 1991 by Random House, Inc. All rights reserved.
The glass bottles attracted my eye as I saw them sitting on a soda fountain counter on Carson Street in the South Side. Only when I got home and uploaded the photo did I read Bridgeport Conn. The bottles are from the Pittsburgh Seltzer Works but that wooden crate had Bridgeport Conn, stamped right on the side.
Bridgeport – where I spent four years of my life. Granted, a long time ago. It’s where I got my Art Education degree.
Oh and it’s home to the P.T. Barnum Museum, where Elias Howe invented the first sewing machine, where Sikorsky(now gone global) manufactured helicopters, where Dr Fones founded Dental Hygiene profession in 1906 and a ton of other well known names born there including Walt Kelly and Al Capp.
I think Paul Newman when he was filming The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds, once called it the “armpit of New England” which wasn’t very kind. There was lots of industry and manufacturing, and then decline, departure and attempts to revitalize. The P.T. Barnum Museum is worth a trip, though. Seriously. And if you are into deterioration and dilapidation reports click here to read about Remington Arms.
There- I put it right in the title – Horse Piss Beer- so there are no surprises about the photo of the day. I try to keep things family friendly on the blog but this is about family.
My son Mark is on business in Kentucky and sent me this on the phone tonight. He’s near Lexington. I love when my family sends me a photo and says “for the blog” and the other reason I’m posting-
My dad always told us that beer tasted like horse piss. I think that was to make us not want to drink it. Now he was born in 1912 in Farmersville Illinois and grew up on a farm that included horses but I doubt he actually tasted the urine from any horse. My parents didn’t drink but my father’s father surely did and that is why my dad did not. So maybe he knew what he was talking about, the taste was like the scent? One of the reviews of the beer said it smells like tomatoes.
This is not an endorsement for drinking this golden colored brew ( I went and read a few reviews and am not seeking a sample!) but their website states
“Horse Piss Beer is dedicated to helping others. A percentage of the sales of the beer and merchandise will be donated to help disabled jockeys and adoption programs for our equine friends.”
My father and his warnings about the taste of beer made me feel my dad was sending me a message with Mark’s photo. Seriously. And so I share it with you.
and a photo I took in a backyard at a birthday party almost two weeks ago (thanks BJ and T)