As part of our mission here at Why Daddy Drinks to revel in the humorous lunacy that is fatherhood, and to promote the drinking of quality beverages, we bring you our erratically scheduled segment highlighting something that should be in your glass. This is The Drink Of The Weekend.

There is nothing that is both as finite and infinite as time. Yes, time never ends. There is always a new day tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that and…You get the idea.

But, within that always ongoing cycle of time lies the beginning and ending of everything. The day begins, the day ends. You only have so much time at your disposal. And within that period of time, you have to find a way to handle your responsibilities, find some recreation and deal with all the unexpected things that seem to come out of nowhere, and which often take up much, if not most of the time you expect to have for predetermined responsibilities and hoped-for recreation.

And when you have kids, so often those “unexpected things” that appear out of nowhere are related directly to your lovely, wonderful offspring. Just the other morning, as I was trying to get some work done, my daughters felt the need to ask me to give them ponytails, show off a new “dance” one of them had done (Eight-year-old Maddo looked like a cross between Mick Jagger and three cats fighting with each other) and tattle on each other for the heinous crime of trying to brush their teeth at the same time.

What I’m trying to get at is that I’ve hardly had any time to write much lately. And no time at all to do one of these Drink of the Weekend features. Not that there haven’t been reasons to imbibe in something good, mind you. For example, as I write this sentence, three full days have passed since I last wrote anything here. And, I am also doing so at the end of a 10+ hour day of working at home, one that was punctuated by 10+ hours of my daughters crying, whining, and fighting with and tattling on each other, while also barging in on me to ask for what seemed like a million times if I could get them out of the house, or call one of their friends to have a play date.

Yeah, there hasn’t been much time to write about something to drink. But, man, there has been enough going on to make me want to drink.

And when I have had a chance to crack open something cold, and good, lately, it has been Lagunitas Brewing Company’s Hop Stoopid Ale.

You might It know Lagunitas where you live, but it is legendary around here in the Bay Area. The company is located a little more than an hour north of where I live in Oakland, in Petaluma, a town also known for its outlet malls and the soul-crushing traffic that always seems to turn Highway 101 near it into a parking lot at any and all times the day. The brewery’s beers tend to lean toward the hoppier side of the equation, so if you’re looking for a cousin of Coors Light (And if you are you might as well just drink water) you’re going to be disappointed.

But, if you want something with a bit of a kick, and a sense of humor, Lagunitas is for you. I say they have a sense of humor because of the names of their beers. There’s Little Sumpin’ Sumpin’ Ale, New Dog Town Pale Ale, Lagunitas Sucks Brown Shugga Substitute Ale, Lagunitas CENSORED Rich Copper Ale, Aunt Sally Sweet Tart Sour Mash Ale and the traditional Lagunitas IPA. Nothing’s wrong with being a little cheeky with your brew.

However, for me, the best of the bunch, in style and name, is Lagunitas Hop Stoopid Ale, with its 8% ABV level and 102 I.B.U.s.

Hop Stoopid doesn’t call itself an IPA, but for all practical, and beer-drinking purposes, it might as well. It’s strong enough for someone who wants a kick with their beer, but it doesn’t kick so hard as leave your taste buds in the floor. What does all that mean? Maybe I don’t really know, as I am on my third one as I write this up.

And that reminds me about the time that has gone by during this afternoon, which, thanks to Hop Stoopid, feels like time has stopped. Ah, but i’m not that “stoopid”.

The sun is moving along, and even this brief respite has a time limit on it. And I can hear my daughters starting to get into it with each other. The call of “DADDY! She (Insert some kind of action that only siblings would perpetrate upon each other, and for me will make we wonder if we can still anonymously drop our kids off at the local fire station, no questions asked) will soon ring out across our home. And that will mean my time of peace is about to end.

Maybe next week, I can find something else that is cold and will stop time for a while? The clock is already ticking.