The day was rainy and beige, matching my mood. I trudged to Brooklyn the morning after being broken up with, feeling hungover and limp. I had, of course, made the appointment with my aunt to pick up scoby before getting dumped, and I felt annoyed at my past self for the obligation. In addition, I had idiotically brought a 2 gallon glass jar with me, even though my aunt put them (the scoby) into a few zip locks, and I didn’t really need to carry the jar. Feeling pathetic as it was, the cumbersome glass on the subway seemed appropriate.
My aunt’s scoby was named “Toby” by me and a friend two summers ago, when we pet sat the scoby during my aunt’s vacation, and brewed kombucha. Toby uses they/them pronouns. They have been growing for 6 or 7 years now, and this is my second time brewing with Toby. With the white clothe covering the top of Topy’s jar, I thought they looked like Moses (like, from the Torah), and so I’ve been calling them Moses Toby. It’s nearly been 3 weeks since I picked up Toby (and got dumped, but I’m almost over it) and I’ve already bottled kombucha! The topmost layer of Toby is nearly 1.5″. Oh, they grow up so fast. 
