A long time ago he made a personal rule not to have a toddy unless there was an inch of snow on the ground. He, of course, made exceptions for a sore throat regardless of the forecast. A few more minutes of accumulation and he would be in the clear.
He placed a kettle on the stove and turned the fire on. While that got all . . .
The car pulled up to the gate. He paid the driver and decided to walk from there. It wasn't a long walk to the cabin but it had been years since he had done it on foot. Orange and red leaves had begun to take over the green ones in a battle that they would all lose in a month.
His leather boots were broken in but only . . .
He put the last dinner plate in the dishwasher and looked around. It was too early for bed. He wasn't one for having a dessert unless he could drink it. Sticking his hand out the window to check the temperature he decided to go out for a nightcap. He pulled his worn green tweed jacket on and walked out the door.
A taxi . . .
Extra innings meant that he was on edge. She had been asleep since the stretch. He usually loved West Coast away games but September baseball carries a different weight when you are only a few games ahead. The announcers yammered on about great plays from the start of the season and how players had either blossomed or shriveled . . .
There used to be a time when I could drink more than I could today. Now if I have a drop too much I am in for a world of hurt the next day. It may not even be apparent when I go to bed. No slurring or common actions of inebriation.
One thing I have begun to enjoy are weak drinks. I am not talking about the . . .
Nothing...you just haven't ordered one yet
One of my favorite night caps is a long pour of Single Malt Scotch. Sometimes however I feel like sweetening it up. In that case I grab a blend over ice and top it off with the honeyed and spiced Drambuie. The Rusty Nail as it is called now has been around for ages. The Rat Pack was usually seen with a round of Rusty Nails . . .
Here it goes down...down into my belly
My favorite “brown” spirit. Scotch is rarely actually brown in color due to its prevalent use of previously used casks or barrels. A part of production that is forbidden for Bourbon and totally fine for Scotch aging. Another big difference is the allowance of coloring but it is usually obvious, often . . .