Merry Christmas

So I received a gift from my Dad this week and it brought quite a smile to my face. Since Dad passed away about 8 years ago, this calls for an explanation.

A box came to the house and assuming it was a gift for the kids from relatives "up North" I only opened it enough to see if the contents were wrapped. They were not, so I put it aside.

I opened it this morning and the mysterious box included a very nice Cutter & Buck glass bar set, rocks glasses and an ice tray with a letter from Old Forester thanking me for sharing my story with them.

I had forgotten about it, but a few months back, I entered a contest that Old Forester was sponsoring about the first time I tried their whiskey. So I related a story from many years ago, when I was in my mid 20s, and it was the first time I was in a bar with my Dad.

I don't remember the bar, or why it was just the two of us. I was "old enough" now, so I didn't want to just order a beer and I ordered a Bourbon and Coke. Dad taught me some valuable lessons that evening.

"Do you drink Bourbon and Coke often?" he asked.

"Sometimes," I said, "when I'm not having a beer."

"Well," he began, "you probably won't listen, but here is something to remember. Never order just Bourbon unless you know what their house brand is. Look in the well, the house Bourbon here is Old Forester, which is a good well whiskey. Don't mix whiskey with Coke, the sugar will either get you sick or give you a hangover. Mix with water if you're mixing. And always ask the bartender his name before you order. He'll treat you right if you treat him right."

I finished my Bourbon and Coke and had my first Bourbon and water afterwards - after introducing myself to the bartender (I think his name was Mike). Along with my order I asked him to give Dad another Vodka tonic. It took some getting used to at first, but I couldn't let on that the lack of sugar was stronger than my young palate was interested in.

Well I don't have the heart to Old Forester that I prefer Jim Beam now as my every day whiskey (and Irish whiskey for special occasions) but I will toast them, and the many lessons my Dad taught me, in my Christmas surprise.

Thanks Ol'Fo, and here's to you Pop!

Merry Christmas

Commitment

So this new phase in life has me consistently puzzled. Dealing with my kids is quite easy. They are boys, they enjoy games with action violence and thrills. They like activities that involve dirt, fire, speed, noise, unexpected results, shock/surprise of others, combat, real or fantasized, and the expenditure of funds from any source but their own pocket.

But this adult stuff is remarkable in its absurdity. The cohorts at the bar speak of attorneys when they should speak of football players, they comment on financial markets when they should comment on the flirtations of the finer sex, and they wax ad nauseum on the finer points of online dating when they should be discussing golf shots.

But my own troubles, at least the minor ones that come to mind this week are on the view point of commitment. I am not in any frame of mind to make a commitment of any sorts to a woman these days, but I am willing to display unwavering support and dedication. To that end, I decided to leave as such a token, a bottle of fine whiskey at the home of a regular friend so that I would be able to partake of this elixir during my regular visits. Anyone who knows me would open eyes wide in appreciation of this gesture, knowing well that this is not a trivial matter but something that would be cause for affirmation of intentions.

Alas..... some do not understand..... and thus, after a brief few days - without even given the chance to sample that fine....very fine....container of spirits....I have been cast aside by the fickle nature of the fairer sex..... Damn, I'm going to miss that whiskey....

Sillyness

Okay, I have been having fun with Facebook, posting nonsense and espousing trivial balderdash. But it wouldn't let me add a picture to a comment. So, I will add a link to this picture..... The Evil Little Toaster - known to cause more deaths than Lightning!!!!

Father's Day

I had a wonderful Father's Day. Not the standard fare of enjoying some cards from the kids, or even a round of golf with my favorite foursome of Eric, Ryan, Adam, and I. Instead, I took a road trip to Alabama.....

We didn't have enough parents who could volunteer to take time off to take our Scouts to summer camp. So, being the guy who can't say no I helped out by offering to drive.....to Birmingham....and back again. We took in the sights, which primarily consisted of highway billboards for Cafe Risque (We Bare All) which figured prominently in the decision by the younger Scouts to read every billboard along the way. My fellow volunteer Dad and I had tears in our eyes as these guys laughed and did their best Beavis and Butthead imitation for each of the more than 20 billboards along the road. And just when I thought it was all behind us we entered Georgia and the first billboard they read aloud said, "Strippers, Need we say more?"

These little trips through reality keep me laughing and learning.

March the 17th, sleep the 18th

The Donegal definition of a hangover: "Something occupying a head that wasn't used the night before."

Alas, the St. Patty's season has ended. I hope you enjoyed this years countdown and hopefully you will look forward to March 1, 2012.

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Paddy just arrived in America from Ireland on holiday. Now, never having seen a baseball game before, he decides that now would be a good time. So, he goes to the park, and gets himself a bleacher seat.

Now, Paddy sees a guy step up to the plate with a stick in his hand. The guy standing on the hump of dirt throws a ball at the guy with the stick, who then *crack* hits the ball and starts running down the side. Everyone around Paddy stands up and shouts "Go, Go, Go!!"

A second guy steps up to the plate, and damn, if the guy on that hump of dirt doesn't throw that ball again. And again, the guy with the stick *crack* hits the ball and runs down the side. And again, everyone around Paddy again, stands and shouts "Go, Go, Go!!"

Now, a third guy steps up to the plate with a stick in his hands. This time, when the guy on the hump of dirt throws the ball, the guy with the stick doesn't do anything. And the guy squatting behind the guy with the stick tosses the ball back to the guy on the hump of dirt. And Paddy is thinking to himself, "What's happening? Why didn't he hit the ball?" This happens three more times, with Paddy wondering more each time.

After the fourth time, the guy with the stick drops the stick and strolls up the side. Now Paddy stands up and shouts "Go, Go, Go!!" and the guy sitting next to Paddy says that he doesn't have to run. So Paddy asks him why, and is told that the batter has four balls.

So Paddy shouts instead, "WALK WITH PRIDE, MAN! WALK WITH PRIDE!"