In a few hours I will officially be older than dirt. Well, topsoil, but, still … I dusted off a Waterford crystal Old Fashioned glass and poured three fingers (those would be horizontal fingers, not vertical, of an 18 y/o Glen Dronach. It spent the first twelve years of it’s life in a white oak cask and matured the next six in a Tawney Port cask. Red gold, long legs, a complex finish.
I happy to say so far things have been uneventful, unless you count a rare Speyside tawny port cask matured single malt as an event, and I think I might. I mean no cars, animals or humans have yet to be harmed in the making of this annual birth date.
Simple pleasures, like Christmas good will, should be expanded to envelope the entire calendar. At this advanced stage of my dotage and am blessed both analog and digital. The latter is a compliment to you lot, I am blessed to know you, albeit, for the most part, not in the biblical sense, and have you, again, not in the modern translation of the biblical sense.
I’m a little buzzed, but elegant, with a lingering and strong finish. May my next 364 days bring y’all joy.
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