Friday, January 05, 2007

A Nice Weekend at Home

I am quite relieved to be staying in the Chicago area for the entire duration of this weekend. I realized today that I hadn't actually spent an entire weekend at home since before Thanksgiving. Between Cosmic Otters gigs, running off to Florida for a conference, visiting Mom over Christmas, and other goings on, it's been one heck of a busy holiday season. It's only a brief hiatus for the insanity, however, as the mass out-of-townage will continue at the beginning of February, most notably a Friday-Saturday-Sunday Cosmic Otters tour of Missouri and Iowa that is sure to leave us exhausted.

In all of this travel, my car hit 100,000 miles. Meg made me get out of the car and she snapped a photo. For the record, this is on I-55 about 10 miles north of the Missouri border heading south.

On the way, we ran into some interesting artwork performed on an abandoned Wendy's sign near Springfield:

I wonder what the sign originally said.

Last Friday, we were invited to a whisk(e)y1 tasting party at one of our friend's apartments.2 We got to try everything from Kentucky bourbon to Scottish single-malts to a very bizarre vanilla-infused novelty whiskey.

Here was the lineup:

A good time was had by all. I was most pleasantly surprised by the Connemara, which was an Irish single-malt that tasted very pleasantly smoky and peaty. It could have come from Scotland and I wouldn't have been any the wiser.

All this talk of whisky makes me think fondly of our annual Burns Supper which is fast approaching. We are a bit concerned that the invite list is topping 50 people. We managed to fit 30 in the apartment last year, and that was pushing it. I guess we'll just wait and see what happens.

1Countries that have an 'e' in their name spell it whiskey, and countries that do not spell it whisky... or at least that's what I was told.
2Actually, it's a parsonage, but that's another story.


Lanea said...

LAPHROAIG! LAPHROAIG! Nectar of the Gods, I tell you. Peaty, burny, magical nectar of the Gods.
Sadly, I think my urge to walk across the street to a liquor store, buy some Laphroaig, and drink it right now at 10:28 in the a.m. would be frowned upon. Sigh.

meg said...

Yeah, boozing it up before noon is generally a Bad Thing. The Fool is still a Macallan fan, but I disagree. The Laphroaig is, somehow, less burny.

the fiddlin' fool said...

One thing that I did notice was that this Laphroaig was of an unspecified age. Perhaps it was blended? The 10-year Laphroaigs I've tried in the past are a bit harsher.

Yeah, sorry... it's hard to beat a Macallan 12. Unless, maybe, it's a Macallan 15.

anne marie in philly said...


at a parsonage?

I never heard of such a thing...(tee hee)

actually, when I was in college (too damn many years ago to count), I was typing (pre-computer age) a book manuscript for a catholic priest. that man had the best damn liquor cabinet on campus! and did we students ever enjoy it!!

Barbara Bretton said...

I've had my whisk-e-y spelling corrected many times and the rule seemed to boil down to Irish whiskEy, all others whisk(noE)y. Which, come to think of it, fits nicely with the "countries with an E in the name" theory.

the fiddlin' fool said...

I think the countries with an 'e' also includes the United States, or America. Both apply.

mad angel said...

Quarter cask Laphroaig is really something special! I brought a bottle home from Scotland this past summer, not knowing just how special it was. Needless to say, I know NOW, and am drinking it rather sparingly as a treat. Also got Bowmore 18 and Highland Park (can't remember what age). All very nice, but the Laphroaig is my favorite.

Thanks for your kind words re my last blog post. I should be at choir right now, but to make a long story short, I inhaled fumes from some bad chemicals at work today, quite by mistake. Nothing life-threatening, but exposure to tetrachloroethylene makes a person dizzy enough to make it a bad idea to drive a car any distance. I am relieved to be home, but I don't want to breathe a noxious chemical to get out of it in future. Our elderly janitor didn't know better and poured the stuff staright out the can on to the wood floor to get out some tough stains that his full-throttle BLEACH solution didn't get out. What a godawful reek!

Anyhoo, I like my church and its people very much and would like to get to know some of them better. I think I could be a very happy pew occupant. It's the despotic choirmaster I'm having trouble with, and it makes me so sad, because once upon a time we were close friends. However, I am trying to go forward until we get past the next evensong (next weekend) and then I am sending a letter of resignation. Funny, isn't it, that I have to write a formal letter of resignation when I'm a volunteer? But I'm afraid he won't believe it's really true unless he see it in black and white, and even then...

Well, that's why one makes backup copies which could be forwarded to the rector if necessary. ;-)

Thanks again for your kind words and sound advice. I've already started playing my guitar again so I still have an outlet for singing. And funny how lately I seem to get a real lot of satisfaction from roaring out Boys of the County Hell in the privacy of my home...

mad angel said...

Drinking at a parsonage, oh my yes! Has anyone never heard the saying, "Whenever two or three are gathered together in His name, there's bound to be a fifth" ?

On my summer trip to Scotland, our whisky tasting party was held in a church hall. Praise the Lord and pass the Glenmorangie...