Mmmmmmm. Calvados good.
Via cyclist friend Colin, Patrick O'Grady starts asking important questions about the Tour de France: Beer Me, Floyd And that magical elixir called Shiner Bock gets a shout-out, proving that evil is not the only thing Texas exports.
█████ and I were out slow-walking Ella (who is having a bit of trouble with her right hind leg) last night when we stopped so an older man on a front stoop could pet the dog. When he spoke, he was almost incomprehensible. As we continued on our way, I said
Yesterday evening brought an embarrassment of wondrous stuff into the house. First was a mailing from Classic Malts of Scotland, which, if it didn't actually contain any whisky, reminded me that we had representatives of at least three of the six Classic Malts in our liquor pantry and
My memoir is finished. Well, the first draft, anyway. Time to go and lift a pint. Better idea than trying to lift the manuscript. It rolled in at 1,076 pages. Next step: blue pencil.
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