Almost two weeks into the season, and I’m already getting the holiday spirit.
Let me preface this by saying, this is very early for me. I’m not the guy who warms up for the next round of festivities as soon the last dish is cleared from the Thanksgiving feast. In fact, it’s usually late on Christmas Eve—just after downing several Egg Nogs and sobbing while watching It’s A Wonderful Life—that I can even bring myself to say “seasons greetings.”
“Oh, good luck taking over that gig!”
Mick Fleetwood is recounting one of his initial impressions of Sammy Hagar. He had just heard the Red Rocker was to replace David Lee Roth as the front man for Van Halen, and the founder/drummer of Fleetwood Mac, no stranger to difficult rock-band dynamics himself, was understandably empathetic.
Three weeks ago I agreed to go to my high school reunion—scheduled for this Saturday—thinking that a month would leave me plenty of time to prepare. I would use those 30 days to do what I'd been putting off for decades: become a success.
Thanks for the invitation to bring my family to your place for Independence Day weekend. It's not every brother-in-law who is so generous to his extended family, and I would like to offer some small token of my gratitude.
lot of things have improved for cigar smokers in the past decade-better
quality smokes, better availability. But one aspect has changed for the
worse and it's had a profound effect on my behavior.
Back in the boom years, I wouldn't walk around the corner without a pocket humidor in case the opportunity for a smoke arose. When I was expecting to meet people, I'd carry a lot more than that in case some poor, unfortunate souls were without smoke.
I celebrated the 150th anniversary of the Mexican victory over the French in the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1861, a day early with a visit yesterday from the Don Julio Tequila master distiller, Enrique de Colsa Ranero. He came to preview his latest creation, which will celebrate another anniversary when it debuts later in the year, the 70th birthday of the founding of Don Julio in 1942.
As a New Englander, I never expected to feel as though I were stepping out on a limb by taking an anti-Royalist position. But even here in the cradle of liberty the pending nuptials of a future British king is fomenting so much excitement that you wonder why we bothered with the War of Independence only to slaver over every detail of the very pomp and circumstance that we fought to free ourselves of.
When state colleges meet in important games it always seems to generate the sort of gubernatorial bravado in which the states chief executives wager something emblematic of their state on the game. The Washington State governor might put up a bushel of vaunted apples against a sack of the famed potatoes from Idaho. The Dairy State, Wisconsin, could bet cheese for some corn from Illinois or Iowa.
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