Whiskey and wine

Whiskey and wine

It's snowing as I pull into Century Pittsford Wines. Nothing drastic, but enough to give this particular errand a heightened sense of importance, if I want it to. Having wine in the house is critical to begin with—obviously—but all the more so if it's snowing. I haven't checked the weather report today, which means I can concoct any scenario I wish. I might not be able to leave the house for days. I stumble through the warehouse-sized store in a daze, marveling at the other customers who are literally filling shopping carts with bottles of wine. I turn down the whiskey aisle, still walking slowly—I have nowhere to be—and reflect upon the ever increasing range of "flavors" that now accompany cinnamon/Fireball on the whiskey shelf. Apple, honey, maple. Disgusting! I can't look at. I pause instead in front of a locked glass case. There's a bottle of Jack Daniel's Sinatra Select Century Whiskey for $399.99. I didn't even know Jack Daniel's made anything that expensive. I think of it as being a more utilitarian brand. If I order whiskey at a bar, for instance, it's almost always Jack on the rocks. I like the ease of it, the consistency. I get a little defensive about it sometimes, because I know it's not a creative choice. But I'm not the kind of person who cares about trying a bunch of different kinds of whiskey—they all kind of taste the same to me, and I can't ever remember what's what later anyway. But a $400 dollar bottle of Jack, now THAT I'd like to try. Someday. I wander over to the Scotch aisle instead and pick up a bottle of Cutty Sark. I'll pretend I'm a character in a Murakami novel. It's certainly a better choice than Dewar's—which I also briefly consider—the brand Augusten Burroughs nearly drank himself to death on in Dry. And for Allison, a Bota Box of Old Vine Zinfandel. That's what I came in here for to begin with. But if it's going to be snowing, I can't survive on wine alone ...

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Wireless what?

Wireless what?

Nothing but gray skies

Nothing but gray skies