Debauchery

Such a great word.....Debauchery.

1. Indulgence in sensual pleasures; scandalous activities involving sex, alcohol, or drugs without inhibition.

It started with a glass of finally opened $150 bottle of McCallan that came with a surprising spicy lingering burn. I sipped some fine Scottish whiskey on my weekend. McCallan, McClellands, Glenmorangie and the still elusive Abelour...perhaps on New Years.

My favorite man in the entire world turned forty yesterday. Number #61 and I headed from the dry sagelands to the wet mountains. Rain; sheets of it and dense fog glowing red in taillights started at Manashstash Ridge. I dropped him off with friends and went to the blue house tucked in under the ridge on seventh hill and kissed the birthday boy on the lips and promptly poured myself a glass of that McCallan. I visited for awhile and then had to go deliver some potatoes and change outfits for the dual birthday parties. The party was jolly and it was good to be back.

Made sure he got home safe and sound.

Then a ram and goat butt heads and settled with...

An invitation to breakfast and later the fulfillment of a birthday wish.

This afternoon, huddled under the duvet and tucked into fine thread count sheets, I slumbered only to be awakened by "Honey I'm home, where are you?" She leaps onto the bed with me and we have a sweet catch up beyond last nights hug, then she drags me out of bed to hang with the men and to start sampling the selections of whiskey. The wicked but charming Trish is much more of a fidgeter than I will ever be and with some delight; Nick and I watch her torture Jim. By hiding things. A cooking pot hung on the ceiling in his bedroom. A brush in the freezer, his favorite black lighter on the ledge of a door. She keeps picking up things and moving them. I laugh and watch from the couch and take a picture of her. Finishing the McClellands I pour a shot of the Glenmorangie... hmmm a very different whiskey, sweet and flavorful, perhaps better than the Dalwhinnie one of my all time favorites.


He is burning a copy of my new Christmas CD; Mumford and Sons and then loading all of my CD's into his computer. I prompt him to make sure he loads our favorite Madonna CD. How can you not love a man that likes Madonna?

Alas I must head home to work, returning soon for the end of the year, they call Stan the Taxi Man to move the debauchery to Roslyn and I lock the door behind me as I leave.