When one can’t have major pleasures* minor ones sometimes suffice. Finding delight in simple daily things makes the days less dull and more of a delight.

Here’s a few:

I’ve recently discovered “Crash Courses” on YouTube, which give history courses in a short but entertaining setting. The narrator, Mr. Green, reminds me of Brother #3.

yhst-43357575186341_2267_283023308I’ve expanded my whisky collection to include a bottle of rye. Last weekend I was sent to get some inexpensive summer wines but I came home with a bottle of Michter’s. When Someone questioned the purchase I had to think quickly:  “We don’t have any ! (rye)” a truth that can not be denied.

Rye whisky is spicy, complex and robust, like my men.



Spo-fans recall I am enjoying the company of a young friend The Dear Boy. It’s a delight to have a chum this age -someone who isn’t jaded or preoccupied with his health as are many of my contemporaries. He came over last Sunday for an afternoon of swimming. Goodness, how long ago was it when I was svelte enough to wear a Speedo? Ah youth.

He’s introduced me to his diva-goddess Wynter Gordon, whom I keep calling Winter Gardens.

TPT (The personal trainer) wants me doing stretches on a regular basis. There is nothing so lovely** as a good stretch.  I may include on my “Bucket List” the someday ability to touch my nose to my kneecaps.


And there is always the pleasure of poetry. Thanks to The Writer’s Almanac I wake each morning to hear what famous writers have his or her birthday, followed by a poem.  I like a good poem; I appreciate them more when I hear them.

I will end this mawkish entry with one of my favorite poems:


*Trips to Scandinavia, bacon, and dream dates (with knee naps) with red headed lumberjacks.

**Apart from a cup of Assam tea, or a good bourbon, or The Dear Boy.