Glenmorangie “Nectar D’Or” Highland Single Malt Scotch Whisky, 12-year

I’ve had (and love) port cask finished scotches. I’ve had (and love) sherry cask finished scotches. This is my first sauterne cask finished scotch and WOW. I’ll be keeping an eye out for this. It is sweet, smooth, honeyed silk. Great straight. Amazing with ice. 

Go ahead and tell me if you soften your eyes a little, I'm not right.

Her, barefoot: I got new shoes.

Me, smartass: Are they invisible?

Her: Yes! But really. [goes to get them]

Me, squinting: Neat. What are those? Flowers? A bloody field of bodies?

Her, bringing them closer: No. Sort of crunched up leaves. Bodies…?

Me, taking them to hold them at a distance from her: See, doesn’t it look like it could be the aftermath of the zombie apocalypse?

Her: …

Me: …

Me: And this has been your daily Rorschach Test.

Her: Mmm hmm.

35/52

I spent from Friday night at eight to Saturday night at eight [SIC; 24 hours] with thirty-eight other folks in those boots, with those bricks (and water and food and spare clothes) in that ruck doing ridiculous, hard, awkward stuff to earn that patch for my first (and probably last) GoRuck Heavy. 

I am sore; I am starving; my left shin and calf—but somehow only my left—are covered in scrapes and scratches and cuts; my face is windburned; I will be picking sand out of my ears and off my scalp for at least a week; and my feet just might secede. Pictures from the event are trickling in. We’re checking in with each other. I am, as with theChallenge in June, still processing and probably will be for a while.

But I do know this: If this—endurance events and whisk(e)y and books and travel—is what my mid-life crisis looks like, I am 100% okay with that.