The “proof” might have something to do with the 21-year-old single malt Irish two-ounce sleeping capsule I swallowed. The house has seen bigger “blows” than this, Bruce. And I do Blowhard rather well if I must so self-advertise.

my buddy snoozes
an apocalypse proof sleep
let hurricanes come

(tip my hat to J Richards of Florida)

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2 thoughts on “1942

    • Except perhaps an not-wee dram! What’s next on the scale: a pond or a small ocean? Now that I flirt ever-closer to my seventh decade done milestone I find two pints will do me nicely: the third sends me abed with a headache…unless it is a particularly fine afternoon with chums and good food and great music – and a bit of blues dancing with delightful eyes herself (with her husband’s blessing – as he eschews the delicate art) then I can sometimes wrangle an extra pair of sippables. Or perhaps a touch of vin santo to go with macadamia nut biscotti I sometimes still make in absolute contraindication!


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