Hot Tuna, yet again. It's JA, actually, but the version I heard on Pandora this evening was by Hot Tuna... not available on the Tube o' You, unfortunately. So this will have to do:
Well now what is gonna happen now is anybody's guess
If I can't spend my time with love I guess I need a rest.
Time is getting late now and the sun is getting low
My body's getting tired of bearing another's load
And sunshine's waiting for me a little further down the road.
This is a re-run. I originally posted the tune and a couple o' others from Hot Tuna in the near way-back, and it's kinda funny... funny strange, not funny ha-ha... how I keep returning to my roots. That's a function of Old Age, methinks. But so be it: I'm comfortable with it.
We sat out long after sunset this evening and were only driven indoors by the approaching storm, which has yet to fully materialize. We got up and withdrew when the wind picked up significantly and the first spitting rain drops hit us. But that's all we've had, so far: spitting. It was very good to sit outside and feel the storm coming on... when the heat of the day is ameliorated by coolish and damp southern winds containing the scent of moisture. The coolness was wonderful, to say the very least.
We were less than pleased with our newest whiskey acquisition, however. We took the first round neat, as is our habit, and the whiskey isn't all I thought it would be. The Quinta Ruban reminds me of The Second Mrs. Pennington in a lot o' ways: the nose is very pleasant and is something that promises much whereas the actual tasting delivers less. The initial taste is altogether pleasant and pleases your mouth with complex flavors, with a certain sweetness that overrides all the other sensations. But like TSMP, it's the finish that bothers... which is to say it's harsh and biting, leaving a stinging sensation in the mouth and on the palate that supersedes any pleasure one initially experienced.
I don't like my whiskeys to hurt me; this bottle will be a "one and done" and Quinta Ruban will never darken my doorstep again. As a matter of fact, I'll prolly use it to make a lot o' Rusty Nails as drinking it neat is way too close to masochism for me. Either that or I'll drink it over lotsa ice, as I did with the second and subsequent rounds this evening. Water cuts the harshness a lot... kinda like the effect time has on a bad love affair.
But leave us not digress or delve deeper into waters where we don't belong. Metaphors just ain't my thang.