Whimsy isn’t something you have to earn- it’s something you possess and cultivate, and if you are drawn in a direction out of whimsy and authenticity you are too lucky to ignore it. That’s the kind of thing that shows you who you are meant to be.

At the bottom of the hill where my winery is located, there’s a little bar in a shopping plaza. They have decent beers and a few hard liquors to choose from, but they’re really more of a taproom than a full bar. All the same, they are the semi-official post-shift watering hole for cooks, servers, and occasionally office people in the winery. We’re all regulars by face if not by name.

When the beer offerings aren’t tempting me after a long day, I tend to go with whiskey. They have a few pricier bottles to pick from and their cheapest bottles I’d call “middle shelf-” whiskey’s that would be in the $30-$50 range if I got one for myself. Better than rotgut and bottom-shelf well whiskey, but not as speedy as ultra-premium brands. If I’m not feeling like Jameson’s “Black Barrel” expression or one of the slightly spendy local whiskeys, the Old Forester “Bottled-in-Bond” is a reliable choice with a couple small rocks in it.

It was an evening after a rough day. I got my little glass, sat down at a table outside facing in to the parking lot and up the hill, and decided to update the family that it was in fact That Kind Of Day.

My father sent back his approval. “Old Forester was your grandfather’s favorite. There was always a bottle in your grandmothers den.”

I stared at the little glass and thought to myself, “Finally, after 40 years, I’m turning into an Old Man.”

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