A Hard Man to Love

I love my wife. As each day passes, I wonder more and more how I ever lived without her.

Last night, Erika indulged me after a late meal at Sultan's Market. We went to the Map Room on Armitage _ a rare beer bar. If you haven't... I'll just say. We were sitting at the bar _ a fellow came up behind me to order. He asked which beers had the highest alcoholic content _ he wanted a lot of booze. I thought of all those fraternity houses near the school library in Syracuse.

And I even thought, last night, "This young fellow is an obvious candidate for the WeBLoG." And I thought... "No. This is too obvious." But here I am writing about him anyway.

I had the fine Ayinger Doppelbock Celebrator. And then, I put my wife's patience to the test... a Schlenkerla Urbock Rauchbier _ smoked beer from Bavaria. 3/4 of the way thru I felt like I had drunk two Easter ham dinners. I couldn't finish the thing.

But she sat there, with her sensible glass of wine, and watched me struggle thru that obscure German specialty, as I stopped to catch my breath every few sips and belch up smoke.

I love you, baby.