Scotch, scotch, scotch.

I want to like it.  I really, really do.

I have tried.  I have smelled it, slowly, allowing the aroma to tickle my senses.  I have sipped it, just barely, and let it roll around on my tongue.  I've tried to pick out the flavors and savor the aromas.

But I can't.  To my husband's grave disappointment, I haven't built up my taste for a single malt scotch.  It still, just, doesn't do it for me.  It's a little too manly.  A little too harsh.  A little too, alcoholy.  It's for real men, it's strong, it's buff.  It'll put hair on your chest.  I don't really want that, but still...

Sometimes, at night, I can hear him weeping about it.  It's very hard for him to accept.

I don't know if I've mentioned it, ahem, but Stuart loves single malt scotches.   He savors them as if they were gold.  He looks at them, smells them, studies them (our local library has quite the book collection), and sips them ever-so-slowly.  We've even watched documentaries on scotch.  Stuart + Scotch = LOVE.

Lucky for me though, this week, Stuart's brother Jeremy is coming to visit.  Jeremy loves scotch, too.  That means that Stuart will be as happy as a school boy.  He will have someone to share his love with.  Stuart and Jeremy will sit around the table with their little tumblers of scotch and giggle like wee little girls.  Oh, you haven't met Jeremy?  Let me introduce you.

Yep, cut from the same cloth, those two.
Maybe it's just a guy thing.  Or an Elliott man thing.

I'll keep trying - I've heard it takes seventeen times of trying a new "thing' to acquire a taste for it. I'm on number four, which means I have thirteen more times to go. 

But for the time being, I am thankful that in these cold days ahead, when Stuart needs a sip of scotch to warm his 'ol belly, he has his brother to share it with. 

They are goobers, these two.  Scotch drinking goobers.