There are three types of people in this world: those that like cherries, those that like cherry-flavored, and those that like neither (or both, which makes this category 4 I suppose). I’m wedged into the latter but have slowly learned to appreciate the seasonal gift of fresh cherries.
Please don’t get me wrong. There are no agendas, no personal allergic antedotes, nothing of the sort. Growing up fresh cherries weren’t a part of my family menu. To us, cherries were the gloopy, glossy globes that didn’t need a cherry pitter but a can opener. Something tells me that’s not quite the way Mother Nature intended them to be enjoyed but purely an act out of mankind’s thifty desire to preserve their short season.
It’s only been the past few years that I’ve learned to have my way with fresh cherries in the kitchen and that has resulted in a slight cherry crush. I don’t want to eat cherry pie or clafoutis unless you can convince me you made it yourself and please for the love of god keep any fauxcherryanything far away from me. That includes Luden’s.
Still, I can’t help but get a teensy bit excited when I see cherries.
I love old timey things. I even love the term old timey. Whenever I
hear it, everything turns into sepia tone and rag time music starts
playing. Then my iPhone rings and I realize I need to update my blog
and twitter. I'm happy I wasn't born in the 30's but I enjoy many
things about it. Mainly the influx of bars that seem to embrace that
old timey feel. Did Mad Men have something to do with this? Probably.
I'll be the first to admit prior to watching Don Draper I never had an
Old Fashioned. I now love Old Fashioneds. I even make a really good Old
Fashioned. 
Handcrafted sips of any kind are my cup of tea. There is a true art behind signature tea blends and craft cocktails that make my taste buds sing. But maybe I'm biased...
Even though I take all those silly self portraits of me doing absolutely nothing and blog about trips to pretty places I am not much of the relaxing type of guy. I’m actually quite the opposite and find myself nervous or antsy when I’m sitting still. The thought of midday naps freak me out and stopping to sit down for tea or coffee in the afternoon is a luxury I rarely allow myself. Even if I had the time I’d still feel like I was missing something or that something terrible would happen because I wasn’t working working working working working.
