alcohol

How to keep those New Year’s resolutions—even if you’re an alcoholic

So how are we doing on our New Year’s resolutions, my fellow inebriates?

Apologies for the royal “we.” There are certainly no LB resolutions, unless you count the ongoing goal of opening bottles without benefit of thumbs.

Is it even particularly good for us to make New Year’s resolutions?

Psychologists say no, it isn’t. Fully three-quarters of the resolved fail in their pursuits, ending up more dispirited than before. Even simple resolutions—such as going to Walmart without exposing a private orifice—elude some people year after year.

The problem with resolutions is that by definition they focus on negative behaviors. Even when they’re couched in positive language, they tend to have an obvious dark side that starts beckoning after a few days or hours of the new year. Focusing on quitting drinking, as an obvious example, leads to obsessive thinking about alcohol. It’s true!

So how do people succeed at keeping resolutions?

  • They develop their own plans rather than heeding specious advice from self-help books and motivational gurus.
  • They make their resolutions long before the ball begins its New Year’s descent.
  • Their resolutions are realistic and well-considered, not whimsical.
  • Their resolutions are specific, unlike my friend Scarybear’s (“get more snacks in 2012”).
  • They make one resolution at a time.
  • They make their resolutions official by telling people about them, or at least journaling them.
  • They break the mountain up into small hills, so the journey isn’t overwhelming, and they get satisfaction in periodic increments.
  • They forgive themselves when they lapse. They understand it’s part of the process.
  • When they do slip, they don’t let all-or-nothing thinking negate the resolution entirely. They just continue.
  • They reward themselves for incremental successes.

But how do we apply all this shit now that it’s already 2012? Isn’t it too late to make resolutions?

Well, no…there’s nothing magical about New Year at all. In fact, New Year is one of the worst times to resolve to do anything. It’s winter, there’s food and drink everywhere, people are visiting, the mood is celebratory, the gym is crowded, and if you’re a bear you should really be hibernating.

Why not resolve to wait for the optimal time to do something? Then do it.

For me, that thing is discovering how to open wine bottles with my paws. Now that I know the year isn’t lost, I can still make it happen.

TALISKER 18

My Fellow Inebriates,

With New Year behind us and 363 days until the next one, it feels like a good time for an anti-drinking/driving message. We all want to survive for the next party, right?

Dumbass falls asleep with foot on gas pedal—rescued just before conflagration.

I started thinking about it when I read an interview with MI police officer Eric Hornbacher, who pulled a drunk from a burning car December 30—so soused that he’d fallen asleep with his foot on the gas pedal. The car was enflamed minutes after his rescue. Thankfully the would-be driver’s neighbors phoned the cops to say he’d been revving his engine for an hour. Lucky for him he was so loud—had he not made such a racket, the neighbors’ complaint wouldn’t have concerned noise— but rather a weird KFC-like odor coming from the street.

Drinking is awesome, but burning to death obviously sucks. This drunken idiot (who spent the night in jail, which beats the burn ward) really needed to take a page out of my friend Christine’s book. You see, the other night Christine visited with a canvas bag full of single malt scotch. Together we started drinking pale ale, progressed through two bottles of red wine, and finished with samples of three gorgeous whiskies.

At which time Christine did not get into her car, slump across the wheel and rev the engine until the car exploded. Instead she retired to our messy guest room for the night.

This is why Christine is so smart, and partly why she is my newest best friend. Any woman who shows up with a bag full of whiskey is okay in my book, but the three she brought were exceptional. She even left them out after she went to bed, although my paws suffered the typical defeat at attempting to pry them open.

Christine is actually perfect. I think, if she had known me a little better, she might have even suggested a dram in the morning. But I guess it didn’t strike her as kid-friendly at the breakfast table. Perhaps she reckoned my parents to be too boring. Perhaps if we’d been alone…

But on to the TALISKER 18. Apparently this stuff is as scarce as hens’ teeth, but Christine is savvy about scotch; she espied the bottle at a specialty shop in Vancouver. Immediately she recognized the treasure it was (unlike the shopkeeper, who parted with it very reasonably).

TALISKER 18, 2007’s “Best Single Malt in the World 2007,” is one of the peatier non-Islay products. The sole distillery on the Isle of Skye, Talisker dates back to 1830. The malt comes from Muir of Ord, the water from Cnoc nan Speireag, which flows over peat.

If you search for TALISKER 18, you’ll often find this: … and you may need a friend like Christine to locate some for you.

TALISKER 18 is leggy in the glass, the color a deep, golden amber. The first scents are of caramel, vanilla, honey and maple, with a floral essence aloft on those warming notes, balanced against the slightly medicinal tones of brine and iodine.

On the palate the peat is striking but not predominant; toffee and roasted nut flavors weigh against it, along with dried fruits and smoke. The mouthfeel is extravagant, almost buttery on the tongue. It coats the throat with an engulfing warmth, its peppery nuance emerging to join with the soft peat. It has a moderate but generous burn. This whiskey is polished, with every note in perfect harmony. Drinking it conjures up a damp seaside, with distant soot and smoke drifting across the senses. If it weren’t so evenly crafted, TALISKER 18 would constitute sensory overload. But its triumph is to balance on the head of a pin, like so many dancing angels.

I’m grateful to Christine for this glimpse of supernatural perfection. I am at her service forevermore, and—needless to say—am available for cuddles.

The way to LB’s heart—visit with a bag full of scotch

My Fellow Inebriates,

I got lucky last night.

No, no—not like that. Dolly made herself scarce on New Year’s eve so she didn’t have to deliver on the midnight kiss. (I guess she’s serious about her aversion to rancid beer-stained fur.) But I got lucky in an even better way: last night my friend (hear that, parents? …my friend) Christine visited, and she arrived with THREE high-end whiskies.

So what kind of person shows up with a canvas bag full of single malt treats? My kind of person, that’s who. These whiskies were so exceptional that it would be unworthy to wallow in withdrawal—it was a privilege to sample them.

Reviews to come this week:

Talisker 18

Caol Ila 12

Glenfarclas 17

There’s no way I can write a review right now. There’s basking to be done in the still-lingering aftertaste of these extraordinary single malt delights. Talk to you tomorrow (with jitters).