Saturday, March 21, 2009

Allow myself to introduce...myself

I didn't know who the blog listed below mine belonged to based on it's title. But I was able to figure it out fairly quickly, since I'm so smart. (I am a lawyer, after all.)

I first met Dr. Garvey, as far as I can remember, on my first trip to the Garvey estate (Garvey Acres? The Garvey Manse?) on New Year's Eve . . . '98? '99? '00? 01? Wow. I don't know what year it was. I know I was at least 21, because bought a bottle of Jagermeister to bring to the party. No one else cared to drink it, so I polished it off myself. Surprisingly, this course of action lead to me becoming inebriated. This was shortly before midnight, and Alex decided that I would be allowed to go upstairs (where the grown-ups were) but, due to my condition, that I would not be allowed to speak. This was the night that I passed out and had a very vivid dream about vomiting into a chair, which I have been assured was only a dream, and that no such chair exists at the Garvey estate. Dr. Garvey generously gave several of us some tickets to a Sabres game the following day. Did you know that there is a ring of flashbulbs around the ceiling of the HSBC Arena, and that these flashbulbs go off nearly constantly? Go to a game really hung over, and you'll see them.

This story has little to do with the Dixie Chicken himself, but as far as I can recall, this was the first time we met. We have since met several times, and he has never once made me feel like an idiot for getting shit-canned at his house and maybe or maybe not puking into phantom lawn furniture.

I gleaned by reading his BufBloPoFo posts that he is into wine and very proud of his children. I wanted to get into wine, but haven't yet gotten beyond "If you like it, drink it". I'm pretty sure this is the most important lesson that any enthusiast learns about the thing that they are enthusiastic about. And while I've met all of - but only really know one of - his kids, I think he's right to be proud of them.

I am going to refrain from asking him a question about the weird feeling in my mouth following last week's tooth extraction, and instead pose this random and not profession specific query:

Which of the Boy Scout Laws do you value most in your fellow man?

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