For relaxing times, make it Early Times ...

For the last eight years, I've gone north to my aunt and uncle's house for Thanksgiving to Newburyport, Massachusetts - a sleepy town on the Merrimac River. For the last four years, my brother has joined me in the trek since moving from California to Philadelphia. For the last two years, I've run in Newburyport's Annual Turkey Trot. This year, my brother decided to run it with me.
We woke up early Thanksgiving morning, laced up and headed out into the frosty morning to run 3.1 miles in Maudsley State Park. My brother, who hasn't exercised since 1999, was reasonably terrified. We stood at the back of the 1,500-plus pack of runners, with senior citizens in front of us, runners with small dogs on leashes and some eight-year-old doing military style push-ups before the race. For the first half of the race my brother and I were neck-and-neck, but at the halfway mark I lost him. We both finished at a mildly-respectful 38 minutes (me) and 40 minutes (him) - not bad for two people who rarely exercise, one of them not since the threat of Y2K loomed close.
The soreness set in almost instantly. Mine lifted by the time the turkey was placed on the table, but my brother's ... well, I'm not sure if it's gone yet.
My grammie came over around noon and began her typical questions on repeat: Do you like to cook? (my question to answer) How is school? (my brother's question) When are you going to shave your beard? (I'll let you decide whose question that was) What kind of drink would you like? (a question for both of us)
My grandmother is an expert when it comes to libations. She's been drinking Southern Comfort for years and years, "because it's sweet". Every time we see her she pushes for us to drink up Janis Joplin's cocktail of choice. For years, when my grandfather was alive, they'd have happy hour together and she's sip her liquid "dessert". My brother doesn't really drink much, and, with his body in disarray he decided, to ease his pains, skip the SoCo and to try a little bourbon - Early Times Bourbon.

This bourbon has been in my aunt's cupboard for at least 15 years. The bottle was covered in dust, and she only uses it when she makes Lobster Newburg. I took one sip and started coughing, and my brother took a sip and said, "[he] could see through time." On a roll to prove his athletic prowess, he made a sport of drinking that bourbon and was lightheaded within minutes. And even though I may have won the foot race, he was the true champion of the day.