Fillmore Was a Whig

Who knew. It’s always special when you can combine FNM with education. I took my martini on this night at Millard Fillmore’s Presidential Library in Waterloo, just down the road from my house. It is an undiscovered treasure and probably my new local. Turns out Fillmore was a Whig, which I did not know before. Also, he died on my birthday in 1874. Also, he was born in Finger Lakes region of New York, where I also lived in my early days. We are practically brothers–except I’m not a Whig.

I ordered up an ice cold super dry Ketel One with olives and it appeared. The bar was quiet and I chatted with the owner and an old timer sitting next to me with a walker. He was drinking whiskey with a touch of water and started wheezing like a hand-cranked 1950’s John Deere when he took a drink. He occasionally had coughing fits that made me keep my fingers poised over 911. He got through the night, but I’m not sure how many more he has in him. It wasn’t his first night in a bar either. Cool old geezer though. I helped him out the door and into his car.

After the old fella left, I corresponded a bit with my trusted friend iPad and had a second martini.

Later, I walked a few steps down the street to Citizen Pie for a take away pizza and had a glass of prosecco while I waited. Always an eclectic crowd there as it is right across the street from Beachland Ballroom where they have live music; usually the crowd is eating before heading over for the shows.

After I ate my pizza, I fell asleep in front of a movie and woke up around midnight and took myself to bed. Work is sort of punishing at the moment. No one is happy about where we are, but all we know to do is press on and hope more good things happen than bad. I’ve tried all the tricks I know to get this wrecked train back on the tracks and we are close. But it still feels like we may come up just a little short. Which is gonna piss off a whole lotta folks. Mostly the folks that put is in this bind in the first place, but they will figure out a way to make sure someone else falls on the sword. Business as usual.

But nice Friday Night Martini and that’s something.

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