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I think I’ve mentioned before that I am usually walking on a treadmill when I write these reviews. Recently we were given a second treadmill. This is very helpful to us for several reasons, one of which being that we both like to walk for an hour each night, my routine arising from the discovery that my bad back is greatly helped and her routine providing the opportunity for keeping fit while watching some of her favorite TV shows on her iPad that I won’t sit and watch with her. I don’t watch much TV because, well, I think most of what’s on TV is pretty stupid. I only watch the news…and maybe the History Channel every now and then. But Jen has her favorites, and so she watches them while walking. With only one treadmill and the need to take turns using it, most of the evening was spent apart from one another. We already have very little time together and so a second treadmill means that we can walk at the same time and finish at the same time, all the while Jen gets to watch the TV shows I won’t watch with her and I get to exercise my ailing frame.

For the sake of space, it was necessary for me to arrange the treadmills so that they are facing one another. This means that just over the top of my computer screen I can see my wife, stepping swiftly, headphones donned, and being drawn so intimately into each show, animated all the while with expressions and gestures of surprise, fear, laughter and the like. It can be pretty funny sometimes, but also somewhat startling when she throws her hands up to her face and screams “Oh, my gosh! Get out of there! Run!”

This whole scenario came to mind with the first sip of the Craigellachie 13 year old edition. I purchased the whisky only because I’d not yet seen it offered in Michigan, and I’m always looking for a new Scotch whisky to review. I opened it with some friends on New Year’s Eve and I’m guessing that they must have been similarly startled when I nosed and sipped, almost immediately gurgling a disappointed, “Oh my!” It wasn’t a good. And I wasn’t alone in my discernment. My compatriots experienced the same.

The nose gave over soured citrus – lemons – not wholly unpleasant, and yet by this I knew I was in for something that was potentially piercing.

The palate was incredibly hostile to the back of the tongue, again very sour with an intimated sprinkling of salt. Salt and soured citrus don’t work well together here. They do in a margarita, but of course that involves a completely different type of citrus.

The finish was way too long, leaving behind a linctus coating that I wanted gone almost right away. But rather than a glass of water, I chose to cleanse my palate with the first familiar and friendly whisky I could find – which happened to be the Glenmorangie La Santa. Ah, now that’s the right kind of citrus in a whisky.

I know that there are other editions from Craigellachie, namely the 17, 19, and 23 year olds. If I find them, I will most certainly give them a try and let the Angelsportion crowd know the determination. Although, I should say that I am a bit hesitant to exhaust the “Squirrel Fund” on a whisky that has already delivered disappointment.

So with that, I’ll end right here. I’m going to make faces at my wife while she watches her show.

*Lame show spoiler alert…

I got her attention and she told me she’s watching the final episode of “White Collar.” She said the main character just died. She’s pretty distraught. I’d better be ready to cut the power to the treadmill before she launches off of it and into the wall behind her. It might be funny if it were only drywall, but we are in the basement and it is cement.

Oh, my gosh! I gotta go!