So I ate lunch at a little place down the road from here called Andy's Tap. Andy's has all the charm of a 1977 suburban basement/rec room, including the cheesy art, and the wrought iron light fixtures. The sweet smell of cigarettes and grease reminds me of my late Grandmother.

Every New years as a kid, the whole family from my fathers side would come to our faux oak paneled basement for the evening. My mom would disable the fire alarms, because the haze of smoke would set them off. I have fond memories of being just short enough to walk below the haze...cough cough...Can't seem get the image of Pall Mall kings and Johnny Walker out of my head...Not suprizingly, most of the people on my father's side have long since passed away.