I took a couple of days off with the family to wander around the mountains of North Georgia, do some hiking, pan for some gold, just get away from home and see something new. It had been over a year since we had spent the night in a hotel, which is the first time that has happened, probably in forever. The wife and I are fully vaccinated, as are most of the rest of the family, but we are still taking precautions to keep ourselves and other folks safe. It ws a little strange to be back out in the world, but good to get away from home and spend some time together playing and exploring, safely. On the way home, we made a swing through Atlanta to grab lunch to go from Fred’s Meat & Three in Krog Street Market, which meant we had to walk right past one of my favorite cocktail spots, which inspired me to try one of their signature drinks. Since I happened to have a new julep cup at home just itching for a drink, won’t you join me now as we stand and make the Ticonderoga Cup.
I don’t generally follow the news of “royals” whether they are from Kansas City or the UK. I wish them both well, I just don’t get the fascination. I’m not knocking it, just saying it’s not my bag. That kind of luxe just ain’t for us, as the kids say. Apparently, there was some hullabaloo over an interview between Oprah, Meghan and the Harry formerly known as Prince. Some family business was addressed publicly, some feelings were hurt and the gods of ratings rejoiced. Honestly, I am only marginally aware of this because it seemed to dominate the morning news cycle, perhaps when I learn more, I shall care more deeply. Perhaps not. The point is, my choice of drink today has absolutely no bearing at all on this coincidence. I saw something that looked nice, I wanted to try it and I indulged my desires, with agency. So, in the spirit of going ahead and doing your own thing, even when circumstances conspire to make that unnecessarily confusing, won’t you join me now as we stand and make Her Majesty.
It was a clear day, we were on the playground, playing handball or lounging under the shelter. We had the option of watching in Mrs. Cerniglia’s room, but a bunch of us would rather be outside, besides you could always see the smoke trail going up, which was cooler than watching on TV anyway. The launches had become fairly mundane, the only reason this one was being played in a classroom was because our teacher had been involved in the program, and had a vested interest. Not us though, we were outside in our Guess jeans and Swatches, listening to Mr. Mister cassettes on the Walkman. Looking off to the north we saw the smoke trailing into the sky and then it stopped, expanded, almost like a bloom opening, at that distance. We did not get it, and went back to gossiping about who liked who and whether Dave and Maddie were finally gonna do it. A bell rang and the loudspeaker instructed us to make our way to the cafetornasium, for a special assembly, where we learned that the bloom we had seen, was the Space Shuttle Challenger being lost. In the spirit of those who went before us, won’t you please join me, as we stand and make the Explorer Martini.
I haven’t been properly drunk in a while. Which is a shame. I should be drunk or otherwise lubricated to write this missive, but I am not and I am not inclined to fix that. It’s gonna make it hard to really dig into the stream of way too conscious ramblings, but I going to try, for America and other interested parties. Though I make a drink everyday to share, I rarely drink it all. The wife and I split it and go on with our evening. Proper drinking is a thing to be done in crowds, shared with friends, even if you just met them. In this year without contact, I just haven’t had much impetus to drink more than a couple of sips at a time. I need for people to come along, for me to really enjoy the ride. And today is all about the ride, so I need to be out there looking for the edge, but I am doing it sober and it is hard to get there on your own, well, hard to get there on your own without a handful of pills or other chemical assistance. The thing is, I never really liked drugs. Maybe I just did the wrong ones. If I’d have had some sort of shaman or spirit guide to lead me along that particular path of enlightenment, may be I would feel differently. But I didn’t, so I don’t. Sure I experimented with the light stuff, but I never found a really good fit, so, beyond social stuff other people offered, I left them alone and never got to experience the truly mind-altering things. Drinking was different, that one was easy for me. It was accessible and I am open minded. It worked for both of us. But you don’t really get those mind and consciousness expanding revelations from a bottle. You get a penchant for story telling, laughing too loudly and embarrassing your more sedate friends with your antics, but if there are any true and deep lessons to be learned they mostly get lost somewhere between the hangover and that first cup of coffee. So, in the spirt of a certain laissez-faire attitude toward the truth and self aggrandizement, let us gather at the river as we stand and make the Gonzo.
We haven’t done a brunch drink in a while, so that’s where we are going today. The wife surprised us this morning with some avocado toast, yeah, we are kinda bougie like that sometimes. This one would have actually been more appropriate yesterday when the boy harangued her into French Toast, even though she’s not a fan. I guess she figured it was a step up from his usual Cinnamon Toast Crunch. So, if you are feeling a little extra and want to do something decadent, join me now as we stand and make the French Toast Flip.
We are properly into the holiday season now, with people from many faiths and no faith at all celebrating this special time of year. We move together through this unusual season, which doesn’t look like anything we have seen before. Visiting with family and friends virtually instead of in person, ordering gifts for delivery, it is a strange time indeed. While we may not be in the same room, we can be joined in spirit, celebrating those ties that bind, helping us make it through these unprecedented times, knowing that some day soon we will be together again. So in that spirit, please join me for The 12 Drinks of Christmas. Sing along at home, if you like, because, “For the first drink of Christmas, Uncle Monkey made for me, Clyde Common Egg Nog.”
It’s been a bit of a day and I ended up with more to do in the evening than I had anticipated, so please excuse my brevity. To be fair, I am looking forward to a drink tonight, lord knows we all need one. For the folks who are just tired of all this, nearly 3,000 people have died, today, so far, in the US alone. Over 100,000 people in the hospital tonight. Over 100,000 families praying that they get to see and hold and talk to their loved ones again and that they don’t join the over 276,000 families who have lost someone to this disease. So yeah, wear the damned mask. You didn’t come here to get lectured though, you came for the dancing monkey to say something funny. So get up , stand up and join me as we make the Banana Calling.
I recognize that no one gives a damn what I am drinking today. Suffice it to say there are much bigger things going on with a lot of things for folks to process as they celebrate or mourn the results of this momentous and record breaking election, so as brevity is the soul of wit, I shall be brief, as we stand and make the Fog Cutter.
When you find sweet, fresh Tennessee strawberries, how can you not drop everything and use them in a drink, seriously. Plus, it’s a stupid hot, humid, did you expect anything less from July in the South kind of day, and a cool drink is just what the doctor ordered. So join me as we stand and make a Strawberry Daiquiri, Actual.