It occurs to me this morning while I’m cleaning up the kitchen, that since April of this year I’ve drunk approximately 1.5 litres of Tequila.
Clearly not all at once.
I suspect though that this is more than most. I own that I’ve drunk more beer than this in that time and strangely, less wine I think. Certainly more tequila than any of my family have drunk in their lifetimes (combined). All in all I think it’s something of an achievement and whether it is one to be proud of will simply be a matter of conscience.
I own that mine is clear. For who could besmirch the joy of that first lip curling sip as the sour lime juice washes the salted rim off the glass and into your mouth. Who could deny oneself the refreshing icy goodness that cools the fevered temps of workday afternoons beset by pressure and angst and says hello to the long hot summer evenings complemented by a lazy novel on the balcony swing set. Yes, a good Margarita is a joy to behold and Daylight Saving is its best friend.
Better still is a Margy among my friends which is precisely how I came to be cleaning my kitchen this morning meditating on an empty Cuervo bottle.
The girls were here last night. A collection of my favs who’ve not partied together before for no other reason than I’d never invited them all at the same time.
I believe the mark of a good evening is when, even at midnight, one doesn’t have any inclination to kick them out the door regardless of the list of things on the agenda for Saturday. That and the fact that no one appeared to want to leave even then!!
This was that kind of night.
I just need reminding next time to eat dinner before I drink one of Haddock’s Margaritas else I again lose the ability to walk… or even stand up straight… So I’m leaving myself a note that it is a v good idea to have these kinds of parties at home so I don’t have so far to fall into bed…