Mistah Schleckah and I drank these two particular drinks on our deck a couple of weeks ago, before the huge, emotional, landmark haircut. Delicious? Oh, they were delicious. And courage-providing.
I got thinking about drinks while looking at photos the other day, of the haircut, and of drinking margaritas with our incredibly awesome, incredibly-awesome-looking, new-mom friend Hsinny recently -- also on our deck. Our deck is, clearly, a really great place to have a drink.
So, my gorgeous, brilliant, delightful, and drink-loving co-bloggers: tell us. Give us a drinkie-poo story. What are you drinking right now? What do you wish you were drinking right now? What do you regret drinking? Right now or any other time?
Drinkie-poos. Detes, please. And photos? Oh, how we love photos.
I may have told this story before, I'm not sure. But I love it, every time.
Schleckah and I were condo-sitting in San Diego, north of Jacquie and Bill's house, where we had been staying, well, for months, as we were wont to do.
Jacquie and her kids, naturally, came up to play. Mrs. Schwabbie (both of Jacquie's kids' kindergarten teacher)'s condo had a pool, afterall.
I got in the pool with the kids, and flipped them up into the air. Actually, I flipped the boy up into the air. He and I had a great routine, where he'd stand on my shoulders, I'd grab his feet, I'd sink underwater, I'd tap his feet three times: "One, two, three . . . " and I'd push against the bottom and burst up into the air and throw him up and he'd do a giant flip or at least a jumping twirlsey, from my shoulders, into the air. All the while the girl was hanging onto my neck, strangling me, screeching into my ear like a screech owl.
My favorite part of that day, though, was Jacquie brought drinkie-poos (along with lunch). Now, for the likes of us, margaritas are margies, a beer's a beer, and a glass of wine's, well, a glass of wine. But a drinkie-poo? Well that's something else entirely. It involves vodka and Sobe and lime and seltzer and Jacquie's man Bill is often, but not always, involved. A drinkie-poo is, most of all, entirely refreshing.
So. We were drinking drinkie-poos at the pool. Of course we were. And Jacquie's girl, who had just turned 6, saw a so-called grown-up with a big red plastic cup in his hand, and although she had no earthly idea what her Uncle Schleckah was drinking, a so-called adult with a cup meant one thing to her, and one thing only. And so she screamed, in her screech owl voice, for all the world -- and all the condo complex -- to hear,
"Uncle Bill! Put down your booze and get in the pool!"
Right now? Well, right now I’m drinking water out of my SIGG water bottle; can you say healthy environmentalist?
Me neither, at least not without choking, because what I WISH I were drinking is an icy cold margarita. I don’t say this all that often, as I really have a lasting, true affinity for beer. But I was out late last night, seeing the John Butler Trio, and, well, drinking beer, so right now something more refreshing is called for. (Where is Ellie with
her Jacquie’s blender when you need her?)
Regret drinking? Oh lots of things, Ellie, lots of things. I think maybe even these lovely drinkie-poos,
which were made at home shortly before heading off to the pool, where official drinkie-poos cost $10 and up. Pffft. As if.
Now, don’t get the wrong idea, it’s not that the above pictured drinkie-poos weren’t fruity and delicious and perfectly rum-spiced, because they were, it’s just that they go down way too fast, and always taste like more, and I have a hard time staying sober while
downing sipping these girly drinks. Yes, past experience reveals that spiced rum leads to terrible haircuts, and lacerations, and who knows what all else.
My bonehead streak continues. Despite the fact that I've known about this weekend's photo assignment for days, I never quite got a good shot of a drinkie! Shall we pretend that I was on the wagon all week? You so funny.
Here's the moment of recall:
It was yummy.
But so does not meet the challenge of this weekend's 3-way! Thankfully, I've done my share of booze talk here on Me and You and Ellie, so all hope is not lost. Take a gander at these two luscious displays:
First, the ubiquitous cocktail of the summer of 2009, The Strawberry Lemonata. Click the photo for the recipe. You're welcome.
Is that photo and its corresponding memories enough to inspire Autumn to find a way to finagle us back up there this summer? One can only hope.
God, I'm thirsty.