I’ve been having some extremely minor yet thoroughly annoying health issues which have combined to keep me from eating some of my favorite foods. Things I couldn’t have became cravings that blossomed into obsessions. I would have traded my youngest nephew for a bag of popcorn.
Also forbidden were spirits, as a result of which I have decided that there is absolutely nothing in the world that is more essential to my continued health, happiness, prosperity, and willingness to abide by the laws of our country than a vodka martini.
I’m not sure where I get my taste for cocktails as my family were not big drinkers. Somebody would give my father a fifth of whiskey at Christmas time with which he would occasionally make high balls when friends or relatives visited. That bottle would usually last until the next Christmas. And my mother always had a pint of gin in a cupboard in case the women at a neighborhood baby shower decided the punch needed a spike.
My mother did, however, school me in proper etiquette related to this general topic. She had three simple rules which I was to memorize. (Which, obviously, I did.)
A. Ladies do not go into a tavern, bar, or cocktail lounge alone.
B. Lades may sit at the bar only if escorted, but a table is always a better choice.
C. Ladies may order a Bacardi, a Pink Lady, or a Whiskey Sour.
Well, my wait is over -- tonight's the night, but none of those foo-foo drinks for me. Get out the vodka and vermouth, and keep the olives coming.
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