Friends Don't Get Married Every Day
Boy howdy, ladies and g's, here I sit only one week after my oxygen-deprived trip to beautiful Telluride eating butter-like truffles from the wedding welcome bag and less decadent chocolate covered almonds from the au bon pain at LGA... both paired with a nice spicy, earthy tempranillo from some nether-region of Spain.
This late-night snacking (hummus and blue corn chips preceded the chocolate) is probably why my pants are tight (although that cute gap jacket does indeed look tiny when not being worn).
I sip the wine and contemplate...
two weddings in just over two months... during one, I had a newly broken but undiagnosed foot. I spent the weekend on anti-inflammatories, unnecessarily. I only bring this up because it impeded my ability to drink and be merry. (Though, of course, all that wonderful French champagne inspired me to take a breather from the meds for the day of the actual nuptials.)
The other wedding... well I arrived at the bride's digs in Telluride on Friday night and the next morning needed medical attention at the ER. I am a terrible wedding guest. Maybe worse than your crazy uncle or your nutty Aunt Betty! And, again, I had to abstain from my lush-like ways for most of the weekend.
Thank Dionysus most of my friends are now married. Who knows what bodily harm awaits me at the next wedding I am to be a guest at? And to be forced to be prudent at a wedding reception! That is the worst of all, my friends! Is it not better to drink a little too much, dance a few hours and take a nice Texan boy to the hotel with you than to abstain and retire early to hook yourself up to the oxygen machine?!?
I ask you readers! After all, friends don't get married every day.
Ah well. C'est la vie.
I will have to be content, back at sea level, without festivities, but with tasty chocolates and spicy wine.
Stay tuned... and, oh yeah, where are your fall cocktail recipes?!?! I'm beginning to think you aren't out there, my friends!
And by the way, I've been checking out the wine/liquor venues in Park Slope and have decided that unless I'm desperate for wine and have taken the R train home, the lecture is not worth the trip to Adam's wines. All I did was say, I don't need a bag... that small remark led to a drawn out speech about how big trucks are killing the environment in America, but oooh back in Europe the big trucks have tiny engines that run on propane. This may all be true, but I was shopping for wine... clearly, a signal that I needed relaxation and possibly a little escapism! Not a reminder about the poor state of our lovely Earth.
Boy howdy, ladies and g's, here I sit only one week after my oxygen-deprived trip to beautiful Telluride eating butter-like truffles from the wedding welcome bag and less decadent chocolate covered almonds from the au bon pain at LGA... both paired with a nice spicy, earthy tempranillo from some nether-region of Spain.
This late-night snacking (hummus and blue corn chips preceded the chocolate) is probably why my pants are tight (although that cute gap jacket does indeed look tiny when not being worn).
I sip the wine and contemplate...
two weddings in just over two months... during one, I had a newly broken but undiagnosed foot. I spent the weekend on anti-inflammatories, unnecessarily. I only bring this up because it impeded my ability to drink and be merry. (Though, of course, all that wonderful French champagne inspired me to take a breather from the meds for the day of the actual nuptials.)
The other wedding... well I arrived at the bride's digs in Telluride on Friday night and the next morning needed medical attention at the ER. I am a terrible wedding guest. Maybe worse than your crazy uncle or your nutty Aunt Betty! And, again, I had to abstain from my lush-like ways for most of the weekend.
Thank Dionysus most of my friends are now married. Who knows what bodily harm awaits me at the next wedding I am to be a guest at? And to be forced to be prudent at a wedding reception! That is the worst of all, my friends! Is it not better to drink a little too much, dance a few hours and take a nice Texan boy to the hotel with you than to abstain and retire early to hook yourself up to the oxygen machine?!?
I ask you readers! After all, friends don't get married every day.
Ah well. C'est la vie.
I will have to be content, back at sea level, without festivities, but with tasty chocolates and spicy wine.
Stay tuned... and, oh yeah, where are your fall cocktail recipes?!?! I'm beginning to think you aren't out there, my friends!
And by the way, I've been checking out the wine/liquor venues in Park Slope and have decided that unless I'm desperate for wine and have taken the R train home, the lecture is not worth the trip to Adam's wines. All I did was say, I don't need a bag... that small remark led to a drawn out speech about how big trucks are killing the environment in America, but oooh back in Europe the big trucks have tiny engines that run on propane. This may all be true, but I was shopping for wine... clearly, a signal that I needed relaxation and possibly a little escapism! Not a reminder about the poor state of our lovely Earth.
Broken foot or not, you were a great guest. And there are more parties to be had.
ReplyDeleteHave you tried that wine shop in park slope that deliver's? Whenever I have stayed with D, we have been able to order the most fantatstic wine- right to our door.
That will certainly keep you off your feet, allowing yourself time to heal, while maintaining a nice buzz.
:)
V