Thanksgiving Eve

The cover thief laying next to me is 'breathing heavy'.
When I breathe heavy she calls it snoring.

She's tired because she did a days work then came home and did another 2 days work getting ready for tomorrow, where it will be utter and complete chaos.

All her kids are home and that makes her heart as full as the house is tonight, which contains 7 adults, 3 kids, 5 dogs, 4 cats, and 1 beta fighting fish.

There will be another dozen descend on us tomorrow, but for now she can breathe as heavy as she wants.

This girl--this wife of mine--never ceases to amaze me.

Creme De George

I like Saturday because I get to hang out with my best girl, Wifey.

Today was no exception, but it wouldn't be complete had we not incurred what started out as a routine task but quickly became an adventure- a quest, even.

When we recently celebrated Wifeys birthday, she had a cocktail that quickly became her favorite.

It's called an Aviation.

This particular cocktail got started ions ago, kind of went extinct, but more recently is out of moth balls for a resurgence. 

 

Regardless, Wifey loved this drink and what Wifey wants Wifey usually gets. It only stands to reason that we attempt to duplicate the cocktail at home.

The Aviation is comprised of gin, lemon juice, maraschino liqueur and creme de violette, which is also a liqueur. And based on the events of today, it may be easier just to order one the next time we go to Dovetail, the restaurant where Wifey and Aviation first met.

 

It is complex, if not complicated because

a) it ain't beer

b) two of the ingredients aren't readily available, and

3) my auto correct just tried to correct the word 'liqueur' to 'liquor', which only adds to my frustrated ability to communicate. 

Armed with my phone, Google, and wi-fi, I did the rational thing and called the nearest adult beverage store.

 

"Yes Sir, do you folks by chance have a couple of liqueurs I need, one is Maraschino liqueur and he other called Creme De Violette, in order that I make my wife her favorite cocktail and as a result she finds favor in me?"

The lord as my witness, this is the way my brain and the voice inside my head asked the question to the man on the other end of the phone.

In reality, it came out like this (It is important to note here that English is my second language, Southern being my first):

"Yessir, dew yew folks have 2 of these lick-kewrs I'm needin'? Ones called Mary-sheen-oh cherry not the cherries but the lick-kewr and the otherns called Kreme Dee Vie-oh- let-tay?"

Out of the corner of my eye in the middle of my inquiry I had noticed Wifey looking at me as if I had just transformed into a unicorn.

 

I have seen this look before, and quickly surmise that she is impressed with my tenacity, persistence, and ongoing pursuit to keep her to a standard of living to which she has been long accustomed.

 

Wrong look.

Wifeys face is red. Her eyes are tearing up, her mouth is agape and there's no sound coming out. She is doubled over. Then she takes in a breath and starts to laugh from the deepest place in her soul. She starts mimicking me in the same voice I used (not the inside my brain one) and admits she may have even "peed a little".

 

She's roaring and laughing so hard she cannot contain herself. In another moment she has me laughing, about to wet myself.

Well, we finally found the stuff after the fifth attempt.

Liquor store #5,  the Macon Beverage Outlet (who knew, right?): "Yes Sir, we have it" the young lady said. "Maam, I said, hold on to that bottle I will be there in half hour to pick it up- my name is George!" She agreed, so Wifey and I took off out the door to get what has to be the rarest and hardest to pronounce beverage in the universe.

We walked in the place, and began to look around. Not having said one word, the girl behind the counter noticed me and immediately held up the bottle of the unpronounceable lick-kewr.

Wifey starts laughing, I start laughing. I said " How'd you know it was me?!?"

She said

"You look like a George"

Wifey said " He acts like one, too!

All is well, Life is good. Now if you will excuse me, I've a cocktail to make.

 

Post Election Thoughts

I suspect most of us feel the same way.

I'm glad its over.

The fighting, the commentary from both sides, the rhetoric, the lambasting--OH, THE HUMANITY! or lack thereof. He said, she said, they said, and the propaganda machine called the Media sliced it, diced, it, spun it, shunned it, 'splained it, and turned it ALL into an ice water enema of epic proportions, pitting Us against Them, with no one knowing who THEM was, were, or are. When you added religion, race, ethnicity, social class, and whether you were left right handed, we had all the ingredients of a civil war.

In short, it was a doo-doo sandwich, served without bread. Relationships suffered, friends were unfriended, as the entire ordeal played out on television, talk radio, and social media. Facebooks, Tweets, Snappychats and Instagratification Grams made me think of the Wizard of Oz-"Pay no attention to the Man behind the curtain.."

It was, like my grandfather said in referring to life in general, "one continuous damn thing after another."

Amazingly, on the 9th day of November, the Sun rose in the East as always. Most folks got up and went to work, kids went to school, and dogs and cats went outside to pee. Half of the Population did this with hurt feelings because their team lost, while the others celebrated their teams victory.

The propaganda machine is still figuring out how to make it look that they had a firm handle on the situation the entire time, while the ghosts of Edward R. Murrow, Walter Cronkite look down on them in disgust.

Roosevelt died, MacArthur got fired, and the world kept turning. America needs to give itself a swift kick in either the gonads or ovaries, and go back to being Americans. Divide yourselves over what counts--sports teams, music preferences, brands of cars, clothing and fast food joints. Argue about long or short hair, your favorite season, and white or wheat bread. But at the end of the day you must be part of something greater than yourself, and that is to be a Free American who lives in the greatest place on Earth.