Saturday, September 17, 2011

Almost as good as a glass of Basil Hayden, neat.

I really like bourbon. Not in the fancy "oh I only drink brown liquors but thank you for the offer of wine" kind of way, but the down and dirty "if the only clean cup is one of Pursy's plastic sippy cups I will take my finger of bourbon in that" kind of way. I got into it with Grant two years ago and we were pleased to discover that our palates for bourbon were very similar. He decided (for whatever reason Grant ever decides things) that the only way to drink bourbon is neat (straight up- no ice) so we never even tried to find out what other bourbon drinkers find pleasing about the slow diluting process of their drink "on the rocks".

My hands down favorite bourbon is Basil Hayden. And my hands down best wife moment was when I met Grant at the door after he had passed his comps in lingerie and a brand new bottle of BH. I like this about us- we make a concerted effort to get into things together so we can enjoy them together. Like the Pittsburgh Pirates or the latest recipes from Food and Wine.

As most of my blog posts go, this one is actually not about bourbon. Rather, it is my musings on discovering the deepest desire of my heart. This morning, Grant woke up at 0730 and took Purslane out to breakfast. He is meeting a friend Mark with his little man Cole and the four of them are presently at the buffet at the local breakfast place. The point of this delicious gift to me was SLEEP. The commodity I have have been craving for the past 3 weeks and never can consume enough of. Whether or not a day was successful at the end depended entirely on whether or not I got a nap. I am 9 months pregnant and just want to sleep through the last 4 weeks. Hook me up to an IV with TPN running through it and I will lie there and gestate as long as this little man wants to stay in- just don't wake me up.

So why am I writing a blog post at 0830 when I am supposed to be sleeping? Because the second I heard the car leave the driveway, I did the following things (almost in an altered state of consciousness- it was just automatic and thus I believe was my body carrying out my heart's deepest and purest desires):
1. Went to the bathroom. Alone. With no requests to read a book or pound out Old McDonald on a xylophone.
2. Made an iced cafe au lait. Put it on a plate next to a peach muffin from my favorite bakery and added a bowl of full-fat French Vanilla yogurt.
3. Fed dog and let him out to pee. (this is just necessary- probably does not reflect anything about me or how I presently feel about the dog)
4. Crawled back into bed with plate of food and drink and grabbed computer and book.

When I was about 11 or 12, I have a very distinct memory of this CD my Dad had- I don't remember the band or the album title but there were four women on the cover with big hair. We were a super conservative family growing up and I was fascinated by the fact that this wasn't a Christian band or classical music and we were allowed to listen to it openly, so played it on repeat. The first lyric of the first song was "Show me a woman who left her man and I'll show you a man with a drink in his hand". This is how I feel this morning.

Show me a husband who let his pregnant wife have a morning all to herself with no babe or expectations to get anything done, and I'll show you a woman who wanted food, private bathroom time and luxurious quiet to write out her thoughts. To bring it all to a close, it is almost as good as an evening on the couch with a glass of bourbon and a record on the turntable.

2 comments:

  1. I'm still trying to figure out what #3 really means... :)

    ReplyDelete