Overheard In A Bar

I have never been a big drinker.

I have my favorites.  Yes, I do.  But drinking has always been an issue of budget for me.  We just couldn't justify purchasing alcohol when we needed, say, well, food.  And clothes to wear while eating that food.  Oh, then there was the mortgage.  We needed our home so we could have a place to get dressed and eat our food.

I'm not even a social drinker - yes, I'll have one of these (in the photo) on the porch with a friend from time to time (and I do blame this one for turning me on to these little drinkypoo's), or I'll have a margarita or martini every once in a while.  But, for the most part I don't order drinks with dinner, do not purchase "party packs" unless I'm hosting a BBQ, which is like, once a year, and just don't even think about stocking up on alcohol.  So, it's funny, that my little bit of drinking inspired this comment from Harper.

While sitting at a golf club bar munching on hot dogs prior to George's half marathon (he wasn't eating a hot dog - that would be completely gross before a race), Harper looked up, noticed a Smirnoff bottle on the shelf and exclaimed in a volume which she could only have gotten from me, "Hey, look Mom, they have your favorite drink!"

Yes, the place was full.

No, I did not order a drink.

I drink responsibly . . . she said while taking the last sip of her Mike's Hard Limeade given to her by a neighbor.

Beaver is a cesspool of irresponsibility and iniquity.