And we met some really great people. And ate some really yummy food. And heard some really great music. Outside in the sunshine in a beautiful place. Together.
And part of why it was so fun for me is that I just love to drink. I really do. I love the taste, whether a red wine - Malbec is my wine of choice these days, or a dark and rich and cold beer, or a yummy margarita or a shot of tequila. I love the taste and I love the way it makes me feel. The rhythm and sway of it. The blurred edges and easy humor.
Now, this is not to say that I cannot have fun without it. I can. I am not an everyday drinking kind of girl. Or an every week one either. But when I do partake I embrace it fully. And enjoy it immensely.
But I hesitated when I began this post, to say this. Because it opens me up to judgment. In a way that does not feel good. But whether drinking or drugs or sex or how we raise our kids or nurture our marriages or live our lives, there is always someone out there who is quick to share their opinions in a way that leaves no doubt that they don't agree with ours.
And so we brace ourselves for this. And we clothe our statements with justifiers. I did it here. In the same paragraph where I say how much I love to drink I also say that I don't do it a lot. In anticipation of what others might think. And say. We all do this. Preface our thoughts and feelings with words of apology or explanation.
And we do this because we are afraid.
We are fed fear in everything we see and hear. The news shares stories that manipulate us, the advertisers share products that will fix us. And so we worry and question and doubt ourselves and each other. And then we are quick to judge. Perhaps because we see ourselves in each other. Perhaps because we worry that if we align ourselves, we will also be seen in a way that will illicit judgement from others.
It's complicated. And really sad. And I don't really have an answer for it in a global sense. So I strive, every day, not to lay my own opinions on someone else in a way that could possibly make them feel badly. And I strive, every day, to speak my truth and not to be ashamed if its not a popular one.
Which brings me back to drinking.
A few weeks ago my husband and son and I made margaritas. Yes, my son is over 21 - don't judge. So we made these amazing margaritas. Using cheap ass frozen limeaid and some ice and a heavy hand of tequila and triple-sec and Grand Marnier. Now, to give credit where credit is due, this is my dad's recipe. Which he lovingly pass down to me, his daughter. Though I do believe he used a measuring cup. And we added blood red oranges from our tree.
And we had the best time.