My grandparents drank one dry gin martini every night of their entire adult lives. They would have cocktail hour in front of the PBS NewsHour with their Beefeater gin martinis and a small bowl of nuts. My grandparents were big believers in moderation, and they were very happy people who lived for a long time, like into their nineties. I was thinking about them recently, and I wondered if “Be More Moderate”…
Uh oh – It’s 8 am, and I’m about to mix a martini. Hell, I might not even bother using a shaker; I might start drinking straight out of the bottle. I can’t breathe, and I’m breaking out in hives. Why? Because it’s finally here: After the country’s longest, ugliest campaign season, it’s time to vote. This is it! The election is tight! The polls are narrowing! Our future is at stake, and…
Fun facts abound this week! Which is kind of a lot of pressure. What if my facts aren’t fun? What if the fun* parts aren’t facts? I’ve told you all so much already. What is there possibly left to spill? Normally this is where I’d retreat to my bourbon and gummy bears to find my inspiration, but husband and I have decided to try to modify our diet in hopes…
Okay, I don’t actually have dirt, but I like alliteration, needed a title and figured it might catch your attention. And I do have some behind the scenes tidbits to share that are interesting, if not particularly dirty. We started as strangers back in July and had to divvy up jobs, learn how to use the site, post our blogs etc. About 200 emails later, with a huge amount of…
Oh this is a topic meant to egg me on, I’m sure! The other debs want to know about my quarter trick, or perhaps the how and why of my learning it, but I have to protect my sources so I can’t do that. Since I’ve already revealed my talents for excessive hip-gyration, goofy poetry-writing and fixing electronic devices by shaking them, plus outed myself as a cherry-stem-tyer (planning a…
It’s a rare thing for me to cook, from a recipe or otherwise, but a few years ago I made eggnog Christmas morning and it was so delicious, it nearly became a family tradition. Notice I said nearly. Because this eggnog is not only delicious, it’s deceptive, dangerous, devilishly prone to producing drunkards, dozers and all kinds of family debacles. (Not to mention, just the memory of it awakens Deb…
I used to drink almost no water. Before I got sober, water was the beverage you had one cup of for every two glasses of alcohol you consumed, if you wanted to avoid being hung-over the next day — a fact I was usually too drunk to remember. Thus, in the morning, it was what I poured down my chalky and charred throat so zealously that anything trying to make…
The first apartment I lived in on my own was a tiny place in Berea, Kentucky. I was maybe 20, in college, doing an off-campus semester. I ended up in Berea in an ill-advised attempt to be closer to a girl, who, it turned out, didn’t really want to be closer to me. But Berea was charming, full of folk artists making traditional Appalachian crafts – dulcimers, rocking chairs, woven…
