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want to taste their liquor
Saturday, September 2 2006
The remnants of Hurricane Ernesto brought rains that lasted for most of the day. I spent most of the day out in the garage painting the remaining unpainted surfaces, including most of the garage's south wall (which had been sheetrocked with firecode gypsum by the original builders) as well as the short hallway connecting the garage to the rest of the house. The south wall was obstructed by a freezer, a 250 gallon fuel oil tank, and a set of shelves I'd installed soon after we'd moved in. I painted around these things as best I could.
I was so wrapped up in my work that I didn't come with the others when they all drove to Phoenicia to eat brunch at Sweet Sue's. Brunch is my least-favorite meal of the week, redeemed only to the extent that it includes lox and bagels and those I'm eating with refrain from disgusting egg-filled dishes. Some years ago I'd made a policy of always abstaining from any meal referred to as brunch, though I don't know that I'd ever actually adhered to it. It was good to finally get a chance to do exactly that.
This evening Gretchen cooked up one of her delicious pizzas and then Penny and David came over and the seven of us ate it all. I can't say it was really quite enough food for seven people, though I personally ate well enough. For her part, Penny had brought over the necessary supplies to make Moscow Mules, a beverage containing birch beer, lime juice, and vodka. Despite the fact that the drink Penny made me contained four ounces of vodka, I couldn't detect it at all. This left me somewhat suspicious about whether or not the drink was authentically Russian. Why would Russians concoct a drink that so cleverly disguises its vodka? Don't Russians want to taste their liquor?
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