5:00 Fridays

Since I played the Indian card (coined by my friend Erin), I figured I'd stick with that theme this week.

I'm no beer connoisseur but I know I'm generally not a Coors Light kind of gal. Well, if Bird and Deal are particularly whiny or petulant I might succumb to whatever is within reach, Coors Light included. All that acrimony can make a girl pretty durn cantankerous. Trust me. I speak from experience. In fact, I was such a crab apple sourpuss last night that I wrote the boys apology notes sprinkled with scented marker hearts because I felt so bad. Not a proud parenting moment, but I am finding fewer and fewer of those this time of year. Funny that the stress of making Christmas perfect and just-so turns me into such an impatient bitch. Next year I'm considering going to Tahiti for the holidays and forego all this candy making, cookie baking, gift buying, light stringing, stocking stuffing stress. What does this have to do with beer?

Everything.

Did you hear me? I have children. Basic math and physics lesson here. Pay attention.

2 boys + 1 mom = basket case

Children drive you to drink.

There will be a pop quiz next Friday.


When I was 18 years old I went to India with my dad. We stayed in some pretty posh places, including where the movie Octopussy was filmed. Seriously, what was Ian Fleming smoking (or stroking) when he penned that title? I almost can't say it aloud. Perhaps a more fitting name for that nut job woman who birthed eight babies last year? Geesh, now I'm all flustered and off track. Where was I?

Beer. India. 1986.

I was a world traveler. Young. Footloose. Fancy free. Worldly. Daring. Too-cool-for-school.

I drank beer. Legally.

I have fond memories of ordering up a Kingfisher at the Lake Palace Hotel bar. I was stunned by how the epaulet adorned waiter made the opening of a simple bottle top and pouring of liquid gold into a frosted crystal goblet such a grand gesture. I was 18 and easily impressed. That was before I even knew the beer was brewed in copper urns back in the day. Keep in mind that "back in the day" in India means something slightly different than it does here. I'm not talking 1972, folks.

I'm 41 now but still serve up Kingfisher when I have friends over for a good home cooked Indian meal. It's not fancy. It's not pretentious. It's not complex. But it is a gilded symbol over the arch I walked through on my way to adulthood. Join me on the lovely stroll that hasn't yet ended. You can fish with kings too.

Namaste.


Kingfisher

Pour into a frosted glass, preferably with a stem instead of a handle.




(Image from Rocky of Hoppsy.com)

Karma

I just picked up a tiny little quote book my mom brought me from India. I flipped it open, and the first thing I read was this:

"Even a bad thought can create bad karma."

Geez, I'm screwed, and not in the Tantric way.

Giving Thanks

There is so much for which to be thankful. It is a cliche. Yet it is true. While I am normally verbose, long-winded, call it what you will, ironically today I have few words.

My heart is heavy with the news coming from Mumbai. It is a city I visited as a child. My uncle lived on the water there, and my few memories of India are from my time at his home. We played ball and often overshot our throw only to watch the ball plop into the ocean. We curiously stood on tiptoes and peered over the retaining wall at the crashing waves, my cousin, my brother, and I mesmerized. I also recall some soft threats to toss me over the wall if I tattled on their constant teasing of me.

My family is spread all over India. Thankfully my one cousin in Mumbai is safe. India is a war zone, says my uncle whose home I visited. My parents are deeply affected by this violence, this rape of their home country. We are helpless from our new homes stateside. A donation and pleas for blood donation are about all we can do.

Today I am thankful for so much. My family and our health and safety. I am thankful for simple things that are priceless.