Upon arrival at our Cabin, there is a requirement. All parties over the age of 21 must consume a minimum of one alcoholic beverage. This used to be a two-drink requirement, but I guess age is getting the better of me - or maybe I've finally collected on the wisdom balance my dad always said would elude me until the age of 30. Maybe in my case it didn't arrive until 38.
Normally we try to leave earlier in the day in the summertime to squeeze a few golden moments out of the sun's final hurrah. But this time? Not so. We arrived at 12:30 a.m., quickly unpacked, sent the sleepy, overstimulated kids to bed and complied with the beverage stipulation.
Templeton Rye. On the Rocks. Pure, unfiltered extravagance that provides a warm sensation to the toe-tips. Mr. Templeton is one of my many lovers. My Husband doesn't mind my wandering eye. Thank goodness, because he might be boxed out if he did. Other objects of my affection include Mr. Sapphire, Mr. Canadian, Mr. Ketel, Mr. Hendrick, and even Mr. Cuervo when I'm desperate or drinking a Long Island Iced Tea - and really getting my groove on while fulfilling the beverage requirement on Arrival Night.
Thank goodness I love to cook, and breakfast might be my favorite meal to prepare. Particularly when the grease does it's job and fixes sore heads from Arrival Night. Today the Husband said that I cook it best. I guess he suffered more from Night Two vs. Arrival Night. Regardless, I'm here to help.
More to come about this trip in the next few days - the weather promises good times over this holiday weekend.