Sunday, December 31, 2006

First Foot

We are off in half an hour to a neighbour's house. They are another household with a small child, so plans are afoot to set the clocks ahead three hours so we can all get to bed at a decent hour.

(Thing I Miss About Not Having Children, #34 - New Year's Eve)

At the last minute I realized that, if I were going to a neighbour's house on New Year's, for "snacks and drinks", I'd better bring some snacks and drinks. So, I threw a Bean Dip on the stove, dug an unopened Boursin out of the deli drawer, fished around for some Carr's table crackers, and made room in the freezer for my (alas) single bottle of lime Perrier and six Pepsis. "I'll just grab something out of the liquor cabinet," I said to myself as I furrowed my brow trying to remember where the liquor cabinet is. At last it came back to me and I opened the cabinet, blew the cobwebs off the dusty bottles, and took stock... depressing.

I'll bring the half-bottle of Captain Morgan, but I'm damned if I'm going to present to my hostess the following as my contribution to the evening:

1) a quarter cup of cherry brandy left over from my Singapore Sling afternoon with Megan six years ago;

2) the sticky-lidded bottle of Kahlua we brought with us when we moved to the interior in 2001....then brought with us when we moved back two years later, with the same amount inside it;

3) a third of a bottle of bitter Cinzano; or

4) the two tablespoons that remain of my Napoleon St. Remy brandy (kept for medicinal purposes. Troubled with the Norwalk virus? Pesky lactose intolerance won't leave you alone? Partook a little too freely of the Bean Dip your neighbour brought to your house on New Year's Eve? An ounce of this, an ounce of hot water, and toss it back. You'll be, as Vera Drake said, right as rain).

And, let's hope there's not some sort of curse you can bring on yourself by starting the New Year with a house that looks like ten orphaned children have been living in it for a month, or like the mighty finger of God has just reached down from the sky and stirred everything in it. Because, if so, I'm doomed.

Happy Hogmanay everybody. Sigh.


Kate said...

If that curse exists we are right there with you -- the only room worthy was the room we sat in :)
Hope your evening goes well. I have a stocked liqour cabinet only because we had company over the holidays ... hmm, maybe I should go have a look.
Merry 2007. Here's to great knits.

Gwen said...

I have fuzzy but happy memories of discovering, then efficiently siphoning off, your liquor cabinet this summer. The Norwalk virus is nothing to vast quantities of both chili and beer, consumed in the bitter rain at Morton Lake. Good thing we brought the Captain!