I reconfirmed that a lemon drop (the cocktail, not the hard candy) is far, far more effective at combating stress than a gallon of milk. I make a point of forgetting this fact, outside the occasional occasion.
I listened to musicians (around my parents' age) play Big Bands, and watched patrons (around my parents' age) dance to it, under a disco ball. I watched an itty bitty toddler in hand-knit wooly garments dance in the jumpingupanddownreallyreallyfast style.
I turned briefly sentimental. I wished that my parents had been one of those happy old couples. I remembered when I was that size and used to dance like that. I'm blaming this on the lemon drops.
I considered learning to dance. I stole Himself's fries.
Saturday night in Ashland. I approve.
Image: Wikimedia Commons.
I considered learning to dance. I stole Himself's fries.
Saturday night in Ashland. I approve.
Image: Wikimedia Commons.
What a fine and splendidly written little post, CF. I love it when you turn briefly sentimental. And I'm prescribing more lemon drops (which I've never had or heard of, so I'll be off next to Google it), Big Band music and Saturday nights in Ashland for you. They agree with you! xo - Suzanne
ReplyDeleteHowdy, Suzanne! Thank you very much; I have, I think, an irrational fear of sentiment. :)
ReplyDeleteOoh, try a lemon drop. Yum. I prefer them oversweet to the point that you can't tell the vodka's even there. :)