BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU DRINK!
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It was a man and woman in conversation. And I
was listening to them....as if from afar off....It
sounded to me like the guy was kind of struggling
for words, almost like he was on drugs or something.
I actually felt sorry for him. It was like he didn't know
what his next words should be....
I was feeling kind of weird myself. Suddenly I realized
that THE GUY in the conversation that I was trying to
follow...was ME!
You see, I was at a favorite client's house doing some
changes on a document for her. She and her husband,
long-time city residents, lived in the north valley on five
or six acres and had several rentals and a couple of
nice fruit orchards and a big garden.
It was "after work" and I had driven out there, sort of
"on my way home" in a round-a-bout way. I liked them
and always felt at home out there and they deserved
my best efforts.Her husband was out on the property
somewhere, finishing a chore before it got dark.
Dolores, his wife, and I finished up our paper work and
she said: "How would you like a nice sweet glass of
cherry koolade? I make it by filling half gallon jugs half-
full of cherries out of the orchard, the rest of the jug with
liquid, and let them 'cure' in the closet 'til I need them."
"Here, come along and let me show you!" With that, she
led me to the sitting room, opened the closet door, and
there on two shelves were about a dozen beautiful red
cherry jugs filled with reddish liquid, curing up there in
the shelves. "Cherry Koolade."
We went back to her den and she poured me a glassful
out of her current "working jug. "We sipped our drinks
("not half bad," I thought) and she told me all about her
grandkids, her garden, her rental problems (bad tenants),
and about that '62 Chevrolet sitting back there, stored,
in their spare garage. I wanted to buy it.
The koolade was good, kind of spicy, like she'd added
some cinnamon or something, and it seemed to have a
strange effect. I was feeling very mellow and comfortable.
"That's a good recipe, Dolores," I said. And she filled up
my glass the second time.
Sometime right after I was half-through that second glass,
I began to listen to her and that man talking afar off!
Suddenly in my foggy state a thought occurred to me:
"Er, Dolores, what kind of 'liquid' do you use in your recipe.
Is it water?"
She said: "Oh, no! It's VODKA! Vodka doesn't have much
taste and makes for a great mixing liquid with the cherries!
I just call it 'Cherry Koolade' because it sounds so cute."
"Oh," I said. "I grew up a devoted tee-totaller and I don't know
nothin' about no booze!"
I suddenly thought: "I've got to get out of here...WHILE I
CAN...or I'll be spending the night!" (It was January and
I badly needed some fresh, cold air.) Besides, it was my
son's birthday and I was assigned to pick up some pizzas
for a little supper celebration. I made my excuses, told
Dolores all this (I think), and backed my pickup out of her
long gravel driveway and took off for home.
Now, I was a responsible citizen, and the traffic was
lightening---it was after six---and I started up Osuna where
it was uninhabited. I wasn't wobbling all over the road--no--
neither did I feel 100% alert...maybe 95 %. Accordingly, I
pulled over into the ditch, got out and made six or seven
laps around my pickup, as if I were at old Wildcat Stadium,
running as hard as I could and carrying the baton as anchor
-man. (Actually I didn't do well in ninth grade track---my
best 100 yards was a flat 13 seconds.)
Getting back into my pickup, I opened those two weird little
side windows and turned them backward, throwing that cold
January air right into my face.
Driving home, I began to think about the whole experience. I
knew in my heart that having one drink of cherry vodka could
be overlooked as a "mistake," but what about my having
seconds---was that a sin?! LOL.
By the time I got home with the pizzas, I was seeing things---
singularly--- again. I still wonder. even today, why I ordered
"triple mushrooms." But it all turned out okay. My son loved
the pizza and everything was mellow. Uh, oh, there's that
"mellow" again!
I made a resolution that night to watch my clients more diligently.
I had a wonderful little old lady who was a client and I went by
her house a number of times to make changes on her auto
policies. She had to have her Scotch whiskey every day at four.
I always had a Dr. Pepper. She once explained to me (she liked
to talk about her Scotch): "Hon, I found a way to save money---
I pour Passport or some cheaper Scotch into a fancy CHIVAS
REGAL bottle; that way I save money, and after one drink, it
doesn't make my friends any difference what brand it is, hahaha!"
She even went to her hall closet, opened it, and showed me some
Scotch bottles to prove it.
I thought about her and decided to taste my Dr. Peppers a little
more carefully when visiting her from then on. I had noted that
POURING SCOTCH seemed to bring her as much joy as
DRINKING IT!
(Even today, I have wondered what it was about me that made
ladies want to throw open their booze closets for me to inspect!
I guess I was suave!)
To wrap up my tale, I must tell you that to this day I have never
had another glass of "Cherry Koolade." (But you know, it was
pretty darn good!)
*******30******
BY MIL
7/30/13
Sent from my iPad
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