Happy drinking days

Once upon a time, there was a party for old people — my mother, her sister, her uncle, everybody was there.  I was only four years old then, wandering among the tables until I saw my granduncle’s glass. Really it was almost empty.  My granduncle then was the only man alive among our family of freshly-widowed women.  He was young, dapper, and a scotch drinker.  I picked up his glass and drank what remained, actually just a little scotch and a lot of water.  Next thing I knew, I awoke on my bed.  Those little last sips had knocked me out, but I woke up again.  That was not a bad experience.

Every night that he was home, my granduncle would have a couple of cocktails before dinner.  Always he drank scotch and water.  My grandmother was no longer interested in drinking with him.  Nobody was.  The rest of the family did not drink.  Then he discovered my interest in his drinks.  First,he gave me a sip, then he watched how I took it. Finally, he taught me how to drink and hold my liquor.  “You must learn how to drink,” he advised.  “Many men will try to drink you under the table.  You’ve got to make them fail.”  I learned that art well.  I have yet to meet a man who can outdrink me.

But that was many years ago, when my life was full of wonderful vices.  Then I smoked and drank a lot until we hit the new millennium and my world came toppling down.

First, after smoking for 40 years, I decided to give it up.  I stopped smoking cold turkey and put on 30 pounds before I could begin to take those off.  Didn’t take them off completely either.  Have retained around five pounds but who cares?  The year I stopped smoking marked the first of the seven years of royally bad luck that have just ended.  My very bad luck led to an operation, then a stroke, then recovery from my stroke.  All these from 2001 to 2007.  Then in 2008, my world began to change. 

This year, I know I will have royally good luck.  I am a Monkey, according to the Chinese horoscope and 2008 is a great year for Monkeys.  Also my birthday this year is 08-08-08.  I will turn 64, which is 8 x 8.  Eight is my lucky number and this year is the peak of my good luck, which has begun.

After I had my stroke, I stopped drinking, except for  occasional glasses of wine.  Rarely have I drunk more than two glasses, usually at parties.  Then I would get sleepy and slip away, taking a French leave, which has become my signature these days.

But on Wednesday last week, Tina invited me to lunch at Wine Depot.  “Do you think we should buy a bottle of wine?  We can drink it here, no corkage,” she said.  “Okay,” I agreed.  “Anyway, you can always take home what we don’t finish.  Yes, letís do a bottle of wine.”

We did and we did it very well.  We finished the bottle, three glasses each.  When we left, we were pretty high.  We went shopping, each one of us has vague recollections about the trip.  But we remember the wine.  No, not the brand.  We just remember it was very good.  It made us so-o-o-o happy.  And it made me forget that my deadline is Wednesday evening.  So I apologize for missing my deadline last Wednesday and not having a column last Saturday.  I had gotten verily intoxicated and forgot to write.

Once upon a time I had a stroke and had to stop drinking.  I guess this simply says I am well — and very lucky — now.

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By the way, my next Joy of Writing class opens next Saturday, June 14.  If interested, please send me e-mail at secondwind.barbara@gmail.com or lilypad@skyinet.net, or text 0917-8155570.