Still No Drinking For Me

I awoke this morning at camp in Maine to the sound of rain on our cabin roof. I snuggled down under my wool blankets and went back to sleep, feeling no guilt about missing morning walk. After breakfast, yoga and a marathon bananagram tournament It was still raining so Russ convinced me that we should go visit a local distillery, Sweetgrass, where they make not only award winning gin, but wine and other libations.

Why not, I thought and off we went while Carter stayed back at camp. Most business in Maine are small operations so every visitor helps. Sweetwater was only three miles from camp in the hamlet of Union, Maine. We pulled into a very idyllic farm like building and were surprised at how beautiful the tasting room was.

I myself have given up drinking alcohol thirty years ago. After a particularly long night of great consumption in Miami, where I was not even supposed to be. I passed out in the hallway of the 24th floor of the Hyatt with my dress over my head and my underpants missing. I only know this because my friend Suzanne took a picture which she has thankfully never published. When I woke up the next day with the worst hangover of my life I swore I would never drink again, at least not until I found those missing underpants.

Despite much underpant searching I still don’t drink, but every once in a while I taste. I figure that I owe it to the guests I serve that I keep up with the best wines and beers to serve and I have been known to create some yummy cocktails. So today’s field trip to the distillery was one of those tasting opportunities. After some very clean gin, a delicious vermouth, some peach wine and something called a cranberry smash I began to remember why I don’t drink anymore. I barley had a sip of each, but I could feel my current underpants sliding off. Russ made a purchase and I said I needed to get back to camp. I’m learning how to milk a cow this afternoon and I don’t want to be late. Milk is much more my speed these days.