The Big Green House

Monday, October 27, 2003

 

What doesn�t kill me makes me stronger

It�s not my fault. Let�s get that out of the way right now, OK? If they hadn�t made the wine so damn tasty, I wouldn�t have finished the entire bottle. It would have been wrong, sinful even, to leave anything in the bottle to oxidize into a pale reflection of its former self. I take absolutely no responsibility for this hangover. None.

One of the myriad joys of aging is my increasing inability to drink as I once did. This is undoubtedly a good thing, since I used to be rather fish-like in my beverage consumption. Sadly, though, I sometimes think I�m still capable of putting it away like I did in my twenties, when my worst hangover only lasted until lunchtime. That ship sailed long ago, on a tide of pale ale and sour mash whiskey. These days, I�m generally good for a couple of pints/glasses of wine/cocktails; anything after that and I�m flirting with brain cell Armageddon. At my advanced age, that ain�t a pretty sight. Trying to get through the day with a dehydrated brain and a disgruntled digestive system is no longer the snap it used to be. In fact, it is a painful and, uh, sobering reminder that the clock is ticking.

None of this seems to stop me, though. It slows me down a bit (especially the dry brain thing), but I still love wine with dinner, or a beer or two after work, or a martini when it�s martini time. I don�t see that changing any time soon. I just have to watch out for the yummy stuff.

bmarkey 10/27/2003 08:57:00 PM