Monday, April 28, 2014

Shaken, Not Stirred

In fact, I know she does.

Gin martinis, over ice.  Two olives.

And leave the shaker to James Bond because that wasn't her style.  Instead she preferred a few olive-skewered toothpick swirls to swish in that dry vermouth.  Every day, a well deserved reward for a well lived life, a stubborn indulgence that went without compromise.  Classy, classic - perhaps the drink describes the person drinking it more than we think.

I have two cats named Olive and Gin, and it makes me smile.  I think it would make her smile too.

I miss her.

Am I the only one who before going away on a trip, gets that queasy feeling?  Just a general unrest that doesn't completely go away until a couple days after returning to the security of home?

Yeah, I've got that now and I'm not even traveling anywhere.  Too much on my mind and too many reminders.  Sigh.

Next week.  Next week will be better.

In the meantime, maybe I just need a martini.

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