Virtual Vermut

It's Friday and guess what? It's Virtual Vermut! Kate at The Catalan Way is hosting Virtual Vermut and if you know me, you know I rarely turn down the request to join in with a glass of cheer.

If we were hanging out for vermut today, I would probably giggle because the sun is shining and what better way to kick off a Friday but with a cold glass in hand.

I would tell you that I am about to kick April out the door, so nasty has she been and almost as long as February.

If we were meeting for a vermut today I would try not to snort when I laugh because I can get kind of silly when I drink during the day. I would confess that I am still eating yogurt that was "best before" April 9.

I would ask if you do that too? I mean, it smells OK even if it tastes a little more tart than usual.

If we were really getting together I would come and see you with pockets full of chocolate because I have eaten far too much of this

this past week. Riley even laughed at me this morning and called me "Big Belly Mamma". Which kind of stung but he has a point and you know, with bathing suit weather not far off I need to get serious about what goes in. I would tell you I met an old neighbour last week who told me that after the age of 50, you need to eat only 70% of what you used to eat in order to maintain (and not gain) weight. And I would laugh because since I turned that magic age I can tell you that my body has started settling in unheretofore seen ways. So I'm thinking that maybe this neighbour is on to something. But I'm wondering just where I'm going to shave off that 30% of my diet. Certainly not my vermut, but I could see putting 30% less ice in the glass.

And because I was getting a little light headed I would tell you that I have a real potty mouth. After Riley was born I tried to clean it up a little in fear that his first word would be "sh*t", spoken in front of my mother. But over the last few years I have more or less reverted back to my sailor language. I would tell you a funny story about how at supper a few nights ago I shouted out, "Sh*t!" over something or other and the looks I got at the table were wilting. I swore up and down the flag pole that I had said, "shoot" because my brain was thinking, "shoot" but my mouth, apparently, said, "sh*t" or so said the two witnesses at the scene of the crime.

If we were meeting for vermut I would say I really shouldn't drink in the middle of the day because I still have to drive my bicycle but what the heck, I seem to have finished off my glass already

Next one I'll put 30% less ice in.

Now, if the door bell rings and it's Child Protection Services, I'm going to blame Kate at The Catalan Way because this was all her idea.