So, night before last, I had a full belly after dinner and was curling up to watch ‘Moonlight’ and I thought, ‘Red wine is supposed to be good for digestion, right? Hmm…I bought some red wine for cooking the other day…’ and also, though I’m not much of a drinker, every once in a while, I would join my mom in an evening glass of wine and we would sip and chat about this and that…and so, a little evening glass of wine made me think of her and hanging around the kitchen discussing whatever super random topic had occurred to me, or letting her try to convince me that I cared about politics.
Briggs and I don’t have any wine glasses, and I didn’t want nearly that much anyway, so I just used a tea cup from a Japanese tea set that Brendan and Nick got me for my birthday a few years ago. When I say tea cup I don’t mean:
or even
…I mean–
–little, palm-of-the-hand sized ceramic bowls.
I filled one up about 2/3 to the top, and over the course of an episode of the silly Vampire P.I. show that I’m trying on for size, sipped. By the time the show offered Scenes From Next Week, my gargantuan goblet was empty.
And.
I was pink cheeked, slightly lightheaded, a smidge more uncoordinated than usual, and my thoughts seemed to bear more resemblance to slippery fish than they usually exhibited.
Dude.
I used to be able to drink renowned drinkers under the table. I used to be able to toss back 3 shots of Bicardi 151 in a row and then run around all night insighting mayhem! Now, a few splashes of wine make me giggly.
Maybe it’s the altitude. Yeah. That’s it. 
