Years ago, I spent the weekend at the house of a friend and her family. It was a beautiful place that I could only dream of living, a mansion that overlooked a lake. You could, as they say, see forever. Their was wax fruit in the bowl that looked real, candles that never got lit, towels that were only for show, and a beautiful bar containing a plethora of jewel-like liquors. When the sun began to set through the big picture window, you could see heaven in those bottles whose levels never went down. A maid dusted them every week until they gleamed.
The alcohol that everyone drank was hidden with the cleaning supplies in the laundry room. With little to no ceremony, my friends would take out the bottle of Johnnie Walker Black and pour large amounts into styrofoam cups. Nobody clinked their cups together or said cheers. One night we ran out and all the liquor stores had closed. What to do? My friend's husband said, I hid some whiskey behind the toilet in case of emergencies. He went to go get the toilet whiskey, and I thought about how nice it must be to think ahead like that. Another dilemma solved with simplicity and grace! I didn't like the idea of drinking whiskey that had been in a bathroom for God knows how long, but I did. To not would have been rude. When I got home, I realized that everything I used was in front of me, that nothing was hidden or merely for display. Unless you counted my heart, which I could wear on my sleeve or lock up in a box and really there wasn't as much difference as one might hope.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"I like the feeling of vanishing." Andy Warhol
Drinking novel suggestion: Exile Blake Nelson
Benedictions and Maledictions
Rest in peace, Christopher of The Sopranos! Three more episodes!