This one I’m gonna have problems with.
The second day at the condo an older gentleman stopped me in the parking lot and asked if I was the mother of a little girl named Ella.
At this point I’m having all kinds of crazy thoughts. Why is some old man hanging out in the parking lot asking about my 2 year old daughter?
False alarm.
He simply wanted to know if I “imbibed.”
And since I’m blond and didn’t know what that meant…I said no.
He went on to explain that that was too bad…seeing as he was a master distiller for Jack Daniel….and since Ella and his niece had become such good friends at the pool…he thought we might enjoy some Gentleman Jack Tennessee whiskey. Yada…yada…yada.
Wait a minute….I imbibe…I imbibe…I imbibe!
And so he came on out to the pool to meet my husband and family and bring us a treat.
Being from Kentucky and all, we are a bit of snobs. We like our bourbon. Tennessee whiskey? That’s a huge faux pas.
But because of our southern manners, we know that it’s impolite to turn down a gift and that when you get right down to it…it’s still free liquor.
The next morning I woke up to this outside our front door.
Yes, people. That’s whiskey in the stroller. Another fine gift from our distiller friend to try to lure us over from the bourbon side.
So thank you Ella for hanging out with master distillers…even though they aren’t a Samuels from Marker’s Mark.
And thank you Mr. Distiller for making me realize that my 2 year old just bought me a drink.
