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Allow me to wax about how much I love my readers, and I ain’t talkin’ about just the people who had anything to do with my birth or the birth of my children. I mean the meat n’ potatoes bunch who don’t even know me and have no DNA obligations to read my writing or boost my spirits. I thank you all for being my fuel on this little blog journey I’m on. My favorite thing is reader comments and interaction. It’s always wonderful to hear your insights and perspectives on the musings and rants that make their way from my brain to your screen.
Today I thank my reader Sandra for sharing a cocktail recipe inspired by…band fruit.
She happens to have a crate of tangerines in her kitchen that are going to rot if not properly consumed. Sandra, being fond of 5:00 Fridays, naturally resorted to squeezing those babies into cocktail creations. As I write this post, a woodern crate of clementines is staring me down. One has already gotten mushy, leaving its most unpleasant juicy stench behind. I also have a slew of oranges and grapefruit rolling around my counter tops and in my produce drawers. Drawers. What a great word to use instead of britches. Does that count as a homonym, I wonder? Maggie will have the final verdict. Am I digressing? Non sequitors abound in my brain.
I’m happy to support the band, being a band geek myself. The only trophy I ever got in my life was for marching band. I might still have the gold sash stashed somewhere. Meanwhile, Mac Daddy has boxes of trophies in the attic for various sports – basketball, baseball, football, air hockey. I like to say that Mac Daddy even married his trophy wife on the first try.
Well, thanks to Sandra now I know what do with all this fruit. I mean really, I can’t stuff a clementine into my kids’ lunchboxes everyday, and the family is tiring of orange/grapefruit vinaigrette. Our love of citrus has been squeezed out of us.
Until I found vodka.
Rather, until Sandra found vodka and pointed me to it.
Grown Up Juice
1-2 oz. Rain vodka (In Sandra’s words: “Use however much you need–you know your liver better than I do.”)
Juice from 2 tangerines (or in my case, oranges and grapfruit that we bought from the neighbor’s kid)
Splash of lemonade or limeade
Mix all of this together in a grownup juice glass filled with ice. Garnish with a wheel of whatever citrus fruit you have on hand.
Cheers to you and all that vitamin C!
PS
Bonus points if you guess what instrument I played in band. And no, I’ve never started a story with, “This one time, in band camp…”
MORE reason to love clementines more than any other fruit right now!
Drawers? Britches? Pour me a drink!
The Ligon jazz band is awesome — and I'm guessing you played clarinet.
I'm guessing clarinet too… maybe oboe.
Marching bands make me cry. I think the proud faces of all the concentrated students just makes me feel proud for them somehow… god, I'm so stupid. But still – I always tear up… which is why I hate parades, I think.
my guess: saxophone
Being in band was a very healthy place for me, not being so sporty myself. I hard at work each year influencing my niece and nephew – nurturing their fascination with the marching bands in the Christmas parade. How many are there? wow – that one is big! why does this drum major walk backwards and that one forwards? This band has a LOT of drums!
If this keeps up, I see a lot of band fruit in my future. Yum!
Right now, clementines never make it to the mushy stage at my house – love 'em too much plain out of their easy little wrappers…
Oh, what perfect timing! I was just looking at the holiday clementines and wondering what to do with them. Now I know. Thank you!
Hang on Sloopy, that's a good sounding grown up juice! I met you once in real life, so I don't know if I'm a meat and potatoes stranger or not. But, I love the sentiment you sent your readers.
I'm honored that you used Nick's band fruit for 5pm Fridays! Did anybody guess what instrument you played?
Trombone, baby. I couldn't get a sound out of the flute. The clarinet & sax reeds tickled. When I said I wanted to play the drums, the band director proclaimed, "Girls don't play drums. Now pick something else." I chose the trombone, daring him to tell me no twice.