With Wild Goose Mama On The Fly—
Ya know life is a series of saying yes or no to choices. It’s that simple. Answering with a maybe is merely pressing the pause button while you think or do the hokey pokey and bow to the East in hopes the question evaporates—poof–gone.
Are you raising your eyebrows yet, rolling your eyes whispering, “Oh right, Lady.” I know. I know. Life gets tricky. You can be lost in a life maze or life is amazing. So sometimes you say no, when you want to say yes or you say yes when you want to say no.
When you reach an age where you are a mature sun ripened fruit—an aged fine wine—-okay more like middle aged and totally embracing there’s no rewind button and rejoicing there’s not fast forward button either on life’s remote—-you’ve developed a pattern either saying No more often or saying Yes more often. I’ve lost count of my past yes’s and no’s, however in this segment of my life I intend to be a Yes Person. So in my Yes Series I’m sharing with a mix of fact and fiction the outfall of saying Yes.
One sunny afternoon I was visiting with my friend Kathryn. It was a mixed emotion time—-on one hand luxuriating in laziness and on the other hand feeling poked by the specter of Being Boring.
When I was younger I would cringe, if someone indicated I looked fat. Now I run screaming into the street, if I think I’m Being Boring—say boring slowly emphasizing both syllables—you get my drift the kind of ‘boring’ I’m talking about here.
The afternoon took a left turn, when Kathryn mentioned she had scored a deal on a bottle of Campari. Dreamily she related the first time she had tasted it in Italy with the divine Dominic on a terrace overlooking acres of vineyards. Divine Dominic is long gone, but her penchant for Campari remains.
Gak! The dreaded Being Boring feeling bit me about the ankles like ill mannered lap dog. Not only had I not been to Italy, but the only Dominic I had interacted with was definitely not divine and lastly I had never tasted Campari. Since Kathryn is a good friend, I was able to share this shocking revelation.
Instead of commiserating in a nauseatingly sympathetic voice, she responded gleefully, “That’s great news. Now I’ve an excuse to open the bottle and try out the classic Campari cocktail called the Negroni.”
Whoa Baby! It takes a real woman to drink this sophisticated beverage. It not only curls your toes, but uncurls them too. So we had another, because we real women rock. After the second drink was lustily imbibed, we decided since neither of us had been fishing in years, we would take a pole down to the city dock and catch fish for our dinner.
Kathryn rummaged around in her garage and found a pole and a bucket. For bait we took a can of sardines.
Merrily—remember the two Negroni cocktails each—we trooped down the hill heading for the city dock in town. The sky was blue, the sun was yellow and we were smugly resolute about catching a mess of fish for a fabulous dinner.
Rather then fishing off the high dock, we decided to fish off the floating tie up dock for guest boats. When we opened the can of sardines, we realize it was packed in a mustard sauce. Oh well. The bait kept slithering off the the hook, until it was tied with a red twist tie I found in my pocket.
I know you are thinking those tipsy daft women wouldn’t catch a thing. Catching fish involves skill, an intimate knowledge of fish variety and bait, the time of day and and and. Well Ha! After about twenty minutes Kathryn felt a tug. She started reeling it in. A reasonably size brown fish dangled at the end of the line. Then the reel stuck. The fish was half in and half out of the water.
Keystone Cops panic set in. What to do! Grabbing the the bucket I laid down on the dock. This might be the time to mention getting up and down gracefully is not in my bag of body tricks any more. I’ve a triangular maneuver I try not to execute when anyone is looking, but this was an emergency.
Kathryn swung the fish around and I managed to snare it in the bucket. In the process the fish and I made eye contact. Oh no! This could be Elmo’s cousin. OMG! We are planning to kill Elmo’s cousin!
As the fish was flopping around the deck gasping for air, I pleaded we couldn’t kill the fish. We had to let it go. Kathryn the huntress was undeterred, but she did realize we hadn’t brought a fish club to quickly put the fish out of it’s misery. We also didn’t have a tool to remove the hook from it’s mouth.
For Kathryn the fish would die a natural death, problem solved. I pleaded for her to swing the pole around and put it back in the water until we could get help. The fish and I had bonded. However Kathryn was already mentally coating our little buddy with a cornmeal batter.
Just before our friendship was shredded beyond repair a man strolled up carrying a fishing tackle box. “Can I help you ladies?” We both spoke at once.
He held up his hand either for self protection or to make us stop talking. ” Ladies, this fish is too bony to eat, but they do make good bait.”
Kathryn gave up. So Elmo’s cousin was released to return to the bosom of his family.
As we marched up the hill Kathryn turned to me and hissed, ” I’m never going fishing with you again.” That was fine with me.
She and I rebonded over another Negroni. Oh yeah, we ordered a pizza with anchovies to be delivered.
Several days later I received a lovely thank you note from Elmo’s cousin’s mother.
Here is the link to the Fabulous and Talented Addie at Culicurious for more information and the totally simple recipe for this Real Woman and Real Man drink.