Just bought a ticket to see Minus the Bear and Beach Slang on Sunday night! Getting cocktails and a sloppy burger with a friend beforehand. Excited about Minus the Bear and ecstatic about Beach Slang (per usual).
Strawberry rhubarb is an underrated flavor. In both wine and pie.
Made it to the last segment of The Last Guardian today. It’s been roughly 15 years since I’ve played a long-form video game like this with an actual start/end to it. I’m painfully close to completion, but after spending 6 hours with it today… And accidentally dying three times in a row after completing a puzzle that took 10 minutes to complete? I’m calling it quits for the day.
I woke up at 6:30am today, spent 45 minutes outside with the dog, and went back to bed for like 30 minutes. I’m shocked I was up so early but also totally okay with it. Vacation and what-not.
Not sure what I’m going to do with myself tomorrow, but if I can not leave the apartment at all? I’ll call it a win.
(It’s not BH&H, but here’s a little CS drabble set during New York Serenade)
She hadn’t drunk rum in a year.
Beer and wine, mimosas sometimes, during Sunday brunches. Overpriced cocktails at the trendy bars that Walsh takes her to, but she never ordered anything with rum.
The bottle though, has sat in her liquor cabinet for a year. She vaguely remembers buying it during those first chaotic weeks in New York, in between enrolling Henry in school and changing her cell number from a Boston area code and finding the best Chinese takeout in a three block radius from their new apartment. Along with a six-pack of Sam Adams and an Australian shiraz, she’d picked up the heavy bottle, bypassing the Bacardi and Captain Morgan for something that somehow looked familiar, even though she would have sworn she’d never had it before.
The Sam Adams had been consumed with pizza and wings, the shiraz was long gone, a glass here with dinner and a glass there after a long night.
But the rum sat in the cupboard, unopened and gathering dust.
But still there.
It comes flooding back in the space of a heartbeat, the memories of a life, of a town, of a family.
A fairytale made flesh, a cartoon come to life before her eyes.
She retrieved the bottle from the cabinet and wiped off a year’s worth of dust. Two glasses sit on the table and the man she had forgotten looked at her with sad eyes and said he’d come all this way to save her.
The liquor burned her throat and stung her eyes. She hadn’t drunk rum in a year.
It tastes like dark spices and jungle heat.
It tastes like his kiss.
A one time thing.
The spell had worked, she had no doubt about that. For a year she hadn’t remembered any of it, not her mother’s smile or her father’s eyes, nothing of apples and beanstalks, magic and monsters. She hadn’t dreamed of flying to Neverland or been tempted to wish upon a star.
She had only bought a single bottle of rum, and set it aside. Forgotten about it.
But it had been there the whole time, until he showed up.