September 2008 Sly and Doris have arrived for our wedding. The wedding they were going to boycott. Yes, I intend to tell you the story. I am getting there. This blog has a plot.
Primo picks them up at the airport 90 miles away. He has them fly there - on his frequent flyer miles - so they can take a direct non-stop flight. He didn't want them to have to change planes. He drives the hour and a half rather than have them fly into the airport 16 miles from our house. All so they don't have to change planes.
(But they will not pick us up when we visit them. That would be inconvenient.)
They come in on Saturday. They will be with us for nine days. NINE DAYS. NINEDAYSNINEDAYSNINEDAYS.
Primo is a big wine and beer drinker. If he could change anything about me, he would change my drinking habits.* He would have me be a wine drinker before he would change my politics, although he would be very happy if I would come over to his side.
But he is not much for hard liquor and neither am I.
Still, we have rum and scotch and whiskey and bourbon and other good stuff because we like to offer it to our guests. We have really nice liquor, our philosophy being that we drink so little of it, we might as well have the Good Stuff. As in, we might open the door to the liquor cabinet twice a year if you don't count my getting sherry to make my Cuban pork and okra stew. Or rum for rum balls at Christmas.
Before Sly and Doris arrive, Primo and I have A Conversation about The Liquor.
"Are we supposed to supply your parents' bourbon?" I ask. As a hostess, I expect to feed, shelter and otherwise provide for my guests. It is what a host does.
But am I supposed to buy their booze if they drink a lot of bourbon every night? As in, how much above basic need am I supposed to supply? I already bought the Lactaid, which wouldn't bother me if they were truly lactose intolerant, but they are just being faddish and that's what ticks me off so much. And then they eat all my cheese because they are hungry. Just eat lunch like normal people!
I don't expect my host to supply me with me diet cherry Dr Pepper. Really. I don't. I will eat and drink whatever is available chez vous. And liquor is not a necessity. So what is the protocol here?
Primo doesn't know what will happen. But we don't run to the liquor store to stock up. We decide if they run us out of booze, they can figure out a solution.
They arrive on Saturday, go to bed.** On Sunday, the first thing they want to do is not have a quick tour of our beautiful lakefront. It's not hear about our wedding plans. It's not lounge around and read the paper. It's not go to a museum. Or tour a brewery. Or play a game of Monopoly.
The first thing Sly and Doris want to do is go to the liquor store.
(Good thing we don't live in Texas.***)
Which is fine, because after six days, they have finished the half gallon of bourbon and the half gallon of brandy that they buy. Plus the wine that accompanies supper every night. That gives them less time to finish Primo's Good Bourbon. Which they still do. Because they are here for NINEDAYS, remember?
Oh yes. There is Drama.
* Having his parents in our house for NINEDAYS might be enough to turn me into a drinker.
** In our bedroom because they can't take stairs and the guest bedroom is upstairs, so that's fair.
*** For purposes of being able to buy liquor on Sunday only. Otherwise, I would be thrilled to live in Texas. Primo, not so much. Again: bacon, the only thing we have in common.