Lounging against the cushion of the deck chair, I gazed across the backyard toward Bald Mountain Lake in North Carolina. After a day of putt-putt, swimming, scolding Grant for overturning his kayak and rescuing Harrison (Grant's 10-year-old cousin) after drifting too far out into the lake without a life jacket, I was ready to confine the children to the indoors and relax.
"It's well past 5 o'clock," I heard Michael say, implying it was cocktail hour.
"Would you like some wine?" my brother-in-law Troy asked him.
"Well, if you're going to open some, I'd hate for it to go to waste," Michael replied with a smile.
"Hey Di," Troy called out to me, "Can I bring you a glass?"
With my stomach still rumbling from my lingering illness, I politely, but regretfully, declined.
Wandering in to the family room of the rental cabin, I surveyed the scene. Michael, my two sisters, mother, brother-in-law, and various children were nestled comfortably in sofas and wicker chairs. In the center of the room was a small table full of appetizers—cheese dip, crackers, pretzels, chips and homemade salsa.
"Come in and join us," Michael said as he patted the spot next to him.
"I think I'll get a beverage first," I responded.
"Wine's open on the counter," Troy offered.
"No thanks," I reaffirmed, "My stomach's still a little unsettled."
I thought for a second and then said, "I think I'm gonna have a beer."
"Oh, that's a great idea," my sister Tammi replied, without a hint of sarcasm.
"Yeah, the hops in it will make your stomach feel a lot better," my mom added.
"I think barley's good for digestion," Troy offered.
With the loving support of my family, I grabbed a microbrew called Skinny Dip. You know, because it had the word skinny in it, which means it's good for you and makes you skinny.
It didn't work at calming my jittery stomach, but after drinking it, I didn't really care as much.
I think I'm on to something here.