I was passively thinking tonight about margaritas and how much I love them, when I had a sudden memory resurgence.
It started with how my mom and I would be together, eating directly out of the bucket of frozen margarita mix that seemingly lived in our freezer throughout my childhood.
It became a totally normal thing for me to pull the bucket out in any given day, and snag a few bitefuls of the delicious, icy mix…
Basically, then, margarita mix was like my version of ice cream while growing up… it was my regular freezer-housed delight.
Granted, I loved ice cream.
However, the margarita mix was more of a regular deal, because, even though I would have only a few bites at time, I would have it on many more occasions than I would have ice cream.
You know… I don’t know for sure that there wasn’t any alcohol in that mixture… I say this, only because I can’t see how it wouldn’t freeze solid f it didn’t have at least some alcohol in it… right??
Plus, I can’t seem to shake the feeling that I was somewhat sneaking the icy bitefuls… suggesting I knew I wasn’t really supposed to be having it…, but maybe it was just because it was a dessert-like treat at not-dessert-time… hmm…
I am definitely checking with my mom on this in the morning.
Speaking of underage drinking – well, you get it – we can mention my first experience of drunkenness… I was somewhere around the age range of 4-7 years.
We were at a restaurant, and the person next to me had a margarita.
In my family, we were basically always allowed to taste anything, so I was granted a taste of the margarita.
And I loved what I tasted.
It so happened that the family member on the other side of me also had a margarita… from her, too, I tasted the margarita… and then I continued to ‘taste’ the margaritas on both sides of me throughout dinner, knowing full well that I wasn’t really supposed to be doing it, yet doing it anyway, and just being very cautious not to be noticed.
Later, in the bathroom with my sisters, I was standing on the counter, kind of dancing around… definitely a bit loopy, though I say so myself…
In short, I very likely was intoxicated.
I remember my sisters laughing at how I was being silly, but no one seemed to think anything of it… I certainly didn’t at the time… it wasn’t until years later that I looked back and couldn’t see anything reasonable but the absurd likelihood of my having been at least a little bit drunk.
Face palm for sure, right?
But don’t worry: I didn’t turn into a drunk.
As a matter of fact, I hardly ever drink alcohol at all… and it is for lack of wanting it – I don’t even care about alcohol 99% of the time, it seems.
What I do love, of course, is margaritas.
I got lime juice yesterday at the grocer, just so I can make some healthy margaritas here at home… and we can’t have alcohol here, which doesn’t bother me, so I’ll be able to see if I can make something delicious to drink without that edge of flavor the tequila usually gives it.
(Note: I actually only seem to like alcohol for the edge it gives to something else, and not for the beverage itself… the only exception is champagne, which I find to be a lovely beverage.)
Anyway… we’ll see what Mom says tomorrow… haha