PBR

My first word: beer

True story.  Sure, it was quickly followed by “Mama,” but the first word was “beer.”

I really think it was because Dad would say “Hey, Jude, bring me a beer.”  Then Mom would enter the room.  I think I was actually calling Mom “beer.”

We went on a family trip, I was 2 1/2 or 3 and when we’d stop at the rest stops, Dad and I would split a beer, Mom & Brother would share a bottle of Pepsi.

We got to our destination, my Dad’s cousin’s place in Seattle. They ordered the pizza and we were asked what we wanted to drink.  Little 2.5 year old Lisa yells out “I’ll have a beer!”  They sat me down on the sofa, put a beer between my legs, snapped a pic and then cut me off.

I didn’t drink for a long time after that ~ about 24 years.

I was up visiting my sister in Madison and we went to the Roller Derby a couple of years ago. What a blast.  Loved it.  Not only was the RD fun, but the people that were there were a hoot too.  There was a couple that seriously looked like they had escaped from the circus ~ he was shorter and had a handlebar moustache; she was very large with the big blonde hair.  The sponsor beer for the RD was “Pabst Blue Ribbon.”  I was the designated driver, so I couldn't have one, but I did have a sip of my brother-in-laws.

As I sip the PBR, I say with a sigh, “ahhh! Tastes like childhood!”  The circus folk turn around and look at me with a curious look.

It’s sad when you realize you are weirder than the circus freaks.