
I’m being held hostage by three turkeys. Â Send vodka,

A few weeks ago, as I was pulling out of the kiddy drop-off line, I had this intense urge to slam my foot on the gas and speed down the strait that led from my kid’s high school to our home.  As my heart raced, I lifted my foot from the gas and the words “Lime Rock†popped into my head.  Giddy for a moment, my next adventure started to unfold.

Last week as I was preparing for brunch with friends, I found myself in the local liquor store. As I wandered the aisles lined with wines from around the world, I smiled, remembering the times I’d spent exploring Germany, Italy, and France. While my fingers skimmed the Cupcake and Mommy’s Time Out labels, I felt the exhaustion of parenthood wash over me and was silently grateful to be beyond the diapering phase of my life. It was with this relieved and rested spirit that I raced to find the vodka, but alas, the liquor store wasn’t done with me.

While I gazed at the bottle, I remembered every-single-popped-cork. Toasting new homes, promotions, and the birth of our children, a bottle of Veuve Clicquot was an iconic character in every adventure I enjoyed with Chris. Inspired, I purchased that exact bottle of Veuve Clicquot, and in the spirit of charity, I auctioned it off at a fundraiser called the Great Pumpkin Ball, with proceeds benefiting a cause very dear to my heart — Good Grief.

As I’ve previously written, I had reason to visit the Azores, a small archipelago of nine islands in the Northern Atlantic Ocean. [Read more…]
