This story, as many other good ones, begins with
drinking Scotch.
That girl and I had dropped in to visit with my sister
and brother-in-law. As soon as we walked
through the door of their house, my brother-in-law, Terry, announced: “Glasses
are in the freezer.” That statement,
when converted to English, meant that Terry had purchased a new bottle of
Scotch.
“Let’s pour some,” I responded.
After Terry and I poured ourselves a meager sip—a shot
glass filled to the brim—the four of us sat in their kitchen. Late afternoon sun sliced shadows and light across
the floor and walls. We talked about sniveling
housecats and sniveling politicians.
Both, we decided, deserved to be pitched out into the snowbanks ass
first.
Partway through our Scotch, Terry brought forth some hand-blown
shot glasses purchased from Goose Bay Glass, a small shop located in Townsend,
Montana. After each of us rolled the
glasses in our hands, admiring the swirls of color, Terry set them in a blade
of sunlight extending across kitchen island around which we had gathered.
Shadows in the form of neckties immediately extended from
the glasses on the counter. I fished my
smarter-than-me-phone from its holster and captured a couple of images.
“This is cool,” I said.
It’s all about the sunlight and decent Scotch.
--Mitchell Hegman
Very cool!
ReplyDelete