“If you can make bread out of it, you can make whisky out of it,” said Really Smart Guy with the moussed hair at the Longs Peak Scottish Irish Festival. The RSG was a sales rep for The Macallan Scotch Whisky company.

He and RSG2, his partner who looked a bit like Adam Levine, provided us with a Scotch 101 lesson during the annual festival where it appears it’s OK to wear kilts and Crocs. Or kilts and Deadpool masks. Or corsets and flip flops. Anyway . . .

RSG2 talked a lot about the chemistry behind whisky making. Stuff like how yeast eats sugar and how if you spray water on barley it thinks it’s a plant. But no, they mess with the germination process and yada, yada, yada, it turns sort of porridgey … This is a great time to disclose Scotch 101 came after 3 hours of Irish Ales.

 Sometimes life just calls for a road trip. A delightful break from the norm. Now before I get judged for not even leaving my state, remember that Wyoming is quite large. I live in this part:

Doing a brewery tour also got us labeled as lushes because every post on FB was about beer. Sometimes food. The occasional Bloody Mary. I am sensing a pattern, but judgers be damned! It was worth it. 

I don’t know much about what we Americans call soccer. I didn’t play it as a child nor did any of my kids. Of course, full disclosure: I didn’t have any children, so there is that.

​I know almost as much about socc – football as I do about hockey.  That is to say, I pick a team (usually because I like the color of its uniforms, or think one of the players is hot, or I like the team’s mascot) and yell encouraging things like “Go!” or “You got this!” or “Kill him!” And I cheer when other people cheer so I look cool.

I picked England and Belgium to be playing for the World Cup championship on July 15. They played July 14. For third place.  Congrats Belgium.  Tomorrow it’s all about Croatia and France.  And in my time zone the match begins at 9 a.m.

And 9 a.m. on a Sunday, for me, means one thing: coffee. But tomorrow, in honor of the two countries playing for the title, I’ve decided boozing is in order. Why not enjoy a little of the crazy the folks in those countries, and all the fans of the two teams, will be embracing?

I won’t pretend to love socc – football, but I can truthfully say I love it when the World Cup rolls around every four years. The world’s football isn’t as popular in our country as America’s football and our fervor for our favorite football teams is crazy. But American football crazy is pretty tame compared to the fanatical world football crazy that takes over the globe for a month.

So for this booze blog entry, I picked two drinks from both countries to try today so you can reap the benefits tomorrow while screaming “Go!” or “You got this!” or “Kill him!”

​​There is no way I will spend time at (or in) a swimming pool without a tasty beverage in my left hand. Left hand because when I was younger the group of friends I spent time with required beverages to be held left-handed. A beverage in your right hand required pounding said beverage as a punishment for violating the scared left hand only rule. But I digress . . .

My friend MP, whom I’ve known for half her life, turned 50 June 9. She is a pool goddess. If it’s summer, that English (Language Arts) teacher is sunning and funning the day away. Why not combine the milestone birthday with her favorite summer activity? Which meant we also got to combine one of my favorite activities – day drinking – with her party.  Saturday perfection.

Pool drinking requires some pre-planning. Obviously no glass bottles. Breaking one of those bastards would ruin a party in a heartbeat. No red wine. Cool chlorinated water, 90-degree sun, and a lounge chair is really no place for a velvety Cabernet Sauvignon. Really pool beverages mean light, cold, refreshing, and because it’s a daylong event, low alcohol content.

So we hit the liquor warehouse. I heart liquor warehouses; I can spend hours there. But that’s another post.

Back in the day when I was a novice drinker, Coors came out with a "refreshing citrus beverage" called Zima. I vividly recall sitting on the deck with my father drinking a Zima spiked with cinnamon schnapps. It was the 90s, be nice.

​In 2017, Zima was re-released. I tried quite hard to get my hands on some, just to wax rhapsodic about my youth which is slipping away at an alarming rate. I digress. I did not manage to find any. My memories of my pops and me sharing a quiet afternoon sipping ice cold cinnamon Zima would go forever as just that: memories. ​However, the other day in the liquor store I spotted Zima in the cooler. Could this be true? Was it a mirage or wishful thinking? NO! Lo and behold, Zima was there on the shelf, just waiting for my arrival and subsequent rush of father/daughter memories. I was the proud owner of six bottles of the elusive elixir of my youth. Two shooters of cinnamon whatnot and I was headed home with my spoils.
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​I was genuinely worried that I had romanticized this whole thing in my head. It wouldn't be the first time I had done so. Was it really quite as delightfully refreshing as I recall? It was all a horrific possibility.