Drinking with Dragons

Sometimes, there are no chickens. Spoiler alert: everything turns out fine.

Because: cocktails.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

This adventure takes us to the base of the snow-encrusted Sierras, the high desert of a magical land known as Nevada. More specifically: to the outlands of Reno, and to the incalculably whimsical house of Olive and Love.

Where the walls have chairs.

And the lamps hang upside down, and downside up.

Where the cat is quite Cheshire-y (one moment she’s there, the next she is not).

And the tortoises demand to dine on only the very finest of pansies.

And things like this are just…normal:

Our days were spent eating caramel apples and getting thrown in jail in haunted mining towns:

And drinking local brews on the streets (because that’s how you do it in Virginia City, NV):

And we spent our nights around the fire pit. Listening to the frogs. Drinking more beer.

And because it is spring, the air is filled with the fragrance of furiously-blooming lilacs:

So, of course, we put them in cocktails and sipped them like fancy ladies. (See recipe here.) By ‘sipped’ I, of course, mean ‘tossed back’.

Cheshire cat:

And, then we drank our lilac cocktails with dragons.

Like utterly normal people.

Bonnie and Clyde were less interested in the booze than they were in the hair. Camouflage, you know. It’s science.

But also, Cheshire cat:

We are equal-opportunity drinkers around here.