Just a sip.

Pap sorting through his stock.

That vermouth bottle is likely as old as me.

May 14, 2013

I dropped in to say hello to the grandparents. Pap said I should stay for a drink. He went rummaging through his liquor cabinet to facilitate the delay of my departure. I don't recall him being so persistent in serving me alcohol as he has been these past two years. Almost every time I visit he offers me a beer. It still feels like a bit of a big deal to drink with the old timer.

On the floor, reading glasses dangling from his neck on a tether to help him remember where they are, he was looking for any one of a number of white wines a cousin of ours, the one writing a book on the family history, gave him. Pap is known to appreciate sweet wines. His homemade wine was maybe the sweetest (and most potent) wine I've ever had. Our cousin gifted a couple bottles from the Pfalz region. Most bottles were Rieslings, all were sweet.

Pap boasted this wine wasn't available in America, that this was special wine, imported straight out of Germany. This was correct regarding one of the bottles. The other two I saw seemed to have come through an importer in Florida. I wasn't about to tell him that.

After some debate about which of the glasses in the china cabinet were for whiskey and which were for wine, we poured out two small glasses for ourselves and another half-size one for Grandma. Then we talked about the weather.

On the topic of

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