The Kitchen Smells Like Beer … And Reflection

Ray Hill’sIt is approximately 11:35 a.m. on Sunday morning, and the House of O (mi casa) smells like beer. To be precise, a local brew called Ray Hill’s.It doesn’t get much more offensive or blasphemous than a beer-soaked kitchen on the Sabbath.

No, O is not drunk this early on a Sunday morning.

About three months ago, O’s grandmother – Nanny – gave him two bags full of frozen, freshly-caught catfish. O has racked his brain for months, trying desperately to figure out a way to use these treats other than the obvious fried fish.

And last night, around 8 p.m. it hit him.

O was going to make beer-battered fish tacos with pineapple salsa.

After thawing the fish, and preparing the batter, O’s kitchen smelled like a brewery.

This time last year, O’s kitchen often smelled like alcohol, but for an entirely different reason.

The relationship had ended. The first one. The one with Denver – the one that was supposed to last forever. The one that didn’t.

And O – along with his friends Atomic, White Gold, and Dishy Dyke – who had also ended long-term relationships, hit the bottles hard. Nightly. For a period of months on end.

Following a frightening period of coming to work hungover on a daily basis, thus performing at a standard that was far beneath O’s usual work ethic, weekends that were wasted by sleeping in until 5 p.m. only to wake up and get ready for the next adventure, and a checking account that always seemed to be operating in the red, O came to a realization.

MidoriHe was using alcohol as a crutch to get through a period of life that was less than optimum.

Alcohol is great – don’t for a second think that O is about to give a sanctimonious “don’t drink blah blah blah speech.” But it seems that the more one consumes of it, the less exciting it really is.

A year ago O’s kitchen smelled like booze. The trashcan was full of bottles, and seemed to scream “Guns and Roses was here.”

Now, things are different. O is happy. He doesn’t need to get obliterated every night to get by.

He has his health. He has a great job. He is surrounded by a fantastic support group. His checking account has been in the black for almost a year now. His relationships are far more real – and meaningful.

And now when he sips on an occasional Midori Sour, a great glass (or sometimes bottle :: wink :: ) of Alamos Chardonnay, or a bubbling flute of champagne, he appreciates it.

He savors it.

Back then, life, like all the alcohol O was consuming at the time, was too fast. And after awhile, it all tasted the same.

Now, life is consumed slowly. Responsibly. Glass by glass.

Cheers! By the way – the fish tacos were GREAT.


4 Responses to The Kitchen Smells Like Beer … And Reflection

  1. Congratulations O!!

    And I say Cheers to that!
    And Bottoms Up!

    Life is better enjoyed with both eyes open!


  2. Staggo Lee says:

    Good going! I dropped the alcohol, because I found I really hated the stuff. Now, gallons of coffee and a weekend mj toke are enough.

    BTW–Thanks for your comment. I get ALL my vids from YouTube. (I’m teaching myself about vid production and posting.)

    I sincerely think your blog is wonderful.

  3. blasphemousandoffensive says:


    Agreed, especially when the eyes are beautiful like yours!


  4. blasphemousandoffensive says:


    Thank you so much for thinking my blog is wonderful! I couldn’t agree more.

    Just teasing.

    I avoid the mj tokes – believe it or not, I’m actually a really good boy with very few vices.

    Your blog is far better than this one, for sure 🙂

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