Hello, everyone. Happy Friday.
I do love Fridays, for all the obvious reasons. Way back when, I used to love Fridays because it was “party night” — the night to let loose after a long week of work and/or parenting.
These Friday nights often began for me around dinnertime, when I would start making a batch of hot wings in anticipation of my husband’s arrival home — the herald of the official start to the weekend.
Pretty much without fail, I would crack my first beer of the night while the wings were dancing in a pan of boiling hot sauce (that’s how I do ‘em).
I would normally stick to just three beers — half the six-pack I bought for my husband and myself to share. Three beers is not so bad, right? Sure, on the nights I stuck to that, no big deal.
But often enough, after the wings were devoured and the beers were emptied and the kids had been put to bed, I would move on to something else. White wine. A shot or two of the Sambuca I kept in the freezer (it’s dessert, don’t you know?). Or maybe a generous splash, or two or three, of Bailey’s on ice.