“Nielson, Barley Pops is a cold person! Grab us and take us here!”
My friends invited me to settle into the last grassy chair under the giant courtyard umbrella for a long drink. My Molsons were also on ice. They mocked to say, “fuck it!” during the dry June days.
In the refreshing shade of a perfect summer day, I wanted to toss beers with the boys over old stories and new tales. But I didn’t break. I avoided the heavy duty of dodging Brewski artillery that day.
My troubles were just beginning.
I can hardly believe it. For months to dry out, I chose to have deck parties, family cookouts, grad parties, outdoor weddings, and backyard chores. Still, I made it through. Let me tell you how.
It started in March when I booked the annual physics. I wanted to show the doctor who was on my ass about weight loss, lowering blood pressure, and beer belly a buff. I realized I could turn things around in a few months and dry out further in June. It seemed doable on my Google Cal.