I got myself a plate and sat down to eat. My family was waiting for me to finish so we could move on to the pie. We chatted a while and got on the topic of whiskey. Mike and I have been exploring different brands of Irish, and I had recently bought a bottle of Feckin' Irish Whiskey, only because the bottle made me laugh out loud in the liquor store*.
Anyway...during this conversation, my mother (who, by the way, has been known to use the word "feck" a few times herself) said, "When I found out I was pregnant with Breda, the first thing her father did was pour himself a big glass of Irish whiskey."
Then Mike - my husband, the man who I vowed to cherish, honor and not pinch - chimes in with, "Yeah! And she's been driving men to drink ever since."
I shot him the look - the one with the eyebrow. He laughed anyway.
*I brought it up to the counter and asked the clerk (who was clearly descended from a more Mediterranean people) and asked, "Has anyone you know ever tried this? Is it any good? I might get it anyway, the bottle is cracking me up."
The man said, "No, but you know, that's the way they say it in Ireland."
I grinned and said, "Yeah. I do know." I took the bottle home. It's not bad.