The Hummingbird

I came home after a perfectly delectable day today - lunch with Mom and middle sister, bra shopping, and then a pit stop at Trader Joe's for organic raspberry jam and lemon curd with which to make a girlfriend's luncheon tart.

And as I was unloading the car,  a hummingbird flew into my house.

Now I know that in some obscure ancient culture this is a sign of good luck.

But I like to watch nature on TV. "Camping" to me is not having central A/C.

Remember, I was born on the island of Manhattan, not Galapagos.

So I flew around like a half-crazed banshee waving at it with a broom in order to gently persuade said bird to leave my house before it crapped all over my cream couches became dehydrated, as to not blacken my karma by killing the thing.

It would not leave.

Apparently my karma needs massaging.

Man Mountain sensed urgency in my voice, (or perhaps he felt a pull towards nature. After all, he IS from Northern Wisconsin. Or "Canada", as I like to call it), and came home.

His mere presence led the hummingbird to leave, going gently into the proverbial night.

Man Mountain is my hero.

But I still needed a cocktail.

It's 5pm somewhere. And it's close enough to 5pm here.

Here is my version of "A Hummingbird".  (Some call it a "Stoli-Doley".)

1 oz. (or 2 oz., depending on how big the hummingbird is) of Stolichnaya Vodka (or any vodka that comes in a non-plastic bottle. C'mon. There's gotta be standards.)

2 oz. Dole Pineapple Juice. Because I am a label whore when it comes to my pineapple juice.

Drink with a straw.

Feel your karma being refreshed.