A Country Girls' Metropolitan

I am a city girl when I don't spend enough time in country.

I can get sucked into eating out every meal, walking the streets, coffee, coktails, shoe shopping and all the sudden I find myself in heals and putting on eye shadow while spending all our money.

Eye shadow makes my eyes water ferociously, car fumes make me cough.

I try to spend as much time in the areas where I feel most comfortable, they tend not to be in metropolitan locations.


There is no fooling a true friend. I can't really walk in high heels, I don't shave my legs and prefer not to do my hair. I get fashion advice from my husband. I do much better when I spend more time amongst trees than confined to big cities, crowds and congestion. 

I can find my self being the biggest dirt bag conceivable. I can smear peanut butter on anything and call it a meal, washing it down with cheap beer wrapped in a brown paper bag that my husbands hands me and I will have a hard time wiping a big stupid grin off my face.

I jump around elastically with plans of spending days in the woods, getting lost in the mountains, climbing, biking or whatever takes us to the less populated areas that draw few crowds. I feel alive and on the edge of life's seat when I am surrounded by fresh air.

I spent the last few days in the bustling Emerald City and a few hours in Portland (more about these adventures later in the week). The big city makes my eyes big and leaves me feeling never as hip as I seem in my mind's eye. I enjoyed great food, I rode my bike successfully dodging people, cars, dogs, walked through convincing neighborhoods and got frustrated sitting in traffic. I loved my few days tucked beneth sky scrappers but eagerly loaded Natasha into the car and made a mad dash for our quiet lifestyle.

Three hours outside of Seattle, the other side of the Cascades and 20 degrees warmer, I came home to  my sweet husband, a wonderful dinner and my own personal bartender for the evening.

J made me the best grilled rosemary lamb chops imaginable, asparagus, yams, cornbread and a metropolitain. I like to go out to eat but I love my Texan's cooking even better. He makes a mean cocktail that does not cost more than a down payment on a car.

Metropolis? Metropolitain? What? Manhattan's sweeter cousin.

This is about as much of the metropolitan scene as I need, just enough to get me giddy, leaving me excited for the next time around.

Metropolitan

1 1/2 oz brandy
1 oz sweet vermouth
2 dashes Angostura bitters
2 Maraschino cherries with a splash of liquid reserved

Pour the brandy, sweet vermouth, dash of maraschino cherry juice and Angostura bitters into a cocktail shaker with ice cubes.

Shake well.

Strain into a chilled cocktail glass and sink the cherries to the bottom of the glass.