When you look up the National Day calendar, a lot of the days have more than one “thing” honored. Today there is only one. The daiquiri. If nothing else, I will learn how to spell daiquiri.
Generally a daiquiri has strawberries, sugar and rum. A Pina Colada is coconut milk, pineapple, sugar and rum. I don’t know why it isn’t called a daiquiri. Probably to make me ask silly questions.
In my early twenties, I lived for a time in Biloxi, Mississippi. A refreshing strawberry daiquiri on a hot muggy day was a treat. Blue Hawaiians were also popular. They had rum, blue curacao, pineapple juice and sugar. They were my favorite. Served in a hurricane glass. During the time I lived there, no hurricanes visited the shoreline. I was lucky.
I remember the police clearing the beaches some afternoons because of the dangerous heat index. I had a friend that was pregnant and when we went to the beach she would dig a hole for her growing belly, then lie on her stomach like the rest of us. She told us the cool sand put the baby to sleep.
I miss those days. I was young, innocent, not afraid of anything, and thought life would always be rosy. Now I know how naïve I was, and life has given me way too much experience in unpleasant ways. (Disenchantment, divorce, death, money problems, etc.) On the up side, I now have the ammunition to be able to write about life and make it real.
A few years back I read an article that said a woman’s personality could be pegged by what she drank. A woman who orders a strawberry daiquiri is a high maintenance person who wants her own way. I haven’t ordered one since. I wouldn’t want to give people the wrong impression.