Drinking with Dragons
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Sometimes, there are no chickens. Spoiler alert: everything turns out fine.

Because: cocktails.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

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This adventure takes us to the base of the snow-encrusted Sierras, the high desert of a magical land known as Nevada. More specifically: to the outlands of Reno, and to the incalculably whimsical house of Olive and Love.

Where the walls have chairs.

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And the lamps hang upside down, and downside up.

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Where the cat is quite Cheshire-y (one moment she’s there, the next she is not).

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And the tortoises demand to dine on only the very finest of pansies.

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And things like this are just…normal:

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Our days were spent eating caramel apples and getting thrown in jail in haunted mining towns:

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And drinking local brews on the streets (because that’s how you do it in Virginia City, NV):

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And we spent our nights around the fire pit. Listening to the frogs. Drinking more beer.

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And because it is spring, the air is filled with the fragrance of furiously-blooming lilacs:

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So, of course, we put them in cocktails and sipped them like fancy ladies. (See recipe here.) By ‘sipped’ I, of course, mean ‘tossed back’.

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Cheshire cat:

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And, then we drank our lilac cocktails with dragons.

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Like utterly normal people.

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Bonnie and Clyde were less interested in the booze than they were in the hair. Camouflage, you know. It’s science.

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But also, Cheshire cat:

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We are equal-opportunity drinkers around here.