My grandparent's sold their dairy farm and retired to Arizona. While the loss of my beloved farm & grandparents was heartbreaking, I consoled myself with their promise to fly us out West twice a year. They made good on their word, many, many times over, and I'll never forget how grown up I felt boarding that plane with my two sisters twice a year.
Of course, being the middle child meant I never got the window seat, or the aisle, for that matter, but I did get invited to tour the cockpit (obviously pre 9/11) and took that tiny elevator down a level to the kitchen and "bar". It's where I tasted my first Grand Marnier, and although I was nowhere near the legal age, the flight attendant consoled me with the fact that we were miles above anywhere I could get arrested. He even filled my carry on bag with nips (more pre 9/11). I later wondered if he knew he was going to be fired the next day~~or maybe he was just making sure I thought the skies were really as friendly as they claimed? I hid them in my suitcase, but I'm pretty sure my grandfather knew it wasn't just gingerale in our glasses . . .
Anyway, on one visit to see them, my (younger) sister decided to raid my grandmother's closet and try on her fabulous vintage ensembles. You'll get one a day until their gone. Sort of like the nips.
