the french kiss

i cannot resist the call of champagne ... the way it whispers to me from the glass, the bubbles tickling my upper lip and sending my heart racing as in the split second before a kiss.

this evening, the glass was raised (repeatedly) in honor of my dear friend, megan, on the occasion of her commencement. she has left me alone, now, bottle in hand, having left the table to take a tumble with the boy du jour ... and who can blame her? delightful as the champagne's french kiss is, it cannot best the buss of your best boy.

i bid her adieu and wish her well - even if i am beyond envy.