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Happy family happy hour8/14/2023 This meant that my mom would make a cocktail and my dad would put out a cheese board. So my parents started doing regular happy hours. This time around I was less angsty and of legal drinking age. I was an adult woman living at home for the first time since high school. In mid-March I went to Texas to attend a wedding and ended up staying for three months. It’s five o’clock on a Monday at my parents’ house in Dallas and I come downstairs to a lemon drop martini sitting on the kitchen island with a note from my mom: “Be careful, Chhotu,” it reads (Chhotu = my childhood nickname).
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