Dear Tequila,

I could not feel worse about what I have done to you.  The salt.  The watermelon.  The ginger.  Could have worked out, you know?  I still believe it.  But then I went and dumped that San Pellegrino in there just to give it a little sparkle.  (For the photo op if I am honest with myself.)  And, sadly, all I taste is something that smells like the hair of an unwashed, sweaty 8 year old boy.  The color...kinda the torn, pinky edge of a zombie bite with those fleshy-looking melon bits floating in there.  No good.  No good for anyone.  Not even the zombies.

I wish I was shallow enough to blame it on Pinterest.  A pretty picture of a sweating Mason Jar in the sun has moved me to try other odd concoctions.  (Yes.  Gin is the lucky one.  She got rosemary and tonic and it was divine.  Yes, yes prosecco and the lemon sorbet too.)  But this one was all me.  Me and my desire to reinvent a thing that should not have been altered.  You were perfect the way you were.

What I am trying to say is...sorry.  Truly.  I'll stick to Mod Podge and glitter next time I get the urge to get creative.  Maybe the glue gun.  The taste of you straight from the bottle with a little lime and salt, the occasional Margarita, that will be enough for me from now on.  I promise.

Oh, and can I ask you one more thing?  Do you have the number for Vodka?  (I hear she'll mix with anything.)

-Mama