I just got back from drinks with another member of my spring writer’s workshop, where I learned two things.

One, I need to drink more to be a proper writer.

Two, aka unexpected side-effect of celiac 602, negotiating a cocktail menu can be unexpectedly difficult. I haven’t had alcohol since my diagnosis, and apparently ATF, not the FDA, is in charge of labeling alcohol as gf. I think the peppered margarita was fine, though.

And now that I googled it—I could just have had a Scotch. Or the thing that combined rye and absinthe. Boooo.