Do you believe in love at first sip?

So you know when you were 10 or 11 and leaving a sleepover birthday party where all your girlfriends spent the night talking about boys and you were super hardcore enough to prank call one of the cutest ones in your class and everyone momentarily thinks you're the shiznit? And then something awesome happens? Like the extra underwear your mom made you pack (as if anyone changes their underwear at slumber parties anyways, mom) has fallen out of your bag? And you realize you have accidentally brought the oddly high-waisted and nerdy white ones that came in your Christmas stocking - the ones that were only good for wearing on the outside of your Sunday tights to keep them from falling down? And the birthday girl's mom has them pulled taught between two outstretched hands high in the air, calling out, "Everyone take a look! Whose are these? Anyone?"

And they're just so... huge.... and white... and so obviously not yours?

(Uh...no? Just me?)

You think you put these things behind you as an adult. And then you take a trip to New Mexico and stay with a fantastically-well-traveled and highly-sophisticated woman who serves you homemade orangecello liqueur and has farmer friends delivering farm-fresh goat cheese and eggs.

What we came "home" to one night. She called it Orangecello. I called it The Delicious Orange Stuff That We Were Politely Bound To Only Have One Mini Tumblerfull Of.

Which is all awesome until you open her fridge and see some disparity between her items and your items.

Rob: She has goat milk in here!! Check it out! And what are these? Kumquats. She has kumquats in her fridge.

Cob [laughing]: Stop! She's going to come home and see us looking! Wait - look at that. Organic whole milk! Next to mango wholegrain muffins!

Rob [also laughing]: Shhhh!!! There are some gourmet olives next to the fresh goat cheese!

Cob [laughing]: STOP! Shhhhh!!

Rob [laughing]: Shhhhh!! And it's all sitting next to our Sutter Home wine.

Cob [laughing]: Our sweet red Sutter Home. Oh my word. And Great Value half & half! We are so WHITE TRASH.

Rob [laughing]: Shhhh!! Let's take a picture!

Cob [aghast]: WHAT??? No!! Well, okay. Quick! Do it fast!

Rob: Here, hold the fridge door. Shhh!

Cob [dissolving in laughter again]: Wait! Let me turn the labels so you can see things. Go! Go fast! Take it!!!

 Rob [focusing the camera]: Shhhh!!

Cob [bent double at the fridge door in laughter]: Fast! Are you done? Wait, let me take one. I want one of our side, too.

Her side: Seriously. Kumquats. And the only reason I could identify them is their container had a label.

Our side: Hormones and generic products from evil monster corporations.

So, in essence we completely violated her fridge. And then went ahead and took up her previous offer to try her fresh goat cheese. Which was awesome. And drink a shot of the orangecello she had put out for us with the two beautiful liqueur glasses. And then followed that with some of our sweet red Sutter Home (which, I have to point out, was purchased with some chagrin at a hole-in-the-wall grocery after we had already driven for almost 20 minutes looking for some place that sold wine) mixed with Sierra Mist (a concoction, ironically enough, we've called called White Trash Splash for years).

And then we both donned wife beaters, braided our mullets into rat tails, smashed beer cans against our foreheads, and shot at chirping Gambel's Quail in the national park behind her house with BB guns.

Actually we slid the remaining Sutter Home behind our generic hormone-laden Great Value Walmart milk, hoping to hide the worst. And then completely forgot all our fridge items when we left the next morning.

So as we're pulling out to make the drive back to Texas, I hear a yell and look out of the sideview mirror to see our host running after the car, waving the Sutter Home wine and Great Value milk in the air, calling out, "Wait! These are yours!"

And for one split-second I contemplated denying the ownership of these embarrassing items.

But then I came to my senses and realized I'd possibly want a large glass of White Trash Splash at the end of a 10-hour drive with two kids. So I went inside to fetch the Diet Sierra Mist. And left my dignity behind in the driveway.