Sometimes, I can be a little dramatic. I’m not proud of this. It just happens.

My Italian side decides to flip a switch, and the drama starts coming out of my pores. It’s like watching a train wreck.

Let me give you an example:

Yesterday I woke up in one of those moods where everything – and I really mean everything – made me feel like I was going to lose my mind. I woke up, rolled out of bed, and seemed to be on a certain path of  emotional self-destruction. We’re not talking about big and terrible events that sent me into dramatic upheaval, but instead, basic things.

I made myself eggs. I wanted to put salsa on my eggs. I love salsa on my eggs. I opened the fridge. I couldn’t find the salsa. I almost cried…over salsa. This is never a good sign. Big, glaring red flag.

The second emotional outburst of the day occurred when I tried to purchase a piece of camera equipment to try out. The website wouldn’t accept my Visa number. This happened three times in a row. I screamed. That is right, you read that correctly. That sentence did not say “I wanted to scream,” but in fact just said “I screamed.” Audibly.  Totally not a good sign.

The final straw occurred when my darling husband decided to hit me up on G-chat. He made a friendly suggestion about how he thought I should make us dessert to go with the movie that we planned to watch that evening. This is a nice thought. He had no idea what was coming. I decided to hit the Caps Lock button and things got real. My response was a simple:

“WE DON’T HAVE ANY EGGS!!!!!”

Whoa.

He suggested I could go to the store and get some. This to a logical non-evil-screaming-Caps-Locking version of myself would seem like a simple suggestion. I, however, was already too far down the rabbit hole of disturbed emotional upheaval (crying over salsa, people. Salsa!). As you can guess the response to his suggestion was tinged with a hint of drama. My fingers flew across the keyboard typing with all honesty, a sentence to this effect:

“AHHHHHH! I’M NOT GOING TO THE STORE. I would rather hide in a dark closet and live in a pool of my own tears.”

Hmm. Descriptive. Also, one would have to cry a lot of tears in order to fill it with a pool big enough to sit in. Oh, whoa. I said LIVE IN. Have I never heard of trench foot? Curious.

My darling husband did not respond to my emotional outburst. Could I blame him? What is there to say to a woman who is threatening a life of solitude and tear-soaked loneliness over her husband’s craving for cookies? Not much. Not much at all. Bless my husband. Seriously.

It was at this point I realized today was not worth crying over. What is that old saying? Don’t cry over spilled salsa? Something like that. I looked at my flowery and overdramatic G-chat responses and laughed. I needed to turn this day around. STAT.

After consuming roughly half the world’s supply of kale chips (this helps emotional situations), I decided it was time to 1) Shower. 2) Put on pants. 3) Venture out into the world. It was 75 degrees and sunny. No one needed to be screaming at a computer screen in this weather.

While taking a shower, I started day dreaming about a post that I saw on Shutterbean. There was a strawberries, honey and lime over ice cream situation. Also, yes, I do daydream about food in the shower. I’m not sure if this is normal. Since I’m still technically doing my 30 days of paleo eating, the ice cream part of the recipe was a no go. However, I could totally fashion this strawberry, honey and lime situation into a fine and refreshing cocktail. How my brain rationalizes that ice cream is not okay to eat while eating paleo, yet vodka is fine, is slightly suspicious.

I was so excited over this idea I threw my sopping wet hair into a bun, hopped into yoga pants and hobbled into Trader Joes looking an eye-twitch short of crazy. It turns out when you’re having the kind of day that escalates to a dramatic peak of you threatening to lock your perfectly fine self into a tear-soaked closet, the promise of a refreshing cocktail is a serious motivator.

If you’re wondering, I totally picked up some eggs too. I’m that kind of gal. Also, my husband kind of deserves cookies. I used the Caps Lock. It got serious. Ugh. I need to chill the heck out.

I came home and I got to work. Strawberries were washed and sliced. Honey and lime zest came together into a syrup. This syrup soaked itself into the strawberries. Strawberries drenched in honey-lime syrup were made into a puree. This puree was put into a mason jar with sparkling water, an extra squeeze of lime and a little bit of vodka. The vodka in this recipe is totally optional. I suspect your kids or your non-drinking-pregnant-lady friends would totally groove on this recipe without the booze. It’s super refreshing!

After I finished whipping up my beverage, I sat in the wonderfully sunny weather with a composition book in hand. Writing. Sipping (“recipe testing”). Putting pen to paper. Soaking up vitamin D. Not bad. Not bad at all. What was I freaking out over earlier? I just needed to take a breath, slow things down, and lay off the Caps Lock.

It’s amazing how much you can turn your day around with the right intentions (and maybe a spritzer). It turns out cocktails in the sun trump crying in closets EVERY TIME. Powerful life lessons. It’s serious stuff.

Happy Friday, Friends! Wishing you a dramatically AWESOME weekend! Get your spritz on!