You know how it is, when you need a weekend from your weekend? When your Friday through Sunday was actually more tiring than your work week and perhaps about 40 times more boozy? On those weeks, Monday is the cruelest of days.
Omg. The heat. Where did it come from? What did we do to deserve this? How in God’s name does mother nature realize it’s Memorial Day Weekend and flip the switch like that? It’s amazing, her timing. Other than sweat, curse, strip, and drape yourself over the furniture like a rung-out wet rag, what can you do in thick, muggy heat like this? Oh yes….have margaritas.
I can’t say I’m particularly choosy with my affections; there are lots of things that I love. All the Holidays fall into this category, as do half of the seasons. I love food (all of it), I love wine (most of it), I love my friends, I love my cats ( and dogs too), I love my family. I love thunderstorms and blue skies and snow. I love the ocean and I love the mountains. I love New Orleans and Chicago and New York and San Francisco (I do not love L.A.). I love peanut butter and chocolate and anything that combines the two. I love birds. I love sushi. I love the smell of bergamot. I thought I didn’t like blueberries, but slowly I’ve come to love those too. I love bright nail polish and tall boots and hoop earrings (always have, always will). I love short skirts. I love about 1000 tv shows, some worthy, some not (it’s a weakness). I love books and I love my magazines, even though I barely have enough time to read them each month. I love a dinner party. I LOVE a themed dinner party. And I LOVE a Oscars themed dinner party.
Cold and thick, tangy and creamy, nothin’ says summer like a piña colada (except maybe a margarita, but shhhhh). It’s one of those indulgent treats that you have so seldom—for me, only when I’m actually physically on a beach with some sort of steel band nearby, so you can imagine just how seldom—that it has to be something special. No beaches in your future? Why not make it into a cake?