The cure for what ails you

The weather outside is downright frightful, you guys.  I happen to LOVE it!  We don’t get a lot of the rainytime here by the beach in So Cal, so when it happens I appreciate it like the dickens.  (What does that even mean?) The last few days have been a regular Stormwatch 2010.  It’s wet!  And blustery!  I’ve been wearing my cute polka dotted rain boots like it’s my damn job, and scarfing and hatting it up like a pro.   Watch out!  It’s supposed to pour on my birthday and, while I wish my nearest and dearest didn’t have to navigate around in it and risk life and limb to come celebrate, I think the rain is a special gift from the heavens just for me.  Hooray!  Cozytime!

In college and for years afterward, I had a long standing tradition with one of my very best friends (who is currently debating his alias for this blog.  I guess you never know when someone needs to be mindful of their non-existent political career?  No one can be sure.  I’ll keep you posted.  For now, let’s just call him...Carlos.)  on my birthday day that involved bellinis, South Coast Plaza, frantic last minute gift buying (Gloves! For everyone!), bellinis, chicken Alfredo pizza, bellinis, Caesar salad and Birraporetti’s.  Sadly, that all came to a crushing end when Birraporetti’s closed down a few years ago.  Assholes.  (He found a Birraporetti’s during his travels last year in…Dallas?  Tennessee?  Whatever…that helps me not at all.  Where do the people of Orange County go to swing dance on Monday nights and get leered at by creeps of inappropriate age now, you guys?  The end of an era!)

Anyway, we’d find our parking at South Coast, dash around like lunatics getting our gifts (Weird heated foot baths! For everyone!) and then get down to the real business of wallowing in boozy, Christmas tree-d, holiday music-ed nirvana.  We’d split the Caesar salad and chicken Alfredo pizza…which we still talk about in hushed and reverent tones to this day (you’d be hard pressed to find a better one and the fact that this place is now a Claim Jumper is a travesty on man and nature.), people watch, chitchat, solve (everyone else’s) problems (so easy!) and just hang right out.  This is one of the traditions that used to make me feel as though Christmas, with all of its joyous trappings, had arrived. 

I thought about this the other day when we ended up having an impromptu lunch (stuffed baked potatoes at Lucille’s, you guys…not the same.) because he needed to pick up a gift on 2^nd Street and I, obviously, needed to boss supervise.  It was freezing and rainy and we decided we needed a little warming splash.  So, we shared an umbrella (Chivalrous!  Though now that I think about it, he didn't throw his coat over any puddles for me.  Rude!) and splashed and lurched over to Bono’s where we sat at the bar, admired their pretty tree, appreciated their Christmas tunes, analyzed Tom Brady’s hideous press conference hair on the TV (what was that?!  He has no people who will just PUSH IT BACK OFF OF HIS FOREHEAD? So greasy! I was upset by it.) and got serious about some Irish coffee.  Like…very serious. 

Oh! Hello, Christmas!

Come on! Is there anything better?  I’m dedicated to absorbing and emanating as much holiday love and cheer this season as I can…I really want to breathe it all in, slow down and appreciate it, and this was the perfect way to herald in this holiday week.  To warm up, caff up  and catch up.   And they were deeeeeeelish!  Hot coffee, a (very, very) generous splash of Jameson (oh, bartender!  You old so and so!) and the cutest whipped cream festoon you ever did see.  Y-U-M, internet!  We each had three.  Don’t judge.  You should have one or three, too!

‘Tis the season!