as the sky on a cloudless winter day.
as my heart.
boring business casual (yick! biz-caz!) or lacquered 50s housewife
in fashion-before-function heels, red lipstick and red nail polish.
Always red lipstick, always red nail polish.
Side note: If I were able to fill my entire closet with dresses
and cardigans, suits and accessories from the 40s and 50s, I would
be the happiest little clam you ever did see.
without a doubt, the magical Mojito or a good Margarita (on the
rocks, none of that slushee frozen sno-cone crap).
I have to choose just one? I suppose that I'll make a blanket statement
and say something savory (ideally a nice, warm spinach-artichoke
dip with just the right amount of garlic, not too salty, a bit of
melted cheese on top and crusty French baguette for dipping).
sure that my dad let me sip wine or beer at some point during my
childhood. Yes, let's go with that one. My stories of fumbling high
school drunkenness are so asinine.
nice, deep red
have read Love in the Time of Cholera so many times that I can't
honestly don't have one!
cunning Venus Flytrap and the majestic Mountain Laurel (Pennsylvania
(male and female) and cockatiels (male).
am sure that I used a shovel at least once during my brief landscaping
stint. I also have a sneaking suspicion that I once posed with a
shovel during my not-so-brief artist model days.
mother, of course. After which, I will say my stunning, sophisticated,
and severe best friend. These ladies are followed by many wonderful
female painters, sculptors and illustrators of both the past and
present (of which there are too, too many to list).
rather simplistic summary of my feminist tendencies -
1. Pro-sex worker, pro-queer and pro-transwoman.
2. Applies make-up in a heated fervor and wear high heels because
the process and result envelops her in a provocative (and protective)
blanket of feminine power.
3. Is no longer out on the streets as an unshaven activist but,
instead, finds strength in winning smaller victories for both myself
and the ladies closest to my heart.
4. Does not define herself as third wave, fourth wave or no wave.
(As a matter of fact, I am not even sure that I define myself as
a feminist any longer, due to all the nasty connotations that come
along with the word/label "feminist". In one fell swoop,
"feminist" is both too broad and too limiting. Perhaps
those women's studies classes have soured me more than I thought.
A new term would be greatly appreciated, so long as it isn't even
remotely Mary Daly-ish.)
is the rare chance (all too rare in this day and age) to come together
with women who possess intelligence, wit, klass (with a "k"),
style, talent, glamour and the keen ability to mix up a fabulous
cocktail in the blink of an eye. Indeed, I am slathering it on quite
thick here, but I do speak the truth.
it would have to start out by serving an excellent Margarita.
That is one of the key ingredients for a good bar. I am not talking
about frozen Margaritas either; I want tequila, triple sec and
fresh lime juice (no sours, ick!), shaken with ice and strained
into a salt-rimmed goblet. This Margarita should also be made
available with a shot of raspberry or mango syrup (sugar on the
rim and a thick wedge of lime), if one feels like straying far
from the norm.
Said bar should be fully stocked with liquors, liquers, wines,
beer (the good kind), mixers and garnishes of all varieties. These
beverages and ingredients will be mixed, sold and served by a
highly knowledgeable, affable and sharply dressed staff. They
will be reasonably priced and never too strong nor too weak. Red
Bull and vodka will never, ever be served (apologies to my darling
Paul, who adores this vile concoction) and PBR will not find a
place there: nary a can, bottle or tap to be seen!
Artful presentation is an absolute must. Beer will be served in
its appropriate glassware. Cocktails will be served in a charming
array of mismatched, authentic, antique glassware appropriate
to the elixir contained within. Garnishes will be lovingly crafted
for each beverage. One will gasp and shiver with pleasure when
a beverage is first presented, barely able to ruin such a beautiful
sight with that first sip (and, oh, that sip will be blissful).
Now, to the menu: I could elaborate on food forever, so I am going
to restrain myself quite a bit. The tables and bar will always
have baskets of fresh, warm tortilla chips and cool salsa fresca.
The menu itself will contain a wide variety of delectable, savory
appetizers for both the animal loving and animal eating. No full
meals will be offered! Also featured on the menu will be a small
but lovingly selected offering of rich desserts and crepes. The
food will be divine, as divine as the drinks, and will be presented
on mismatched antique dishware.
and ambiance! This is both a difficult and easy one to envision.
This bar will be of the medium-sized variety: Not so terribly
big that you get lost going to neither the powder room, nor so
small that you have to squeeze your way in on even a weeknight.
The walls will be painted some sort of a deep red shade; warm
and dark, but not stifling. The bar should, of course, be dimly
lit with lighting sconces of the 40s or 50s variety. Candles will
flicker atop each table and, in addition, at the bar. Oh, did
I mention tables? How silly of me, as that makes one think of
tables and chairs. I meant booths, booths, small booths and big,
glorious booths. Booths will be everywhere, with plush, comfortable
seats and gleaming formica-and-chrome tabletops. Patrons will
relax and luxuriate in these booths, able to enjoy conversation,
their drinks and their snacks. Speaking of conversations, the
music will never, ever, ever be too loud. You must be able to
chat without yelling. However, a juke box will be available and,
in my fantasy world, it will only cost a quarter to play a song.
As my own musical tastes are rather mercurial, I can't properly
describe what tunes the jukebox would hold. Let's just say that
they'd change on a fairly regular basis, with a few old stand-bys
for posterity's sake. People do like their comfort tunes.
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