Thalia is not a big drinker, so when I hang out with her, I’m not either. But this night was an exception. We’d met at our friend’s restaurant for happy hour and our friend had us do some tastings of drinks she was considering putting on the menu. We’d had a few Sauvignon Blancs, a few Proseccos and one Coconut Froth concoction in a cute little green glass.
“It was so great to see you guys,” I said, as I pulled my sleeping-bag jacket firmly around me. Everyone hates this jacket because it’s totally unflattering, (“Boxy,” Sheri has decreed). But I like it because it’s long enough that if I wear tall boots, no one can tell I’m wearing my pajamas while I run errands around the neighborhood.
“You too, girlie,” Thalia said. She zipped up her own coat. Cold weather had officially settled in NYC.
“If I don’t talk to you ladies beforehand, have a great Thanksgiving,” said Sean. I moved in to give him a hug and he hugged me back tightly.
Thalia, Sean and I had met for our usual two-month catch up session. Normally, we meet on a Saturday evening at my place so I can wow them with my culinary skills with such menu-dazzlers as, ‘Make-Your-Own-Taco-Bar’ or ‘Make-Your-Own-Burrito-Bar’ or, if I am feeling especially creative, ‘Make-Your-Own-Taco-Salad-Bar IN A TACO SHELL BOWL.’ But since it was almost the holidays and everyone was busy, we decided to meet on a Tuesday. Which meant Hooters. Continue reading Come for the Chicks, Stay for the Wings.