Friday, October 10, 2008

 

Raspberry Mojitos and Watermelon Martinis

Writers drink. This is what I was told by Richard, the-ex-boxer-ex-80s-artist who hung out on the corner of my street on the upper West Side while wearing a navy pea-coat. I protested that I doubted I'd ever become much of a drinker--years of attempting to build up tolerance have been futile. He persisted that I'd have to learn to drink and maybe get into a few fights if I was ever going to be a true writer, which I thought was pretty funny. I generally don't like being told what I "have" to do.

But it's true that at these writer-editor-agent lunches alcohol is generally involved. And it's nice. Except that today I had a raspberry mojito with one very intelligent editor and I currently can't feel my toes. My husband thinks this is funny.

I'm now in a sort of nostalgic mood, mostly because I had really wanted the Watermelon Martini. People who know me know that I am a watermelon fiend (no, I am not continuously pregnant). It is one of the few things I like about summer--the excuse--hell, the need--to eat watermelon to stay cool. But, I was informed, "Watermelon is no longer in season."

It is indeed technically autumn. It is also 77 degrees today and I feel like I ought to be able to have watermelon. It feels like watermelon should still be in season.

Last night I went to hear some music at Birdland and then, because we were feeling super hyper from said music, went for a walk through Times Square. It was still warm and I didn't need my beautiful black trench coat. (Oh, how I want to retreat to the safety of my black trench coat! I mean, it's fall!). The temperature made it seem as though we were still in summer. We ran into some record executive and I stood there and smiled and pretended to understand what was going on. Then we watched a bunch of mostly high-school aged girls allow themselves to be penned behind some metal gates because they were waiting for Harry Potter to come out of his dressing room. Times Square was awash in neon and I said: "If you didn't know better, you'd think this is a place to hang out." We listened to some more music at the Kitano Hotel, after which I declared I was simply too hungry to last much longer and we went to Korea-town.

It was still warm by the time I finally got home. Part of choosing the neighborhood in which I live hinged on access to food at all hours of the night. My husband and I called this the "basil test." We didn't want to live in a place where we could not get basil at 1 AM. Well, last night I learned that I could get watermelon at 1 AM. So, see? It's not completely out of season. At least not everywhere.

Comments:
Let's us have a highly publicized fight and then a tearful reunion on Oprah.

Not until both our books are out, though. :P
 
You got it. But don't tell anyone. They might think we staged it all . . .
 
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