According to the forecasters, today in New York, the mercury will climb to 90 degrees (Farenheit, not Celsius for my Euro friends — fear not). The lilacs are blooming, the grill is up and running and the rum is flowing like water through the proverbial desert of my life. In short, folks, I’m in the mood for a party.
Some of you may recall an earlier foray into the party mix arena that we took at Christmas. I was somewhat surprised that my readers had any interest at all in the subject of what to fill the speakers with, though a good party mix is crucial to a festive evening, and essential if you’re hoping to stretch the evening well into the next day. In my opinion, it’s not a party until someone dons the lampshade, strips naked or frugs on the dining table. If one intrepid guest takes on all three at once, well, he’s probably a close relative of mine, and I’d hope others would join in the spirit of the moment and eventually call me to the ER. I realize not everyone keeps a stomach pump on hand, though for the life of me I don’t know why. Ours is right next to its pal the fire extinguisher, and I’d be lying if I said we frequently used one without the other, especially around the holidays. So there you go.
Will it really make any difference if you put off that health kick for just one more day?
Now that you’ve ordered that sleek ultra-modern punch bowl (or have managed to sneak Aunt Pearl’s out in your handbag) and are starting to draw up the list of invitees to your upcoming binge, you’re probably wondering what to fill the bowl with to ensure that everyone has an unforgettable evening, and by that I mean hazy recollections of behavior so egregious, untoward and shame inducing that they will never, ever be able to purge them from memory no matter how hard they try. I’m talking real long term counseling issues here. That’s the mark of a great party.
Well put down that bartender guide and toss off any thoughts of lemonade, ginger ale and whiskey with a big blob of lime sherbert floating in the middle. This concoction, sans hooch, was a favorite at family affairs of my youth, and let me tell you, it has taken years of talk therapy, pillow punching and psych meds – at times administered in a residential setting – to deal with that trauma, not to mention the lingering insulin flashbacks. But happily, here I am on the sunny side of wellness, ready to help you fill your holiday punch bowl with a real crowd pleaser: yup, rum punch. Read the rest of this entry